Flawless

by Hawkins, JD

  The man holds out his hand. “Right. I’m Jonathan. Zoe Skye’s ex? She mentioned you in passing—a lot actually—and when I saw the nametag…just thought I’d jump in and say hi.”

  That’s why he looks familiar—he was the one at the pie shop with Zoe.

  Despite wanting to punch his face in, I shake his hand firmly, determined to stay calm and collected.

  “Look,” he goes on, “I could tell by the way Zoe talked about you that she’s interested—she obviously thinks of you as more than just her boss. And I know it’s not my business to say so, but if you feel the same way…well, she’s incredible. And she deserves to be happy.”

  I’m speechless for a moment, but then I hear the barista call my name and slide my drink onto the counter. “I should really get going,” I tell Jonathan awkwardly.

  “Sure,” he says, holding up his hands. “I mean it though, about Zoe. Things with us didn’t end great, but when I found out my mom has terminal cancer, Zoe was the first one I called—and she was there for me. That’s just the kind of person she is. True blue. Someone you can really count on.”

  “Pardon?” I’m thrown off. This is not what I was expecting Jonathan to say.

  Jonathan looks at my expression. “Sorry, I’m oversharing. I’ve just…come to some realizations lately. Life is too short, you know? One minute you’re living your life, and the next…it could all get taken away. Figured I had nothing to lose by putting in a good word. I’ll let you get on your way.”

  I take my coffee and walk away, stunned, hardly able to process what just happened.

  What the hell have I done? And is it too late to fix this?

  27

  Zoe

  I sit in an armchair in the lobby near the elevator, pretending to read a magazine. I’m fairly sure most of the friends, bloggers, and media people from this morning have left LoveLife—the champagne brunch is long over—but I know that Liam’s keys are still on his desk and that his car is still in the garage, so he’s got to show up back here sooner or later. Just as the champagne starts to wear off, I realize that waiting here will probably make me look pathetic, and that I’m better off just going back to my office to start packing my few things into a moving box, I hear the elevator ding. Adrenaline starts pumping through me.

  The doors slide apart and Liam steps out, suit jacket draped over his arm, a light sheen of sweat at his temples. I stand and spread my arms, my somewhat tipsy plan to block his way.

  “Liam, I don’t know where you’ve been, and I don’t care, that’s your business, but I’ve been waiting here because there are some things I need to tell you and I need you to listen and then you can go and get your keys and do whatever else you planned to do today,” I babble.

  Maybe the champagne isn’t wearing off, after all. Still, I can’t stop the words that are tumbling out of my mouth.

  “First of all,” I go on, “and I know I’ve said it to you already—I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied to you. Yes, I was flustered when you came into my office and I don’t know why I thought I couldn’t just tell you that my ex’s mom was suddenly dying and that I needed to be a friend to him because that’s what good people do. I don’t know how that turned into me letting you think it was one of my female friends instead and then trying to hide it all afterward. I wish so badly that I could go back and do things differently, and I don’t know why I was afraid to be honest with you because whatever would’ve happened as a result of that, it certainly wouldn’t be as horrible as what actually happened—but I can’t go back in time and I can’t fix it.”

  Liam starts to open his mouth, but I hold up a hand to stop him. I’m on a roll, and he’s actually listening now, and I can’t let him interrupt me and lose my one last chance to apologize.

  “So yes, I lied, Liam, but I am not a liar. I am a person who made a mistake and who deeply regrets it and if you end up with another woman, just like if I end up with another man, they will make mistakes too, and sometimes we’ll have to forgive those mistakes. Mistakes are everywhere. It’s just this thing that happens. Sometimes.”

  “I know,” Liam says, and I catch just the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Second of all,” I continue, emboldened by that smile, “I know I hurt you, but we what we had, even if it’s broken, we can rebuild into something stronger.

  “I mean, have you even ever felt like this about another person? Because I haven’t, and I don’t think it happens very often. I can’t make you take me back. But I want to be with you. I think I could really be happy with you for the rest of my life. I never had that feeling with anyone before. So I’m going to fight for you, Liam. For us.

