Crazy Sweet Love: Contemporary Romance Novella, Clean Interracial Romantic Comedy (Flower Shop Romance Book 3)

by Marisa Logan

  We were still patting my shirt dry when Kimmy led Tom into the kitchen. He was carrying a bottle of wine. “Happy birthday,” he said, handing it to me.

  “Aww, thank you,” I said. I gave him a kiss, then turned my attention back to the cake. “As you can see, you arrived right in the middle of our grand decorating fiasco.”

  “Well, it looks delicious,” he said. He took the wine bottle back from me and started opening it. “I hope you don't mind if this is something of a double-celebration tonight. I just got some good news.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yup. My divorce is finally finalized. I just got the papers today.”

  “Woohoo!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Now I don't have to deal with the awkward explanations about how I'm dating a married man.”

  We all laughed. Kimmy took the decorating gel again and said, “We can squeeze in one more bit of celebration.”

  She scrawled “Merry Divorce” across the bottom, underneath “Happy Birthday” and “Happy Easter.” Tom look at it and laughed.

  “I'm definitely eating that piece,” he said.

  Allison put on some music while we sliced the cake and poured some drinks. We danced with plates of cake in one hand and plastic forks in the other. As birthday parties went, it was all I ever wanted, especially considering the guy I was dancing with. Neither one of us could actually dance, and we kept blushing and giving each other awkward smiles while we shuffled about Kimmy's living room.

  As the night wore on, Kimmy and Allison started making out. Then they slipped back into Kimmy's bedroom, while Kimmy paused to give me a conspiratorial wink. I blushed and glanced at Tom, who was sitting on the couch now, nursing a glass of wine.

  Once we were alone together, I turned the music down, then sat next to him.

  “So,” I said.

  “So,” he said. “Happy birthday. You're, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?”

  I laughed and smacked him on the knee. “Dork. No, I'm thirty-mmphrmphhmm.”

  “Ahh,” he said, nodding sagely. “A wise old age indeed. I hope you don't care that I'm only twenty- mmphrmphhmm.”

  I snickered and shook my head. “No. I'm fine with dating a guy who's mmphrmphhmm years younger than me.” I turned towards him with a flirtatious smile.

  “And a guy who has a kid?” he asked, his expression turning serious. He played with the stem of his wine glass, looking down at his lap.

  I took his face in my hands and turned it towards me. “Just means I already know you're a great father.”

  I kissed him, and he set down the wine glass to take me in his arms. We made out there on the sofa like a couple of teenagers, while I was sure Kimmy and Allison were in the bedroom doing quite a bit more. I wasn't sure how far I wanted to go so soon, but when Tom started caressing me, I knew I wanted something.

  My hands softly explored him, bringing a moan. Tom looked at me with wide eyes, eager but hesitant.

  I smiled encouragingly and while the music played on in the background and we started a different type of dance.

  Chapter 7

  Over the next few weeks, Tom and I were a regular thing. On weeknights, we made dates at places halfway between my town and his, so we each only had to drive about a half hour or forty-five minutes to see each other. On most weekends, he spent his time with his son, though on any weekend he was free, he drove out to visit me. Other times we simply talked on the phone, or texted, or video chatted. And the more time that passed, the more I felt I was craving his company each and every day.

  Once we were sure the relationship was actually going somewhere, Tom brought up the idea of me coming down on one of TJ's visitation weekends. “He really likes you,” he said over the phone, while I sat in my apartment, working on a painting. “He keeps asking about you, and he's excited that I have a girlfriend.”

  “Oh, I'm your girlfriend now?” I laughed as I teased him. “That's the first time you've called me that.”

  “Well, it's true, isn't it?”

  “Yes,” I said, a rather pleased smile on my face. “Yes, it is indeed.”

  “So, you should come down this weekend.”

  I thought about it. Weekends could be an iffy time for me. I worked a lot of weekends, since that was when the museum was busiest. But I could easily get a couple of days off. I'd been working so many extra hours over the last few months, keeping up with all the extra work we had while we were short-staffed, that I had earned some time off. “Are you sure you want me intruding on your father/son time?”

