I feel everything at once. Panicked, excited, terrified, embarrassed, warm, cold.  I'm a myriad of emotion like my mother.

I mean I literally have no clue where his head is right now.  Okay do I ever?   Of course I know that to him we're an 'us', and that he wants this to go somewhere - but where I don't know. 

But I also know, with an almost certainty, that he isn't in love with me. 

"Well?  Did I?" He asks.  I swallow before answering him and hope to god my voice won't betray me.

"Flying colours spring to mind.  Did you have fun?" I ask quietly.  Hopefully if my voice is quiet then there will be less emotion in it.   Less 'I'm in love with you' in it. 

He thinks about it a long moment. "It was a really nice tart," he says with a sideways smile.

I smile back at him and then turn my head straight ahead to focus on the road.  What the hell am I going to do? I've ruined everything. I didn't want this, to be in love, not this soon. I'm such a bloody idiot. I'm head over heels for a man I know almost nothing about and who I've known for less than a month. God this probably happens to him all the time; women falling in love with him at the drop of a hat.  I'm just another one. How utterly depressing.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.   Okay Alex. Breathe. Fake it.

"Oh Nothing really.  Just tonight.  I'm really glad you came." I turn back to smile at him. Seeing him there, chatting with Dan and Rob and fitting in so well has no doubt pulled me along to this point.  He was so relaxed and so comfortable and it really felt like he belonged there by my side.  Except for the tension with Sherlock.    "Oh and listen, I'm really sorry about Mark, he can be a little overbearing at times. Especially with new folk - it's just his job.  It's automatic I think."  

Jake nods, frowning slightly.  "His Job?" 

"Yeah.  He works for the Met; a detective for the CID specifically. A chief superintendent now I think. He's just really suspicious by nature. Has been as long as I've known him," I explain. An odd look passes over Jake's face, and his jaw begins doing the clenching thing it does sometimes when he's annoyed.  His eyes look dark too. 

"Mark, Dan's brother?  He works for the CID?"  He seems on edge and anxious and I'm not sure why.   Then a moment later it hits me.  God I'm so dense sometimes.  I sit round in my chair to face him. 

"Jake don't worry, I never told him about what happened that night.  About how we met, about what happened to you.   I never told anyone. Even Rob thinks we met at the club opening," I tell him.  He glances round at me, his eyes narrow and suspicious.  It looks like he's trying to figure out if I'm lying or not. Then he turns back to focus back on the road.   "Jake I could lose my job if anyone found out that I treated a knife wound without recording it." I say. I'm actually pretty sure that if Douglas ever finds out he'd go easy on me.  Especially if I put it down to inexperience, or an oversight and that it happened during a drop-in where the rules are ever so slightly different. 

Jake doesn't speak for what seems like ages focusing solely on the road as he bites the inside of his lip.  Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut about Mark's profession.  I'd just assumed they'd found out about each others occupations at some point during dinner.  I was certain Mark mentioned something, but clearly not.  Actually come to think of it they never stopped trying to out alpha male each other long enough to have any sort of proper conversation.  

"So why didn't you?" he asks finally.  He keeps his eyes on the road.

"What?"

"Why didn't you report it?  I mean if you could have lost your job.  You're a good girl Alex.  An upstanding citizen.  Why wouldn't you report it?  To your detective friend maybe? One phone call - Easy done." His tone is sharp.    

Ok, now I'm confused.  He's angry that I didn't report it?   I don't honestly even know how to answer to that question.  Why didn't I?   Suddenly, the magnitude of what I actually did that night hits me.  What the hell was I thinking?   Would I have kept my mouth shut if it had been anyone but this man sitting in front of me?  Was I unconsciously trying to protect him?  Because I was attracted to him? Because I knew what I was going to come to feel for him? Hindsight doesn't offer me any clues on it.  But at no point after it happened or since had it even occurred to me to report it.  Exactly when did I become the girl most likely to ruin her career for a beautiful face and a bit of sexual chemistry?    Oh wait, I actually do know the answer to this one - five and a half weeks ago.

"You know why." Is what I say.  

He offers me a strange sad look and turns his eyes back on the road and we drive the rest of the way home in silence.  My stomach is churning with fear and love and confusion, and every time I chance a look at him he looks equally anxious as he nibbles on the inside of his cheek and stares straight ahead.

