The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(77)
“Was it any good?” I asked, momentarily distracted.
“For other people, maybe, but it wasn’t up to her standards. She’s having a creative block. I’ve told her to just keep working through it and she’ll eventually get to the other side. That’s why I didn’t want to bother her.
“I left Jayne to pick up all the golf balls, and I went back to my study to write.”
I felt him come up on his knees behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders.
“Mellie, after all we’ve been through, you’re supposed to trust me now. Without trust on both sides, we can’t have a strong marriage. You know that, right?”
I nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of the way his hands felt on my bare shoulders. “But she’s young, and pretty. And thin. And you were laughing. What was I supposed to think?”
“Anything but what you were thinking. Mellie. You are the most beautiful woman to me, just the way you are. I married you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and raise our children together. There is nobody else I want to do that with.”
My eyes prickled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry. I just, well, I guess I still have abandonment issues that I’m trying to work out. I’m trying, though. I really am.”
I turned to face him, admiring the way the moonlight skipped across the strong bones of his face, making him look like a marble statue. But when I put my hands on his chest, there was nothing cool or marble about him.
“I love you, Mellie. Despite all reason and sanity, I find that I can’t live without you. All I ask is that you trust me.”
I leaned forward, pressing my body against his. “I do,” I whispered against his lips. “Although I think you could have said that in a nicer way.”
With a quick movement, startling General Lee enough to make him leap to the relative safety of the floor, Jack had me pinned on the bed. “Maybe I can convince you in other ways.” He bent his head to my neck and began to kiss his way up to my ear.
I grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”
My cell phone began to ring again and I grappled for it on the nightstand. Without looking at the number, I turned it off and tossed it across the room, eager to test out my mother’s theory about make-up sex.
CHAPTER 22
Iwaved good-bye to my mother as she dropped me off in front of Henderson House Realty. She’d taken me to Gwyn’s in Mt. Pleasant to shop for a dress for Marc’s book launch party after she insisted that sewing two old bedspreads together and cutting holes for my head and arms would not be an appropriate gown for the occasion.
I entered the reception area, eager to immerse myself in work so I could forget about the whole episode of trying on dresses, or the reason why I’d been forced into it. Apparently, none of the dresses in my closet actually fit, according to my mother, even if I did manage to get a zipper all the way to the top without any tearing noises. I had no idea when she’d become such a fashion expert, but she seemed to believe that Kim Kardashian–tight was not a good look for me. I wouldn’t have minded the comparison if I hadn’t caught sight of myself in the mirror from behind and realized that Kim and I had a lot more in common than I ever could have imagined.
“Mamamamama!”
I took off my sunglasses and looked in surprise to where Jack stood in the lobby with the stroller and both children, who were now bouncing excitedly upon seeing me, which did more for my ego than a closet full of great-fitting dresses ever could.
After kissing them both, I turned to Jack, who took his time kissing me hello, and who would probably have extended it if Jolly Thompson hadn’t cleared her throat from behind the receptionist’s desk.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jolly. I got . . . distracted.” I looked back at Jack. “Was I expecting you?”
“No. And we just got here. Jayne’s meeting me here in fifteen minutes to get the children, but I was hoping you had a little bit of time for me to show you something. And then I’m heading to City Lights Café to try to get some work done.”
“What’s wrong with your office at home? Don’t you like the desk your mother and I picked out for you? And your sweater and slippers?”
“I love all of that, I do. I just . . .” He shrugged. “It’s like the whole creative side of my brain shuts down whenever I’m in the house—anywhere in the house. I’ve tried writing in the kitchen, and the dining room. I’ve even tried writing in the bedroom.” He winked. “Although I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to figure out why I’m distracted when I’m trying to write in there.”
Jolly cleared her throat again and he became serious. “Anyway, I’ve found that if I write in a café, or a park bench or really anywhere else, I can get into the writing zone pretty easily.”
I frowned. “You didn’t have this problem before, did you?”
He shook his head. “No. It all started a little over a month ago—which coincided with when I found out about Marc’s movie deal, which could have something to do with it.”
“Probably.” I turned to Jolly. “I don’t have any appointments until one, right?”
“That’s right.” She smiled at the babies. “If you’d like me to keep an eye on them so you can talk without any distractions, I’d be happy to. Everybody’s out at lunch, so it’s pretty quiet right now.”