by Lexy Timms
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Cayden.”
“I’ve been in Los Angeles working, Lil. You know that.”
“Is it okay?”
“Yes, it was actually going really great, until a couple of nights ago when I got a totally unexpected text from my girlfriend saying she wanted to break up.” He groaned. “Ex-girlfriend. Whatever. I don’t even know right now.”
“You flew home because of that?”
“I think you deserve that much from me, yes.”
Her cheeks got fire-hot and suddenly the floor seemed a much more interesting thing to look at than the gorgeous man sitting three feet away from her. She deserved that much? Wasn’t she the one who’d broken up in a text?
“So?”
“So, what?” she replied weakly.
“Can you explain your rationale? Feelings? Something? Because I do not want to be talking about this with you. I don’t get it.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“If you didn’t want to talk about it, why’d you fly home?” She was stalling. She knew it. How could she have thought he didn’t care? That his lack of reply wasn’t because he wasn’t interested but because he was shocked?
“I don’t want to talk about it because I never wanted this to happen.” Cayden’s words filled the thick air in the room; they seemed to reverberate off the walls and ceiling and she couldn’t unhear them.
“I’m not like your crowd, Cayden.”
“Explain what my crowd is.”
“You already know. The kind of people who came over every weekend to party at your house.” She threw her arm to the side in the direction of his house. “The hot people. The beautiful, healthy, fun-loving people.”
“If you don’t think you’re those things—”
“I’m not.”
“Then what do you think you are?”
“A killjoy compared to your lifestyle.”
“I can’t believe you think that, Lil.”
“Oh, come on.” He was beginning to irritate her now. Not him, but the reality of their situation. “You know it’s true. I’m sick. I’m still trying to get a grip on my illness. I work way too much, and have literally zero social life except for you.”
Except for you. She didn’t mean to say it, but it was already out. “I’m not what’s best for you. I told you in the text.”
“The text?” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to control his frustration. “Why didn’t you at least call?”
“Because I didn’t want to be talking about this, either!” she shouted, jumping to her feet. Blood rushed through her veins at top speed. Without saying another word, she stomped to the kitchen and poured herself some water. If she didn’t cool off now—literally and figuratively—there would be another flare-up and she would get sick again, and would have to cancel tomorrow’s appointments with her clients and stay away from Cayden.
She heard his footsteps coming closer and his chiseled figure appeared in the doorway. He propped his elbows on either side, taking up a lot of space with his body. The light hit his face just right; his bright blue eyes sparkled like the ocean, but there was still no sign of a smile on his lips.
“You okay? Your health okay?”
“Don’t pretend—”
“I’m not pretending,” he boomed, and the depth of his voice stopped her mid-sentence. “I really want to know.”
“I’ve been trying not to think about this,” she confessed, gesturing to them both. “It’s been fine so far,” she grumbled. “No one knows the future, though.”
“What’ve you been doing?”
“We only stopped talking a couple of days ago. It hasn’t been weeks.”
“It feels like years.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Work, mostly. Drying more flowers. Old-lady stuff.”
“And the yard?”
“The guy comes to do it once a week. I see him over there every Saturday morning.”
“I don’t mean mine, Lil. I mean yours.”
“Oh.” She pursed her lips. “I’ve just been letting it grow.”
“It looks like absolute crap.”
“To you.”
“No, for real. I know the look you’re going for, and this is far from it.”
“You don’t know what I’m looking for in my yard style.”
“I do, because we’ve talked about it a lot. Let me fix it up for you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Why not?”
Lillian began to feel annoyed with the way Cayden was acting. Why did he care about her yard? “Why so?”
“Your yard looks like an overgrown forest. I’m home for the weekend. I might as well.”
“An overgrown forest is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” To look busy, she slowly filled her water glass again. “I think I have two, maybe three branches poking out the wrong way. I know it drives you crazy.”
“Yes. So, I’m going to do it.”
“Cayden. It’s my yard, and I said no. I said it very politely.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t let me.”
“Because I don’t want my emotions to be confused anymore!” She slammed the glass down and glared at him. “If you work on my yard, I’ll feel like I’m still dating you. And I don’t want to date you anymore.”
Pain furrowed his brows. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Well, it is. Because it would be selfish if I didn’t break up with you.”
“Lil...” He crossed his arms. “None of this makes sense. If going to Los Angeles has caused this much trouble, I think we just don’t do distance very well.”
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I’m not good for you. People as different as we are never work out long-term. Only as flings.”
“So, I’m a fling to you?”
“No.”
“You’re not a fling to me either, Lil. So, I don’t see why we can’t work out.”
This is ridiculous. She chuckled ironically. “You’re too selfish to see why we can’t. You want what you want, and—”
“Exactly. I want what I want, and I do whatever it takes to get it.” He stared at her even more intently than the cats did at supper time, and she couldn’t look away.
“Please, Cayden.” She felt her throat start to tickle with tears. “Please stop talking about this. I can’t see you again. I can’t handle it.”
