Seeing You

by Michelle Lynn

  She stirs in my arms and flips onto her stomach. I scoot closer, and my fingertips brush along her smooth skin. One leg peeks out from my sheet and shows her pink-painted toes. The one glimpse of her skin stirs my arousal for her.

  I cast butterfly kisses across her shoulders, and she sucks in a deep breath.

  “Good morning, gorgeous,” I whisper.

  She turns to look at me. I could wake up to that smiling face every morning.

  “Good morning.” She slides closer, and her arm lays lazily over my rib cage.

  Her pebbled nipples tease me as she swings her leg over mine.

  “I want to take you somewhere.”

  My lips meet hers, and our tongues dance the one we mastered overnight.

  “Okay.”

  She rolls me over onto my back, and her legs swing on either side of my hips. The sheet falls down, exposing her to me. I rock my hips, and she moans. She reaches across to my nightstand to dig into the box of condoms. I capture her breast in my mouth and twirl her nipple with my tongue. She wiggles in my hold, but I glide a finger into her wetness and she stops moving, closing her eyes. I continue to manipulate her body as her groans increase with each push of my finger.

  “Oh, my God,” she says.

  My phone buzzes again, and suddenly, my body is cold because Noodle is sitting up, holding my phone in front of my face. She shoves it at me, but I don’t take it.

  “It’s Karla,” she exclaims.

  “I see that.” I hijack the phone from her hand and press the Ignore button.

  “What are you doing?”

  I inch up and give her a soft kiss.

  “I’m with my girlfriend.” I pull her down, back on top of me.

  She squeals, and the condom drops down next to me on the sheet.

  “I know I told you the whole thing about a grand gesture and me coming first, but this is your dream. Call her back.” She picks up my phone and jams it into my hand.

  “No, I’d much rather be with you.” My lips curl, kissing her collarbone and traveling down.

  “I’ll call her.” She steals the phone, and her thumb slides across the screen.

  I swipe it away and hold it tight in my hand. “I told you I had somewhere to take you.” I groan, sliding out from under her.

  “Where?” The sheets rustle as she nestles back under them.

  I lean down. “That means you have to get dressed.” I kiss her forehead.

  “Isn’t the whole benefit of having a boyfriend as a chef the fact that he makes you breakfast in bed?”

  I lean over her again. The scent of strawberry teases me, and if we didn’t have to get there in the next hour, I’d crawl back into bed with her. “Trust me, I’ll make you breakfast every morning from here on out.”

  “Cinnamon rolls?” she yells.

  I walk into my bathroom and twist the knob on the shower, thinking maybe I should show her another day. But today is Monday, and it’s our only day off.

  “Every day.” I fumble through my drawers to dig out some clothes.

  “Potato pancakes?”

  I shake my head, chuckling to myself. “Yes. Whenever you want.”

  Her hands crawl up my back, and there are those hard nipples pressed to my skin. My dick hardens. I wrap her in my arms and turn around to passionately kiss her.

  “I need to go home and shower,” she mumbles. Her lips continue to cast short kisses on my lips.

  She doesn’t want to leave, and I don’t want her to.

  “You need to bring stuff over here.”

  My hands cup her ass, and she yelps when I push her center into me.

  “I’m just next door. I’ll be half an hour, tops.” She inches up on her tiptoes and kisses me one last time before leaving my arms.

  “I’ll be at your door in half an hour.”

  She bends up and down to pick up her clothes sprinkled along the floor. She notices me watching her when she steps into her leggings.

  “Go take your shower.”

  She throws a pillow at my head, and I catch it midair. My eyes continue to assault her body. I’ll never get enough of her curves.

  “After you leave, I might take a little longer than usual.” Especially after all the material she gave me last night.

  “Hey now, wait for me. Remember, it was your idea to leave the bed this morning.” She swings her purse over her shoulder and closes the distance between us again.

  “We have all day, and we’ll be coming right back here afterward.”

