My father’s quiet, thinking, but after a long moment, he shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just knew it was.”
Maggie watches Jacob, and I see her through the screen. Caring, but protective. Incredibly maternal. But there’s something else there too. It’s more than approval. It’s as if she’s…proud of him.
“It’s different for every person,” she says. “But at least for us, it didn’t happen all at once. It took time. And for me, I knew, but it took me a while to say it.” She smiles at my father, squeezing his hand. “I loved you for a long time, but I had to admit it to myself first. And that was hard. I had to work through a lot of my own fears before I could realize the truth. Before I could tell you how much I loved you.”
Jacob doesn’t say anything, and Maggie tilts her head. “Does that—I don’t know if that fully answered your question. But if you have any others for us—”
“No,” he says. He’s facing away from me, and I’m desperate to see his expression, to see how Maggie’s words landed. “That was great. I’m all done.”
I switch off the camera and begin packing up my things. My hands are calm, steady, but inside I’m a riot of emotion.
What prompted that from him? Could he possibly, does he maybe—
“When do you head back?” Maggie asks me. “I don’t think we ever got the exact date from you.”
“In three days,” I say.
“You were able to rebook everything?” my father asks. “The airline didn’t give you a hard time?”
I collapse the tripod, standing and tucking it under my arm. “No. It was simple. I got the confirmation about the flight last night, actually. It’s all set.”
At that, Jacob’s head snaps in my direction. His attention focused entirely on me.
My stomach twists.
I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet, but the date isn’t a surprise. I always planned on going home at the end of our agreed-upon two-week period.
Jacob’s face clears, but I still feel uneasy.
We say our goodbyes to Maggie and my father, saying we’ll see them the day after tomorrow for the wedding. And then we stagger our exits as previously planned.
When Jacob and I meet back up at the end of the street, we don’t say much of anything. We walk in silence back to his flat, the night air cool, but halfway there he takes hold of my hand, and our fingers intertwine.
29
Neither of us broaches the topic of my upcoming departure when we get home. We don’t say much of anything. Instead, we fall into something that’s become familiar. Skin against skin, his body covering mine, but there’s something new in our movements tonight. A sort of desperation, a hurried, quick nature about it, as if we’re in a rush, stealing time.
It starts the moment he locks the door behind us. His eyes blaze, and then my back is pressed into the wall. He cradles the back of my head, gentle, and kisses me with a force and determination I haven’t felt from him before.
It’s dizzying, this evidence of how much he wants me, and I reach for him, pulling him closer. I wrap a leg around his waist, and he bends his knees and lifts me so I can fully wrap myself around him.
“Jacob,” I say on a rough exhale. His breath stutters, then he arches into me, and my eyes slide shut. “More.”I needmore.
“I know,” he says. His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly, and I gasp. “I’m going to give it to you. I promise.”
He grabs the backs of my thighs and tells me to hold on before turning us away, carrying me to the bed.
We’re still clothed,I realize with startling clarity. I reach for his shirt, but he’s already started unbuttoning it. I sit up, pulling off my top, my pants, then shuffling to him, grabbing the back of his neck, drawing him close.
I part my legs, and he settles between them, his eyes locked on mine. For the first time tonight, his pace slows. He enters me gradually, and even when I ask him forfaster,he shakes his head, though I can see the strain across his face, the tension as he holds himself back.
“Tell me something, Neelu,” he says, the words tight.
“I don’t—what should I—”
He thrusts forward, and my brain goes blank. I don’t know anything outside of this moment. Outside of this feeling. Outside of him.
“Tell me you’re here,” he says. His hips press against me, moving faster. “Tell me you’re with me.”
