A bath sounded heavenly, but something in me rebelled, reminding me not to get too close. “I can manage on my own. I think you should go.”
Getting this comfortable with him so quickly had been a mistake. I was glad we hadn’t gone any farther over the weekend. I didn’t want him getting confused about my feelings for him. I had tried to convince myself otherwise, but I knew deep down that sex with him would never be emotionless and uncomplicated. I couldn’t explain how I knew. I just did. And I couldn’t let myself go there with him.
Cohen hadn’t yet moved from the couch and was staring intently at the steam rising from the coffee mug.
I stood and dragged my suitcase over to the laundry room off the kitchen, as if to prove to him that I was capable, and I started the washing machine. I was stuffing clothes into the washer without regard for color or fabric when Cohen came up behind me and gripped my upper arms, spinning me to face him. “What is this? Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me when we’re not even dating?”
“Cohen… Please. I just can’t. Not with you. Not with anyone,” I mumbled, staring down at my feet.
He tilted my chin up to look at me, and I closed my eyes. I knew it was childish, but if I met his blue eyes, I might crumble. And I couldn’t allow that to happen. His hand remained on my cheek, cradling my face and rubbing a slow circle with his thumb near my ear.
When he spoke again, his voice was just a whisper. “What happened to you, Eliza?”
I waited several seconds before responding. Then I took a deep breath and practiced saying the words in my head before repeating them out loud. “I lost someone I loved in a car accident.” I didn’t tell him the rest. I didn’t explain that we were engaged, that I was pregnant when he passed away, that it was my fault that he was driving three hours to see me in Des Moines that night when he fell asleep behind the wheel. I didn’t tell him that Paul had also called me Eliza.
“I’m sorry. How long ago?” Cohen asked, his voice still soft, still gentle.
“Five years.”
His hand dropped from my face, and he leaned in to press a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry you had to see that today. I should have stayed with you, I didn’t know.”
My eyes flicked to his. “No, you were right to help. It was just… hard. Being at that scene brought up feelings I never want to experience again.”
He nodded, and pulled me in for a hug. I let my body mold to his, my arms hanging limply at my sides.
Cohen finished adding my clothes to the washer, added some soap and then steered me back to the couch. “Get some rest, babe. I’ll call later to check on you.”
When he walked away, my brain knew putting some distance between us was the right thing to do, but my body instantly ached for his warmth. I curled onto my side, dragging the throw blanket over me and fell into a restless sleep.
When Cohen called later and woke me up, I didn’t answer my phone. And when he followed it up with a text to see if I was coming up to stay the night, I responded with an excuse about wanting to stick around for my cats. Not that they even noticed if I was there. As long as food appeared in their bowls, and the sun continued to provide warm spots for them to lounge in, they were content.
Several days passed and I did my best to avoid seeing Cohen. I’d seen him out for an early morning run with Bob a few times, where we’d waved hello, but not spoken. He’d texted me late one night, just a brief line to ask how I was, but it went unanswered and he didn’t text again. I don’t know if I expected him to put in more effort, but I couldn’t help the surprise I felt at how easily and quickly he’d slipped from my life.
And then last Sunday, when I was out for a run, I’d seen him with that mousy church girl Maggie. They were walking back from the diner on the corner. He’d met my eyes and smiled, and when he did, I felt a pang of jealousy stab at my chest.
It was strange how protective I was over his virginity. I wasn’t prepared to take it myself, but it made me furious to think of any other woman doing the job instead. I’d stormed inside the house and forced my drapes closed.
Chapter 12
Several more days passed by before I saw Cohen again. The accident and the woman’s death continued to weigh heavily on my mind, and I still barely slept at night. But I didn’t allow myself to go to Cohen’s bed like I wanted to. I knew I needed to stay strong. Seeing the horrific scene at the accident had slapped some much needed sense into me, and reminded me of the need to distance myself from the pain of losing someone. I couldn’t go through that again. I wouldn’t survive it for a second time.
So instead I focused on getting through each day. Class…studying…feeding my cats…trying to make myself eat something…and then falling into a restless sleep alone in my bed. But my thoughts betrayed me and constantly drifted to Cohen. His soft kisses, his silly nicknames, and even that damn dog Bob.
That was why when Stu called me, I had no reason to say no and was hoping that clocking some action between the sheets would force Cohen from my mind once and for all. But of course, that hadn’t been the case. I hadn’t been able to go through with it, worrying about if Cohen was home to hear us. At least that’s what I told myself, I didn’t want to think that my feelings for Cohen were what was really effecting my decision.
Twenty minutes later, I walked out a very unsatisfied Stu, anxious to get rid of him.
Stu clicked the keyless entry for his car, flashing the lights on his Lexus just as Cohen came walking up. I wasn’t sure where he’d been, as he was coming from the opposite direction of campus, but I reminded myself that his comings and goings weren’t supposed to be my business. His eyes fell on me first, his flirty smile kicking up a notch, but when he noticed Stu—aka Professor Gibson—standing on my porch, his smirk faltered and he looked from us to the house as if he was working out in his mind what had just happened in there.