Of course, my intelligent mind knows there are a lot of reasons for how I’m feeling. Like the fact that we truly don’t know each other that well, or that this is a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to everything that’s happened the last few weeks. Before Ace arrived in Cologne, I thought I was going nuts. Then he showed up like a double-oh-seven in shining armor and I was smitten, completely wrapped up in the idea of us being together.
That Sandra and my mother were somehow involved in my stalker situation makes me second-guess myself about every choice I’ve ever made, from my ex-husband to the move to Cologne to my growing feelings for Ace.
I won’t say it out loud, but I’m already in love with him, or at least well on my way, so my insecurity is hitting like a blast of ice water in a sauna.
“I’m going to make some calls to the U.S.,” Ace says when we get to the door of our room. “It’s still early on the West Coast, so I’ll be in shortly, okay?”
“Okay.”
He kisses my cheek, unlocks the door for me, and after a cursory look around, he’s gone.
Leaving me to my melancholy thoughts and internal struggles.
Ace didn’t come back to the room until after four, probably not long after I dozed off, but I’m awake at six thirty, stress and imminent loneliness keeping me from getting much rest. The fact that we didn’t make love on our last night of the cruise hurts, more so because it’s my own fault. I pushed him away, and he let me, so now I don’t know how I feel about that.
Passive-aggressive much?
I shower and pack up my toiletries, putting my hair in a braid because I don’t have the energy for anything else today. When I come out of the bathroom Ace is packing, and he glances up with a soft smile.
“Good morning.”
“Did you get any sleep?” I ask him.
“A catnap is all I need,” he responds. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Are you going to breakfast?”
“Yes, but I’ll wait for you since I have to finish packing anyway.”
“Okay.” He disappears into the bathroom, and I pack the last of my things. I put a few swipes of mascara on my lashes to detract from the dark circles under my eyes, and then close my suitcase.
This is it.
Our special time together is over, and it ended on a sour note. I want to scream at my mother, but I figure there will be time for that when we get home. It will take about five hours to drive from Basel to Cologne, depending on traffic, but Ace took care of everything so we’re going to have a taxi take us from the port to the car rental place.
I have no idea what we’ll do once we get to Cologne.
“You ready to eat?” Ace asks as he comes out of the bathroom. He’s wearing jeans and no shirt, the muscles beneath his glistening skin flexing slightly as he swipes at a few drops of water he missed with the towel.
“Sure.” I nod, reaching for my purse. My phone rings, my mother again, and I grit my teeth as I hit decline.
One more meal.
One last hour before I have to face reality.
He puts on a shirt, and the Henley pulls tight across his chest, reminding me what it felt like to be in his arms. I bite my lower lip, wanting desperately to throw myself at him and let him make everything better, but I can’t.
Not yet.
I don’t know how to explain it, but somehow, I need to face this on my own. Well, mostly on my own. I have to take back the control it feels like others have taken from me over the years. It has nothing to do with him but is tied instead to my own feelings of helplessness.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I whisper out of nowhere, blinking back tears. “Or that my feelings have changed. I just have to figure things out. Please don’t give up on me. On us. Just let me handle this the way I have to for my sanity. Please.” Tears drip down my cheeks and he doesn’t hesitate to pull me close. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, stroking my back and letting me cry on his shoulder.
“I’m not going anywhere. Not for long anyway. You do what you have to do and let me know when you’re ready to let me back in.”
“Okay.” I pull away reluctantly and blow my nose. My mascara is smeared, so I have to dig out my makeup remover, take it off and start over. I add some foundation this time because I’m a little red from crying, and then a dab of lipstick because I’m pale as hell. I still look rough, and my eyes are red, but it’s better.
“You’re beautiful,” he says softly.
“You’re a good liar.”
