by Tara Sivec
“I’ll just go start heating up the chicken and broccoli hotdish I brought over for lunch. Brent, you’re going to love my chicken and broccoli hotdish. It’s one of Heidi’s favorites,” Mom tells him happily before also exiting the room.
Once we’re alone again, I turn and crawl up onto the bed next to Brent, giving him a quick kiss of apology before resting my forehead against his.
“I really think that went well.” Brent nods against me. “But maybe when we’re telling this story to our future grandchildren, we could leave the whole naked bondage thing out it.”
Oh, why did he have to go and say something like that? Now I have no choice in the matter. I am one hundred percent in love with him.
Chapter 28
If you would have told me a few months ago that I’d have a serious boyfriend, and it would be so natural and easy being with him, and I’d be the happiest I’d ever been in my life and making plans for the future, I would have laughed in your face. Politely, of course, because that’s the Minnesota way.
My limited experiences with boyfriends were definitely nothing serious, and there was not one thing natural or easy about being with them. I was constantly on edge, watching what I said and what I did, so I wouldn’t scare them away with my weirdness. And I was never really sad when we ultimately ended. There were no tears. There were no fights. There weren’t even really break-ups. We’d go out to dinner or something, and then, I’d just never hear from him again until we ran into each other at church or some other town function. We’d make polite conversation, and it was like we’d never had our tongues in each other’s mouths or seen each other naked.
As cliché as it sounds, being with Brent is as easy as breathing. When we disagree about something, I’m not filled with anxiety that this is it. This is when he’ll realize I’m too much. He accepts me for who I am, which means I’m never afraid to be who I am. I can be awkward and trip over my own two feet, or I can be sexy and take control. I can ramble a bunch of crazy nonsense, or I can have a passionate conversation about something I believe in. We can have sweet, normal sexy times where we cuddle and watch television afterward, or I can tie him to my bedposts and my parents walk in on us, followed by a chicken and broccoli hotdish lunch where no one mentions that my dad had to cut him loose with his hedge clippers, and the two of them just spend the hour arguing about football. Although, it’s been three weeks and Brent still shudders when he sees a tie.
Brent never judges me, he never makes fun of me, and he never rolls his eyes at me when I’m being ridiculous, like when we had a twenty-minute argument the other day about how Jell-O salad is absolutely considered a salad, and anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong. Sadly, that argument ended in a draw, because he wouldn’t back down, going on and on about his fancy L.A., disgusting kale nonsense, but it’s fine. We made up by getting naked. Brent just lets me be me, no matter which me decides to come out at any given time.
“You look good wearing my sweatshirt,” Brent says from his bed, with a lazy smile on his face.
He’s lounging against the pillows with his hands folded behind his head, watching me pick up my clothes that are strewn all over his floor. I’m wearing nothing but one of his oversized sweatshirts I stole from his closet. It has his construction company name on it and hangs down to the middle of my thighs.
“I’m running out of clothes to wear. I need to do some laundry today,” I tell him, tossing a few of his dirty clothes into the pile I’m making at the end of his bed without even thinking about it.
Our dirty clothes are comingling. This is definitely serious.
One of the best things about living next door to your boyfriend is, I’ve never packed a bag when I’ve spent the night here. It started off that way, because I never wanted to just assume he’d want me to sleep over. And now, it’s just easier for one of us to walk over to my house and grab whatever else I might need.
“Babe, you don’t have to do my laundry.”
Gaaah! There’s the “babe” thing again. I’ll never get tired of hearing him say that.
“I don’t mind! I have to do mine anyway. And besides, you’ve cooked dinner for us every night this week,” I remind him.
That’s another amazing thing about Brent that I thought only happened in books. He actually knows how to cook, and he’s pretty good at it. And he does the dishes. Someone needs to pinch me. It’s like I’m living my very own fairytale romance.
I should tell him I love him. Crap! I should tell him about my podcast first, shouldn’t I? I’m standing here thinking about all the ways he’s perfect, and I’m being a wuss for no reason. Well, aside from the whole creepy stalker reason.
“Listen, I need to tell you—”
“Oh! Hold that thought,” Brent interrupts me, flinging the blankets off his body. “I forgot I have a present for you.”
I definitely hold that thought and let a bunch of dirty thoughts take over when he so casually gets out of bed completely naked, walking over to his dresser and grabbing a pair of sweatpants from his bottom drawer. I lick my lips as I watch him pull them on, knowing I’ll never be able to concentrate on anything else that comes out of his mouth after this point. It’s bad enough those sweatpants are hanging low on his hips and I can see every inch of his glorious chest and those delicious indents down by his hips, but I’m also fully aware he’s not wearing any underwear under those sweatpants. He’s just hanging loose in there, and goodness, why is that such a turn on?
I’m still standing at the foot of his bed, thinking about all the dirty things I’d like to do to him, when he returns a few minutes later with a large box in his hands and gives it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask in surprise as I turn and sit down on the edge of the bed, setting the box on my bare thighs.
