Page 35 of Embrace Me Forever

There’s a moment of perfect stillness, a suspended second where it’s just the two of us. His lips move against mine as ifhe’s pouring all his unspoken feelings into this kiss. I respond instinctively, lifting off my seat to bypass the armrests between us. My hands climb up to rest on his broad shoulders, fingers weaving through the fabric of his shirt.

As we finally part, he keeps his eyes closed, releasing a deep sigh before he dares to meet my gaze. A storm gathers behind his irises.

My smile is tentative, hoping to transform those dark clouds into a burst that signals he wants more. I lean forward, aiming to capture his lips once more, to rekindle the spark that had just ignited. But he pulls away, a clear line drawn, his expression devoid of desire.

“Georgia-May, this can’t happen again.” His words throb with an aching intensity. His eyes are filled with anguish, pleading for me to understand why he has to pull away.

I shift myself back, my movement awkward. A blush of embarrassment sweeps over my cheeks, heating my skin in a visible confession of my discomfort. My hands flutter to my lap, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt in a futile attempt to calm myself.

Without looking at him, I blurt out, “We still have an hour or so. Feel free to go back to sleep.” It’s a random thing to say, but the words just tumbled out as if silence would’ve been worse. And he knows—his rejection has fueled the disappointment inside me.

Blake turns his gaze toward the flight attendant, who moves diligently up and down the aisle, offering a last round of drinks and snacks. Eventually, he declines the offer, and so do I. I’m silently grateful that he still has the decency to show, albeit with a simple gesture, that he’s too preoccupied to eat or drink. I shudder to think how I would have felt had he chosen to indulge in tea and cookies.

His gaze is fixed on the seatback in front of him, avoiding any accidental eye contact. His hands grip the armrests with such intensity that his knuckles whiten as if bracing against an invisible turbulence. The way he deliberately avoids me paints a clear picture of a man grappling with the repercussions of our too-close encounter.

As the plane descends, the Denver cityscape comes into view, bathed in the morning sunlight. Under different circumstances, after that botched first kiss, I would’ve walked out of the airport alone, shrugging him off like unwanted baggage. But, like it or not, Coco and I need him. I’m forced to make concessions, relegating my pride to the sidelines.

The wheels touch down, and the reality of our tangled predicament lands just as hard.

Facing Anne with Blake in tow will undoubtedly give her ample ammunition to poke fun at me. And how I loathe having to say, ‘We’re just friends.’

Stepping out of the plane,I feel an absurd sense of isolation. Blake is here, unlike my usual solitary commutes when everything felt like it rested on my shoulders. Yet, I still feel just as alone.

He let me keep one of his ‘everyman’ phones. I use it to call Anne, and my sister fills me in. Coco is still asleep, which doesn’t surprise me. My little girl has always had the habit of sleeping late into the morning and waking up at her own leisurely pace. Anne seems upbeat, too. My decision to keep her in the dark was the right one. But sooner rather than later, I will tell her about what really happened last night.

Meanwhile, Blake has already secured a rental car, deliberately avoiding a cab. “I prefer being the captain of my own ship,” he explains with a determined edge to his voice.

Considering the trouble that might be nipping at our heels, having him behind the wheel is reassuring. His readiness and capability undoubtedly make him a more dependable driver to navigate us through potential dangers than any cab driver could.

Instead of heading straight to my house, Blake takes a slow, deliberate loop around the block. His expression darkens, a mix of protectiveness and something deeper, something restless.

“Why aren’t we stopping?” I inquire, my curiosity sharpening as I notice his unusual behavior.

“There’s something I need to say,” he starts. “But if you need to be home now, I’ll turn around, and we can talk some other time.”

I glance at my watch. We landed a little early. “Go on.”

“About our flight.” He pauses, struggling to continue.

“You mean the kiss?” I cut in bluntly, reminding him that I’m still fuming. I’m not one to beat around the bush, and deep down, I want him to regret pulling away.

“I shouldn’t have let that happen. It was unprofessional and unfair to you. I got carried away.”

His admission stings far deeper than I anticipated. My heart plummets, the budding sprouts of hope brutally trimmed by his regret.

“Is that so?” My voice is colder than intended, a sharp contrast to my fuzzy feelings from hours before. “Then explain why.”

“I know what a kiss is.” His lips curl ever so slightly. “But let’s be honest, that was more than just a kiss.”

“So you felt something?” Hope peeks through in my murmur.

“It’s not something I’m ready to explore,” he replies, his tone as stiff as a university dean’s. “You need to forget it ever happened.”

A part of me wants to resist, to reclaim what was snatched away. But the more I yearn to fight, the more I feel like a child deprived of a cherished toy. It’s not just him who’s capable of setting boundaries. I’m mature enough to draw my own lines. “Fine! Please take me home, then.”

He keeps driving as he vigilantly scans the surroundings, perhaps patrolling the perimeter.

“Blake, are you married?” The question slips out, but it’s more than an unfiltered remark. I make sure he catches the accusation in my tone.

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