by Jenna Sutton
“Because I did the design for the house. I’m an architect.”
“You’re the architect? Nick never mentioned that.”
“Big surprise,” the blonde quipped. “He rarely speaks.”
They reached the kitchen, and Vanessa opened the stainless steel fridge and pulled out a glass pitcher full of strawberry lemonade. Grabbing a couple of glasses from the cabinet, she filled them with the pink liquid and passed a glass to Teagan before taking a sip of her own.
“My mom told me that you and Nick were back together.”
Teagan took a big gulp of the lemonade. It was delicious, the perfect blend of sweet and tart. No wonder Nick had brought Letty with him to San Francisco.
“I’m glad you guys were able to work things out.”
Teagan frowned, trying to process Vanessa’s chatter. Apparently the other woman was under the impression Nick and Teagan had been a couple in Boston and had reunited.
“He was really messed up when you broke up with him,” Vanessa continued.
“What?”
Vanessa leaned against the counter. “After you left Boston and moved back here, Nick was a hot mess. He would leave the brownstone in the early morning and run for hours . . . like Forrest Gump. And when he got home, he didn’t eat. He drank. A lot. My mom was so worried. You know she thinks of Nick as another son. But he wouldn’t tell her what happened, just that things were over . . . that you had moved on.”
Teagan shook her head in confusion. Nick was the one who had pushed her out of his life.
A buzzing noise echoed in the room, and Vanessa pulled her phone from the pocket of her slim-fitting black trousers. She looked at the screen before placing it on the granite island and returning her attention to Teagan.
“Honestly, I’ve never seen a guy so devastated by a breakup. It was ugly. But I don’t really blame you. I know it must be hard to be with someone like Nick.”
Someone like Nick. Smart, funny, kindhearted, and gorgeous. Yeah, it’s a real hardship.
“What do you mean?” Teagan asked.
“Well, I don’t want to sound cruel, but it is hard to talk to him. His stutter is pretty bad. I didn’t notice it for a long time because he hides it so well. But the more he talks, the more noticeable it is.”
Spots danced in Teagan’s vision, and a roaring noise filled her ears. Vanessa had dropped a bomb on her, and she was deaf and blind in the aftermath.
“What are you talking about?”
Vanessa grimaced. “Being in a relationship with someone who stutters has to be really difficult. How do you connect without speaking? And how do you argue? You can’t talk things out with someone who barely speaks.”
Teagan’s heart pounded heavily. She had never noticed that Nick stuttered. Never.
However, Vanessa made it sound like he not only stuttered, but stuttered a lot. Either Teagan was the most unobservant person on the planet, or he had purposely hidden it from her for years.
Vanessa took another sip of her lemonade. “My mom told me that you and Nick have figured out a way around his stutter, though. You have your own way of communicating.” She smiled. “Nick says you’re like the iPhone. You have predictive word capabilities.”
Suddenly, Teagan realized the connection she had with Nick was even more special than she had thought. She had never noticed Nick’s stutter because she didn’t hear it. They had their own way of communicating because she listened to Nick with her whole body and not just her ears.
She could finish his sentences because she understood him emotionally, intellectually, and physically. He could say one word, and she instinctively knew what he meant . . . or at least she did when she wasn’t so emotionally raw that she ran away from him.
A slideshow of the past two years flashed through her mind, and Teagan suddenly realized Nick had been trying to explain, but he hadn’t been able to get the words out. And the knowledge of his stuttering put the horrible scene in his Boston condo in a new context.
“What do you think of the renovation?” Vanessa asked, abruptly changing the subject. “Nick was so determined to have a kitchen that looked out on the backyard. I told him it would be a huge pain in the ass, but he was insistent. He wanted your home office to look out on the backyard, too, so you’d be able to keep an eye on your future kids, but I couldn’t make that work. He was pretty annoyed because he wanted your office to be downstairs near his.”
“What?”
Vanessa frowned. “I thought he told you. I couldn’t fit your home office and the family room on the first floor, so your office is upstairs. I hope that’s okay.”
All the blood rushed from Teagan’s head, and she almost dropped her glass of lemonade. Yes, Nick had asked for another chance with her. Yes, he’d told her he loved her. And yes, he’d told her that he wanted a wife and kids. But she hadn’t realized what that meant, maybe because she was blind, maybe because she had been afraid to hope . . . to let herself want something that seemed so unattainable.
When Teagan’s vision had cleared and her breathing had calmed, she carefully placed the glass on the island. Gripping the edge of granite to anchor herself, she met Vanessa’s curious gaze.
“Where’s Nick? He and I have some things to discuss.”
