Room 314.
I stand in front of the door with its dark wood, keycard lock, and the sign next to it with the room number in digits and in Braille. Fidgeting with the zipper on my purse and shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I’m trying to muster the courage to knock, but those commands from my brain aren’t reaching my muscles for some reason.
It took Paige about twenty minutes to drive me here. We talked about the funeral and about the girls, and then I asked her how she and Logan are doing. Because I knew that would bug her and she deserved payback for the way she’s been getting up in my business.
But I mostly asked because I’m worried about her. It makes no sense to me that she’s here by herself. Sure, I get that she didn’t want to bring Freya and Abigail to the funeral, but couldn’t they all have come and Logan just watched the kids during the service? Or at the very least, couldn’t her father-in-law have looked after the girls for one day so that Logan could’ve made the trip up here to attend the funeral of his pregnant wife’s grandmother?
And the decision for him to stay behind, was that hers or his? I’m guessing hers, because if it wasn’t, then my brother-in-law is not the man I thought he was.
Paige clamped up when I asked. I managed to get her to admit they’re having problems, but she downplayed it, assuring me it’s not a big deal—while still refusing to give any details.
So I let it go. Because unlike her, I’m not a pain-in-the-ass busybody. And if anyone is capable of taking care of and standing up for herself, it’s my big sister.
The last thing she told me as I exited her rental car was, “Be nice.” Which just wasn’t necessary, because I’m twitchy and nervous but not angry, and I’m not here for a confrontation.
No, I’m here for one of two possible outcomes: reconciliation or closure. Which one it’ll end up being, I have no idea.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I clench my hand into a fist and lift it up to the door. And there it hovers while anguish twists and stabs inside me. I can still change my mind. Catch an Uber back to my parents’ house and just go to bed. That’d definitely be easier. I’m pretty tired. Might even be able to sleep.
No, actually, there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.
I knock, and then I wait. And wait and wait and wait. Shit. Is he not here? Guess I hadn’t considered that possibility.
But just as I raise my fist to rap on the door again, I hear the click of the lock on the other side. The door opens inward, and there he is. My heart surges at the sight of him.
He’s barefoot but still wearing his navy-blue suit pants with a white shirt, its top buttons undone. His hair looks disheveled, and he’s squinting sleepily at me. I must have woken him up. Which probably means he flew up here this morning straight from a night shift. The thought leaves me kind of breathless.
“Can I come in?” I ask cautiously.
“Depends.” He raises and twists his arm to glance at his watch, and I’m gritting my teeth. Then he fixes his inscrutable gaze on me and asks, “Are you going to yell at me again?”
“No,” I promise, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
He steps back and aside, holding the door open for me to enter. So I do.
The hotel room looks like a hotel room—a dresser with a small flat-screen, a desk with an office chair, an armchair in the corner, and nightstands with lamps on either side of the king-size bed with its rumpled sheets and pillow.
I stop by the foot of the bed as the door slams shut, turning to watch him approach me. He comes to a halt just out of arm’s reach and outside my personal space.
It shook me to the core earlier, when I saw him standing there in church. He looked so handsome in that perfectly fitting suit, still Jay and still gorgeous and sexy. Jay, with his soulful blue eyes and square, stubble-shadowed chin, and his firm lips that I hadn’t felt on my skin in so long that I could scream with the yearning of it.
“I’m sorry I got mad at you earlier,” I say.
Calmly scrutinizing me, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “That’s okay. I should’ve told you I was coming.”
“Yeah, but I definitely overreacted.” I meet his gaze as long as I can stand it, hopefully long enough that he can see I mean it, and then I shrug off my purse and set it down on the dresser before going on. “And I actually appreciate you coming. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
God, I wish this was over with. Maybe I should just get it all out at once, the stuff that’s pressing down on my chest and pounding inside my head? I don’t have the energy for a long, drawn-out rehashing of that nasty exchange in my car. I just can’t do that, not today.
So, yeah. Best to get it over with. After a quick mental checklist of everything I need to get off my chest, I jump right in, saying, “My dad told me what he said to you back in May. About you and me. He apologized. And I’m sorry, too, Jay. I can’t believe he said that to you. It’s crap, and I’m sorry.”
