Chapter 16
sixteen
RUBY
Pulling into my garage, I let out a yawn. The weekend with Sab was perfect in every way, but I’m too old to drink till the wee hours … or go skinny-dipping in early December. My nipples are still frozen, but frozen nipples aside, it was just what I needed but at the same time, now I’m confused.
My chat with Sab has been all I can think about, and her question, “Are you sure he’s the one?” has really thrown me—because I do love Joel, but am I in love with him? In all the books I read, when the female main character is about to walk down the aisle, she knows with every fiber of her being the man at the other end is her one true love. Up until a few days ago, I was sure, but now I’m so fucking confused.
Grabbing my handbag from the passenger seat, I head inside, no closer to knowing what I want but one thing is abundantly clear, Joel and I need to talk. We used to talk all the time, but lately, apart from a text message here and there, we hardly speak anymore.
Pushing open the door from the garage into the kitchen, I stop mid step and gasp. Standing before me with a massive Christmas-inspired flower arrangement is Joel. In the background, Christmas music is softly playing and warmth from the fire hits me square in the face.
“Hi, Rubes,” he greets, walking over to me. Leaning into me, he cups my cheek and presses his lips to mine. And just like the first time he kissed me in college, my eyes drift closed and my heart skips a beat. This kiss is soft, sensual, and ohh so perfect. My romance-loving heart is swooning right now.
“Hi,” I whisper against his lips before he kisses me deeply again. My swoon level increases when he rests his forehead against mine and we stand here, silently gazing into each other’s eyes. “What’s all this?”
“Life has been crazy lately and after having lunch with you on Friday, I realized I missed you so I did this for you.” He waves his hand around, and when I peek over his shoulder, I see the lights in my place are dimmed and my living room has been turned into a movie theatre. It looks like every pillow, blanket, and duvet in my place has been pulled out to create a bed just for two. On the coffee table is a bucket of popcorn, a bowl of Skittles, and a wine bucket with a bottle of what I hope is prosecco.
Joel is grinning like a carnival clown when I look back at him, and I find myself smiling too.
“You did this for me?”
He nods. “Mmmhmpf. I also need to apologize.”
“Why?” I ask, confused.
“On Friday, I gave you the wrong soup at lunch. You know I can’t pass up Norah’s mushroom soup, but I was so hungry I didn’t even realize until I got into my car and was halfway back to work that I ate both the chicken noodle and the mushroom one.”
“I was wondering about that.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m a shitty fiancé, so this is my way of making it up to you. ”
“Well, you’re off to a good start but if there is one mushroom in sight, I might have to call off this wedding.”
“I assure you, there are no mushrooms … well, I hope there aren’t. I cannot take credit for the meal.”
“And what meal might that be?”
“Pizza,” he says proudly. “Pepperoni with olives for you and cheese for me.”
“I will never get why you love that so much, it’s so … plain.”
“What can I say? I’m a plain kind of guy.”
“Lucky for you, I like plain guys.”
“Only like ?” he teases.
“Maybe I love … a little … I mean, you do love mushrooms.”
“Well, I love you—olives and all.”
That’s kinda sweet , I think to myself. He tells me to go get changed and he’ll pour me a glass of prosecco—I was right—and bring up the movie, Top Gun: Maverick.
Joel and I have a lovely night together, eating pizza and watching the movie. Not that we see much because we make out like teenagers. The movie is finished and we’re lying here in each other’s arms, watching the flames of the fire flicker. He leans down and kisses me. It’s getting hot and heavy when he suddenly pulls away. He then shocks me when he bids me a good night, making a promise to see me Wednesday to do wedding prep.
He kisses the tip of my nose and lets himself out. Leaving me lying here in the makeshift bed confused, alone, and horny. How can we go from hot and heavy kisses and petting to nothing?
Standing up, I begin to pack up the bedding. Right now, I’m pissed off and even more confused than before. Yes, he apologized for the soup debacle from Friday, but he left without giving me an orgasm. A hero in my book wouldn’t do that. Before he left, he’d fuck me into next week, leaving me completely sated and possibly waddling the next day. Placing the last cushion back on the sofa, I drop down into the chair when it hits me: I can’t remember the last time we were intimate together. There’s been kisses, hot and heavy kisses, and a blow job in his car after meeting at the lodge to finalize the dinner menu for the wedding, but actual intercourse? It’s been months. Why doesn’t my fiancé want to sleep with me?