by Fiona Cole
“I don’t know how,” I whined. “What about the next time something comes up and we have to choose between our relationship and our dreams? If I go back now, we could just hit another speed bump later. Then it would only be a matter of time before a speed bump became a wall.”
“Well … you’re my daughter. You succeed. I’ve never known you to fail a challenge without giving it everything you’ve got. You smash through walls; not let them halt your progress.”
A spark of confidence flared inside me, hinting at what I had lost over the previous weeks. I reached out and held on, stoking the flames. I was Evelyn Valero. And for the first time in a while, it actually meant something.
Twenty-Eight
Despite the confidence my mother’s conversation instilled in me, I still couldn’t find the courage to do anything about it. Every time I picked up the phone, I remembered the hurt look in Jameson’s eyes when I delivered those callous words. I remember the cold anger when he told me to get out. I’d even skipped another family lunch. Each week I missed my family more and more. But I’d begun to settle into a pattern, and I didn’t know how to get out of it.
I didn’t know how to explain it. I knew what to do, but a fear of falling held me back from taking action. I knew my time was running out with Luella. Her messages leading up to Sunday reminded me that she didn’t give a shit what was going on with her brother, she still expected her sister from another mister at lunch. She wasn’t impressed with my avoidance skills. I’d even blown off lunch invitations with her, causing her irritation to grow with each “no”.
So, I wasn’t surprised when I saw my door flung open on Monday afternoon from my perch on the couch. She swung the door closed behind her and dropped her bag before cocking her hip and staring me down. Sitting there frozen, I gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence.
“I said last week was your last warning, so don’t sit there looking like you're surprised I’m here. You made me do this.”
“I regret ever giving you a key,” I mumbled, closing my laptop and placing it on the coffee table.
“No, you don’t. You love me and you would never let me wallow the way you are wallowing. Hence, why I used my key.” She stomped over and flopped on the couch.
“I’m pretty sure I gave you a key for emergencies. Not entering without invitation.”
“Your silence was my invitation. You refusing our family lunches was my invitation.”
We sat facing each other, waiting the other out in a silent, narrow-eyed, stare-down.
“I miss you,” she broke first.
“I miss you guys too.”
“So what the hell is going on? I didn’t pry with Jameson – mainly because you never picked up your phone when I called. But Evie, you always figure it out and come around. Rarely is it me who has to hunt you down and walk you through this. What is happening with you?”
Her bright green eyes looked pleadingly at me. She was right; usually I was the one to hold us together when it was needed. But with my best friend’s face scrunched in concern, I realized I was the weak one. I was the one that needed to be held together. An inner voice was telling me how dumb I was not to go to Lu in the first place. She was always my home; she was my family. Just having her there before me, willing to work through my issues already helped another scattered piece of me fall back into place.
“I fucked up, Lu.” Flopping back on my couch, I stared up at the ceiling.
“I know. I may not know the details since Jameson won’t talk to me about it. But I know you fucked up,” she said. I laughed because we never held back with each other and she didn’t sugar coat things and tell me it would be okay. She smiled at me. “So tell me everything you’ve been holding back the past few weeks. Let me help you.”
And I did. I started with how I turned down Italy. Even though she tried to hide it, her eyes lit up with happiness and it was another weight taken off my chest, knowing I’d made the right choice. I could’ve never left that woman behind. Then I led into my mom’s words at the spa before finally ending at our conversation the previous night.
“Well, who freaking knew? All that time you thought your mom regretted your father. That was the foundation you built your relationships on. And now it’s shifted. No wonder you’re a hot mess.” She reached over and soothed my hair back from my forehead. I cherished the moment, since Lu wasn’t a fan of physical contact. It made her comfort that much more precious. “So what are you waiting for?”
“What?” My head jerked up, confused at what she meant.
“Why haven’t you called Jameson? You love him and want to be with him. You’re staying in Cincinnati. So … what are you waiting for?”
“Lu, did you miss the part where I was a raging twat and he told me to fuck off?”
“No, and I don’t appreciate you hurting my brother,” she reprimanded before moving on. “But come on, Evie. I have watched that man mope and be depressed all damn week. I’ve been brushed off by you for just as long, just to storm in here and find you a hot mess hiding in your apartment. You both are so miserable. Why keep doing this?”
Swallowing, I dropped my head and stared at my fidgeting fingers. I didn’t want to say it. But she waited me out. She knew what I was going to say, she was smart like that. But still, she waited for me to come to terms with it.
“I’m scared.” With tears pooling in my eyes, I looked up at her. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if I messed up too much?” She still sat with pinched lips, knowing there was more. Taking a deep breath, I pushed on. “What if we fail and in the end, and it hurts so much more than this? It’s already hurt so much and I don’t think I can survive worse than this. What if I become a bitter woman like my mom?”
“There it is,” she whispered. “There’s the fear you’ve been carrying around with you.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up her hand to halt me. “Don’t sass me. Just accept that I’m right.”
“You’re enjoying this whole comfort thing a little too much,” I grumbled.
