Chosen by a Stranger (Craved Series #5)

by Kelly, Hazel

  I loved the subtle movements of her eyelids, the little sighs she let out when she was dreaming, and the fact that she felt comfortable enough with me to sleep so deeply.

  Fortunately, it would be hours before I had to lie without her. Travis and my Mom insisted on taking me to dinner at some cocktail hustling bistro, and I knew myself well enough to know I'd probably be all too eager to try and drown the anxiety I was feeling.

  But I had to hand it to my Mom. She hadn't dwelled. Once her interrogation was over, she changed the subject, promptly filling my head with neighborhood gossip, stories about the last people who mentioned my book to her, and a play by play of the trip to New England she and Travis took two months ago.

  Which made me happy and sad at the same time.

  On one hand, it was great to catch up and hear how well she was doing in person instead of over the phone. She seemed genuinely carefree in a way that suited her age and personality. How much Travis had to do with that I don't know.

  If I had to guess, I'd say the responsibility was shared equally between him, her book club, and her part time job at the local college, but the source of her happiness wasn't as important as the fact that she seemed secure in it.

  Yet her cheerful update made me feel incredibly guilty. How many similar updates and exciting milestones had I missed since I fucked off to Thailand? I guess the only way to say it is that, as much as I constantly told myself I didn't, I missed my Mom.

  And it was obvious she missed me, too. I could tell because of how often her eyes watered when she was talking to me, like it required physical energy to push the thought of my expatriation out of her mind.

  Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop thinking that I'd get to see a lot more of her if I moved back home, and that knowledge gave me a nagging lump in my throat that I kept trying in vain to swallow while she talked.

  Eventually, I felt the need to excuse myself under the premise that I could use a shower before we went out. Of course, when Travis came in with groceries and slipped his hands around my Mom's waist from behind, it was easy enough to make my exit.

  Still, despite the fact that my Mom hadn't dwelled on the Audrey situation- probably because she could sense that the whole thing was making me sick- there was one thing she said that I couldn't get out of my head.

  "Would you rather get an answer or get the girl?"

  Obviously, I wanted Audrey. In fact, the more time I spent away from her the more every part of me ached for her.

  But I was worried.

  As I replayed the morning in my mind, it seemed like I may have created a condition that might make it harder for us to move forward, not easier.

  I still didn't regret asking her to marry me, but I couldn’t help but feel that I'd accidentally manipulated the situation so that it would be awkward to spend time together until she had an answer.

  And the truth was if she wasn't ready, I would wait for her.

  I wanted to pretend I was harder than that, but I knew I was too sprung to walk away. I would wait as long as she needed me to.

  And if she wouldn't have me then I would move on with my life, but I wouldn't move on with women. There would be no point. Anyone else would be incomparable.

  But I couldn't go back and take it slow. Not only was I lousy at taking things slow in the first place, but I couldn't unsay the words I'd said to her. I couldn't unfeel those feelings.

  And I had no choice at this point but to tell myself that it was better she knew where I stood than if I'd played down my feelings just to avoid overwhelming her.

  After all, the truth was that I was overwhelmed, too… by the way my bones felt when she was close to me, by the way her lower back dipped just above her ass, by how hungry I was for the sound of her laugh when it hadn't even been a day since I last heard it.

  But it was for the best. Because no matter how much I was aching, she had the information she needed, and the ball was in her court.

  All I could do was wait.

  But I wasn't going to stick around and pace the floor of my Mother's guest room until I had an answer. The best thing for me to do was go back to Thailand, teach my class at the end of the week, and give her the time she so adamantly demanded.

  Cause I couldn't stay away from her and be this close. It would be easier if I put some distance between us for the time being. I needed to do whatever it took to make sure I survived long enough to hear her answer, whatever it was. And when she was ready to get in touch, Megan had all my contact details.

  As soon as she called, I could be by her side in no time. So my best bet was to carry on with my life while she figured out how- and if- she wanted to move forward.

  But I hoped it wouldn't be too long.

  She either loved me or she didn't, right?

  And then it hit me.

  I didn't know if she loved me. She'd never said. Not once. I wracked my brain, squeezing my eyes shut and going over our conversations with as fine a comb as my memory would allow.

