by Ryli Jordan
I nodded. I was too broken inside to say what I felt. I loved him too. I loved him not today, but for sometime now. When he finally showed me who he really was. When he showed me that he was really the perfect guy—a man who loved me enough to listen to me, to learn from me, to spoil me and pamper me with every good thing in life. And then love me enough to let me go.”
I couldn’t mouth the words, but I showed him how much I loved him. I grabbed him for a wordless kiss, embracing him with every bit of strength I had left in my sleep-deprived and work-pummeled body. He kissed me back and from that moment on, until the rest of the night, I never let him go. I kissed him all over his face, in his mouth, everywhere, so eager to show him what I couldn’t say. That I loved him for loving me that much. That these really were the best moments of my life, all spent with him.
***
When we made love that night, I felt a yearning in my soul that I had never felt before—even at the pinnacle of our passions. Every time we kissed this time, it was loaded with emotion. That sort of end-of-days, this-is-your-life hunger that begs to go on. The kind of kiss you can never break, not even when you’re at the airport and saying goodbye.
When he entered me and slowly stroked me for what seemed like hours on end, I didn’t just orgasm. I connected spiritually with him. I let our souls intertwine. I let him possess all of me.
In an even more naked and intimate scene, he made me brunch the next morning, my favorite. Seared grouper with corn, zucchini and tomato sauté. Just like my mother used to make. This time it felt real. It felt like trust, like love and like really fucking fantastic food—the most exotic meal I ever tasted in my life, the kind your taste buds have to adjust merely to experience the exquisiteness of the recipe.
I knew, no matter what, I would never say goodbye to him. I would always go to meet him, on vacation, for a business trip. I would never keep him waiting, but I would selfishly seek out his company. Because the man loved me madly, truly and deeply…and I loved him.
Oh God, if only I could tell him how much I love him. Especially before I go. I have to show him that somehow.
I never could tell him the words he deserved to hear, even the next afternoon when we went out for lunch. He told me he had a surprise going-away present for me and wanted me to open it when I was in a good mood.
As good as I would ever be, I decided to open it after a marvelous shrimp risotto and spinach—which I assume he secretly cooked for obvious reasons.
“I hope this gift isn’t going to make me cry,” I said.
“It’s not a batch of sliced onions, but good guess.”
I opened the box with a certain excited curiosity. What could he be throwing at me now, when I’m at my most vulnerable? I was tired of crying, tired of wishing things were different. And tired of trying to figure out ways to make this doomed relationship work against all odds. Of course I wanted that but it was so draining, so emotionally hurtful. I loved Chef Knox so much that…
“What the hell is this?”
“Oh,” he snared, in that bratty manner he always did when he was making a sick joke. “It’s a set of keys.”
I jiggled the set of keys in my hand, not getting it at all.
“I thought it was a nice gift.”
“What the hell is this? Keys? To what? You better not have bought me anything too expensive…”
“Not really expensive. I just figured maybe you’d want a set of keys to our home.”
“Huh?”
“You know, in Madrid. I’m buying a new home there.”
“WHAT?”
“Well, you see I’m opening three restaurants across Europe, and my marketing team is very excited about opening a flagship restaurant in Madrid. Really good potential there, though I do wonder if my temperament might scare away some of those delicate people…”
I stared.
“But anyway, yes, I am going to move there and work there. And since you’ll be working there and living there, I figured we could occasionally get together on the weekends. You know, and perhaps surf. Or lie on the beach and get a nice tan.”
His blue eyes were so happy with glee. I still had to stare because I know he can be a prankster.
“Cook for each other. Karaoke bar, maybe?”
“Fuck! Are you serious?”
“That too, that especially! Fucking is definitely on the agenda. Perhaps I neglected to mention that my Madrid restaurant is set for construction in about three months maybe four. But yes, I’m serious…we are going to be working in the new location. Very close proximity to your office. I’ve been working with your travel department. You don’t need lodging anymore. I purchased a condo there, big enough for two…” He winked. “If you’ll have me.”
“You bastard.” I still couldn’t believe what was happening. It was too much to handle at once.
“Well, that’s a good start and not a 'NO'.”
I exploded in equal parts rage and laughter, thoroughly overjoyed. I was ready to slap him for keeping this a secret for so long—no wonder he had that funny look on his face when I first told him Madrid—but still dying to hug him and kiss him for fulfilling every single part of my dream.
“Chef Knox,” I said, finally crying through my joy, and laughing through the last bit of sharp pain that plagued my heart. “You are incorrigible. You are never out of surprises, are you?”
“No ma’am. You’re my dream, Staci-Belle. I don’t want you to miss out on your dreams and I sure as hell can’t live without mine.”
Now, it was my turn. “So this is our future? Not just living the moment anymore? Knox, I love you and can’t think of a better way to move forward. And this is now the happiest day of my life.” I choked up at that moment, in a manner unbefitting of a CEO, but so attune to his heart and my own. “Thank you for finding what I really thought was lost.”
