Authors: Jade Goodmore
The walk back to Jesse’s suite feels so long and yet so short. I’m excited but nervous, eager and yet cautious. By the time I’m at Jesse’s hotel door my stomach is a knot of apprehension. I have the key in my hand and yet I still knock. I guess that regardless of how intimate we were last night, there is still so much unfamiliarity between us that entering unannounced would feel rude. My palms are sweaty and I can’t stop smoothing my clothes and fingering my ponytail, much like a young girl calling on her crush.
What awaits me behind this door is a mystery. My head is a cloud of questions and I sense my headache returning, induced by anxiety rather than my hangover. Does he want to talk? Is he going to enlighten me on what happened all those years ago? Is he planning on initiating sex again? I am completely clueless. I don't even know what I would like to happen. Answers are what I came for, but being in his presence is distracting. Although, if the purpose of my being here is to help repair the damage that he caused by leaving, then laying in his arms would be fantastic therapy.
Chapter 8
The door to the suite eventually opens and a twinkly-eyed Jesse greets me. He’s breathtakingly handsome, and as I take in the length of him I notice bare feet beneath his jeans. Wow.
"Hi,” he says, softly.
"Hi."
“Ya’ know, you really didn’t have to knock,” he says.
I shrug, hoping it comes across as casual. He smiles warmly before taking my hand and pulling me inside. After chivalrously taking my bag from my shoulder he gestures towards the large sofa, prompting me to sit. As if it didn't feel awkward enough, I am now sat on the couch where, last night, I had the best sex of my life. I physically shake off the images flashing through my head before I start to blush.
"So, what did you want to do today?" I ask hurriedly, trying to dispel the vivid memories.
"I don't know, I didn’t really think that far ahead. I guess I just wanted to be with you." He tucks his imaginary hair behind his ear and sits next to me, our knees touching.
"We could go for a walk?" I suggest, knowing that staying here alone would be another distraction. An amazing distraction, but when I have so little time with him I need to explore more than just his body.
"That would be great," he replies and smiles his shy smile. He takes my hand again. "Do you know the area?"
"Mmm, not really."
"Let's take my car then, there’s a beach a few miles out. We’ll go there." He kisses my hand and leads the way.
"
That's
your car?"
He opens the passenger door of a huge black Mustang and I laugh an ugly laugh. How did I miss it when I searched the parking lot yesterday?
"I can't believe you actually own a Mustang."
"Why’s that so funny? It’s a great car.”
“It’s a fantastic car,” I confirm, wiping slight tears from my eyes.
“I always said I would," he says, still looking bewildered by my reaction.
"That’s why it’s funny. I was looking…doesn’t matter. Besides, you wanted that car when you were seventeen. Not many people actually get to own their dream car."
"You mean…you don't own a purple Beetle?" he taunts as I climb in. I can’t believe he remembered my favorite color, let alone my old dream car. “Besides, this isn’t just any Mustang, sweets. This is a Shelby GT500, the best. She’s my baby.” He grins wickedly, running his hands over the body work like it’s a work of art. I grin too, not in appreciation of the car but because of his endearment, ‘sweets’. I haven’t heard the expression in years, and yet it still has the same swooning effect on me. It also fills me with a little concern. The lines are becoming more and more blurred between the ‘us’
then
and the ‘us’
now
.
The Mustang is huge, and beautiful. Its long lines are slick, yet muscular and I can appreciate it despite knowing nothing of cars. The only reason I know that this is a Mustang is because Jesse used to talk incessantly about them. Although initially surprised, examining the car, it suits him perfectly. It has to be the most masculine ride I have ever seen. It exudes sexiness.
Jesse walks around the enormous black hood, I say walk, but he’s practically strutting. He sits in the driver’s seat beside me and he can’t deny the pride that he feels for his “baby”. Not when the evidence dances delightfully across his face.
The drive to the beach takes about twenty minutes and most of it is spent quarrelling playfully over what music to listen to. Teasing each other like this feels all too natural, as if no time has passed, as if there are no issues between us. But, there has and there is. I’ve spent the last ten years trying to move forward and get over Jesse, only to find myself right back where I shouldn’t be, in the palm of his hands.
