by Q. T. Ruby
He nods and remains quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to come with you there? Maybe if they meet me—”
“No, not yet. I think if you meet them now, with everything so raw, they’ll just blame you instead of seeing you for who you really are.”
“And who would that be?”
“A takeout-loving guy who corrupts their daughter’s healthy eating habits by feeding her Lucky Charms first thing in the morning.”
He snorts. “Such a smartarse.”
I put my bowl on the nightstand, lean forward, and press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”
“For what? I did noth—”
I shake my head and quiet him with my finger to his lips. “Thank you for everything—for not only being my boyfriend, but for being my friend, and most of all, for loving me even when I was an arse.”
“It’s ass,” he says in an American accent.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, and then I pull back. “Okay, that’s enough. I have to get ready. House rule number seven is you can’t get your girlfriend all riled up before a big meeting.”
He glances at the clock. “Well, it’s a quarter to ten now, and it takes about twenty minutes to get there, so I’d say we have enough time for only one shower.”
I smile. “One shower?”
“House rule number two, remember?” He melts me with that smirk of his.
“If you can beat me to the shower, then one shower it is.”
“All right,” Dan agrees, standing.
“But wait—before we go, can you hand me my shirt from the chair over there?”
As Dan turns to get it, I slide out of bed and yell, “Race ya!” before bolting to the bathroom.
“Cheat!” I hear him yell behind me.
After a shower that complies with house rule number two, we get in the car. Although I’m exhausted in so many wonderful ways, I still find myself wired and jittery. My knee bounces, I bite my lip, and I can’t stop picking at my nails.
Dan’s hand stops my knee. “You’re going to be just fine.”
I nod and focus on my breathing. I’m as nervous for this meeting as I am excited and hopeful for what my future holds. I’m confident that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay. After all I’ve experienced and learned, I’m still standing and in far better shape than I could have imagined.
We pull into the building’s lot and park.
“Ready?” Dan asks, pulling his baseball hat down as far over his eyes as it’ll go.
All I can do is nod.
We walk toward the main entrance of the building without holding hands, like friends as we discussed. He holds the door open for me.
“Hi. Claire Parelli to see David Schulman?” I say to the receptionist while Dan hangs back.
She calls someone and then says, “Mr. Schulman is ready to see you on the eleventh floor. The elevator is that way, on the right.”
I nod. Dan and I walk to the elevators in silence since my heart is wedged in my throat.
The doors open and we step aboard, alone.
As the elevator ascends, Dan grabs my hand and kisses it. “I’m having a bit of déjà vu, my love.”
I laugh, letting some of the nerves go. “Thank you for being here today. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says, winking.
The doors open.
I breathe deeply, steeling myself.
Dan smiles proudly and whispers, “You’re on your way, my love. Good luck.”
I smile back, realizing that it was never a matter of luck, just a matter of trust.
Acknowledgements
It’s easy to let life pass
Without lifting a finger
To let the hours wash over you
To let yourself linger
But when a passion ignites
And your family and friends stoke the fire
You realize life could be so much more
And their encouragement can take you higher
To my husband who’s helped erase years of self-doubt
To my kids who remind me what life’s really about
To my early betas and friends who said I just needed to be me
To The Bunker ladies who’ve cheered me on with a squee
To those who’ve helped me polish this rough stone
To those whose company has never left me alone
To my author friends who’ve lit the way
To my family, friends, readers, and bloggers
I say . . .
Your kindness and support I can never repay
Thank you for taking a chance on me every day
I love you all, and I’m very grateful, too
Big hugs and kisses from me to you.
A Moment of Truth
Q. T. Ruby
Copyright
A Moment of Truth
Copyright © 2016 by Q. T. Ruby
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Art by Jada D’Lee at Jada D’Lee Designs
JadaDLeeDesigns.com
Editing by Jennifer Matera and Lauren Schmelz at Write Divas
WriteDivas.com
Proofing by Marla Esposito
ProofingStyle.com
British Consulting and Editing by Catherine Waring at The Book Betas
TheBookBetas.com
Formatting by Mari Carlopoli at E & F Indie Services
e-and-f.webs.com
Dedication
To my family—I’m blessed to have you. You are my lucky charms.
Chapter One
Ahh . . . it’s been three weeks of sheer bliss.
Three official get-dressed-and-be-in-public dates.
And three million rounds of mind-numbing, leg-shaking sex.
Wait, why am I leaving? Oh, yeah, because reality bites, er, calls. His work, my new career, and, well, real life marches on.
