Separation Anxiety

by Lisa Suzanne

  “I’ll assume you haven’t tasted him yet from that comment.”

  I glared at her.

  “Has he cooked you anything else?”

  “We made dinner together last night.”

  “Sounds romantic. Like a first date?”

  “No. Like roommates cooking together. Although we kind of had a moment while we were beating some chicken.”

  “Is that a euphemism?”

  I giggled. “No. I was pounding out some chicken for chicken marsala, and he came up right behind me and grabbed my hand in his and showed me how to hit the chicken properly.”

  “Jesus. I’m horny just thinking about that body right up against mine.”

  “Right? Then his voice was all low and throaty and right against my ear. He backed off a second later, but I kept replaying that moment.”

  She sighed.

  “And then I got wine drunk and told him he was hot.”

  “Fucking wine.”

  “I know. I was mortified.”

  She shrugged. “He has to know he’s gorgeous.”

  “Doubt it. He’s so humble that I really don’t think he realizes how great he is.”

  “Someone’s smitten.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Someone is. But he’s being a good friend and I’m not going to ruin that. Besides, I already told you, I can’t just hop to the next bed. I haven’t even filed my divorce paperwork yet.”

  “Details, details. So how’d he react when you told him he was hot?”

  I blushed. Damn red cheeks always gave me away.

  “Spill it, sister. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I glanced away.

  “Your tomato face says otherwise.”

  “Fine. So I told him he was a catch. I told him he’s a good cook, he works with kids, and he’s hot as hell.”

  “Hot as hell?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Accurate,” she nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

  I nodded. “Well, that turned into another moment.”

  Her eyes widened. “Go on,” she said, dragging out the word “on.”

  “He told me that I was a catch, too, and then he said that I was beautiful.”

  Quinn squealed. Literally. Again. Her reaction was so high pitched that I’m pretty sure she woke a few sleeping dogs in the next town over.

  “How’d he say it? Exact words.”

  “He said, and I quote, ‘You’re so goddamn beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at you and know that I can’t have you.’”

  Her eyes widened. “Holy hell that’s hot.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said dreamily. And then I snapped back to reality. “But it had to just be the wine talking.”

  “Only you would find a way to deny that he wants you after what you just told me he said.”

  I shrugged. “He doesn’t want me, Quinn. We both know that he’s not the relationship type.”

  “So what? Who says you need to get into a relationship? He said that it hurts to look at you and know he can’t have you. So what’s stopping him from having you now that you’ve left Richard?”

  “Me, for one.”

  “Why?”

  I looked away. Why was certainly the question of the hour. “Because I just can’t. I don’t feel right starting something with someone when I’m still married. And besides, there’s Carly and Allison.”

  “Who the fuck are Carly and Allison?”

  Shit. Me and my big fucking mouth.

  I hadn’t meant to say anything about Allison, but there it was, out in the open.

  “Carly is some girl that called him awhile ago and he ran out the door to see her. And I’m not sure who Allison is. I just know there’s an Allison.”

  “How?”

  I glanced at her. I knew how this was going to go over. Her number one turn on besides facial scruff was tattoos. “He has a tattoo.”

  “Oh my fuck.”

  “But it’s a tattoo of another woman’s name,” I protested.

  “So what? I’ve seen it before. Tats are permanent and sometimes it’s just more work to get them removed than it’s worth. He can easily turn Allison into Veronica.”

  I laughed. Quinn really was something else. “How?” I finally challenged.

  She pulled out a sheet of paper and handed me a pen. “Write out ‘Allison’ how it looks on his tat.”

  I did as instructed, trying to copy it down from memory. I passed the paper back to her and she stared at it for a moment, and then with a magical sweep of her pen, suddenly “Allison” became “Veronica.”

  She held it up and presented her artwork to me. “See? It’s perf.”

  I giggled. “I taught Jesse ‘perf,’ by the way.”

  “He’s going to be talking like us in no time,” she said.

  “Totes,” I agreed, using our abbreviated version of “totally.” She laughed. “Enough about me,” I said. “Tell me about Caleb.”

  She sighed dreamily. “He’s quite possibly the best bang I’ve ever had, but it’s not going to last forever.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’re fuck buddies, Veronica. Nothing more.”

  “Right,” I said, drawing out the “i” in my word.

  “Shut up,” she said, and it was her turn to flush.

  “Oh how the tables have turned, Ms. Carpenter,” I teased.

  “I don’t want anything serious right now,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

  “Why not? Don’t push him away if you like him.”

  “I know,” she whispered, and I knew I didn’t have to say any more. She’d been through a lot, and I understood where she was coming from. She’d been hurt in relationships before by men, and she was scared to get close. Sometimes I didn’t blame her, and other times I wanted to shake her. I didn’t want her to miss out on what could be the love of her life just because she was scared, but I understood her need to protect herself. So we left it at that and headed out of our gossip phase and into our lesson planning.

