Right Where I Want You

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Don’t fall without me, understand?”

  I gripped the top of the mattress, half holding on, half using it as leverage against the pillow. “I’m almost there.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s good—but not until I say.” He grabbed onto my shoulder the way I held the bed and pulled me back into each plunge. He lost any restraint, working himself into the same frenzy I was trying to hold off. I wanted to come with him as much as he wanted it, so I thought of anything not to finish.

  Baseball diamond. Dirt-caked cleats. Second base, third, a fucking home run. Fly balls, leathery gloves, a girthy, wooden bat as thick as—

  “Now,” he commanded, lowering his mouth to my ear as he slammed into me. By some miracle, I’d held off nirvana just long enough. “Come, Georgina.”

  I pressed my cheek into the bedspread and stopped fighting. I tumbled into my orgasm as Sebastian groaned behind me, pleasure washing from him onto me. It felt so good, so right, so hard-earned to have him come apart on top of me. He collapsed over me, pressing me into the mattress. After a few labored breaths, he shuddered and nuzzled my neck. “Tell me you’re here with me.”

  I emptied my lungs in a long, satisfying sigh. “Where else would I be?”

  It was only when he rolled to the side that I realized we were both sweating. He rubbed my back, gathering my hair off my neck and holding it off my skin. “I think I’m actually looking forward to winter for once.”

  I turned my head to rest on the opposite cheek and face him. “How come?”

  He tied off the condom and tossed it on the floor. “An excuse to stay indoors and sweat with you.”

  I hoped I was warm enough to hide my blush. Winter wasn’t far off, and yet in terms of our relationship, it seemed like ages. I’d been brave earlier because I’d wanted him at any expense. But did I really have what it took to tame a Manhattan player?

  By the way he looked at me, it was possible. Maybe even likely. “I’d like that,” I said. “Although Bruno usually keeps me warm.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” He leaned on his elbow, his head in his hand as he watched me. “You might have to upgrade your bed to a king to fit us all. Or we can go to my place.”

  “I get to see your place?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Except I’ve been thinking of putting it on the market, actually.”

  “How come?”

  “Compared to this, it feels . . . I don’t know. Stark. I like it here, where there are pictures on the walls and plants and—”

  “Fraying fabric on the couch, drawers dedicated to poop bags, vomit stains on the carpet—”

  “Height charts on the windowsills and fresh flowers from the community garden.” He smiled. “I mean, I’m clearly not suggesting we move in together after our first date—”

  “Also known as our faux date,” I inserted.

  “But I think I’ve outgrown my bachelor pad.”

  “If you have a revolving bed or Marvin Gaye on tap, I won’t hesitate to make fun of you just because we slept together.”

  “You’ll have to come over and see for yourself. How about next weekend?”

  The abruptness of his invitation stunned me into silence. This seemed like seventeenth date territory for someone like Sebastian. I hated to turn him down, but I had to. “Can’t,” I said. “I have plans.”

  “Can you cancel?”

  “I already promised my parents I’d come home. I have a standing date in Buffalo each month to play gin rummy with my grandad.”

  I braced myself for Sebastian’s teasing, but truthfully, I didn’t care. I’d lost time with my family while I was with Neal. He hadn’t liked to visit them and didn’t want me to leave him on the weekends. Forget holidays. Since we’d broken up I’d been making an effort to drive up there at least once a month. Canceling on them for a guy was out of the question.

  “You play gin rummy . . . and call him grandad?” Sebastian laughed, but not in a mocking way. “Cute,” he said, tucking a pillow under his face. “You are such a good girl, Georgina. Good, and cute, and beautiful ad infinitum.”

  Describing me so eloquently would’ve sounded sarcastic coming from Neal. Sebastian and I had had our moments, but in this one, he wasn’t joking around. It felt good. Maybe too good.

  “As much as I’d like to keep you in bed next weekend,” he continued, “there’s nothing more important than time with family.”

  That wasn’t quite the response I’d expected. Teasing, yes, and maybe reluctance to let me go. But not something as emotionally adept as encouraging me to spend a seemingly dry afternoon playing cards with my grandad. I thought of how fondly he’d spoken of his mom, sister, niece and nephew. Did family come before anything else for him too? I moved from my stomach to my side, readjusting my pillow to look him in the eyes. “What about your dad?”

  “Never knew him.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Who was he?”

  He hesitated. Just as I worried I’d pushed too hard, he said, “Some teenager from San Francisco visiting Mexico City with his family. My mom chose Boston because it was about as far as she could get from California.”

  That must’ve been why Sebastian didn’t talk about him. With a family as supportive as mine, I couldn’t imagine not having my dad to rely on. “Quintanilla was your mom’s maiden name?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” Something like frustration flickered in his eyes, but eventually, his shoulders relaxed again. “My sister, Libby—or Libertad as she goes by now—started using Quintanilla again at eighteen. She accused Mom and me of trying to erase history. I only ever used my full name officially, like on college apps, which, ironically, helped me. Otherwise . . .”

  I bit my lip, waiting. This must’ve been the source of whatever had crossed his face just now. “What?”

