Page 85 of Worth the Wait

I glance across the table where Jackson is laughing with my sisters, his head thrown back, true happiness radiating from him. "I know exactly what you mean," I reply softly.

Chapter 22

Jackson

Istand in the middle of Tarryn's apartment—soon to be her former apartment—surrounded by the remnants of her Chicago life, boxed up and labeled with meticulous precision. The muscles in my back ache pleasantly from hours of sorting, packing, and taping. My shirt clings to my skin, damp with exertion and the late spring heat that fills her space now that the air-conditioning has been turned off.

"I think that's the last of them," I announce, sealing a box labeled Kitchen Miscellaneous with a decisive strip of packing tape. I roll my shoulders, feeling the satisfying pull of tired muscles as I straighten up.

Tarryn looks up from her inventory list, her chestnut hair falling in a messy curtain across her face. She tucks it behind her ear with an absent-minded gesture. The simple movement exposes the elegant curve of her neck, the delicate hollow at the base of her throat where I've pressed countless kisses.

"Are you sure?" she asks, scanning the room with those sharp eyes that miss nothing—not in a legal brief, not in her apartment. "What about the photo albums under the bed?"

I smile, enjoying this moment of predictability between us.

"Already packed," I tell her, moving closer, drawn to her presence like I always am. "Box labeled Memories J&T. Right there by the door."

I rest my hand on the small of her back, feeling her warmth through the thin fabric of her Northwestern t-shirt. "You ready for this?" I ask, my voice dropping to that lower register that I know affects her, watching with satisfaction as goosebumps rise along her arms despite the warmth of the day. "New York. New jobs. New apartment. New everything."

She leans into my touch, her body responding to mine with the instinctive familiarity that eight years of separation couldn't erase. Her eyes meet mine. "With you?" she says, turning fully into my arms. "I'm ready for anything."

I cup her face between my palms, studying the features I've memorized a thousand times over—the slight arch of her eyebrows, the scatter of freckles across her nose that only appear in summer, the full curve of her lower lip that still tastes like the strawberry lip balm she's used since we were teenagers. The gold daisy pendant gleams at her throat, a constant reminder of our beginning, our separation, and our reunion.

"We've come a long way from that daisy field," I murmur, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. She smiles, a secret curve of lips that's just for me.

I can't resist her any longer. I lower my mouth to hers, tasting her. Her arms wind around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls me closer. I lose myself in the sensation of her body pressed against mine, in the soft sound she makes when I deepen the kiss.

My hands slide under the hem of her t-shirt, fingers splaying across the warm skin of her lower back. She arches into my touch with a familiar eagerness that sets my blood on fire. Even after months of rediscovering each other physically, I'm still amazed by how perfectly we fit together, how her body respondsto mine as if we were designed as complementary pieces of the same whole.

"Jackson," she murmurs against my lips, her voice carrying that husky note that drives me wild. "We still have to finish packing."

"It's nearly done," I counter, trailing kisses along her jawline to that sensitive spot just below her ear that always makes her shiver. "We deserve a break."

Her laugh vibrates against my lips, a delicious sensation that sends heat spiraling through me. "A break, huh? Is that what we're calling it now?"

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, letting her see the full force of my desire. "I'm calling it making memories in this apartment while we still can."

Something molten flares in her gaze, her pupils dilating as her hands tighten in my hair. "Well, when you put it like that…"

My phone chooses that exact moment to shatter the building tension, its shrill ring cutting through the charged atmosphere. Tarryn laughs again, this time with a hint of resignation as she steps back. I reluctantly release her, fishing my phone from my pocket with an apologetic grimace.

"Hayes," I answer, not bothering to hide my frustration. “Yup. Nine a.m. We’ll be ready. Thanks.”

After ending the call, I place my phone back on the counter. "That was the movers confirming their arrival time tomorrow.”

She nods, glancing around the space that's been her home for the past two years. "Hard to believe it's really happening. Sometimes I wake up thinking this has all been an elaborate dream—finding you again, rebuilding what we lost, moving to New York together."

I move toward her again, turning her to face the large windows that overlook Chicago's skyline. Standing behind her,I wrap my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder.

"Look out there," I say softly. "That's where we found each other again. Where we got a second chance that most people never get."

She leans back against my chest, her hands covering mine where they rest on her stomach. "Sometimes I'm still terrified, you know. That it's too good to be true. That something will happen to tear us apart again."

I tighten my arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Not this time, baby.”

She turns in my arms, her expression serious now. "Do you ever regret it? Those eight years we lost?"

I consider her question carefully, knowing she deserves complete honesty. "I regret the pain we caused each other. The miscommunications. The pride that kept me from telling you the truth about why I couldn't join you at Northwestern."

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