“Clean slate, then?” I lift her hand, kissing her knuckles.
“Yes. We start from the beginning, and work our way up until we find each other again.”
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
Hazel
I’m working in my childhood bedroom. The rest of the house needs major repairs. I have to delegate them. I just can’t do everything by myself. Either it’s more than a one-person job or I’m not qualified to continue. Like the countertops for the new kitchen, the drywall, and the bathrooms. I should’ve let the experts tear down the walls. I’m just thankful that I didn’t break any pipes while I smashed the walls.
The doorbell rings as I’m about to rip the carpet from my bedroom floor. My heart beats fast thinking maybe it is Scott. But I slump my shoulders when I remember that he’s in London. Well, who else knows that I’m here? I dust off my hands, march toward the door, and open it.
“Hey,” Elliot greets me.
“Hi.” I stare at him.
“Mom mentioned that you'd been here since yesterday. I wanted to make sure you’ve eaten.”
“Your mom knows I’m here?”
“She mentioned someone has been working in the house.” He shrugs. “I imagined it was you.”
“I went home last night, and arrived early in the morning. It sounds like I have no social life,” I protest.
Or that I can’t spend quality time with a bowl of popcorn, chocolate, and Netflix.
“I tried to call you earlier, but your phone was off,” he lifts his chin and looks around the house. Then he stares at me as if waiting for something.
“Would you like to come in?” I step aside, letting him come through.
“Is everything okay?”
I nod, fixing my messy hair.
He whistles as he scans the area, then walks toward the kitchen, back to the living room and toward the bedrooms.
“Do you need help?” He calls from my room.
“Maybe?”
“Remember this?” Elliot walks back to me, holding an old cookie tin.
I close my eyes for a second, scratching my head. “How can I forget?”
We treasured all our firsts in there. I take it from him. Sitting down on the floor, I remove the lid. Our first movie, walking all by ourselves when I was twelve. The tickets for our first concert. The napkin from our first date. A dried rose inside a Ziploc bag. My first timeline.
I open it and find a list, not exactly a timeline.
“A bucket list,” I say as I go through each item. “It seems that when I was thirteen, I planned on surfing all over the world.”
“You did?” He frowns, taking the paper from me. “Australia, Hawaii, Ireland, Mexico, Peru, France, Canary Islands, Philippines…you wanted to be a professional surfer?”
I shrug, taking back my list. “Not really, but I wanted to surf all over the world—at least that was my plan.”
Reading through the list, I find nothing specific about my relationship with Elliot or my life. My only goal was to hit as many waves as I could. I hold my breath as I remember that I’ve been to almost all those places—with Scott. He’s the one who got me back on a surfboard. I taught him how to surf, and we began traveling with Fitz, and sometimes Harrison and Luna.
“Have you surfed in any of those places?” He takes the list back.
“Not La Jolla,” I reply immediately, avoiding the list of places I’ve traveled to surf—with Scott.
I’ve been through all the continents. My guys are always up for the challenge. Even Hunter and Willow have joined us a few times.
“We never made it to SoCal,” I say out loud, wondering why we didn't travel through California.
Elliot's phone buzzes, he sighs as he reads whatever is on his screen.
“Next weekend,” he offers.
“What about next weekend?”
“We can go to La Jolla. Just the two of us. No phones, no interruptions…” he looks around my house. “And no renovations.”
“Are you planning on helping me?”
He nods. “Tomorrow. Today I have a date.”
“You have a date?” I raise an eyebrow, excited about this new development.
He smiles. “My nieces and I are going to the zoo. Then movies and dinner. Dahlia is working, Mom has plans with her friend.”
“Sounds like the friend might be a little more.”
He nods. “I think so. Mom just doesn’t want to admit it.”
“Good for her.”
“It’s hard to imagine her with someone other than Dad,” He combs his hair with both hands. “He was the love of her life.”
“You can fall in love more than once and in different ways,” I explain to him, wondering who is the mystery guy.
“She’ll never love anyone the way she loved your father, but her heart was able to see past the pain and open to the possibilities of a new love. A new person to share life with and be happy. She deserves happiness.”
“They were soulmates, Hazel.” His voice is severe.
We stare at each other for several beats until his phone rings.
“Sorry I have to leave, but maybe I can’t catch up with you tomorrow.”
He leaves me and I’m wondering about my oldest timeline. Mostly about soulmates, and first loves. Are they the same?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I don't buy the idea of second chances. With hope we make a lot of chances.” ― Toba Beta
Elliot
Elliot: Do you want me to pick you up?
Hazel: Sorry!
I check my watch, it’s almost nine. Hazel is late.
We agreed to meet at the pub down the street from where she works, at eight. She had a few projects to finish, and some reports to write for the weekly meeting with her grandfather. It’s quarter to nine. This week has been long during the mornings and too short during the evenings when I meet with her for dinner or drinks. I’m not sure how she’s going to react when I tell her that we can’t go to La Jolla this weekend.
Mom is going out of town, and my sister needs help babysitting. Our weekend alone is going to have to wait.
“Want another one?” The bartender wipes the counter and takes my glass.
