Sweetheart

by Sarah Mayberry

  Then Jess had landed her first big shoot, and the sun had come out from behind the clouds. It had all been worth it, she loved me so much, our life together was going to be so amazing. I bought into the high because I didn’t want to believe what my mother had told me. I told myself Jess had just been rocked by the callousness of the industry.

  And then the high had peaked and we’d dipped down again. I’d come home from work to find another man’s jacket left on the couch, only for Jess to explain a “friend” had loaned it to her because she was cold. Money had disappeared from my wallet with no explanation, then Jess would walk through the door in new shoes or an expensive dress that someone had “given” her.

  I’d swallowed my suspicions, but nothing seemed to make her happy. When I’d dared to suggest couple’s counseling, thinking that going together might help sell the idea of therapy to her, she’d erupted in a way I’d never seen before, to the point where our neighbors had pounded on the ceiling to signal their displeasure and the police had come knocking to make sure I wasn’t beating Jess to a pulp. Afterward, I was punished with days of brutal, cold silence—and then Jess had landed another shoot and suddenly the lights had come on again.

  It’s amazing how quickly you can lose your markers for what’s normal when one person is your whole world. Looking back now, I can’t believe how much shit I’d taken. How much I’d swallowed and ignored or waved away. At first it had been because I was crazy about her, and I believed in the dream of us. Then it was because I was convinced if I could just say or do the right thing, Jess would be happy. I could be the solid foundation she needed to keep her anchored.

  And then it was because I was so tied up in knots I couldn’t work out where the truth ended and her manipulations began.

  It had taken finding a condom packet beneath our bed to snap me out of it. It was a brand I’d never used, and there was no pretending that it didn’t mean what I thought it meant. That wrapper had given me solid ground to stand on, and I’d managed to fight my way free—but not before Jess had lashed out with one final act of cruelty.

  I wasn’t proud of the way I’d handled myself during those wild twelve months. I’d proven myself to be way too gullible, and I’d absorbed insults and—very occasionally—physical blows that no person should ever accept from an intimate partner. I’d promised myself that I’d never again let myself get dragged down the slippery slope into that kind of dysfunction again.

  And yet here I was, inviting Jess back into my life by sleeping with her sister.

  Seeing Haley had been asking for trouble. That was the conclusion I came to every night as I lay staring at my ceiling, weighing pros and cons, swimming in a sea of disturbing memories.

  Then I’d dream of Haley, and wake up remembering something funny or goofy she’d said. Or I’d see her at the Bean, smiling and laughing with her customers, teasing Roddy or Audrey or Zara, and I’d feel the pull of her sweetness.

  But how much right did it take to get past all the wrong her sister brought to the table?

  I didn’t know the answer to that question. And I knew it wasn't fair to Haley that I was holding back from committing to her because of something outside of her control. But it wasn't as though I could erase the memories that lived inside my head, either. It was a shitty situation.

  As time went by, I thought less about Jess and the messiness of the past. My bed felt emptier and emptier, and I found myself picking up my phone on a daily basis and scrolling to the one picture I’d taken of Haley while we’d been enjoying our care-free fling.

  She been standing beside my bed wearing my old hockey jersey, and the sleeves dangled past her hands. She’d looked like Tom Hanks in Big, after the magic spell had worn off and he’d shrunk back to his true kid self. The look on her face was wry, full of the knowledge of how ridiculous she looked.

  It was a great picture. She obviously had no idea how pretty and sexy she was. It made me think about her workshop, and how she didn’t tell me about the great passion in her life. It made me think about the kind of life lessons a person has to learn before they hide the important parts of themselves like that.

  It made me think about the way she offered Sam and me the sketch she’d done for our logo with no strings attached and no expectations.

  Most of all it made me think about how right it felt when we were together. It wasn’t just the smoking sexual chemistry, it was everything. Haley and I were good together. I knew in my gut we could have something really special.

  I just didn’t know if I was prepared to pay the price of entry.

  29

  Haley

  For the next couple of weeks, I let the rhythms of my life carry me along.

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t jump on my phone every time it rang, hoping against hope that it was Beck. But mostly I managed to keep my head above water and hang onto the belief that what we had together was too important to give up.

  He’d asked for time, and I would give it to him. I wanted him to be sure about his feelings if he came back to me, because I was very sure about him.

  Painfully so.

  Did it hurt that maybe he wasn't quite as sure about me? Yes. But I knew that was really about his history with my sister, not me. In a perfect world, one thing would not affect the other, but the world I lived in wasn't perfect, and I knew that Beck was a kind, loving person.

  He was worth waiting for. We were worth waiting for.

  In the meantime, I did my bit to support my sister via FaceTime and text and phone calls, and caught up with friends for drinks and fulfilled a long-held promise to myself to use one of my afternoons off to visit businesses in the area to try to drum up local sales for my work. I struck gold with an eclectic little gift store in Stowe, where the owner fell in love with my hand-painted belts and coin purses. We talked about me producing a selection of leather keyrings featuring landscapes from the area as well, something she was certain would appeal to tourists, and I left feeling proud of myself for adding another string to my business bow.

