by R. J. Scott
Marc curled his lip and huffed. “You were always busy, what did you want me to do?”
I was lost for words, but it was okay, Justin appeared to have my back.
“You could have gone to him and helped him so he could be less busy.” He faced Marc who was taller, bigger, and madder than a wet hen.
“Excuse me?” Marc spat. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Brody’s boyfriend.”
“Brody’s what?” Marc sputtered. “What in hell’s name do you see in someone like Brody?” He stopped as he realized the hole he’d just dug. He never saw me as anything other than useful for sex at college and then an open wallet after.
Justin’s mouth fell open in shock, and Marc’s expression went from defensive to smug in an instant. I bet he expected me to deny what Justin had just announced or maybe that Justin would take back the words. But I had fire in my heart and so much happiness that I couldn’t think.
“He’s passionate, kind, and he makes me happy just by being around him,” Justin began, and then he leaned into Marc and lowered his voice. “Also, he’s on fire in bed.”
Marc’s lips thinned. “As if.”
Justin bristled, but I moved between the two men because I didn’t want a heated debate about whether or not I was good in bed, even if Justin’s words made me want to smile so damn hard.
“I’m happier than I have ever been, and you need to leave.”
Marc spluttered. “But I came all this way and—and—you owe me.” I looked at him for the first time with my eyes wide open. He was a shell of a man, empty. He wasn’t anything like Justin. He was hard where Justin was soft, he was cruel when Justin was sunshine. I didn’t want Marc. I wanted Justin, and that last fear about the steps I’d taken to get him out of my life vanished in an instant. I was done.
“I owe you? What exactly do you think I owe you?” I remained calm because it was the only way I could stop myself from taking the nearest dessert and shoving it in his face.
“The settlement didn’t give me enough money for what I did for you! I supported you after college,” he said triumphantly. “I paid the rent on our place—”
“Actually, my dad paid my half of the rent for the first three months until the money began to come in.”
“Well, I bought you equipment.”
“Three cake tins and a whisk.”
He tipped his chin, and his expression was one of a wary man suddenly aware he had nothing in this discussion.
“I was faithful to you until you gave up on us.” That had been his one argument—that somehow I’d turned away from him and caused him to stray. For the longest time, I’d even believed his words until I started to put two and two together.
He’d never been faithful to me, not even before we were married.
“Interesting that you say that because I reconnected with Tim Dowling. You recall him, right?”
Marc paled. “Tim.”
“Turns out he had a lot of stories about what you and he did in college behind my back, so you and I both know you weren’t faithful even before we were married.”
“Whatever.” He waved away the fact as if it meant nothing. “You still owe me,” he said with belligerence as if he hadn’t just presented me with his argument and had it blown out of the water.
Justin moved behind me, lifted his phone, and began to record. “You don’t mind if I share this chat on social media, right?”
Marc attempted to reach for the phone, but Justin was quicker and held it out of his reach.
“Cut to the chase, Marc, how much do you need?”
“Twenty thousand,” he whispered. “And I’ll back off.”
Was he threatening me? I whispered my reply, aware people were staring, “How about I don’t give you twenty thousand, and you get out of my life before I call security?”
“You’re an asshole,” Marc snapped.
“Pot, kettle, black,” I murmured. “Justin, can you call the front desk and get security up here?”
Marc scowled then stepped away. “You’re not fucking worth it,” he snapped again, and then looked around me at Justin. “You’re welcome to him.” He stalked away, and I waited until he’d left and then sat as my energy left me in a rush. Justin copied me after a moment’s pause, but he never once let go of my hand.
“Well, he’s a piece of work.”
“Are you going to post that?” How did I ask him not to? How did I stop the social media person from sharing the intense situation?
Justin shook his head. “Never. It’s personal, and I’m not messing up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Sunshine grew in my chest. Marc and I were over, and I was holding the hand of the person I loved.
Now I just needed to get him to love me back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bake cupcakes they said. It’s easy they said
Justin
How did I tell Brody that I had all these feelings for him if I couldn’t give them a name?
Love was new to me. It was wanting to be with him all the time, talking to him, smiling at stupid jokes, patching up Jeremy. In my head, it was a combination of passion, magic, and cake, and I desperately wanted to talk to someone, anyone about what I was feeling. What if I was wrong? What if I told him I thought I loved him and he just laughed in my face? Who the hell am I to be thinking that I had a handle on love at all? What did I know about love? I’d left him sleeping, staring down at him in my best non-creepy way and wondering what he was dreaming about. He was smiling, and it made my chest tighten. Was that love?
I couldn’t bear the thought of him going back to Corning and me being in the city and not waking up next to him. That sounded like love. The passion and fire we had in bed spilled out into teasing and laughter and walks in the snow. To me, that is what I wanted from love. And when he smiled like he was doing right now, I wanted to smile along with him. Love was confusing and crazy, and I had no one to talk to. Millions of followers and not one person I’d connected to.
