by Aven Ellis
Except I’m facing a greater storm right now with the man standing in front of me.
“You’re the one who said those things to Emma. How was I to know you didn’t mean them?”
“Because you know me. I did it to protect what we have!” I cry. “I didn’t want to jeopardize what I have with you. Can’t you see that? I didn’t want to risk losing you if you knew how much I cared. I didn’t want you to leave if I was too serious!”
Despite my anger, despite my resolve, a tear escapes my eye, rolling down my cheek. Dammit. Dammit, I don’t want to cry in front of him. I can’t be weak. I can’t.
JP’s face falls. “Reese.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head and moving backward. “Don’t.”
“But I nev—”
“You were supposed to be a good guy,” I say, my voice thick with unshed tears. “But you’re like all the rest, aren’t you?”
Then I turn and run toward my car. Big raindrops begin to hit the pavement, quickly filling the ground with water splotches. I get to my car as the skies open up and the rain breaks, thundering down onto my car.
My personal storm hits at the same moment. I press my forehead against my steering wheel and burst into tears.
Chapter 26
A huge crack of thunder rattles my apartment, sending my heart racing. I’m huddled up on my couch, still wet from running out in the pouring rain, but I don’t care.
“As you can see, the wall is pushing into Dallas now,” the weather forecaster says, standing to the right of a TV screen filled with my most feared storm colors—bold, angry red and yellow. “There is a chance for baseball-sized hail and high winds during this storm. You might want to take shelter . . .”
A sob escapes my throat as his words trail off in my ears. I’m scared, but for the first time since I was a tween, it’s not because of the huge storm pattern on my TV.
I’ve lost my Jean-Pierre.
I bury my face in my hands, a fresh torrent of tears breaking loose. We both were afraid of losing the other if we admitted what we felt.
My lies to Emma about my feelings, absolute lies, destroyed what I was building with JP.
I’ll never forget the pain in his hazel eyes when he repeated my very own words back to me, his voice edged in raw hurt.
Bam! A huge bolt of lightning strikes, and I jump off the sofa, terrified that the sirens will go off any minute. I hate that sound. Every single time, I’m taken back to the bathroom in my childhood home, with my parents fighting and hail pounding the roof. I felt so vulnerable and helpless: both at the fate of my parents’ marriage and fearing the storm would become a tornado.
Now that pales to the idea that I will never be with JP again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I hurry to the patio door and see hail is landing on my patio, golf-ball sized. It’s pounding on the roof. The winds are whipping the trees sideways and water is rushing down the street toward the drains at a frantic rate.
Then the eerie sound of sirens pierces the air.
“If you are in Dallas County, you should take shelter now,” the forecaster says urgently.
My heart is beating out of my chest. Panic consumes me. I can’t deal with everything falling apart right now, I can’t.
My doorbell rings, followed by a frantic pounding.
“Reese!” JP yells over the sound of the blaring alarms. “Reese! Please. Let me in.”
I gasp in shock.
JP came back to me.
I run to the door, unlock it, and jerk it open. JP is standing before me, his clothing soaked and clinging to him from the rain, and he’s out of breath as if he ran all the way to my doorstep.
“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be,” he says urgently, his hazel eyes searching mine, “but I promised you that you would never go through a storm alone. I’m here. I’m here for you, Reese. I want to be the only man to be here for you.”
I draw a sharp breath of air as the wind and rain and hail swirl behind him.
JP wants to be the man to stand in the storm with me.
This is what love is.
The emotion surging through me is brand new. Foreign. But for the first time in my life, I know what it is.
It’s love.
I love him.
Another bolt of lightning strikes, and JP quickly moves inside.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand in his.
Everything feels right the second his skin touches mine. I hear the hail continue to batter the roof, but I feel safe now.
JP takes me down the hallway, to my bathroom, and flips on the light. We step inside as the loud pounding continues overhead, and without a word JP draws me into his chest, wrapping his huge arms around me to make me feel protected.
Loved.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs against the top of my head before placing a gentle kiss on the top of it. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
Tears fill my eyes.
JP is here.
Unlike my dad, who marched out in the middle of a terrifying storm to make a point to my mom, JP is here. Even after we fought for the stupidest of reasons, and he was hurt, he came back to me because he made a promise.
This is a good man.
I always knew it, but now I know he’s beyond anything I ever dreamed he could be.
He’s the man I love.
I cry fresh tears into his shirt as he continues to hold me. I never thought I could feel like this. I never thought any man could stir these emotions, ones I never wanted to have.
But I do want them. I want to love this man with all my heart. To have him by my side for all the storms to come. To laugh with him and share adventures. To try new flavors of Oreos with him. All things, big and small, because I love him.
The hail stops.
The sirens fall silent.
I step back from him, sliding my hands up to his face.
