She leans in with a funny look like she can’t believe her eyes. “Are you going to cry? You never cry!”
“I cried when I heard the choir. Kind of.”
And with Jason, several times. And several others on my own when I was overwhelmed with how lucky I feel now that he’s with me. But I’m keeping that to myself.
She smiles, not willing to drop it. “Ahhh! You got all gooshy since you left. Look at Sarah the badass, all soft and smooshy!”
“Shut up!” I laugh.
She reaches over and tickles me. “Sarah’s in loooooove!”
“I am not,” I cry out, jumping off the couch. “And I hate being tickled.”
“I know,” she grins. Then her smile fades and her eyes become serious. “I’m happy for you.”
With parted lips I try to say something, but I can only give this awkward little nod.
She gets off the couch and strolls in her pajama shorts and t-shirt to her laptop, powering it on and leaning an elbow on the counter, her long blonde hair draped over the keys. “I haven’t listened to it yet, either.” Glancing to me, she shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve been kind of depressed since our fight.”
“Why didn’t you call me back so we could make up?”
“I needed some time. You said some things about me —”
“—I know. I was mean.”
“You were right.” She holds my look. “I’ve been doing some soul-searching. I don’t want to be selfish like that anymore.” The screen lights up her face and she straightens up to hit play. Hovering an index finger over the Return key, she shows me all her teeth in a nervous grimace. “Eek. Oh God. Ready?”
“Ready!” I run over.
We listen to the whole album, all ten songs, and by song number two we’re dancing around our living room singing along with it, sometimes really loudly, sometimes whispers with our hands up like we’re squirrels.
When Just For Me begins we both scream and run to the computer, even though there’s nothing on the screen but the title and album cover.
We go silent as her voice comes out of the speakers.
And when the boys join her, I grab her arm and she grabs mine.
Tears are in our eyes. We know we’re witnessing something people are going to love so much!
Jason did an amazing job layering the harmonies. A portion of the tracks she completed before the choir recording drift over the middle of the boy’s chorus and neither she nor I knew he was going to do that.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, meeting my eyes.
I nod that I love it, too, and we stay like this until the song ends.
“You’re going to be a superstar,” I whisper, with tears in my eyes.
Her blue eyes are liquid, too. Her face squishes with emotion and she croaks, “If I don’t have you in my life I don’t care about any of it. You’re my family, Sarah.”
That’s it. Complete waterworks. The floodgates break and I can’t even see her anymore. “You’re mine, too!”
We hug and I pull away, wiping my tears with my hand as she sniffles.
“Simone, I…”
“You’re moving to Atlanta, aren’t you?”
Nodding through tears, I gasp for air and squeak, “Yes.”
“But you can come to my shows. And we have Facetime. And I can visit you guys.”
“Would you? I’d love to come to your shows!”
She hugs me again, this time harder, whispering in my ear. “Oh thank God. Because you’ve been at every one I’ve ever had! If you weren’t there…I don’t know how I’d go on without you gripping some stupid curtain in suspense!”
I start laughing and pull away from the hug. “Okay, no more hugs. I can’t take all this girliness.”
Simone laughs, her cheeks all wet. “Good to see he hasn’t completely changed you.”
Snorting I wave her off. “Pffth. He hasn’t changed me at all.”
Wiping both sides of her face with flattened fingers she cocks her head and says, “Really? Because you’re about five pounds skinnier than when I saw you last.”
Blushing I glance down to my body. It’s true that my jeans are bordering on baggy. I had to wear a belt for the first time with these.
“I’m the same!” I lie.
“Uh-huh,” she rolls her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s too weird to talk about.”
“It is.”
Jason
“What the fuck, Sarah?”
“What?” she asks, eyeballing me from her profile.
“Don’t you own anything?” I’m staring at the boxes that were shipped to my loft. There are only three.
