Chapter 18
It’s a new week, a fresh start. New weeks are great because I leave the past behind and strive for a better one.
I had a good weekend with Rya. It helped clear my head, something I needed. Ezra was extra cautious to not ruin our girls’ weekend. That’s what we ended up calling it. Zayn never once reached out to me after the first time.
It still stung that he never reached out again after days of not hearing from me. It felt like he didn’t even miss me. I know I thought space would be good for us, but I didn’t think that meant we’d not talk all weekend.
As I’m curled up on the couch, I’m still wondering what is going on with Zay.
Even now that we haven’t seen each other since Friday, and here it is Monday night, he still isn’t home from work.
Even though I had a great weekend and day, here I am contradicting my emotions.
Sometimes it’s hard being a woman. We’re overly emotional about everything.
Well, maybe not all women, but I sure am at times.
Sometimes I think having the emotions of a man would be better.
The sound of the garage opening sounds through the house.
That must be Zay now. Usually, I would get up and greet him at the door, but right now I’m torn about what to do.
I continue reading my thriller book to ignore any nagging feelings that I don’t want to resurface.
I opted for a thriller over a romance because—well, I’m not so much into romance right now.
The sound of Zay’s footsteps comes closer to me.
I glance up and notice a bouquet of pink flowers in his hand.
My favorite color. Even though so many people think my favorite color is violet because it’s my name.
I do love violet and my name, but I’m more into the lilac or lavender colors.
Those colors pair very well with my skin tone.
Pink, not so much. But I still buy a lot of pink stuff.
Zay sits next to me on the couch, his shoulders slump over and his gaze is soft. “I’m sorry, Vi,” he says, handing me the bouquet.
I reach for the flowers, smiling at how pretty they are. I can’t help but smile. “What are you apologizing for?”
His head tilts, eyeing me. “Everything. I feel bad about the way I acted when all you were trying to do was talk.”
I shift in my seat, sitting up taller. “What was even going on?”
He scratches his head, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m just stressed,” he says, focusing his gaze back on me. He sighs. “Work’s been rough, and I’ve been taking it out on you when I shouldn’t have.”
I nod slightly. “I appreciate the apology. But you need to talk to me instead of shutting me out. We’ve always been open with each other. Why did you shut me out this time?”
His eyes flicker with guilt. “I know… I just.” He pauses, avoiding eye contact with me. “I was trying to handle it on my own.”
I narrowed my gaze at him in confusion. “Did I do something to make you not want to open up to me?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No. This isn’t on you.”
“Okay, then why didn’t you want to come to me? I’m still confused?”
He runs his hand down his face. “I don’t know, Vi. This time I didn’t want to talk about it.” His voice comes out sharp.
Is it better to let this go even though it stings? He used to share everything with me. Now, it’s like a wall is slowly growing between us. People change over time, and maybe he doesn’t want to talk like he used to, but it’s hard not to wonder if something’s wrong. I could be overthinking it.
I reach out and place my hand on his knee. “Okay, I trust that you are fine, and it was only a stressful week.”
He places his hand over mine. A slight smile creeps up onto his face. “Umm, there is something else.”
My brows shoot up. “What?”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone. I reach out for it, observing the broken screen. My touch doesn’t even light the screen up. “What happened?”
“Work.”
“Did you run it over or something?” I ask, flipping it over and seeing the back shattered too.
He leans back onto the couch and lets out a sigh. “Yeah.”
I hand him back his phone, questions still swirling in my mind.
I still don’t fully understand what happened, but I hold back from asking.
Pressing him for answers last time only led to an argument, and the last thing I want is to stir that up again.
Instead, I focus on his apology. It’s better to leave it alone. I don’t want to add to his stress.
“Well, I guess it’s time for an upgrade,” I say, playfully.
“Let’s go tomorrow when I get off work. It’s getting late now,” he says and pulls me into his arms. I go willingly.
As he places a kiss on the top of my head, I wrap my arms around him, feeling more of him.
It’s been a stressful week. I’m glad we’re able to come together now and not drag it out any longer.
I tilt my head to meet his gaze, and his eyes are soft, holding a guilt that makes my heart ache.
Guilt, I’m sure, from this past week. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine, kissing me softly.
My body molds to his as though the short distance we had over this weekend is fading away.
The lingering tension from our recent argument feels nonexistent.
Despite everything, I’ve missed him. It’s funny how even a short time apart can feel like an eternity.
His hands slide down my back, tracing a path that makes my center pulse in anticipation of his touch—his need.
He grips my hips, guiding me onto his lap, and the shift sends a spark through me.
Our breaths mix as I tangle my fingers in his hair, drawing him closer and deepening our connection.
His hands grip my shirt, pulling it free from my body.
His hands tighten on my waist, his lips traveling down to my jaw and then to the curve of my neck. The tension between us shifts, no longer carrying the burden of last week.
He roams my body, exploring me like he’s rediscovering every inch. My heart races as his need grows more urgent. My whole body gives in completely, letting go of everything.
He breaks our kiss as he takes off his shorts.
He wraps himself in his hand. I pull my pants off, eyeing his hunger for me.
I curl my hands on the top of his shoulders as I guide myself down onto him.
Slowly eases in and my mouth parts. His head falls back as his dark eyes stare back at me with so much need.
He grips my hips and slams me down on top of him.
Both of us catch our breath as our pleasure surrounds us.
The thought of him turning me down lingers in the back of my mind, and I can’t help but cringe at how much I overthought it.
Of course, Zay wants me. There was never a doubt about that, not really.
It was just his stress taking up all the space that I wanted.
I guess I assumed that he’d want an outlet, a way to release some of it.
But now, with the way his hands move over me, his touch speaks louder than words, telling me he not only wants me, he needs me, as if I’m the one .