The storm has passed.
Both the one overhead and the one with JP.
“Thank you,” I choke out, “for being such a good man. You are, JP. You are. I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back.”
“I’m the one who is sorry. I was a jerk. I should have talked to you first instead of retreating and being shitty to you.”
I shake my head. “No, I should have told Emma the truth, and the truth is, I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”
JP’s eyes grow watery. “Me neither.”
He lowers his mouth to mine and we kiss, a kiss that is simple and gentle and tells me how much this man cares about me.
I relish it.
JP lifts his head. He combs his fingers through my wet hair, sweeping a lock behind one ear.
“You know I don’t want to define what we have,” he says slowly. “We don’t need that pressure.”
My heart sinks. While I might have fallen in love with him, JP’s not there yet.
After tonight, I can see why. I hurt him. He’s going to move slowly.
I nod.
“I don’t want to see anyone else,” JP says, stroking my hair. “When I saw you with Easton, I wanted to punch him.”
Suddenly, the blond JP was with earlier flashes in my head. I take a step back from him.
“You took another girl to the party,” I say, my voice coming out thick.
JP furrows his brow. “No, I didn’t. That was Gretchen.”
Wait. I know that name.
“My chef,” JP fills in. “She was invited and was already there. We were talking about my menu for the week. I told her if she could make chicken more exciting she would get a huge bonus.”
Gretchen.
His chef.
I exhale loudly. “You have no idea how happy I am.”
JP reaches for my hands and draws them to his chest, wrapping his hand securely over them and holding them to his heart.
“So, we’re exclusive,” JP says. “Are you good with that label, my mermaid?”
I smile up at the man I love. “I am, Batman.”
He kisses me again, and my heart is full of happiness.
“I’m so glad I’m here,” he murmurs gently against my lips. Then he stands up. “And I’m glad you didn’t go through this whole storm alone.”
“Me, too. I hate the sound of hail,” I say. Then I gasp. “Oh, shit. Your car! Our cars will have hail damage!”
“Our cars,” JP says, “can be replaced. I don’t care about that. We can deal with that later.”
JP takes his index finger and runs it over the skin exposed by the open-shoulder romper I have on, causing a shiver of excitement to run through me.
“There is one thing that needs to be taken care of immediately. It’s not good to be in wet clothes,” JP says suggestively, his hand moving around to my back, skimming over my skin, and to the zipper. “As much as I find this romper sexy, it needs to go.”
“You’re in wet clothes, too,” I point out, moving my hand underneath his linen shirt.
“We should get out of them,” JP says, slowly tugging on my zipper.
Heat flashes through me as his mouth closes over mine. He picks me up, and I wrap my legs around him. He carries me out of the bathroom and down the hall, our deep, sensual kiss never breaking.
Right before he’s about to lay me down on the bed, I stop him.
“No,” I say.
“No?” JP asks, lifting his mouth from mine.
“I have to clear crap off the bed,” I admit.
JP glances down at the bed, and I follow his gaze. My bed has piles of clean laundry, my laptop, and legal tablets strewed about.
Shit, this is embarrassing.
“I didn’t think you’d be coming over, obviously,” I say in my defense.
“I’m not exclusive with you for your housekeeping skills,” JP quips.
He sets me down, and with one swift move, he sweeps my clothing to the floor with his arm, leaving half the bed free.
“That’s all I need,” he said, reclaiming my mouth with his.
As we begin to undress, joy consumes me.
I love you, I think as we kiss, and I hope with all my heart that someday you will let down your walls and fall in love with me, too.
But for now, I’m happy to make love to JP.
The man I love.
Chapter 27
October 4th
Today’s Schedule: Dallas Blogs! Networking Lunch, noon
Surprise Swiss Date for JP, 4 PM
I am so excited for this lunch.
I smile as I walk in the warm October sunshine. The sky overhead is a brilliant blue with a few clouds streaking through it. The temperature has dropped to the mid-seventies.
I’m once again out of my athletic wear, this time wearing an airy, one-shouldered, canary-yellow blouse and a pair of wide-legged, pleated, drawstring pants and neutral espadrilles. I’ve pulled half of my long hair up on my head, leaving the rest down, and accessorized with a pair of Kendra Scott drop earrings in a beautiful white opal.
Yes, it’s summery, but I’m a firm believer in dressing according to the temperature and not by the date on the calendar.
My outfit is perfect for both networking and the glorious warm weather.
Perfect.
It’s a word I use a lot these days.
As in what I’ve found with JP.
Ever since the storm in September, things between us have been perfect. The season opener is now two days away, and he’s been traveling for preseason games, but that hasn’t changed anything between us. We talk via Connectivity Video Chat and text. The same goes for when I’m out at a shoot all day. We always make time to connect; it’s important to both of us.
