Текст книги "Four Week Fiance"

Автор книги: J. S. Cooper

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

“You told yourself what?”

“Nothing, I’m not making sense.” He rolled over and then I rolled over to look at him. His eyes were tender, but his lips were twisted. He looked so lost, like a little boy, and I felt myself loving him so much. My heart filled to the brim as I stared at him. I loved this man so much it hurt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes meeting mine.

“Thank you,” I said in reply.

“It killed me to see you crying.” He took a deep breath. “I thought something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I know, but I thought . . .” His voice trailed off again and he closed his eyes. “This is a mess.”

“What’s a mess?” I reached over and touched his shoulder.

“Nothing.” His lips twisted. “You’re so special—you know that, right?”

“What’s so special about me?” I joked, but my heart stood still as I waited for him.

“You just don’t even know.” His eyes seemed to darken and he was silent for a few seconds as he stared at me. “Oh, Mila, butterflies envy you.” He reached over and caressed my face.

“Why would butterflies envy me?” I laughed awkwardly. The air seemed to stand still in the room as I waited for his answer.

“The sight of you. The sound of your laugh. The lightest touch of your arm. The smell of your hair. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile. The way you play with your hair when you’re nervous. The way you listen to me. The way you make me feel when I’m with you. The whole world stands still when my eyes catch yours. The whole world stands still and even the butterflies are caught up in your aura.”

“Oh, TJ,” I said, about to say more, but he held a finger to my lips and smiled, a beautiful, handsome, heartwarming smile that made my heart ache. I reached over and pulled him closer to me.

“The sight of you ignites my heart, Mila. The sound of your laugh is music to my ears. Just knowing that I’m next to you, the way that makes me feel, it’s enough to let me know . . .” His voice trailed off again and he looked away from me then.

“Let you know what?” I asked breathlessly.

“I knew I was falling for you when the world stood still,” he said, as if he were talking to himself. He then looked back at me, a confused expression on his face. “When I saw you crying just now, it felt like the world was going to combust and burst into flames. It made me feel things. Think things.” He sighed.

“Is that a good thing?” I asked him softly, hope starting to bubble inside of me.

“I’m still trying to decide.” He looked confused.

“Do you love me?” I asked, my throat immediately freezing as soon as the words were out. How could I have asked him that? I wanted to die as soon as I’d said the words.

“I’m trying not to. I’m really trying not to.” He looked so bleak and I wasn’t sure, but I reached over to him to bring him even closer to me, to comfort him, even though it was my heart that was breaking. All I could think inside was love me, love me, love me, please, love me.

“Don’t fall for me, Mila. Please don’t fall for me,” he said as he kissed my neck and held me close.

I already have. I closed my eyes and held him close, praying that more tears wouldn’t start to fall.

Chapter Seven

TJ

Twenty Years Ago

The whole room was dark as I crawled out of bed. I was thirsty and hungry and I rubbed my eyes as I made my way to my bedroom door. I saw my toy soldiers on the floor next to my bed and picked up two of them to take with me to the kitchen. I walked quietly to the door, as I knew my dad would be upset if he knew I was out of bed. I’d get in trouble and grounded and I wouldn’t be able to play video games, and that would suck.

My hand froze on the doorknob as I turned it and it squeaked. I paused and held my soldiers tightly as I peeked into the corridor. There was no noise and no doors were opening. I was safe.

I crept out of the room and walked softly, avoiding all the loose floorboards that I knew made noise. I made it to the top of the stairs when all of a sudden I heard a noise. I froze, my eyes widening, and I looked behind me to make sure my dad wasn’t coming out. No doors opened, but once again I heard the noise. I tilted my head to the side and listened again. It sounded like a sob. As if someone were crying.

I felt my lower lip wobbling and I wasn’t sure why. I started to head back to my bedroom but then stopped and walked towards the bedroom my mom slept in. My friends thought it was weird that my mom and dad slept in different rooms, but it was all I’d ever known.

