"I do, but don't you think we're going a little too fast? It might be good to pace ourselves."
Jackson look displeased. "Who's to say we're going too fast? If it feels right, it feels right. I want you in my bed when I go to sleep and I want to wake up next to you. I don't care whether it's too fast according to some arbitrary dating rule." He paused, looking uncertain for the first time since I had met him. "Unless you're saying this is too fast for you. I guess I just assumed that you wanted to stay here as much I wanted you to. If this is too fast for you..."
Jackson trailed off, his lips pressed together as he searched my face. His uncertainty made me realize that Jackson was feeling just as vulnerable as I was.
I gave Jackson a quick kiss and smiled at him, his candor making it easy for me to be honest as well. "It's not too fast for me. It's just a little scary knowing how much time I want to spend with you. I don't want us to get burned out by going too fast."
Jackson smiled, looking relieved. "I wouldn't worry about that. I have a feeling it's going to take a while for me to get enough of you. A lifetime might be long enough, although I doubt it."
My heart actually physically ached from his words, the sweetness so overpowering that it was almost painful. But I just smiled at him.
"Well, I can't refute that kind of logic."
We made the quick trip to my apartment where I gathered my toiletries and enough clothes to last me the weekend. Claire's keys were on the kitchen counter so I knew she was home, although she must have still been asleep in her bedroom because she didn't stir while we were there.
We went back to Jackson's apartment where we quickly showered and got ready for the park. We stopped off at Dean & Deluca's to buy a pre-made picnic basket full of goodies. We took a cab uptown and Jackson navigated us to a beautiful area of Central Park where the rolling lawn was already scattered with plenty of people who had the same idea as us.
Jackson spread out a blanket that he had brought from his apartment and we made ourselves comfortable.
"There's so much food in here," I said as I rummaged through the basket. "Way too much for two people."
Jackson patted his flat stomach. "I can eat my weight in food."
"I guess it's a good thing you work out all the time," I replied drily.
Jackson grinned as he pulled out a bottle of white wine from the basket, deftly opening it with the wine opener. "And here I thought you liked me for my winning personality."
"Where'd you get that idea? I just like you for your body." I couldn't suppress a smile as I watched Jackson pouring the wine into two plastic cups. He handed me one with a grin.
"Here's to us liking each other's bodies."
"I'll drink to that." I took a sip of the wine and sighed contentedly, looking around us and watching people who were similarly enjoying a lazy day outside. It was warm but with a light teasing breeze that kept it from being too hot. I looked back at Jackson who was busy opening packages of crackers and different cheeses and spreads. A week ago, I had been on a train to New York, nervous about my new life and wondering if I would be happy here. Now I was stretched out on a blanket in Central Park, having a gorgeous man pay singular attention to me. My job was going well and I liked my roommate. Life was good.
Jackson glanced up, catching me watching him, but instead of being embarrassed, I smiled at him.
"A girl could get used to this. A beautiful day, a picnic in the park, wine with cheese and crackers. Very smooth, Mr. Reynard, very smooth."
Jackson winked at me and handed me a plate full of crackers, cheese and prosciutto. He had also opened up various containers of tapenades, hummus and olives. With Jackson constantly feeding me, I had a feeling that I would need to use that new gym membership of mine.
"I aim to please," Jackson said with a smile. He started eating his own plate of food as he relaxed on the blanket, his legs stretched out in front of him. His green t-shirt made his eyes seem even brighter and the breeze lightly ruffled his dark brown hair. He looked comfortable and relaxed and I had to suppress the urge to drop my plate and satiate my appetite with him instead.
"This part of Central Park is beautiful," I commented as I started in on my own plate.
"It's called Strawberry Fields in memory of John Lennon. There's a little memorial that we can visit afterwards."
"My dad was a huge Beatles fan. He would always listen to them while making pancakes on Sunday mornings, his specialty. I used to love sitting at the kitchen table while he cooked. We would sing along and argue about who was the better songwriter; John Lennon or Paul McCartney."
Jackson smiled at me. "Who was your dad a fan of?"
"John Lennon. His favorite song was Imagine, but I argued that it didn't count because he wrote it after the Beatles broke up, and we were comparing their songwriting skills during the Beatles era."
"I think you'll like the memorial then."
"I like anything that reminds me of my father. It was a long time before I could let myself remember the happy memories. I thought it was easier not thinking about him at all, but I realized it hurt more than letting myself remember the good times, no matter how much it made me miss him."
Jackson took my hand in his, softly stroking my palm with his thumb. "I like hearing you talk about your dad. Your face lights up and you get a faraway look in your eyes, like you're seeing him in your mind. It makes me feel like I can see him too."
"I like telling you about him. It's been a while since I've had someone to share my memories with. My father's death was really hard on my mother and she hates talking about him. I know it's because she loved him so much and was devastated by his death. It's her coping mechanism, but it's hard to not be able to ever bring him up around her."
I didn't add that Sean had shared her coping mechanism. He had seemed to think that not making me think about my father would help me get over his death. Even almost nine years after his death, Sean had been careful not to bring up my father. As if he thought I would crumble with grief. He hadn't realized that I needed to talk about my father. I needed to remember his life, not his death. My father had lived forty-one vibrant years. That's what I needed to celebrate.
Jackson replaced his stroking thumb with his lips, kissing my palm softly. "I'm here whenever you want to talk about him."
Jackson stirred feelings in me that scared and exhilarated me. He made me feel safe, yet our passion was off the charts. He was kind and made me feel cherished yet he could have me laughing my head off. I had joked earlier that Jackson must have done something good in his life to have met me, but the truth was I was the lucky one. And I knew it wasn't because I had done something good in my life. The heartbreak I had left behind in Merrittsville was proof of that. But I promised myself that I would make myself deserving of someone as wonderful as Jackson.