“Now, now,” he said, his eyes meeting mine and forcing me to smile. “We can still savor every moment. Remember that next bite you take.”
I giggled and chewed, doing as my dear Knox suggested, and really tasting it this time.
“It’s that fucking good, isn’t it?” he said with a dreamy smile.
Epilogue
Staci
I still remember what I was wearing that evening. A blue halter-top dress, as blue as the ocean I frequented. We had been living in Madrid for nearly a year. I kept waiting for things to go downhill. To my relief, Knox proved to be the standup man I always hoped he was. The rest of our days were filled with cooking, sex and the occasional prank—just as I had hoped for.
Business was going well for myself, I was able to travel all over Europe without missing my all important weekends with my love, and for Ken whose first Madrid restaurant was performing so well—he became an overnight celebrity, even to people who never heard of the Chef Knox legend from America. His reputation here was also a bit softer; less anger and more good-natured. He fit in wonderfully with the locals and the tourists.
Part of me always waited for bad news, at least in the beginning. Could I trust him? Would my new position work out? Would living together break us apart? Would he cook spider or something weird for me again in a spirit of sarcastic vitriol? But his patience was always his virtue, and one that I would eventually learn from him. I learned to stop worrying, to stop resenting what happened in the past.And to focus on the truly exotic tastes in life.
In the end, we saved each other. And on September 15, at 5:45 PM, Kenneth Free made another lasting memory—one that would only begin another happily ever after chapter in our lives.
“That helicopter is flying awfully close!” I said, noticing a hovering mechanical bird in the sky.”
“Well if the paparazzi wants nudes of me, all they have to do is ask nicely.”
“Oh my God!” I screamed as I witnessed a waterfall of flowers descend from the helicopter. Pink and white, the same colors of the roses he sent before. Set against the backdrop of the sunny beach and a clear blue sky, the waves gently
caressing my feet, the taste of sand and fresh water in the air, and with a breeze so light it felt like God was stroking my hair, reminding me life only gets better…
Knox dropped on one knee and looked up at me, presenting a beautifully cut diamond ring. Smiling at my tears of joy and speaking his heart to me, his shirt was open, showing his tanned chest and abs.
“My Staci-Belle…I’ve lived this life like a beast with trails of heartbreak and fear. You are my beauty, my muse, my friend, my lover. You’ve filled my heart to the point I think it could explode but then you manage to enlarge it even more. I could never be without you…”
The diamond sparkled just like the waves of the ocean, just as a star, shines back everything lovely in heaven and on earth.
“Will you marry me, Staci Abrahams and make me the happiest chef on earth?”
“Yes! Yes!” I was elated. Feelings rushed through my body like a tsunami and I burst out crying.
This wasn’t the end. This was only the beginning of our life.
BONUS STORY 1
“Feel Me Completely”
Description
Beau
I live by my own rules. Who cares about my Aunt and her rules with MY MONEY! Luckily, I’m a self-made man and the money I’m coming into is only icing on the cake.
I blurted a lie to Aunt Elaine and from her tone, I could tell she didn't think I was actually going to be able to pull this off.
Just watch me try, I thought. Just watch me try.
Now the challenge is getting the girl, Charlotte, to go along with it.
For the dreamers,
and doers.
Chapter One
After the night I'd had, I needed coffee.
I waited impatiently in the seemingly endless line, gritting my teeth as I heard increasingly ludicrous orders from the people in front of me. Couldn't anyone just order coffee anymore? Okay, a double-shot or a latte or whatever else was fine—but a “nonfat soy double-shot caramel latte with a dash of cinnamon” was really a bit too much. Especially when there were fifty other people still waiting to get their morning dose of caffeine.
Finally, I reached the front of the line. “Coffee. Medium. Black.” It was all I could get out.
The barista hardly glanced at me. “Name?”
“Beau.”
She quickly scrawled it on a cup and handed it to one of her coworkers. “Coming right up. That's going to be $1.50.”
I dug into my back pocket for my wallet, inwardly groaning when my fingers didn't connect with it. I moved to my front pocket, fishing for a little change or anything—but because virtually all my purchases went on plastic, I could only find a quarter. “Shit,” I muttered.
I tried a winning smile on the girl—Charlotte, her name tag said. “Listen, kiddo, I seem to have forgotten my wallet this morning. Any way you could let that slide? I'll pay double next time.”
Charlotte smiled back at me, but I could tell it was fake by the way it didn't reach her eyes. “Listen, kiddo,” she said, grabbing the coffee that her coworker set down and putting it out of my reach. “No money, no coffee. This is a business.” She eyed me critically. “And you don't exactly look like you're hurting for money anyway. I'm sure you can afford $1.50.”
I growled in frustration. “Of course I can afford to spend $1.50 on coffee—I could spend a lot more than that. I just actually literally can't right now since I don't have my wallet. Can't you, like, pay it forward or whatever it's called? Get yourself some easy good karma.”
