Kneading You

by Simone Belarose

I was so happy I felt I might burst. There was no way this was real. I must have gotten hit by a car or something and this was Heaven. Even when I screwed up, she guided me towards making it right. I’m not sure how I ever got along without her.

  The thought of her leaving after Richard’s funeral killed me, but for now, I pushed the dark thoughts aside. There was time to talk about that later. For now, I wanted to enjoy this without any emotional baggage or future-worrying.

  “I’ve got a very comfortable bed,” I said.

  “Do you now?”

  “Oh yes, plenty of room for guests.”

  She tapped a finger to her chin in mock thought. “Guests, you say? How many are we talking about?”

  “Just the one. A very special guest.”

  With an elaborate and dramatic shrug, she said, “I guess since I have no place else to go, I might as well. You’re such a gentleman, Thomas.” She reached up with both hands and pinched my cheeks like she used to love doing and we both broke out in a laughing fit.

  After dinner and the wine, not to mention the outrageous sex, we were both so tired that when I took off my clothes and climbed into bed all we did was cuddle and spoon.

  It was the best sleep I ever had in my entire life.

  Sun painted the floor a brilliant tapestry by the time I finally woke up. For a moment I panicked, afraid last night had never happened and I reached out expecting to find a pillow instead of the gorgeous woman naked and asleep next to me.

  I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding and glided my fingertips across her arm, amazed at what was in my possession. I hoped she was having pleasant dreams. Tragedy may have brought her back into my life, but I wanted to her stay because she was happy. I didn’t want to cage her.

  Claire needed to be free, and I wouldn’t be the guy that stood in the way of her dreams just because I wanted her all to myself.

  I needed to earn her, and if by some miracle she decided she wanted me in her life I would spend the rest of my life earning that faith she placed in me. But all of that was far in the future. For now, I wanted to make this an unforgettable morning.

  As quietly as I could I kissed her hair and slipped out of bed, making sure to tuck the covers around her to keep her warm. I pulled on some clothes to stop from freezing and turned up the heat a little. The winter chill had come early this year, I almost expected frost on the window panes when I walked by the living room windows.

  In the kitchen, I got to work making a breakfast worthy of a queen. Plated it all up on a silver platter I had gotten with the intention of hosting dinners and serving things like roast beef, ham, and turkey on it. Of course, I never got to use it in such a way and it ended up gathering dust in the cabinet near the dining room table.

  Everything set up, I snuck back to the room to make sure she was still asleep. Perfect. I had the perfect wake up in mind for her. Knowing how much she enjoyed my specialty roast, I ground up a fresh batch and poured in hot water over the grounds. I wonder if she knew I roasted and blended the beans myself?

  Right as they were blooming, the aroma filling the kitchen, I gave the grounds a quick stir, put the lid on the french press and took my place.

  I heard her rustling around in the covers. It was still a little chilly in the apartment, but I held my ground. Eventually, I heard her feet hit the ground and the wooden boards I had avoided creaked as she shuffled towards the bedroom door.

  She came out looking like a goddess, half-naked except for my baggy sweater on her lithe frame, bedhead and sleepily rubbing one eye. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of her.

  I don’t think I’ll ever get over the sight of her.

  Dawning realization bloomed on her face, first as confusion and then as awakening recognition. She saw the spread of pastries arrayed on the platter in my arms. My shirtless chest she enjoyed so much, bite marks proudly on display, and a covered plate of eggs, hash browns, sausage, and bacon that I lifted the cover off with a flourish.

  “Breakfast,” I said with my best bow, careful to keep the platter level. “Is served.”

  “You dork,” she said and laughed so suddenly and openly that she snorted.

  It was a laugh I hadn’t heard since we were kids and it made me fall for her, hard. It scared me how deep and fast I was falling for this girl that I had once thought I was over.

  How wrong I was.

  Offering her an elbow, I guided her to the dining room table and pulled her seat out for her. I waited on her hand and foot, plated her food, filled her glass with fresh-squeezed orange juice, got her coffee.

  For a moment I was afraid she was too tired to truly appreciate it, but the look on her face as she started to wake up was priceless and made it all worthwhile.

  “This is really too much.” She indicated the whole spread with a twirl of her fork. “At least sit down and eat with me.”

  I relented and gave her a lopsided grin, sitting beside her and picking my shirt off the back of the chair.

  “But leave the shirt off,” she said not meeting my eyes.

  “As you wish.”

  Breakfast was everything I had hoped it would be. Claire tried a little bit of everything, and I paid special attention to things she kept going back to get another taste of. She liked the pumpkin and blueberry scones best, had a particular preference for the lemon poppy muffins, and really enjoyed the eggs.

  When I offered to make her more she put up a hand. “You’ll make me fat.” She squinted at me. “That your plan, huh? Make me fat and ugly so nobody else wants me? Well too bad, I’m going for a run as soon as I can waddle out that door!”

  I grinned at her, propping my elbow on the table. “And what clothes will you run in?”

  She paused, chewed on that for a moment and then squinted at me again. “Touché.”

  I couldn’t get enough of her, but as I glanced at the clock on the wall I knew I would need to get the bakery open soon. I looked back at her. “Were you serious?”

