Chandler was twenty-six. He’d mention in passing his mother was around forty-five. The math added up.
The man’s name was Jack Whitehead. I back-searched his name and crossed it with a couple of other databases, including one of those online criminal database you had to pay for. So worth it, I decided.
What I found was damn interesting. I got up and went to the small table by the window where Chandler had his own laptop and a basic printer. I printed off a couple of pages of information, stuffed them in an envelope and hid it in my luggage bag. I’d wait for the right moment; it would be therapeutic for Chandler to know who his father was. I was sure of that.
***
Each night between Chandler and I seemed more intense than the night before. The intensity of our physical encounters was due to something that was rapidly becoming evident: I was about to leave and go back to Chicago tomorrow, and we hadn’t had The Talk.
The fucking talk. I didn’t want to have it, because I knew what it might mean. I assumed he didn’t want to have it, either. Yet, as we lay in bed on the Friday night before my flight was scheduled to leave, neither of us addressed the whole ‘me leaving’ topic. In fact, we’d been living in the present like a fairytale. Chandler’s breaths were deep and I knew he was sleeping. My eyes were open as I pondered what to do about this whole situation.
The past week, we’ve been the kind of couple I’d always wondered if we could be. We’d opened up so much to each other. Massive breakthroughs. He’d almost said he loved me but almost wasn’t fact.
He wanted to be with me, but there were still things we’d yet to discuss: a future. What that looked like for me, him and us. I knew that a perfect week didn’t change someone’s perception of what they wanted out of their life and had wanted for a long time.
Was the best week and half of my life the only time I’d get to have him, in the most perfect way? We had few problems for this short time and whatever issues we’d had, we’d resolved them, together. And I felt stronger because of it, and I thought Chandler did too. We just focused on each other. The real world didn’t exist but soon, it would. We’d both have to face reality.
Perhaps it was better to live on, in bliss, as amigovios. Or, as I was beginning to say in my mind, the ‘ambiguous novios.’ What the fuck were we? The old fears and reasons I’d made up the pact years ago started to resurface. Did he do this with all kinds of girls? A weeklong romp then move on? As strong as our connection was, a cloud of doubt lingered over me. Everywhere we went, women knew him. I never knew if they knew him because he was just a tall, handsome as hell man who played basketball for Barcelona’s local team and had lived in this city for several years, or if their was a history there with some of these women. But I wasn’t about to confront him and be that crazy girl who made a mountain out of a molehill. I’d gone into this knowing full well what may happen, or not.
I burrowed further into Chandler’s body, loving the skin-to-skin contact. God, it was like a drug. No, he was a drug.
I had stopped taking my depression meds for the entire time here, and I’d never felt better. Whereas before, when I was working for Green PR, sure I got by taking my meds and going through the motions; but I always felt like I was playing the perfect version of me, never that I was just being me.
Here, in Barcelona, at Chandler’s side, the reality was that I felt more me than I’d felt in a long time. Years. Since…fuck.
Since the last time I was in Barcelona.
And I liked this version of me. I loved not having to act happy to wake up every morning and go to a job I didn’t much care for. Not having to look at my pills and wonder if I would be a slave to them for the rest of my life.
I didn’t want this week to end. Because come Sunday morning, when I arrived back in the U.S., I was going to be in for a serious Chandler hangover.
And something told me a Chandler hangover couldn’t be cured with a nice greasy plate of eggs, bacon, and hash browns from Debi’s Diner.
Would Chandler ask me to stay in Barcelona? God, how could I even think that was an option? This was a vacation, an escape. Barcelona wasn’t real life. In real life, you had a job, you had responsibilities, you had to make money.
In real life, I couldn’t just cavort around being fuck buddies with the most gorgeous man in this goddamn city, having kinky-as-hell sex next to a damn church.
Oh, wow. My mom was not ever going to hear that story.
I needed to touch base with reality, I decided. I slid out from under Chandler’s arm. He kept sleeping. I put on some shorts and a t-shirt and went into the living room. I opened up my laptop and plopped down on the couch.
Who was the most down to earth person I knew who could help me make some sense of everything that was going on in my life right now?
I knew what my mom would tell me. Come home and get my head out of the clouds.
Ironic, since she once moved across the country to be with my dad.
My dad would tell me to do whatever my heart desired.
While I was grateful for all the love he and my mom had given me over the years, neither of them could talk me through this.
The answer came to me in a flash, a duh moment. Andrea fucking Diggers. We’d only become friends this past summer, but she was one of the strongest women I’d ever met and we’d become super close. Even though she was a few years younger than me, she had her shit together more than most people my age. I also knew she’d never judge me. I’d helped her through some hard times, and we rolled great like a team.
I looked at the time. It was a quarter to 9 p.m. here so Andrea would be up and about. I shot her a message through Skype text asking her if she could video chat. She was, and I dialed her in. Next thing I knew, her gorgeous face had popped up on the screen, causing me to smile from ear to ear.