  She smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

  Another tease of her lips, and she’s at my bedroom door. “See you soon.”

  My apartment door clicks shut, and I stand in the middle of my bedroom, missing her already.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Amelia

  I concentrate on the navigation of the streets, attempting to block out the citrus smell embedded into the cloth seats of Todd’s car. His classic rock plays through the speakers.

  “Our old stomping grounds,” I say, smiling over to him, and he matches mine ten times wider.

  We started coming to this part for the hidden gems.

  “Days I’ll never forget,” he says, pulling along the street before parallel parking the Wrangler.

  I go to grab the door handle, but he places his hand on my leg to stop me, and an electric current ignites up my leg.

  “Wait.” He ushers out of the Jeep and rounds the front of the car.

  “You didn’t have to,” I say after he’s opened my door.

  When I climb out, his hand touches the small of my back, and the contentment of us can’t be denied. Our best friend connection has turned to a lovers one. It would crush me if we became one of those couples who turned to burned-out ashes after we ignited the flame and blaze.

  “Come on.” He ignores my comment, enveloping my hand in his, and he leads me down the street.

  Even though I’m positive on where he’s taking me, I remain quiet, not wanting to ruin the surprise he might have in store for me.

  Five minutes later, my assumption stands corrected. We are standing outside of Heaven’s Corner Diner, the first gem he ever took me to. The difference is, the white sign above the restaurant is gone, leaving nothing but old brick. I glance into the restaurant and find waitresses shuffling from table to table. I guess Gus, the owner, must have finally decided to retire after forty years. On one of our visits here, Todd and I learned that Heaven’s Corner had been passed down for decades throughout his family. Gus’s face showed his disappointment that he didn’t have a son who would take over the reins one day.

  “You want your usual?” Todd leans in, diverting me from my thoughts.

  I smile at how happy Todd appears right now. “Spinach omelet? Too bad you’re not the one making it.”

  My hand rests on the cold metal handle, and his lies on top of mine. He takes over opening the door, and the smell of grease transports me right back to late nights when Todd would drag Tati and me here.

  The waitress comes over, disregarding me as she talks directly to Todd. I’m used to this behavior. It’s a typical occurrence when I’m in his company.

  Leading me over, he pats a stool at the bar and walks back over to the waitress. She glances my way and nods. She disappears through the swinging doors, and Gus emerges.

  “Hey, you two.” He wipes his hands on his stained apron.

  “Gus,” I say.

  He saunters past the counter. “How are you, Lia?”

  “I’m good.”

  The smell of bacon lingers on his stained apron.

  “Go ahead,” he says to Todd.

  Todd quickly slides behind the counter. Right before he pushes the doors open, he glances my way and winks.

  “You’re letting Todd back there?” I ask.

  Todd has asked to cook many times, and Gus has constantly denied him, saying Todd wouldn’t be allowed back there unless he was retiring.

  “You’re retiring.” My lips slump do
wn.

  He shakes his head. “It’s a good thing. Me and the Mrs. are going down to Florida until we die.”

  I slap his arm. “Don’t say that.”

  He laughs. “I’m kidding—about the dying thing.”

  “So, are you closing the doors?”

  “Heaven’s Corner will be closed, but someone bought it. They are turning it into some hoity-toity bistro.” He pretends to be drinking tea with his pinkie up in the air.

  “I’ll miss it, but I’m happy for you.”

  The waitresses circle around us, and I realize I’m standing in the way now.

  “I’d love for you and Tatiana to come to the closing party. It’ll be here on November fifth.”

  “We’d love to, and I know Tati won’t miss it.”

  “Great. I have to go. Sit. I hear Todd’s making you one heck of a spinach omelet back there.” He winks and disappears through the swinging doors.

  I sit on the stool and catch glimpses of Todd through the small opening to the kitchen.

