20. Jones
20
JONES
I’m torturing myself.
Surrounded by her scent by choice. The entire car ride to Capri’s house had me ready to combust. Her lavender smell brings back a comforting feeling I’ve missed.
Holding myself back from touching her is going to be more difficult than I thought. Especially when I’ve tasted the goods and know how delicious they are.
I may have lied when I agreed with her, saying I needed a friend, too. After seeing Capri at The Dove last week, I was ready to claim her from the start and refuse to ever let her go.
But she extended a bridge. A bridge I couldn’t pass up if it meant spending time with her. Real quality time with her.
Even if it’s as friends. She’s the only one who will be thinking that, though. In Timber Heights, my focus is on my mother, but I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be nice to have some companionship with a beautiful woman.
My three-month timeline in the States does add an obstacle to the prospect of something greater.
At this point, I just want to know her. To get to know what’s beyond the shell of the woman I met in Capri. That Capri was hurt and in the wake of discovery.
A month later, this Capri is living life for her, and it’s a beautiful transformation to see.
“Laundry room is right over here,” Capri tells me as we enter her apartment complex, and I follow her through the front door.
I don’t know what I expected from Capri’s home, but it wasn’t this. Her apartment is small and quaint with very minimal furniture and knick-knacks. Not that knick-knacks are necessary, but Capri has been an adult on her own for quite some time now.
It looks like she just moved in.
Her walls are a clean white, accompanied by a tan sectional that looks so fucking fluffy, I’m tempted to jump on it. Every surface is pristine—clean and well-kept, with a bouquet of white lilies on the kitchen countertop.
I can’t seem to get past the lack of furniture, though. Capri has a small kitchen island with no barstools and a TV stand with no TV. Her dining room has four chairs lined up against the wall with no table to fit under.
The small things are here, but the big ones are vacant.
“Where’s all your furniture?” I ask, unable to help myself.
“Oh, Drew kept most of it,” she says like she’s accepted that truth.
“Who’s Drew?”
Capri stops and turns to me, a look of hesitation crossing her face. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot you don’t know that. Drew is my ex-husband.”
“Your ex-husband,” I can’t even say his name. “Left you with nothing?” I’m borderline seething.
Her grin is sarcastic. “Great guy, huh?” She shrugs it off as I follow her to the laundry room.
“Hardly,” I mumble, fighting to rein in my frustration.
We enter the small laundry space connected to her bathroom, and my eyes zone in on the random utensils scattered across the floor. “You perform an operation on the thing or something?”
Her hands meet her hips and seeing her in the little overall set she has on is fucking cute. Fitting for her task. “Isn’t it obvious I don’t have a clue what I’m doing? I thought I’d be able to clean the vent with some other things first.”
I cock my head. “Like a spatula and a whisk?” I can’t hold back my laughter.
She giggles. “I realize now how ridiculous that sounds.”
Fuck, her laugh.
The red ball cap on her head says ‘world’s okayest teacher,’ secured over a set of braids. It makes her look so much younger, yet she couldn’t look more beautiful.
“Let daddy show you how it’s done,” I joke and realize right away how sexual that sounded. Capri’s hysterical laughter confirms it.
“Daddy?” She hunches over, holding her stomach. “I can’t breathe. That…was…hilarious.”
I grin, enjoying being the one making her laugh more than I should.
“Oh, sweetheart, there’s still so much you have to learn about me.”
“I can see that.” She giggles, and my chest grows warm.
Before settling myself behind the vent, I turn to her and wink. “We’re gonna be such great friends.”
Capri rolls her eyes before heading toward the door. “I’ll grab some beers.” And she leaves me to it.
* * *
“Sorry, all I have is turkey and wheat bread. Hope that’s okay.”
“Perfectly fine,” I tell her, taking a large bite of my sandwich.
I was able to fix the dryer in a matter of minutes after finding it stuffed with lint and dirt, desperately in need of a good cleaning.
Capri insisted she pay me somehow, someway. Since I’ll never accept her money, I request a meal…with her. I’m desperate to spend time with her and not ashamed to admit it.
Leading to this moment right now: us sharing a dry sandwich and a six-pack of beer on her living room floor.
