Page 49 of Mixed Connection
“If space is what you want, then I’ll give it to you, Babygirl,” he says and pulls me in for a hug that envelops my whole body, squeezing me tight in an embrace that feels more like a goodbye.
Without warning he lifts me with ease and deposits me on the kitchen island. Given that there isn’t any furniture, I don’t object. “There are so many things I want to tell you but I…I don’t want them to feel disingenuous after everything you’ve said. What I will say is what I feel for you trumps every other desire. I could never grow to resent you, Babygirl. I need you to know that I want a lifetime with you too. I can’t leave without you knowing I feel the same.” He squeezes his strong arms around me once more and I pull back the sniffle before squeezing him back. “I promise you, I will figure it out but this is not the end for us, I won’t let it be.”
The moment I lock my door I release the gut-wrenching scream I’d been holding onto since my eyes couldn’t mind their own damn business. I knew that this was too good to be true but I’mtrying to hold out hope that this will blow over and he will come back to me.
He has to.
I press my back further into the door, sliding down the front of it, I try to hold back the tears that are begging to be released. Space. What the fuck is wrong with me that I asked for space? That’s not really what I want, but he needs this. He needs to be able to decide what he wants without the worry of losing me… if that’s even a worry of his. What if he finishes this weekend and realizes I’m not worth it? Maybe he goes back to the house and realizes all he needs is another property to focus on? My eyes burn from trying to hold back the tears and I feel ridiculous because I’m arguing with myself about something I asked for.
Taking a deep breath I remind myself that I don’t need to ramble on excuses, repeating myself over and over. What’s done is done but I can’t shut off the questions and thoughts, my brain working overdrive to try to make sense of it all while trying and failing to keep my heart protected. I slam my eyes shut, willing back the sting of oncoming tears. What was I thinking, getting into a situationship with a man who doesn’t even live in the same state as me?
It’s just like my parents all over again. My parents’ real child was their job, they nurtured it and tended to it but seemed to have forgotten I existed. They were never home long enough to be bothered with me, their own fucking daughter. That’s the true problem here and my heart breaks because I wanted this so badly. The thoughts almost shout at me and I can’t stop the laugh that tumbles from my mouth. A self-deprecating, soul-crushing laugh.
The reality is that I’m not even in a relationship with Jameson. We never discussed if we were exclusive or not. So how can I be upset with somebody if the lines weren’t drawn up in the firstplace.Because I love him.He weaseled his way into my heart and I have fallen head over heels for him.
Tingles sweep up the back of my neck and across my face at the embarrassment; I’ve never felt so foolish to have fallen in love with someone so quickly, someone who may have no plans of staying around to begin with. Wouldn’t he have said that? Maybe he would have if I didn’t cut him off, too nervous at the possibility of rejection.
I clutch my hand to my chest, attempting to breathe past the pain. My mind reminds me about the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel like I am his entire world. I see his handsome face from the reunion in my mind’s eye, urging me to make sense of something that my heart wants so badly. Only to find out that I was just a visitor in his life, a passing glance. It feels like an “I told you so.” I lean my head back against the door and breathe, because though my mind wants to make me feel like a fool, my heart tells me otherwise. It tells me to take a moment and let the pain pass because this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Standing up from the floor, I reach into my back pocket to grab for my phone that was vibrating just a moment ago. Thecrunchsound I hear next isn’t a pleasant one. “Dammit!” I yell, my voice snapping given my frustration. It was already worse for wear but now I can’t see anything on the screen.
I don’t have the energy for this right now. It was such an incredible night, dancing with him in the middle of the market is something I won’t ever forget. The way we swayed as he wrapped his strong arms around me made my heart pitter-patter like we were at prom. Two kids finally having the chance they wouldn’t give themselves all those years ago. The freedom I felt as we tasted treats from the little tapas place within the market’s walkway. It was the perfect night with the perfect man, my man.
Those words summon a new swarm of hurt and it coats my skin. How am I supposed to forget him if he decides not to come back? And why in the hell did I say I want space when I know damn well I don’t? I didn’t ask for space for me alone, I take in a deep breath as I remind myself. I want to be sure he doesn’t just give up on the work and traveling he loves so much.
