Page 42 of Love Beyond the Illusion
“Hmm?” I crack my eyelids open. Jack’s eyes and parted lips are mere inches from my face. My gaze immediately falls to his bare chest. Then, to the small white towel wrapped loosely around his waist. I wonder what else he’s hiding under there besides the ripped abs on his stomach.
“I’m going to sleep on the couch. I’ll see you in the morning.” His smooth, sultry voice liquifies my insides. Everything melts, pooling between my legs. My thighs twitch. I push them together, dulling the ache. It’s been a long time since I’ve used one of my battery-operated friends. I brought one with me, but how the hell am I going to use it with him here?
I rub my lips together, unable to look at anything else but that light piece of cotton that’s separating me from what’s underneath it. I wonder how mad he’d be if I gently yanked it off. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, see you in the morning,” I grit out before rolling over. I’ll spend another night craving to know what it would be like to have his strong arms around me while I sleep. I toss and turn, unable to slow my racing pulse. This is infuriating. How can he smell so fucking delicious and look so effortlessly sexy without even trying? I flip over on my back, cover my face with the pillow, and wait for my nerves to settle or for sleep to come.
I wake up the next morning to the sound of my cell phone buzzing next to my ear. The warmth from the sun gingerly escapes through the thin slats of the closed shutters. Jack is probably up—like always. I roll over and pull my phone from the charger.
Roxy: I need your advice.
Roxy: Where are you?
Roxy: Hello?
Roxy: I need you.
Roxy: Why aren’t you answering?
Roxy: I haven’t seen or spoken to you in a couple of days. You know you can’t do this to me.
Roxy: Fine. I figured you wouldn’t be there for me. You never are. Do you need space again? Whatever. But when I need space from you, you never check on me to see if I’m okay.
I read through these familiar messages first thing in the morning, which effectively kills the buzz I had from dreaming about what Jack was hiding under his white towel. I rub the sides of my temples in a circular motion. Roxy is spiraling again. She goes through these manic-like episodes every few months or so. She’ll become erratic, emotional, and, at times, even hateful. They’ve worsened in the last few years since she moved closer to me again.
I decide to call her back instead of text and, to no surprise, she picks up on the first ring. “Oh, you finally decided to call your mother back,” she snaps.
Rolling my eyes, I sit up straight in bed. “Sorry, I’ve been in Northern California. I told you I was going to be here for a week.”
“I know that. I wasn’t worried. I just needed to talk to you about Rick,” she says.
“Who’s Rick?”
“That older gentleman I met at the exotic car show over the summer.”
“Yeah, okay. What’s up?”
“Now, I kind of don’t want to tell you. I needed you last night. If you would have answered, then you’d get to know,” she whines. This is also something she does. Roxy likes to give me the silent treatment as a form of punishment. This time, she’s threatening to withhold her communication like I need to earn it.
I hear some light banging in the kitchen, followed by the sound of water. Jack is up. I get a little flutter in my stomach and the urge to get off the phone to see him.
“Stop playing games. Just tell me.”
“Fine, if you really want to know, his son and his grandkids want to go to Cabo San Lucas with us next month, but I don’t want them to. I’d like it to be only me and him. We got into an argument about that, and he said that if I’m going to be in his life, then I need to get used to spending time with his kids and their families,” she complains.
Seriously, she is such a child.
“Roxy, there is nothing wrong with that. If anything, you should feel grateful that he has a close relationship with his kids and especially his grandkids. Not everyone does,” I tell her.
“Oh, here we go. Another dig about what a horrible mom I was.” Her voice is pinched, and I can tell she’s getting defensive.
I throw the comforter off and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Sitting up, I hold up my phone with one hand, already mentally drained from such a brief conversation with my mother. “I’m not going to get into this with you. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“That’s how it always goes with you, Piper. You act so ungrateful like you had such a horrible childhood.”
I need to save what’s left of my emotional energy and end this call. “I’m back in town on Sunday, and we can talk then if you’re still upset.” I stand in front of a rectangular mirror that hangs behind the dresser, fluffing my hair and wiping the sleep from my eyes.
