Forever Only Once

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Forever Only Once Page 10

by Carrie Ann Ryan


  “Well, then,” I whispered, then cleared my throat. “I’m glad we finally did that.”

  “After two dates?” She swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m glad we did, as well.”

  So proper.

  I fucking loved it.

  “Again?” I asked, then shook my head when her gaze moved to my lips. My cock twitched, but I refrained from moving any more than I had. We were in public after all, standing under a bright lamp where anyone could see.

  Possibly the safest place to park…though I didn’t know why I’d thought that just then.

  “Go out with me again.”

  “When?” she asked, then smiled. “I mean…sure. Yes. I’d like to.”

  “And not only for your pact?” I asked, unsure why I’d said that.

  She smiled widely. “No, though the girls will be happy to hear that. Maybe it means it’s Paris’s turn.”

  I smiled at that. “That sounds like a plan.” I helped her into her car and brushed my fingers along her collarbone, loving the way she pinked at the contact. “Text me when you get home?”

  She frowned.

  “I just want to know that you’re safe.”

  “I…I can do that.” She paused again. “I…I like that you care.”

  That was an odd thing to say, but hell, she should probably get used to my overprotectiveness. “Good. Because I should warn you, I’m a bear when it comes to making sure those I care about are safe.”

  “And do you care about me, Cross Brady?” she asked, something odd in her tone.

  I leaned forward, my gaze on hers. “Yes, Hazel. I do. And I suppose that’s something new both of us will have to learn how to navigate.”

  She smiled again, and I wondered what that meant, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I closed her door, then watched her drive away, leaving me standing there with leftover Korean food, a hard-on, and confusion written over every inch of my face...and my heart.

  Chapter 9

  Hazel

  * * *

  I stood at the front door, my heart racing, but not out of fear. Mostly anxiety. Though considering that I felt like anxiety wearing a cardigan most days, this shouldn’t be any different. I just really didn’t want to ring the doorbell or knock. I did not want to go inside.

  And then a voice came from the intercom on the doorbell. The fact that I had forgotten she had a video doorbell, told me my anxiety had reached a new level.

  “Are you just going to stand here on Dakota’s porch for the rest of the day? You should just come in. We unlocked the door for you.”

  I crossed my eyes at Paris’s tone. “It’s not safe to leave your door unlocked,” I said, a little fear in my voice.

  “We unlocked it when we saw you coming up. However, we will come out there if we have to.”

  The door opened on Paris’s words, and I looked at Dakota, who just shook her head, a smile playing on her face.

  “Paris and Joshua stole my phone, so I apologize for the way she answered.” Dakota opened her arms, and I went into the offered hug, leaning in to the woman’s hold. Dakota was quieter than the rest of us, probably because she had a six-year-old boy living with her, and because she was continually having to deal with noise—as well as being a mom. Since Paris was the loudest of us, it only meant that Dakota could finally rest. Or maybe I was thinking too hard.

  “Thanks for having me over for brunch,” I said, actually meaning it. I might be having a nervous breakdown for a variety of reasons, but I needed my girls. And brunch. “My hands were full, by the way, so I wouldn’t have been able to turn the doorknob easily,” I said honestly, and Dakota grinned, looking down at the plate in my hands.

  “Oh, you made your little apple tartlette thingies,” she said, taking the tray from me. “I love these so much.”

  “I was trading them for your goodies, and they aren’t that hard to make because I cheated this time.”

  I winced, and Dakota just laughed. “I’m a mom, I often cheat when it comes to saving time while making dinner or any type of food,” she said. “Store-bought pastry? It still looks amazing.”

  “Yes, but now I feel bad.” Dakota always made hers from scratch.

  “You were not going to make puff pastry from scratch for us,” Myra said. “Not during this part of the semester anyway. And I hear you were out late with a certain sexy, bearded man,” Myra said, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. It was an air kiss, the type we had done forever, and we both froze before laughing. It was part of our old lives, the ones where we did brunch and champagne and pretended that we liked the rest of the people we were with. She shook her head and then hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, not caring that if we had been wearing silk or pressed linen like the old days, it would have left wrinkles. Or God forbid, actually embraced each other in public like we liked one another.

  “I love when you guys are all awkward about the fact that you knew each other when you were old money,” Paris said, drawing out the words so it sounded like she was a fake British person.

  “Sometimes those things are just ingrained in you. I found myself drinking a mug of coffee with my pinky out the other day. A mug,” Myra said, and I laughed.

  “I know, how shocking. But we’ll do better.”

  “Exactly. I will get you to drink beer out of the bottle one day,” Dakota said, shaking her head as Joshua came running up, his hands in the air.

  “Aunt Hazel! You’re here!”

  Joshua was six, and at the point where he only spoke in exclamation points. He did not calm down unless he was doing homework, and then he grumbled. However, he was just starting some math classes, and that was my favorite part. Dakota could teach him on her own, considering she was brilliant, owned her own business, and used to do all of her own accounting until recently. However, she let me pretend that I was truly needed for Joshua, and I sometimes got to help him with his schoolwork.

