by Lauren Runow
I start by painting my toenails while the callus treatment is on my feet. I didn’t ask why this was important. Maybe Abby has a foot fetish I didn’t know about. Maybe Bryce does.
Oh dear …
I wash my face with my favorite cream-based cleanser and apply a cold gel facial mask to reduce the puffiness from my earlier tears. When my bath is filled, I drop in the bomb and climb in. The tub is pretty shallow, so my knees stick up, but the water is extra hot to calm my nerves. I exfoliate, shave, and hop out of the tub to oil down my body, making sure not to slip on the tiles while I exit.
My makeup is natural-looking. It’s funny how much makeup I apply to make it look like I’m not wearing any at all. I brush on lip gloss and spray a subtle perfume. After I blow out my hair, I slide on a matching bra and panty set under my skinny jeans and a floral top.
I’m brushing out my hair when there’s a knock at the door.
“I’ll be right there,” I call out as I walk out of the bathroom, quickly giving myself a once-over in the hallway closet mirror before opening the front door.
All those nerves that simmered away during the hot bath boil back up.
In front of me stands the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, holding one single rose.
Almost every time I’ve seen Bryce, he’s been in his suit or some variation with his dress shirt, but it’s when he’s casual is when I find him the most attractive.
He’s wearing dark designer jeans with a slim-fitting polo shirt that hugs his chest and arms in all the right places, and dark sunglasses hang from the top button of his shirt making him look his age. If I didn’t know him better, I would say before me stands a thirty-year-old man who is still finding his way in life, not the media mogul he is.
Bryce the business man, or Bryce the laid-back guy? I’m torn by what I find sexier.
I drop my hands to my sides, speechless for the first time ever.
“How many times have you cried today?” he asks.
“You mean before or after he left?”
“I bet you cry every time he leaves with his grandparents.” He takes a step forward and places a soft kiss on my cheek. “Because you’re a great mom, and Charlie is your life.”
The way he says it melts my heart. Charlie is my life, and knowing that he not only knows that, but also understands it means the world to me.
“You’re good,” I say with a pointed finger, reminiscent of the first time we met. “I bet you know how to swoon all the girls with your magic words.”
His hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me in and whispers into my ear, “There’s only one woman I want, and she’s all mine for the next four days.”
He kisses my neck and then my clavicle, making me shiver from my breasts down to my core.
I take the rose from him. “Come in. I’m almost ready.”
When I see his eyes roam my kitchen table and land right on the silky lavender nightie, I lean over, quickly grab it, and scuttle down the hallway.
After I’m behind the open door of my closet and out of eyeshot of Bryce, I gently fold it and place it inside my bag.
This just might come in handy.
As we drive alongside the lake, we pass the gorgeous homes that sit on the water, each one more magnificent than the other with their peaked roofs and luxury log-cabin designs. Having never been to Bryce’s home or office—heck, the only place we’ve ever been out together is Starbucks and a Boy Scouts meeting—we’re never alone. I have no idea what to expect. What I can tell you is, I was not expecting the place we’ve just parked in front of.
Tucked up a long road with houses on either side sits a small home with horizontal wood paneling and an oversize stone ledge along the base. There’s no fancy gate or exquisite entryway. The front windows are narrow in size, similar to that of older homes. The two-car garage door lifts open, and Bryce pulls his Tesla in alongside a snow blower. The right side of the garage is lined with sleds that are hanging from hooks in the Sheetrock.
Bryce turns off the car and glances at me. “We can put our things away and maybe go grab a bite to eat.”
The way he’s being so nonchalant about me being here, or the fact that I don’t know what our sleeping arrangements will be, does nothing to calm my nerves.
“Okay,” I say with a shy smile. I step out of the car and meet Bryce at the trunk. I lean in to grab my bag.
“Here, let me,” Bryce says, reaching for it and then his before shutting the trunk. “Ladies first.” He motions for me to walk ahead of him.
