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“No complications.”
“I’m proud of you. I wish your mother were here to see how well you’ve done. She would’ve been proud.”
“Me too, Daddy.” I clear my throat and force a smile to my face. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Would you like to come over for dinner on Friday evening so we can celebrate?”
“Of course. I’ll bring wine.”
“Try to get some rest. Bye, Daddy.”
I drop my phone back into my bag and wrap my arms around myself to ward off the cold. As I walk into the lobby of the hotel, I see Jaxson sitting in the reception area. While he’s looking at his phone, I quickly walk to the elevators. I press the button and watch as the numbers change.
Come on.
I suppress the urge to glance over my shoulder.
Please. Please. Please.
The elevator dings and I impatiently wait for a couple to exit. As I step forward, I feel a hand on my lower back.
Shit.
A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that the hand belongs to Jaxson. He follows me into the elevator, and I press the number for my floor.
My eyes scan the reception area, hoping someone will come running towards the elevator, and we won’t have to ride alone.
No one joins us and the doors slide shut.
His hand moves to my hip and then his chest presses against my back.
It’s been almost six years. Jaxson belongs to a time of confusion and heartache. I didn’t understand why Mom had to die. I didn’t understand what happened between Jaxson and me. I still don’t.
What I do understand now, is that I blamed Jaxson for the pain I suffered that day. I blamed him because it was easier than admitting that I felt something more than hate for him.
I don’t believe in the romantic kind of love fairytales teach us about. People believe they fall in love when it’s only elevated hormone levels because they like what they see.
Hate is a strong word, and it’s one I’ve really considered when it comes to Jaxson West. I’ve settled for intensely disliking him. Asking me to forgive Jaxson, is like asking me to willingly sit through a root canal.
I dislike him because he had no problem taking my virginity before tossing me aside. He walked away from me when I needed someone most.
For a blinding moment, he made me believe there could be such a thing as love.
He leans into me and presses his cheek against my hair. I hear him take a deep breath and I close my eyes.
I haven’t had a chance to get a good look at him, but he still feels the same.
“Hi, Doc,” he whispers. His voice is deep and rougher sounding than I remember. It still has the power to send goosebumps racing over my body.
“Jaxson,” I say, glad when my voice sounds normal.
The elevator stops on my floor and the second the doors open, I dart forward. I can feel him right behind me as I walk to my room. I swipe the keycard and push open the door, walking to the bar so I can get some water.
“I’d offer you something to drink, but you won’t be staying long,” I say as I take a bottle of water from the fridge.
“How have you been, Doc?”
I’m angry that I’m the only one affected by this meeting. I’ve thought about Jaxson a lot over the past years. They say when you lose someone their voice is the first thing you forget.
I can’t remember what Mom sounded like. I can’t remember her smile. Lately, I’ve been struggling to picture her face.
