by Susan Ward
I fantasize about him, his hands on my body, his limbs around mine, and my back against his chest. His lips on my neck doing those light touches and nips. His fingers kneading my breasts. My heartbeat accelerates. In a week, he’s got me there again, wanting him more than any other man I’ve known.
When we’re together it feels so right.
I wish he were here.
This is heavenly.
I PUT ON YESTERDAY’S panties and bra but decide to forgo the Versace. Rummaging through Eric’s things, I find freshly laundered running clothes wrapped in tissue with a shiny El Encanto sticker on it. Holy shit, housekeeping even pressed them.
That leaves only remedying my shoeless feet. Four-inch heels with jogging pants aren’t going to work. I can call down to the front desk and have someone buy me a pair of cheap shoes. They must have sneakers or flip-flops that aren’t too grossly expensive in the gift shop. Every hotel has those, right?
His sweatpants are baggy on me and the sleeves of his t-shirt rather long. I fold the cuffs. They don’t look too bad. Not with my hair twisted into a bun atop my head. It’s better than strutting through the lobby in yesterday’s dress, looking like a woman who hooked up with the resident rock star last night while here.
Groaning, I remember our picture was caught by the Seattle press. I wonder if I dare even to look at the newspaper today. Not that I do that often, but I’m skipping the newsstand after we leave the hotel.
Inside the bedroom, I see that Eric’s not returned and he’s been gone another hour since I woke. What’s keeping him? It was fun waking up here, but that’s dimmed. Every new extravagant discovery in this room reminds me how different we are. The bridge between who we are seems even more insurmountable than when I thought he was a penniless street musician. It no longer surprises me that seven years ago I got my heart broken by him. That he moved on. He had something better than what we had together somewhere else.
What’s surprising is he came back to Seattle…for me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eric
THE NA MEETING ENDS, WE leave the church, and head out to the sidewalk. It’s a beautiful, clear blue morning. I glance up at the cloudless sky, smiling, even if I would have preferred not to have been hit up by Hank early in the a.m. with his haul your ass out of bed, we’re doing a meeting today text.
My first impulse since Willow was curled beside me sleeping was to brush it off, then I thought better of it. Any way you slice and dice it, a lot happened yesterday, and it doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad—and it was better than good, it was epic—it’d be foolish to make it 363 days sober and trip up now because my life is going in the direction I want and I’m happy.
Walking down the street with Hank, the two of us not saying shit, the way we sometimes are after a meeting, I sense it was the smart move that I hopped out of bed and went to the Capitol Hill Rec Center with him. Hank has a quiet kind of strength that’s often made me wonder how come he relapses every few years.
It doesn’t fit with the man I’ve come to know. Steady, grounded, down-to-earth, and a no-shit, no-nonsense straight talker. In fact, he’s never really seemed like an addict to me, which is a dumb thought because addicts are no one type.
“You got time for a cup of joe this morning?” Hank asks, and I look down the street, startled out of my thoughts. We’re going toward Mel’s Tavern in the block where Boomer’s Java Hut is located.
I sort of want to take one last look around in the apartment, make sure everything is as I want it before I show it to Willow, then rush home to my woman and surprise her.
I can feel my dopey smile as I imagine Willow’s reaction over what Ethan and I did to her dad’s place, even as I shrug. “Sure, I’ve got a little time.”
“In two days we hit one year. That was supposed to be your exit home back to LA. Something tells me that’s changed. I’m concerned you may not have fully thought out what deciding to stay here longer might mean to your recovery.”
“Sounds serious, Hank.”
“You’ve got a little girl in LA and a woman in Seattle. It isn’t good to try to juggle too many balls too soon.”
I shrug. “I’m not trying to juggle anything. Things in my life are coming together. I’m seeing one picture here, not two. Hana’s going to love Willow.”
“I don’t doubt it. She sounds like an amazing woman. But what if she doesn’t want to leave Seattle? What if she sees a different picture? What will you do then?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. “Make it work, however I can. Whatever it takes to be with Willow, that’s what I do.”
“Schedules and routines, EJ. That’s always got to come first. Passing the one-year sober mark doesn’t mean your addiction isn’t something you’re going to live with the rest of your life. I’m concerned you’re setting yourself up for disappointment, and that’s not good.”
“Disappointment?” I frown. “I told you I’m committed to making this work. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”
Hank scrunches up his mouth. “Maybe not. But we’ve still got a few things I want to talk through with you.”
My brows shoot up. I haven’t a clue what’s left to be said. I got the warning about relationships. Not exactly a new one from Hank.
I rub my chin and study him. “Hey, you’re not planning to have one of those dude-breakup talks with me inside the Java Hut, are you?”
Hank laughs as he shakes his head at me. “Christ, if I were I wouldn’t tell you before I got you to the table. Credit me with being a little smooth. I can feel you’re going to make a scene like a chick when the day comes to say goodbye to me.”
I smirk at him. “That’s because you’re such a catch.”
“Fuck you. I may not be as pretty as you, but there’s something to be said about being wiser.”
