Kiss Me Now: A Romantic Comedy

by Melanie Jacobson

  “Correct,” I said, still not convinced.

  “Knowing Ian, my guess is that he felt like it would be unethical not to broach it with you, and he’d been avoiding you and trying to solve the problem from a different angle. But once you were right there, he probably felt he didn’t have a choice but to ask.”

  It had to be impossible for Miss Lily to hear a critique of Ian and not want to defend him. I wasn’t going to try to change her mind, but I knew what I knew about how it had felt to sit in his office and have him ask me to confront the monster who’d tried to ruin my life.

  I changed course, not willing to cause a strain between us. “Ian and I aren’t a good fit and trying to think about a love life right now stresses me out. I think I’d rather worry about solvable problems. Can we talk about how I’m going to keep the students out of the garden when it goes in?”

  She gave me a long look. “One last thing before we move on. I dislike DC as much as you do, but I have never made the mistake of believing true public servants are bad people. I wouldn’t mind if Ian stayed there if he’d switch to a career more focused on doing good than digging up bad, because as much as I know someone has to do the dirty work, I think it can wear people down, and I worry about him.” She leaned over and patted my hand. “I’ll let it go now. Let’s talk about keeping hooligans out of your turnips. I have a few ideas.”

  We went back to work in the garden for another hour, but I doubted I was good company for the rest of it. Despite a desire to forget Ian altogether, Miss Lily’s words kept running through my mind. He probably didn’t feel he had a choice but to ask.

  Maybe what I was maddest about was the fact that it had pulled up everything that had happened with Rink when all I wanted to do was push it away. But that had been happening before I even stepped foot in Ian’s office. Being in DC was enough by itself to constantly remind me of why I left it—who forced me to leave it.

  Maybe what I was maddest about was that Rink was still standing, and that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. The good guys are supposed to win.

  The thought preyed on me more and more over the next two weeks, popping up during quiet moments between classes, or during the mindless prep work I was doing to get the upstairs rooms ready for painting. Normally, that was my time to think about lesson planning, but more and more often, my conscience kept nudging me. What if Ian didn’t have enough without my testimony to take down Rink? Did it make me complicit in keeping Rink in power?

  By Thursday, I could only conclude after a sleepless night that if a statement from me was enough to establish a pattern for the senator’s behavior, I needed to make it.

  But that meant violating my non-disclosure agreement, and Rink could sue me to get back every penny of the settlement. I’d spent over $300,000 between buying out my cousins and investing in renovation upgrades. The rest of it was sitting in an investment account that I could cash out and return, and I’d have to take out a mortgage on the house to repay that part of the settlement. I didn’t know if I’d even be approved for one on a starting teacher’s salary. But I’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, trying to do the math, only to come up with the same answer: I probably wouldn’t be able to pay back what I’d spent from the settlement. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t come forward.

  Possible bankruptcy was worth the risk if it meant getting Rink’s moral bankruptcy out of office. If it meant he couldn’t hurt another woman ever again.

  I waited until my lunch break at school to send Ian the text I couldn’t take back. Wouldn’t take back.

  I’ll come forward on Rink.

  His reply was immediate. No need. We got him.

  I stared at my phone, stunned. “We got him,” I repeated out loud. What did that mean? I did a search of social media and news sites, but there wasn’t any mention of Rink in the headlines, and a scandal with him would definitely mean headlines.

  I texted back. Not seeing anything in the news...

  Will break next week, Ian responded. Will tell you all about it.

  When? I asked.

  Soon. But first, I AM SORRY. Wish I knew how to fix things with you.

  Noah was supposed to be coming by for lunch as usual, but I texted him that I had to take a raincheck. Instead, I sat by myself at my desk and re-read Ian’s message a dozen times.

  It sounded like he meant fixing things between us, but there wasn’t really an us. I hadn’t let that get off the ground.

  I regretted that. I shouldn’t have pushed him away.

  We made no sense together in a lot of ways. I wasn’t leaving Creekville. He wasn’t leaving DC. If we dated long-distance and it worked out, at some point one of us was going to have to close the two-hour gap, and that meant one of us giving up a career for the other.

  I wouldn’t do that for him. But I also wouldn’t ask him to do that for me.

  So what was the point of regretting that we hadn’t worked out?

  There was no point.

  But when I pulled into my empty driveway in front of my quiet house, the regret almost consumed me.

  I had broken a relationship that could never work.

  But it didn’t keep me from wanting Ian anyway.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ian

  I hit the road Friday morning. It was after rush hour which meant the rare chance to speed on the beltway on the way out of town.

  I could feel the weight of the city and its problems slip from my shoulders as it retreated in the rearview mirror. It had been a hard two weeks, hopping on and off planes and trains to interview suspects. Heather, the former intern, had been the key, like I’d hoped. And yesterday I had taken a statement from a sixth victim. They were each ready to speak their truth about Rink, whatever the consequences.

