I was a mess.
When Dax told me I looked good, it was as if the past year had melted away. He was looking at me the way he used to, with warmth and admiration. Then he asked how I was and I remembered everything I’ve been through since he went away. Alone. And I wanted to cry. I wanted to beat my hands against his chest and blame him for it all and then I wanted him to take me in his arms and comfort me. But I kept my walls up and shrugged.
Then I tried to leave. When Dax pulled me back, I nearly threw myself at him. I saw the look in his eyes and I felt the heat in my veins and I wanted him to hold me and never let me go. But I tore myself away from him and told him to do just that – to let me go.
And he did. Just like last time.
It’s what I asked him to do. It was the right thing to do. So why am I upset?
Because you want to get back together with him, a voice in my head answers.
I shake my head. Nonsense. I don’t want Dax back. I don’t ever want to feel the way he made me feel when he left me – used, broken, unwanted, helpless. I don’t want to go through hell again, to give my all to someone only to have him turn it into nothing, to bare my soul only to have it ripped from me. And if I let Dax back in, there’s a good chance that will happen.
Never again. I’m not going to put myself through that again. I was afraid to put my walls down the first time. I’m terrified now.
Even if I somehow find the courage to give Dax another chance, I can’t. He may not have changed, except for the fact that he’s grown even more handsome and that he’s got money now, a lot judging from that watch and suit he was wearing. But I’ve changed. And I don’t mean my haircut. So much has happened to me this past year. I’ve lost so much, had to give up so much, gained so much, learned so much. I’m not the Jenna Holt Dax left, not the one who was going to finish college and work at NASA and change the universe.
If Dax found out what really happened to me, what I’ve become, he’d want nothing more to do with me. My life’s a mess. He’d just get caught up in it.
I didn’t deserve Dax then. I don’t deserve him now.
And that’s fine because I have something else now, something more important.
I grab my stuff from the passenger seat and get out of the car. I go inside the house and find my dad on the living room couch watching TV with a beer bottle in hand. Next to him, I catch a glimpse of Shanna sleeping soundly in her crib.
He looks up at me as I take off my coat. “I thought you weren’t going to make it home before midnight.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. I guess I was cutting it a little close.
“I’m here now.”
I hang my coat on a peg and start to take off my shoes.
“Did you meet your client?” my father asks.
“Yes.” I put one of my shoes on the rack. “I gave him the paper he was asking for.”
“And did he pay you?”
I put my other shoe on the rack. “Yes.”
Now we have money to get a new TV, which is what he’s been bugging me about for weeks since the one we have started getting lines on the screen. It’s why I agreed to write that research paper on such short notice, why I tried to finish it as fast as I could, and why I drove to New York on New Year’s Eve. My job at the local library may be able to pay the bills and buy Shanna’s milk and diapers, but it’s not enough for new appliances.
“I’ll get the TV tomorrow if the store’s open,” I add.
“I’ll do it,” my father volunteers.
He must really want that TV.
“Okay.” I sit beside him and take the bottle of beer from his hand. “But that’s enough, okay?”
He frowns. “It’s just one bottle. Besides, it’s New Year’s Eve.”
I sigh and give him back the bottle. “Fine.”
After all, I can’t say I don’t understand why he drinks. I could use a drink myself, but I haven’t touched any alcohol since Shanna came into my life.
I stand over Shanna’s crib and watch her sleep. Her golden curls and rosy cheeks seem to glow under the Christmas lights. Even asleep, her tiny mouth is clenched in a pout. That’s fine. That just makes her smiles all the more precious.
She is precious. A gift.