by R. C. Martin
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” I relax, appreciating my get-out-of-jail-free card. “I just was curious. About your mom. I meant what I said last week. I hope I get to meet her sometime.”
“Yeah. I think I’d like that too.” I’ve never had someone like Sarah in my life before—someone I was so sure about, someone I wanted to show off. I might not be close with my mother, but that doesn’t take away the significance of introducing her to Sarah. In some ways, I think knowing I’ve never wanted anyone to meet my mom until now makes what Sarah and I have more serious.
“What about you? What about your parents? I know you said you haven’t really spoken to them since you moved. Next weekend’s a long one—Labor Day. Think you’ll see them?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it,” she replies with a shrug. “We’re not in a good place right now. They’re disappointed that I’m not teaching.”
When she falls silent, I can see that I’m about to lose her to her thoughts. Instead of making her laugh, I decide I want to follow her where her mind is taking her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The details that define her current circumstance, the holes in the story that is the history behind how she ended up at my bakery, I want to know them. I’ve been keeping my curiosity at bay, knowing how much thinking about all that shit upsets her, but I know she can’t keep it in forever. Besides, I want her to know that she can trust me with the truth. Always.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
She nods, her gaze trained in front of her, and then she starts speaking. “Luke’s wife thought we’d been sleeping together. Obviously that’s not true, but to her it was semantics. And it’s crazy how gossip spreads. Brandon, it was awful. You tell one mom and it’s like you’ve ignited a wildfire.
“I wanted to believe that it was none of their business. It was my love life, you know? It was my broken heart. They didn’t know what they were talking about. But to them it was their business. I wasn’t allowed to be just Sarah—I was Ms. Prescott. I was their children’s teacher—the teacher who might steal your husband while you weren’t watching.
“Then it didn’t matter how good I was at my job. It didn’t matter how much I loved it. In their eyes, I couldn’t be trusted.” I can hear the tears she’s choking back. I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Before I knew it—I was in a toxic teaching environment. It wasn’t about the students anymore. She made it about me and I just…I just—”
She stops walking and buries her face in my chest, her fingers gripping a fistful of my shirt. I hate seeing her this upset; hate that I can’t fix it. Instead, all I can do is hold her. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have to give.
“My parents blame me, too. It hurts me that I don’t have their support, even though I know they’re right. This is my fault. It was my decision to date Luke. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with a parent. I just didn’t know it would come back and bite me in the ass as hard as it did,” she mumbles.
“That’s not fair,” I tell her, resting my hand around the back her head. “You couldn’t have known it would turn out this way.”
“I should have figured out that he was married,” she says softly, looking up at me. “I should have been more aware of the clues.”
“He lied, Sarah. He lied to get what he wanted. Why are you blaming yourself?”
“Because this all started with my choice. None of this would have happened if I’d just told him no from the very beginning. Anyway, it’s done now. I’m here.”
“Yeah,” I murmur as I wipe away her tears. “You’re here.”
She snakes her arms around my neck and presses herself up onto her tiptoes so that she can touch her forehead to mine. “I’ve lost a lot this year. I won’t say that I know what I’m doing or where I’m going with my life, but I know one thing for sure. Being with you—it makes me feel better; it makes me feel like less of a mess. You make me happy, Brandon.”
“You make me happy, too, sweet girl,” I reply before I press my lips to hers.
“Thank you,” she whispers as I continue to shower her with kisses. It’s been hours since I’ve had her to myself and I suddenly feel like it’s been too long since I’ve tasted her.
“For what?”
“For being so good to me.”
She punctuates her statement by sliding her tongue between my lips.
And she thinks I’m good to her?
When she flattens herself against me, my mind is flooded with images of her naked body—beautiful, flawless, mouthwateringly delicious. Now I’m horny as fuck and I want to take her right here, right now. It’s almost ridiculous how easily she gets to me, but there’s no denying it. There’s no fighting it.
“God, Sarah, you drive me crazy, you know that? I want you all the time.”
She hums a sign into my mouth as she grips me tighter. “I want you all the time.”
I kiss her for a moment longer before I force myself to pull away. I take hold of her wrists and unlock them from around my neck. “We’ve got to stop, or I’ll take you behind the nearest tree and do very inappropriate things to you.” She scrapes her teeth over her lower lip in an attempt to hide her smile. I shake my head and take her hand before I start walking again. “Talk to me about something.”
“About what?” she laughs, obviously amused by my flustered state.
“Anything, Sunshine. Distract me. Tell me why you love teaching.”
“Well, that’s easy. I think kids are amazing. Especially little ones. There’s so much that they don’t know. They’re like bottomless buckets. You can toss all sorts of goodies in their heads. As a teacher, I can give them knowledge. I can help shape their brilliant little minds. Honestly, I consider it a privilege. It’s a big deal because kids are so easily influenced.
