by L. D. Davis
“But not today,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not just that you took away the one day I have looked forward to the most every year for the past four years. You took it away and never even gave me a choice. I didn’t even have the option to argue. Today I have a fucking choice, and I want you to get the fuck out.”
I stared at him as my mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound came out. Finally, I whispered two words I thought would make it better. I couldn’t stand to see the tortured look in his eyes. I’d done that to him, and I wanted to take it away.
“I’ll stay.”
Caden stared at me for a long time before shaking his head.
“I don’t want you to fucking stay because you fucking feel bad, Darla. No more fucking pity dates, pity kisses, and pity fucks. No fucking staying out of pity and guilt. I want you to stay because you want to be here with me. But I know that you don’t. So. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
He gripped me too hard on my upper arm and steered me to the door. He opened it and forced me into the hall. I spun around to say something—I didn’t even know what—but the door slammed in my face before I could even take a breath to speak.
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him the finger and leave, go back inside and fight with him, or go back inside and hold him. I had to ask myself if he was right, though. Did I want to stay because I wanted to be there with him, or did I want to stay because I felt guilty?
Both. I knew it was both, but when I heard the sound of something crashing into the wall on the other side of the door I hesitated with my hand on the door. If I went in there, I could make things worse. It could turn into a very bad situation. Although he had manhandled me a bit in the end, Caden’s restraint had been incredible, so unlike the man he had been only three months ago.
I pulled my hand back from the door and backed away. I jumped when something else slammed into the wall. Rubbing my sore arm, and letting my tears fall freely, I turned and walked away.
Chapter Forty-One
I fidgeted with the hem of my dress for a few seconds before my fingers flew to my hair, where I pressed down what I thought might be wayward strands. Surreptitiously, I sniffed my armpits. Connor’s soft chuckle alerted me to the fact that he had seen it.
“Are you nervous, Darla Simpson?” he asked in a murmur as we walked up a driveway.
His brown eyes were both sympathetic and amused.
“No,” I answered immediately, lying through my teeth.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you are beautiful, and you don’t smell half bad.”
I went to throw a playful punch at him, but he caught my little fist in his hand and kissed it. I smiled, and some of my anxiety at meeting Connor’s family leaked away.
It was early Sunday evening. I had left home a little later than I’d meant to after oversleeping and having to shake off a bit of a hangover from the successful Red, White, and Bourbon party Cherry and I had thrown. I’d taken a shower before leaving Philly, but three hours in a hot truck didn’t do anyone any good. Fortunately, Connor met me at a nearby 7-Eleven, which gave me some time to at least fix my hair and attempt to look somewhat presentable before meeting his family.
“You really have nothing to worry about,” Connor whispered as we neared the door. “They think you’re just a friend, so you’re not going to be held to the higher standards a girlfriend might be held to. So, they won’t care about your, um…odor as much.”
“Stop teasing me!” I reprimanded as he laughed silently. “I’m startin’ to believe I really do stink.”
“I promise you don’t stink.”
He reached for the door, but I stopped him and quickly whispered, “What kind of…friends do they think we are? I mean, if you kiss me in front of them, it might be hard to prove we’re not more than that. I don’t think I want your family to know that we’re FWBs. They’ll think I’m a floozy. Hell, that’s why I didn’t tell my family.”
His smile was a little tight, but his voice didn’t betray whatever it was he was feeling behind that smile. “I told them we’re just friends, but I never bring women home, so I think they guess that it is a little more than what I say. How about we not worry about labels over the next few days, okay? We’ll just be Connor and Darla.”
I liked the idea of not having labels. Even more, I liked how our names sounded paired together. Connor and Darla. Darla and Connor. Sitting in a tree…
“I like that,” I said with a small smile that quickly faded. “But do I look okay? Too country maybe?”
I had on a knee-length white, sleeveless dress with a wide brown belt and my cowboy boots. It seemed like a sensible choice when I got dressed. Connor liked when I went back to my roots and dressed and behaved like the country girl I was at heart, but maybe I was too country for his family. Maybe they expected something different from a girl who has been living in the city for more than five years.
As if we weren’t standing in front of a door with his whole family on the other side of it, like we were the only two people in the world, Connor reached up and stroked a few strands of my hair and dropped his other hand to my waist as he stared into my eyes. The ever-present butterflies went crazy, and I missed a breath, maybe two.
His voice was soft, full of desire and something else I could name if I were brave enough to admit to and accept it.
“I told you, Darla. You are beautiful. From the top of your head down to your toes in those sexy boots. They are going to fall madly in love with you, just like—”
The door swung open before he could finish, startling me. An older man with the same light brown eyes as Connor’s stood on the other side. He took in our proximity to each other. Connor’s hands in my hair and on my waist, and my own hands on his chest—I didn’t even know when that had happened—and I had a feeling that even though Connor hadn’t given us a label, his dad just smacked his own label on our foreheads.
