Chapter Twelve
Jasmine
"Ihate this stupid coffee machine," I growl, glaring balefully at it when it gurgles and steam rises, but no coffee comes out. I jab the button, then jab it again. Still nothing. "Argh!"
"Well," Lilah says, plopping down onto a stool across from me. "Someone's cranky today."
I scowl at her across the bar. "We need a new coffee machine."
"Or, and I know this is a crazy idea," she says, "but you could put a pod in it."
"What?"
She nods at the pod receptacle.
"Oh, fucking hell," I growl, snatching a pod from the lazy Susan and dropping it in. I press the lid closed, and then wait. Almost instantly, hot coffee starts pouring into the mug. "Finally."
"What's up with you today?" Lilah asks.
"Nothing."
"Liar. You've been in a mood all day."
"Have not."
"Are you really going to make me drag it out of you?" she asks.
I squeeze my eyes closed and then sigh. "Fine. River is in Los Angeles today. He was supposed to call me hours ago, but I haven't heard from him all day." He isn't answering my texts, either. Not a single one all day.
"You're thinking about your dad," she says, reading me like a book.
"No, of course not." My shoulders slump.
"Okay, maybe a little. Rationally, I know River isn't doing anything he shouldn't be doing.
He's meeting with his editor. I guess not hearing from him just reminded me of all the times my dad would go out of town 'on business', promise to call my mom, and then be too busy fucking his mistress to bother. "
"River isn't your dad, Jasmine."
"I know." I busy myself dumping cream and sugar into my coffee. Rationally, I know he wouldn't ever do anything like that. But he isn't here right now, and I miss him. It's making me a little irrational. "I just feel off today."
"You miss him."
I jerk my chin in a nod.
"You're in love with him."
"Yes," I whisper.
"Does he know that?" my best friend asks.
"I haven't told him."
"What? Why not?"
"Maybe because I've never said it to anyone before and I keep trying to find the perfect moment, but all the perfect moments are when he's inside me," I admit. "And that feels like such a fucking cliché time to confess."
She laughs abruptly, making me scowl. "Who the fuck cares if it's cliché, Jazz?
You know why people say it in bed? Because they get to spend the rest of their lives, remembering the way it felt to be that intimate and that vulnerable at the same time," she says.
"Who the fuck cares if it's cheesy? It's your life and your relationship. "
"Yes, and if he breaks my heart while he's inside me, it'll be so much worse." I am not emotionally prepared for him to be inside me, me say it…and him not say it back. That's a level of heartbreak I'll never recover from.
"Girl, if you think that man is going to break your heart, you're delusional," Lilah says, grinning at me. "He loves you."
"He hasn't said it."
"Neither have you."
I hate when she's right. I really do. It happens far too often.
"I'm being dumb," I finally mutter.
"A little bit." Lilah reaches across the bar to squeeze my hand. "But you've never been in love before. You're allowed. Just don't wait forever to tell him, Jazz. It's going to eat at you until it's finally out there."
I nod thoughtfully, sipping my coffee. She's probably right about that.
I think maybe I've been waiting for him to say it first, like I need permission to say it or something, but that's so stupid.
When have I ever waited for a man to do anything first or give me permission to say or do anything?
Never. This isn't any different. Women can say it first. I can say it first.
It doesn't need to be perfect. I just need to say it, hear him say it back, then maybe I'll stop feeling like I'm going to lose it.
"Holy shit!" Olive shouts from the far side of the store, making both of us jump. A second later, we hear her running toward us. "Have you seen the news?" she asks me, panting like she just ran a marathon instead of twenty feet.
"No?" I frown. "Did someone famous die?"
"His book was leaked."
"What?"
"River's book was leaked!" she cries, thrusting her phone toward me. "It's all over the place, Jazz."
I stare at her phone like it's a snake, my whole body tense and uneasy. And then I reach for the phone. My breath leaves my lungs in a strangled whoosh.
"What the fuck?" I whisper, my knees weak. My mind spins as I scan the site loaded on her phone screen, trying to process it, but I'm not even sure where to begin. River's book is online. Someone leaked it.
Oh my god. Is that why he hasn't called me today?
Does he think it was me?
Olive's phone clatters to the counter, coffee sloshing across my hand.
"Shit," Lilah says, reaching for a towel.
