“I might have to fire my agent, though. He has been really lousy in keeping me updated about what's going on.”
“Well, are you willing to give him another chance?” he asks with his usual air of confidence, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Maybe. Don't lie to me ever again,” I say, holding his gaze. He looks relieved, but still a little guilty.
“Okay. Are we done here?”
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck!” he says before walking to me and grabbing my face to kiss me. He sweeps in so rapidly, so forcefully, he knocks the breath out of me. My legs are like jelly and I have to hold myself steady on his arms.
We kiss for what feels like forever. Not that I mind it, of course, but I thought that by now we would have moved to the bedroom. Instead, he sits me on my desk and spreads my legs apart, then kisses my face and my neck. I am not complaining in the slightest. Plus, I have never made out on this desk. His kisses have me all worked up and I want to undress him. I start undoing the buttons of his shirt, while his hands run up my legs, under my skirt. He hasn't even touched me there yet and I’m already impatient for him to put his hands on me. When he starts skimming my underwear with a finger, I shiver under his touch.
“I want you to fuck me on this desk,” I say, whispering.
He leans his forehead against mine, catching his breath.
“Fuck, Prudence. I haven't been inside of you in days. Do you know how worked up you get me when you talk like that?”
I smile, but he kisses me again and groans into my mouth, grinding into my hips. He suddenly stops.
“What were you saying about second-guessing yourself?”
“What?” I ask him, confused.
“You said you had been second-guessing yourself all week. Didn't you?”
“Yes, and?”
“We need to talk about it.”
“Right now? Don't be ridiculous. We are in the middle of a hot make-up sex session.”
“We are talking about it right now. What do you mean you are second-guessing yourself?”
“I just do, okay? Every day. Every time I write a new story. Plus, look at the facts. I cannot get a book deal. I thought that for someone like me, someone who has been an established writer for years, it wasn’t going to be hard. Regardless, everyone in their right mind second-guesses themselves,” I say, shrugging it off.
I lean in to kiss him and he backs out. He looks at me for a long moment. My confession seems to have started something, because he becomes pensive and he gives me a guarded, worried look.
“You know how, in romance novels, even new adult, the guy always gives the speech to the girl about how fantastic, special, and talented she is?” he asks me with a smirk.
Where is he going with this?
“Hmm, yes,” I say, nodding.
“Well I’m not going to lie, I’m not a fan of that part. No one talks like that in real life. I get it. It’s a romance novel and you want the reader to be completely immersed into it and believe the fairytale, but sometimes the grandiose positive affirmation speech is a little overplayed, don’t you think?”
I can’t help but grin like an idiot, because I feel the exact same way about that.
“I completely agree,” I say smiling, and I lean into him, because I want to kiss him. So bad. But he backs away from me a little—again!—holding me by my wrists.
“However, there is this one girl, who’s all those things. She is talented, beautiful, and wears her heart on her sleeve. Yet, apparently she keeps doubting herself. Well, that can’t be happening. So, I was thinking, unless she wants me to sing her praises every day and give her extra corny speeches about how fantastic, how wondrous she is, she is going to have to start believing in herself a little more.” He says the word corny with a tip of his chin, remembering how I mocked his foreplay tactics.
I nod, completely captivated by him. His words, and his bright, lively eyes. His mouth, saying things like wondrous. They are all wondrous things, indeed.
“You know what I think?” I ask him, a stupid smile on my face.
“What?” He looks at me curiously.
I lean into him and whisper into his ear.
“I think the word wondrous is extremely sexy and not used nearly enough. Maybe this girl, the one who needs a morale boost, wouldn’t mind it being used here and there. Especially in the bedroom.”
“I solemnly swear to say that word often, especially if it turns you on,” he tells me with a wicked grin.
“Now,” he says while removing his pants, “do you still want me to take you on this desk?”
I nod and smile at him. “Yes, please. It needs to be christened.”
Chapter 21
“MAYBE I’M just too difficult. I cannot find my girlfriend a proper book deal. No one I have come across is good enough, or they flat out refuse to even listen to that CD. You’re entitled to fire me anytime you want.”
“Seriously, stop it. Let’s make a deal. You are not allowed to reject any of my prospective suitors without consulting me, or I swear to you, I will upload that book online all by myself,” I say, pointing my finger at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it again. He relaxes with his arms behind his head and exhales.
“Good thing that my next meetings for your deal aren’t until August.”
“August? You slacker!”
“I’m sorry babe, but I have people I signed before you that I need to take care of. There’s people going on vacation, and then I have to get ready for London. You’ll see, when I get back, we’ll find the right fit.”
“The right fit, huh?” I eye him suspiciously.
After our first fight, we agree to a few ground rules. He will run every meeting by me beforehand and report about the company and let me make a decision about it. I also told him that if nothing happens by August 15, I will self-publish the book, and depending how the book does, sign later with a publisher that can give both me and Matt the right exposure.
I have already started thinking about two other stories I want to write, and I cannot keep thinking, no, obsessing, about this one.
