Page 100 of The Attic on Queen Street
We stared at each other for a long moment until he lowered his head and brought his lips to mine gently, like a person testing water in a tub. He pulled back, his eyes looking into mine as if he was gauging my reaction. I wanted to reach behind his neck and pull him closer, but I couldn’t. I was already halfway there. I just needed him to meet me in the middle.
He moved forward, pressing me against the side of the bed. “Say no and I’ll stop. No regrets.”
I managed to find my voice. “I don’t have a single regret where we’re concerned, Jack. I’ve never done anything but love you.”
He exhaled, his lips following the trail of his warm breath down the side of my neck, sending goose bumps—the good kind—up and down my body. Then he kissed me again—a real kiss this time—as we tumbled onto the rumpled sheets, where the last thing on my mind was regret.
•••
I awoke in Jack’s bed, the gray light of dawn beginning to erase the shadows, with what sounded like a marching band playing a celebratory piece in my head, complete with sliding trombones and clashing cymbals. I opened my eyes, surprised to find myself smiling, remembering all the reasons why.
My smile slipped when I felt the absence of a warm body next to mine. I sat up, the covers that someone had neatly tucked around me falling off. Jack wasn’t in the bed or anywhere in the room. His running shoes were thrown in a corner, and his laptop was missing. I placed my hand on Jack’s pillow, any residual warmth long gone in the chill of morning.
Scrambling to the other side of the bed, I picked up the bedside clock and held it within two inches of my face so I could read it. Six thirty. A part of me was relieved that it was still early enough for me to return tomy room undetected to dress, but the largest part of me wondered why Jack had gone.
I slid from the bed, shivering as I searched the room for my nightgown before I found it draped over a lampshade. I threw it on, then headed for the door, stopping before I reached it. On the floor right inside the room lay a piece of notepaper, folded in half, that appeared to have been slipped beneath the door.
Eagerly, I bent to pick it up, hesitating briefly to contain my excitement.
Mellie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen last night. I’m completely at fault and ashamed of myself. Things are still so unsettled between us, and I don’t want to give false hope. I do love you. I just need more time. Jack
I felt light-headed for a moment, and when the blood flowed back to my head and extremities, it was accompanied by a strong dose of motivating anger. I remembered what my mother had said about me being her warrior daughter, who knew how to fight for what she wanted.
I crumpled the note and threw it on the bed before storming out the door. My mother might have been right about me knowing how to fight, but she’d also mentioned that I had a forgiving heart. And that was something I was no longer sure was true.
CHAPTER 27
Later that morning, I piled into my car with my mother and Jayne. My father had arrived with my mother to watch the twins; he had brought child-sized plastic gardening implements with grand plans to begin teaching JJ and Sarah about gardening. Beau was back at the fence doing the laborious task of repairing it, the sound of an old-fashioned cash register clanging in my head each time I spotted him.
I buckled my seat belt, then pulled my car onto Tradd Street, trying to unclench my jaw at my thoughts of Jack and the note.
“Why is Mrs.Houlihan so upset with you?” my mother asked as she settled her gloved hands in her lap.
“Because I rearranged the kitchen drawers and relabeled everything. I mean, I might not know how to use any of the appliances, but itismy kitchen. I had a lot of pent-up energy this morning and I decided to do something useful with it.”
“You should have gone for a run,” Jayne suggested from the backseat.
“I said I needed to release energy, not torture myself.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” my mother added. “You do know how to use the microwave, refrigerator, and coffeemaker.”
I shot her a narrow-eyed glance. “Thanks, Mother.”
“Where’s Jack?” Jayne asked. “I saw his room was empty when I went upstairs to dress the twins.”
With as casual a tone as I could muster, I said, “I’m not sure. He left early this morning before I woke up and didn’t tell me where he was going.”
I felt both sets of eyes on me. “He’s deep in a book right now. I’m assuming he’s either doing research in a library somewhere or at his apartment.”
They didn’t say anything, but I felt their probing looks. My phone dinged with a text, and before I could recall that it was in the purse I’d tossed on the floor of the passenger side, my mother had pulled it out.
“It’s from Jack,” she said. “Do you want me to read it?”
I swerved onto the on-ramp to the Ravenel Bridge. “No, that’s—”
“The part I can see says to ‘read before visit to Rebecca’s house.’ ”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit deflated. Not that I’d really been expecting an apology or an invitation for more discussion about the previous night, but still... “Okay. My security code is—”
