by Bromberg, K
I take a minute at the top of her stairs to wait for my dick to calm down. I pull my phone from my pocket and with my fingers still wet from her, fire off a text.
While victory may be sweet, it’s also reserved for those who are willing to pay a price.
And damn it to hell, I’m paying the price by walking away with her scent on my fingers and her taste on my lips.
Saylor
Your A-Game? It’s damn good, Ships. You almost had me. But mine’s better. See I can show restraint too. Rematch in about 40 hours?
I stare at the text for the hundredth time, my body still strung taut from his touch and the smile still wide on my lips. I’m sexually frustrated but so damn content because he loves me. No man would go through this much trouble if he didn’t.
You’re a bastard.
I consider finishing myself off. Claim my orgasm he left unfinished but know half the fun is doing it with him. So instead I sit in the quiet of my room, with the paparazzi clamoring outside and the media filming downstairs. With a business proposal for a game-changing contract in the sent bin of my email, and a man I never thought I’d get back, owning my thoughts . . . and I wonder how all of a sudden this is my life.
And then he texts again.
Does it make you feel any better that I can still smell you on my fingers and it drove me crazy during that whole last interview?
No. It doesn’t make me feel better at all. My turn:
Does it make you feel any better knowing I took care of what you didn’t while you were in that last interview?
But that sure as hell does.
I watch the clock. Let three minutes pass while picturing him gritting his teeth as he imagines me up here getting off without him. And then I text him again.
Just kidding. See? A-Game.
Saylor
ZERO DAYS LEFT - Finally
FACEBOOK
QUESTION:
Where were you when you first knew you were in love with your soul mate?
#MovieRoleResearch #UnDeniable
I stare at the post for the longest time. Wishing I knew more about Undeniable’s movie plot to see where he’s leading his fans with the question. I’m sure it has a purpose. I just don’t know what it is.
I type several answers to the post but then delete them. Anything I post is up for public fodder, and I want to keep our relationship as private as possible.
So I read other peoples’ comments instead. Try to waste time as I wait for whatever it is I’m waiting for from Hayes. I skim my other social media accounts, check my phone, but there’s nothing written from him to me. No countdown until I get to see him. No corny pick up lines.
No anything.
Just radio silence.
Two days full of it to be exact. He left the bakery to give one last interview with a prominent entertainment journalist over a late dinner. And of course the cocky bastard gave me nothing more than a nod of his head and a crooked smile on his lips when he closed the door behind him.
But there are reminders of him everywhere: In the crooked lampshade that was knocked askew in our little make-out session. In the bakery’s furniture I decided to rearrange when we put it back after the interviews were over. And in the absence of paparazzi out front but in the presence of a line of people waiting to buy cupcakes today.
A line. That’s a first.
So I’m baking like a mad woman. DeeDee’s helping me too, along with a friend she brought in, so we can keep up with the demand. It’s a good problem to have.
And yet, a part of me keeps looking around, keeps waiting for Hayes to show up and tell me the ten days are up so I can answer his question and tell him yes to all of the above, whatever that may be.
I tell myself it’s no big deal. That he’s done enough and the only thing I really want is him. But I’m frustrated. Hell, if he’s still trying to prove his point, it’s been proven. We can survive the paparazzi. We can handle the craziness. And even when we’re surrounded by both, I still want him. Still need him. Still choose him.
Work overwhelms us. The sheer volume of customers today is ridiculous. Time passes quickly, but Hayes is always a constant on my mind. I look up every time the bell rings, grab my phone every time it alerts a text, and obsessively wonder when this ridiculous show or game or exercise in willpower will be over.
“Holy shit,” DeeDee says as she plops in exhaustion onto one of the stools when we have our first lull of the day. “Today is incredible!”
I smile because I’m still amazed at it myself. Joining her on a stool, I drop my head in my hands, and close my eyes for a moment just to soak it all in. When I look up, DeeDee is reading something on her phone, and her smile just keeps getting wider and wider.
“What is it?” I ask, curious but exhausted and suddenly realizing that I still haven’t heard from Hayes.
When she looks up at me, there are tears swimming in her eyes that contradict the ear-to-ear grin on her face. “Here.” She thrusts her phone out to me.
When I look at the screen, it displays a new post on Hayes’s Facebook page. And this one is meant for me.
ANSWER:
I knew I loved @SweetChks in this tree house. She thought I wanted to be with the cool senior girls when all I wanted was to look at the stars with her. Or maybe that was just my excuse to get closer to her. I knew it again, thirteen years later, when we came back here on the way home. I never told her the words though. Third time’s a charm. I wonder if she knows where to find me so I can tell her this time?
#NotMovieRoleResearch #RealLife #RealLove #ShipsAhoy #ImWaiting
My eyes flash up to DeeDee’s, and I can’t get out of the chair or grab my car keys quick enough.
