Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
JORDAN
Matt’s fingers trace along my skin in a slow, soothing rhythm.
There’s something about being naked with another person that you just can’t explain. It’s so vulnerable. So raw. So real.
But at the same time, there’s nothing more freeing than being stripped bare with the person you love. Somehow the vulnerability becomes comfort. A kind of security you’d never feel if you hadn’t just had sex all over the living room.
And when I say all over…
I mean all over.
The couch. The ottoman. Bent over the chair. The floor.
It was incredible.
Now we’re lying on the big sherpa rug, wrapped in blankets in front of the fireplace, the heat warm against my cheek.
Rain pounds against the patio, and the occasional crack of thunder followed by a flash of lightning makes this the most perfect afternoon.
I push up onto an elbow. “What do you want to do tomorrow?” I lean in, kissing him. “Should we see if Megan and Kevin wanna grab brunch?”
“Mmm,” he hums against my lips. “That’d be fun. But I forgot to tell you my mom texted me. She invited us to Mass tomorrow. I don’t want to go, but I haven’t gone with her in months. Kinda feel bad. I told her I’d talk to you. She wants—”
I cut him off, pulling back. “No,” I say before he can finish.
He lifts both brows.
“Sorry,” I add quickly. “But I’m not going to Mass with your mom. She hates me. And to be honest, I feel the same way about her.”
He laughs softly. “She hates everybody.”
“Matt…”
“I’m joking.”
I give him a pointed stare. No way in hell I’m budging on this.
“You really won’t go with me? You dislike my mom that much?”
He doesn’t even seem upset, just mildly curious, like he gets why someone wouldn’t like his mom.
“Yeah… but this is more about me.” I lean closer. “I’m trying this new thing where I tell people no, because my husband told me to start doing things that make me happy. And I don’t want to go to Mass with your mother. That doesn’t make me happy.”
The corner of his lips ticks up. “Atta girl,” he says, like he’s genuinely proud of me. “That’s fine if you don’t want to go. I’m going to though, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. If that’s what you want to do.”
“Well, it’s not what I want to do. I hate Mass. But it would be nice to see my mom. Take her to lunch after.” His hand grips my hip. “She doesn’t hate you. Why do you think that?”
I hesitate.
He really doesn’t know, then.
All this time, I thought maybe his mom would have said something, blamed me loudly for all the bad shit that happened to him. But of course, she only told me. She likes to come off as the hero to Matt.
I bring my lips back to his, kissing him softly. “Let’s forget about your mom,” I whisper, sweeping my tongue across his lips and reaching for his cock. I run my fingers down the length of him, then glide them gently across his balls.
He exhales. “Fuck, babe.”
He groans into my mouth, cups the back of my neck and pulls me in deeper.
Just when I think we’ve moved on, he shifts, rolls me onto my back, and breaks our kiss.
“You’re trying to get out of something,” he says, eyes locked on mine.
Damn.
I hold back a smile. “Is it working?”
I wrap my fingers around him and give one long stroke, then repeat.
He chuckles, grabs my wrist, then the other, and pins them both over my head with a satisfied grin. “I don’t know. Is it?”
His stare burns into mine.
“C’mon, babe. Tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me.”
I search his eyes, trying to decide if this is worth it. His relationship with his mom is already strained. His dad’s basically dead to him. I never wanted to be the cause for him to not have at least a little bit of one of them.
He releases his grip, then cups my cheek. “Babe, I don’t want to beg you to talk to me. I don’t want to push. I just want you to want to tell me things.”
He rolls onto his back with a sigh, then drags his hands down his face.
“I do want to tell you things,” I say, more to the ceiling than to him. I push back onto my elbow and turn to my side, resting my head in my hand. “I want to tell you everything. But some things aren’t worth saying because of the hurt they might cause.”
“For who—me?” he asks. “Why don’t you let me be the one to decide that?”
I let out a heavy breath. “Fine. Your mom has been…” I shake my head. “Really awful to me, Matt. Really awful. She’s said horrible things to me. Blamed me. She never—”
He cuts me off. “Whoa. What do you mean she blamed you?” He sits up, leaning back on one hand, eyes laser sharp on mine. “Blamed you for what?”
I sit up too, bringing the blanket with me. I wrap it around my chest and tuck it underneath my arms.
“God, I don’t know. For everything.” My voice cracks, emotion hitting fast and unexpected.
“For cutting class. For not going to Harvard. For my dad staining your precious family name.” I shake my head, heat spreading through my chest. “Your relationship with your dad. Her relationship with your dad. The business deal you lost because of me. The one that would’ve landed you in Forbes years ago. ”
I swallow hard, my hands fisting the blanket tighter. “I was always the reason something went wrong. And I was always going to be the thing holding you back.”
His jaw locks tight and his brows pull together, like he’s deep in thought but pissed at the same time. Finally, he exhales hard. “What business deal?”
“The one you lost right before we last broke up. After your dad—” I lift a hand. “You know…”
“Jesus. Is that what she told you? I backed out of the deal because my father stepped in as an investor.”
I sigh. “And why do you think he did?”
“It doesn’t matter. My dad had been eyeing that opportunity for a long time. He would have been involved anyway.”
“Not what your mom said. She made sure I knew your dad was pissed—at me, at you.” My gaze shifts past him, landing on a lamp. “And then she asked when I was going to learn that some men aren’t meant to be weighed down by women like me.” I pause. “That I’d always be the one who held you back.”
My eyes drop to the floor, a rush of tears flooding them.
“Christ,” Matt mutters. “Babe, you know that’s not true, right?” His thumb swipes the moisture off my cheek. “None of it.”
I lift my eyes to his. “I guess somewhere deep down, I know that now. But then? God. I was so vulnerable all the time with my dad and the tabloids.” My chin trembles, and I swipe at my eyes, but the tears fall anyway.
“And then add your parents to the mix. I just…” I shake my head.
“I couldn’t do it anymore. I broke. I caved.
” I pause, forcing a small smile. “I’m not as strong as you, Matt. I never was.”
The room falls silent, and he closes his eyes for a moment.
When he opens them, they’re red and misty. He swallows. “I wish you wouldn’t say shit like that.” His voice is rough, low. “It’s not fucking true.”
“C’mon Matt. You’ve always been the person coming to my rescue. Saving me. Sometimes I wonder what I even bring to this relationship. You don’t need me the way I need you.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just lets the weight of my admissions sit there between us while my heart pounds.
I hate this—the waiting, wondering if I said too much. If I just threw it all away because I exposed the truth.
Shit. What if he really doesn’t need me?
He stares at me, jaw tight, like he’s biting back something he shouldn’t say.
“Do you know what I wish?” he finally says.
He doesn’t wait for a response.
“That for one damn day, you could see yourself the way I see you.” His nostrils flare, voice raw.
“Because Christ, Jordan. You’ve saved me every bit as much as I’ve saved you.
” He runs a hand through his hair, breath uneven.
“Still are. Look at what you’re doing for me right now.
” He scoffs softly, shaking his head. “I need you like I need my goddamn feet. I don’t function right when you’re not in my life. ”
The corners of my mouth twitch.
He glances to the side. “Dumb analogy.” Then he looks back at me. “But it’s true. Come here.”
He pulls me into him, meeting my lips with a kiss. “Is this why you broke up with me?”
“It was just one of the dominoes,” I say quietly.
He nods, like he already knew that. Then he presses his forehead to mine.
“Next time,” he murmurs, “we knock them down together.”