  Claire straightened her back and looked at me haughtily. “I am always serious, about everything.”

  “Okay, okay.” I stood up and slipped on my shirt. “I meant about the bookstore and that you would have stayed here to run it.”

  “Yes,” she said without the slightest hesitation. “I used to think about it a lot actually. Boutique bookstores are coming back into vogue after all. I don’t think there’d be much market for a traditional store anymore, but there are ways to specialize.”

  I could see I got the gears moving in her head. “That was a better answer than I could have hoped for.” I came over and squeezed her to my chest. I didn’t want to let go, but I forced myself. “I need to get going to work, you’re welcome to come down whenever you want. I’ll save the loaf we made for lunch if you’d like a sandwich?”

  She nodded and stood up, looking so vulnerable that when she opened her arms again, one hand hidden entirely in my sweater’s sleeve that I knew exactly what she wanted.

  I swept her up in a bear hug and twirled her around and around the dining room and into the living room, careful to not crash into anything. She squealed with girlish delight, and it warmed my soul to know that she felt comfortable enough to be like that with me.

  I would never judge her, and I prayed she knew that.

  Her squealing eventually collapsed into giggling and she swatted at my arms. “Okay, okay, Thomas let me down or you’ll be late!”

  I did as she asked and stole a kiss, then another, and before I knew it, I had her up in my arms bruising my lips to hers like she was the air I needed to breathe.

  When we broke apart we were both reeling and gasping for air. I didn’t need to see her eyes flick to my ears and grin to know that they were practically glowing with my blush. “It’s okay,” I assured her. “I have it on good authority the boss won’t hold it against me.”

  She bounced on the balls of her feet and swung her arms and said, “Maybe we’ll have to invite him over for dinner. He sounds like a good m
an.”

  I pointed to the dish of keys by the door. “If you want to get anything from the other apartment, spare keys are there. I’ll call the restaurant once I open up the bakery and see if your purse was left there. I doubt she would stoop to something so low as stealing. I’ll get it back to you by lunch.”

  I didn’t want to use her name, and the slight nod from Claire told me she was glad I hadn’t either. Beth wasn’t worth the breath it took to say her name. I shut the door behind me and hurried down the stairs, tying a black apron around my waist as I went.

  13

  Claire

  I practically floated back to the table and picked up a pumpkin scone to snack on while I went over to Thomas’ couch. Everything smelled like him, and it made me giddy with excitement and the faintest thrill of fear for how much I liked it.

  I was far from a heart-breaker. I didn’t have guys pounding down my door to date me every single day, but it wasn’t as if I had to try very hard if I was interested. Unfortunately, I was always interested in the wrong guys.

  It wasn’t the bad boys and rule breakers that I went after like Jemma, it was the boring sticklers and pencil pushers that I sought. I curled my legs beneath me and gathered the blanket we shared last night around me, huddling in my warmth.

  Basking in his scent.

  If I was being honest with myself - and really, every girl should be now and again even if it hurt, perhaps especially then - I went after them because it was easy. I thought I wanted boring, stable, dependable, but what I wanted was a man who I could see as a partner.

  Every guy I dated was either pushy and thought he knew everything and I should just follow in his steps, or was such a pushover that whenever I suggested anything the answer was always, “yes.”

  There was no spark. No passion.

  In either case, we never butted heads over a dilemma or worked together to solve something. Each relationship was imbalanced and eventually, that was the reason things ended.

  Maybe it was the consultant in me, but I hated going out to a bar and waiting for a guy to hit on me. Filtering out the drunks, potential dirtbags, and those looking just to add another notch to their bedpost was tiring. And my job was tiring enough as it was.

  I much rather preferred to vet a guy before we got to that stage. Either as friends or coworkers, though the latter never worked out and I permanently swore off it. Except…now that I thought about it, weren’t Thomas and I coworkers now? A coworker who was also my friend, that was a rarity.

  You’re a bit more than friends now, aren’t you?

  It took me years to realize what I wanted was Thomas, not the boy I knew in high school - though I think I would have been quite content with him - but the man I knew now. If I made a mistake or was wrong, I could count on Thomas to tell me.

  He wouldn’t agree with my every whim either, not like he used to. We’d have arguments, disagreements and in the end, both have a better understanding of each other and the situation.

  Not to mention the hot, steamy make-up sex we’d have.

  I never had it before, never wanted it, never had a relationship with enough passion that made it even a possibility.

  I found myself wanting a whole list of things I never thought I’d want before. Before I got too far into my daydreaming I pumped the brakes and reminded myself that this was new and I needed to take my time.

  The urge to rush into it, to dive in head-first without heeding any caution was almost overpowering. I was able to master it, for now. Not knowing how long I could maintain that level of control, especially when I was around him again, scared me.

  No matter how I felt about Thomas, I had work to do and I was putting it off. Not a good sign. I never put anything off, I may have shuffled things to the back of the queue but never procrastinated.

  Yet, here I was, doing just that. I didn’t want to be the dutiful girl waiting for her guy to come home. I wasn’t a homemaker. I had a business degree from Columbia, and I was damn good at my job.

