I couldn’t stop holding him against me.
“But this doesn’t change… who I am,” he said, exhaling. “It doesn’t change that I just got out of a 10-year relationship, and doesn’t change that I’m going to… need a while to get used to the idea that I’m even capable of feeling so strongly for you, Eric. But it’s true. I can’t fucking deny how I feel any longer.”
“So let me prove to you that I can be… be a worthy boyfriend. I want you to trust me, more than anything, Dash. I want to give you something amazing. And I know that saying I’ll try isn’t good enough. But I’m going to fucking do it, Dash.”
He let out a long, shuddering breath in my arms. “Okay,” he said, “Okay. I can do that. I’ll be patient. I will do it.”
And finally I wasn’t worrying about whether it was real, or fake, or anything—all I knew was that I had to show him I could be worthy.
Which really meant showing myself that I was.
Eighteen
Dash
I got a handwritten letter slipped under my front door the next day. I didn’t even see it until the evening, when I finally emerged from my bedroom after a lazy day in front of my laptop editing photos. I couldn’t seem to do anything else all day, my brain hazy with the knowledge of everything that had transpired the night before.
Surreal couldn’t even describe it—it seemed more like unreal, to me. I’d been both elated but also petrified, because I’d hadn’t just admitted something to Eric, I’d admitted it to myself.
I didn’t think I’d been ready to love again. I didn’t think I would be ready for years. But it had happened, below the surface, before I’d even had a chance to grasp it. And despite every indication that what I felt for Eric was love, I had shoved it down, until last night. Because hearing the words spill from Eric’s lips was transformative.
I bent to pick up the cream colored envelope and carefully opened it up.
Dash,
Meet me on the Del Mar Bridge tomorrow night, 7:30 p.m. All you need to bring is yourself.
Love,
Eric
My heart leapt at seeing the word “love” again.
It really was like a switch had been flipped. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore about my feelings. They had all been pushed just below the surface, and now that a crack had formed, they were flowing out of me at a dizzying pace.
Love. Could that word apply to someone that had been my fake boyfriend? We’d spent hours and days together, convinced everyone we were an item, and shared a bed. There had been sex, of course, but also intimacy—Eric coming up to my roof with me, or his comfort when Caleb has told me about his engagement.
But the intimacy had also been in the less obvious moments. A glance between us while we were filming. My head resting on his shoulder at the beach. Or even in the times I’d been without him, but known that my day would be brighter the second he showed up.
Somehow over the past hours and days I’d realized that I would never be ready for Eric—might never be ready to jump into love again—but that I had to do it anyway.
Love could hurt. It could be complicated. But just because I had been burned so badly before didn’t hold bearing on my future. Eric was not Caleb, and I had to stop acting in fear that Eric would dump me like Caleb had.
And nothing Eric had ever done around me seemed like anything a “player” would do. He’d been astoundingly sweet, and fun, and present in a way that no one ever had been for me.
So I was going to be there for him. Tomorrow, on a bridge at 7:30. And I had no idea why he’d asked me to go to a bridge, but instead of letting the anxiety that floated up through me take over, I let it go. I was going to trust him. Because he needed to show me that he could be there, and all I needed to do was show up.
The sun was setting as I approached the bridge the following night. The Del Mar bridge had always been one of my favorite landmarks in San Diego. It crossed the water between a small island and the mainland, and while the view was always beautiful, the bridge itself is what took my breath away. The middle lanes of the bridge were for cars—it wasn’t the busiest bridge, nothing like the ones in New York City, just the occasional car passing by a couple times a minute after rush hour.
But on either side of the street, they had build an expansive median that separated the edge of the bridge into a large pedestrian walkway. It felt expansive, and people often stopped to linger on the spacious sidewalk, looking out at the view. It was studded with beautiful lamp posts every few feet that glowed warmly in the evening, and even the railings on the bridge had a classic feel to them that reminded me of Paris.
It was like being transported into another city every time I had stepped foot onto the bridge.
There were even three little alcoves on the sidewalk with benches placed in them—to me they always seemed like the type of place you’d find a little old man reading a book, though I’d always found them to be empty.
So as I walked onto the bridge, the night already had a slight dreamlike quality to it. The sun was filtered through the clouds, pink and red and deep purple as it set, casting a hazy glow over everything. The lamp posts on the bridge had just been turned on, and I walked beside them slowly, hearing their low buzz as I passed underneath.
I didn’t know what to expect from Eric—he’d just told me to meet him there, but nowhere in specific—so I just walked along, gazing out at the sunset, and peering around to see if he had arrived.
But as I got closer to the center of the bridge, where it curved to the right a little, I saw him.
He was in a full suit, leaning against a lamppost, facing the other direction from me. I approached slowly, suddenly wondering if I was underdressed. Was he going to take me to some fancy restaurant? I was only wearing jeans—they were dark denim, so nothing too bad, but still—
As I neared him I realized that I wasn’t going anywhere, though. I walked up behind him and he turned to me, a gentle smile on his face, and he walked over to me and met me in a kiss immediately.
