I liked him better in the suit. At least then he wouldn’t look endearing to me. No, he would just look sexy in a cold and calculated kind of way.
I could at least contain my attraction to someone who looked cold and beautiful. I could just admire the way he looked.
But in nothing but a towel?
He didn’t look perfect or unattainable.
He looked human.
He looked like someone I wanted to call mine. And that was a dangerous thought.
“Sorry, I was in the shower,” Jace said. I could only nod. He smiled a little and moved back, widening the doorway for me to walk through, which I did, trying to avoid touching any bare skin he had on display—and there was a lot of that this morning.
My cheeks felt flushed, and my inner thighs tingled. I was aroused.
I hadn’t been aroused by anyone in so long, I almost started to question if there was something wrong with me. And then I saw Jace at the bar a week ago and suddenly I was acting like a goddamn nymphomaniac.
Fuck me.
I was in trouble. I didn’t know how to put this image of Jace out of my mind. That was an impossibility I wasn’t prepared to take on, but I had to try.
And the reason for my attempt made himself known, when, with a loud squeal, Elliot ran around the small coffee table clumsily in nothing but Marvel pajamas.
Both Jace and I turned toward the energetic boy, and I caught a smile on Jace’s face.
I didn’t think I had ever seen him smile before, and a part of me wanted to turn to take it in, but I didn’t, afraid it might ruin the moment. Instead, I watched Elliot with the fascination I always had for children.
Seeing him carefree reminded me of why I had wanted to work with kids. It was in the easygoing way they lit up over the simplest things in life; their stubborn determination to do anything, even if that thing was impossible, because life hadn’t gotten them down, hadn’t made them feel insecure about themselves yet.
A part of me wished I could still be the carefree little girl I had once been, but it was too late. I was forced to grow up the moment we found out my mom had lung cancer. Three years, and many trials of chemotherapy later, she died in our family home in her sleep. It was ironic, really, since my mom was the fittest person I knew. She had lived most of her life on a dancer’s diet, had run at least two miles five days a week, and was religious about her health. She never even smoked a single cigarette.
The diagnosis came out of nowhere, and we were left to scramble and pick up the pieces. As young as I had been, I knew there was a very real possibility that I would enter adulthood without my mom and best friend. That I could get married without her, have children without her, and start my life without her.
She died only a few months after I had turned seventeen.
Elliot turned to us, snapping me out of my thoughts. He probably hadn’t expected to see me standing there, because his eyes suddenly widened and he turned to run toward his dad, burying his face into Jace’s legs.
Jace, for his part, seemed amused as he picked Elliot up.
“Hi,” I said softly, moving in closer to Jace so Elliot could see me.
He peeked one big eye at me, his unruly dark hair falling over his forehead and almost touching his eyes. He was in need of a haircut.
“Do you remember me?” I asked.
He nodded and offered a shy smile before moving his face back to Jace’s chest.
“Okay, Elliot. I’m going to put you down. I need you to make friends with Evelyn, because she’s shy and she doesn’t have many friends.”
Jace winked at me as he said it, then put Elliot back on his feet. Elliot looked at his dad, his expression wide. “She doesn’t?” Elliot asked.
Jace shook his head, his expression solemn, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.
Then I watched as Elliot turned to me. Though he was still shy, he looked more determined when he walked over to me and held out his hand.
I looked over at Jace and he nodded, so I took Elliot’s little hand in mine, and I wanted to cry over the simple contact.
I didn’t know why that was, only that I was feeling way too emotional, and I didn’t know how to stop it.