“How old is Clementine?” Not that it matters in my eyes, but I am curious how long Autumn has deprived herself of happiness. How long she has dedicated herself solely to this little girl. Not that I assume her daughter doesn’t bring her joy.
“Seven.”
To be honest, I am glad we aren’t having this conversation face to face right now. Because seven was not what I expected to hear. Maybe a number closer to three. Not seven. Seven years is a really long time to not have any sort of romantic relationship. I understand her desire to be dedicated to her daughter, but as a woman—hell, as a grown human being—she has needs. Not necessarily sexual, but basic human desires. Companionship. Love. Having an intimate relationship—sexual or not—is basic human nature.
“Wow,” I whisper. She starts to speak, but I cut her off. “Autumn, seven years is a really long time to rob yourself of love. Love other than the one you share with Clementine.”
“Well,” she starts. I picture her tucking her lips between her teeth a moment. “Her father and I separated before she was born. Being a parent wasn’t in the cards for him.”
In the blink of an eye, red pricks the backs of my eyes as I close them and grind my jaw. Piece of shit. Fucking asshole. I take a minute to simmer my boiling blood. Not only did this douchebag leave her, he left her high and dry when she needed someone most. Not to mention the prick abandoned his child. No wonder she has steered away from a relationship.
Breathing deep, I exhale and speak as calmly as possible. “Autumn, I’m so sorry. Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”
“Everything happens for a reason, right?” She says it with such nonchalance.
“Guess so.” She has a point, though. Because if she was still with him, we might not have met. Might not be having this conversation. Might not have the possibility of getting to know one another and growing close.
“Can we save this topic for another time?”
“Of course.”
“Jonas, will you forgive me?”
Her request renders me speechless for a moment. She is asking me to forgive her. The concept seems backward. Wrong. Just because Autumn had yet to tell me about her daughter, she wasn’t the one out of turn. Protecting your child is never wrong.
“Only if you’ll do the same. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. Shouldn’t have lost my temper. Should have let you tell me when you were ready. It was wrong of me to be upset over something so private.”
“It’s done then. All is forgiven.” For the first time during this conversation, Autumn has a sliver of happiness in her voice. “Jonas?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to see you.”
I sit up on the lounger and Spartan glances up at me from his spot on the patio. She wants to see me?
This is good. Really good. Because, fuck, I miss her. Her sweet smile and laughter that settle in the left chamber of my heart. Her fiery cognac irises which have me drunk in seconds. The warmth of her touch that fevers every molecule in my veins.
“Yes,” I answer, too dumbstruck to form a proper response. “Would love to see you. More than anything.”
She giggles and my chest swells in delight. “Glad to hear. Wasn’t sure you would.”
“Autumn, do you know how difficult it was to slip notes under your windshield wiper and not walk in the shop to see you? To sneak a peek at you through the windows? Walking away each night got more and more punishing. A couple times, I wanted to wait by your car and hand the note to you personally. But I knew it wouldn’t be received the same. So, I left. As difficult as it was, I walked away and gave you time to think.”
The first three nights I left notes and the drawing for Autumn, I stood next to her car for at least ten minutes. Stared at the driver’s seat and pictured her behind the wheel. Imagined opening the door and her stepping out. Dreamed of her in my arms again. Of my lips on hers.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For giving me time to sort this out. To sort us out.”
Us. Hope soars in my chest. “I got some sisterly advice,” I confess.
“Well, your sisters are wise women.” She giggles again. Each musical note of it lightens the weight I have felt over the last week. “Jonas, if you’re open to it, I’d like you to meet Clementine.”
Wow. This shocks me more than anything. Only because she has protected her daughter so fiercely over the last seven-plus years. Because she has forfeited her own happiness to make sure her daughter doesn’t get hurt. Has dedicated her life to her daughter so she doesn’t feel any less loved because her father abandoned her long before she took her first breath.
