Slip of the Tongue Series: The Complete Boxed Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  I don’t have to ask what she needs.

  I tug her up by her arm, and she stands, her back to my front. I turn her face to give me access to her mouth. I kiss her for the way I just took her, feed her love so she knows how I worship her body even when I’m rough.

  “You can come inside me,” she whispers.

  “I know.”

  She liquefies against me. I love it. I love her.

  I’m the lucky bastard who gets to hold her against me, making sure she doesn’t fall. The one who can chase her sadness away.

  I hope I’m always the one to do it. And that I’m always able to.

  19

  Around the corner from Halston’s office, I browse a selection of flowers outside a bodega. They’re nothing extraordinary, overshadowed by miniature Christmas trees, metallic ribbons, and potted poinsettias. But they’re here now. If time and money were no object, I might aim for something nicer.

  It’s no coincidence that I’m here, but I’m not about to admit that to her.

  I choose red roses. Red says romance. It’s the color of love and sex.

  It also means stop, for anyone who might need to hear it.

  I hand over some cash and once I have the bouquet in hand, I call Halston.

  “I was just thinking about you,” she answers.

  “You must’ve sensed me nearby.”

  “What?” Her voice pitches. “You’re here?”

  “Downstairs.” I grin. “I had a thing in the area. Let’s go for lunch.”

  “Really?” I hear the smile in her voice. “All right. I just have to finish up a few e-mails. I’ll be right down.”

  “There’s no rush. I’ll come up.”

  “No, no, don’t bother. I can meet you in the lobby.”

  Halston has a whole other life I’m not part of, and that’s been fine up until now. But I’ve told her I’m falling for her. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to make sure that message is clear. “And miss the opportunity to finally see where you spend your days?” I ask. “Fourth floor, right?”

  “Well—”

  I hang up and cross 14th Street. On the ride up the elevator, I smooth my hair and scruff into place. I decided not to shave the stubble I already had this morning, but maybe I should’ve. Maybe it’s more “wandering vagrant” than “intimidating boyfriend.” The doors open to a white-tiled, gray-walled lobby with black and white print ads on the walls. I wonder if Halston chose which ones to feature.

  Halston comes around a corner and smiles. “Are those for me?”

  I look at the roses. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Sure.”

  She laughs and takes them. I lean in, but she pulls away before I can kiss her. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “Are we doing something wrong?”

  She twists her lips and turns away. “I’ll show you my office.”

  I place my hand on the small of her back and walk with her. She doesn’t seem to mind that. As she points out the different departments, I look around the office. It’s a big floor. Rich works on the opposite side, but apparently that doesn’t keep him away. I don’t know what he looks like, but I think I’ll know him if I see him. In case there’s any question the roses are from me, I keep my hand where it is. If he’s not here to see it, maybe someone will deliver the message.

  Halston stops at a desk where a girl around her age is working on a computer. “Benny, this is Finn.”

  Benny arches her eyebrows, looking between us. “Finn? The guy who . . . the one—”

  “The very same,” I say. “I think I have you to thank for sending her to my doorstep that night.”

  Benny’s cheeks redden. “It was my friend, Cara. She’s loony.”

  I kiss the side of Halston’s head. “Thank her for me, Benny.”

  Benny and Halston exchange a look that makes me wonder what I’m missing. “Dad?” Halston asks.

  “Across town,” Benny says.

  Halston exhales a breath and finally takes my hand. She pulls me into her office, shuts the door, and leans back against it. “I know why you’re here.”

  “You do?”

  “My office is on your fuck-et list.”

  I straighten up. “My what?”

  “Your bucket list for fucking. You said you wanted to do it in a car, on a plane, on a train, riding a bicycle, during a game of tennis—”

  I laugh. “I did not list all those, and that’s not why I’m here. Swear. I think about you when we’re apart, and I never know exactly where to picture you.” I glance around the office. There’s nothing on the walls, a couple second-hand-looking chairs, and a messy desk. “Now I know.”

