by Lauren Runow
She goes straight for the gullible source. “Charlie, when you woke up the next morning, was the man still there?”
“Mom!” I say, exasperated.
She coolly eyes me and then turns back to Charlie.
I scruff up Charlie’s hair as I say to him, “Why don’t you run over there and pick out our dessert from the pastry case?”
Without another word, Charlie jumps up, and I turn back to my mother. “Please stop.”
She holds her hands up in defense. “You’re the one introducing strange men to your son. You can’t get mad at me for prying. What’s his last name?”
“You are not looking him up.”
“Damn straight I am.”
I refuse. “Jones,” I lie. I don’t know what kind of skeletons Bryce has in his closet, and I damn well don’t want her uncovering them. I’d like to do that on my own, thank you very much.
“Bryce Jones. Well, Charlie’s out of earshot, so here’s your chance. Tell me everything I need to know about the man you have been keeping from me.”
I defensively cross my arms. “Please don’t make me feel bad.”
“Feel bad about what?”
“Liking someone. I know, Mother. I know I don’t need a man in my life to make me happy. But … the truth is … he makes me happy. Bryce is funny and kind. He’s dedicated,” I say with a laugh, mostly to myself as I recall how he sat outside my job, waiting to ask me for coffee. “He has humility.” I picture him in his Lion’s T-shirt, having a vegetable car race with Charlie. “He’s smart and giving. He’s someone I enjoy spending time with. I’m not dependent on him in any way, and we’re not a couple. Just two people who have shared a coffee and now two dinners together while in the presence of my child, who happens to think he’s pretty great. So, please, trust that I know what I’m doing.” My words are said with confidence even though I have no idea what I’m doing with Bryce.
My mother is staring at me with a tilted head and squinted eyes. She’s appraising me, looking to see if I’m totally full of bullshit. “Okay, I’ll back off.”
“That’s it?” I look around for the candid camera.
“Yep.” She lifts her coffee cup to her lips.
“Okay.” I look over at Charlie, who is looking at the cakes behind the domed glass. Only I would let my kid have cake for breakfast. “On another note, the Masons want to take Charlie down to Legoland. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“That’s at the other end of the state,” she states, shocked.
“Yes, I know. He’s obsessed with Legos, and I think it will be good for them to spend time with him before he’s old enough to realize he’s too cool for his grandparents.”
“But?”
“But that’s a long time for me to be away from him.” I glance over to where he’s standing, eyeing either the ice cream sundae or the chocolate cake. “I’m not sure if I can take it.”
“Well, maybe it will give you time to get to know this Bryce guy a little better. You have only had dinner with him with Charlie. This time, you’ll be less … chaperoned.”
My eyes feel like they’re about to bug out of my head. “Did that really just come out of your mouth? You, the queen of feminism, want me to get to know a man better?”
“It’s a woman’s right to do what she wishes with her body. Adult sexual gratification is a good thing, whether it be with a man or a woman. I’m just saying, it might be nice to explore without my sweet grandson within earshot. That’s all.”
“Mom, I’d never—” I start to say and then realize I did dry-hump a man on my couch. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I’d never have sex with Charlie home. And, for the record, I never have. I haven’t even been with anyone since he was conceived.”
While one might think my mother would love learning this, she actually looks disappointed. “Oh, honey. That’s just sad.”
“What do you mean? Wait. You didn’t … did you, you know, date when I was growing up?” I ask.
“I took you to all my rallies. What else did you think I was doing when I sent you to Grandma’s house?”
My jaw drops. Not that I ever thought my mother wasn’t desirable or sexual even. I just didn’t think she liked men enough to even go to bed with them. I suppose a woman doesn’t need a man, but if she did want to enjoy one for a night or two, that would be her prerogative.
Charlie comes bouncing back. “I’m gonna have the cheesecake.”
I look at him, confused, mostly because I was just jolted out of my thoughts of sex. “Isn’t that heavy after eating pancakes? Do you even have room in that stomach?”
He shrugs. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
I let out a laugh. With my arm around his shoulders, I pull him into me and on my lap.
Touché, kid. Touché.
It’s way too late, and I should be asleep, but instead, I’m curled up on the couch with my night cream on and my iPhone in hand. I pick it up and scroll through my text messages with Bryce. While I haven’t seen him in days, we have been texting. My favorites are the random facts.
Banging your head against the wall for one hour burns 150 calories.
So, that’s how you stay in shape …
If I recall, you’re the door banger. ; )
Looking back at the conversations Bryce and I have makes me laugh. In person, he’s reserved. Behind the screen, he lets loose a little.
When he was ten, he broke his arm while skateboarding because he wanted to be like Bart Simpson. He spiked his hair and held his arms up, yelling, “Cowabunga, dude,” when he crashed into a brick wall.
His first kiss was when he was sixteen. He had finally lost his baby weight, and instead of going to the junior formal with the cheerleader he had a crush on, he brought a girl from the chess team. Her name was Sarah, and she kissed like a frog catching a moth. He almost swore off kissing forever. Almost.
Scrolling up on my phone, I tap on the selfie he sent me two weeks ago. His smiling face lights up the screen.
