Page 10 of Mr. On Your Knees
“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she replied honestly. “Is that what you want to hear? That I made the decision to walk away even though I knew I would still suffer.”
“I never wanted you to suffer,” he said then dragged both his hands down his face. “I never wanted you to go, Desi. I wanted…I just…”
“You just what?” She tilted her head slightly and frowned. “What did you want, Jared? To be able to go to that sex club and get laid then come home to me and get laid. Or no, cuddle?”
His forehead wrinkled and his lips pressed into a tight line. He was irritated. Good because so the hell was she. He was the one who insisted on doing this, so fuck it, they were doing it.
“You really expected me to be okay with that? Expected me to accept your so-called admission as a good sign and keep it movin’. You were delusional!” The last words came out louder than she intended and she pulled her hands apart to flatten them on the table.
“I was scared,” he said, his voice quiet, eyes heated. “I was scared, Desi. Plain and simple. And I was foolish for not admitting that to you back then.” He sighed heavily. “I should’ve just told you that everything I was feeling for you, all those plans you were making, were freaking me the hell out. I should’ve just said I didn’t know what the hell I was doing with a woman like you.”
Her heart was thumping now, her fingers and every other part of her body still as she stared at him.
Besides being a good-looking man, Jared was a straight shooter. He didn’t lie, didn’t mislead, didn’t play games. Until the moment he admitted that he had. The night he’d come home to his apartment, the place she’d moved into just a few months before, and told her that he’d gone to a sex club. Sure, he’d insisted that he hadn’t touched any woman in the place and that none of them had touched him, but how could she believe that? What the hell was the point in going to a sex club if you weren’t going to indulge? And the very last thing she was going to do was to sit at home and be the fool for love her mother had been for far too many years. No, leaving was the right thing to do. Letting Jared go to have whatever type of life he wanted was the smart thing. It was the safe thing. Even if it was the thing that had broken her more than she cared to admit.
“You should’ve just been satisfied with me,” she said quietly.
“I was,” he said and something in his tone was different than it had been all those years ago. “I was happy coming home to you every night knowing we’d either be eating something homecooked like that lasagna you made with those four cheeses and that soft ass Italian bread you made. Or we’d be ordering take-out because we’d both had long days and wanted something fast so we could get to bed sooner.” He sighed again and rubbed a finger over his forehead. “I loved feeling you press against my back in the middle of the night. Loved joining you in the shower in the morning as we got ready for work. And damn, those texts you used to send me in the middle of the day, the pics and the way you explicitly told me everything you wanted me to do to you. There wasn’t anything, Desi, not one damn thing that I didn’t love about being with you.”
“But none of that was enough.” It was a sad truth. She’d enjoyed doing all those things with him too, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. “Nothing I did, said, typed, none of it was enough for you.”
“Nah,” he told her. “That’s not it. I fucked up.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling and before I could stop myself from making that worse, I ended up at The Corporation. And the whole time I was there I knew how we were going to end. I knew and I was scared all over again.”
The Corporation. That’s the name of the club he said he’d gone to that night with his former mentor’s nephew, Slay. She still remembered the other man’s name. Recalled Jared giving her the man’s business card and telling her to call him if she didn’t believe that he hadn’t been with another woman at the club. She’d burned that card along with all the other cards and handwritten notes that Jared had ever given her.
Now, she looked away. She had to. The anguish in his voice coupled with the tears threatening to spill from her eyes was too much. She needed to get this meeting back on track. To let the past be in the past and focus only on the here and now.
The server came then and she figured the food was right on time. For the next little while they prayed over their food, then ate in silence. She had gnocchi pomodoro e basilico and it was delicious, but every bite of the bread that had been served with it reminded her of what Jared had said. How many times had she cooked that lasagna or some other pasta dish to go with the Italian bread for him? How many times had he been so excited because he loved that she also added andouille sausage to the ground beef that she used between the layers of pasta and cheese? How many times had he told her that he’d missed the homecooked meals his mother used to prepare for him, his brothers and his father?
She loved cooking for him and taking care of him in ways that he never thought to do for himself. Jared wasn’t a neat freak, but he’d been raised to clean up after himself. He could cook a good number of meals as well. But when he went into his game room, he lost track of time and she’d have to go in and remind him it was time to take a break and eat. He was super smart and very ambitious and as a result spent long hours at the hotel and then additional hours at home working after dinner or playing his game. Long after she’d gone to bed, if she rolled over and he wasn’t there, she’d leave their room and find him in the smaller third bedroom he used for an office. There, she’d coax him to bed, knowing he needed rest before starting his routine all over again. She’d loved being everything to him that she’d known her mother had tried to be to her father.
And the second he’d displayed the same trash-ass actions her father had she’d cut his ass loose because protecting herself always came first.
She set her fork on the plate then pushed it away from her. Then, she used her napkin to wipe her mouth and her fingers before she reached for her tablet.
“I love the traditional yellow, green and red colors of Juneteenth, but for this I’m thinking we go all the way luxe with black and gold,” she said once she decided she was finished with her food.
“I can see that,” he said after a few moments. His plate was cleaned, something he always did because growing up his father had warned them never to waste food. He’d ordered spaghetti alla carbonara and at one point had commented on the bread not being as good as hers. She hadn’t responded.
“I have some pictures of fabrics I’d like to use on the tables and draping,” she continued. “If we’re using a different room for the art exhibition, I’d carry the theme over there as well. Rich velvets, light silks. Nothing gawdy, just sophistication and elegance.”
He pushed his plate to the side and wiped his hands on his napkin as well. Then, he finished the glass of pinot grigio and gavi he’d ordered. Jared’s drink of choice was Macallan 25. But he never drank that while working. At work events, such as this lunch, he would stick with wine. She’d stuck with water because the last thing she needed was her mind going any fuzzier than it had during their trip down memory lane.
“We can use separate rooms,” he said. “Mari wondered if we should keep the exhibition at the gallery in a private room, of course. But there, the public would still be able to see it.”
“Has The Carrington ever had an art exhibit in-house?” she asked.
“No.”
Their gazes met and she arched a brow.
His lips spread into a slow grin. “That would be dope,” he said nodding. “In a different room on property and it could run the entire weekend. Still open to the public, especially members of the community that might not otherwise have a reason to visit the resort.”
“Because there’s no doubt the room rate there isn’t going to get lower, but still finding a way to open your doors to everyone would be hot. Not to mention on brand with your goal to integrate our community into all spaces.”
“You remember that?” he asked with a slow nod. “Good.” Then he licked his lips and she fought the urge to lunge over that table and crash her mouth over his.
“You know my family has their restaurant business. Well, my Uncle Lucien does. And for a while my dad managed the restaurant in Jacksonville. So, I’m just trying to find my way of building a table for us as well.”
