Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

35

35. surrealism

"Let me get this straight. You puked on him, then he bathed you, clothed you, and babied you for a day and a half, even calling in sick to work so he could hand-feed you soup and take your temperature every hour?"

"Um, yes."

Claire screeches into the phone, "Why are you ignoring his calls, you dummy?"

"Because!" With a grunt of aggravation, I flop onto my couch. "Claire, I don't know how to do this."

Something in my voice softens her outrage. "Honey, I know it's scary. You've never tackled a relationship-ready man before. But you're also the bravest woman I know. It's obvious Knight is nuts about you. He sprayed his dog's toy with your perfume, for fuck's sake!"

Back to outrage.

"It was my t-shirt," I mumble.

"Exactly!"

"But I puked on him! Bits of cheese and pepperoni all over his lap! His coffee table! His rug! Bathroom! Sheets!"

"And he loved it!" she hollers back. "Darcy, seriously, don't make me get on a plane. I will haul you to his house and throw you naked into his front yard."

I frown. "Geez, Claire. That's a little extreme."

"Yeah," she agrees in a normal tone. "What can I say, I felt inspired. Besides, I don't have any more letters to send him."

"Bitch," I say tiredly.

"Whatever, you forgave me because it was awesome." She pauses. "What are you really afraid of? He knows almost as much about you as I do and he's not running."

I stare out my living room window at the steady rain. "I don't really know," I murmur. "It's kind of this amorphous feeling of dread, like any second the other shoe is going to drop. I'm scared."

"Can I give you my professional two-cents?" she asks hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"Knight's a poet and a writer. He calls you his muse. Does that remind you of anyone?"

I close my eyes. "My parents."

She hums in agreement. "I think you need to find out the truth about what happened between them. You need to talk to your mom."

The feeling of dread inside me grows, triggering goosebumps along my arms. "I don't want to," I whisper.

She sighs. "I know, honey, but you have to, or you're never going to be able to go all-in with Knight. Or anyone else, for that matter. Regardless of what your mom says, you'll have to make a decision. But at least you'll be making one with all the facts."

"You're right." I sigh. "I think some part of me has always known that was the issue. I'll go see my mom next weekend."

"What about Knight? And don't say you can't face him because of puke. Griffen took a shit with the bathroom door open the other day. This isn't the minor leagues of relationships anymore, when we pretended people didn't fart. We're in the majors now."

I laugh in spite of myself. "Ignoring that gross fact, did you really just use a baseball analogy?"

"Ugh, I know. You wouldn't believe how crazy Texans are about sports. It's rubbing off on me." A door opens and closes. "Gotta go, my client's here. Love you, Darcy."

"Love you, too."

I lower my phone to my lap. Seconds later it buzzes with a new text message. From Jordan.