Restoring Jordan (14 page)

I want to argue, but suddenly my heart is on my sleeve, and for a man who likes to hide his away in the darkest recesses of his mind, it’s uncomfortable, especially given the vulnerable state she’s left me in by ending our relationship—whatever that word even means anymore. She’s the first woman I’ve wanted to keep since my ex-wife destroyed my world when she left me, and I’m going to let her slip away because I’m too afraid to fight for her. A flash of self-hatred washes over me as I continue to watch her, giving her no reaction whatsoever. I’m frozen in my fear of showing myself. Using my body to show her how she makes me feel is easy, but now that is gone, and I’m left wanting to confess what is in my soul, but so far outside of my emotional comfort zone I can barely breathe. Will I watch her slip away too afraid to let her see me?

I had stupidly been looking forward to working with Adeline after she put me and my cock in our place. I wanted to have her begging me to fuck her and watch as she crumbled from her want. She wants me, and the uncomfortable, sad desire buried in her eyes is all the assurance I need of this, but I’m now a shady asshole of a man who wants to protect her from myself. I’m sick and tired of having to face my shortcomings with her. She’s nothing but a constant reminder of how despicable and selfish I can be, but at the same time she has me wanting to be better.

She stands to leave with the list of items on her agenda for the day, and I watch in silence, wanting to run after her. There is nothing I can do, nothing I should do to stop her. She was right to end a relationship with a man who made it clear he valued her for only one thing and then allowed that relationship to threaten her career. She’s exactly right … but only because she doesn’t really see me, she doesn’t see what I really want from her.

The next week with Jordan passes uneventfully. Sad but true. Every moment I must spend with him is strained and difficult. My body relaxes the moment I see him as though he’s some missing link in my happiness, but then I remember he’s no longer a part of my life, however casual his part in my life may have been. As soon as my emotions catch up to what my brain understands,
we’re not going to be together again
, the peace his presence brings to my body dissipates and leaves me resentful and petulant.

We’ve not had any further run-ins with Mark Lear at the work site, but every time the executives at Trigg show up on site, I’m certain they’re going to say something about Jordan and me. For that matter, every time I pass Foster in the hallway, I expect the same. It’s as though I’m waiting for an ax to fall on my future that is in many ways held in the clutches of a resentful prick who should never have been stupid enough to come on to me. Mark’s threat looms over us both, but Jordan shows none of my fear and concern. He hardly shows anything at all anymore.

When we work together, he’s still fair, honest in his assessment of my work, quick to compliment if it’s warranted, and quick to challenge me if necessary, but what I see when he’s not looking hurts the most. I used to catch him staring at me all the time, roving over my body or studying my face. He was tracking me constantly. Now, his gaze is often off in some distant world that doesn’t include me. When I do catch him watching me, he’s quick to look away, breaking my heart every time.

At night I dream of him. His voice is in my head, murmuring quiet, intoxicating, and incredibly inappropriate words in my ear. His strong hands and the caress of his breath are on my skin as he trails his mouth across my flesh. I can remember so easily the feel of his hard arousal forcing its way into my body. I can still see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he pushes me past my comfort zone, and more than anything, I can still sense the desperate need in his soul. He wanted me once, unexplainably; it was all about me, and now that need is gone and I’m left cold.

My hand just naturally seeks my release in his absence, my fingers exploring in much the same way his did. I’ve never much been a fan of masturbation, always chastising even my inability to do this act effectively, thinking I must be pathetic. I have always been my worst enemy after all, and even self-pleasure was a challenge to my need to criticize myself. But I miss him. I need the release he so easily gave me. I believed I deserved it with him. I didn’t care if my orgasm tore through my body with a guttural groan; I wanted it, and now he’s gone, and my body misses it. It’s no use though. I’m back to hating my inept pathetic touch, wishing instead it was his. Why oh why do I need to loathe myself so intensely? He had broken me of my need to over-judge, over-criticize, over-hate myself. He was honest, fair, genuine, and he made me feel worthy of my life, my future, even of him. But I threw him away.

