Page 53 of Waiting for Tuesday

His tone was slightly distant, and I shouldn’t have been surprised by his answer, but for some reason, I could suddenly feel my heart beating—not hard or wild, just beating. It was in perfect unison with his, steady and rhythmic, but even so, it wasn’t comfortable.

He lifted my chin and touched the side of my face, obviously noticing a change in me. “Don’t worry about Jake, Tuesday. He has nothing to do with this.”

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I blinked a couple of times to clear them. My chest flooded with relief, and my little girl heart grew a little more hopeful.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said then. “He’ll never find out.”

I forced a smile and nodded, but quickly looked away so he wouldn’t see how badly his last statement hurt. I rested my head on his chest and waited for the panic that invaded my chest to dissipate, but it didn’t.

I knew I was being irrational. In two weeks, the job would be over and he’d be gone. I understood when I agreed to this, but for some reason, it felt different now. Maybe because talking like this made everything feel like so much more. Lying in his arms didn’t feel like we were just sleeping together. It felt like he was making love to me, and I wasn’t sure I’d never been made love to in my whole life until now.

We lay there a few more minutes, while I tried to convince myself I could handle it, but things had changed after tonight. It was different—somehow tainted by the fact that I knew it was almost over. I rolled over on the bed and pushed off the edge to collect my things from the floor.

He was quiet a moment as he watched me, then he finally sat up and arched a brow. “Are you leaving?” he asked, his words coming in such a casual way it made my heart hitch.

“Yeah.”

I found my overalls in the corner and pulled them on, not even fazed by the fact I hadn’t found my panties. “My cat’s going to be pissed at me.”

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, his brow furrowed as he pushed himself to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

I laughed, even though what I wanted to do was cry, and shook my head. “Nah, it’s late, I’ll be fine.” I pulled my top over my head, slipped my sneakers on without bothering to tie them, then walked over to him and gave him one last kiss to say goodbye.

I intended for it to be just a peck so he wouldn’t worry and ask questions, but when my lips met his, he grabbed the back of my neck and held me captive. His mouth worked over mine, achingly slow, as if he were memorizing my taste.

He groaned in the back of his throat, sending tingles to my belly, then he finally pulling away. He ran his thumb one last time over my bottom lip and I closed my eyes. Allowing myself just a few seconds to collect myself before I grabbed my bag from the floor and made my way to the front door. Knowing this had to be the last time I allowed myself to be this weak.

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Tuesday

* * *

The next morning, I convinced myself I needed to end it. This thing between us wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for him, and we needed to stop whatever this was before someone got hurt. Though even as I told myself this, I knew it was a lie. Because I would already be hurt by this ending. I knew that even if I got out now, it would hurt, but it would be a little hurt, a manageable one. If I waited, it would be a big, gaping artery of a hurt I may not be able to recover from.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I still wasn’t exactly surehowto end it… or if I needed to end it at all. Last night he said he wanted me again, wanted me more than once, but we’d done that. Multiple times. Maybe he’d gotten his fill, maybe we could move forward like mature adults, knowing it happened, but pretending it didn’t.

The guys were already busy in the back room, so I sat at the register and picked up the phone to call potential vendors. I didn’t realize until I got there, but I hadn’t bought the donuts today. A piece of me panicked when I realized it was the first time I’d forgotten in a month, but no one came to check for them, so I eventually let it go.

When I was done with my call list, I immediately began doing research for a summer line. The more I did, the less I thought about him, and that was exactly what I needed right now. To not think about him.

My nose was deep into one of my herbal magazines when my phone rang for my regular “Tuesday” conversation with my mother.

“Hey, sweet pea,” she said when I answered. “How’s the store coming along?”

I sat back on the stool and closed the magazine on the counter. “It’s good.” But my words were lifeless in a way I could even hear myself. Yes, the shop was going great—had turned out more beautiful than I had ever imagined. I was getting so many inquiries from vendors it was hard to keep up, but what was happening betweenJohn and me made those words feel like a lie. Because somewhere along the way, he’d become more than just my contractor. He’d become a part ofthis, a part of me.

I pulled in a deep breath and resolved to change the subject, wanting to talk about anything but myself. “How are things in Crescent City?”

“Good.” She sighed breathily. “It’s beautiful here. Things grow like it’s the Garden of Eden. I have a fresh organic salad every day, and all I have to do to is walk out the back door.”

She went on to tell me about the local scenery, about getting a part-time job at a vegan eatery, where she quickly became famous for the date-nut-candy roll she’d been making since I was a child. It all sounded amazing, and I found myself smiling for the first time all morning.

“I wish you’d come up here, sweet pea. It would be good for your soul.”

She was right; an escape from everything so dauntingly heavywouldbe good for my soul. It would be good for my heart too. Because even though John was at least ten yards away through a closed door, my heart still felt his presence. It would be good to get away today, to clear my head, to leave all this frustration behind. “Maybe once things settle down here,” I said, closing my eyes and gripping the bridge of my nose.

She was quiet a moment before she whispered, “Sounds good, honey.” But I knew she sensed there was more I wasn’t saying, but she was good that way. She didn’t press.

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