We get to the door leading into the house, and he leans in front of me, opening it and pushing it forward for me to enter.
While the home is old, it has clearly been remodeled. The floor is a shiny oak, and the kitchen features are modern with oak cabinetry and black granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The low ceilings are lined with beams, making it feel even smaller, but the recessed lighting provides so much light that it feels big at the same time. While many of the finishes are new, I can still feel the old soul of the home echoing from the foundation.
My eyes wander to the walls where family photos line the hallways, shelves and mantel. There are many in black-and-white, old prints of family long gone. Others have that muted coloring that was standard from Kodak disposable cameras of the eighties and nineties. One in particular catches my eye, and when I get closer, a smile graces my face.
The photo is of three little boys wrapped in their mother’s arms at a beach. The oldest has thick, dark hair and matching eyes. He’s sitting up straight and looking back at the camera with a closed-mouth grin and crossed arms. The middle boy is making a silly face. His hair is flopping in front of his face, covering one of his blue eyes. The youngest is a fair-haired toddler tucked into his mother’s side. The woman has blonde hair and a joyous smile, probably having one of the best days of her life.
His mom looks so proud of her boys. I can’t help the slight giggle that escapes my lips at the three boys who obviously want the picture taken quickly, so they can get back to building their half-finished sand castle.
I’ve had those exact moments with Charlie where he’s so intent on finishing his project, but all I want is to take a photo to capture the moment.
Bryce walks up behind me, sending tingles through my body at his close proximity. I can see his reflection in the glass of the picture frame. He’s obviously the older boy in the picture, minus the tiny freckles that were once on his nose.
He reaches for the photo and holds it up to examine it closer. I turn to see the smile on his face and have to pause. He looks so at peace, more so than I’ve ever seen him.
“This was taken on our first trip after we bought this place. Mom was so happy to finally have a place in Tahoe. She said it was always her dream. I guess I didn’t understand just how cool it was at the time. We just wanted to play in the sand.” He laughs. “That was before things expanded, and she only had the magazine.”
“This same place?” I ask.
He looks around and nods. “It’s been in the family since I was ten. Dad wanted to sell it after she passed, so I bought it from him. I’ve only been here once though. The neighbors have been taking care of it. It’s kind of silly, letting it just sit here, but I couldn’t handle the thought of getting rid of it. It was Mom’s favorite place.”
My eyes meet his, and something in me shifts as I look at the tired expression around his eyes. There’s no phone in his hand right now, and his shoulders are visibly relaxed. His breathing is deep, and his lips are slightly parted.
We’ve only been here a few minutes, and I can already see the change in him. It’s a look I’ve seen when he’s sitting on my couch, watching television with Charlie, or at my sink, washing dishes. If I blink, it will pass, and the straight facade that he keeps will be put back in its place. But, if I pay close attention, I will see the side of Bryce that is only visible if I’m truly looking.
Contentment.
Bryce is beautifully content i
n this moment.
The fact that he is staring at me while being in this complete state of Zen is something that both excites and terrifies me at the same time.
I look to the back of the room and notice the sliding glass door leading to an outdoor area that’s set up with a firepit and chairs. The idea of sitting around, doing nothing and having no worries of dinner or bedtime, sounds like the perfect night.
“Are you hungry now, or would you like to put your stuff away first?” he asks.
“Is there any way we can order in? I see a lounge chair outside that’s calling my name,” I say, nodding my head to backyard.
He lets out a breath; his grin is so sincere, so perfect. “Yeah, we can do that.” He leans in and kisses my forehead, holding me closely with his arms before walking away and reaching for his phone. “What sounds good?”
“What can be delivered?”
He laughs. “No clue. Pizza?” He shrugs. “Isn’t that something that can always be delivered?”
I chuckle. “Then, pizza it is.”
He types away on his phone, looking for the right place to order from.