I made my way to her bedroom and opened the door slowly. I stared into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and then I saw her, curled up on the bed, her face in her hands and she was sobbing, her hair a mess on her pillow. I stood there, watching her, my heart thudding, my stomach feeling empty and my face turning red with heat. Her sobs seemed to get louder and louder as I stood there and I felt both of my toy soldiers falling to the floor. I bit down on my lower lip, scared that my mom heard the noise, but she didn’t. If anything, her sobs got even louder. As her tears cascaded down her face I watched as her fists hit her pillow as if she were punching it. I didn’t really understand what was going on.

“Mommy?” I said softly, not sure what to do. I wanted to go over and hug her. I wanted to go over and ask her if everything was OK. I wanted her to hold me in her arms and kiss the top of my head like she did every morning before I went to school.

But my feet wouldn’t move. I leaned back into the doorway and started to suck my thumb. My dad would be pissed if he saw me sucking my thumb. He told me boys didn’t suck their thumb. I tried not to, but there were some times when I just couldn’t stop myself. This was one of those times. I wanted to be a big boy, I really did. I was eight, I should be able to stop, but sometimes I just couldn’t.

“Mom,” I said again, softly, wishing she would look up and see me, and stop crying, but she didn’t hear me or see me. Instead she just kept crying and crying.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” she cried out into her pillow and I started sucking on my thumb harder.

“Mom,” I whispered, feeling scared, my whole body feeling cold with uncertainty.

“I just want to die,” she cried out and I so badly wanted to go over to her and kiss her. I so badly wanted to go over to tell her I loved her. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I stood there for about ten more minutes and then quietly picked up my toy soldiers, closed the door and made my way to my room and crawled back into my bed, closed my eyes and pretended to sleep until sleep finally took me.

When I woke up the next morning, my father told me that my mother had gone to Heaven earlier that morning. All I did was stare at him as my heart closed in and my stomach tightened. He didn’t reach out to hug me or ask me if I was okay and I didn’t reach out to him. Instead I just walked back to my room, got back into my bed, curled into a ball and sucked my thumb.

Present Day

Every morning, I would wake up and just lie there without opening my eyes. It used to be that I wanted to avoid the beginning of the new day for as long as possible. I’d lie there and imagine that I was somewhere else, anywhere else. Sometimes I’d picture I was on a deserted island somewhere, the sun on my face, the salty air caressing my cheeks as I tried to figure out how to climb the closest coconut tree and pick as many coconuts as I could. Other times, I would picture myself at Mila’s house with her family, playing board games or just sitting around the dinner table talking about our days.

I’d always found it funny that they’d always seemed so interested in hearing about my life, as if I were important or mattered to them. No one else had ever seemed to care. Certainly not my father. He cared about: my grades, my sportsmanship and what girls I dated. There was nothing else in my life that was important to him. I’d learned at an early age not to bother going to him when I was happy, excited or sad. He didn’t listen and he didn’t care. And I learned not to care. Not about anything. It wasn’t important. I wasn’t important. Though for some reason I was important to Mila and Cody, and their parents, and even Nonno looked at me like I mattered. It was a strange feeling, nice, but uncomfortable.

When I woke up in the mornings now, I still kept my eyes closed, but it wasn’t to think about other places I could be, it was to let my mind think about Mila completely unadulterated. I would picture her smile, the bright happy look in her eyes, the way she plays with her hair when she’s nervous. I would think about the way she smells, like roses on a dewy day, fresh, crisp, clean, fragrant. I would imagine her touching my arm or chest, imagine her holding me close, pressing her head against my chest and holding me tightly. I would see myself pulling her into my arms and kissing her forehead and then we would just be there, bound together by some emotion I didn’t want to acknowledge. And then as my anxiety crept in, and the doubts started to come, I would find my eyes opening slowly, ready to face the day, to forget the fantasy that I didn’t think I really wanted. And then I would focus on the task at hand and on why there will never be a moment like that in my daydreams again.

