Love and Relativity

by Rachael Wade

  “Uh...getting by,” I said, letting the door close behind me. The sight of him sent a swift punch to my gut, my pulse suddenly racing. He was his usual tan self, snug in jeans and a rolled-up blue plaid flannel shirt, the azure of his eyes razor sharp. I smiled inwardly as I assessed him. Dressing up—even for New Year’s Eve—wasn’t Jackson’s style. I doubted any man could make a simple pair of jeans and a flannel shirt look as carelessly sexy as he did. An awkward laugh bubbled from my lips.. “What are you doing taking phone calls in the bathroom?”

  “Nothing, just needed some quiet. It’s too cramped and crowded out there.”

  “Oh.” My gaze travelled over his bicep’s ankh tattoo for a second, stirring up memories of how I’d clung tight to it every time he’d thrusted deep inside me, urging me to come for him. My breath quickened and I worked to swat the thoughts away. I backed up and reached for the door knob. “Well, you can finish your phone calls, I can come back in a few minutes.”

  “I got a job,” he said, ignoring my attempt at an exit.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “And they arrested the asshole who destroyed the boat.”

  “I heard. I’m glad.”

  “Me too.”

  “Well, I’m gonna go.” I reached for the doorknob again. He stopped me, slipping in front of me to press his back to the door, his hand closing behind him over the knob. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Why did he have to do this? Damn it, why didn’t I just stay with Whitney? “What is it with you blocking me from bathrooms?”

  “This time I’m blocking you from leaving one.”

  “Why, Jackson? What do you want?”

  “You really have to ask that?” He exhaled, leaning his head back against the door in a tired slump. “I miss you, Emma.”

  “Oh no,” I tried pushing him out of the way, “you don’t get to do this. You made your decision. I’m starting to find closure, Jackson. I’m about to start my last semester, my move plans are solid, I’m...moving on, just like you wanted. You can’t flip-flop back and forth like this. It’s too painful. I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. Can’t we just go enjoy this New Year party in peace?” Wrestling against him, I sighed as he tried gripping my shoulders.

  “Peace is what I’m looking for. Listen, there’s just something I want to say before—”

  “There’s nothing left to say!”

  “Before you move away, I have a few things to ask you, will you just listen?”

  Closing my eyes, I quit struggling. He moved forward and turned me, roughly aligning my back with the wall, his hands caging me against it. “One, I need you to forgive me. I can’t let go...can’t move on unless I have your forgiveness. Please set me free from this bullshit, because I crave it so bad my chest literally hurts over here, Emma. Everything hurts. I hate what I did to you and I know I can’t change it, but I can at least...function...if you tell me you forgive me for what I’ve done. Will you?”

  I opened my eyes and breathed deep, feeling the vibrations of the music bump against my skin through the wall. “And what else?”

  “Two, I need you to ask yourself something when the time comes. And be honest with yourself.” He flattened me further against the wall, and all the blood rushed straight between my thighs, my traitorous body caving against his warmth. God, he was such a bastard for cornering me like this. “Will the next guy—whoever he is and wherever you find him—be able to touch you like this?” His hand slipped under my dress to cup me, and his thumb began rolling over my clit in slow, agonizing circles. “Will he make you as wet as I do?” He hitched up one of my legs, pulling and cradling me against him, grinding into me. I glared at him, my jaw tightening, barely able to contain the mixture of anger and desire coursing through my blood. Why did my body betray me like this? “When his hands touch you for the first time, ask yourself if he’ll be able to make you come as hard as I can.”

  I bit back a moan as his fingers worked harder against me, increasing the pressure. “Stop,” I said breathlessly.

  “I don’t feel you pushing me away.” He glared back, blue eyes captivating mine, voice hoarse. “You don’t want me to stop. If you did, you’d be fighting me. You wouldn’t be soaking wet in my hand right now.”

  “We can’t do this. Don’t do this to me.”

  “All I want is to love you and earn your forgiveness, Emma. It’s all I’ll ever want.” His fingers dipped beneath my panties and he rolled them more persistently, a groan bubbling up from his chest when he heard me whimper.

  I reached out to grip his arms, tilting my head back as I leaned into his hand, straining from the building tension. “I love you, Jack. But I can’t...I won’t...”

  “I’m not asking to get back together right now. I’m going to walk out of here, and you never have to see me again if you don’t want to. I’m only asking you to remember this—” he leaned down to bite and tug on my lip, “the way I can make you feel, and to ask yourself, when the first new fucker puts his hands on you, whether or not he’ll be able to love you like I do. Because I guarantee you, his cock will never feel as good as mine, his arms will never hold you the way mine can, and he’ll never adore you inside and out the way I do. And when you answer those questions and see that I’m right, come find me. When you’re ready, give me a second chance, and I’ll do whatever you want to make this work, no matter where you live. I’ll wait for you.” Circling his fingers faster, he started to pump them back and forth, driving me closer and closer to the edge, continuing to grind himself into my core. “That’s right,” he peered down to watch my hips as they matched his hand’s rhythm. “Come on, baby. Just like that.”

