“Listen,” Jake said, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
I remembered how tightly I’d gripped his T-shirt in my entryway the night Davis had attacked me, how desperate I’d been for connection.
He ran his long fingers through his hair. “I know you can’t just flip a switch and trust people. I’ve been reading about what survivors go through, and I get it now, or I’m starting to, I think. I was asking too much of you and demanding more than you were ready to give.”
My stomach and heart traded places, and I slid my clammy hands over my thighs again, noticing Jake’s glance following their movement. His lips were pressed together. I remembered those lips on mine and down my body, and I felt flustered and inarticulate. My mouth opened to speak, and I had no idea what would come out.
“There’s no switch to flip, and I am scared.”
He turned to face me, his expression inscrutable and his gaze intensified, those blue eyes searching my face.
“But I don’t want to be.” I took another measured breath and continued. “We had something good, and I blew up at you and it wasn’t fair and . . .” I searched for how to end my confession with something sweet and endearing. I drew a blank, and goose bumps rose on my arms.
He nodded, his chin dipping almost imperceptibly.
“It was inexcusable to just walk away and ignore you, to make you feel disposable, because you’re the furthest thing from that.” I gave up on finding the perfect thing to say and let everything out. “And, I should have told you about my ex sooner. I was embarrassed, and I didn’t realize how much he’d taken up residence in my head. I have a lot of work to do on myself still, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to put your career at risk to save me. I still don’t want that for you, so I understand if—” I stopped short.
His kiss was full of gentle sweetness, a hint of hunger and want. Our tongues met, sliding over each other’s, and his fingers brushed the sensitive skin near my ear. We pulled apart, just an inch, and he pressed his forehead to mine.
“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he said, cupping my face in both of his warm palms. “I don’t want an if.” He pecked at my lips between statements. “Nay, I would risk anything for you. Don’t you know that? And you have to believe that I know what you do is valuable. I always have.”
Another tinge of anxiety ran through me. “Our program being safe, was that you?”
“I would have pushed for it, but I didn’t have to.” He noticed something on my face and hurried to clarify. “I would have pushed because it should be safe, despite our initial findings. Your program is high potential, and everyone on our team agreed once we shifted to the current model. What you do matters, Naya. It’s worth fixing what’s broken in your department.”
He stared intently into my eyes, and I didn’t look away. “And you matter. To me, you matter more than anyone.”
His lips hovered near mine again; his touches were just as soft and his tongue as intent as before, but this time our physical connection was hard-won. When Jake told me I mattered, I wanted to be the person who deserved those words.
His voice in my ear was the only sound I cared about. “You’re . . .”
“Getting better at flirting?”
“What do you mean?” His forehead fell gently against mine as he laughed. “Your flirting skills have always been impeccable.”
“You must have forgotten how I got sick while attempting to have a one-night stand with you.”
Jake’s grin widened. “That was definitely memorable, but only a guy who was already falling for you would have texted you the next day.”
I laughed, blinking back the tears welling in my eyes. “You texted me that night.”
“Exactly.” He cupped a cheek with one hand. “One night would never have been enough.”
The puff of his breath touched my cheek, and a grin formed on my face, mirroring his. I opened my mouth to speak, but voices behind us stopped me. Our eyes widened, and we parted quickly as the group of faculty members from the dietetics department emerged from the trees, waving in our direction. I waved back, and Jake stifled a laugh, dipping his chin as they moved toward the dock as the sun began to set.
Jake slid his fingers across the ground between us, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles, the grains of sand rough between our skin.
“Have you checked everything off of your list?” he said finally as the group settled near the dock thirty feet from us. His voice was deep and low; our only physical connection—our fingers in the sand—felt like being naked with him.
“Yes. But now I’ve added new things.” I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist. “I want to learn to cook, travel, learn Spanish. I want to run a marathon and start volunteering. I took a couple self-defense classes, and I think I might try kickboxing.”
“Where will you start?”
“I’m planning on you teaching me to cook, to begin with. I hope the relationship can survive.”
“I think at this point, we can survive anything.” He swept a fingertip over the underside of my wrist.
“Jake, can we start over?”
“No,” he said, glancing over my shoulder at the group. “Let’s just . . .” His lips brushed by my ear. “Keep going.”
I closed my eyes against the torrent of emotion and the shudder of pleasure his quick touch evoked. “It shouldn’t be this easy.”
“I doubt it will be,” he said, resigned. “I work too much, and I know you do, too. And we’ll have to figure out how to be together when we live so far apart.” He looked over the lake, his expression a little sad. “It’s probably going to be hard.”
It terrified me I wasn’t going to be interesting enough to sustain the connection between us. I was worried he might walk away from me or I’d try to push him away again. I paused, thinking back to my sessions with the counselor.
I need to pay attention to how much this self-doubt creeps in.
I followed his gaze across the water, our fingers mingled in the sand between us. “I’m nervous, but not as much as I would have thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to try with.” I angled my body to his. “It’s taken me too long to say it, far too long, but I’m in love with you, Jake . . . toe-curling, dancing-in-public, don’t-care-who-knows-it, point-out-I-snore, and tell-me-another-joke in love with you.”
