Kissed by Reality

by Carrie Aarons

  They were both quiet for a while, moving around, dipping french toast in the egg batter, setting the table.

  “You know he almost sold his apartment after you left.” Lorraine was the first to speak.

  Shock radiated through me where I stood whisking eggs for scrambling. “I didn’t know that, no.”

  “Yes. He couldn’t go back for a week. Stayed here because he couldn’t stand to see the place you’d started a life together. Marina had to go pack up your things or anything he deemed couldn’t stay. He barely went out into the world for months. I didn’t see him smile for the longest time. You did that. You crushed him. My strong, serious, honest boy. You broke his heart into a million tiny pieces.”

  I sighed. “I know I did, Mrs. Wyatt. I know because I also pulverized my own heart. And we were able to do that to each other because we love one and other so much. We have the kind of love that cuts like a knife but heals like a miracle. And I am so sorry. You will all never be able to grasp how much. But I am here now. And I’m not going anywhere. I love him so much…”

  My throat began to clog with emotion and desperation. Were they ever going to get it?

  “Alright, alright. Let’s just have a nice breakfast, yeah? See if we can’t do some family bonding.” Marina jumped in and gave me a small smile. “Where did you learn to cook like that anyway? We weren’t nearly that far along in your lessons when you left.”

  The end of her sentence gutted me, but only a tiny bit. I breathed through the shame and pushed on. That’s how, slowly, I’d heal these relationships. “My mom taught me a bit. I took over for her at the coffee shop.”

  “How is your mother?” Lorraine smiled at the memory of my mom, probably thinking about the numerous phone conversations they’d had about our future. They’d been instant friends.

  Guilt, sorrow and deep rooted pain wracked my body, but I tried to keep my voice neutral. “Ah…um, well, she was diagnosed with breast cancer about three months ago actually.”

  “What?” The knife Marina had been using to cut up sausage links clattered to the counter.

  “Oh dear, I’m very sorry to hear that.” I could hear Lorraine move toward me, my back to her as I busied myself at the stove. I blinked rapidly, trying to shove away the tears clouding my vision.

  “Is there anything we might be able to do, to help with?” She put her hand on my shoulder and a sob ripped from my throat. Shit, I was supposed to have my game face on today.

  “Oh Leighton…” Marina came to stand with us too, my back still to them, their hands gently resting on my arms. I knew they were trying their best to comfort me in that moment.

  “Is breakfast ready, Lorraine, I’m starving—“

  Jackson Wyatt’s sentence cut off as he saw us in the kitchen. ”What’s going on here?”

  I could hear in his voice the malice he still held for me. I sniffed and blotted at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.

  “Oh Jackson, just shush!” Lorraine chided him.

  “Let me just finish up here and then I’ll start serving, Mrs. Wyatt.” I got back to scrambling the eggs.

  “Enough of that. Call me Lorraine.”

  I smiled and my heart perked up just a bit.

  As we all sat down to breakfast, Finn took my hand under the table, squeezing it. Warmth and love filled my chest, and I wish he could have stayed with me last night. I missed him. And I also really needed him. It had been almost a week since we’d fucked, made love…whatever. I was horny and pent up, and the only thing that could solve it was his cock.

  “So Leighton, what have you been up to?” Carter broke the ice, waking me from my sex daydream.

  I cleared my throat as I passed the sausage plate over to Finn and almost lost it. The universe was being a dick, literally, to me. “Well, besides the show, I was working at my family’s cafe. Running the place really. I never worked in there much before to tell you the truth, but I’ve taken a liking to it.”

  “That’s great. And how’s your mom?” Carter kept on shoveling food into his mouth as he conversed, unaware that he’d just landed on a sore subject.

  I looked down at my plate, gulping, and not wanting to get into this again. Luckily, Finn was a stellar person to have in my corner.

  “Mary is sick, actually. Cancer. She’s not doing well, but is fighting every day.”

