Separation Anxiety(22)

I doubted it, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming.

“Uh,” I stuttered. “Yeah. Got it,” I said, and he broke that sexy moment between us as he backed away, running both of his hands through his hair.

“Good. I’ll get the risotto going,” he said, and he moved to the other side of the kitchen to start the burner while I continued pounding the chicken in time to the loud pounding of my heart in my chest.

The rest of our meal preparations went off without nearly as much excitement as hitting the chicken. At one point, I glanced over at Jesse while I stirred the risotto, waiting for the rice to soak up the chicken stock before I poured in more liquid. His palms were pressed flat against the counter in front of the sink, his arms straight as he leaned forward with his head bowed. His shoulders looked tense, and I saw him take a deep breath. I wondered what he was thinking, but I couldn’t interrupt his introspective moment.

And, for about the millionth time, I wondered who the hell Allison was and whether or not the way he stood there like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders had anything to do with her.

Jesse poured us each a glass of Sauvignon Blanc as I plated the food, and we met at the table. The food smelled so good that I gave us both heaping platefuls. He had set the wineglasses down first so that we were seated across from each other. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him next to me, heating me up with his proximity, or if I wanted him across from me where I could stare at him as we ate. Both options seemed equally dangerous.

“Is that going to be enough?” he teased as I sat down and grabbed my fork.

“Shut up,” I warned. “I’m hungry.”

I dug in, and I couldn’t help the little moan that passed through my lips when I tasted the chicken. He’d taken the lead on chicken while I worked the risotto, although the whole meal really was a result of our teamwork.

“Good?” he asked, shifting in his chair.

I nodded. “Fantastic,” I said, licking my lips as I savored the delicious sauce he had made.

“Nice to see a woman who actually eats,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed mean?”

“Usually when I eat with women, they barely touch their food, or they order some salad and then they pick at it and it pisses me off because I have to pay for the damn meal that they don’t even bother eating. So it’s just nice to see a woman who actually enjoys food.”

I thought about the types of women he must have typically dated. Modelesque, I was sure. Probably tall and blonde and blue eyed with fake chests and faker personalities. Definitely not any of my attributes.

I wanted to be the type he dated, though.

I shrugged. “Yep. I like my food.”

“Like those potato skins yesterday?” he asked.

I grinned. “God, those were delicious,” I moaned, closing my eyes in delight as I remembered that delectable combination of potato, cheese, bacon, grease, and sour cream. I noticed him shift in his chair again, and then he grabbed his wineglass and took a huge gulp.

“So,” he said, clearly changing the subject, “how did things go this afternoon?”

“Not great,” I said. I took a bite of the risotto and mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done since it tasted fantastic, too.

“I heard what you said to your mother,” he said.

“Which part?”

“Do you really think your family won’t support you? That you’ll be the black sheep?”

I shrugged again. “I don’t know. My family is very conservative, much more than I am. I always believed that marriage is only supposed to happen once in a person’s life, but that was before the person I married became someone I don’t recognize anymore.”

“What did he say today?”

I sighed. “I told him I wanted a divorce. He said he’s not going to sign the papers.”

Jesse’s eyes darkened. “Fucking asshole.”

“Tell me about it. He said I’m stuck until he decides he’s ready to sign.”

“Then let’s make him ready.”

Let’s? As an English teacher, I knew that “Let’s” was a contraction for “let us.” Us. Us. He just called us an “us.”

Obviously, I took a moment for a mini freak out in my mind at the thought of being part of an “us” with Jesse.

I gulped down some wine while I composed myself. “How?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I’ll think of something,” he said as if it were a simple problem with a simpler solution. I loved how he made me feel like he would just automatically take care of things. With Richard, I had never felt that. I’d always felt like I was in it by myself, and while I’d always enjoyed the independence that gave me, I was starting to realize how much I missed out on by never feeling like I was part of a team.