Trust a man. Check.
His eyebrows dipped, a grin spreading across his face.
“Say something . . .”
He smiled, his blue eyes bright and dancing as he stroked a finger down the back of my hand.
“. . . well?”
He glanced over my shoulder again. “I was waiting until the dietitians were distracted.” He brought my fingers to his lips, kissing my knuckles sweetly and holding my hand to his face. “And, for the record, I’m in love with you, too. Phobia-facing, pun-making, you-had-me-from-day-one, I’m-never-letting-you-go-again in love with you.”
“When I imagined you saying that, I pictured fewer dietitians,” I whispered back.
“I always assumed there’d be a gaggle.” He laughed, and, like that, it seemed we were back to where we’d been, making each other laugh and forgetting the rest of the world.
My spine relaxed in a way that made me realize how stiffly I had been holding myself. “Is ‘gaggle’ the technical term for a group of them?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask next time I’m at the library. Man, that will be awkward with Gladys, though.”
“It’s a hard life you lead,” I said.
“Not really.” He shrugged, his fingers slipping from my skin, the trace of his touch lingering on my nerve endings. He smiled at me, his eyes almost twinkling in the sunset. “It seems I have it pretty good right now.”
A slight
breeze picked up, but it didn’t diminish the warmth between us. I had nothing to add to my list in that moment, but it felt like a whole world of things I could add had just opened up.
Epilogue
The cut of the pants and the way the jacket framed his shoulders left me in awe every single time. I wonder if Jake would agree to wearing tuxedos around the house or while mowing the lawn.
The ceremony took place on the top of a mountain overlooking a lush valley, and the smell of gardenia and lavender filled the air. Jake stood at the altar, his features bathed in the sunlight of the hazy North Carolina morning. His gaze moved to mine, and he smiled, the one just for me, before he turned back to face the happy couple.
Jake handed the ring to his best friend. They exchanged a tight hug before Tyson faced Eric and the officiant walked them through their vows.
I dotted a tissue at the corner of my eye. Jake glanced my way and winked—he’d been the one to give me a small package of them, even though I’d insisted I wouldn’t cry.
The ceremony was followed by cocktails while the couple took pictures in front of the stunning vista with their wedding party. Standing in this jovial crowd alone would have made me anxious a year before, but sipping the drink, I enjoyed the moment.
The last year had been a whirlwind. Davis was convicted but didn’t receive any jail time. He hadn’t tried to contact me, though. He’d stayed away from Jill, too. When we’d finally talked, she’d shared that her experiences had been like mine. We cried and shared, and it was horrifying and affirming to know someone else going through a similar healing process. We’d become close, and between her, the counselor, and Jake, I felt like I was finally moving out from Davis’s shadow.
I’d made progress on my list, and Jake and I started adding things to a new one together with the myriad of changes we made at work, me earning tenure, Jake’s traveling, and more weekend trips between Chicago and Raleigh than I ever would have thought manageable. We’d gone to Seattle to see his family at Christmas. I’d fretted over the third degree I was sure I would receive from his four sisters, but they welcomed me into their circle like I’d always been there. After the new year, we went to my small hometown in Iowa to see my family, and we’d visited my grandfather, and I told him I was done auditioning. I was signed up for an intensive Spanish-language course for the spring, and couldn’t believe I’d waited so long. I was excited.
With as much as he traveled anyway, Jake decided to work based out of Chicago, and that plan was finally coming to fruition. I never got better at flirting, but it seemed I’d never have to do it with anyone else, so I stopped worrying. We’d spent the last three days packing up his house on the lake to prepare for his move to join me at our new place.
Buy a house. Check.
My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my clutch.
Felicia: The boys and Emily want to know when Jake can come over to play.
Felicia: Aaron does, too.
Naya: Aww . . . he has a crush on my boyfriend.
Aaron: I only asked if he’d be back in time for poker this week.
Naya: There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s cute.
Arms wrapped around me from behind as I stood at a high-top table, sipping a mimosa. “If that’s Felicia, can she tell Aaron I’ll be back in time for the game?”
I grinned and tapped out the reply assuring Aaron he’d have his date for poker. Jake fit into our group like he’d always been there. He’d won over Felicia immediately, clinching it when he volunteered to babysit. Aaron and he just clicked. I think Aaron liked having another guy around. Felicia’s trainer, Wes, had started hanging out with us more often as well, and all of a sudden, I had this widening circle of people. It was kind of amazing.
“You know, day drinking is a great idea for a wedding,” Jake whispered into my neck, pulling me to him. My blue chiffon sundress caught in a slight breeze and swirled around me as I set my phone down and faced him.
“Agreed.” I laughed, and he took the glass, planting a playful kiss along my jawline. “How is the happy couple?”
“Eric loves having his photo taken—he’s in heaven. Tyson loves Eric and is tolerating it. I was released into your care,” he said breezily, and I wondered if some alcohol was part of the wedding planner’s technique for cajoling wedding parties.
