Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(92)

A list? She was given a list?! I was on the list?!

“He told you to wait and see if I opened it, didn’t he?” I press, knowing enough about Joe that he would.

Anna doesn’t have to say anything, the look on her face says it all, especially her suddenly rosy cheeks.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t, Anna,” I voice with confidence.

She proudly nods in agreement before saying, “I like you, Ms. Emma.”

With a genuine smile, I share, “I like you too, Anna.”

A thought pops into my head and I can’t help but to blurt it out, “Why didn’t Joe just deliver this himself? Did he think that I wouldn’t accept it if he came?”

Anna’s eyes promptly dart to me before I’m finished with my questions. The expression on her face suggests that she may have asked Joe the very same thing or Joe had commented the very idea when he asked Anna to deliver it. Anna opens her mouth briefly as if to respond, but then takes another sip of tea instead. Her omission of a verbal response answers my inquiry. Joe was afraid that I would refuse the gift. But why? Not wanting to continue the awkward silence between us, I change the topic our conversation in the hopes to get to know Anna better — where she grew up, when she moved to the States, if she has any family.


Anna and I chat for a few more minutes before she needs to leave. I mention that she is welcome anytime, whether she is sent by Joe or comes of her on accord. She comments that she would like to see me more as well, especially at Mr. Joseph’s. Her words captures my attention immediately. Does she know something I don’t?

I can feel the box watching me as if it has eyes. No matter what room I am in, I can feel its hot, laser beam burning a hole into my brain while it repeats, open me. The thought that Joe might have placed a recording device in or on it to spy on me comes to mind. I wouldn’t put it past him. Anxiety about the possibility becomes grueling enough that I gently lift the box to inspect it. Surprisingly, the box is not very heavy. Thorough inspection reveals that there is definitely nothing on the outside. The inside is another question since I still won’t open it. I elect to shake it, but that doesn’t expose any clues.

By the time I take Sadie out for her after dinner ritual, I still haven’t opened the box. I can feel it watching me like a hawk even as we are out at the park. Jared texts about Hawaii and I refrain from mentioning the gift. There’s no hint in his words that he even knows I have it which is comforting.

Back in my apartment, I jump on the rebounder again to try to reduce the stress about Joe’s gift. Thirty minutes later, I am only slightly drained and starving. I make myself a salad with some soup, and eat at the breakfast bar while glaring at the box from across the room. After two scoops of salted caramel ice cream, I opt to take a lavender and tea tree oil Epson salt bath.

Toying with the idea to just open the box, ripping it off like a bandaid, I carry it into the bedroom and place it on the edge of my bed. Once the bathtub is ready, I undress, light some candles, and put on some meditation music before slipping into the sensuous water — so much for ripping off the bandaid. The bath helps to calm me, but not as fast as I’d like. I masturbate until I have two toe curling orgasms which seem to have a marginal affect since I was thinking of Joe the whole time.

Just as my breathing normalizes, the music temporarily cuts off; I’m getting a call. Not looking at who it could be, and assuming it is either Maggie, Jared or Nathan, I immediately answer, pressing the button on the headset. “Hello,” I cheerfully greet.

“Hello, beautiful,” the voice rings on the other end.

Crap. It’s Joe.

“Hey,” I say with a shaky tone.

“You weren’t expecting it to be me, were you?”

I can hear the smile in his words.

“Yeah,” I meekly reply.

“Were you expecting me to be someone else and that’s why you didn’t check?”

How did he know I didn’t check? It is true, but still.

“Yeah,” I sheepishly agree. Getting my gumption I tease, “I was expecting some other hot, rich guy to call.”

“So you do think I’m hot?” he enthusiastically confirms.

Deciding to go with it, I reply, “You aren’t that bad on the eyes.”

A deep, hearty laugh from him immediately follows. Two seconds later, I hear a faint voice in the background saying what sounds like Who thinks you’re hot?.

“None of your business,” Joe declares to the other person.

“Who was that?”

“Jimmy,” he informs.

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. Not sure how to bounce back, I stay quiet, waiting for him to talk.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” I truthfully answer.

“You sound better.”

“I feel better.”

“So . . .” Joe begins. “I take it you haven’t opened your gift yet?” he questions.

“What makes you say that?” I contend.

Maybe his response will give me an idea of what’s in it.

“The way you’re talking to me and haven’t said anything yet,” he states, sure of his speculation.

“Maybe I have,” I dispute.

Laughing, he mutters, “You haven’t.”

Neither one of us say anything for a few beats. I’m guessing he’s waiting for me, but I refuse to give in.