26. Jess
Jess
I have no idea what just happened.
One minute, Conor and I are seated on opposite sides of the table, with our own dates for the evening. The next, we’re about to make out in a public bathroom.
I’m shook. (See, Courtney, I can do the down-with-the-kids lingo, too.)
As we exit the bathroom, Conor shrugs off his sexy navy suit jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. It drowns me, and I can’t resist inhaling his scent of the fabric.
I take a moment to appreciate how good he looks dressed up like this.
His five o’clock shadow perfectly accentuates the angles of his jawline, and his hair has juuust the right amount of product in it.
His cologne smells so delicious I want to drown in it.
He wears navy dress pants and a crisp, white button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled up and straining around his muscular forearms. The shirt is unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a tantalising triangle of tanned skin.
Skin I want to put my mouth on. Now.
Before I can swoon and embarrass myself further in front of the restaurant patrons, he wraps one of those strong arms around me. His warm hand is tight on my shoulder as he directs me back in the direction of our table.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. When he suggested that we get out of here, I was having visions of climbing out the bathroom window and making a run for it—not facing the music first.
He doesn’t reply.
“Conor!” I try to dig my heels in, but to no avail.
As we get close, six faces snap in our direction.
Aiden looks perplexed, and Courtney, positively gleeful.
Courtney’s date, the unfortunate Farty Marty, and his pal, Rob the Bore, look vaguely intrigued.
And Brooke and Jennifer both look like they’re about to audition for WWE Smackdown! — ie, they’re not happy. Not one bit.
I wince and hope that Conor has a plan. He’d better have a plan.
“Guys.” Conor’s voice is low and urgent. “Did anyone else order the steak fajitas?”
Six heads shake.
“Oh, phew. It was just the two of us, then.” Conor shakes his head gravely, and drops his voice lower still, to a conspiratorial whisper. “Jess just threw up everywhere, I think it might be food poisoning. ”
Jennifer gasps and shoves her salad away. Not that she was eating any of her food, anyhow.
“Should I, uh, take you home?” Rob asks me, half getting up and hovering in a strange crouch.
“No worries.” Conor waves a hand. His voice carries so much authority, I almost believe the story he’s spinning. “We’re going home to the same place. I’ll save you the gas, Robbie.”
“Oh, uh. Thanks,” Rob mutters, glancing around like he’s not sure what to do next.
Aiden frowns. “You okay, Jess? You do look a little flushed.”
Yeah, but it’s not what you think...
I sniffle a bit, playing my part. I feel a little guilty about hoodwinking Aiden, but as this entire nightmare of an octo-date is kinda his fault, my guilt is outweighed by my desire to get out of here with Conor. Sorry, big bro. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get home and sleep it off, I think.”
“Come on, then. We’ll head out.” Aiden takes a swig of water and gets up. Touches Brooke on the shoulder. “Sorry for cutting the evening short, everyone.”
“No!” I say. A little too loudly. Everyone gapes at me, and I take it down a notch. “I mean, uh—no, you don’t have to come. Why spoil everyone’s evening?”
“It was only Jess and I who had the fajitas,” Conor adds.
“But, I drove here.” Aiden drums his fingers on the table.
Oh, shoot. I’d forgotten that the three of us carpooled here tonight, on Aiden’s insistence. His love for the environment is usually admirable, but right now, it’s downright inconvenient.
Jennifer pouts. “I wanted Conor to drive me home.”
“Aiden.” Courtney holds out a hand and makes a “gimme” motion. “Your car keys.”
“Why?” Aiden demands. They stare at each other for a long, loaded second.
“Because Conor can drive Jess home now, and I’ll drop you home later. When we’re done.” Courtney sighs as if this is very, very obvious.
Aiden glares at her. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I still don’t mind driving Jess home if—”
“Shut up, Rob!” Everyone yells.
Rob shuts up. Poor Rob.
