Worth Waiting For | Book #2 (ON HOLD)

Chapter 1

I was utterly and irrevocably in love with the man I wake up to every morning, and although I was certain that nothing would ever change that, I couldn't help but sense our compatibility breaking with the pressures provided by our own doing.

I never danced on the thoughts that my situation would fall under the category of right person, wrong time, but every now and then, the idea would brush through to the forefront of my mind, managing to hit and damage a nerve I never knew to exist.

This actuality became a little more concrete on a late Thursday evening when Josh arrived home from work, having pushed himself once again in order to stay past the initial closing hours of his office building. He was diligent with his career, focusing on progression with a motivation that he somewhat lacked during high school.

However, none of that concerned me. Occasionally, I would stay a little later in the office, despite being placed under the very minimal salary as a journalism intern. It was standard for young people like us to be climbing the career ladder in any way we had access to, so I could never not turn a blind eye to Josh's sporadic late nights.

I was stood in the kitchen area of our open planned yet minuscule apartment, half stirring the almost boiled spaghetti and half singing along to a cooking playlist I had created a few weeks ago when the sounds of Josh's key turning perked up my ears. We'd been somewhat lucky with our living situation. Albeit, the location was marginally unsafe, meaning that it was a first for me to attach both my rape alarm and my pepper spray to the same keyring for when I walked alone at night from the subway station to our apartment lobby.

Our bed sat comfortably in the middle of the room, occupying a majority of the space around yet giving it a homely feel all the same. We had picked out the cream cotton bedding after a particular disagreement shared between us in the middle of target with our conflicting taste in home decor.

Our bathroom was the only space occupied by a closed room, posing as a memoir to our many sexual escapades, predominantly to escape the clear view of our common activities through the extensive loft windows. It wasn't anywhere close to a penthouse apartment in the upper east side, but it was us and it was all we needed.

"Tough day?" I pondered out loud with the incoming sound of an exasperated sigh escaping Josh's lips. He placed his laptop bag down by his feet before collapsing down into the couch across from my view in the kitchen.

"That's a simple word for it."

Apprehension soaked through my veins as I turned the stove back to zero and rounded the kitchen counter to close the distance between us. His features were exhausted when his unusually despondent eyes found mine. My eyebrows furrowed as I slouched down beside him, facing his body with my arm resting up against the head of the couch.

This evening and Josh's physical sentiments felt somewhat disconcerting as I simply awaited his explanation for his day. I pulled myself closer to him as a response to my natural instincts and placed a comforting hand down onto his shoulder, only for his body to flinch back like a fresh burn I had inflicted.

"We need to talk about something, Savannah," he pulled stiffly away from my touch and stretched his head and body forward over his knees.

"What is it?"

His fingers found the soft skin between his eyes, pressing hard in order to rid what I assumed to be an incoming headache. He refused to look my way, which posed as an already clear indication that something was already wrong.

"I just don't think we can do this anymore."

My mind reeled with the possibilities of the meaning behind his words, denying what was possibly right in front of me. "What are you talking about?"