When we pull into my driveway the tension seems to have built to an oppressive level, the car is stuffy with it and I can't breathe properly.  As soon as he turns the engine off I get out immediately, not wanting to wait for him to come around and open the door for me like he normally does. I desperately need to get inside where I can breathe and where it feels warmer. We can talk about whatever this is inside. I have no idea what this is but I know it'll be easier to deal with it inside. 

When I'm almost at the front door I turn around. He's standing at the driver side of the car with his hands in his pockets staring at me. My heart constricts at the sight of him there so far away.  Why isn't he closer?  I need him closer.

"Aren't you coming in?" I ask him. I think that maybe I sound desperate and I hate that. I think that maybe I am desperate and I hate that more.

He says nothing for a few moments, before he lets out a sighs and walks toward me. Once he's close enough that I have to look up to see his face, his scent floods up my nose, relaxing me. It also makes me even more desperate for him.  As I stare up at him I plead mentally for him to come inside and make love to me and hold me and make whatever this is go away. I don't know how we got here or how to get back, but it's terrifying.  I don't want to be here tonight, not now.  Not now that I'm in love with him.

"What the fuck are you doing with me, Alex?" he asks. His words take me by surprise.   

I pull my head back and frown at him.  "What does that mean?"

He lets out a breath. "It means.... I'm not right for you; we both know that. So why the hell are you still with me?"

"We both know that?" My heart has begun hammering inside my chest.

He nods, scraping his tongue over his bottom lip as he looks around us. As he looks anywhere but at me. "Yeah. I mean come on, I don't fit in with your kind of people. Being with you tonight made me realise that." He shakes his head and looks down away as a cold icy fear washes over me. Tonight made him realise that he's not right for me? Tonight when I realise that I'm in love with him, he realises that?I feel sick. 

I shake my head. "What are you talking about? You fit in perfectly fine. More than fine. Rob loved you." Like I love you. I daren't say this out loud. The confused, distant look on his face tells me he wouldn't welcome it. "You fit in fine..." I repeat instead.  

A cold look comes over his face then. "Yeah, well that's not true now is it babe?" he says with a small smirk. His tone is strange and unfamiliar too, patronising even. I don't like it. "Your Detective friend spotted that a mile off didn't he?" That's the second time he's called Mark 'my detective friend'.  I don't like that either.

"That wasn't about you. I told you, he does that with everyo-."

"With everyone new, yeah you said that." He cuts me off. "He's just looking out for his friends yeah I get it. And he's probably right to."  He nods, nibbling his lip again, shifting on his feet again, not meeting my eye again. When he does look at me a second later I wish he hadn't. The look in his eyes scares me – so cold and distant still. "I'm not a good guy, Alex. Fucking hell I've tried to warn you... so many times..." He sounds hurt as his hand comes up to touch my hair and he brushes a few loose tendrils away from my face. When his hand touches the skin of my cheek it's hot and I still tingle from the contact.   It's not enough though. I want more of his skin on mine. I want him inside me. I crave it. I need him. I love him.

I keep my eyes focused on his, softer now and warm again, as his thumb brushes its way across my cheek and across the freckle below my eye and then down to meet my mouth. The light in his eyes changes so quickly it's frightening, darkening, as the side of his mouth lifts up into that cold half smirk. "Though I think that's maybe what you like about me isn't it, babe?" He laughs quietly.

It's not a real laugh. It's empty and cold. It chills me. 'Babe'. I don't like that either.  It sounds disingenuous and belittling and it doesn't sound like he means it affectionately. It's not how he normally speaks to me. I really do feel sick. I take a deep steadying breath and step back out of his touch

"I'm not having this kind of conversation with you on my driveway Jake," I tell him, my voice quiet but firm. "If you want to have a deep and meaningful - which lets face it would be a first for you - then you can come inside and do it." I turn on my heel and march the rest of the way to my front door, hoping with every fiber of my being that he's not just going to get in the car and drive off.  I don't think he would but what do I know?  I know nothing.  Tonight I feel like I know less than nothing. 

As I unlock the front door, I glance back.  Initially he looks undecided but when our eyes meet something happens in them and he moves, walking toward me slowly.  Relief floods over me as I step inside,where I slip off my shoes before walking tentatively through to the kitchen.  I hear him close the front door as I lift the kettle with shaking hands.  This is ridiculous.