I smiled sheepishly and glanced up at Connor. His eyes darted away from mine, and I saw the pink in his ears. He almost slipped up. He almost said something he couldn’t take back. Once a person said those words, they could never be taken back, even if they stopped being true later, they would be true at the moment of being said.
Neither of us had time to brood over it, though. Connor put a little bit of space between us but placed a hand on my lower back.
“Dad, I would like you to meet Darla Simpson, Perry Simpson’s youngest sister. Darla, this is my father, Kirk.”
Kirk extended his hand with one eyebrow up. I put my hand into his, thinking he was going to shake it, but I let out a small gasp when he pulled me into a gentle hug and then kissed my cheek.
“Welcome, Darla,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. “Come inside. We are just about to sit down for dinner.”
He took my hand and began to lead me into the house. Amused and a little anxious, I quickly peered over my shoulder at Connor, expecting to find him following behind us with his usual smile, but my heart seized a little when I saw him still standing on the other side of the open door. He stared down at the ground with his brow furrowed. I had to turn away so that I could see where Kirk was leading me, and so that I wouldn’t pull away from the older man and run back to his son.
Briefly, what had almost happened outside was forgotten as I was introduced to the rest of the family. Connor’s mom Nerissa, her mother Adeline, his sister Jo, and her husband Justin all greeted me the same way Kirk had, with a hug and a kiss, as if I were an old friend. Connor’s young nieces just smiled and said hello.
As the family bumped into one another as they tried to wrap up the cooking and get dinner on the table, they chatted amicably with me. They asked about my drive from Philly, complimented me—to my surprise and delight—on my outfit, and gave me the task of taking biscuits out of the oven and loading them into a basket.
We soon sat down around a large table on a long and wide screened-in porch with a beautiful view of the bay. There was a pi
er across the yard, with a small boat tethered and bobbing gently on the water.
I managed to tear my eyes away from the scenic backyard and look around the table at Connor’s family. I was seated between Jo’s oldest daughter and Connor. He seemed to be back to normal, laughing and talking like himself, but when he glanced at me, I could still feel a strange tension between us, even though he was smiling.
“So, you’re Perry’s little sister,” Jo said after the chaos of everyone filling their plates began to settle.
I smiled at her as I twirled pasta around my fork. “One of them.”
“Jo had the biggest crush on Perry,” Connor said.
Jo laughed and glanced at her husband who didn’t at all seem bothered by the past crush.
“It wasn’t just a crush,” she said with a secretive smile. “I won’t say what it was in front of the kids, but let’s just say that we had a couple of fun weekends.”
“Ew,” Connor and I said at the same time. We looked at each other and laughed.
“I really don’t want to think of my brother like that,” I said.
“I really don’t want to think of your brother like that either,” Connor said, making everyone chuckle. “It’s bad enough we have had to think of our siblings creating children.”
“Hey,” Corinne, the youngest girl said indignantly. She was only five, and maybe didn’t fully grasp the conversation, but her angry eyebrows were hilarious.
“Aww, sweet face,” Connor cooed at her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I am very, very happy to have you in the world.”
The little girl grinned, showing us a missing baby tooth, and happily went back to her meal. I’d seen Connor interact with my younger siblings and Perry’s kids, and it always made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. As Cherry had said once, there was nothing hotter than a hot guy that was great with kids.
“So, Connor tells us you’re a pastry chef,” Kirk said a few minutes later.
“I believe the proper term is pâtissier,” Nerissa said.
“Darla is much more than pastries,” Connor said, glancing at me with a warm smile. “She specializes in desserts, but she can cook the pants off of any chef.”
“I don’t know about cooking their pants off,” I interjected with a small, embarrassed laugh. “But I can cook pretty darn good.”
“Do you work in a restaurant in the Philadelphia area?” Justin asked.
“I actually work at a gourmet bakery in New Jersey. The owner used to work at a restaurant in New York that had two Michelin stars.”
“Do you like it?” Jo asked.
“It’s okay,” I answered with a shrug. “For now. I’m not exactly doing what I thought I’d be doing by now, but it is good to have Sergio as a mentor.”
“What would you like to be doing now?” Kirk asked. “Baking cookies for the president? For the queen?”
There were a few small chuckles around the table. It didn’t bother me. Some people really did want those things.
“I want to travel,” I explained. “Some people want to learn from the greats, you know? The men and women that run world famous establishments that you read about in fancy travel magazines, but I want…I want grit. I want to work in some place way off the beaten track that hasn’t been featured on some travel show. I would even love to just learn from an ordinary man or woman who just cooks for their family. I don’t want all the machinery we have here that makes things easier. I want to put in hard work, use my hands, get dirty.” I grinned. “And, of course, eat my hard work.”
“It sounds a little scary,” Jo said. “I’m not trying to discourage you, because, truly, it sounds amazing. I wish I had your guts, but it also seems scary.”
I nodded my agreement. “Actually, it’s terrifying. I’ve heard of people going on similar treks and getting lost for sometimes months. And let’s face it, the world isn’t as safe as it was even thirty years ago. I know that, but I can’t not do something just because I’m scared.”
