by Hazel Kelly
“It’s my turn,” he said, laying his hand over mine.
I pursed my lips and clung to the feeling of his warm hand on mine.
“As far as your past, I don’t really give a shit,” he said. “I mean, I care because I care about you, but from the moment I met you, the past has been the last thing on my mind.”
I felt the tightness in my chest loosen ever so slightly, just enough that I remembered to breathe.
“And if anyone here doesn’t deserve a chance because of their past, it’s me, not you,” he said. “I’ve done some awful, stupid, nasty things in my life, things I’m not proud of, things that make me cringe now that I’m a father- now that I’m a man. Or at least I try to be.”
I nodded.
“But the difference is the bad decisions I’m ashamed of are all my fault. My mistakes were made freely and selfishly.”
I lifted my glass to my lips, took a sip, and set it back down.
“But your shitty childhood isn’t your fault,” he said. “And you shouldn’t be ashamed of it any more than you should feel responsible for what happened to you.”
I furrowed my brow. “You’re not mad that I lied?”
“There’s only one thing you could lie about that would hurt me.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“And that’s your feelings for me,” he said. “But as long as they’re genuine, I don’t give a damn about anything else. Not your job, not the people in your past that missed out by not getting to know you, and I certainly couldn’t care less about the fact that you lied to me when we first met because you couldn’t have known then that you would fall so hard for me.”
I felt the corner of my mouth break into a smile.
“So?”
“So what?”
“This is the part where you say your feelings are real.”
I looked down at the table. “Talking about my feelings isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
He scooted over and put an arm around me.
I rested my head on his shoulder.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Your body gives you away anyway.”
I tilted my head back and squinted at him before laying my head back down. “Thanks,” I said, laying a hand on his thigh.
“For what?”
I looked back at him. “For still wanting me.”
“What?” he asked, his eyebrows jumping up his face. “Of course I still want you! Why the heck wouldn’t I?”
Cause nobody else ever has, I thought, too proud to say it out loud.
He lifted his hand to my chin and looked in my eyes. “Let’s make a deal.”
I leaned back just far enough to look at him. “What?”
“How about you won’t judge me for my past if I don’t judge you for yours?”
I pretended to consider it, looking out of the corner of my eyes for a moment.
“Well?”
“Deal,” I said.
Then he kissed me on the lips, just hard enough to let me know he meant it.
When I opened my eyes, he was smiling at me.
“Now,” he said. “Is that all the surprises you’ve got for me or are there more?”
“I think that’s it.”
“Great,” he said. “In that case, I’ve got one for you.”
“Oh?”
He leaned forward and reached in his back pocket.
I watched as he flapped his wallet open and pulled out a card. It was plain white and square with rounded edges, like a pictureless id.
He set it on the table and slid it towards me.
“What’s this?” I asked, picking it up. The opposite side had a black strip running the length of it. I felt my insides clench.
He smiled.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “It looks a lot like a room key.”
“If by room you mean fantasy suite, then you’d be correct.”
I squinted at him. “But my apartment’s only a cab ride away,” I said. “And I heard the rooms here cost an arm and a leg.”
“It’s fine. They take kidneys, too.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What do you say?”
“I say you didn’t have to do that.”
“I did, actually.”
“And why is that?”
“Cause,” he said. “We’re celebrating.”
“We are?”
He nodded.
“What are we celebrating?”
He smiled. “Besides every inch of each other?”
“Yeah.”
And then he leaned forward and whispered in my ear, his hot breath swirling against my neck. “A lot,” he said. “But let’s start with that.”
Chapter 11: Wyatt
She seemed lighter on her feet after her big confession, which was nice to see.
That being said, I was a little disturbed by her news. It wasn’t that I cared whether or not she was really from a big family or whether she could swim- though we would have to correct the latter as soon as time allowed.
In fact, it wasn’t really what she said that had me freaked out. It was more how she said it.
There was real pain in her voice when she admitted the truth about her past, pain that made it clear that there was more to her story, that she wasn’t just on her own.
She was damaged, too.
And it was one thing to see someone who was a natural whiner admit that they were hurting, but she wasn’t like that. She was tough and hard- maybe a little too much so- and I could tell that it was difficult for her to open up to me.
Which was equally encouraging and difficult to swallow.
What’s more, I desperately wanted to tell her about the song- our song. Cause there was no way that win could be misconstrued as anything but good news for both of us. But it didn’t seem like the right time, not now when she’d just dropped such a bombshell on me.
On one hand it was no big deal. After all, I was being honest when I said the news didn’t change how I felt about her. At least I thought I was.
But the more I digested what she’d said, the more I began to realize that wasn’t true.
If anything, I think I actually cared about her more. And while it wasn’t an easy feeling to describe, I recognized it.