I just stand there, staring into space, completely numb. I don't feel the coffee. I don't feel anything but dread. This is why he hasn't called me. He gave me his manuscript to read, someone leaked it…and he thinks it was me.
"I'm going to jail again," I whisper.
"The hell you are," Lilah snaps. "You didn't leak his manuscript, Jazz."
"He thinks I did." My entire fucking body shakes. "Lilah, I've had the book here every day this week. I left it on the fucking register yesterday. What if…?"
"You think someone may have taken photos of it?" Olive asks, her eyes wide.
"Maybe. I thought I was being careful, but…" I gulp, remembering how I just left it there yesterday while I was helping customers. I thought the register was safe. It's behind the counter. It's off-limits to shoppers. But… "No wonder he thinks it's me."
"You don't know that." Lilah's expression darkens.
"And you aren't going to sit here and convince yourself that's what's happening right now, Jazz.
He hasn't called because he's busy dealing with this.
We'll search the cameras to see if anyone tampered with it.
You're going to his house. You're going to wait for him.
You're going to tell him that you love him.
And the two of you are going to figure this out together. "
Right. Yes. That's what I need to do. I need to go over there. I need him to know…God, I just need him to know that I would never do this. Not even if I hated him. Not even after he sent me to jail. Never.
And if someone did get their hands on it because of me?
I don't even know. I really fucking don't.
"I'll drive you," Olive says. "Mason is doing research, so he won't be home for a while."
"Thanks." I reach for Lilah's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you."
"Thank me by telling that man how you feel about it, Jazz," she says, pulling me into a fierce hug. "We'll figure this out."
I bob my head, stumbling across the shop on numb legs. I don't even grab my bag. I don't grab anything. I just follow Olive out, praying that River knows me well enough to realize I didn't do this to him.
I think I pace his living room for two hours before Lilah calls.
"Have you found anything?" I ask, my hand white around the phone.
"Not yet," she says. "We're still looking."
"Thanks for letting me know," I mutter, too scared to hope.
"Is he there yet?" she asks.
"No. I'm going to stay and wait."
"Call me if you need me. Love you."
"Love you too," I whisper, plopping down onto the sofa. I disconnect the phone, dropping it onto the floor beside me, and then curl up into a tiny ball.
For the longest time, I just stare into the dark with tears in my eyes, fucking terrified he blames me and will never forgive me, no matter what I say.
Jail would be preferable to that. I can't live without him. I know that now. I tried that for two days after we had sex the first time. It'll be so much worse this time because I know how I feel about him now.
Every piece of my heart belongs to him. He's left his mark all over it. Hell, he's left it all over me, changing me in ways I never saw coming. I don't want him to stop now.
I bury my face in a throw pillow and cry.
I think I cry myself to sleep because the next thing I know, something glides down the side of my face.
"Wake up, princess."
I stretch toward the warmth of his hand and the sound of his voice, reluctant to leave the safety of sleep. And then my brain fully registers that he's here. He's touching me.
I bolt upright with a gasp, my eyes locking on his face in the dim light. He looks exhausted, like he just climbed a mountain and fought a damn bear. But he's still so fucking beautiful to me.
"I didn't do it," I blurt, tears welling in my eyes as soon as his gaze locks with mine. "I swear to you, I didn't leak your manuscript, River."
Alarm flares in his eyes before he moves, scooping me up into his arms. I twist my fingers up in his shirt, clinging to him, like that'll keep him from hating me.
"I swear, I didn't do it," I choke out, unable to stop the tears flowing down my cheeks. I'm so fucking scared.
"Hey," he whispers, wrapping his arms around me. His hand drifts down my back. "I know. I know you didn't do this."
The conviction in his tone calms me like nothing else. I crane my head back, looking up at him. "You believe me?"
"Of course I do." He brushes his thumbs across my cheeks, his expression soft. "You wouldn't do this, even if you hated me."
"Why?" He just told me he believes me… and I'm asking for an explanation. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"A few reasons," he says, a tiny smile flickering on his lips, as if the question amuses him. "First, you're a fucking terrible criminal. You always give away your plans because of that temper. Second, stalking and harassment are your things, not theft. Third, you love me."
I go still on his lap, not even breathing. "What? I…"
Before I can even process that he knows how I feel about him, he has me pinned to the couch, his hard body covering mine. "You going to make me fuck you into telling me the truth?" he growls. "You know I will."