  “And lastly? That night I met with Jonathan? While I apologize for all of the circumstances surrounding that incident, and the deception, I don’t apologize for seeing him. I may not love Jonathan like I once did, but he still matters to me and I showed up for him because he deserves to be shown basic human empathy and nobody deserves to have to go through what he’s going through alone. Trust me, I’ve been there. That’s who I am. That’s what I believe in.

  “And one more thing, Liam Bartock. I’m in love with you, and for all that you’ve been avoiding me, I think you might be in love with me too. And that’s all I have to say.”

  “Good, because now it’s my turn.” Liam approaches me, gently tugging my arms down to my sides and pulling me against him in a tender embrace. He leans in close, his soft lips almost touching mine. “I love you too, Zoe,” he says. “I think you could be really happy with me for the rest of your life, too, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  With that, he pulls me into a kiss, and everything is suddenly bliss.

  28

  Liam

  The sun streams in through the curtains, the gentle morning sunbeams rippling across Zoe’s body. She breathes with the sweet peacefulness of sleep, the dark, soft curls of her hair spread across the pillow. I’m overcome with a sense of contentment as I move closer to Zoe in the bed, run my hand along the smooth, creamy skin of her shoulder.

  “Mmm,” she murmurs, and I pull her toward me, nibbling at the back of her neck.

  “Hello there.” Zoe smiles, her eyes fluttering open, the sapphire blue of a depthless lake. I slide my hand down her arm and the swell of her breast, down the warm skin of her stomach, my middle finger drawing circles along her inner thigh before I move further down between her legs, rubbing her clit as her pussy starts getting wet with anticipation.

  “What a nice way to start off the day,” she says, biting her lower lip and pushing herself against me, teasing my cock with the firm slope of her ass until I’m hard and raging to be inside her. She rolls over so that we’re facing each other, kissing each other. I continue stroking her clit as she plays with the head of my cock, knowing just the spot underneath that makes me tense with pleasure. I move my mouth down her body, trace my tongue along her skin, lower and lower until I get to her clit, licking and sucking until she’s gasping for breath. I push her legs apart, spreading her thighs wide so I can eat her out as deep as possible, my full face in her pussy, my tongue inside of her, pushing the tip of my nose back and forth against her clit.

  “Yes. Yes, there,” Zoe whispers. She clutches the sheets in balled fists, and I pull my tongue out, slipping two fingers into her the way she likes it, then three, exploring the warmth of her until I can feel her abdomen tense and shiver with my other hand, my mouth on her clit, pumping my fingers harder and faster as she tilts her head back. “Yes! Yes!” she screams as she climaxes, her body writhing beneath me.

  “Now lay back and let me ride you,” she whispers in my ear, running her tongue along the outside, and as I lean back against the pillows, she climbs on top of me, slowly sliding my cock into her pussy, shivering with the heightened, post-orgasmic sensations she’s feeling.

  She rides me with a grin on her face like there’s nothing in the world she would rather be doing, a
nd as I hit the spots that make her moan, slamming hard and deep inside her, the pleasure moves through me in shockwaves.

  “I’m close.” I breathe hard, taking her hips in my hands and thrusting faster, harder, again and again, so deep, until I feel myself coming hard, pulling Zoe against me as I shoot my seed into her. We collapse into a heap together. Zoe giggles.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I think I heard a meow.”

  We both look over and see that Zoe’s cat Garfield is staring at us from the bedroom door. He meows again, as if to say, “Dumb humans…” and Zoe and I break out laughing. There’s just something about the expression on his face, his crooked mouth.

  “Do you think he misses your old apartment?” I ask.

  “Given that he’s upgraded from canned food to all natural, freshly prepared fish, I’d say he’s pretty content here,” she responds. “Plus, he still has all his toys. And you built him a kitty obstacle course!” Zoe says. “You’re totally spoiling him, and I thought I was bad.”