  The only reason I needed to bring it up to Brooke was to apologize for trying to pressure her into stepping forward too. We wouldn’t need her to, and I was sorry I’d tried. After listening to each of these women, I couldn’t blame her for trying to close the door on that period of her life forever. Rink was indeed a monster, a manipulative and devious snake who had abused his authority for twenty years.

  No more. The story would be all over the news by next week, and Rink would be forced to resign. Even more importantly, his reputation would precede him. There was little shot of getting a criminal conviction against him, but at least women entering his orbit in the future would know what kind of man they were dealing with.

  I turned my attention to the road ahead. It led to Brooke. And until yesterday, I wouldn’t have taken it.

  I’d tried so hard to respect her boundaries. I’d planned to give her all the distance she wanted, maybe not even see Gran again until Thanksgiving. It was more than that though. I’d learned a few things about Brooke in the few weeks I’d known her, but a thing I knew for certain was that she dove headlong into things she believed in. The way she’d thrown herself into learning to garden. How she immersed herself in prepping to teach high school kids. It’d made it harder to accept her decision to stay quiet about Rink. She hadn’t struck me as the type who could be silenced by anything or anyone if her cause was just.

  Then I’d learned over the last two weeks just what a scumbag Rink was. I couldn’t imagine being at his mercy, becoming his victim and feeling like I had no voice to demand restitution or change. But I’d kept butting up against this feeling that if anyone could do it, it would be Brooke.

  Only she hadn’t.

  I’d held it against her, even though I didn’t want to. Even though I told myself all the logical reasons why it was wrong to hold her to that standard. Even though we had enough evidence now without her to nail Rink completely.

  I’d lost my illusions about people and pedestals a long time ago. Probably by year two as the firm’s investigator. But it turned out I’d put Brooke on one anyway, and I couldn’t forgive her for being as human as the rest of us.

  I’d wanted her to be a superhero and she’d committe
d the sin of being mortal.

  It was so stupid to blame her for me being disillusioned again. But she’d been something fresh and bright in the stagnant DC swamp, and it had hurt when she was just as human as the rest of us.

  And then she texted.

  Like a freaking superhero.

  A superhero who was ready to risk Rink’s retribution, public shaming, a revival of the rumors.

  But she’d texted and said she would do it. She would upset the carefully constructed life she’d built for herself over the last two years to come forward and speak out against Rink despite the extremely high cost to herself.

  That wasn’t the kind of woman you let go.

  At least, it wasn’t the kind of woman I could let go. Even if all she had to offer me was friendship, I’d take it. People as real and as good as Brooke, people without ulterior motives, who shot straight and showed up as themselves in every setting ... that was rare. And I wasn’t going to treat a chance at friendship with her as a second place finish.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that buried somewhere deep down, there was a hope for something more. But I’d take whatever she was able to give. No matter what, if I wanted to get us back on the right footing, I owed her a big apology. The unmistakable kind. The kind that spoke through actions, not just words.

  The kind of actions that said I love you, even if she wasn’t ever ready to hear me say those words.

  But if she ever was ready, then I would be too.

  Somewhere between her mushroom hunting and the panda exhibit, I’d begun falling for her, but when she’d texted that she wanted to speak out, I’d tumbled completely.

  If I thought she genuinely had no feelings for me, I’d stay in DC until I couldn’t avoid coming to see Gran. But a woman who didn’t have feelings for me wouldn’t have kissed me like that in the woods. She wouldn’t have made an excuse to come see me in the city. And it wouldn’t have hurt her when I asked her to be a witness.

  She had feelings for me. I knew it.

  But I needed to prove to her that I was worthy of her trust. That I could be the kind of man that she deserved.

  I pushed the accelerator and watched the speedometer climb. I had a plan, and I couldn’t wait to put it into action.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Brooke

  When the final bell rang on Friday, I followed the last kid right out of the door. Normally, I worked for another hour or two in my classroom, getting everything ready for Monday, catching up on grading. There never seemed to be enough time to get it all done.

  But today, I just wanted to go home. I wanted to go home, crawl into bed, dive into a beach book full of beautiful people and solvable problems, and I wanted to forget all of mine. I wanted to read a story about people who figured out how to get love right, because I had failed at it so badly.

  I hoped against all reason that if Ian did make it to his gran’s this weekend that he would come over to declare his undying love and sweep me off my feet.

  But why would he? I had practically taken out a billboard shouting: I DON’T WANT TO DATE YOU.

  Only...it didn’t seem to matter how many times I explained to myself that it didn’t make sense, or that my biology degree told me my brain had all the control of my body: my heart was NOT having it. My heart wanted Ian. His jokes. His cheerful help in my house. His kindness to his grandmother. His sharp mind. His teasing.

  His kisses.

  Oh, those kisses.

  I’d found myself reliving those kisses in the woods multiple times a day. It didn’t matter if I was grading pop quizzes, pulling weeds, or wrestling carpet. That kiss would flash in my head, and suddenly I’d find my cheeks flushed—and if I let myself follow the memory—my palms sweaty.

  I drove home, the route almost automatic now, my mind on what I would say or do if Ian came to Miss Lily’s this weekend.