  After that, I split my time between working on Zara’s boots and creating inventory for my new customer. Being busy helped stop the worry hamster from getting too out of control in the back of my mind. It didn’t silence him completely, but it helped.

  And then, two weeks to the day after our difficult discussion and the hug that had felt painfully like goodbye forever, I walked home from work and spotted a white van parked across the street from my house.

  My heart kicked against my ribcage with excitement and trepidation, and I stopped in my tracks.

  Beck. Beck was here. He’d made his decision.

  I started walking again, and by the time I reached the gate to the front yard, my palms were sweaty. Beck was sitting on the porch’s top step, waiting for me, and he stood the moment he saw me.

  The look in his eyes made up for the two weeks of distance without him having to say a single word. I pushed the gate wide, closed the few feet between us, and threw myself into his arms.

  “About fucking time,” I told him as he crushed me close.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to be sure.”

  I tilted my head back to look into his beautiful face, drinking in his blue-green eyes, the shape of his nose, the clean lines of his jaw. It was scary how important he’d become to me so quickly. Scary, but wonderful, too.

  Beck cupped my cheek in one of his hands and I pushed into his palm like a cat, eager for his touch, starved for his easy affection.

  “Would it be wrong for me to rush you inside and tear your clothes off with my teeth?” he asked, and I laughed, relieved that he’d lightened things with a joke.

  Some moments are so loaded with feeling they’re almost unbearable.

  “Go for it. But you’d better be fast with those teeth, because this woman has a lot of pent up sexual frustration you’re going to need to satisfy,” I told him.

  “On it,” he said, his hand coming around my waist to urge me toward the front steps.
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  The moment I had the door open, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me, his hand sliding under my skirt and inside my panties. He pinned me against the wall for long moments with the weight of his body, his mouth pleasing mine, his dexterous fingers driving me wild.

  My knees went weak as I started to spiral into climax, but Beck muttered an imprecation and the next thing I knew he’d boosted me up and carried me into my bedroom to dump me on the bed. I watched with greedy eyes as he stripped of his clothes, then belatedly realized I was going to be woefully overdressed for this reunion party if I didn’t get my ass into gear. Beck solved the problem by whipping my dress over my head and getting rid of my underwear with a ruthless efficiency that was, frankly, as hot as hell.

  I opened the drawer of my bedside table, found a condom, and passed it to him. He smoothed it on with the same speedy economy, as desperate to be inside me as I was to have him there. Then he was on top of me, holding my gaze as he nudged the tip of his cock inside me. I sighed and gripped his hips and urged him all of the way in. We both gave a full-body shudder as he slid home.

  I’d missed this so much. Missed him and the magic we made together. When he started to move, I wrapped my legs around his waist and lost myself in what he did to me. One of his hands roamed my body, teasing my nipples, smoothing down the outside of my thigh, and, finally, gripping my ass and urging me into a sinuous new rhythm that hit all my sweet spots and then some.

  “Beck,” I warned, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I arched my back.

  “Come for me. Come hard for me, sweetheart,” he said.

  I gave myself over to a climax that throbbed through my entire body and stole the last gasp of air from my lungs.

  “Yes. Perfect.” He ducked his head to pull one of my nipples into his mouth, his hips still moving as he worked himself inside me. “Now do it again.”

  I laughed, both because he was so demanding and because I could already feel myself starting to climb again. Then he reached between us and found my clit, using his thumb to stroke me every time he pushed himself deep inside me, and pretty soon I was trembling beneath him, on the brink of coming again.

  “So. Fucking. Beautiful,” Beck groaned.

  I felt his body tensing just as my second climax hit. We came together, clutching at each other, breathless and damp with sweat and sex.

  I closed my eyes afterward, so grateful he was here, so grateful I hadn’t lost the most amazing connection I’d ever experienced in my life. When I opened them again, Beck was watching me. He lifted a hand to brush my hair off my temple, his touch light as a feather.

  “Let’s stay here all afternoon and see how many times we can make that happen,” he said, his low voice rumbling through my body.

  I smiled up at him. “I really wish I could, but I’ve got to deliver some products to a new customer. A place in Stowe wants to stock some of my smaller leather goods.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Beck said easily.

  And that was what he did.

  30

  Haley

  We drove through the afternoon sunlight with the windows down, the lush Vermont countryside rushing by outside. An old Fleet Foxes song came on the radio, and Beck caught my hand and brought it to rest on his thigh. I looked at him and felt my chest get tight with gratitude and affection and happiness.

  He’d come back to me. He’d chosen me. I’d been right to hope.

  When we got to Stowe, we parked in a central location, and Beck insisted on carrying the box containing the belts, purses, and keyrings I’d made for my new customer. We walked past the quaint shopfronts until we found the gift shop. A bell rang as we pushed the door open and a slim, grey-haired woman in a wafty-looking linen dress looked up from where she was writing something on a pad at the counter. Her face lit up when she saw me, and I couldn’t help smiling back.

  “Haley. Perfect timing. I’ve just been doodling out a display idea for your beautiful things.”

  “Anne, this is Beck. He insisted on being my muscle for the day,” I said.

