Page 87 of Love Beyond the Illusion
I can’t breathe. Tears pour down my face.
“Piper. What’s wrong?” Jack repeats, a slight panic in his voice.
I want to answer him, but I can’t. My muscles are stiff. The surreal moment of us cooking dinner together, setting the table, and enjoying a meal like a family. Something that I’ve never done before.
My eyes blur before they once again spill. Each drop represents the things I’ve never experienced as a child I desperately wanted and the life I desire to create as an adult. I suck in gulps of air, my stomach spasming with every breath as I try to form the words to tell him.
When Jack saw my hysterical state, he jumped out of his chair and hurried around to the table. He twists me around to face him as his knees hit the floor in front of me. “Tell me what’s going on,” he demands, moving a loose hair away from my eyes.
My hands tremble. I try to gather myself to form a coherent sentence, but I’m not having much luck. Shoving my hands under my thighs, I angle my gaze toward the floor, partly ashamed of what I’m about to say. “I’m so sorry.” I sniff. “I’ve never cooked dinner and sat down to eat at a table like this with anyone.”
Jack’s forehead creases. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I never ate dinner together with my mom or her boyfriends while growing up.”
“Where did you guys eat if not at the table together?” He slides his palm up my temple and runs it through my hair before leaving it there.
“I ate alone.”
“Even when you were a young kid?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yes.”
Jack’s shoulders straighten, and I feel his grip tighten on the back of my head, nudging my forehead down to meet his. “You’re not alone right now.”
I sniff. This is ridiculous. I’ve spent plenty of dinners with friends and guys I’ve dated—so why does this time feel unlike any other before it? “I’m sorry, this is embarrassing. It’s not a big deal,” I say, wiping the wetness from my skin.
With his eyebrows still furrowed, he uses the corner of a napkin to dry the moisture on both sides of my face. “It is a big deal. It’s something that you needed as a child and didn’t get. I wish that I could give you everything you needed—need.”
“Thank you. I’ll be okay.” I give him a weak smile, but behind it is the sadness and loss of a typical childhood.
Jack nods, then rises to his feet, but not before stopping to rest his soft lips on my forehead. Giving me a kiss filled with safety and—love. My eyelids fall closed, knowing I’ll never forget the emotion behind this connection.
We spent dinner discussing his ideas for the winery and what he’d like to change. He even brings out his laptop to share all the marketing plans he intends to execute. He asks me for my opinion, and I happily provide it. Like everything else that happens between Jack and me, it’s natural and easy.
There were many points during the conversation where we could both tell that we were avoiding talking about our future and how to move forward. We haven’t talked about the divorce either, which has been on my mind for some time.How can we say goodbye to each other? How is none of this real?
I’m not naive enough to believe that we could have a fulfilling long-distance relationship or that, somehow, two strangers who got married in Vegas the first day they met would magically fall in love. I wish we had more time.
Later in the evening, I’m in bed, texting away in the group message with Avery, Lina, and Bailey, when Jack walks into the bedroom with only his boxers on and carries my bright pink vibrator in one hand.
I flush. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to make you feel good,” he states with excitement in his voice while opening the dresser drawer and grabbing a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold.
My insides flood with butterflies. “You always make me feel good.”
“I can’t get enough of it.” I barely see his mischievous smile through the dim lighting of the bedroom.
“What did you have in mind?” I cautiously ask, pulling my mouth to the side.
Jack stalks toward me, his hard length peeking out from the slit in his boxers as he crawls onto the bed. “You’ll see.”
Helplessly, I watch him tower over me, binding my wrists above my head and securing the blindfold over my eyes. We’ve done this many times, but the quick surge of panic at first still hits me. “You’re not going to tell me?”
