Separation Anxiety(12)

Sharing a blanket with Jesse Drake. Check it off the bucket list.

I stared straight ahead, afraid to look over at him, afraid to be mesmerized by those gorgeous eyes, afraid of wanting what I knew I couldn’t have but still wanting to live in this moment and enjoy every single second.

“So talk to me,” he said, breaking the silence.

I took a sip of my Sobe. “About what?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you want to go home?”

“I never said that I didn’t.” I knew my answer was rude, but I didn’t know where he was going with this.

“You didn’t have to. You started crying when I was ready to take you there. What’s going on?”

“Have you ever lived in a house with someone and not said a single word to that person in over a week?”

He shook his head. “No. But I can imagine that it would suck.”

“It more than sucks. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. Home should feel safe. Home should be where you want to go at the end of the day. Instead, I find myself inventing reasons to stay late at work. I find myself volunteering to run the clock or take tickets at sporting events just so I don’t have to go home. I assign extra essays to my students so I have a reason to stay late grading. It’s become ridiculous.”

Whoa. I wasn’t sure where these deep confessions were coming from, but he was just so easy to talk to.

“So move out,” he said.

“You make it sound like it’s so easy.”

“Because it is, V. The answer is pretty simple.”

“The answer is, but the actual act of moving? Not so simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because it means admitting that we failed. It means telling people that we’re separated and getting sympathetic looks and knowing that they’re whispering behind our backs with gossipy assumptions that are assuredly inaccurate. It means actually going through with a divorce and splitting assets and splitting lives and splitting up.”

He turned toward me and grabbed my hand in his. I felt that same flutter and electrical current as earlier. Damn that fucking flutter.

“I think it’s time to admit you failed so you can move on.” His eyes were dark and sincere as they bored into mine. He squeezed my hand and then let it go.

I nodded. “I know.”

“Maybe it’s time to start telling people, Veronica,” he said. “You told me. Was that so hard?”

I shook my head. “Not everyone is as easy to talk to as you, though,” I said.

He grinned and winked. “I’ll give you that,” he said. “And you can’t worry about the gossips. They’ll be there whether or not you’re happy, and ultimately, you only live once. If you’re in a position to get out of a bad situation, you have to take it.”

“Am I in that position, though?” I asked.

Jesse sighed and took a long drag of his beer.

“I’m in the middle of the school year,” I continued. “I had planned to wait until summer and then move out when I have the time.”

“Copout. Stop inventing shit to do to keep yourself busy and focus on getting out of your situation, out of your marriage, out of your house.”

He was right, of course. I’d already admitted to taking on extra work just so I didn’t have to go home. If I put half as much energy into actually getting out of the house, I’d already be divorced and moved out. But that didn’t make it any less difficult to end it. “I don’t have anywhere to go, Jesse.”

He sighed again, deeply this time, as if contemplating how to solve the problem of world peace. He gazed at me sideways, and I glanced over and locked eyes with him.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

“What?” I screeched, much louder than I had intended.

“I’ve got two extra bedrooms. I’ve got space. I just want to help a friend,” he said. He emphasized that last word, and the illogical side of my brain wondered if he wanted us to be more than friends. Of course he didn’t; he was way out of my league, and besides, if he wanted me, he never would’ve taken me home. He’d admitted that much to me earlier when he had told me he never took his ladies back to his place.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t just barge in and interrupt your life.”

“I like having you here,” he said, his voice low and quiet and dangerously thrilling.

I had to admit, I liked being there, too. But it was too dangerous. Moving in with the guy who I was seriously crushing on? That would be such a huge mistake. It would be dangling temptation in my face on a daily basis.

“I like being here,” I said, my voice a whisper.