Someone Like You

by Brittney Sahin

  “Money.” The word is almost a whisper as if it’s a dirty thing to him. It’s become something dirty to me, given what my family is trying to put me through.

  Neither of us talks for a minute.

  “What were your parents like?” I finally deflect, but I’m genuinely curious what life was like for someone like him, someone who wasn’t raised in a damn ivory tower and forced to eat from a metaphorical golden spoon. Is the grass really always greener…? I’ve had the pressing desire to know this for a while now.

  His shoulders relax, and he smiles. “They were high school sweethearts. My mom stayed at home and took care of Bella and me while my dad worked. We didn’t have much in life, but we didn’t need it.”

  A pebble of jealousy flickers through my stomach like a stone skipping on a pond.

  “They loved to dance to my mom’s jazz music. I’d watch them dance around the living room, laughing and so damn happy.”

  I can imagine a young Noah, and it makes me chuckle a little.

  “They still live in the house I grew up in outside of Nashville. Someday I’d like to build them a new house, but every time I mention it, they insist they’re happy as is.”

  “Wow,” is all I can muster. “I’ve only seen my parents dance at stuffy black tie fundraisers, and they’ve only done it to keep up pretenses, never because they wanted to.”

  I’m not sure how this happened, how we’re sitting at a little pizza place on the other side of the river, talking about our families when this was supposed to be only about sex, and yet I wouldn’t trade this moment, this dinner, for anything.

  “I have something for you. I was going to wait for Bella’s big reveal, but—”

  My cheeks warm. “A surprise? Where is it?” I slide out of the booth, feeling like a kid at Christmas. I sling my purse strap over my shoulder and wring my fingers together as I wait for him to get up.

  “Oh, so you want it now, I take it?” He points down and squints an eye. “Like right now?”

  I slap his chest for the second time tonight, but this time I leave my hand there—feeling his heartbeat beneath my palm. A slow and steady beat. His eyes drop to mine, and he opens his mouth to speak, but he stops himself for some reason.

  “Right now,” I whisper, and I’m pretty sure he’s picked up on the double meaning.

  I turn, anxious to leave, but he whispers from behind me, his breath at the shell of my ear, “It’s at your place.”

  I stop and his hands go to my hips, bracing me. “I have a surprise hiding at my own place?”

  He nuzzles the back of my head again, his mouth near my neck, and goose bumps spread across my skin beneath my T-shirt and jeans.

  “Yes, but I also don’t know if I can wait until we get to Manhattan to have you.”

  I nearly groan, but I catch sight of a family in a nearby booth and resist the compulsion to turn around in a pizzeria and press my mouth to his. I peek back at him over my shoulder. “I’m worth the wait.”

  “You want some wine?” I ask.

  “I’m good,” he says.

  “Not much of a drinker, huh?” I switch to the music app on my phone, and a Calvin Harris song plays. “I’d put on the entertainment system, but it’s not connected.”

  I set the phone on the couch still covered by a blanket and glance at Noah as he bends over and picks up a few materials from the construction job. He moves them to the other side of the room, clearing out a space near the bay window.

  “I have a different idea.” He swipes his palms over his jeaned thighs, leaving wood dust behind.

  “Sure you don’t hate the music?” I smile as he takes two long strides, nearly closing the gap between us. I hold my breath, wondering what he’ll do once he’s within arm’s reach.

  “This music is fine, but I thought you wanted your surprise.” He raises his brows and cocks his head, studying me.

  Damn him, he’s still standing too far for me to touch him. I know I can move, I can go to him, but the anticipation has built up so much from our trip back from Brooklyn that I’m worried I might trip over myself going to him.

  I’m not acting like an almost thirty-year-old woman. No, right now, I’m like an awkward teen from a nineties sitcom. I just need a hair scrunchy, leg warmers, and some sparkly gloss.

  We’ve been playing different music stations every time we make—shit, I stop my thoughts when the L-word dangles in my brain.

  No, making love is for people who are committed, who are in relationships. For people who have known each other for months. Years, even.

  I pause the music on my phone. “I do want it. Now.”

  I bite my lip, hold out my palms, and close my eyes. My body tingles with nervous anticipation, loving that I have no idea what he’s going to give me—this excitement and energy pushes out any negative thoughts about my family business issues. It’s just him and me right now.

  “Give me a minute. And stay like that.” He’s moved because his voice sounds farther away.

  It feels like forever as I wait.

  “Okay,” he finally says. “Open your eyes.”

  “I don’t feel anything in my hands.” I fake a pout, eyes still closed.

  “It’s too big.”

  I can tell he’s smiling just by the way he spoke.

  My eyes slowly open. Noah’s by the window, standing next to a black table I’ve never seen before. Bella must have bought it with the shopping budget I gave her. But what’s on it is what matters, and I slowly move toward him, my hand coming to my chest.

  “It’s an antique. I was passing by a store when I saw it in the window. It needed some fixing up, but I managed to find the right parts.” He positions the needle over the vinyl.

  I stop in front of the table, mesmerized by the gift. “I don’t know what to say.” I look into his blue eyes. There’s so much heart and soul there.

