by Linda Seed
“Maybe if you stopped calling them chicks …” Nix suggested.
“Yeah, yeah.” Leon said it amiably enough, even if he was showing Nix his middle finger while he said it. “The point is, I don’t know shit.”
“Noted.”
“Though, if I’m guessing,” he went on, “I’d say it means she doesn’t love you, dude. It might be time to move on.”
Nix’s reaction was to disregard the advice, not only because it was coming from Leon, but also because moving on wasn’t an option. He’d meant what he said—he loved Joy. And that meant he was in it, no matter what. If at some point she declared that she didn’t want him, well, that would be one thing. But she hadn’t done that. She just hadn’t said she did.
Which meant there was hope.
Joy worked up her nerve and called Nix. He’d be working on Otter Bluff in the morning, he told her, and then he was doing an afternoon shift at the market.
She showed up at Otter Bluff at just after nine a.m. with lattes and scones from a local coffeehouse. The message, she supposed, was I didn’t say I loved you, so here’s some compensatory coffee. As a gesture, it was inadequate, but it was all she could come up with on the fly.
She hadn’t told him she was coming, so she knocked on the door with some hesitation.
He answered it in full construction-guy mode: faded jeans, work boots, a plain white T-shirt sprinkled with dust, his hair tied back to keep it out of his way.
“Hey.” He looked happy to see her, and she felt some of her anxiety lift from her shoulders.
“I brought coffee.” She held up the drink carrier in one hand. “And scones.” She held up the bag in the other.
“Wow. That’s great. Thank you. Come on in.”
Nix’s first thought when he saw her was that she’d brought the coffee and scones as a way of softening the blow so she could tell him in a friendly way that she didn’t want to see him anymore.
But as she walked in the door, she came up to him, leaned in, let her chest press against his, and kissed him, her hands occupied with the things she’d brought.
The kiss didn’t say she was just being friendly before cutting him off at the knees. The kiss said she missed him and was glad to see him and maybe even was thinking about the whole I love you thing.
“Try not to … you know … look at anything.” He followed her into the living room, where the carpet was gone and only the subflooring remained. “I’m in the middle of redoing the floor. I mean, obviously.”
She put the coffee and scones on the kitchen island and they talked about flooring for a while—what he was going to install, why he’d chosen it, and what would come next when he was done with that.
They took their food and drinks out onto the patio, because right now, that was the only place where there was somewhere to sit.
“So, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said when they were settled into their Adirondack chairs. “I wasn’t sure when I was going to hear from you again. You know … after what I said.”
“I liked what you said.”
“Did you?” He couldn’t help grinning.
“I did. I mean, it did freak me out a little bit. But I liked it.”
Not dumping him, then. Things were looking up.
Joy wasn’t sure how to launch into the things she needed to say. She supposed she could take the direct approach, but then he wouldn’t have the necessary context. Instead, she started with the background.
“I went to visit my mom a couple of days ago. It was her birthday.”
“Right. How was that?”
“It was awful.” She told him about the fight and about the cake. “I was trying to connect with her, you know? Just … connect. And all she could talk about was my weight gain and the fact that I would never find someone to love me if I didn’t lose it.”
He started to say something, and she put up a hand to stop him. “I just need to get through this,” she said.
He nodded. “Okay.”
“I used to act when I was a kid, did you know that? Did I ever mention it?”
“No. But I think I read something about that when I was Googling you for the rental application.”
“Yeah, well. I did. And I did pageants before that.”
“Pageants.”
“Beauty pageants. Miss Teen This and Little Miss That. With the hair and the makeup and the dresses. And the swimsuits. I started my first diet when I was eight years old.”
He looked like he wanted to say something again, but he didn’t. He just reached out and took her hand.
“So, that’s the context, Nix. Intellectually, I know the six pounds I’ve put on since I came here isn’t important. I know it doesn’t matter. I mean, it’s only six pounds, right? But …”
“But the messages you’ve gotten since childhood are that it does matter.”
“The messages I’ve gotten are that my weight—my body, my looks—are all that matter. Every pageant, every audition, somebody had something to say about my weight. And now I’m getting older! Keeping the weight off isn’t as easy anymore, and … and I don’t even want to do it! But if my looks are all that anyone likes about me, then what happens when I get wrinkles or I gain another five pounds or … I know there’s more about me that’s worthy of love, Nix. I do know that. But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.”
He could see the issues now—could see it all laid out before him like a puzzle that needed to be solved.
Joy was in transition to a place where she wanted to think about more than just the way she looked. But she wasn’t sure where that transition would leave her and how the people in her life would feel about her once it was complete.
So, when he said he loved her, did he love the old Joy or the one she was becoming? And if he’d meant the old one, where would that leave her as she continued to change?
