Chapter 12
Natasha
I jump up and then I jump back onto the bed.
Oh, crap, should I pretend to be asleep?
I jump up again, no, asleep. I lie back down.
I flick my lamp on and I hear him put his keys onto my foyer table and walk toward my bedroom.
My heart is in my throat. It is then I feel the intensity of his presence.
His body is radiating heat like kryptonite, my body instantly weakening to its strength and softening under his gaze.
I roll over and we stare at each other in silence, tension hanging thick in the air.
I hold my hand up to him and he takes it and sits next to me on my bed in silence.
“Stop thinking so much, baby,” I whisper.
“No,” he answers. “You are not thinking enough, Presh. This is wrong, Natasha. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Josh, if it’s so wrong, why does it feel so right?” I kiss the back of his hand. He closes his eyes at the contact. “Why did you leave the other night without saying goodbye, Josh?”
He drops his head. “I had a 5:30 a.m. flight to Melbourne, and my brothers are here, remember.” I smile a sad smile and nod. That’s right, I had forgotten that.
I pull back the covers. “Come and lie with me.”
His eyes scan my body, and he smiles a crooked smile. “I thought I told you to throw out the flannel pajamas.”
I smirk back. “They’re snuggly. I have a good mind to buy you some so we could be matching.” He smiles and lies down next to me fully dressed.
“Are you wearing jeans to bed?” I ask.
“No, I’m not staying,” he answers.
My heart drops. “Why aren’t you staying, Josh?”
“Tash, sshh, stop it. I’m here because you asked me to come. I don’t want to fight.” I nod as I cuddle him and start to run my fingers through his hair. He relaxes into my arms. I feel him gently kiss my neck as he leans into me.
“Can you stay with me tonight? No sex,” I whisper.
“No sex,” he repeats.
I shake my head. “Josh, I don’t want to be with you just for sex…even though the sex is awesome.”
“Awesome.” He smiles as he raises his eyebrows. “What do you want to be with me for, Tash?”
I stay silent as I try to think of the right answer. I know the answer to this question is important to him. I can feel it.
“I’ve missed you, Josh. Just being with you makes me feel better. I can’t explain it. You are my medicine, and you calm me. When you’re with me, I can stop worrying.” He nods as if he understands and snuggles deeper into my neck.
“Just hold me, baby,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me again tonight.
I can’t bear it.” I gently stroke my fingers through his hair and up and down the length of his neck and gently kiss his forehead.
I can feel his body relax. I feel that he, too, is suffering from inner turmoil and that he also feels better just having me near.
I haven’t truly relaxed since I was in his arms on Sunday night, and it feels good.
It feels like home. Truer words have never been spoken—he is my medicine and just having him near makes me feel better.
I continue to run my fingers through his hair and down his neck.
His regular breathing notifies me that he has drifted off to sleep—he must be exhausted.
He’s so tired. Has he not been sleeping well either?
A tingle of unease runs through my body as I realize that the man I have with me tonight is a different man to the one I met on Sunday night.
The Sunday night man was dominant and confident and in control of his emotions.
The man asleep in my arms is gentle and broken and I feel a surge of protective instinct over him.
This is the beautiful Josh I remember. The one I fell in love with.
He obviously has two very distinct sides to his personality.
One strong and one weaker, as we all do I suppose.
I myself have two sides: I am strong in every part of my life except when it comes to him.
I wake with a start as the pain in my arm throbs; it’s gone to sleep.
I must have fallen asleep. Josh is still out cold and asleep in my arms. I smile and gently kiss his forehead again.
I slowly peel myself out from under him and head to the bathroom.
En route to the kitchen I walk past the foyer and see his phone and keys on my side table.
I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, I walk over and pick up his phone and swipe it on.
It’s unlocked. Shit. I look around, I shouldn’t be doing this.
I feel like a naughty kid. I go to his messages, the last message he sent being to Ben at 10:45 p.m.
I’m at my girl’s. Do Not Disturb
I smile, am I his girl? A frisson of excitement runs through me—he makes me feel like a schoolgirl.
I put a key to my apartment on your key ring.
Please use it
xxxxx
I scroll through the next few messages between us.
11:15 a.m. to Adrian.
