“I don’t have time for this, Lia. I’m late for dinner. Why don’t I call you tonight, and we can talk more if you want?”
Here I go again with another guy who doesn’t put me first on his priority list, another guy who thinks his world is better than mine.
“Maybe we should take a break.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want.” His tone changes to indifferent.
With that alone, my decision is made. “Fine. Have a nice dinner.”
Way to be childish, Lia.
“You’re being terribly immature.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m not sure why I’m going to tell you this, but I’m going to dinner with my ex tonight. It’s nothing more than a dinner with friends, but she’ll be there. I’m fairly certain photos will be taken, so I wanted to prepare you in case the paparazzi print anything.”
A nauseous feeling gnaws in my stomach.
“Lia?”
I clear my throat. “Have fun,” I croak out.
“Lia.”
I hang up the phone and immediately look up Davis’s ex on Google. It doesn’t take long to see images of the two of them together during their short time as a couple. Anyone can see the love pouring out of Davis’s eyes as they laugh while leaving a coffee shop. She’s in yoga pants and a midriff T-shirt while he’s sporting track pants and a T-shirt. They look like they just escaped out of a sex marathon in bed for the past three days. A queasy ripple churns in my gut. It only confirms our break—most likely breakup—was a good idea.
The bell over the door dings, and I look up to find a pair of crystal-blue eyes peering over to me.
“What’s up, hot stuff?” Todd crosses the gallery, and his forearms flex when he leans over the counter.
“The question is, are you ready to make sex to my camera?” I stand and mindlessly grab my purse from the drawer.
“I’ll screw more than your camera, if you’ll let me.”
I swallow hard, and heat flows up my neck. I focus on the floor before he notices my red cheeks. “I was expecting to meet you at the park. Let me go tell Bette that I’m leaving,” I murmur before disappearing down the hall.
On the way, Davis disappears from my mind, and giddiness washes over me as I think about spending the rest of the day with Todd.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Amelia
Friday morning, I walk into Art on Wells. The smell of coffee fills the small space.
“That’s an interesting look,” Bette says, actually touching my recently cut bangs. “Why did you cut them?” The dislike in her tone isn’t hard to miss.
“I just wanted something different,” I remark, ignoring her hidden insults to my new hairdo.
“She’s beautiful, as always,” Todd compliments me after sauntering through the front door.
“Oh, Todd. Someone taught you to be a gentleman.”
Bette places her hand on his arm when he approaches, and his lips turn into that panty-melting smile she enjoys so much. His eyes meet mine and he moves away from her, coming closer to me. My breathing stops until his lips touch my cheek.
“Good morning, Noodle,” he says softly.
My breathing picks up as well as my heartbeat. When did Todd make my body react as if I’m a teenager with a crush on the high school quarterback?
“Morning.” I turn on my heels and escape to the back room.
“So, can you believe ABC is coming here? You were a must. They told me that if you weren’t going to be here, they might not come.” Bette boosts Todd’s ego and deflates mine in one shot.
“Oh, I doubt that. Amelia’s talent is what’s bringing them here.” Todd comes to my defense.
I’m grateful someone believes in my work.
Ignoring the two, I distract myself with the art on display. I make sure the guys hung and marked each picture accordingly before the news crew arrives.
By the time I’m in the middle of the room to make sure my center point is correct, Todd’s reading the description. He doesn’t look up, but his hand reaches out and links with mine. An unspoken connection is made between us. It’s as if we both know that day in the studio, so many months ago, things changed for him, for us. I didn’t realize then what I know now—how Todd could have been my one this whole time.
Not caring about anything other than Todd’s touch, I stand there in silence with him. His crisp citrus cologne overtakes all of my senses.
“You’re so talented,” he whispers.
“Thank you.” Finally, my head rises, and I look in his direction. I don’t fight his compliment or brush it off like usual.
His hand reaches up and cradles my face.
“I need the money so bad,” I reveal my fear.
His smirk vanishes way too fast for me.
“Maybe not after tomorrow night.” Again, he believes in me more than I do.
“Doubtful, but thank you,” I say, pressing my face into his strong hand. “Todd.”
He steps closer, breaking the gap. “What, Noodle?” My heart thumps against my chest.
“Thank—”
“Amelia, Todd”—Bette’s nails-on-a-chalkboard fake voice booms into the room—“the camera people are here to set up.” She stops talking instantly when she turns the corner.
Once the sounds of the equipment distract our thoughts enough, we separate.
Bette’s forehead is scrunched up in twenty wrinkles lining her forehead as she studies us to understand something she never could. “Amelia, dear, you should go freshen up,” she directs.
As much as I want to say that I already did that half an hour ago, the separation from Todd would do me good at the moment.
Two hours later, the news anchors for the morning show are busy drooling over a very charming Todd while I’m discussing with the assistant what time the show will air and the art show exhibit details. They leave, and knowing there’s nothing more I can do, I gather the last of my self-confidence in my photos and decide it will have to do. This late in the game, there’s no way I can change anything.