“Well, it’s nice to feel needed every once in a while. You’re always the strong one, so let me feel strong for you for just a minute. I’m sure it will pass soon.” Her smile fell, and I knew our joking was over. “So, once upon a time, some brash chick sat me down and called me on my bullshit fear. When I told her I was scared of being destroyed by love, do you know what she said to me?”
Breathing a laugh, I shook my head. “It wouldn’t be love if it didn’t,” I said softly.
“It wouldn’t be love if it didn’t,” she repeated back to me, nodding her head. “You pushed me. Despite your disbelief in loving someone, you pushed me. And those words were all I needed to hear. So, I’m giving them back to you. I hope you hear them. Because you were right; it wouldn’t be love if it didn’t have the possibility of destroying you. It’s all-consuming that way. It’s also what makes it so amazing.”
“So, what do I do?” I whined, my shoulders slouched over in defeat.
“Well first, you shower. And maybe eat a decent meal,” she said, looking around my apartment at all the takeout boxes. “Then, you get on some sexy ass clothes and you go to King’s and apologize. Maybe beg.”
“I don’t beg,” I deadpanned despite knowing I would grovel to that man.
“Oh, you will. Evelyn Valero is going to get on her knees and beg.”
“Oh!” I explained perking up. “Being on my knees in front of your brother is something I’m great at.”
She cringed from my words, pulling the first real laugh I had felt since breaking up with Jameson. Things were starting to ease back into place. For the first time, I truly believed it was going to be okay.
Twenty-Nine
It took three days to build up the courage to go to King’s. A million possibilities ran through my mind. Maybe I could’ve shown up on a busy night and maybe he would come to talk to me. Maybe I could’ve texted him again. But then I remembered how horribly that went the last time and vetoed that option. In th
e end, I knew we needed time alone to talk. I was too scared to go to his apartment in fear he would slam the door in my face. But at King’s I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave or shut me out.
Comfort in the familiarity of opening the heavy wooden door settled around me and gave me strength. Walking in, I scanned the dimly lit bar for Jameson and came up empty. The place was quiet except for the thump of my sandals against the floor and faint music coming from the back hallway. I was struck with a memory of three years ago where we’d begun. When our relationship took the first dive into something sexual.
My skin tingled with excitement as I walked closer to the music coming out of the storage closet. Leaning my shoulder against the door, I watched him squatting over boxes, counting bottles. His thick muscles flexed under his simple t-shirt when he lifted one.
Remembering my words, I repeated them. “Ow-ow. Flex those muscles, baby.” Instead of the playfulness they were said with before, they were wrapped up in sorrow and the beginning of my apology.
His head snapped around, his eyes scanned my body. He took in the way my leg stuck out from the high slit in my maxi skirt and the low-cut spaghetti strap top barely holding my breasts in. Was I using every tool in my arsenal that I had? Hell yes, I was. He stood, and instead of brushing past me, he just watched.
I took him in too, the way his shoulders slumped with defeat and dark circles rimmed his eyes. His usual scruff had expanded to a full beard. It hurt my heart, knowing I’d made this proud, infallible man look so tired and beaten. I swallowed the tears building in the back of my throat and fought the way my body ached to move into his arms.
In those moments of silence, a million words ran through my head. My heart raced a million beats per minute as I tried to formulate the perfect joke to bring us back to us. But we were no longer the same people who’d stood in that same spot all those years ago. We were Jameson and Evelyn. We knew each other on a whole new level. The man before me was the man I loved. I loved him. I ached with my need for him.
So instead of something sassy, like he probably expected, I kept it simple. “I’m so sorry.”
When his face remained impassive, fear pierced my chest. I wanted to turn and run, but I was no runner. Not even from love; not anymore.
The tears began burning the back of my eyes and building on the edge, preparing to fall. “I miss you,” I choked out. My limbs shook along with my chest from my erratic breathing. When the first tear fell, I gave in and let them all fall. “I love you.” I hated that standing before him, crying, was the first time he heard me say the words. But he needed to know, and I didn’t know what else to give him.
His face flinched and his jaw clenched. I didn’t know if my words hurt him, but they were all I had, and I kept saying them as I fell apart. It was my own way of pleading for forgiveness. It was my own begging just for him. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.” I sobbed. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love you, Jameson King. I miss you.”
Closing my eyes, I tried to regain some composure. He hadn’t moved, and I was crumbling in defeat. I needed to calm down enough to get the strength to walk out of there without him. Of all the scenarios, this wasn’t one I had imagined. Once my eyes closed, my shoulders crumpled in and I wrapped my arms around myself. I’d fucked up too much.
Then two strong arms wrapped around me. Lips pressed to the crown of my head, moving down to my ear, whispering, “Shhhh. Shhh. It’s okay, beautiful. It’s okay.”
Immediately my arms shot out and shamelessly clung to him. He may have only been holding me out of pity, but I wasn’t letting go. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Shhh,” he repeated. He placed his palms on my cheeks and made me look up at him. His midnight eyes were red-rimmed and glinted with a spark I thought I’d never see again. “I know. I know you’re sorry. I know you were scared.” Biting my lip, more tears tracked down to my ears. He brushed them away with his thumbs and leaned down to press his lips to mine gently. “I forgive you,” his whispered words brushed across my mouth, and if he wasn’t holding me, I would’ve crumbled against the wall in relief at hearing those words.