“Courtney.” Conor takes advantage of the momentary silence. “Thanks for taking Aiden home. Now, I’m going to get Jess out of here before she throws up all over the table.”
And with that unfortunate and thoroughly unsexy image, Conor spins me on my heel and marches me to the door.
It’s like that quintessential scene in every action movie, where the hero pours kerosene on everything, lights a match, and strides away, victorious, while the world explodes into carnage behind him.
I throw a morbidly curious glance over my shoulder to see what we’ve unleashed.
Jennifer, still pouting, is already sidling up to Rob.
Brooke crosses her arms, clearly annoyed.
Courtney grins like a circus clown, and she shoots me a theatrical wink—which she quickly turns into a dramatic “there’s something in my eye” act when Aiden glances her way.
And then, I turn my eyes towards Conor. He’s walking quickly, purposefully. A man on a mission, who’s just asserted his authority over an entire situation. And he’s wearing the sexiest, most confident smile I’ve ever seen.
Never in my life have I wanted to be alone with someone so badly.
* * *
But, apparently, Conor has a totally different idea of what being alone will entail.
The second we’re through the front door, I move to kiss him, but he holds me away, almost at arm’s length.
I try out a Jennifer-style pout to protest the sudden change of events, but Conor just runs his finger along my chin and smiles.
“Shall we get changed first, so our little sick charade is believable if Aiden suddenly comes home?”
I nod. A few minutes later, I’ve just changed into old sweatpants and a tank top when a knock sounds on my bedroom door.
My heart leaps into my throat, as I sit, cross legged, on the bed. “Come in.”
Conor walks through the door, two glasses of ice water balanced in one of his big hands. He’s wearing a light gray t-shirt and gym shorts, and his golden brown hair is damp and tousled. It will never cease to amaze me how quickly men can shower.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” I look at the bedspread, suddenly shy. Suddenly very aware that Conor is in my room.
Conor sets the glasses on the nightstand, then sits on the edge of the bed. Like, the very edge. “Jess, I want to talk to you about something,” he says quietly. “Something I should have talked to you about before trying to kiss you again.”
His grave tone surprises me and my head immediately tilts in his direction. He looks serious. Too serious.
“Talk about what?” I ask, my palms tingling.
He runs a hand through his hair and the air fills with the clean scent of his shampoo. “You know when Aiden brought up the double date with Jennifer?”
I nod.
“Well, you barely even hesitated. You seemed so eager to send me on that date with someone else. And, I’ve been wondering why?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s a valid question. It really is.
I just don’t know where to start. How do you tell the man you’ve fallen for that it’s only a matter of time before he finds out he’s too good for you?
But, Conor is looking at me with those clear green eyes, and I remember the way he got me out of that restaurant. He cares about me, I know that. Maybe it’s time I show him I care, too.
And that means doing the very thing that most terrifies me.
It’s now or never. It’s time to rip off the band-aid. Jump out of the plane. It’s time for Conor to find out the girl I really am. I suck in a breath. “I didn’t tell you the full story with Johnny. He… well, he cheated on me.”
“What?” Conor’s voice is practically a bark, and I almost jump out of my skin at the sound. He gets to his feet and paces like a caged tiger. A ferocious tiger ready to kill. “He cheated on you? Is that why you broke up?”
Shame clouds my vision and I feel a fat tear roll down my cheek. I bat it away. “Yeah. He had an affair. With Sarah, the girl he’s engaged to.”
There’s a long, long pause. When I dare look up, I barely recognize the man in front of me. Conor’s face is practically purple, his eyes ablaze. His fists are clenched like he’s about to put a hole through the wall.
“Conor,” I whisper, not sure what else to say.
He startles at the sound of my voice, then turns to me. And the second his eyes meet mine, every inch of rage drains from his expression. Those bright green eyes fill with softness, and he’s by my side in an instant, gathering me in his arms.