  “I'm sure,” Tom said. “And so is TJ. He keeps asking when you'll be coming down. He wants to spend some time with you.”

  “All right then,” I said. “It's a date.”

  That Saturday, I drove down to visit with Tom and TJ. We took TJ out to lunch, then to the movies. I suggested the latest comic book film, and pretended I'd only chosen it for TJ's sake. I was a hardcore geek, but sometimes I wasn't ready to admit that I'd rather watch a Marvel movie than some cheesy romantic comedy.

  After the movie we went back to Tom's place. He had a two-bedroom apartment; he'd let his ex-wife keep the house after the divorce, so that TJ would have a good, stable place to live with her. Tom ordered a pizza, and while we ate, TJ bombarded me with questions about my work.

  “Have you fixed that big clock yet?” he asked. “I've been reading about clocks online. Did you know that there's an atomic clock in Colorado?”

  “I've heard about that.” I wiped the pizza grease from my fingers with a napkin. “But as for our clock, no. I asked at the museum, and they said it's going to cost something like fifteen or twenty thousand dollars to fix it. We don't have that kind of money.” If we did, I silently added, we could afford to hire a second janitor.

  “Can't you do like, a fundraiser or something?” TJ asked. “We did a fundraiser at school to get a new auditorium.”

  “That's actually not a bad idea,” Tom said. “If you generate some press, you could raise enough money to pay for the repairs. I might be able to help with my industry contacts.”

  I thought it over, toying with the napkin between my fingers. “Actually, now that you mention it, there's one thing that might work. I'm going to the Steampunk World's Fair in a few weeks. I bet I could find a lot of people there who would want to help fix the clock tower.”

  Tom snorted and said, “You could do a Back to the Future theme. 'Save the clock tower!'”

  “Back to the Future III was kind of steampunky,” I said, mulling it over. “I'll have to make a few phone calls. I know some people at the fair, since I always rent a vendor table there. I could probably add the fundraiser to my table. Add the sales from my paintings to the proceeds.” I didn't make a fortune off my paintings, but I always came back from the fair with a few hundred dollars at least.

  “Run a Kickstarter or a GoFundMe, too,” Tom suggested. “Get people at the fair to tweet about it. You'll raise money in no time.”

  “Hmm.” I chewed on my lower lip. It wouldn't be easy, but the boys were certainly on to something. “You know what? You're right. Let's do it.”

  “Awesome!” TJ said, throwing his arms in the air.

  “We'd be happy to lend a hand,” Tom said.

  I reached over and took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “That'll be awesome. Seriously. You don't have to do this, you know.”

  “Yes we do,” TJ said, quite adamant. “If we don't, who will?”

  We spent the rest of the night going over the details. After TJ went to bed, Tom and I did some online research into crowdfunding. By the end of the night, we had a long list of ideas. I could get the museum to put up a plaque with donor names. We could offer free tickets to the museum to people who donated. And with official backing from the museum and from the city of Brandenburg, something I was positive I could get, we actually had a decent shot at this.

  I went to bed that night dreaming of clockwork machines, and thinking that for once, I'd be taking that pile of pa
rts and turning it back into the beautiful machine it was meant to be.

  Chapter 8

  The days leading up to the Steampunk World's Fair were nonstop busy. My boss loved the idea of a fundraiser, especially considering all the press it could generate for the museum. It was also easy to convince him that the steampunk crowd would be the ideal audience for the railroad museum, and the free tickets would be a great way to bring in guests. We could afford to give out a ton of free tickets as long as it got people in the door, since we'd make more money off the cafeteria and gift shop sales than we would off ticket prices.

  The weekend of the fair, I packed my things in my car and headed down the highway to Tom's house. Tom and TJ were coming with me to the fair, which was being held at a hotel in New Jersey. I'd booked my hotel room months in advance, but it had been easy to get the hotel to offer us a rollaway bed so there would be someplace for TJ to sleep.

