Maybe Later(77)

Emmeline


Saturday, September 10th, 11:23 a.m.



My heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s as I walk toward the bookstore. I tossed and turned all night trying to figure out what to do today. I’m meeting Jackson, and I can’t deny that our attraction is still there. At least, my attraction to him. He has a girlfriend. Well, ex and she broke his heart. But she called him again, and he’s willing to give her a chance.

So why are we meeting?

Closing a chapter and opening a new one should be easy. If only I knew which one to shut and which one to open. Would Jackson even want to move beyond friendship?

I hold onto the railing as I walk down the stairs. It’s safe to say that I’m a nervous wreck. Finally, I’m meeting the man behind the screen. When I open the door, the place is quiet. Kara is carrying some boxes, and the shelves are pristine, just the way she loves them.

“Hey, Kara,” I greet her, stepping inside.

“Emmeline, how are you?” she greets me. “You’re a few minutes early.”

I nod, dismissing her comment. How would she know I’m early? Wait, did she call me by my name? That’s weird. Instead of focusing on her, I look around the shelves. As I walk through the classics, I spot a collection that would look perfect in my apartment. The black spine and gold letters remind me of the books my grandmother used to have on her shelves. These babies are mine. My breath catches when I pull out the copy of Persuasion. It reminds me of Jackson and his trip to New York. It’s in perfect condition. If I can’t afford the set, at least, I’ll buy this one.

I open the first page and spot a written dedication that leaves me breathless:

Em,

I never thought I’d fall in love.

But I did. It was fast, undeniably beautiful, and forever.

It’s never too late to make it work.

Jack

9/21





The dedication feels so personal. Mine. It has my birthdate. It’s a secret between two souls. But it’s signed: Jack. My heart beats a fast rhythm. How? I look around and call after him.

“Jack, Jackson?” I taste the name, the possibilities and shudder nervously. What are the chances?

I spot him, Jack, sitting by the table where I sometimes work. He wears a dark t-shirt with the EMC Software logo that shows his muscles. He gives me that smile I’ve missed for the past three months.

Slowly, he rises from his seat without moving his gaze from mine.

“Jackson?” I almost stutter trying to wrap my head around what’s happening.

“My name is Jackson Spearman,” he confirms. I remember our chat where he said he had lied by omission. “Only my family and friends call me Jack. It’s nice to finally meet you, all of you.”

My lip quivers because everything makes so much sense—how I was falling for him but couldn’t stop having feelings for the guy behind the screen.

I tremble. This is like a dream, a good one where I finally find him. I’m thrilled that he’s the same man, not half of who I was with. The maddening, fun guy during the day and the perfect man at night.

“Would you hate me if I said I wanted it to be you?”

He shakes his head.

“Hi, Em.” He greets me and takes me into his arms. As he brushes his lips against my skin, I melt.

“You’re Jackson.” I squeeze my eyes, embarrassed. “You knew all this time.”

“I caught on when you mentioned my last name during our date,” he says, not letting me go. “It pissed me off because I thought you were playing me. I mean, you know everything.”

“Sorry to tell you this, buddy, but there are at least ten million guys named Jack or Jackson in the world,” I joke, wrapping my arms around him. “You confused the hell out of me.”

He kisses my nose and says, “You stole my soul, and my heart, but I’m not complaining.”

I cup his handsome face and stare into his dark eyes. “Did I?” I ask, bewildered.

He rests his forehead on mine and asks, “Is it too early to tell you that I love you?”

There’s no time to answer, his mouth covers mine with a devouring kiss, and not just a regular kiss—he was making love to my mouth and caressing my soul. I go weak as I mold into his hold.

He breaks the kiss with a quiet curse. “We have to go home.”

“My house is closer,” I argue fixing my wrinkled button-down dress.

“Ramen won’t let me be with you,” he reminds me, and I laugh.

“She misses her Jack,” I say.

His gaze sweeps my body from head to toe, and he asks, “What’s underneath?”

“Wouldn’t you want to know,” I ask, chewing on my lip.

“You are killing me, Em,” he holds up my chin with his index finger.

“Thank you for waiting,” I whisper, taking the book. “Is this mine?”

He nods. “The entire collection. It’s an early birthday present.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “It had to happen at the right time. But I wasn’t going to let you go. Ever.”





*



“There’s no dungeon,” he warns me as he opens the door to his penthouse.

It’s still cold, with leather couches, dark furniture, top of the line appliances and marble everywhere.