“Andrea! Hi!” I grinned and as I did, I made a personal resolution this next year to spend more time with the people I loved the most. Like her. Her wavy brown hair was cut in bangs around her eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle even more than they normally did.
“Well hello! Happy New Year! What a nice surprise!”
“Yeah, how’s the weather in Chicago today?”
“Freezing. But…luckily, it’s pretty warm here inside Jake’s apartment.”
Just then I heard powerful footsteps on the ground in Andrea’s room, and I saw Jake’s body cross behind Andrea.
He poked his head into the frame, right next to Andrea’s. “Amy! How is Spain, you crazy fucking girl?”
“Hey, take it easy.” Andrea shot him a slightly dirty look, but followed it up with a smile.
“It’s okay, I don’t care if Jake swears.”
“I know you don’t care, but we have little ones to worry about now—”
“Wait, little ones? With a ‘s’? I thought you just adopted Tate?” Andrea had mentioned to me before I left for Spain that they were engaged and sent me the ring pics, but anything else was knew to me.
Andrea looked at me blankly, then glanced at Jake, who nodded. She turned back to face me and ran a hand through her hair. Jake gripped high on her shoulder. “Well, we were going to wait until we were further along to tell everyone. But Amy, I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my gosh!” I squealed. “Congratulations you two!”
Jake smiled and moved a hand up to Andrea’s face, turning her face for a kiss. I thought I saw some tongue action, but hey, who was I to judge? “We just found out,” Jake boomed, and glanced at Andrea. “I already knew it—I’ve noticed Andrea’s boobs getting bigger.”
Andrea rolled her eyes and shook her head. The eye contact the two of them made said it all, though. Just the way their eyes could graze over each other and look back at me showed me how they thought about each other. “It was a bit of a surprise—obviously we wanted to have the wedding first.
I smiled. “You two are so in love. What’s your secret?”
“A healthy sex life,” Jake joked. “Now with that pearl of wisdom, I hav
e to go pick up Tate from school. It’s two p.m. here. Talk to you later!”
“Bye Jake.” I waved. Andrea looked back at me, a soft, satisfied expression on her face. She’d been through a million challenges to get to where she was, and she seemed so damn happy. It made me warm inside.
I had told Andrea and Jake about my depression, in parts, over the fall and winter. To have their full support and to be able to lean on her and Jake when I felt myself getting depressed had done wonders for me. It was a different kind of support that I got from them versus support from my family, who treated me with kid gloves. By now, she knew everything there was to know about me.
“Well, thanks for indulging us,” she said, but then got serious. “For some reason I have a feeling something is on your mind, though. You have that look.”
I took a deep breath. “So. Remember Chandler? I told you about him when we were drunk—”
“That night out at McClellan’s celebrating the creation of our new PR Agency,” she said, laughing. “Of course I remember.”
I’d told her the story as best I could, leaving out as little detail as possible. From our first night and agreement to continue being “amigovios” that we soon threw right out the window. Like a good friend, she nodded and listened while I talked myself out.
“Wow. So…you think you might be…” She tailed off, trying to find the right words. “You think you are really falling for him? Like, in love?”
“Yes. But there are so many question marks. It’s only been a week and I’m already thinking long-term, me moving here or asking him to move back to the States. That’s crazy, isn’t it?” I raised an eyebrow, seeking her approval. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.
She went silent for a few seconds before speaking. “This reminds me of something Jake told me when we were dating. He said, ‘when you know, you know’.” She paused and cocked her head a little bit. “Do you know?”
“I love him so fucking much,” I blurted out, and as soon as did I reacted with shock at my own words. “Holy shit. I do love him.”
“There you go. Problem solved.”
“Uh, the problem is not solved. We haven’t had the talk about…the future. And there’s other things that we haven’t really discussed either.” I frowned. “Also. He lives in Barcelona. He plays basketball here. I live in Chicago. We’re starting a business together. And I’m going to have to be there while you are…you know.”
Andrea chuckled, and I swear I heard her drawl partially come out even just listening to her laugh. “You crack me up, lady. I won’t be having this baby for another eight months, god willing. That’s plenty of time to work on the business. Of course I’d prefer to have you around, I admit it. But you can handle most of the behind-the-scenes work online, and I’ll do all of our in-person client acquisition.”
“Oh.” I swallowed and ran a hand through my hair. It registered that I’d been using the fact that I had to go home as an out to avoid confronting the real issue: the fact that I’d finally found a man that I wanted to give my heart and soul to, but I couldn’t put myself out there because I was scared he’d eventually reject me.
“You got some thinking to do, don’t you?” She spoke matter of fact.
“Thinking about what?” Chandler’s voice jolted me. He plopped down on the couch next to me wearing nothing but his boxers. “Hi there!” He waved enthusiastically.
“Hi,” Andrea returned with her drawl.
“Oh my goodness gracious,” Chandler replied, pulling out a surprising Southern-ish accent. He turned to me. “Now Amy, you never told me you had country friends. You been holding out on me?”
I rolled my eyes. “This is my friend Andrea. Andrea, this is Chandler.”