“Let’s go get some lunch.” Todd swings his arm around my shoulders and leads me to the door. “You need to relax, and I’m just the guy to help you,” he flirtatiously says, which only brings tingles to every nerve cell in my body.
The thought of him relaxing me sounds pretty damn good right now.
“Where do you want to go?” I change the subject, not knowing where our relationship stands in this moment. I feel like we’re the sail on a ship, allowing the wind to lead us wherever it decides.
“I have a place.”
We leave Art on Wells and walk to Todd’s Jeep. He’s the perfect gentleman, opening the door for me and shutting it once I climb in. He’s never done that, and whatever is evolving between us is moving faster than the windstorm of a hurricane.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Todd
Noodle and I grab the subway to Jim and Carol’s—well, I guess just Jim’s. Noodle graciously asked Jim to Sunday dinner with her family.
Lines are blurring between us, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my distance from her. We never talk about Davis anymore, and although I wonder if he’s calling her, I never ask. I figure I’ll know when it’s over because she’ll be a basket case.
I knock on the screen door.
“Come in.” Jim turns down the television and sits up in his recliner.
“You remember Lia, right?”
He stands, and I’m impressed to see his new white T-shirt.
“I do.” He holds his hand out to Noodle. “Nice to see you again.” A pink flushes his cheeks.
“Nice to see you, too.”
I hold up bags full of groceries. “Here’s some food for the week. Go get a shirt. We’re taking you to Noodle’s.”
Jim follows behind me to the kitchen and is inches away from my face when I turn around.
He’s shaking his head. “I’m not going.” The shaking continues at a fast pace.
“It will be fun.” I put the groceries away in his sparse cabinet and fridge. “Her family is awesome. Actually, you might know her dad. He works at the same factory.” I mindlessly go about organizing his shelves.
“Jim, if it helps, my family doesn’t drink at Sunday dinners,” Noodle says.
I huff and realize why Jim is so panicked. I should have known. He’s been clean for a couple weeks, and I shouldn’t assume he’s ready to be strong enough just yet.
“They don’t?” He sits down in the wooden kitchen chair.
“No. My mom put a stop to it after my brothers got drunk and started beating each other up over a girl.” Noodle pulls out the chair next to him and sits down.
The redness fades from his face, showing he’s cooling down. “Okay. What’s your dad’s name?”
“Joe Fiore.”
Jim’s eyes light up. “You’re Joe’s girl? I worked third shift with him years ago.” He looks up to me. “We should bring something.”
We sounds like a family term, definitely not one that has been used between the two of us. But I like it.
“I help Noodle’s grandma when I get there.” I check my watch. “And we should leave now.”
Noodle hops up after she glances at the rooster clock on the wall. “Yes. Trust me, Jim. We don’t want to be late.”
* * *
The three of us walk through the door at Noodle’s parents’ house, and I leave Jim in her hands as I go hide in the kitchen after saying hello to everyone.
“How are you, Marie?” I grab the apron she’s put on the island and secure it around me.
The gray-haired lady is busy cutting up some vegetables and peeks up at me. “You’re a sight. I’m tired today.” Her shoulders slump down, and she rests the knife on the cutting board.
“You go enjoy yourself. I can take over for the day.” I pick up the knife and start cutting up the herbs at a much faster pace.
She slides a chair across the floor. “This is good training for you.” She crosses her legs, intently watching me. Davis’s appraisal of me doesn’t make me as uneasy as hers does.
I finish the herbs and toss them into the sauce she already has simmering. “Smells fantastic.”
“I know.”
“Modest, huh?”
“What are you guys doing?” Noodle flies through the swinging kitchen door. She’s pulled her hair back into a ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck. “It’s so hot in here.”
Especially now.
“How’s Jim?” I glance up to her before concentrating on the meatball mix.
“He and my dad are talking about the plant. I guess they worked together for a few years.” She ventures to the sink and washes her hands.
“Are you going to help?”
She slides on the stool in front of me. “I was thinking about it. I might not be as good as you, but Gram has taught me things over the years.”
“She follows directions well,” Marie says.
“See? Use me where you need me.”
“That’s tempting,” I say. Then, I cringe, remembering her grandma is five feet away.
Grandma Marie uses the counter to pry herself up. “I’m going to leave you two to it.” She exits through the door looking like she’s ready for a nap.
“Did she look pale to you?” Noodle whispers over the counter.
“She said she’s tired.”
“I’m worried.” She grabs the bowl of meatball mix and helps me roll the mixture into tiny balls.
“She’s good.” I wave my hand at all the pots going. “She did all this. I just think we should help her out a little more.”
We both reach into the bowl, and our hands brush. We look up at one another and smile. There’s a lightness in her brown eyes that isn’t usually there.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You’re right. We should.”
I finish rounding my meatball and wash my hands. “You keep doing that.”
“What am I? Your line cook?”
“You’re always welcome to accompany me in the kitchen.” I rush over to the fridge to find everything I need. “Marie is awesome. I knew she’d have these.”
