Finding Him

by Van Dyken, Rachel

  “And to being the charming twin.” I winked, earning a laugh from him.

  He raised his glass. “To the sexy twin.”

  “It’s good we’re toasting to Bridge too,” I teased.

  “Oh, princess, you really shouldn’t tease.” He set down his champagne and reached for me.

  “You wouldn’t.” I tried to get to my feet. “Julian Tennyson!”

  His wet hands touched my hips as he stood to his full height in the pool. My breath came out in a rough exhale as he moved between my legs. “I would.”

  “I’ll get wet.”

  His lips twitched. “Kinda the point, princess.”

  “You’ll ruin my dress and my makeup,” I pointed out as another chill wracked my body. It wasn’t the cold, it was him, all him, and his naked chest and the way he was looking at me.

  Like he’d seen me naked and wanted to see more.

  I couldn’t catch my breath.

  My body responded when I told it not to, when I very calmly explained to my pounding heart that we were sad, that we couldn’t move on, not yet, not with him.

  Anyone but him.

  But the heart, stupid muscle that it tends to be, just pounded harder as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and whispered, “Get wet with me.”

  I sighed as he very slowly pulled me into the warm pool and swam us backward to press me against the wall closest to the edge. The wall was completely see-through, the city looked so small beneath us. A rush of excitement washed over me as he wrapped his arms around my middle and whispered in my ear, “She was right.”

  I nodded. “It is beautiful.”

  “Mmm.” His rock-hard body wasn’t touching me, not yet, but I could feel the heat from it against the wet dress plastered on my skin.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Maybe it’s the champagne.”

  “What?”

  “This.” I didn’t feel the need to explain to him what I was talking about. “I couldn’t write without you, you know.”

  “Are you saying you need me?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “I’ll help . . .”

  My heart wouldn’t shut up as it hammered in my chest. “I thought I was supposed to give you a gift on your birthday, not the other way around.”

  “But you did.”

  I frowned and turned around in his arms as a chill wracked my body. “What are you saying?”

  He lifted a massive shoulder, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to my mouth. “You stayed.”

  “I’m a lame gift.”

  “It’s all I wanted,” he said, quickly pressing his mouth to mine again, and then I was lost, completely absorbed in the way his mouth played with mine, toyed and teased, like we were the only two people in the world, like our pasts didn’t matter.

  It was everything I needed in that moment.

  To forget that it mattered.

  And kiss Julian so he understood that he did.

  And always would.

  He moved his hands to my hips, hiking my dress past them. This was happening.

  Again.

  And I was saying yes.

  Again.

  Because he felt good and it had been so long since something had felt good in my life, since something had felt right—that I clung to it—clung to him as hard as I possibly could and prayed there wouldn’t be a catastrophic downfall for our end.

  “Stop thinking.” Julian pressed another kiss to my neck. “I’ve been doing enough thinking for a lifetime—” A hand reached for my thong and tugged it down. “Now wish me happy birthday.”

  I exhaled against his mouth and gave in to the moment. I dug my fingernails into his muscled back as he teased my entrance then went all in. There was no warning, and I didn’t want one, I just wanted him, I wanted that moment where I felt whole.

  And even though I knew it was all a dream based on grief and attraction, I let him in.

  And I kept him there.

  “Happy birthday,” I whispered against his mouth. My head fell back with each powerful thrust. I had nothing to hold on to but him, it only pulled him closer, made me frantic for more as I tried hooking a leg around him, only to have him pull it up and angle deeper, causing me to see stars. “Right there, that’s incredible, right—”

  “Keaton.” His voice was rough with strain like he’d been holding back for my benefit.

  I opened my eyes and stared at him as the water lapped around our joined bodies, the lights reflecting off the pool, the two of us in our own secret world.

  “I missed you too,” I admitted. “A lot.”

  Our foreheads touched.

  Another punishing kiss as my body slammed back against the tile wall, sending water to splash over the opposite end.

  And as release came, fast and hard, he whispered against my mouth, “Good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  JULIAN

  It was the best birthday gift anyone could have given me: Keaton Westbrook. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think it meant anything beyond that night. Neither of us knew how to navigate any of it. I wanted to, I wanted to ask her if it was possible. She made it easy to talk, just like she made it easy to mourn.

  I both loved and hated that about her.

  She didn’t sugarcoat anything and was silent when silence was needed for reflection. She was everything I hadn’t thought I needed in a partner.

  Basically, she was perfection.

  We were both quiet afterward. I grabbed a towel for her and turned around while she pulled off the wet dress. Even though it didn’t matter, I still wanted to show respect, and I knew if I looked I’d ask for more. And I was pretty sure that wasn’t something she was willing to offer or even give.

  I went in search of something for her to wear and came back to the living room to see her wrapped in nothing but the towel, her eyes looking everywhere but me.

  “Let me guess.” I sighed and held out a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt. “You never do this?”

