Never Got Over You

by Scott, S. L.

  Her chin lowers as she stares at me. “You’re blowing my mind. Also, I think you’re building up to the biggies, and I’m on pins and needles.”

  “What are the biggies?” She never ceases to surprise me, so I can’t wait to hear this breakdown.

  “Peanut butter, snickerdoodles, and gingersnaps. Chocolate chip being the top dog of the cookie world.”

  “Cool,” I reply casually, obviously forgetting about gingersnaps. “We’re on the same page.” So my ego’s large enough to lie a little. Does it really matter in the end that I forgot gingersnaps? No, it does not.

  “What do snickerdoodles mean to you?”

  I lay it all out in more thought than I realized I had on the topic. “It’s not just to me, but I feel confident enough to speak for men as a whole.” A smile tickles her lips, but she keeps her laughter detained in her throat. “Although they have a place in the biggies list, it’s really just wise to steer clear. Snickerdoodles are for grandmas. Delicious, but those cookies will never get a chick a second date. Not with Grandma’s dentures getting stuck in the soft snickerdoodle.”

  “What about peanut butter?”

  “Those are tricky little bastards. If there’s not an allergy involved, they conjure good things—like sex in front of a fireplace on a winter’s night or staying in on Sunday morning and hanging out in bed reading the paper and then napping.”

  Her brow furrows, making her more adorable than she already is. “Does anyone read the paper anymore or just read the news on their phones?”

  “That’s what I mean. Peanut butter conjures reminiscent images of yesteryear. There’s a feeling of peace, of home, with those images. Whether they happen though is still a mystery.”

  “This is the best conversation I’ve had in years. I should be taking notes.”

  “I’ll wait while you get your phone.”

  I’m popped in the leg. “You’re ridiculous. Now tell me about gingersnaps.” Her eyebrows waggle.

  “They’re the cookie version of the stereotype of a redhead—fiery, passionate, that sugar taste with a bit of a kick. Great sex and fatal attraction. That’s a gingersnap.”

  “Like the movie?”

  With a somber nod, I reply, “Boiling rabbits and all.”

  “Yikes.”

  Clapping my hands together to bring this to a close, I end up startling her. She grabs over her heart. “My God—”

  “You can call me Nick or sexy, even keep the smug in there for your liking.”

  “Ha. Very funny. Let’s wrap this up. I’m now craving cookies, thanks to you.”

  “I’m not the one who brought this up. I’m just the one letting you into the psyche of a typical American man.”

  “There’s nothing typical about you, or I wouldn’t be here.”

  “I’ll take the compliment. As for the king of cookies—chocolate chip—”

  “Can’t wait to hear your thoughts on those.”

  “Don’t let them fool you. Most will go straight for the chocolate chip, but that’s a trap. Given more thought, you should ask yourself—is it lazy or deliciously insightful? Either way, it’s a risk.”

  “Is it, though? I mean, really? Because chocolate is always a win with me.”

  “But if they were sent to me, and before I tuck in, I’m asking myself the following questions: One, is this what they like or were they chosen for me? Two, are they the safe bet like the red rose or sending a message like a yellow rose for friendship? And lastly, is it basic psychology to assume everyone loves chocolate chip or reverse psychology to weed out the weirdos?”

  As if she’s exhausted, she lies flat on her back. Draping her arm over her head, she says, “This is way more complicated than I thought. Can’t we just take cookies at face value?”

  “Trust me, I never knew I had so many thoughts on cookies. I usually just eat them.”

  She bolts upright again. “What? Then what was all that fatal attraction and reminiscent imagery about?”

  I shrug. “Thought you wanted more context to help save your business.”

  Laughing, she drops her head forward into her hands. When she looks back up, she has a cocked eyebrow. “I never said my business hinged on it, but I have a client who thinks she can get a player to commit by sending him a basket of baked treats.”

  “I’d say yes.”

  She crawls across the blanket, carefully avoiding the empty dishes. Settling in my lap, she leans back in my arms and stares out the window. “And here I thought I was getting insider secrets.”

  I wrap my arms around her middle and kiss the side of her head. “Here’s an insider secret for you,” I whisper. “I love you and your baked goods.”

  Even through the dim light filling the space, I can see her million-dollar smile. Her arms cover mine, and she says, “I love you and that nonsense cookie advice, too.”

  Bending down, I kiss her neck. Her eyes close, and she sighs contentedly. Who needs cookies when one has this? Not me.

  We sit like that for a few minutes, enjoying the peace, the night, and being together again. I’m realizing that she’s feeling a lot like home to my soul than when I was just in California, despite the lack of beach.

  I’d rather let her roll over me than a wave any day.

  Her head lulls to the side, and she says, “My parents are placating me like I’m a child who’s playing house for the weekend.” I’ve learned that given enough time and space, Natalie will share what’s really on her mind. I keep my mouth shut and my ears open. “My business is low priority. If I worked for the company, though, I’d legitimize my career in their eyes.”

