Why does he always have to be so genuine? The man wears his heart on his sleeve for me, and something about that is so intrinsically endearing. But he’s right. “We’re not just sex, Jackson. You aren’t just an easy lay, you know, to me. The connection we share is physical, but that doesn’t mean it ends there.” I lower my arms and suck in a breath to build the strength I need. “You matter to me. I care too much about you to cross any more lines at this time.”
He doesn’t rush to convince me, and his eyes aren’t filled with responses I can’t unfold. He’s listening, not trying to change my mind.
I’m not sure what to make of that. Do I want him to beg? No. But I don’t want to lose him either, so I say, “I need to make a confession.”
“Okay.” He leans against the wall as I lean against the railing.
“I can’t do real relationships, but I hate being alone all the time.” I drop my gaze and toe the wood floor. “I’m not good at them,” I say, quirking an eyebrow as I peer up at him, “and you might be worse.”
He doesn’t do it often, but that earned me an eye roll. “Geez, thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply through another sigh. “You know what I mean. We’re terrible.”
“No apology needed. You’re not wrong.”
“Not everyone is built to couple up forever. I thought we had an understanding that feelings wouldn’t mess with what we have.”
“I did, too.”
“Please don’t be mad at me. I have mountains of problems to deal with already and then add in the apartment slipping through my fingers and my career languishing in my job at the gallery.” I move closer, struggling to stay away from him. “This between us never felt like anything I couldn’t handle until yesterday.”
“What changed?”
It pisses me off that tears fill the corners of my eyes again. Am I making a mistake by not just giving in? Jackson would be so easy to fall for . . . Maybe life would feel less heavy if I had a partner to help me deal with it. But in what world does it make sense to drag someone else into this mess?
As much as he wants to, Jackson can’t solve my problems.
I reach up and caress his cheek, and then I even take it a step further and cuddle against him. His strong arms come around me, and he kisses the top of my head. “Is it timing or . . .” he whispers against my head. “Because I’ll wait if it’s—”
“It would be so easy to get lost in us for longer than a night.” Wrapping my arms around his middle, I hold him as close as I can, already knowing this is the end. At least for the time being. “That’s what scares me. I’ve been there, done that, and it never ends well.”
I release him quickly and force myself across the hall. “I need to fix my life, and I need to do it on my own while standing on my own two feet. I don’t know if you understand that, but relying on others is what got me here.” Holding the railing, I restrain myself from seeking the protection of his arms again. “I want to ask you to wait, Jackson. I want to, so badly. And I know you would. I need you to know that no matter how I acted in the past, I never underestimated who you were. You’re a good man and deserve to be with someone who can give you everything.”
“I want to be happy. I want what’s good for me.” He stares into my eyes as if I have the answers.
I don’t. I’m muddling through like he is. “I’m not sure I’m any good for you, St. James.”
“Oh, Ms. Marché, I wholeheartedly disagree.”
His smile warms my heart, making me feel good and whole again. That’s what I’ve been missing. I’ve been living with an emptiness that he manages to fill instantly. And the faith he has in me—faith that I’m not sure I’ve given him a reason to believe in—steals my breath.
I meant what I said. Jackson is a good man. Everyone knows it, especially me.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask him.
“I hope you’ll always be honest with me.”
“I have trust issues.”
He smirks. “I’m shocked.”
I swat his shoulder, making him chuckle. “I mean it. I . . . I have a mess to clean up because the one person I trusted to always have my back didn’t. I’m cautious to trust anyone again.”
“You can trust me, Marlow. I’ve never given you a reason to believe you can’t. As a matter of fact, I’ve put up with a lot of your shit—”
“Okay, that goes both ways, mister.”
“But look, I’m still here.”