I sighed. “My life is very… complicated.”
“How so?”
“It just is.” His eyes begged for more. “Bad childhood,” I go on. “Taking on the role of an adult at a young age. I don’t like to be without so I work harder to stay in the game… always one step ahead.”
“Couldn’t have been that bad. You seem like a great girl.” His eyes flickered to mine for a brief moment before meeting the road again.
I didn’t say anything because he had no idea.
“Or maybe,” he continued, “you only let people see what you want them to see. You don’t want me to see your faults. Your insecurities. Your weakness. You only want people to see you as you are now… not how you were before.”
My forehead creased as I focused on my lap, avoiding his eyes. He was spot on. It was kind of scary.
“I’m close, huh?”
I whipped my head up to meet his eyes. “How did you know?” I whispered.
“Because, Strange Girl,” he sighed, “I can relate.”
“Bad childhood?”
“Horrible one.” He paused, focusing on the steering wheel.
All the while, I was pleading for more. He met my eyes again, and when he saw the questions swirling deep within them, he went on.
“My… um… my mom was a great person. Even though she worked a lot, she made time for me. She didn’t cook every night but she cooked when she could. She bought me a lot of candy when we went grocery shopping, clothes, shoes—everything. But… when I became a teenager I don’t know what happened with her. She just turned to drugs out of nowhere. I think she just became overwhelmed with her job.
“I assume the drugs made her feel better about herself, more confident as the morning news anchor. Then my dad found out about what she was doing and I used to hear them arguing a lot at night. He used to threaten that he would leave her if she didn’t get her shit together. He didn’t exactly leave her like he swore he would. Instead he started drinking heavily, but his drinking became heavier when we found her in the garage one night.
“She’d… overdosed on cocaine. I saw it all. The white powder was everywhere. It seemed so harmless to me then. After Dad rushed me to my room, I heard him on the phone with the cops. They questioned him for a while when they got there and then they left… and then he left. Out of nowhere. He was gone and I didn’t know where he went. He never came back. I know because I waited for him.
“The cops came by one day for some information, found out I was alone, so they sent me to an orphanage. When I turned eighteen I got out as soon as possible. Before then, I… um… dropped out of high school to look for a stable job. I was the laughing stock at school. The teachers didn’t even respect me so leaving felt like the best thing to do back then.” He swiped a hand over his face. “I regret doing it sometimes.”
He was quiet for a moment and then he looked over at me. “Oh—I’m sorry. I think I just ruined this date even more, huh? I know that’s too much to tell this early. I got really comfortable. Shit—I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“No—it’s okay. Don’t worry. I completely understand.” I smiled and leaned closer as I placed my hand on top of his. “So… have you talked to your Dad since?”
“No. I have no idea where he is.” He scratched his head.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, and then he adjusted in his seat, changing the subject. “You shouldn’t ignore it, ya know? Trying to act like the bad things never happened will only make you miserable. You don’t deserve to be miserable.”
“You should be a psychiatrist,” I teased him when he put the car in park.
“Would you believe that’s what I wanted to be before becoming a chef?”
“No way!”
“Yep.” He smiled, shutting the car off. “But I only wanted to become that after dealing with my own demons.” He shrugged. “Not quite there yet. But I’ll get there.”
“I’m sure you will. It’s not an easy thing. It takes time. Trust me, I know.” I looked ahead of me at the tall, black building. It wasn’t a business type. I could tell they were condos. “This is where you live?”
“Yeah… you don’t mind, right? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable about being here. I won’t try anything crazy, I swear.” He held up his hands innocently, his keys dangling in air.
“No, I don’t mind at all. I thought we were going to get something to eat, though.”
“Oh… well, see, I figured since I cook for a living, the least I could do is make you a meal.”
Giddiness ran through me. “You’re serious? You’re going to cook for me, the strange girl?”
He busted out in a laugh, climbing out the car. Pressing a hand on top of it and peering inside at me, he said, “I will, just as long as she promises not to attack me with a wrench.”
I hopped out of the car and he met at my side. “Ohh, good one! You better hope I like your cooking. We’ll see if you’re as great as the reviews say.”
“Oh, now I’m a little afraid.” He wrapped an arm across my shoulder, hesitant at first, but I fell victim to his touch, sliding in closer to his side.
He liked that.
He liked me.
“Shannon?” Fingers snap in my face and I sit back.
Sonny’s face comes into focus, her gray eyes bright. “Did you hear me?”
“Huh? What?”
“John made chickpea soup with toasted baguettes. Do you want some?”
I take a look around the room, stopping at the bathroom door. John is in there. The door is cracked open and I can see him gripping the counter edge with his head hung low.
“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll take some.” I don’t want it but I need her to leave so I can talk to him alone. My eyes don’t drift from where he stands, glaring down at the sink.
“All right. Coming right up.”