It was the same way I felt the day I found out Sophie had diabetes.
I remember surprise being the first thing I felt- not shock or anger- at the news that my little girl wasn’t like all the others. And the second thing I felt wasn’t exactly happiness, but rather, it was almost like a prideful righteousness.
Like I knew she was different, that she was special, and having that confirmed made my love for her and my desire to protect her even stronger.
And I felt that way now with Addison.
It all made sense.
The pushing me away, the being vague, the lies- or secrets, depending on how I looked at it.
But it wasn’t personal.
She was just doing what she needed to do to survive, what she’d always done to survive. Cause she didn’t know yet whether she could trust me and what my intentions were.
And I knew it would be naïve to think everything would be easy from now on.
Whatever she’d been through, something told me that it was as serious as it was pervasive and that it would take time to prove to her that I was in her corner, that I wasn’t going anywhere, that she could count on me.
But that didn’t worry me. That was something I could do.
And she was worth it.
And now that I knew why she was so reluctant to consider the future, I was more confident in my ability to be there for her than I’d ever been.
Because I knew from experience that everyone eventually gets tired of pretending they don’t need anyone. And when she got tired, I would be there. No matter how long it took, no matter how many outs she gave me, and no matter how her painful history manifested itself.
Because Sophie and I were smitten, and whatever doubts I’d had before about whether she h
ad what it took to be part of our little family, they’d been laid to rest this evening.
The only question now was whether she wanted to be part of it.
Well, maybe not the only question.
In reality, my mind was swirling with things I wanted to ask her. How many foster homes had she gone through? Had she ever tried to find her parents? How the hell had she managed to become such a success on her own?
Not that I was surprised. I just wanted to understand.
Personally, I’d done pretty well for myself, but I’d had support since the beginning. Instruments, music lessons, tickets to see my favorite bands. I couldn’t imagine what I’d be doing now if I hadn’t had the support of my family from day one, support I’d often dragged out of them against their will.
But she was self-propelled. Driven. Fierce. Probably stronger than me in every way that wasn’t physical.
And even though it wasn’t the time to question her or make a fuss, I was kind of in awe of her all of a sudden, like it wasn’t just my daughter that would be lucky to have her as a role model.
Though I could tell that my body was becoming increasingly interested in having her in an altogether different way.
“Have you stayed here before?” she asked, holding her purse in front of her and watching the floor numbers light up above the elevator door.
“Never.”
“Not even when you were with the band?”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? We were lucky if we could scrape together the money for a motel. And even then we’d all be piled in one room sleeping head to toe.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What? I imagined you had all these crazy hotel parties with massive adjoined suites and bathtubs full of Evian.”
I shook my head. “Perhaps we would’ve if we’d ever released a fourth album, but one through three didn’t quite get us there.”
“Sometimes the fantasy is better than the reality, I guess,” she said, stepping to the side so some expensively dressed seniors could step off the elevator.
“I don’t know. At the time, the reality seemed pretty thrilling.” I held the door open and waited for her to get on. “We thought we were living the dream.”
“Were you not?” she asked as the doors closed.
“No,” I said, shaking my head and stepping up to her so I could slide my hands around her hips. “Turns out things can get a lot dreamier than spending the night with a bunch of wannabe rock stars.”
Her eyes flitted up as she leaned in to me. “I can’t imagine anything dreamier.”
I leaned down and stuck my face in the hair over her ear. “You won’t have to.” I slid my hands over the curve of her ass and felt the blood rush to my cock. “Fuck. Maybe I am dreaming.”
She leaned back and looked at me. “Whatever do you mean?”
I groaned and ran my fingertips back up to her waist. “Tell me you’re not wearing any underwear.”
She smiled and a splash of pink swept across her cheek like an invisible paintbrush had put it there.
I raised my eyebrows.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
I let my head fall back and pulled her hips against mine. When I dropped my gaze back to her mouth, I only had one thing on my mind. “I don’t know about you,” I said, shaking my head. “But I think we’ve been doing entirely too much talking this evening.”
She furrowed her brow. “Are you sure? Because I was thinking when we got upstairs, we could take turns reading the Bible to each other, assuming there’s one in the drawer of the nightstand.”
“I don’t think there will be time for that tonight,” I said, glancing at the illuminated buttons and realizing I’d have to settle down if I was going to walk down the hall without getting arrested for indecent exposure. “But if you want me to spank you with it, it would be my pleasure.”
She shook her head. “That’s terrible. We’re both going straight to hell.”
“I was already planning on it. Though I have to say, the sight of your body in that jumpsuit makes me question if I’m already there.”
Her face crinkled as the elevator slowed down. “I don’t get it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Cause you’re so hot.”
