“We are going to see each other again. We are going to make this work.” I stare down at her.
Jenna is smiling, and she has never looked better. She's wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, the kind of casual, normal-life outfit I'm yet to see her in and I love how good it looks. It boosts my confidence that our love can also carry on in our normal lives, and that I will get to see her in any number of other outfits in years to come; winter coats, Christmas pyjamas, evening dresses, sexy lingerie...
“Come in,” she says. “I have about half an hour before I need to head down for the car.”
“We,” I say. “We are heading down together. I'm coming with you in the taxi.”
“Marty, you don't have to. It will take over two hours to get there and the same again back. That's a waste of your day.”
“Don't argue with me, Jenna. I've made up my mind.”
Her shoulders lower and her expression softens as she acquiesces. “Fine,” she says. “You know what you want and who am I to stand in the way of it?”
That right there is why I love her. Because she trusts me to make my own decisions.
“Are you all packed?” I ask.
“Yes,” she nods to where her luggage stands.
I can only look at her suitcase quickly before putting my eyes somewhere else. It hurts more than it should.
“I still can't convince you to stay two more days?” I ask.
She shakes her head slowly. “There's no room in the inn,” she says. “Thanks to Maeve. My brother needs all the available villas he has thanks to her.”
“There's plenty room in my bed.” I step closer, needing to hold her while I still can.
“And that would be a sure way to stop any growing fondness for me that your parents may have. You know I make a lot of noise,” she says with a soft wink and I'm filling my shorts a little more at the reminder.
“Do we have time for a quickie?” I push my pelvis against her.
Her eyes roll back in her head as she looks up at me, her mouth in that dangerously delicious pout. “I think we need to talk, Marty.”
I nod. I've been wanting to talk with her for days but felt her resistance too many times to push harder. She promised me she wouldn't end it, and I remind myself of that as I keep hold of her hands and take us further into the room. I perch on the sofa arm and she stands between my legs, meaning I am looking up at her for a change.
“Okay,” I say. “I'm listening.”
“Marty,” she says, and her hands are on my face, her eyes bearing down into me as they fill with tears. “Shit, I had this all figured out. I even practised a handful of times. It all sounded so good.”
“I don't need a speech, Jenna, I just need to know I can see you again,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, you can see me again.”
“Thank fuck for that,” I say, grabbing handfuls of her butt and pulling her closer.
She places a flat palm on my chest, directly over where my heart beats for her.
“But not for five years,” she adds in the quietest, most devastating voice.
“What?” I feel like I've been shot. Straight in my heart. I flatten my palm against her hand on my chest, like the pressure will stem the flow of pain that's there.
“Five years?”
“Yes.” Her tears spill over and slide down the freckles on her cheeks, but she holds onto a smile.
“Why?” My head is spinning. It makes no sense.
“Marty, I love you. I am in love with you. I want to be with you. But I don't think it will work if we try now. You are so young...”