Throwing her fists on her hips she faces me with a challenge. “I’m low maintenance. Would you prefer I have a shit-ton of shoes? Would that make you happy so you could categorize me in some box you have assigned for the human female?”
Laughing under my breath, I throw my arms up. “Alright! Fine. You travel light. I get it.” Lifting the largest one from where the U.P.S. guy left it, I groan under the weight. “Jesus, what’s in here?”
“Books.”
“Just books?”
“And three photo albums. Heave ho, buddy. Those muscles ought to be good for something.”
I chuckle, “Don’t make me laugh while I’m carrying the entire Detroit library here.”
She grabs hold of the medium sized box and drags it further into my loft, announcing as if she’s lived here forever, “We need shelves.”
Fuck, I am so crazy about her. The two weeks she was gone was fucking torture for me. We talked on the phone daily but as I told her multiple times, not being able to kiss her was a living hell. I’d just figured out how important she was to my happiness, and then she had to go and leave.
Because fighting with her is most of the fun, I groan, “Shelves? Why? They’re stupid.”
“Because, jerk face, my books need a home and…oh my God!”
I grin, lowering the box in front of a mounted bookcase I got for her. It was delivered today from Amazon while she was out buying two planters for the succulents she forced me to buy from Trader Joes on Monroe in Midtown. The girl went crazy for their flowers, but then decided to get something that would last longer. I told her there weren’t enough windows in the loft for the things. She insisted if they lived outside they’d survive. And then she borrowed my Escalade — alright, she stole it while I was napping — to get larger pots for the damn plants. And a good thing, too, because that’s when I got the knock on the door. It gave me enough time to put this shelf together.
Sometimes things just work out.
“Jason!”
“You like it?”
Her mouth is wide open and she’s shaking her head in disbelief. “I love it! This is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me! Holy crap!” She runs over and hugs me as hard as she can, which isn’t very. Then she jumps back and admires the shelves with a huge grin. “Open the box so we can put the books on it right now! Oh my God, they’re going to be so happy with their new home!”
I’m laughing at her freak-out, and secretly very pleased with myself for coming up with the idea. During one of our phone conversations she’d told me how much she likes to read, and that the main thing to ship were her books. I logged on the ‘zon that evening.
Since I’m not making a move to unpack now, she rips the tape of the box to get started without me. I rush over, pick her up and spin her upside down like I’m going to shake her pockets for loose change. “Oh no, you don’t, Sarah. No books now. You’re not getting out of the family BBQ.”
“Put me down! I’m serious about the car sickness. I’ll throw up on you!”
Flipping her over and setting her down I hold her chin, smiling at her flushed cheeks. “Go get ready.”
“What should I wear?”
“They’ll have heat lamps, but you get cold easily, so how about those grey jeans and a sweater. Do you have one?”
Rolling her eyes she tells me, “Of course I have a sweater. I’m from Detroi
t. Your winters are summers compared to our hell. Why do you think we’re so tough?” Groaning and nervous, she goes back for the smallest box but I beat her there and open it with a couple strong rips. Digging in, she produces a brick red sweater that will look fucking awesome with her auburn hair. “This okay, Jason?”
“Hell yeah.”
Wrapping her in my arms I lift her off her feet for a long kiss. She responds with as much passion, slipping her arms around my neck.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my family, Sarah.”
“I’m nervous,” she whispers against my lips.
“You should be. They’re very judgmental.” Off her wide-eyed look, I laugh, “I’m fucking with you.”
Her little nose squishes up. “You’re not nice, Jason Cocker.”
“And you are?”
Sarah
Truth? I have no idea what to expect. Jason has told me about his family. And of course I’ve met Justin, but that’s all. Since I was enmeshed in Jason’s professional life while working with Simone, I have little to go on.
I’ve never met this Jake he keeps talking about, or his new wife, Drew.
I don’t know Jaxson or the woman he proposed to a couple months ago.