My feet feel like stone as I walk to my bedroom. Pulling on an old raggedy shirt that’s three sizes too big and almost sheer from the fabric thinning with the amount of times I’ve washed it, I walk into my bathroom. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I do my skincare routine before wrapping my hair up in a satin scarf and climb into bed. My heart aches and I let out a forceful breath, attempting to clear my mind as I do; I pull the covers high up under my chin for some sense of comfort. I hope that asking for space, for both of us, was the right move. As I take in deep, cleansing breaths, my brain finally settles while listening to the fan’s soft sweeping sound and I fall into a dreamless sleep.
Stretching my arms above my head, I roll over in bed. Not wanting to get up, knowing I have a meeting with Anderson to get the library completed today.
My phone is broken to pieces after the crunching from my ass; sliding down the door now feels a bit dramatic and my poor phone paid the price. Not only that, but I don’t have the time to order a new one. I’m not too worried about it since I will mostly be working down in the bar for the weekend and I can take my calls there. Anyone who needs to reach me can get a hold of me there.
A few knocks rattle at the front door. “Be right there!” I yell from my room as I stand. Pulling on a pair of black leggings, I walk down the hallway seeing Paloma has already made herself at home in the kitchen.
“Hey, babe! I tried to call you but it went straight to voicemail. I figured you may want a pastry and cafecito since I was picking something up for myself and the crew. It’s going to be a busy day,” she says, handing me a small paper cup along with a guava and cream cheese pastry.
Taking a hearty bite of the flaky deliciousness, I hum my appreciation as my tongue darts out licking at the powdered sugar that coats the top. “Yeah, I broke it last night. I’ll get a new one after the bachelorette party,” I say, my voice solemn, sipping at the sweet but very hot coffee.
“I spoke with Anderson this morning and he is going to meet us downstairs in”—she looks down at her phone, checking the time—“about thirty minutes, so we better get on it. Luckily he has all the materials and measurements from the original remodel. He brought a few guys to get everything finished quickly. How was your date?”
I nod at her to follow as I make my way to my bedroom, I pull the dresser drawers open as I look for one of the many Shaken Tropes t-shirts I own. I pull a purple one over my head and look at my best friend who is sitting on my bed, waiting for me to spill the details.
“The date was incredible, Lo. We danced all night at the Night Market and tried out so much good food. It was a dream date and he is a dream man. Oh! And he showed me the house.” My voice dips and Paloma’s brow furrows as she watches the joy drain from my face.
“The house is beautiful. He has a real winner, but it’s almost done and that means he is almost done here,” I continue, sliding off the leggings from earlier and replacing them with a pair ofloose-fitting boyfriend jeans that are distressed at the knees. “And it’s just… Lo, he doesn’t live here and I know that he would be willing to move here for me, but I can’t have him feel that pressure, not from me. You know?” I ask, but not really asking her, just saying it out loud for someone to hear me. “I want him to really want to be here. Not just for me. I don’t want resentment to grow. And I may have shouted that I love him.” I continue to adjust my clothing, not wanting to look up at her.
“Woah! You what?” she yells, excitement coating her voice. “I’m so glad you finally told him because girl… Did he say it back? Of course he said it back,” she answers the question immediately.
“Actually, no. I didn’t let him finish speaking before I interrupted him. He said, I mean the world to him and this is what he wants too but—”
“Now you’re worried he isn’t going to come back?” My shoulders slump slightly as she has logicked it out. “He loves you, I can see it in the way he looks at you and how he takes care of you. He’s coming back, Cass.”
“Yeah, that’s what my heart says too.” Pressing my sock-clad feet into my sneakers, I lace them up and snatch a quick sip of my cafe con leche. “Fuck! It’s still hot.”
Paloma laughs and I squint my eyes at her. “You are always in a rush to finish it,” she says.
“Hush, they make it so good! I just want a good taste.” I chuckle and it feels good to laugh after how last night ended. “Come on, let’s head downstairs.”
We open the door that leads to the bar and I can see that Anderson is already walking around the parking lot as his guys pull out the equipment they need. We decided to close up the bar tonight so the guys would have plenty of time to work with such short notice, and Anderson promised us that the transformation would happen despite the tight timeline.