As I fill the kettle I turn to see Jake leaning against the doorway watching me, before a moment later Fred appears from the hallway.  As he stops to rub himself wantonly against Jake's leg and Jake bends down to stroke him I recall what he said the first night he came to my house; about how he liked cats because you never knew what they were thinking.    It makes sense now.  That's what he's like too.  A closed book.   Unless he's kissing me or undressing me or making love to me I never truly know what he's thinking or where his mind is.    How on earth can I be in love with him when I barely know him? 

Maybe I'm not?  Maybe I'm in love with the idea of him?  Of the danger and excitement of him. Maybe its exactly like he said outside – maybe I want him because he's not a good guy.  Because he's everything my life isn't. 

No. It can't be that.  Because I crave 'the normal' with him.   I want to wake up with him, and do his laundry and have his wet clothes hanging up next to mine as they dry.  I want to know he's coming home to me every night and that when I goto sleep he'll be right next to me when I wake up.   That has nothing to do with his mystery or his danger.   While the kettle boils behind me I fold my arms and stare at him he continues to stroke Fred.  Fred purrs contentedly as Jake moves his hands softly over his grey/brown fur. 

"What's going on?" I ask. My voice sounds harsh in the relatively quiet kitchen.  He stops stroking Fred and stands up, lifting his head slowly to look at me.  Even distant he looks heartbreakingly gorgeous, his beautiful mouth set in a firm line and his blue green eyes glittering with undisclosed emotion.  Since he doesn't look like he's about to speak I decide to go on "Is this really about Mark?  Or my friends? Or is it actually about me?"  I ask him. 

He lets out a tired sounding breath.  "It's always about you Alex," he says, his eyes flickering with something warm again. 

"What does that even mean? Can you stop being cryptic? Just this once?"  I plead.   He says nothing and looks down.  I wait a moment for him to carry on but when he doesn't I can't stand it anymore and something snaps. "Can you just tell me what the fuck is going on here?  What happened in the car Jake?" 

"Swearing really doesn't suit you Alex." He tells me.

"Yes, so I've heard.  Say. Something."

"I thought I just did?" A smirk dares to flicker across his mouth.   Oh so he thinks this is a game? My temper rises further.

"Don't you dare try and be smart now. And don't dare try and evade either.  Tell me what the bloody hell is going on.  Now," I demand.

He hesitates slightly before he moves toward me, his strides long and determined as he moves across the kitchen.  My body purrs as he nears and then he's close and pressing me against the counter with the front of his body. I soften at the definite hardness at the front of his trousers which he pushes into the front of my dress. He still wants me physically anyway.  Revealing. 

"Not a lot of people get to talk to me like that Alex." He tells me, his voice quiet but firm.  He doesn't sound angry that I have, just a little incredulous, maybe even awed.  He closes his eyes and leans in, touching his nose to mine as he takes a deep breath.  

I breathe him in too, allowing his warm drug like scent to flood up my nose.  It feels necessary to have him this close to me.  I can't let him put distance between us again; either with words or looks or space.   He pushes his hips into me harder and makes a soft moaning sound in the back of his throat.  On my tiptoes I reach up and put my lips very close to his but not on them.  It would make everything better if he kissed me I think.  But I need him to be the one to do it and I don't know why.   I even close my eyes in preparation for his kiss but he doesn't move, he just breathes softly through his nose, his breath tickling my face. 

Suddenly he grabs my chin and tilts my head back away from him. As my eyes flutter open to look at him I feel my entire body weaken, my legs quivering as they tries to hold me up.   Jesus christ this need for him is suffocating, this fear of being in this alone, this all consuming desperation for him. The fact that I want him with this kind of ferocity scares me half to death.  I doubt I will ever feel want like it for anything ever again.  What has he done to me?

He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it again.  Then finally, with his eyes open and his gaze intense he leans down and touches his mouth to mine.  I moan as he flicks his tongue across mine before sucking hard on my bottom lip.  As he closes his mouth fully over my own I marvel at how perfectly his mouth fits mine.  Him Kissing me is such a warm all encompassing comforting sensation that I can't understand why he could ever think that he doesn't fit with me.  Our mouths seem to lock together like they were made for each other.   My hands travel up his arms and grip his shoulders, and I squeeze tight as he slides his arms around my bum and hoists me up onto the worktop. Still kissing me, he spreads open my legs and moves to stand between them, his crotch pressing into the hot space between my thighs.

