When Jack returns a couple of hours later, he finds me on a lounge chair on the back patio, a chilled glass of sauvignon blanc in one hand and my phone in the other.

“I’m officially living my best life,” I declare when he plops down on the chair next to mine.

He gives me that bemused smile of his. “Looks like it. I take it you were able to find everything you needed?”

I push my sunglasses to the top of my head so I can look at him unimpeded. “Yup. Thank you for the coffee and breakfast.”

He shrugs like he didn’t go totally out of his way for me. “There’s no espresso machine here, and I know how touchy you are about your lattes.”

“Did you get all of your errands done?” Keeping my eyes trained on him, I lean my head back against the padded chaise.

“Yeah.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Because of course he doesn’t switch up his daily uniform, despite its being a gorgeous summer day.

“Everything okay?”

I fully expect him to give me a standard Jack answer. Read: one without any sort of emotion or context behind it. But he surprises me.

“I don’t know if I can do it, Sade.”

I shift to my side, so my entire body is angled in his direction. “Do what?”

“Sell this house.” He flops his head back against the chair but then turns to look at me. Even though his eyes are hidden behind the lenses of his glasses, I can see the sadness, the heaviness, in them.

“Okay, I’m going to ask a rude question, which obviously never stopped me in the past, but I want you to have a heads-up because I know how this is going to sound and I’d just like you to remember I’m your friend and I care about you. You as a person.”

His lips quirk up just a tad. “Okay. I’m a bit terrified now, but please, go ahead.”

Pulling my knees up, I tuck my feet under my butt. “Do you need the money? Is that why you feel like you should sell the house? Because you need to, financially speaking?”

He doesn’t even flinch at the brazenness of it. “No. I don’t need the money. That doesn’t really have anything to do with it.”

I want to reach out and touch him, close this physical space between us in the hopes of closing the emotional divide along with it. But short of climbing up onto his chair, there’s no graceful way to do that. So I stay put, but I keep my eyes locked on his. “Then why now?”