Slowly, her arms release her knees, and they fall back to the bed. The shirt hangs freely again. I think her cheeks flush, but it’s hard to tell in the darkened room.
“I really like you, Jay. I like having you around, talking to you, and having sex with you.” She grins. “And it might be too fast, and I might be too forward—and I don’t know how to balance it all—but I don’t want to go back to the way we were earlier tonight. It would kill me to have this invisible fence between our yards that apparently only Carter can cross.”
I chuckle. “I do have a nice pumper.”
“That you do.” She puts a hand on my cock and squeezes it through the sheet. “I keep thinking about things my friends have said to me lately. About how you have to move on and show the kids that it’s safe to do that. That we only live once and have to make ourselves happy.”
“Do you think I could make you happy?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.How can she be so sure?
The weight of the last few years sits squarely on my chest. It’s a burden I’ve carried with me, that I’ll continue to carry with me. But something makes me think that if I unload a bit of it onto Gabrielle, if I’m honest with her about where I’m coming from, maybe a few blocks of the load will dissolve and I can move forward.
My heart pounds at the thought of it.What would this mean? What would getting to know Gabrielle and her boys do to me?
Can I handle that? Do I want to handle that?
“What are you thinking?” she asks, her voice wobbling.
It’s now or never.
I sit up, letting the sheet pool at my waist. I fight the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface.No, Jay. This isn’t about Melody. This is about Gabrielle.
She takes my hand and laces her fingers through mine. It’s as if she knows I need the contact. I grin, realizing how things between us are so natural. Yes, they may be quick. But that doesn’t mean they’re wrong.
I look at the ceiling and let out a short, tight laugh. “Believe it or not, I’ve avoided this situation, this conversation, for years.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
I rise up, holding her chin in my hand. “Yes, I do.” I press a soft kiss against her lips before resting against the pillows again.
Anxiety builds, making my palms sweat.What if she thinks I’m a fool? What if she thinks I’m weak? What if she thinks I’m still hung up on Melody and she wants to call this off?
“Jay,” she says, my name falling from her lips. “You don’t have to talk to me. But I wish you would.”
Go.“Nine years ago, I met a woman through mutual friends. We had a blind date at a bowling alley, of all places, and hit it off.”
Gabrielle doesn’t blink. I give her hand a squeeze of reassurance—for us both.
Sweat dots my back as I prepare to talk about the one thing in my life that almost killed me. The only thing that I’ve ever been scared of.How do I talk about the most devastating part of my life?
Why do I suddenly feel the need to?
Because this is Gabrielle. And she just might be worth the vulnerability.
“Melody, that was her name,” I say. “She and I spent almost every day together after that. I found out on that first date that she had a baby, a daughter named Isabella. She was eleven months old.”
My throat tightens, burning so hot it’s hard to speak.
“We dated for a couple of years and then they moved in with me,” I say, remembering the day they pulled up in Melody’s compact car. “We celebrated Izzy’s third birthday in my kitchen.”
“That’s a cute name for a little girl.”
I smile sadly. “She is a cute little girl.”Or she was. I don’t know anymore.
A shadow passes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived.