It was a misunderstanding. You don’t know the whole story. I love Jordan. I would never intentionally hurt him like that. I would never do what Amelia did. I’m not my sister.
Those are the things I want to say but never get the chance to as I listen to her heelsclick-click-clickingacross the foyer.
Chapter 45
I stare at the tiny bottle of Jameson I’d kept from the last commercial flight I flew a couple of years ago. I had hidden it inside the cardboard tube of a toilet paper roll in the back of my bathroom vanity cabinet. Just another hiding spot Daniella hasn’t discovered yet. I’d forgotten it was even there. Funny that I would remember now.
I twist the cap off and hold it to my nose. The Irish whiskey is spicy and nutty with an undertone of warm vanilla mixed with a hint of something sweet and floral. Aromatic fragrances that should smell wonderful, but to me, they stink of a past filled with bad mistakes and a shit-load of regret.
Ignoring the whiskey’s promise of oblivion from the heartache I’m feeling, I tip the bottle upside down and pour its meager contents into the sink, then toss the miniature glass container in the trash bin.
Hitting the wall panel that turns on the shower, I strip out of my jogging shorts as steam begins to billow and fog up the room. I grab the necklace with my sobriety coin where I’d set it on the granite vanity top. Looping the long link chain over my head, the bronze metallic chip dangles along my sternum and reflects off the strip lights above.
As soon as I step under the waterfall cascading down from the ceiling-mounted canopy shower, my hands brace on the cold mosaic tile wall, chin tucked to my chest. I close my eyes, hoping the gentle rain washes away the image of Mason kissing Douglass from my brain along with the dirt and sweat from my skin.
There’s a faint knocking right before cool air rushes into the bathroom as the door cracks open.
“Jordan?”
Just the sound of her sweet voice has the heartache and longing intensifying. I don’t know what it is about her that affects me so greatly. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. This soul-consuming need for another person.
“Yeah?”
The door closes quietly once she’s fully inside. The silence that follows is as thick as the foggy steam filling the room. I watch her through the glass wall of the walk-in shower as she stands in the middle of the room clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her.
“Can we talk?”
I turn my back to her and reach for the soap, pouring some in my hand and scrubbing my body vigorously.
“Yeah. I’m almost done.”
Behind me, I hear her moving about, then seconds later, her small hand touches my water-slicked back and the pent-up breath I’d been holding comes rushing out with what feels like relief. She stayed. She’s here. With me. Not him. Jesus, that sounds piteous.
She uses the soap already on my skin and rubs circles on my back and buttocks. “I’m sorry.” Her bare breasts press to my back, her lips kissing along my shoulder blade. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats with each press of her mouth.
My cock responds to her voice and her touch, wanting badly to sink into her warmth. Stake claim to her. She’s mine, not his.
Douglass’s arms wrap around me, and she rests her cheek to my back.
“Mason shouldn’t have kissed me like that. I swear we’re not together in that way anymore. Please believe me. It was a horrible misunderstanding.”
I do believe her. Douglass doesn’t have a mean or manipulative bone in her body. Still fucked me up mentally when I saw him look right at me and kiss her. Like he knew what it would do to me.
“Did you tell him we were together?” My question is muffled from the white noise of the shower.
There’s a slight movement of her head. “I haven’t spoken to him since our last video call. I just haven’t had the time. Things have been a little hectic with everything going on.”
“Were you going to tell him?”
It comes out laced with neediness, and I despise how weak it makes me sound. But I am weak when it comes to her.
Douglass swivels around my side until she’s standing directly in front of me. Her hair is plastered to her head and chest, the red-brown color made even darker when wet. I get lost in her unusual hazel eyes that are a mixture of moss green and stormy gray.
“Yes,” she answers. “But apparently, Harper told Bennett about our date or something, and he told Mason.”
The son of a bitch knew, and he kissed her anyway. I shouldn’t have walked away. I should have punched that motherfucker in his smug face.
“It’s just all one big misunderstanding. Will you come with me to talk to him? Once he understands…” She sighs. “He’s one of my best friends, Jordan…” She trails off when she sees the medallion hanging from the necklace.
