Page 98 of A Love That Broke Us
Ok. Love you.
I make a plate for him, then pack the rest of the food into containers and slide them into the fridge. I wash the pots and pans and wipe down the countertops, determined to keep my mind busy so my impatience doesn’t get the best of me.
By the time I’m finished, he’s still not home and my frustration is turning into anger. I know I shouldn’t be mad, butGod.
Ten minutes later, I call him.
Nothing again.
Thirty minutes later, I blink back tears as I unclip my garter belt and bra, the lace I picked out for him now crumpling to the floor. I pull on one of Jensen’s oversized shirts I love to sleep in, and crawl into bed.
Forty minutes after that I roll to my side, eyes on the clock. It’s 10:30.
I blink once, then again. A single tear slips down my cheek, soaking into the pillowcase. And still, no Jensen.
I hearJensen come in around eleven. He moves quietly through the apartment, slipping into the bathroom. Five minutes later, he’s sliding into bed beside me.
“Where were you?” I ask, my voice clipped.
“Ah, sorry, babe. Did I wake you?” His arm slides around my waist, and he presses a kiss to my temple.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Where were you?” I ask again, a little sharper this time.
“I told you… I was helping a coworker with his car. He couldn’t get it started, so we waited for a tow, and then I drove him home. It took forever. By the time I got to my car and charged my phone, it was late. I didn’t want to wake you if you’d already fallen asleep.”
I don’t have a reason not to believe him, but something in my gut’s calling bullshit. And I don’t know why—Jensen doesn’t lie. Not to me. Not to anyone. I trust him with my life. But something’s off, and I can’t explain it. I have nothing to go on but a feeling.
Is he cheating on me?
No. He would never.
I roll over, my eyes meeting his, searching them. It’s dark, but the sincerity is there. It’s Jensen. He loves me. He wouldn’t lie.
I sigh, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Well, I guess he was lucky you were there to help.”
“Yeah. We were the only two left in the building.” His lips meet mine—warm, tender—and for a second, I almost forget that I waited for him in my underwear for three hours. “How was your night?” he asks, stroking his thumb over my cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “Um…” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, the memory of tonight rushing in. “It was fine. Just watched some Gossip Girl. Ate dinner.” My fingers trace a path down his chest. “Pretty low-key.”
“Hmm. That sounds nice.” He kisses me again, then rolls onto his back. “I’m fucking exhausted, babe. Night.”
That’s it? Thats all I get from him?
His eyes close, and I watch his chest rise and fall with each steady breath.
It’s fine. He was helping a friend.It’s one of the things I love most about him. He’s always thinking of others. Always willing to help.
His phone died. He had to wait for a tow.
But then… Why does this hurt so much?
Chapter Thirty
JENSEN
THEN
APRIL