“Autumn…” My voice is barely audible. “I would like that very much. But only if you’re comfortable with it.”
“Wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t. But Jonas?”
“Yeah?”
“This is a really big deal for me. Me introducing you to Clementine… this has never happened before. I wasn’t kidding when I told you I haven’t dated.”
The gravity of her repeated confession strikes me in the solar plexus. The words engulf me. Tell me how much I mean to her without actually expressing them in the terms most do. This is Autumn’s way of saying she wants me more than a fling. Wants permanence. A life.
“Don’t know what to say. I feel like an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. Just let me know you grasp how big this is for me.”
“I do. Honestly, it’s a big deal for me too. Just for a different reason.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. We sit in comfortable silence as the magnitude of what is happening between us evolves. Autumn wants to introduce me to her daughter. Wants me to meet her. And for her to know me. This isn’t a baby step. It’s a leap. A headfirst dive into uncharted waters. It invigorates me and scares the hell out of me in equal measure.
“Is Thursday okay?” she asks. “Or do you have plans with your family?”
I want to remind her Wednesday is when I have family dinners. But then it hits me. This is Christmas week. And Thursday is Christmas Eve. A day when most families gather and celebrate traditions other than exchanging gifts. Now that my sisters and I are grown, we don’t get together until Christmas evening. So my oldest sister can celebrate with her husband and son however they choose.
“Thursday is perfect.”
“How do you feel about pizza and a G-rated movie?”
I laugh. Never has greasy cheese-coated dough and animation sounded so wonderful. “Well, I’ve never met a pizza I didn’t like. And I watch G-rated movies with my nephew now and again, so I’m up for it.”
“Awesome,” she says with enthusiasm. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll figure out the where and when and what to see then text you.”
In this aspect of her life, Autumn needs full control. And I will happily give it all to her. Give her whatever she needs so long as I get to be by her side.
“Sounds great. Can’t wait to see you. And to meet Clementine. Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
How in depth do I go? How do I tell her I am just thankful for another chance with her? The answer has so many layers, and tonight isn’t the time to unravel them all. “Because you deserve it. Because you didn’t completely dismiss me or my silly notes.”
“They’re not silly,” she whispers.
“No, they aren’t. But I’ve never written notes to anyone, and I felt like a teenager again. Felt like I was asking the girl stuck in my head if she likes me or not.”
“Well, this girl likes you very much.”
“Good to know.” My cheeks sting from smiling. Only Autumn makes me this way. Happy like this.
“I should go. Been sitting in the parking lot behind the shop this whole time. Kind of need to head home.”
“Head home. Sorry I kept you so long.”
“No worries. I’ll text you. See you Thursday.”
“Thursday. Good night, Autumn.”
“‘Night, Jonas.”
/> The call disconnects and I fall back against the lounger again. Spartan pops up on all fours and nudges my elbow. But I ignore him for a minute as I stare up at the night sky. As the stars stare back at me with more twinkle.
I get to see her again. Hold her. And meet the little lady who is the most precious part of her existence. Hopefully that little girl approves of me too.
Nineteen
Autumn
“Ready, pumpkin?”
“Yeah, Mama.” Clementine picks up her small red purse and tosses the strap over her shoulder like any other day. Like any other night out for pizza and milkshakes.
Yesterday morning, while we sat down for breakfast, I told Clementine about Jonas. About the man who was a friend, but who I like more than a friend. The whole conversation with my seven-year-old daughter was awkward to say the least. Honestly, it felt like I was the child and she was the adult. I only imagine how weird and uncomfortable it will be to have the birds and bees conversation with her.
Although Clementine acts older than her age at times, she still holds so much innocence inside. And I take the blame as well as pride. Nowadays, too many kids grow up too soon. At every turn, I try to give my daughter a chance to remain a kid. To be spirited and not worry about things children shouldn’t be burdened by—including my love life. Past or present. Most girls her age go out and do things I didn’t until my preteen/early teen years. But I have done well at preserving her innocence as long as possible. Every once in a while, her sassy, trying to be older side comes out. Most of the time, though, she acts like seven-year-olds did before tablets, computers, cell phones, and online games stole their attention—and I am grateful.
