Three #6
“Fuck you, Jory,” he snapped, then he spun around and left without another word. I watched him walk back inside.
“Nice mouth on the rich boy.”
I looked up the street, and there, parked three cars down, was Sam Kage. I jogged over to him before I even thought about it.
“You bring that kind of language out in everybody you know, huh, J?”
I smiled at him and shrugged. “What can I tell you? People go all poetic when I’m around.”
He sighed deeply before he grabbed hold of my jacket and yanked me up against him. I let my head fall back on my shoulders as I stared up into his beautiful eyes.
“He thinks I drink too much.”
“’Cause ya do,” he agreed, his hand warm on my skin, his thumb stroking my cheek. “But that ain’t the way to get you to stop, taking you to a fuckin’ bar. I’d keep you home in bed.”
I let out a snort of laughter as my eyes drifted closed and I leaned into his hand.
“Baby,” he said softly, and his lips brushed over the side of my neck. “Get in the car.”
“Not tonight.” I stepped back from him, my eyes opening. “I gotta work tomorrow.”
He took a step closer, and I took another back.
“J…” he warned me, reaching for my jacket.
I sidestepped him, doing a half spin so he couldn’t get a hold of me. “I really gotta go.” I smiled at him as I walked to the curb and hailed a cab. “But you take it easy.”
“You’re leaving me?” He was dumbfounded.
I waved before I got in the cab and was immediately halfway down the street. I gave the driver my home address and slouched down in the back seat. My phone rang moments later.
“How ’bout I take you to breakfast in the morning?”
I smiled into my phone. “No, Sam. I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Then lunch. Meet me for lunch at the Chop House. I’ll get you a steak.”
“I have a lunch meeting tomorrow already.”
“Dinner. Lemme feed you. Please, J.”
“Sam, I can’t just—”
“Why you gotta be so difficult?” He muttered and truly, it was adorable.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“It’s fun, you know, flirting with you, but really…we should stop.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s no point.”
“The point is very simple. You belong to me.”
“Three years, Sam.”
“I know. I fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Forgive me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you could see into my heart, you’d know I had only good intentions when I left. I wanted to keep you safe, keep my job, and get back to you. That was all. It’s just…somewhere in all that time, I realized I needed everything perfect if I wanted you back.”
“All I wanted was you, Sam. All you had to do was come home.”
“I was an idiot, but I deserve a second chance.”
“Wouldn’t this be, like, the tenth chance?”
“All our breakups weren’t just on me. You ran scared quite a bit.”
“Let’s maybe not rehash the past,” I warned him.
“You started it.”
And I had, he was right. “Okay,” I said coolly. “I’m gonna let you go and—”
“Wait. I’m sorry.”
“About?” My voice was sharper than I meant it to be.
“All of it. Everything. Me having to be right about any part of us ever being apart will not get me what I want.”
Which instantly gutted my anger. “Oh?”
“Yes. But you have to know—I’m not the same anymore. I know who I am, and I know who I want in my life.”
“Three years,” I repeated.
“I heard you the first hundred and fifty times.”
I scoffed. “That was funny.”
“Listen, it’s not easy to say sorry to Jory Harcourt.”
“Others would disagree.”
“Yeah, but they don’t have our history.”
I grunted.
“Yes?”
“I’ll give you that.”
“And for the record, you’re not perfect.”
“I thought you were supposed to be sweet-talking me?”
“No. That won’t work. Only the truth. And the truth is, you’re difficult.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. And I’m the only one that’ll put up with your shit, day after day, week after week, because I love you.”
I could barely breathe.
“And you know you’re a pain in the ass.”
“I—”
“Jory, c’mon. You throw temper tantrums, you second-guess everything, you have no patience at all, you want things to be instantly perfect without any work, you never listen, you jump to conclusions, you create more drama than ten people put together, you drink too much, you’re oblivious to shit that goes on around you, and if things go wrong, your first instinct is to run away as fast as you can.
” He sighed deeply. “You’re a fuckin’ mess, and you can’t deny it. ”
“You’ve been gone a long time, Sam. I’m not like that anymore.”
“The hell you’re not.”
“I’m not, but if you think I’m such a piece of shit, then—”
“I never said that. I said you were a pain in the ass, and you are. You know you are.” He let out another long, drawn-out breath. “But so am I. That’s why we’re made for each other.”
“Sam—”
“Please lemme see you. I gotta see you.”
“Sam, I—”
“I’m crazy about you…you know that.”
“Sam—”
“We’ll just hang out. No pressure, okay?”
“Sam—”
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow. I’ll be there at six.”
“No,” I told him.
“We’ll just hang out,” he repeated, his voice softer, lower.
I sighed deeply. “It’s not a good idea, Sam. It never—”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Fine.” I yawned. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Call me if you want.”
“I’ll see you at six,” he said, and hung up.
But I knew him and his job. There was no way he would show.