We’re quiet the whole ride back to the hotel, and once we get back in the room, you could cut the tension with a knife. I know she’s champing at the bit to talk. I can see her brain racing a million miles a minute, but I’m done talking for the night.
While she gets ready for bed, I turn off my lamp and close my eyes, wishing for it to be tomorrow so we can start again.
I’m not mad at her, I’m just disappointed she gave up so quickly.
And it hurts.
The bed dips, and I feel her cuddle close to me. Usually, I’m the one turning to cuddle her.
She slips one arm under my neck and places the other around my chest, squeezing me into a tight embrace.
She kisses my neck and whispers, “I’m sorry. Goodnight, Jack.”
Unable to help myself, I wrap my arms around hers and intertwine our fingers. Then I lift her hand and kiss the inside of her wrist.
“Night, sweetheart.”
Annabelle
Jackson’s arm shoots out, trying to find me in his sleep. When he comes up empty-handed, he slowly opens his eyes, first scowling, then confused when he sees me sitting there wide-eyed, waiting for him to wake up.
He turns his head toward the clock and whispers, “What the fuck,” when he sees it’s half past five in the morning.
“What’s going on? Why are you awake, staring down at me like that?” His voice rasps, low and deep.
“Can you sit up please?” I whisper.
He quickly obeys, and from the concerned look on his face, he’s aware of the vulnerability in my voice. So, without questioning my odd behavior, he sits up, letting the blankets fall to his waist, causing me to stagger slightly at his exposed chest.
God, get it together, Annabelle. We have more important things to talk about.
I walk into the other room, grab a robe for myself, and pick up the tray with Jack’s coffee and croissant that I ordered a little while ago, knowing his cranky arse needs breakfast before we talk.
And we havea lotto talk about.
Last night should have never happened as it did, and I couldn’t sleep a wink because of it. I acted like an immature fool, and I hate myself for ruining our first date.
A date I have waited my whole life for, yet still let my insecurities get in the way of.
I’m the bloody CEO of a successful business, yet I’m emotionally stunted in every way.
Although I’m grown, mature, and confident in almost all areas of my life, my level of security when it comes to relationships is where I struggle, and that’s what I’ll try to remember as I explain myself to Jack this morning.
The sun is starting to peek up through the horizon as I place the tray down and open the curtains to let the tiny sliver of light in.
Crawling across the bed, I throw my hair into a messy bun and sit criss-cross in front of Jack, ready to apologize for last night.
He eyes me suspiciously but stays silent while he drinks his coffee, so I take it as an opportunity to begin.
“Jack… I screwed up last night,” I mutter, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs.This is harder than I thought, and I’ve only said a few words. “I couldn’t sleep at all once we got home, knowing I might have ruined everything we haven’t even had a chance to explore yet. What amazingness could be between us, and I’m so sorry for that. I was wrong in blaming you, to take away a real fighting chance for the two of us. It wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to us.” I take a deep breath in, then exhale to calm myself.
Jack’s face is impassive as he listens, and he hasn’t said a word, which is concerning since I can’t read him.
I can always read him.
I bite my lip and look toward the window to gather the rest of my thoughts, hating myself for being so weak when it comes to expressing my emotions.
Without looking back, I continue, “We’ve both been through so much in our lives already, yet this is a first for me. Caring for someone enough that it scares me half to death… enough that I’d sabotage it, even though it could possibly be the best thing to ever happen to me.” I pause. “I’m not just scared of this. I’m bloody prettified, Jack. I don’t want this to fuck things up between us, because I need you more as my mate than as a lover. The thought of not having you at all is terrifying. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve never tried for more with you in the past… well, besides—”
