“Get going,” she says, shoving me out the door. “I think I see her waiting by the gazebo.”
I head that way, ready to be done with all this. My eyes go the Biscuit Girl, wondering when Devlyn will be back. I need to see her, but there’s another woman I have to focus on right now.
This woman doesn’t fit the mold of the others. She’s not dressed up. She doesn’t have on any makeup. Her hair is pulled up in a simple ponytail, and she doesn’t smile when she sees me approach.
“Are you . . .”
She holds her hand up. “Look, I’m here because my Nana wrote a letter. I didn’t know anything about it until Mia called. I only came out of respect for my grandmother.”
Honesty, thank God. “Well, I’m only doing this for my daughter.”
She smiles slightly. “How about we take a walk? I’d like the see the Falls. Then I can tell Nana I met you, and you can satisfy Mia. We both get out of this unscathed. Deal?”
I need to scope out the Falls for the Fourth of July project anyway, so that sounds good to me. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.
A short walk from town square, there’s a series of bridges with streams running through and an old water mill. The path cuts through a wooded area, which hides the Falls. The waterfall itself isn’t large. We aren’t talking Niagara or anything. You can’t hear it from town. Town folklore says if you kiss someone at the Falls during a rainbow, they will be yours forever.
On one side, there’s a huge meadow where weddings, picnics, and the annual Fourth of July Fest is held. We might be the only town in America that doesn’t light fireworks on that day. Fireworks and trees don’t mix well. Sparklers are about it. The whole town potlucks together. There’s music, and if the sun hits the Falls just right, a rainbow becomes the only light show we need. It’s Mia’s favorite town event. A downside is that it’s also the day I lost my virginity with her mother, which makes it my least favorite.
We look out to the Falls together. “It’s beautiful,” Date Three says. “There’s some legend about it, right?”
“I’ve heard the story so many times growing up. It’s said that during the Civil War, there was a beautiful Southern girl who fell in love with a Union soldier. In secret they would meet here,” I say, looking up at the rush of water, no rainbows out today. “Night after night, they would meet. The waterfall their guardian, holding all their secrets.”
“If you tell me one of them killed themselves here, I’m going to be so upset. This better end happy,” she says.
I grin. “One night, her brother, a Confederate soldier, followed her, worried for his sister’s safety and wondering where she disappeared to every night. He found his sister in the arms of the enemy.”
“He killed him, didn’t he?”
“He drew his weapon, ignoring the cries of his sister, begging him not to shoot, promising she’d never see him again if he just let her love live. Moved by her pleas, he let him go. Her brother pulled her away. Her soldier’s final words to her were that he’d find her. She came to this spot every day, and every day the only thing she found was a rainbow.”
“That can’t be it,” she says, smacking my arm. “That’s a terrible story.”
“Supposedly, he was killed in battle, and the young girl never married. It’s said she came here every day of her life. She believed the rainbow was his spirit, keeping his promise.”
I see her wipe her eyes a little. “Why do loves like that only happen in stories? I mean, in real life, we get set up by our grandmothers and kids.”
She giggles, causing me to smile. We start the walk back. As far as dates go, this one has been good. I like her. She’s attractive, funny, smart, seems to have her head on straight. All the boxes are checked. This should be the point where I kiss her, ask her out again. I should be devising ways to get in this woman’s panties, but instead I’m thinking more about yanking down the tutu of one very sexy Biscuit Girl. I should be thinking about how to get this woman to fall for me, but it’s me that’s fallen. I should have one thing on my mind, and I do—Devlyn.
There’s just one big ass problem. She’s my friend. I can’t go there. There are so many reasons why I can’t go there. The town would have a field day. We’d have no privacy. Everyone would have an opinion. If we broke up, where would I get a decent cup of coffee? How would Mia react to this? Then there’s Scott, who’s actually the least of my concerns. Devlyn seemed pretty sure it was over, and if it’s not, I plan on convincing her.
I don’t want to lose Devlyn.
Staying friends guarantees her in my life. Dating her doesn’t.
Love doesn’t come with a guarantee.
Love is a risk. I used to be a risk taker, but teenage fatherhood buried that part of me. Stability became the name of the game. It had to. I look towards her diner, wondering if she’s back.
Love is a risk.
I realize that all these women who’ve written me letters, called, travelled here, have all been risk takers. Some of them batshit crazy risk takers, but risk takers all the same. I’ve been annoyed by it all, but these women are brave. They put it all out there, some of them literally. I should’ve been more appreciative of that.
“I had fun,” Date Three says.
“Me, too.”
She stands there, waiting. I can see the hope in her eyes. She wants me to ask her out again. I need to let her down easy, but I know if I tell her she’s great and that it’s me, she won’t believe me. Drawing a deep breath, my mouth opens, but she shakes her head at me.
“It’s okay. I know your heart is with someone else,” she says.
All I can do is nod.
“Does she know?” she asks.
“No. We’re friends.”
She shakes her head at me again. “Maybe she’s like the young girl at the Falls. Maybe she’s waiting for you to find her. Maybe she’s been waiting years, too.” She leans up on her tippy toes and kisses my cheek, then starts to walk away.