  The ragged edge to his voice and the way his mouth fell open as he watched me work against his hand were my undoing. Violently, I fell apart against him, his name wailing from somewhere deep in my chest, the guttural sound rattling against my ribs and throat. My nails dug into his chest and the room started to spin.

  He leaned in and bit down on my neck, taking the ride with me, his hardness digging into my thigh, the pulsing heat nearly singeing my skin. “I love you, Emma. And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” Steadying himself, he waited to catch his breath, making sure I could stand, then straightened and pushed off me to turn to the sink, leaving me spent and collapsed against the wall. “Holy shit,” he muttered, splashing some cold water on his face and rubbing some over his neck. With a deep sigh, he adjusted himself and turned for the door, letting it shut quietly behind him.

  ***

  I woke the next day around noon, which was without a doubt the latest I’d slept in over a year. I’d only had two glasses of champagne the night before, so I knew the exhaustion and headache I felt brewing the moment I opened my eyes had nothing to do with a hangover. They were symptoms of the complete mental exertion that ensued the second Jackson left me deliciously sated in Carter’s bathroom. I rolled over and groaned, pulling the pillow tight over my head. He knew my body so well, even better than I did, and it was infuriating. Hell, he had me wound so tight within two minutes just from his presence alone that I was beginning to wonder if the things he said were true. Would anyone ever affect me the way he did? Would he be able to read me and bridge that gap between my mind and body so well that I’d be putty in his hands in a mere matter of seconds? You didn’t just pull that kind of chemistry out of thin air.

  Throwing back the pillow and blanket, I sat up and wobbled to my feet, flustered, turned on, and irritated all at the same time. I couldn’t allow my mind to go down that road. Not on New Year’s Day, the day I was so determined to maintain a positive outlook on the next few months and how they would help me move on, not only from Jackson, but everything else I’d be leaving behind on Sanibel Island.

  After taking a long, cold shower, I threw on some jean shorts and a light cardigan, smiling when I buttoned the final button. This would very well be the last time I could trot around in skimpy cut-offs in
the winter. This time next year, I’d probably be bundled up, possibly up to my knees in snow.

  I drove to Whitney’s diner and slipped into a booth, opening the menu to scan my choices.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me,” I said with a crooked grin, when she shuffled over to meet me.

  “I’m sorry,” she yawned, slumping into the booth next to me. “I was so excited to have the holiday off from the hotel. I was up so late last night, helping Carter clean up after the party. Go figure, George calls me first thing morning, begging me to come in and pick up the afternoon shift here.”

  “Hey, you’ve been whining about needing the money, so...” I raised my hands defensively, leaning away to avoid the smack she was about to send to my shoulder.

  “I know, I know,” she patted my shoulder instead, going easy on me, “holidays are always busy in this place, so I might as well take advantage of it, right?”

  “Right.”

  She eyed the front doors as more people piled in for lunch. “Ugh. Off I go. Pick something to order and I’ll be over in a sec.”

  In a few minutes, she was back to take my order, managing to squeeze in a little time to scarf down half of a BLT with me. “So I heard you ran into Jackson at the party last night. Sorry I wasn’t there to rescue you.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich and my gaze lifted to hers. “Don’t be.”

  “Emma?” she leaned in, narrowing her eyes.

  “Don’t even say it, Whit.”

  “No. Please tell me you didn’t...”

  I bit into my sandwich with a pout.

  “No, Em! You forgave him just like that? What, did he change his mind about the long-distance thing? Oh my God...did you change your mind? About school?”

  “No,” I swallowed, taking a sip of water, “slow down, slow down.”

  “Well, what happened, then?”

  “Nothing really...I just went to use the bathroom and bumped into him, and he cornered me.”

  “And you caved, didn’t you?”

  “A little...”

  “Please don’t tell me you let him screw you in Carter’s bathroom.”

  “Uh....not entirely...he just started saying all these things and I lost it—I’m just...I’m so confused.”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” She swiveled around to face me straight on. “There’s nothing to be confused about here. He made a decision to let you go, and to hurt you in the process. You made the decision to go to school in Seattle. He just wants you back right now because he’s getting desperate and he’s missing you, but it’s not fair of him to do this when you’re trying to move on. Don’t let him weasel his way back in, do you hear me? Don’t let him play with your head. Because that’s exactly what he’s doing—playing with your head.”

  I nodded, keeping my eyes on my plate. “I’m not sure if that’s what he’s doing, though.”

  “What do you mean? He does love you, Em. But that’s not an excuse to pull this right before your semester starts, while you’re making plans to leave—”

  “He said he’s not asking to get back together. But he told me when I was ready to give him a second chance, he’d be waiting for me. He said no matter where I live...he’d try to make it work.”

  Whitney went silent.

  “Come on, Whit. Whatever you’re thinking, just say it.”

  “I think he’s saying that with the hopes to get you back before you move in the spring. I think he’s hoping you’ll change your mind and stay. I haven’t mentioned it to you because I didn’t think there was any sense in telling you before, but...”

  “But what?”

  “He and Carter have been real hush-hush about you lately. At first I thought that was just because they didn’t want to talk about you around me anymore, but lately they’ve been flat-out sneaky, whispering all the time and changing the subject whenever you come up in conversation.”

