42
Jack McLachlan
It’s only one week until Laurelyn leaves. It’s too soon and I want more time with her.
I’m neglecting my work at Avalon because I’m desperate to spend every minute with her. I can’t get enough of her and this morning is no different. That’s why I’ve come back to the house to see her after being gone for only an hour.
I open the bedroom door expecting her to still be asleep, but she’s not, and I hear the shower running. Maybe I’ll slip in and join her.
As I’m thinking it over, I hear a smothered version of “Sex on Fire” by Kings of Leon playing somewhere in the bedroom. I follow the sound until I find a ringing phone inside Laurelyn’s purse. I reach in and take it out to see the caller ID in case it’s an emergency from home. At least that’s why I tell myself I do it.
It’s Blake Phillips. Again.
This time it’s not a missed call notification I see. It’s a photo of Laurelyn with her lips pressed against a man’s cheek. They look like a happy couple. Maybe even in love.
I contemplate what to do—answer or let it go to voicemail—and my curiosity wins out. I slide the bar over and have no idea what to say because I’m in the dark about who this man is. I put Laurelyn’s phone to my ear and listen without saying a word. A moment later, I hear his voice. He’s a Yank—of course. I would expect him to be. “Laurelyn. I know you’re there. I hear you breathing.”
I continue silent, waiting to hear some clue as to what kind of relationship she has with this man.
“If you’re not ready to talk, please listen.” I wait and hear nothing. I think we’ve been disconnected, but then he continues, “I miss you, Laurie. We had a great thing going and I know we can get it back. Baby, no one knows about us. I convinced Mitch and the guys you just needed a little time to deal with the stress of the music industry, but they’re not going to wait forever. You need to come back to Nashville so we can push this record deal through. You need to come home to me.”
I’m still not positive who Blake Phillips is, but I’m getting a much clearer picture. He’s the one before me, the one who hurt Laurelyn.
“Laurie, I know you miss me.”
I’ve heard enough. “Laurelyn can’t come to the phone right now.”
There’s a moment of silence before he asks, “Who is this?”
“Jack McLachlan. I’m Laurelyn’s boyfriend, her Australian boyfriend. Because that’s where she is—in Australia with me. Not in Nashville with you.”
“I need to speak with Laurie as soon as possible. Please, tell her to call Blake.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you and you’re out of your f*cking mind if you think I’m telling my girlfriend to call her ex-hole. I’m sure you understand.” I press the end button because we’re done here.
Laurelyn is mine. Not his.
After I end the call, I thumb through photo after photo of Laurelyn with this guy and see the proof of her happy life before me. It’s unsettling, even painful to see.
I hear the shower cut off and try to decide what my approach will be to asking Laurelyn about her relationship with this guy. I’m sitting on the side of the bed when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a towel wrapped turban style around her hair. She’s as naked as the day she was born.
She’s startled to see me and lets out a girlish squeal as she uses her hands to cover herself. She realizes it’s me and grins as she drops her hands from her naked body. “Shit, you scared me. I thought you were gone for the day.”
“I was, but I came back for something.” I wish I hadn’t. I don’t want these feelings I have.
Laurelyn grins as she walks over to her lingerie drawer. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”
I watch her step into a pair of white lace panties and pull them up. She reaches for the matching bra and slips her arms through it before fastening the clasp between her breasts.
I decide I’m done wondering. “Tell me who Blake Phillips is.”
She pales as she freezes in place. Her words come out as a whisper. “Why would you ask me that?”
We’re heart to heart and he fades into me until I don’t know where I end and he begins.
“I’m getting close and I want to come inside you.” He keeps moving as he talks and I wrap my legs around his waist, my head spinning with the ecstasy of his words. I forget who he is, who I am, and what we are to each other.
I want him to mark me, to make me his. I lock my legs around him and squeeze. He couldn’t free himself from my tight hold if he tried. “I want you to.”
He pushes harder inside me. I can’t see his face because it’s buried against my neck, but he’s close. I know he is about to fill me with a part of him.
It’s in this moment I know without a doubt that Blake is my past. Jack Henry is my present, and as much as that pleases me, I want him as my future. The feelings and emotions he stirs inside me make it impossible to contain the way I feel about him. I lock my arms around him and squeeze my legs tighter as he groans and spasms inside me.
“I love you, Jack Henry,” I whisper against his ear as he empties himself into me.
I love Jack Henry McLachlan. And now I’ve told him. And I regret saying it the moment the words leave my mouth. Words of love aren’t what he wants to hear from me. He doesn’t feel the same. This isn’t what he signed up for, and I’ve probably just ruined the little bit of time I have left with him.
I am a foolish, foolish woman.
His face is still buried against my neck so I can’t see his reaction. And I don’t want to. I feel him breathing heavily against my hair. I think he’s contemplating his next move, so I give him the easy out I owe him.
“Let me up.” I push him off me without meeting his eyes and dart into the bathroom so he can dress and leave without feeling obligated to talk about what I said.
I wonder if he’ll ask me to leave when he comes home from work. My back is against the door, my tear-streaked face in my hands. Maybe I should save him the trouble and just leave on my own.