  She was the only one of our group with a child, so we were all honorary aunts, even if I was pretty sure that none of us knew what we were doing in that regard.

  Dakota was the brilliant one among us where that was concerned. We were all just flailing about, hoping we knew how to make our way.

  “Hey there,” I said, kneeling so I could hug him tightly. I didn’t have to crouch as far down as I used to. The little boy was getting bigger and bigger with each passing day. A little clutch found its way into my belly, and I looked at Dakota, who seemed to know exactly what I was talking about.

  “He just moved into a new size of clothing,” Dakota said, her mouth dry. “I mean, soon, he’s going to be taller than all of us.”

  “No, I’m not, Mom. You guys are always going to be bigger than me. Because you’re the mom. And the aunts. I’m just a kid,” he said, a long-suffering sigh in his voice.

  I ran my hands through his hair, messing it up just a bit, and he kissed me on the cheek, smelling like little boy and apples. He must have just had his allotted amount of apple juice for the day. He loved the stuff, but there was so much sugar in it, even if Dakota found the healthiest version of it, he still wasn’t allowed as much as he wanted. Considering that I wanted to bury myself in apple tarts, I felt for the kid.

  “I’m so glad that I got to see you today,” I said.

  “I’m glad that you’re here, too,” he said solemnly and then went to the other women, skipping around, showing them his toys. After, he went back to the book sitting on the couch and proceeded to read to himself in quiet.

  “I’m exhausted,” Paris said, and I laughed.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Seriously. I don’t know how you do it every day, Dakota. But that one time I babysat for a whole evening? I had to take the next day off to recuperate.”

  “That’s a lie,” Dakota said, shaking her head as she kept her gaze on her son. “It is not. You’re Superwoman, and I’m a little jealous.” Paris paused. “Maybe not about the whole having to actually give birth thing because that scares me like nothing else, but I
’m still jealous.”

  “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dakota said, an odd twinge in her voice that I caught and thought the others might have, as well, but none of us asked about it in that moment. Dakota’s secrets were her own. The girls knew about my ex, knew that I had been through hell, but we didn’t discuss it at length. I knew I could if I needed to, but I never wanted to.

  Dakota continued. “Now, let’s pop open some champagne and sparkling apple juice and begin this brunch,” Myra said, holding two bottles in her hands.

  “Apple juice?” Joshua asked, and Dakota sighed.

  “One glass of sparkling apple juice. You already had your regular apple juice for the day.”

  Myra winced and mouthed the word, sorry.

  Dakota just shook her head. “No worries,” she said, and sounded like she meant it.

  “And you can have your sparkling juice in your cup with the lid because you’re going to your playroom. Is that all right?” she asked.

  “Because I might be a big boy, but big boys still spill,” Joshua said, saying the words by rote as if he had heard and said them a thousand times before. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

  I laughed with the others as he got his cup, lid and all, and made his way to his room.

  Dakota tapped the monitor in front of her. “I can watch him. That way, he has some privacy of his own while we have ours because I want to be able to talk freely about a certain date of yours,” she said to me.

  “I’ll go read with Joshua,” I said, and Paris gripped my arm, really tight.

  “I’m not going to run away,” I said honestly.

  “Sure, you are,” Paris said. “But that’s good. I’ll just chain you here if needed.”

  My pulse raced, and she looked at me and cursed under her breath.

  “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. It’s fine.”

  He hadn’t used chains. It had been rope. It didn’t matter, however, because none of that could touch me now. Not physically or mentally.

  Just because the girls didn’t know about the recent text, or the fact that he was out of jail, didn’t mean that I had to talk about it now. I was fine.

  If I kept saying that word, maybe I would actually believe it.

  “Anyway, my date with Cross went well. We kissed,” I said, changing the subject. I knew I was throwing my love life into the fray so they wouldn’t ask about Thomas, but I didn’t want to talk about him.

  I couldn’t.

  “I know you’re changing the subject, but I’ll allow it because I really want to know about the date,” Paris said quickly.

  “So, how was the kiss?”

  “Amazing,” I said, my voice a little breathy.

  The girls swooned a bit, and I laughed.

  “Seriously? No wonder we need this date pact. I said a kiss was amazing with no actual adjectives or descriptors, and it made all of you guys give me that look. You really do need dates.”

  “That’s why we made the pact.” Myra threw up her hands. “However, you were first. So we’re going to need details. Lots and lots of delicious details.”

  “We ate our weight in sushi first,” I said, and Myra just shook her head. “I swear, you and your sushi.”

  “What? It’s good. And it’s not like I had onions. So, no onion breath.”

  “No, just raw fish breath,” Dakota said wryly.

  “Maybe. But I really wasn’t caring about that when his lips were on mine,” I said. I was surprised that I was even going into this much detail, but these were my friends, and I needed to talk it out. I was holding so much in these days. Sometimes, things slipped. And I trusted them. I knew I should trust them with everything, and maybe that day would come, but this would do for now.

  “Are you going to see him again?” Dakota asked.

  “Of course, she is,” Paris said. “Because she wouldn’t walk away from something like this for anything. Right?” Paris asked.

