Page 25 of Cupid's Beau

“Other things like avoiding me?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

He stills, his back to me. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’ve been doing nothing but that since this morning.” I stand, needing to move. “Last night you couldn’t keep your hands off me, and now you can barely look at me.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it, Jack.”

He finally turns to face me, and something flickers in his beautiful eyes - pain? Regret? But his voice stays carefully neutral. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

“Shouldn’t have happened?” The fuck?… “Which part? The dancing? The kissing? The fucking? Or just the part where you let your fucking walls down for five fucking minutes?”

“Neneh-”

“No, you know what? Keep your bullshit, Jack Ellis. I’m going upstairs.” I head for the stairs, then pause. “And Jack? ‘It’s complicated’ is boy speak, not grown man.”

I make it to my room before the tears start, hating myself for crying, hating him for being a fucking closed-off jackass, hating that I let myself believe last night meant something. Everything…

I wake to the sound of waves and my phone buzzing. It’s my mother.

“How’s Jack?” she asks, too cheerful for my mood.

I stare at the ceiling, at the way morning light plays across it. “Fine.”

Her voice softens. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” Everything went to shit. “Just… being stupid. Thinking something was there that wasn’t.”

There’s a long pause. Then: “Did I ever tell you how your father disappeared for a week after our first night together?”

“What?!” I sit up abruptly. “Ma!”

“Oh, yes. Went completely silent. I was ready to fly back home, convinced I’d imagined everything between us.” She makes a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “Men sometimes run whenthings get real. Especially men who aren’t used to letting people in.”

“This isn’t the same, Ma.”

“Maybe not. But, chérie? Maybe give him a chance to tell you why he’s running before you give up. Feelings are scary, and men can be dumb.”

I laugh, feeling a bit better. Then I hear movement downstairs - cupboards opening, the coffee machine starting.

“I have to go,” I tell her. “I’ll call you later. Love you, Ma. you’re the best!”

I find Jack in the kitchen, looking like he hasn’t slept. He’s staring out at the ocean, coffee untouched in front of him. Looking like some brooding Heathcliff. I hate him. Well, not really. Ugh.

“Your mom?” he asks without turning.

My step falters. “How’d you know?”

He just shrugs, before running a hand through his already messy hair. “Is she… are they okay? With all this?”

I pour myself coffee, needing something to do with my hands. “I think so.”

Then Jack turns and the look on his face stops me. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, Neneh.”

I just watch him. Silent. Trying to keep it together. To not let myself hope again.

Jack takes a step toward me, then stops himself. “I’m trying to protect you.”

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