by K. Webster
“They smell amazing! Thank you, Trent. Let me put them in some water and then we can go.” I smile and head to the kitchen.
He follows behind me and I quietly sigh at the notion of Trent being in my apartment. My body feels warm with him in such close proximity.
I toss the flowers into a vase and fill it with water. He must have walked closer to me, because after I set the vase down and turn around, our chests nearly touch.
“Oh,” I gasp.
He is staring at me with a look I’ve never seen on him before—a look of want. His eyes appreciatively skirt down my body and I suppress a shiver of being on display for his visual tasting. After his eyes finally skim back up to mine, I nearly melt in the entryway from the heated look on his face.
Tonight, things are going to get hot.
When his head dips down to mine, my eyes flutter closed. Finally, I can kiss the man that’s starred in plenty of my wet dreams. But when those full, hot lips of his press against my forehead, I exhale in disappointment.
Chill out, Opal. At least we are making progress.
“Come on. We’ll be late if we don’t leave soon,” he says and takes hold of my hand, pulling me from the kitchen.
There is something stirring inside me. For the first time in the last four years, I doubt the level of interest I have in him. Hopefully this date will end with him finally giving me the kiss I’ve always wanted. If not, I will be really worried about my sanity.
Trent holds on to my hand until we make it downstairs to the parking garage. When we get to his car, he releases my hand to hold open the door in a very gentlemanly manner.
“Thank you,” I say, and he winks, effectively sending a chill through my body. Why did I think even for a second that I was losing interest? He is smoking hot and I most definitely want him any way I can have him.
“So, what are you going to do once you graduate?” he asks as he maneuvers the car out of the garage and down the street.
“Jordan actually offered me a job in the accounting department. I accepted and will begin my new position in a month,” I tell him proudly. Even though I’ll miss working with Andi every day, I am excited to put my degree to use.
“Sounds like you have it all planned out, Opal. I’ll miss seeing you on board days since you’ll be hiding out behind closed doors.”
Talk is simple and light the entire way to the restaurant. Easy, even. I knew we’d be a perfect match once he gave me the time of day.
After a fairly short drive, we arrive at a very modern, swanky restaurant. He pulls the car under an awning and quickly steps out, handing his keys over to the valet in the process. Seconds later, he opens my door and offers his strong hand. I try not to burst into flames when my clammy hand is enveloped by his burning one. Everything about this man is hot. As he helps me out of the car, he flashes me a grin that effectively causes my heart and panties to catch fire.
Shit, he’s so freaking hot.
Once I’ve stepped out of the car, he places that same warm hand on the small of my back and guides me into the restaurant. The warmth he delivers does nothing to calm the shivers running through my body. Shivers of need. Since he already called in a reservation, we are immediately seated at a table in a quiet section of the restaurant.
“So, Trent, we’ve known each other going on four years now, but I know so little about you. Tell me something interesting,” I say.
“There’s not much to know. I work alongside my dad at the investment firm. He’s grooming me to take it over when he retires in a few years. My favorite thing to do in my spare time is to swim. I was a swimming champ in high school and at college. During the summers, I would lifeguard at the YMCA.”
He pauses his story so we can give the waiter our drink order and then continues on. “I also volunteer as a Big Brother. There are so many kids in this city who need a good role model in their lives. It’s really quite fulfilling. What about you, Opal?” he asks.
“Well, wow. How do I even top that? Besides, you know a lot about me already,” I say.
We’re interrupted once again when the waiter pours our wine and takes our food order.
“Tell me more about your job you accepted?” he asks as he sips his wine.
I can’t help but admire the way his lips hug the glass. I feel warm and have to refrain from fanning myself.
“Jordan offered me a job as a payroll administrator. It comes with a much larger salary than the one I make now as his assistant. I really love working there, so I of course accepted the offer,” I explain.
“You know your degree would be put to much better use at our firm. I could match whatever he’s paying if you were ever interested. Of course, he would beat my ass, but he’d also get over it,” he teases and throws a wink my way.
