Page 44 of Don't Remind Me
The corners of his mouth lifted, and mine followed suit. Something in me warmed at the knowledge he and Aubrey were “get sloppy drunk and blackout on your couch” friends.
“The next morning, she reamed me out. Told me I needed to change something or I would end up losing everything I’d worked for. Or worse. When I got home, my girlfriend was looking at wedding dresses. She didn’t ask where I’d been, just turned to me and said she thought we should get married. When I asked her why, she said, ‘Well, why wouldn’t we?’ I puked in the toilet, then broke up with her. And then I moved out, changed jobs, got a cat, and found a therapist. I swapped out drinking for going to the gym too. Seemed like a better use of my time.”
“Wow,” I said. That was a change all right. One most people wouldn’t have been brave enough to make.
His gaze dropped to his lap. “I probably could have handled it better. It’s not like my ex was a bad person; she didn’t deserve to be blindsided like that. But I realized our entire relationship had been surface level. Just us going through the motions that had been scripted out by someone else, and I couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t ever want to be back in that place, living under a layer of smiles, pretending.”
His words from the night of the shift drink floated back to me. Something about him not being interested in anything that wasn’t real. It made more sense now. Spoke to the part of me that hadn’t been willing to settle for the few guys I’d dated since Alec, none of whom had sparked anything within me despite all the figurative boxes they’d ticked. Maybe even spoke to the part of me that had broken up with Alec in the first place.
Jase shifted in his seat. “Sorry. You didn’t need to hear my life’s story.”
“Don’t be.” I lifted a shoulder. “I asked.”
He peered at me, our stares connecting for the first time since he’d begun his story. We studied each other quietly for a moment before he turned away. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” He leaned forward to get up.
“Wait,” I said quickly.
Forearms on his knees, he glanced back.
“Stay a little longer?”
My muscles no longer trembled, and my pulse had returned to normal, but the thought of being alone just yet had my stomach clenching in knots that made me want to cling to him like I’d seen baby pandas do to their zookeeper’s legs.
His eyes filled with understanding, and he sank back into the cushions. The knot around my stomach loosened.
“What’s your favorite dish on the menu to cook?” I asked.
He raised an amused brow. “Why do you want to know?”
I gave another shrug. “I like hearing you talk about food.” Almost as much as I liked watching him cook it. Where I saw a zucchini, he saw unlimited possibilities. It was fascinating getting a peek into his mind in that way.
He fought a smile but humored me, telling me all about the pear and chestnut agnolotti and how it reminded him of cooking in Italy. Then he moved on to which dish he liked least and what he might replace it with. I shifted to face him, my shoulder pressed against the couch, and tilted my head to rest against the back cushion.
I didn’t notice my eyes close as the low, steady cadence of his voice enveloped me like a blanket. At some point, I registered the mug lifting from my hands and strong arms wrapping around me. Then weightlessness, nothing but the solid warmth beneath my cheek tethering me in place. A moment later, I sank into a cloud of softness, my mind following close behind.
Swaddled in the comfort of safety, I slept.
Chapter Eighteen
Jase
I tossedaround on the couch, bunching the pillow under my head for the fourth time in as many minutes, trying to get a little more sleep. It was still early. Especially considering how late Dani had finally passed out.
She would have fit easier on the couch than me, but I wanted her to have the bed. Mostly so she’d sleep better, but also so on the unlikely chance last night hadn’t been a false alarm and shedidhave a stalker, they would have to go through me before getting to her.
The desire to protect her still burned in my chest. She never told me what was written in the note that had been left on her car, but scrolling through some of the comments on her social media had been enough to give me an idea. I wanted to shield her from it. Pull her back into my arms and keep her there so I could block out anything that might harm her.
There was a good chance I was on that list.
I owed her another apology for last week. Probably an explanation too.
Honestly, it was hard to remember my reason for avoiding her when my mind kept wandering back to the thought of her sleeping in my bed. I could practically smell her on my sheets already. Lightly floral with an underlying sweetness I wanted to lick.
My groin ached, and I ran a hand over my face, officially giving up on more sleep. I sat up and scanned the room for Baxter, expecting him to jump on my lap and demand to be fed like he did most mornings at my first signs of stirring.
The morning sun filtered in through the large windows of my living room, brightening the apartment with natural light. No sign of my troublemaking cat, though.
I got to my feet and shuffled down the short hallway toward the bathroom, pausing when I spotted the bedroom door. I must not have closed it all the way last night, because it’d been pushed open, just wide enough for a small feline to squeeze through.