He’s blinking at me, his eyes glinting with emotions I can’t define, except I know now that my dad’s words bothered him. But how big of a part did that play in his decision to end things with me?
“I thought about you,” I continue without giving him time to say anything, “the day your dad was—” Executed. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. “I thought about you all day and wished I could be with you.”
Jay has no reaction to that except to regard me calmly. Gone is the obvious turmoil from when he told me about his dad. I want to ask him questions, get him to talk about it, but now’s not the time. I feel like I have no time left at all, so I forge on.
“I saw Matt.” The words kind of fall out of my mouth, and my heart starts hammering. Jay’s brows come crashing back down, confusion flickering in his eyes while I rush on with an explanation. “I got tired of you—and Angela, too, actually—accusing me of still being hung up on him, so I decided to meet him and talk to him. And you were both kind of right, I guess.”
His jaw flexes. “Right, how?”
“That I hadn’t really moved on. But it was more about me than him.” I look down at the carpet, which is striped in multicolored earth tones. Absently, I start picking and scraping at the blood-red nail polish on my thumb. “I thought he felt the same and wanted the same things I did. So when he cheated and left me for her, I thought it was because he’d decided I wasn’t good enough. That there was something wrong with me.”
Jay is silent for a split second, and then he scoffs. “That’s ridiculous, Mia.”
“I know. Well, I know that now.”
Our eyes lock. His look is bright and penetrating, and there’s something about his stiffened stance, the way he’s standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders squared, that makes it seem like he’s restraining himself.
“Matt wanted to see me again,” I tell him.
“And did you?” The question comes out like the crack of a whip, and I can hear from his ominous tone that if I don’t give him the right answer, this laid-back man—who I love so much it almost slays me—that man is going to totally lose his chill.
Do you love him? Have you told him?
I swallow hard. “No,” I say, hearing my own voice soften and crack. “No, I told him to go to hell. And I told him I’m in love with someone else.”
“What?” The dark and coiled anger in Jay’s face drains away, replaced by frozen and blinking surprise.
“What I didn’t tell him is that that someone else is you,” I go on, my throat and voice growing thick, “or that the biggest reason what he did was such a good thing for me was because then I found you. And I can’t regret that, not for anything.”
Jay exhales loudly.
I don’t wait for his reply, though. I have more to get off my chest first. “Matt also told me he didn’t feel bad that he lost your friendship. And he said that was because he thought you were in love with me.”
With a sigh and barely audible grunt, Jay slides his gaze away. Runs his hand through his sleep-mussed hair.
“Is that true?” I ask with my heart in my throat and my limbs trembling, unable to stand the uncertainty for another second. “If it’s true, I need you to tell me, Jay. Because I love you, and I’ve missed you, and I want you back. And not just as a friend or a friend with benefits. I want more than that.”
While he frowns and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain, my throat closes up, and tears burn behind my eyes. I need him to talk now. My breath shaky, I choke out, “If you don’t feel the same way, please just tell me so that I can go away and we can be done with this.”
One minute he’s standing there silently, still too far away from me, and then he’s invading my space. His hands cradle my head, his fingers digging into and loosening my tightly pinned hair, and I tip my neck back to welcome his lips as they come crashing down on mine.
I’m clutching at the front of his shirt, a startled whimper of wanting building in my throat. This isn’t a friendly peck. He’s kissing me like a lover, like a soul mate—like a man who’s claiming me, branding me, and planning to keep me. It’s Jay, and he’s kissing me, and before today I truly thought I’d never see him again, never get to talk to him or touch him or experience the joy of just being near him. And now he’s holding me and kissing me, and the relief and pleasure of it is dizzying.
With his firm hold still on my head, he pulls back an inch, his eyes boring into mine as he says harshly, “I’m crazy about you, Mia. And if you think I’m going to let you walk out that door, you’re fucking crazy, too.”
“Really?” I whisper, his face blurring as my eyes fill with liquid.
“Really.” His Adam’s apple bobbing, he slides his thumb up to wipe away the tear that escapes from the corner of my eye. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met. I was already in love with you when you asked if I was attracted to you; I just hadn’t admitted it to myself, and that’s why your wanting to be friends with benefits was so fucking terrifying.”