“When I saw your pictures on Instagram, I thought you were incredibly hot.”
“Nix, that’s not—”
He put up a hand to stop her. “I thought you were incredibly hot, but I didn’t really fall for you until I started getting to know you. Honestly? It was when you started to change. Seeing you go from the person you were when you showed up to the person you are now? And knowing it’s all still in progress? It’s been a beautiful thing, Joy, and I can’t wait to find out where you end up.”
He meant every word of it.
His worry was that, when she finished transforming, she wouldn’t have a place for him in her new life.
“What if you don’t want me anymore once I’m done doing whatever it is I’m doing?” she said.
“What if you don’t want me?” he countered.
She gave him a wistful smile, then looked out toward the water. “The unanswered questions are … unsettling.”
He shrugged. “All of the most important things are.”
Chapter 25
Now that they’d had the conversation Joy needed them to have, they resumed seeing each other. And they resumed Nix’s efforts to fully satisfy her in bed.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said one night. They were at the tiny house because Otter Bluff was still too torn up from the renovations.
“What might that be?”
They lay upstairs in the sleeping loft, partially undressed on the bed, where they’d been making out like teenagers.
Nix reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a dark blue bandana.
“What’s that for?” Joy asked.
“It’s a blindfold.”
She was mildly horrified. “You want to blindfold me?”
“It’s for me.”
She sat up on the bed and looked at him. “Is this the first step in some bondage fantasy I don’t know about? Because—”
“It’s an experiment. You worry about what I think when I see you. So, what if I can’t see you?”
“I thought you wanted to see me.”
“I do. And we’ll get there, I hope. But for now, why not try it an
d find out what happens?”
Joy agreed to the experiment, and Nix went to work using only his other senses. Which, he reflected, was not much of a hardship.
He did all of the things he knew she liked, and he talked to her—when his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied—about how good she felt, how delicious she tasted, how much he loved her scent.
He couldn’t see the look on her face, but he could hear the noises she was making, and he could feel the tension in her body. He knew the experiment would be a success when she grabbed handfuls of his hair and cried out in what sounded like pain, but which clearly wasn’t.
Joy felt like her body had been torn apart and then put back together in an arrangement that was infinitely preferable to the original.
She and Nix lay together afterward, both of them warm and naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the blindfold long since discarded.
“That was a really good idea.” Joy had her body wrapped around his, her face pressed to his warm neck.
“Maybe my best idea ever.”
“Someone’s feeling pleased with himself.”
“And rightly so.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Joy had experienced perfectly pleasurable orgasms, though never with a partner until now. But if the others had been like small earthquakes, this one had the power to level a metropolis.
No wonder people made such a big deal about sex. She’d never really understood it before.
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she loved him. But she didn’t want him to think it was the post-coital glow talking. When she said it, she wanted him to know it had come from her heart, not from other body parts.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “That was amazing. It was … I’ve never …”
“You’re welcome.” He snuggled her a little closer.
The sleeping loft really was cozy, as though they were safe and comfortable in a burrow with a view of the stars. She was surprised she hadn’t recognized what a lovely place it was until now.
He didn’t usually spend the entire night with her, but this time, he did. Joy slept better than she had in weeks.
“So, how are things going with you and Nix?” Amber had planned to come to the tiny house for a visit, but her work schedule got in the way, and she’d called to say she couldn’t make it. Their conversation had evolved from the logistics of her canceled visit to a discussion of Joy’s love life.
“Great. Really great,” Joy said. “Incredibly awesome, in fact. Earthshaking.”
Amber was silent for a moment as she decoded what Joy was trying to say.
“Really?” she said.
“Really.”
“Oh, my God. He’s achieved what no man has achieved before him. He must be insufferable right now.”
Joy giggled. “He’s fairly proud of himself, but I’ll give it to him. He earned it.”
“You sound so … so happy,” Amber said.
“I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been, I’ll tell you that.”
“That’s so great. Too bad you can’t put it in your blog.”
Well, she could, she supposed—she wouldn’t be the first person to overshare on the Internet—but she wouldn’t. What had happened between herself and Nix was precious and private, and she would hold it close to her heart. It wasn’t for public consumption.
She didn’t need to, anyway. Her blog had picked up enough readers—along with reader engagement—that she was beginning to think the book idea might actually happen.
“The blog—that’s another thing that’s going well.” Joy told Amber about her steady increase in revenue and how happy she was with the number of positive reader comments. “I’m about ready to start writing a book proposal.”
“You know, Nix isn’t the only one who’s feeling proud of himself. I’m pretty proud of me, too,” Amber said. “This whole tiny house thing was my idea, remember.”
“I do remember.”