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and rubbed my arm as I continued to fixate on the cold plate of eggs and fruit in front of me.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that. Please let us know if we can help in any way.”

  I looked up, my jaw probably hanging to the floor, to see Jackson regarding me with what looked like sympathy.

  I knew it was the fact that my mother was gravely ill, but it was the first time in half a year that he regarded me with any kind of friendliness.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Finn

  My fingers skate up Leighton’s ribs, shoving beneath the hard underwire of her bra and landing on her nipples. I rolled and pinched the hard nub, swallowing the groans she blew into my mouth as we kissed.

  We feasted on each other, mouths and tongues tangling and dancing in a sensual, erotic dance. My dick was trying to punch it’s way out, rip at the material of my jeans so it could slide under her skirt and into that sweet, tight pussy.

  “Finn…Finn, oh my god. We have to stop.” Leighton panted against my lips, her voice so quiet but raw and ragged.

  “Why? What, the idea of the crew out in the hallway doesn’t excite you just a little bit? Doesn’t make your panties wet?” I whispered in her ear, pinning her against the door to my apartment.

  Our apartment. The place we had lived together as a newly engaged couple.

  Leighton curled her body against me when I tweaked her nipple, my hand shoved up her shirt like some kind of pervy Neanderthal. I wanted to rip her clothes to shreds, but a part of me was holding back. Haunted by the ghosts of what had gone down here.

  "Jesus Finn..." She breathed, her sweet cinnamon breath fanning my face. I worked her breasts and nipples as she shuddered against the door, the voices of the crew moving around outside as they packed the video equipment away for the day.

  We'd only come over here to shoot a brief segment, and I'd requested some special time away from cameras with Leighton. For any other two people, Chuck would have put his hotshot producer foot down. For us, he told me to use a condom.

  He was a mind reader sometimes.

  I dropped to my knees, finding the hem of Leighton's skirt as my hands circled her bare ankles under the striped cloth.

  "What are you doing?!" She hissed frantically, a crew members voice echoing just on the other side of the wooden door.

  "What does it look like I'm doing?"

  In one swoop I pushed her skirt up, the material floating down around my head and shoulders like a tent as I stuck my head underneath. I could smell her arousal already, and wasted no time wrenching the white cotton thong down to the floor.

  Leighton wouldn't spread her legs though as I placed a kiss over her mound.

  "Spread your knees, baby."

  "Finn...I really want to do this. But…come on, there are people right there."

  I chuckled, shoving a finger between the folds she was trying desperately to clamp together. "Since when are you a prude?"

  Leighton squirmed with desire as I massaged the lone finger over her clit, her wetness dampening each inch of skin between her legs.

  "Open up, baby, or I'll be forced to open your knees for you. And I guarantee you won't be able to stay silent then."

  Relenting, she eased her muscles, allowing me to part her thighs and stick my tongue directly on the hot button throbbing at her core.

  "Agh!" Leighton let out a screaming moan anyway.

  I chuckled against her sex, the vibrations sending a shudder through her. I ate her sweet pussy like it was the feast at my Thanksgiving table, nibbling and sucking, lapping up her juices. All the while she let out breathy sighs, gr
ipping me head over the skirt covering my hair.

  After a few minutes, she was practically grinding against my face, her leg muscles shaking where my hands rested on her thighs.

  "That's it baby, come for me." I let up before pushing two fingers inside of her, her juices dripping down my hand.

  Leighton's guttural cry fills the tiny apartment as I pump in and out of her pussy, her orgasm milking my fingers like it’s my dick. Said big guy throbs in my jeans, pissed off and jealous that I won't let him take a turn.

  When the final spasm leaves her body, I reappear from under her skirt, smiling and cocky at the lazy, satisfied grin I've put on her face.

  "Now do I get to return the favor?" She loops her arms around my neck and smacks a dick-sizzling kiss on my lips. I groan from the fact that she's tasting her own pussy, the thought sending my head swirling.

