year because I’ve been working so much. I’d love to meet that special someone, you know? Someone who loves me so hard it hurts. I want that all-consuming, addictive love that everyone always talks about.”
The kind written about in that journal.
“What about you?” I ask. “What happened with your one love?”
There’s a slight groan rumbling in his chest, like just thinking about the answer to that question is painful to him.
But I have to know.
I had to ask.
“We just didn’t work out,” he says.
I roll to my side, resting my chin on his chest. “What happened?”
“She was in love with two people,” he says.
I’ve never had my heart broken before. I wouldn’t know what it feels like or how bad it hurts. But right now, there’s a tight ache in my chest.
It is him.
It has to be.
He’s the heartbroken Romeo.
He didn’t get the girl.
And if that’s the case, he’ll never love another the way he loved her.
24
Aidy
Ace pulls up outside my apartment Sunday afternoon.
This is it.
This is the end of our sexy little unexpected weekend.
We woke up early this morning and had a quiet, introspective hike along this amazing trail with scenic views of Rixton Lake, and we stopped on the top of a hill and enjoyed a picnic breakfast as we watched a group of teenagers cliff dive next to the biggest waterfall in the state.
I enjoyed every moment, willing each minute to drip by slow as honey, because I hadn’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time. Something about being out here, elbows deep in pine sap and mosquitos and lake water, is refreshing in a way you can’t find in the city. No red-doored spa treatment could ever compare to being one with nature, to being cut off from technology and hustle and bustle.
Ace, as wonderful and intriguing and mysterious as he is, kept me at a distance all weekend. Even when his cock was buried inside me and his mouth was on mine, there was this odd separation.
I spent the better part of the ride home thinking about it.
Accepting it.
Knowing it’ll never change because he’s a man still clearly in love with the woman with the violet eyes, and nobody else will ever compare.
I exhale, heavy with melancholy, when he shifts into park and climbs out of the truck. I meet him around back, where he’s pulling my bags out and sitting them on the curb.
“Thanks for everything,” I say. There’s a finality in my tone that I didn’t place there intentionally.
Ace squares his body with mine, placing his hands on my hips. Our eyes meet, and I get weak in the knees just looking at him again. He’s pretty like this, all clean-shaven. I’d seen photos of him clean-shaven before, when I Googled his name last time, but most of them were team photos or freeze frames from TV screens. They were grainy and far away. Seeing him up close, looking like a million bucks, does something to me that no one else ever has.
But it’s more than his looks.
Over this weekend, I grew to love his quiet strength. His intensity. His seriousness. His stillness.
“I had a great time,” I say. “Thank you for taking me with you. It was definitely one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time.”
“You’ll have to come with me again sometime.” He says it so casually, and my jaw hangs slightly because I wasn’t expecting him to say anything like that.
I figured it was a one-and-done type of thing. He found a girl, took her to his cabin, got laid a good handful of times, and then the second her feet touched the ground again, he dropped her off where he found her.
“I’d like that,” I say.
“You want help carrying everything?” he asks.
I turn around, glancing at my door then back at him. “No, it’s okay.”
Breathing out, I smile and move toward the curb, but his hand hooks my arm and he pulls me back, closer to him. Without saying a word, Ace kisses me.
In broad daylight.
In the streets of Manhattan.
For all the world to see.
And he doesn’t just kiss me – he kisses me hard.
Every part of me hopes it won’t be our last, but I know better than to get my hopes up.
I lick my lips, letting his taste linger on my tongue, and I watch him drive away. Lugging my bags up to my apartment, I realize I forgot the antique jewelry box in his truck. On our way back this afternoon, we