He moans deeper as he pushes his tongue deeper into me, still gripping hard on my chin.  With my feet around his legs I pull him closer, before sliding my hand down between our bodies to massage the hardness between his legs.  He groans louder and pushes into my hand as he continues to suck sensually at my mouth.  For moments I lose myself in the feel of him and in the soft male moans that escape from his mouth and through his nose.  Until suddenly his mouth is gone. 

He pulls his head up looking angry again as he stares down at me.  When I squeeze his erection his eyes flash with heat and warning but he doesn't move out of my touch.

When he talks his voice is a hot whisper.  "You should do yourself a favour baby and tell me to leave right now."   

"No," I reply.  Defiant, I stare up into his eyes.  He looks so tortured and so confused and I wish I knew why.   Why is he doing this to us?  Why won't he talk to me?  I shift forward and stretch my head up, capturing his bottom lip softly between my teeth.  He makes another small moaning sound which sounds like pleasure mixed with pain.

"I'm serious Alex," He says between my kisses.  He sounds serious.   Yet he doesn't move away from me as I move my kiss to the side of his mouth and squeeze my hand around his ever hardening cock.  I kiss the other side of his mouth with soft little licks of my tongue across his lips and continue to rub my hand up and down the length of him.   "Alex, you need to stop.. fuck..." He protests.  Again he doesn't move away.

"No." I repeat.  Why would I ever stop? I need this, he needs this.  We need this.   As I manoeuvre my mouth fully onto his he groans louder, steps in closer and wraps his arms around me.  He's so hard now and warm and I move my hand more urgently over the expensive fabric of his trousers. 

"You have to be the one baby...you need to finish it.  I can't...  I'm no good for you," he whispers.  He sounds in pain now, but his words are still interspersed with his small sensual moans of pleasure.   What on earth is he talking about?  Finish it?  Finish us?  Not see him again?  How on earth would that work?   It wouldn't - that's how it would work.  It's not an option.  He's insane.   "Tell me you can't see me again, tell me it's over."

I peel my mouth from his for a moment and lift my eyes to look up at him. "I'm never going to say that Jake. Ever."  

He makes a strange desperate noise and then drops his hands from me and finally steps back out of my touch.   He looks angry again.  His gaze is dark and dangerous but I'm not scared of him – he's never scared me.  Being without him is the only thing scares me now. 

"You seriously don't have any fucking clue what you're doing do you?"  He shakes his head.   "You never have..." 

I match the ferocity of his gaze with my own. "I'm not a bloody child Jake.  Of course I know what I'm doing. I've always known what I was doing."

"No Alex, you really don't." he steps back even further, looking away from me as he runs a hand over his mouth.  

"Why the hell are you're saying this, now?  What happened?" And how is what he's saying even fair?  He chased me.  He pursued me.  He made me fall for him.  Yes it was my conscious choice to get involved with him and I accept responsibility for that.   I wanted him. But I knew what I was doing.   Okay perhaps prematurely falling in love with him was unexpected and so maybe that's the only part of this which could be construed as me not knowing what I was doing but he doesn't know that so -- Oh god.  Oh my god.  

The realisation smacks me in the face.  In fact it smacks me in the face and then punches me in the gut for good measure.  He does know.  He sensed and now he wants to run.  God it's so obvious. 

I nod and lick my lips which feel very dry now, dry like my tongue. "Okay. I get it.  I understand.   You never wanted this."  I nod again and shift forward on the worktop.  I really need to get down from here.  I feel stupid and open embarrassed. I'm such an idiot. 

His eyebrows knot together.  "What are you talking about?" 

"This." I motion between us.  "It was getting a bit serious, for you.  You never wanted to get involved, not like this.  And tonight made it feel like that.   I understand now.  I just don't get why you said yes to dinner in that case?  Why say yes to meeting my friends?" I ask.  He doesn't answer he just continues to stare at me, confused.   "I mean if this was all just a bit of fun for you, about sex, then why take this massive step of meeting my friends?   You could have said no.  I mean I knew it was probably just about sex for you, from the start it's what I suspected, but I just..." I shake my head, aware that I'm rambling now, as my mind wanders off in directions I'd rather it didn't. I glance round the kitchen for a change of direction. "I suppose I just bought into it.   Into you."  Stop talking Alex.   When I finally look back at him he has a sort of bewildered expression on his face, like maybe I've just spoken in Russian.  Did I?