  My trunk was packed with about two dozen paintings that I'd done over the last year, most of which I hoped to sell over the weekend. I also had a box of museum pamphlets and a stack of tickets to hand out. Tom had helped me set up the online fundraiser, which had gone live this morning. I kept checking for updates on my phone. There were only a handful of donations so far, raising a measly $75 over the last few hours, but I was expecting most of the donations to come during the fair. I'd printed up a few hundred flyers with “Save the Clock Tower” printed across the top and pictures of our poor broken clock on them. All I needed to do was generate enough interest. I'd even included a #SaveTheClockTower hashtag on the flyers so people could tweet about it and post messages on Facebook, Instagram, and everywhere else.

  I was almost to Tom's house when he called me. I put the phone on speaker and answered while I drove down the highway.

  “Hey, babe. I'm getting close to your place. Are you guys all packed?”

  “Actually,” he said, “I'm stuck a bit late at work.”

  “Oh. Oh no.”

  “No, don't worry,” he said. “I'm going to be done soon. I just wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Can you pick up TJ from the daycare? He took the bus there after school, but I won't have time to come get him until later, and I'd rather not have them call my ex about it. She'll raise a fuss.”

  “No problem,” I said. “Is it going to be okay for me to pick him up? I mean, don't they need authorization?”

  “I called and let them know you'd be coming. Normally they'd need to check ID and everything, but it's your cousin. She told me there'd be no problem.”

  “Right,” I said. I'd almost forgotten that Kimmy was the one watching TJ after school. “I can be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Great. Thanks. Just take him to my place. He's got a key. I shouldn't be too late.”

  “All right,” I said.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I love you.”

  I was silent for a moment, stunned. That was the first time he'd said those words to me. Part of me was almost mad that he'd done it for the first time over the phone instead of in person. But on the other hand, it had sounded so natural. Like he had said it without thinking, speaking from the heart.”

  “I love you too.”

  I hung up the phone and used my GPS to check the directions to Kimmy's daycare. I'd never actually been there before. I got there a bit later than I expected, and by the time I walked in the door, TJ was the only kid left in the after school program.

  Kimmy looked up at me with a concerned expression on her face. “Hey, Amy. Tom called, said you were coming.”

  “Yeah,” I said, waving to TJ. I looked at the expression on Kimmy's face. “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, there was a little incident.”

  I looked at TJ and saw his face was streaked from tears. I walked across the room and sat down next to him, though the little chairs designed for second-graders didn't hold me too well. “You okay, big guy? Was someone giving you a hard time?”

  “It's nothing,” he said, keeping his head down. He was coloring in a coloring book I'd brought him from the museum last week. The steam locomotive on the page was colored an angry red and black, with thick black slashes over the eyes making it look stern and irritable.

  “It was no big deal, really,” Kimmy said. “But they kind of got physical.”

  I looked TJ over for signs of injuries. He didn't look hurt, though I realized some of the redness on his face might not have been from tears.

  “The thing is,” Kimmy said, “I had to call his mom.”

  “What?” I looked up at her, my jaw dropping. TJ kept on coloring, the crayon moving in quick, sharp slashes.

  “I had to.” Kimmy held her hands out to either side as she explained. “It's the company's policy. The primary caregiver has to be notified when this sort of thing happens. She's coming down here to—”

  “TJ?” a voice called out.

  I turned to the door to see a woman I could only assume was TJ's mother. She was average height and weight, with red hair that had just a touch of premature gray. She was dressed in business clothes and had a leather handbag in her hand.

  “Hi, Mrs. Conklin,” I said, rising from my seat.

  She stopped in her tracks and looked me over, frowning. From the deep-set lines on her face, I guessed that she did a lot of frowning. “It's McAnally,” she said. “Ms. McAnally. Do you work here?”

