Breathe Again (9 page)

“Fine,” I said, finally. Darcy squealed with glee and let me
know that she would come get me after she was done with her shift, at four that
afternoon.

I tried to drag out the day, making twice as many macarons as
I needed to, wishing that four o’clock wouldn’t come too quickly. I’m not sure
why; it really had been far too long since I’d gone out with anyone other than
Jackson.

Darcy had invited Jenn out too, which I didn’t mind. Her
quiet, quirky personality balanced Darcy’s loud extroversion. I liked to think
I was somewhere in the middle, not necessarily shy, but reserved nonetheless.

“I really can’t afford anything in here,” I said as we dug
through the racks of silk and satin.

“You have a credit card, don’t you?” Darcy asked, holding up
something pink and far too see-through for my taste.

“Yeah, but it’s only for emergencies,” I said, pulling
something a little more tasteful off the clearance rack. Darcy just made a face
at it.

“Honey, Jackson Traver wants to get into your panties.
Consider this an emergency,” she said, exchanging the knee-length robe I had in
my hands for a light-blue teddy. I was about to thrust it back in her
direction, but changed my mind. It wasn’t as risqué as the things she had in
her hands for herself, but it was still sexy. Maybe I could do this after all.

“She’s right, Mellie,” Jenn said as she pulled a black
nightie off the wall and held it up to me. I frowned, but stayed put so she
could appraise me. Darcy had extravagant,
loud
taste
in clothing, but I respected Jenn’s style. She was more classic, while still
being edgy. She was only working at the café to put herself through fashion
school, which gave her more credibility in my eyes. Darcy was only an “expert”
in fashion because she’d bought enough clothes to fill the White House.

“I don’t know why I’m not just good enough for him,” I
grumbled while they pushed me into the dressing room.

“Oh, believe me,” Darcy said, plopping herself into the
corner of the cubicle. “You are more than good enough for him. He knows it and
we know it. But now that you’ve snagged him, you have to keep things
interesting. And don’t tell me you aren’t excited about the prospect of him
groveling at your feet when he sees you in
that
.” She
pointed to the bra-and-panty set I held in my hands.

“I’m not trying on all these things with you in here,” I said
flatly. She just huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest, and stayed
put in her seat. Jenn politely excused herself and closed the door behind her.

Darcy and I stayed silent for another thirty seconds, glaring
at each other. I don’t know how she did it, but that girl always seemed to wear
me down. She was exhausting. I stripped out of my blouse and black skirt,
laying them neatly on the chair that Darcy
wasn’t
occupying. I heard a wolf whistle come from Darcy and scowled. Jenn giggled
outside the dressing-room door.

“Good Lord, Mel, you shouldn’t be covering all that up. I
would be flaunting my goods all over the place if I had your curves,” she said,
blatantly checking me out. I felt myself blush under her gaze.

Darcy was gorgeous and she knew it. She was tall and
supermodel-thin, with a short, pixie haircut that framed her narrow, angular
face perfectly. Her hair was a bleached blonde and she loved to wear bright
colors and flamboyant prints. She was the epitome of California sunshine.

I suddenly felt self-conscious, and tried halfheartedly to
cover myself up, but Darcy stood up and swatted my hands away. “Seriously,
Jenn, you should get in here and check this girl out. She’s been hiding some
serious sex appeal under all those grandma skirts and button-up shirts.”
Thankfully, she didn’t actually open the door and expose my nakedness to the
entire store. Instead, she just smiled at me and put her hands on my shoulders.
“I’m serious, Mellie, you’re gorgeous. You don’t need any of this,” she said,
motioning to all the lingerie we’d brought into the dressing room with us. “But
I guarantee that Jackson is going to piss himself when he sees you in any of
it. So work it, girl, and know that you’re the shit.”

I had never really realized how much I actually needed girl
talk before. Sex was just too taboo in Selden, and I didn’t talk about it to my
girlfriends either. But here, with Darcy and with Jackson, I felt confident,
sexy, like my body was actually my own.

I actually cracked a smile, and the look on Darcy’s face
could only be described as triumphant.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get a few things.”

Darcy actually squealed.

“Get the red one!” I heard Jenn yell through the door.

