She shook her head, averting her eyes.
I held her chin steady with my hand. “Look at me, Miranda.”
She did.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me.”
“Jack—” She stifled a sob. “I do love you. So much, but?—”
“Don’t go then.”
“—but sometimes that’s not enough.”
Even as she said the words, her gaze fell to my lips. That simple act of wanting was all the permission I needed. I laced my fingers into the hair behind her ears, cupping her head and neck with my hands. Her eyes fluttered closed and her fingers flexed into my shirt. Her breathing became ragged.
I whispered, “Please stay.”
Her hands slipped around the back of my neck.
Our lips crashed together. Hers were freezing against mine.
I meant to only kiss her.
But she kissed me back, intense and provoking. Her lips quickly warming as I encouraged blood to flow into them. Thekiss was angry and hurt. But the building heat and suppressed desire were undeniable, unavoidable. She opened her mouth and tensed her arms around my neck, allowing me to lift her. When her legs locked around my torso, our fate was sealed.
We collided. Eager mouths, starving bodies, and bleeding hearts.
I awoke the next morning holding Miranda under the sheets. Assuming she was still asleep, I snuggled in behind her, careful not to shake the bed. I drank in her smell, and my hand meandered up and down her smooth side.
In my deluded sleepy haze, I figured our night together meant something. Surely, she knew it wasn’t too late. We could turn back. We could cancel everything and work out whatever was between us. We were better together. A perfect match in every way. Meant to be from the start.
As the late morning sun peeked through the blinds, I convinced myself she would wake up and agree with me. That we’d drive over to her friend’s house, pack up her stuff, and bring her home. That she’d wake up and want me again.
After a long time holding her, I leaned forward to brush my lips against the top of her shoulder. She stirred.
“Jack?” Her raspy morning voice was beautiful. One of my favorite sounds.
“I’m right here.” I tightened my hold around her waist, nestling in and allowing my lips to find her skin again.
But she bristled.
“What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders fell with a long sigh. “I’m so stupid.”
My heart dropped.
“I shouldn’t have come last night. We’re getting divorced, Jack.”
How could she still want that? “We don’t have to followthrough with any of those plans. Nothing has changed for me. I want to be together.”
She said nothing.
“We can talk. Figure out what’s between us. Fix it and move forward?—”
She sat up on the bed, swung her legs over the side, and faced the wall. The clock ticked as a long moment of silence passed. Finally, she ran her fingers through her hair and tucked her arms over her bare chest. When she turned to look at me, her brown eyes were brimming with tears. Her lip trembled, and her forehead creased with hurt. “How can you possibly say that?”
She reached for my t-shirt and slipped it on. It was a dress on her.
