All the Wrong Choices by C.A. Harms

Chapter Thirty-Six

Danielle

"I learnedfrom the beginning with Matt; I could never truly be myself. I met him through my father," I twist my hands in my lap nervously, and when Jonah places his hand over mine, I sigh. I almost lost this because I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. I look over, finding him watching me closely, and the way his jaw muscle ticks under the pressure of him grinding his teeth reminds me of when he stood head-to-head with Matt in my parents' yard.

"He thought dresses unless they were below the knee were trashy. Makeup was to be kept light, jewelry simple and classy, and when we were in public, I was told to remain at his side supporting him, doting on him; he came first. A woman who treats her man like he rules the world sets the precedent for everyone else and the way they treat him." I'd skip over the less than adventurous sex because I know Jonah won't sit still and listen to that, and frankly, I don't want to recap it either. It was mediocre at best.

"It was what he wanted, what he needed, and since that was the life I'd lived with my mother, I didn't see the wrong in it. I forced myself to believe I was happy, that I had a good relationship, and I was meant to be with him. I was blind, and I spent our entire relationship blind." Now looking back, I can honestly say I was oblivious, gullible, and ridiculous.

"After the disaster of a wedding, and before I met you, I guess I got a taste of my freedom for the first time in a long time. I refused to go back to living a life where I had to be something or someone I wasn't. I liked having opinions and needs I could express."

"I'd never expect you to be anything you're not."

"I know," cupping his jaw, I lean in and place a soft, brief kiss on his lips. "I'd convinced myself giving in and being in a relationship not just with you but with anyone meant I'd be forced to become that person again. After what I went through, I never wanted to go back to that place in my life, go back to being that person."

"I fell in love with the crazy, sassy, bossy, and sexy girl I met at the restaurant."

"Like I said," shrugging, knowing I have no other way to explain my actions, "I was an idiot."

"Not an idiot, just stubborn," Jonah smirks, and I don't attempt to argue. Instead, I laugh because it's true. "And let me just add, I love all the dresses you wear." I know he does; he'd told me often.

"I ruined what we could be."

"What do you mean, what we could be?" He narrows his eyes at me playfully. "We will be because I don't care how hard you try to get away from me this time. I'm never letting you go again."

"I don't want to run away," I want to hit the gas and speed ahead. I want it all with Jonah, the delirious love, the house, the kids, the laughs, and even the arguments, as long as they are with him. I will plant my feet firmly and fight like hell. As long as at the end of the day, I'm in his arms where I feel safe.

"Then this time, things should be a whole hell of a lot less messy for us." He adds before turning his body to mine and hooking my waist, pulling me around him and onto his lap.

With his face mere inches from mine, I move in and press my lips to his—a soft, gentle kiss. Feeling his tongue trace along the seam of my lips triggers the desire in me. Parting my own, I accept his tongue, and suddenly a heat fills me I haven't felt in weeks. I was moving around on his lap, so I am now straddling him. I honestly feel like I can't get close enough. I need desperately to be surrounded by him, to be consumed by him fully.

"I've missed you so much," he confesses. "Even when I tried to stop thinking about you, you were always there. You filled my mind, my dreams. At the worst times, you'd reappear, and each time I'd feel like I was right back in that foyer where you were walking away from me."

He tried to forget me. His words are repeatedly ringing in my head, and the heaviness it triggers causes me to withdraw from him. I don't have the right to feel the things I'm feeling.

"What's wrong?" He asks, cupping my face and holding me close. "What did I say?"

"Nothing," it's more of what his words made me think. Another woman in his arms, at his side, kissing his lips. The intimate way he'd feel her. And, in turn, allow her to touch him. It all makes my stomach coil and my throat grow tight.

"Baby, talk to me."

"It's none of my business," I have no right to feel this way; I left him.

When I attempt to move off of him, he grips my hips and holds me in place. "You have every right," he declares with fierceness, "what is it?"

I hang my head, trying to hide the uncertainty and jealousy I now feel. When I lift my chin once again, and he sees me, he knows.

"We dated, but it was never more than that."

I try to look away, feeling nothing but shame I've even let this come up. Jonah doesn't owe me an explanation or an excuse. I have no right to feel jealous. I left, I walked away. If he'd slept with her, it was his business and not my own.

"Heather and I were more friends than anything," placing his forehead to my own. He closes his eyes and cups the back of my neck firmly. "A few kisses, and that was it. I couldn't sleep with her Dani, every time I touched her, it felt wrong."

Tears spring to my eyes, and I close them quickly, trying to hide them from him. The idea of him touching anyone other than me or vice versa is hard to imagine.

"I love you, baby. I didn't stop because we weren't together."

I nod my head, and even when he takes my lips once more in a settling kiss, I can't look at him. The jealous feelings I'm having are not warranted; they aren't my right. But even those thoughts don't make them go away.