“Hi, Dash,” he said, pulling back and breathing deep. He looked nervously excited. “I had no idea if you’d even show up.”
“Of course I did,” I said, looking behind him and noticing what looked like a little table. “Eric, what is… this?”
He moved to the side and let me see what he had set up.
In one of the recessed alcoves of the bridge, there was the table I’d seen, complete with a white tablecloth. Two folding chairs had been set up on either side, and there were two wine glasses sitting on the table next to an unopened bottle of red wine. A candle sat burning in the center of the table, as well as a small vase of red flowers.
And sitting on the bench at the edge of the alcove was a giant picnic basket—an actual wicker one, the kind that I didn’t even know you could buy anymore.
“You know how I said I was good at day dates?” Eric said, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
I was still dumbstruck by what I was looking at, but finally I tore my eyes away from the setup and looked to Eric, nodding.
“Well, I’m even better at regular dates. Will you go on a bridge date with me, Dash Thompson?”
I couldn’t help but let a joyous laugh escape my throat as he took my hand, leading me to one of the chairs. “Yes, Eric, I would love to.”
I sat down in the folding chair, still gawking at how unbelievable this was. Everything was unfolding like a dream. “Can we even do this—is this even allowed?” I asked, incredulous.
“Well, we are doing it, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Cars occasionally passed by on the other side of the median, but now that we were sitting in the alcove, it almost felt private, like our own little space on the bridge, under the glow of the streetlights.
Eric produced a bottle opener from inside the picnic basket and popped the cork out of the wine, pouring each of us a healthy amount. He held up his glass and met my eyes, and I picked mine up too.
�
�Dash, this is to us. To everything you’ve shown me is possible, and everything that I hope is in our future. Cheers,” he said, and I clinked my glass against his. I took a sip and felt the warming wine flow through me as a light breeze blew against the back of my neck. I tried to breathe, to act as if this was totally normal, to act like I was the type of person who someone would take on a bridge date.
Did I deserve such an overtly, absurdly romantic gesture? I was reeling from it. Almost felt like I was watching this happen to someone else.
But then Eric was opening the picnic basket again, and producing container after container of food.
“So, I made all this right before I left,” he said, procuring at least 7 different things. “I hope they’re still good.”
He opened all of them and I saw the pieces falling together—cilantro, onions, tortillas, hot sauce, various other toppings, and then pork carnitas.
“Is this a taco picnic, Eric?” I said.
“This is indeed a taco picnic. I… uh… may or may not have known that these were your favorite food, so I figured you would like it.” When all the food was out, crowding the small tabletop, he finally met my eyes, slightly sheepish and biting his lips.
“Holy shit Eric,” I said, “I fucking love you.”
And then I was up and out of my seat, crossing to the other side of the table, and pulling his hands toward me, lifting him up out of his chair. I crushed my lips to his, tasting the wine on him as I’m sure he did on me, and squeezing him as tightly as I could because I was sure I was going to wake up from this crazy dream at any moment.
But I didn’t. I was awake. And this was real. Eric’s lips under mine, and then his tongue against mine, as we kissed under the darkening sunset on top of a bridge.
“God, Eric, how are you so good to me?” I said as I pulled away, resting my forehead against his.
“Do you not see how incredible you are? How good you are at everything you do, how perceptive and talented and passionate? Jesus, Dash, if you could see yourself through my eyes just for one second….”
“Thank you for this. Thank you for tonight,” I said, willing myself not to break down in tears.
“I know tonight isn’t enough,” he said, pressing his face into my hair. “I know it isn’t. I realize that you’re going to need months, maybe years, before you are fully healed. But this is me telling you that I want to be there. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you remember what a worthy person you are.”
“Goddamnit,” I said, as a tear fell onto my cheek. “I had been doing so good at not crying, but holy shit, Eric.”
He just held me tighter. “I can tell you one thing for sure, Dash,” he said, low against my temple.
I sniffed. “What’s that?”
“You’re going to cry tears of joy when you realize how damn good my carnitas recipe is.”
And a laugh erupted from deep in my belly, forceful and unexpected, cutting right through my tears. Eric leaned away from me, smiling with his eyebrows hitched, and wiped my cheeks with the back of his fingers.
“One day at a time,” he murmured, his face growing more serious again. “But today, I want us to finally be us. Not fake. Not characters. Just the real you, and the real me, trying something impossible.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath. “There’s nothing I want more.”
Epilogue
“What do you think they’re going to talk to us about?” Dash said, nervously fidgeting in the hallway outside the conference room.
“Baby, I’ve told you many times, I don’t know.” I smoothed out my button-down shirt—I’d worn the nicest one I owned—and then pressed my hand to his head, smoothing over his hair in an attempt to calm him.
“I know, but like… you don’t think they’d fire just one of us, right?”
“Hell no. They’d never do that.”
“But why else would Eat Network have a mandatory meeting and not tell us why? You don’t think Eric & Dash is cancelled, right?”