A shiver ripples down my body. This time, I actually do fan myself. Does this man have any idea the effect he has on me?
“Thanks, Trent. That’s lovely of you, but at this time, I will have to pass. I feel like I’ll be at this company for the long haul.” I guzzle down my wine before throwing another question at him. “So, do you have any siblings?” Without even trying, he melts my insides and this wine is doing nothing to cool me off.
His brows furrow at my question and he looks slightly angry. “I have one brother and he’s a fucking loser,” he growls. The tone he used is so different than anything I’ve ever heard from him, so I’m taken aback. For some reason though, I can’t leave well enough alone.
“Why? What makes you say that?” I ask, completely intrigued.
“He’s a selfish, self-centered son of a bitch and I don’t want to talk about him. What do you do for fun?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject to safer topics.
His question stumps me. What do I do for fun?
I go to school, work, and spend time with Olive and sweet Abby.
But what else do I do?
For me?
“I, uh… For fun—” I start but am thankfully interrupted by the ringing of his cell.
“Hello? Good evening, Mother. My day is great. Yes. I see,” he says quietly.
I try to focus on my wine glass so it doesn’t seem like I’m listening in on their conversation. When the waiter brings us our food, I thank him as I wait patiently for Trent to end his call before diving in.
“Yes, Mother. That was a woman’s voice. No, no. Just a friend,” he tells her.
My heart aches at the idea of still being in the friend zone. Before I can fret about it too much, he continues.
“Yes, I’ll ask her, but I’m sure she’ll be busy with classes and whatnot. Okay. Talk soon,” he says finally and hangs up. “I apologize for that. It was my mother. She wants to know if you would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m sure you’re busy and—” he rattles off, but I interrupt him.
“I’d love to,” I smile.
“All right. Well, that settles it, then,” he grins and picks up his fork.
As we fall into silence while we eat, I can’t help but feel weird about everything. Here I’ve waited four years for an opportunity for him to even notice me, and when I think he does, he refers to me as just a friend.
Will he ever think of me as more?
After dinner, he takes me back to my apartment and walks me up. I can tell he’s going to leave once I make it in safely.
“I had a nice time.” I turn to face him with my back at my door. God, he looks good enough to eat. “Just text me what time you’ll pick me up tomorrow.”
My arms are around his waist in the next moment and I squeeze his muscled body in a hug. When I start to pull away, he leans forward and pecks my forehead. This is the second time I received a friendly kiss tonight. But I can’t wait any longer for the real thing. Bringing my hands up to both his cheeks, I haul his lips to mine and kiss him softly. His hands make their way to my back, just above my hips, and when I coax open his mouth, his tongue meets mine.
He tastes like wine from dinner, and it’s delicious. I want
nothing more than to taste him all night long, but he suddenly pulls away from our kiss and steps away from me.
“I should go,” he mumbles out and throws a wave in my direction before hurrying down the hallway.
Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back. Wooing the man of my dreams is hard fucking work. I know he’ll be worth it in the end, but until then, it sucks.
I pull my duffel bag over my shoulder and take one last look at what’s been my home the past two months. My new roommate, Jake, checked in two days ago and is detoxing bad. He seems like a cool guy, but I’m not sticking around any longer. They’ll take care of him just like they took care of me.
Two months ago, I was a barreling along in life without a care in the world. Sure, I had plenty to stress and obsess about, but my daily regimen of Xanax and Jack Daniel’s cocktails melted away all of my worries.
I exhale sharply as I realize I’m about to head right back into the source of my problems. But I’m sixty days sober now and have had some great support, which means I can do this. I have my first appointment set up with a therapist this week too. That should help me stay on track.