  Three hours later, we had the next month of daily lessons planned, and I even got some essays graded. Our gossip fest had turned into a good work session, and as we both stood and stretched after a few hours of working, I glanced out the window and realized it was already dark out. I checked my cell phone and saw that it was nearly 6:30. We finished just in time for me to get home to Jesse for dinner.

  I just loved everything about the way that sounded.

  We went our separate ways, and as I headed toward Jesse’s house, my heart started pounding. The closer I got to the house, the harder my heart beat in my chest.

  Until I pulled into the driveway and saw that there was no big black truck in the garage.

  CHAPTER 6

  The pounding in my chest slowed back to normal. Where was he? Was he still with Carly? My mind spat her name like it was poisonous. I was awful; I didn’t even know the girl and I was already judging her for taking Jesse away from me.

  I went inside and found myself alone in Jesse’s house for the second time that day. I put away my books and got my stuff ready for the next morning, and then I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat. I checked my phone, but I didn’t have a text from him.

  The idea that he didn’t bother with a text to let me know where he was gave me a pretty healthy dose of reality. Just like earlier that day when he told me that I didn’t need to approve my plans with him, he didn’t feel the need to approve his plans with me, either. Probably because he was off having sex with Carly.

  Jealous rage streaked through me, but I took a deep breath and tried to push it down. This was another reminder that we were just friends, and I needed to learn to just be okay with that.

  I pulled open his refrigerator and found plenty of healthy food choices. I settled on hummus and paired it with some pita chips I found, and then I heated some homemade chicken soup. I spent about ten minutes trying to figure out how to turn on the damn television before I finally just gave up. I settled into the loung
er cushion of the couch with a book and lost myself in it until I fell asleep.

  Lips…

  Were those lips I felt pressed against my forehead?

  Whose lips could they be?

  I woke from a dreamy sleep and opened my eyes slowly to the bright light I’d fallen asleep to. Dark, mysterious, troubled eyes stared back at me.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice scratchy from sleep.

  “Hey,” Jesse whispered tenderly. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Little after midnight.”

  He was intense. Haunted. This Jesse wasn’t the same playful Jesse who told me he had a power tool for me earlier that same day.

  “You ready for bed?” he asked.

  I nodded, and he stood from his position where he knelt on the floor beside me, unfolding that perfect body and standing straight. He leaned over me and scooped me up easily into his arms.

  “Jesse,” I gasped, throwing my arms around his neck, still not fully awake as he carried me to my bedroom. “Put me down!”

  The haunted look in his eyes dissipated as he gazed at me. “How do you think you got into your bed the past two nights?” he murmured, and I suddenly realized that he’d carried me to bed every night I’d stayed at his house so far, only this time I’d woken up first. I wondered if the lips I’d felt against my forehead had been part of my dream or reality, and I wondered if he’d kissed my forehead the past two nights as he carried me to bed.

  He deposited me on the bed and helped me snuggle under the blankets, and then he sat beside me. I was in my favorite sleeping position, on my side with my hand under my pillow, but seeing Jesse sitting on the bed next to me was a view that made me not want to close my eyes. Jesse in the flesh was better than Jesse in my dreams.

  He looked at me, and then he looked away. He sighed. Something was clearly troubling him. “Is it okay if I hang in here with you for a few minutes?” he finally asked, his voice quiet with a hint of embarrassment.

  “Of course, Jesse,” I said, feeling slightly more awake. I pulled back the blanket and indicated for him to get comfortable.

  He kicked off his shoes and stuck his feet under the blanket, still in socks, leaning on my headboard as I watched him. He sighed again as I leaned over and turned off the light.

  “Come here,” I directed, and he sunk down a little further, staring up at the ceiling. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he was warm next to me as I scooted closer and placed my head in the nook between his shoulder and his chest. I knew it was far too intimate for friends, but he seemed deeply distressed, and I wanted to be there for him like he’d been there for me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. My heart was suddenly racing as his scent overwhelmed my senses.

  “What’s going on?” I asked quietly, wanting to know but afraid to hit a nerve.

  He didn’t respond, and instead, I felt him take a deep breath next to me.

  Where the hell had he gone? Who the hell was Carly, and why had he spent almost the entire day with her? Why was he so disturbed now that he was back?

  “Talk to me,” I pleaded in a whisper.

  He sighed for the third time in as many minutes. “It’s complicated.”

  That was certainly a non-answer. “I’ve got time.”

  “It’s late, V. You need to go to sleep.”

  “I just want to be here for you like you’ve been here for me.”

  I felt his fingers tighten around me as they dug into the soft flesh at my shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, and I could hear the emotion he was choking back. I wanted to turn the light on and look up at him, to see his eyes and to communicate with my own that everything was going to be okay even though I didn’t know what was wrong. But I didn’t dare move my cheek from its spot on his body.

  We were both quiet for awhile, and I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, my alarm clock on my cell phone started its raging chirp at 5:30. I reached to turn it off and was met with a hard wall of man. I gasped in surprise, taking a moment to place myself and realizing that Jesse had spent the night in bed with me.

  He was still in his jeans and t-shirt, and he was still lying in the exact position that he’d been in when I’d fallen asleep wrapped around him the night before.