Jason talks about Jett like he’s a superhero and has already warned me he’ll be absent, traveling the states with his motorcycle club, The Ciphers.
And Jeremy, well, Jeremy’s in the Marines and everyone wishes the youngest of the Cocker Brothers was home safe — that’s all I know. And that he looks like Jake, apparently.
But to me, that means nothing since I have no reference point.
After Simone went back to Detroit, Jason and I stayed in his place for two weeks having sex and talking and keeping to ourselves while we got to know each other in this new way. The eight-hour days for four months while she was working on the album of course didn’t seem to count.
We needed time to just be us, and have fun together.
And fuck like animals all over the damn loft.
And in his Escalade.
I loved it. But the bubble had to burst sometime.
So I went home and healed my painful rift with Simone, and then took care of all that was needed for me to move.
I’ve been moved in with Jason for the past four days now, waiting for my shipment and handling Simone’s career remotely with all the wonders modern technology has provided. Why offices still exist, I’ll never know.
Then Jason planned this BBQ for tonight — a Saturday in November — and I am so anxious I want to call it off.
But of course I’m not a wimp and would never dare do that. BUT I WANT TO!!
“Ready?” Jason asks, coming out of his bathroom.
Upon seeing him, my breath hitches because he’s so handsome I can’t believe he’s my boyfriend.
His hair is more styled than I’ve ever seen it, and his outfit is far less casual than normal. He’s wearing black jeans and a pale-blue button-up underneath a soft grey sweater.
“Did you wear that grey sweater to match my jeans?”
He shrugs with a guilty smirk, “No, that’d be lame.”
“You’re very sweet,” I murmur, walking over and rising on my toes to kiss him. “I’ll go put heels on so I’m not so short.”
“No.”
Cocking my head I ask, “Why not?”
“Because I like you the way you are.”
My heart melts and my face follows. “Awww!”
His eyes sparkle with amusement as he adds, “And the BBQ is on a lawn, so they’ll sink in. Flats only.”
Smacking his arm, I cry out, “Jerk. I thought you were being sweet for once.”
“Nope,” he chuckles, heading to grab a bottle of wine.
In the medium-sized box are my toiletries, extra hard drives, framed photos of me and Simone, and my five pairs of shoes. I grab my charcoal grey ballet flats and slip them on before joining him in the kitchen.
Holding up the bottle of chardonnay he explains, “Jaxson always brings red wine, so…”
“Gotcha.” I blink as he stares at me in a weird way. “What?”
“Did you curl your hair?”
“My hair in naturally curly,” I mutter.
“It looks different.”
Sighing, I admit, “I got it styled today. Softer curls.”
He grins, “That’s why you took so long to get those fucking planters.”
“I wanted to look nice!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up and walking away. “Sue me!”
Chuckling under his breath he follows me to the door. “I like it. You look adorable, baby.”
Throwing him a glance over my shoulder, I mutter, “Meh.”
“Try and be nice to them.”
“You only wish.”
Sarah
In Buckhead, which Jason tells me is the Beverly Hills of Atlanta, he parks his Escalade in front of a gorgeous home set deep inside a perfectly landscaped lawn that could fit two of the homes I grew up in.
I swallow hard.
“Wait there,” he orders me.
I open the door, ignoring him. He arrives just in time to catch me jumping out.
“Sarah! I keep telling you. I’m going to open the door for you.”
“That’s stupid,” I mutter, my eyes on the house. “I’m not an invalid.”
“It’s a sign of respect,” he chuckles, closing my door and hitting the key fob to lock the vehicle as we walk toward the home he grew up in.
Inside there’s a distant sound of conversations and he whispers to me, “They’re in the backyard.”
“Okay.”
“Be very nervous.”
“You’re not helping.”
He takes my hand and I glance to him as he gives my fingers a squeeze.
After the foyer we pass a living room that looks comfortable, not too perfect or museum-like. I begin to relax. There’s a staircase on the left that has family photos on the wall of the boys when they were children and teenagers. “Ooooh, I want to look at those!”
