wasn’t true. I had made his favorite dinner, bought his favorite wine, and had planned on him having me for dessert – but he couldn’t even look at me. In fact, he was looking at everywhere but me. At the clock on the wall, at his hands, on the floor. He was right in front of me, the same blond haired, blue-eyed, devastatingly gorgeous man I’d fallen in love with, but he felt like a stranger.
Luckily, I had a plan B, a last ditch effort to pump some much needed lust back into our relationship. The reservation confirmation was tucked inside a slender white envelope beside the bottle of wine. Inside was our escape. I knew he had three days off coming up, and Santa Cruz was his favorite place to vacation so I snatched up a rental in Pleasure Point. Sun, sand, romance – it would be just what we needed. It would save us.
I grasped the envelope tightly. I trembled with excitement even though his cold reception made me worry that maybe it was too late. Maybe we were too far gone.
I silenced the thought, turning back to Jason. “I have something to tell you--”
“Actually, I have something to tell you too.”
I didn’t need psychic abilities to figure out whatever he wanted to talk to me about wasn’t good. Still, I smiled, ignoring the voice inside me that whispered that he hadn’t said I love you back in weeks and I had practically begged him to come home a little earlier today just for my surprise.
He looked past me, finally noticing the spread I’d prepared. His voice was low and melancholy. “You cooked alfredo?”
I nodded so hard, so eagerly, I thought my head would snap off. “I know it’s your favorite.”
He swallowed hard, not meeting my gaze. “You didn’t have to do that, Melissa.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. Melissa – I wasn’t Melissa unless he was pissed. He called me Mel, turning something that used to bring images of a balding, overweight mechanic into something erotic and sensual. My full name on his tongue felt stiff and formal. He was still near me, but there was an invisible wall between us, growing brick by brick with every awkward second that passed .
“You know I care for you.” His deep voice was low and uncomfortable, scraping over my exposed flesh like a scouring pad. It laid waste to my optimism, leaving me with a bitter knowledge. A truth I didn’t want to face. There was no escaping it now.
“This isn’t working for me anymore.”
My eyelids dropped and I struggled to keep the tears at bay. I wasn’t sure I could handle the standard line I knew he’d use.
I asked anyway. “Why, Jason?”
And 3, 2, 1...“You’re a great girl, Melissa.” He paused. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
My eyes flew open and I surprised us both by laughing. Bitter, gut wrenching guffaws that ripped out my insides. With those words, this new hurt found a familiar home with every other guy I’d dated. Men who cited unknown needs, pieces that were missing, time that was wasted. I knew they thought they were doing me a favor by taking the blame, but it brought me no relief. It was insulting that none of them had the balls to give it to me straight.
I wiped hot tears from my face, glaring at him. “After everything we’ve been through, don’t bullshit me.”
“Melissa--”
“Tell me the truth!” I hissed, my frustrations and my broken heart paraded for him to see. I locked my jaw when his eyes softened with pity. “I don’t want pity. I want honesty.” I’d never asked for specifics before. I’d always been too ashamed. Too afraid. Now the only thing that scared me was the fear that it really was me.
He exhaled, the gravelly sigh shaking his muscled frame. “The things you need in the bedroom…it’s not right.” When my eyes widened, he quickly added, “Not right for me. You need things I can’t provide.”
My face scrunched in confusion. “Because I want you to be more aggressive? Because I want you to take charge?” It didn’t seem like
Luckily, I had a plan B, a last ditch effort to pump some much needed lust back into our relationship. The reservation confirmation was tucked inside a slender white envelope beside the bottle of wine. Inside was our escape. I knew he had three days off coming up, and Santa Cruz was his favorite place to vacation so I snatched up a rental in Pleasure Point. Sun, sand, romance – it would be just what we needed. It would save us.
I grasped the envelope tightly. I trembled with excitement even though his cold reception made me worry that maybe it was too late. Maybe we were too far gone.
I silenced the thought, turning back to Jason. “I have something to tell you--”
“Actually, I have something to tell you too.”
I didn’t need psychic abilities to figure out whatever he wanted to talk to me about wasn’t good. Still, I smiled, ignoring the voice inside me that whispered that he hadn’t said I love you back in weeks and I had practically begged him to come home a little earlier today just for my surprise.
He looked past me, finally noticing the spread I’d prepared. His voice was low and melancholy. “You cooked alfredo?”
I nodded so hard, so eagerly, I thought my head would snap off. “I know it’s your favorite.”
He swallowed hard, not meeting my gaze. “You didn’t have to do that, Melissa.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach. Melissa – I wasn’t Melissa unless he was pissed. He called me Mel, turning something that used to bring images of a balding, overweight mechanic into something erotic and sensual. My full name on his tongue felt stiff and formal. He was still near me, but there was an invisible wall between us, growing brick by brick with every awkward second that passed .
“You know I care for you.” His deep voice was low and uncomfortable, scraping over my exposed flesh like a scouring pad. It laid waste to my optimism, leaving me with a bitter knowledge. A truth I didn’t want to face. There was no escaping it now.
“This isn’t working for me anymore.”
My eyelids dropped and I struggled to keep the tears at bay. I wasn’t sure I could handle the standard line I knew he’d use.
I asked anyway. “Why, Jason?”
And 3, 2, 1...“You’re a great girl, Melissa.” He paused. “It’s not you, it’s me.”
My eyes flew open and I surprised us both by laughing. Bitter, gut wrenching guffaws that ripped out my insides. With those words, this new hurt found a familiar home with every other guy I’d dated. Men who cited unknown needs, pieces that were missing, time that was wasted. I knew they thought they were doing me a favor by taking the blame, but it brought me no relief. It was insulting that none of them had the balls to give it to me straight.
I wiped hot tears from my face, glaring at him. “After everything we’ve been through, don’t bullshit me.”
“Melissa--”
“Tell me the truth!” I hissed, my frustrations and my broken heart paraded for him to see. I locked my jaw when his eyes softened with pity. “I don’t want pity. I want honesty.” I’d never asked for specifics before. I’d always been too ashamed. Too afraid. Now the only thing that scared me was the fear that it really was me.
He exhaled, the gravelly sigh shaking his muscled frame. “The things you need in the bedroom…it’s not right.” When my eyes widened, he quickly added, “Not right for me. You need things I can’t provide.”
My face scrunched in confusion. “Because I want you to be more aggressive? Because I want you to take charge?” It didn’t seem like
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