Goddamn, he’s handsome. I know I’ve said it before, but he has a square jaw and almond-shaped eyes and perfect white teeth. When Aiesha compared him to Superman, she was doing him an injustice.
Bryce Sexton is so much sexier than Superman.
Turning my head to the mirror on the sidewall, I take in my reflection. My skin always has a healthy glow, thanks to a great skin care regimen, and I’m not unattractive, but I’m also not the kind of girl you stalk for days after meeting on a rooftop.
Okay, there, I said it. To myself anyway.
It’s been plaguing me, why Bryce thinks I’m so special. I don’t want to get down on myself. I’m spectacular; I know that. It’s just … he’s rich and powerful, and I’m … me.
I slap myself on the head and try to get out of this woe is me thing I have going on.
I’ve been telling myself for years that I don’t have time in my life for a relationship.
That is complete bullshit.
I blame Ashton.
Five years ago, when I went to the then-love of my life and told him I was carrying his child, his first reaction was to ask me if the baby was his. Then, he told me to get an abortion. It wasn’t only that Ashton didn’t want to be a father. He also didn’t want to be tied to me.
Up until then, I’d had a tremendous amount of confidence. Growing up with a mother who constantly reminded you that you could be anything and do anything was a great boost to your self-esteem. All it takes is one man to cut you at the knees and have you questioning your entire existence. I shouldn’t give him that much credit, but it’s the truth. Ashton Mason destroyed something inside me.
I might not want to introduce random men to Charlie, and I certainly don’t want his heart broken by a man leaving, but I do want to eventually fall in love.
Just thinking this is scary. I blame Bryce.
While I was hesitant to spend time with him a few weeks ago, he’s wiggled his way into my heart. Now, I’m going a little stir-crazy
with the fact that he hasn’t been around since our kiss on this very couch. I mean, I haven’t been kissed many times in my life, but I’m pretty sure it was the best first kiss in the history of first kisses.
It was also the kind of kiss that made you want more.
We’ve been texting nonstop the past few days. I was certain he’d call to make plans for the weekend. He hasn’t, and now, I’m wondering if he didn’t think our kiss was as earth-shattering as I did.
And, now, I sound like a fifteen-year-old girl.
I lay an arm over my eyes. My cell phone vibrates in my hand, and my heart jumps. It’s as if he knows I’m thinking about him because Bryce is calling me. Right. Now.
“Hi,” I whisper into the phone.
“Hey there. Did I catch you in bed?”
I sit up. “No. I was just reading a book,” I lie.
A moment pauses as we sit on the phone in silence.
“Can I come up?”
My shoulders drop, and my brows perk up. “Pardon?”
“I’m outside your building. If it’s too late, it’s okay. I can come back when it’s not so late. I assume Charlie’s sleeping.”
I get up and walk to the window, opening it up. There, on the street, is a black SUV. He’s standing outside of it in his full suit, not something I’d expect to see him wearing on a Sunday night.
“Charlie’s in bed,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”
He looks up at me in the fire escape window. A small smile appears when he sees me.
“I worked all weekend. It was a fucking disaster, and I’m exhausted. Instead of going home, all I wanted was to see your face.”
His words take my breath away.
I grip the wrought iron railing, wanting desperately to go to him. I look around my room and then to the closed door where Charlie is sleeping across the hall. I’m breaking a lot of my self-imposed rules these days.
“Do you want to come up?” I ask.
He doesn’t have to think twice.
Bryce puts his cell phone in his pocket and strides toward the fire escape. At the bottom, he jumps up and pulls down the ladder, bringing it to the sidewalk. As stealth as he is handsome, Bryce Sexton climbs up to my third-floor balcony in a designer suit and doesn’t seem fazed. I stare at him as he comes up the final rung, and he is face-to-face with me in seconds.
“Hi,” I whisper, nerves taking over my body.
He reaches his hand out to me, wrapping his fingers around mine. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
I inhale, torn with what to say, so instead, I bite the inside of my lip and look down to the ground.
When he places his finger under my chin, lifting my gaze to his, I’m done for. His eyes stare into mine, offering so much promise, so much sincerity. We stay there, still, both of us barely breathing.
“I can’t get you out of my mind,” he says, leaning a little closer.
“You hardly know me,” I whisper in disbelief.
“I want to know more.” His words are barely audible as they leave his mouth.
He moves closer, pulling me in, and I let him. All reason flies out of my mind. My heart pounds out of control as lust takes over.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, too,” I say honestly. “I was starting to think you gave up on stalking me.”
He doesn’t smile. In fact, he looks a little agitated. “I had a million things going on at the office that I couldn’t even stop to think. And, when I did, I wanted to come here but didn’t want to scare you off. Plus, the weekend is your time with Charlie. I didn’t want to impose.”
“What made you change your mind?” I ask breathlessly.
His eyes lower to my lips as his thumb brushes along the underside of my mouth. “These lips,” he replied.
I dance my vision from his eyes to his lips. His beard is close-shaven but more than a five o’clock shadow. The way it accentuates his sharp jaw makes me quiver.
Instead of waiting for him to make a move, I grab his tie and lower him down until our lips crash into one another.