  After a few minutes, I decide to check Facebook and kill some time. A few friends have messaged me, saying good luck on my show, and someone attached the ABC morning show link, showing an ad that their segment will air this Friday. Not wanting to see myself on camera, I ignore it.

  I spot Todd’s small profile pic of his selfie at the gym. Clicking on his page, I notice he’s taken off his employment info at CHOPs. His page isn’t filled with how much he bench-pressed or pictures of him half-naked in front of a mirror anymore. Instead, they’re my art photos. Under each one, he tells people to come to the show tomorrow night.

  My heart flicks to life when I find he posted heartfelt reasons he loves each picture.

  I scroll down and then my thumb stops when the waitress pours me a cup of coffee. I peer up at her and thank her before she coyly smiles and rushes over to another patron. I continue admiring Todd’s handiwork on getting people to agree to come to the gallery.

  The last post I find is my centerpiece photo of him. I enlarge it because I don’t think I could ever get enough of it. I search for his comments on the side. Not seeing his first one, I read the women’s.

  They range from ‘Aww’ to ‘No’ to ‘Me?’

  Not really understanding what these women are referring to, I read his caption to the photo.

  The words scroll past my eyes for my brain to process, and my whole body numbs. I doubt I could move a finger if I tried. There, on his Facebook page, Todd has declared his feelings.

  When I found the woman I’m meant to love.

  Swallowing to hydrate my dry throat, I faintly hear the metal doors rub together, and a shadow outlines the counter in front of me.

  “Noodle,” Todd says softly, placing the dishes in front of me.

  Slowly, I raise my head and find his blue eyes. It’s one of those ding, ding, ding moments in my life, the one where everything feels right, as though all the balls are in my hands after finishing a juggling tournament. The problem is, usually, someone smashes into me, they fly back out of my hands within five minutes, and then I’m left scrambling once again to keep everything from falling.

  My eyes dart to the plate in front of me, and I quickly tuck my phone away into my back pocket. “It . . . it looks delicious,” I stutter out, trying to calm my body heat down.

  If he hasn’t noticed my pink cheeks, he would have to be blind because the intense heat currently traveling down toward my neck tells me that I most likely match the tomato in my omelet.

  “You okay?”

  I nod, grabbing my ice water to not only cool me down, but to also keep my mouth occupied before I climb over this countertop and grant my lips their wish to devour his.

  “They let me make the omelet for you.”

  He points down, and I nod again, confirming I see it. The straw rests in my mouth while the condensation of the cup wets my palm. He takes the cup from my hand and places it on the counter. My teeth instantly bite down on my bottom lip.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  I shake my head this time, trying to compose myself.

  Sliding through the opening, he takes the stool next to me and swivels himself around to face me before turning my own round seat his way. His legs rest on either side of my own, and his hands find my hips, slightly pulling me toward him. His touch is like an electric shock, no matter where or even if clothing is a barrier. A sharp twinge excites me.

  “I have something to tell you,” he says.

  My stomach twists.

  “I bought the diner,” he reveals.

  My eyes bulge. “You did?”

  The smile that’s glowing in his eyes and flooding his whole face quickly becomes contagious.

  “That’s wonderful.” I’m happy that Todd bought it, but at the same time, I fear he should be somewhere more . . . elite.

  “I know it’s not CHOPs, or any other restaurant that lines downtown. There won’t be reservations booked for two months in advance, and celebrities won’t be rumored to eat here—yet. But it will be mine. I’ll run it how I want.”

  He swivels me around, and I giggle.

  “I think it’s great, Todd.”

  I lean over and kiss him. My lips linger a little too long on his clean-shaven face. His hands come up and rest on my hips, moving up and down in a soothing motion.

  “I’m going to switch some things up, though. I start renovations November sixth. Locally grown, fresh items made daily.” He glances down at the omelet and back to me. “Sorry, I’m not there yet.”

  “Hey, this is my favorite omelet made by my favorite person.” I turn my attention back to my plate and fork a bite. “Mmm . . . just as I remember.”