  “Okay, so they’re not talking about me in front of you anymore. What’s your point?”

  She pushed her empty plate from her chest and reached up to tighten the hair tie around her bun. “My point is, I wouldn’t be surprised if this continues—Jackson coming at you like that—right up until the time you move. I think he’s going to keep trying to get you back, and the fact that Carter has been rooting for you guys from the beginning, it wouldn’t shock me if that boyfriend of mine is encouraging him.” She groaned. “I need to talk to him about this and tell him to stop giving Jackson false hope.”

  “I need to talk to Jackson.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I need to know what he meant last night. Maybe you’re right, maybe he is just trying to get me back before I leave, but maybe that’s because he’s reconsidering having a long-distance relationship with me.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “No, but—”

  “Look. I think he’s so blinded by his need for you, he’s not thinking about long-term consequences right now. He just wants you to forgive him and take him back. Period.” She gathered our cups and plates and stood to her feet. “Do what you think is best for yourself, Em, but I really don’t want to see you get hurt again. Even if there’s any truth to your theory, and he’s rethinking his decision, I don’t want to see him break your heart all over again if he decides to back out right before you move. Just think how much of a toll that will take on you, to spend the next few months with him, think everything is fine and dandy, and then, wham! He pulls out again when it’s time for you to leave. It would be Chris, all over again. Except multiplied by a thousand, because you actually love the son of a bitch.”

  I slid out of the booth and gave her a hug. “Thank you, Whit. You’re right. I just need space from him again to get my head straight.” It was nice to entertain myself with the idea that what Jackson said might mean he’d reconsidered dating me from across the country, but it was likely just wishful thinking. Whitney had a point. He could back out. Again. And I wouldn’t be able to handle that twice. Not with Jack.

  “Agreed. You have the rest of the day off, right? Go get some space. Relax and do something nice for yourself.” She winked and picked up our dishes, and in a flash, she flitted away and was off to wait on the next table.

  ***

  Instead of driving straight home, I found myself turning into the nursing home with a lush bouquet of yellow roses, deciding to do something nice for someone else instead. I greeted Miss Velma with a big smile, setting the vase of flowers on her bedside.

  “Happy New Year, Miss Velma. Can you believe how quickly time’s flown?”

  “It’s too slow, if ya ask me. I’ve been sitting on my rump in this hell-hole for three years now, just waitin’ to die.”

  “Hell-hole, ay?”

  “Is there somethin’ wrong with your hearin’?

  “What about this place defines it as a hell-hole? The fancy china they serve your meals on? The crystal chandeliers in the dining hall? Or is it the full-service spa or Jacuzzi style bathtubs?”

  “Well you’re feisty today,” she turned to pick at the roses. She still didn’t smile, but pulled them closer to the edge of the nightstand, a silent acknowledgement of my gesture. “I take it you had a rip-roaring time last night.”

  “Define rip-roaring.”

  “Oh, enough with the pop quizzes, you ninny. Did you have a nice time? What’s rattling inside of that brain of yours? I can see those wheels churnin’.”

  I sat down on the edge of her bed. “What makes you say that? I come in here with a big smile and some roses, and you automatically assume I’m stewing over something?”

  “Yes, Miss Smarty Pants, I do, because you have that look in your eyes.”

  “What look?”

  “This far-off look, like someone just stole your puppy and you don’t know how to get it back. I can see right through it, so come on, now. Out with it.”

  I laughed and shifted my head to gaze out the window. “You don’t really want to hear a young ninny like me ramble on about my problems.
”

  “Try me.” She sat up straight. “What’s his name?”

  “Who said it was a he?”

  “Okay, what’s her name?”

  “Who said it was a relationship?”

  “Old, not dumb, honey. Come on, go on.”

  “Fine,” I pivoted to face her. “His name’s Jackson. But it’s not all about him, really. I’m just wondering...”

  “If you love him?”

  “No, I know I love him. Known that for a while now.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Doesn’t he love you back?”

  “Yeah, he does. But he broke up with me because he doesn’t want a long-distance relationship—after I go to the school I told you about, you know. He has issues, reasons for wanting to stay here in Florida. He betrayed me...humiliated me...started pushing me away, telling me to move on.”

  “But you couldn’t.”

  “I started to,” I shrugged, “but now he’s coming around again, begging for my forgiveness. He’s telling me the ball’s in my court. That when I’m ready to forgive him, to give him a second chance.”

  “And you can’t forgive him?”

  “I’d like to...but I can’t force it. Now that’s he’s telling me these things, it’s filling me with hope that maybe there’s still a chance for us. That maybe he’ll change his mind and try to make things work. And I started thinking about my decision to move...”

  “Go on.”

  I lifted my feet from the floor and curled my legs against my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees. “Have you ever made a decision you weren’t sure was yours? I mean, whether or not it was honest? Whether you wanted it because you wanted it, or because someone else did?”

  I paused.

  “I’ve wanted to go to this school for a while now, long before Jackson came along. Wanting to relocate and leave Florida is nothing new for me. So I know this dream to leave...that it’s mine. But it was also my sister’s. Her name was Jen. She passed away from—”