“I always considered elementary school to be the foundation that set kids up for everything else. I picked the third grade because the kids had a couple years under their belts, but still a couple of years left to go before they got to middle school.” She laughs and when I glance down at her, I can’t look away. The expression on her face tells me what her words can’t. She doesn’t just love teaching. She was made for it.
“I applaud those teachers who brave the middle school and high school years. God—I could never handle a classroom full of pre-teens or hormonal and angst-ridden students. I like mine shorter, with baby teeth still in their mouths.”
“What was your favorite part? Your favorite thing to do with your students?”
“Reading circle,” she says without a second of hesitation. “Every day after recess, I would sit in my special reading chair and I’d have the kids sit on the floor all around me. I would read to them for twenty minutes. It gave them a chance to calm down and regain their focus. It was always a fun book. It wasn’t in any sort of curriculum. It was just for enjoyment—just for us.”
“Man, I wish my third grade teacher was as cool as you. I wouldn’t have minded if she was as hot as you, too.” She laughs as she taps her hip against my thigh. “Why don’t you try and find a teaching job up here?”
Her smile slips as she offers me a shrug. “I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready. I don't know. I screwed it up the first chance I had and I’m not sure I deserve a second one.”
“Bullshit.” She snaps her head up and looks into my eyes. I lift my eyebrows at her as if to challenge her to tell me I’m wrong. “I call bullshit,” I repeat. “What happened with Luke has nothing to do with your ability to teach. I can tell just by listening to you talk about it that you’re amazing in a classroom. Everyone should get to do what they love. Especially you. So dating a parent turned out to be a shitty idea. You won’t do it again. At least, I sure as hell hope you don’t. I’d have to kick his ass.”
She lets go of my hand in order to wrap her arms around my waist. “Are you trying to kick me out of your kitchen already?”
&nb
sp; “Hell no,” I protest as I tuck her under my arm and plant a kiss on top of her head. “Stay as long as you want. All I’m saying is, don’t settle for less than the dream.”
“Sometimes dreams change.”
“Has yours?”
“I don’t know…I think maybe that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
She stops walking and looks up at me. “Coming into Little Bird and asking for you is the best decision I’ve made in a while. I feel blessed just being able to know you. You’re an incredible man, babe. I don’t think I say that enough.”
I stare down at her for a moment, wondering if I kissed her if I’d be able to stop. When I decide that the answer is hell no, I turn us around and start heading for the car without a word.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, giving me a squeeze.
“I just realized we have someplace to be.”
“We do? Where?”
“Anywhere where clothes are optional.”
“SO, DO YOU THINK Millie is really into this Sage guy?” asks Aria as she browses through the sales rack.
We decided to skip our Friday night kickboxing session in favor of a shopping trip. Tomorrow night, we’re going on a triple date and Aria insisted that she needed something new to wear. We’ve been wandering the mall for over an hour and she hasn’t picked a single thing for herself. Yet, somehow I’ve purchased over fifty dollars worth of new underwear and an amazing blue dress for our combined date. I’m hoping that she’s finally on the hunt for something she will be wearing, but I’m not holding my breath.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I certainly hope so. He really likes her.”
“He seems like a good guy. Is he a good guy?”
“Yeah, he is. He’s nice, he’s talented—I mean, you’ve heard him sing. He’s also really smart and surprisingly intellectual. Honestly, I feel like he’s just quirky enough for Millie. He doesn’t seem to mind her mood swings or her social awkwardness. It’s almost like they come from different planets but they speak the same language.”
Aria laughs as she pulls a hanger from off the rack and holds up a sparkly pink mini-skirt. When she presses it against my waist, I shake my head and back away from her. “What?” she asks, flashing me her innocent eyes.
“I’m not buying one more thing! It’s time for you to figure out what you’re wearing.”
“I can’t find anything!” she pouts, putting the skirt back.
“You’ll look hot no matter what you wear, I know it,” I say with a laugh. “Besides, it’s just The Brew Cycle. As long as you can move in it, Josh probably won’t care what you’ve got on.”
She sighs dramatically before she throws her hands up in surrender. “Let’s try a different store.” I follow her lead, as I’ve been doing all night, and we head a couple doors down to a shop that’s got a bunch of cute dresses on display in the window. “Oh—this could be good.”
Just as we enter, my phone alerts me to a text. My stomach tingles when I see who’s trying to reach me and I open the message without delay.
Brandon: How’s shopping?
“Is that the boyfriend?” Aria hurries to my side, huddling next to me so she can see the screen on my phone.
Instead of answering her, I decide to tease her as I type out my reply.
Me: I’ve spent way more money than I intended, seeing as how I thought this shopping trip was for Aria! Aria, the indecisive diva, has yet to purchase a single thing.
“Hey,” she giggles, poking me with her elbow. “I’m not indecisive!”
“Prove it,” I challenge, pointing at a rack full of dresses. “Buy something.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
I wander behind her, hardly paying attention now that Brandon’s texting me.
Brandon: What did you buy?