We only get eighteen years to be a child. Adulting lasts three or more times longer.
When I asked Clementine if it was okay to share pizza and watch a movie with Jonas, her excitement shocked me. She jumped off the couch and started dancing. I bet it was a happy dance for pizza and a movie, but at least she wasn’t perturbed by meeting Jonas.
“Let’s go.” We shuffle out the front door and soon buckle up in the Bel Air.
Part of me is happy Penny is at work, while part of me wishes she was home. Her constant attention would be both annoying and desirable. Her dating words of wisdom. Her constant nagging and mothering. Asking if I have my lipstick in my purse. If I put on deodorant. Reminding me to spritz perfume on my clothes and not my skin, in case Jonas kisses me. The little things which drive me crazy on a normal day, but would love tonight.
I back out of the space and drive toward the Italian restaurant we agreed to meet at. It butts up against the movie theater and makes pizza-movie night easy whenever I take Clementine.
In the passenger seat, Clementine bops to the song on the radio. Singing the lyrics she knows and humming the ones she doesn’t. As on edge as I am about Jonas meeting Clementine, seeing her so at ease with the whole evening tapers the anxiety a smidge. I bask in her carefree existence. Her lack of fear or worry. Use that spirit to calm my nerves with each passing minute.
A few songs later, I steer the car into the lot. For a Thursday evening, the lot is fuller than expected. Granted, school is on break right now and parents are probably trying to find ways to amuse their children, so the crowd isn’t a shock.
As I search for a place to park, I spot Jonas on his motorcycle in the next row. I swallow and clamp down on my lips. Clementine continues to sing, completely oblivious to the sudden panic attack creeping through my veins.
I pull into a spot and throw the car in park, but leave the engine and heat running. Clementine unbuckles her belt, but doesn’t go to open the door. She knows if the car is still on, she stays inside.
When I glance in the direction of where I saw Jonas on his bike, he is no longer there. Instead, he slowly walks toward the car. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. You’ve got this. Don’t chicken out now. Not yet.
“Mama? Are you okay?” Clementine rests her hand on my forearm and I open my eyes.
“Yeah, pumpkin. Will you please stay in the car a minute? I want to speak with Jonas before you meet him.”
She nods. “Can you leave the radio on?” I love how something as simple as leaving the radio on will keep her happy.
“You bet. Stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Okay, Mama.”
Now or never, Autumn.
I open the door and step out. Jonas is a few cars away. I step around the front of the car and meet him at the rear of the car parked in front of me. Clementine still within sight, but far enough away she doesn’t hear anything. Just want to gauge Jonas’s mood before I open the floodgates.
God, he steals every practiced word from my lips and renders me speechless every time he is near. We haven’t seen each other in nine days, but those days feel like months. Years. How is it possible he looks a hundred times more appealing? Taller. Broader. More handsome.
Two more strides and he stands inches from my touch. “Hey,” he whispers. As if speaking too loudly will shatter our reunion.
“Hey.” I lock on to his magnetic hazel eyes and swallow. Before I formulate what to say next, Jonas steps into me and wraps his arms around my center.
I melt into his embrace. Inhale deeply and pull in the scent of him—a distinct blend of sunscreen, gasoline, and the smell of Thompson’s Garage. Bask in the warmth and strength of his arms snug around my waist. I would stay in Jonas’s arms forever if given the opportunity.
Far too soon, he slips his hands to my hips and breaks the hug. But before I can pout, he dips down and presses his lips to mine. Shock registers for a split second, then slips away as my lips move with his.
