Wish Come True (The Blogger Diaries Trilogy Book 3) (7 page)

“How about tomorrow? I get out of class at one. You could bring Josalyn to my house, and then I could take y’all out for dinner.” He lifts his eyebrows, seeming nervous about my answer.

“That sounds perfect,” I reply, and I feel him physically relax beneath me. “Will your mom and dad be there?”
 

“Dad will be, since he just retired, but Mom still has a few months left at United Space Association, so she won’t get home until around six. Depending on how long you decide to stay on my side of town, we could go back to my place after we eat so you can see her.”

“I definitely want to see her. I don’t know about driving home too late though. Makes me nervous driving on the highways, especially with the baby in the car,” I confess.

“Well, one of these nights I’m going to come get you then, because I want to take you out. That way I can bring you home and you won’t have to worry about driving, especially since I plan on getting you tipsy and taking advantage of you,” he says with a sexy smirk.
 

I cup his cheek and coo, “Aww, silly boy. Don’t you know you don’t have to get me drunk to do that?”

He turns his face into my hand and places a kiss in the center of my palm, his scruff tickling the sensitive flesh there. When he returns his gaze to mine, the fire there is hotter than the heat coming from the vents, warming me from the inside out. “Oh, I assure you I’m all man now, and you definitely shouldn’t have said that,” he asserts, and I feel his hand at the button of my jeans.

As much as I’m turned on at this moment, my nerves get the best of me and I grasp ahold of his wrist, stopping him from dipping inside the denim covering me. The last time I was touched intimately by another person was the sex I had to conceive Josalyn. Over a year and a half ago. I’m suddenly filled with overwhelming self-consciousness, completely embarrassed by the thought of Jason actually touching—or heaven forbid,
seeing
—me. My body isn’t the same as it was the last time he saw me. I know for sure it doesn’t
look
the same, but even more nerve-wracking, what if it doesn’t
feel
like it did before I had my baby?
 

I wouldn’t know. I don’t touch myself down there. Call me weird, but female anatomy grosses me out. It’s why I’ve always used massaging showerheads and my vibrator to take care of myself. What if I’m not tight down there anymore? What if my newly acquired softness around my middle turns him off? And why the hell didn’t I think of these things before this very moment? Thank goodness I didn’t, or I might not have gone through with meeting him tonight.
 

He must sense my growing panic and my fight or flight instinct going off, because he doesn’t try to press farther into my jeans. Instead, he turns his hand over and laces his fingers with mine after I let go of my death grip on his wrist.
 

“Hm, seems my girl’s bark is bigger than her bite. I thought you said I could take advantage of you,” he teases. He nuzzles his nose against my neck, and I relax minutely in his arms, feeling sure I don’t have to worry about him pressuring me into something I’m quickly realizing I’m not ready for. “What’s wrong, baby? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but you’ve gotta talk to me.”

I pull back and fold under the force of his intense gaze,
 
breaking eye contact, looking down at our interlocked hands instead. “I… I haven’t been touched by anyone since I had Josalyn. I don’t have that hot twenty-year-old body you remember. God only knows what perfection you’ve been with since we were together, and now here I am with my mom-bod, and you’re going to think, ‘Why the hell am I settling for this shi—’”

Jason seals his exquisitely firm lips to mine before I can finish my self-deprecation. His kiss feels almost angry, as if he’s punishing me for the critical words I used against myself. I know my analysis of his intensity is correct when he speaks his next words, tearing his mouth away from mine.

“God, for such a smart girl, you can be so stupid when it comes to me.”

Tears instantly fill my eyes at his harsh words and I go to pull away, but he locks his other hand in the back of my hair and forces me to look at him when he continues. “Do you think I give a fuck that you might not have a perfectly flat stomach anymore? Do you think that even registers as a conscious thought, when you’re here in front of me, in my arms, where I can see you, feel you, kiss you? Yeah, I’ve been with other women since you moved back home, but
perfection
?” He sneers the word as if it tastes bad. “Hardly. None of them could be classified as perfect, because every single one of them was always compared to you, and not one of them measured up. And I didn’t just compare them to your body; they couldn’t equate to everything that makes up…
you
,” he says hoarsely. “They couldn’t make me feel the way you do. They couldn’t provoke the…
fuck
… the emotions, the desire
, the anything
in me. It’s like I wasn’t alive, just… existing until I held you for the first time tonight. And now, I feel everything again.”

More tears fill my eyes, but instead of ones of hurt, they're from being touched right on my very soul. He felt exactly what I was feeling the moment I fell into his arms.
 
And now I feel silly for thinking something so trivial as a few extra pounds and stretch marks might have any effect on the way he sees me, because God knows that would
never
make me look at Jason any differently. The depth of my love for him erases any importance on things like physical perfection plays, because in my eyes, he
is
perfect, no matter how his body might change.
 

I attempt to look at him through critical eyes, trying to see if I can spot any differences from the last time I saw him. His hair is just slightly longer on top, gelled, instead of being buzzed like it was before. His face is a little fuller, his ears not seeming to stick out as much as they used to. He’s got a few scars on his forehead and temples from blemishes he used to have that he couldn’t leave alone, but none of these differences even registered in my mind before I went looking for them, and they certainly don’t make him any less attractive. If anything, he’s even more handsome than before, growing finer with age as men do.
 