  “I liked being a Quinn. I know it’s fucked up, but Mom was right. It was easier.”

  “It’s okay to want easy,” I said, “especially when you didn’t have that growing up.”

  He shook his head. “I’m ashamed to admit it. I am proud of my heritage, and yet, I haven’t even claimed it in the most basic way. I’ve thought a lot about changing it back, but I’m afraid now I’ll draw attention to the fact that I hid it.”

  “We can do it if you want,” I told him, letting my enthusiasm through. “I can spin it, no problem. You don’t need to be this version of yourself anymore, Sebastian. You just told me there was no divide between George and Georgina, nor should there be one between Quinn and Quintanilla.”

  “I don’t want to risk involving my family in all the bad PR this job has brought on.”

  I put my hand on his chest, and he covered it with his. “I’m sure your mom was proud of the work you did,” I said.

  He shook his head. “At the end of her life, all the things I’d done for the magazine . . . all the things we’d printed . . . just felt trivial.”

  I fought the urge to comfort him with a kiss in case it turned into more. Who knew how long it might be before I could get him to open up like this again. “And what about since?”

  “Turning around the magazine the first time had been exciting. But during her final months, I took a lot of time off, and that was when things started to go downhill at work. This time, trying to save it felt pointless. I didn’t care, and I got complacent. That’s why we’re here now.”

  It was the most honest he’d been about the magazine’s situation since I’d met him. Sebastian and I weren’t so different, becoming other people for jobs we wanted but also needed to support our loved ones. “Have you ever wanted to do anything other than journalism?”

  “In college, I thought I’d go into sports broadcasting,” he said. “That’s what I was working toward, but I would’ve taken any internship I got. Modern Man was my first offer.”

  “Have you thought of leaving?”

  “The mag? Not seriously, no. And with my reputation, I don’t know who’d want me.”

  “We’
re working on that,” I reminded him. “And even if we weren’t, there’s life outside of this city. There are lots of publications that would kill to bring on a New York City big leaguer.”

  “I can barely picture life outside Manhattan,” he said. “Much less the tristate area.”

  “I hear Boston has sports.”

  The corner of his mouth crooked. “I couldn’t. Reminds me too much of what I’ve lost.”

  “But your sister’s there.”

  “Don’t remind me. She gets on my case about it. Wants us to clean out and sell Mom’s house.”

  “If you don’t want to go back there, why does it matter?”

  He shrugged a little. “It’s not my home anymore, but it was hers.”

  “Was she sick long?”

  “She kept it from us until she couldn’t anymore.” Remembering his earlier comments about how he hadn’t bared his soul to many people, I flipped my hand on his chest and laced our fingers together. “I got her on the most comprehensive healthcare I could once we found out,” he said, “but by that time, it was too late.”

  “That was when you made her the promise?”

  “It was one of our last conversations. Find someone who was good to me and to others. I wanted money because I’d never had it growing up, but looking back . . . it would’ve meant more to her if I was a good man over a wealthy one.”

  “You are good, Sebastian.”

  “Not always. I went to Harvard on a need-based scholarship, so to blend in with my wealthy classmates, I let things become important that weren’t. I thought that was the only way to get ahead, and maybe it was, but for what? My big salary couldn’t cure cancer.”

  “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like what mattered to her was you and your sister—and that she raised you right. Am I wrong?”

  He glanced at our hands and ran his thumb over my knuckles. “You’re never wrong, it seems,” he said with a small smile. “I suppose I’m the one holding onto her possessions for dear life.”

  “When’s the last time you were home?”

  “In Boston? Her funeral,” he said. “She passed in her own bed. I haven’t returned to the house since her body was removed.”

  My heart ached for him. I squeezed his hand. “No wonder you don’t want to go back. And even though it makes me sad, I understand why those are the memories that’ve stuck with you.”

  “Most of the time, it’s the first mental image I get of her. In bed, taking her last breath. It’s weird . . .”

  I glanced up at him. “What is?”

  “When home is no longer home.” He sifted the ends of my hair through his fingers. “My sister worries I’ll forget my roots, but I can’t help feeling they’ve been ripped out of the ground.”

  My grandad’s health had been declining for some time, but I hadn’t quite come to terms with the possibility of his death. Losing my parents, though? And with them, my access to our family history, and any sense of home? Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “You ever lost anyone?”

  “A grandmother, but I was young.” I snuggled closer. “My grandad’s in his eighties, so I try to spend as much time with him as I can.”

  “Ah,” he said. “That explains the upstate gin rummy. You like taking care of others, don’t you?”

  I looked up at him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever recognized that in myself. I’d seen it as a weakness with Neal, and a privilege with Grandad. And of course, the same was true for Bruno. “I’ve got some bad memories in Boston too, you know. Bruno and I have been to the vet there several times, and while he might’ve been stable or doing well, his prognosis never changed.” I paused, thinking back to all the tears I had shed in their waiting room. “Still, it made me more appreciative that the sun was shining. Of how friendly the people were. Home is still there, Sebastian. It’s in the good memories. Maybe you can try to replace the bad ones with them.”

  “I probably could,” he said. “But I don’t know if I’m actually ready to let her go.”

