Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

“We’re consenting adults with no relationship attachments dictating what we can and can’t do.”

“I mean, should we be doing this with our history? Shouldn’t this be wrong?”

“Does it feel wrong?”

“No-o-o, but I know it should,” I answered honestly.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked, tightening his arms around me.

I nodded, though I was afraid of what his question might be.

“Have you thought of me at all in the last two years?”

“Of course,” I answered, unsure where he was going with this.

“And was it all bad, or did you think about the good stuff too?”

“Both. What about you? Wait, never mind.” We both knew what his answer would be. It was no secret how much he had hated me just two days ago.

“That’s the kicker. I wanted to hate you, and at times I did, but there was always something inside me fighting for you. I don’t know if that makes any sense. You know how I said I ended a relationship recently?”

I nodded.

“Well, I lied when I said it was commitment issues. The more accurate description would be she wasn’t you. Despite loathing you at times, I couldn’t help comparing every damn woman I’ve dated the last two years to you. Now that I have you in my arms, I’m positive that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

I digested his words before accepting them. I was no different. Yes, we had ripped each other’s hearts out, but I could never get past the good times we’d shared. “How can this even work, though?” I asked. “I leave in four days. I have a life back home that I can’t just walk away from,” I stated, even though a persistent little voice in the back of my head told me I could if I wanted to.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. I’m not going to ask you to give everything up for me again,” he replied, kissing the back of my neck.

The morning melted away as we remained in bed, wrapped together. We eventually fell back asleep for a while in the afternoon before waking and making love again. It was as if our bodies knew we were on borrowed time and they were trying to get their fill. By evening we were both hungry enough to venture out for real food. We hit one of my favorite cafés from college life before strolling along Puget Sound, talking the entire time. It was amazing how quickly we fell back to our old patterns. Two years of maturity had us talking about different issues than what was relevant back then. Adulthood and responsibilities had a way of making a person look at certain issues differently. Suddenly jobs with insurance and how much we would have to pay in taxes made us wish we could run back home. I was thrilled to learn that Justin had proven his father wrong and not only was making a living off his art, but found it profitable.

“I bet that irks the shit out of him,” I commented as we headed back to my hotel.

He shrugged. “He’s pretty much MIA now. Ever since Mom got remarried we don’t see a whole lot of him.”

Justin tried to hide it, but I could tell it bothered him. His father might be a prick, but he was still his dad. “Maybe one of these days he’ll come around,” I said.

“I won’t be holding my breath. Besides, it’s not like I hold the market on bad fathers.”

“True. He could be a complete absentee like mine. It’s been years since Mom and I have heard from him.”

“His loss,” Justin reassured me, patting my hand.

Like him, I shrugged with indifference. I’d given up on having a father figure in my life years ago when the letters I had sent begging him to come to my eighth birthday party went unanswered. After that, I pretty much crossed him off my list. I hardly remembered him enough to miss him anyway.

I changed the subject as we were pulling into the parking lot of my hotel. Justin followed me up to my room. That became our routine during the next few days. We’d go to bed together each night and spend the days rediscovering the city. As my time in Seattle ticked by, I began preparing myself for the inevitable heartache of leaving. We spent Friday with Melissa and Rob on a boat the guys had rented for the day. Saturday we hung with Justin’s family, and by Sunday, I was sick at the idea that I’d be leaving the next morning. I made a spur-of-the-moment decision when Justin was in the shower to surprise him and change my flight to Wednesday morning. I figured I could leave before he had to start his new job.

Justin was thrilled that we had two bonus days together and we decided to keep it secret so the two days could be all ours. Feeling like we had been given a gift, we celebrated by staying in bed all day Sunday. We felt as if we’d been given a stay of execution.

• • •

Justin was still sleeping when I woke before dawn on Monday morning. I studied his features in the dim light. He looked younger and more relaxed, like the boy he was two years ago. The love I felt for that boy had been buried so deeply below the hurt that I thought it was gone. In two days, I would be leaving him again and I was scared of the pain that would come along with it. I knew there was a way to avoid it, I just didn’t know if I was brave enough to make that decision.

Deciding to let him sleep, I climbed quietly from the bed and snuck into the bathroom to shower. Steam was just beginning to fill the small room when I heard the door open. Seconds later, Justin joined me, and neither of us spoke as he pulled me into his arms, covering my mouth with his. We made love under the hot water cascading down our bodies. It felt bittersweet—like a good-bye. I knew Justin wanted me to stay, but he would not pressure me, not the way things ended before. He would let me go if that was the decision I made.

Over the next two days, neither of us brought up the subject of me staying. Instead, Justin made it his goal to take me to all of our old favorite haunts in Seattle. I chuckled as we sipped coffee at the café on campus where we had first met and he reminded me of how snotty I had been.

“That’s because you thought you were God’s gift to women,” I said, defending myself between giggles.