“You okay?” he regarded me slowly, his eyes soft with tenderness.
“I’m fine,” I nodded at the door behind me. “I think I’d feel better with a little distance between me and this room though.”
He let me file out first then closed the door solidly behind us. I balled up the sheets on the couch and tossed them on the beanbag in the corner. Jacob’s eyebrows arched in amusement before he walked over and sat down beside me.
“What?” I said, peering over at him. “Surprised that you’re actually sitting on a real-life futon?”
“This isn’t the first futon I’ve sat on or slept on,” he said with a smirk. He took in my shock and elaborated. “When I was sixteen, I ran away from home. I was sick of my parents, of all the expectations that came with the Whitmore last name so I crashed on a friend’s futon, a few blocks from the Village. I spent a month fancying myself an artist, living off Ramen and coffee until my mother came down and convinced me to return home.”
It was hard to picture Jacob as an artist type, curled up on a futon with a coffee mug. Heck, as soon as he said ‘ran away’ I assumed he went to Europe or somewhere warm and tropical.
“Now you look surprised,” he mused, stretching his arm out on the cushion behind me.
“I just assumed a super-rich kid’s idea of running away would look a lot different than sleeper sofas and oodles of noodles.”
He let out a grunt of acknowledgment and glanced away. I guess we were done talking about the past. That just left the present.
And our future.
“I want to talk about what you said yesterday,” I said softly.
I half expected him to interrupt me halfway through, as soon as he got the gist of where the conversation was headed. Assert his dominance and remind me who was in charge; who had the right to be angry and hurt. But all he offered was, “Okay”.
I chewed on my lip, picking at a hole in the futon cover. “You brought up what happened with Rachel.” I breathed deep as the hurt returned. “Compared it to not telling you about Cade.” My eyes shifted to him, holding still when I saw he was watching me intently. “It wasn’t really a fair comparison.”
He nodded slowly. “I agree. That was out of line. Instead of explaining how I felt, I defaulted to that.” His voice tightened. “I said it because I knew it would hurt you.”
I sat back, feeling a strange wave of relief. I guess I already knew that was his intent, but hearing him say it out loud meant I could let it go.
“I’m ready to talk about it now, if you’re ready to listen.”
I brought my leg up on the cushion, angling my body toward him. Staring into the eyes of the man I loved so much it hurt. “I’m ready.”
He drew a breath and began. “Hearing about you meeting with Cade, especially after learning about your attraction to him--”
“Past attraction,” I interjected. He gave me a stern look and I hung my head. “Sorry. I’m listening.”
“It hurt, Leila,” he continued. “I had to try and figure out why you’d lie about it in the first place. What if you still had feelings for him? What did you talk about? Did you connect with him? Did he make you smile? Laugh? These were the questions that I asked myself. And then I came home to that fancy dinner and the first thing that came to mind was cheating spouses overcompensating. Buying forgiveness.”
I opened my mouth to explain but stopped when I realized that at its root, the dinner was a big apology for what happened with Cade. I had done it to soften the blow and get forgiveness. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I really, truly am.”
“I know,” he answered. “And I’m sorry that I questioned your love. I know you love me, Leila.” I can feel it every time you look at me, every time you kiss me, every time you come undone in my arms.”
I drew a shaky breath. I was already filled with so much love for this man and now desire was heating me, making me forget that ten minutes ago I was puking my guts out.
“This is all a first for me. I’ve never let anyone in the way I let you in. To see what’s beneath. To really see me.”
I faltered as I remembered something Cade said, but I pushed it away, focusing on the now. Focusing on my heart. “I don’t want you to ever doubt me again, Jacob. And I won’t keep things from you.”
“I won’t,” he assured me. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on my lips before standing up. “And now that we’ve straightened that out, I’m going to take care of you.”
I leaned back, watching him walk to the kitchen to grab me another Gatorade and a few crackers. I didn’t think it was possible to love him more.
I was wrong.
****
I brought the tiny red straw to my lips and sighed with satisfaction. The sweet and sour punch of my green apple mojito wet my tongue before cruising down my throat. After two days of getting back to a hundred percent, Megan and I decided to go all out. We’d started with dinner at a posh Italian restaurant and were finishing up with a few drinks at Blue. People joked its namesake was 'blue' because once you got your bill, your smile turned upside down.
Megan ordered a refill of her club soda, drawing a tight smile from the bartender and a chuckle from me.
"I told you--we're celebrating and drinks are on me." She started to protest but I held up a hand. "I appreciate your hospitality, but if I would have spent one more day cooped up in there, I would have lost it."
Any other job would have looked at me sideways on my way out the door for taking three days sick leave for food poisoning, but Jacob insisted--and even stopped by with broth, crackers, Evian, and ginger ale.
When I finally came back to the office, I could tell he'd had a word with Natasha. She'd leapt from her seat as soon as I stepped out of the executive elevator, fake kindness on full blast as she talked about how glad she was that I was back and feeling better.
And it was good that I was back--and with a vengeance. Even Jacob was impressed when I spoke up at a meeting about a client's dilemma and offered input and a view the team had missed.
So tonight was about celebrating. New beginnings. And you can't celebrate with fizzy water.
Megan ordered a screwdriver. "I'm pretty sure that's the most expensive cup of OJ on the planet."
I took another sip of my drink, warmth wrapping me in a tingling blanket. "Don't worry about that." I gestured between the both of us. "You and me? Worry free zone."