“Just as good as the first time,” he says. “I like your T-shirt.” He looks down at the shirt I’m wearing. It’s the one he gave me the other day.
“This old thing?” I feign ignorance.
He grins. “I heard the guy who got it for you is your kryptonite.”
My eyes widen. Bryce Sexton is being cheesy. It’s weird and sexy and awesome at the same time.
That’s why my heart pounds again for another reason. I pull back from his arms that are holding me and give myself some space.
Is this what it’s going to be? Unexpected visits when you’re done with work at ridiculously late hours of the day? I’m not sure what we are, but I don’t know if this will work for me.
I don’t say that though. I don’t want to change Bryce’s world, and it’s probably because I don’t know if I’m ready for mine to be shaken up either. Maybe midnight kisses on fire escapes are a good thing.
“Where did you go?” He runs a knuckle under my chin and pulls my attention back to him.
“Nowhere. Just thinking.” I smile.
He skeptically eyes me but doesn’t press the issue. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I answer, sounding more eager than I want to.
This rewards me with a laugh. And a kiss. A toe-curling kiss.
“Good night, Tessa.” He descends the ladder and continues until he hits the pavement.
I stare as he walks back to his SUV. An older gentleman in a uniform exits the driver’s side and opens the back door, ignoring Bryce’s hand motion, telling him it’s unnecessary.
Just like that, Bryce goes and changes my way of thinking. Sometimes, it’s with his words. Tonight, it was with a kiss.
15
BRYCE
“Special lady?” Brantley asks.
I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. When I asked him to make the detour on our way home from the office, he didn’t say a word. Now that he’s seen her, it’s a different story.
“Yes. A wise man once told me I should wait outside her work to get her to notice me.”
“I believe you took my personal memoirs and made them your own.”
“I believe I took some really great advice and got a woman to notice me.” I loosen my tie and widen my legs, settling into the seat.
“May I offer some more?” he asks.
My hands jitter on their own, and I can’t help but tap them along my knees. I can’t believe I’m nervous. I’m never nervous.
“Don’t waste a good woman on midnight rendezvous when you should be singing to her at sunset.”
His words catch my attention, and I sit up to look back at him.
“It’s complicated. She has a career and a son, and I have …” I open my hands, palms up, in front of me and then run them down my face. “I took off half a day last week, and it cost me the entire weekend. Unfortunately, this is the only thing I can give.”
I stare at the back of his head. It’s immobile as he looks forward and drives up toward my apartment building.
“Do you think a woman with a career and a child will have the stamina to continue this sort of affair?”
“It’s not an affair. It’s …” I pause. Quick coffee breaks. Showing up at her house, unannounced, with Chinese food. Mauling her on a fire escape. Aside from the Boy Scouts, I have done nothing but treat Tessa like she is a part-time lover. “It’s a new relationship. We’ll find our groove.”
“Treat a woman as if she is the breath you’ll take when you have run out of your own,” he says as he pulls into the garage underneath my building. The sentiment is familiar.
“I think you’ve said that to me before,” I say.
He pulls in front of the back door that leads to the lobby and turns around to say, “That was your mother’s quote. She was a very smart woman.”
I bounce my fist off my thigh. My mother raised me to be attentive toward everyone in my life. How did I drop the ma
rk on how to treat a woman?
“Don’t go beating yourself up.” He unlocks the door but stays in his seat. “You’re a good man, Bryce. You’ll make the right decision.”
I tap my fingers along my desk as I contemplate my schedule for this week. It’s a bold move, something I’ve never done before. If I move my luncheon from Wednesday to Tuesday, then we can leave right after that. My Thursday conference call can still happen, though I’ll need to make sure I have a good connection, and some places are hit or miss in Tahoe.
I think some more, wondering if I can trust Austin to take over for me while I’m gone. I have editors and senior staff that can keep the papers in line, but I like things to be checked over by one of us. It’s the way it’s always been done.
My phone rings from the line Jalynn and I share. I pick it up.
“Tanner’s on line one.”
I let her transfer the call. Instead of saying hello, I ask, “Have you cut your hair yet?”
“Nope. Have you run off with the woman of your dreams yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
There’s a pause.
“Was that a joke?”
I take my glasses off and run my fingers over my eyes. “I’m trying to figure out if I can take her away for a few days and head to our place in Tahoe.”
There’s another pause and the shuffling of Tanner on the other end. “Hold on. Did I call Austin by mistake?”
“I’ll ignore that comment.” I put my glasses back on and look at my schedule.
Austin has a big interview happening this week. I wanted to go to it, but I don’t need to be there.
“Are you really planning on taking a girl away?”
“Not everyone is a bar junkie like you. Do girls in New York even know what it means when you tell them you’re Tanner Sexton?”
His laugh echoes through the receiver. “The Sexton name does nothing here. I can sit at the bar, be a wallflower, and no one cares.”
I have always embraced being a Sexton, being that I took over my role in the company at a young age. It came with the territory. Austin, on the other hand, has done whatever he can to hide who he is. It’s harder now that he’s here at Sexton Media, but I always assumed that was why he joined the military and then started street racing under an alias.