Is that what he sees when he looks at me? Does he still see the old me, just tiny inconsequential tweaks? I guess I just feel so different from that old me that I thought it would’ve somehow manifested into something corporeal, visible, tangible. There are ugly parts of me now, from what I went through in my marriage, my heartbreak over Jason; I feel like they could be perceived by the naked eye. But what I didn’t grasp until now is one: they can’t be, and two: even if they could, it wouldn’t matter. He apparently never wanted me just for my young, tight body. He wants me for the same reasons I want him, because we each have a half of the same soul.
 

I let go of his hand and wrap my arms tightly around the back of his neck, hugging him fiercely. There’s nothing sensual in this embrace; it’s purely for showing him my love, for showing him I understand what he told me, and for healing, apologizing without words for thinking he’d care about something as irrelevant as some physical changes.
 

“I’m sorry. It’s just… been a while. For some reason, making out with you for the past two hours didn’t set off any alarms, but you went for the pants and I panicked. The only physical affection I’ve gotten in the last eighteen months are slobbery kisses and cuddles from my daughter,” I murmur into his shoulder.
 

I can feel the warmth of his palms through the fabric of my shirt as he rubs them up and down my back. “Don’t apologize. Talking to you every day over the phone, for a split second I forgot we haven’t been together all this time. No pressure, babe. I completely understand what you’re saying. I’m just happy you’re here.”

He holds me like that, in his lap in the driver’s seat of his Altima, for the next fifteen minutes before I finally give in to the guilt I’m experiencing not being home with Josalyn. I’d spend the entire night here with Jason if I could, but the niggling feeling of selfishness becomes too powerful. Knowing my baby’s schedule, I’m sure she’s asleep, passed out in a milk coma, and won’t wake up for another three hours to be nursed, but if by chance she happens to wake up, it makes me a little crazy to think I won’t be there for her.
 

“I’ve got to get back to my brother’s house,” I say, shifting to get back into the passenger seat, but he tightens his arms around my waist, making me laugh. “Are you holding me hostage?”

With one last heaved sigh into my neck, he finally lets me move across the center console and into the seat. “So tomorrow, right? You’ll be at my house when I get out of class?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Oh, do your parents, like,
know
about us? Or is it going to be me visiting as a friend?” I ask, hardly believing I hadn’t thought to ask this sooner.

“It’s funny. Maybe a month before you sent me that text at Thanksgiving, I was talking with my mom. She had asked if I was dating anyone, or had met anyone I was interested in, and I told her that I was done dating for a while because no one was comparing to the person I called my Great White Buffalo, my one who got away.”

My eyes widen. “What did she say?”

“Well, she asked if it was someone she had met, who I was talking about,” he drawls.

“Oh, my God, you’re killing me, Smalls. What happened? Your parents never knew we were more than just friends back then,” I squeak.

“I told her it was you, and she was definitely surprised, but she didn’t seem disappointed in the least. She always loved you. She did bring up the fact you were married with a new baby, asking me how I felt about that. So when I told her in December that your divorce was final, she wasn’t too shocked when I confessed we were talking long distance.”

“I mean, she wasn’t shocked, but did she seem, like, unhappy about it?” I prompt. My heart pounds in my chest. I
love
Jason’s mom. The woman used to keep Lactaid in her fridge for me because she knew milk upsets my stomach. She told me with as much chocolate as we ate in her house, she felt she had to keep the drink stocked for me, her brownie eating partner. As much of a health nut as that woman is, all rules were lifted and forgotten when it came to chocolate. I would be devastated if she wasn’t happy about Jason and me dating.
 

“No, she wasn’t unhappy. She was her normal sensible self, bringing up pros and cons, asking me questions about what I thought dating a woman with a kid would be like, how a long distance relationship would work. She was actually worried about you too, grilling me about if I thought I could stay faithful, knowing what a player I’ve always been. That kinda hurt a little, seeing how I’ve never cheated on anyone before. I might have been a manwhore, but if I was in a relationship, I never messed around on them,” he asserts.
 

“You know your mom, though. She doesn’t just look at both sides of the coin. She breaks out a microscope and runs a full analysis on it. As long as she doesn’t hate the idea of us being together, I’m good. Okay, I really have to go now. I will see you tomorrow.” I lean over and press one last kiss to his lips and swat at his hands as he tries to reach for me again, pulling the door handle and hopping out of the car with a laugh.
 

“Bye, beautiful,” he calls before I close the door and make my way to my rental.
 

It’s a weird feeling, being torn in two different directions. It actually hurts to walk away from Jason, at the same time I’m being pulled to rush home to my girl. My mommy intuition isn’t going off. I don’t feel like anything is wrong with her, but with her being in a place she’s never been before around people she’s never seen, I want to be there for her, so she doesn’t feel like I abandoned her. I’m sure this is my first-time mom craziness going on, but I don’t care.
 

I’m just glad I know exactly when I’ll get to see Jason again and that it’s so soon. Not knowing and sitting around wondering would make me crazy.

The next morning, I’m woken up by the smell of coffee and the sound of my brother’s voice as he comes through the front door, calling out, “Kolaches and donuts! Come get ‘em before I eat them all.”

I smile and stretch, looking over to my left to find a grinning Josalyn peeking at me over the side of the Pack 'n Play. “Well, good morning, sweet face.” I lean over to kiss her forehead, and she plops down onto her diaper-cushioned butt, giggling when I pop my head over the side to look down at her. I pull back, wait a few seconds, and then sing, “Peekaboo!” as I pop over again, loving her precious laughter when I do it a few more times. She grips the padded edge of the portable crib with her dimple-knuckled fingers and pulls herself up to standing again, so I reach in and pull her out, peppering kisses all over her neck as she throws her head back and cackles. My girl is always in such a good mood in the mornings. Makes waking up way less sucky.