While in rehab, my mother visited me every Saturday—her hair perfectly swept from her face and neck into a neat bun, wearing a pressed business suit, with judgmental grey eyes pinning me in my chair from over her glasses. She is the opposite of the typical mother figure. I love her, but we’re just so different. I’ve never measured up to her standards—unlike my perfect older brother. But at least she visited me. My brother and Dad seemed to have forgotten I was a part of the family.
My brother set the example I was supposed to follow. He was the school’s best swimmer in high school and also one of the smartest at his school. When he went on to college—Princeton no less—he excelled there as well. My parents think he can do no wrong. And it’s true. I’ll never measure up to him. He will eventually take over my dad’s company, but I couldn’t care less.
“Be good, Thad,” one of the nurses named Tamika teases as I walk past her.
Throwing her a wink and a smirk, I tease her back. “Me? Good? Never, Tamika.” With one final wave, I step out of the building and into the warmth of an unusually hot New York spring.
The taxi I called is waiting at the curb. Minutes later, I’m watching everything go by in a blur as I mentally prepare for what’s to come once I reach my destination. The trip only takes a few minutes, much to my dismay, and I soon find myself standing at the front door of my parents’ expensive townhouse.
In a normal family, it wouldn’t be necessary to knock for a visit to see your parents. Not in my family. My family is far from normal. Mom is a Stepford-wife-meets-Cruella-de-Vil. Dad is Mom’s puppet—always going with the flow and doing what he’s told. My brother is the Golden Child. I think his teeth even flash when he smiles because they’re just as fucking perfect as he is.
I knock three times and inhale a deep, cleansing breath. I’ll only stay here until I get back on my feet. It isn’t a permanent solution in my life, thank God. I try to swallow down the heavy feeling of dread as I wait to be greeted. Finally after a few agonizing moments, the door opens and my parents’ butler, Broderick, answers the door.
“Mr. Sutton, we’ve been expecting you. Please come in, sir,” he greets me professionally. Everyone always has to be so fucking perfect in my mother’s presence—even the damn butler.
“Thanks, Brod,” I sigh as I hand over my duffel bag to his waiting hands.
“Sir, please let me show you to your room. Dr. Sutton had the room readied for your arrival so you will feel more at home. Dinner will be served at seven this evening, so feel free to enjoy some downtime until then,” he says as I follow him down the hallway to my room.
When we make it to my childhood bedroom, he gestures me inside. I step inside and roll my eyes. Mom changed the décor again, and it seems like something straight out of a designer magazine. It must have cost a fortune to redecorate it like this. And even though she spent all that money to make it look fucking perfect, it still feels impersonal and cold—much like her.
He sets the bag on the bed. Before he leaves, he gives me one more message. “Dr. Sutton says dinner is dressy. She’s had some things pressed for you, which are hanging in the closet.”
I haven’t been here five minutes and already my muscles are tensing up. I sure as fuck hope I didn’t waste two months in rehab to mess it all up with one visit to my parents’ house.
Once I’ve shed my holey jeans and T-shirt, I make my way into the adjoining bathroom and take in my appearance in the mirror. I look like shit. My light-brown hair is poking out in every which direction. Dark circles are prominent under my eyes. No trace of happiness or humor shows upon my features. I look so…empty.
After a long, steamy shower, I crawl into my bed and push away thoughts of the impending awkward dinner with my family.
I have a little bit of time to kill before Trent picks me up for dinner tonight, so I thought I would check in with my sister, Olive.
“Have you talked to Momma?” I question hesitantly after some small talk. Olive and I have always been close—and Momma is typically one of our subjects of conversation on our daily talks. It usually ends with me angry and moving on to happier subjects, like Trent.
“I’m trying to talk her into coming for a visit. She’s never even met Abby. It would be nice if my daughter could know both of her grandmas. I know that, if Momma would spend a little time with her, she’d be wrapped around Abby’s little finger just like everyone else,” she chuckles.
I smile when I hear my niece singing her ABCs in the background. For a four-year-old, she is extremely intelligent. The little girl has it all—brains and beauty. She’s quite adorable with her light-brown skin, pale eyes, and brown hair. Bray and Olive broke the mold when they made Abby.