  We still had some big obstacles in the way of a relationship. I didn’t want to move to DC. There wasn’t much scope for a private investigator in sleepy Creekville. And maybe it was stupid to worry about those things when we might not work out. We may not ever have to worry about a discussion of how we fit into each other’s lives.

  But the way I felt about Ian...I’d never felt like this before. I’d had a semi-serious boyfriend in college, but he’d never made me feel like even the air I breathed crackled with energy the way Ian did when he was around. I didn’t need Miss Lily’s wisdom to tell me that was rare. She’d known all along that Ian and I were a match, thus her ridiculous scheme to lure him home to meet me.

  Maybe Ian was only coming back this weekend to say he was sorry. But if he knew that I had changed my mind, that I wanted to figure out where this thing went...

  The rest was details. I could get a teaching job in DC. The schools there probably needed me more than Lincoln did.

  I tightened my hands on the steering wheel. All I knew for sure was that finding out how real these feelings between Ian and I were was worth it. I stepped on the gas and leaned forward, like that would somehow make my car go even faster. I was anxious to get home and get ready for Ian. I’d choose a pretty dress, a bottle of wine, and practice my best apology for pushing him away so many times.

  Because this feeling? It felt a lot like love, and that was worth saving.

  I was straining to look for Ian’s car in Miss Lily’s driveway before I even turned into my own, and when the sun glinted off the sleek dark blue of his BMW, my grip relaxed on the steering wheel even as butterflies exploded in my stomach.

  Ian had come. At least I had a chance to make this right.

  I turned into my own driveway, but it wasn’t until I stepped out of my car that I realized my front porch had undergone a renovation: the porch swing was now hanging from the perfect spot on the side of the porch.

  And Ian was sitting in the middle of it.

  My heart gave the stutter skip it’d gotten the last few times I’d seen him. More biology I didn’t understand.

  “Ian?”

  He rose from the swing and came to the top of the stairs to meet me as I made my way up. “Hey,” he said, taking the tote from my shoulder. “I hope it’s okay that I put it up. Seemed like the perfect spot.”

  “It is,” I said glancing toward it. He’d even stolen some pillows I recognized from Miss Lily’s family room to brighten it up. “It looks really good there. But...”

  “Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve kind of got a speech, if that’s okay?”

  He looked at me with more uncertainty than I’d ever seen on his face, and I gave a nod. I wasn’t sure I’d found the right words myself yet anyway.

  “I’ve always been raised to respect women and to listen when they tell you what they want. And I heard you loud and clear when you said you only wanted to be friends. But I also think you’re the kind of woman who appreciates having all the facts before making a decision. So I wondered if I could give you some additional data. For science?”

  A small smile tugged at my lips. “Okay. For science.”

  “I have this plan to be in this swing every Friday afternoon when you get home. And to sit in it with you every Monday evening before I drive back to the city Tuesday morning. Because a lot of the work I do can be done remotely, and my bosses signed off on it. I’ll be in the office Tuesday through Friday morning, and be back here to greet you after work every Friday afternoon. Sometimes I’ll have to stay in the city over the weekend, but Sherrie can handle most of what comes up without me.”

  “But—”

  “There’s more. I’m not saying it has to be that way. It’s only if you want to. I’ll respect you and take it as your final word if you don’t, but...” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands askew, and I wanted to reach up and brush the pieces back into place. “But I keep thinking about how every minute I’ve spent with you, even when we’re arguing or just eating sandwiches, makes me feel more alive than anything I’ve done in the city has in years. And I’m hopi
ng...I’m hoping it’s not my imagination. That you feel it too?”

  He was a supremely confident guy, so much so that I’d cussed him as cocky a few times, but there was only vulnerability in his eyes now.

  I reached over and took his free hand, sliding mine into his so he wouldn’t have another second of doubt. “The idea of seeing you on my porch swing every Friday makes it a little hard to breathe, but I think it’s in a good way?”

  He gave a small laugh. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that.”

  “Maybe we need more science investigation. What does it mean when the idea of seeing you—no, that actually seeing you right here in this moment—makes my heart race, my mouth go dry, my palms sweat, and my stomach flip?”

  He pretended to think about it. “It could mean that you’re having a panic attack. But there’s a pretty good test. Do you also have weak knees?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then for science, I think you probably need to kiss me now.”

  “For science,” I agreed as he pulled me toward him. When he kissed me, the whole world became the soft rasp of his breath and the sound of my own heartbeat. His lips were gentle at first, but as I leaned into him the kiss deepened. He pulled me tight against him, and I had a whole new host of symptoms to report. Wild, delicious, shivery symptoms.

  He pulled back. “How are your knees?” he asked softly.

  “Weak. Very weak. And my heart is pounding too.”

  “So what does the science tell us?”

  “More experiments needed.”

  His eyebrow went up and his eyes danced. “I might know more about the science here than you do.”

  “Tell me,” I said, running a finger across his bottom lip.

  “It means you might be in danger of falling for me as hard as I’ve fallen for you.”

  I stopped tracing his lip to meet his eyes. “You have?”