I ended up spending more money on less fabric than I ever had
before, but I couldn’t contain my smile. Now I wanted Jackson home even more.
Darcy declared it an occasion to celebrate (though any day that ended in
Y
was a day to celebrate for Darcy) and took us out all out for sushi. Apparently
she still had a credit card that her daddy didn’t know about.

I didn’t get home until minutes before ten that night, and I
was still smiling when I padded my way up the stairs to my little apartment.
Jenn and Darcy seemed like real friends, the type who actually liked me because
of who I was, not just because it was convenient. They were both from Los
Angeles and I knew they had plenty of people in the area that they could have
spent their afternoon with, but they didn’t. They chose to spend it with me,
helping me pick out lingerie and gossiping with me.

I was busy putting away everything in those hot-pink bags
when I heard my new phone vibrate on the bed. I picked it up quickly, not
wanting to run the risk of not talking to Jackson.

“Hello?” I said, slightly breathless from dashing across the
room to grab the phone.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice tired from sleep. “How’re
you?”

“I’m good,” I said, sitting down on the bed.

“Good? That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I’m far from good. In fact, the only person that
would make me good right now is currently five thousand miles away from me.”

I’m pretty sure my heart just melted. My frown was
immediately replaced by a smile so big that my cheeks hurt. “I know what you
mean,” I whispered. “I did get to go out with Darcy and Jenn, though. They were
able to take my mind off you, but just a little.”

“I guess that’s alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to be
feeling what I am right now. Nobody should feel this lost.” I just whimpered.
How was it possible for someone so far away, across an entire ocean, to make
you feel like you were home? “What did you ladies do without me?”

“Oh, we just went shopping, ate dinner. You know, girly
things.”

Jackson laughed through the phone. “I didn’t know you were
the type to do girly things. It makes me feel better knowing that they’re
taking care of you.”

“They’re good friends.” I said it before I realized what I
was saying, but I didn’t take it back. It was true.

We talked for the next two hours, until Jackson reluctantly
told me he needed to go. I was still lying on my bed, fully clothed, my phone
cradled against my ear.

“When can I talk to you again?” I asked quietly, not really
sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

Jackson was silent for a few seconds. “I’m not sure. I have
an interview this morning, and then we’re doing some junket later in the
afternoon. I’ll text you when I can, just make sure you keep your phone on
you.”

“I will,” I said, knowing that I would. “Good night,
Jackson.”

“Good night, Mellie Rose.”

We hung up and I went back to putting my purchases away. I
looked at the pink Victoria’s Secret bag sitting on my bed and a wave of
something
came over me. I’d never really flirted before either, but Jackson had this
weird ability to make all my inhibitions go out the window, even if he was on
another continent. I scrolled through the icons on my new phone quickly,
finally spotting the camera app, and snapped a picture of the bag. Not of
anything inside, just the bag. Before I could convince myself not to, I sent it
to Jackson.

It took only ten seconds for me to get a reply.

Oh. My. God.

I decided to sleep in my new black nightie that night. Though
I didn’t doubt that Jackson would enjoy it someday too, it was really for me.

The next week went by so painfully
slowly. I threw myself into my work, trying desperately to think of other
things. I tried six new recipes, only three of which were successful, and I
went out with Darcy and Jenn twice more. Still, the physical attraction I’d
felt for Jackson when we were together was just as strong now that we were
apart. It was as if I could feel the distance that separated us. I was
miserable.

I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think what
it meant. If I denied its existence, the pain and misery of it, then there was
no threat of being hurt.

Regardless, I waited impatiently for him to come home. Before
Jackson, I thought I knew how terrible the ache of a relationship could be, but
the emptiness I felt with Jackson’s absence was entirely different than what I
felt when Daniel abandoned me. Daniel’s betrayal had felt like suffocation,
felt like I didn’t know how to breathe and couldn’t get enough air into my
lungs, but Jackson’s absence felt like a part of me was missing. It terrified
me, because while I’d eventually learned how to breathe on my own, I could
never learn to make myself whole again.

Exactly nine days after he left, Jackson came home to me. I’d
wanted to come pick him up from the airport, but he’d refused. At first I was
hurt, but he explained how violent the paparazzi could be at the airport and I
realized it was for my own safety and privacy.