“Just something I wanted to get you. It took a while for me to find the exact one, but… just open it,” Brent orders excitedly, a huge smile on his face that I want to kiss, because he looks like a little boy on Christmas morning right now.
His blue eyes are sparkling, and he’s practically bouncing up and down as he stands right in front of me. I can’t help but laugh at his eagerness as he rubs his hands together when I start to pull the packing tape off the top of the box to get it open. As soon as I lift the flaps and pull out the bubble wrap, I see something nestled inside, wrapped in white tissue paper.
“Careful. It’s breakable,” he warns seriously as I pull it out, which just makes me laugh again.
When I gently unwrap the tissue paper, my amused smile is replaced with a gasp of surprise when I finally see what he got me.
It’s a teal, Red Wing pottery vase. But not just any teal, Red Wing pottery vase. It’s the exact same one that my grandmother gave me that I smashed into a hundred pieces not that long ago.
“Oh my gosh. My grandmother’s vase,” I whisper, turning it around in my hand and running my fingertips over it in awe. “I can’t believe you found this.”
My eyes fill with happy tears that he did something so thoughtful. This vase isn’t worth a lot of money, but it was sentimental to me, because it was my grandmother’s. I have no idea how he was able to find the exact same one, but he did. I don’t even remember telling him about breaking that vase and how sad I was about it. I’m pretty sure I only mentioned it on—
Oh my God! Oh no.
My heart starts trying to beat its way out of my chest, and my hands are shaking so badly I have to put the vase back inside the box and set it down on the bed next to me before I drop it. I quickly go back over every conversation we’ve ever had, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I never told him about that vase. And yet he knew about it. And there’s only one way he could have known.
Oh, God. I think I’m going to be sick.
Looking up at him slowly, confusion is written all over his face that I’ve suddenly become quiet and not at all as happy as I was moments ago. I’m sure I look like someone just murdered one of my family members. I feel like someone just
murdered one of my family members.
“I never told you about breaking that vase,” I whisper as a tear escapes from my eye and trails down my cheek.
I thought it was a good thing that I’ve come to know Brent so well and can tell everything he’s thinking just by looking at his face. But watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously, and knowing he’s suddenly panicking, does not make me feel good at all.
“Sure you did,” he replies, nodding quickly. “It was on your coffee table and you kicked it over and….”
He trails off, and I get to experience the misery of watching his face quickly morph from panic to sadness that he suddenly realizes the error he made by giving me this vase. Or maybe it’s pity I’m seeing on his face. Who’s to know at this point? Now, I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking at on his face. I’m embarrassed, and I’m sad, and I’m so damn confused.
“You know. You listened. You listened and you never said anything?” I whisper brokenly, swiping angrily at the tears falling down my cheeks as I stand up from the end of the bed and move away from him.
“Heidi,” Brent says softly, reaching out and grabbing my arm as I pass him.
I jerk my arm out of his hold and continue walking until I’m over by the door and there’s enough space between us so I can think clearly.
“Did you just listen to that one? Or did you listen to all of them?”
It would be bad enough if he just listened to that one. Episode five, where I read an excerpt about oral sex and had to drink wine just to get the nerve to ask him out on a date.
When he closes his eyes and lets out a defeated sigh, running one of his hands nervously through his hair before he looks at me again, I have my answer. For a split second, I was still holding onto hope that maybe he’d chuckle and ask me what the hell I was talking about and give me some kind of plausible explanation, like maybe I talked about it in my sleep one night or something. I know that’s not really a plausible explanation, but it would make me feel a lot better than what’s actually happening.
“All of them,” he whispers guiltily.
Brent listened to Heidi’s Discount Erotica, and he knows… everything. Every mortifying, embarrassing thing.
I can physically feel my heart snapping in two and breaking into more pieces than my grandmother’s vase.
“It was an accident. I swear to you, Heidi,” he explains quickly, taking a step toward me, which makes me take a step back until I bump into his bedroom wall behind me. “I listen to this podcast called Herb’s Discount Building, and it’s all about remodeling on a budget, and one night, I did a search for it to listen to the newest episode, and your podcast must have come up in the search. I clicked on it without paying attention. Suddenly, I heard this voice that I recognized, and then when you said your name, I knew it was you. I know I should have turned it off when you started talking about me, but I couldn’t help it. You were just so sweet, and adorable, and I felt bad that—”
“Stop!” I shout, tears of humiliation falling fast and hard down my face. “You don’t get to call me sweet and adorable anymore. You’ve been listening this entire time? To everything? Oh my God, you must think I’m so pathetic. Is that why you said yes to that first date? Because you felt sorry for me? Your poor, dorky neighbor who couldn’t talk to a man she liked without giggling and looking like a fool. The pitiful woman who lives next door and has to read from erotic books just to get some confidence and learn how to be sexy. Boy, this must have been a nightmare for you, pretending like you actually gave a shit about someone so childish and ridiculous.”
Since I made the mistake of blocking myself in when I backed into the wall, I have nowhere to go when Brent charges across the room and cups my face in his hands.