  I hate that I can hear myself swallow, but there’s nothing I can do to fix such a problem. I would if I could. I’d fix it so she feels proud instead of misunderstood. Instead, I’ll support her in ways that others don’t. “It’s a unique business, but it’s legitimate. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

  “My brother handles this pocket portfolio of companies. . . my brother who’s still in college, if I’ve failed to mention that previously. He wants to follow in my father’s footsteps. As for the portfolio, they’re investments on their last legs that haven’t made money.” I hold her, and she adds, “My brother is managing my company from the loan standpoint. Reports are sent to my parents, and their input is syphoned through him to me. I haven’t been a priority since they signed the extension.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’re not worth their time. It only means that they believe in you enough to continue supporting your dream. And they trust your brother to give him the hands-on experience he needs.”

  She turns to look at me, a smile gracing her lips. “That’s a great way of looking at it.”

  “Just call me Mr. Positivity.”

  “I’d rather kiss you.”

  “We can do that, too.” And we do. We kiss until the food containers are pushed to the side and we’re naked in each other’s arms.

  Kissing. Loving. Fucking. Holding each other until the early hours of morning come. And I realize why sex with Natalie is out of this world. It’s because of love. It’s not just a moment in time with a hot woman to get off and get her off.

  Every moment with her is richer. Every moment feels like a reward. Every moment just makes me want more, and if that means pulling up roots in California, I can see now that it’s a no-brainer. I don’t want to be separated from my girl.

  * * *

  I pull up in front of her apartment building just shy of five in the morning and take off my helmet, resting it on my lap. She doesn’t make a move to get off, keeping her hands on me, though she isn’t wrapped around me like I prefer. “Do you want to come up?”

  “I have an early meeting and my stuff is at the hotel.”

  She slips off, and I do the same. I look up at her building. I expected a high-rise when I met her, but this building is smaller and quaint at only ten floors compared to its neighbors. She sets the helmet down and moves against me, not quite touching, but still too far.
“Next time you come to New York, if it’s not for good, then I want you to stay with me.” Tugging the hem of my shirt, she asks, “Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” That brings a smile to her face. Since she won’t do it herself, I take her arms and wrap them around my middle. “Would you like to come with me?”

  Her laughter echoes down the quiet block of the street. She grips her hands behind my back, laughing. “Oh, now you ask me.” Thoughts are racing through her eyes. She finally says, “You go to your hotel and get a few hours of sleep, and we can meet up this evening. How does that sound?”

  “Lonely.”

  She lifts up and kisses my chin. “Good. I want you to miss me so when we’re together, we don’t waste a second not appreciating each other.”

  I rub her hips, slow circles over the denim, the urge to be inside her intense, always so strong with her. “Yes, I can’t wait to appreciate you again.”

  Pushing off me, she frees herself from my clutches where I would have been happy to hold her all day. “Go. Do great things today, and we’ll celebrate later.” She blows me a kiss just as the doorman greets her.

  I pick up her helmet and spin it in my hands. “I love you, Natalie St. James.” I don’t keep my voice down because I want the world to hear.

  In the light of the entrance of her building, I can see her cheeks redden. “I love you too, Nick Christiansen.”

  The doorman looks back and forth between us, and then says, “I stand here all day.”

  “No need. I’ll be seeing my girl later.”

  He replies, “Have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  Natalie backs in, giving me a little wave before turning and dashing toward the elevator. I understand the extra energy despite the hour. It courses through my veins as well—adrenaline, love, anticipation of what the new day will bring. All good things.

  22

  Nick

  I get up from the waiting area and walk across the lobby when I see my brother enter the revolving door to the building. Andrew checks in at the desk before joining me by the elevator. “Good morning,” I greet him with a handshake.

  “You’re here early.”

  “I’ve been up for a few hours, so I headed over to beat the traffic. It’s quite the nightmare.”

  “I never was one for Manhattan. It’s a lot of people crammed into a small space.”

  Shrugging, I punch the button to call the elevator. “It doesn’t bother me so much.”

  He grins. It’s one I’m familiar with that’s been passed down from our dad to both of us. We get inside and head up to our meeting. He asks, “How’s Natalie?”

  Okay, fine, I’m fucking grinning like an idiot. I play it off by looking down at my shoes. “She’s great.”

  His laughter fills the elevator. “I would like this city a lot better if I had a girlfriend waiting for me. Did I tell you I texted with Dalen last week?”

  “You failed to mention it.” My brother’s a good guy who’s made poor choices when it comes to dating. I could say the same about Dalen. So maybe it’s not so surprising that they’re talking again. A lot of life has been lived since they were in high school.

  “I thought you’d give me shit for it.” He stares at the numbers lighting up above the doors. “She’s getting the implants removed.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “Nothing to do with me. Just said she went through a phase but is tired of being judged by them.” He glances at me just as the doors open. “She has a sweet side.”

  “She does.”

  He walks to the receptionist's desk while I hang back to wait. When he returns, he says, “Jackson St. James.”

  St. James. Natalie. My Natalie. “Funny. It’s never clicked before, even when I met with the Manhattan Financial lawyers, but that’s Natalie’s last name.”

  “It’s pretty common here. I’ve seen it on two buildings this morning. Also, solid set of investments in Monopoly.”

  “What?”

