When I'm Gone
Page 52
Then she surprised me. She tore into that gift like she was five years old. Watching her open it was more exciting than feeding her cake, and that had been pretty damn exciting.
When she had the lid off the box, she pulled out the baby-blue Michael Kors purse I’d had Blaire help me pick out.
“There’s a matching wallet in there, too.”
She touched it reverently as if it were made of fine gold instead of leather. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”
Not really. It could have been worse. But I’d told Blaire to be practical. Reese needed an everyday purse, not something she would be too nervous to carry.
“It’s a nice purse for you to use instead of the backpack,” I explained.
She grinned and put it back into the box, then turned to me and kissed me softly on the lips. “Thank you. That’s the nicest gift I’ve ever gotten.”
This wasn’t over. I reached down and picked up the next present.
“There’s more? I thought you were kidding.”
“You better believe it.”
Again, she tore into it like a little kid, and I found myself wishing I had videotaped this to watch over and over.
She opened the box to find three sets of French silk pajamas. She picked up one of the shorts and held it up and then touched it to her face. Laying it down, she reached for a camisole. The pale pink one with the white lace trim. “These feel so soft,” she said in awe.
They should. They were the best.
“I like the idea of you in my T-shirt. But I also know you like your shorts and tank top because they’re soft. So I got you some other soft things to sleep in. Because when you’re with me, you won’t need my T-shirt to wrap around you.”
She laid it down in the expensive wrapping and let out a happy sigh. “Those are going to spoil me on pajamas for life.”
That was OK. I’d keep her in expensive French silk if she wanted it, for as long as she wanted it.
Again, she kissed me and whispered a thank you against my lips.
I reached for the third box. This one was the smallest. And it was more for me than for her.
“The last one,” I told her, as I handed her the rectangular box.
She opened it more carefully, as if she was afraid she would lose whatever was inside.
Inside was a single key nestled in velvet.
“It’s the key to my house. When you’re ready, you can move in anytime you want.”
She picked it up and held it in her hand for several moments and didn’t say anything. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “One day, when you know all of me, you can give this back to me. But right now, you don’t know it all. I can’t take this.”
She thought her dark past would change how I felt. Nothing she could tell me would change that. I loved her.
But I wouldn’t use those words to convince her. She would have to decide this in her own time. I wasn’t forcing her. I wanted her in my bed, in my house. I wanted it to be our house. But not until she was ready for that. Not until she wanted me.
Wanted a forever.
Reese
He was acting like me not taking the key wasn’t a big deal. But it felt like it. My chest hadn’t stopped hurting since I’d given it back to him. But Mase never mentioned it again or acted upset.
He’d held my hand, and we’d walked down the beach. He had persuaded me to eat a few more bites of the cake, and then we had cuddled in the chaise longue and watched the moonlight on the water.
The only thing that had been wrong was that he didn’t kiss me again. He didn’t look at me with those hooded eyes full of need. It was as if he was holding me at arm’s length while he was right there with me. Before, he had been flirty and playful.
After the key, that all changed. He changed.
Once we got back to the apartment, he told me to go ahead and use the bathroom first. He’d get ready for bed after me. He hadn’t been overcome with desire for me or pulled me into his arms once we were in the privacy of my apartment. He had been kind and polite, but that was it. Nothing more.
I slipped on one of the new pajama sets he’d given me. This one was white with silver piping. I also thought it was the sexiest. Right now, I wanted to see the spark there and know that I hadn’t lost him when I didn’t take his key.
Why hadn’t I? Taking it didn’t mean I was using it. He hadn’t given it to me thinking I was going to move in the minute I accepted it. He’d said as much. It had been his way of letting me know the offer was there to be accepted when I was ready.
I needed to talk to him.
I had handled this wrong.
I opened the bathroom door and walked to the bedroom.
“No, Cordelia. I’m not there. I’m out of town. I’ll be back Sunday, probably. Maybe sooner. Not sure.”
I hovered outside the door. Who was Cordelia? My stomach twisted, and my heart sank at hearing him say he might be home sooner. I had really messed up.
“Not my fault if you left them. And no, you can’t get into my house with me gone. I left it locked up . . . Cord, come on. Stop playing this game with me. Don’t be this way.”
He was annoyed. And he called her Cord.
“Like I said, I’ll be home Sunday,” he snapped, then stuck his phone into his pocket with a sigh.
I stepped back from the door and took several calming breaths. That meant nothing. Cordelia could be someone he worked with or was related to. Or she could just be a friend.
