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24
Jax
My mind hasn’t been right since Sierra called a week ago to say Saona was coming to Baltimore. My heart hasn’t had one regular beat from the moment Juan sent me a text with three words.
Your girl’s here.
I’ve been restless since yesterday because she’s been here for over a day and not a text or call. I worked last night and waited for her to come, contemplating calling her but gave up and went home. I have to respect her wishes.
Now I’m waiting for her. Seems like I’m always waiting for Saona. Waited for her in September and she hadn’t come down. Waited for her all last night, all day today. Now I’m back to waiting, left alone to dissect our interaction today. She was surprised to see me but not overjoyed. She didn’t smile, not once. She got mad when I told her about my regrets. And why the hell did she insist on driving herself? Did she lie to me? What if instead of coming here, she drove herself back to New York?
Lights flood my window as a car turns into my driveway and parks behind mine. No, not just a car, a white Range Rover. I step back from the window but don’t rush to the door until the old-fashioned ring of the mechanical twist doorbell I found fills my living room. When I open the door, she’s smiling.
“I love that bell.”
My breath catches in my throat and I find myself jealous of the stupid object but still grateful for it. I haven’t seen her smile in God knows how long.
“Can I come in? It’s a little bit cold out here.” Her smile turns sheepish.
I take a quick step back. “I’m sorry.”
She steps in and I get a full look at her in her double-breasted, wool trench coat and knee-high, black boots. Her lips are no longer covered in lipstick and there’s my birthmark, crowning her plump and glossy bottom lip.
“May I take your coat?”
She nods and I love that there is no hesitation there.That has to be a good sign, right?
She unbuttons her jacket and my pulse seizes like she’s stripping for me, like there’s nothing underneath that. But I’m not that lucky anymore and I don’t even deserve it for the way I acted.
Except, oh my fucking stars. Underneath that coat is a sparkly black tank top and a leather skirt that goes a little past her knees.Jesus.She came to kill…me.
If this had been months ago, I would have fucked her, in the foyer with her boots on and hands braced on the door. That skirt would stay hiked up her ass.
She clears her throat, reminding me it’s not months ago. I signal to the living room and move to the closet to hang her coat. “Would you like anything to drink? I can make you another Whiskey Sage. I have everything here.”
I move to the kitchen and she follows me, her gaze on everything. “Wow, everything looks amazing here. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“I still have no furniture.”
“It never needed adornments to be beautiful,” she whispers but I hear it.
And she could be talking about us and not the house. We never needed comfort or fancy things to be together. What we had was already beautiful. It’s a weight on my chest that she doesn’t notice she dropped.
Because she’s running her hand over the smooth surface of the Formica countertops I haven’t been able to afford changing yet.
“Don’t worry about furniture. What you’ve done here is far more valuable. The rest will come with time.”
“I doubt it now.”
She frowns but I hand her the drink.
“Thank you.” She sips and closes her eyes. “Hmm. This is delicious. Even better than the one at the bar.”
“I made the syrup myself. The one at the bar is store bought. I’ve been experimenting with drinks lately for a project I have in mind.”
“Oh. It’s really good.”
We move through the rest of the house, drinks in hand. She’s asking me about the changes I’ve made and marveling at the job I’ve already done, while I remind her of everything the house still needs. She’s praising me and all I can see is where I failed with the house.And her.