I have to say something to him, now. I’m falling too far, too fast. Today has been amazing, and I feel actual physical pain at jeopardizing the rest of our time together, but I can't fall any further. Not if he isn't planning on sticking around.
Hand in hand, we leave the car behind and walk down towards the beach. Jesse seems so happy, smiling sweetly as he traces his thumb over my knuckles. I wonder if it’s a conscious effort or whether it’s out of habit. With each circle he draws against my skin I can feel my courage diminishing. It’s now or never.
"Jesse, wait." I stop on the sidewalk, unable to walk any further under the pretence that everything is okay.
"What is it?" He stops and stands in front of me, holding both of my hands.
"What are we doing?"
"Well, I thought we were going to the beach." He smiles, cockily, unleashing those dimples like a defensive attack against where he must sense the conversation is heading. I avert my eyes, knowing just how easy it is to be side-tracked by his smile.
"No, I mean us. What are
we
doing? I haven't seen you in ten years and all of a sudden we’re back to teasing and holding hands and making out and going for walks on the beach?" The lump in my throat threatens, but I work hard to fight back against my body’s betrayal. Jesse let's go of my hands, holding the tops of my arms instead. He begins to stroke the length of them, as if comforting me for what he’s about to say.
“Aren’t you having a good time?”
“Yes, of course I am. That’s not the issue.”
“Then what’s the issue? You’re having fun. I’m having the most fun I’ve had in a very long time. What else do you want?”
I sigh, and push him gently away. “Answers.”
Shaking his head, he steps back. He glances at me for a second before looking back to meet my gaze. No doubt catching the hurt in my eyes, he steps to me again, taking my hands.
"Mickey, I get it. There are a million things I need to say to you, to explain to you. I owe you that. But," he sighs loudly. "You’ve been back in my life for just one night. I want to enjoy us again for a little bit longer, no time wasting,” he smiles, hopefully, “and then we can talk."
I understand more than he could know. I’ve been putting off having ‘the talk’ since I locked eyes with him last night, fooling myself into believing that it doesn’t matter right now, that it can wait. But, it’s important for me to have answers. I was so deeply affected by Jesse’s leaving that it’s influenced my entire life and the decisions within it. I owe it to myself to speak out. I almost wish things hadn’t been so smooth today; it would be much easier to talk about the rough. It’s easy to forget how sad you once were when you’re now so happy.
“Jesse, I want to enjoy being with you too, but I can’t play happy families when I should be getting the answers that I’ve wanted for years. If this is the only chance that I’m going to get to talk to you then I need to take advantage of that.”
Tense hands fall to my waist as Jesse pulls me closer to him. “Why would this be the last chance to talk to me?” he asks, but I shake my head. Unable to speak without highlighting the hurt I’m feeling. The lump in my throat is swelling and my eyes are about to glaze over with tears, but I fight it all so I won’t look weak. “Sweets, why taint the short time that we have today when we have so many tomorrows?”
I shake my head, disbelieving. Finding my voice, I whisper, "But if you leave…” He stops me mid sentence, leaning down to look deep into my eyes. His hands move to either side of my face, literally holding my gaze.
"Hey, I'm not going anywhere.” He stresses the importance of each word. “Believe me, okay?"
There’s a big part of me that wants to say no. How can I possibly believe him? To believe him will only make it harder when he does leave again. It's easier to be prepared for the inevitable. However, that part stays quiet. The hopelessly in love part of me wraps my arms around his waist, nuzzles my head into his chest and lies. “Okay,” I sigh, and we walk hand in hand onto the beach.
The sky is completely clear and if it wasn't for the biting breeze, it would be a lovely day. The wind is harsh, generating small waves that dance along the edge of the water. We’ve walked and talked our way down a third of the beach and I’m glad for my thick cardigan to shield my skin from the intensity of the cold. Jesse on the other hand, looks freezing. He’s wearing khaki’s and a white, slim fit t-shirt. One hand is gripping mine tightly and the other is in his pants pocket. I can feel tension radiating throughout his body, and for once I don't think it has anything to do with me.
