Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Pushing Through
“The flight is a little over five hours. Are you going to sleep, or are you going to push through?” I ask conversationally, placing my carry-on bag next to hers in the seat between us.
“Well, considering we’re gaining three hours of time, I might nap on the plane and then explore the resort.
Those pictures you sent me looked nice! And right off the Pacific Ocean, too?
This place has a very pretty view, and it looks like they set you guys up so well.
.." She smiles, ducking her head down in an adorably shy move. "I’m a little jealous, to be honest,” she says in a low tone.
"Well, now you get to see it in all its glory for yourself." I smile, pulling out my phone to let Tyler know that I’ll be temporarily out of service until we get to Vancouver.
To my surprise, he texts back immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and good luck message, which is a great sign because it means he didn’t sleep the morning away and is hopefully in class.
Admittedly, I'm really looking forward to being out of the country with Sarah.
And the fact that we're going to be staying in such a beautiful, lush plot of land at the five-star resort in Vancouver really stokes my anticipation to be alone with her.
Selfishly, I hope she loves it. It's right off the ocean and boasts great views and opportunities to see wildlife, but I'm especially anticipating watching a sunrise with her more than anything.
We have a room with private patio, and I'm already concocting scenarios to get her out there.
“Would you like to get a drink while we wait? Plane doesn’t take off for an hour,” I say, seeing she's craning her head and looking at the various restaurants and stores within the airport. It's so early there's only a handful of places open, though, so we'll have to settle.
“A drink this early in the morning?” she asks playfully, turning her head to look at me with a mischievous grin that I meet with one of my own.
“Why not? Airport rules defy the laws of society. Didn’t you know that? It’s the only place we can be in pajamas at four in the morning and drink alcohol, and no one bats an eye," I say, rising out of the seat and holding my hand out to her. "Come on, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t!”
She bites her lip before shrugging her shoulders and letting me pull her up. My skin tingles at the first touch. I attempt to be smooth about it while I work to entwine my fingers with hers and hold on, praying she doesn't pull away.
She doesn't.
Ten minutes later, we've found a quaint breakfast place and are sitting down with mimosas, a breakfast sandwich for me, and a breakfast wrap for her. Her phone pings a couple of times with a notification, jogging my memory about my colleague and his intentions towards what I want.
“So…” I flick my eyes up to Sarah’s, who's busy sipping on her mimosa. “Did you ever figure out what David wanted?”
She gives me an adorable crooked grin and leans forward a bit, eyes sparkling like she has a juicy secret. “Well, turns out he wanted me to join him for dinner,” she says.
I tense, watching as she picks up her wrap and takes a big bite, blissfully unaware of how bothered I am.
I already know that. I just wanted a way to broach a subject that had been bothering me and figured this was the most organic, non-confrontational way. But I don't care for the way she said “dinner” as if she knows that's a hot spot for me.
“Hmm-hm," I hum slowly. "And what did you say back?” Curiosity gets the better of me, but I'm somehow strong enough to feign nonchalance, picking up my drink for a healthy swallow.
Her eyes fall to my throat, and the look that enters her eyes for a fleeting moment is positively mesmerizing.
“Oh…uhm…” Her gaze falls down to her wrap, and she spends a second ripping off a piece of the tortilla.
She places it carefully on the wrapping paper and pauses for a heartbeat.
A tense moment passes before eyes rise once more to mine with a sadness I haven’t seen since she was recovering at my home.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with that knowledge.
“It's rude, but I didn’t reply to him," she says, pursing her lips contemplatively.
"Why not?"
Her brow furrows. "The truth is I just don’t know how to say it in a way that’s not going to ruin our professional relationship."
I hum, tapping my fingers on the table.
"Another truth is I don’t know if I can trust myself to be in a relationship right now.
" She takes a deep breath, and it takes everything in me to prevent myself from reaching forward and taking her hand back into mine.
She waves a hand absentmindedly, her eyes becoming vacant with a faraway look.
"I compromised and ignored so many red flags with Brandon. I need to build myself up stronger, you know?” she finishes, crossing her legs and swinging a foot nervously.