Dan woke me in the middle of the night, which he hilariously called “dawn,” dragged me out of bed and drove us to our ledge to watch the sun rise on our last day together. He fluffed out a soft blanket and situated us, cocooned together side by side, inside another warm blanket. We’ve been sitting here for a bit now, simply being quiet together. There’s a peaceful rush of waves and the still of the morning, and I smile, relishing in this very moment.
And then . . . “Dan?”
“Yeah?”
“I love that you brought us here, but . . . we’re never going to see the sun rise.”
He turns to look at me. “What? Of course we will.”
I smile. “No. This ledge faces west, and the sun rises in the east.”
He stares at me a moment, and we break into laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all your fault. You’ve screwed my head up. You and your needy sex are distracting me!”
“‘Needy sex’? What? Please. The best I’ve gotten from you is fifteen minutes—twenty tops. Needy sex. Pfft. May
be once you fully mature it’ll get better.”
His mouth hangs agape. “Fully mature? How’s this for fully mature?” He takes my hand and presses it against his . . .
“Needy sex? You’re maturing fast,” I say.
He kisses me, pushes me down and straddles me, and as the sky quickly lightens—without the fanfare of a sunrise—we solve the problem of the needy sex.
We’re quiet on the ride back to his house and spend the remaining few hours inside, away from the world. It’s been a luxury to have him all to myself. But the seconds quickly turn to hours, and in these last moments before my ride comes, I’m leaning against him, he’s leaning against his black BMW in his driveway, and we’re wrapped around each other, sharing tiny kisses in the hot, mid-afternoon sun. Between the sunlight highlighting his sculpted face and his green eyes glinting, he’s most definitely living up to the title of Mr. Beautiful.
Dan tightens his hold on my waist. “So . . . two weeks, then?”
“Yeah, two weeks.” Also known as an eternity.
He nods. I sigh.
“So, I’m leaving now and you’re leaving for Mexico at four a.m., right?” We’ve been over the facts a million times, and yet asking him again somehow reassures me that all of this—our reunion, the “my love,” and the impending distance—are real. Very real, and there’s way too much distance for my liking.
“Yeah,” Dan says. He leans in and kisses my neck. “Stay tonight?” he whispers against my skin.
I shiver and try not to succumb to his heady soap-and-shaving cream scent. “It’s so tempting . . .” I rub the nape of his neck, soaking in his warmth and affection.
He pulls back. “But what?”
“I didn’t say ‘but.’”
He purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “You didn’t say it, but it’s there. The ‘but’ is there. Just like this one.” He smacks and squeezes my ass.
“Hey!” I yelp and jump a little.
He squeezes it harder. “But . . .” He draws out the word while holding me tight enough that I can’t move away. I wiggle my ass to try to shake off the hand that’s squeezing my ass.
“Don’t you mean, arse?”
“No, I mean ass. And keep wriggling. I like that.” He laughs.
I swat at his hand as best as I can, but he continues to squeeze hard. “Stay tonight. I’ve gotten used to you hogging the bed.” He snorts, tipping his head back in laughter.
“Such a smart arse!” I finally get a hold of his wrists to stop the squeezing. “I do not hog the bed.”
“Yes, you do.” He chuckles, rips his hands away from me, and hugs me against his chest.
Giggling, I rest my hands on his chest and play with the buttons on his shirt. “Well, now you can sprawl.”
“Sprawling’s overrated.” He rubs his stubbly face into my neck.
With a squirm and a laugh, I push him away. “Stop that!”
He laughs, but soon silence falls. I don’t want to go! I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, and he embraces me just as hard. “I’m going to miss you,” I say.
“I’ll miss you, too.” He kisses his way from my cheek to my mouth, before he whispers, “Stay tonight.”
“I want to, you know that, but I’m about to go and you’re leaving before dawn, plus Camille and Bridget have already planned to pick me up and—”
“I know, I know. And you have to write some stuff for David before you come and stay with me.”
With a burst of excitement, I grab his shoulders and give them a little shake. “Yeah! I have a job again! Ahh! I still can’t believe it. I’m actually starting a career that I’ve only ever dreamed about. It’s so surreal.”
“I’m so proud of you.” He brushes my long, dark hair over my shoulder and kisses me again.
I try to kiss him, but I’ve got a smiling mouth that refuses to pucker.
He pulls back. “What kind of fucking kiss is that? I’m snogging teeth!”
His mock outrage makes me laugh. I wrap my arms around his neck again and kiss him hard this time, but too soon the sound of gravel crunching officially ends our three glorious weeks together.
