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TOMORROW COMES SOONER than I want it to.
I wake up tangled in Nate’s limbs—lying on one of his arms, trapped beneath one of his legs. He’s still asleep as I try to process where I am and what happened last night. Then I gently try to slide away from him without waking him.
I pull on my pajama pants, which have been pushed under the covers, and then I sit on the side of the bed and try to breathe.
It feels like the world is different than it was just yesterday.
I hear the covers rustle and feel the mattress shift, and I know that Nate has woken up. He doesn’t say anything. He just scoots over to my side of the bed, pulling on his pajama pants as he straightens up to sit beside me.
I watch him as he does so. He was sleeping naked, and I can clearly see the hair on his legs, the flat skin of his abdomen, his penis and balls before he pulls the waistband up to cover them. Last night, it was too dark for me to see his body, and I can’t help but look now—in the light.
I’ve always loved how he looks, and that hasn’t changed now that I can see him naked.
He sits beside me, as silent as I am.
After a minute, he reaches over and picks up my hand, which is resting on the bed between us. He holds it in both of his.
I don’t pull my hand away—partly because it would hurt him and I don’t want to do that, and partly because I like how it feels.
Eventually I decide someone should say something, but I have no idea what to say. I have no idea what to think. I don’t know if things are hopelessly wrong between us now... or finally, finally right.
The lingering, urgent question in my mind upsets me so much I take a loud, shaky breath.
Apparently, that’s what breaks through Nate’s reserve. He speaks in a voice that’s intentionally gentle, intentionally composed. “I joined that dating site because you were raving about it so much. I was curious, and I wanted to do it and then tell you afterward, just to tease you or whatever.”
I take another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. His words make sense and sound true.
“I named myself Rochester... Well, it was just to be funny and ironic. You’re Jane and I’m Rochester. I thought you would get a kick out of it.”
For the first time since he got dressed, I look over at him. His vivid blue eyes are focused unwaveringly on my face.
“I didn’t go looking for you. I promise I didn’t. But I guess there were enough similarities in our profiles that they matched us up. I knew it was you. I knew it from the beginning. I was going to... going to write you one note and then spill the beans. I thought it would be funny.” He clears his throat. “But then you wrote back to me, and you were so... so you. And you told Rochester things you’d never told me before—about how you always felt like you were searching for something deep, something that would change you. I had to respond to it. I had to make sure you were heard. And then I couldn’t seem to stop.”
He’s still holding my hand, stroking the back of it with both his thumbs, and my heart is jumping around wildly as I breathlessly wait for him to finish.
“It’s like I said last night. I suddenly had the opportunity for you to see me in a different way, hear what I think about things, take me seriously in a way you never have.”
I make a strangled noise. “I always take you seriously. You’re the one who always tries to lighten up deep conversations.”
“I know. I know I do that. I always have. It’s hard for me to... to go deep—even with you. But as Rochester, I was able to do it because there was this layer of distance between us. But all of it was really me. None of it was a lie or an act. I might have started because I thought it would be funny, but it stopped being funny a long time ago.”
“So when...” I’m so overcome with emotion that I have to pause and restart. “So when were you planning to tell me.”
“I’ve been wanting to for weeks now, but then...” He gives a rueful huff of laughter. “But then I started to get jealous. Of Rochester. How ridiculous is that? But I started to worry that you were only interested in that one part of me and not all the rest. So I kept stalling. I knew if I told you, I’d have to tell you everything... about how I feel about you, I mean. And I was so scared that it would change everything between us. It was just too much to risk.”
“And... and how do you feel?” I’m holding my breath now. I have no idea why.
His face softens, and his eyes are very tender. “I told you last night. I love you—in every way a man can love a woman.”
“We were...” I pause to swallow hard. “We were always best friends.”
“I’m still your friend. I’m still your best friend.”
“How long have you...” I can’t quite finish the question.
He gives a little shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea. For a while. For a few years. I’ve always been attracted to you, even though I wasn’t supposed to be. But eventually it just came together that I wanted even more from you. But you were always dating someone else, and then your mom... your mom died. So it never seemed like the right time to make a move.” He sighs. “Besides, if you didn’t feel the same way, then it was just too much to risk.”
“Yeah.” I breathe, understanding completely. More and more often, I’ve been getting little flickers of interest and feeling for him—but pushing them away immediately since they would unavoidably change things between us, potentially come between us.
We sit without speaking for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the sound of our breathing.
“So do you...” Nate’s raspy voice finally cuts through the quiet. “Do you understand?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“A little.”
“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you think you might feel the same way I do?”
I’ve been staring down at my lap, but now I suddenly look up to see his face. “I love you.”
“I know you do.”
“I... I’m really attracted to you. I never admitted it before, but I am.”
His expression softens with something strong—maybe relief. “Good.”
“I really liked what we did last night.”
He leans forward slightly, his eyes holding mine. “Me too.”
“I’m scared.”
His lips are just a breath away from mine. “Me too.”
He presses his mouth against mine, and my lips soften and then open for him. The kiss deepens as he pushes forward, taking my head in both his hands. Pleasure and excitement and absolute trust rush through my body with my blood.
