I walk out of the door before slamming it behind me.
Chapter Thirty
Jenna
I'm in my robe when he arrives, and it's not at all deliberate. I wanted to be dressed and composed, because that conversation with his mother has sent my thoughts spiralling so much that everything is clouded in doubt, even the many hours we’ve shared together over the last few days. It shouldn’t be that way, but it is.
The tides of doubt only rush in quicker, wilder when I see him.
Maybe it's the way his still damp hair is sticking up at all angles. Maybe it’s the way his chest stretches his T-shirt as he breathes hard. Maybe it’s the way his height takes me a little by surprise as he steps close and towers above me. Or maybe it’s the way his eyes search my face, looking for answers to silent questions.
Whatever it is, I now feel utterly torn.
“Marty.” I move to the side so he can come in, but he just steps into the space I left and wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a kiss. A kiss that moves so quickly I place my hands on his chest and push our bodies apart before I get lost in it. He stubbornly keeps his hold on my waist.
We open our mouths to speak at the same time.
“I heard what happened with-” he starts.
“Your mother,” I manage to say, before I stop because I know he will win this race.
He groans. “I'm sorry for whatever she said. I don't know exactlywhatshe said, but I bet it wasn't... pretty, and I'm sorry.”
I sigh. Despite it all, flames of attraction, hunger, need come alive inside me when he leans back and rocks his groin into me.
“Come in and let's have that coffee,” I say. “And I need to get dressed so we don't get distracted.”
He pulls his lips into his mouth, a guilty glint in his eyes, but he releases me and follows me into the villa.
“Do you mind making it?” I nod at the kitchen. “I'll be five minutes.”
I take a little longer than that because I need a few moments to figure out how best to navigate this conversation. I think about it as I slide on my underwear and glide moisturiser over my arms and legs. I think about it more as I pull on a dress and brush my hair. I think about it as I put minimal make-up on and gold hoops in my ears.
I walk out in a white floaty sundress that cups my breasts and flares out and down to mid-calf. It’s the kind of dress I would normally save for a dinner, but my vanity wants to at least have this conversation while feeling like I look good.
“Wow,” he says in response, his eyes widening when he sees me. He is sitting on the sofa and our coffees are on the low table in front of him.
I point a playful finger at him as I sit next to him. “Marty,” I warn. “I put clothes on so we can try and have a conversation without distractions, so don't distract me!”
He covers his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Well, this should do the trick,” he says. I tap his arm so he drops his hand. We smile together, and it's as much an acknowledgement of the awkward conversation we're about to have.
“So,” he leans down to take a cup and hand it to me, “milk, one sugar. I had to guess based on what you said yesterday. I hope that's okay.”
“It's perfect.” I can't help it, when I bend to get the cup in one hand, another reaches up and rakes through his hair.
“Jenna,” he warns me.
“Sorry,” I say, putting my hand over my eyes. We laugh again.
“What did she say, then?” Marty asks. “What sort of collateral damage am I looking at here?”
I pull in a deep breath. “She told me to keep my distance,” I say, watching him closely for his response.
“Well, that's a given, butwhydid she tell you to stay away?”
I need another hard inhale already. “She thought I didn't know about Arnie. She thought I wasn't aware how hard it had been on you,” I say.
“And?” he says, still waiting.
