Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Anna

I see Troy every night for the next week, both of us carefully avoiding the topic of his imminent departure after I asked him what day he's leaving when he stayed the night at my place Monday night. It's been strange having a man in my space, but not bad strange. More like, once upon a time, this was normal. But I've gotten very used to being on my own, and also Troy is nothing at all like Jared.

He's so much better. So much sweeter. He gets up with me, makes breakfast for me while I shower, then walks me to my car, kissing me goodbye for the day before I go to work, and he returns to the cabin on the lake. Then he meets me at my house in the evening or I go to the cabin for a while to watch Bluey or roast marshmallows after eating grilled burgers or chicken before we head back to my place. The weekend is split between the cabin, where we play in the water with the kids as well as taking the canoe to the cove where we first made out for some time to ourselves, and my house for quiet time, sleep, and sex. So much sex. And I can't get enough of any of it.

It's idyllic. Perfect, even. Or it would be if the fact that he doesn't actually live here weren't hanging over our heads.

I didn't realize how much I missed hanging out with friends, though, until I started spending time with Troy and his friends. Yes, I still enjoy time to myself, and by the end of the week, I'm approaching the limit where I'd like an hour or two all alone, but knowing that Troy's leaving soon has me pushing those feelings aside. Soon enough, I'll have all the alone time I want and then some.

Brit's been keeping tabs on me but hasn't scolded me for ignoring her this week. I think she knows that I'll have plenty of time to hang out with her once Troy goes home.

Every time I think that, my heart gives a tiny squeeze. I do my best to keep my thoughts of him leaving light and easy, but when he comes to my door on Wednesday after work looking devastating in a light blue polo that brings out his eyes and khaki shorts, freshly shaved, hair still damp from a recent shower, I can't do it anymore. It takes everything in me not to crumple at the sight of him, at the obvious effort he's putting in to making this last night something special. But I manage to keep a tight rein on my emotions, smiling and kissing him back when he steps inside, not betraying the fissure in my heart that's widening with every passing second.

I don't want to ruin tonight, though. I want to keep hold of the magic we have for as long as possible. There'll be plenty of time to fall apart tomorrow.

"I thought we could go out for dinner tonight," he says, his eyes trailing over my body and leaving heat in its wake. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." My voice comes out as a squeak, and grimacing, I clear my throat and try again. "Yes. Going out sounds great."

He gives me a sad smile, like he knows exactly why my voice is creaky, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge it. "Anywhere in particular you like to go? I saw a couple spots that looked good—there's an Italian place across from the gazebo that has good reviews. Or there's an Asian fusion place close to your friend's shop that looked promising too."

I blink for a second. I know those restaurants, though I haven't been to either one. They're on the pricier side. "Oh, um. The Italian place sounds good." I hook a thumb over my shoulder. "Should I change first?"

Stepping closer, he sets his hands on my waist and pulls me in for a kiss. "Don't change a thing," he murmurs. "You're perfect just the way you are."

God, why does he have to be so wonderful? It's not fair. He's amazing and sexy and kind and says just the right thing to make me melt at all times, and he's leaving tomorrow morning.

Part of me wants to stomp my foot and shout, "It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!" like a toddler, but since I'm an adult who's experienced my share of heartache, I don't give in to the urge.

"Thank you," I whisper instead, not trusting my voice to be any louder.

He gives me that same sad smile when he pulls back to let me grab my purse, then laces his fingers with mine after I lock my door and we head down the stairs. He leads me to his car, opening the passenger door for me, bending to kiss me once more before closing it and climbing in on his side.

We pass the short drive in silence. Normally I don't feel the need to fill the silence with him—not anymore anyway—but this silence sits heavy between us, the air charged with the unspoken reality that this is our last night together. We both know it, our expressions and actions broadcast that knowledge, even if neither of us will talk about it.

When we get to the restaurant, we manage to make small talk about our respective days, but it's lackluster, the ticking clock looming over us casting a pall on our normally easygoing conversation.

The food is delicious, and I know that this place will forever be haunted by the memory of this night for me, no matter how many times I come here in the future or with whom.

As we're finishing our dinner, Troy picks up his napkin from his lap and sets it to the side, leaning forward with one forearm on the table, he holds his hand palm up.

Setting my fork down, I place my hand in his, quirking an eyebrow in question, because this feels a little odd.

He squeezes my fingers and sucks in a breath, holding it for a second before letting it out. Then he speaks. "Can we talk about tomorrow?"

I'm shaking my head before he even finishes asking the question. "I'd really rather not. Can't we pretend tonight is the same as all the others? I don't want …" My eyes dart around the restaurant, but only vaguely aware of the white tablecloths, the tiny oil lamps on each table filled with other couples, the extremely romantic setting. "I don't want to ruin this," I manage at last, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Troy stares at me for a beat, his expression unreadable, then he nods once, squeezes my fingers again, and releases my hand. "Okay. Later, then."

I want to shake my head again, but I don't. "Later," I say instead.

I'm not really sure what there is to say about tomorrow, though. He'll be leaving. I'll be staying. We both knew that would be how this ended from the beginning. What more is there to say?

