Chapter Twenty-One
For days, fearfestered within me. I wrestled with it, fought against it, but it was a battle I was losing.
All I could think about was the fact that even if Jordan didn’t want to leave me, he could still break my heart. The same way my mother broke my father’s heart when she died. The same way she broke mine.
That kind of pain never left. It might fade or recede, but it always returned. It was inescapable.
And I couldn’t face it. I didn’t have the strength to survive a loss like that again.
Every night, I tossed and turned, trying to relax enough to sleep. When I did, the sound of Lucille’s low, keening wail would wake me up, only it wasn’t Lucille crying. It was me.
I would dream about standing over a grave, watching a shiny coffin sink down into the open earth, knowing that it held Jordan. Then I would wake up, trembling and cold.
Tonight, when I woke from the dream, Jordan pulled me into his arms. He held me close as I lay silently in his embrace, letting his warmth seep into me.
“What’s going on, Tanya? What are you dreaming about every night?” he whispered against my hair.
I sighed against his shoulder, tempted to share though I knew he couldn’t comfort me. He couldn’t promise me that he would never leave me, never die. Instead I took the cowardly way out and lied. “Milton’s funeral…it brought up some bad memories for me. I keep dreaming about my mom’s death.”
His arms tightened around me. “I’m sorry, love. Tell me about it.”
I kissed his chest, just over his heart. “I’d rather not. I hate that dream.”
“Then talk to me about something else,” he invited as he stroked my hair. “Tell me more about your sister.”
I cuddled closer and did as he asked.
Still, every night that dream returned, reminding me that I was on borrowed time. I wondered how much longer I would have that before it was taken from me. Months? Years? Decades if I was lucky?
I knew that Jordan could sense my withdrawal. As each day passed, his jaw seemed harder and his eyes grew more piercing as he watched me. He studied my every move and I knew he was looking for some clue as to why I was pulling away from him. It took every ounce of ability I possessed to keep my fear and sorrow from showing on my face. But I knew that my best poker face wouldn’t keep him at bay for long.
The knowledge that Jordan was biding his time, waiting until the right moment to broach the subject, worried me. The master of the mindfuck would easily see past my defenses once he figured out what I was thinking. With each passing day, the tension inside me wound tighter and tighter, so taut that I knew it was only a matter of time before it snapped.
It was Friday night when I lost my composure.
Jordan and I were in the kitchen, eating dinner at the small table I’d arranged in my breakfast nook.
“I’d like you to help me decorate my house,” Jordan stated.
“Pardon?”
“My house. I’d like for us to start spending more time there, but it’s not very comfortable since I don’t have much furniture. I’d like you to help me furnish it.”
“Why?”
His eyes narrowed on me and he set aside his fork. “Because I want you to be comfortable there, especially since we’ll likely be living there someday.”
I blinked at him. “Living there?”
“Yes, Tanya. We’re practically living together now and as much as I like your townhome, it’s a bit too small for both of us, much less the children we might have.”
I stared at him in shock as his words sank in. “Children?” I whispered.
“What do you think we’re doing here, Tanya?” he asked. “I thought you understood what I wanted.”
I licked my dry lips. “I do. It just doesn’t seem like the best time,” I evaded.
He reached out and took my limp hand in his. “I know you’ve been upset about Milton’s death, but I don’t think that’s the only thing bothering you. I want to help you, but I can’t if you shut me out.”