"Are you actually fucking serious?" he asks.  "You think you were a bit of fun for me?"  I hold his eye until his scowl gets too difficult to hold on to and then I look away from him.  "Look at me Alex," he says and then suddenly he's close again.  "I said look at me."  He takes hold of my chin again and forces my head up to look at him.  "You know that's not what this is - what you are.  You fucking know that. "

I stare into his eyes. "I actually don't know anything Jake. I know a little more than nothing but that still doesn't amount to a whole lot." I shake my head out of his grip and shift forward, attempting to get down from my splayed position on the worktop.  It only adds to my feeling of powerlessness and my head is spinning and I can't think straight this close to him.

He stops me moving by pressing against me again, placing his hands on my thighs to hold me in place.  As he stares deep into my eyes I feel like he's trying to tell me something.  He looks hurt and sad, and a little lost.   I feel guilty and that makes me angry because I don't know what he has to feel hurt about.  Five minutes ago he told me to stay away from him and to end it and now he looks heartbroken when I suggest that this was all just a bit of fun.  Is this what he does to women?  Plays mind games with them?

"Alex, I don't ever want you to think that. That what you mean to me isn't..." he trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the tense air between us.

"Isn't what??" I ask.  "Isn't this why you've kept me at a distance this whole time?  Because I was only temporary?  I mean why get all deep and meaningful when she's not going to be about for long?  Isn't that what it's all been about?" I stick my chin up, eyes hard.  His nostrils flare angrily and he shakes his head.  

"No.  That's not it." he states.    "I want you to know me.  I want you to know who I am, you deserve to know.  But I don't want to hurt you Alex, I never wanted that..." he trails off again and runs another hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. Hurt me?  What is he talking about now?  I can practically hear the cogs in his mind churning as he squeezes his eyes shut tight with his fingers.  Suddenly his shoulders drop and he seems to relax and when he opens his eyes again he looks calmer.   "Fuck it.   Ask me.  What is it you want to know Alex?  Ask me anything you want and I'll answer you.  Tonight I'll answer any question you want to ask me."  His voice sounds hoarse, and it cracks slightly as he steps in close to me again. 

An odd wave of panic washes over me then. Inexplicable panic at the idea of him telling me things he'd been unwilling to tell me before.  I shake my head.   "No.  I'm not playing twenty questions with you again Jake.  Or three and a half questions, or indeed any game that involves questions.  It wasn't much fun for either of us last time."

As a show of determination he pushes himself into me again and again I still feel his hardness obvious and urgent pressing against my thigh.  With difficulty I stifle a moan.   He could be inside me so easily.   My dress  has risen high up on my thighs and he has my legs spread wide open to him.  He need only unzip his trousers and release himself and then he could be inside me.   I moisten a little as his hot fingers dig into the upper skin of my bare thighs.   God I want him.  To the point of insanity I want him, no matter what is happening in my mind or outside of our bodies, my need for him is a constant unstoppable living thing.  My fingers itch to unbuckle his belt and and pull him into the space between my legs.

"I'm not talking about a game Alex." he says quietly.    "You say you don't know me and you're right.  Maybe that's the problem here.  You need to know me.  Really know me.  You need to know who I am when I'm not with you to truly get the fact that I'm not fucking good for you.   So do it now.  Right now.  Ask me."

I swallow the lump in my throat.  So he is actually prepared to tell me everything.  Anything I want to know.   After all his evasions and subterfuge, he's prepared to open up.

Except.... its not because I'm safe hands or because he trusts me.  It's because he thinks it'll make me push him away.   Maybe he thinks it will make me hate him?   He wants to tell me because he's trying to hurt me.  This man in front of me that I'm in love with wants to break my heart. 

What would I ask him?  What on earth could he tell me that would change my feelings for him?  A wife maybe?  A family?   Yes, that would do it.  I'd still be in love with him but there would be no working through that.   I'm so bloody scared.    Suddenly I don't want to know anything.  Suddenly I want him to keep his secrets.  Every single one.   Why do I need to know what he's like when he's not with me anyway?    What a stupid pointless, needless thing to want to know.  