When the waitress comes and offers dessert, we confer silently before shaking our heads. "Just the check, please," Troy says, clearly ready for the privacy of my apartment as much as I am.

"Will you be staying the night tonight?" I ask when we get to my front door. I'd assumed so, but when he said he wanted to talk about tomorrow, maybe that means I won't see him in the morning.

"Of course," he murmurs, dropping a kiss on the back of my neck as I unlock the door. "Assuming you want me to."

In answer, I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, pushing up on my tiptoes to fuse my mouth to his. "Of course," I murmur against his lips, giving his words back to him.

He backs me through the front door, kicking it closed behind him, then turns and presses me back against it, more frenzied and hungry than I've ever experienced. His hands are everywhere, his mouth hot against my skin as he nips and kisses his way down my neck before dropping to his knees in front of me. His fingers hook in the waistband of my linen pants, slipping them down over my hips and letting them drop to the floor, leaving me in the lacy cream panties I bought recently. Being with Troy has inspired me to spice up my lingerie drawer, but who will appreciate that now that he's leaving?

I gulp air, pressing my head back against the door and squeezing my eyes tight against the tears prickling behind them. Don't think about that right now , I scold myself. You wanted tonight to be just like all the others. Keep playing that game.

Except it's not just like all the others, and we both know it, no matter how much we might try to pretend otherwise.

"You're so gorgeous," he breathes, his warm fingers tracing the edge of my panties before tugging them to the side and fastening his mouth to my center.

I let out a strangled sound of shocked pleasure, fingers desperately trying to clutch the smooth surface of the door, and I sag against it.

His hand cups my ass, the other guiding my leg over his shoulder, opening me more fully to the sensual pleasure of his mouth on my most sensitive places. I relax into the moment, my tense muscles softening as he laps at me like he's in no hurry for this to be over. Then he slides one finger inside me, and I gasp. He sucks my clit into his mouth, ramping up the intensity, then a second finger joins the first, and I'm not even sure what sounds I'm making, only vaguely aware that I'm babbling, my breath coming in fast pants as he drives me over the edge, my entire being focused on his mouth on me, fingers inside me, and the shattering bliss of my orgasm.

He groans as I come, slowing but not stopping until I'm little more than a quivering mess, barely able to stay upright. Placing my leg carefully back on the floor, he stands, catching me in his arms and clutching me to his chest.

I let him hold me up, breathing in the scent of him, doing my best to embed the spicy scent of his cologne in my memory without wallowing in anticipated sadness. I want to stay present. To feel everything, experience everything, remember everything.

Lifting my head, I press up on my toes, and he meets my lips with his, tangy with my taste. I wrap my hands behind his neck, nearly clawing at him in my desperation to be as close to him as possible.

He makes a satisfied sound and palms my ass, hitching me up with a quick jerk. I giggle as I wrap my legs around his waist, still surprised at this move, though he's done it more than once before. He carries me to my bed, slowly lowering me onto my back. Before stepping away, he pulls my panties off and tosses them over his shoulder, then starts stripping off his own clothes.

Sitting up, I dispose of my top and bra as well, setting my glasses carefully on the nightstand before scooting up and around so I can lean back against the headboard, reaching for him as he climbs onto the bed with me. "I need you," I whisper. "Inside me."

His eyes flare at my words, and he reaches for a condom, sheathing himself quickly. Crawling over me, he kisses me deeply before pulling back, his deep blue eyes holding mine as he lines himself up and sinks inside me.

When my eyes close at the feeling of him filling me, he lets out a soft grunt. "Don't close your eyes," he murmurs. "Not tonight. Don't hide from me. Let me see you."

The words send a thrill through me, though it's more excitement than fear. But for someone like me who's so used to hiding, the prospect of deliberately allowing myself to be seen is intimidating.

I do it, though. Open my eyes and meet his, and that's when it hits me—I'm not the only one being vulnerable, allowing myself to be seen. Troy wants me to see him as much as he wants to see me. He doesn't want to feel alone in this any more than I do.

He rocks into me, slow and steady, his gaze adding a layer of intensity I didn't know was possible. It's difficult to resist the urge to look away, if only for a second, but I manage it, gasping when he changes the angle, his thrust hitting the spot inside me that feels so good.

A smile ghosts across his lips. "Give me everything, Anna," he whispers. "I want it all."

He threads his fingers through mine, holding my hand as he continues dismantling me piece by piece, anchoring me here, and I never look away. I barely blink. Not even when I reach down with my free hand, circling my clit with my fingers as he picks up his pace. I know he's getting close—I recognize the signs now after spending so many nights in a row together—and I know I need just a little bit more so I can come with him.

"Fuck. So hot." His hips move faster, the shaking of the bed feeling like it's going to shake us both apart completely. The muscles stand out in his neck and his eyes go hazy and unfocused as he comes with a shout, his hips losing their rhythm, but it's exactly what I need. I pulse in time with him, finally breaking eye contact when he collapses on top of me. Pulling my hands free, I wrap my arms around him, my legs still bracketing his hips, needing to hold him close for as long as I'm allowed.

Because I know I'll blink and this'll all be nothing more than a memory.