“Not yet, thank you.”
“I’m so sorry, Eli!”
I straighten my posture at the sound of her silky voice, and turn around. Fuck, she’s a vision. Kyle is right. She looks better wearing formal clothing and those fucking heels. I swear every time I see her wearing them, I want to feast on her. Yesterday I went to drop off my reports, and I salivated when I saw her wearing a tight skirt and a see-through blouse. She had a jacket on, but who the fuck cares when I could see her lacy bra. I wanted to bend her over her desk and…I left her office before I did or said anything stupid.
“You made it.” I receive her with open arms.
Tonight, I hope we go to her apartment and fool around. She’s wearing a short dress, molded to her curves and a pair of high heels. A naughty student-teacher scenario pops into my head. I need a ruler to spank her ass for being a bad, bad girl. I can’t wait until Saturday. I slam my head. Fuck, we can’t go.
“Hi, Elliot.” She hugs me back, giving me a peck close to my lips.
“I was starting to think that you weren’t coming.”
“It’s been chaotic at the office. Next week I’m going to have to travel back to New York.”
“Why?” My jaw clenches as I wait for her to tell me that fucking Scott Everhart is back in her life.
We are doing so well without him around. We just need our weekend together, so she can remember how great we can be. Everything will come full circle. She’ll forgive me and I will start making it up to her. I swear that for the next sixty years, I’ll be the best man she deserves. Everything she’s always needed.
“We have a lot of deals to close. There are a couple of board meetings I can’t miss…forget work.” She slumps her shoulders.
She takes a couple of steps closer to the bar and calls the bart
ender. “Can I have a glass of Mount Vedeer?”
“The lady knows her wine,” I state.
Hazel laughs, shaking her head. “Not one bit. I know what to ask for in certain places.” She points at the wine bottles. “I was taught to look for certain brands.”
“Why wine?”
“I’d rather have tequila or whiskey. But I have to work tomorrow.” She shrugs a shoulder. “A few more days, and we’re going to La Jolla. On Saturday, I won’t care about anything.”
I lean in closer, our noses are almost touching. I hold her chin with my index finger, leaning forward to kiss her. The slight touch turns me on, igniting my skin and spreading through every inch of my body. I’ve been dying to kiss her since I first saw her in her office. I’m desperate to taste her again, to touch her. I run my thumb along her lips, my eyes hold her gaze.
“Eli,” she gasps my name as I hug her by the waist pulling her to me.
I press my mouth to hers, kissing her softly. Tenderly, until I slide my tongue between her lips. She opens for me, and the way her body melts into mine and her tongue meets mine, heats my body. I can’t keep this rhythm. So, I kiss her harder. Faster. Deeper. I tug her bottom lip, the same way I’d like to nibble her clit.
Kissing her has never been this way, and I can’t wait to have her under me. Melting as I thrust myself into her and remind her how amazing we are together.
Hazel moans. I grow hard with the musical sound coming from her throat. I want so much more, but she breaks the kiss.
“Wine, chat and we take this slow,” she declares with a wide smile.
Her eyes have an intense brightness to them. “It’s just. We’re in a bar.”
I lift my hands. “Sorry,” I say, taking a step backward.
“It’s been so long.”
She frowns. “Long?” she flashes me a gorgeous smile. “That, I don’t believe you. When was the last time you had sex?”
“Ah, sex.” I say, pulling out my wallet and handing my card to the bartender.
“Bring me another beer and keep my tab open.”
“You closed it?”
“I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do,” I say, handing her the glass of wine. “So, I paid for my beer.”
“I take it you've had sex recently.”
“Yeah,” I answer casually. “But not since you came back.”
“Now you practice abstinence.” She rolls her eyes.
“How many times do I have to say—”
“I believe you, you didn’t have sex. When did you start having sex after we broke up?” Her eyes zero on mine while she waits for my response.
“Honestly, I can’t remember. It’s been long, Hazel. Too long.”
I shouldn’t lie, but we’re doing so great that I don’t want to risk what we’re building. If I tell her that the weekend after she dumped me I was sleeping around, she might not forgive me. I can’t go another ten years without her.
We grab two stools once the bartender brings my drink.
Hazel stares right at me. “Okay, let’s forget about that subject.”
She runs her hand up her hair, taking off the pins holding it. As her hair cascades down her shoulder, she runs her hand through her silky hair.
“What happened to your locks?”
She brings the drink to her lips, and takes a long sip. “It’s the hairdo, I’m sure they’ll come back now that they’re free to party,” she jokes.
“Tell me, how was your day, McFee?” She asks running a thumb through my jawline.
This is what I love the most about having her back in my life. That I have someone to share my day with and laugh at nothing for a couple of hours. There’s nothing better in this world than Hazel. She’s the only person who makes my life worth it.
I brush a kiss to her lips. “It was great, but got better once I heard your voice.”
She squints. “What’s going on?”
“Dahlia. I have to babysit her children this Saturday.”
“Well then,” she opens her mouth and closes it. “Right, La Jolla won’t happen. We can go another day.”
