Page 113 of Stolen Kiss

Emilia

Something was wrong with Jensen.

Ever since I’d confessed to loving him, he had been aloof.

Yet, at the same time, it felt like he didn’t want me out of his sight any longer than necessary.

On the days I didn’t have to teach Elodie, as soon as I got out of the studio, he was right there, waiting for me at the curb—him and Elodie—to take me back to his house.

He was clinging to me tighter than before and, like the lovesick fool I was, I reveled in that. I had grown dependent on him, and I didn’t want him to let me go, even if he didn’t love me.

We hadn’t had sex since that night, and it wasn’t for my lack of trying. I had been dropping hints all week, but other than the closeness and touches he demanded whenever we were in the same room together, we hadn’t done the actual deed.

It wasn’t that he was being cold toward me… just emotionally distant.

He still took care of me like before, still paid attention to me, still wanted to know if my muscles were aching today, or if something had made me upset.

He was still all of that, but ever since I’d told him I loved him, it felt like he was trying to do whatever possible to ensure he wouldn’t love me in return—and how fucking terrifying that was.

I was sitting on Elodie’s bed to read her a bedtime story while Jensen cleaned up downstairs. I was so attuned to every single movement he made as he was clearing the table, turning the water on to wash the dishes, even the soft humming he did while he was cleaning.

Elodie pulled on my shirt, and I looked down at her big gray eyes. She really took after her father. From the way her head tilted to one side while she was lost in thought to the way her eyes lit mischievously when she was feeling especially playful.

Her smile, I assumed, was her mother’s.

Yet there was something familiar about the way she was looking at me now.

“You need to turn the page, Millie,” she said, and I realized I had stopped reading.

I tweaked her little noise. “Sorry, squirt.”

I turned the page, and she wrinkled her face at me. “Hey, I’m not squirt. I’m Lodie!”

I laughed and hugged her to me, kissing her temple. “Oh, sorry, Lodie.”

She patted my arm. “It’s okay,” she said, my forgiving girl.

She was in her yellow Minion pajamas right now, the length going down to her ankles. It was made for a bigger kid, but she loved it, and she liked that it looked like a dress on her.

She was as cuddly as a teddy bear.

She pointed to the pictures in the book, obviously telling me to continue the story, so that was what I did. I read the story until her eyes drooped and her head lolled to the side.

I tucked her into bed and gave her a goodnight kiss before grabbing the baby monitor and walking out the door, turning off the light and cracking the door open a bit.

I was just on the way to Jensen’s room when he came up the stairs.

We stood there awkwardly for a moment. I shifted all my weight onto my leg and looked down at the carpeted flooring.

I didn’t know what to do or say to him, and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I could spend the night back at my apartment.

I hadn’t been there in weeks, and honestly, even the thought of sleeping there held no appeal. I was sure Warren, the man Jensen hired to drive me around, wouldn’t mind driving me back home despite the late hour.

I was getting used to this easy routine we’d established, but I hated his attitude change even more than I hated the idea of sleeping in my own bed tonight.

I opened my mouth to say just that when he took the remaining steps up the stairs and held out his hand.

I looked at him questioningly.

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