When Joy had come here, she’d expected to fake the part about her personal transformation. She hadn’t expected it to actually happen. There was an authenticity to the blog that hadn’t been present in any of her work before.
“Oh, and I almost forgot!” she said. “Have you seen the photos of my organic vegetables? They look just like the books say they’re supposed to! I can’t believe it!”
“You used to scoff at organic gardening. You used to make fun of it.”
“Well, it’s actually kind of fun.”
A lot of things were fun that she hadn’t expected to enjoy. The only problem was that her time in the tiny house was nearing its end, and she didn’t know what she was going to do when that happened.
“You know, my lease is up in a couple of months,” she told Amber.
“I know.”
“That’s … jeez. I don’t know what comes next.”
“Have you talked to Nix about it?”
“Not yet.”
Obviously, he knew when her lease was up—he’d written it. But he hadn’t approached her about extending it or about living with him when he moved back into the tiny house.
Well, she’d embraced the uncertainty when she’d come here. What was a little more?
By early September, Nix was almost done renovating Otter Bluff. He’d updated both bathrooms, redone the flooring throughout the house, painted, had people in to cover up the popcorn ceilings, hired a crew to shore up the retaining wall along the bluff, and set up a new closet organization system for the master bedroom.
He could keep going forever, he supposed, as long as Evan kept fronting the money. But really, it was almost time to go home. Which meant it was almost time for Joy to leave the tiny house.
Except that more and more, he didn’t want her to leave the tiny house. He wanted to live there with her.
He hoped to propose that to her, but what he didn’t want was for it to seem like a practical matter. Hey, the lease is almost up, so you might as well shack up with me.
No.
If they were going to do this, he wanted it to be because they loved each other and thought they might make a life together. He wanted it to be a choice made freely and enthusiastically, and not as a solution to a housing problem.
But if he brought it up now, that’s exactly what it would look like. It would look like he didn’t want to show his girlfriend the door because of what it might do to his sex life.
And, hell, it was partly that, wasn’t it? He didn’t want his sex life to evaporate just when things were getting good.
The first thing, he figured, was to decide where he stood on the whole thing. Did he want to live with Joy? Or did he just think he wanted it because it was convenient?
Taking some time to think about all of that was a good idea, but he didn’t have much time to spare. There was less than a month on the lease. He could let Joy stay in the house on a month-to-month basis, but then where would he go? Evan needed to start renting Otter Bluff so he could bring in the income he’d envisioned when he bought the house in the first place.
“Nix? You okay?” Louise was looking at him strangely, and he realized he’d been holding the same can of organic beans for God knew how long.
He looked at her as they stood in the canned goods aisle at the market and willed himself to focus on the present.
“Yeah. Yes. Of course. I’m fine.”
“You gonna put that can on the shelf, or are you forming a close personal relationship with it?”
“Ah … the shelf.” He placed the can with its brethren and sighed.
Normally, having your slow work noticed by your boss was a bad thing, but Louise wasn’t just Nix’s boss, she was his friend. Besides, the place was practically deserted, as it often was near closing time on a Wednesday night.
“Seriously. Are you okay?” Louise regarded him, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips, poised to spot any happy lie he might offer her.
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m just … thinking.”
“About Joy.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Well, yes. And about my life. And about the fact that I have to move out of Otter Bluff, and in theory she’s supposed to go back to L.A. so I can have my house back, but …”
“Is that what you want? For her to leave so you can get your house back?”
“No!” He threw his arms up, a can of beans in each hand. “No. I want … Jesus, I think I want to marry her.”
“You sound like you just decided that, right this moment in the bean section.”
“I did. I did just decide it right now in the bean section. God. I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Aw, Nix.” She put her hand on his shoulder in a sisterly fashion. “I think it’s awesome that you want to marry Joy. But …”
“But what, Louise? Tell me. Talk me down.”
“I don’t want to talk you down, necessarily. I just want to point out that from everything you said, her life is in flux.”
“It is.”
“Well, a person shouldn’t make any huge decisions while they’re in flux. That’s all.”
Damn it, she was right. So, what was the winning move, then? Wait for her to finish whatever changes she was making in her life so he could propose once she was no longer … fluxing?
What if all of the changes she was making included a change in relationships? A change in who she wanted to be involved with?
He tried to shake that off. “I’d better just … you know. Shelve these beans.”
Chapter 26
At the height of her career as an influencer, Joy had published a book—mostly glossy photos with a few paragraphs of text for each one. Lifestyle stuff. Clothes, makeup, accessories, wellness—that kind of thing.
She’d gone through a literary agent, and even though it had been a few years ago, she and the agent were still in touch.
That meant she had someone in the business who was willing to look at her book proposal. It also meant Joy had done one of these before and had some idea how to put it together.