  I pretend to be taken aback. “I just want to make sure he stays in shape.”

  “You bake him catnip cookies that are good enough to be served to humans.”

  “That’s why I had to build him the obstacle course. So he can work off the cookies.”

  Zoe laughs, and I pull her in for a kiss, slow and deep—a kiss that feels infinite, eternal.

  Epilogue

  Zoe

  Five Years Later…

  The baby shower is a smashing success, in that there are far too many homemade cakes (courtesy of Liam’s baking skills), an abundance of hand-crafted mocktails (courtesy of Liam’s mixologist skills), and no baby games (courtesy of me holding the opinion that baby games are embarrassing, and that Trivial Pursuit is way better).

  Liam comes out of the kitchen and puts a hand on my belly.

  “So much kicking lately,” he comments.

  “Yeah, guess the little surprise I’m carrying is eager to get out and meet us.”

  “Plus umbilical nutrients sound way less tasty than milk,” Liam grins.

  “And the womb isn’t exactly roomy, especially in this scenario.”

  Liam gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to go make that virgin margarita for you.”

  “Want to make the announcement after that?”

  “Anything you want,” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on my other cheek.

  Savannah and Kiley take the opportunity to check in on me. “How are you doing?” Savannah asks. Her niece, Margot, is about seven months old, totally passed out and drooling adorably in her baby carrier—Savannah’s been babysitting a lot since her older sister Sia moved here from Wisconsin, but she says it’s great practice for when I make her my baby’s godmother.

  “My ankles look like softballs and I have to pee every five minutes.”

  “Sounds like you might be pregnant,” Kiley pipes in.

  I laugh. She and Tech Lair Peter (I guess I should probably just think of him as Peter) ended up getting together after her brief stint as a tech consultant for LoveLife. He’s at home watching their new rescue mutt, Sawyer, who has recently decided that their couch is edible.

  Meanwhile Veronica has been living in Prague for the last year or so, jet-setting through Europe and shooting award-winning short films. After working on the promo for our app, she started getting so many freelance gigs that she decided to quit the event coordinating and follow her passion for indie films. She’s planning a visit after I give birth in a couple months, and I can’t wait to have all my BFFs around me again.

  Josh and Allie are sprawled out on the sectional, playing with Garfield, who is basking in all of the attention he’s receiving, and Darren and Keisha are following around their daughter Momo, who has discovered that the kitty obstacle course is also an excellent tiny human obstacle course. Per my request, Liam and I decided to keep the baby shower in Austin with only our closest friends. We’re doing a second baby shower with our families in a few weeks at my parents’ ranch in New Mexico. My mother insisted on hosting, of course.

  Liam comes out of the kitchen and nods for me to join him, and we stand together before our friends. He clinks a glass with a spoon. “Thank you all for coming today. We’re thrilled to have so many of our closest friends here with us,” he says. Everyone claps.

  I take a deep breath. “Liam and I have an announcement to make.” Everyone claps again. “I’m sure by now that you’ve noticed how gigantic my baby bump is. For the sake of fun surprises, we decided to wait until now to tell you this, but…that we’re having twins! Fraternal, a boy and a girl. And we’ve decided to name them Zoe Jr. and Liam Jr.”

  A long pause. Josh starts to clap and Allie elbows him.

  Savannah clears her throat. “You’re not actually going to name them that, are you?”

  “What? You don’t like our name choices?” I say. “Okay, what about John and Yoko? Or Sonny and Cher? Luke and Leah?”

  Liam can’t help it. He cracks and laughs, which then causes me to laugh too.

  “Just kidding, we’re absolutely, positively not naming our twins after ourselves or any celebrities. No actual names yet.”

  “You two deserve each other,” Kiley says, and then everyone is laughing, and Liam holds me in his arms, and I never want this moment to end.

  * * *

  If you liked Flawless, you might like my other office romance UNPROFESSIONAL. Click here to grab it. And keep flipping pages for a special preview!

