I’m turning away when he says, “Wait, no. Please stay.”
I look back at him and see his outstretched hand, like he was reaching for my wrist. Immediately, he withdraws it with a look of contrition, and my skin prickles with the ghost of his touch.Don’t pull away, I want to tell him.I was wrong. Wrong about everything.
But instead, I say, “Are you sure?”
His Adam’s apple moves heavily in his throat as he looks at me, and I know he understands every layer of what I’m asking.Are you sure you still want me after I turned you away? Even if it means jeopardizing our bargain? Even if it complicates your friendship with Henry?
Guilt wraps me in its familiar embrace at this last thought, but Jude’s gaze is dark and parched as it locks on mine. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Get in here.”
And so, without looking back, I make my choice and step over the threshold.
The door closes behind me, and suddenly all I can hear is my own breathing as I lean back against it. Jude is looking at me like he’s convinced this is some kind of stress-hallucination, and I don’t blame him. I try to find my voice, but in all my desperation to get here, I didn’t consider what I’d actually say if he let me in.
What comes out is a slightly choked, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he repeats, dark eyebrows slanting together.
He knows I’m upset—I’m not exactly hiding it. But before he can ask me what’s wrong and I completely break down, I walk past him into the beautiful room. It has high, crown-molded ceilings, heavy green drapes, a sitting area next to an ornate fireplace, and most notably, a giant canopy bed. I avert my eyes, afraid it might throw back its covers in saucy invitation if I stare at it long enough.
But isn’t that exactly why you’re here? To let go of Forever and Always and learn how to be someone’s Just for Now?
At the thought, leaden sadness and electric nerves tangle in my stomach. The truth is, even though I feel completely safe with Jude, I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve never even had a one-nightsit, and I have no idea how to start one. Do I just kiss him? Tell him that if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to have sex with him on every available surface?
I hear his footsteps approach from behind, and nervous heat floods my face.
“So, where’s Taco?” I blurt, turning around to face him.
He blinks at my super smooth attempt to avoid explaining why I’m here, and points to a darkened doorway by the fireplace. “Her room adjoins the bathroom.”
Unexpected delight cuts through my anxiety. “She has her ownroom?”
“For my own safety.”
“Stop pretending you’re not completely obsessed with her.”
The way his eyes move over me makes my stomach zip tight. “I never said I wasn’t.”
The atmosphere changes so abruptly, I feel like I’ve been sucked into a vacuum chamber. I go perfectly still as he approaches me, and all my awareness is tugged across the space between us. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Why are you here, Gracie?”
His eyes hold mine as his simple question loops around me like a lasso. I could tell him that tonight, the Happily Ever After story I’ve been telling myself for years just had all its pages ripped out. That in the aftermath, I only wanted to be withhim—someone else with love in ruins at their feet. But the dim lamplight is far too bright for that kind of truth, so instead, I whisper, “I didn’t want to be alone.”
He moves closer, but just like at his door, he stops short of touching me.
“What happened?” he asks, sticking his hands in his pockets like some sort of safety measure. My heart folds in half as I watch him keep his word not to touch me again. He doesn’t know that right now, being held by him feels like the only way I’ll be able to get through this night. But I can’t get the words out.Hold me. Touch me. Make me forget I ever wanted forever with someone, when I could have right now with you.
“I’m so sorry,” I finally say around the thick wedge of disenchantment lodged in my throat. “I just… would you—”
Stumbling slightly, I take one final step and close the space I’ve tried so hard to maintain. I press my face to the warm cotton stretched across his broad chest as grief and longing pull taut within me. He’s frozen, and for one terrifying moment, I wonder if I’ve read the whole situation upside down and backward. But then his big arms come around me, one hand cradling the back of my head, and a silent sob tightens my chest and throat like a vise.
It’s such a simple thing, being held. Simple, but magnificent in its power to transmute our pain from a burden to bear alone to a bond of kindness shared. It feels like a millennium since the last time I was in his arms, and I can’t keep it together anymore. I lost something precious tonight, and it feels like the North Star has fallen out of thesky. I shake against him, hot tears squeezing from the corners of my scrunched eyes. He absorbs it all into his solid warmth, soothing me with gentle hands and whispered assurances that I’m not alone. That he has me.
When I finally lift my heavy head from his wet, mascara-smeared shirt, I know one thing: I don’t want to stop touching him. I don’t want his hands off me for a single second tonight.
“I want you.” The words gust out of me, blunt and far too simple for everything he makes me feel. His eyes flicker with a warning look, and I hurry to reassure him.
“I swear I’m not looking for promises or forever,” I say, before he can remind me that while he might be craving a physical connection, too, he doesn’t do relationships. I know it all too well, and it’s exactly why I’m here. “I just want something that won’t break my heart for once,” I explain. “Something simple.”
Because I have to know how he does it.I need him to show me how he stems the loneliness without ever risking his heart.
