Chapter Seventeen
I laughed.
There was no other appropriate response. It also helped to relieve some of the strange tension building inside of me.
But when I was done laughing, he was still looking at me with earnest, intent eyes. He obviously wasn’t joking.
“JC.” I sat back on my heels. “Stop being weird and talk to me about what’s going on.”
He tightened his grip on me. “I’m serious, Gwen. I’m asking you to marry me.”
I blinked a few times. I hadn’t even had any coffee yet. There should be a universal law that made caffeine a requirement before serious conversations and proposals.
I looked down at our hands joined together and found that the knuckles on his right hand were red and scratched from his punch to the wall. He was lucky he hadn’t hit through the sheetrock. “Oh God, honey. Does it hurt?”
He glanced at his hand then returned his attention to me. “I can’t feel it. It’s numb. Marry me.”
This was the third time he’d said those words and the first time that they actually got through to me. My throat and chest tightened and critters began flitting around in my stomach, and while some of the sensation felt pleasant I had no doubt what I needed to say. “I can’t marry you, JC.”
“Why not?” The response came fast and even. Prepared. As though he’d been expecting my no.
I pulled my hands out from his while I tried to come up with the answers that should be completely obvious. “Because it’s too soon. Because we don’t even know each other. Because we only just said we loved each other.” I slid out of the bed, uncomfortable being so near to him while he was acting so off.
“But we’ve felt things for longer than that. And what does time matter anyway? We love each other and that’s what counts. Marry me.” He was so confident in his delivery. Each time, two words—marry me. As though saying them over and over would make the difference. As though I would be convinced eventually, and he just needed to be patient.
“JC.” I found my underwear and put them on, feeling too vulnerable without any clothes on. “I can’t—” I took a deep breath.
But maybe I could.
I looked for a shirt to put on while I tested the idea out in my mind. I’d never thought about marrying JC. I never thought I’d marry anyone, actually. So the idea of a union like that at all was peculiar and foreign.
But now that I was thinking about it…
It wouldn’t be the worst thing. Having a place to come home to every night—or morning, in my case—a place that was more of a person than a location. A place that was safe. A place that was filled with love. It was a warm thought. One that spread and grew and felt less ridiculous than it should.
I found JC’s t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over my head. When I turned around, he was standing not a foot away, expectant. “You can’t? Why can’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could.” Shit, did I really just say that?
I wandered into the front room, nervous energy driving me to keep moving.
He followed. “Maybe. You said maybe.”
“Maybe,” I said again. “I need some time to think about it. Like a lot of time. This is completely out-of-the-blue and crazy, but out-of-the-blue has worked in my favor before.” I’d jumped JC that night in the club without any premeditation. “Still. I’d need some time. At least a few weeks. Maybe longer. So my answer is maybe.” What the fuck was I saying?
I forced myself to breathe, in and out, instead of having a full-out panic attack like I kind of wanted to have.
Maybe isn’t yes, I told myself. Maybe is fine. Maybe is acceptable.
Jesus, how could I even be considering this?
I turned to him, hoping he’d be happy that I hadn’t exactly said no.
He wasn’t. He was frowning, shaking his head. “I don’t have…” He made an exasperated noise, sort of like a sigh with a little bit of a groan. “I’m not asking for ‘in a few weeks.’ Today, Gwen. Marry me today.”
“Oh, no. No way.” Hell, no. In fact, now I might actually have a panic attack because how could he even be thinking that I would marry him today? It was ludicrous. It was unfathomable. It was completely and utterly insane.
Had I fallen in love with a lunatic? That would be my luck. And whether or not he was a lunatic, was I ruining everything I had with him by being the only sane one between us?
I took more deep breaths, did more wandering of the hotel suite at a speed that could better be described as pacing, except that it was not in any sort of straight line.
JC was right on my heels. “Stop freaking out. I’m serious. This is good.”
I circled around the couch, but he turned so when I got to the other side, he was waiting there. “We’ll fly to Vegas and be man and wife before nightfall.”
I turned and headed toward the bedroom.
“Think about it, Gwen. We could spend the whole night making love.”
I spun around so fast I practically bumped into him. “We can spend the night making love without getting married. Here. In New York City.”