It took him a long time to say anything back. “You’re serious about this?”
She nodded.
“You really think that you’re not good for me?” In a second he was right in front of her. “Don’t I know what’s good for me better than anyone else?”
Lillian remained quiet.
“Is it something else? Did I make you unhappy?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not at all.”
“It’s not Andrew, is it?”
Lillian had never expected him to ask her that. The thought of being with her former roommate Amelia’s brother, the guy who was the closest thing to a brother she’d ever had, put a sour taste in her mouth. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“I had to ask. He was here before I left. It was the first time you’ve seen each other since Amelia’s death, and I know you two are close...”
“I’m not with Andrew, Cayden! Nor am I interested in him. I never have been and never will be.” Every word she spoke she tried to drill into his mind. “Is that clear enough for you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t get why you want to break up.”
His eyes lit up, and she had to clarify herself. “It’s not you. It’s me. You need to go, Cayden. I’m so sorry you flew here just to argue with your ex-girlfriend.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted. “I put your spare key under the mat by your back door. Everything inside is organized and tidied up. I did it a couple of weeks ago.” Lillian turned her eyes to the floor and
struggled to shut off her whirlwind thoughts. Cayden was standing so close. Their shoes were almost touching. She smelled his musky scent even through the smell of airplane travel, and it made her knees weak. “Please, go,” she whispered, rubbing the wetness out of her eyes.
He swayed forward, and she felt her heart leap, but he didn’t touch her. Awkward and heartbroken, they lingered only inches apart before Cayden finally, ever so slowly, walked away.
Chapter 02
They didn’t speak the next day. Or for most of the next. Lillian hesitated even looking out the window and avoided the mailbox. The paradox of emotions—wanting to see him and, even more than that, rip him apart in the bedroom at the same time she never wanted to remember anything about him—only caused more turmoil.
So, avoiding him for the entire weekend as much as possible was, of course, the only option. And she didn’t want him to get any taste of her either. It had taken her a while to admit to herself that he truly didn’t want to break up. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t protest so much, right? It sounded right, but she confessed she didn’t really know much about breakups. Or what the hell to do.
What she did know was Cayden was as emotional over the breakup as she was.
That made it even harder not to take him back.
Two thoughts kept recurring the next day as she listened to the endless droning of the lawnmower and weed-eater and snip, snip of each individual branch being clipped: He doesn’t want to break up, and neither do I. So why should we? and He just doesn’t understand yet how much I would drag him down in the long run and probably cost him his friends, business, and the lifestyle he wants.
She wouldn’t be able to join him at parties or high-end events, mostly because she felt intimidated by the type of people in his crowd. All the beautiful women in his circle would laugh at him for being with someone who couldn’t compare to their looks. He would become a laughingstock. And, whereas her Crohn’s was getting more under control, she wasn’t totally flare-up free and would likely never be. If they stayed together, they would’ve gone on a vacation and a flare-up would’ve kept her in the hotel the entire duration. What fun would that be?
She snorted. She spent far too much time conjuring up hypothetical scenarios about what might’ve happened if they hadn’t broken up. She wished today wasn’t a Sunday and she had clients to see, a busy schedule to attend to, anything to get her out of the house.
But there was nothing to do outside besides yardwork, so she stayed inside trying to find some heart- wrenching sense of comfort in the constant noise of Cayden doing what he loved best: working on his yard and making it picture-perfect again before he went back to Los Angeles.
He probably won’t come back, she cried silently. He’ll probably go back there and keep getting paid an astronomical amount of money from Janine, then end up being her personal trainer forever. He’ll have so much money he can just hire people to move all his stuff over there. Next thing, there’ll be a ‘for sale’ sign in his yard. She blinked several times. I give it two weeks. There’s nothing he needs to stay here for. It would be better to get as far away from me and any emotional attachment as he can.
For the rest of the afternoon she did her best to try to distract herself. She’d been doing it a lot lately, she realized. It probably wasn’t healthy, but she needed to do it right now. It felt like the right thing to do: just ignore it until she got over it. It seemed like a good enough strategy.
The yard work sounds continued for hours with no signs of giving up. They went from morning until mid-afternoon with no lunch break. She wished she couldn’t hear them, but his yard was terribly close to her house and she was ultra-sensitive to any sound he made. She jammed her earbuds in and turned up her music and tried to read, but she couldn’t focus on reading with the music, so she took them right back out again. Every tiny noise seemed to boom in her ears. Overwhelmed, she slouched deep into the reading chair and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, past the point of thinking any sort of thought at all.
“I want to see him.” The whisper coming from her mouth surprised her. She felt her body float out of the chair and drift down the hall into the bathroom, where she stood on the edge of the tub and peeked out the window.
There he was. Shirtless. Dripping sweat. He’d gotten even more muscular since he’d been in L.A. The sweat was getting lost in the crevices of his abs and carving a wet path down the V-shaped ridge from his hips to his groin.
