Just Until Morning
C H A P T E R T W E L V E
Lincoln
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I’m losing my fucking mind. Seriously, I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.
Every day of the last three, I have made her promise me just a little more.
Every minute of every day, I’ve pushed things further.
“Are you going to eat that?” Holli’s sparkling eyes bring a smile to my face as her fork hangs hopefully over the half-eaten cheesecake sitting on the white linen in front of me.
“No.” I shake my head, pushing the plate toward her. “You are.” She bobs her head gleefully, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips. “Careful. You’ll throw your neck out.”
This is our third lunch. I should be happy. I should be living in the moment.
But I’m not.
I’m fucking coming apart inside, and she has no idea.
“I really shouldn’t,” she says, skewering one oversized bite of the caramel–drizzled, three-inch-high decadence and closing her eyes gratefully as she pops it into her mouth.
“You should. And you will.” I lean back, watching how much she enjoys the food, remembering the first meal we had together three days ago.
I’d taken her to breakfast. I knew she hadn’t eaten enough because we’d been together the whole night before she left my snoring ass sleeping and tried to get away.
I chased her down. Finding out where she lives from a couple people I know who know Cruzer. Wasn’t that hard to track her down.
And, the first of our meals together happened. I was expecting her to order everything on the menu and then some dessert, but when she spoke to the waitress, I was disappointed.
She ordered a bowl of oatmeal.
Plain.
No sugar, cream, or honey.
Even now it makes me angry.
So when it came time for me to order, I held the menu up to the waitress, silently pointing to items, one after the other. A quizzical look came over the server at one point, but my serious stare told her to just bring the fucking food, which, about fifteen minutes later, she did.
Holli sat frozen as two servers filled our table with omelets, quiche, muffins, pastry, a bowl of Froot Loops, stacks of pancakes and waffles. After a bit of banter, Holli dug in with fervor, eating with such glee it made me grin like a proud father.
Making sure she knew in no uncertain terms, that I craved every curve on her body.
That was the last time I let her order for herself.
Watching her eat is just one of an infinite number of pleasures I’ve taken from her in the last three days.
Now, here we sit, and I’m filled with dread. I made her promise to give me three days; three meals each day with me and then she could decide if she wanted to see me again. But there was a truth behind the three days that went far beyond giving her time to make her decision. I thought it would give me time to figure this shit out. Instead, for the first time in my life, I can’t find a way out. At least not a way that keeps her safe.
My desperation to keep her in my life as long as I could overrode my logical mind. I just picked the number that seemed most logical, my calculating skills telling me I could figure this out if I just had a bit more time. Find a way. But here we are, hours from dinner, and I’m more at a loss than ever before.
Less than a day until my airline reservation sends me off to a new life.
I have to say, these three days have been by far the most joyful and significant in my life. We’ve not only eaten together, we’ve talked about nearly everything. We’ve made love in my car. At the penthouse. Back at my home. In the bathrooms at the restaurants. Even off the path in the park where we walk every afternoon after lunch.
It didn’t take much persuasion for our meals to turn to more. She sleeps at the house, then leaves after our breakfast every morning, heading back to her own apartment. It would bother me except that I’m so busy taking care of my business. It’s almost all wrapped up now, ready to turn over the reins of my poker rooms when I leave for good. Jesus. For good. And it would be good if not for what I’ve found with her.
Things have changed, and for once in my life, I have no idea how to fix it.