Beyond Now: The Hutton Family Book 3

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Beyond Now: The Hutton Family Book 3 Page 14

by Brooks, Abby


  I hoped I was wrong. I hoped I was just jaded after my experiences with Collin. And Brighton. And, Mr. Lombardi, too.

  As the snake was removed from set and the girl calmed down, I chastised myself for judging her too harshly. I just hadn’t been myself lately and it was showing up in strange ways. From across the room, Caleb caught my eyes and grinned in that way of his, scattering all those thoughts to the wind.

  Thirty

  Caleb

  Maisie didn’t go back to work after the photoshoot. I’d been prepared to return to my hotel and give her space to do what she needed to do. I was, after all, fully aware I had appeared right in the middle of her workday. Instead, she made a call and some vague excuses, then after a stop at the hotel to collect my things and check me out, took me to her place.

  “What were you thinking?” she asked over the roof of her car, her eyes narrowing in that way I found so adorable. “A hotel? Really?”

  I gathered my bag from the trunk, pushing the lid closed. “Didn’t want to presume, especially because I was dropping in on you all unexpected, like. Maybe you’re secretly a hoarder and needed some time to clean up before I could see how dirty you really are.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll be seeing a very dirty side of me.” She tried to give me a seductive look, but a smile broke across her face, totally ruining the effect. “I’m sorry.” She laughed lightly as she threaded her arm through mine. “I don’t think I’ve stopped grinning since you showed up.”

  As I stepped into Maisie’s apartment, it quickly became clear that she was the exact opposite of a hoarder—whatever that was. Her furniture was new and modern and barely looked used. A few pieces of tasteful artwork adorned the walls, though there wasn’t a single piece of personal anything to be seen. Anywhere. All the surfaces were clean and void of ornamentation.

  Lacking the bold, bright color that had become a staple of Maisie’s personality, her place felt…sterile.

  I wandered through the spacious living room, in search of evidence that the woman I loved existed here. “This is nice.”

  “Don’t lie,” she called from the entry as she paused to step out of her heels. “You hate it.” She walked into the room, her shoes dangling from her hands, looking every bit as beautiful as I remembered.

  “Hate is a strong word, May-bell.” I gestured around the space. “It’s lovely. There’s just not a whole lot of you in here.”

  She looked around, her brow furrowed as if she was seeing everything for the very first time. “I’m really not home all that much,” she replied with a shrug. “If I’m not at work, I’m probably asleep.”

  “You’re not at work or asleep now.” I held out my arms, fully aware that I was the reason she was home in the middle of the day…and desperately hoping it wasn’t a bad thing. “Yet here we are.”

  “You’re right. I’m not at work or asleep.” Maisie took my hand and led me out of the living room, her hips swaying as her bare feet padded down the hallway. “But we are headed to the bedroom.”

  * * *

  And in the bedroom we stayed until it was time to get ready to meet her friends for dinner. While we were lounging around, naked and content in her bed, a text came in from Brighton, explaining that the plans had changed and we should “dress for the occasion.”

  “What’s that mean?” I asked. “Dress for the occasion?” Thankfully, I had packed some nice clothes, intending to make the most of my time here. Let’s be real. Thankfully Harlow suggested I pack some nice clothes, in case something came up that needed more than cargo shorts and a T-shirt.

  Maisie shrugged. “Could mean any number of things with Brighton at the wheel. But, she’s excited, so prepare yourself for something big.”

  “Well, that is all that matters, isn’t it? Brighton’s excited so all is right with the world.” I pulled her back into my arms, nuzzling my face into her hair and groping one spectacular breast.

  She giggled, then twisted to meet my eyes. “What matters is that I’m with you. The rest is just noise.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” I kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth. “The rest is just noise.” And then I kissed her fully, our tongues tracing lazy circles around each other while the world moved on without us.

  After a shower, Maisie disappeared into her bedroom and emerged wearing a little black dress that dipped low in front, highlighting both her fabulous legs and outstanding breasts. “That dress should be illegal,” I said as I drank her in. “Wait. No. You wearing that dress should be illegal.” I grabbed her waist and pulled her close. “Promise me you’ll never take it off.”

  “Never?” She gave a little pout. “But I thought it would look extra good on my floor. Tonight.”

  “You’re right. As always. Forget everything I just said. That dress. On that floor. As soon as we get home.”

  While I dressed, Maisie worked magic on her hair and makeup and when she came out of the bathroom, she managed to look like my Key West Maisie dressed in her LA clothes. The effect was particularly stunning.

  “You are a sight to behold, you know that?”

  “No. But I sure like hearing you say it.”

  Thirty-One

  Caleb

  Brighton and Sawyer were so excited about their surprise that they didn’t want to spoil it by giving us the address for wherever we were going. So, they planned to pick us up outside Maisie’s apartment, which they did in an older Toyota Prius. When I turned to Maisie with a question on my face she whispered, “Sawyer thinks those cars are ironic.” And with that cryptic statement, the happy couple was out of the vehicle, engulfing us in hugs, energy, and excitement.

  Once I managed to squeeze myself into the backseat with Maisie—wondering if the design team ever expected someone my height to fit back there—we got under way.

