Cindi Madsen - Cinderella Screwed Me Over

Nadine stuck her head in the doorway. “Ready to go?” She stepped farther into my office. “Nice flowers. From Jake, I’m assuming.”

Nope. Jake sent me something better. I swallowed hard, my throat still way too tight. “Porter, actually.”

Her forehead puckered. “What happened to Jake? And Porter? Is he visiting or is he—”

“I’ll explain everything on the way to Barbara’s. Just give me a second.” I printed the worksheet Jake had e-mailed me. When my printer stopped whirring, I reached over and retrieved the paper. Holding the key to my and Nadine’s freedom made me want to jump up and down like a little kid. Time to go after what I want.

…

Nadine lifted her binder from my coffee table and shoved it into her laptop bag. “So we’re really going to do this?”

“If Patricia doesn’t agree to let us choose our own jobs and give us a ten percent bump on every project, we’re walking. If she doesn’t agree,” I said, gesturing around my condo, “this might be our new office. Are you cool with that?”

Nadine took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

I said good-bye to Nadine, then tried to breathe out all the stress of the day. The vase of tulips perched on my kitchen counter reminded me that Porter had called earlier. Nadine and I had been going over our game plan, so I hadn’t answered. I lifted my phone off the coffee table. I just had one missed call, meaning Porter hadn’t left a message. I sat there, contemplating what I was going to say when I called him back. Knowing him, he’d already planned out our week together.

Last night he’d said all the right words. He’d sent me flowers. But it was all wrong. I’d gone out with Porter, hoping to prove to myself that Jake was just another guy. But all it had done was show me that he wasn’t. Things were different with Jake. I had fun whether we were chilling at his place, laughing over dinner, or even watching baseball. And I really, really hated baseball. Or used to. Things were getting fuzzy. Plus, Jake took an interest in my life—all parts of my life. And then there was the way his face lit up when he saw me. How he called me gorgeous. The way I felt when he had his arms around me.

I missed him so badly that the ache in my chest overtook my heart, my lungs. I’d worked so hard to keep myself from falling, but I’d completely failed. I was totally in love with Jake.

And instead of just facing my feelings, I’d pushed him away. For what? A guy I wasn’t in love with anymore? Because he’d had a relationship that failed? Because I was an idiot?

Yeah, that last one was probably the right answer.

Deciding a pity-fest was in order, I clicked on the TV. Five minutes of channel surfing didn’t produce anything worth watching, so I got off the couch and walked around my apartment. My plant—the plant that refused to live or die—sat in the window, looking drier than ever.

I picked it up and walked over to my kitchen, planning on watering it. It looked so dead, so gone.

Instead of heading for the sink like I’d planned on doing, I stopped at the trash can. Stepping on the lever that lifted the lid, I hovered my plant over the open mouth, ready to toss it in with the rest of my trash. But there it was—the one green blade that kept on living. I heard Jake’s voice in my head, saying he admired it for not giving up.

I hated signs. Didn’t believe in them. People interpreted them to mean whatever they wanted. But right now, that blade was telling me to go fix things with the guy who’d fought so hard, despite everything I’d put him through.

Question after question ran through my head: What if he’d finally had enough? What if he told me to get lost? What if he’d already moved on?

What if he didn’t love me back?

Just the thought made me want to crumple to the floor. But I was starting to think not knowing was worse than screwing up my one shot at happiness. My head pounded as I considered going upstairs and laying it all on the line.

I glanced at the clock. He probably just got home. I shoved the plant onto the counter, determination pumping through my veins. When I got inside the elevator, I punched number twenty, trying not to think about the painful way my heart was hammering against my rib cage.

The ride up didn’t give me near enough time to prepare. Head spinning, I exited the elevator. With every step I took down the hall, my throat got drier, my stomach clenched tighter.

I stared at Jake’s door for several minutes before gaining the courage to knock.

As I waited, I ran a hand through my hair, fluffing it just so. Then I ran a hand down it, to smooth it back into place. I took the lip gloss out of my pocket and swiped it across my lips.

And then it was clear he wasn’t answering the door.

I retreated a couple of steps, then heard the door open. Slowly, I turned around. “Spontaneous visits. Just one of the advantages of living in the same building.” My voice came out as shaky as I felt.

“I thought there weren’t any advantages,” Jake said, stepping farther into the hall. His hair was wet and his clothes clung to his damp body. Obviously he’d just gotten out of the shower. Despite the nerves churning through my gut, desire burned within me. I wanted my hands in his hair. On his damp skin. Even more, I wanted him to assure me everything would be okay.

I guessed the only way for that to be a possibility was if I got on with the apologizing. “Jake, I freaked out. I didn’t handle that situation at the restaurant very well.”

A no-shit expression crossed his face.

“Or at all, really,” I said. “I guess I just got caught up in everything that could and would inevitably go wrong, that I forgot things might go right. The fact is, there’s nothing really wrong with you.”

Jake crossed his arms, and I couldn’t help but notice the way it made the muscles in his arms stand out. “But?”

I licked my lips, tasting the cherry lip gloss I’d just put on. “There’s no but. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to date anyone else, and I don’t want you to, either. I want to say we’re in a relationship and do everything that people in relationships do, from the light and fun to the serious, to everything in between. Unless I’ve already scared you away and you want to run in the other direction.” At intense moments like these, I tended to try to joke things away. “Although, since we live in the same building and we constantly bump into each other, that’s going to be awkward for you.”

“You’re wrong.”

My heart stopped, I swear it did. “Oh. I’ll just go, then.”

“I’ve got plenty wrong with me,” Jake said. “For instance, I’m in love with a woman who doesn’t believe in love.”

Breathing became impossible. “It’s not that I don’t believe in it—” I threw a hand to my chest. “We’re talking about me, right?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Do you see anyone else?”

I let out a relieved breath and looked into his blue eyes. “I only doubted that it could last.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

I closed the gap between us and put my hands on the sides of his waist. “Maybe I have, and I just didn’t realize it.”

Jake’s eyebrows shot up as he pointed to his chest. “Me?”

“Do you see anyone else?” I tipped onto my toes, his arms encircled me, and my lips parted as they landed on his. We stumbled backward, through the open door and into his place. He kicked the door closed, then pinned me against it, sending fire through every inch of my body as he pressed into me.

I drank in his kiss, his taste, as we clung to each other, making up for the days we’d been apart. I ran my hand through his damp hair as I gently bit his lower lip. He groaned and then his lips left mine, traveling down my neck and across my collarbone, sending delicious chills down my spine.