21. Jenna
JENNA
P ulling myself away from Miles is hard.
The feelings I have for him have been building, and today was the culmination of every emotional moment we’ve shared since the day we met.
Miles is, by far, the most attentive lover I have ever had.
He made me feel beautiful, safe, and most importantly, seen, all while ensuring the greatest orgasm of my life.
I wish I could stay in bed with him from this day forward.
The moment we got dressed, I started having anxiety about leaving him.
I suspect Miles feels the same way as he drives me back to my car.
We cleaned ourselves up, and then Miles ordered us a pizza.
While we waited, I gave Pete the attention he was craving, which gave me a moment to be away from Miles to collect myself a little bit.
The separation anxiety I already feel is alarming me.
I need to figure out where my head and my heart are, and if they’re on the same page.
Now that we’ve been intimate, I worry he’ll lose interest in me.
That’s not just me being insecure. He told me a week ago that he was worried about that very thing—that he doesn’t catch feelings easily. Well, I’ve caught them. I’m damn near bewitched by Miles and it’s scary as hell.
He pulls into the nearly empty parking lot at the brewery and parks next to my car.
We sit there for a moment, turning toward each other.
I fiddle with the water bottle sitting in the center cup holder.
Miles puts his hand on top of mine and intertwines our fingers.
I lift my gaze to him, and his lips twitch.
“Have I told you that you’re amazing?” he asks me.
My heart flutters. “I believe you have.” I bite back a satisfied smile. “Have I told you that you’re amazing? And that tongue? Oh my.” I laugh.
Miles’s expression turns serious; he pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. His brows turn together in an agonized expression. “I don’t want you to go,” he rasps.
I swallow and close my eyes, resting my head on the seat. “I don’t want to go either,” I utter softly, without opening them. “But you said yourself, slow. ”
Miles groans. “I know, but I want to sleep next to you,” he whines, and I almost give in. I’d like to wake up in his condo on the beach again, his legs wrapped around mine, his breath in the crook of my neck. Then we would have coffee on his balcony and look out at the waves.
“It’s hard to say good night,” I admit, brushing a lock of wavy hair off his forehead. “But this time it’s definitely not goodbye,” I promise, offering a reassuring smile.
“It better not be.” Miles smirks. Then quieter and more serious,“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say goodbye to you.”
I sigh, fighting to control my swirling emotions. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Miles,” I whisper.
When he doesn’t immediately respond, I take it as my cue to go. I collect my things and reach for the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Miles murmurs.
“Okay.” I shoot him a smile. “Don’t go cold on me now,” I say it like a joke, but there’s a part of me that’s terrified I’m going to walk away from Cape May with nothing but memories and a newly broken heart. Miles may be saying all the right things now, but what if he wakes up regretful tomorrow?
“I won’t,” he says, his voice husky. “I promise.”
“Good.” This time my smile is easier. “Thanks for the clothes.” I push open the door.
“Thanks for the orgasm.” Miles grins, his eyes scrunching at the corners.
I bark out a laugh. “Back at ya.” I slam the door shut and climb into my cold car. The loneliness hits instantly.
When it becomes apparent that Miles won’t pull out of the lot until I do, I shift the car into reverse and head toward my cold, empty house. Today started out perfect, then it got a little scary, and then it was amazing. So why do I feel so empty now?
I get home and take a scorching hot shower that leaves my skin pink.
When I get out, I almost put on clean pajamas—then think better of it and reach for Miles’s T-shirt instead.
If I can’t sleep next to him, at least I can fall asleep smelling like him.
I climb into bed and fall into a fitful sleep, full of dreams of Miles and a life in Cape May that feels so close but so far away.
I have nothing to wake up for Monday morning, so I sleep in.
The mid-morning sun wakes me, shining through the blinds that I forgot to close.
I groan and roll over to check my phone on the nightstand.
It’s nearly ten in the morning. There are several texts from Miles. My heart races as I tap into the text.
Miles:
Can I see you for lunch?
Miles:
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Miles:
I hope you aren’t tired of me.
Miles:
Jenna…
Miles:
Did I do something wrong?
Without thinking, I dial his number.
“Jenna,” he answers on the first ring.
“Hi,” I say sleepily. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I smile into my phone.
“Sorry. I might have come on a little too strong,” Miles says sheepishly, his voice low.
“Just a wee little bit,” I tease but I’m smiling.
It’s been a long time since a guy has fallen for me first. Is that what this is?
It’s almost always me liking someone more than they like me.
I need to pump the brakes though. I have no idea if Miles has fallen for me.
The last time I even went on a date, my mom was still healthy.
Then she got sick, and it was like I pressed pause on my life.
It felt selfish to want something just for me.
The only consistent relationship I have had the past few years was with my mom’s oncology nurse. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
“I got worried when you didn’t answer. I thought maybe you were having second thoughts about yesterday.” Miles’s voice sounds tentative, as if he’s waiting for me to reassure him.
“I’m not having second thoughts, Miles,” I assure him quietly. “In fact. I was dreaming about you until about five minutes ago.”
Miles laughs. “Dreaming, huh?” His voice turns sultry. “Was I making you come in the dream?”
I let out a husky laugh. “No. It was much more intimate than that.”
“Maybe you can tell me about it over lunch?” His voice is brimming with hope.
