So Much More (Made for Love #3)

by R. C. Martin

  Addie and I haven’t really talked much this summer. It’s completely understandable, what with her getting married and then moving to Texas to be with her husband while he continues working his way through medical school. I'm sure there’s been lots going on. Not to mention, tons of sex. I bet there’s been so much sex. They waited for each other for six years or something crazy like that. The sexual tension between them was palpable. Now, I bet they can’t keep their hands off of each other.

  Fuck. Why am I thinking about my best friend having sex? So much sex?

  Smut. Too much smut.

  Then, suddenly, I've got Brandon on the brain and my phone stops ringing. I’m a horrible friend. I should be dying to talk to Addie—anxious to tell her about my summer with Jack and Claire, my new job, and my hot boss who makes me feel crazy wonderful. None of that would make sense to her. She has no idea how my life has changed.

  My phone starts ringing again. I stare at it, wondering if I’m ready for this conversation; wondering if I’m capable of continuing this lie by omission or if it’s time to come clean and tell her the truth.

  Then, suddenly, I’ve got Luke on the brain and my phone stops ringing. I’m a horrible friend. I should be dying to talk to Addie—anxious to spill my guts and cry my eyes out as I tell her about the last year and the gigantic mess that I’ve made of my life. She’d listen, because she’s amazing like that. Sure, life has kept us busy and we’ve lost touch since we graduated college, but we haven’t lost each other. Never that. And she wouldn’t judge me for the mistakes I’ve made. But this lie?

  My phone starts ringing again and my heart skips a beat.

  Shit. She knows.

  Now, I have to answer. She’ll keep calling if I keep ignoring her. I can’t let her do that. I’m a mess, but I’m not an asshole. I draw in a deep breath and then slide my finger across the screen, accepting the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah Hailey Prescott, you’re in so much trouble! I could kill you, but I love you too much.”

  Hearing her voice makes me tear up. I didn’t know how much I missed her until this very second. She’s my very best and oldest friend. She knows me, loves me, accepts me—no matter what. I thought I was keeping the truth from her so as not to ruin her wedding, but who was I kidding? Nothing could have ruined that wedding. Instead, by withholding the broken pieces of myself from her, my most vulnerable self, I was pushing her away. I see that, now, and I want to fix it.

  “You talked to Claire?”

  “Yes. She didn’t know that I didn’t know that you’d spent the summer in Georgia. She wouldn’t tell me why, though. That’s on you.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll forgive you after you tell me everything. Before you start, though, I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Hang up the phone, go the store, get a bottle of wine and some popcorn. Come home, make the popcorn, open the wine, and sit in the middle of your bedroom floor. Call me when you’re ready. I’ve already got my supplies.”

  I nod, half crying, half laughing. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll go now.”

  “Don’t stand me up!”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  It takes me less than an hour to do as I’m told. After I’ve gathered all my supplies and change into a pair of cotton shorts and an old CSU t-shirt, I call Addie.

  We’re on the phone for five hours. I tell her about Micah, then about Luke. I tell our love story, resenting him all the more when it comes out as if it were a damn fairytale instead of the nightmare that I know it to be now. I hash out every humiliating detail regarding the Red Coat Incident.

  The fucking Red Coat Incident.

  I tell her about Rebecca, Luke’s wife, or what little I know of her. I outline the demise of my career as a new teacher, once thought to be filled with so much potential. Talking to her reminds me of all that I’ll be missing out on over the next year as I live my life away from the classroom. It dawns on me that this will be the very first August, since I was five years old, that I don’t start school in the fall.

  As if my tear ducts are in need of a good cleaning, I cry like it happened yesterday instead of months ago. Addie cries with me, upset that we’re miles and miles away from one another so she can’t wrap me in her pint-sized hug. It isn’t until she asks me to tell her about my plans for the next year that I start to relax.