Lillian, as much as it pained her mentally, felt her body start to grow weak.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. He was much too perfect-looking. How is he even real? She thought incredulously. Guys like this only existed in heavily airbrushed magazines, right?
Obviously not, because here was a real live one only a few yards away from her, furiously trimming his bushes with meticulous care.
“I can’t go out,” she told herself firmly. “I can’t go out. I can’t see him. I can’t touch him. I can’t feel him. I can’t do any of those things.”
She made a mental list of reasons why she shouldn’t go out and tackle him to the ground. They had broken up. She had broken up with him. They were both sad and trying to get over each other, and acting like nothing had happened wouldn’t help the situation. The list continued, and nothing seemed to give her a solid enough reason to stay inside the house, alone, without him. She desperately groped at the last excuse she could think of: it was Sunday, and she shouldn’t do that on a Sunday.
Like that’s ever stopped you before, sneered the little demon voice inside her.
“He’s leaving soon. He said he was only going to be here for the weekend. I can’t just have a fling with him before he goes. It’s wrong.”
Who said anything about a fling? Why not just a little reunion?
Lillian swore and stepped down from the tub. “Dammit.” She felt herself slowly lose control of her body again. Her mind faded into numbness, and her normally over-analytical self didn’t care at all. She knew what she was doing, but made no effort to stop.
She found herself at the front door. Opening it gently. Stepping out onto the porch. Descending the steps. Walking towards him. He had earbuds in also, and his back was turned.
Then she was standing directly behind him. Smelling the musk of his skin mixed with sweat and fresh grass.
She tapped his back.
Quickly he turned and faced her, as stone-faced as he was when he had knocked on her door a couple of days ago.
“Hi,” she murmured.
He took out an earbud. “Sorry?”
“I said hi.”
He stared. “Hi.”
“You’ve been working all day.”
“I thought you stopped paying attention to my yardwork schedule.”
“Why would I have?”
“Because we broke up, remember?” The bitter edge to his voice stabbed pain in her heart.
I didn’t break up with you in my heart yet, she wanted to say, but just looked around at the work he had done. She clenched her hand into a fist, trying to make small talk. “It all looks really nice.”
“Thanks. It makes me feel so much better.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“Why did you come out here, then?”
Shit, he’s ticked. He’s really heartbroken. As much as I am, she realized. She suspected it, but now it was undeniable. For a moment, she wondered what she should do and why she was even out here to begin with.
Oh well, she licked her lips, which had suddenly dried up. Can’t turn back time now, I guess. “I came out here because...” Words abandoned her, but she fought for a scrap of them that remained in her mind. “...because I couldn’t resist.”
Cayden stared at her, clearly confused. She could see the gears working, and threw caution to the wind before he could say anything. Stepping up onto her tiptoes she gripped his head, pulled it against hers, and kissed him like she had dreamed about doing in the weeks he had been away.
> At first, he flinched and started to pull away, but in her fierce energy she pulled him closer. His smell was on her now, the smell of trees and water and desire and longing. All at once he dropped his big hedge clippers and gripped her hips, smashing them against his own. Their mouths became one form, tongues teasing each other’s lips and teeth, and fingers running along every inch of skin.
Suddenly he stopped, and she stopped with him. They stared at each other like children caught doing something they knew they shouldn’t be doing.
Cayden grabbed her arm gently and firmly at the same time. The feeling of his strong fingers wrapped around her arm sent flames of adrenaline through her bones. He pulled her towards the house; she followed without hesitation, so excited she almost tripped up his porch steps.
They were barely inside before he flattened her against the wall and shut the door with his foot.
“Do you think the neighbors saw?” she whispered. Earlier, out of sorrow, she’d been extra sensitive to every sound coming from Cayden’s yard, and then every drop of sweat that lingered on his skin. Now it wasn’t sadness but energy, this strange sense of doing something forbidden and rebelling against herself, that made her aware of every breath he drew in and let out. Every one of his eyelashes. Her own breath tickling the back of her teeth when she asked him the question.
“I don’t care,” he whispered back. “I really don’t care. Let them see.” He didn’t let her comment; he closed the gap between them and made them one shape again.
Time blurred. She knew they were gradually inching toward his room, but she didn’t notice the details. All she could think about was how good it felt to be pressing her hands against his back, her small body against his strong one. She never wanted it to end, and it seemed like it never would. It was total bliss.
He spun them around and eased down onto the bed, pulling her onto his lap. She fumbled for the edge of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, flinging it onto the floor. As she tilted her head to nibble his earlobe, she felt goose bumps prickle the skin on his arms and his face pulling itself into a smile.
Neither of them ruined the intimacy of the moment by talking. They were operating on the same wavelength now; everything seemed to come naturally. She pressed her shoulders against his. The stickiness of his skin after all the outside work he had done made this seem all the more real, and in an oddly-timed moment of clarity she realized this was definitely not a dream.