“I’ll do my best to keep an eye on you.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you, too,” Jake said with a boyish grin, setting the glass aside and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Worried I’ll get ornery?” I asked, wrapping my other arm around him.
“I like it when you’re ornery.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips and tasted like champagne. We swayed to the music playing from across the lawn, and his grip tightened on my waist. “But I like you all the time.” He flashed a smile again. “Except when you leave dishes in the sink instead of putting them in the dishwasher right away. We’re gonna fight about that.”
“That, and how you squeeze from the middle of the toothpaste tube.” I rubbed my hands over his shoulders.
“And the toilet paper should roll from the top—”
“You’re always going to be wrong about this. Bottom.”
“I can’t wait.”
“You can’t wait to fight?”
Jake gripped me tighter and lowered me into a playful dip. “I like making up with you.”
I can’t wait, either.
“Hey, cut it out. Way too much PDA,” Tyson said from behind us as he and Eric approached, hands clasped.
“That’s impossible,” Jake returned, smiling at the couple and dropping his lips to mine. “How can I not publicly display my affection for this beautiful woman?”
I gave both grooms hugs. Tyson had warmed up to me once Jake and I reconnected, though I was back on thin ice for taking his best friend a thousand miles away. I kissed him on the cheek.
I gestured around the space. “The ceremony was so beautiful. I cried.”
“I knew you would,” Jake said, pulling me to his side.
“It turned out well,” Eric said in a rare moment of humility about this event he’d been planning for a year. “And the cake looks good,” he said, taking Tyson’s hand.
Tyson stretched to bump fists with Jake. “All those tastings were worth it.”
“If you say so,” Jake countered. “It meant a lot of extra time at the gym and every baker in the city thinking we were a couple.”
“That one woman who insisted we practice feeding each other!” Tyson’s face lit up when he laughed like that.
Jake shared his laugh. “Hey, I was willing to play along so you could practice.”
“I know how bad your aim is, man. The cake would have ended up on my shoulder or the hood of my car.” Tyson turned to Eric, and his smile softened. “Besides, there’s only one person I ever plan to share my cake with.” He pulled Eric to him with an adoring expression. “So, no practice necessary.”
Eric beamed at his new husband before addressing me. “And you’ve been warned about Jake’s potential bad aim, Nay,” Eric said. “If you bring him cake tasting for your wedding, maybe bring a poncho.”
I chuckled but eyed Jake nervously, though he was exchanging a look with Tyson I couldn’t read. I never wanted to push, knowing how badly his marriage to Gretchen had ended. We were happy the way things were. We planned to be together, had vaguely discussed starting a family, but I honestly didn’t know if he wanted to be married again, and I was okay with that.
When the grooms were pulled away by Tyson’s grandmother, I asked Jake, “What’s up with them trying to push us down the aisle?”
He bent his head to my ear, his warm breath on the delicate skin behind my earlobe, and whispered, “I was thinking we’d pick the cake together.”
I turned abruptly and looked up at him in surprise, my eyebrow raised.
“What?”
“I have experience now, but you love cake more than anyone I know.” Jake circled his arms around my waist again, and I tried to decide if he was joking or proposing, scrutinizing his grin.
He must have seen the question in my face. “Oh, I’m not asking you to marry me, if that’s what that face means.”
“Good to know.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“I didn’t bring the ring with me, so you’ll have to wait and see what I have planned.”
My jaw dropped, and I again tried to read his tipsy expression.
He waggled his eyebrows and planted a playful kiss on my mouth, my face still turned up in surprise. “Don’t worry. For now, I can’t wait to fight about the toothpaste, check things off our list, fall asleep with you every night, and wake up with you every morning.”
Sounds good to me.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Naya found her happily ever after at the end of a long and winding road. If you or someone you love is, or may be, experiencing intimate partner violence, information and resources are available nationally and through agencies in your local area when you’re in a safe place to access them.
NATIONAL DOMESTIC VIOLENCE HOTLINE
thehotline.org
espanol.thehotline.org
1-800-799-7233
1-800-787-3224 (TTY)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I come from a long line of strong women. I come from homesteads in Colorado, and the Jim Crow south, from sweet potato pie and aebleskivers, from traveling the world, and from love that stood the test of time. Thank you to the generations who fought so I could flourish. My grandmothers were both writers, something I knew little about until after they were gone. Thank you for raising strong, loving children who became strong, loving adults, so I might become one as well.
To my parents: You’ve encouraged me to write, to reach, and to achieve from day one. I’m sorry I accidentally sent you an early copy of this novel full of the sex scenes I thought I’d redacted. You’ve shown me what love and a strong relationship looks like for over thirty years and across three continents. Thank you to my brother for always cheering me on and promising to listen to an audio version of this book, provided I am not the one narrating. To Amanda, Mike, Melissa, Jean, Bruce, Barb, Tim, Aretha, Allison, Kaitlin, all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, my niece and nephews, and my friends, thank you for listening to me talk about this book for years.
How to Fail at Flirting Page 26