his life could be with the two of them together, for she senses his distance, and this is the only way she knows to get him back, to make herself indispensable, to make his life better with her than without.
That and a spectacular blow job.
“I’m booked into the St. Regis,” she says, laying down her spoon and turning off the gas as she rubs her hand slowly on the front of his jeans, and Michael, despite himself, groans.
“Want me to stay or go?” She sinks slowly down to her knees and unzips him, knowing the effect she has on him, knowing she is all-powerful where this is concerned.
“Stay,” he gasps, and with a satisfied smile on her face she takes him in her mouth.
Michael lays down the knife and fork and sighs. He’s trying to eat the pasta. He knows it’s probably delicious—it smells delicious, looks delicious and if he were able to taste anything at all, it would undeniably taste just as good, but he can’t.
He has forced one mouthful down, but he can’t do this. Can’t play happy families when he knows, suddenly and without any shadow of a doubt, that he and Jordana are not meant to be together.
It is as if he has just awakened from a trance, the shock of Jackson’s pain, the shock of all their lives being turned upside down, enough to force him back to reality, a reality that Jordana has no part of.
“What’s the matter?” Jordana is happy. She has him where she wants him, has been besotted with him since the first kiss, and has only been able to leave Jackson, to blow up her life, because she has barely thought about Jackson since that very first day when her fantasies became a reality.
This is what she has been waiting for these weeks, but this is not the way it is supposed to happen.
In her fantasies Michael is as adoring as he has always been, only more so, his gratitude immeasurable for her having had the courage to leave her husband. He welcomes her with open arms and tears in his eyes, telling her how much he loves her, how they will start afresh.
She would even have children for Michael, and Jordana never wanted children in her life. But imagine little Michaels, the product of their love for one another! She has even thought about coming off the pill, because, let’s face it, she isn’t getting any younger.
And Jackson? Jackson would deal with it. He’d have to. And at some point he’d find someone else, and then perhaps they’d all be, if not friends, then at least on friendly terms. Jordana certainly bears him no animosity, she doesn’t want to hurt him in the slightest, but Michael is her soulmate. How can she miss an opportunity like this? How can she spend the rest of her life knowing she was with the wrong man? Jackson may take a while, but ultimately he would realize that Jordana was not his soulmate, would realize that she had done the right thing.
Her heart beats faster as she watches Michael struggle to chew. He does not look the way she thought he would look. He looks like a man carrying a weight on his shoulders. He looks like a man who is about to say something she knows she doesn’t want to hear, and she doesn’t want this to happen, wants to turn the clock back to a few weeks ago when everything was perfect. She feels a wave of nausea as Michael opens his mouth to speak.
“I can’t do this, Jordana,” he says softly.
“Can’t do what?” She is almost choking.
“I saw Jackson today.” Michael looks up and meets her eyes. “He’s in so much pain. I feel horrible. I don’t know that I can do this to him.”
“I know,” she croons, thinking that if it is only his concern at hurting Jackson, she can deal with that, knows her way around that. “Of course it will be painful in the beginning, but I swear that in time he’ll see how wrong we are for one another.”
“Maybe,” Michael says. “Maybe you and he are wrong for one another, but I still . . . I can’t . . .”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t be with you,” he says eventually, his voice soft.
Jordana sighs. “Okay. Fine. We’ll take a break until things settle down. I understand you feel horrible about this, and maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’s too risky to keep seeing one another, so