I spent so much time pushing this man away, yet I’ve never felt more comfortable being alone with someone. We are so different yet so alike. We both know what it’s like to lose our dreams but know that what we’re doing now is even more important, and we both lead these crazy, hectic lives, just in different ways.
Where my life is insane with little-boy tantrums, cooking dinner, and making sure I have enough money to pay rent, his life is full of business meetings, stressful deals, and making deadlines.
One thing is the same though; we’re both exhausted. Exhausted from life. Exhausted from having to be an adult. Maybe Abby is right. Tonight, I want to just be. Be the girl who’s falling for a really sexy guy and enjoy the picturesque scenery surrounding us with no thoughts, no stresses, just us.
“I’m going to go change,” I whisper as he places the call.
I grab my bag and open a door off the living room. When I see it’s a coat closet, I spin around and look at Bryce, who is nodding toward the kitchen.
The smile he gives me as he tells the man on the phone what he wants while simultaneously finding comedy in my near miss sends chills up my spine. He’s so handsome. When he smiles like that, it’s so damn sexy, and he doesn’t even try. Just a simple nod makes my heart pitter-patter.
On the other side of the kitchen is a small hallway that leads to a bedroom. The room has a queen-size bed with a massive wood headboard. I lift my small suitcase onto the bed, which is the highest bed I’ve ever seen, and unzip it, flipping open the top, searching for my pajamas—yes, the Hugh Hefner kind. As I take off my top, I toy with the idea of removing my bra but decide against it. I don’t want to come off too strong—at least, not yet.
When I slide my feet into my slippers, I head back to where Bryce is standing in the kitchen, opening a bottle of wine. As he pops open the top, his eyes roam me up and down, and a small smile grows on his face.
“I hope this is okay,” I say, looking down at my outfit, not sure if I made the right choice. “I just …” I pause to look outside. “Doing nothing in my comfys sounds like the perfect night.”
“Your comfys?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “My jammies.”
“Jammies,” he says with a smile as he pulls out the cork.
I ignore his humor at my words. “You can put yours on, too. Get cozy.”
He grabs a glass and pours. “What if I told you I slept in the nude?”
My cheeks heat up, and I haven’t even started on the wine yet.
Bryce lets out a deep chuckle as he hands me my glass. “Go ahead and step outside. I’ll change and join you in just a second.” He walks into the living room to grab his bag and into a bedroom on the other side of the house.
I don’t know if I should be relieved or concerned that he’s given us separate bedrooms. My mother says a man shouldn’t expect sex just because he’s bought a woman a meal. The thought that there are no presumptions is kinda sexy.
I take my glass and head out the back door. As I step outside, I stop and inhale a deep breath. The air is cleaner than I’ve ever experienced. Nothing but pine trees, forest, and earth meet my senses. The air in San Francisco is anything but this. This is pure, clean oxygen.
The tall trees that surround his property seem to be endless behind us as the landscape climbs up a steep hill. The late summer sunset casts a red-and-orange hue in the sky. I don’t hear cars, sirens, or even people. Everything is still, except this whistling up high. I look up and see nothing that sound could be coming from.
Bryce slides the door open, and when I turn around, the vision of a gorgeous man dressed in a plain white tee with plaid pajama pants makes me happier than I ever imagined seeing him would.
This is Bryce. Not the media mogul. Not the man who feels like he has the world on his shoulders.
That look of content is still on his face. I bet it matches my own.
He sets his glass down on the table and takes mine, also setting it down on the table. He sidles up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, tightly holding me. I drop my head to his chest, letting him caress me in his arms as we stand in silence.
I can feel his breath rise up through his chest as he slowly releases more than just the air from his lungs. As every second passes, his grip on me gets more relaxed and his body less rigid.
“I forgot how much I loved it back here,” he says barely above a whisper so as not to ruin the quietness surrounding us.
“It’s breathtaking. Definitely not something I’ve ever seen in the city or Berkeley. What’s that slight whistling sound?”