I left a note on the pillow and headed downstairs where the lobby was empty and the sofas called my name. The only person awake was the receptionist but the room service was twenty-four hours, so I ordered hot chocolate and installed myself in the corner by the windows. From here I could see the shadowed hulk of the remainder of the hotel and the parking area and every so often a car arrived, turned in the snow and couples or groups climbed out and headed to their rooms, passing through the lobby and laughing, joking, some of them clearly drunk, others just high on life. I guessed that at just after midnight, these were guests from a celebration. Maybe a wedding from some of the hats that the women carried or had perched at weird angles on their heads. Sitting back here in the shadows, I could watch it all without drawing attention to myself, staring into my hot chocolate and thinking the deepest of thoughts.
“Justin?”
I glanced up. Kristen and Ivan were standing in front of me. I knew they’d be coming back for the final tomorrow but I’d assumed they’d already be in their rooms. I immediately stood and hugged them. “You’re back.”
“Cutting it fine,” Ivan grumbled. “But Kirsten was determined to check out the Skywalk at Columbia Icefields.”
“You loved it,” she teased, and even though Ivan huffed, he was smiling. “Can I get a hot chocolate?” she asked Ivan with a flutter of her eyelashes, and he dutifully padded over to reception. “Is it okay if we sit and visit?” she asked, drawing her knees up under her, looking all perky and cute in her scarlet jacket.
“Of course.”
“Can’t sleep huh?”
“Not much.”
“I’m not surprised, after all it’s a big day tomorrow. I remember the year I won. I was up the entire night before sick with nerves.”
“I’m not nervous. We both know that Brody will win tomorrow, and he should. I’ve never met anyone like him before, and he deserves all the good things.”
She eyed me thoughtfully. “You wa
nt to talk?”
Ivan came back then, dragging two cases, and interrupting any answer I could give. “Chocolate’s on order.”
“Can you maybe take the cases upstairs?” she asked and some kind of conversation was had in a series of comical facial expressions, which ended with Ivan’s eyes widening and his gaze darting from me to the snow.
“Sure, I’ll uhmm… meet you in the room.”
She waited until he left. “Start from the beginning.”
“With what?”
“With this.” She waved a hand at my face, her bracelets jangling, her smile soft and encouraging.
“I’m just drinking my hot chocolate and minding my own business.” I smiled to take the edge off the statement, and she leaned forward and patted my knee.
“Well, I’m the kind of person who doesn’t leave their new friend staring into hot chocolate as if he’s thinking of diving in.”
Friend? She thinks I’m her friend. Am I? Jesus this is pathetic. I need a hug from Brody.
“I wouldn’t fit in the mug,” I deadpanned, but I didn’t cut the conversation dead.
“Is Brody okay? Are you okay? Are you and Brody okay together?” she asked all three questions as one, and some of it was easy, but the last bit was hard. Of course, we were okay together. We laughed and made love and smiled all the time.
“How did you know when you were in love with Ivan?” I blurted because it was the only way I could think of forming the question without using mine and Brody’s names.
She settled back into the sofa, and we waited for the staff member to drop off the hot chocolate. There were two on the tray, so I took Ivan’s and hoped he didn’t resent me for stealing his drink and the time with his girlfriend.
“It happened quickly, one moment I was gushing over how wonderful his baking was, the next we were in the closet, literally inside with the buckets and this big ass ladder. We went from zero to sixty in minutes and then from dating to being in love just as quick.”
“How did you know you were in love?” Could I sound any more stupid?
“I used to watch him when he slept, and he would be smiling, and I wanted to share his dreams. He’d bake something, and I’d want to cover him in fudge and lick it off. He’d hug me, and I would feel immediately as if we were the last two people in the world. There are moments when he tells me his dreams, finds a pot of fudge body paint, and then tells me that I was the only person in his heart. We fit. That’s love for me.”
“When you told him, did you ever imagine he might tell you he felt nothing for you?”
I assumed everyone else in the world knew exactly what love was and had no trouble expressing their feelings, but she surprised me.
“I was petrified,” she admitted. “What if he told me I was delusional? Or laughed at me? But I laid it all out there, opening up myself and offering my heart to him, and it was the bravest most terrifying thing I’d ever done. Love is like that you know, a roller coaster ride of ups and downs along with brutal honesty and overwhelming trust.”
“What if I tell Brody how I feel, and he sees right through it? It’s only been a few weeks but the way I want to be with him, this breath-stealing fear, it’s too much. Do I just desperately need a friend after all this time? I’m confused.”
“Oh, Justin.” She poked my arm. “Anyone with half a brain can see that Brody is falling for you, it’s destiny you know. Anyway, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I could lose a friend,” I whispered.
“And if you don’t tell him what you’re feeling, then you might lose the chance to find your one true love.” She air-quoted that last bit and then made a heart with her hands. “The way I see it, you can tell him you want to see him after the show, suggest a date, take it slow, give it time, or you can go up to him and tell him that you think you’re falling in love and see what he says.”