* * *
It’s dusk when I run down the path to the old tree house. I bypass the house and Ryder’s car in the driveway. My mind is focused on one thing—getting to Hayes. And the closer I get, the wider my eyes grow. The structure has a fresh coat of paint and the slatted steps have been replaced.
The tree house my dad built us way back when has never looked better and I can’t help but feel it’s fitting that it’s Hayes who has made it over. Almost as if by bringing me here, my father is somehow passing my hand from his to Hayes’s and telling him he better take good care of me.
Overwhelmed, I stand beneath it and stare for a moment. That first time Hayes climbed in there with me comes back to me. It’s funny how those butterflies are still in my stomach all this time later. And they grow stronger with each step up I take.
The door swings open before I can do it myself and there’s Hayes with his hand outstretched to help me the last little bit. He pulls me up and the funny thing is, this time I love the small confines of the tree house because that means he’s within arm’s reach wherever he sits.
“Hi,” I say and press my lips to his without preamble. And he reacts by kissing me back with that kind of soul-searing, toe-tingling, soft-but-demanding, desire-inducing, fingers in my hair, my hands sliding up his back, never-want-it-to-end kiss.
And when it does end, when I’m so soft and mushy with a firestorm of emotion that I just poured into the meeting of our mouths, Hayes leans back, brushes a lock of hair off my cheek, and smiles that shy smile of his that he reserves just for me.
“Hi, Ships.”
My smile widens to epic proportions. “You’re talking to me now?”
“I have a few things to say, yes.” He shrugs and brushes another tender kiss to my lips. “Thanks for meeting me here.”
“Thanks for asking me.”
“I wasn’t sure you were going to see the post.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You kind of made me a social media junkie these past two weeks when I never was before. You see, there’s been this boy I like . . . and he’s been refusing to talk to me in person. But since he only talked to me online, I became one of those annoying people who look at their phone every five seconds.”
“Is that so?” His voice is coy. His expression feign
ed innocence.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You only just like him?”
I purse my lips. Scrunch my nose. Pretend that I have to think about it. “Hmm. More than like. Definitely love.”
He grants me a quick flash of a grin. “There’s frosting in your hair.” He reaches out and touches it before his eyes find mine again.
“Sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way. Don’t you know that yet?”
And those words.
Simple acceptance of who I am. It does funny things to my insides, or maybe it’s the man who said them that does.
I smile softly at him, reach down, and link my fingers with his. “Thank you.”
“No. You don’t need to thank me, Saylor. You should never have to apologize for being you. Because you . . . you’re beautiful and smart and sexy and defiant and creative and hot-headed and crazy-funny and spontaneous. I love every single one of those things about you, plus all the other things I forget until you do them and then that makes me remember them.” He smiles again and squeezes my hand. My heart swells. “I walked away ten years ago thinking I could forget you. That I could chase my dreams and move on. That first loves could never be last loves. God, how I was wrong. There’s something to be said for falling in love with someone you grew up with. I know all your flaws, Saylor. Your weaknesses. Your strengths. Your fears. Your mistakes. And I fucking love you for every single one of them. They make you, you. And in turn, they make us, us.”
“Hayes.” His name is a sigh of affection on my lips.
“No. Shh. I’m the actor, I get to hog the stage right now.” I laugh as he does. Know he’s joking and nod in agreement.
“What is it about actors and wanting attention?”
“Funny. Very funny,” he teases before leaning in and kissing me again. This time though he slips his tongue between my lips and takes the kiss a little deeper. His hands tremble as they frame my face and that little action tells me everything I need to know. If he’s nervous, then this matters to him, and I’ve been worth the trouble. “What I have with you, Saylor, I don’t want with anyone else. You’ve marked me. Not just my heart with your love or my mind with your words, but more so my soul with everything you are. Everything you aspire to be. And everything you think we can be together.”
He puts a finger to my lips when I start to speak. I try to tell him this is all too much, too kind, too overwhelming when for so long there was nothing but emptiness without him. But how can I say to stop when my heart feels so full, my soul so completed, when I can’t remember it ever feeling this way before?
“I know it’s been sudden, and that all of this has come out of nowhere. Knocked us on our asses in bright paparazzi camera flashes of light. But it’s real, Saylor. We’re real. The realest thing I’ve ever had in my life that I’ve built on making believe.” He looks down at our fingers linked together before lifting his eyes to mine and smiling softly. “I can’t promise you it will be easy because you’ve gotten a taste of my craziness, but I can promise you that we’ll make us work. We’ll figure out a way. Buy a house between our jobs. Or open a second bakery in Hollywood. Buy a damn chopper if need be so you can make your deliveries. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it because I don’t want to go another day without knowing you’re mine. We’ve lost too much time already, and I don’t want to miss any more. So what do you say, Ships? Want to try to make this thing work long-term for us?”
My whole body trembles from the truth in his words and the honesty in his eyes. Tears blur my vision but when I look at him, I remember the boy with gangly legs and a Star Wars obsession. I recall our first kiss and reminisce over the nerves we shared our first time together. Then I think of the few occasions he held me while I cried and the numerous times we’ve laughed so hard our sides hurt. And then I see the man he’s turned into. The considerate, funny, handsome, intelligent, romantic man he is, and I know without a doubt we can make this work.
