I’m officially a pushover.
Weak as water.
His phone beeps with a text, and he shuffles around in his pocket to retrieve it and smiles. “Tristan.” He reads the text out loud “How did it go?”
I roll my eyes. “Text back, ‘Not out of the woods yet. Still may be found dead in a ditch tomorrow.’”
Jameson smirks. “No, I’m not writing that. If it actually happens, I don’t want you to go to prison.” He turns to face me and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “You wouldn’t kill me.” He leans in and kisses me softly.
My eyes hold his. “Wouldn’t I?”
He smiles and then takes my hand as we walk toward the door. I stop on the spot. “Good night,” I announce.
“What?”
“You’re not coming in.”
“Why not?”
“Jameson, I am still eighty percent pissed off with you.”
“Yes. I know. Let me make it up to you.” He smiles darkly.
I pull out of his arms and step back from him. “There is nothing sexual that you could do that would make up for how you have treated me.”
His face falls.
“When I agreed to try again, it was just that . . . to try again. I’m not promising anything, and I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I honestly don’t know if we can get back what we had. The morning you left me after the second stopover, you broke something between us. I have never been so upset in all of my life. It was devastating for me. Having sex with you now is the very last thing that I want to do.”
“Em,” he whispers. “I couldn’t talk to you because it killed me to push you away. I was battling myself over it.”
“Good night, Jameson.”
He looks around in a fluster. “Well, when will I see you again?”
I shrug. “It’s Thursday, and I’m away for the weekend, so next week, I guess.”
“Next week?” he huffs. “That’s like four days away.”
“Is it?” I reply flatly as I begin to dig in my bag for my keys. I really do need to get a better system in this damn handbag; it’s like the fucking Bermuda Triangle in here.
“Well, that’s too long,” he stammers. “I haven’t seen you for a month. I need more time with you.”
“Take it or leave it,” I reply.
“Em?”
I turn and kiss him softly on the lips, and he snaps his arms around me. We stay still for a few minutes in each other’s arms, holding on tight and needing the closeness that the other provides. I’ve missed him desperately, and it would be so easy to take him upstairs right now.
No . . . I have serious trust issues that I need to deal with. He needs to deal with.
“I’ll sleep on the lounge,” he whispers. “I can’t be away from you for one more night. Don’t ask that of me.”
I pull away, knowing where this is going if I stay in his arms. “Good night, Jameson.”
His eyes search mine as he silently begs to come upstairs.
I force a smile and open my door as he stands on the pavement. I give him a wave and disappear into the elevator as he watches on. The elevator doors close, and I blow out a breath of relief.
Good girl . . . stay strong.
I put my lipstick on and smile at my reflection in the mirror. Jameson called me when he got home last night to say good night. It feels strangely good to have him back in my life . . . but for how long?
I have this annoying little voice in my psyche that keeps reminding me what he did and how badly he treated me. I’m trying to listen to his reasoning and trust what he’s saying, but it’s hard to pretend that nothing has happened between us.
It wasn’t nothing; it was Armageddon, and my entire world crashed at my feet. I don’t like the way I depend on Jameson Miles for my happiness.
It won’t happen again; I won’t allow it . . . even if that means holding him at arm’s length for the rest of my life . . . or however long we’re together.
See, there it is again.
Negative thoughts . . . ugh.
I make my way downstairs with my luggage for the weekend with me and out the front doors to see Jameson leaning up against the wall—navy suit, gorgeous face, and a swoony smile . . . just for me. “Good morning, my beautiful girl.”
“Hi.” I smile up at him.
He leans down and takes my face in his hands and kisses me, and I feel my knees weaken underneath me. “How did my girl sleep?” He takes my hand in his and takes my suitcase from me.
“Fine, thanks.”
“Can we get a civilized lift to work today?” he asks.
I glance over and see Alan and the limo parked at the curb across the street. “Um.” I frown. “You go with Alan. I want to catch the bus.”
He raises an eyebrow as if unimpressed. “Okay, bus it is.”
“You don’t have to walk me to work, Jameson. I’m quite capable of getting myself there.”
“I know; I just want to spend the twenty minutes with you. I’m not seeing you all weekend, remember?” He gives me a sexy wink, and my stomach does a nervous flip. We walk to the bus stop hand in hand.
“Have you heard anything more about Lara Aspin and Hayden?”
“No. They’ve been charged, but the court case won’t be for a while. I can’t believe you solved it. You don’t know how grateful I am to you.”
I smile, feeling proud of myself.
“How do you like your new job?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s great.”
His eyes hold mine. “Great as in ‘really great,’ or great as in ‘it will do’?”
“Great as in ‘I’m getting used to it.’”
“Why don’t you come back to Miles Media?”
“No. I’ll be keeping our work lives separate from now on.”
“Hmm.” He frowns, unimpressed. “We’ll see.”
The bus arrives, and we make our way on. It’s crowded today, and I find a seat, but Jameson has to stand. He’s squashed between a smelly man and a woman who looks like she has rabies. I sit and watch him and the horror on his face as he watches the people around him. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. Eventually the bus pulls to our stop, and he gets off in a rush.
“That’s it,” he scoffs as he brushes his suit off like the snob that he is. “No more fucking buses. We need to be disinfected right now. Did you see the people on that fucking bus?”
I giggle. “That was just a bad trip.”
“I mean it, Emily,” he snaps. “No more fucking buses. Alan is now your driver. Over my dead body are we catching another bus.”
“Yes, boss.” I smile as he takes my hand in his, and we begin our walk to work.
“What time does your flight leave tonight?” he asks.
“Three.”
His face falls. “You’re going early?”
“Yes. I have a half day today.”
“I was going to take you to the airport.” He frowns as he stares down at me. “I have a board meeting at four; I can’t get out of it.”
“That’s fine.”
“Shit . . . maybe I can cancel?”