“Ugh! Remind me to be busy that day,” I groan as I thumb through an interior decorating magazine. I must have ten different subscriptions of these magazines. I’m also quite obsessed with those home decorating shows on HGTV and record them all. Even though my education is in finance, my heart aches to design. While I can dream all day about becoming an interior designer, I know it is nothing more than a hobby. I’ll always crunch numbers to make ends meet.
“Opal,” Olive chides, “you need to talk to her. I know you’re still angry with her for how she’s been our whole lives, but at some point, you have to forgive and move on.”
“That’s just it. I want to move on—far away from her. Did you forget how horrible she’s always been to us? I’m sorry, but it isn’t that easy for me, Olive. I just can’t forget my past nightmares and forge ahead like you do. To me, everything in my past is a lesson of what not to do in the future,” I explain.
Olive and I go round and round about this topic. She’s so easygoing compared to me. I can’t forgive and forget. I just can’t.
She sighs heavily, letting me know she’s annoyed with my answer, but thankfully changes the subject. “So, dinner tonight with Trent? And meeting the parents?” she asks excitedly.
The smile on my lips is immediate. “Yes. I am really nervous, but I’m also thrilled that we’re finally taking a step past friendship. I wonder why he’s waited all these years to show any interest. Do you think it was because he saw me as young and, now that I’m graduating, I’m finally dateable?” I question.
“That’s probably it, Opal. You’re a beautiful, bright, young woman. I think he’d be stupid not to pursue you, especially now. With Bray, he fought hard for us as a couple. We had the odds stacked against us, but he didn’t care. To him, I was worth the fight,” she sighs happily into the phone.
My heart clenches in jealousy. I love my sister dearly, and I am extremely happy that she has a perfect family. However, I can’t help but wonder why I haven’t found my happiness yet. Then I hear the doorbell chime and grin. My happiness just arrived, and hopefully, he’s here to stay.
“Olive, I have to go. Trent’s here. I’ll call yo
u tomorrow. Give baby girl kisses from Aunt Opie,” I blurt out quickly and hang up.
Hurrying to the door, I worry about my outfit. For some reason, I feel as if I’m going to a job interview. Butterflies are swarming in my belly, making me feel slightly nauseated. Thankfully, I dressed in a serious outfit today at work and opted to wear that to the dinner.
I open the front door and grin at the handsome man before me. Trent looks sexy as hell in his tan suit, which hugs every curve of his muscles and begs to be torn from his body. My skirt is a tight pencil style, making my thighs press together, which is a good thing while I drink in his appearance.
“Opal, you look lovely this evening. Are you ready?” he asks and leans in to peck me on the forehead.
Every time he does that, I feel like a child. What’s wrong with my lips?
“I’m looking forward to it,” I smile and grab hold of his hand.
We make our way down to the parking garage, and he once again opens the car door like a gentleman. Moments later, we are zipping through traffic to his parents’ house. Conversation is light as we talk about the sudden recent downward shift of the stock market and some new trending mutual funds. This is our common bond, and I try desperately to seem educated and well versed on the subject of investments. He seems pleased with my ability to keep up in the conversation. I mentally high-five myself for a great start to the evening.
“We’re here,” he says in his smooth voice that does things to my insides. I have the desire to fan myself but refrain.
The townhome is stunning and looks quite expensive. I’m still admiring the beauty of it as I step out the car. Trent’s large hand splays across my back as he leads me up the steps to the gorgeous, red front door. I’m completely enamored with their home.
“My parents are the greatest. Mom is so supportive, and Dad is a great role model. I just know you’ll love them,” he grins.
The pride he has for his parents melts my heart. I have anything but for my own mother and don’t even know my father. Smiling, I allow myself to dream of a future where his parents are my parents as well. In this fantasy, we bless them with many grandchildren.