It has been more than a month and nothing has happened, so I don’t understand what makes him think that we will find a publisher by the fifteenth. He asks me why I’m suddenly so impatient.
The problem is, this is what I was used to. I would write a story and pass it on to the team at Biblio. Sometimes there would be a lot of rewrites, sometimes there would be very little to change. Also, most of the time, if I’m in a good place, my brain is always coming up with new storylines and all I want to do is write new stuff. That’s how I spent my last eight years, and I’m just not used to the change of pace. But I do realize I should have more patience, especially now that I have involved Matt in the project.
The next couple weeks I force myself to work on the story more. I edit until I cannot stand to re-read the words anymore. I guess I could have passed it on to a freelance editor, but somehow it feels wrong, even though I know it’s completely stupid.
I re-edit to include some passages that describe specific songs, without necessarily featuring the lyrics.
I invite Matt to meet with me because I want to thank him face-to-face for signing the release. I soon make plans to meet with him a second time to discuss more in detail what I would like his contribution to be, if I ever find a publisher. I tell him I might have the chance to self-publish it and in that case, I could make the revisions to be a little more specific about his songs. Maybe put some of the lyrics here and there and mention his work is available for purchase on iTunes.
Matt and I keep in touch the next couple of weeks. He has a few ideas and is considering working with me more closely if I should take the self-publishing route. We email back and forth with ideas.
Ben is always pretty busy, but we manage to go back to our pre-Hamptons routine and see each other every evening. We go to book launch parties for two of his clients, go to the beach every weekend, have dinn
er with his mom a couple of times, and hang out, like really hang out, with his friends.
Chris is actually not too bad when he is not wasted, and we spend a lot of time “surfing” together. I actually make very slight progress and can stand on the board for maybe ten seconds. I’m extremely proud of myself.
As Ben’s London trip nears, his phone keeps ringing off the hook. I have no idea specifically what the trip is about. He doesn’t go into details, so I don’t want to pry and ask. A few times I see Mr. Hunter’s name flash on his phone. Sometimes he takes the call in front of me, sometimes he walks off to another room if we are somewhere or I’m in the middle of something. It bothers me. I don’t understand it. I feel like he is hiding something from me, but I keep telling myself it’s just work and there is no reason for me to be so suspicious.
Ben convinces me to go back to the Hamptons for a long weekend before he leaves for London. We head out on Wednesday evening and are exiting off I-495 too soon and heading towards LaGuardia.
“What’s going on?”
He smiles wide and bites his lip.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Well, you surprised me. Where are we going?”
“South.”
South. That’s all he says for now. We park, and when we are about to check in, things become clearer.
“Jacksonville? Are we going to St. Augustine?” I ask, smiling.
He looks excited now and can’t stop smiling at me, chewing on his lip.
I scream excitedly, jump up to hug him around his neck.
“Thank you!” I say, kissing him briefly.
The excitement of the moment has me on cloud nine, but then realization sets in and I think about the whole thing for a moment. It all seems so sudden. This is probably not the best time for us to go. He has been so busy and has so much going on, like the trip to London. We didn’t need to do this now. Yet, this was all his idea. I look at him, perplexed.
“Why now?” I ask.
“Why? I thought you wanted to visit your family.”
“I do, but why now? You have to leave for London and have so much going on! I mean, I’m happy. I wanted to go . . . I want to go!” I say excitedly.
Then it dawns on me I’m being completely ungrateful. A look of worry clouds his face. He wanted to surprise me.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Thank you,” I say, kissing him on the cheek. “What about your trip? Will you have enough time to get back? Don’t you need to pack?” I ask apprehensively.
“I have everything ready. We’ll be back on Sunday and I will have plenty of time before I leave on Monday.”
“Oh.”
We sit next to each other waiting to board. I shake my head in disbelief, still shocked.
“Ahhh, I completely forgot,” he says, getting a small package out of his carry-on. I look at the brown rectangular box in disbelief.
“You are taking me on a trip and giving me presents too? It’s too much.”
“Nonsense. Open it.” He gives me one of his brilliant smiles he knows I can’t resist.
I take the lid off the box and see what’s inside. A brand new Kindle, one of the latest models, with, what do you know, a waterproof case around it. It’s hard to contain my excitement. I chuckle and look at him.
I bite my lip and he impatiently asks if I like it.
“Do I like it? I love it! You give the best gifts! Access to unlimited books? You really are the man of my dreams!”
I may have said too much, but his eyes soften and he laughs. I grab his face and kiss his lips gently, my nose touching his.
“Technically, I just upgraded your old device. You already had access to unlimited books.”
“Nerd,” I say playfully.
He kisses me again, briefly. That is enough to make me lose my head.
“Hmmm. Come on, don’t be modest. What else do you have planned?” I tease.
“Am I coming to London too? You might want to make sure you let me grab my passport.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to disappoint you, but no London. Not this time. I promise I’ll take you . . . next time.” He brushes my cheek with a finger.
“Do my parents know? That we are visiting, I mean.”