Sniffling, I close my eyes, which squeezes more tears onto my cheeks. “You hurt me more than Matt did,” I confess in a strangled voice. “When you kicked me out of your life.”
He nods. Bends closer so that his forehead and his nose touch mine. “I’m sorry. I was being a coward and an asshole,” he grinds out. “It was easier and safer than telling you the truth. Easier than telling you that I love you and that what I actually couldn’t do anymore was pretend I don’t.”
I feel like I’m melting and bursting all at once. Jay. I want to climb inside him and never leave. I want to live and breathe and love him, and only him, until I can’t remember even my own name anymore.
I decide to say one last thing about my ex-boyfriend, and then I never want to talk about him again. Reaching up to put my hand on Jay’s cheek, I murmur, “Matt was my first. I want you to be my last.”
His answer is to slant his head and capture my mouth again. Letting go of my head, he slips both hands down to my ass. I feel the warmth from his palms as he pushes me against himself, so that I can feel his hardness against my lower abdomen.
“I missed you,” he says in between the kissing, the nipping at my bottom lip. “So fucking much.”
A stabbing, throbbing heat shoots down my spine and between my thighs. Tugging at his shirt buttons, I say, “Show me.”
I don’t think I or anyone else has ever gotten me undressed so fast. Kicking off my flats, I’m raising my arms while he yanks my dress up and over my head, and then he unsnaps my bra with a lot less effort than that first time in my bathroom when he was so reluctant to help me get ready for the shower.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of my panties, he bends his neck and draws a nipple into his mouth, and I let out a small moan as he pushes my underwear down past my thighs, where it slides to the floor on its own. While he keeps sucking and grazing his teeth on my tits and seems content to take his sweet-ass time about it, I’m clawing at his belt.
“Help me, dammit,” I snap at him as I struggle to get the belt undone, and he thankfully brushes my hand away, and almost before I can blink, his pants and his boxers and his shirt are all gone.
“The watch, too.” I gesture at the metallic band on his wrist.
Raising his eyebrows at me, he unclasps the watch, tosses it down on his pile of clothes, and then he pushes me so that my butt bounces down on the bed.
Immediately I draw my legs up and dig my heels into the mattress, scooting myself backward until I’m all the way on the bed. I lie back on the cool sheets, my breathing shallow and loud in my ears, and I keep my eyes fastened on him as I spread my knees wide, baring myself to him.
“Jesus,” he breathes out, his face taut with lust, his eyes burning darkly. And while he takes a moment to just stand there and watch me, I’m running my gaze down his naked body, too—from the veins in his neck to the broad span of his shoulders and the toned planes of his chest and abs, down to his muscled thighs.
And there at the center of him, his thick and long cock, erect and straining. My pussy is aching with my need for him, and when he crawls onto the bed between my legs and pushes them wider apart, I reach down and wrap my hand around him. He hangs his head and lets out a groan, and I tighten my grip around the hard and smooth length of his cock, panting so fast my mouth feels dry, my lungs heavy.
Stroking him, I murmur, “I want you inside me, Jay. It’s been so long. I’ve missed it. I’ve been dreaming about you again.”
“Jesus, Mia,” he says, echoing himself. And then he slips a finger inside me, his thumb finding my clit, and I moan and arch off the bed.
He dips down, and I shudder and shiver as I feel his teeth on my neck. Easily sliding in a second finger, he curves them both up to rub my G-spot. With a gasp, I press myself against his hand, thrusting my hips to the rhythm of him finger-fucking me.
“You’re so goddamned wet,” he growls near my ear.
“Because I’m ready for you,” I say breathlessly. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
He lets out a disgusted grunt, and while he pulls his slick fingers out of me and grabs his dick, stroking it a few times, lubricating it with the stickiness from my pussy, he says, “I need to get a ball gag or something for you.”
Ugh. Jerk. I narrow my eyes and reach down to grab him and guide him inside me, but he catches my hands and wrenches them up above my head, pinning them to the mattress.