  “I’ve never gotten around to decorating.” She nods at a small couch against the wall behind me. “Just some pillows.”

  “Now you’ll have flowers too.” I walk over and take the roses from her, pricking myself with a thorn. Damn it. “I think you should display them on Benny’s desk so everyone can enjoy them.”

  “By everyone, do you mean Rich?” she asks.

  Busted. “Nah. You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I told you I’d handle him.”

  “I know. I’m just checking on things like a good boyfriend.”

  Halston scratches the inside of her elbow, absentmindedly, sluggishly, as if she’s thinking. I didn’t think she’d like me checking up on her, it sounds like a Dad move, but I’m willing to take the heat if it means getting Rich off her back. She sighs. “Look. My dad doesn’t know about us. He’s protective. I’ll tell him when the time’s right.”

  I kiss her on the forehead, no small feat since she’s in flats today and barely comes up to my chest. I get it. I’m a dad myself. And if he cares about his daughter the way I do mine, the way I care about Halston, I’d feel the same. “Don’t worry about it. You said you had some e-mails to send?”

  “I can do it later.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll use the restroom while you finish up.”

  “Okay.” She gives me directions, but I’m not listening. I turn to leave her office. “You’re taking the roses?” she asks.

  “You ever been in a men’s bathroom?” I ask. “I need somewhere to stick my face. The smell alone—”

  “Yuck.” She waves her hands. “I don’t need details.”

  I exit her office, close the door behind me, and walk no more than five steps. “What’s the deal?” I ask Benny.

  She looks up at me and blinks. “Sorry?”

  “With Rich. Is he causing problems for her?”

  “I don’t . . . I’m not—”

  “What are those?” I ask, walking around her desk. On the corner is a vase with—that fucker—vibrant purple and white roses complemented by baby’s breath and lavender.

  “They’re mine,” she says.

  I read the card. “This says Love, Rich.”

  “We’re in love,” she says and then shudders. “Nope. I can’t even say it without getting the creeps.”

  I ball my fist into my other hand. “Call him.”

  “What?”

  “Rich. Call him down here. Tell him it’s important.” I’m not sure how Halston will react to me confronting Rich, but at the moment, I don’t care. I was blindsided when Sadie chose Nathan, and this time, I intend to know what I’m up against.

  I can see Benny doesn’t want to make the call, but she does. After she hangs up, she says, “He’s coming.”

  “Don’t mention it to Halston.” I pick up Rich’s vase and hand it to her. “Trash these flowers. We need the vase for mine.”

  She gets up slowly, glancing at Halston’s office door. “Oh-kay . . .”

  “I’ll hang onto this,” I say about my bouquet as she leaves.

  I settle against the edge of Benny’s desk, cross my arms, and wait. I trust Halston. I don’t trust this guy. I’m not even sure how I feel about her dad from what I’ve heard. Halston is with me now, and I’m not going to sit back while Rich tries to sneak
back in.

  I spot him weaving through the cubicles. I know it’s him. He looks younger than me—that’s a point in my column as far as I’m concerned. Halston isn’t just any girl. She’s a lot to handle and worth the effort. Her dad couldn’t do it, so he put her on drugs. Rich couldn’t do it, so he convinced her to stay on them.

  He slows down when he sees me, his eyes darting between my face and the roses.

  “Rich?” I ask, in case he’s thinking of retreating.

  He frowns. “Yeah? Who are you?”

  I set the bouquet on the desk beside me. They’ve served their purpose. I wait until he’s close enough that we won’t make a scene. “I’m Finn. Halston’s boyfriend.”

  “She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he says right away. “Well, she did, and still kind of does, and it’s me.”

  “Kind of?” I have to take a deep breath to keep from raising my voice. This guy needs to get a clue, and I guess I’ll have to give it to him. “What exactly does that mean? Be precise. Does she know she’s your girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  I shake my head. “Try again.”

