Chapter 13
thirteen
JORDAN
What did Marilee mean by reaching for me last night? Pulling me into the bed, against her, letting me hold her? And before that, opening up to me about her miscarriages, when it would have been easier to simply watch a movie together and slip back into the old patterns of our friendship.
The thought went round and round in my head all night, invading my dreams. In fact, I thought maybe I had dreamed the whole thing—until that moment when I woke up.
I was still tangled up with Marilee, my palm flat against her stomach. And my mouth… Shoot. My mouth somehow found its way to the bare skin where her shoulder meets her perfect neck. Those hazy first moments after waking tested the limits of my self-control. It took everything in me not to press a kiss there against the vein pulsing just within reach—especially when Marilee emitted the softest, sexiest little sigh and snuggled back against me.
Thanks only to my years of resistance to this woman and her charms, I was finally able to slip from that bed and into the shocking cold air of the room beyond the cave of warmth under the comforter, where I could have stayed forever.
Now, a half hour later, I’m beating my body into further submission by jogging down the boardwalk, trying to outrun all of the voices in my head.
Finally, I stop running.
Interlocking my fingers behind my head, I allow the deep breaths to come as my ribcage expands and contracts. A fierce wind blows up from the water, cooling my heated skin but making me shiver in my sweat-soaked, dry-fit tee. The waves are more tumultuous than usual this morning, a perfect reflection of the churning I feel inside.
I turn to head up the walkway between The Bluestocking Bookshop and Olive Paradise, neither of which will be open for a few more hours. I haven’t passed many people on the boardwalk this morning, just the occasional jogger or walker out for an early morning stroll. But I know one person who will be awake. One person whose advice I trust.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m knocking gently on my parents’ front door with a box of donuts from Al’s Grocery in my hands. Mom opens up, smiling brightly at me, a book in her hand. She looks even better than she did a few days ago when I last visited. “Jordan! What a nice surprise. Come in.”
“Morning, Mom.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. This morning she smells like the cinnamon that’s in her daily morning cup of chai tea. “Here. I brought breakfast.”
“Your father will be happy.”
I follow her into the kitchen, where she slips the box onto the round four-seater table along with her book and pads to the coffee maker, not even asking if I’ll have a mug.
“Is he awake?” I kind of hope not. I don’t want him involved in this conversation. Knowing him, he’ll just tell me to man up—like that’s the answer to every problem. Man up. Stuff your feelings away. Better yet, don’t feel at all .
“Still asleep.” Mom pours me a steaming cup of coffee, which she keeps on constant refill for my dad—who likes to add a little Irish whiskey to his when she’s not looking. She places it in front of me before sitting and folding her hands on the worn oak table. “Now. What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”
“Can’t a guy just bring his mother donuts?”
“Of course. But you’ve got that look about you.”
“What look is that?”
“The same one you had when you were six and couldn’t find the G.I. Joe I’d bought for your birthday.”
“I don’t remember that.” I take a sip of the coffee, hot and black just like I prefer it. It burns going down.
“Mmm. Well, I do.” Mom pulls her mug of tea closer. Her hands look a bit swollen this morning. “Poor thing. You had looked on your own for days and couldn’t locate it. Finally decided to ask for help.”
“And let me guess. You used your amazing mom instinct and found it in a few minutes.”
She laughs. “Yes, but only because I’d moved it from the coffee table into a drawer when I was cleaning and then forgot to move it back to the toy bin. You couldn’t have known.”
“Guess I would have known if I’d asked.”
“You were six.”
“Sounds like I haven’t changed much if I’ve got the same look about me now.” I sit back in my chair and absently rub my left forearm.
“A boy always needs his mama, no matter how old he is. At least, I like to think so.” She winks over the top of her drink as she takes a sip before lowering it. “Now, tell me what’s going on. Is it the custody case?”
“No, that’s all going well. As well as can be expected, anyway. We’re on track for court, and my attorney is confident our angle will produce the desired result. He fully expects the judge to throw out Larry and Constance’s petition.”
“Good. The job, then?” Her lips quirk into the tiniest of smiles.
I think she very well knows I’m not here for something career-related, but I indulge her anyway. “No.”
“Ah. A matter of the heart, then.”
I sigh, not even bothering to answer.
“You still haven’t told her how you feel, I take it?”
“Not in so many words.” I stare at the lines of wooden grain in the table.
“Just in that kiss?”
My head jerks up. “You know about that?”
“Had to hear about it from the ladies at book club, thank you very much. My own son keeping me in the dark. Shameful.” Another wink and smile. “It sounds like the two of you are moving toward something good.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not.” The refrigerator hums in the still morning air. “Things were really weird between us the last week. But last night, we finally seemed like ourselves again. She even opened up to me about something she never has before. Something that happened during her last marriage.” When she told me about the miscarriages, my heart broke for her—for all the hurt she’s experienced, even more than I ever knew. And when I heard Donny’s reaction to their losses, well, I wanted to find the man and beat him to a pulp. A really, really bloody pulp.
So much for being a peacemaker.
“It feels like she’s letting you in more?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” I hesitate, and Mom’s eyebrows go up as I continue. “She asked me to, um…to hold her while she slept last night.”
“Oh my.”
“Nothing happened, Mom.”
“On the contrary.” She gives me a knowing look. “I’d say something very significant happened.”
“You think?” I scratch behind my ear. “I honestly can’t figure it out. And I don’t want to ask, to put another wedge between us. Because this week gave me a picture of what things would be like if I did lose her.”
“And yet, didn’t last night give you a picture of what you could gain?”
Yes. “Waking up with her in my arms was…indescribable, really. If I got to do that every day, I would consider myself the luckiest guy in the world.”
“Jordan, I don’t know exactly what Marilee told you about her past, but the fact she trusted you with that information speaks volumes. And then, right after that, to ask you to stay with her all night long? Sleeping is a very vulnerable position, but she still wanted you there.”
“Yeah, but what does it mean ?”
“I can’t be sure, of course, but I believe that if she doesn’t love you already, maybe she is at least open to the idea.”
My heart leap frogs to my throat. “Really?”
“I’d say so.” Mom leans forward and pats my hand. “And her reaching out last night… Perhaps that was her way of making a move toward you. But my guess is, she’s not going to advance again. She’s waiting for you.”
“To do what?”
“To make the next move. The ball’s in your court, son.”
“All right.” Mom knows I love a good sports analogy, so I indulge her. “But what if I overshoot?”
“Maybe don’t go for the Hail Mary right away.” She shrugs. “Take smaller shots. They’ll add up.”
When I just blink back at her, Mom cracks another smile, lines spiderwebbing out from her eyes. “Woo her, Jordan. Don’t come right out and tell her you love her, but show her in several small ways. See if you can slowly start to get her to see you in a different light.”
And suddenly, it’s oh so clear.
It’s like Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s sky hook, during which he’d back his way down the court until he was close enough to shoot. With consistency and precision, he racked up the points for his team time and time again.
And it’s time for me to create my signature move too.
“You’re right.”
“Of course I am. I’m your mother.” She drains the rest of her chai. “Now, would you like some ideas?”
“Uh, yeah .” I pull out my phone and open the Notes app, my thumbs hovering over the screen. “I’m all ears, Mom.”
All ears—and all in.
The fear is still there, niggling at the back of my mind. The what-if s are strong, but I do my best to dull them. To ignore them. To remind myself that I can’t live in the friend zone forever.
And that this just might be my ticket out.