  “So…” Maisie said to her friend as she took my hand, running a finger along my knuckle. “Are you going to tell us where we’re going?”

  Brighton turned in her seat, looking oddly plastic with her perfect hair and makeup. “You aren’t going to believe it.” She sounded so enthusiastic about surprising us with a special evening that I felt bad for judging her so harshly. The woman seemed sweet enough, even though something about her grated against my nerves.

  “Probably not,” Maisie replied, “but you should tell me anyway. You know I hate surprises.”

  “We pulled some strings, called a few people, sold our souls and…” Brighton glanced at Sawyer who grinned his ironic little head off. “We’re going to Providence.”

  Maisie’s jaw dropped. “Providence?”

  Brighton nodded vigorously. “Can you believe it? And we went ahead and ordered four of the Chef’s Tasting Menus and told them to let him go wild.”

  “What’s a tasting menu?” I asked, genuinely intrigued by her enthusiasm.

  Both Sawyer and Brighton let out a snort of laughter that managed to sound downright condescending. “Isn’t that cute?” Brighton asked, before turning to Maisie. “He’s never heard of a tasting menu. I’m so used to living here, I forget what it must be like for everyone else.”

  Maisie gave my hand a squeeze. “Not everyone is quite as blessed as you, Brighton.” I heard the underlying threat in her voice. A warning to her friend to play nice and stop trying to make herself feel big by making me feel small.

  What Maisie didn’t understand was that I couldn’t care less what either person in the front seat thought of me. In fact, until quite recently, I couldn’t care less what anyone outside my family thought of me. The only non-Hutton with an opinion that mattered was Maisie—and she mattered so much she might as well already be family.

  That thought caught my attention.

  …might as well already be family.

  …already…

  The fact that my mind chose to use that word suggested that somewhere, I had plans for her to become family in the future. That time just needed to pass to make it true.

&nbs
p; I refocused on the conversation, hoping my face didn’t betray the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. “Whatever it is, it sounds like I’m in for an adventure.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Brighton crowed, as if she was cheering on a kid at a soccer game.

  Beside me, Maisie tensed, but I swung an arm up on the back of the seat, settled in as best I could, and gave her a smile. Her friends could say or do whatever they wanted and all that mattered was that I was finally with her. “The rest is just noise,” I whispered when she turned to me, appalled by Brighton’s behavior.

  Maisie grimaced and bit her tongue, but something told me it wouldn’t take but one more thinly veiled dig at my lack of worldly experiences and she would pounce on her friends, claws out. She quietly explained what a tasting menu was—a collection of several dishes in small portions, served by a restaurant as a single meal—and that Providence was unbelievably expensive. Worry creased her brow, and I made sure to let her know that money was no issue, while also starting to wonder what kind of people her friends were. Who would go so far as to pull strings to make reservations at a restaurant sporting that many dollar signs on the menu without being sure everyone had sufficient dollars signs to waste on a meal?

  Thankfully, we made it to our destination without issue and sat down for a dining experience like no other. The food was exceptionally good, even if the company continued to be lackluster. Brighton bragged about stealing a client from a co-worker, setting her colleague up to fail, then swooping in to save the day when things went bad, and signing the client for herself. She laughed as if it were all a great joke, unaware of Maisie’s scowl and my frown. How could she find any of that funny? Or feel comfortable enough to brag about it?

  Somewhere between one of the many courses, Sawyer lifted his wineglass. “I’m very glad to finally learn more about my best man. And go figure, he turns out to be one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. Like, I can only imagine how out of your element you feel right now, and you can barely even tell how out of place you are. I’m glad to know you, Caleb, especially considering what a great story it is…some random fisherman being my best man, then me taking him to dinner at a place like Providence, no less.” He threw back his drink, like nothing was amiss.

  Maisie lowered her glass, her smile disintegrating. “Caleb isn’t some random fisherman.”

  I placed a hand on her knee under the table and smiled at Sawyer. “Life certainly has a way, doesn’t it?” I took a drink and settled back in my seat. “I never thought I’d be happy to spend three hundred and fifty dollars on a meal and be mildly insulted by someone who thinks driving a Prius is ironic. But hey. Here I am. Happy as can be.” I grinned at a shocked Sawyer who burst out laughing.

  “I like this guy.” He pointed at me, sharing a look of surprise with Maisie. “A lot.”

  “I do, too,” she replied, before turning to me, her eyes searching mine as she tried desperately to apologize for her friends’ behavior without saying anything out loud. When the meal was over, Maisie and I bid farewell to the dynamic duo, opting to walk around Melrose Avenue for a bit before catching an Uber back to her place.

  As soon as they were out of sight, she tugged on my arm, stopping our stroll. “I am so sorry for all that. For them talking down to you. For them assuming you had that kind of money just laying around…” She glanced at me, uncertainty lacing her eyes. “If you don’t have that kind of money laying around…”

  I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m fine, May-bell. If the cost had been a problem, I would have ordered anything else. But thank you for worrying about me.”