This morning, I awoke, but I didn’t just lie there. I didn’t focus on anything. My eyes flew open and I looked over to the right to look at Mila, to see that she was okay. It was weird having her share my bed now. It was weird that sometimes I woke up and thought of her and kissed her and caressed her in my mind, yet in person—in real life—I just lay there, not able to express the feelings within, in person.

“Morning,” I said softly when I saw her eyelashes fluttering as I faced her. I knew she was awake and was just trying to pretend she was sleeping. She didn’t answer me and I smiled to myself as I felt a surge of happiness trailing through my body for no real reason. It always surprised me how happy I felt just being in her company. Unfortunately, I also felt surges of anger and jealousy when around her. If she looked at another guy and smiled in her sweet, friendly way, it enraged me. Didn’t she realize that other men might read something into her smile? What annoyed me even more was wondering if she was interested in them as well? What really did she see in me? What did she want from me? Would she be happy to be with another man?

I knew these thoughts were irrational, but they always came and I absolutely hated them. I hated feeling like she was taking over my brain; making me think and feel things I didn’t want to feel. She opened up doubts, pains, hurts I didn’t want to think about. The happiness was a high, but the flipside of that, well, the flipside was dark.

“I said, good morning, Mila,” I said again and reached over to tickler her under the arm.

“No, you didn’t.” Her eyes popped open as her body reacted and she pushed my hand away. “You said ‘morning,’ not good morning.” She smiled at me sweetly as she yawned gently. I watched as she pushed her hair away from her face and wondered at how beautiful she was. How could her brown eyes do so much to me when she looked at me?

“So you were awake?” I grinned at her and leaned forward to give her a quick and soft kiss on the lips. Her eyes widened slightly and she just lay there and stared back at me as I moved back.

“I never said that.” She bit her lower lip, her eyes sparkling. “My subconscious must have heard.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded, rolling my eyes. “That must be it.”

“Yeah, it is.” She laughed and then reached over and touched my hair gingerly, running her fingers through my unkempt, short, dark locks before leaving my hair and touching my face. Her fingers ran along my jawline, touching my stubble, touching me lightly as they made their way to my chin. Her fingers were dainty, light as she touched me, and I felt my body freezing uncomfortably. Her touch was like magic, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way she looked at me adoringly as she caressed my face. It made me feel . . . well, I can’t describe the emotion. It turned my stomach into knots and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt out of control.

“So are you feeling better this morning?” I asked her, pulling back and looking away from her. Sometimes gazing into her eyes was too unnerving for my equilibrium.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Her voice was uncertain and I gazed at her again. This time it was her eyes that fell to the side uncertainly as she fiddled with her fingers. An awkward silence befell us and I stretched out in the bed and closed my eyes. I could feel Mila curling up and hugging herself next to me. I wanted to reach over and hold her tight. I wanted to tell her that we didn’t have to be uncomfortable with each other. I wanted to hold her close and tell her to let her worries go. But I couldn’t. Instead I pulled the sheet off of my body and turned to her with a wicked grin.

“Pleasure me, woman.”

“What?” She gave me a funny look, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at my boxer shorts and then back to my eyes.

“I said, pleasure me, woman.” I grinned at her as I joked, trying to break the awkward tension in the air. I wasn’t really sure where it had emanated from, but I didn’t like it. I was a lot more comfortable when the focus was on sex.

“Yeah, okay.” Mila shook her head. “Give me a minute.”

“I don’t want to give you a minute.” I grabbed her hands and pulled her towards me. “I want to feel those lips on my cock right now.”

“You’re so crude.” She looked at me, annoyed, and my stomach flipped. “I’m not some toy or plaything, just here to pleasure you when you want.”

“You’re not?” I growled, my brain starting to feel panicked as I kept on joking.

“Touch me, woman.”

“TJ.” She shook her head, disappointment in her eyes, sadness in the tilt of her lips.

“Fine, don’t,” I said, laughing awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

“Is this all I am to you?” she said softly, long drawn-out sighs leaving her mouth as her body moved away from me.

