Chapter 15
Jordan
I’ve never seen Nora cry before, and I can’t tear my eyes from the wreckage. She’s crumpled in Sydney’s arms, her shoulders shaking. Anger and hurt rumbles inside me while I ache to be the one comforting her.
“Do you think that’s about you?” Avery asks, pushing her nearly empty plate aside. Since seeing Nora hunched over, drowning in her own pain, I’ve barely had the energy to pick up the fork.
“Part of me says no.”
“And the other part?”
“Remembers the new side she laid bare last night.” My system has yet to recover, not only from the seizure and memories, but from the love that poured from her touch.
“You need to talk to her.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” Snatching up the fork, I stab a piece of neatly sliced burger with more force than necessary, making a clanking sound against the rustic metal plate underneath.
“Well, I can’t sit here all night while you figure it out. After you eat, I’m taking you home. Or here’s an idea: You can ride with your girlfriend, who happens to be sitting less than thirty yards away. Save me the trip.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry for wasting so much of your time.”
Her head tilts with a sympathetic smile. “I’m happy to help, but if you don’t mind me saying…”
“You don’t strike me as someone who bites their tongue for the sake of others.”
She shrugs and sips her water, wetting her throat for whatever mind-blowing point she’s about to make. “Delaying the inevitable only makes it harder. Take it from me. I’ve had more than my share of the waiting game when it comes to matters of the heart. It’s not fun.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
“Good. Text her.”
“Right now?” My heartbeat doubles in speed as it does when I’m standing at the base of a chopper, preparing to jump. Facing Nora again, knowing what I know, feels just as daunting.
“Delay equals hard, remember?”
“You and your dirty talk. All right, all right,” I surrender as her brow dips into a scowl. “I’ll text her. But I can’t promise the conversation will happen without items or curse words being thrown.”
“That’s fine. Do what you have to do, but make sure you miss.”
The corners of my mouth turn down into a pronounced frown. “Do you really think that lowly of me? I would never—”
“Stop stalling. I’m tired of entertaining your ass.”
◆◆◆
Me:Hi.
Nora:Where are you?
Me:Benny’s Pizza with Avery.
I watch Nora turn around in her seat on the bench and locate the familiar restaurant. The wind picks up her long waves, blowing them off her shoulders and exposing her red, splotchy face.
Nora:Do you want to talk?
Me:Yes. Not here.
Nora:Home?
Calling the apartment home, like we made one there together, stings now that I know everything that happened inside those walls had been fake.
Nora:I’ll go get my car and come pick you up.
Me:No need. I’ll meet you there.
Nora:OK.
“Still willing to give me that ride?” I ask Avery. “I need a little more time to think.”
“Sure.” She motions for the waiter to bring the check and a box. “I’m proud of you.”
Oddly, the sentiment soothes the smoldering edges of my nerves. “Thanks.”
“Get out your wallet. You owe me.”
◆◆◆
Avery continues to provide unsolicited advice on the short drive. I appreciate the attempt to walk me through the upcoming uncharted territory, but I still feel lost without a map or a flashlight or a damn clue where to begin.
I’m unprepared. Frankly, I rather pretend nothing happened to warrant the advice—as if Nora never came back to me. Never kissed me. Never made me believe I could have all of her.
If I had anyone else to call, I would release Nora from her obligation and somehow summon myself to move on. But how does one move past a betrayal so deep and so goddamn delusional and somehow retain a belief that true love exists? She isn’t stupid enough to think this arrangement would have had a happy ending. So why attempt it? What good could come of it?
I’m drowning in a what-the-fuck conversation with myself when Avery pulls up to the apartment building. Nora is sitting on the small stoop, her arms circling her knees, shielding herself against the chilly fall afternoon. Storm clouds gather in the distance, a symbol of what’s to come.
“You can do this,” Avery says before popping the trunk and exiting.
She greets Nora at the back of the car, and together, they unload the wheelchair, whispering to each other as they work. I don’t care to hear what they’re saying. It’s easy enough to figure out without the embarrassment of hearing it spoken aloud. Like a shift change at the command post, Avery’s giving Nora a rundown of our lunch and what to look out for. A status update in the pathetic and unfortunate life of Jordan Jones.
Avery soon appears at the door and opens it, while Nora holds the wheelchair steady. It takes every ounce of strength and energy I have left to rise from the car on my own and plop down into the chair. My body screams in protest not only from the movement, but at the first scent of Nora behind me. I close my eyes against the pang in my chest sent there by the memorable combination of vanilla and lavender.
I don’t hear if Avery says goodbye or if Nora provides instructions before pushing me to the courtyard and through the sliding glass doors of the apartment. Despite what I promised to both of them, I can’t do this. I can’t look at her, much less talk about how she’s destroyed my trust. I don’t want to hear her excuses or if she wants to jump ship—her typical response. I need to sleep and forget this day ever happened.
She parks me beside the couch, expecting to start the conversation I agreed to. It’s not happening.