  I explain my current living situation—my complicated roommate and my amazing neighbors. I tell her about my job at Little Bird, which makes me think of Brandon. I recollect our time spent baking together; what it felt like to dance in his arms; how we laughed over brunch at Lulu’s today; and our almost kiss. I realize that he’s a huge reason why I feel any sense of calm in regards to my future.

  As scary as it might be to admit, I don’t mean that in the sense that he’s given me a job at his bakery. It’s Brandon himself who makes me feel better.

  I have no idea how to proceed outside of now. All I can manage is now. I’m a mess and I’m just trying to figure it all out again. However, when I’m with Brandon, when he touches me or winks at me—shit, even when he just looks at me—I don’t feel so broken.

  It takes her a while to connect the dots, but she soon vaguely remembers him being associated with Daphne. As soon as Addie speaks her name, I gasp and then gush, telling her everything I know about Daphne, Trevor, and baby Caroline; along with the shocking news that Roman and Logan are married. At this point, our wine consumption makes it even harder for us to understand how that’s even possible.

  It’s after midnight by the time I climb into bed. I know I’ll hate myself when the alarm clock sounds in a little over four hours, but I don’t regret the way I spent my evening. Getting to hear Addie talk about life as a newlywed was just as therapeutic as laying all my shit bare. We needed to reconnect. We are for each other what no one else can be.

  Just as I assumed, my wake-up call makes me hate my life as I crawl out of sleep and silence the alarm. The only thing that encourages me to move my ass is the excitement that comes when I remember I’ll be getting to spend my morning with Brandon. I shower quickly and hop into a pair of jeans and a striped halter-top that hangs loosely around my torso. I leave my damp waves down, hoping they’ll dry a little more before I weave them into the side braid I know that Brandon likes.

  Yup, I think as my heart smiles knowingly. I’m styling my hair for him. You happy? I’m a goner. I won’t even waste the effort pretending otherwise.

  I shoot Brandon a text, letting him know I’m on my way. I’m actually surprised that I didn’t hear from him first, since he usually lets me know when he’s on his way in. When I arrive with no return text from him, I see the lights are on inside. I feel a pang of disappointment knowing that he didn’t remember to send me a message this morning.

  I let myself in and smell proof that he’s been here for a while. My disappointment hits me again. As I make my way into the kitchen, I see blueberry muffins, three citrus loaves, and something I don’t recognize all sitting out to cool. Brandon, however, is not in the kitchen. I set my bag down on one of the stools we keep back here and go hunting for him. I don’t have to look too hard. I find him in his office, busy at the computer.

  “Hey,” I murmur.

  “Oh, shit,” he says as he looks over at me.

  Okay. That’s not happiness to see me…

  “That's not what I meant,” he mutters as he stands. “I just realized I didn’t text you. I couldn’t even tell you where my phone is right now. It’s been a busy morning.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I got here at four,” he says guiltily. “But I didn’t bake your half. The scones and the coffee cake still need to be made.” My confusion must be apparent, because he speaks before I can ask a single question. “Last night ended up being a mess. We finally got someone out here to fix the problem, but I had to play catch up this morning.”

  “Alrigh
t,” I say with a shrug. The act is more for me than for him—I need to rid myself of this lingering disappointment. This situation, his break from our newly established routine, is not about me. I can’t take it personally.

  See, this is why you don’t get involved with your boss. It—

  I can feel my heart revving up to throw a temper tantrum and I stop my brain from completing the thought. My heart is right, I already like him. I already want him. I already ache for him. But my brain is right too—right now, I’m at work.

  “I just have to put my hair up and then I’ll get started. Holler if you need anything.”

  I barely turn around before he calls out, “Sunshine. Wait.”

  Tingles burst from my stomach, spreading through my entire chest cavity at the sound of my nickname. Before I can tell my body to turn back around, he’s turning it for me. Then I’m in his arms.

  “Good morning,” he speaks softly into my ear. “At least it is now that you’re here.”

  I can’t speak. Or maybe I just don’t want to. I’d rather just hold onto him.