“Thank you.”
Another kiss before he pulled back to penetrate me with his stare. “Evelyn. Don’t thank me. I love you. I will always forgive you because I love you. I know you’re new to this. But in relationships we make mistakes. Some big, some small. But if you love a person, you always find a way to make it work.”
“I love you too,” I responded to the most important part. Standing on my toes, I reached up to place another kiss. This one longer and filled with all the passion I’d been missing since I was last in his arms. “I’m going to mess up, Jameson. I’m so scared of getting hurt. But I want to try. With you.”
“Evelyn,” he chuckled. “You know me better than almost anyone. You know I’m going to fuck up. You just have to promise to not run scared and try to forgive me.”
“Okay. Just keep kissing me.”
He pressed his lips back onto mine and shifted me to the wall, burrowing his hands in my loose hair. The kiss turned from forgiving to fierce. Our lips parted and tongues brushed together. I dragged my nails down his back, moving to grip his ass, pulling him into me. His erection pressed into my stomach and a whole new fire lit inside me.
“Fuck me,” I whispered, pleading. “Finish what you started the last time we were in here.”
He leaned in and roughly bit down my neck. “God, that night has haunted me forever. It was bad enough before that, imagining what your tits felt like pressed against me. But knowing ruined all other women. You’ve ruined me.”
“Good.” I began working on his belt buckle.
“I do have some residual anger to take out on you for bringing that pussy into my bar.”
“Oh yeah?” I leaned back, moving my panties down my legs. “Take it out on me, Jamie-Boy.”
With a growl, he hoisted me up the wall and pushed inside with one forceful shove.
“I love you,” I gasped into his ear.
This man had challenged me and denied me. I’d pushed back and denied him just as hard. But wrapped in his arms, feeling him loving me harder than any waste of man before, I knew we were done with the denial.
Well, of course, I could always tease and taunt him with my body. But that was me and Jameson and I hoped those kinds of games never changed.
The End
Acknowledgments
I have to admit that acknowledgements are my favorite part to write. I’m always so appreciative of everyone who helped me get to this point and I love letting them know how much it means to me.
First and foremost, to my family. My husband has listened to me clicking against the keyboard late at night while he was trying to sleep. Thank you for your patience when the house was a mess and you had no clean pants to wear or when we ate pizza … again. I know you’ll never read this, but you are more than I ever hoped for and no matter how much you bitch and moan and roll your eyes at my requests, you make them happen anyways. I love you.
And to my girls, especially Madi, who has been as understanding as an eight-year-old can be when I rushed through play time. I’m so lucky to be blessed with so much love and support.
Whitney Barbetti: We all know that every book from here on out is actually dedicated to you. You pushed and shoved and bullied every word out of me and I couldn’t be more grateful. You talked me down from ledges and quitting and made me really think about why I wanted this. You are my best friend and I will always do my best to bully you back. Stop laughing. I’m ferocious! I could write a whole novel of all the ways you inspire me and support me, but I’ll keep it at this. You’re amazing and I love you. I can’t wait until you move to Tennessee. ;)
Karla Sorensen: Karlita, my love, I think I plotted your death at least ten times. But once I was done having my minor freak outs about your comments, I knew it was always for the best. You made my book something I could really feel proud and confident in. Thank you for being just as mean
as Whitney. Thank you for always Snapchatting me and giving me fun distractions. I can’t wait to see you again so you can laugh at all my weird comments.
To my beta readers: Giselle, I swear I will learn what a comma is at some point in this life. Until then, you are my favorite bitch to bitch with. Christina, your comments while you’re reading are the highlight of my life. You always make time to answer my questions even in your busy life. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Go Seahawks! Tina, you ask the hard questions and I am better for it. I’m so lucky to have you and your tiny hands as my friends.
Erin Spencer: I’m so lucky to have accidentally run into you at RT and then fangirl over you. You have been the sweetest person and always flexible with my inability to stick to a schedule. I love your events and your passion for books. The way you agree to help me always makes me feel like I am a bestseller and not a newbie no one knows. Thank you. Southern Belle Promotions is the greatest!
Jade Eby: You always manage to make the inside of my book more beautiful than I could ever imagine.
Najla Qambar: My goodness, you make the most beautiful covers. I swear you are the MacGyver of cover designs. I vaguely mention a hint of "I want" and you make miracles happen. Thank you for sharing your amazing talent with the world.
Alexis Durbin: You were one of my first book friends in this crazy community. Thank you for holding my hand and teaching me the ropes. The fact that you have mad proofreading skills is an extra bonus. I’m so happy we bonded over our love of Tiffany Reisz books.
Allison J. Kennedy: “Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless.” – Mother Theresa. You probably have no idea who I am, but you set me in motion with a few kind words. I wrote a review for your amazing book, The Choice, as a blogger. You read it and asked me if I ever considered writing. I laughed and said no. But it was your words that planted the seed and got me to write my first fifteen thousand words. From there on out, there was no turning back. Thank you.