And then he drives himself inside me. He goes deep, deeper than I’m ready for, and I wince and whimper with the slight burst of pain—a whimper that turns into a moan as he starts pumping into me.
“You okay?” comes his rumbling, panting voice.
“Yeah,” I say, hooking my legs around him, drawing him down against me. “Don’t stop.”
His cock is stroking inside me, and for the third time, he gasps, “Jesus.” And then, “You feel so good, Mia.”
Oh, my God. So does he. I’m arching and straining to the sound of flesh slapping on flesh as he pounds into me, and I’m getting closer, so close. Above my head, he threads his fingers with mine, and our gazes meet and hold.
“Do it harder,” I’m panting out, pleading with my eyes, and he does, and I cry out as it feels like my skin starts on fire. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Jay. I’m coming.”
I tense up and go still as the orgasm shoots in waves through my whole body, moaning helplessly while Jay pumps inside me once more, twice, and then he groans and buries himself to the hilt. I can feel him spilling himself deep in my pussy, can feel the surge of liquid heat, and I squeeze my muscles tighter around him, which wrings another grunt of pleasure from him, this one sounding almost like pain.
He lets go of my hands to brace himself on his elbows, his face on the mattress next to my head, and his chest and my breasts are touching and heaving in unison as we try to slow our breathing.
Keeping his grip on me, he rolls on his side, taking me with him. His dick slides out of me. I leave my leg draped over him, closing my eyes as he pulls me up and gives me a slow, lingering kiss. Releasing a sigh of contentment, I start stroking the back of his neck with my fingertips.
“I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re number one, Mia. No one and nothing is more important to me. I’m sorry I didn’t figure that out sooner.”
I pull back a little to look into his eyes, still caressing the hot and smooth skin on his neck, which sends small shudders down his back. “What about working with your uncle?” I ask, because it has to be said and I’ve avoided saying it too long already. And because months ago, that sure had seemed a lot more important to him than me.
He gives a quick shake of his head. “I’m not doing that if it means I have to leave you.”
That answer warms and chills me all at once. I don’t want to be the reason he gives up on his plans. I don’t want to take that away from him, and I can’t stand the thought of him resenting me for it.
“That’s not really okay,” I tell him firmly.
“Well, you could come with me,” he says after a moment’s pause, running his thumb lightly over my side from under my arm and down to my waist, making me twitch when it kind of tickles. “They need nurses. And if you got your midwife certification, they’d take you in a heartbeat.”
Mhmm. Sounds great.
Wait, what? Is he serious? I fall back farther away from him, leaving his arms to push up on my elbow and stare at him with my mouth slightly agape, feeling like I just woke up from a deep sleep and am finding myself in a completely strange place.
“Only if you want to,” he reassures me as he watches me, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to or that you should feel guilty if you don’t want to.”
Wow. Okay. I fall back on the mattress, my eyes on the whitewashed hotel room ceiling. My mind balks. This is his ambition, not mine. Yeah, it’s great that he wants me by his side, but I’m not sure it’s right for me.
Then the memory of Trisha Michaelson rushes back, and I’m remembering how she held that tiny lifeless bundle, and how, when I put my arms around her shoulders, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.
Working as a midwife for Relief International. Huh. Maybe…
“Don’t they just send people where they’re needed, though?” I say, twisting my head to look at him. “If we ended up in different places, that would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”
“I looked that up on their website. It said they consider people’s requests to share assignments on an individual basis.” He reaches out and picks up my hand, traces the scar between my thumb and index finger, which is now a pale, jagged line of bumpy skin. And then he threads his fingers with mine, saying, “And it said that married couples who are accepted for positions always end up staying together.”
My breath rushes out, and my stomach starts doing cartwheels. For several heartbeats, I can’t find my voice. And then I’m squeaking out, “Are you proposing to me right now?”
He gives me a tiny smile and says, “I guess so.”
What the hell? Is he for real? Grinding out a low snarl of disgust, I yank my hand out of his. With my palm, I give him a shove on his chest.
“Hey,” he exclaims in surprise, confusion in his face as he clamps his hand around my wrist. “The hell?”