When we’re both home, we spend most of our time together. I’ve never wanted to be with a man like I do with JP. I love our time together, even if we are watching one of his old movies on the couch or he is teasing me about leaving all my makeup out on his bathroom countertop. He reads while I write blog posts. I enjoy being with him and doing nothing is fine.
It simply feels right.
It feels right because I love him.
That giddy feeling rushes through me as I think of love. The word that used to scare me to death. The word that was the last thing I ever wanted to hear from a man. The word that caused me to feel dread inside.
Now I embrace it fully.
I turn down the street, onto McKinney Avenue, and head toward Bread Winners. I love this restaurant. It’s one of my favorite places in Dallas. It’s located inside a charming, white brick building with outdoor seating and a blue awning entrance and blue french doors. The inside is lovely, with hardwood floors and chandeliers, and has an almost French Quarter vibe. And the food! Oh, the food is all kinds of amazing.
As luck would have it, my name was finally drawn for the Dallas Blogs! Networking Lunch this month, and they happened to be meeting here.
Again, one word comes to mind.
Perfect.
I step inside, and the first thing I’m tempted with are display cases filled with gorgeous cakes, pies, cookies, muffins, and pastries. I manage to resist running over and pressing my face against the glass to drool over the selections and head to the hostess stand instead.
“Hello,” the woman says warmly.
“Hello,” I say. “I’m here for the Dallas Blogs! Luncheon.”
“Oh, yes, they are out in the atrium,” she says, inclining her head in that direction.
“Thank you,” I say.
Yay! The atrium is my favorite place to sit when I dine here. It’s a brick patio with patio-style tables and chairs, and it’s full of greenery. It feels like you are sitting outside in the French Quarter.
I eagerly head to the atrium, excited to meet everyone. I love networking. I know this kind of event—walking up to a bunch of strangers and talking—would give Holly hives, but I thrive on it. I enjoy having the opportunity to meet people in my industry and learn from them.
I spot a group in the corner, sitting at a table with name tags, and I’m pretty sure I have found my people.
I approach the table to join the group. I’m about to introduce myself when a woman rises.
“Real.Life.Reese?” she asks, smiling at me.
I laugh. “That’s me,” I say, extending my hand. “Hi, I’m Reese.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Elise Davis,” a willowy blond says to me.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her hand. Elise Davis’ blog is Positive Place, where she blogs about positivity in life, and she’s the mastermind of Dallas Blogs! Networking Lunch.
“Your place card is your name tag,” Elise explains. “Please put that on and have a seat. We’re waiting for two more people, and then we’ll get started.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say.
I move around the table, checking the three empty spots. Finally, I locate my tag, and I see I’m at the end of the table, next to a woman who appears to be around my age.
I can’t help but study her for a moment. She has some of the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen. It’s straight, cut right above her shoulders, but what’s fascinating is the color. It’s rose gold. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
I pull out my chair and sink down, carefully hanging my purse across the back of it.
“Hello, I’m Reese Brannon,” I say to her.
“I’m Lila Chadwick,” she says, her pale-blue eyes shining at me. “I’m trying not to fangirl,
but, um, I love Real.Life.Reese.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say, pleased that she likes my blog. “I appreciate that.”
“I’m trying to get your butt,” Lila says. Then she pauses. “That sounded creepy and stalker-like, didn’t it?”
She begins to laugh, and I join her.
I already like her.
“No, I get it,” I say.
“I’m doing your Better Booty rotation right now,” Lila says. “Actually, I should hate you, or my butt should hate you. I can barely move the next day after doing one of your killer videos.”
“Um, sorry?” I ask, grinning at her.
“No, thank you,” she says.
“What is your blog?” I ask, curious to know more about her.
“Pink Shoes Are Good News,” she says. “I’m kind of obsessed with pink. And shoes. I blog about fashion and beauty.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” I quip.
“Let’s put it this way. I’m not trying to pretend that’s what I like for the sake of followers. I really do like pink. And shoes.”
“I love shoes,” I say. “I have this crazy wish list of shoes I want that are as much as a car payment.”
“Right?” Lila says in agreement. “What’s at the top of your list?”
“I can’t buy any more shoes until next year,” I say, frowning, “but I covet the Tom Ford zipper T-back heeled sandal.”
Lila’s hand flies to her chest. “I adore that shoe. In black.”
I think I’ve found my shoe soul mate.
“In black,” I agree, nodding.
We continue talking while the others arrive. I learn that Lila has moved here from Arkansas, where she graduated from the University of Arkansas. Blogging is her passion, but to support herself, she works as an assistant sales manager in a fancy stationery store.
“Luckily, I like paper,” Lila jokes. “They paid for me to learn calligraphy, so double bonus.”
