by Tara Sue Me
My breath catches slightly. Does he mean what I think he does or is that simple wishing on my part? I'm too rightened to ask if it's the first and too embarrassed to admit the second if it's not.
But I have to know and this is too important to ignore or to leave open for misunderstanding. I shift back, just a touch, but enough to where he has to move and sit up. The way I see it, we both should deal with this head on.
“Are you suggesting? I mean, are you wanting to …” Damn this is harder than I thought to get out.
He’s looking me in the eyes now. Still as serious as before. “I know you and Tate are getting pretty hot and heavy. And if you’re one hundred percent certain he’s the one, tell me and I’ll leave it at that. You’ll never hear me say another word about it. But if you’re not certain…” He stops and closes his eyes briefly. “Spend next Saturday with me.”
“Doing what?” I ask, because believe it or not, that’s the first question in my head.
He smiles at that. “That’s the dare part. Leave it to me. Let me plan a day for you. For us.”
My mind flashes back to that night on my couch, and I can’t stop the question that pops out of my mouth. “We’re not going to spend the day naked, are we?”
He laughs, but his eyes darken and there’s a fire in them that tells me it’s something he’s thought about regardless of the way he answers. “Not even if you beg.”
My mouth goes dry because with those five words, the only thing in my head is me doing just that. I recall both the conversation where he questioned me on my knowledge of his oral sex preferences as well as feel of his lips on mine when we kissed. With that in mind, spending an entire day with both of us naked, seems like a really good idea.
“Why?” I ask him.
“Because if we spend the day naked, I won’t be able to prove my point.”
“Which is?”
“If you spend the day with me and have a better time than you’ve had with Tate, that’ll tell you that you should keep looking because he’s not the one.”
“Then who is?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, but it’s not him.”
My body goes rigid. Those aren’t the words I expected and I don’t think they were the ones he intended to say.
“Look at it this way,” he hastens to add. “If you can have a better time with someone other than Tate, you should probably be with someone other than Tate.”
I want him to insert his name in place of ‘someone other than Tate’ but he’s not going to. At least not right now. I collect my disappointment and force a smile. “Okay. Sure. Count me in. Next Saturday.”
Chapter Eighteen: Elliott
“In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.” Janos Arany
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Carsen asks as soon as she returns from the party and sees me on the couch drinking a beer.
“Nope.”
“Ugh.” She throws her purse in an empty chair and acts like she’s pulling her hair out. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?”
I put my beer on the table in front of me and beckon her. “Come here and let me tell you about something.”
She doesn’t move. “I have zero interest in listening to your whiney ass give excuses about why you couldn’t tell the woman you love how you feel about her.”
“Darcy won’t watch romance movies with me anymore. Do you know why?”
She’s standing beside the couch with one eyebrow cocked and her hands on her hips. “Because she couldn’t hear them over you crying your eyes out?”
“Ha ha,” I say. “Good one, but no. It’s because I kept yelling at the guy to suck it up, be a real man, and tell the girl how he feels.”
“That right there is irony come to bite you on the ass.”
“Right?”
“You should tell Darcy that. I bet she’d get a kick out of it. Oh, wait. You can’t. Because she still doesn’t know how you feel."
“The thing is, I didn’t know it was going to be so hard,” I say, trying to ignore her smart ass comments. “It looks so simple. Tell her how you feel. She tells you. You kiss and then live happily ever after.”
“Your point?”
“It’s not that easy. And I never understood it until I stood in that spot and became that guy, wanting to say those words, but not being able to get them out. It’s too hard.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s too hard.”
She sighs and sits down beside me. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit there and be quiet while baby sister tells you a thing or two. Listen up because I’m only saying it once.”
I nod.
“Who the hell told you it was going to be easy? What fairy tale crack kingdom did you get kicked out of that filled your head with that garbage? Of course it’s hard. That’s why they make all those movies Darcy won’t watch with you anymore. It’s supposed to be hard. You’re supposed to work for it, and give your all for it, and do fucked up shit while trying to make your happily ever after pan out.” She’s looking at me and I’m not certain what she sees, but she shakes her head. “Damn, you are such a man .”
I almost laugh at that, because seriously? Didn’t she know that? But I don’t because there’s a lot of truth in what she’s saying. “You’re right. I have to tell her.” She raises her eyebrow again. “And soon. I have a plan, you know.”
But I had fucked that up, too, by trying to make it sound like it was only useful for her to know someone was better for her than Tate. I didn’t make it personal. Didn’t tell her that I was a better choice than Tate. But I would.
Next Saturday.
Tate had his plan and I had mine. All things considered, mine kicked major ass. His plan could only look at mine and one day hope to kick as much ass. Even if mine wasn’t vastly superior, I had an ace up my sleeve. Our last stop on my plan would easily cinch me the victory.
“Tell me your plan,” Carsen says. “The only thing you’ve told me so far is that it is totally awesome.”
