Page 98 of Parrish

Chapter Thirty-two

Reina Parrish

I was confused.

Not only by my so-called life or the people surrounding me but by the emotions I was feeling. Without remembering all the details of my life, I could identify love and I loved Jack Parrish. There was an insanely profound pull between me and him, one that couldn’t be ignored or even questioned because there was no answer as to why. It was just one of those things. Like we don’t ask ourselves why the grass is green, or the sky is blue…it just is. We accept it as the way of the world, a part of God’s plan and all that. The same stood for Jack and me. There was no rhyme or reason why our souls were connected. Nor was there an explanation as to why I felt like half of me lived inside him and vice versa. It was written in the stars. Part of some bigger picture no one understood.

I accepted that.

Embraced it even.

The love was there, the memories would come.

However, the anger I was currently feeling towards Jack was questionable. Part of me wondered if there was an underlying meaning behind the sudden pang of rage, the other part, the saner part, chalked it up to PMS. I mean, it’s a justifiable excuse whereas wanting to rip my husband’s head off for not bringing me dinner like he promised, not so much. Especially when I know he’s busy taking care of our son—something I’m sure is pretty new to him.

Maybe I was still reeling from the breakthrough I had with him and Danny earlier and was desperate to keep the momentum alive. There was no sense in denying the fact that I was getting frustrated. I didn’t want to just blurt the first thing that came to my mind and hope it was true. I wanted to remember the experiences we shared. The big milestones that make life worthwhile and the tiny moments that fill the space in between. The doctors say talking about my life will help. They encourage me to ask questions but the man who holds all the answers closes down on me the minute I do.

I get there are things probably not suited for Danny’s young ears and that’s another reason I was so anxious for Jack to return. I hoped we could spend the evening filling in some of the blanks. I wanted to know about our wedding. Especially since I kept picturing a hospital every time I thought about our nuptials.

There was also the comment that Danny made about Jack leaving that didn’t sit right with me. So many unexplained things and somehow, I knew they weren’t part of God’s plan but just a consequence of loving Jack Parrish.

Staring at the cold plate of food the nurse dropped off a while ago, I divert my attention towards the clock on the wall, noting it’s well past dinner time. Biting my lip, I push the rolling table away from me and press the call button for the nurse.

“Is everything okay, Mrs. Parrish?”

“Can you take that away, please?” I question, eyeing the offensive plate.

The nurse walks towards the table and lifts the warmer. Her eyebrows knit together as she takes in the untouched plate before her gaze flits back to me.

“Did you not like it? I could maybe grab you something else? Maybe some soup?”

“I’m not hungry,” I lie. I’m actually starving but my stubborn pride wouldn’t let me touch that food and the more I stare at the sliced turkey and mashed potatoes, the angrier I get. I don’t remember being a confrontational woman. If anything, I’ve always been timid, someone who just accepted things for what they are and never raised any hell. I rolled with the punches if you will. I suppose surviving the fire changed that part of me.

Or maybe Jack did.

“Well that’s a shame,” his deep voice mutters from the doorway. “I got enough food to feed an army,” he continues, holding up two takeaway bags from Roll N’ Roaster.

“Enjoy,” the nurse says with a smile as she lifts the tray from the table and excuses herself. Keeping my eyes pinned to Jack, I watch his gaze follow the nurse out the door before he turns to me.

“I got your favorite,” he says. “And I made sure they gave me extra cheese.”

I don’t respond as I fight the urge to tell him to shove his cheese up his ass. After a moment he walks towards the table and sets the bags on top of it. Silently, he begins to pull out food from the bag and the scent of all that deliciousness wafts past my nose, enticing a rumble from my empty stomach.

“Sounds to me like you’re hungry after all,” he says lifting his eyes to mine.

Again, I don’t answer. Crossing my arms against my chest, I look away from him but that unexplainable pull is too strong and my gaze involuntarily wonders back to him as he walks towards the garbage pail.

He’s got a great walk, one filled with swagger.

A commanding presence, really.

The man owns the room before he even steps into it and like everything else about him, it speaks to me. It sends a shock through me and I can’t get enough of it.

I can’t get enough of him.

It’s not a revelation, it’s a fact buried somewhere in the back of my mind. I’ve been a casualty to that swagger before. I’ve felt him before he’s entered a room. I’ve lifted my head and the moment my eyes locked with his everything else faded.

“What?” he questions, bracing his hands against the foot of my bed. “You’re lookin’ at me like you got something to say, so say it.”

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