Page 35 of Just Desserts in Pelican Point
I nod sharply and move toward my front door, the dress swinging at my side like a war flag.
As I unlock the door, I feel his gaze burning between my shoulder blades. I can practically hear him breathing, the weight of everything he’s not saying pressing against my back like a hand trying to reach me through glass.
I wait one second.
Then two.
When the silence stretches on without a word, I go inside and shut the door behind me—leaving him standing there in the dusk, exactly where he left me this morning.
Alone.
Chapter13
Marcus
The door closes in my face.
I deserve it.
Hell, I deserve worse. Julie’s fury hit me like a punch to the gut, every word burning with truth. Now I’m standing on her front porch like an idiot, heart pounding, ears ringing from the sound of her voice still echoing in my head.
I reach up, about to knock again—maybe beg—but then I notice something.
She didn’t lock it.
The doorknob turns easily beneath my hand, and I pause.
I don’t step inside. I just… open it. Slowly. Carefully. Like I might spook her or get myself shot.
Her voice floats from the kitchen, sharp and unrelenting. “If you came back to mansplain your exit strategy to me, don’t bother.”
I stay on the threshold, one boot inside, the rest of me still outside. “I’m not here to explain. I’m here to apologize.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I keep going.
“I know I’ve been an asshole. I know I hurt you. I know I left without a word and didn’t show up today and that you probably think last night didn’t mean anything to me.”
Still nothing, but I hear movement. Soft footfalls. She’s listening.
I grip the frame tighter, grounding myself. “Last night did mean something to me, Julie. It meant everything and that scared the shit out of me.”
Finally, her voice—quiet, cautious. “So, what… you decide to vanish without a trace?”
“I panicked,” I admit, swallowing hard. “I woke up and you were there—peaceful, beautiful, tangled in the sheets—and I felt like if I stayed, I’d ruin everything. That I’d ruin you.”
Now she appears, halfway down the hall. Arms crossed. Barefoot. She doesn’t speak, but her eyes are fixed on me like she’s measuring every word. Assessing if I’m giving her a story or telling her the truth. It’s the god’s honest truth.
“I’m not used to this,” I continue. “Letting someone in. Letting someone see the parts of me I don’t even like to look at in the mirror.”
Julie steps closer. Slowly. One foot at a time.
“You made me feel something I haven’t felt in a long damn time,” I say. “Safe. Seen. Like maybe… I could be more than the guy who keeps fucking things up.”
I take a breath and let the next words come, raw and stripped.
“I’m scared. Of getting hurt. Of hurting you. Of needing someone the way I need you. I ran because it felt too good to be real—and because I’ve never wanted something real this badly.”
The hallway is so quiet I can hear her breathing.
