that Grandma’s full of hocus pocus, but whatever’s in that thing, it’s strong.”
Ethan glanced back at me, but this time I could feel what was pumping through his veins. Part of it was his readiness to begin the race, but there were also hints of uncertainty and apprehension. He was mulling over what my mother had said and what Gia had pretty much confirmed.
And now, so was I.
The starting pistol was fired into the air and we took off. Gia and I opted to only do the three mile run, and our shoes thudded in synchrony next to each other. The minute I caught a stride, my mind took over.
Hunch punch.
While I’d considered it a bit strange how my body had reacted in my office that first night with Ethan, I’d just chalked it up to finally no longer being able to resist him. I’d been attracted to him for ages. I was still attracted to him. Although it was out of the ordinary for me to have been that aroused, the man was unbelievably gorgeous. I moistened from his gaze alone.
Yet, there’d been something else. There was something else. With Ethan, it felt like reckless abandon. I could barely stop thinking about him long enough to sleep, and I wanted only the feeling of his fingertips on and inside me. Ever since that first time, I never even considered sleeping with Roderick again, and somehow I’d just known that my feelings for Ethan would have only increased. I’d chalked it up to my naiveté, but I’d secretly known that I was never going to stop seeing him and craving his touch. When I wasn’t in his arms, everything else felt like Alcatraz. I lived, slept, and breathed this man.
Still, in my naiveté, I’d assumed that this was normal. That this was how everyone fell in love. I’d assumed that love was filled with great things, but it also carried with it the pain of not being completely sure that it was safe to fall into another person. To trust their cliff. I’d “released my grip” the day Ethan and I visited his grandfather because it was then that I understood that he wanted me in his life. And, it wasn’t that he wanted the libidinous version of me…he simply wanted the version of me that brought me the most comfort. He didn’t want me, for any reason, to have to go against what I felt inside in order to feel safe around him.
But, why hadn’t it happened yet?
It was my mother’s decree that women never got exactly what they were looking for in a mate, and that compromise was often necessary. She’d said this rather haphazardly once when we were getting mani-pedis and she saw me flipping through a magazine. There’d been an article about “the perfect man for you” that I’d been scrutinizing a bit too intently and she’d caught me. Then, she’d simply said that with men, if I truly wanted to live a comfortable life, I would have to look for a man that was driven. A busy man. An often cold man. Yet, this was the man that was always going to come home at some point. He was always going to provide for his family. There might not be any zing or spark, but women were not made of flint. We were not made for sparks. We were made to be kept and Roderick would do just that for me. I’d believed her up until Ethan.
Although I could see where another woman might find flaws, somehow, he was just perfect for me. He had a tendency to shut down when he was upset, but it was a million times better than being the target of his anger. The only time he was selfish was when it came to wanting me, and that was the kind of selfish that I liked. He also never talked about his mother and I could tell that he was holding back mountains of pain because of it, but never did that reflect on me. My plan had simply been to let him be because I just knew, some-freakin-how, that he would eventually open up. I’d also just known that what I felt for him now wasn’t a fraction of what I would feel for him as time passed.
If I chose to believe in what my father said earlier — and it was growing more and more difficult not to by the minute — then, the only real relationship that