“Thank your grandmother for me,” I call out.
“I will,” she says, and she’s gone.
*
The three-date experiment is over. Most of the women in town have gone home, the emails and phone calls are waning. My daughter’s viral video has been replaced by the latest cat video. It wasn’t a complete waste of time. I learned a few things. Mostly that I’m an idiot and the right woman has been across the street from me my whole life.
Heading towards the diner, the lights are low inside, but I can make out the shape of her moving around, hear the faint beat of music she has on while she cleans up.
There it is again. That same feeling from the other night. The dick hardening, heart pounding, can’t wait to be near her feeling.
She catches me watching her and waves me inside, turning the music down as I walk into the diner. “That looked like it went well,” she says, nodding towards the town square.
Shit, she saw the kiss on the cheek. I guess from a distance it did look like a beginning instead of an ending.
“Why, were you watching?” I ask.
“I wasn’t,” she says, her forehead wrinkling up. “So is she the one?”
No, you are, I think, but don’t say it. My feelings for her are coming out of nowhere. I can’t just whack her over the head, but standing here looking at her, I’m not just looking at my friend anymore. It’s like I’m seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. I knew she was sweet, smart, funny, and sassy. I knew she was beautiful, but I don’t think I appreciated it before. Right now, I’m fully appreciating the curve of her waist, the tiny bit of cleavage showing, how perfect her ass is.
“Garrett?” she says. “You’re acting weird.”
“Sorry,” I say. “No, I won’t be seeing her again.”
She puts down her rag. “I feel like I need to explain. About the other night. I was a mess, and I shouldn’t have laid all that on you.”
“Consider us even,” I say, seeing relief cover her face. “For teaching me
how to braid hair.”
She smiles. Damn!
“And how to sew the damn elastics on ballet pointe shoes. Remember that?”
“The middle of the night string of cuss words is burned into my brain.”
I step a little closer to her. “And for being my friend when no one else would.”
“That was a long time ago,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “It’s something I’ll never forget.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“Do you always do the right thing?” I ask, stepping closer until my body is against hers.
“I try,” she says, her blue eyes a mix of confusion, unsure if she’s reading me right.
She steps back slightly, moving to turn off the music. “Leave it,” I say, offering her my hand. “Dance with me?”
“Here?”
“Here.” She rubs her palms on her pants then slides her hand into mine. I give her a twirl before pulling her to me. She laughs, and my heart skips. Even though I know, I still ask, “Where have you been the past few days?”
“Florida,” she says.
I know I shouldn’t ask, but fuck it. “Did you and Scott work things out?”
“No,” she says. “I believe in clean breaks. None of this back and forth stuff. I had some of his things. Plus, I just thought I owed it to him to see him one last time.”
“And you’re okay?”
“I am.” Her head finds my shoulder as we sway.
I bury my nose in her strawberry blonde hair, breathing her in. This is the same feeling from the other night. She has to be feeling this, too. Why is she so hard to read? I guess it’s like I told her—hard love is the only kind I know.
Her hands slide up the muscles of my back. I’m a man, we don’t analyze things like women do. Her hands on my back mean one thing—sex.
The song stops playing, and she leans away slightly. My hand slips to her neck, her cheek. She can’t look me in the eye. She knows if she does, I have her. Lucky for her, I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve, and tilt her chin up, her eyes landing on my lips.
It’s not an invitation. It’s a decision. If we do this, there’s no going back. Things won’t ever be the same. At this point, it’s a no-brainer for me, but the decision doesn’t look so easy for her. I’m more than happy to help clear that indecision right up, leaning in.
The phone rings, causing her to jump right out of my arms. “I need to answer. It might . . .” she stammers, walking backwards towards the phone, her eyes gluing me to my spot. “Hello . . . Of course . . . I’ll be right over . . . No problem . . . All five kids have it?”
She covers the phone with her hand. “You know Mrs. . . .”
I just nod, listening to her explain how she has to take some food over to this family. It can’t be helped, and she’ll see me tomorrow. So many excuses are spilling out of her.
Another place, another time—story of my life.
*
Letters to Mia
Eighth Birthday
Dear Mia,
Happy Birthday! For the first time since you were born, I’ve seen you. The Eden Valley paper went online this year. I check it daily for any sign of you. I’ve seen your name listed under “A” honor roll. I’ve seen you listed as a Girl Scout, but the best was a picture of you on your dad’s shoulders during some town Christmas event. You were looking down at him, and he was looking up at you. The both of you wearing the biggest, goofiest smiles. You’re happy.
All these years, that’s all I wanted to know. That my baby is happy.
Garrett’s happy.
I hoped he was. There was no one else in the picture. I can’t lie. Over the years, I’ve wondered if Garrett married, if you call someone else Mom.
I don’t allow myself to stay in those thoughts long. I can’t.
I printed that picture out. It’s framed by my bed. You and your dad—happy.