  I push myself up on my tiptoes so that I can grip him tighter. He chuckles and pulls me even closer. His strong arms feel like restraints, locking me against his chest, and I don’t ever want to be set free.

  “I missed you, too,” he tells me.

  This is the hello I was hoping for.

  This is why I didn’t hit the snooze button this morning.

  This is how I know it's going to be a great day.

  SHE’S NEVER THE FIRST to let go.

  It’s almost eleven o’clock and I’m still thinking about the hug I got five and half hours ago. I remember the overwhelming scent of her damp hair, the way she rested her chin on my shoulder, and her silence that spoke of her contentment. I remember the way her body felt pressed up against mine, the way my arms encompassed her slim frame and how she squeezed me, as if she couldn’t get close enough. I remember feeling like I might crush her if I held on any tighter, which lead to a different variety of thoughts. Thoughts that had me letting her go before I was ready. Now, I’m sporting a hard-on. From a damn memory. Of a hug.

  A hug! Un-fucking-believable.

  Down, boy, I tell myself, pressing on my cock. I swear, she gets me up quicker than anyone I’ve ever met. I bet she could make me come with a brush of her fingers against my hard—

  Shit. That image is definitely not helping.

  “Hey.” I look up from the schedule, the schedule I’m too distracted to complete, at the sound of her voice. Sarah smiles at me and tilts her head, signaling that I’m needed at the front. “Daphne and Caroline are here. You’ve been beckoned, Stuey.”

  I cringe a little at the sound of that nickname passing through her lips. “Not you, too,” I laugh.

  “I couldn’t help myself. I think I can come up with something better, though.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Come on—I’ve got to hop back on the espresso machine.”

  “Yeah, um, I’ll be out in just a second,” I say, unwilling to move until my erection is gone—it won’t leave with her standing in the doorway and my head full of not-so-innocent thoughts.

  “Okay. I’ll let her know.”

  When I make it out of the office, I see that the bookclub ladies have arrived. While Rachael takes their orders, Sarah and Tabitha work together to make drinks and serve pastries. Daphne is sitting at a table just beyond the register. Caroline is laying in her lap, her fists closed around Daphne’s fingers as they murmur at each other. I watch them for just a second, because I can’t help it. They’re so happy and I’m so proud to call that wonderful mother my friend.

  She looks up and spots me before offering me a smile. “Hey, you. Come give my girl some lovin’,” she insists.

  I chuckle as I close the distance between us and scoop Caroline up into my arms. She weighs nothing and yet, when I admire her face, I can see that she’s so full of personality. She coos at me as I sit and then Daphne clears her throat, catching my attention.

  “So—how’s it going with Sarah?”

  “She’s amazing, Daph. I can’t even—I can’t even—”

  “Have you kissed her yet?” she interrupts me, stealing any and all chances that I’ll be able to find the words to describe how much help Sarah has turned out to be.

  “Excuse me?” I manage, my eyes darting to catch a glimpse of Sarah before focusing back on Daphne.

  She flashes a smirk at me before she says, “Martha’s never had your maple-brown-sugar-scone before, so she asked Rachael if she’d recommend it. Sarah answered before Rachael could. Said she promised they were delicious and that she had made them herself. She made them. Sarah. So, allow me to repeat the question. Have. You. Kissed. Her. Yet?”

  I choke out a laugh and shake my head, amused with myself for thinking I’d be able to last any time at all before Daphne saw right through me. “No, not yet,” I answer, knowing it’s pointless for me to be anything less than direct.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “The right moment.”

  “And what, pray tell, does that look like?”

  I think about Saturday night, in the parking lot at The Brew Cycle. I held back because I was too hungry for it. I knew one taste would unleash the desire she’d been coaxing all night. Then I remember yesterday afternoon, when I dropped her off at home. I held back because I knew I couldn’t stay. The longer I have to wait, the more desperate I become. I want to take my time with her and I had none to spare in that moment.