“I never, never thought any of those things about you, Heidi. You have to believe me. Everything between us is real. Everything I feel about you is real. I didn’t go out with you because I pitied you. I went out with you, because I wanted to. Because I’ve wanted to since the first moment I met you, when you knocked on my door and welcomed me to the neighborhood with a chicken casserole,” he tries to explain, swiping my tears away with his thumbs.
I don’t even care about arguing with him that it’s called a hotdish and not a casserole. I don’t care about anything aside from wishing a hole would open in the floor and swallow me up. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I fully planned on poking a little fun at myself when I finally came clean and told him about the podcast, and I pictured us having a good laugh about it, because I would be in control of the situation. And let’s be honest, those podcasts are a little silly. But this… knowing he’s been listening to me this entire time and never said a word… knowing he’s heard my deepest, darkest insecurities without my knowledge and used them to his advantage for whatever reason, it hurts. It hurts so badly I can’t breathe. Regardless of how silly those podcasts were, they were mine. And I was proud of them and all the ways they helped me break out of my shell. Now, I’m just ashamed of them. I’m disgusted with myself that I couldn’t just be a normal woman, with a normal crush, who could have a normal relationship without needing help.
“You were so shy, and sweet, and your smile lit up my world,” Brent continues, my face still held in his hands, because I just don’t have the energy to move away. “Growing up in L.A., I spent my entire life surrounded by vapid women who intimidated me and made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. That my looks weren’t good enough, that my career wasn’t good enough, that my family wasn’t rich enough, that the car I drove and the house I lived in weren’t fancy enough. You never made me feel that way. You made me like myself and the choices I made with my life. You made me want to do everything I could to be a good person so you’d want to be with me. I shouldn’t have listened to your podcast without telling you, and I’m so sorry I did. But I also wouldn’t have known how you felt about me if I hadn’t. I didn’t think you gave two shits about me, which is why I never asked you out.”
God, I want to believe him, but how can I? Every word he says should be lighting me up inside, but it just feels like he’s stabbing a knife right into my heart. The more I go over everything I said and did in those podcasts, the more I start to question everything about our relationship. When I get to one particular episode in my head, a painful gasp flies out of my mouth and I finally find the energy to wrench out of his hold on my face and move away from him to stand in the doorway.
“That night I came over to your house because I was frustrated with weeks and weeks of always making the first move, and you yanked me inside and gave me an orgasm against your wall, you were wearing earbuds.” The realization of what happened that night is making me feel sicker and sicker until I have to press my hand to my stomach to keep going. “I just got done uploading a podcast about how I wanted you to take charge and be all alpha male after you left my house, and like some magical fucking unicorn, you did exactly what I wanted. God, I thought you were so perfect, just seeming to know what I wanted without me having to say anything, but you were listening. Oh my God, you were listening! Do you have any idea how mortifying that is?”
I’m practically choking on my tears at this point, and my hand moves from my stomach to clamp tightly over my mouth before I start wailing. Turning away from him, I quickly make my way out of his room and down the hall, not even caring that I’m leaving all my clothes behind and I’m only wearing his sweatshirt. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him before I make any more of a fool of myself with all the tears and the snot that just won’t stop.
“Heidi, please! Don’t go!” Brent shouts, his bare feet pounding on the hardwood floor as he races after me.
As soon as my hand wraps around the handle of his front door, I feel him against my back, reaching over my shoulder and pressing his palm against the wood to stop me from opening it. My head drops forward, and I squeeze my eyes closed when his free arm wraps around my waist and he holds me securely against the front of him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his mouth pressed right against my ear. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should have told you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin anything about what you were doing. I was so proud of you, watching you come out of your shell and doing it all on your own; you have no idea. You amaze me, and I’m so goddamn proud of you. Please, believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel embarrassed. I love you. I love everything about you, and I can’t lose you, Heidi.”
Everything I always wanted to hear, not just from any man, but from this man, and it doesn’t matter.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I whisper, opening my eyes and lifting my chin to stare blindly at the door in front of me. “I didn’t do it all on my own, did I? You listened to everything. You knew what I wanted, and you made sure it happened. It’s like every woman’s fantasy come to life. A guy who can read her mind and give her what she wants. But you didn’t read my mind. You fucking listened to every word of it without telling me, and you used it to your advantage.”
“Heidi—”
I cut him off by shoving my shoulders back against his chest to push him away from me, yanking open the door when his hand drops from it. I walk right out into the early morning sunshine wearing nothing but his stupid sweatshirt and a face full of tears and humiliation as my fairytale turns into one giant lie and crumbles all around me.
Chapter 29
“What is that god-awful smell?”
I don’t even bother lifting my head from my parents’ couch. I just raise my hand in confirmation when Aunt Margie walks into the room, letting it flop right back down to the cushions. I’m pretty sure the smell she’s referring to is a leftover slice of pizza my dad put in the microwave for ten minutes because he’s useless in the kitchen, but I also haven’t showered in a week, so it could be either one. Thank God for paid vacation time at EdenMedia. I felt awful calling off when I haven’t been working there that long, but sometimes, you just needed a mental health day. Or seven.