Breathe In (Just Breathe, #1)(94)
Luscious memories of the soft muted blue silk hugging my skin returns, taking my attention away from the note that rests on top of it. This was my favorite dress to put on. It’s still as gorgeous as I remember it with it’s plunging v-neck and spaghetti straps that hug and fit perfectly to my body as it accentuates every one of my curves.
My focus gets pulled to the hand written note I suddenly realize I’m holding. It reads;
Hope to see you wearing this in Hawaii.
xoxo Joe
Why did he buy this for me? How did he get it without anyone noticing? I can’t accept a gift like this. It costs way too much compared to a little book.
I place the note on my dresser and hang the dress on my closet door. I put on pajamas and scoop out a few more helpings of ice cream. Turning on a movie to distract myself, my mind wanders back to the dress and the note. Mixed emotions tornado through me for the rest of the night. Laying in bed next to Sadie trying to sleep, I stare at the ceiling. My heart pounds with elation and edginess. I’ve never had a guy buy me something. Okay, a guy who isn’t Jared or Nathan. Why did he do it? What does this mean? All I gave him was a book.
A loud, vibrating sound jolts me from my thoughts. What was that? The sound repeats itself again. Ohh, it’s my phone. Picking it up off the nightstand, I check to see who would be calling me this late. Jared and Maggie never call at this hour. A picture of Joe’s face consumes the entire screen from a picture I inadvertently took of him during one of our weekend trips. Shit.
I let the phone ring another time before pressing the button to answer. Lacking a polite greeting, I blurt, “Why did you give me that?”
“Ah, so you finally opened it,” he muses.
“You have to take it back,” I demand.
“Why do I have to take it? It doesn’t fit me,” he needles.
“You know what I mean,” I press.
“Aside from the fact that you looked simply radiant in it, you were positively glowing,” he sensually states.
“That has nothing to do with it,” I contend.
“What’s the big deal,” he questions.
“Why did you buy it for me?”
I’m really struggling to understand.
“Like I said, you looked beautiful in it . . . not that you don’t look beautiful all the time. I wanted you to have it because of how it made you feel wearing it. I saw it in your eyes,” he calmly replies.
“Ugh . . .” I let out on an exhale.
“You could just say thank you, enjoy the dress and wear it in Hawaii or whenever you feel like it.”
“Fine,” I whine.
“I’ll take that as your thank you. You’re welcome,” he boasts at his victory. “At least I didn’t give you that sexy bikini.”
Did the thought of giving me the bikini cross his mind? A lump catches in my throat. That would have been completely embarrassing. I’m grateful that he chose the dress instead.
Not knowing what to say next, we both sit on the phone for a while just listening to each other breathing.
Unable to take the silence any further, I spout, “Why did you call me so late?”
“Because I knew you’d be up,” he says.
Checking the clock on the phone, I notice he’s right. It’s only eleven thirty-eight.
“What are you still doing up?” I explore.
“I was debating on whether to call you back,” he admits.
“Oh,” I reply modestly.
How long was he thinking about calling me?
“Why?” I search.
“Because I figured you’d be mad at me once you opened your gift,” he responds meekly.
“Oh.”
His admittance catches me off guard. Did he really think I would be mad? I’m not really mad, just uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” I offer.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . I just don’t want you to think I’m mad.”
“So, you aren’t mad?” he checks.
“No,” I assure. “I’m just really shocked at the gesture. I don’t know what to make of it.”
His husky chuckle returns. “You’ve gotten gifts before, haven’t you?”
“I’ve given a lot, but I’ve never really gotten one before,” I openly share.
“I’m sure Jared, Nathan, Maggie and her family have given you gifts,” he urges.
“Yes, but that’s different,” I explain.
“How is that . . . ohh . . .” his voice trails. “So none of the guys you’ve been with have given you a gift?”
“I don’t date remember,” I remind.
“I’m sure you’ve seen some of the men a number of times which would have allowed for the opportunity,” he mentions.
“Nope. My rules keep me at distance that don’t allow for anything like that to happen,” I comment.
Laughing again, he states, “You and your rules.”
“Yep,” I return.
“So what are they?” he pokes.
“Why do you want to know?” I peruse, confident that I won’t tell him.