“Who was that?” I asked, as I pushed the door open wide. I hadn’t meant to ask, but I needed to know.
When she had the lid off the box, she pulled out the baby-blue Michael Kors purse I’d had Blaire help me pick out.
“There’s a matching wallet in there, too.”
She touched it reverently as if it were made of fine gold instead of leather. “This is expensive, isn’t it?”
Not really. It could have been worse. But I’d told Blaire to be practical. Reese needed an everyday purse, not something she would be too nervous to carry.
“It’s a nice purse for you to use instead of the backpack,” I explained.
She grinned and put it back into the box, then turned to me and kissed me softly on the lips. “Thank you. That’s the nicest gift I’ve ever gotten.”
This wasn’t over. I reached down and picked up the next present.
“There’s more? I thought you were kidding.”
“You better believe it.”
Again, she tore into it like a little kid, and I found myself wishing I had videotaped this to watch over and over.
She opened the box to find three sets of French silk pajamas. She picked up one of the shorts and held it up and then touched it to her face. Laying it down, she reached for a camisole. The pale pink one with the white lace trim. “These feel so soft,” she said in awe.
They should. They were the best.
“I like the idea of you in my T-shirt. But I also know you like your shorts and tank top because they’re soft. So I got you some other soft things to sleep in. Because when you’re with me, you won’t need my T-shirt to wrap around you.”
She laid it down in the expensive wrapping and let out a happy sigh. “Those are going to spoil me on pajamas for life.”
That was OK. I’d keep her in expensive French silk if she wanted it, for as long as she wanted it.
Again, she kissed me and whispered a thank you against my lips.
I reached for the third box. This one was the smallest. And it was more for me than for her.
“The last one,” I told her, as I handed her the rectangular box.
She opened it more carefully, as if she was afraid she would lose whatever was inside.
Inside was a single key nestled in velvet.
“It’s the key to my house. When you’re ready, you can move in anytime you want.”
She picked it up and held it in her hand for several moments and didn’t say anything. Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “One day, when you know all of me, you can give this back to me. But right now, you don’t know it all. I can’t take this.”
She thought her dark past would change how I felt. Nothing she could tell me would change that. I loved her.
But I wouldn’t use those words to convince her. She would have to decide this in her own time. I wasn’t forcing her. I wanted her in my bed, in my house. I wanted it to be our house. But not until she was ready for that. Not until she wanted me.
Wanted a forever.
Reese
He was acting like me not taking the key wasn’t a big deal. But it felt like it. My chest hadn’t stopped hurting since I’d given it back to him. But Mase never mentioned it again or acted upset.
He’d held my hand, and we’d walked down the beach. He had persuaded me to eat a few more bites of the cake, and then we had cuddled in the chaise longue and watched the moonlight on the water.
The only thing that had been wrong was that he didn’t kiss me again. He didn’t look at me with those hooded eyes full of need. It was as if he was holding me at arm’s length while he was right there with me. Before, he had been flirty and playful.
After the key, that all changed. He changed.
Once we got back to the apartment, he told me to go ahead and use the bathroom first. He’d get ready for bed after me. He hadn’t been overcome with desire for me or pulled me into his arms once we were in the privacy of my apartment. He had been kind and polite, but that was it. Nothing more.
I slipped on one of the new pajama sets he’d given me. This one was white with silver piping. I also thought it was the sexiest. Right now, I wanted to see the spark there and know that I hadn’t lost him when I didn’t take his key.
Why hadn’t I? Taking it didn’t mean I was using it. He hadn’t given it to me thinking I was going to move in the minute I accepted it. He’d said as much. It had been his way of letting me know the offer was there to be accepted when I was ready.
I needed to talk to him.
I had handled this wrong.
I opened the bathroom door and walked to the bedroom.
“No, Cordelia. I’m not there. I’m out of town. I’ll be back Sunday, probably. Maybe sooner. Not sure.”
I hovered outside the door. Who was Cordelia? My stomach twisted, and my heart sank at hearing him say he might be home sooner. I had really messed up.
“Not my fault if you left them. And no, you can’t get into my house with me gone. I left it locked up . . . Cord, come on. Stop playing this game with me. Don’t be this way.”
He was annoyed. And he called her Cord.
“Like I said, I’ll be home Sunday,” he snapped, then stuck his phone into his pocket with a sigh.
I stepped back from the door and took several calming breaths. That meant nothing. Cordelia could be someone he worked with or was related to. Or she could just be a friend.
“Who was that?” I asked, as I pushed the door open wide. I hadn’t meant to ask, but I needed to know.