  He stands up straighter. “Look, I don’t know who you are—”

  “I’m Finn.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time.” I scratch my jaw, fucking itchy stubble. “Halston tells me you’ve been coming around lately, trying to talk your way back into her life, bringing her shitty flowers. That stops here. Today.”

  “Does she know you’re talking to me?”

  “Not your business. Your business is this.” I hold up a finger and count off. “One—she’s not with you anymore. Two—she’s with me. Three—it’s over between you.”

  He narrows his eyes. “You don’t know shit about my relationship.”

  “Oh, hang on. There’s another.” I put up a fourth finger. “Stay the fuck away from her.” I stand, and he seems about half my size. “If she tells me again that you bothered her about anything not work related, I’ll come back, and I won’t be so pleasant. See, I’m in a pretty great mood at the moment, because I’ve got the prettiest fucking girl around on my arm. But if you try to take her from me, my mood will change.”

  “Do I want her back?” he asks. “Yes. But that’s the only part of the story you have right. As far as anyone in this office knows, as far as anyone in her life knows, I’m her boyfriend. Ask her. Her dad wants us together, and he always gets what he wants.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Are you coming to her house for Christmas?” he asks.

  I close my mouth. Christmas is four days away. I’ve avoided the topic, which has been easy since she hasn’t brought it up, either.

  “I didn’t think so,” he says. “Because I’ll be there.”

  Frustration tightens my muscles. He’s just trying to get under my skin. There’s no way Halston’s spending Christmas with her ex. “I didn’t call you here to make holiday plans. I’m telling you to back off.”

  “But—”

  “You should go. Now.”

  He looks behind me at Halston’s office. “We just want what’s best for her.”

  By we, I think he’s lumping himself in with her dad. It might take some effort to win her father over, but I’m up for the task. Rich, though? He’s gotta go. “So do I,” I say with a dismissive nod.

  He leaves. I wait until he’s out of sight, stand, and return into Halston’s office. She’s putting on her coat, so I help her into it. “Benny’s taking care of the roses.”

  She rises onto the balls of her feet, and I bend my head to kiss her. “Thank you,” she says. “The red ones are my favorite.”

  I win. Lavender-boy loses. On some level, I must’ve known that. Red roses lure you in with beauty and passion, which is why they suit Halston so well. Can they hurt you? Yes. If you don’t know how to handle them.

  Beautiful things should be that way, difficult to get to, to touch.

  Otherwise it’d be too easy for people to destroy them.

  * * *

  I’ve sprouted a human vine. I’m sprawled out on the mattress, Halston intertwined with me. Her leg must be double-jointed or something, because it seems to wrap around mine twice. Her head rests on my arm, so I do a bicep curl that brings her mouth to mine. “You good?” I ask.

  She nods breathlessly. “So good.”

  Sex is a drug for us, plain and simple. It’s true for me, and it’s definitely true for her. Over the last few weeks she’s stopped drinking so much coffee. I’ll put a mug in front of her, and she’ll barely look up from her phone. Or she’ll take a sip, straddle my lap at the kitchen table, and forget all about it.

  I stroke her hair off her face until her panting subsides. It’s only ten o’clock at night. Before her, I read every night before bed, or my mind would keep me up into early morning hours. Luckily, great sex and great books have the same soothing effect.

  She runs a hand through my chest hair. “This is nice.”

  “What would you normally be doing now?” I ask. “If you were at your apartment. Before me?”

  “Hmm. I can’t remember a time before you.”

  I chuckle. “Twenty-five years, wiped out just like that.”

  She gets up on an elbow to look down at me. “I seriously can’t remember. My apartment feels like another planet right now. I guess I’d probably be watching Netflix or playing with my phone.”

  “Do you like to read?”

  “Depends. I kept books at Rich’s. When I stayed there, he usually read before bed.” She grimaces. “Sorry if that’s weird.”