  But this was about her. I press my nose to hers and talk so that my words are directly aimed at her lips. "No need. This was for you. I know this visit has not been easy. It's been about as painful as water torture for you, and I wanted to make it up to you."

  "You gave me a thank you blowjob?" She smirks, rubbing her nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss.

  "I did. Now you have to get out of here before you miss your plane."

  "Do I have to go back? Can't we just be done with this?” I noticed the hint of insecurity in her voice.

  I couldn't give her the final answer. I'd signed a contract that if I broke, Mr. Right would sue me for more money than I'd make in my life. And the lifetime after this one.

  "I love you. Just know that." I whispered in her ear, holding her and trying to convey through the grip of my hug that she was the only woman I'd ever feel this way about.

  "I love you too, Finn Wyatt."

  After I got her out the door —one steamy make-out session later— my cock literally threatening to punch me in the throat it was so angry about my control, I walked to my bedroom.

  It had been awhile since I'd been back in my apartment. After we'd broken up, I rarely stayed here. And then only a short month or so later, Mr. Right producers had flown me out to L.A. to talk contract negotiations. It was only now that I realized how fucking stupid I'd been to go on this show as the lead role in the first place.

  It was clear that I hadn't been over Leighton. Even if I'd given it a year and then gone on the show to look for love, I wouldn't have been over Leighton. My ego was bruised and I was broken, I thought I'd fucking show her how over her I really was by going on the show. Too bad the joke was on me. I couldn't be happier she'd stolen the game right out from under me.

  Pulling open the top drawer to my dresser, I felt around in the back until my fingers connected with a small piece of material. My hand closed over the sock, dragging it out and feeling inside for the small velvet box. I pulled it out, my heart thumping like a drummer was using it to play a solo.

  I looked around my room as if someone might jump out of the closet and snap a picture, leaking my entire plan to the world. But it was just me. The masculine, dark wood furniture Leighton had harrumphed about when she'd moved in. The cream walls she'd insisted on painting that color. The three paneled portrait of the forest that hung above my bed.

  I popped the small lid open, the velvet sliding beneath my fingers. There it sat, untouched since the day I'd found it on my nightstand where Leighton had left it before she'd gone.

  The center diamond sparkled, sending little reflections of light off the halo diamond around it. I remembered the day I'd chosen this ring. The way it had looked sitting on Leighton's finger. How I couldn't let it go, toss it or pawn it or smash it when she'd left.

  It had sat in the back of my dresser, always in the back of my mind but never allowed to see the light of day. Until now.

  In four days I'd get down on one knee again. I'd slide this ring back over her knuckle and secure our future. She might have come after me, but I was going to get my woman.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Leighton

  Most people get nervous in front of crowds or for performances. Maybe they get jittery when they have to do a business pitch or impress their boss. Perhaps your anxiety trigger is being in a large group and getting the nerve to tell a story or a joke.

  Me? I never got nervous. Ever. I wasn't anxious or jittery or scared. My stomach, hands, heart and head were always cool as a cucumber in any situation.

  Until Finn Wyatt.

  Fucking Finn Wyatt.

  Who knew it would be one man that triggered all of my nervous energy? It was like I'd been holding in a meteorite of apprehension, the size of it slowly building for my entire life. And then...BAM! Finn Wyatt walks into my life and I'm supposed to wait calmly for him to make the decision that will dictate my entire future.

  I've been pacing around my hotel room for two days, not able to sleep or eat because I’ve been so tortured about what is going to happen.

  Of course they chose Hawaii for this. It wasn't enough that I was pacing and ridiculously nervous. I apparently was also made to sit in a sweat lodge. Although the resort was beautiful. Finn had proposed to me on a beach last time. Maybe this was a good omen for me. For us.

  But it's finally here. Today is the day. Will Finn pick me? Will he propose? Or will he crush me like I crushed him? Will he choose to be with Erin?

  My heart physically hurts, burns in my chest at the thought of the two of them growing old together.