Get me a coffee while you’re out.
I keep scrolling through, nothing interesting here.
Monday 7:30 a.m. from Adrian.
Are you expecting a text from Cinderella?
Huh, Monday morning, that’s after he left me.
Was he waiting for me to call? Surely not.
I frown, that’s confusing. I exit the messages and go into the images.
There is a photo of me asleep. I’m naked so it must have been Sunday night.
Hmm, happy with that shot just quietly. Then there are five photos of me from the wedding in which a face-splitting smile breaks my face.
A photo of Adrian sticking his finger up at the camera, obviously unimpressed.
Ten photos of horses and then there is a photo of a beautiful blond girl with one of the horses.
Who the hell is this? Maybe the photo is of the horse.
To my dismay, the next photo is of the girl on her own, smiling.
She’s…stunning. It’s a natural shot taken outside, maybe on a picnic blanket.
Another few photos of horses and then another photo of the blonde, on a boat this time.
What the fuck? Who is this girl? He told me he doesn’t date.
Was he lying? Going on picnics and boat rides is definitely a frigging date in my books.
There are a total of twenty photos on his phone and this girl makes the cut and now I can’t even ask who she is because I’m not even supposed to know she exists.
I click out of the phone in disgust with myself.
I tell my clients every day, “Don’t snoop because you will only upset yourself.
If you don’t have trust in a relationship, then you have nothing.
” What a crock. I get my glass of water and drink it at the sink while I calm myself down.
She’s probably a friend. My gut instincts tell me otherwise.
What an idiot, why did I do that? I amble back to the bedroom and walk around to Josh’s side of the bed.
As I go to switch off the lamp I see Joshua’s clothes on the floor.
I pretend I don’t notice and go to pull back the blankets.
“Pajamas off,” he says darkly. I smile and raise my eyebrows. “From now on, our bed is a pajama-free zone,” he breathes.
“It is, is it?” I raise my eyebrows. Our bed, I love the sound of that.
“And why can’t I wear pajamas?” I slide them off and sit on the side of the bed.
He runs his hand from my bottom up my back to my neck and grabs my nape and pulls my head back by my hair.
“Because I don’t fuck in pajamas,” he breathes into my neck as he bites it hard.
I close my eyes as goose bumps spread over my flesh.
I do so love dominant Mr. Stanton. Thank god he came to visit me tonight. I was beginning to worry.
I wake alone…again. However, I feel a lot more optimistic than I have since last Sunday.
At least I now know that I didn’t imagine it; there was something there.
His brief shutdown of his defenses last night allowed me to see a glimpse of the man I miss.
He’s struggling with this as well, I think.
I stroll out to flick on my coffee machine and find a note on the kitchen bench.
Slept in, early meeting.
Josh xx
I pick up the note and smile. Things are looking up and he gave me two kisses.
Maybe there is hope after all, hope for what, though, I’m not sure.
I spend all day daydreaming and reminiscing about the night before, hardly wiping the smile from my stupid face.
At work in my break I do the unthinkable, something I haven’t allowed myself to ever do.
I google cousin relationships. I am astounded to find page after page on the subject.
Is this for real? For half an hour I sit transfixed to a website called Cousin Love with tears running down my face.
Story after story of forbidden true love.
People who have done nothing wrong but fall in love with the wrong person—actually, wrong choice of words, a person their family thinks is wrong.
A lot of the stories mirror ours in that they hooked up and fell in love in their teens and tried to suppress it, only to have the feelings reappear in their twenties.
Like me, most of the people haven’t come out to their families for fear of persecution.
I read the list of famous people who married their cousins:
Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip
Albert Einstein Greta Scacchi Kevin Bacon
Rudi Giuliani
Jesse James
Franklin D Roosevelt
Thomas Jefferson
Charles Darwin
Jerry Lee Lewis
Johann Sebastian Bach
Hmm, some of the most brilliant minds of all time were attracted to their cousins.
I’m not a freak. The Queen of England is married to her cousin.
Who knew? I leave the website with a heavy heart but feeling somewhat comforted to know I am not alone and that others feel the same.
I just wish I knew how Josh felt, I mean really felt.
I know he adores me, but is it enough? Adore is not love. As much as I wish it were.