  Her eyes met mine, narrowed, and then she grabbed the clothes from my hand and strutted past me only to let out an adorable little growl as she turned back on her heel and faced me. “I wasn’t going to say that, and you know I don’t, and it’s not funny to throw it in my face. I am a mature female adult, and I can make my own sexual choices . . .” She licked her lips. “At midnight. With a man who probably gets his dry cleaning delivered on a daily basis and doesn’t even own a washing machine.”

  I smiled so hard my face hurt. “I like the top-load best.”

  She scowled. “Do you even know how to separate clothes?”

  “It’s not hard. Do you need me to show you a little domestication, princess? Because if you need a tutor . . .”

  She held up her hand. “Never mind. I’m going to go change, and then we’re going to set boundaries for this.”

  “This,” I repeated, as my heart picked up speed from a dead stop. “Us?”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “Well, yes, but not like you mean. You said you’d help with the book, right? Well, this is me asking for help.”

  My smile fell.

  She hadn’t had sex with me so I would help her, right?

  When had I ever even doubted or cared?

  I’d never felt like a one-night stand more than in that moment, like she’d given me something she rarely gave anyone—and now needed me to do something that only I could do.

  It sucked.

  Made me want to lash out.

  To make her feel bad.

  To make her feel pain and rejection all at once.

  But her expression was so innocent. Was I reading it wrong?

  “Please?” She touched my arm. “I need you.”

  I was an idiot.

  An idiot who was going to die alone with memories of the way her skin tasted on my mouth. “Okay.”

  She exhaled and then wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my cheek. “Thank you.”

  I waited until she
was down the hall to breathe.

  A door closed. She’d found the bathroom, good.

  And I stood there, just listening to the silence, if that was even possible, and wondering how the hell I was going to keep my hands off her so we didn’t have sex again.

  The first time was an accident brought on by a secluded cabin and too much grief.

  This time was a pity fuck on my birthday.

  Next time, if there was a next time, it wasn’t happening unless she gave me everything, unless I knew going in that there wouldn’t be a chance she could walk away.

  Next time would be a battle.

  And I would be sure to win that war.

  I just had to help her.

  And do something that I’d never been able to do in all of my years on this planet—make her fall in love with me.

  And not fuck it up.

  Make her fall in love with me.

  And stay.

  All I had to do was compete against a guy who was twice the man I’d ever be, one who’s going to be memorialized in a book that will most likely be made into a movie.

  Compared to him for the rest of my life.

  Huh, at least that wasn’t a new battle.

  No, it was one I knew how to wage very well.

  And this time, I was going to win.

  “Do you have a driver on staff or—” Her voice echoed around the vast living room as she made her way over to me, not finishing her sentence but staring at me with narrowed eyes like she could read my mind. “You look creepy.”

  “I was thinking.” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t read into it, and yes, I actually do, but I have a better idea.”

  “I’m not spending the night.”

  I grinned. “I didn’t hear myself asking you.”

  She jerked back.

  Shit.

  “Don’t look so offended. You know you would have said no anyways.” I licked my lips. “Right?”

  She rocked back on her heels. “Right. Totally.”

  “Uh-huh.” I reached for her hand. “So I’ve been on a forced vacation by the board of my own company. Seems like they’re afraid I’m going to have a nervous breakdown, and before you ask, no, I’m not going to have a breakdown, they’re just paranoid and think I need time, blah, blah, fuckity-blah—” I shrugged. “We need a space where we can work without being interrupted or seen, right?”

  She nodded. “Social media can be . . . ruthless.”

  “Great. So we work here, order takeout, put in long hours—something I’m very used to doing—and get the book done. Then you go back to your life, and I go back to mine.” I smiled, sealing the deal. “Easy.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “There’s a catch here.”

  “No catch. I want to help you. I at least owe you that since we aren’t going back to the cabin, though you should know it’s yours for whenever you want to continue your vacation, or I’ll just reimburse what you paid.”

  She looked skeptical.

  Shit, was I selling her too hard?

  “What would you possibly get out of helping me? I feel like I owe you something. I mean I was serious when I asked. I just didn’t think you’d be bored enough to say yes.”

  “It’s not boredom,” I said smoothly.

  “Then what is it?”

  Lie.

  Lie.

  Lie.

  But I couldn’t. It was on the tip of my tongue, but I knew I couldn’t do it, not to her face. “You. I get to spend time with you.”

  A tentative smile grew. “You realize you don’t get sex every time you finish a chapter.”

  “Absolutely.” I nodded seriously. “As long as you realize you don’t get anything until you say the magic words.”

  “‘Please’?”

  “You’ll figure it out when the time comes.”

  “You’re confusing me.”

  “Good.” I winked. “Now let me call the car. I expect you to be here at nine in the morning with donuts.”

  “Wait, why am I bringing the donuts?” she wondered out loud as I typed a text to my driver, who was probably downstairs waiting out of sheer habit.

  “You’re the one who needs help. Ergo you bring the donuts for me to consume, and I’ll try to call it even.”

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, right, a businessman calling us even over donuts? Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Why, I don’t have the faintest clue.” I leaned close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Be safe.”

