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“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why would you ask if something was wrong?”
“Because I can tell. You’re freaking out just a little bit aren’t you?”
“Well, this is moving pretty fast isn’t it?”
“Listen Emily, I don’t know exactly what’s happening here, but I do know that I am feeling more myself than I have in the past five years. Meeting you changed me forever and made me see how happy life truly could be. After watching you walk away, losing Matt and then my mom. Em, part of me died over there. I have felt empty for so long now but every second that I’m with you . . . I feel like that empty part of me is slowly filling back up. You are bringing me back to life.”
That was not what I expected to hear come out of those perfect lips, and I know he can see it on my overwhelmed face. He closes the space between us, takes my hands in his and rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of my hand.
“I’m not asking anything from you. Okay, that’s a lie. I am asking you to have an open mind and think about giving us a shot. But right now, all I am asking is to spend more time with you and Ireland. I’ve been given another week, Emily, and I don’t plan on wasting it. Please believe that I don’t have some dastardly plan to get you in bed and that sex is what this is all about. I won’t lie though; I meant what I said. I want to try again. My feelings for you haven’t gone anywhere, and they’re getting stronger every day. I’m not going to let another week with you go by without trying my best to stop you from walking away this time.”
And just like that he silences me. Another week. He’s right. We have been given another week. I had all the reasons in my mind why this was a bad idea. But after hearing him share his feelings and knowing that he still feels what I feel, well . . . that silences me. I don’t really know what to say. He’s so good at telling me he’s feeling while I fall mute. I feel like I can never get out what I truly want to say, yet he says it all with perfect clarity.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“For what?” He asks with another adorable tilt to his head.
“For being able to tell me how you feel. I wish I could give the same back to you, but I’m just not ready, Jonathan.”
“I know that, baby, and I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m not going anywhere.”
He gives me a kiss on the forehead and with a squeeze of my hands he lets me go. He kicks his bag to the side of the couch out of view and then bends down to give both dogs some attention as they lay there already comfortable with each other.
“These guys have met before so I knew there wouldn’t be a problem. How about Ireland? Is she really still asleep?”
And just like that he steps away from the serious conversation we were just having—well, that he was having while I stood gawking at him—and makes things normal without letting the situation stay awkward for too long. He is a natural at that.
“Yep, she sure is. Once she’s out she is a really hard sleeper. It was so nice when she was a baby. I cannot even imagine how much harder things would have been if she wasn’t a good sleeper. This doesn’t mean she isn’t going to wake up in the middle of the night. I am half tempted to get her up and make her go to the bathroom, but then she might wake up and not go back to sleep. You do not want to see her in the morning without enough sleep. She’s not so cute when she hasn’t had enough sleep.”
“Well, you’re the expert, so whatever you decide, momma. Now, pretend I’m not here and get that laundry going before Downton is on. I can’t wait to see what all the madness is about!”
Mess Is Mine
Jonathan
Downton Abbey was actually pretty good. The most entertaining part of the whole experience was watching Emily and how into it she got. Even though I promised not to ask any questions, and I didn’t, she would still pause the show to explain who Anna and Mr. Bates were, or why Lady Mary was scared to fall in love with the race car driver. As always, she was fucking adorable.
Another reason I loved Downton Abbey was because of my Goldfish. Before the show started, Emily got her snacks together and she pulled out that big old bag of fishies—as I now call them—and poured a huge helping into a bowl. She slid it across the kitchen counter for me with a smile and asked me if they were still my favorite. The day before, I wondered if it was just coincidence that she threw one of the crackers at me, but now knowing that she remembers, she gives me another slice of hope.
The other slice of hope is the fact she never stopped touching me in some manner the entire duration of the show. Most of the time, I had my legs propped up on the table while she was against the arm of the chair with her legs on my lap. It felt so natural and so comfortable; like we had spent years together, but we haven’t even had weeks.
She stands to get up and stretches her arms up above her head. I can’t help but notice the lift of her breasts or the bit of skin that peaks out at me when the hem of her shirt rises. I know she has no idea what she’s doing, but I feel like she is slowly torturing me to death.
“Well, thanks for watching my show with me,” she yawns. “I am exhausted. We’ll have to catch up on The Walking Dead tomorrow night, if that’s cool with you? 5:45 will be here before you know it.”
You gotta love a girl who watches Downton Abbey and The Walking Dead and loves them equally. That is just so fucking hot!
She’s about to leave the room for the night, and I suddenly have this surge of panic that I don’t want her to go. She starts to take her first step to leave but I grab her hand and pull her gently to me. I cup her beautiful fucking face in my hands, give her a soft kiss and whisper against her lips. “Night, Gracie.”
She puts her hands over mine that are still on her face and stays there for a moment with her eyes closed. It’s as if she is etching this moment into her mind to keep forever. I understand how she feels, because that is how I feel every second that I spend with her.
She finally opens her eyes and this time she leans forward on her toes, and softly kisses me and says, “Night, Georgia.”
With that she takes my hands off her face, kisses the palm of each of my hands, turns and leaves the room. Hearing her nickname for me leaves me with smile and a throbbing dick. Sleeping on the couch also means that she leaves me with no way to take care of the later. Just to hear the name Georgia whispered on her lips makes me hard, but for those same lips to touch even just my hands is enough to make me hard as steel. I hope I know what I’m doing by staying here because she may just be the death of me.
I use the half-bath in the hallway to brush my teeth and change into a t-shirt and shorts to sleep in. I can’t go commando here like I do at home, so a t-shirt and shorts it is. I’m just getting comfortable surrounded by the smell of vacation—of Emily—when I hear her call Frank from down the hall.