She laughed and stepped backwards. “Oh right.”
I ran a hand over my head and crossed my hands in front of my zipper. “I thought I was being pretty smooth until I had to explain myself.”
“I think that just goes to show that you were right about what you said before.”
“When?” I asked as the doors opened.
She raised an eyebrow and flicked her hair behind her shoulders. “When you said we’d done enough talking.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” she said, leaning in and rising up on her toes so she could whisper in my ear. “Besides, if you recall, that’s not all my mouth is good for.”
Chapter 12: Addison
It was like I hadn’t told him anything. He hadn’t asked any questions, hadn’t made an excuse to leave.
Not that I expected him to flee at the news that I was born a reject and had been fighting my whole life not to feel like one.
But he hadn’t changed at all. I almost felt like I could pretend the conversation never even happened.
But it had. I knew it had. Because my heart felt like it was smiling in my chest, and my body was coursing with a whirlwind of feelings ranging from the desire to flee to a tangible anxiousness.
Of course, it was only when I turned into myself that things felt out of control. When I allowed myself to stop obsessing over my words and thoughts for long enough to look at him, it was like gravity was working again. Like nothing was up in the air and everything was firmly on the ground, stable, and under control.
Which was bittersweet.
Because I knew he was the reason I felt like that.
And I hated that something external could make me feel so settled, despite the fact that I loved the feeling.
I just couldn’t tell if it was the one people raved about, perhaps because I didn’t trust that enough time had passed for me to know. And it’s not like my life experience regarding relationships was rich enough to inform me further.
I mean, when I considered the people I cared most about, certain words came to mind. Words like practical, helpful, funny, and kind. But he was more than that. And some of the words that came to mind when I thought of him seemed nonsensical. Words like warm and safe and enticing.
Was I falling for him?
Or had I already fallen so hard I was face down on the floor and my feelings for him were obvious to everyone but me.
It was confusing, especially cause he still had the power to make my blood boil more than anyone else. Even Chris and Deborah.
But was that only cause I already cared more about him than I could ever care about them?
And if that was the case, did that mean he was right about all those infuriating things he said about my job? Was I looking for the security I’d always craved in a place it could never be found?
I blinked the thought from my head.
I didn’t want to think about any of that stuff. In fact, I didn’t want to think at all.
I wanted to feel something besides the panic I felt knowing my pain was out in the open. Meanwhile, he’d acted like a band aid and a cuddle would fix me.
I didn’t need a cuddle, though. Cuddles were something people came to rely on when they got used to having them, and for that reason I’d never developed such a dependency.
But I did need a fuck.
I needed something to overwhelm my mind and body so I could escape for just a second from the fact that I’d brought sadness into the best date night of my life.
And I knew there was only one thing that had the power to make all my worries disappear, and as crazy as it was, that thing was sucking Wyatt’s dick until my mind went blank.
And by the way he kept his hands in front of his pants
on the way down the hall, I was confident that he would be more than happy to oblige me.
When we reached the door to our room for the night, I pulled the white keycard from my purse and waved it in front of the subtle scanner. When the green light flashed, I pressed the handle down and opened the door.
“Oh my god,” I said, leading the way into the room. The suite was massive and the expensive looking maroon furniture in the sitting area matched the linens on the four poster bed.
Sheer curtains covered the floor to ceiling windows, blurring a spectacular view of the city, a view unlike anything I’d seen before. I dropped my purse on the table and went to peek through the curtains.
Below, the people looked like ants, ants I pitied because they couldn’t possibly be having the night I was, and something about being so far away from the city streets was freeing.
“I take it you’re impressed?” Wyatt asked.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see him reaching for the bottle of champagne that was chilling in a bucket on the table. Behind him, there was an enormous bouquet of all crème colored flowers I hadn’t noticed on the way in. “Very.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s the whole point.”
I looked out the window again and took a deep breath. The last guy I went out with that attempted to impress me did so by getting a side order of fries- probably to make sure I didn’t eat his. And now this?! I didn’t know what I did to deserve such a generous gesture, but I didn’t dare pinch myself.
When I heard the cork pop behind me, I turned around again, smiling as I watched Wyatt hold the fizzing bottle over the bucket so he wouldn’t make a mess.
I slipped my shoes off so I could feel the thick carpet between my toes. Normally when I stayed in hotels, I was that person that never walked around barefoot, and it would be an understatement to say I never lay directly on the comforter. But this place was different. It was clean and bright and it didn’t smell like pine or lemon. It smelled like vanilla.
And something told me it was about to smell like sex.
“Fancy a glass?” Wyatt said, raising his eyebrows and taking a seat on the plush looking couch.
I walked over to him, addicted to the way his eyes cascaded over my body. By the time they were on my face again, I was standing in front of him.