We’re both laughing as he pulls back the door and I follow him inside. There’s no line at the register. We place our orders, I pay—as always—and we wait at the counter for cups.
I glance over my shoulder and scan the room. It seems prudent to sit out of earshot of other customers if Hank’s going to talk about anything I might not want overheard, because I’m sure there’s more to come after our sidewalk convo. Though, after being recognized at Jade’s party last night, my EJ ruse is probably in the crapper or soon will be. Precious and fading are my minutes of being a nobody, even in Capitol Hill.
Damn, it’s going to complicate my relationship with Willow. The bullshit always does. Another wrinkle I’ve got to think through.
There are plenty of vacant tables and I dismiss the worry of letting Hank flap his gums about whatever he wants to talk to me about. It’s Sunday morning and the coffeehouse is nearly empty. When it’s not a workday, the neighborhood doesn’t come to life until afternoon. I like that I know these things about Willow’s neighborhood; hell, I like every detail I know about Willow no matter how small it is.
God, she looks so sexy asleep in my bed…
“Why the fuck are you grinning?” Hank asks.
I grab my coffee from the barista. “I had a good night. What can I say?”
“Yeah, I bet you had a good night,” he taunts. “Don’t want to hear about it. Have a heart.”
“Wasn’t going to tell you anything anyway.”
“Did you see the papers today?” he says, stirring enough sugar in his coffee to put a normal person into diabetic shock.
“No, I didn’t see them. But I can imagine what’s in them, Hank.”
“You’re back on the grid, EJ. In a big way. A whole lot of pressure is going to be coming your direction soon.” He pulls back a chair at a table and sinks down. “Have you thought about how you’re going to handle that?”
“How anyone does. I’m just going to live my life. Keep moving forward. What else can I do?”
His chin bobs. “I’m thinking you might want to have someone out there watching your back.”
I�
�m frowning. “I’m not following.”
“If the offer still stands and you’ll let me squat with you a while longer, I think I’m going to stay put in Seattle.” He reaches for another sugar packet. “You should have some personal security while you’re here.”
Half my mouthful of coffee spits back into my cup. My jaw drops, dumbfounded. Did Hank just offer his services as a fucking bodyguard? Did he just hit me up for a job?
My gaze runs from his expectant expression down his tall lanky body and back up to his partially balding salt-and-pepper hair. The guy’s gotta be pushing sixty, not that I’ve asked him, and isn’t exactly buff.
Hank as my bodyguard?
He’s a chill dude—but.
I fight not to laugh. “If you want to keep hanging with me until I head for home I’ve got no objection. But the rest of it, no way. Fuck, we’re in Capitol Hill and I’m a has-been. Nobody gives a shit about me anymore and I couldn’t be happier. But you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you want, Hank. Just no Rambo shit or guns or anything. Friends. That’s it.”
He doesn’t look disappointed that I brushed aside his offer. In fact, he looks pleased and amused.
“Good, it’s settled then, EJ. I’m staying with you until you leave Seattle.”
AFTER MAKING A FAST stop in Willow’s apartment, we catch a taxi back to the El Encanto. My phone trills.
Willow: Thank you for leaving breakfast. I took a bath in your big fancy tub. But I’ve run out of things to do and snoop in. You didn’t forget me, did you? It’s lonely here.
Her text makes me grin and imagine her lying in the bath, thinking of me. Hell, I’ve been with Hank all morning and I couldn’t drive my thoughts of her from my head, not for a second.
Me: Went to a meeting. On my way back. You ready to go? I’ve got a surprise for you.
Willow: Sort of. As ready as I can be.
Me: ???
Willow: Nothing It will be self-explanatory when you get here.
Me: You’ve got my imagination running wild. I didn’t tear your dress when I ripped it off you last night, did I? If all you have on is your panties and bra, I should warn you I’m taking you right back to bed. You’ll miss your surprise today.
I wait for her reply, hoping for something flirty, even though I’m more than a little excited to have her see what I did to her dad’s apartment.
Willow: Is it too late to point out that I don’t think I can take two surprises from you in one weekend? I’m still not over the shock of you showing up at Jade’s anniversary party.
Darn, not flirty, but it’s not like I need anything to fuel my nasty thoughts. Probably for the best. Don’t want to get sidetracked again today. I really do want to take her to the apartment. Have that chapter of us resolved so we can move forward being happy together.
Me: Much too late. I like surprising you. See ya in ten.
I switch off my phone and shove it in my pocket. Even after Hank’s clumsy man-to-man chat about how I need to slow down, it finally feels like everything’s come together for me. It’s new, feeling this hopeful and happy. Feeling like there’s nothing but blue skies ahead. Finishing my amends, winning back Willow, and returning home with her like I wanted to seven years ago.
I allow myself a brief fantasy about what that will be like having her be the woman in my life. All the things I want to show her. I can show her the world. We can go and do anything.
I can feel Hank staring at me. “It’s probably too late to remind you that it’s better to take one day at a time with her, move slowly and not forge ahead, isn’t it?” he asks.
I keep my face turned toward the window so he can’t see me smiling.