I was more than excited to see him. Until fifteen minutes
before he arrived at my apartment, at least. I had all these outrageous ideas
of jumping into his arms and dragging him back to my bed. In my fantasies, we
wouldn’t leave for days; I’d even made enough scones and muffins for two days,
just in case I decided to skip out on work so we could make up for lost time.
But then I turned on the television.

I didn’t have a computer and I only used my new phone to call
and text Jackson. I didn’t have much exposure to the outside world. My nerves
were getting the best of me, though, and I needed the ambient noise while I was
getting ready. I don’t know why I did it, but I left it on the same channel
that I’d been watching last. It had been a while since I watched actual
television; I usually just went straight to Netflix or my DVR. I didn’t realize
that I’d left it on the entertainment channel.

I was at my vanity when I heard his name come out of the
speakers. I dropped my mascara immediately, the rest of my makeup already
finished. I made my way slowly from my bedroom and sat down on the couch
without even thinking. My eyes were glued to the screen in front of me and I
couldn’t find it in myself to pull them away.

I watched as Jackson broke my heart, piece by piece. I
couldn’t deny it; the picture was right there. He had a woman in his arms and
it most definitely wasn’t me. To make things worse, I recognized Sophia Lewis
from that day at Meredith’s house, with her jet-black hair and piercing green
eyes. She was looking at Jackson with what could only be described as complete
adoration. I didn’t hear anything the commentators were actually saying, suddenly
deafened by the ringing in my own ears.

The knock at my door brought me out of my daze and I turned
the TV off quickly. I glanced at the clock and realized that I’d been sitting
in the same spot for fifteen minutes. I stood up and made my way to the door slowly.
I was afraid to open it, knowing that everything would come tumbling down once
I did.

As soon as I did open the door, Jackson had me in his embrace
and his lips were on mine. He tasted amazing and felt perfect in my arms. As
much as I wanted to cry, I didn’t. I put everything I had into the kiss. I knew
that it would be our last. Eventually we both slowed down and I pulled away. He
kept kissing me, my eyelids and my cheeks and my forehead, but I didn’t move.
He stopped moving too.

“You saw,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, but I’m not angry,” I said, pulling myself away from
him and turning to walk back into my living room. He hesitated for a moment
before coming inside.

“If you aren’t angry,” he said as he followed me to where I’d
taken a seat on the sofa, “then what’s wrong?”

He sat down next to me and I shifted slightly, moving away
from him before I answered.

“I saw the two of you and I was angry. But then I realized
that I shouldn’t be. This is my fault,” I said. I tried to keep all emotion from
my voice, but it was difficult.

He just looked me, confused, but didn’t say anything. It was
almost torture, sitting there with him in the silence. I stared straight ahead,
at the television, the thing that had ruined it all in the first place.

“First things first,” he said. “I’m not in a relationship
with anyone but you. There never has been and there never will be any type of
relationship beyond friendship between Sophia and me. If there were, however,
and I’d somehow violated your trust in the past week, how on earth would it be
your fault?”

I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. I knew
what he was saying, but it contradicted everything I’d just seen. They were
just words, words that didn’t have much weight when put up against the evidence
I’d just seen.

“It’s my fault, because I should have anticipated this.”

I refused to look at him.

“What should you have anticipated?”

“I should have known that you would eventually find someone
else. It’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, you’re
you
,” I said,
emphasizing the last word as if it explained everything. It did to me, at
least. When he didn’t say anything, I just kept going. “You’re the sexiest
bachelor alive. Any girl would give anything to be with you. So why on earth
would you, or should you, choose someone like me? I should have never expected
you to choose me over someone as beautiful as Sophia Lewis.”

“So, even if I were dating Sophia, you wouldn’t be angry?” I
could hear the desperation in his voice, but I wouldn’t let it affect me. He
was an actor. He knew what he was supposed to say, and how to say it.

“No,” I said. I tried to look calm, indifferent, but I knew
that my voice betrayed me.

“So that’s how you think of me? As a player? A cheater? Has
anything I said meant anything to you at all?”