She saunters out of the bedroom and with the little energy I have, I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom door. When I push it open, John glances up at me, his eyes wet.
“John?”
He looks away.
“What’s the matter?” I place my jetpack on the countertop, grabbing his arm to turn him and then cupping his face. One thick tear lines his face, his eyes cloudy and full of sadness. Seeing him like this makes my heart ache.
I take full blame for whatever he may be feeling.
I hate that he’s suffering like this.
“Baby, why are you crying?” I whisper.
He swipes at his face roughly, like a child, but I stop him. “I… need to be here. I can’t be at work while you go through this.”
“I’m okay, baby. I swear. Today was just a small mishap. I won’t let it happen again. I thought I could handle it but I was wrong.”
“It’s not just about today… every day from now on.” He picks me up and sits me on top of the counter. Stepping between my legs and looking down at me, his arms going around my waist, he whispers, “I swear I don’t want to leave, but I have to next week.”
“Next week?” I frown. “Leave to go where?”
“There’s a cook-off competition for chefs. Winner takes all. Money and a chance to open up our very own franchise, all expenses paid.”
I blink, lowering my hands.
“… I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
“How long have you known about it?”
He lowers his head, ashamed. “Almost three months now.”
“Three months?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“You were going through so much and I didn’t want to leave but at the same time I did, but only because this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me. I was torn, Shannon, and I still am.
“They have this competition once every five years. Babe, I’m only locally known by name. Not countrywide. If I go to the competition, I’ll have a chance to really get my name out there. My recipes. My passion for cooking. I’ll even be able to name a restaurant after me. You know that’s always been a dream and
a goal of mine. I’m tired of working for people. I want to be my own boss. Create my own menu… make whatever I want to make.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, dropping my head.
He picks it back up. “When I got the email, it was the day the black traces returned. I was going to tell you over the dinner I had planned, that I got accepted to the cook off, but you got sick and, after that, it never seemed like the right time.”
I’m quiet for a moment, doing my best to remain casual about his news. “Well… you should go, honey. Go. Where will it be?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Oh. That’s great then! I’ll go with you. Vegas is always fun, and I can ask Sonny to tag along to help me out while you do the cook-off.”
I hop down from the counter, reaching for my device, but he stops me, catching my elbow and spinning me back around to face him again.
“No—Shannon, babe, that’s the thing…” He looks me over before looking away. My face straightens and I blink rapidly, afraid of his response. “I talked to Dr. Barad about it and I asked him if you could come with me. He said the flight wouldn’t be a problem as long as you have your device and you’re in first class with plenty of space, but the dry heat in Vegas might be.”
“The dry heat?”
“Yes. He will explain it to you tomorrow. But I asked him myself and what he’s pretty much saying is since your lungs seem to be drying out already, that the desert heat and air will only make it worse.”
“Oh.” A crack forms on my heart, causing an indescribable ache.
Not being able to see my husband participate in a national cook-off? Not being able to see him have fun doing something he loves, and maybe get huge recognition for his talent? It sucks—a blow right to the gut—but I have to continue being supportive and act unbothered because he wants this. He needs this.
If he wins, he’ll have something worth holding on for, even after I’m gone. Something worth living for. “Well, it’s okay, Johnny.” I clasp his face. “I completely understand. Don’t let me hold you back. You know I’ll be rooting for you.” I force a smile and then rest my forehead on his chest. “It’s gonna be on TV, right?”
“Yeah.”
“My hubby on TV. How cool is that?”
He struggles with a laugh. “I want you there,” he says, his voice breaking.
“I want to be there.”
“Don’t worry. I’m taking off the rest of this week. I want to spend it with you before I go.” He presses against me, holding my shoulders. “I’ll only be gone for the weekend. After the competition, I will be right back.”
“I’ll be here. Don’t worry!” I give him a childlike smile.
He reels me in, holding me close, nuzzling the crook of my neck as I wrap my arms around his. “Tell me you won’t do anything crazy while I’m gone.”
My laugh tumbles out, playful. Light. “I won’t do anything too crazy.”
“Nothing crazy at all.” He tilts his head down, kissing my forehead. “I want to come back to that glorious smile. That beautiful personality. The wonderful love we share. You and all of your perfections.”
“And you will.”
He studies my face as if he’s never seen it up close like this before. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yes, I know, babe.”
“And that I’m only hard on you because I care so much about you?”
I roll my eyes. “Yep.”
“I love you so much, Shannon. I don’t think you realize just how much.”
“I love you more, Johnny.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip, those piercing blue eyes bolting with mine. The air stills, but something swims deep within his irises. Desire. Longing. A hunger I haven’t seen in weeks.
Placing me on top of the counter again, he holds my face in his hands, kissing me with the passion I’ve missed.
He seizes this opportunity, taking control, making this moment ours. The kiss is long and deep and I love every single second of it.