Every anxiety-ridden minute I have suffered since we last saw each other vanishes. His lips brush against mine, slow and measured. Each move calculated and perfect. He swipes the tip of his tongue against my lower lip and I open up for him. His hands snake up the sides of my torso and frame my face as we memorize each other again. Memorize our individual tastes. The way our bodies curve in exactly the right places against each other. And the way we cannot get enough of the other.
Lost in the feel of Jonas pressed against me, in his taste, I audibly pout when he breaks the kiss. He chuckles and presses a chaste kiss to my lips again. “You have no idea how much I love it when you pout.”
I fist his shirt, tug him closer, and rest my forehead in the crook of his neck. “Well, I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” Jonas slips his arms back around my waist and holds me close. His embrace is the most at home I have felt in a long time. He kisses the crown of my head. “Are you nervous?”
I nod into the collar of his leather jacket. “Definitely.”
“Me too,” he whispers. “But also thrilled.”
I lean away, tip my head back, and take in his expression. He smiles, but his dimple I love so much doesn’t pop up. His eyes are as soft and brilliant as always, but his pupils are dilated. And every few seconds, he looks toward my car. Where Clementine sits patiently, singing songs.
Taking a step back, I slip my hand down to his and lace my fingers between his. I lock eyes with him and smile. “You ready?” He nods but doesn’t say anything.
Slowly, we walk hand in hand toward my car. Jonas’s fingers squeeze mine slightly every other step forward. I weave us over to the driver’s side. When we stop, I give him another kiss before opening the door and ducking my head inside. “Hey, pumpkin. Thank you for waiting.”
“You’re welcome, Mama.”
Behind me, Jonas’s fingers tighten around mine. I give him a gentle squeeze of reassurance. I reach in, cut the engine, and pull the keys from the ignition. “Grab your purse and crawl across the seat. Let’s go get some pizza.”
“Yay, pizza!” She slides her purse on her shoulder, locks her door, and crawls across the seat to exit through my door.
As Clementine steps out of the car, Jonas inches away from me. Not in fear. More like he doesn’t want to give Clementine the wrong impression. But
Jonas doesn’t realize Clementine doesn’t have any set impressions of anyone or relationships. Unfortunately, she hasn’t witnessed many. Penny never brings dates home per my request. Just so Clementine doesn’t feel uncomfortable with a stranger in her home.
“Pumpkin, this is Jonas.” I glance up from my daughter to look into Jonas’s eyes. “Mommy’s boyfriend.” Jonas tightens his grip on mine as a cute smile pops up on Clementine’s face. “Jonas, this is my daughter, Clementine.”
He squats down to her height and smiles so bright. “Hi, Clementine.” Jonas extends his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She looks at his hand as her brows bunch together. Jonas meets my gaze and I shrug. And then Clementine launches forward and hugs him. When he loosens his grip from mine, I let him. I let him hug her back as I smile like a fool. I forgot to warn him Clementine is a hugger.
When she lets him go, she smiles at him. “Nice to meet ya.” She glances up at me. “Can we get pizza now? I’m hungry.”
And just like that, the awkward stage of the evening ends.
Jonas walks on my right, Clementine on my left. All of us connected. We stroll through the lot toward the pizza shop, Clementine swinging our connected hands and talking animatedly about all the holiday décor on the buildings. The sparkling reindeer and glowing lights and shimmering tinsel.
She asks Jonas if he has a Christmas tree up at his house. If he has cookies and milk for Santa and the special sparkly oats for the reindeer. I shrug and let him answer on his own. Clementine knows not everyone celebrates Christmas, but can’t help her own enthusiasm for her favorite holiday.
“I don’t have a tree up at home. Spartan would knock it down and eat the ornaments,” he answers.
We arrive at the entrance of the packed restaurant. Jonas gives his name and our party info. A high school–age boy hands him a buzzer and lets him know it will be a ten-to-fifteen-minute wait.
The three of us sit on a bench just outside and bundle up close. “Who is Spartan?” Clementine asks.
“Spartan is my dog.”
Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Page 15