We break apart. Smiles fade. My eyes tear up, and he hugs me.
“Two weeks will fly by,” he says, pulling back to gaze in my eyes. He strokes my cheek.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course they will.” I’m trying to be strong, but I have to shake my head to cut off the welling emotions.
“I’ll be counting the days, of course.” He smiles—that brilliant smile that never fails to make my heart drop into my toes.
“I love that you countdown.”
“And I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
A Town Car rounds the bend and stops. The driver gets out and unlatches the trunk. “All set, miss?”
I turn to Dan. “I thought you called a cab.”
He gives me a sly grin. “Well, since I can’t drive you to the airport without potentially causing a scene, I called you your own transport.”
The driver takes my suitcase and places it in the trunk. “Whenever you’re ready, miss,” he says before he gets back in the car.
I shake my head, overwhelmed by his sweetness. “Another surprise. Wow. Thank you. I didn’t expect that.”
“I like surprising you. It’s become one of my new favorite things.”
“Well, this time I have a surprise for you.” From my back pocket, I pull a small, folded piece of paper and hand it to him.
“What’s this?” he asks as he unfolds it. “A paper heart?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of goofy, but I cut it out this morning. You were in the shower, and I was thinking that even though we’ll be far apart for a couple of weeks, I wanted to remind you that . . . you have my heart, you know?” My hands are suddenly sweaty, and my heart’s beating harder, knowing I’m taking some kind of leap.
Saying nothing, he only stares at the paper heart in his hand, which got a little crumpled from his ass-grabbing.
“Um . . . Is that okay? I hope I’m not freaking you out or anything.”
He looks at me with his brows furrowed. He seems a little speechless. “Freak me out? No, this is . . . the sweetest.” He grins. “Thank you. And you colored it in pink. Where’d you find a pink pen?”
“Well, a pink highlighter. I found it in the drawer with all the menus because you’re so organized.”
He laughs. “Yes, I’m nothing if not organized.”
I grin, and I want to crack a joke, but leaving him is tugging at me too hard. “Just don’t lose my heart, okay?”
“Never.”
We share one last, long kiss. I get in the car and lower the window.
“Fourteen days, my love.”
“Fourteen days.”
As the car drives away from his house, I watch the distance multiply exponentially. This is the start of my first long-distance relationship, and God, I hope it lasts.
Chapter Two
My eyes are probably still red from the tears I let loose in the car, but I’ve managed to mop up my face. Now I’m staring out the window on the plane, reminiscing. The last three weeks have been more than I could’ve hoped for. Between our unexpected reunion, our declaration of love, the laughs, and the bed, wall, bed, sofa, bed, kitchen counter sex . . . it was incredible. But now what? Now I’m going to try a long distance relationship with the most desirable man on the planet? Riiiight. This should work out well. What if he changes his mind? Decides this isn’t for him? What if his new co-star—wait, who is his co-star? How do I not know this? What if she’s gorgeous and hot and wants him? Will he be able to say no? Will he want to say no?
Stop it, Claire!
God, what’s wrong with me? I have got to stop this—now!
<
br /> I order a drink and watch a movie, which thankfully shuts off my annoying brain. But by the time the plane lands, I can’t get off fast enough. My best friends are waiting for me! Somewhere . . .
After I collect my bag from baggage claim, I head out into the terminal, scanning for my Fairy Slutmothers—whom I haven’t seen since my life took a turn for the worse, then for the better, and then for the best. Camille . . . Bridget . . . I don’t see them. I start wandering a little, craning my neck for a glimpse of them.
There! Bridget! In her pink cigarette pants, heels, tight tank top, and long blond hair . . . And there’s Camille, all put together and pretty in her jeans and T-shirt. Wow, her hair got long! They spot me at about the same time. We all squeal and bolt toward one another. In one big group hug we sway and giggle. Finally, we pull back and examine each other.
“I’ve missed you two so much!” I say, hugging them again.
“You have not!” Bridget says, smiling. “You’ve been busy playing house with Dan. Admit it—you haven’t thought about us once!”
“Okay, fine.” I pretend she’s right and then smack her arm. “Are you kidding? I thought about you a ton—every time I had to get dressed!”
“Pfft. As if you wore any clothes while you were there.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You didn’t pack the sweatpants, did you?”
I say nothing.
“I knew it! You totally have the sweatpants! You and those freakin’ pants.”
“My poor sweatpants get no love. Sheesh.”
“You need therapy. Mostly fashion therapy, and thank God you’re back to get it,” Bridget says.