“But we can do something Saturday night,” I offer, hugging her by the waist. “And hang out for the rest of the week.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“In our ever-changing universe, lives collide, and, like runaway planets, we just keep going.” ― Michael R. French
Hazel
Scott was out of the country for too long. Two weeks that felt like years. I’ve been busy with his and my responsibilities. The next time I see him, we’ll have a long chat about his automated out-of-the-office email response.
I’ll be out of the country, but if you need immediate assistance, please contact Hazel Beesley.
Is he freaking kidding me? Everyone contacted me asking for help. I barely had time to pick up lunch today. Zoe offered to pick it up for me, but I had to get out of the office. As I’m about to enter the coffee shop, my phone rings.
“Hey, do you want to go out to lunch?” Elliot greets me on the other side of the line.
“Lunch?” I frown, looking at the menu. What’s an alfalfa sprouts and broccoli wrap? I scrunch my nose. That’s too healthy for me.
“I’m picking it up as we speak, rain check?”
“Any plans for tonight? We can eat dinner at your place—I’ll cook.”
“Sorry, I have a prior engagement.” I move my phone and double check what event I’m attending tonight. “Homeless Youth Outreach Center. It’s a gala, dinner.”
I freeze, Scott is not in town. Just to cover my basis, I text him to make sure he’s not coming. Not that I expect him. It’s not like he could’ve come. Last night he arrived in New York City. He has work to do before he can travel to San Francisco. I move from the line, and lean against the wall closing my eyes briefly because I don’t want to go alone.
Hazel: You forgot tonight’s charity gala.
Scott: Was it today?
I put the phone back to my ear and invite Elliot. “Do you want to join me?”
“As your date?”
I stare at the line that’s beginning to grow and decide to go back to it before I miss my chance to get something to eat. My date is miles away from me. Is it okay if I take Elliot with me? I type the question, but Scott fires a new text.
Scott: Why do I have it marked on my calendar for next Tuesday? This saddens me. I had plans for us.
Hazel: You had plans?
Scott: Coat closet+you+me= x
Scott: That’s where I want you.
Hazel: We aren’t sexting. We don’t sext anymore. Remember, the last time was a fiasco.
Scott: No, the last time my brother threw a party at your house. This time, you should skip the gala, I’ll send a check and we can have Skype sex.
Scott: Actually, hop on a plane and come to me. I miss you. It’s been too long since the last time I saw your beautiful face.
The scenario is tempting for the first two seconds, but then, I’m transported back to reality. I have too much to do today—and tomorrow.
Hazel: Don’t you have work to do?
Scott: I’m at a board meeting.
The board met, and they didn’t invite me? My heart shrinks slightly. I’m missing the fun.
Hazel: I thought it was next week.
Scott: There’s another one next week and you HAVE to be here.
Hazel: I know, I already have a plane ticket. Are you having fun?
Scott: No. You’re not here. Harrison is either sexting Luna or reading old texts. Hunter is smiling at his phone and Fitz is babbling about the merge you voted against.
Hazel: Is there a problem with it?
Scott: No, he’s just explaining the process he’s following to recover the money I gave in good faith. I’d hate it if we lost that money.
Hazel: Sorry, I just don’t think it was viable.
Scott: You’re right, and I appreciate your input.
Scott: I’m sorry that you have to skip tonight’s event. I
know you hate to go alone as much as I do.
Hazel: Don’t worry about it. I’ll take someone else with me.
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. But when he responds I realize that I was expecting more. The story of my life, expecting more from Scott and only getting a smidgen of what I wanted.
Scott: I can adjust my itinerary.
My eyes widen when I read his response. Adjusting, what does that mean? I hold my breath. Be careful what you wish for, Hazel.
Hazel: It’s not necessary, but thank you for the offer.
“It’s not a date.” I clarify. “I’ll text you the information in a bit.”
“Okay,” his voice has a mix of excitement and confusion.
Scott: Time zones are beautiful if you know how to use them. I’ll pick you up at six.
“Next,” the guy behind the counter calls to me.
“One second,” I excuse myself and turn to the person behind me. “Would you like to go first?”
Hazel: I invited Elliot.
Scott: It’ll be interesting to have dinner with him. See you at six.
Chapter Thirty
“If I could have anyone in the world, it would still be you.” ― Anonymous
Scott
My chest burns with jealousy. I hate not knowing where I stand with Hazel. The gap between us grows wider. I’m losing her.
My phone rings. Hazel’s name flashes on my screen, along with a selfie of the two of us in our favorite spot, my parents’ cabin in Vermont. I stare at her smiling face for a second before I mumble a, “Hi.”
“What did you mean see you at six?” There’s noise in the background. Her voice is low, and her mood unreadable.
“It’s self-explanatory,” I respond.
In the meantime, I email the charter company, confirming that the service car will pick me up in twenty minutes and give instructions to Jensen, my assistant. He’s driving to my house to pack me a bag for next week. I should extend my reservation at the Ritz-Carlton for a month, so I don’t have to pack every time I have to come back to New York.
“Can we talk later?” I send another email. “I need to wrap things up with my brothers and head to the airport.”
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