Chandler sat up straight. “Ah, so this is your PR partner, huh?” he asked, looking at me then Andrea.
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled, and giving me a look of approval when Chandler wasn’t looking. “Well, sorry to be curt but I have a conference call with Harry Yerac I need to prepare for in a few minutes.
“You know the owner of the Jaguars?” Chandler’s mouth hung open.
“He’s our biggest client.”
“Wow. Okay then. Nice to meet you Andrea, maybe we’ll meet in the flesh sometime.”
Andrea said goodbye to me, and her giant engagement ring flashed me as she reached forward to shut her laptop.
“Get dressed Squirt,” Chandler said as he dug his face into my stomach.
“Where are we going?” I asked, laughing.
“It’s a surprise,” he said, peering down at me. “Put that hot ass dress on that I like, though.”
“Are you talking about my lace-up, mock-neck and sleeveless bodycon dress?”
“Is that the red dress that makes your ass look really good?
I snickered. “You’re never going to let me teach you fashion, are you?”
He sat up in the couch, pulling me up with him. He wrapped his arms around me. “Maybe later you can do a fashion show for me. And after that I can show you the ropes for some things I know how to do.” He winked, his intent clearly devious.
My heart beat a little harder. “You want to tie me up?”
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Well, we can talk about it, but there are some soft ties I have that I’ve never used. If you trust me, of course. We can talk about it more during dinner.”
My body tensed at his mention of toys in the bedroom. I’d never used them—not because I was opposed to them in any way, but because I never trusted a guy enough to try them out. The truth was, as he wrapped his arms around me, I realized that I’d never trusted anyone as much as I did him.
“I’m not opposed to trying some things,” I said. “But we should definitely talk it over.”
“Yes, let’s.”
As he kissed the nape of my neck, I wondered if he’d like the surprise I had planned for him during dinner.
Though it didn’t have anything to do with ropes.
Twenty-Five
Chandler
Her ass did look really good in the red dress, I thought as I opened the door for her to get in the cab.
However, my feelings had evolved beyond that tonight, and I fully realized something I had been coming to terms with over the last week.
I fucking loved Amy.
As we rode in the cab to our destination through the colorfully lit streets of Barcelona, the thought finally fully materialized inside me.
I loved Amy, and tonight was going to be the night I told Amy I loved her. I hadn’t told anyone. Not my family back in Indiana, Le Ral, not Doña Maria. And it didn’t matter, either. This was between Amy and me. I watched my reflection in the window of the vehicle while I mouthed the words.
She nuzzled her head into me, taking the middle seat of the cab as I stared out the window aimlessly. I’d never come close to loving a woman. Amy had been the only one in my life to break me down to my core elements. Would she forgive me for my past? That was still to be determined. But most girls just looked at me like a great way to spend a night. Or a month. Even though they convinced themselves they wanted a deeper relationship with me, they’d never understood me the way Amy did. I was not a guy that thought about the future with a woman. That had been my philosophy since I left for college. I always knew what happened the next day, but that was as far as I thought. With Amy, I had no clue what tomorrow would bring. It scared the everlasting shit out of me.
I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her into me. She let out a quiet sigh. Since we left my apartment, she seemed preoccupied.
Was she as nervous as me that this was her last day in Barcelona together? Maybe it would be fine. We could Skype or something.
I turned my head and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smelled tropical, like sweet fruit. I wondered if that was how she’d taste tonight, too. Later tonight, I’d find out.
My cock twitched at the thought. The fact that Amy might be open to experimenting with being tied up had me
wanting her even more.
The cab pulled to a halt in front of the Argentinean-style steakhouse. It was a renowned place in the area, not only for their incredibly tender beef but also for their amazing pre-dinner appetizers.
We came in and the hostess immediately showed us the way to the special table that I’d requested, a booth in the corner that would afford us some conversational privacy. You know, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Trust me, it had nothing to do with the fact that she was leaving tomorrow.
I let Amy lead the way. I needed to enjoy every single minute I could watching her breathtaking strut in front of me.
“It smells ridiculously good in here,” Amy remarked as she slid into our booth.
“They make all of their steaks over a wood-fired grill. Gives the food a smoky flavor.” I followed suit, sliding into my side across from her.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess said, setting our menus at the end of our table before turning on her heels and walked away.
“Hey, I can’t tell you how many of my boyfriends have taken me to seafood places for some ‘special date’ like it was some kind of big deal,” Amy said, picking a menu. “While I’m worrying about dying the whole time.”
A storm of jealousy brewed inside me. I played it cool, not letting it show on my face, because I had no right to be jealous. But there was no sense in pretending that the thought of her with other guys had no effect on me. And these boyfriends that clearly didn’t know her as well as I did. However, the idea of her with a guy after me—hell no.
The server appeared, a twenty something with dark features and black hair. We ordered a bottle of wine, some French fries, and Brussels sprouts that she assured us were better than either of our moms’. For our mains, I got the short rib and she chose the steak.
The Casanova Experience: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Ballers Book 2) Page 23