He circled his arms around my waist, lacing his hands to hold me still. “I know, but it will be different.”
His arms were heaven. His arms were peace. They calmed me and comforted me even though they made me a little bit dizzy at the same time.
Not dizzy enough to think about taking his proposal seriously. But dizzy enough to remember how much I loved being held by him.
“Think about how much better it will be to be married,” he said. “We’ll be together like this all the time. Together for real. Nothing can come between us.”
I put my hands around his neck and placed a kiss on his sternum. “That sounds wonderful, JC. But that’s not what marriage means. Those are things you decide in a relationship together, and they don’t just happen overnight. They don’t just happen with a ring and an I do.”
He leaned his forehead against mine and rocked us from side to side. “So let’s decide to be together all the time. That we’re together for real. And that nothing can come between us. And we’ll seal the deal with a wedding. I have to go to Vegas anyway.”
He was so sincere, so persistent…and he’d been so magnificent to me, especially in the last twenty-four hours. And I loved him.
But that just wasn’t enough.
“No.” It was enough to make me feel bad though. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t do that.”
He pushed me away, frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair then put it on his hip. “Why not?”
I shook my head, not knowing how to answer anymore.
“Why. Not?” he repeated, separating each word. He placed his palm on his chest. “My heart is open, Gwen. Is yours?”
“This has nothing to do with my heart being open, JC. This is about practicality.” I wrapped my arms around myself. I was frustrated now too. I didn’t like having my feelings challenged. I had a hard enough time accepting and acknowledging what I felt. To have it then scrutinized and confronted made me very uncomfortable.
He hit the closet with his fist, not as hard as he’d punched the wall, just loud enough to make sound. “Fuck practicality. Marry me.”
“I said no.” My tone was low and stern. Final.
Irritated, I headed to the nightstand and started looking for my phone. I knew I should call Norma soon and find out what she wanted me to do about Dad, but mostly it was an excuse for something to do. Look for my phone so I didn’t have to stand there and have a face-off with my one-day boyfriend about whether or not we should get married. Today.
I didn’t find it on my side of the bed, so I crossed to the side JC had slept on and found it under the Advil. I took three of those as well, swallowing them without water. I needed them, and not just because my face was throbbing.
JC stood the whole time by the closet, watching me.
When I looked up at him, he took advantage of my gaze to try again. “Tell me why. Give me a good reason why. Do you not really love me?”
How long does it take Advil to start working?
Despite the headache he’d given me, I did love him. I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want to push him away. I wanted him to understand.
I went to him and took his hand in mine. “Of course, I love you. I really do. But JC, be real. The only thing we really have between us is sex. I hope—” That isn’t the right word. “No, I know that we have potential for more. For so much more. But that’s going to take time to create and work out. We can’t get married on the basis of physical compatibility and emotional potential. That’s not how you build a great marriage.”
He brushed a hand across my cheek. “You’re thinking with your head, Gwen. Stop thinking with your head and listen to your heart.”
I closed my eyes and tried to understand how we’d gotten to this point. Our entire relationship had been unorthodox, but this was way off course. He was so desperate, like he thought he’d lose me. Had I made him feel like I wasn’t going to stick around? Or had something happened to—
It was the phone call. Jesus, of course it was. I’d been so stunned by the proposal I’d almost forgotten the connection. That had been what triggered this…this…whatever this was. Who on earth had he been talking to? And what the hell could inspire this much panic?
I opened my eyes and searched his. “Right now my heart is telling me that there’s something else going on, JC, and that you’re reacting to it by pulling this crap.”
“This isn’t crap. This is me saying I want to give my life to you.”
His touch on my skin, the affection in his voice—what if he really did just love me that much? Was that the most absurd thing in the world?
Yes. It was absurd. And I was losing patience.
I dropped his hand and backed away. “You had a phone call that upset you—upset you enough to punch a freaking hole in the wall—a phone call that you can’t tell me anything about but it led you to propose. There’s something going on. This is not just a whimsical romantic notion.”
His posture changed as he assumed a new tactic. “Marry me, Gwen. And I’ll tell you everything. All of it. Every single secret I have.”