Jason steers me over. “Okay, but just for a second. Everyone’s waiting.”
The frames begin at ground level then continue up the stairs’ incline. First is a picture of the six boys together in front of a swimming pool, all with their shirts off and chests scrawny. “This is when we were six.” He points to him and Justin, standing next to each other.
“You guys are so cute!” I whisper. “I love your red sneakers. And look at your little face! Awww.”
“Can you tell which is me?”
Knocking my shoulder into his arm I scoff, “Of course. You’re smiling and he looks like an asshole.”
Jason cracks up. “He does. But that’s only because he hated having his picture taken. And he wasn’t shy about letting them know how he felt at all times.” Pointing to the handsome boy furthest right, Jason says, “That’s my oldest brother Jaxson, he’d be nine I think. His hair is a little darker now, but look at his eyes. Looks like an old man even then. You’re about to meet Rachel, too, they were friends when this photo was taken. Before she moved away. But I told you their story.” Jason smiles at me and points to the boy next to Jaxson, who’s the same height but has a buzz cut and blonder hair. “That’s Jett. A year younger than Jax and almost two years older than us.”
“Your mom was busy.”
Jason chuckles, “Yeah, she was.”
“It’s weird seeing you as a boy, Jason. And no tattoos. Which reminds me, what is the spiky one with the ‘C’ on your chest mean? Does it stand for Cocky?”
He smirks. “Nice one, babe. It stands for Cocker. All us brothers got that same tat as soon as we each turned eighteen.” Smiling at the memory, he points to the two youngest boys. “That’s Jake and that’s Jeremy — see how they have darker hair and eyes than us. That’s from my mom’s side. The only ones with brown eyes like hers. Jeremy’s grinning like a nut here, still wearing diapers under his swim trunks. Hahah! But he got real somber as he grew up.”
“Why
?”
Jason thinks about it, staring at the photo. “I dunno. Maybe because he’s the youngest? Felt he had something to prove? The Marines sure did that. We’ve seen him on leave only once since he was shipped overseas. He’s a fucking badass.” Glancing to me, his eyes are wistful. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
“Me too.”
“Oh yeah? Good, then let’s do this!”
“More photos!”
“Quit stalling!”
He maneuvers me away from the stairs and I take a deep breath of resignation.
I feel like I’m in over my head today. My family isn’t close like Jason’s is. My dad left when I was five. My grandparents on his side didn’t keep in touch with me or Nathan, which now that I’m older seems very cruel and the opposite of how grandparents are supposed to be. They must have been selfish people.
I’ll never seek them out to find out why they abandoned us when he did. I’m too angry with them, because I secretly believe that’s why my brother went down the wrong path so easily.
My mother and I aren’t close. She was always very flighty. Found her worth in her men and had a string of boyfriends. She’s happily married now, but it took six tries down the aisle. I just don’t relate to her. It’s why Simone became so important to me. And her family is similar to mine, so we clicked in a way we both needed.
The Cocker Family kitchen is gorgeous. It’s bright, large and really tidy considering there’s a party going on. The warm lighting looks brighter than normal against the waning evening light seen through the windows.
Through the glass door there’s a backyard that is the largest I’ve ever seen, framed with oak trees along the sides and back instead of a fence.
Close to the back porch, on the flattest part of the grass, are twinkle lights set up with four poles as their base, four space heaters to match, all aglow and shining on the faces of a family deep in various conversations. To the left is a long cloth-draped table where food platters wait, as yet untouched. They’re covered with netted gauze tents to keep bugs at bay.
Jason tightens his grip on my hand and opens the glass door with his elbow, since the white wine is in the way. People stop talking in a domino effect. Heads turn and my heart starts pounding.
Cocky Romantic: A Hot Romantic Comedy Stand Alone (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 4) Page 16
