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“Might be time to switch to non-fiction for a bit,” I tease. “He asked me to move in with him.”
Lyndsey chokes on her sip of coffee, and I hand her the last napkin on the table. “Already? Is he crazy?”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “Probably. I told him no. I love him, but I need time.”
“Are you worried about burning hot and then flaming out?”
“Not really. It’s just…he’s ready to jump in feet first and worry about the consequences later. I’ve never been able to do that.” If I’m going to change my ways for anyone, it’ll be Jackson. Yet, the idea still scares the crap out of me. “I just need time to wrap my head around everything. Time to realize this is all real. I’ll get there, eventually.”
The waitress returns with our food and a sour expression on her face. She’ll no doubt be praying for the two of us in church on Sunday.
“Well, he’s been patient this long. Don’t let him be a dick and force you to move faster than you’re comfortable with.”
“Yeah.”
I don’t admit it to Lyndsey, but Jackson moving too fast is something that worries me. When he asked me to move in with him yesterday, I had to force myself to remain open-minded and have an actual conversation with him about his feelings. If it was any other man asking me to move in with him this quickly, I would have walked out and blocked the guy’s number. Maintaining my independence has always been super important to me and, so far, no one has really been worth giving it up for. But Jackson is. So, I can’t behave that way with him.
“So, what do you want to do after this?” Lyndsey asks in between bites.
“Do you feel like helping me with some maid of honor duties?”
Ok, so there was a slight ulterior motive for asking Lyndsey out for breakfast, besides catching her up on everything.
“Jackson was your man of honor, remember?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “But I don’t want his help with this.” Lynds cocks her eyebrow at me suspiciously. “I have to go through all the wedding gifts and figure out how to return them.” She groans around the bite of the waffle she just took. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of that two-buck chuck you like from HEB.”
“Fine. But you’re buying my breakfast and I’m going to want pizza for dinner tonight, too.”
“Deal.”
* * *
Returningto work after a holiday break is always filled with forced interactions and conversations. After all, it’s polite to ask your co-workers what they did during their time off—which is proving to be quite awkward for me on this Monday morning.
When I enter the teacher’s lounge, the few faculty members who are already in here are speaking in hushed tones. Hushed tones that stop the minute they see it’s me. There are lots of sympathetic smiles and apologies for my wedding that didn’t happen. It’s funny, it’s the same type of sympathy I received when my mom died. But with the condolences also come a few congratulations. The coworkers who I’m close to gush over my newfound happiness with Jackson, telling me how lucky I am to have dodged the bullet.
By the end of first period, it feels as though I’ve spoken to every single adult and half of the senior girls. Mentally, I’m already exhausted. Prepping my call sheets for the rest of the day, I hear my office door click shut. Looking up, I find Jackson leaning up against it.
“Where have you been? Usually I see you before the first bell.”
“I feel bad for every person I’ve ever interrogated.” He rubs his temples and closes his eyes. “Literally every person I came in contact with had a minimum of fifty questions for me.”
“Yeah, it’s been an interesting morning.” I open my side drawer and reach inside. “Aspirin?” I shake the bottle.
“Only if you have a six-pack of beer for me to chase it down with.”
“I’m fresh out. But we are in a high school, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find alcohol somewhere.”
Jackson walks over to me, places both hands on the armrest of my chair, and bends down. His nose nuzzles my own and I close my eyes, allowing his touch to melt away the stress of the day.
“You take the edge off better than any aspirin or beer can.” His lips brush against mine and all too quickly, they’re gone. “I slept like shit without you last night.” Jackson stands tall before taking a seat in front of my desk.
“Poor baby.”
After being together every night since my wedding day, Jackson wasn’t shy about telling me how unhappy he was that I insisted on sleeping at my place last night. With my vacation being over, I needed to get back into my routine; I decided to sleep at home last night because my routine involves having access to my closet and anything else I might need. But I slept like shit without him, too. Even though I won’t admit that to him right now.
“I’m glad to see the change in our relationship didn’t soften you any. I wouldn’t know how to react if you were suddenly sympathetic toward my feelings.” The smirk on his face tells me he’s kidding. But then his face turns serious. “I got a call from the social worker regarding Annabelle Baucom’s case. The investigation’s complete and Annabelle’s claims were found to be true.”