Me: Pretty things…
Brandon: Really? What kind of pretty things?
Me: The kind that’s for your eyes only…
“Brandon and Sarah sitting in a tree,” Aria sings softly. I grin at her and she returns the expression. “If you could see your face right now, girl. He’s got you good.”
“You have no idea.”
“Oh, to the contrary, I think I do. Have you told him yet?” she asks with a lifted brow.
“Told him what?”
“That you’re in love with him?”
My mouth falls open of its own accord. I try and fill it with words, but I don’t know what to say. She’s not wrong. With every day that goes by, it becomes harder and harder to claim that I’m simply falling. I’m there. I’m in love with him. We spend each day together and yet, on nights that I go home without him, I miss him like crazy. I can hardly sleep in my own bed anymore. I lie awake missing his warm body—his strong arms, his chiseled chest, his long legs. I miss the feel of his sheets and his signature scent.
Then when we’re together, wherever we are, it’s exactly where I want to be. Being around him makes it easier to breathe. He makes me happy and the joy that I feel when I’m with him pushes away all the hurt and the regret that I’ve been carrying with me for months. It’s such a relief. It’s as if I can finally start to figure out what’s next for me. I’m not being bogged down by my past and I can begin to plan for my future.
I’m still not sure what that looks like, but I know that it includes Brandon. For now, that brings me peace. For now, I’ve got this amazing guy and the hours we spend together every day baking. My heart is being restored and my mind is being renewed and I know, because I just know, that God brought me here. He brought me to Little Bird. He brought me to Brandon. Now, the mistakes of my past are being turned into the steps that I needed to take on this journey to where I am now.
Yes. I am in love with Brandon. So much so that to deny it would be the greatest lie I’ve ever told.
“I’ve got this sixth sense,” says Aria, interrupting my thoughts. “Plus, there’s the fact that it’s completely obvious! You’re practically drooling over the man via text messages. I’m willing to bet he’s doing the same. So, have you told him yet?”
I shake my head no.
“What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I’m waiting for the right moment. I don’t want to just spit it out. I also don’t want to scare him, either. If he’s not ready to say it back—”
“Do you have a text message on your phone?”
I look down and see that I have two.
Brandon: Oh, yeah? Maybe you should come over tonight.
Brandon: And by ‘maybe’ I mean definitely, because tomorrow suddenly feels very far away.
“No—don’t,” says Aria, snatching my phone away just as I’m getting ready to type my reply. I give her a confused look. “Wait five minutes. If he texts you again without a response, I’m going to go ahead and guess that your proclamation of love won’t scare him one bit.”
I roll my eyes at her. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Sure it does,” she insists as she continues her hunt for her first purchase. “It proves that he doesn’t care how desperate he looks, he’s going to text you until he’s got your attention back. Men as attractive as yours don’t do desperate. They don’t need to. They’re too damn hot for their own good.”
“Well, what if he doesn’t keep texting? What if he assumes I’m busy and he decides to just wait? Does that automatically mean that he doesn’t completely reciprocate my feelings?”
She smirks at me. “That’s not going to happen. Don’t you worry.”
“Aria, this is silly. It’s also manipulative.”
“You’re just saying that because you know I’m right and you’re nervous about what we’ll find when we look at your phone in the next three minutes,” she says with a laugh.
I want to argue with her, but she’s right. Regardless of whether or not this silly game speaks one way or another about Brandon’s feelings for me, I do hop
e that in the next two and a half minutes, my phone won’t be void of any new messages. At the very least, I want him to feel as desperate for me as I feel for him. My fingers are itching with impatience to continue our text exchange. He invited me over. I haven’t slept in his arms since Tuesday. Wednesday I had kickboxing and Thursday I closed up shop while he went out with some of his friends. Tonight—
“Damn, girl, you’re as fidgety as a cat!” she says, handing me my phone. “Four minutes will have to suffice. So?”
I look down at my screen and grin at what I find. I hold it up so she can see and she laughs. “Brandon and Sarah sitting a tree,” she sings. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love!”
I ignore her as I open my new messages.
Brandon: I could always come to you, if you want.
Brandon: You aren’t going to make me beg, are you Sunshine?
Brandon: I would…
Brandon: Baby?
Me: Black or red?
Brandon: ???
Me: Just pick a color.
Brandon: Red.
Me: Leave the light on for me…
“DID THAT HURT?”
I look up from my phone at Sage and scowl. I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” I ask, sliding my mobile into my pocket.
“That tat on your forehead. You know, the one that says, Pussy-Whipped.”
I flip him off and laugh with him at the same time. “Shut up.”
“Seriously, you should see what you look like when you’re texting her. She’s got your balls.”
“No shit! I sure as hell am not complaining, though.”
He studies me as he folds his arms across his chest and leans up against the front counter, turning his back to the lobby that’s only got a handful of people left. We’ll be closing in about an hour. After that last text exchange with Sarah, nine o’clock can’t come soon enough.