  “I don’t know,” I finally answer, looking down at Care. She’s swinging her tiny fists around, making little noises, like she’s trying to remind me who’s more important just now. She’s yet to learn how stubborn her mother can be.

  “Exactly. You don’t know—because there is no magical moment. The moment will be magical because you take it the first chance you get.”

  “Coming from the woman who waited years before she kissed the man she now calls her husband.”

  “Which makes me more qualified to give you this advice, not less,” she retorts with a grin. “Besides, this isn’t about me. This is about you. This is about last Saturday and the look on your face when Olivia walked in here. This is about a week ago and the look on your face when Sarah walked in here. This is about me telling you that Sarah is great and it’s about damn time you tried dating someone who is actually worth your while.”

  I look away from Daphne in search of my sweet girl. I call her mine because she will be. I know she feels it, too. Tabitha says something that makes Sarah laugh and a small smile tugs at my lips. I love it when she’s happy.

  “I would say get your ass over there and just do it now,” says Daphne, stepping into my line of view as she reaches for her daughter. “But your eyes tell me that the kiss you have in mind is not appropriate for all audiences, which is pretty damn hot. I’ve got to go join my book babes, but I expect results and an update very soon. Deal?”

  I can’t argue with her spot on intuition before I agree. “Deal.”

  Daphne leaves me and I head back to the office to finish the schedule and pay a few bills. By the time I’m done, Rachael’s gone for the day and Tabitha is on her lunch, which leaves Sarah behind the counter all alone. It’s pretty quiet at the moment, so she’s perched on a stool with her Kindle in her lap. I don’t hesitate to sneak up behind her so that I can mess with her.

  “Who’s doing the dirty today?” I murmur.

  She jumps, gasps, loses her balance, and clutches her Kindle to her chest. I laugh, steading her with my hands around her waist.

  “You scared the crap out of me!” she breathes, twisting just enough to look at me but not enough to wiggle out of my grasp.

  I grin and then nod at the device in her hands. “Well?”

  “Lily and Chase. But they’re done, now. They’re spooning and telling each other secrets. See? That doesn�
��t happen in porn,” she tells me, gently nudging me with her shoulder.

  “Spoken like someone who’s well acquainted,” I tease.

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. The first time I see a penis in action, I pray to God I can do better than that. Porn is gross. I don’t want it to be gross.”

  The second her words take on meaning in my head, I yank my hands away from her as if my touch might actually violate her. Suddenly, all the dirty thoughts I’ve had about her up until this moment make me feel like I’ve taken advantage of her without her being the slightest bit aware.

  I know that lusting is technically frowned upon in God’s eyes, but I’m not a saint. He gave me eyes to see and I definitely see. I won’t lie about the way I want Sarah. It’s true that I want her heart, her details, and that sweet smile. I also want her long legs and her curved hips and her perfect tits. However, I’m not an animal. Any woman’s choice to wait deserves the utmost respect, regardless of the blue balls I’ll have to relieve when I can’t have her the way I hope to someday.

  “You’re a virgin,” I finally manage.

  “Yes,” she whispers, spinning around on top of the stool until she’s facing me. She furrows her brow in confusion as she stares at me. “Does that make me unappealing to you?”

  “What?” Now I’m confused; that is, until I remember how I pulled my hands away from her a moment ago. I blow out a breath and shake my head. “No.” I take her chin between my fingers, pointing my gaze directly in line with hers before I repeat myself. “No. It just means I have to do a better job at keeping myself in check.”

  “And why is that?” she asks softly.

  “Sometimes I can get carried away,” I reply with a smirk. “The last thing I want is to push you—especially since you’ve made the decision to wait. You don’t know it yet, but this, between you and me, it’s already begun. I’m not letting you go. If that means I’m waiting for you, then I’ll respect that choice.”

  “What if that’s not my choice?”

  “Hey, Red Coat, how ‘bout a little service?”