  I shake my head, trying to be cool. It’s good for me to hear about Rich. Know your enemy and all that. I haven’t decided if I should bring up my conversation with him yesterday. There wasn’t even supposed to be a conversation. If it weren’t for his last comment about Christmas, I’d leave it. “What’s he like? Rich?”

  She flops down onto her back. “He’s, I don’t know. Even-tempered. Hard-working. A little insecure. His dad ignored him a lot.”

  “Why? Lots of siblings?”

  “He’s an only child, but his dad’s a big shot lawyer in Chicago who worked long hours. His mom had a prescription drug problem, still does, so his nanny did most of the heavy lifting.”

  I look up at the ceiling. An almost imperceptible crack runs along one side. My dad broke his back working long hours too, but it was out of necessity. He was away a lot, doing overtime at the factory where he worked. He was the opposite of a deadbeat dad—so much so that I rarely saw him. So, I was the man of the house. That’s what my parents told me, at least. I didn’t take that responsibility lightly, but no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t man enough. I couldn’t keep my mom from spiraling downward, even though I rarely left her side. “Maybe Rich and I aren’t so different,” I say.

  “You feel different.” She curls back into me. Her lashes brush my chest when she looks up. “You never talk about your parents. All I know is you’re an only child.”

  “My pops passed a few years ago. My mom has . . .” Halston shifts against me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “She’s got something like Alzheimer’s. Brain damage from drinking so much. She stopped drinking when my dad died, but it was too late. She’s in a home now.”

  “I’m sorry.” Halston’s gray eyes get cloudy, but not the way they were when we met. I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss it, accepting her sympathy. “Was she an alcoholic when you were younger?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I didn’t understand that back then, and we didn’t call it that. But she was. She functioned all right. She’d get up, send me off to school with lunch, promise me it would be a good day, and sometimes it was.”

  “And the bad days?” Halston asks.

  “At school, I’d think of things we could do when I got home, like garden or sit at the dog park or rent a movie. On grocery days, I made up games to get all the items on the list.”

  She grins. “Sounds li
ke fun.”

  “I guess I thought if I kept her busy enough, if I gave her a reason to be happy, she wouldn’t drink. I didn’t understand alcohol, but I knew when she went to this specific cupboard in the house, she’d turn into a different person. Once, we were in the middle of planting flowers in the front yard, and I was telling her about my day, and she just got up in the middle of it to pour herself a drink. You don’t forget that feeling.” My throat thickens. Am I blind to trust Halston to stick around when others haven’t? “Every day I tried to get her to choose me over that cupboard, but she chose the alcohol more often than not.”

  My watch on the nightstand ticks, the only noise for a while.

  “It wasn’t you,” Halston says gently. “She had an addiction.”

  “I know.”

  “I choose you every day.”

  I look down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m like her,” she says. “I get like that, where I need something or I don’t feel right.”

  “You’re not like her,” I say. “Are you talking about the coffee?”

  She frowns. “You knew?”

  “Knew what?”

  “I tried stopping antidepressants about a year and half ago. I was doing well with Rich, and it’d been eight years since my mom’s death, so I wanted to see how it’d go. Doctor Lumby lowered my dosage, and I was fine for a few days, but then I started to get antsy.”

  “Did Rich know?”

  “I sat down with him and my dad and told them my decision. They weren’t thrilled, but they said they’d help.” She rolls onto her back, away from me. “Anyway, one night I was on my own and had a big meeting the next day, one of the most important of my career. I was anxious, so I had a glass of wine. Then another. I felt calmer and I pulled off the presentation so I celebrated.”

  “With wine?” I guess.

  She nods. “Nobody noticed how much I was drinking until I made a scene at a client dinner and got us kicked out of the restaurant. Of course, my dad and Rich were horrified and made me go back to my psychiatrist to tell him I needed the meds. And truthfully, I agreed. I’d never acted like that. Except once, when my recklessness—” She squints at the ceiling. “I would’ve started treatment again whether the three of them had made me or not.”