I'm about to speak to tell him something of that sort, or to ask him to forget the whole thing and fuck me here on this counter instead  when I feel a vibrating sensation against my inner thigh.    His mobile.    He stares at me expectantly for a moment while the insistent vibration continues.    I think he's going to ignore it, it looks like maybe he hasn't even noticed it but then he lets out a breath, reaches into his pocket and pulls the phone out of his pocket.    When he looks at it he recoils from what it's telling him, then he swears quietly under his breath and gives me an apologetic look.

"I need to get this," he says. 

Of course he does.  He always needs to get it.  Even now.  He moves away from me and out into the hallway, and turns his back on me.

"You better have a good fucking reason for this," He growls.  As the good reason, I presume, is explained to him he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of nose.    "What the fuck are you on about?  How many times have I told you never to just turn up.   Where is he?"   He sighs, sounding exhausted and looking like he has another of his stress headaches coming on.   "Yeah, well that's never gonna happen."  silence  "about 45 minutes.  None of your business."  He turns and looks at me then and his face softens.  "Just wait fucking there. I'll be there shortly." He tells the person on the other end before abruptly hanging up.  

He's going somewhere.  He's leaving.   My heart drops and I slide down off the worktop as he comes back into the kitchen.  He looks tired and angry and I know some that is my fault but I also blame some of it on the person on the phone.

"You're leaving," I say.   It's a statement not a question. 

He sighs.  "I'm sorry.  I have to."  He looks like he wants to say something more, but of course he doesn't. 

"Of course you have to." I huff.   "Any chance you'll tell me why?  Where to?  Call it one of my questions."  

He lets out another deep breath and closes his eyes.  When he opens them again he looks so lost and conflicted, like he has so much going on in his head that I couldn't possibly begin to understand it at all.  Maybe I wouldn't.  Maybe if I hadn't been a coward a moment ago and asked him about who he really was then maybe I'd know.  But I didn't ask him.   Which means I can't help him.  Which means I'm useless to him.

"Not right now, but I will," He says, his voice soft.  "I'll try and come back tonight, otherwise I'll see you tomorrow.  We can talk then. Properly." He nods decisively.

"I have plans tomorrow."

"With who?" he asks, looking angry again.  I contemplate being secretive just to give him a taste of his own medicine.  But what's the point in widening our current schism any further? 

"I'm seeing my brother." I tell him.   He bites his lip and I see his jaw clenching.

"But he lives in town?" he asks and I nod.  "So I'll see you later on then, after.   At my place," He says as if that's it all settled.  An order that I'll follow.

"So, you aren't coming back tonight then?" I try not to sound like I'm pleading.

"I don't know." He looks at his watch and drags his hand through his hair.  I feel guilty for making it worse and making more demands on him and being useless.

"Jake what's going on?" I ask, softer.   I take a few steps towards him, desperate to try and comfort him even though I'm not sure if comfort is what he needs.  But I know I do.  I just want to do something that makes me useful to him.  He looks into my eyes and opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again and pulls me into his arms.  I close my eyes and take a deep breath of his necessary scent. I feel starved of it.  "Is everything okay?" I whisper against his chest.  I'm not even sure what I mean.  Are we okay?  Is he okay?  Will we be okay?

"It will be. I need to go," he says as he kisses the top of my head, his heart is beating hard against his chest.  The sound of it only adds to my sense of fear and anxiousness.  "I'm sorry."  

It feels like he's apologizing for a whole host of things and not just having to leave me.  He steps out of my body turns and walks out of the kitchen and as I watch him walk away every step he takes serves only to magnify my anxiety. 

Upstairs after I've taken off my make-up and changed into my pyjamas, I place my chamomile tea and mobile on the bedside table, turning the volume up and the vibration on so theres no chance of me missing him if he calls.   The knot in my stomach that appeared  when we got into the car at Robyn's has tightened and expanded so that it now feels like a living breathing thing in the pit of my belly.  I still feel sick. I'm terrified.  I'm in love with him. I have to be. Would it feel like this if I wasn't?  

As I'm brushing my teeth I wonder whether to call him.  No.  I doubt it would help anything.   Whatever he left to do sounded important and critical and I doubt a call from a useless emotional female who knows nothing about what's going on with him will help his situation.  Or ours for that matter.

I have the worst sleep I've had in a long time, waking every hour wondering why he hasn't called or come back and if it means that we're over.