  I was a heavy sleeper who tended to stay in one position for the entire night, and I realized that I’d spent the night on Jesse. Literally sleeping on him. And he was still sleeping soundly, breathing deeply and evenly, but not snoring. Bonus points for the non-snoring Jesse Drake.

  I turned on the light on my nightstand.

  I shook him, and he jerked awake with a gasp. His eyes looked around wildly until he focused in on me, and then I saw just the corners of his lips curl up ever so faintly.

  “Good morning,” he said sheepishly.

  “Morning,” I said, very aware of my raunchy morning breath and wishing I hadn’t turned the light on since I had to look like a rabid dog after I hadn’t washed off my make-up the night before.

  I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Something about waking up next to Jesse Drake just made me ecstatically happy, even if it hadn’t been because of a night of passion together. I almost felt like what we’d shared was more intimate than having spent the night naked together, although I certainly wouldn’t have been complaining if we had woken up without clothes on.

  I reminded myself that I was still married.

  Dammit.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, his arm still wrapped around me.

  “For what?” I asked.

  “Crashing your bed,” he said.

  “If we’re being technical, it’s your bed.”

  “I didn’t mean to stay in here all night,” he said, sitting up and pulling his arm out from under me. He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes. He had major bed head, but all the messy hair served to do was somehow make him even hotter. He ran a hand through the hair I’d been ogling.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbed his hand down his jaw, that beautiful jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble. I didn’t want him to shave it. I loved how it looked on him, a little scruffy and a lot masculine.

  “I didn’t mind,” I said, and I realized I was flirting. I hadn’t meant to be flirtatious, but it just sort of slipped out.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, and it looked like the haunting that plagued his eyes the night before was mostly gone.

  “What do you eat for breakfast?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “My stomach’s not awake yet. Ask me in an hour.”

  “Do you always get up this early?” He yawned.

  I nodded. “I try to get to school by seven so I can get ready for my day.”

  “You need forty minutes to get ready for your day?” he asked, referring to the fact that school started at 7:40.

  “No. I need an hour, but I refuse to get up any earlier.”

  He chuckled. “Well you get ready and I’ll head to my room to sleep for another hour.”

  “The perks of being a man. It takes me an hour just to shower and get ready.”

  “Great. I’ll take breakfast in an hour. Your timing will be perf.”

  I smacked him in the shoulder.

  “Hey!” he protested, and I giggled.

  He stood and stretched, revealing that perfect little patch of washboard stomach as his shirt lifted when his arms rose above his head. I almost moaned. What I wouldn’t give to taste that little patch of skin under my tongue.

  He turned to exit my room, and then he stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at me. “Thanks for the image of you in the shower,” he said. Then he walked out of my room. “It’ll give me something to dream about for the next hour,” he said over his shoulder as he headed down the hall and toward his bedroom.

  I grinned a giddy little grin as I blushed from head to toe, loving his words and thankful that he couldn’t see my reaction to them.

  Afte
r my morning routine, I headed out to the kitchen. The only work shirt I’d grabbed from my closet at home, I realized a little too late, showed a little more cleavage than I was used to showing at work. I had been in such a rush to get away from Richard that I hadn’t really focused on the clothes I was packing. I paired the low cut black button down shirt with a gray pencil skirt and black heels.

  I found some yogurt in the fridge a banana in the pantry. I was ready to go with time to spare, which meant I’d have time to stop at Starbucks on the way.

  I decided to be a good roommate, and I went to wake my Jesse… I mean Jesse (not “my” Jesse – just Jesse)… to get his Starbucks order.

  The door was open, so I peeked into his room. He was asleep on the bed; he was lying on top of his blankets on his back, and he’d stripped down to his boxer briefs.

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Hell.

  Clearly he was having a good dream based on the bulge in his boxer briefs that I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of.

  My brain suddenly turned to mush, and my thoughts became nonsensical.

  That. Inside of me. Now.

  God, I wanted to mount that pony.

  I took a moment to appreciate the work of art sleeping before me. He really was something special. He looked just as rugged and sexy when he was asleep, and I allowed my eyes to slowly drag all the way from his feet, up his legs, to that delicious looking bulge, and up to his perfectly chiseled abdomen and that gorgeous tattoo. I stared at his chest for a moment, remembering how I’d slept on it the night before with a smile. And then my eyes traveled up to his face. He was somehow adorable and sexy and handsome all rolled into one alluring, gorgeous, tempting package.

  I shook my head, warding off the dangerous thoughts, and I backed out of his room quietly. I didn’t want to disturb him, and I especially didn’t want him to know I’d seen his morning excitement, but he did need to get up and get his day started.

  He was an adult, I reminded myself, who got along just fine before I showed up in his life. I glanced at the clock. On the one hand, I really wanted to sneak another peek at his fine form asleep on his bed. On the other hand, I needed to respect his privacy, and allowing myself to go in there and look would only throw the temptation right in my face. He wasn’t for me, and I needed to remind myself of that. So I took the coward’s way out. “Jesse?” I yelled from the shelter of the kitchen.