“Jess, I’m so sorry,” Conor mumbles into my hair. His voice is calm, but pressed against him, I hear his wild, erratic heartbeat. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
I move out of his embrace so I can look at him. Because I’m not done with this humiliating admission of truth yet. If telling Conor the truth about Sarah was jumping out of the plane, admitting this next part is the freefall.
“That’s… that’s not all,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “It’s why we broke up the first time, too.”
Conor frowns, a small quirk in his brow. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.
“A couple of years ago, he suddenly started working late. All the time. And, for a while, I believed him. Until I went to his office to surprise him. He wasn’t there, and the look on his secretary’s face told me everything I think I already knew, deep down.”
I shudder at the gut-wrenching memory. How, even after the awful break-up, even after I’d tried to move on… Johnny had come back. And I’d taken him back. I was so quick to believe him when he said it was going to be different.
A powerful mix of pain and sympathy dance across Conor’s face, weaving themselves into the crease in his brow, the downturn of his mouth. He sits very still for a moment, his eyes weary in the dim bedroom light. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“I’ve never told anyone.” I shake my head. “Not even Aiden, although I think he has an idea that things weren’t great between Johnny and I. The whole thing was just... humiliating.” I shrug weakly. “And besides, who wants to be with a girl with baggage like that?”
Conor runs his hand down my arm. “We all have baggage, Jess. And you need to know that you did nothing wrong. This is on him. He treated you horribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it. Not for a second.”
I bite down on my lip, desperate to believe him.
Then, Conor’s eyes widen a touch. “Hang on. That’s why you told me to go on the date.” His voice is sharp, cracking slightly. “Because you believed I’d do that to you, too?”
A bubble of shame swells in my throat and another tear slips from my eye as I nod. “Look, Conor, I’m the girl who gets left for women like Jennifer and Karla. Women who have it all together, have their lives figured out. Women who don’t take back their cheating ex-boyfriends.”
My voice is stronger than intended, but Conor doesn’t back down. He faces me, his eyes riveted on me. Supporting me.
I deflate under his kind gaze, shaking my head. “I’m a mess, Conor. Why would you want to be with a mess?”
To my surprise, Conor’s lips tip upward slightly.
He presses the backs of his fingers to my cheek, his feathersoft touch brushing away my tears.
“Jess,” he whispers, his hands moving to cup my face.
“I wish you didn’t go through any of this.
I wish Johnny had treated you as you deserved, and I wish I could erase every piece of that pain.
I’m so sorry I can’t do that for you. But, what I can do is tell you the truth. ”
His eyes are locked on mine and I realize I’m not breathing. All I’m aware of is the place where his hand connects with my face, and the words coming from his beautiful lips.
“You’re not a mess,” he says in a voice both gentle and firm. “You’ve been put in messy situations, and it would be enough to derail anybody. But instead, what you’ve gone through has made you stronger, braver, more empathetic.”
The world spins, and I rest my forehead against Conor’s in a desperate attempt to steady myself, process what he’s saying.
He smiles softly before continuing. “So many people would be hard and bitter after being treated the way you have. But you? You keep fighting, you keep believing the best in people. You’re a loyal friend and an incredible sister, and you’re sweeter, more talented and funnier than anyone I’ve ever met.
When I look at you, I don’t see a mess. I see a masterpiece.
I see every single piece of your beautiful heart as a brush stroke on canvas, and the result is a work of art. ”
His words wash over my skin like melted chocolate and suddenly, I’m no longer in freefall.
Even after everything I’ve told him, every time I’ve tried to push him away, he’s here. My parachute. I’ve tried to slice the strings twice now, put myself back into the plummeting failures I believed defined me. But, he held on, buoying me. Hellbent on catching me before I fall.
But, not before I’ve fallen head over heels for him.
He’s still gazing at me, his eyes glimmering as they focus, unwavering, on me. As if what I say next is the most important thing in the world to him.
And I know, in one sudden swoop of certainty, that this is real.
He’s got me.