The huckleberries overflow in the carton. Marie must have bought them at the farmers market. Sometimes, I feel we’re one and the same. I guarantee she wanted to bake a pie but lost her energy.
“What are you doing?” Noodle continues to roll up the meatballs and attempts to find room on the crowded baking sheet.
“We’re going to bake a pie.” I dump the berries into the colander to wash them off.
“We?”
I laugh. “Yes, we. You said you thought we should help out. I need to train you to be my line cook.”
She meets me at the sink and knocks me with her hip. I pray it’s her way of flirting with me.
“You like doing that, don’t you?” I say.
She laughs and switches the faucet to her side. “I’m strong enough to push you away.” She wipes her hands on the towel then raises her arms in the air, flexing. “See, I’m strong.”
“You think you’re strong?”
“I do.”
“Stronger than me?”
“Maybe.” She tilts her head and shrugs.
We both know that’s not true.
My arms wrap around her waist, and I pick her up.
Mid-swing around, she hits me on the shoulders. “Put me down.”
“No. After this, you’re going to lift and swing me around the room.”
Laughter pours out of each of us.
“I’m serious,” she stutters. “You’ll break your back.”
“By lifting you?”
I hate her insecurity. She’s beautiful, and she deserves someone who will show that to her every minute of every day.
“Don’t act like you don’t see it.”
My arms fall, and she slides down the length of my body.
I cradle her head in my palms and stare her straight in the eyes. “You are nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous.”
Her eyes shift down, and her breathing increases. “Teach me to make a pie.”
“Don’t try to divert the topic. You do know how beautiful you are.”
She twists out of my hold and busies herself at the stove.
“Noodle?”
She doesn’t grace me with a response. I distance myself and watch her move around the kitchen, dodging the conversation we just had.
“You tell me why you’ve never had a meaningful relationship, and then we can talk about my self-esteem when it comes to my looks.” She leans against the counter and crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up.
My eyes cast down and then back to her. She looks down then unhooks her arms.
“See? I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
Her eyes roll, and she turns her back to me and stirs the sauce.
I break the distance and lean over her shoulders. “My past screwed me up. I trust no one,” I whisper in her ear.
Her head leans closer to me. Her back rises and falls against my chest, and I wish she were mine in this moment. I would love to ignite shivers in her from my lips touching her smooth skin.
“I’ve always been the fat girl,” she whispers back, continuing to stir the sauce, as though we aren’t divulging our biggest fears.
My chest hurts because she doesn’t see what I see when she looks in the mirror. The beautiful image that pours out of her isn’t the reflection she sees back.
“I’m so scared of people leaving me that I prefer to live a life alone.”
My hands mold to her hips, and she doesn’t move away.
“I’m scared I’ll never be the girl a guy wants to show off.”
My mouth inches closer, and her breathing staggers.
“I’m starting to think I want more than one night, but I’m terrified.”
Her head tilts into my face that’s nuzzling into the bend of her neck.
“I want someone to sweep me off my feet.”
/> My fingers dig in to her hip bones, and she sinks into my chest. I’m not sure she would pull away if I kissed the soft spot of her neck my eyes won’t leave. Rather, I’m sure she’d enjoy it.
“I want to be someone’s white knight.”
“I want it to be—”
“What’s going on in here?” Bruno busts through the door.
I remove my hands from his sister as I clear my throat. “What’s up, man?”
Noodle coughs, and her wrist circles a mile a minute in the sauce. She’d better watch out, or the sauce will splatter all over her shirt.
“Grandma went up to take a nap. I heard you’re running family dinner.”
“She already started it.” I never take credit where it’s not due.
My eyes ping to Noodle then back to him. Her face is completely red, and I can’t deny that I love that I affect her that much.
“Did she give you the recipe?” Bruno asks.
I wish I could knock some sense into this guy, but he wants to become a millionaire. His drive just needs a U-turn to go another route.
“Jesus!” Noodle slams the wooden spoon on the stove and red splatters everywhere. “Give it a damn rest, Bruno.” She stands chest to chest to him with her hands on her hips. “No one is going to sell Grandma’s sauce, okay? Find a job, any job. Stop the get-rich-quick shit, and just work like everyone else.”
She pushes the kitchen door open and leaves the room.
“What is her problem?” Bruno looks back and forth from the door to me.
I don’t say anything because I’m fairly sure she’s upset that he interrupted us, and if that’s the case, I’m too happy to argue another reason. A smile creeps up my lips, and I can’t fight it.
I think she likes me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Amelia
Todd and I leave my parents’ house and return to Fort Greene Park, because I want a few scenery pictures with the hope that Bette will allow me to sneak one or two in. I figure, as long as they have Todd in them, she’s more likely to be okay with something different. There are only a few more hours of daylight, and I think the dusk pictures will be a perfect fit for the show. Thank goodness, Jim and my dad were busy talking about work.
Seeing You Page 18