"Yeah, I understand completely. Thank you for sharing."
We fall into a weighty silence, but on the inside, it's anything but.
My heart squeezes rather painfully, and I take a minute to chew my sandwich while I probe all the emotions surging throughout me.
There's a healthy dose of relief because Dickhead David isn’t going to be a problem, at least not right now, anyways.
And pride because I know she’s been through a lot and is taking the steps to build herself back up.
Yet there’s disappointment also because I really, really want this woman, but I'll wait for her.
Dickhead David can just fuck right off as far as I'm concerned, I muse, tilting my head when she turns her eyes back to mine. Finally gracing me again with her gaze.
“That’s very smart of you, Sarah," I continue, in a desperate bid to break the silence, since she isn't. "Many people tend to jump back in too fast after a bad break up. So, it’s good to see you taking time for yourself.”
At her slightly coy expression, I allow myself to reach forward and graze my fingers across the back of her hand, wholeheartedly believing my words.
Also I want a reason to touch her soft, silky skin again.
A little freckle at the knuckle at the base of her thumb catches my attention.
For some reason that's allusive, every little thing about her enthralls me.
As if in a trance, I stare at her fingers, that beautiful thumb of hers giving away that she's double-jointed.
Her bones feel so fragile beneath my touch, and the urge to protect her wraps even tighter around my heart.
Sarah huffs a breath, averting her eyes in obvious shyness as the heat of our hands seep into one another, becoming the perfect temperature.
It's something so simple, yet causes me such pleasure.
We pull our hands back at the same time, and she raises her eyes in amusement, momentarily losing her shyness.
“Thanks, I try. Don’t always succeed…but, boy, am I the world’s hardest trier,” she teases. I smile when the corner of her mouth tips up adoringly before she parts her lips to eat another bite of her wrap.
Does she know what she's doing to me? What her little whispers, soft moans, and sounds she makes do to me? It’s as if she's divulging riveting, juicy secrets for me to savor.
And savor I will.
Bringing up a hand, I rub my jaw thoughtfully. “Well, at least you have the wherewithal to do that. A lot of people don’t try; they’re just content on skating through life,” I respond, my words coming out a bit more rapid and harder than I'd intended them to.
Like my ex.
My son.
I grimace at the thought. I could give a shit about Hannah, but Tyler…that hits personally.
At the unwanted thought, I drape my arm over the back of the chair next to me and shift in my seat. I don't even want to be having these thoughts. But when I'm around Sarah, I don't feel like my mind is my own, and I can’t help but compare the two women and how different they are.
Not just physically, but mentally.
Sarah nods. “I get that,” she says. That vacant look enters her eyes when she's thinking about her ex and her trauma.
“I paid our mortgage and all of our bills, started my practice, and took on its financial upkeep without his help. I drive a piece of shit Hyundai, and he paid for next to nothing and spent all his money on a Lexus. I mean…. the shit I put up with because he was my first love. I should be committed because I was so stupid. Putting up with so much nonsense was just dumb. Blind as a freaking bat,” she states quietly.
She looks down at the table, swaying slightly in her seat.
Understanding that she needs a moment, I sit with her in silence, instinctually knowing that there's nothing I could say to her in this moment that'll matter.
She didn't share this with me for advice, or attention, or reassurance.
No, I'm noticing she shares bits and pieces of herself with me with no expectation other than for me to listen, though I want to give her more.
As I assess her, the sounds of the airport become louder as more people filter in for their flights.
Her eyes finally lift from the table, and shift to the side.
Quietly, she watches people walk by with their rolling suitcases, a few of them dragging along crying kids.
Everyone's in a hurry. Everyone's anxious and stressed. I feel it. So does she.
Her eyes tighten when a woman walks by us with a baby stroller while arguing with a man, and she suddenly turns her head in the opposite direction, looking back into the café we're at.
Her eyes well with tears, and just as I'm about to reach forward and take her hand again, she suddenly speaks up, rubbing lightly across her brow and keeping her face averted from me. “I think I’d like a cookie. Want one, Alex?”
She stands abruptly and walks away without waiting for my reply.