“No,” I said abruptly, almost harshly. I sounded angry and that made me mad at myself. Why did I sound angry? And why was my stomach churning and my forehead heating up? I wanted to jump out of the bed. I wanted to go have a shower and a long run. I needed distance from her.

“All you want is sex.” She looked disgusted and I wasn’t sure if it was with me or herself.

“That’s not all that I want.”

“You don’t want love and marriage, though, do you?” I could hear the hope in her voice. How could I tell her that in some sort of alternate reality, I wanted just that? In my deepest dreams I wanted that—the white-picket fence, the wife, three kids, a loud yappy dog and moody cat. But that was just a fantasy, not real life. My real life wouldn’t go anything like that.

“You want a family and kids?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

“Yes,” she said lightly. “Two boys, a girl. A Labrador Retriever.”

“You’ll have it,” I said, though it killed me to say that. I didn’t want to think of her with another man, married, giving birth to his kids. In fact it infuriated me. It made me want to kill the other man, even though he didn’t really exist.

“I guess not in the next four weeks,” she tried to joke, her words shaky.

“Yeah, not in the next four weeks.” I smiled back at her, trying to forget that this arrangement was temporary. She wouldn’t be here with me every morning. I didn’t have to worry that she’d take over my life. She’d only be here for a few more weeks and then everything would be back to normal.

“So what exactly do you feel for me, TJ?” she asked again, and I froze. I didn’t want to get into this conversation with her. After I’d seen her crying, I had wanted to punch something or someone. A part of me had been scared. I’d never seen her like that before. It had opened up something in me and I had let her into a part of my soul that had been closed off before.

“I don’t know how to answer that question, Mila.” I sighed, “I really don’t.”

“Do you love me?” she asked me again hopefully, and my heart lurched at her question. I didn’t know why she kept torturing the both of us.

“I love you like family,” I lied. I wasn’t sure exactly what I felt for her, but I knew I didn’t love her like a sister or anything like that.

“Like family?” I could see the hurt in her eyes and it made my heart thud a little harder. I wanted to reach out and touch her face, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Some part of me, the part that was reserved, the part that was scared of emotions and feelings, didn’t know how to reach out. I didn’t know how to tell her the things I was feeling. I didn’t even understand the things I was feeling. How could I tell her that the hurt in her face was the same hurt I felt beating in my heart right then?

“So you think of me as your sister?” This time her voice was angry, betrayed, and I swallowed hard.

“Obviously not, Mila. I wouldn’t fuck my sister.” My words were harsh, harsher than I’d intended, and I was annoyed at myself.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t fuck her, just everyone else,” Mila said bitterly and looked away from me. I could feel that I was losing her and I was scared. I took a deep breath and reached out a hand to her arm. She flinched and pulled it away from me and I felt like she’d just slapped me in the face.

“Mila, I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. All those magical fairy-tale words that you deserve, but I’m no Prince Charming. I’ve never pretended to be.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m all sorts of messed up, and you know that.”

“It’s fine,” she said softly, looking away. “I don’t care. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I just lay there then, staring at her face as she avoided my eyes. I watched as her lips trembled and she started to play with her hair. I could tell that she was upset. She always fiddled with her hair when she was nervous or upset. I looked back up to her face and I could see that her eyelashes were moving quickly. My throat caught as I realized she was fighting tears. I’d done this to her. I felt overwhelmed and angry with myself. I didn’t want to make her cry. I wanted her to be happy. I needed her to be happy. I was already in too deep. I knew she would end up hating me. I know that the secrets I held would break her. I knew they would break her, but I couldn’t help that.

I closed my eyes for a second and started talking. The words came slowly, since my brain wasn’t functioning properly and I didn’t know what to say.

“I do like you, Mila,” I said into the silence, my eyes still closed. “I might even love you in some way. Some sort of love that grows from the heart like weeds in a garden.”

“What?” she said, her voice timid, and I opened my eyes to look at her.