  “Such a hardship for you,” Anne said, eyeing Beck appreciatively. “Nice to meet you, Beck. Now, Haley, show me the goodies.”

  She rubbed her hands together in comic anticipation, and Beck set the box down on the counter for her to open.

  “Oh, my. These are so, so beautiful,” Anne breathed as she lifted out the half dozen women’s belts I’d painted for her.

  Each belt featured a mountainscape, the features and time of day varying in accordance with the color of leather I’d chosen and the time of year I was depicting. There was a cognac-colored one decorated with maple trees in all their gold and red glory, a sage-green one verdant with grass and wild flowers and abundant foliage, and a deep-blue belt with a stark and snowy winter scene, stars twinkling overhead, the snow-capped hillside bright against the color of the leather.

  “Amazing,” Beck said, his gaze admiring as he looked at me.

  Anne unearthed the coin purses next, and I started to blush as she and Beck gushed over my work.

  “Okay, that’s enough of that, now,” I said, my cheeks warm.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Anne said as she discovered the tissue-wrapped stash of keyrings. “Haley, these are perfect. I can guarantee these are going to sell like hotcakes.”

  “Well, good. I can get you more pretty quickly now that I’ve been through the process of making a batch.”

  We talked a little about ideas for the next order, then Anne wrote me out a check on the spot for my wares.

  “Thank you, Haley. I can’t wait to see what we can do together,” she said.

  “Thanks for taking a chance on me,” I said.

  Anne laughed as though I’d made a joke, and I turned to go, frowning when I saw Beck had one of my belts in his hand.

  “I’ll take this one, thanks,” he said, handing it over to Anne. “My niece turns sixteen next week, and she’ll love this.”

  He’d chosen the snowscape belt, and I opened my mouth to tell him I could easily make another for his niece, only to realize that by doing so I’d rob Anne of a sale. Beck caught my eye and smiled, all innocence, but I knew he’d deliberately outmaneuvered me.

  “Look at that, sold it before it even hit the shelf,” Anne said. “Can I gift wrap that for you?”

  I waited until we were walking back to the car, with Beck carrying a small, gorgeously wrapped box, to voice my displeasure.

  “I would have happily made a belt for your niece if you’d asked,” I said.

  “I know. I wanted to pay what it was worth.”

  “As if I would charge you!” I said, shocked by the idea of presenting him with an invoice.

  “Exactly.”

  I huffed out my breath. “Well, that’s just nuts.”

  “What’s nuts is you not understanding that this is a piece of artwork and my niece is going to look back in a few years’ time and marvel that she owns a genuine Haley Elliot belt.”

  I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. “What? No, she isn’t.”

  “She is. Trust me. You’re ridiculously talented. The world’s going to realize it soon and then you’ll be unstoppable.”

  “No. My stuff is too expensive,” I said. “People are used to buying things made in bulk in sweatshops where they pay people a pittance. They don’t appreciate the fact that my things are unique and handmade. Most of them, anyway.”

  “You don't need most people, you just need the right people. The things you make are special, Haley. People respond to them, and I am a big believer in cream rising to the top. This is just the beginning, baby.”

  He was so confident on my behalf I couldn’t help but be touched.

  “Thank you for saying that,” I said.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” he said, his mouth twisted into a wry smile.

  “If I’m lucky, I believe I can build my online store and maybe find more people like Anne to take on my smaller pieces. Then maybe I can give up the
coffeeshop and work on my leather business full time. That would be my dream,” I said cautiously.

  Beck slung an arm around my neck and pulled me in for a firm, thorough kiss.

  “Dream bigger, baby,” he said. “Your talent is going to take you places.”

  It was hard not to be buoyed by his words and harder still to resist when he suggested we take advantage of our time in Stowe to find somewhere for a late lunch. We wound up sitting in the vine-covered rear courtyard of a cafe off the main street, drinking locally made cider and eating the best eggs Benedict I’d ever tasted.

  It wasn’t until we were almost done that I remembered Beck had a business to run.

  “Is your brother going to be pissed at you for taking the afternoon off?” I asked.

  “He strongly encouraged me to come. Apparently I’ve been a grumpy asshole the last couple of weeks.”

  We still hadn’t touched on the subject of my sister. I didn’t want to bring her up and potentially ruin a perfect afternoon, but we’d gotten into trouble before by sidestepping the big issues. I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page this time around.

  “About Jess,” I said boldly, jumping in feet first. “She’s my sister, she’s always going to be a part of my life. But I want you to know I’m not going to shove her down your throat or drag you along to family reunions or anything like that.”

  “Thanks for saying that, but I figure we just need to tackle whatever comes up whenever it comes up. Roll with the punches.” He hesitated. “We should probably talk about what happened between me and Jess, too.”

  “Only if you want to.”

  He tilted his head a little. “Want is a strong word. But it might help if you understand what went down between us. I’d rather not do it today, though, if that’s okay.”

  “We can do it whenever you like,” I said quickly, conscious that just talking about my sister had brought tension into his shoulders. “There’s something else I wanted to talk about with you, too. I want to make you a pair of boots. And no, you cannot pay for them. This would be a gift from me to you. I want you to have something I made.”