AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As it consumes me for all the things I didn't do for Kate.
I'd say something to him, something encouraging or at least comforting, but I know better than anyone that no words can wipe the guilt away. I'd kiss him, the way he kissed me when I broke down in his arms that night in his penthouse, and at the hospital, but it would break my heart to do it. I'm not sure he'd want that anyway.
I'm not sure about anything anymore.
"She always reprimanded me for not getting professional help for my jealousy issues. Maybe she would still be alive had I done so. I started going to counseling after her funeral."
Parker knew about this. That explains why he didn't react like a normal person would when James yelled at him. The way he froze when we first met, at the party, and James told him I was there with him. Other images come to mind. Of James under that tree, recoiling when I accused him of being jealous. Of James in the bar. How close was Jason to having his nose broken that night?
I realize Parker isn’t the only one who knows about this. The lark also does. That’s why she said she knows James with such entitlement. Because she knew James during all those years he wants to forget about. Only she’s too stupid to let him forget about it, as her indiscretion at the airport proves—all in the name of making me feel small.
"Did counseling help?"
He gives a humorless laugh. "I never had any real relationship after Lara to test myself. I kept myself out of relationships on purpose. I think deep down I always knew that monstrous part of me was still there. Until you. I wanted so much for you and I to work."
He moves slightly, almost imperceptibly in his position, and I think that maybe he'll come to me. Maybe he'll close this awful distance. Then I realize I must have imagined it, because his stance behind the chair is as firm as ever.
"But you saw for yourself at the hospital how much all the years of counseling helped."
"So what, you had your first Othello relapse and decided to just bolt?" I say in a surprisingly strong voice.
"What else was there?"
"I was there, James. And you just took off."
I don't imagine it this time. In a split second, he's inches away from me, lifting my chin with his thumb. It's just a slight, innocent touch, but it's enough to set every nerve in my body on edge.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I promised not to hurt you again and I thought I was doing more harm than good if I stayed there."
"You not wanting me, that's what is hurting," I whisper.
"I do want you. God, Serena, you don't know how much."
That is a blessing to my ears, balm for my soul. The words I so needed to hear.
"Then don't do this."
"You deserve someone better. You deserve someone perfect."
"I want you."
You are perfect for me, is what I can't say out loud. Because nothing but another broken soul could be perfect for me.
"You do?" he asks under his breath. "After everything I just told you?"
"Yes," I whisper and without giving him any notice, I press my lips to his. For one frozen second I just stand like that, terrified that he will step back. Or push me away. But he doesn't. He pegs one hand at the back of my head, the other one around my waist, taking over the kiss. My mind, my heart. Taking all of me over. Our bodies are pressed against each other in a tender passion, searching for gratification in every touch, every breath.
Until we run out of breath. Literally.
I don't open my eyes right away when we break off. I want to savor the lingering flavor of his lips on mine for a few moments longer, but then his cell starts vibrating.
I run my hand to the inner chest pocket of his jacket, but he murmurs, seeking my lips again, "Leave it."
I do, but whoever is calling doesn't seem to want to leave him, because one second after the vibration stops, another short one follows. A message.
"You know, it's not healthy to keep this thing so close to your heart," I say and he smiles, holding his jacket open.
I clasp my fingers around the phone, retrieving it from the pocket. I was planning to drop it on the table and return to our kiss, but the strike of horror on James's face when he glances at the screen changes my mind. I turn the screen toward me.