  Had she just forgotten to say it?

  Or was I a fool?

  I didn't usually misread women, and I certainly couldn't have misread her body's reaction to me. That was as real a thing as anything I ever felt in my life.

  But had I confused her behavior with her feelings?

  Had I proposed to a woman that didn't love me back?

  I felt a pit in the corner of my stomach like a dark gnawing hole, growing like it had every intention of swallowing me up.

  This was ridiculous.

  Of course she loved me.

  I'd pulled out all the stops, been on my best behavior, and professed my love to her in more ways that words could describe. I'd made her laugh, made her come, made her light up more times than I could count, even in the limited time I'd known her.

  So if I wasn't the guy she wanted- everything she wanted- if I'd completely misread the signs because I was carried away by my own desires then-

  No.

  It couldn't be.

  Surely she loved me back.

  She had to.

  Right?

  Chapter 14: Audrey

  The doorbell shocked me so much I forgot to move.

  But when the buzzer sounded again, I ran to the door, hoping it was him.

  Before I even reached the peephole I knew how I would throw my arms around him, how he would lift my waist so my toes left the ground for a moment, how he would push me up against the wall and kiss me the way I'd been craving all day.

  But it wasn't him.

  It was some pimply teenager with a red jacket that matched his backwards hat.

  I was just about to tell him I didn’t order a pizza when I noticed the white box he was holding was the wrong shape and had a bow on it.

  "Hello," I said, feeling the sharp pain in my chest I always got when I recognized someone else whose teenage nights were haunted by headgear.

  "Audrey Cordelia Lawrence?" he asked, glancing at his clipboard.

  "Yes," I said, doing my best to ignore how weird it was to hear this kid calling me by my full name. "That's me."

  "Special delivery," he said, setting the box at his feet. "Could you sign here?" he asked, shoving the clipboard in my direction. "So my boss knows I got here without dropping it?"

  I furrowed my brow and signed my name, minus the Cordelia part.

  The kid reached down and handed the box to me.

  I took it with both hands.

  "Have a nice day," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning back towards the elevator.

  I watched him walk away for a second and then disappeared into my apartment with the large box. It was too big to set on my entryway table so I brought it to the kitchen where the fading evening light was still flooding the small space.

  The rectangular box had a fat lavender ribbon around it, and as soon as I went to untie the bow, I saw a small square envelope tucked underneath it with my full name written on it.

  Something about the handwriting made my insides stir,
and I unstuck it from the box, slipping a finger along the edge so it flapped open and I could pull out the card.

  "Time is standing still without you xx Jack."

  I smiled, remembering his watch on my bedside table where I'd been childishly pretending it lived since I found it.

  If he knew he left it here, why not come back for it?

  But I knew the answer.

  My insistence on needing time had driven him away in the first place, and it didn't feel like a stretch to conclude that it was probably what was keeping him away.

  But where the hell had he gone?

  I shook the question from my head and laid the card down so I could untie the ribbon. And as I lifted the lid, a smile spread across my face.

  It was a vase, a big fancy crystal one large enough to fit the flowers he bought me. I squinted. The only time he could've seen my makeshift popcorn bowl vase was when he came in the kitchen last night to get booze for our bath.

  Which meant he bought it today.

  I glanced at the gold embossed address on the inside of the box. It was from the florist in the hotel, the same hotel where he was supposed to be but wasn't.

  I sighed.

  I pulled the tissue paper off the vase and went to the sink to fill it up. Then I set it down beside the popcorn bowl and lifted the bouquet straight up, letting it drip over the bowl for a moment before lowering it into my new vase.

  "What a guy," I said to myself. "What. A. Guy."

  I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat facing the vase.

  It was nice of Jack to get it for me. Considerate. But I was starting to think he was just that kind of guy and not just on his best behavior. In fact, with every minute that passed, I became further convinced that I knew him better than I thought.

  After all, when we were together, we were so in sync. The conversation flowed effortlessly and the quiet moments weren't uncomfortable in the slightest. I could genuinely imagine the rest of my life being one long conversation with him.

  And it was a comforting feeling.

  But just because I said I needed time didn't mean I should wait around like a sitting duck.