I tug on my hand, but he doesn’t let go, so I clench it into a fist and scowl at him. “This is the way you’re asking a woman to spend the rest of her life with you? On a bed in a dirty hotel room, after you just screwed her, and with no ring and zero effort? Seriously?”
He has the audacity to grin at me, his pale eyes twinkling. “I thought this room was pretty clean, actually.”
Huffing, I press my lips together. Throw daggers at him with my eyes.
“And it just so happens you’re wrong about the ring.” Letting go of me, he vaults off the bed and takes the couple of steps over to where his duffel bag sits on the floor. Unzipping a side pocket, he digs something out and pads back to the bed with a strange expression on his face—triumph and mischief melded together.
As I watch him with a little bit of curiosity and a lot of apprehension, he sits back down on the edge of the bed and thrusts out his open hand. In the middle of which a tiny silvery ring gives off a dull gleam, its giant and obviously fake pink jewels glittering in the reflection of the bedside lamp.
“Oh, my God,” I breathe out. “What is that?”
Jay lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Freya gave it to me the last time I saw her, just as we were leaving. She said it was for when I asked you to marry me.”
I’m blinking at him. Well. That’s really sweet of my niece, and I can totally picture her telling him that in absolute seriousness.
“And you kept it?” I ask, eyeing the toy ring with a smile. Because really, this is pretty adorable all around.
“Well…” is all he says, making a face.
Yeah, okay. I get it. Pursing my lips, I ask, “You just put it in your bag and forgot about it, didn’t you?”
“Yup.” He has the grace to look a tad embarrassed now. While still smirking.
I shake my head and pluck the ring out of his hand, examining it more closely. “It’s way too small.”
Jay retrieves the toy. The ring is not a perfect circle, the bottom ends having a gap between them, and pinching it between both his thumbs and forefingers, he pulls the ends apart, widening it.
“There.” He holds it back out to me.
“Are you putting it on my finger?” I raise my eyebrows and offer my outstretched hand to him.
He hesitates, all traces of playfulness gone from his gaze. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”
I make my lips twitch in a quick smile. “Do you think I should?”
“I definitely think you should,” he says, nodding solemnly.
“If I say yes, does that mean I’m agreeing to go work at Relief International with you? Because I need to think about that some more.”
“No,” Jay says emphatically. “It doesn’t mean that. You take the time you need to decide if you want to go.”
I’m having a hard time catching my breath. Jay is mine. He’s going to stay with me, no matter what. And there’s not a part of me, not even a tiny fraction, that has doubts about what to tell him right now. Because nothing has ever felt more right than the thought of spending the rest of my life with this man.
Still, the temptation to mess with him is too strong. So I frown with mock concern and ask, “Would you object if I hyphenated my last name like Paige did?”
Sighing, he lets his hand that’s still holding the ring fall to the bed. “You can do whatever you want as long as you let me censor your iTunes playlist on a regular basis. How about that?”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “That’s kind of a deal breaker, Jay.”
Grunting with annoyance, he tosses the ring aside and climbs onto all fours on the bed, putting on his best dark and menacing expression as he advances on me. Laughter gurgles out of me as I flop over and scramble to get away, but he grabs my ankle and pulls me back.
Rolling over on my back again, I kick halfheartedly at the restraint, giggles still bubbling up from my chest. And when he moves to cover my body with his, I jerk my hands up to block him, but he grabs them and pins them to the bed on either side of my head.
I suck in a sharp breath as I take in the expression on his face. He’s got that look, like he’s starving and I’m the first scrap of food he’s seen in days.
I close my eyes and arch up into him as his mouth finds my throat, lightly biting a trail up to my ear. My lungs feel overfull with air, and as his teeth graze my earlobe, a high-pitched moan escapes me.
“Yes or no?” he says, his breath fanning hotly on my ear.
I bend my neck as far as it can stretch, nuzzling my face into his hair.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Jay.”
“And continue to be my best friend?” He pushes himself up, lets go of my wrist to drag his thumb down the side of my face and across my bottom lip.
“With lots of benefits,” I agree, the corners of my mouth tugging up in a smile.
His eyes intense and serious, his voice quiet, he states more than asks, “Forever.”
With a nod and burning eyes, I swallow down the knot in my throat and say, “And always.”