“My love for you is like weeds growing in a garden,” I said, my voice bleak. “I don’t want to love you, I’m trying everything I can to not love you, but the feeling keeps growing and getting stronger, no matter what I try to do.”

“You don’t want to love me?” She looked confused, her eyes wide, gazing at me with such an innocent expression that I felt a dagger cutting into my heart as I stared back at her. I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I didn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“I’m not that guy, Mila,” I said, my throat dry. “I don’t want to lose myself in you.”

“I don’t think that could ever happen,” she said, rolling her eyes as she continued to gaze at me. “You’re frigging TJ Walker.”

“TJ Walker, yup that’s me,” I said with a wry smile. “I’m King of the World.”

“You have everything you could want: money, women, looks.” She shrugged. “You’ve got the perfect life.”

“My life is far from perfect and I don’t think I’ve got it all.”

“So what are you, then?” She sighed. “Are you broken?”

“You have to have been whole to be broken,” I said, and Mila’s eyes softened, gazing at me in compassion and, for a few seconds, understanding, as if she finally comprehended where I was coming from.

“Your parents really messed you up, huh?” She reached out and grabbed my hand.

“I guess.” I shrugged. “I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I guess a psychiatrist would have been able to tell me what was wrong. Where my fears of love and commitment came from. Maybe they could tell me why as much as my heart beat for Mila, she was the last thing I wanted in my life. I couldn’t even tell her how I really felt. I couldn’t tell her that I loved her as much as I hated her. I couldn’t tell her that with every waking minute that I wanted to be with her, I wanted to forget her. I wanted to vanquish her from my life. How could I tell her that with every moment I loved her, I hated her. I hated her for making me feel like I wasn’t in control. I hated her for being the sunshine in my life on a warm day and the storms in the clouds on a bad one.

I couldn’t tell her because it would kill her. I knew it would kill her because it killed me. It killed me to know that I couldn’t just express the feelings in my heart. I couldn’t just go with the love. Oh how I wished I could go with the love. How I wished the other feelings of insecurity wouldn’t pop up. How different would everything be if I could express the feelings in my soul? How different would it be if I understood the feelings in my soul? My jaw clenched as I realized that that was only one part of the equation, and there was so much more to our relationship now. We were digging ourselves into a deeper and deeper hole. A hole I wasn’t sure we’d ever get out of. A hole that might lead to her never talking to me again. Oh, the pain of thinking that she’d never talk to me again. The pain of not having her in my life. It would kill me. It would turn me into a zombie. A dead person living on the earth, but with no real reason for living.

I couldn’t change our path now, though. Everything was so complicated and fucked up. How could I start telling her the truth, after having told her so many lies? Would it even matter if I could tell her how much I loved her? What was my love, after all? What was the promise of a million dollars from a beggar? Or the promise of a fortnight of hot sun from an Eskimo? I had nothing to give that would make me worthy of her. Nothing to change our path of mutual destruction. I knew we were both going to be devastated at the end of everything. And it scared me more than I was willing to admit.

“Why are you like this, TJ?” She sighed. “I don’t understand. Why does it have to be like this?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed too, squeezing her hands. I’d asked myself that question a million times and I didn’t know. “Maybe this is just who I’ve always been.”

“So we’re just going to fool around for four weeks, while we stage a fake engagement, and then that’s it?” she asked, questioning me, trying to withdraw her hands, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered, not really sure what to say. She had no idea that the bomb that was coming was going to be much, much worse than that.

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Just jump in and out of bed with all the women you want and then just move on.”

I shook my head. “It’s not easy at all.” She had no idea how unique she was, how special. How I couldn’t even think of another woman in any way other than platonic. I’d lost all attraction to them. Which was ironic, as I’d always appreciated a nice ass and rack.

“So you were just born this way? Unfeeling? Uncaring?” she asked again, prodding. I didn’t know what she was hoping to accomplish, and while I didn’t want to see her hurting, I didn’t know how to end the conversation to prevent that.

“I suppose so.” I shrugged.

