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I want the same thing.
I also know I can’t jump into this relationship. Not like this. My gut told me to run a few days ago. Take a break and process.
Because I’m fucking terrified.
God, how do I find the words to tell him? I can’t help but furrow my brow.
From his expression of resignation, Joar somehow already understands where my head is at. He lets go of my hand. “Ah.“ He leans back on his chair. “Go ahead. Just say it.”
“Fine. When you’re in London, I think we should take a pause. I’m going to Seattle to visit Ronni. I’m meeting with CAA. I need a couple of good, solid reading days. This entire thing with you is happening too fast. My head is spinning.” I take a sip of coffee. Bite my lip. Brace myself for a volatile reaction.
But no. Joar merely stands and moves toward the window overlooking Wilshire. “What does a ‘pause’ mean?”
“Focus on your deal in London. I’ll have some breathing room to figure some stuff out. I was married for ten years. You’re the first man I’ve…” I catch my breath and redirect. “JJ, here’s where I’m coming from. Since before I met you, there hasn’t been a time where you haven’t pursued me. At first because you hated me. Then because you wanted to fuck me. Now because you want a relationship? It’s a lot. I need a small break. A reset.” As the words come out, I know they’re honest.
True.
I’m taking a huge risk. Asking for time. Honoring what I need.
Because we are not on level playing fields right now. Not even close.
“Got it.” He doesn’t move from the window. Doesn’t look at me.
“Do you?” I throw my hands in the air.
He whirls around. “What do you want me to say?”
“Say you understand.” I shake my head. Toe the floor with my bare foot.
He approaches me, his violet eyes narrowed in hurt. “No. I will not lie to you. I do not understand. Not even a little bit. It’s ridiculous. If this means you want to go back to stupid fucking online dates, I can’t comprehend what you’re saying. At all. Not when you’re the only woman I want.”
“JJ.” I take his hands in mine. Look him in the eye. Will him to see my point of view. “Of course I don’t want to date anyone else. Our physical relationship is unlike anything I ever imagined. It’s intoxicating. My desire for you is out of this world.” I shake my head slightly. “I just don’t trust myself in a new relationship. That’s the honest truth. Maybe if our circumstances were different, I’d be able to let go and fall into this whirlwind romance.” I squeeze his fingers. “Our history might be short, but it’s complicated. I’m so flattered you want us to be together. Can’t you let me have a little space to catch up to you?”
He rips his hands from mine. “Fuck this. I pour my heart out and you essentially say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’“ He storms across the living room. Turns and disappears into the bedroom.
I knew he’d be mad. Now my stomach’s in my throat. I can’t keep him. Not like this. I also don’t want to hurt him.
It’s not like we’re in love.
Right?
Tentatively, I tiptoe into the master suite. He’s in his walk-in closet packing. He glances up when I appear in the doorway but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. “You know that wasn’t what I meant.”
“Whatever.” His voice is dismissive. “I just texted Victor. The plane is being fueled early. I might as well get this show on the road.” He doesn’t look at me. Just holds up a couple of ties like he’s deciding on which one to bring.
“This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go.” I lean against the door. “This isn’t the end…”
“Just stop.” He tosses a folded-up piece of paper at me, which falls at my feet.
I pick it up and unfold a printout of two first-class tickets to London on Virgin Atlantic with a post-it note stuck to the front that says,
10 a.m.
My living room
Don’t be Late.
A hate date—commercial flight.