I suddenly went cold. “That’s a pretty shitty ultimatum.” Hot rage blew in across my icy veins. “You think I’d marry you just to ease my curiosity?” I hadn’t pressed him. I hadn’t pressured him in any way to tell me anything, and he came back with this?
He was quick to amend. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. It’s not an ultimatum. It’s just…it’s just how it has to be. I wish it were different and it’s just not. Because I had obligations. And a road I was taking before I ever met you. I’m bound and it’s killing me. You have to hear me—it’s killing me. I need you. I want you. I love you. So I’m not suggesting you’d marry me to ease your curiosity, but I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t be a husband with secrets.”
He pulled me back into his arms. Back into his heaven. “Marry me, Gwen. Marry me and let me make you feel good. Let me bring you coffee in bed. Let me push your body and show you how beautiful you are. Let me cover you everywhere with love. Let me take care of you and adore you and be with you.”
If there were warmer words in the dictionary, I didn’t know them. If there were other phrases and sentiments that were capable of melting the most frozen parts of me, I’d never come across them. I’d accepted my role in life. I knew who I was and what my purpose was. I hadn’t been made to be noticed or adored. And this man—this man not only noticed and adored, but he worshipped.
And he knew how to make me believe that he’d worship me forever.
I let myself kiss him. I let myself feel his urgency and his sincere need for me through the movement of his lips and tongue. I let myself feel worthy of his devotion.
Then I stepped away—out of his heaven, out of his peace. And I prayed that one day, paradise could really be mine. “N-no,” I said, my voice catching. “I’m sorry. But I know I’m not wrong. It has to be no.”
His whole body fell in defeat.
Like a good dream that fades upon waking, I tried to cling to it, tried to bring some of it back. “Look, we need to spend more time together. Move in, maybe.” He was in L.A. more than half the week anyway. It was a compromise that I could agree to, though I had a feeling there wasn’t anything that could appease him at this point. He had his mind stuck on this one thing, for some reason, and there was nothing I could do to unstick him.
All animation was gone from his features now. He’d given up. “That won’t work. I don’t even know when I’ll be back in New York.”
“Because I won’t marry you?” My throat felt like it was closing, and my emotions were warring. Was I pissed at the emotional blackmail? Or was I worried that I was losing him entirely? Maybe a little bit of both.
“No. Because it’s not safe.”
“It’s not safe? Why is it not safe?”
He waved his hand. “Forget that.” He gathered himself, reigning in all expression. “Please don’t ask me to say more. This is how things are right now and I can’t change them. I don’t know if I’ll be able to be back here for a while.”
I thought he might have made a slip of some sort, but now I was focused on his last words. I don’t know if I’ll be back here for a while.
He delivered it with such stoicism, and I had to be—something—in response. Something that would counterbalance the complete impassiveness that he’d adopted after his stunning display of passion only a moment before.
Had to be something, so I chose pissed. “Okay, let me get this straight. You were going to marry me then abandon me?”
He put a palm up in the air as if he could stop my train of thought with the flash of his hand. “I was going to ask you to come with me.” Like that fixed everything. Like that made all the difference.
Like hell it fixed everything. The only difference it made was to make me more irked. “You mean, you were going to ask me to pick up and just leave everything? For you don’t know how long?”
His answer came in the form of a guilty smirk.
“Why would you think I’d do that? I can’t do that. I have a life here. A job. A sister. I can’t just leave.” My voice was getting higher and with it probably my blood pressure. I threw my head back like a Pez dispenser, but instead of letting out candy, I was letting out frustration. I couldn’t figure out why a normally rational person would be so unreasonable all of a sudden.
Unless I was fooling myself, and I really didn’t know enough about JC to know that he was normally rational.
Or maybe…
The comment about safety came back and my head popped back down in place. “JC, are you in trouble?”
He’d been pounding his fist against his forehead but stopped and met my eyes. “Not the kind of trouble you’re thinking.”
“I’m not thinking anything! I don’t have enough information from you to form any sort of thinking at all!”
My phone started ringing in my hand. I ignored it for two rings. Then, cursing under my breath, I glanced down and saw Norma’s name as well as the low battery flashing. It wasn’t the most appropriate time to take her call, but I needed to talk to her. And I needed a break from the conversation with JC. I needed a moment of levity.