“I talked to your mom. I don’t know if she told your dad.”
“Where did you get my mom’s phone number? Did you steal it from my phone? You’re so sneaky!” I swat him on the leg and he grabs my hand and kisses it, holding it.
“And you’re bringing all this on yourself, by your own initiative,” I say in a sing-songy voice, shaking my head and looking at him. Boy, is he in for a surprise. I haven’t brought a guy home since college, maybe. James never even made it to St. Augustine.
He eyes me for a while, dubious, and when we take our places on the plane, he asks nervously, “Exactly, what do you mean by you brought this on yourself?”
I smile. Ah boy, you don’t even know.
“See, I hardly brought around any of my boyfriends, so when I did, my dad had a little fun . . . you know . . . grilling them. Now, I’m not talking Meet the Parents levels, but—”
“Are you serious? Is he an ex-CIA guy?” he asks, straightening up in his seat.
“No, he’s a dentist. He is just going to ask you a lot of questions. Maybe I can help get you ready.”
“Shoot. Let’s do that,” he says enthusiastically.
“Do you floss, Ben?”
Chapter 22
“WHERE DID you learn that?” I stare at Ben, hypnotized. Certainly my ovaries have exploded by now. He has Noah sitting on his knees and he is patting him behind the back, gently.
I fed my nephew a bottle and he became fussy afterwards. We offered to babysit and give my brother and sister-in-law the night off. I wasn’t that confident about my capabilities, so I made sure my parents stuck around too, but they are out in the garden. I was going to take Noah to my mom, but Ben took him from me, placed him on his knees, and tried to make him burp, patting him gently.
“This surf store I have been going to for years.”
“A surf store? You learned how to handle babies at a surf store? And here I thought you were going to confess a past life as a babysitter!”
“Well, the couple who owns it had three daughters over the years. It’s just the two of them running the store, and the girls have always been hanging out there. So from time to time, I held them when they were little, while their parents helped me out with something.”
Noah’s burp comes out very loudly all of a sudden, and we both laugh, startling him a little. I reach out and kiss his chubby hands. I dry his mouth from the drool with his bib.
“Do you want to give him back to me?” I ask Ben.
“No, I am fine. It’s kind of relaxing, really. Almost like when I hold Lupin.”
“Hmmm. Lupin is way lighter. I’m not sure Brian and Arianna would agree that their baby is relaxing, but suit yourself,” I say, shrugging.
Truth is, I wanted the baby back. Staring at Ben holding Noah is a dangerous, dangerous thing. It makes your mind wander where it shouldn’t and makes my hormones start acting crazy. He is sitting quietly with the baby’s head leaning on his shoulder. There is a stark contrast between Ben’s tanned skin and the baby’s rosy cheeks. Noah is slowly dozing off and I have to restrain myself from touching him over and over. He is so beautiful. His skin is so fair and his short hair is a reddish blond. His eyelashes are light too, but a shade darker than his hair. I don’t understand how parents can ever manage to get anything done. It would be hard for me to stop staring at him if he were my son. And now it’s also going to be hard to erase this picture from my memory. Ben looks beautiful holding a baby, but seriously, who doesn’t?
Dad must have been satisfied with Ben’s teeth enough to lay off of him after a few questions. They both are outdoorsy people, so they have that in common. They even went fishing together. And yesterday we all went out together with the boat. B
rian and Arianna joined us toward the end of the day, after just getting in from Orlando. Ben and Noah got acquainted last night, and it made my heart flutter when I first saw him holding my nephew. I might have taken a dozen pictures of the two of them together.
I gently trace Noah’s eyebrow.
“You’re lucky, Prudence,” Ben says softly, trying not to startle Noah. “You have a great family. You should visit them more often. It doesn’t take that long to get down here, and you’re a writer—even if you are in the middle of a project, you can write anywhere.”
I listen to his words carefully and look him in the eyes. He is right of course, and it’s not like I haven’t considered it before. I have been neglecting my family here. I could have made more of an effort and come to visit more often, but I didn’t. I have thought about it, but never acted on it. The fact that he has to point it out, though, makes me hurt for him. Ben never talks about it, but I’m sure it must have been hard never knowing his father.
“You’re right,” I tell him, keeping the tone of my voice low. “Does this speech have to do with you a little?”
“Me? You mean about me not knowing my father or not having any other immediate family other than my mom? Yeah, it does.”
“Did she ever tell you about him? In detail, I mean. His name or who he was?”
“No. I asked her over and over, but she never told me the truth. She said I’d be better off not knowing him. I believe her, of course, but I have always been a little curious about him. You wonder, you know? What kind of man is he? Do I look like him, do I do anything like him?”
“Do you want to try to find him? On your own, I mean. I think your mom could be persuaded to tell you his name.”
“Maybe. I just want to meet him once, at least. See him face-to-face. Does he even know I’m alive?” He doesn’t look at me when he says that, he just stares into space. I place my hand on one of his, still holding the baby.
He looks at our hands together and then looks back at me, a small smile spreading on his face.
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