  We sit for another hour, and Todd fills me in on his plans and how he’s been talking to Gus for the past few weeks. He was able to get a loan from the bank, but he’ll be doing a lot of the renovations himself.

  “I have a question.”

  “What?” I feed him a bite of hash browns.

  He finishes chewing. “Your grandma gave me the sauce recipe. I talked to her about buying Gus’s in the kitchen that day when Davis came, and she taught me how to make the sauce.”

  “Seriously? I don’t even know how to make it yet.”

  I’m slightly offended, but I know Todd wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “I could cook it for the restaurant, but I’d feel weird doing it. She’s not my grandma.”

  “Yes, she gave it to you to use, baby. But you do what you feel is right.”

  He cuts a forkful of omelet and places the fork at my lips. “We’ll see. I just wanted to let you know. I felt like I was keeping a secret from you.”

  “Thank you.” I stand and hug him in my arms. “I’m one lucky girl to have you.”

  “I’m luckier.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Amelia

  I throw myself on the couch for a short nap before Tati returns from work. Bette let me go early in order to pretty myself up for tomorrow. Seriously, what is wrong with her?

  Todd has to work late tonight, but luckily, Shawn allowed him to have tomorrow night off.

  Todd is continuing to work at CHOPs until Davis returns. He can’t afford to have Davis on his bad side. I’m not sure how Davis will feel if he ever finds out that Todd and I are dating, but hopefully, he wouldn’t take it out on Todd. It’s not like Davis has ever called to sweet-talk me.

  I’m crossing my fingers that the showcase tomorrow night pays big, especially since I’ll be done with CHOPs in a week and a half. I gave my notice to Shawn. The rumor mill is pouring like lava lately. God only knows what the gossipers are saying about me.

  My eyes droop, and I’m a second away from slumber. A key inserts into the lock, and my head falls to the side in defeat.

  “Lia!” Tati screams.

  “Yes?” I mumble.

  An envelope lands on my chest, and my eyes spring open.

  A second later, Tati’s butt is on the coffee table in front of my face.
“Open it.”

  I sit up, and the envelope falls to my lap. Tati picks it up and holds it in front of my face.

  A bold black script reads Tracker’s Gallery on the top left. My stomach fills with buckets of butterflies.

  “Why would they be sending me anything?”

  The ad clearly stated not to turn in an application unless you had the money, which I don’t, so I didn’t.

  “Rip it open and see.” Her eyes bulge out of her head, and she bounces in her seat.

  I slowly tear the side of the envelope and inhale a deep breath to fill my lungs. “One piece of paper.” Disappointment wraps around me like a mummy.

  My fingers tremble as I pull it out and unfold it in my hands. My name and address are printed there, and the first word is, ‘Congratulations’.

  Whoa, what?

  I silently read the rest to myself while Tati’s feet tap on the hardwood floor of our apartment.

  “What? What does it say?”

  The letter falls from my hands, and I pull my legs up to my chest. One tear is followed by two streaming down my face.

  Tati grabs the letter, and she jumps to her feet. “Congratulations!”

  She yanks at my hands and pulls me up. We circle around, jumping up and down.

  Tati screams. “You did it!”

  “I didn’t.”

  We stop, and she locks eyes with me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t have the money.”

  She grabs the letter and points to the line. “It says you’re paid up for two months.”

  “I know. I read it. I’m afraid they have me mixed up with someone else.” I plop down on the couch in the same position I was in before Tati pulled me up.

  “Well then, let’s see.” She pulls out her phone, and her eyes ping from the sheet to the screen.

  “Don’t call them.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” She stands, and all I hear is, “Hello, this is Amelia Fiore.”

  The tears build in my eyes. If only it were true and I had earned enough money at CHOPs, rather than dating Davis . . .

  I can’t complain too much. Having a relationship with Todd came out of me working at CHOPs, and he’s the best thing to happen in my life in ages.