I angled away from him and answered. “Hello?”
“Did I catch you at a good time?”
I stole a glance at JC. “Not really. But my phone’s going to die, so go ahead and talk.”
“Got it.” She was walking as she talked. I could hear her heels clipping along tiled floor. She almost never made a phone call while she was sitting still. It was a waste of time. She was more efficient than that. “Are you doing okay this morning?”
Honestly, I wasn’t sure. “That’s not really an easy question to answer.”
“I understand.” She didn’t, but I let her believe she did. “I’m sorry to make you do this, but I need to see you.”
I’d expected this. She’d need me to fill out my report and to sign it and whatever else the law required to file a charge against him. “Okay. When?”
“Now. I can have a car pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
Another glance at JC. I didn’t want to leave him this way. There was too much tension between us. “Can we make it a little later?”
“No. We’re meeting with an officer from the NYPD. He just called and this is when he’s available. We need to get your testimony and that security tape. He needs to see your face. Is it bruised?” She was so matter-of-fact about it. I’d always loved that about her. She wasn’t too precious or overly warm. She got things done. She took care of the details.
“Yeah. It’s pretty black-and-blue. He got me with his knuckles.”
“We’ll need to photograph that.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath in then blew it out. “Okay, then. I’ll be ready.”
“Four Seasons, right?”
“Yep.”
“The car will be there in fifteen.”
I held the phone to my ear a few seconds after she’d hung up. My gut had already been in knots about JC. I wasn’t ready to deal with my father too. All I really wanted to do was climb back into bed and start the day over again. Better yet, climb back into bed and repeat the night before—making love and whispering sweet nothings into the darkness.
But the sun was up and a car was on its way.
I turned back toward JC. “My sister,” I said. He’d watched me the entire call, his face even. “She needs me so we can file the charges against my father. She’s picking me up in fifteen. So.”
He nodded. Then he closed his eyes and ran his hand roughly across his forehead. He looked lost. Alone.
It broke parts of me that I didn’t know I had. I wanted to run to him, wanted to wrap him in my arms and make it better. Wanted to convince him that whatever he was wrestling couldn’t defeat him.
But I didn’t know that was true. I didn’t know anything about him at all, really.
I shook my head, not knowing how to deal with the situation, and definitely not having time for it. “I want to talk about this more later,” I said as I gathered my clothes from around the room. “We’ll work everything out.”
“Uh hmm.” He didn’t look at me, his thoughts elsewhere.
In the bathroom, I gave myself ten seconds to examine the colorful souvenir my father had given me, then forced myself to ignore it. I cleaned up in the sink and used some of JC’s deodorant before trading his shirt for the clothes I’d worn the day before. I brushed my teeth with my finger and his toothpaste. My hair took longer to deal with. It was a tangle of knots again, evidence of having been fucked well all night. Luckily, I found a ponytail holder on the bathroom counter from another visit and was able to fasten a messy bun.
When I came out, JC was dressed and sitting at the front room desk, working on his laptop.
“I’m going now,” I said, awkwardly.
He stood and crossed to me. “I heard what you said, Gwen. I want you to know that. But if you change your mind—I booked a room at the Trump Hotel in Vegas. There’s a flight at twelve-fifteen out of LaGuardia. I bought my ticket under Alex Mader, and I have another seat on hold for you. You could join me.”
My head was spinning. “Alex Mader? Is that your real name?”
“No. It’s the name I’m using to travel. Join me.”
His words started to hit me with comprehension. He was leaving. He was really leaving. Now. I had to go deal with my fucking father, and the man that I loved was fucking leaving and he didn’t know when he’d be back.
I started to tell him not to leave or to wait until I got back from seeing Norma, but he cut me off, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Don’t say anything. You have to go. I have to go right now too. I really don’t want to go without you. So think about joining me. Please.”
He kissed me. Like a last kiss, tasting of all the flavors of goodbye. Longing and sorrow. Melancholy and anguish. Desperation and regret. Finality.
When he broke away, he placed one more kiss on the tip of my nose. “Change your mind, Gwen. Change your mind.”