I’m so sorry.That’s terrible.
And to make things even more annoying, Trish is rearranging my entire kitchen, and she’s throwing out good food because of some kind of stupid granola videos she’s seen, making me feel like a terrible mother.
You’re an excellent mother.
And you’re a wonderful friend.
And a great daughter-in-law.It’s just a lot to deal with all at once.
I’m sorry.
I feel a little better, even though Jack doesn’t know any of the particulars.Sometimes you just need someone who’s on your side, even when you’re wrong.
After I finish reconciling the daily and weekly reports, I should go check on Trish.I should also start dinner so it’ll be ready on time.If I don’t, she’ll probably watch some video on raw octopus steaks and we’ll all be stuck chewing rubber blobs for an hour.I should do a lot of things, including tidying up the house and moving laundry over to the dryer.
But I don’t.
In fact, I don’t even leave my room.I shower, and I get ready for the day, and instead of coming out, I stay right here, wishing I had a bag of contraband chips I could eat.I dive right into the projection for the hotel for the next four months, which I’m sure Natalie will not find encouraging, and I wonder at what point I’ll have to finally emerge from my room.
I’m not sure why I’m such a whiner.I’m not sure why I’m in such a funk, but I can’t seem to break out of it.I’m trying to find a show to binge—that was all that made me feel better for close to a year after Jason died—when I hear a strange tapping on my window.At first, I assume it’s a bird.But then I hear a sort of mumbling sound along with it that a birddefinitelycould not make.
I cross my room to the window and find myself face-to-face with Jack.He’s beaming.He lifts up a bag.“I come bearing food.”
It takes me a full minute and a half to figure out how to unlatch the very old, not-quite-plumb window.“What on earth are you doing here?”My stomach growls, undercutting my somewhat severe tone.
Did I sound too pathetic in my texts?Did I fail to cover up the evidence of what a mess I really am?
Jack hops through the window with just one hand, like he’s had way too much experience doing that, and he sets the bag on my nightstand.“So this is your bedroom.”He looks around with a half-smile.
I whack his shoulder.“Seriously, Jack, what’s going on?”
He spins, grabs my waist with one hand, and kisses me with enthusiasm.He kisses me past my questions, and past my doubts.He kisses me like it’s all he’s wanted to do all day, like it’s all he wants to do all night.While he’s kissing me, all my fears and all my concerns shoot right out of my brain.The kiss deepens, his hand brushing my hair back from my face and caressing my cheek.“Vanessa,” he whispers, pulling back just enough that I can breathe again.
“What?”
He smiles so close to my face that I can barely see it.“You were having a bad day, and my job, as part of the boyfriend contract, is to fix that.I took a half day off, and here I am.”
“But—you have practice later.”
“Three hours,” he whispers again.“I have three hours until then.”And then he kisses me again.When he finally releases me, he’s breathing as heavily I am.“That’s enough time to eat, kiss a little more or maybe a lot more, and watch a show as long as it’s not too long.”He points at the bed, and then he snags the remote from where it’s sitting next to the bag.“I brought your favorite sandwich, and your favorite soup, and I brought some of my mom’s apple cake.”
Hearing him mention his mom isn’t that encouraging.She hasn’t wrecked my day today, but I’m stressed every time I think about her.“Look, it’s a really nice idea, but?—”
He kisses me again.
“Jack.”I whap his amazing, sculpted chest when he finally stops.“You can’t kiss me every time I object.”
He frowns.“Why not?”
“Because—”
He kisses me again.
“This isn’t?—”
Again.
This time, when he releases me, I’m smiling, even if it’s a beleaguered smile.“That’s more like it.”He swings around me and sits on the bed, pulling me over onto his lap.“Now what would you rather do first.Eat?Or watch a show?”