  Finishing off the last of the scone I threw off the blanket, pulled on the sweatpants Thomas had loaned me and found the keys to my dad’s place and marched into the cold damp morning air.

  Dad’s apartment was practically freezing. A few nights ago it had been cool enough to leave the windows open overnight and now I was shivering just walking in the front door.

  Briefly, I entertained the idea of bringing my things over to Thomas’ but shot that down. I was not going to be clingy. Though I honestly wanted to, I pushed that part of myself away and after changing into proper clothes got down to business.

  First was the order of my dad’s estate, which meant dealing with local, state, and federal tax laws. The internet here was spotty, so it took me a good deal longer than I had hoped to set his affairs in order.

  After all the number crunching was done, Thomas and I would owe a collective thirty grand in taxes, and miscellaneous fees to bring everything current.

  While I wasn’t listed as the sole beneficiary, Dad had transferred various accounts to my name in the event of his death should I not dispute it. Of course, that meant I had to call half a dozen financial institutions with a phone that kept dropping signal.

  It was in every sense of the word, boring.

  Not the boring I enjoyed either. This was just talking to person after person with pin codes and faxing copies of every kind of official document one could ask for.

  I yearned to go back to Thomas’ and the warm comfort that it provided me. I didn’t want to be here, doing this work and feeling like that made me annoyed with myself.

  Wasn’t I a hard worker? Since when did I want to just give up and run to the arms of a big strong man? That was so unlike me that it made me wonder what Thomas was doing to me. What was this relationship doing to me?

  And the most frightening of all: Is this relationship healthy for me, for my future?

  The worst thing about all of it was that I didn’t know. I had no answers to any of those questions, this was all uncharted territory for me. It went against everything I stood for, I was a planner. I charted my course, updated it as needed along the way but I stuck to my plan.

  Getting entangled with Thomas wasn’t supposed to happen, but after what I went through, he had been there for me like he always had. How could you not just love the man for being there?

  He didn’t coddle me, didn’t pry and ask annoying questions a dozen times like, “Are you okay? Are you sure you’re okay? What’s wrong?”

  Besides, after realizing that the main reason I turned tail and ran towards my scholarship and cut all ties with this place was a sham, I couldn’t go back to ignoring my feelings for him.

  I had been blaming - and punishing - him for all these years and he’d been innocent. I don’t know how he didn’t hate my guts.

  Rubbing my temples I hung up on the last call of the day. It was getting late and most places were closing down, managers were sneaking out early on Friday as usual and I wasn’t going to get much more done.

  With what access I had I tallied up the assets at my disposal. And found that I didn’t have much. Dad’s retirement fund was paltry, enough to pay for the things he needed but barely more than that. He had been drawing well above the typical four percent per year.

  Had I known he was having financial issues I would have helped. Even with my expensive apartment, I made enough that helping him wouldn’t have even been noticeable. And that began a spiral of self-blame and recriminations.

  I should have been a better daughter. Should have demanded he come live with me, there were better doctors in New York, better facilities to take care of him. I could have made sure he ate properly.

  No, none of this is doing any me good. I’m just going to go around and around in my head until I make myself crazy and end up believing Dad died solely because of my decisions. How selfish could I be to think that?

  Despite my rational words, I felt the specter of doubt and worry follow me like a raincloud, dampening m
y mood.

  What I needed was coffee.

  A quick search through Dad’s things turned up his usual gross fascination with instant coffee. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. In fact, I realized I’d gone a long time without eating anything.

  That was a problematic trait of mine. Whenever I focused on something, everything else seemed to fall away. I’d forget to eat, get some sunshine, and generally take care of myself.

  Grabbing my coat from my case I snugged on some warm winter boots I had packed just in case the freak snow flurry decided to hit while I was in town. I felt more like myself wearing well-fitted jeans, and a thick cable-knit sweater I had picked up from a trip to Ireland.

  Realizing I was probably overdressed for just walking downstairs to the bakery I tossed the coat over the back of the couch, pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail and headed to see what Thomas was up to.

  He did tell me to come by whenever I wanted, I reminded myself to stop from chickening out at the last moment. Standing there in front of the rear door, I wondered why I didn’t just go in through the front. The answer was obvious.

  I wasn’t ready for people to know we were together. Silly, I know. Why should a grown woman care what people think? And yet here I was, sneaking into the back of the bakery while Thomas worked. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the man I was falling for despite my best efforts to deploy a parachute of caution.

  The door was unlocked, saving me the awkwardness of knocking. Immediately the smell of fresh-baked bread and scrumptious pastries hit me like a wall of decadence. I stood there in the doorway, breathing in the aroma until the door smacked me on the butt and I made an utterly undignified squeal of surprise.

  A noise that I was absolutely certain was pitched perfectly to grab Thomas’ attention no matter what he was doing. Right on cue, he barged into the kitchen from the front of the shop. His eyes as bright as a child’s on Christmas morning.

  I suddenly felt very self-conscious being the subject of that look. Keenly aware I hadn’t put any makeup on since washing it off last night, I tried to avoid his gaze by looking at all the half-finished delicacies out on the countertops.