“Scary or not, I think you should do it,” Nerissa said, smiling at me.
There were nods of agreement around the table, something I wasn’t used to. Mostly, people just thought I was crazy and dreaming too big.
“I have business contacts around the world,” Kirk said. “If there is anything I can do to help, don’t be afraid to ask.”
My heart warmed. I thanked him and then looked down at my plate, afraid that I would cry. How could people who barely knew me be so supportive of my dreams? It kind of made up for my own family’s lack of support.
“Okay, I have to ask you a serious question,” Nerissa said a moment later. “I am almost afraid to ask.”
I peeked up at her warily. “Yes?”
“How do my meatballs taste?” she asked worriedly. “Be honest with me. I can take it.”
I laughed. “They’re delicious, Nerissa.”
She really did look relieved, and I had to laugh again. Soon, the conversation turned to Jo’s girls.
“I told you they would fall madly in love with you,” Connor whispered in my ear.
Under the table, his hand found mine, and I held onto him tightly.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jo, Justin, and the girls headed back to Dover after dinner. Connor showed me the room I would be sleeping in. Conveniently, a bathroom connected my room with his. He’d wriggled his eyebrows suggestively after he’d pointed that tidbit out. After that, I took my boots off and the two of us went outside to sit on the pier.
“You have a very lovely family,” I told him after we’d been sitting quietly for several minutes.
“They are pretty great,” he admitted. “Not perfect, but great. You have a great family, too, you know. They really care about you.”
“I know, but…you know how they are about me wanting to go away.”
“They’re just scared for you, Darla. You said yourself you were scared. My parents are supportive but afraid. They’re not holding you back, are they? Your parents? Is that one of the reasons you haven’t gone?”
I sighed. “Maybe a little. I argue with Daddy about my choices in my life, but honestly, Connor, I hate to disappoint him. At the same time, I would probably still go even if he didn’t like it.”
We were quiet again for several moments before Connor asked the million-dollar question.
“Then what’s holding you here?”
I stared out at the dark water silently for a few seconds.
“I wanted to go before culinary school, but I thought it would be better to get that under my belt first. Not every great chef has a degree, but it helps sometimes. Besides, I had been awarded a scholarship that paid for a good portion of the bill, so I took advantage of that. In my second year of school, I had the opportunity to go to Spain. It would have meant quitting school, but that didn’t bother me.”
“What happened?” Connor asked, pushing a few strands of my hair off of my cheek. “Why didn’t you go?”
I was almost afraid to tell him the next part. We never spoke about Cade, either directly or indirectly, and I hated to think of one man when I was with the other. It just seemed unfair to them, but Cade hadn’t been too far from my mind, though. Not after the way we’d parted ways the last time.
“Caden,” I finally answered softly as I peered down at my toes skimming the water. “I stayed for Caden. Our relationship was new. I wanted to see…and then I did see…and I still wanted to stay just as much as I wanted to go.”
I peeked up at Connor’s face. He was watching me, but he wore a mask that successfully hid his feelings. His voice also lacked any emotion that I could pin down.
“You’ve stayed all of these years for him?”
“Not exactly. Living in Philly is much cheaper than living in New York, but not cheap enough. It’s hard to save as much as I feel I’d need to live out of the country for an extended period of time. You know, I’d like to have some backup money in case something happens and I have to come home. And,” I said with a small smile, “
I’ve probably spent a little too much just traveling around the continent. I go to Miami with Cherry whenever I can. I’ve been out to California a few times, and I’ve been to Mexico twice.”
He smiled. “Not exactly the kind of traveling you anticipated, but it was still good to go to those places, wasn’t it?”
I nodded. “It was. I don’t regret any of it, but it’s cut into my reserves, you know?”
“You can always get a loan from someone to go, couldn’t you?”
I shook my head adamantly. “I don’t want to borrow anything I can’t pay back.”
“So, if the money magically fell out of the sky tomorrow, how long would it take for you to be on a plane to…wherever?”
“Umm,” I pretended to think about it. “I don’t know. Maybe not as quickly as you’d think.”
His confusion was written all over his face. “Why? You said you’d go whether your parents supported you or not, right? Your ex is…well, your ex, and you’d have the money to go. Why wouldn’t you?”
Caden was my ex, but we weren’t…over. And then there was Connor…
I looked over at him, stared into his eyes for many heartbeats before I took a breath and looked away.
“Well, now…” I started softly, unable to look at him. “Now…well…let’s just say that something happened that I wasn’t expecting. Or…” I paused and then whispered, “Someone.”
Damn it! I wanted to throw myself into the water and get eaten by a shark. The light casting on us by the lamppost on the pier surely showed the bright red of my cheeks. Connor was as still as death. I don’t even think I heard him breathing, and I would have been able to hear him breathing if he was, because I had stopped breathing and I was certain that my heart had stopped beating. The only thing I could hear was the water lapping against the pier.
After what seemed like forever, he released a long breath, and I did, too, so that I wouldn’t suffocate. Connor didn’t say anything at first, but he put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as we stared out into the night.