“Absolutely not, my love. How could they cancel us? Our show has been wildly popular for how long now? At least… I don’t think they’d cancel their most popular show….”
“Oh Jesus, that’s so reassuring….”
I pressed my hands to the sides of Dash’s head, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Baby. We’re okay. No matter what they tell us in this meeting. Got it? Just breathe.”
He nodded slowly, and finally gave me a little smile. He took a deep breath in. “I got it.”
I thought we’d only have to wait a couple more minutes but time stretched on like molasses, both Dash and I checking our phones at every minute. We were punctual people. And so a 3 p.m. meeting that still hadn’t begun at 3:20 meant a lot to us.
Dash sighed and threw his head back toward the wall, leaning against it and letting his body relax. I turned to him, bending to press my lips to his, and of course that’s when the conference room door swung open.
“Dash! Eric! So glad you’re here!” Billy Morterman, the head of Eat Network’s creative division, bellowed out to us. “Come on in, boys.”
We walked in like we were ready to face whatever truth was about to come at us. Dash and I had been through so much together over the past year, but ever since we had decided—really decided—to be with one another on the night of our first bridge date, we’d been meeting every challenge we faced.
Because we worked too damn well together as a team. And Dash was the best person I’d ever worked with or been with in my entire life.
So I knew we could take whatever Eat Network was going to tell us.
“So,” Billy said, sitting at the head of the long conference table and gesturing for us to sit on the side. Two other corporate higher-ups were at the table too, but I didn’t recognize them immediately. “In the creative department here at the network, we value you two immensely. Not only is the show great, but you two are great—I hear it from everyone on the crew of your show. But we have some new ideas in mind.”
I took a deep breath, settling in my chair, and shot Dash a look. I knew that I could take things in stride but Dash tended to be so much more nervous than me, more prone to panic.
“Yes—what are you thinking, Billy?” I asked.
“Well,” he said with a narrow look in his eyes, “We’re looking to expand.”
I nodded, still not sure what he meant. “So… are you saying you want more live cooking shows besides just ours?”
“Well, no—maybe someday, but that’s not what we’re here for today. We want to expand the Eric & Dash brand.”
I felt my eyebrows hike up. “Oh,” I said, genuinely shocked.
“Yes. And I know you two have a lot on your plate already, but we wanted to propose to you today a multi-year plan, in which we would work with you to put out 3 Eric & Dash branded cookbooks.”
I paused, blinking at him, my brain taking a minute to catch up with his words.
“Wait,” Dash said, and I was so glad he spoke for us, “So you called us here to offer us a cookbook deal?”
“That’s absolutely right, Dash,” Billy said, “Well, actually three cookbook deals in one.”
Dash let out a quick yelp of a laugh, and his face broke out into a wide smile as he turned to me. I couldn’t hide my own smile either, even though this was ostensibly a strictly professional business meeting. I gripped Dash’s hand briefly on top of the table, giving it a tight, quick squeeze.
“Well Billy, I don’t know if you can tell by our reactions, but yes, absolutely—that idea sounds incredible!”
“Oh, fantastic,” Billy said. “You should still take your time and read over the contracts, but I’m so glad you both seem to have interest.”
“Of course we do,” Dash said. “I’ll be honest with you for a second here—we were worried about being fired walking in here today.”
“Fired?” Billy said, his face falling into a furrowed frown. “Good God, no. You’re our best show. Can’t think of a single reason w
hy we’d ever want you to leave.”
It had felt like we were walking into our execution, when in reality, it had been a gift.
I had wanted a cookbook for my whole life—and I knew Dash had too—and now we were going to get to make three. For the rest of the meeting it was all I could do to stop from pinching myself. Because I had no idea when the hell my life had gotten so good.
“Eric Ronson, and Dash Thompson, published authors,” I said to Eric as we walked in his front door. Our front door—I was still getting used to calling it “ours” since I had moved in with him a couple months back.
It really felt like everything we had was ours. Our show, our house, our life. I had spent so long waiting for something bad to happen, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it just didn’t.
Eric loved me. I was starting to see that his love might be the truest I’d ever felt. We worked together both onscreen and off.
“Can I tell you something, Eric?” I said after he put his keys down on the bedside table in our bedroom.
“What’s that?” he said, pulling off his tie. Before he could take it off all the way I stepped in close to him, grabbing it between my fingers and thumb, and giving it a little tug.
“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
He let out a slow chuckle. “Me? Nervous? I think you were the nervous one in there, Dash. I was cool and calm the whole time.”
“I can tell when you’re nervous,” I said, getting close to his face, eyeing him at close range. I stroked my hand down the front of his pants, letting it rest with my palm just over his cock. He had a sharp intake of breath and I felt his cock twitch under my hand.
“You looked sexy as all hell in these fancy clothes, baby,” I murmured before pressing a long kiss against his neck. He moaned low, stilling under my touch, like he was ready for whatever I wanted to do to him. “But can you take them off for me, now?”
The Sweetest Star: Under the Stars Book 2 Page 19