  “Must be common here because that set of properties were New York Avenue, Tennessee Avenue, and St. James Place. I knew if I secured those, I’d kick your ass in Monopoly.” Interesting. Guess he’s right. I chuckle because Natalie would call it an East Coast thing.

  “I can’t believe you remember those names. I only remember Boardwalk and Park Avenue.”

  A man pushes through a door into the waiting area.

  Under his breath, Andrew says, “That’s why you’re the lawyer, and I’m the investment broker.” He’s cackling when he walks ahead. Fucker.

  “It’s good to finally meet you,” the man says, shaking Andrew’s hand and then mine. “I’m Jackson St. James.”

  We introduce ourselves and then follow him back to the conference room where I pitched for our company. As soon as we’re seated, Jackson says, “Thanks for flying out to hand deliver the contracts. It wasn’t necessary.”

  Andrew looks at me. “We had other business in the city and thought we’d take advantage to sneak in some personal time while we’re here. Explore a bit more. Secure a place to live.”

  “You’re moving here?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I reply. “I will be. I found an apartment in lower Manhattan.”

  Jackson nods. “There are a lot of great buildings being built in that area. Nice views.”

  “Very iconic.”

  Andrew asks, “So you’re working with your dad?”

  “And Mom. They started the company together and grew it. I usually work on some smaller accounts. It was a business incubator. We’ve successfully launched some from the program after securing our initial investment and some were retained for the remainder of the contract.”

  Reminded of Natalie and how her small business is locked in a similar portfolio, I say, “That’s interesting. What’s been your role?”

  “I’m more a numbers guy. I’m getting a finance degree.” He taps the table nervously. I think he’s trying to impress us, but we’re well aware that junior isn’t the deciding factor. He says, “There’s definitely some potential worth keeping an eye on, but we’ll go through everything with your transition team.”

  Andrew shifts in the chair, getting more comfortable. “If we don’t see the same potential, can we cut the losses before the end of the year?”

  Jackson leans forward on the table. “Of course. There’s a clause in the contracts, but I won’t be delivering that bad news. I may want to be a shark in brokering deals after I graduate, but I’m not looking for a death wish.”

  “I’ve been curious,” Andrew starts. “Why doesn’t your dad hold on to the company a few more years and then let you take it over?”

  “He’s a ‘learn from the bottom to reach the top’ kind of guy. He did it and wants me to do the same. My parents have given me a big head start by letting me handle actual cases. I can’t sign on them, but I understand the business.”

  “Hopefully you get a cut to start your own company one day. I can tell you have a drive for financing.”

  “I have a drive for money.” He’ll fit right in with the Wall Street types.

  Chuckling, Andrew says, “That’s a good motivator.” He pauses and checks the time. “The team in LA will be traveling in later this week. In the meantime, do you mind giving us a tour of the company?”

  “Not at all.”

  We follow him around the offices, impressed by how different in style it is to ours in LA—brick and warmer brown tones. Our offices are bright whites and cool blues. The similarities lie with the loyalty of the employees, who we meet one by one. It’s good to know everyone when we want to keep the family environment.

  After lunch is brought in and we finish, we’re escorted to the office of the CEO and Jackson knocks.

  We’re led in to find a man, older than my dad, maybe early sixties, lines dug into his expression, but not so deep that he’d be mistaken for much older. Gray hair with a few strands of pepper still hanging on. He’s sitting behind a mahogany desk, and photos of his adventures and family
line the console behind him.

  Introductions are made and Andrew starts talking about the framed pictures. John St. James is polished in his mannerisms, and the New England accent makes me curtail my use of slang. He reaches behind him to grab a photo of his family.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket before I have a chance to get the lowdown on his kids. When I slip it from my pocket, I look down at the screen. Standing, I say, “Excuse me.”

  I don’t answer until I reach the door, and then I whisper, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

  “I was thinking about your girlfriend.” She’s not alone there. “Why don’t you invite her for a visit? You can stay at the beach, and we can have her over for brunch.” Although I thought it was an emergency, which is why I took the call, I’m not upset about it.

  Smiling, I walk down the hall to find an empty office to finish the call. “I can ask her.” I wanted to last night but felt the bombshell of me moving here was enough for one night.

  “Good. How’s New York, honey?”

  I peek into the hallway. No one’s looking for me, but I should get back. “Busy. I need to keep this brief. I ducked out of the meeting with the CEO to take your call.”

  “Oops. I forgot that was today. Your father just told me you were gone for most of the week. You know how vague he can be with the details. I didn’t get a report back on the apartment and if it’s going to work.”

  Thinking about lying with Natalie on the floor after the picnic, I try to muddle my way through everything that happened with Natalie and if that’s an apartment where I’d want to live. I know Natalie approves, so that works for me as well. “It’s great. Location and inside.”

  “Great. It’s a competitive market, and I don’t want it to slip through our hands if you approve. I’ll contact the real estate agent about putting in an offer. I know you’re busy, so I’ll let you go, but don’t forget to take deep breaths. It helps fight adrenal fatigue and will keep you in tip-top shape. Deep breaths, Nicholas.”