I stand in the shower for an unbelievably long time, the hot water pouring down me, refreshingly, helps
to push the nausea down. I’m aching at everything so familiar about being here, so many memories
and thoughts of Jake beside me. I feel like I’ve woken inside a dream, some strange alternate reality
where I never left, and this feels like where I should be. It’s disconcerting and doesn’t help my
emotionally confused state of mind at all.
Fully cleansed of my shameful drunken night and drying myself I can hear noise in the apartment. The
sound of music drifting though the walls and I know Jake must be back. I pause for a moment listening
to the faint drifting of one of his favorite songs and the sound of a juicer going in the kitchen, emotion
swirling in apprehension in my stomach. I’m nervous being here with him, being alone and having to
face him.
I pull on an oversized white bath robe and wander cautiously out through to the large open-plan lounge,
looking around for him, holding my breath. I’m like a jittery teen going on a first date.
He has his back to me, dressed in a fresh T-shirt and jeans and seems to be making a smoothie or
some sort of healthy drink, the blender is going strong, so he doesn’t hear me approach. I can’t help
but watch the way his strong wide shoulders move and flex under his body hugging T-shirt, or the way
his arms and biceps tense and grow with every bend and stretch. His masculine mannerisms strong
with effortless ease and grace, the signs of a man confident in himself without the malice of cocky
arrogance.
I must admit, he’s the perfect specimen of manly form, just the thought of it makes me depressed.
Every nerve in my body is torn between lust and betrayal, I want him, yet I don’t. I long for his touch yet
I know it will only bring me pain. I miss those arms around me and those hands on me but know having
them back would break me.
The machine stops, and I watch from the other side of the counter as he pours half into a tall glass
before turning my way with a flicker of surprise.
“Hey, didn’t hear you coming through.” He smiles, in his shy and charmingly beautiful way; it has the
same effect on me that it always has. I clamp my knee’s together as a wave of hot warmth rushes
through my veins.
Seems he hasn’t lost that ability over me anyway.
“Here, your favorite smoothie. I figured you may need it seeing as you haven’t eaten anything yet.” He
nods toward the plate of croissants on the counter now covered in plastic wrap. I take the tall glass,
carefully avoiding his hand so we don’t touch and smile shyly. I pull my robe tighter across my chest
and slide up onto the bar stool trying with every ounce of self-control to stop trembling and acting as
awkward as hell.
“Thanks, not sure I can drink it right now, but I’ll try.” I take a sip of the forest fruits, mango, and banana
smoothie, touched that he would do it for me; but I gasp and swallow hard when the bile rises from my
stomach. I put my drink down with a grimace and hold my throat until the nausea calms down.
“Maybe just water?” He nods at me with a slight frown, before getting me a glass of iced water from the
machine on the fridge.
There’s a weird quiet atmosphere as he watches me sip, tension, and awkwardness, as though neither
of us knows what to say first. I turn away from him around the room to find something to rest my eyes
on that isn’t six feet two, sexy as hell, with an ability to break me into a million pieces. I can feel his
body heat across the kitchen bar and the tingle of electricity in the air. Drawn back to him like a moth to
a flame. I glance up and down his fresh clothes and know for a fact he never came into his room for
them, I motion with my glass at his attire shyly.
“Why are you keeping clothes in the guest rooms?” I ask gently, confused by this unusual fact. He
frowns at me for a moment before answering.
“Because I can’t bear to be in there.” He nods toward his bedroom. “Without you … I had Nora move
some of my things so I wouldn’t need to go in there at all.” He looks down at his hands awkwardly. I
flinch, like he’s just sucker punched me in the stomach, it’s such a painful response. We look away
from each other instantly.
“I see.” I choke back the tears threatening to break loose and clear my throat to try to shift them away
again.
“I brought you something to wear when I took Sarah home. The bag is by the bedroom door.” He nods
toward the pink hold all that belongs to Sarah, changing the subject quickly and I smile gratefully; only
Jake would’ve had that kind of foresight.
“Figured you would keep me in that dress if you had a choice.” I smirk at him and catch the tension in
his face ease a little. Trying to lighten the heavy mood I created with my question.
“I would have, but I think it needs dry cleaning first, you smelled like a brewery last night.” His devilish
smile melts the pain in my heart slightly, and I slide off the chair. Jake’s trying for the light easy humor
we used to have, it’s a little warming and helps with easing my nerves.
“I think I’ll go get dressed. I don’t feel too comfortable like this.” I point out, an instant pain in my heart
at the hint of disappointment across in his face. Jake used to love me in nothing more than bathrobes;
easy to peel apart and access me underneath. This is a sign of how things are between us and without
trying to wound him, I have.
“I’ll be here.” He throws on a brave smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I nod and move off, grabbing the
bag as I pass, trying to remove the spike wedging itself in my heart.
* * *
I feel much better dressed in leggings and a silky camisole under a long, oversized, cashmere jumper.
He chose one of my casual lounging at home outfits, whether it was deliberate, or Sarah had chosen it,
but I’m comfortable. They’re my much-needed hugs from clothes I would’ve chosen myself. I pull on the
long thick socks leaving them wrinkled at my ankles.
The nausea, headache, and overwhelming hangover are still lingering but that constant hunger I seem
to have is starting to battle with it; urging me to eat after all. I’m not sure how well it’ll go down but I’m
ravenous despite what is waiting for me out in the kitchen.
I pad out into the lounge and see Jake hovering in the kitchen, messing with the expensive coffee
maker, filling up the small compartments. I never see much of his domesticated side when Nora is
around, but he shows his competence on the rare occasions she has a day off.
He turns with a timid smile, sensing my presence and puts down the packets he’s holding. We both
know it’s time we talked and stopped evading this. I walk past him, retrieving the smoothie from the
fridge, take a proper drink and he smiles at my efforts.
“Do you want to sit here or in our room?” His gentleness makes me waver; he’s still calling it ‘our’ room
and I can’t trust myself to not fall under his spell almost instantly if we were near that bed.
“The couch.” I nod in the direction of the white leather and chrome behind him, and with trembling legs,
I make my way to the padded seat and sit down, hating the tension that has suddenly thickened in the
space between us.
I push around some of the fluffy cushions I picked out a few weeks ago, nervous anticipation and
stomach butterflies returning, and nestle myself near the side table so I can put my glass down. I
haven’t up chucked it yet, surprisingly, it seems to be soothing my stomach. The aspirin is helping my
head a little.
He waits, then sits near me, still giving me space. His whole body is turned to me and his focus solely
on my face. This close I can almost feel his touch, his smell is intoxicating, and his nearness a little too
suffocating. I tip my head down, letting my damp hair cover me, suddenly aware how tired and pale I
must look.
I don’t want him to see me this way. I should’ve worn make-up or paid more attention to my
appearance earlier!
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