It was my choice. I did this to myself. I did this to us, but the idea of being some passing whim, another notch in his bed post, just another pathetic woman to be sucked into his fleeting fantasy, is too much. Feeling out of place in this town, this firm, this life I’ve set myself up for is nothing new, but I’ve fought for this tooth and nail. I don’t want to see him destroyed for what we’ve done anymore than me, and at the same time I’m ready to run and hide in Des Moines the moment I graduate. He’s built me up, and oddly, I’m the one who’s tearing me down. It’s true I’ve not had any job offers here, but it’s the combination of it all that has me ready to run. It’s this life that is still so foreign to me; it’s this career I’m not so sure will embrace me; it’s Vera; it’s Mark; it’s as if my life is somehow over without him; it’s no longer having him there to support me through all of those things.

My parents will be arriving the following Tuesday, and the weekend is a much-needed, though unwanted, break from Jordan. Kelli spends the better part of Saturday and Sunday nursing my beat-up ego and trying her damndest to assure me I’m worthy of my life. She’s angry at him, which is odd considering this was my choice, but rallying with her on my side is still powerful … until Monday hits and my resolve, my strength, my damn resolution to see this thing through fails me completely.

I have to tell Jordan my parents want to visit the site, and I’m terrified. I speak to him every day, and yet this has me frightened. I don’t expect him to do anything but assure me it’s fine, but it’s the personal aspect that has me trilling with worry. Hiding myself from him is how I’ve escaped the emotional torture of losing him, but this will put my life squarely in front of him. If he’s there, which he likely will be, he’ll meet them. They’ll see the man who has turned my life upside down and tied my heart into knots. Part of me wants him to meet my parents, see where I came from, see who I am, but part of me is terrified to share myself so thoroughly with someone that I must, by sheer necessity, keep at arm’s length.

As I enter his office Monday afternoon with this very conversation in mind, I’m shaking with nerves. He looks from his computer and pauses at my likely terrified expression. “Adeline, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His words are tender, his expression concerned, and it melts my heart, as it always does, when he looks at me in that incredible gentle way he has with me.

“Uh … my parents are coming to town tomorrow… Just a long overnight layover on their way to D.C.” I can barely speak as he watches me. “They want to visit … visit the site… I can tell them it’s not a good idea, but I thought I’d ask…”

“Of course; it’s fine.” He looks uncomfortable at my nervousness, but his words are genuine. “I think that’s a great idea. You should absolutely show them what you’ve been working on. You’ve done a great job on this project. It supersedes anything I’ve seen an intern do. You should be proud of the job you’ve done.” The furrow of his brow shows his understanding of my hesitation. He believes in me. Even after everything that has happened, he’s pushing me forward, propelling me onward. He’s proud of me, and he wants me to share this with them.

I leave quickly after thanking him, relief washing over me. His words were as true and honest as always, but they leave me empty, just another reminder of the support I’ve lost. But he wants my parents to visit the site. He was nearly adamant they should, and I’m suddenly ready to see them. They’ll arrive fairly late this evening and will then leave on the next leg of their journey at five thirty tomorrow evening. We have only a short period of time together, but I’m reassured.

When they arrive, my ears prick with immediate interest. Adeline and I have been onsite since morning, overseeing the installation of the custom cabinetry in the kitchen. It’s something of a nostalgic experience for me. I don’t usually hang out at the site so much as I do with her, but she needs to experience the full effect of seeing her design come to life, and I want to be here to watch that happen, never mind the constant fear I have of Mark showing up once again.

Every workman who enters this space brings a new piece of her vision, and she looks almost overwhelmed. Her demeanor has changed since last week, but when she sees the transformation of the condo little by little every day, there is an obvious calming of her spirit.

They enter, and I’m immediately taken by their familiarity. They are her. Her mother looks like her, and her father carries his body in much the same manner as she does. She belongs to them, and it oddly makes me jealous and radiating with warmth at the same time. I introduce myself quickly, holding a hand out to her father and kissing her mother on the cheek. Adeline watches with an earnest look, and when my eyes meet hers she gives a very gentle and quick smile.

