“I would, but when the creativity, the inspiration, isn’t there…it just isn’t there. There isn’t an on and off switch for that. Wish there was,” I explain. Some days I think a little flicker of creativity is trying to grow, but then it dies and any desire to sculpt again dies with it. “I don’t really have a studio anymore anyway.” I shrug, ready to change the subject. “What kind of music do you like?”
“All kinds. It really just depends on my mood. You say anymore. What happened to the studio?”
“I trashed it like a maniac. It was right after Jake died. I just…I was so angry and I felt like just destroying something. So my studio got the worst of it.” I make my admission shamefully. “It was an irrational thing to do, but it felt good at the time.”
Zander studies me carefully, reading me so easily. It’s unnerving.
“If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?” I ask him.
“Who I was before,” he answers immediately. “I didn’t deserve another chance. I’d sleep better at night if I felt like I deserved any of this, if I felt like I deserved to be right here, right now with you.” He turns away from me for the first time since we boarded the plane and pretends to look outside at the clouds that are now just below us.
When I asked that question, I assumed he’d say something trivial and silly. I didn’t expect that. My heart aches for the handsome, kind man sitting across from me. I unclip my belt and smooth the back of my dress as I move across the space between us and help myself to his lap. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re amazing,” I say, taking his defined jaw in my palms and forcing him to look at me. The regret I see in his eyes mirrors my own. Right here, in this moment with Zander, I can feel the connection between us strengthening. Whatever I am, whatever he is, we are one in the same. Two people who have been so very lonely and awful and live with guilt that refuses to fade. If anything, with every passing minute of solitude, the guilt, the sadness—it grows.
Zander searches my eyes like I search his. His mouth comes down on mine in a passionate kiss that spells out his gratitude and his need. I open myself to him, letting him plunder my mouth, taking whatever he needs from me. He kisses me hard then breaks away, leaning in and resting his head high on my chest.
“I miss you,” I mumble with my chin resting against the top of Zander’s head, swathed in his perfectly tousled cinnamon locks. It’s the truth. I miss him even when I’m right there with him. It’s an odd emotion, one that I’m not yet familiar with. I never felt like this with Jake. With Zander it seems that I’ll never get enough. Not ever.
“I’m right here,” he reasons.
“I know.”
“I’ll always be right here, Sadie.” One of his hands drifts up my thigh under the fabric of my dress. His fingers squeeze and knead at my flesh. “I need you. I want you,” he whispers, his lips brushing lightly against my chest. The way he said those words makes me wonder just how much is behind them.
I spend almost the entire 55 minute flight in Zander’s lap, holding him and letting him hold me. He took what he needed and so did I—soft touches, lingering kisses, and meaningful looks. So much about him feeds my soul. So much about Zander soothes the frayed parts of my heart.
I find companionship in him. I find comfort. I find chemistry. I find that something that is terrifyingly similar to what home feels like. It’s a sensation that makes me deliriously drunk on the idea that I could be happy again.
Happy with Zander.
At the same time, it scares me so much. I’m not ready to let go of Jake. How could I possibly have enough room in my heart for both men? I know that I can’t. I have to pick. Someone has to go and no matter the choice, heartbreak is inevitable. It’s either me with the broken heart because I’ve moved Jake out of that sacred shelter forever or it’s Zander who get’s left in that lonely beach house to live out his life in the little private prison he has made for himself. Tormented tears threaten to spring up in my eyes as the captain announces our descent into Atlanta.
“Buckle up, baby,” Zander orders softly, scooting me from his lap.
I scoot back in my seat and watch Zander get on one knee to adjust my belt and buckle it for me. His eyes meet with mine and remain there for a long moment. A plea can be seen in those blue eyes. It’s one that I know he would never say out loud. He doesn’t think he deserves to even ask it of me, but then again, he doesn’t have to. I can see it crystal clear.
“Make room for me,” his eyes urge.
Without looking, he pulls the strap snug across my lap and leans in. I take his handsome face in my hands and kiss him, doing my best to relay a message of my own.
“I’ll try. Don’t give up on me. I’ll try,” I convey to him with only my lips on his.
I hope he reads me like I read him, because I can’t say my words aloud either. They only remind me that someone’s going to get hurt soon and quite frankly, I’m not sure that either one of us are in any condition to endure any more than we already have.
We are the forlorn consoling the sorrowful, neither one in a real position to help the other, but wanting to nevertheless.
Chapter Nineteen
Easy Concessions
Sadie