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“It’s none of my business, sir,” he says stiffly, “but for what it’s worth, I’m happy for you.”
I’m in a rush, but this feels like a lifeline after leaving Maddie upstairs. “That’s probably a rare opinion,” I say.
He shrugs. “I don’t look at this like other people might. My parents had a thirty-year age gap. They got lots of strange looks, sure, but I saw their relationship. I saw the love. I saw the dedication, and they were the best parents a boy could ask for.”
I offer him my hand. “Thank you, Jerry. I needed to hear that.”
He shakes my hand, and then I leave, hurrying through the lot to my car.
All I can do is pray Madison waits for me, and she feels the same. If not, my world crumbles. Now that I’ve held her, tasted her, and heard her laugh, I can’t imagine returning to my regular life.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Madison
I stand on Jacob’s balcony. It’s spacious out here, with more room than I can believe, bigger than some people’s apartments, but that’s not why I like it.
Leaning against the railing, I can look across the city and imagine Jacob in his office, rushing around and attempting to fix the deal with Trent. Attempting tokillthe deal is more like it.
The cool, caressing air keeps me awake, alert enough to think about what Jacob said before he left. His words replay in my mind. He wants me. A marriage, kids, all of it. Then he left before I could tell him I feel the same.
I freaked when he told me, Mom’s voice hissing in my mind, warning me men will say anything,doanything, and beanyoneif that’s what it takes to get what they want from a woman. Jacob was going to get what he wanted from me, anyway.
The more lust we share, the more steam, the closer I get to handing in my V-card and shutting down the cruel voice inside of me whispering I’ll never be good enough. He didn’t have to invent false stories.
Now, an hour later, Mom’s voice has faded away from my mind. I’ve tried calling her, but she’s not answering, and she’s not responding to my texts. I have to remember how she reacted when she saw the photos. It was like we were both high-school age and the jock asked me to prom—something which would never happen—and Mom couldn’t take it.
The more I think about Jacob’s words, the more I wish I’d said something else in response. My accusation will tarnish the moment. Is it really so crazy to think he wants me for me?
Returning to the apartment, I pour another mug of coffee. I’m wired already, but sleep is at the bottom of my priority list. I try not to look at the internet for comments about me and Jacob, but it’s like starting a fire and telling somebody to stand next to it without feeling the heat.
Which is to say… yeah, I cave. I look. It’s all as predictable as I knew it would be. Gold digger. I’m too young. Why is Jacob pickingher, meaning me?
There are other comments, ones I didn’t expect. These tell the other commenters—the mean ones—to shut the hell up, to let us be happy. Jacob has never been seen in public with a woman before, and he looks like he’s having fun. We both do, so what’s the issue?
If it was just the public aspect of this, I think we could be okay, assuming Jacob told me the truth about his feelings, but what about Mom?
I sit on his couch looking at his expensive TV. This apartment is large and impressive, but it’s also a little too modern for my tastes. There’s a coldness to it which doesn’t match the Jacob I know, but maybe that’s it, the core of the issue. The Jacob I know isn’t the same man who initially moved into this apartment. He’s changed.I’mchanging him. We’re changing each other.
I read another comment, a smile touching my lips.
Look at them. How are y’all gonna be mad at that? They’re clearly in love.
Almost an hour later, the front door opens. As I stand to greet him, I imagine doing exactly this when we’re a couple, when I’m his wife, just like he said he wanted.
He stops at the end of the hallway, looking as alert as me, as though the late hour is not affecting him. He’s wearing just his shirt, the sleeves rolled up, his top two buttons undone to show me a tempting sliver of his chest.
“Did you mean it?”
I watch him closely as I approach, like a skittish animal ready to flee. That’s not how I want to think of myself, but perhaps it’s what Mom’s warnings have turned me into. I’m done being that woman.
“All that stuff you said about us,” I say when he simply stares at me with that classically Jacob tense look.
His answer is to kiss me, which isn’t much of an answer at all, but it’s not as though I’m going to push him away. Even if that was my goal, my body wouldn’t let me. He turns, pressing me softly against the wall, our mouths opening in hunger.
I tell myself this is all the answer I need, the evidence that his words were true, but that could be an excuse to just keep kissing. My hands rise naturally to his shoulders, his muscles firm against my palms, reminding me of his power. Not that I need a reminder.
With a groan, he begins to slide his hand up my inner thigh. Instincts tell me to let him. Don’t stop him. Give into the lust and worry about the rest later, but I have to know. Ideserveto, don’t I?