  “Do you like it?” He smiles. “After seeing your response to mine on the boat, I thought maybe you’d like your own.”

  My tongue rolls over my teeth as I steal another minute to think, to contemplate the right answer, but a heavy weight is pressing down on my chest.

  “You okay?” His hand goes to my shoulder.

  I almost shut my eyes as the music of Miles Davis fills my home. The same song we listened to on his boat the night of his birthday. “I, um…I think it’s the best present anyone has ever given me.”

  He laughs a little. “Now you’re pulling my leg.”

  “No, really.” I reach for his hand and lace my fingers with his. “Will you dance with me?”

  I want to take the words back the second he steps away, and his facial muscles grow tight, his jaw clenching a little. My hand falls at the obvious rejection.

  His eyes go to the floor, and his hands turn to fists before he unfurls them, and his gaze finds mine again. “I think I should go. I’m so sorry.”

  What just happened?

  “Maybe this was a bad idea.” He starts past me almost immediately.

  I want more than anything to turn and call out to him, to beg him to stay, to cross the line with me.

  I don’t turn, though. I don’t try to stop him. I remain staring at the record player, my insides burning—pain ripping through me. I’ve only known him for a few weeks, so why do I feel like this?

  This might be the end of the road.

  The line in the sand has become a trench, and things will get too messy if we even try to get to each other…

  And we can’t try, can we?

  I lift the arm of the record player, stopping the music.

  “Grace.”

  I startle at the sound of his voice. His hands rest on my shoulders, and I flinch as chills move through me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I look down, too afraid to meet his gaze in the window’s reflection, but also afraid to see myself. “Why are you apologizing?”

  He removes his hands, and when I shift my attention back up and to the window his eyes find mi
ne.

  “I miss my daughter,” he says slowly. “It’s not you. Even though my ex never wanted to dance to the records, Lily loved to.” He taps a fist against his mouth for a moment. He shrugs as if the emotion will fall away.

  “Ohh.”

  “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing right now in this new life. Being a SEAL made sense.” He tosses his hands up as if frustrated. “I knew what needed to be done and how to go about it. But as a father, it’s scary and unpredictable. And what’s worse is I could lose the one person who cares about me.”

  “You won’t lose her.”

  He folds one arm under the other and grips his forehead, his eyes masked beneath his large hand.

  I suck at this. I’ve been working on the cold-hearted bitch thing for so long that I’ve forgotten how to be me, how to be there for someone and support them when they need it. I lack empathy or something. I’m a mess. But all I want is to be here for this man right now.

  “There’s not a judge in the world that would ever take someone like you away from her.” And I believe it. I have to, because my faith in life and justice will be gone if Noah loses her.

  “I’m not that great of a guy.”

  I reach for his arms, forcing them down so I can look into his eyes. I need to say this before I lose the nerve, before the words die inside me in that place where all my hopes and dreams have gone to die over the years.

  “There’s more than one person who cares about you. Your sister, your parents, your friends.” My hands are wrapped around his corded forearms, holding on to him for support. “Luke cares. Jessica cares.”

  Say it, dammit.

  Say the words, don’t swallow them.

  My heart pounds in my ears as my stomach knots. “I haven’t known you long, but I…”

  Noah drops his head forward a little and takes a shallow breath, but he keeps his eyes locked with mine. “What is it, Grace?”

  “I care about you too.”

  My lip trembles as he raises his arm and I lose my hold—he brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, pulling it down a little.

  “You shouldn’t.”

  His words slice through me. They would totally wreck me if it weren’t for the way he’s looking at me right now—his eyes betray him. Emotion is painted on his face, thick and heavy.

  “I told you I couldn’t give you more.”

  He drops his hand, and I let go of his other arm as he steps back, offering a small bit of space between us, but tension fills that gap.

  “Nothing has changed.” I try to hide the disappointment in my voice. “We’ve spent a lot of time together this week. We learned a lot about each other.”

  He knows about Greece. My fears. The music. He knows more about me than Rachel. And he’s been gradually sharing pieces of himself with me. Slowly, but they’ve come.

  “And so, of course, I care for you. You’ve become a friend. You offered your friendship, remember? Or do you regret that?”

  “Grace…” His eyes linger on mine, thoughtful. Then his face hardens, and he’s a soldier standing before me. A strict rule-follower. “Someone’s bound to get hurt.”

  How did we get here? We rushed back to my place, anxious to have sex, and now we’re talking about this?

  I can almost hear my father’s voice, or even Cade’s, whispering in my ear that this is for the best, that it was going to have to end soon anyway. I don’t want them to be right. I don’t want my family making decisions for me about who I can care about.

  “I’m willing to take that chance,” I whisper-yell, surprised by my own words. “Even if everyone thinks we shouldn’t, I’m okay with living for the now. Let’s worry about tomorrow tomorrow.”

  “Who doesn’t want us to be together? Who knows?” His lips part.

  I turn away from him, not sure how to answer that. “People.” I wave and start for my bedroom, irritated. My body is warm, rigid, and I’m ready to fight.

  “Wait.”

