Page 87 of Protected from Reprisal
“You make a good point,” I agree. “I think I’d prefer sex to an alarm, too.”
“We can take turns,” he replies. “One morning, I’ll wake you up, the next, we can switch.”
“I like the sound of that.” But even as I say it, a bittersweet pang hits me. It’s one thing to talk about waking up next to each other every morning, but the reality of it isn’t as pleasant. Mainly because it’s nearly December, which means it’s almost time to head back to my place in Rainier Beach.
I already knew it would be hard leaving Ace. But after his confession last night, it feels like we’ve reached a new stage in our relationship. A stage that makes me think about a future with Ace in terms of years, instead of months. A stage that makes me wish I could stay here for good.
Logically, I know I have to leave. I have a job. A house, albeit a rental, but I recently renewed a year-long lease. And it’s not like Ace has brought up the idea of me staying—it’s just something I’ve spun in my head, wondering and wishing.
“Yara?” Ace’s hand on my back stills. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you when I got on top, did I?”
Shaking free of my wistful thoughts, I reply quickly, “Oh, no. Not at all. I was just thinking, is all.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.”
“Nothing bad. I was thinking about your sex as an alarm clock idea. I like it. Although…”
“Although? I thought you said it wasn’t anything bad.”
“It isn’t. Technically.”
“Technically?”Ace rolls me over again and climbs off me. He grabs a few tissues from the box he started keeping on the nightstand and cleans me up. Then he gets back under the covers and turns so he’s facing me. “What doestechnicallynot bad mean?”
“It means not bad. Just… a little sad.”
“Sad?” His eyebrows jump up. “Why are you sad? Did I do something? Are you having second thoughts about us?”
“No. You didn’t do anything. Wrong, I mean. And I’m not having second thoughts.”
Worry darkens Ace’s eyes. “Then what?”
I feel bad turning what was a wonderful experience into something negative. “Talking about every morning, it got me thinking about how we won’t be able to do that. Not every morning, at least. Maybe on the weekends, we could alternate. Or when I get a vacation?—”
“Yara. What are you talking about?”
“Going back to Rainier Beach. It’s almost December.”
“So?”
“So, we said I’d stay until then. And I know it’s fine, we’ll see each other on weekends and stuff, but I guess…” My heart gives a nervous skip. “I’m just going to miss you. That’s all.”
Ace pushes himself up on one elbow. His forehead creases. “You’re still planning on leaving next week? I thought we weregoing to go into Portland for the holiday market. And Williston has its annual tree-lighting next Thursday.”
I tug at the edge of the blanket. “I thought we agreed on December. That’s what you suggested.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looks at me.
My heart skips another beat.
“Do youwantto go back?” he finally asks.
The old, staunchly independent Yara nearly insists that of course, I want to go back. That I have a house and a job and I’m perfectly fine being on my own again. That Yara doesn’t want to admit that the thought of leaving Ace makes me feel like crying.
Then there’s the new Yara, the one Ace helped bring to life. And that one speaks up before the other one can. “Not really,” I admit quietly. “I like it here. With you.”
Confusion clouds Ace’s face. “Then why?—”
“Because I have a job. A house. I mean, it’s a rental, but there’s a lease. And I’m sure you want your space back. You brought me here to stay in the client apartment, and instead, you ended up with me living with you.”