“I’m Jordan Ellinwood. It’s nice to meet you both.”

Her father speaks first. “I’m Sam Parker. It’s good to meet you, Jordan.”

He’s kind, but there’s a sternness to this voice, and I’m reminded he was once in law enforcement. He’s trim, of medium height, and was likely quite handsome in a roguish sort of way once upon a time. He obviously knows nothing of what I’ve done to his daughter’s body, but meeting his gaze I have no problem being calm and assured. I respect her. I care for her, and this man, though programmed to protect her, is not my enemy. We care for the very same thing. The only difference is her compassion for them is tied to familial love rather than romantic. The thought stills me even as I shake his hand. I love her. Can I possibly love her? I want her to love
me
as truly as she does them. I want her to need my support just as she needs theirs. I want to pick up where they’ve left off. I want to be the one to care for her, support her, challenge her, and protect her now that they can’t. But she’s running back to them. Why? Because I haven’t stepped up to do any of those things. She’s pushed me away, and I’ve allowed it with no challenge whatsoever.

I have to swallow hard over the sudden lump in my throat. Adeline is watching me as I once watched her. I’ve fought with my eyes to remain distant from her, but they always beg to seek her out, to invade her mind, to overcome her obstinacy. I look to her mother, who is already watching me with intrigue and wonder. She is just as lovely as Adeline, her age showing beautifully and gracefully in the fine wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks. She looks nothing like our world. She’s simple and perfect. Her clothing is casual in the way you would expect to see in some perfect prairie town. She wears boot-cut jeans, a floral peasant-style button-up shirt, and a cardigan. She’s like a model from L.L.Bean, and she’s the perfect glimpse of how Adeline will mature perfectly and genuinely into old age—God willing with me at her side.

I like them instantly, wanting to know more, wanting to invade her life. She gives them the tour of our space we’ve designed together. She shows them the bathroom, the kitchen, the living area, and the bedroom. When we enter the bedroom both our eyes seek the space against the exposed brick wall where we made love. It was the last time we were together, and the stifling emotion in the room is palpable, and I’m guessing she feels the same. Her parents are likely the only ones in the room who don’t feel the heated energy passing between us.

Funny what was once erotic, exciting, and forbidden is now so loaded with emotion and pain, but that is how our dynamic has shifted. When I first met her, it was all about the physicality of our bodies. I wanted hers, and I damn well knew she wanted mine. Now, I still crave her body, her touch, her breath, her kiss, her warmth, her tightness that fits me so perfectly, every last part of her physical being, but it’s now so supercharged with my emotional desire it’s hard to see or understand the difference.

They move in unison around the room, and I catch her occasional glimpse as she points out different details. She’s nervous, she’s unsure once again, and I imagine pulling her into my arms as her parents stand by, reassuring her in the way she needs. My feelings are genuine, and for the first time in such a long time I feel no guilt. I’ve honored her body, her mind, her soul, and though I’ve lost her, it’s not for lack of want.

As I follow them from the room still studying their closeness, compassion, and relation to one another, I listen to their conversation. They want to take her to lunch. They must be back at the airport at three o’clock to continue their trip to Washington, D.C. Adeline’s gaze flits to mine as she considers their proposal, but before she has time to concern herself or refuse their wishes, I step in. “Why don’t you let me take you all to lunch. I’d love the chance to speak with you further, and we have some fine restaurants nearby.”

Adeline’s eyes flash to mine, and I register her concern. “You don’t have to do that…” Her expression is warning me, but there’s no need. I just want to be near her, to experience her life, to understand her better.

“Nonsense. We all have to eat. I don’t want to interrupt your time together though…” Her father shakes his head at my last comment, stopping any further question as Adeline’s mother watches us both in interest. A small smile creeps across her face as she relents to our wishes with a subtle nod, and linking her arm with Adeline’s, she steers us all toward the elevators.

*

“What do you mean you grew up alone?” My mother’s words are prying as they always are, and by the hesitant look on Jordan’s face it hasn’t escaped his attention.