“That’s not enough?” I ask, mostly joking.
“Not by a long shot.”
“We’re going to spend the entire day together, doing things around the city that she enjoys.” I couldn’t give her too many details, because I still had to confirm everything with several people. There was one thing I could give her details on, simply because it was going to be amazing. My last stop.
Once, years ago, I was setting up a surprise proposal for one of the Storms players. The proposal itself was going to take place at the restaurant before, but afterward he was going to surprise her with an overnight to end all overnights. That's where I came in. Well, actually me and Darcy, because once she heard about it, she had to be involved.
The overnight was to take place at the most romantic place in the city, a bedroom large enough for only one couple, built into a tree. In other words, a treehouse for grown ups. Don't let the word fool you. With a bed made of custom Italian linens and handmade furniture, this is no hangout for kids.
As soon as Darcy saw it, she fell in love with the place. I joked and told her she should book a night just for her. You should have seen her face. She very quickly told me that was the very definition of a sacrilege. She said it wasn't a room meant for only one person and would never think of defiling it in that manner. I thought she took it a bit far, but I always kept her love for the place in mind and planned to share the information with whoever she became serious with.
But I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell Tate about it. Hell no, I’m keeping that bit of intel all to myself. Until recently, Tate has been able to chase after Darcy unopposed. That stops immediately. I have years of insider information on her and it’s not going to be anything close to a fair fight.
Ask me if I care?
Not a damn bit.
I’m going to use everything I have to make her mine completely and in every way possible.
I’m so caught up in my all day plan t
o win Darcy’s heart, I’ve forgotten Carsen is still sitting at my side, waiting for me to tell her all about my plans to woo Darcy on our date day.
“I still have some things to confirm,” I tell Carsen.
She’s giving me that side eye she has when she knows I’m not telling her everything.
“I’m not going to tell you everything,” I say. “Forget it.” I really don’t think she’ll get on the phone and tell Darcy my plans. However, the horrible memories of my date with Kara are still in the back of my mind. Call me superstitious. I don’t care. The day’s plans will be known only by me.
“Fine,” she says, standing. “Don’t tell me anything, but don’t come crying to me if you crash and burn.”
“Come on, baby sister,” I say, using the nickname she gave herself. “Don't you think I know how important this day is? Do you think if I had any doubt about my ability to own it that I'd be asking for any and all help I could find?”
“Just making sure you don't let male pride get the best of you.”
“It'll never happen.” I'm not sure of everything, but in this, I am.
Because the alternative is unthinkable.
* * *
On the Thursday before our date, I do something I actually hadn't thought about the weekend before. The thought hit me last night. If the date goes as well as I think it will, I'm not going to leave any bit of anything to chance. If she agrees to be mine, the whole damn world will know and they'll know Sunday or whenever we decide to join the rest of the world after our tree house time.
I know exactly what I want when I walk into the jewelry store. You can't be best friends with a woman for almost twenty years and not know her taste in jewelry. Darcy is classic and timeless. She favors simple and elegant pieces. I gave her a strand of pearls for Christmas last year after she mentioned she had to borrow the ones she wore to the Charity Ball. She almost cried when she unwrapped them.
Today I'm looking for a similar response, but a completely different purchase. I will admit, my heart is galloping. I can't imagine any man has ever been in the same position and not felt a bit of excited nerves.
But as I walk toward the case that holds the items I'm here to look over, an amazing thing happens, my heat calms, my breathing returns to normal. I give the woman approaching me a smile.
“Hello,” she says, drawing closer. “How may I help you this afternoon?”
I hold out my hand. “Elliott Taber, I called earlier about what I was looking for.” Because I know exactly what it has to look like, I called all over the city until I found a place that had what I want.
“Of course, Mr. Taber. I remember your call. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed. I'm not sure I've ever had a man know exactly what he wanted. Especially with so much detail.” She gives a small laugh. “You would be surprised by how ill prepared most men are.”
“I don't doubt it.”
She collects a box from inside the display case and tells me to follow her. We make our way to a less crowded part of the store where we can talk undisturbed.
“As soon as you called and told me what it was you were looking for, I pulled what we had in that collection to make certain it didn't get sold.”
“I appreciate it.”
She opens the box and my breath catches at the sight of the rings inside.
They are all beautiful, of course. It is a gorgeous collection. No matter though, I look from one ring to the next, trying to locate the one I came to buy. I start to panic a little bit, thinking it’s not here after all, but then the lady across from me reaches into the box and pulls out the ring I was looking for.
“I believe this is the one, Mr. Tabor?”
It is a single diamond solitaire, classically cut, and set in a cathedral setting, the standard and hallmark of this particular designer. It is stunning. It’s exactly like Darcy would wear. In fact, I’m surprised the style isn’t called The Darcy. “Yes,” I say and clear my throat, so it doesn’t sound as raspy when I add, “That is it.”
“Would you like to see some of the wedding bands we suggest you pair with it?”