  I examine myself in the mirror, scrunching up my face the way I do every single time I look at my reflection. My mom used to call it my “mirror face."

  Hair and makeup would be here soon to primp me, make me look absolutely amazing as I headed for my death march. They'd bring wardrobe along too, lend me some ball gown that was three times what I had in my savings account. The women had to look stunning even if they were left in a puddle of their own tears after this Charm Ceremony was over.

  I'd watched them countless times on TV. After all, the franchise was one of the longest running reality shows in history. I wasn't present for the one on my previous season of Mr. Right, being the third runner up. On Right Now Island it had been a bit different, we'd basically known we were going to get engaged. There was no downfall of another person…just sweet, mushy love.

  My heart had been palpitating all morning, speeding up and slowing down at random whenever the picture of a crying, snotty me being ushered into a limo popped into my head. I had to calm down. Meditate or some shit. Jesus, what was wrong with me? I didn't meditate. I manned up. That's what I needed now. I had to be confident.

  A knock sounded on the door as I nodded to myself in the mirror, feeling even dumber after internally giving myself a pep talk. I had to get out of this room.

  My stomach went into a full tailspin when I unlocked the door, revealing Mitchell.

  "Fuck...he's dumping me isn't he? Didn't even have the fucking balls to come do it himself..." I spoke to the ceiling, tears springing to my eyes as I heard the first crack, my heart splintering in my chest.

  "No, no, no! That's not why I'm here at all Leighton. Can I come in?"

  He moved forward so that my only option was to allow him to enter the room. We stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, faced with the age-old problem of weirdly sitting next to each on the bed.

  "If it's not Finn, why are you here?" My internal alarm system began to blare, something about this encounter feeling off. Did they want me to throw the competition or something? Become the next Mrs. Right? I couldn't put anything past Mitchell.

  "Maybe you should sit..." He gestured to the chair.

  Only after I was fully seated near the small desk did he open his mouth again.

  "I'm here because a call came in this morning. I don't know how to say this Leighton, but...it's your mother. She's not doing well."

  A cold wave of nausea swept from head to toe, causing me to spasm and involuntarily shudder. "She hasn't been doing well for awhile."

  I tried to deny anything had chan
ged. In my head, I just wanted to brush him off. Brush whatever he was about to say off. My mother was sick, I knew that. But this was it. The last day. Nothing was going to go wrong today.

  "She's...her cancer has taken a turn for the worst. The doctors, they say there isn't much time left. If you're going to be with her when...You just, you have to leave now."

  Anger flared in my veins. "What are you saying, Mitchell? Spit it out!" My ears, my eyes, my entire system refused to compute the information he was giving me. She wasn't...not today. We still had time.

  "The doctors don't think she'll make it through the end of the week."

  His sentence fell like an anvil dropping onto my head.

  "No." I would not accept his message.

  "Leighton, I understand how difficult this is. But think about your mother. You need to go be with her."

  My head felt too heavy, my skin too cold, everything around me too bright. I squeezed my eyes shut, images of mom lying frail and in pain in her olive green bedroom.

  I snapped them open. "I need to get on the next flight out of here."

  His smile was small, and I'm sure what he thought was comforting. I thought he just looked like a plastic Cheshire cat. "We have everything set up for you. There is a car out front, your tickets and things are in a folder inside."

  I ran frantically around the room, collecting my bag and some items I'd brought with me.

  "Leighton, don't worry about those. We will get everything back to you. Go, you have to go!"

  I stopped dead, remembering the most important thing. "Shit...Finn...I have to go tell him."

  A flash of panic ran across Mitchell's frozen features. "No! You uh...don't have time! You have to get on a plane. I'll go tell him right now, but you have a flight to catch."

  I thought this over, turning around the room in circles, trying to pick up anything I might need to take with me. "Okay, okay you're right. Um...tell him I love him. That I'll always love him. Tell him I'll be in Los Angeles, and that I'll have my phone on me at all times. I'll call him as soon as I can."