* * *

For the pastcouple of days, things have felt off between Jonah and I. He's hovering, and I catch him staring at me often as if he thinks I might fall apart at any moment. I wouldn't say I like the way he's been tiptoeing around. It's unnerving, and part of me wants to go back to my apartment to gain some much-needed distance, but leaving him is also equally unsettling, so instead, I've stayed.

I pick at the food on my plate, not because it isn't amazing but because my appetite is pretty much nonexistent. I hadn't eaten a good meal in days, weeks even. My daily diet consisted of wine, wine, and more wine, with the occasional cracker or a few pieces of cheese. Once in a while, I'd tossed in a bit of toast if I was feeling adventurous.

Since the beginning of the trouble with Jonah and I, I'd lost over fifteen pounds. I know it doesn't seem like a lot, but when you're five-four and around one hundred and thirty pounds on an average day, it's very noticeable. I look sickly. I'm well aware.

"Did you want something else?" I look up to find Jonah looking at me from across the table. He'd ordered one of everything from my favorite Italian restaurant already, so it's not like I don't have a variety. I have gotten so full so fast the idea of another bite makes me feel nauseous.

"No, this is great," I lowered my fork to the plate, the clicking noise it creates sounding much louder than I anticipated. I'm so jumpy, and I hate feeling this way. I don't like being some frail girl in his eyes. I want him to be Jonah, the hungry man who has no problem touching me or devouring me. I miss the desire in his eyes when he'd see me. I miss the heat between us and the way he used to stare at me. You could almost see the shift from calm to hungry before he'd react. I want to feel beautiful again, feel like he can't get enough of me. But instead, all I see is pity and sadness.

"I'm stuffed," I confess.

He nods, looking away from me and back to his plate like he thinks I'm lying but doesn't want to argue.

"Jonah," he doesn't look at me right away, which seems to trigger an irritation inside me I didn't know was there. "I've barely eaten lately, and I get full faster. It's not that I'm starving myself or something."

Again he nods.

I push back my chair and stand from the table, which finally makes him lift his gaze to meet mine. "You can stop treating me like I'm brittle. Stop waiting for me to fall apart. Like I said, dinner was great, thank you."

Turning around, I walk toward his bedroom feeling my hands shake at my sides. I don't want to cry, but I can feel the struggle within me to not fall apart.

"Where are you going?"

"To shower," once I reach his room, I shut the door quietly and lean my back against it for a few seconds trying to breathe through my heartache and frustration.

Finding some control, I move into the bathroom, closing that door too. I reach inside the shower to turn it on. Jonah's shower is like a spa, large enough for a group and multiple shower heads surrounding you. It's perfection.

I lower my shorts, lift my shirt off and remove my bra and panties. Placing them into a small pile on the corner seat near the vanity, I turn and begin walking to the shower. Catching my reflection in the tall mirror, I pause and stare at myself.

Hip bones peek out on my sides, my stomach though flat before now, appears more sunk inward, making my ribs more evident. My shoulders and collarbone stand out more, and my cheek bones are more prominent. The dark circles under my eyes make me look as though I haven't slept in days. I'm hideous. No wonder Jonah looks at me the way he does.

Wiping away the tears from my eyes, I step into the shower and close the door behind me.

I stand under the warm water so long my skin begins to look like a prune. At one point, Jonah pokes his head inside the bathroom, but thankfully, the steam has fogged up the doors, and I'm nothing more than a blur.

When I finally get out of the shower, he's already in bed, lying flat on his back with his arm laying over his face. Sneaking across the bedroom, I disappear inside his long narrow walk-in closet and begin searching the racks for anything to wear.

After deciding on a much too large navy hoodie, I find a pair of boxers in his top drawer and hurry to cover myself. The boxer briefs are too big, and I use my hair tie to make a knot to keep them where they should be.

Entering the room once more, I pull back the blankets and slide beneath them, doing my best not to wake him.

Curling onto my side, I bring my knees up toward my chest and tuck my hands under the pillow beneath my head. I'm finally beginning to relax, only seconds from falling to sleep when I feel Jonah move behind me. Then his arm comes over my side, hooking me around the waist, and I'm being pulled back to his chest.

I hold my breath, bracing myself for yet another lecture or round of how worried he is. I can't take it, I'm exhausted, and I want to sleep off the unsettled feeling and hope for a better day tomorrow.

I feel so raw.

"It scares me we can't get back to where we were," his confession causes my chest to grow even tighter. "Promise me we'll get there, Dani."

I take in a slow deep shuddering breath feeling myself caving.

"Promise me," he asks again, and I want to be able to promise him more than anything, but a part of me is scared that we will never be who we once were.

Silence fills the room, and together we lay in the same position, neither saying another word. Both of us fall asleep with uncertainty in our hearts.