  Besides, he was probably waiting for me to get back to him.

  After all, when I replayed the morning in my head, it was clear that he'd left to give me time and space, and I hadn't said how much I needed of either.

  Because I didn't know.

  I still didn't.

  But I knew something else even more important which was that I couldn't figure it out on my own. The only way I could move forward was with him, and everything made more sense when he was around.

  Plus, I hated being apart from him when I first left Thailand. It was terrible trying to convince myself that I would never see him again. And by some miracle he'd walked back into my life and proved it wasn't just about sex or the chase by dropping to his knees and asking me to be his.

  Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

  It was time to stop letting life happen to me and go after what I wanted.

  And I wanted Jack more than anything. And the more I thought about how much he meant to me, the more I believed that everything else would fall into place.

  We could make it work.

  Because all you need is love.

  And if The Beatles were wrong, at least I would find out for myself and not have to take anyone else's word for it.

  I stood up from my chair like a soldier, full of new resolve and galvanized by my plan.

  As my questionable luck would have it, the phone rang before I could build up any momentum.

  "Hi Mom," I said, leaning in the doorway of my bedroom.

  "Hi Honey," she said. "I was just calling to check in."

  "Oh."

  "How are things?"

  My Mom was lousy at small talk. Never once had she called to check in and had it not turn into some kind of informal, one sided therapy session.

  "Things are good," I said, feeling like it was the first time I hadn't had to lie to her in years.

  "How's work?"

  "Nothing full time yet, but I'm getting lots of freelance gigs." So I won't have to ask to borrow money if that's what you're asking.

  "That's good news."

  "How are you?" I asked, knowing the sooner we got to the heart of the matter, the sooner the call would be over. Plus, I wasn't sure yet if I wanted to tell her about Jack. Not yet. Not until I told him what I needed to say and felt his arms around me.

  "I'm fine," she said. "Just back from another session with the therapist.”

  "Did you go on your own or-"

  "No," she said. "I went with your Father."

  "And?" I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  "I think he's making progress," she said. "Or at least everything he says isn't something about what a life sucking bitch I am so that's progress enough for me."

  I sighed. "That's something, I guess."

  "Anyway, the therapist still thinks it would be good for you to join us. She thinks it would mean a lot to your Dad if he could hear what you had to say in a controlled setting."

  It was hard not to burst out laughing at the idea that anywhere both my parents were present could possibly be considered a controlled setting. And for a moment, I wondered what that would mean in terms of a wedding…

  "Yeah, sure," I said. "I told you I'm not opposed to doing what I can to help." Though I prefer a more hands off type of support that creates the illusion that I have my own life.

  "How about next Tuesday?" she asked. "She even said she could see us in the evenings so it wouldn't interfere with your work schedule."

  "Ooooh," I said. "I can't."

  "You can't or you won't?"

  "I can't."

  "Why can't you?"

  "Cause I'm going to be out of town."

  "But you just went out of town."

  "I know, but this is different."

  "Where are you going this time?" she asked.

  "I can't tell you, Mom," I said, catching my smiling face in the mirror.

  "You can't tell me?!"

  I shook my head. "No.

  “Why the hell not?"

  “Cause,” I said. “It's a surprise."

  Chapter 15: Jack

  I closed my eyes, letting the cool water run over my face and down my back.

  And I could see her perfectly.

  I could see the flush of pink in her cheeks and the blond streaks that framed her face. I could see the way her eyes grew wide when I pushed inside her and how they hung at half-mast when I was buried deep.

  Why wasn't she here in the shower with me? My nakedness seemed like such a waste without her around.

  It had been days since I heard her voice, and I missed her smell and the flash of white teeth that shone when she smiled.

  Why hadn't she called? Or emailed?

  I had checked so many times. And it was the twenty first fucking century. It wasn't like her pigeon got lost or her letter went missing.

  She could've reached me if she wanted to.

  Did she not want to?

  Was my love so misplaced as to be totally unrequited?

  What if-

  No. She was just taking the time she needed, the time she asked for. That was all. It had to be.

  Because I refused to believe in any alternative where we didn't end up together.

  I loved her too fucking much.

  I knew because between my head and my balls, I didn’t know which ached more with her being so far away.