  My voice broke a little as I said, “You’d only be letting it go.”

  “Semantics, Keller.” He pulled my arm until I was forced to roll onto his chest. “Know what else?”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  I wanted it to be true, and for this time, with him, to be different. I wanted to be strong for him and for myself. I glanced at the stubble filling in his jaw. “Is that why you’re here now?” I asked softly. “To fulfill your promise to your mom?”

  He angled his head to catch my eye. “That, and many other reasons, Georgina. The fact that my mother would’ve fallen in love with you would be reason enough for me to . . . to do the same. I can tell you why I’m not going anywhere, or I can show you if you’ll let me.”

  I inhaled a breath to keep from tearing up. I nodded. “I’ll let you.”

  “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

  The thought made my heart skip with hope. I didn’t have to ask myself if I wanted to be stuck. Being physically intertwined felt overdue for us, like snapping in the final piece of our complex, jumbo puzzle. It made me wonder when exactly I’d gone from falling for Sebastian to fallen.

  I was too far gone to wonder if I even needed a safety net.

  22

  GEORGINA

  I woke up for the same reason I did every morning—Bruno, the living alarm clock. Only today, it wasn’t his big body shaking the bed, his cold nose in my face, or his monster-sized paw on my head. He scratched at the door, sniffing under it almost as loudly as he whined.

  I’d fallen asleep in the crook of Sebastian’s arm, but during the night, I must’ve gravitated back to my side of the bed. I turned over just as Sebastian came out of bathroom in nothing but a towel.

  “Morning,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his wet, chocolate-colored hair.

  Given our history, it should’ve been awkward to wake up with him. Maybe it would be once I stopped staring at his broad, sculpted, glistening shoulders. I sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet up under my arms. “I’m sorry if Bruno woke you.”

  “If you’re going to apologize for anything, it should be for stealing the sheets.”

  “Did I?” I asked innocently. It was a complaint I’d heard before.

  “Or your bathroom. Between the baskets of half-used makeup on the counter, and the army of nearly empty beauty products in the shower, I could barely turn around,” he said, then grabbed a handful of his tousled hair, “much less do anything about this.”

  I tossed a throw pillow at him. “I don’t believe in being wasteful.”

  His words had always gotten under my skin easily, something I’d mistaken for rivalry. Now, I saw it for what it was—compatibility. I didn’t worry Sebastian would try to twist my words or use them against me as I had in the past.

  He flashed me a devastating smile, dropped his towel, and picked up his underwear from the floor. “Remember what happened when you threw a pillow at me last night?”

  He’d stuck it under my hips and screwed me on it. Now, he stood here gloriously naked. I tried not to look as stunned as I felt by his maleness—perfectly pink and veiny—or his statuesque beauty. My thighs quivered as I remembered taking all of him last night. I was the real champ. If anyone deserved to be honored for the large, godlike feat of nature in front of me, it was me for braving it—and for my willingness to do it again. I almost whimpered as he dressed.

  “Luckily, I run warm and carry my own comb,” he said, pulling on his pants next but leaving them open. “Do you sleep on one side of the bed even when you’re alone?”

  “I can’t get myself to stay in the middle,” I said. “It feels weird.”

  “Not for me. I’m a spreader.” He winked and checked his cell on the nightstand just as Bruno barked from the hallway. “Can I let him in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Sebastian opened the bedroom door and Bruno zoomed in, tail waggin
g, tongue out. He launched himself on the bed, turned in a circle, and lay right where Sebastian had been.

  Loyal as they came. I patted his haunches.

  “Et tu, Brutè?” Sebastian shook his head and picked up his dress shirt from the ground. “That right there is why you have a side.”

  My alarm rang, and I leaned over to the nightstand to turn it off. “You could’ve waited for me to shower, you know.”

  Pulling his arms through his sleeves, he came around to sit on my side of the bed. “Believe me, I struggled over whether to wake you. But I knew if I did, we’d never get to the office in time.”

  I twirled a piece of my hair around my finger. “We could be late for once.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. I meant I wouldn’t even get to the office in time to place a lunch order.” He squeezed above my knee. “My mornings are insane.”

  “How come?”

  “This is when I check the news outlets, brush up on industry trends, and review our social media to make sure everyone’s doing their jobs. You?”

  “I sleep as late as possible and do that stuff at night.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry to break it to you, but not tonight, my little flying squirrel. I still have hours’ worth of Poised-approved positions to try on you.” He slipped his hand up my leg, lowering his voice as he leaned in. “I figured instead of getting cozy now, we’d sneak out of the office early and come back here for takeout.”

  “Is that a euphemism for something else?”

  He kissed me once. “As they say, keep your friends close and your enemies between the sheets.”

  I bit my bottom lip, partly from the warmth of his hand through the thin sheet, and partly because the real world was encroaching. Sebastian had assured me we were never enemies, but I still had information that would hurt him. If we were no longer at odds, then weren’t we on the same side? I touched his hairline, and he closed his eyes as I ran my fingers through his damp hair.

  “Will it be weird at the office?” I asked.

  He pecked me again, then sat back. “No weirder than Justin makes things on an average day.”