Girl Abroad

IT COMES FROM SO FAR IN LEFT FIELD I DON’T QUITE UNDERSTAND what he’s asking at first.

“Sydney?” I echo dumbly.

Jack runs a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. “Yeah. I leave Friday at midnight from Gatwick. If you’d like to join me.”

I stare at him. “Why would I do that?”

“Ah, right. I haven’t asked for forgiveness yet.” His face is sheepish. “I fucked up the order.”

“What order?”NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

Resting his palms on his knees, he angles his body so he’s facing me. “The order I wanted to say things.”

Despite myself, I snort out a laugh.

“Let me start again?” he pleads.

I nod and gesture for him to continue.

“I know I’ve apologized over and over again, and I reckon you’re bloody sick of hearing the words I’m and sorry exit my mouth. But I need to say them again.” Sincerity shines on his face. “I should have told you about your dad’s emails. I should have come clean the moment we had breakfast together that first morning or at the very least the moment I realized how much I liked you. I’m never going to stop apologizing, not until you stop hating me for it.”

My heart lurches into my throat. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. I could never hate you.”

A spark of hope lights his eyes. “Does that mean I’ve a chance at earning your forgiveness?”

He’s not a bad bloke.

Of course he wasn’t pretending. Everybody could see Jack was besotted with you.

I swallow, hesitating, as Celeste’s words poke at the back of my brain.

Rather than address his question, I pose one of my own. “Why do you want me to come to Sydney with you?”

He shifts, his elbow jolting mine. “Ah, well, the family’s been asking about you, and I thought maybe you’d like to meet them.”

“You talk about me to your family?”

He nods.

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me to go home with you? To meet your mom?”

As in the mom no other girl has ever met?

The reminder sends my mind reeling.

“Why?” I push, because he’s yet to provide an adequate explanation for this unexpected offer.

The corners of his mouth tip upward. “See, I’ve been giving it some thought, and I think I figured out my problem.”

“Oh?” I smother another laugh. “I’m dying to know.”

“It’s possible I’m in love with you.”

I’m sorry. What?

I blink at him. This must be a hallucination.

“I reckon if I’d managed to tell you that, it could have helped.” Jack lets out a harried breath. “Helped to convince you I don’t view you as a little kid. Far from it, Abbey. I do view you as a woman. A bloody amazing woman.”

I’m still gaping at him, my mind still tripping over the words I’m in love with you.

Then I remember something he said to me ages ago.

I’d have to be head over heels for someone to introduce them to Mum.

God, I think he’s being sincere right now.

He’s got me at a total loss. To say I’ve been sideswiped by this revelation is an understatement.

“You love me?” I finally utter. “When did all this happen?”

“Guess I figured it out when I looked at my phone and it said you were trapped in Ben Tulley’s penthouse.”

“That might have been a bit overdramatic of me.” In hindsight, I’m sure I overreacted to the situation with Ben. At the time, though, it felt quite urgent.

“I was out the door and halfway down the street before the others even checked their phones,” Jack confesses. “I didn’t say a word, just ran out of the pub. Practically sprinting down the street until I realized I had no idea where I was going. Took me a minute to notice you hadn’t texted only me.”

Guilt tugs at me. “Sorry I put you all through that.”

“I’m not.”

The conviction in his voice rocks me back. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d have ripped the door from its hinges with his bare hands to get to me. That’s the kind of guy Jack is. Fiercely loyal.

“I’m happy you asked for help instead of being all stubborn and trying to get out of the situation on your own. I like how honest you are, Abbs. Genuine. I like that you can laugh at yourself.” He gives an adorable shrug. “I like everything about you.”

“So…Sydney, huh?” Because I’m still stuck on the idea of him taking me home to the family. To his mother. “You said you’ve never brought a girl home.”

“I haven’t.”

“So if I came home with you…that would make us, what?”

“My girlfriend. If that’s not too presumptuous.”

My breath hitches. I haven’t had much experience with relationships, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t how most of them start. It feels like we’re doing this all backward. Yet that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a surge of hopeful excitement at hearing the words. The possibility he’s serious about this.

Then again, I’ve been burned before. Kissed within an inch of my life only to have him take it all back. I didn’t realize until this moment what a deep scar that left on me.

“This is a lot to absorb,” I say softly.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to spring it on you all at once.”

I want to say yes. To throw myself at him and let it all be true. But I have to protect myself. And that means a healthy dose of skepticism. Never mind that meeting the fam right off the bat is a major test of what would be a brand-new tenuous relationship.

I reach over and take his hand. He immediately entwines our fingers, and the warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me.

“I…” I squeeze his hand. “I can’t go to Sydney with you.”

I try to ignore the deep ache in my chest as I watch the disappointment wash over his face.

“Oh. Yeah. I get it. No worries.”

God, I hate disappointing him. The hurt evident in his deflated posture tears at me, and almost instantly, I’m recalculating if I’ve done the right thing.

Averting his eyes, he tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.

“I forgive you,” I say firmly.

Jack’s gaze slowly finds mine. “You do?”

“I do. Me saying no right now doesn’t have to do with your deal with my dad. I forgive you for that.”

Because no matter how embarrassed I feel every time I think about Jack getting paid to babysit me, I finally understand that proverb about not cutting off your nose to spite your face. I’m only punishing myself by not forgiving Jack. By not wiping the slate clean. We still live together after all. And…well, I care about him.

A lot.

“I’m willing to start fresh. But I’m not sure a weeklong trip where I meet your family is the way to dip our toes back into this.”

He nods again. “I understand.”

“And just because I’m saying no to Sydney doesn’t mean I’m shutting down the other thing. The girlfriend thing.”

His lips quirk up. “All right.”

“But maybe we can table that discussion until you get back?”

“Of course. It’s only a week, right?”

He gets up, tugging me to my feet. My knees feel wobbly as I peer up at his suddenly heavy-lidded eyes. I can tell he wants to kiss me. A part of me is dying for him to.

But this reconciliation is still too fragile. So I head for the door before I succumb to the urge.

I awkwardly reach for the doorknob. “I need to shower.”

“If you change your mind about Sydney,” Jack says, “you know where to find me Friday night, okay?”

“Okay,” I echo.

In the bathroom, I release the breath I’d been holding and study my reflection in the mirror, wondering what the heck just happened.

Has Jack really declared his love for me?

Asked me to come home to meet his mother?

I’m not even close to processing any of it when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out, startled to find a text from Nate, who I haven’t seen or spoken to in weeks.

Nate: Hey. Can we talk?

When it rains, it pours.

After some hesitation, I text him back.

Me: What about?

Nate: I’d rather tell you in person. Any chance you can meet me at the bar later? I’m off at eleven. I know it’s late, but I don’t want to wait till tomorrow.

Wait for what? Curiosity rears its ugly head inside me. Jack’s bombshells and now Nate’s cryptic request? There goes any chance of being able to focus on editing my research paper tonight. I’m going to spend the next five hours obsessing over what Nate might have to say to me after weeks of radio silence.

It doesn’t escape me that I just told Jack I’d consider the idea of being his girlfriend. And I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have feelings for Nate. Confusing, complicated feelings that I can’t even begin to sort out until I’ve seen him again and heard what he has to say.

Me: All right. I’ll be there at 11.