"Are you cold?"
"No, I'm fine," he says through clenched teeth.
"Seriously? You're shaking, Jesse."
"I'll be fine." He looks away trying to mask his discomfort.
"Come on, let's just head back to the car."
"No! I don't want you to go yet," he snaps stubbornly.
"I will still be with you in the car. In the warm..."
"Mickey, I'm fine," he lies.
"Ok, well you stay here, not being cold. I’m hungry so I'm going to that cafe we saw.”
“Mickey…”
“I'll save you some warm, delicious coffee for when you’re finished with your walk." I let go of his hand and smiling innocently at him I walk backwards up the beach.
"Well, that does sound tempting," he mumbles and starts walking slowly with me.
"No, no, you stay here and enjoy the weather," I tease, holding a hand up to stop him.
"I'd rather enjoy you," he smirks and chases after me. I run away but it's pointless. He catches up with me and I’m caught in a big bear hug. Kisses land tenderly on my head and I want to bury my lips against his, but he’s freezing, so I figure the sooner we get inside the better. We walk back up the beach with our arms wrapped round each other while I secretly try to drape my cardigan around him.
The cafe is warm and inviting. It’s decorated with blues, whites and reds and adorned with nautical furnishings, typical of so many places along New England's coast. Everything about the place is quaint and delicate, even down to the little old lady working behind the counter. We’re one of two couples in here. Everyone else seems to have been put off going to the beach by the wind. Although we did see a couple of people flying kites.
We order coffee and sandwiches and sit on high stools at the bar. We can barely keep our hands off each other, only parting to eat. If it’s not our fingers entwined it’s our tongues. I feel so relaxed. I haven't thought negatively since we left the car and it’s allowed me to fully embrace this time with Jesse.
Little old lady keeps looking over and smiling. I assume it's to see if we’ve finished with our plates, but when she potters over she stops directly in front of us.
"What's the secret?" she asks, her eyes twinkling wickedly.
"Sorry?" Jesse replies.
"Your secret."
"I don't know what you mean.”
“You haven’t been able to keep your hands, eyes or darn lips off of each other.”
Jesse smiles wickedly at me, before she manages to embarrass him. And me.
“How long have you two been married?" she continues, obliviously.
"Erm, we’ve known each other since high school," I interject. I don't want to correct her when she means no harm and she doesn't need to know our situation.
"And you’re still so smitten.” She giggles, warmly. “Good luck to ya’. Your love is potent, dears, enviable. You should bottle it and sell it. You’d be rich." Jesse sniggers at her parting words and I can only assume why.
"What's not to love about this woman?" Jesse answers, looking at me and smiling his shy smile. His eyes are alight with hidden humor and I sense he’s just as embarrassed as me, but he’s able to hide it so much better.
Little old lady leaves us in an air of humor as she mutters something about a lovely couple.
"Sorry, I didn't know what to say," I explain. I reach out for Jesse's hand and he brings it to his lips before kissing my knuckles.
"It's fine. I liked being married to you for a little bit, Mrs. Jenner.”
I chuckle before sounding the name out. "Mrs. Jesse Jenner."
He shakes his head wistfully, amused by something. "It’s weird being called that again."
"What? Mrs. Jesse?" I tease.
"Har har. No...Jesse. I haven’t gone by that name since I left Starling." He continues to sip on his coffee completely unfazed by the startling information he has just relayed.
"So, what does everybody call you?"
“I changed my name to my middle name.”
“Lee?” My brow knits together and my mouth falls open, failing to hide my astonishment. I try to relax and act like this isn't a big deal, but it clearly is.
"Yeah, or Mr. Jenner," he tries to joke, but his wariness is obvious as he observes my reaction.
"Right."
"You okay?"
"I don’t know." I frown and in turn see his smile fall. “Do you want me to call you Lee?”
“Of course not, I’d hate it if you did. I’ll always be Jesse to you.” He reaches his hand up to run his thumb along my lower lip. Leaning in closer, his intentions are clear. I pull away before I succumb to his kiss.
“Why did you change it then?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.