He’s my soul mate.
There’s only one love that matters more than your first love: Your last love. How damn lucky am I that both of mine are the same person?
With that thought on my mind, I lean forward and press the sweetest of kisses against his lips. Lean my forehead against his. Close my eyes. And feel at home.
“I know you say words are cheap but those words you just said? Those words were priceless, Hayes Whitley.”
“So are you.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me tighter into him.
“And I think long-term suits me just fine.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I brought my A-game again, and you know how good that is.”
My laugh fills the space around us. So many things set right in our world. “About that A-game of yours . . . there seems to be some unfinished business it needs to take care of . . .”
And so by the light of the rising moon, in the place we shared our first kiss, we also share so much more with nothing more than love and possibility between us.
Epilogue
Saylor
ONE YEAR LATER
“Where are you taking me?” I laugh out as the breeze blows against my cheeks and the ground beneath my feet becomes uneven.
“You’ll see,” Hayes murmurs, his hands covering my eyes over the scarf he’s already secured to ensure I don’t sneak a peek. “A little birthday surprise never hurt anyone.”
We’ve been driving for what feels like forever. I’d like to say I’m good with direction and which way we went, but for all I know we’ve driven in circles for hours and he’s just taken me back to the home we share nestled in the Hollywood Hills to mess with my head. I’ve tried to be patient. Tried to relax and wait for the surprise he has in store for me, and so I occupied myself thinking about the supplies I needed to order for the Brentwood store. And when I had that figured out, I moved on to the list DeeDee had sent over for the original State Street location she runs now.
Shut it down, Saylor. Enjoy the anticipation. Take in the moment. Love your man. Appreciate that Hayes is still trying to be spontaneous and do a little something special for you. Still trying to put you first despite his hectic schedule and the ridiculous demands everyone puts on him.
“Are we going to get a puppy?” There’s amusement in my voice over our long-running joke. How while a puppy is permanent, it’s also the death of so many couples once they realize how hard it is mixing two different ideals to raise something together.
“I told you, we’re not getting a puppy. I don’t need a trial run with you, Ships. I know you’re good for it whenever we decide to raise something together.”
I laugh out loud as he holds me steady when I stumble. “You mean like a sea turtle?”
“If you want to learn how to lay an egg, then be my guest. We can do sea turtles but I was thinking something more along the lines of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl someday.”
“Oh. Okay.” There he goes melting my heart and leaving me speechless. The man has a way of doing that on a continual basis.
And I’m definitely not complaining.
“A few more feet.”
“Okay.” I count ten steps and wonder how many more are his definition of few since the suspense of whatever he’s up to is killing me. And as soon as I think it, he directs me to stop.
“Right here,” he says softly, almost as if he’s trying really hard to concentrate like he sometimes does when running lines. “You ready?”
I chuckle. Suddenly nervous. Was that his hands just shaking?
“Yes.”
The heat of his body leaves mine. “You can look now.”
I slowly pull off the black scarf and when I do, the sight before me takes my breath away. My mouth falls open, my eyes grow wide, and my head moves from side to side so I can take in my surroundings.
It’s so perfect, so everything, that it takes me a few moments to breathe it all in.
We’re at the base of the tree house, it’s dusk, and Mason jar
s hang from the tree branches with votive candles lit inside them. Fairy lights twinkle within the tree’s foliage, and are also lighting up the long wispy grass field beyond it. There are flowers too. My mother’s favorite—hydrangeas in their various colors—overflowing from galvanized and patina canisters adorned with lace and burlap bows. It’s stunning.
I’m overwhelmed and in awe and when I turn around again, I’m teary. Ryder, DeeDee, Hayes’s mom, and other mutual friends from Santa Barbara and Los Angeles are here too.
It’s like my brain is so overwhelmed by this breathtaking spectacle of perfection, that I can process the where and the what, but only after I take in the whole of the picture, can I finally process the why.
This isn’t a surprise birthday party. Not in the least.
My hand flies to my mouth. My eyes widen and flood with tears as realization hits when I look back to Hayes in front of me. How did he know this was my dream?
Because he knows me inside and out.
Always has.
Now, he always will.
“What did you do, Hayes?” My words come out in a hushed whisper.
His smile widens. It has a hint of nerves to it but the look in his eyes suggests the nerves are the good kind. The this matters kind.
He glances to the unfamiliar woman off to my right and when she nods at him, the absolute adoration in his expression as he steps closer to me causes goosebumps to erupt across my skin. He reaches out and takes my hand.
“Surprise,” he whispers as every single part of me falls head over heels in love with him all over again.
“Is this what I think . . .?” My voice fades off as I look around us again. Meet the eyes of Ryder who steps up beside Hayes and hands him something, smile so full of love and pride I know the answer to my question immediately.