  But I don’t. I flick on the lights and cross my room in record time, needing cold water on my skin to cool off. It’s not Noah I’m angry at; it’s our situation—the fact that so many forces are keeping us from even trying to see if this thing between us could ever be something more than just sex.

  “We need to talk. I don’t want to leave things like this.” He leans inside the doorframe of my bathroom, and I turn on the water and splash my face.

  “Nothing to say.” I grab a hand towel and dry myself. There’s black liner beneath my eyes. How attractive—not that it matters anymore.

  Some of the best moments of my life have been in this past week—but they’ll become bitter memories. It’s time to move on. I need to focus on work and figure out what the hell is going on with the business. I need to be a Parker-King again, even if the thought makes me nauseated.

  “Go.” I toss the towel at the laundry basket, not bothering to wipe my smeared eye makeup. I face him, cross my arms, and lean my hip against the marble countertop.

  “This wasn’t exactly how I meant for the night to end.” His voice is low and has a flash more Southern than it normally does.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have screwed things up with your gift.” I almost cringe at my words because I love the record player, more than he can possibly know.

  He looks at the floor for a long minute, then he uses the tip of his shoe to kick off one black sneaker before maneuvering out of the other.

  “What are you doing?”

  He uses the side of his foot, covered in a black sock, to shift his shoes out of his way, off to the side of the door, then he comes in front of me.

  My arms tense but go to my sides. “What?” I tug my lip between my teeth as his eyes darken.

  “You’re right.”

  “About what?” I snap.

  “I fucked up. I got you the gift because I care too. I wanted to see you happy, to make you happy. I crossed the line.” He shakes his head a little, and his hand sweeps up the back of my neck beneath my hair. The feel of his hand on me has me nearly forgetting what we’re talking about. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this situation, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “We’re doing that honesty thing again?” My brows rise.

  “I never stopped being honest.” He guides me a little closer to him and touches my chin with his other hand, as though he’s demanding my attention—my eyes to be on his.

  “But—”

  “Someone will get hurt, that’s the truth.” He leans in so our lips are almost touching. “Do you still want this to happen—to let ‘tomorrow be tomorrow’?”

  His words are on my lips he’s so close.

  My eyes shut when his hand dips from my neck down my spine.

  “Yes,” I almost moan, my body arching up so my chest is flush against him. “More than anything.”

  And then he presses his mouth to mine, pulling me in tight where I belong.

  16

  Noah

  “It’s tomorrow.” Grace props up her head, elbow resting on the bed, and her smile meets her eyes. She has a killer smile. It gets me every time.

  I copy her move to better face her. “It is.”

  “And you stayed.”

  “Is that okay?”

  She stayed on my boat the other night, but that felt different. Last night was intense, though.

  She nods. “I didn’t have a nightmare.”

  “You didn’t on the boat either.”

  “I guess I feel safe with you.” She relaxes back down, her head on the pillow, her eyes on the ceiling. She combs her fingers through her hair, and I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t.

  “Have you found anyone you can talk to about the nightmares, about what happened to you?” When this ends, she’ll need to find a way to feel safe again.

  “I’ll see someone eventually.”

  I sit up in bed, leaning my back against the headboard, and clasp my hands over the sheet on my lap. “I know Bella
wanted you to stay somewhere else before the big reveal, but I was thinking that maybe a hotel isn’t the best idea.” Given what happened to her in Greece… “My boat is a bit tight and you aren’t a fan of the water. Otherwise, I’d offer.”

  She takes a breath. “I’ve been in a hotel since Athens. I’m not going to lie—I didn’t sleep well. But I can’t let what happened to me there give me yet another phobia, right? I’ve been obsessing about the water all my life, and somehow you managed to help me with that”—she snaps her fingers—“like that. So maybe I can put on my big girl panties and move forward.”

  “The hotel is a little different.”

  I don’t know why she feels as if she has to ignore her feelings. This is why I really want her talking to a counselor or something. I’ve seen firsthand what PTSD can do to people. I don’t want to lose her.

  I almost drop my head forward and squeeze my eyes shut at the thought that just passed.

  I will lose her. Jesus.

  “I’ll figure something out when the time comes. Just have Bella give me a day in advance before she kicks me out.” She sighs and sits up, and her legs drop to the floor. She clearly doesn’t want to talk about this right now. “Are you guys working on any other jobs or just my place? I never asked.”

  She faces me. She’s only in a thong, a hot pink, frilly thong. I want to go to her, sink to my knees, and tug the strap of material down her legs with my teeth.

  “Just yours since I’m the only labor she has. But now that we have an investment, we can hire a few people.”

  “That’s great.” She smiles. “So, um, what are you doing today?”

  I want to say something stupid, like “you,” but I refrain. I really would love to stay in her bed, to have her legs wrapped around me, to forget about our problems, but I also need to put a little space between us, to get my head on straight.

  “I’m gonna try and see Lily.”

  I woke up in the middle of the night and checked the airport arrivals at JFK to make sure her plane got in as scheduled last night. I had memorized the flight information when Cindy flashed me the airline tickets on her phone last weekend. As long as they didn’t miss their flight, they should be back in town. And I refuse to let Cindy keep me from her any longer.