I paused again, trying to find the words. “I don’t think you
ever meant to hurt me,” I said. But as I did, I could feel my usually composed
demeanor begin to crumble as I realized how hurt I actually was. Regardless of
whether or not he meant to hurt me, he did.

He tried looking into my face, but I turned away. He scooted
closer to me on the sofa and clutched my chin in his firm grasp. He turned my
head, so I had no choice but to look him in the eye.

“What has the world done to you?” he asked, but he wasn’t
asking me.

“How could you want to be with me?” I said, attempting to
answer the rhetorical question. I knew that it didn’t actually require an
answer; the answer was obvious.

“The real question is why I wouldn’t want to be with you,” he
said softly.

“I’m broken. I’m used up. And I’m so scared. I don’t know how
to be loved.” As soon as I said it, I knew there was no going back. I was the
first to mention love in reference to our relationship, but I knew it was true.
Love explained everything, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself
otherwise.

“I don’t know if you would believe me even if I tried to
convince you otherwise,” Jackson said, “but I need you to know something. I
need you to believe me when I say that nothing has ever happened with Sophia,
and nothing ever will.”

“You can’t say that, Jackson,” I interrupted before he could
continue. “You can’t promise me that.”

“I can say it and I can promise you that it’s true.” I tried
desperately to look away again, but Jackson refused to let me. “I know it’s
true, and it’s because I’m in love with you.” With that, he dropped his hand
and I immediately dropped my gaze. A small sob escaped my lips before I could
hold it back, and I knew it told him that what he’d just confessed did mean
something to me. It meant everything to me.

He continued before I could come up with a response. “I know
we haven’t known each other for very long, but I can already tell that you’re
wrong about yourself. You’ve tried so hard to be indifferent about everything,
including yourself. But you’re worth everything I can give you, and more. I’m
willing to do whatever it takes to make you see that.

“More than that, you’re wrong about me. I’m not the cheating
liar that I may have been once, not with you. But I’m far from perfect too. I’m
the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

Neither one of us said anything for a few moments as he gave
me time to come to terms with what he said. He didn’t touch me, just sat next
to me, watching as I tried to say something.

I tried to focus on the warning voice in my head, but it was
getting drowned out by the shouting in my heart telling me I loved him too. The
walls around my heart that I’d so carefully built up in the previous months
were beginning to crumble at an alarming rate, and I had no idea if I could put
them back up now.

Jackson moved from the couch to the floor at my feet, where
he knelt down in order to see my face better. “Mellie, my Mellie Rose. I love
you. And I have no idea how anyone could have ever given you up. I promise that
I will never do that.”

“I . . .” I had finally found my voice, but I still had no
idea what I was supposed to say. The two voices in my head were now shouting at
each other, and I knew that I had a much more difficult decision to make than
whether or not to tell him I loved him. That wasn’t even a decision, really. It
was an inevitability. I already knew the answer. I’d known the answer since
that night at his apartment, almost two weeks ago, when he had let me fall
asleep in his arms. It was the safest I’d felt in such a long time, if not
ever.

The real question was if I could actually live out the
consequences of telling him. I could make another practical decision, like
every other decision in my life had been, and deny the love I knew that I felt
for him. Or I could push my sensible nature out the window and embrace the very
thing that had nearly destroyed me before.

Before I could make an actual decision based on any type of
logical argument, my heart won out.

“I love you too. I just don’t know how you could love me
back.”

It was all Jackson needed to hear. In less than a second, he
was back on the couch and had me in his arms. He kissed my forehead and held me
close.

“You don’t need to understand how, Mellie,” he said,
whispering into my hair. “You just need to trust that I do. You just need to
have a little faith in me. There’s nothing more that I want in life than to
just be with you. And you deserve a love like that.”

I believed him. I really did. So I let the tears that had
been waiting to fall for ten years break through, and he just let me cry. He
didn’t try to brush them away, or to reassure me that there was no need to be
sad. Because he knew; he knew that it was exactly what I needed.

They weren’t tears for Daniel and his betrayal. They weren’t
tears for my mother or for Selden. They weren’t even tears for Jackson and the
overwhelming love I felt for him at that moment. They were tears only for
myself.