Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

Jessica’s POV

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He let out a short, dry breath that wasn’t quite a laugh; it sounded more like a mourning for a life he never got to experience.

“It doesn’t matter now. The point is, I was finally going to confirm something you’d always wanted to know. I had a whole plan mapped out, a different way for us to exist.”

He looked at me, his eyes holding something dark and unsettled-regret, maybe, or anger that hadn’t finished burning.

“I often wonder if you’d still have run if you’d known what was waiting for you at the end of that journey.”

My curiosity flared, hot and agonizing. A plan? A confirmation?

What could he have possibly been holding back then that would have changed the trajectory of our lives?

I thought of the lonely nights, the struggle of raising Adrian in silence, and the constant fear.

Was there a reality where none of that happened?

I looked down at our joined hands, the “seventy-two-hour bubble” we had so carefully blown suddenly feeling thinner, and more fragile.

I stared at him, my heart pounding against my ribs, desperate for a name, a word, or even the smallest sign to make sense of the ghost he’d just summoned.

But as I watched, his expression began to re-harden, the warmth receding. It was a look I knew all too well, one that told me the vault was slammed shut for the night and the combination had been changed.

The wine didn’t taste as sweet anymore; the notes of oak and berry were replaced by the metallic tang of anxiety.

I was desperate to reach out and shake the truth from him-to ask what could have possibly been worth a “confirmation”-but the cold finality in his eyes acted as a silent warning.

The story was over before I’d even heard the first chapter.

Dinner continued in a brief, tense silence, the magnitude of his “secret plan” hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But eventually, we both seemed to make a silent pact to push it away.

We were here to survive these seventy-two hours, and we weren’t going to let the ghosts of what might have been ruin what was.

We shifted back to safer ground, reminiscing until the air was light again.

We laughed until our eyes watered over my disastrous attempt to cook gumbo for him; a night that had ended in burnt pans fire, a melted spatula, and a very late-night takeout pizza.

16:05 Wed, Jan 21

Chapter 93

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I teased him right back about his attempts to teach me how to play basketball; I was so uncoordinated I’d tripped over my own feet more than I’d actually touched the ball.

The stories flowed as freely as the wine, each memory peeling back layers of scar tissue to reveal the raw joy we’d shared before the shadows crept in.

Aaron’s laughter-deep, unrestrained, and resonant-filled the empty bullring, echoing off the ancient walls as if it had finally found its home.

For the first time in six years, I felt a strange, buoyant lightness in my chest, a sense of being unburdened by the secrets waiting for me back in the States.

We talked about the stars, looking up at the velvet sky and tracing the constellations we used to dream under back when our lives were simple.

For those few hours, we weren’t just living in a carefully constructed illusion; we were reclaiming the lost pieces of ourselves that had been scattered the day I left.

As the plates were finally cleared and the candles burned lower, casting shadows across the sand, a soft, Spanish guitar melody began to swell from somewhere high in the stands.

It was haunting and beautiful, a lonely sound that matched the gravity of the night.

Aaron stood, his tall frame cutting a striking silhouette against the ring of fire.

He reached across the table, offering his hand, his eyes locked onto mine with heated intensity.

“Dance with me, Jess.”

I took his hand, his skin warm and firm against mine, and let him pull me away from the table.

We moved toward the edge of the candlelight, where the golden glow met the encroaching shadows of the arena floor.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I locked mine around his neck, looking up at the sky. Madrid’s stars were vivid, scattered like jewels across black velvet.

“I used to look for you in the stars,” he whispered, his breath warm against my temple.

“Every city I played in, every hotel balcony… I’d look up and wonder if you were seeing the same sky. If you were even still under it.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder, my eyes stinging. “I was always under it, Aaron. Even when I was hiding.

He pulled back, his hand cupping my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a reverence that made my knees weak.

He leaned down, and when his lips met mine, it wasn’t a desperate, starving kiss.

This was slow. It was deep. It was a silent conversation, a confession of six years of longing. It felt like coming

16:05 Wed, Jan 21

Chapter 93

home after a lifetime in the cold.

Aaron’s POV

The sand shifted beneath my boots as we swayed together in the dark.

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I pulled her flush against me, one hand splaying across the small of her back, the other anchoring her hand to my chest so she could feel the heavy thud of my heart.

I wanted her to know what she did to me. I wanted her to feel the chaos she caused.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game. This seventy-two-hour truce was a ticking time bomb, but as I looked down at Jessica—really looked at her—I didn’t care if the explosion killed me.

As we continued swaying to the slow, mournful pluck of the guitar strings, I buried my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, and letting the silk of her dress slide against my palms.

I thought about the “plan” I’d mentioned earlier. I hadn’t been lying. I’d been ready to give it all up.

I’d been ready to tell my grandfather to take his legacy and shove it if it meant I could wake up next to her every morning.

But then she’d vanished, and I’d turned into the very thing I’d been trying to escape: a machine. A cold, calculating Tyrone.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her breath ghosting against my ear.

田

A5

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