She didn’t know what it was about cereal, but if she was having trouble falling asleep, all she needed was a bowl of carbs and milk, and she’d sleep like a baby. Of course, she’d always slept the best in Cal’s arms.
Cal had finished his cereal, and the bowl sat on the coffee table. His legs were bent, wrists braced on his knees. His head was leaned back on the couch seat behind him, but his eyes were on her. He was still barefoot and shirtless, wearing the pair of old jeans he hadn’t even bothered to button.
She didn’t know what happened now. Their visions for the future were so different. Cal was resigned to a life of bachelorhood, and she wanted a life partner, a family.
It pained her to see how much his vision of the future had changed. At one time, that had been all they talked about, making a life together in Tory. Sure, they’d been eighteen, but they’d meant every word. She was sure of it.
And now, Cal couldn’t be more adamant that he was fine with a life of bachelorhood. She didn’t think it was necessary to have marriage and a family to be happy, but Cal had always been so family-oriented. And he’d talked all the time about starting a family with her. It’d been the one thing that was sure to put him in a good mood.
Their connection was still white-hot, but they were going to douse it in a bucket of ice themselves. Again. Was it possible there was another man out there who would make her want and feel and crave as strongly as Cal did?
Maybe that wasn’t in the cards for her. She’d meet a nice man—husband and father material—who wasn’t grumbly and wasn’t stubborn. Hopefully, he’d still like to eat cereal in the middle of the night.
This didn’t feel like enough, this time they’d had, half of it discussing the past and the future they’d never have. She wanted to live in the moment, the present, and enjoy a little time with Cal where they weren’t reminded of all the reasons they couldn’t be together.
“Do you have plans tomorrow?” she asked.
Cal’s head slowly tilted forward until he pierced her with those slate eyes. His gaze flicked to clock overhead and then back to her. “Do you mean today?”
“Right, today, Saturday. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t have plans on Saturday.”
“So spend the day with me,” she blurted.
He didn’t react.
“Just a day, Cal. A day where we don’t think about everything we had and everything we could have, but we just . . . enjoy the now.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “I’m glad you told me what you did, about not wanting a family, rather than let us go on and raise my hopes. So all I’m asking for is a day. And then . . . that’s it. We’ll move on and coexist in Tory and that will be that. We’ll remain history.” Her voice cracked on the last word. He must have heard it, because he flinched slightly. His jaw tensed, the muscles moving beneath this skin.
He was silent for so long, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open. And just when she thought about reneging on the whole offer, he said quietly, “Okay, I’d like that.”
So this was it. And while this attraction was still hot between them—hotter than ever—that didn’t seem like it was enough anymore. They were two separate people who wanted two separate things.
But for now, for one day, they’d want the same things.
Jenna crawled toward Cal. He unclasped his hands and let his knees spread farther apart so she could wedge herself between them.
Cal’s tan was uneven, a little redneck. But he’d always looked like that. This was Cal, a guy who didn’t give a shit about tan lines while he was bent over the hood of his car.
She ran her fingers over that tattoo. Damn him. She’d almost swallowed her tongue when she’d seen it. “Were you angry when you got this?”
The dim light in the room made his pale eyes glow. “No.” He paused for a minute, and she knew he was sorting the words out in his head, in that way he had. Cal didn’t like to start talking until he knew exactly what was going to come out. “I was lonely and drunk.”
“Cal,” she whispered.
“It’s done, and I don’t regret it.”
“It’s hot,” she admitted.
His laugh was husky. “Glad you think so.”
She ran her hands over his skin, feeling the imperfections, the scars from high school football and accidents at the garage. Cal was so different than a lot of the polished executives she’d dated in New York.
Cal was . . . real.
Her hands drifted down to the open button of his pants. She lowered the zipper, and Cal’s stomach expanded and contracted as he took deep breaths. She wiggled down onto her hands and knees and then peered up at Cal. He was watching her with narrowed eyes.