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Brent grabs my arm and we come to a stop again. “What did you say? Please tell me I heard you incorrectly.”
“I don’t think I should go.”
“Jamie, you’ve already paid and it’s all set for you to go. Why are you changing your mind?” He sounds so desperate for me to answer.
“Do you want to have a bad trip?”
“We won’t have a bad trip.”
“You will if I go,” I insist.
“Hon, what are you talking about?”
“You’re putting me on the same ship as your daughter who hates me for a week. Do you honestly think she’ll play nice the entire time? That’s not going to make for a great birthday trip for you, Brent. It’ll be better if I don’t go. Or if I do, I don’t spend any time at all with y’all. Your birthday shouldn’t be ruined just because I’m there.” All of these things I knew were possibilities when I agreed to go, but after dealing with my parents, my edges are frayed. The last thing I want to do is lose my composure on the trip and go off on Kayla, deserved or not.
Brent cups my face and gently pulls me until I’m nearly touching him. “What has been my general way of dealing with things so far?”
I frown. How he deals with things? “You don’t seem to give a fuck what anyone thinks, but that’s not always helpful, Brent.”
“It is when the issue people have is dumb. The only issue people have with us is our age difference. Not how I treat you. Not whether I’m trying to take advantage of you or if you’re looking for a sugar daddy. Nothing except it makes my daughter feel awkward and your parents uncomfortable. That’s not something we break up over, and it for damn sure isn’t something that makes you back out of the cruise. You aren’t the one who will ruin the trip. You’re going, Jamie.”
A sigh rises and exhales through my lips. “I want you and everyone else to have a good time and I don’t think they will if I’m there. If I go, I’m not spending any time with y’all.”
“Jamie, for right now, just promise me you’ll go. Things might change between now and when we leave.”
Maybe, but if I get on the ship, something tells me Brent will make sure I spend time with him. With the way he’s looking at me, so serious and hopeful and with something else I can’t quite put my finger on, I find myself saying, “I promise.”
He smiles. “Thank you.” He sweeps me up in a kiss that makes me forget we’re outside on a sidewalk in early April. The only thing I can think about is his body against mine and his mouth wreaking a pleasurable havoc on mine. His lips move against mine as he softly says, “I know I’m bossy, but that’s only because you’re sometimes not and because I love you.”
Something just happened to my ears because I don’t think I heard him correctly. “What?”
“I said you’re not always bossy.”
“Not that. Didn’t you say something else?”
“That I’m bossy?”
“No.”
“Are you hard of hearing?” he teases.
He needs to be serious here! I slap his arm. “This is no time for jokes, Brent!” My voice falls to a whisper. “You love me? Me? Jamie?” I point to myself, making him laugh. My heart is on edge, ready to elate with joy as soon as he confirms what I’m sure he said.
“Yeah, hon, I love you.”
I grin and smack a loud kiss on his lips. I’m in such a happy daze that I loop my arm in his, rest my head on his shoulder, and we begin our walk back home. My heart sings he loves me, he loves me, Brent said he loves me. I’m pretty sure it’s doing a happy little jig, too. He turned a really crummy day into one of my best.
“You should take a shower with me,” Brent says as we walk up to his house.
“You’re the boss.”
He laughs. “Better watch that or I might get carried away.”
I’m not sure I believe him. At least, I don’t think him getting carried away is a bad thing. Brent looks out for me enough for me to know he won’t intentionally hurt me somehow. When we walk into the house, we don’t see Gregory, but hear music coming from upstairs. Brent grins and leads me to his room and the en suite bathroom.
Brent turns on the shower and kisses my neck, curling his fingers underneath the hem of my shirt. A moment later, my shirt is off. I reach over to pull his shirt off. My mind replays how he told me he loves me, not yet tiring of it, as Brent hooks his fingers under my waistbands. And that’s when it hits me.
“Oh my god!” My panicked voice startles Brent enough that he stops touching me. He searches my face for clues as to what’s wrong. “I didn’t say it back.” How could I not tell him what I feel? How could Brent want to take a shower with me and be so affectionate with me after telling me he loves me and I didn’t say it back? I might as well have rejected him!