Because this is Nate. And he’s everything he’s ever been to me. And so much more than I’ve never dreamed of.
After a few minutes, we end up lying on the bed together. He’s still kissing me gently, and I’m running my hands over his back. I love the feel of it—firm and smooth and lean and strong.
He’s smiling as he rolls off me. I’m on my back, and he’s on his side. I’m not really ready for the embrace to end, so I turn my head and lean forward so I can kiss him again.
He keeps smiling as he kisses me back.
“Stop smiling,” I say for no good reason since I feel like smiling too.
“I can’t.”
“You’re making me self-conscious.”
His hand has been resting on my hip, and now it slides up, stroking over my belly until he’s cupping one breast over my thin top. “I’m sure you’ll work through it.”
He’s confident now, and I realize it’s because he’s assured himself that our changing feelings aren’t going to end up tearing us apart.
That’s given me confidence too.
I gasp as he gently thumbs my nipple.
His smile widens, and his eyes crawl hungrily over my body and flushed face. “You have no idea how much and how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Touch my boob?”
He chokes on a laugh and leans forward to capture my lips again. Just before he does, he murmurs, “That and many more things.”
So then the kiss deepens—a lot. He slowly undresses me, and I pull back down his pants, and he’s hard and I’m pliant as he enters me again. This time we’re as slow as we were urgent and rushed last night, and we rock together rhythmically, leisurely, and we’re kissing each other the whole time.
I don’t come this time. Our motion is too slow and soft, but nothing has ever felt better than being with Nate like this, touching him, stroking him, kissing him, giving myself to him completely, knowing he’s loving me with everything that’s in him to love.
It feels real this time—more real than it did last night.
I wrap my legs around him as his motion finally speeds up, becoming jerky and uneven. He’s panting against my neck as I feel his body tighten deliciously and then feel the tension release in waves that make him moan.
We hug each other for a long time afterward, and the last of my doubts fades away.
When he finally rolls off me, I’m smiling.
He slants me a questioningly look. “What?” he asks.
I shake my head, unable to stop smiling.
“You’re making me self-conscious now.”
“Good,” I say, giving him a soft, playful swat on the chest. “Now you know how I felt earlier.” After a moment then, I admit, “I’m just happy.”
He smiles then too, warmth and joy and understanding palpable in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it. I plan to keep making you happy—for as long as you’ll let me.”
A shiver of delight overwhelms me, but I manage to say in an impressively dry voice, “But I don’t want you to think we’ll be spending the day in bed together.”
He arches his eyebrows. “We won’t?”
“No. We only have a few more days here, and we’ve got a lot to see. So today we’ll need to go to Chawton to see all the Jane Austen stuff there, and tomorrow we’ll go to Bath.”
He laughs, low and warm. “Sounds like a plan. But maybe you’ll let me change our reservations in Haworth and take one room instead of two.”
I think about this for a moment, the hesitation entirely for show. “I guess that would be all right—although I don’t know if the Janes would approve of such scandalous behavior.”
He pulls me into his arms again and says against my lips, “As long as this Jane approves, then I can live with it.”
“But this whole trip was about chasing the Janes.”
“Well, I chased my Jane. And I caught her.”
He didn’t really chase me. We both just stumbled along together until we landed in the same bed.
But I figure this isn’t the time to be literal about such things.
***
LATER THAT DAY, AFTER visiting the Jane Austen house and sites in the village of Chawton, we end up at The Vyne, a gorgeous, sixteenth-century country house and estate where Jane Austen went to dances.
I’m having one of the best days of my life, as all the tangled pieces of my life come together with that perfect unity that only occurs occasionally. After we tour the house, we walk around the grounds, and I gush over the gardens and the ornamental lake.
Nate might not care as much about Jane Austen as I do, but I know he’s having a good time too.
My mom would have loved to be here, but she always adored Nate, and I know she would be happy that we’ve finally gotten together this way.
It’s getting late in the day when I stare at the beautifully kept grounds and impressive historic house. “I feel like I’m Elizabeth Bennet at Pemberley, when she first starts to see Mr. Darcy differently.”
Nate is holding my hand, and he squeezes it lightly, even as he gives me an exaggerated frown. “I hope you’re not going to compare me to Darcy.”
I laugh softly and stretch up to kiss him on the jaw. “I thought you wanted me to see you as a hero.”
“I guess. But can we find someone a little more appropriate than him?”
“Captain Wentworth?”
“God, no.”
I try to smother a giggle. “Mr. Knightley?”
He makes a face. “I guess that’s a little better.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “How about... Rochester?”
He smiles and kisses me. “That will have to do.”
***
AND THAT’S REALLY ABOUT all there is to say about me and Nate and the long-awaited Jane journey. Except one last thing, mostly because they’re words I’ve always wanted to write.
Reader, I married him.
But that’s another story.
***
AUTHOR’S NOTE: If you enjoyed these two stories, you might enjoy another one of my friends-to-lovers novellas, Date for Hire, which will be coming out soon. An excerpt can be found on the following pages.
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