This entire experience is too surreal. Yes, I’d love to say, but I don’t because I want it to be something Darcy and I do together. “Not today,” I tell her. “She would want us to do it together.”
“You must know her very well,” she says. “Most men don’t have a clue about wedding band preferences.”
“I’ve known her for over twenty years.”
She smiles sweetly, with a knowing look in her eyes. “Do you want to take this home today?”
Minutes later, I walk outside. In my pocket is the most expensive thing I’ve ever bought.
Chapter Nineteen: Darcy
“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Saturday of our date, Elliott shows up fifteen minutes early. Normally, this would not be an issue because I'd already be prepared. However today, for what might be the first time in my life, I'm not ready.
I'm only wearing a robe when I open my door to let him in. His eyes widen in shock.
“Holy shit,” he says, taking off his sunglasses as if to get better look. “Was the apocalypse scheduled for today and no one told me?”
I don't reply, but turn back to continue getting ready. He follows behind me and closes and locks the door.
“Are you sick?”
“No.” What I am is irritated that he’s here and I’m not ready.
“Do you not want to do this?”
“That’s not it either,” I say, walking into my bedroom, unable to hide the fact that all my clothes are scattered across the top of my bed. I wasn’t sure what to wear.
Elliott is wearing jeans and a T-shirt, totally casual. No big deal. Just hanging out with Darcy, like always. I don’t know why I’ve been making it out like today means more than it actually does. It’s not like it’s anything big to him. What was it he said? He just wants to show me that I can have a fun time with somebody other than Tate. He’s not doing this because he wants me, or that he doesn’t want me to be with Tate. He’s just wanting to make sure I’m not making a big mistake.
Sorry, 02.
He’s being a good friend to me, that’s all. I snatch up a pair of jeans and my favorite white T-shirt off the bed. If he’s going casual, I’m going casual. I’m such an idiot to allow O2 to have me thinking he wants more than what we have now.
Elliott is waiting in the hallway. He sees the mess on my bed, but he’s kind enough not to say anything about it. As I walk past him, he puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“Hey,” he says, and I stop, but I don’t look at him. “Darcy.” He lifts my chin with his finger and his eyes are worried when I look in them finally. “Today’s about me and you, okay? Nothing to stress over, I promise. And I’m sorry if I came across as a jerk. It’s only that in our twentysome odd years of friendship, I’ve never gotten ready for anything before you did. You’re damn lucky I didn’t run a victory lap or two around your townhouse.”
He’s so serious when he says that last part and I can’t help but grin because it’s so easy to picture him doing just that.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, and I think he may lean over and try to kiss me, but he pulls back and nods toward my clothes. “Go get dressed so I can take you to breakfast. I’m hungry.”
* * *
“Ready for breakfast?” he asks when I emerge from the bathroom ten minutes later.
“Starving.” I flash him a grin and we’re off.
I have to admit, I was a bit worried when Elliott first said we’d start the date with breakfast. I’m a hearty eater and I’ve never hidden that from him, but I feared that if he saw this as a “date” he might try to impress me with a fru-fru fancy breakfast and that is so not me.
I’ll never forget when a new five-star hotel opened a few years ago, and Elliott and I went by to check it out. We’d made our way through the very impressive
lobby and crossed over to the one restaurant they had to look over the menu. Elliott took dinner. I took breakfast.
“Are they serious?” I asked. “Eleven bucks for a grapefruit? They mean more than one, right?”
But as we pull into the parking lot of my favorite diner, I relax and realize I never should have doubted him. Especially when he looks at me and says, “I called ahead. They’re having all you can eat grapefruit today.”
We’re still giggling as we’re shown to our table.
It’s been so long since Elliott and I have the chance to have breakfast together, I’d forgotten how nice it is to order anything I want and not have to worry about getting the side eye from anyone. Not that I typically care what other people think about what I eat, but for business meetings I try not to stand out.
With Elliott, I don’t care. He’s seen me at my best, my worst, and everything in between. So much of my life’s story is intertwined with his. How much of the person I am today is as a result of him? Likewise, how much of who he is can be contributed to me?
“What are we going to do today?” I ask between bites of scrambled egg.
“After this, I thought we’d go to Piedmont Park.”
“Really?” At his nod, I add, “I haven’t been there in ages.” I don’t add that it’s my favorite since he already knows it.
“I thought you’d like to go,” is all he says. “I have reservations for lunch at that new French place. But if you think it’s too fancy or anything, we can cancel and go somewhere else.”
I don’t think he’s joking, but wow, that place is the current hot spot in Atlanta with a waiting list a mile long, even for lunch. “Cancel?” I ask. “Are you crazy? I’ve been dying to eat there.”
It’s then I glance down and remember how we’re both dressed. I look up at him, getting ready to ask him why he let me wear this when he knew where we would eating for lunch. But something isn’t adding up because he’s dressed the same.