  “I, uh, yeah. But we haven’t made plans yet. I’m in the middle of a busy semester and research. I already had this time scheduled off, but I should really be home grading.”

  “We’re all busy,” Dakota said. “In fact, let’s get eating because I need to head back to the café after this. But that doesn’t matter. As I said, we’re all busy, but we’re making time for us, and you’re making time for Cross.”

  “You are going to try and make time for him, right?” Myra asked.

  “Yes, I’m going to try.”

  “Why do you sound so resigned about that?” Paris asked.

  I didn’t say anything. Wasn’t sure I could.

  “Tell us more about him.” We all looked at Dakota. “What? He’s part of this now, even though he’s not the guy we set you up with at first.”

  “No, he’s better.” My eyes widened at Paris’s words. “Sometimes, I do make mistakes.”

  I clutched my hand over my heart. “No. Shocking.”

  Paris laughed. “Oh, shush. Let me just say that if I do make mistakes, they sometimes end up with the best results. After all, you met Cross because of me.”

  “I met Cross because his coworker is an asshole, and a little girl lost her appendix. That’s not the best way to meet someone.”

  “But it is a way,” Myra said honestly. “So, what does he do again?”

  I explained about Chris Cross Furniture, and they all nodded. “Mother and Father have a few pieces from him. He’s quite talented,” Myra said.

  I vaguely remembered that. “I had heard of him even before he went into detail about what he did. He’s an artist.”

  “I will never understand paying that much for furniture,” Dakota said, her gaze on the video stream where she watched her son play. “However, that’s probably because I grew up differently than you guys.”

  I didn’t feel bad about the fact that I had grown up with money or that I still had it. And Dakota wasn’t trying to make me feel bad at all. She was just stating the truth. We all came from different walks of life, but we were friends now. And that was all that mattered.

  “I want something from him now,” Paris said. “I probably can’t afford it, but I’m sure we could get the friends’ discount. I mean, you are going to be sleeping with him, after all.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to whore me out for a piece of furniture you don’t even know you want?” I asked, levity in my tone.

  “I do what I have to,” Paris said, her eyes dancing with laughter.

  “You haven’t even seen his work,” Myra said.

  “If your parents have some, it’s stunning. Right?”

  “Oh, it is that, but I’m pretty sure they bought the most pretentious piece of art he’s ever made,” Myra said dryly.

  “That is probably true,” I said, laughing.

  Myra’s parents were not the best people. They regularly put others down and did their best to control her life. The fact that Myra was in Colorado with me now, rather than back in California where we had grown up, was a testament to that.

  However, her family had phenomenal taste.

  “Cross Brady does exquisite work,” I said, “but you’re not going to whore me out to get it.”

  “Brady?” Myra asked. “His last name is Brady?”

  I frowned. “Yeah. Didn’t I mention that?”

  Myra shrugged, a different cool composure sliding over her face. What the hell was that about?

  “I just hadn’t put two and two together. I mean, I know his art, but I always thought of Chris and Cross, not Cross Brady. Anyway, you skimmed over the fact that you haven’t slept with him yet. But you’re going to, right? And not for furniture. I’ll buy my own. I’ll even get Paris a knickknack or something. However, tell us, are you going to sleep with him?”

  I wanted to ask what Myra was thinking because she was definitely thinking something, but I didn’t. Like I said before, we all had our secrets, and our own odd ways.

  But it did kind of worry me that she had gone so
pale at the mention of Cross’s last name.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to sleep with him yet,” I said.

  “Are you going to tell us exactly how long it’s been?” Paris asked, and I flipped her off. She just laughed, and Dakota put her hands over her face, while Myra rolled her eyes.

  “Long enough that I actually said yes to this pact. And when and if I sleep with Cross, that’ll be my business. I just don’t know. We’re taking it really slow. And I kind of like that.”

  They all looked at me, soft smiles on their faces.

  “You sound different when you talk about him.”

  I frowned at Dakota. “I don’t even really know him.”

  “You met him under weird circumstances, you still talk with him, and you’re talking about him now. You just sound…different. And I’m not putting any pressure on you to do anything with or about him, but just know that I like you looking happy. We all need that, and I’m glad that you were the first to start finding that kind of happiness.”

  I looked at them as they continued talking to me about Cross, and I wondered what they saw. Was I happy? I didn’t know. I enjoyed spending time with him, liked thinking about him. But it still made me nervous. I didn’t know what I wanted out of this pact, out of what I had with Cross. But I was enjoying the journey.

  At least, I thought so.

  I’d thought I was happy before, and I had been so wrong.

  I really didn’t want to be wrong again.

  We brunched, talked a bit more about Cross, and then work and our daily lives. Joshua came in to eat with us, and we chatted about school and friends and girls. He giggled because his best friend was a girl, and Dakota put her hands in front of her face and groaned.

  Children were fun, but I was really glad that I didn’t have any yet.

  I went home soon after we finished because I had been honest when I’d said that I should have been grading.

  I had my empty plate with me because even though the pastry had been store-bought, everything else had been homemade, and we had finished every single tart. I was full, probably a little bloated, and on a sugar high.

 

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