I walked Kristen to her room, and we hugged goodnight, then I waited until she was inside and shook Ivan’s hand. We exchanged pleasantries and then it was time for me to go back to the room. She was right. I didn’t have to go in and tell him I loved him, or that I was falling in love with him, I could calmly suggest a couple of dates, a catch up, see what this thing we had could be. By the time I’d reached the suite, I’d convinced myself that this was the right course of action, and I let myself in quietly, undressing and going to the bed. Brody hadn’t moved, and he was still smiling, and I wanted to be inside that dream so badly. I needed to wake him up, tell him I wanted a date, and I shook him a little.
He opened his eyes slowly, and the smile remained. “Hey, you okay?” he said sleepily.
How about we date and try this thing out, see where it goes? I was struck dumb, and even though the words were there, they refused to happen.
“Justin?” His smile dropped, and he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s wrong.”
“I’m falling in love with you,” I blurted without any fancy additional words, and the words hung on the air for a few moments.
He laid down and opened his arms, and I crawled into his embrace. “I love you too,” he whispered and then held me close.
And we slept.
Waking up and being in love was like walking on clouds and not falling through. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Brody, and he didn’t stop trying to steal kisses. Neither of us used the L-word, but the touches and the kisses were beautifully perfect, and we hadn’t stopped either since we woke up. Even now, setting up our work areas for the recording of the final we couldn’t stop looking at each other.
“Justin, Brody, can I borrow you for a minute?” Rita called us over.
I gave my work area one last critical look and then followed Brody to where she was standing. She turned and led us to her room and closed the door.
“Sit down.”
I assumed that this was nothing more than a last meeting before the final was filmed, but her expression didn’t look calm or excited, instead she looked worried, and I couldn’t be more wrong about this being a run of the mill discussion.
“Concerns have been raised,” she announced without preamble, but then she paused as if Brody and I were able to fill in the blanks. We exchanged glances, and I’m sure that I looked just as confused as he did.
“About what?” Brody finally said when the pause was uncomfortably long.
She turned her iPad, revealing a photo of me and Brody kissing on the path down by Jeremy. I actually thought it was a very beautiful shot, and it made me happy to see it. Only Rita didn’t seem pleased.
“Accusations have been made that you sabotaged your own refrigerator to have Clare removed from the show and that Brody assisted you because you have coerced him in a, and I quote, lover’s revenge pact.”
“The hell?” My reaction was short.
“The only person that would allege that is Clare,” Brody jumped in.
“Why are you showing us this photo?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and it was easy to put two and two together. “It gives credence to the whole accusation, and we’ve dealt with the accusation, but the optics for viewers isn’t good.”
Brody cursed. “Now hang on a minute—you wanted Justin and me to flirt!”
“All we’re asking is that in the final you cool your flirtation so that the optics for your demographic are stable. There’s no point in a flirtation if you’re in a relationship.”
I was speechless at first but Brody appeared to have a handle on it all. He stood up, tugged me with him, and opened the door.
“Maybe the viewers aren’t as stupid as you think they are,” he suggested dryly and then closed the door behind us. What if she was right though? Brody worked hard to get to this position, and maybe what we had going on would jeopardize his career?
“Maybe we should cool things until this is over if this is going to be a problem—”
He kissed me hard, right in front of everyone, then set me away and patted my shoulder.
“Good luck, Just
in.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s all in the wrist action
Brody
I was pissed at Rita, and I needed Justin to focus on me and the competition and not start doubting the words he’d given to me last night. I still couldn’t believe that he’d told me he was falling in love with me, or that I’d told him I loved him outright. Now he was blinking at me, his tongue darting out to taste our kiss, and I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“Good luck, Brody,” he murmured, and just when I thought we were done, he cupped my face and kissed me back. “Let’s do this thing.”
Makeup tutted. Apparently kissing was bad for the powder, but I don’t care what people thought. We teased and laughed our way through the cupcake round and as the world and his wife expected, Justin’s were perfect. Only not as perfect as the peck on the cheek he gave me in post-cupcake interviews live on camera.
Justin had won the cupcake round—his take on Christmas movies had included a tiny Die Hard tower with flames and a hand drawn chocolate bad guy falling from the top, suspended on the thinnest of cotton. Each cupcake was stunning, but it wasn’t just the design. It was that he’d thought outside the box and not only that but the bake itself, the most important part of the whole thing, was perfect. I snagged one when the cameras turned off, pulling the tiny chocolate terrorist off his cotton suspension and pushed him back in the small piped building. Justin tussled with me and pulled out the smallest John McLane I’d ever seen, complete with a white T-shirt.
“Yippee-ki-yay, mother—” I swallowed the rest of the words with a kiss and couldn’t fail to hear the collective awwwws from the crew. I didn’t care we were being watched because I was in love, and I wanted everyone to know it.
“Way to go, bro.” Adam high-fived me as I walked off to get my makeup fixed. My family was here in the wings, watching the process and to see the big final reveal. It was good to see a friendly face even if the rest of the gang had been hustled away to the Green Room by an efficient Rita. Justin was behind me. I tugged him forward, and he and Adam shook hands. I waited for fireworks, but there was nothing but strong shaking, back slaps, and the exchange of quotes from Die Hard.