  We walked a few steps in silence as night fell around us. The rush of cars down the street kept us company, and I snuck a glance at her profile. She chewed her lip, looking pensive, more like the little girl who needed me to save her from lunchroom bullies than the confident woman who fought back against a drunk the night we reconnected.

  “That story Brighton told?” Maisie began, her gaze on her feet as her heels clicked across the pavement. “About stealing a client right out from under a colleague’s nose? She tried to do it to me. In fact, that was the whole reason work blew up in my face while I was in Florida.” Maisie shared a story her client shared with her as we strolled down the street, waiting for our Uber.

  “Sounds like she’s not your people.” I stopped walking, taking her shoulders in my hands and turning her to face me because I needed to see her reaction and know that she understood how far above Brighton she was.

  Maisie’s eyes bounced across my face, a sad smile pulling at her mouth. “On some level I already knew that. You know the old saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I knew that’s what was happening. It just hurts to finally have proof of what I really am to her. Of who she really is.”

  Our ride arrived, the conversation moved on, and the mood changed dramatically as my hand found its way to her knee, then went on a journey of exploration under her skirt. We barely made it out of the car and into her apartment before we stripped each other bare. In a tangle of tongues and teeth and need and desire, we found our way back to her bedroom, setting the place on fire as we went.

  “You were right,” I said as she unzipped her dress. “That thing looks much better on the floor.”

  Maisie giggled and helped me out of my clothes, making me groan with need when she wrapped her hand around my cock.

  We didn’t just make love, we made promises.

  We didn’t have to say anything, because somehow, our bodies communicated everything.

  Our joy at being reunited…

  The cruelty of fate that had us so tangled up, but living so far apart…

  The sheer gratification that we were together and the complete and utter tragedy that we would be separated again in a matter of days…

  Sweat beaded at our temples and trailed down our spines. This was the purest embodiment of a love that had come pre-installed for us, a truth from childhood we were just now understanding. We were made for each other, and with each thrust of my hips and every bounce of her breasts, we reaffirmed that fact, entwining our souls into this moment.

  It was a beautiful, terrible thing, our connection. And I was going to cram as much of her into my system as I could before I had to learn how to breathe without her again.

  The next day, I woke before Maisie, thanks to my internal clock still being set to east coast time. When she finally stumbled out of her bedroom, looking sexy and bedraggled and every bit of what I had been missing in my life for the last couple weeks, something clicked into place for me.

  I sat with her while she inhaled her coffee, then watched in amusement as she buzzed through her morning. As she chattered away, I found myself daydreaming about life with her. Would this be a typical part of our morning, if we lived together? Me sitting quietly as she launched herself into her day, the human embodiment of energy and excitement.

  “I hate that I have to work,” she said as she finally came to a stop in front of me.

  “Your life can’t come to a screeching halt just because I’m here.”

  “Yeah. Well. It should.” She kissed me, then kissed me again, then headed out the door.

  Thirty-Two

  Maisie

  The next couple days were equally wonderful and terrible. Coming home every night to Caleb was a blessing, but having the veil lifted from my eyes regarding Brighton jarred me. To make matters worse, now that I’d stopped fooling myself about her, I saw everything about my life differently, too. From the moment I graduated college, I had set out with the dream of helping people, following a winding path with unexpected turns that led me to my job at Shift. For years, I let myself believe that fate had brought me there, that while I wasn’t helping people in the ways I imagined when I was younger, what I had was better. I was making dreams come true.

  It wasn’t better. Not at all.

  It was a shallow excuse for the service I felt so called to provide. And for so many of
my clients, the dreams I prided myself on helping come true eventually shifted into nightmares. Their circumstances changing so slowly they didn’t notice until things had gone too far. Ever since dinner with Brighton and Sawyer, it became more and more clear that wolves and jackals surrounded me. Predators who were happy to take what they could from people, then eek out another percent or two of profit before the stars imploded in a rush of self-destructive energy.

  I wasn’t beneficial. Not in the ways I wanted to be. In fact, I was a commodity myself, a resource for Mr. Lombardi to use until I was no longer profitable…a state he seemed to think was fast approaching.

  “Leaving already?” he asked from the doorway as I shut down my computer and gathered my things at the end of a very long day. His nonchalant tone dripped accusation.

  I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. Everyone at Shift prided themselves on the insane hours we were willing to work—and any other week, I’d be right there with them. But I only had a few more days left with Caleb and I intended to spend as much time with him as I could. “It’s after five,” I replied, as if that meant anything at all.

  Lombardi looked unimpressed and took a step into my office. “I didn’t see anyone else packing up for the day on my way over here. In fact, it seemed like most of my employees were gearing up for another couple hours of hustling.”

  Undeterred, I smoothed my skirt. “I have plans this evening…”

  “And last evening. And tomorrow, I’m sure. You’ve made it pretty clear that your priorities are shifting, Ms. Brown.” I hadn’t been ‘Ms. Brown’ in a long time. Lombardi always called me by my first name. “You left part of yourself in Florida” he continued. “It’s past time you found a way to bring her back.”

  I saw the point he was trying to make, and I knew he was referring to the part of me that was willing to stay at work all night if need be, the part ready to sacrifice all other aspects of her personal life to better serve the needs of the agency.

 

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