“I would love that.”
An hour and a half and three outfit changes later, I’m standing outside The Mad Batter waiting for Miles.
I have never put so much effort into my appearance for a man—but here I am.
Nothing I tried on felt right. Up until yesterday, I never cared—or even thought—about what I looked like around him.
I didn’t expect things to go the way they did.
I finally landed on a pair of slouchy jeans cuffed at the ankle, a gray thermal, and my Birkenstock clogs.
Casual and comfortable. Like I didn’t try too hard, even though I absolutely did.
I’m leaning against the railing when he walks up.
He’s dressed impeccably in a pair of navy slacks and a pinstriped button-down cuffed at the forearm.
His wavy hair is tousled and pushed off his forehead.
He smiles as he approaches, like his day just got better.
I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to believe that I could have that effect on someone, but it is.
Miles stops in front of me. “Hi,” he says quietly. He tips my chin up to his mouth and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I couldn’t get here fast enough,” he breathes against my lips. At those words, my whole body tingles. In truth, I couldn’t wait to see him either.
It’s cooler out today but still unseasonably warm for October this week.
Mid-week in the off-season means no wait, even at one of the most popular restaurants in town.
Miles grabs my hand and leads me up the wooden steps of the old Victorian house-turned-restaurant.
Inside, the restaurant is colorful, bright, and airy.
“Hello!” The cheerful hostess greets us. “Welcome to The Mad Batter. Where would you like to sit today?”
“How about the garden room?” Miles asks, looking at me for approval. I nod, giving him a smile. It’s warm enough outside for the terrace today but if I know Miles, he’s worried I’ll be cold.
The hostess takes two menus and leads us to a small table in a quiet part of the restaurant, where the walls feature art by local artists and rainbow checkered stained glass windows brighten the space.
The warmth of the sun shining in feels amazing.
Then we’re alone again, and my stomach twists itself in knots.
We quietly peruse the menu without speaking.
Then Miles reaches across the table for my hand.
All of this is perfect—except for the quiet thrum of anxiety beneath the surface.
I haven’t yet figured out why Miles still makes me nervous, despite everything that happened yesterday and how attentive he is being to me.
Am I terrified of being hurt, or am I terrified of being loved?
I don’t think a man has ever truly loved me.
At least not the way my father loved my mother.
My mother never loved anyone else after we lost him.
The strange thing is, when we found out her cancer was terminal, I think she was at peace, knowing she would get to see my dad again.
I’d love to find a love like that—someone who would always wait for me—but I don’t know if Miles is it.
I don’t know if it’s in the cards for me.
My last relationship ended with him being unfaithful to me—right before my mom got sick.
At the time, it was a relief to have something else to focus on.
A reason not to take him back. I threw everything I had into caring for my mom.
How could I be worried about a breakup when my mom was suffering from terminal cancer?
Still, I’ve always had this nagging voice in the back of my mind that maybe I wasn’t enough.
That if I had been, he’d have stayed. He’d have shown up for me when it mattered most. He just didn’t love me enough.
That’s what scares me about Miles. He’s been nothing but patient and kind.
And if I let myself believe that someone could love me like that—like my dad loved my mom—I’d never survive it if I were wrong.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Miles asks, raising his eyebrows and threading his fingers through mine.
I shake my head and smile, my cheeks flushing. I can’t tell Miles the thoughts and fears that are swarming my mind so instead, I fib. “I’m trying to decide between pancakes or a burger.” I flick my eyes back to my menu to avoid his assessing gaze.
Miles laughs and his carefree smile relaxes me. The server comes over to take our order and I make a last-second decision. Miles doesn’t let go of my hand the entire time the server is with us.
“So, I was thinking,” he says slowly once she disappears, “Sophie and Liam are having a Halloween party in two weeks. I wasn’t going to go. Halloween isn’t really my thing, but then, I thought, maybe you might want to.” He quirks his brow.
I’m surprised by his question. “Oh. Um, well…” I can’t remember the last time I celebrated the holiday.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to.” Miles backpedals. “If you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s just that I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in a really long time.” I laugh. “Like, decades.”
Miles huffs a laugh, his eyes flickering in amusement. “Me neither.” He takes a sip of water. “It could be fun,” he says with an easy shrug.
A slow smile creeps across my face and I find myself nodding. “Okay. Yeah, it could be fun.”
“I’ll brainstorm costume ideas for us,” he says excitedly, gripping my hand again.
“For us? Like a couple’s costume?” I lick my lips, suddenly nervous.
“Why not?” Miles asks, cocking his head at me. “Everyone else will be in them.”
Miles wants to be a couple. “Okay. But only because everyone else is.” A smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it.
“Sure.” He nods, fighting back his own smile. Suddenly, I’m fifteen—on an afterschool date with my crush. The tingles are real.
Our server returns with our food, and we busy ourselves with tasting and sharing bites with each other.
“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?” Miles asks.
“Peel some wallpaper border off the spare bedroom wall. Really riveting stuff.” I laugh. “What about you?”
“Well, my meetings are done for the day. I have no showings. I could…peel some wallpaper, too?” His suggestion causes all my loneliness and my desire for him to weld together into a deep, devouring yearning.
I can’t hide my happiness. Joy bubbles up, and I laugh out loud. “Yes. You certainly could.”