Best damn sandwich I ever tasted.
“You know we can sit on the couch,” Capri says, picking at her food.
I wave her off. “Come on. You never like to be casual on the floor?”
“Can’t say I do.” She giggles.
“I prefer it sometimes,” I admit. “I’m too damn big to sit comfortably on a couch for short people.”
“You calling me short, Captain?”
“Not with those pretty legs.” Capri smiles and it feels so fucking good to be here with her. Not on vacation, not at work, just here.
I take a sip of my beer and ask her the question I’ve been wondering for the last hour. “So, tell me why your ex left you with nothing? I can’t figure that out.”
Capri fiddles with the cap of her lager before meeting my stare. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t fight it, though. I just wanted out. So, I let him pick what he wanted before I moved out, then came home from work the same day to a U-Haul full of my keepings. I didn’t check what was actually in there until I got here.”
Fucking douche bag.
“What the hell is his problem?”
She doesn’t look defensive—more embarrassed. “I wish I knew. I think he decided pretty early on I meant very little to him.”
I could explode. “Then why marry you? Fuck, Capri. I’d castrate the guy myself if I could.”
She smiles softly. “I think Drew was in love with the idea of being married, while I was in love with him—at least at first, I was. He just thought he could have his cake and eat it too…with my best friend.”
“Does the fucking idiot have any redeeming qualities?”
“Afraid not.” She giggles, and I can’t help it; I reach for her hand.
“Capri, look at me.” Not one part of her looks weak at this moment. Her newfound strength is evident, but I wonder if anyone has told her just how incredible she is. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. I can see that, even after not knowing you very long. Putting yourself first can be challenging when you’re used to prioritizing everyone else. I’m proud of you.”
“That’s really sweet of you to say. I told myself after Italy that I’d discover who I am without approval from anyone else. It feels good to be doing that. Slowly but surely.” She exhales.
“I mean, look around you. This place is yours. You did it on your own without anyone else’s help. All from pure heart and hustle.”
“Heart and hustle,” she repeats after me. “I like that.”
My thumb traces the outline of her hand—delicate and soft. I smile at her lightly, soaking in her self-confidence. “You should start by getting a TV. How do you entertain yourself, woman?” I joke.
“Priorities, Jones. It’s called priorities. Besides, you’re one to talk. All you do is work.”
“I do. But not when I’m here.” I smile.
“You seriously trust Romeo and Luca to run the yachts?” she asks with a big smile on her face.
I chuckle. “Most days. They’re all I’ve got, so I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Speaking of being here…how’s your mom doing? I’ve been thinking about her.”
“You thinking about me, Capri?” I can’t help myself.
“Are you really so old you need to get your hearing checked?” she jokes. “Those aids need a good cleaning?” Her giggle escalates louder.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist,” she redirects herself.
I can’t remember the last time someone asked me about my mother. It’s almost one of those situations where it’s out of sight, out of mind.
I’m not owed anything, but the fact that Capri was kind enough to ask means a lot to me.
“She has her good days and bad. Dementia can be a real bitch but I’m thankful she’s still here. Physically, that is.”
“God, Jones. I’m so sorry. I knew she was sick, but not that.”
I smile softly. “Don’t be. I don’t enjoy talking about it, but for you, I will. With you, it’s not so bad.”
“Think I can meet her someday?” Her question comes quickly, like she doesn’t need time to think it through.
“You want to meet her?” My voice portrays wonder because I’m taken aback. Capri wants to meet my mother, and I’m weak enough to let her.
She’s all but told me we will never work, leaving me nothing to gain from their meeting.
But the self-sabotaging side of me wants nothing more than for them to be in the same room together. I know destruction can only come from blurring the lines we once had placed.
“If that’s okay. I would never want to intrude,” she says, nerves audible in her voice. “I just want to know the woman who raised such a great man. Great friend, too.”
Add that friend title in there for safety purposes, sweetheart. I got you.
I pull Capri to me, settling her in my lap and burying my face into her neck. My arms hold her tight. “I’d love that.”
I take it back. I’m blurring my own lines, and I’m not sure I’ll survive Capri’s staying intact.