With my head down, I’m the first to break the silence. “I can’t do this right now,” I croak, too weak to put anything other than frankness behind the words and shake my head. “I need…”
“What do you need, Jordan? Just tell me and you’ll have it.”
“I need to be alone.”
“That’s not a good—”
“Please,” I bark, interrupting her protest about my condition. I don’t care. I’m suffocating in her proximity and need space.
“Okay.” Her hands fly up in surrender before running down the tight jeans covering her thighs. “I’ll get the other bed made.”
She hurries to the bedroom, giving me a chance to breathe. In the quiet, my thoughts reel. How am I going to survive until Josie returns? Not sure being around my sister will be any easier. But being angry with your sister is different. A different pain.
“I understand you don’t want to talk right now,” Nora says, walking back into the living room. “But I’m leaving the door open so I can—”
“Why did you do it?” I blurt out. She’s right. I don’t want to talk about it, but that one question keeps gnawing at me. And if I’m going to get any rest, I need an explanation whether I’ll believe it or not. “And I want the truth.”
“No more lies, Jordan. I promise.”
“Not sure if I can trust your promises but go on.”
“I deserve that.” She takes a timid step closer. “Josie asked me to pretend. She feared what the truth would do to you in your condition.”
“That doesn’t answer the question. Why? Why did you say yes?”
Her trembling hand combs through her hair as she sits. “Because when it comes to us, I’ve been selfish. It’s always been about what I want and don’t want. I never considered what you needed or tried to give it to you.”
“Is that why you offered yourself to me last night? You thought I needed sex?”
She spins to face me sharply, the deep intensity in her eyes surprising me. “I was with you because I wanted to be.”
“Your needs, then?”
“Jordan, no.” Her breath comes out all at once in a frustrated huff. “Well, sort of, but only because I wanted you. I haven’t been with anyone since…” she trails off.
“Since when?”
“Since we were together at Jackson and Emily’s wedding.” Her eyes find me, and the truth is there.
“Why?”
“Because you broke me.”
My blood pressure spikes at the accusation. “How did I—”
“Do you remember that night?”
“Only fragments. Beautiful ones.” Dropping my gaze to my lap, I wonder if she’s about to ruin the few incredible memories I have of the evening. Of her wrapped around me for hours in public and private, and my love for her growing beyond my comprehension.
“Then, maybe we should talk about that when you do.”
“No. Everything else I believed to be true and good has been destroyed today. What happened?”
She picks at a nail and sighs. “You proposed…again.”
“Again?” I don’t remember proposing either time. Shit. What had come over me? Why in the world would I cross that line, let alone twice?
The boundary she set on day one was drawn in permanent ink. Of course, she wouldn’t agree to marry me. She’s the casual relationship, unattached type, and I’ve been wasting my life. I’ve been chasing a woman who will never choose me. How could I not see that before? “Holy shit.”
“Jordan, I—”
“Don’t bother. I can guess how it went down after that. I’ve never been more to you than a good fuck.”
“That’s not true.”
Angry fire gushes through my veins at her denial, preventing the gentleman in me from emerging. From hurting her as she’s hurt me. “I loved you with everything I had. I gave you what you wanted on your timeline and on your terms. It would have destroyed me to hurt you, but that wasn’t enough. I’m realizing now that I’ll never be enough for you, and all of this, us, was a waste of time.” I look away from the tears welling in her eyes, unable to face the evidence of the hurt I’m causing. “When Josie comes back, I never want to see you again.”
A breath hitches. I hear it choking her, but I can’t care about that. She ruined what we could have been. She deceived me. She used and tossed me aside over and over. The reality of that hits me square in the chest.
“I’d like to go to bed now.”
Heavy silence grows between us as she remains planted. She wants to say something, but there are no words to make this hellish situation less painful, and she knows better than to try right now. With a resigned sniff, she rises to grip the handles of the chair and pushes me into the bedroom.
“I can handle it from here,” I say when the chair stops beside the bed.
“Okay. I’ll be right back with some water and your toothbrush.”
Before I can protest, she rushes out, soon returning with a handful of items to get me ready and through the night. By then, I’d pulled myself onto the mattress to release her from any obligation she may feel to help and turned my back to the door.
A sense of mourning washes over me as she walks out without a word, symbolizing the end of our relationship. The end of my willingness to fight for something I could never have. The end of a dream. Just yesterday, I thought she would be in my life forever. That even though she was distant at times, she still wanted me. Still wanted us.
That fantasy was attached to me like a cancer until the truth set me free. I don’t remember my proposals or the aftershocks that surely followed. Some part of my twisted brain must be protecting me from reliving that agony. But no matter what’s happened since then, I’d be an idiot to continue believing she could ever wholly be mine. If handing over my heart, giving her the best sex of her life, and asking for the opportunity to love her forever (twice) doesn’t make her choose me, then nothing will.
And I’m over it.