Charlotte's eyes slid past me to the next person in line. “Next!” she called. “What can I get for you?”
The girl behind me in the line brushed past me, quickly placing her complicated order and then glancing over at me, giving me a thorough once-over. “And I'll take a medium black coffee.” She smiled at me, leaning in a little and giving me a clear view of her cleavage. “You look like you could use it.”
I grinned ruefully at her. “You have no idea how badly,” I admitted.
Behind the counter, Charlotte rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. I didn't bother to ask what it was she had said; it was clearly something unflattering, but what did it matter? She could think whatever she wanted. It wasn't like I was going to come back to this shitty coffeeshop anyway, not after customer service like that. Was it really so difficult to cop someone a $1.50 cup of coffee? Especially when it'd already been poured.
“Did you want to maybe get dinner sometime?” the girl from the line asked me, tossing her long blonde hair a little.
“I'd love that,” I said. “What about Thursday at five?”
“What about Friday at seven?” the girl countered.
“I have a family thing on Friday,” I lied. I didn't take girls out to dinner on Friday nights—didn't need them getting the wrong idea about what we were actually doing. Friday nights were for parties and/or clubs. We weren't dating.
She frowned and then shrugged. “Okay. Thursday, then.” She giggled and grabbed the marker out of Charlotte's hand. “Here's my number.” She scrawled it in bold writing up the inside of my arm, writing 'Amy' over the top of it.
“Nice to meet you, Amy,” I said, winking at her and tilting my coffee cup towards her. “And thanks for the coffee. I have to run now, though—I have a meeting with someone this morning, hence being up at this hour.”
“I have class anyway,” she said, absently handing the marker back to a fuming Charlotte. “But text me, okay?”
“Of course,” I told her, mentally making a note to text her the next day. Didn't need her to think I was too desperate. I nodded at Charlotte. “Thanks for nothing.”
The thing was, I was rarely up this early in the morning—before nine, even. But my aunt had picked the time, and she was spiteful enough that I knew any hint of complaint would have her keeping me from my trust fund for...well, the rest of my life, if she could. She had already extended her hold over it for four years—because apparently turning twenty-two wasn't enough; instead, she decided I had to be settled into a career before I could have access to it. The judge had agreed to that.
But now that I was successfully heading one of the city's largest advertising agencies, she could hardly continue to hold that against me. I had more than proven myself. As long as I could get through this meeting with her—despite the ungodly hour—I should have my rightful access to the funds my parents had put together for me before their tragic deaths.
I quickly chugged the coffee and ditched the cup just as I rounded the corner towards the kitschy little café that she had insisted we meet at. Just before I went inside, I paused and then hightailed it back to the corner, hoping she hadn't spotted me in that brief moment. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and snapped a pic of Amy's number. Then, I licked my thumb and tried to wipe away the evidence from my arm. I knew how Aunt Elaine felt about my...habits. Again, I didn't need to give her more ammunition against me.
I couldn't get all the ink off my skin (why couldn't she have just used a pen, or had me just input her number into my phone?), but it would have to do. I also didn't need to be late. The sooner I got this over with…
Well, the sooner I'd be backpacking around Europe, sampling all the local brews and...culture.
I squared my shoulders and walked into the café, quickly locating Aunt Elaine sat at a table in the back corner. She stood up when I walked over and greeted me with a kiss to each cheek, as though we were distant French acquaintances. I went along with it, even though I was rolling my eyes on the inside.
“How have you been?” I asked, mock-interestedly.
Elaine swept her eyes over me, her eyes narrowing at my hoodie and jeans. “You could at least have combed your hair,” she sniffed.
I sighed and quickly dragged my fingers through said hair, trying to pull it flat. “You realize it's windy outside, don't you?” I asked. “It looked fine when I left the house this morning.”
Elaine reached into her purse and pulled out a rolled up magazine
, spreading it out on the table between us. “You're a disgrace to the family name,” she told me, her finger tapping the cover photo.
Both my eyebrows went up when I realized it was a photo of me stood up on the bar the night before, a busty blonde on each arm. I didn't really remember that part of the night happening—I was pretty sure that in the end, I'd brought some girl home with me, but even though we hadn't gone home until the early hours of the morning, she hadn't stayed the night. I hadn't expected her to or I wouldn't have brought her there.
I folded my arms defensively across my chest. “We're not royalty,” I pointed out. “Why would anyone really care what I've been up to?”
“Because, hmm, three magazines have—for some reason—named you the hottest young bachelor in the city?” Elaine said. “The public eye is always on you, and you're an embarrassment both to the history of our family as well as to your advertising firm. She narrowed her eyes. “As such, I've decided to continue to withhold the trust fund. Until such a time as your behavior is deemed responsible, I'm afraid you will have no access to the money in that trust fund.”
I stared at the woman for a long moment, mouth agape and trying to keep my cool. “You have no right to decide that,” I finally said, impressed with how even my voice sounded.