  Chapter One

  Owen

  The elevator doors open and for a second it feels like a theatre curtain unveiling. It’s three PM, and the TrendBlend offices are buzzing with the kind of vibrant, frenetic energy you only get when you put some of the West Coast’s most creative people in one place. The kind of energy you get when those people are allowed to create work that they love, then put it out to millions of fans. Our website is as likely to release a viral video about sex as it is to start a national discussion about ethics. It’s a site that’s got the first scoop on the latest trends and the last word on the zeitgeist. And it all originates in an office with as many fashion bloggers as there are political reporters; where feminist activists rub shoulders with movie critics.

  Christ, I love my job.

  I step out of the elevator clutching my remedy for the mid-afternoon slump: a tall cup of cappuccino (I usually maintain enough coffee in my system to wake the dead) for me and Margo’s cinnamon latte in the other. Back into the bustle of the bullpen.

  “Hey Owen,” Davina, the site’s resident make-up expert calls from a three-way conversation she’s having.

  I turn in her direction without breaking stride. “What’s up, D?”

  “Wanna do a video with me and Sara tomorrow?” she says through purple-colored pouted lips, angling her mini-skirt-clad hips the way she always does when she talks to me. “‘Hot guys try make-up for the first time.’ We’re looking for volunteers.”

  I sip my cappuccino to hide my wincing at the idea.

  “Uh…”

  She moves away from the others to get a little too close, tongue tracing her lips as she says, “Just tell me what it’ll take for me to get my hands on you…” and as her gaze drops below my belt I’m not sure she’s even talking about the video anymore.

  Davina’s got the body of the ballerina, walks like she wants to seduce everybody in the room, and dresses like she’s at the beach half the time. She’s hot as hell and knows it, and even though she’s got a few million followers online who agree, she’s been chasing me since I started at TrendBlend. The more I say no, the more her mascara’d eyes flutter at me from across the office. Another place, another time, and I’d let the spark between us flare up, but when you’re surrounded by journalists, gossip columnists, and a couple dozen other women trying to jump your skin, you need the diplomacy of a hostage negotiator just to keep your job.

  “Lemme check my schedule. I’ll get back to you,” I say, nodding as I ste
p past.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she purrs.

  The office layout is simple—but it works. A vast bullpen of shared desk spaces cover the center of the office. Tables with four or five stations to them, all decorated with random personal effects, coffee cups, art books, and photos. The desks are cramped enough that you’re never more than three feet away from being hooked into something or overhearing another idea you can help out on. Half the time nobody’s at their desks though, as they run between the studios downstairs and the bullpen.

  Down one side of the office the windows look out onto the city of L.A., and from up here on the fifth floor you can almost catch sight of the beach on a clear day. On the other side are the offices of the higher-ups. The decision-makers and puppet-masters who guide the whole thing from behind closed doors.

  “It would be really great if you could!” Sara, Davina’s curvy, redheaded desk mate (and frequent partner in crime), calls out behind me as I shuffle past a couple of co-workers carrying cardboard cutouts of the Kardashians. “You’d look so good in lipstick!”

  I raise my cappuccino and kiss the air in their direction before walking a bit quicker to my desk.

  In a funny kind of way this place saved my life. Before my college friend Margo helped me get this job just over a year ago, I was partying like crazy. All I did was drink and dance, fuck and fight. All I cared about was the next crowd, the next hot girl, the next thrill. I’m not gonna lie and say it wasn’t fun, but even fun can be dangerous when you’re as insatiable as I am.

  So here I am, putting Margo’s cinnamon latte beside her on our shared desk (without a hello, since she’s hunched over her cell phone with her back to me), and dropping myself into my chair. I wake up my laptop to reveal the half-written article I’ve been pecking at today, all about hot beach dates. My inner bad boy not so much tamed now, as focused. Enjoying life as much as I ever did, but with the addition of a steady paycheck and a 401(k). The best of both worlds.