Breathe Out (Just Breathe, #2)(113)
“Yes,” I admit sheepishly.
He curls his body around mine, firm enough to let me know he’s here and I’m safe, but soft enough to not crush me. “Will you tell me about it?” he inquires tentatively.
It takes me a few minutes to calm down enough for me to describe the dream in detail. When I’m finished, I mention that prior to the last one, that was just like the one tonight that happened at his place, I haven’t had this severity of the dream for a number of years. I explain a little bit about my first few years with Jared and how the nightmare haunted me every night. When they stopped, which was right around my eighteenth birthday, I thought I could visit my parents’ home, but I was wrong. It took another few months for them to go away after that. Since then, I haven’t returned.
I study Joe’s face when I’m done explaining. There are a myriad of emotions painted across his face — pity, thankfully is not one of them.
Ninety One
I wake to the memory of Joe’s lips against mine last night until my brain shut down from exhaustion. My nose takes in the smell of him which relaxes some of the tension in my body. Maybe, I can do this. Maybe, I’ll be able to face this day better with help.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Joe hums into my ear.
“Morning,” I reply.
Sadie tramples over us, eager to start the day. We pet her for a few minutes and surprisingly, Joe gets up to feed her. He texts Taylor that she’s ready to go out and Taylor graciously accepts the job of dog walker for the second time. I make a mental note to do something nice for him and the rest of the team when we get back for putting up with my antics.
Ordering room service, we have breakfast in bed. After a long, hot shower, we get dressed and I start to get myself in the right mindset for the day. As the hours tick by, I’m unable to leave the hotel room to make the journey. Joe patiently waits with me, hanging out and just being present and waiting for my cue. Jared and Maggie text to check in on me and I just tell them that everything is fine.
When dinner time rolls around, I’m too anxious to stay in the room, but still reluctant to do what I need to do. Joe, Sadie and I, along with our bodyguards, take to the streets of New York City. With the sun already down, it’s easy to not be noticed by the people walking past us. At some point, we grab a cab because it’s too cold outside. I text Taylor the location where we’re going after our driver takes to the road with Caesar riding shotgun.
We arrive just after five-thirty to a special restaurant for dinner. As we walk in, I scan the room and notice that everything looks the same in an odd, eerie sense which sends unpleasant shivers down my spine. The hostess takes us to the table I had requested when I had scheduled my reservation a month ago after booking the train tickets.
“What made you choose this place?” Joe asks.
“Sentimental reasons,” I reply nervously.
Joe nods, but doesn’t pry further.
We don’t say much as we study the menu. Seeing the options, I know easily what to choose. Joe orders fired zucchini and parmigiana portobello mushrooms to start followed by chicken contadina. I order the same meal I had the last time I was in this restaurant — a mixed green salad and a rigatoni and broccoli pasta dish.
Our conversations are light as we wait for our food and dine.
“You’re not usually one for pasta at dinner,” Joe comments.
I offer a fake smile, not wanting to reveal my contention and inability to eat.
“Do you want something else?” Joe searches, taking his forth bite of his entree.
“No,” I mumble.
Not wanting him to notice my behavior anymore, I pick up my fork and take a few small bites in silence. It takes some time, but I do manage to eat most of my dish. We order dessert as well — Joe gets a chocolate cannoli which doesn’t surprise me and I order the strawberry cheesecake.
Joe moans satisfaction on his first bite of the cannoli and I can’t help but giggle a little.
“What?” he says on his second mouthful.
I shake my head with a smile.
“You can’t get a cannoli like this on the West Coast,” he states.
“I know,” I agree.
Joe offers me a bite and I accept it willingly. It tastes exactly the same as the one my father had this night nine years ago. The memory brings a smile to my face and a little warmth to my heart before my stomach turns from the heartache.
“It’s not going to eat itself,” Joe laughs.
“I know,” I confirm, starting at my dessert.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply after singing happy birthday to myself and blow out the imaginary candle in my head. My hand shakes a little as I pick up the fork and scoop up the first amount. Before I’m able to swallow the entire helping, tears begin to threaten. “Excuse me for a second,” I request.
Joe quickly puts down his cannoli, wipes his hands and stands before I’m out of my chair. “You okay, beautiful?”
“Yeah,” I return. “I just need to use the ladies room.”
Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom a little more controlled than before. Joe rises and ushers in my chair, then promptly returns to his seat.
“Thank you,” he says, catching me off guard.
“For what?” I inquire, taking another taste of my cake.