My fingers tangle in his hair, my back pressing onto the cool mirror. My legs wrap around him and he slides the ends of my tubes aside, giving himself complete access to my mouth.
Devouring my lips, he rolls his tongue with mine, groaning as his arousal presses between my legs. I cling to him, sighing and moaning and aching—wanting him badly, but knowing he won’t give it all to me.
He thrusts between my thighs, causing a friction that gets my body going. Holding on tighter, I reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it up.
When I pull it off, I study his solid body. The hairs on his chest. His lips part, revealing two rows of shiny white teeth. Breathless, I study my husband and all of his masculine glory.
My man. My beautiful, breathtaking man.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes. He hugs me, apologizing in my ear for getting carried away.
“No,” I whisper. “It’s okay. There is no need to apologize.”
I need this.
I want it.
Badly.
When he leans back, prepared to stop, I reel him back in, crushing his mouth with mine, holding him close, his skin hot and damp.
This time, I don’t think he’ll stop. It’s been so long. Three months too long. He’s been so afraid to touch me. Afraid to love me properly. Afraid of doing anything out of fear that he just might make things worse.
Sonny walks into the bedroom with the soup, but in an instant he slams the bathroom door, sending Sonny right back out with a loud and embarrassed, “Oh my God! Ew!” before she’s gone.
We laugh, but the moment turns fiery again as he yanks my shorts down.
When his trousers and boxers are off, he brings me to the edge of the counter and takes me there. Gripping my hips, holding me close. Gluing his chest to mine, sucking on my skin as I toss my head back.
I can breathe, which is odd because moments like this tend to steal my breath right away.
His fingers thread through my hair, his thrusts full and deep. “Fucking love you,” he growls against my skin, his lips near the crook of my neck. “God, I love you.” He kisses me there sweetly, clutching my ass, groaning.
Several seconds later and he stiffens. I clench around his thickness, crying out his name. We both reach euphoric ecstasy, shooting towards the sky, clashing with the stars.
Bursting.
Exploding.
Catching in a furious blaze.
He jolts before stilling inside me, groaning loudly in my ear, releasing months of pent-up frustrations and confined love. We pant, sweat thick on our foreheads, eyes connected.
“Okay?” he asks breathlessly, holding my face in his hands.
I kiss his lips, wrapping one arm around the back of his neck. “Are you kidding?” I laugh. “I’ve never felt better, baby.”
His tears are gone. A momentary happiness has replaced them, along with sweet, deep laughter. It doesn’t matter that it’s only for a moment, as long as he’s smiling. As long as he’s happy. As long as he’s here.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
All he ever needed.
Chapter Eighteen
Present
The days fly by way too quickly.
Before I know it, I’m helping John pick neckties and packing his toiletries.
In between those days, I had my many wellness checks with Dr. Barad and spent a lot of time with Sonny. I was able to make it up and down the stairs, and although I had to take my time, I did it without passing out or tumbling down.
Of course, John was by my side during every step but I didn’t mind it. He’s going to be gone for four whole days. He may test my nerves from time to time, but I am going to miss him.
This is going to be the first time he’s been away from me for longer than twenty-four hours.
As I sit on the bed with my legs crossed, folding his T-shirts and shorts, a tear escapes me.
John is too busy in the closet, taking down his favorite chef hats and monogrammed shirts, explaining how ex
cited he is for his trip.
I swipe the frustrating tear away. I can’t let him be a witness to it. If he sees me crying, he won’t leave. He’ll stay and I’ll feel horrible for holding him back from his dream.
I want to see him make it before I’m gone, which is why I straighten myself out, perking up as he rushes out of the closet, laying one of his shirts down.
“I had this one dry-cleaned today. All ready for the competition.” He looks up at me. “You think I’ll make it through the first round?”
I finish folding the final shirt. “Are you kidding? You’re going to slay that first round!”
“Nah.” His head shakes as he carefully folds the uniform. “I checked out the list. There are a lot of big names going out there. People that have inspired me. It’s going to be huge.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I climb on my knees, crawling towards him. “The world isn’t ready for John Streeter.”
I hug him around the waist, tugging him down on the bed. He sits, chuckling as he clings to me.
Sighing, he says, “I’ve been praying… and hoping.”
“You’ve got this.”
He lifts up my arm, weaving our fingers together. “I’m going to be a wreck without you there.”
“You’ll be fine, honey. Dean is going with you, right? He’ll definitely be rooting you on.”
“My cousin will be too worried about the girls and strippers than he will be about my cooking. He’s never understood my passion for it.”
“I’m sure he’ll still be around. He wouldn’t miss it.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed, “half-drunk. Anyway, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you way more.” I tilt my chin, allowing him to press his lips to my temple. “Don’t do anything crazy,” I tease.
“I’ll be too busy thinking about you to do anything crazy.”
Infinity: Based on a True Story Page 14