Until next year,
Your mom
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GARRETT
Mia’s at my dad’s for the night, so I finish up sending out the email invitations for her eighteenth birthday, which is coming up fast. I got everything she wanted. She’s going to love it. It’s amazing how much I can accomplish when I’m trying to avoid something. I left Devlyn a couple hours ago and planned a whole party in the wake of that disaster. Reminds me of the time after Sheena left, I was super dad for months and months before I even uttered one cuss word over her.
I can’t curse Devlyn, though. She’s coming off a breakup. Plus, our friendship is important. I’m sure she wants to protect that. I can’t fault her for that, although I wish she’d ignored the phone and let me lift her up on the counter, wrapped her legs around me . . .
Nope, not gonna think about it. I’m not gonna think about her tits in that tight little t-shirt that dares me to “butter her biscuits” every fucking day. Nope. I can start drawing some sketches for the pavilion at the Falls instead. I know the mayor wants something covered, but that defeats the purpose of being at the Falls. You’re there to admire it. So whatever I build either has to be set far enough back not to obscure the view or have a roof you can see through. Or maybe there’s another option to consider. . .
The doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Mia and my dad wouldn’t ring the bell. I’m not sure who it could be. When Mia was younger, I used to have these nightmares that Sheena would ring the bell in the middle of the night, showing up to take Mia from me. There was no going back to sleep after one of those.
I open the door. Devlyn’s on my porch dressed in what look like her sleep clothes—pink and green striped shorts and a bright pink tank top. Her hair is wet, hanging down, slightly dampening her shirt, and she’s barefoot.
“Are you alright?” I ask, reaching out for her.
“Is Mia here?” she asks.
“No, she’s staying the night at Dad’s house. What is it? What happened?”
She doesn’t come inside. Her eyes roam my face like she’s searching for something. “Was I imagining earlier?” she asks. “I mean, at the diner. It was all in my head, right? I was imagining it?”
Taking her by the waist, I bring her inside, shutting the door behind her. “Depends on what you were imagining,” I say.
“Don’t do that,” she snaps. “Don’t you dare flirt with me.”
“No, you weren’t imagining it,” I say, stepping closer, my chest pressed against her. Her breasts are rising and falling, her skin is a rosy pink color, and her lips are slightly parted. I whisper her name.
“We won’t ever be able to undo this,” she says softly.
“I know,” I say, my eyes on her full, pink lips. “I can’t lose you.”
Her hand slowly raises, but she doesn’t touch me. It just hovers in the air by my face like there’s a line she’s not sure she wants to cross. It’s the friendship to lovers line.
For me, that line has already been obliterated. There’s no way I could go back to the way things were. I take her hand, moving it to my cheek, her soft skin against the stubble of my face. I inch closer, taking her cheek in my hand.
We are one choice away. One choice away from changing everything. I’m one choice away from her. Perhaps we’ve always been that close. Right now, this moment, she’s the easiest choice I’ve ever made.
I kiss her and know deep in my soul I’m in trouble.
A lifetime of repressed desire I didn’t ever realize was there takes over. There’s no denying it anymore. Usually a first kiss is soft, slow—a get to know you. How the person moves, tastes—an exploration, but there is nothing soft or slow about this.
Her hands wind in my hair, our tongues battling, our bodies grinding against each other. Her head tosses back, a loud moan falling from her perfect lips. She reaches for the bottom of my shirt and I take over, pulling it over my head. She follows my lead, removing her tank top. I make quick work of her bra, tossing it to the floor. She tries to pull me closer, but I step back. I need a second to look
at her. She’s too damn beautiful to rush and not stop and appreciate.
“Christ, you’re perfect,” I whisper.
Her body trembles, blushing. Stalking towards her, I slip my hands under the waistband of her shorts, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before pushing them to the floor, making sure to take her panties, too. My dick pulses against the zipper of my jeans, but he’s going to have to wait. There are too many parts of her to taste, suck, and explore.
I run my finger across her red, swollen lips, down her collarbone, to her tits. Then I make the same path with my mouth, kissing her. When I pull her nipple between my teeth, she starts to beg, yanking on my zipper. “Please, oh please,” she begs.
Guess we’re skipping the foreplay. She frees my dick, her soft hand working me over. Grabbing her ass, I pick her up, and her legs wrap around my waist. I can feel the warmth between her legs calling me, begging for me. My dick is heavy and aching and desperate for her.
“Look at me,” I order. Her blue eyes open, holding me hostage as I glide myself deep inside her. Her body immediately starts trembling, on the edge of her orgasm, but I don’t want her to come too quickly, and slowly start to slip in and out. Fuck, she’s tight and warm and clenching around me. Her nails dig into my shoulders as I hold her ass.
Her eyes catch mine as our hips thrust against each other. “Hard,” she whispers. “Love me hard.”
She flashes me a smile, remembering my words to her that all love is hard. At the time, I wasn’t referring to sex, but this works, too.
Fucking hard has been my mode of operation since Sheena. Then I was young, inexperienced, and completely in love with her, so things were slow, sweet, and tender. After her, there was no time for slow, sweet, or tender. With my Thursday night regular, I was on a time crunch. I only had the length of Mia’s dance class. With other women here and there, it was the same. I fucked those women for entirely different reasons than I’m with Devlyn.
All My Life Page 8
