Carried Away

I feel about two feet tall right now. He’s right. I have no idea how bad he had it.

I hug his waist tightly and press my face into his chest, sniff the turpentine and soap. “I’m sorry I pushed. You’re right… Sometimes I forget you’re famous. To me you’re just the hot guy that makes me come once a day.”

He pushes back my shoulder’s and looks down at me with nothing but trouble. “Once?”––his eyes narrow––“You better take that back.”

Backpedaling, I head for the door. “One and a half when you try real hard.”

He stalks after me. “I’m giving you one last chance to set the record straight.”

I make it to the door. “Two at the very most.”

“Start running now if you know what’s good for you.”

I take off and let him catch me on the couch. We rip each other’s clothes off. And when I say we rip, I mean he breaks the strap of my overalls and I split his shirt in half.

Naked, I push him down and ride him until we’re both sweaty and exhausted. Filled with pent up emotion, it takes everything I have left not to spill my guts.

I want to tell him how much he means to me. How much I love him. Because I do. I love him with all my heart and would never do anything to hurt him. But it won’t come.

“Jake…”

He buries his face in my neck. And when we’re done and he’s holding me and kissing me, I take his face in my hands. “I promise I will never do anything to hurt you. I promise you.”

Chapter 17

It is a steadfast rule that when everything is going exceedingly well in your life something has to come along and carpet bomb it. Sometimes I wonder if the universe is allergic to happy people.

Things between Jake and me are so good it scares me. I am madly in love. I’ve never been this happy before. On the flip side, I’m petrified I’ll be forced to choose between the man I love, or living the life I’ve always dreamed about. Seems unnecessarily cruel that God would make me choose.

We’re getting a summer storm later tonight and a bank of clouds has started to crawl over the green mountain peaks on the other side of the lake. I’m working on the porch, busy piecing together the research on my new column for the week––this one on Songs at Mirror Lake, a free concert series coming up in July––when a burning need to tell Jake that I love him comes over me. Because really, what am I waiting for?

With the column only half done, I jump in the Nan’s Mercedes and take off for the farmhouse. They say the absence makes the heart grow fonder. I say anytime I’m not with him it’s like a hole opens up in me so big I can hear the hollow sound of wind passing through, a constant hunger demanding to be fed. I say fonder is putting it lightly.

There’s an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway next to the Expedition when I get there. A black Escalade, tinted windows, black hubcaps. My investigative mind starts working overtime. Jake didn’t mention anyone coming to visit.

I’m about to reach for the handle of the front door when something tells me not to. My intuition rarely fails me, so I listen. Creeping around the side of the house, I hide behind a tree. And bingo.

Through the large picture window of his studio, I can see Jake half-seated on the stool. He’s wearing the same faded Bears t-shirt I put on him this morning after we had sex in his shower. He smiles broadly, and my heart swells. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Jake smile because he does it so seldomly it feels like a gift.

Problem is, he’s smiling at someone other than me. And not just someone, a woman.

The sense of betrayal I feel is devastating. My heart is pounding so viciously it feels like it might explode inside my chest. And as I search why this pain feels so familiar when I’ve never been in love before, I realize it’s the same feeling, the same pain I felt when my father told us my mother was never coming back.

Never in my life have I ever wanted to be more wrong. And yet my intuition never fails me.

Even though she has her back to the window, I can make out the shape of her. Long legs in skinny jeans, a perfect butt. She has muscle where I have none. She flips her curtain of straight red hair over her shoulder and turns sideways, revealing a face just as attractive as the rest of her. This is my basic nightmare.

When she places her hand on his shoulder, it takes everything I have not to charge in there and break those fingers off. Even worse, judging by their postures, it’s clear as day that they know each other. Maybe an ex-girlfriend? Either way, I can’t watch anymore.