  I winced, realizing too late my faux pas. I should have realized she wouldn't have kept her husband's name after the divorce.”No, umm, I don't work here. My name is Amy. Amy Loch.” I held my hand out to her. “Tom sent me to pick TJ up.”

  “Oh,” she said. She didn't take my hand, and after an awkward moment, I lowered it. “You're the girlfriend.”

  My face felt warm. I wondered how much Tom, or TJ, had told her about me. “Yeah, I am. Tom and TJ are coming to the fair with me this weekend. Tom was running late, so—”

  “So you thought it would be okay for a total stranger to come here and take my son?” She glared at me, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

  “Actually,” Kimmy said, “Ms. McAnally, Tom did call and say—”

  “I don't really care what he said.” Ms. McAnally turned her glare on Kimmy for a moment, then looked back at me. “I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't know who you are, and I'm not about to let you take my son. Tom can come pick him up at my house later.”

  “No,” TJ said, slamming his hand down on the table. “I want to go with Amy. We're going to go see the steampunk stuff!”

  “Thomas Joseph, you don't take that tone with me,” Ms. McAnally said. “Get your things. We're going.”

  TJ got up and moved to the other side of the small table, putting it between him and his mom. “No. Dad said we're going to the fair. I'm not going with you.”

  “TJ, you get your butt in the car right now,” she said, pointing a stern finger at the door. “I don't have the patience for this. Especially not after I find out you've been fighting.”

  “I'm sure that wasn't his fault,” I said.

  “You stay out of this,” she said, snapping her head towards me. “You're not a part of this family, and I don't want to hear a word out of you.” She turned back to her son. “TJ. Car. Now.”

  “I'm not going,” TJ said. He lowered his head and pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs.

  Ms. McAnally moved around the table towards him. I moved to step in her way, but Kimmy held me back. I shot a glare at Kimmy, but she leaned in and said in a low voice, “You can't stop her from taking him. She's his mother.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” she whispered. “Technically I'm not even allowed to let you take TJ, since you're not registered as a legal guardian or authorized relative. I was going to let that slide since Tom said it was okay, and I know you're not a kidnapper or anything, but if she insists...”

  Ms. McAnally grabbed TJ by his arm and hauled him out of the chair. He scream
ed in protest, struggling against her, but she kept him in an iron grip. She dragged him to the door, showing no sympathy for his cries. I wanted to go after her, to stop her, but I knew she was right. I was nothing but Tom's girlfriend. I had no legal right here. And as much as I disagreed with the way she was treating TJ, it wasn't like she had hit him, or done anything that could really be considered abuse. I hated what she was doing, I hated the cold way she ignored her son's needs, but I knew he wasn't in any danger with her. There was nothing I could do without bringing more trouble down on myself.

  She was gone before I could think of anything to say. She hadn't even let TJ gather his books. I collected them and took them to my car so I could give them to him later. I talked to Kimmy for a few minutes, though I knew that her hands were tied. I gave her a hug and said goodbye, then got in my car and immediately called Tom.

  “Hey,” he said. “I just got finished here. You guys okay?”

  “No, actually,” I said. I explained everything that had happened, and told him that TJ would be at his mother's house. “There was nothing I could do. She didn't want to listen.”

  “That's typical of her,” he said. He sighed into the phone. “Okay, I'll go over there and get him. You can wait for us at my place, if that's okay? I shouldn't be long.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Good luck. I love you.”

  “I love you.” He hung up the phone, leaving me sitting in my car until my hands stopped shaking.

  I drove to Tom's apartment, though he wasn't there when I got there. I sat on the steps outside to wait. I lost track of time for awhile, checking the fundraiser on my phone, and tweeting out links to it, trying to raise some interest in the project. We were up to a few hundred bucks, which still wasn't much compared to the $15,000 goal, but it was a start.

  It started to get dark. I still hadn't heard back from Tom. I sat on the steps with my phone in my hand, wondering if I should call him. He was probably still talking to his wife about what had happened. Or arguing with her. I didn't think I would help the situation any by interrupting them with a phone call.