I found him unbelievably attractive. He was in great shape. But I was obsessed with his collarbone. It was the most random thing. I never knew a collarbone could be sexy until Jacob. Maybe because I saw so little of his body, I found the parts I could see so erotic? His forearms, his neck, his Adam’s apple. The other day at the park he was playing with one of the twins and his shirt hiked up and I almost died looking at the two inches of stomach and the trail of hair I got to see.
And I loved the way he smelled. When we were in front of people we knew and we had to look like a couple, the first thing I did was get close enough to smell him. It was like clean laundry and soap. This room smelled like that. This whole place was Jacob, concentrated.
And I could picture us in this bed. I could imagine us coming back after a day of hanging out and maybe we’d be a little drunk and maybe he’d kiss me and maybe…
Maybe…
It was a dangerous word, maybe. And it was one I’d been thinking. A lot.
I couldn’t deny how I was starting to feel.
It was like I was one of the abused animals he rescued. Like I was being coaxed out with food and soft words and gentle pats and I was starting to feel safe. And my hard NO to never being in a relationship again had begun to turn into a maybe…
But only with him.
Not that he was interested. Not that it was a good idea, even if he was. He was still in love with Amy. We worked together, he was Benny’s kidney donor. If something between us went badly, I didn’t want it to affect our working relationship or how he felt about what he was doing for my brother. It wasn’t a good idea to muddy things or cross lines.
But I didn’t want anyone else in this bed with him either.
The idea made me feel sort of panicked.
I didn’t want anyone else to get handwritten letters. I didn’t want him to smile at another woman or hang out with them. I felt oddly possessive of him and this little universe we’d built, which was equal parts ridiculous and scary, because how much of our universe was even real?
He was spending time with me so we could survive the scrutiny we’d be under once Amy was around. He was probably only coming over so much to take the pictures we needed and get to know each other enough to pull off our fake dating. If that wasn’t a factor, would he be hanging out with me at all?
He spoke from behind me. “I told you I have a headboard.”
I laughed a little too loudly. When I turned around, he was leaning in the doorway. He had his arms crossed and he was gazing at me with those soft brown eyes.
There is something so intimate about being in a man’s bedroom. Probably because there’s really only one reason why you would be…
I cleared my throat. “Don’t you have a plant room?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yeah. Come on.”
He pushed off the doorway and took me across the hall. When he opened the door, I sucked in a shock of air.
It was beautiful.
There must have been a hundred potted plants in there.
It was a sunroom with an antique desk pushed against a window overlooking the wooded yard. He had creeping vines, plump succulents, wide-leafed plants, and hanging baskets of ferns. A small fountain trickled in the corner. It was a little humid and it smelled earthy.
This place was a secret enchanted garden.
But then his whole life was, I realized.
This was his private world and almost nobody had access to it. It was by invite only, designed to be small and hidden away and only for him. I felt privileged to be here.
There was a large glass jar sitting on a wooden stand in the corner. It had several plants inside. The top was corked. “What’s that?”
“It’s a terrarium,” he said from behind me.
“How do you water it?”
“You don’t. It’s a self-sustaining ecosystem. It waters itself.”
“Huh. Cool. My kind of plant.”
I turned to look at him. “You have a very beautiful life, Jacob.”
Something that I couldn’t read moved across his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
I nodded at the desk. “Is this where you write to me?”
He slipped his hands in his pockets. “Yes.”
I smiled. I liked the idea that his words were born here, in this magical room. It was so him.
Jacob knew who he was. He felt so fully formed. Grown-up.
His life was made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny choices, each thing in it selected by him and only him, so it was exactly what he wanted.
Imagine being the woman he picked to join him here. Having a gentle man like this one choose you to be a part of his private, insular world. To be as special as each thing he carefully surrounded himself with. How lucky that woman would be. And I wondered how Amy couldn’t have felt that way. How she could have had the love of a man like this one and not wanted it.
I smiled softly around the room.
I liked that Jacob knew what he liked. He knew what he needed and he built a life around him that reflected that.
I’d done that once. I’d built a life.
Picked out furniture and framed photos and put vacation souvenirs on shelves. And then the man I’d done it with gave it to someone else. And now I lived in the shattered and fading remnants of my childhood instead. I lived with peeling linoleum and shag carpet and ugly furniture I hated.
I wanted to be this whole again. I would. As soon as Benny was healthy again, I’d move on. Move out. Find a place to make like this one. Be like Jacob.
Be like the old me.
I sniffed and turned to him. “This room reminds me of something my mom always used to say.”
“What?”
“Un hombre que puede mantener viva una planta tiene la paciencia de aguantar tus mierdas. It means ‘A man who can keep a plant alive has the patience to put up with your shit.’”
He smiled.
“I’ve never heard you speak Spanish,” he said. “It’s very beautiful.”
I don’t know why, but this made my cheeks heat a little. Maybe because the way he looked at me when he said it felt like he was telling me I was beautiful. And I liked that very much. Because, looking around this house, Jacob knew beautiful when he saw it.
He looked at his watch. “We should probably get going.” But he didn’t move from the door.
The fun part of the evening was over. We were moving on to stage two, the main event. Three solid hours of socializing.
And Amy.
He was nervous. And probably a little heartsick. Having to watch his ex celebrate her engagement to his brother while everyone looked on to see if he’d die of a broken heart wasn’t going to be easy.
“Do you need a hug?” I asked.
He drew his brows down. “What?”
“You look like you need a hug. Can I hug you?”
We usually didn’t touch unless it was part of the ruse, smoke and mirrors for an audience. But nobody was here to see this, and I honestly didn’t know if he’d even let me.
He gave me one of his quiet pauses. And then he nodded. “Yes.”
I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. “I am here for you,” I whispered. “We’ll get through this together and everything will be okay.”
He responded by hugging me back. He tucked my head under his chin, and I felt his hands draw me closer. A warm, firm cage that I didn’t want out of. And he must not have wanted out either because that tiny hourglass of appropriate hug time between family and friends ran out and we just…stayed.