  Her eyes softened. “I always am.”

  I didn’t want to let her go.

  I wanted to convince her that she should stay, preferably in my bed. I wanted to ask her if I could hold her, and pathetically enough I was so desperate I would even just take her friendship over anything else.

  She left.

  The door shut with finality behind her.

  And I was blanketed in the depths of my own loneliness and mistakes once again, stuck wondering if my mom was watching, if she had been instrumental in bringing this woman into my life, and wishing like hell she was there so she could give me some wisdom on how to keep her.

  A grieving girl who worshipped Noah.

  A grieving man who missed his mom.

  The only thing we had in common was our grief and money.

  Maybe that would be enough.

  For now.

  Maybe for now was all I needed.

  I grabbed the rest of the champagne from outside and carried it into my bedroom. I drank from the bottle and winced, even though I was doing what I typically did every night. Because tonight was different, it was my birthday, so I tortured myself with memories by clicking to the saved video on my TV.

  With tears in my eyes, I watched my mom sing “Happy Birthday” to me at the cabin on my tenth birthday.

  “Happy birthday to you! And you!” She burst out laughing as Bridge and I fought over the cake, and then she held up two forks. “Before you dig in, I have to make my speech.”

  “Aw, Mom!” Bridge groaned. “We have the speech memorized!”

  “Can’t we just eat?” I said in a whiny voice that made me want to punch my ten-year-old self. “It’s gonna melt!”

  “It won’t melt, it’s not ice cream cake,” Mom scolded. “Now listen, one day you’re going to be old like me, one day you’re going to have the world at your feet. The most important thing to remember is that the world needs good men in it. Not powerful men, good men, men who are passionate about what they do, who want to make the world a better place. Remember, who you are defines what you are. You may be a Tennyson . . .” She hesitated like she hated the name. “But you’re half mine, and you were born for greatness like the world has never seen. Love hard. Serve others. And most of all . . .” She trailed off.

  We both jumped into the air and shouted, “Make Mom proud!”

  I flipped off the TV in disgust as tears streamed down my face.

  “I haven’t been . . .” I whispered to myself. “But I think my penance is about to start . . .”

  Mom knew and still loved me.

  She was gone and she’d never gotten to see my true potential, all she saw was a carbon copy of my father, and in the end, a man trying to find himself.

  I hoped that the universe was on my side, and I hoped that she would somehow know that I made it right.

  Starting with the girl whose rose I’d crushed.

  Whose heart I’d just ignored was breaking because I was too focused on myself, on my own pain, my own anger.

  I would start with her, and I would let her go if she asked me to. Because that was what a true man did.

  He didn’t force his feelings, choking it out of the other person until they had no choice but to relent. He let them make the choice and honored it.

  And if her choice wasn’t me . . .

  Then at least I did one thing right.

  I made Mom proud in her death the way I couldn’t make her proud in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  KEA
TON

  I clutched the box of donuts like a lifeline and looked behind me like the paranoid celebrity I was. I hadn’t posted any pictures from the party last night and didn’t see any speculation on where I was or what I was doing.

  Which meant for now I was safe.

  Plus, couldn’t I just be visiting a friend?

  A very rich friend who lived in the penthouse apartment and kissed like he was born to make love to my mouth?

  I cringed as the lovely doorman let me in and nodded his head. “Mr. Tennyson is expecting you.” He smiled wide. “Go to the top floor, he left his door unlocked and is running a bit late from his morning workout.”

  Wow, very detailed, this doorman.

  I grinned at him and then opened the box. “A donut for your services.”

  He beamed. “I knew I liked you.”

  “Ditto.” I laughed as he bent over the box. His black-and-white uniform was pristine. He pulled off one white glove and then winked up at me with crinkles at the sides of his eyes; his hair had speckles of white in it. He just seemed like a really happy person and easy. I liked him.

  Especially since the donut he picked was the one with all the sprinkles. “Thank you, Miss Westbrook.”

  I almost corrected him, asked him to use a different name, then realized it wouldn’t really matter, would it? Again, nobody knew what was going on.

  We were working on a book.

  No sex allowed.

  My thighs clenched.

  Damn it, why did he have to be so aggressive? I wanted him to slam me against the wall and pull all my clothes off and—

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  “Huh? What? Sorry.” I closed the box and gave him a weak smile. “I’ll just head up?”

  “You go ahead, and thank you for the morning treat!”

  God, he was adorable. I would bring him donuts every morning if he got that excited.

  I quickly got into the elevator. Amazing how much faster it went when Julian wasn’t standing next to me with all his masculinity pulsing in my direction, promising more kisses and orgasms than I could count.

  Focus.

  Today was about the book.

  It was about Noah.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt my body deflate completely. Whenever I thought about Noah, I wondered what he would say to me about Julian. Would he tell me I was making a mistake? Getting in over my head? Was I betraying his memory by hopping into bed with someone so unlike him? Not that Julian didn’t have his strengths. There were a lot of things about him that I loved.