~*~*~*~
He didn’t come and take me out to dinner. No, I got a text message saying he was working late and would come over later.
Come over so he can have sex with me and leave—his nightly sedation.
So, I decided to do the only thing that made sense. I found a bottle of vodka, threw myself on the outdoor lounge and got drunk. I don’t drink a lot; I don’t have the chance to. Dancing takes up so much of my time, and my diet is quite strict. I’ve got no way near the diet of the other dancers, the ones who dance professionally, but I certainly can’t allow myself to gain weight if I want to teach properly.
So alcohol is rare—therefore it went straight to my head.
Now I’m staring at my phone, frantically telling myself that it’s not okay to text Nate. It’s not okay to want to know how he feels. It’s not okay to even think about him. He’s away—he went away because of me. He doesn’t need me making it worse, but I just need to know. I have to know, I just need him to understand that one day I hope we can be friends again.
But that’s not what I end up typing. I try six different times with six different messages, and I delete and scream more than I actually manage to get anything out. What I finally send I instantly regret it. I sound like a silly little teenager who can’t take a hint. I shouldn’t have sent anything, nothing at all, but my fuzzy, scrambled brain doesn’t want a bar of logic.
Avery: I know . . . I know I shouldn’t care, but . . . I . . . I can’t stop thinking about what happened and . . . well . . . shit . . . I just want you to know—I miss you, Nate. I just miss you.
I throw my phone across the back deck and put my head in my hands. What if his wife was there? What if she reads that? When did I stoop so low? When did I become the woman I knew I would despise? When did I stop fighting for right and edging towards wrong? I’m failing my friends, my family and myself, but I can’t seem to stop myself wanting what I can’t have.
I’m an awful person.
I lift the bottle of vodka to my lips, too tired to try and keep drinking it from a glass. The liquid burns my throat as it slides down, and I feel it tingle the entire way to my belly. My heart aches and tears fill my eyes. I get to my feet and wobble inside, dropping down onto the couch and curling to my side. I close my eyes and try to take myself away, try to forget the thing that is refusing to leave my heart.
I must drift off, because I find myself jerking upright, eyes flinging open, when I hear a knock at the door. It takes me more than a minute to get my eyes focused, and when I do the knocking has become louder. I rub my face a few times and get to my feet. I have no idea who it could be. Jacob has a key and it must be midnight, if not later, so I can’t imagine it would be Kelly, or even Liam.
I walk over to the door and run my hand through my hair trying to straighten it out a little, before swinging it open.
I face Nate.
I blink a few times, confused. Nate is meant to be away; he isn’t meant to be here. Why is he here? I stare at him, unable to form any kind of words to say something comprehensible. He stares at me, his eyes deep and intense. He looks so good, and it seems like it’s been so long, because he’s like a blinding light to my eyes. Black skin-tight shirt, black jeans and Doc Martens – perfect. His hair is messy and he’s got a few days’ growth on his cheeks and chin.
The ultimate bad boy.
“Nate,” I whisper. “I thought you were away.”
He’s staring at me with that look that makes me feel like he wants to consume me, to take everything I am and crush it in his strong, perfect hands.
“Is he here?” he asks, his voice husky and low.
“W-w-w-what?”
“Is he here?”
He’s talking about Jacob, isn’t he?
“Jacob?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I swallow. “No.”
He steps forward and reaches out, catching me off-guard. His hands slide around my hips and he pulls me into him, pressing my body against his. He’s warm and hard, and he smells like coffee and cigarettes. He lowers his mouth, capturing my lips in his and kissing me so hard I forget how to breathe, how to think, how to feel. I’ve lost everything but him.
When he pulls back, I’m swaying on my feet. He reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face so gently it seems out of character for him. Then he leans forward, his breath tickling my ear as he turns his mouth towards my ear and murmurs, “I missed you too.”
Then he steps back and turns, walking off and getting into his truck.
And just like that—everything changes.
CHAPTER 17
AVERY
“Waiter,” Jacob yells. “Another bottle.”
I stare over at the man I’m been expected to spend the rest of my life with, and now, more than ever, there’s a gaping hole in my heart at the thought. There is no happiness in a life without love. I’m learning that more and more as each day goes by.
“Avery,” Jacob snaps and I jerk my gaze in his direction.
“Yes?”
“You’re a thousand miles away. I take you out for a nice dinner and you can’t even have a decent conversation with me.”
“Do you love me, Jacob?”
He stares at me, his lips twitching, obviously taken back by my question. “What has that got to do with anything?”
I flinch. “Do you love me, Jacob?”
“We’ve not had the chance to get that far yet.”