ONCE WE’RE IN MY suite, Hank ambles down the hallway toward his bedroom. The guy does know how to be discreet. Noisy, well-intentioned, but thankfully he knows when I want him to disappear.
I wait to hear his door click closed then I go to my room, looking for my girl. When she sees me, Willow stands up. No makeup, hair in a knot atop her head, wearing my baggy clothes, and she makes me breathless.
“I look ridiculous, don’t I? It was either this or my party dress which I feared would look even worse in the daytime.”
I cover my heart and lean against the doorframe as if I need support. “You’re stunning. I won’t ever be able to wear those clothes again without getting an erection.”
She purses her lips—amused, I think. “Then I should probably keep them. Don’t want you roaming the streets of Seattle with a boner.”
I laugh. “Good call.”
She nods, and I scoop her into my arms to give her a firm squeeze before I kiss her. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. Hank wanted to go to a meeting this morning, and I try to go almost every day. I’d have much rather woken up with you. But cheating my commitment to my sobriety isn’t in the best interest of either of us. I don’t want to screw up us by getting lazy over meetings and things.”
“I understand.” She gives me a reassuring smile.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Depends. You’re not taking me where there are going to be people, are you? The only sneakers I could afford in the gift shop were these hideous powder-blue things with the picture of the Space Needle on them.”
I grimace. “I probably should have woken you up when I left so I could drop you at your house to change, since I’m planning to keep you for the day.”
“The day, huh? Sounds mysterious. And presumptuous. I may not even be free for the day.”
“You are. You work on Sundays. I stopped by Mel’s before I came back. Ivy’s covering your shift. Which means I can have my way with you.”
Her eyes widen. “Don’t know if I like the sound of that. Are you going to tell me what we’re doing today?”
I shake my head.
She tilts her head. Where are you taking me?
I lift my shoulders. Not telling.
She rolls her eyes and I clasp her hand.
“No people. I promise. But I think those Seattle kicks rock my running gear. Really finishes off the outfit. I can take you pretty much anywhere dressed like that.”
She chokes back a laugh and gives me an oh, Eric stare.
We’re almost to the door.
She pulls her hand free. “Hold on. I forgot something.”
She hurries toward a chair.
I see a hotel laundry bag.
Seeing her packed up bugs me. True, it’s only her clothes from last night and she’s not living with me—not yet—but knowing she had that ready to go implies she’s not coming back here with me later.
I USE MY VIP hotel card inside the elevator to go to the private level of the parking garage. Willow’s eyes widen as she scans the neat row of parked shiny and expensive toys.
“Which one is yours?” she asks.
“None of them. They’re Simone’s, the owner of the hotel. He lends me wheels when I need them.”
I reach into the key box. When I turn back around, her arms are crossed and she’s staring at me.
“You know the owner of the hotel?” she asks stiffly.
OK, why am I in trouble? “Yeah. Old family friend. I’ve known him since I was a kid.”
She makes a face. “You could have told me that seven years ago during our first date on the rooftop. I was really nervous we’d get busted and in trouble, Eric.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think of it. All I could think of at the time was you.” I grin wickedly, savoring the memory.
“And all I could think of at the time was getting arrested and how I’d explain that to Dad and Jade.”
I pout. “Not all the time. I’m sure there were a few minutes you were too busy to…”
She playfully slaps my arm, and I curl away as if taking cover, laughing. “You’re such a conceited jerk. I was really worried, even when we were doing things. I couldn’t fully relax. It could have been so much more if you’d explaine
d to me we weren’t going to get in trouble being up there.”
“Whoa. You mean it would have been even better if I’d told you I know Simone? Damn.”
She sticks out her tongue at me. God, she’s beautiful.
I open the passenger door on a convertible Aston Martin and she drops down on the seat, clutching her laundry bag against her stomach and trying to maintain the charade she’s annoyed with me.
I settle behind the steering wheel, adjust the mirrors, and start the engine. It’s been a while since I’ve driven a sports car, but damn, it feels as good as I remember. It feels even better having all that luscious woman in the seat beside me.
We’re weaving our way through city blocks before I realize that Willow hasn’t said anything. I peek at her out of the corner of my eye. “You’re not really mad at me, are you?”
She lifts her nose. “What do you think?”
“A little mad,” I concede, then smirk. “But mostly charmed.”
She laughs, then groans and lays her head on my shoulder. “I could never stay mad at you, not even when I should.”
My brows crinkle. “Were there other things you were mad at me for back then?”
“Do you want the list?”
Is she being playful? I look at her. I can’t tell.
“Oh, there’s a list. Bring it on, baby.”
“How lazy you are, for one.”
“I’m not a slacker.”
She lifts her brows.
“Well, not anymore.” I think of her apartment and smile to myself. “What else?”
“How private you are.”
“I’m not secretive anymore. For you, I’m an open book.”
“Oh really!” she announces. “Then how come you never tell me where you’re taking me?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
I pull to a stop at a traffic light. “Before I answer, can I ask you one thing?”
“Sure. I’m not secretive like you.”