I shove my chair hard under my desk and storm through the maze of cubicles into the restrooms. When the bathroom door clicks closed behind me, I fling myself onto one of the fancy lounge chairs, grabbing and punching at one of its pillows. Putting the pillow over my mouth, I scream into it and end up clenching my teeth into the material and grinding.
Dex walks through the door and catches me mid-bite.
The pillow drops out of my fingers and I jump to my feet.
“Are you okay?” he asks, rushing toward me.
I step back, hitting my ass into the wall. “Yes, fine. Perfect. Have never been better in my entire life.”
“Jane.”
“Don’t you Jane me, Vanstone. How can you be writing these articles for her? How can you be giving her want she wants, at the expense of—" I clamp my mouth closed.
“At the expense of what?” he asks, shifting closer.
I hold a hand out, stopping him from coming any further.
He looks down at my hand and furrows his eyebrows, then slowly pushes it to the side. “At the expense of what?”
“Our sanity? Of our…our reputation, of…us.”
He takes another small step toward me. “What us, Jane?”
There’s maybe six inches of space between our bodies and it’s filled with tight heavy air, different than what’s floating around the rest of the room. My heart thumps hard in my chest, and my throat tightens. Oh God, this is…he’s too close to me. I can’t think of how to answer him. The silence in the room takes on its own intensity, making all the words I want to say die on my tongue. There’s a pressure aching in the small space between our bodies. He’s all I see, his body so close I can almost feel his warmth and the hard press of his muscles against mine.
I’m suddenly feverish and breathless.
Dex leans in closer until his breath fans out across my mouth and tickles my senses. His cologne wraps around me, and the smell of his skin makes my mouth water.
Both of us stay there, frozen, breathing each other in. I think he might kiss me.
I think I might want him to.
I think I need him to.
An ache pangs out between my legs, spreading heat through my veins. I want to talk, but I can’t. I want to tell him I want him. I want him inside me, his weight pressing me into the wall, the sound of his skin slapping fast against mine.
His hand raises, slow and hesitant. His expression looks torn, pained, as if he’s aching the same why I am. His fingertips brush over my cheek and trail down like fire to the base of my throat. The intense need to grip my fingers into his shirt and pull him over me flares through my body and I tremble from the restraint.
Shouldn’t this be the moment when someone walks in, interrupting us, making us jump five feet apart, bringing us back to reality?Hello, Karma? Are you still there?
Instead, he asks the question again. This time slower and raspy. “What us, Jane?”
“I…I can’t think of anything to write. All the things that happened between us…the thing that happened…to me—” It’s too much to even think about in front of him, and tears sting at the corners of my eyes. “It’s too much. I can’t breathe. I can’t write. I can’t think.”
“What can I do to help you?” His voice cracks over each word.
Make it hurt less. Help me not want you anymore. Help me forget I just lost a baby. Help me get over I’m thirty-three and have half the chance than normal to ever get pregnant again. Help me forgive myself for being happy Olivia wasn’t yours. Help me stop the image of you kissing Pippa replaying over and over in my head. Help me get over you.
“We both made such a mess of things and I don’t know how to fix any of it, and I know I always end up doing this, just walking away, but this time, it’s just not that easy even though I know it’s the healthier option.”
Conflict rages in his eyes. “The healthier option,” he whispers, dropping his hand from me. He nods and looks away, “Okay,” he steps away, “but I’m here. Realize that, Jane. I’m still here.”
He’s not here. He’s not here with me anymore and that’s the issue. I’m here alone, stuck in this place inside my head that I can’t see a way out of, and I do what I always end up doing, giving up and shutting up. I give in and let everyone and everything in life walk all over me.
“’Kay,” I whisper, my mind obsessing over his feet walking away.
“Okay,” he says, as I watch his shoes hesitate for far too long, then slip out the door when I still refuse to look up at him.