“Okay, then.” She licked her lips and I could see the light in her eyes fading. “I understand.” She nodded. “It’s fine, really. We’ll just have fun and then when it’s done, we can just go back to being friends again.” She looked into my eyes and gave me a big smile. “I’m an adult, I can handle it.”

My heart broke then. The look in her eyes so proud, so determined, so heartbroken.

“I wish I could be the man you need me to be,” I said, my voice lower than a whisper.

“What?” she asked me, leaning in closer.

“I’m glad you can be so mature about it,” I said louder and her face froze as she nodded. My heart broke for her and it broke for me. I knew in that moment that both of our spirits were somehow fading, both of us forever connected to this moment. That hope and love had died slightly. That we were both victims to something we didn’t understand. In that moment, I felt a piece of my soul being torn out of my body. I felt like ice was piling into my heart and stomach and I didn’t know how to breathe.

It shouldn’t feel this way. Yet, it did. I was doing this for her. I was doing this because I knew I couldn’t give her what she needed. Not really. I didn’t know how. And what was worse, I didn’t know that all of me wanted to know how. As much as I loved being with her, I hated it. I hated how she made me feel. I hated the insecurity. I hated the jealousy. I hated the powerlessness. I hated that sometimes when I was alone and looking at the sky, her face would pop into my mind and I would find myself spending minutes and hours just thinking of her smile. I hated that I felt like she was made for me. She was my other half, my soul mate. She made me believe in God and that was a laugh because I hadn’t believed in a long time.

“So, what do you want to do today?” I asked her finally, pretending that we hadn’t just had the most life-altering conversation of our lives. I grinned at her, willing her to grin back. Willing her to go along with the façade that we were both cool with whatever this game was.

“I think I’m going to go and see Nonno,” she said, attempting a smile. “Maybe go to the beach or something.”

“Oh, that will be fun.” I was annoyed that a part of me wanted her to ask me to go to the beach with them. I didn’t really want to go to the beach; I just wanted to be with her.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “It will be fun. Nonno will likely tell me more stories of him and Nonna when they were back in Italy.” She laughed. “Shoot, he’ll most probably tell the same stories to my kids and grandkids.” She laughed and I just nodded, not wanting to go there. “I should get up and shower,” she said feebly. I could tell that she wanted to be away from me, wanted to figure out her feelings, see what she was left with inside. I hoped I hadn’t hurt her too badly. I didn’t want to do that. I hadn’t expected her to get so deep in conversation.

“Okay, that sounds good.” I nodded and watched as she jumped out of bed. My body missed her as soon as she was gone. It was the first morning since she’d been here that we hadn’t made love. I wanted to reach up and grab her and pull her back down onto the bed, but I didn’t. She gave me a self-conscious smile as she walked away, her eyes looking small and sad, and I just grinned as she walked into the bathroom, pretending that I didn’t notice her downtrodden spirit.

This was for the best. It was smart for me to get her to start hating me from now on. This way she wouldn’t be so heartbroken and downtrodden when everything came out.

I heard the sound of the water in the shower and I felt tears coming to my eyes for the first time in years. I was a man who didn’t cry. I was a man who didn’t shed a tear, but in that moment I couldn’t stop myself. I felt like I’d just lost a part of myself. I wasn’t even sure how or why, but as the tears flowed, I knew that I needed the release. A part of me wondered if I was crying because she was crying in the shower. It wouldn’t have surprised me. We were so connected. Our bodies attuned with each other’s every action and feeling. I’d never experienced something so extrasensory before. I wouldn’t have believed it was possible. Mila was my soul mate.

We were connected in ways I’d never have believed possible, but we were never going to get to be together for two reasons. One reason was the fact that she would hate me once she realized what I was hiding from her, and the second reason was because it confounded me to believe that she could love me and stay with me forever. I wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t the man she thought I was and I knew that it would kill me once she found that out and stopped loving me. I could lose everything in the world and not have it hurt as much as loving Mila and losing her when she realized who I really was.