He points up at the sky. “It’s the wind running through the tops of the trees.”
I look up in awe. “Wow. That’s beautiful. So peaceful.”
“My mom used to call it nature’s music.”
I lean my head back against his chest again, gripping his arms around me tighter. “I love that.”
The sun falls behind the mountains, painting the most amazing hues of blue, pink, and purple across the sky. “I could get used to this,” I sigh, nestling into him more.
“The scenery or me?” he asks, softly kissing my cheek.
“Both,” I say, turning my head to see him.
His lips lightly brush against mine, holding them there for a breath as I melt into him.
“Here, let’s sit and relax a bit,” he says, motioning toward the lounge chairs.
I reach for my glass and sit on the corner. To my dismay, Bryce sits on the opposite edge, but before I can say anything, he reaches for my legs, propping them on his knees, and starts to rub my feet.
“Now, you’re just spoiling me,” I tease.
“Maybe you deserve to be taken care of for once. This time here is for you. I have no idea how you do it. I was exhausted after a few hours of Boy Scouts, yet you do that every day.”
I shrug, trying to blow off how hard parenting really is. “You just get used to it, I guess. I should check on him.”
“You called him twice on the ride here. Give the Mason’s a chance. You said they’re good with him. Try to relax and enjoy the time with me.”
Not worrying about Charlie is a foreign concept to me. “That’s a bit hypocritical considering how much I know you’re dying to call the office right now.”
He groans. “I’m wary about leaving Austin in charge. I planned on working tonight to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Give him space. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
He grins with a shrug as he concedes. “Deal. We both agree to live in a bubble and let the world exist without us.”
Now it’s my turn to groan. “Let’s just hope it’s still turning when we return.”
He laughs. “Charlie’s going to be fine. He’s having a blast, unless there’s a side to him I haven’t seen. Is he secretly a spoiled, trantrum-throwing little boy?”
“You’ve
pretty much seen what there is to know. He’s an active, lively, silly, amazing little boy.” I smile as the image of his face flashes through my mind. “I love him more than anything. Our life isn’t the easiest, but he makes it all worth it.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Tell me about you.”
“Without a Truth or Dare question attached?” I tease, making him laugh out loud.
“No Truth or Dare question. Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
My life isn’t an open book. Not that I’m hiding anything. I just don’t have many people in my life to talk to. Abby has been a great friend, and my mom is my closest confidant. Still, there are some things I don’t talk to her about.
“I found my birth father two years ago.”
“Wow. That must have been a difficult decision to make.”
I sigh, looking down to the ground. It was something I had been thinking about doing most of my life. “He was a sperm donor, so I didn’t have any feelings of neglect, and I wasn’t looking for comfort from abandonment. One day, I was thinking about Charlie and Ashton, and I wondered if it was better to know that I didn’t have a dad at all or to be in Charlie’s shoes and at least know who he was.”
“Was it hard to find him? I thought that was all confidential.”
“It used to be, but I read about people who had found their donor fathers through those DNA tests everyone’s doing now. I did it, and—surprise—it turns out, he had, too. They have services that hook people up through adoption processes, and they do for donors. I put it out there that I’d like to meet him and gave the service my number. Within a few months, he called.”
His eyes open wide. “That must have been wild to have him call like that.”
“It was.” I laugh lightly. “We spoke for about a half hour. He told me he had three kids of his own. The oldest being seven years younger than me. I didn’t really want to know how many other kids he had. I’m not sure how I feel about having siblings. He was really nice and offered to meet.”
“Did you?”
I shake my head. “I decided against it. My mom’s done so much for me. I don’t need to have that other side in my life. It’s not like he’s my real father. He doesn’t know my mom; he’s never even seen her. He didn’t walk out on us or give me up for adoption. He was a student, trying to make it through college, and they paid for him to donate. He did a favor to my mom, and I’m forever grateful. I think it’s best to leave it at that.”