Chapter 34
As Nick stared down at the glass doorknob leading from the mudroom to the kitchen, he wondered if any of the house’s previous residents had felt the same unpleasant mix of hope and dread that swirled in his stomach. He had seen Teagan’s car parked on the street when he had driven into the driveway, so he knew she was in the house waiting for him.
He had no idea why she was here, especially since it was nearly midnight. He had met the guys at a sports bar to watch the Giants game, and it had gone into extra innings. Quinn had tried to talk with him about Teagan, but Nick had shut him down.
What was there to say? Teagan had made it clear she didn’t want to be with him. She didn’t even acknowledge his existence. When she saw him at work, she looked through him as if they were strangers passing on the street.
Even though he reported to Cal now, and even though he really liked working on the museum project, he was thinking about resigning. He didn’t need the money, so there was no reason to continue to torture himself. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge he’d be letting down Quinn and the rest of the O’Brien family.
Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and entered the kitchen. The newly renovated space was empty, but he could see a faint glow coming from the adjacent family room. He slowly headed that direction, and when he looked in, he was surprised to find Teagan wrapped in a cashmere throw and curled up on the brown leather sofa, totally conked out.
Moving closer, he noticed a pair of red high-heeled sandals on the floor next to her. A bottle of Trinity, an empty glass, and her black-framed eyeglasses sat on the end table near her head.
He frowned, wondering what the hell was going on. As far as he knew, Teagan didn’t drink bourbon. She drank girly drinks like pomegranate martinis and mango margaritas.
As he sat down on the edge of the sofa, he ran his gaze over her face. A little frown was notched between her brows, and her lower lip was stuck out in a pout. He wondered if her dreams were unpleasant.
Wrapping his fingers around her shoulder, he shook her gently. Her lids opened slowly, and he stared into her sleepy blue eyes. He could tell the moment she came fully awake because her eyes widened and her pupils dilated.
He scooted back to give her room to sit up, quickly averting his eyes when the neckline of her navy blue dress fell open to show her lacy beige bra and delectable cleavage. The last thing he needed right now was a hard-on.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
“Midnight.”
He stood, and she swung her legs to the floor. The new position put her face level
with his crotch, and his unruly cock twitched. It didn’t care if she loved him or not. It wanted her.
Badly.
Plucking her glasses from the end table, she situated them on her nose before looking up at him. She pressed her lips together, and he tensed, instinctively knowing he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“I know it’s late, but I think we need to talk.”
He shrugged. An ugly conversation wasn’t any prettier at noon than it was at midnight.
Teagan gestured to the leather chair situated near the sofa. “I think you should sit down.”
Oh, shit.
Grabbing the bottle of Trinity, he poured a hefty measure into her glass before sitting down. He threw it back in one swallow, and her lips quirked.
“It’s good to know I’m not the only one in the room who needs liquid courage.”
Her comment made him wonder if he should just start drinking straight from the bottle. She took a deep breath, and he met her eyes.
“So here’s how I’d like this conversation to go. I’m going to talk for a little bit. Then I’m going to ask you some questions, and then you can talk. I don’t want you to interrupt me, and when you’re talking, I won’t interrupt you. Does that sound okay?”
He frowned but nodded. She tapped her lips with her fingers, a clear sign of her nervousness. A couple of tense minutes passed before she finally spoke.
“I told you that I don’t want to love you, and that’s the truth.”
Her words sliced into him, and he looked down into his glass, wondering how much he was going to have to drink to dull the pain inside him. He wasn’t sure he had enough liquor in the house.
“I don’t want to love you, but I do,” she continued.
He jerked his head up, certain he had imagined her words. She met his gaze head on.
“I love you. I have loved you for years. I fell in love with you even when I was sure there was no hope of you ever loving me back.”
Leaning forward, he opened his mouth to dispute her words because he did love her. She held up her hand, and he fell back against the cushions, stunned by her words.
She still loves me.
“Before you knocked on my door, we were friends. But you became my best friend. And when I realized I was in love with you, I decided that I wanted you badly enough to risk our friendship.” She swallowed. “If I could go back and have a Groundhog Day do-over, I’m not sure I’d risk it again.”
She dropped her head, picking at the belt on her dress. “That night . . . it wasn’t just sex. The intensity of my feelings scared me, and I knew that if you felt even half of what I felt, you were scared, too, and needed time to adjust. I understood.”
As she looked up, her eyes filled with tears. “When I came to your condo, I wasn’t looking for my lover. I was looking for my best friend. Quinn had just told me about Daddy’s cancer, and I needed the reassurance and the comfort that best friends are supposed to provide.”
She sniffed before continuing. “The moment I saw your face, I knew you regretted having sex with me. But I was so sure you cared enough about me as a friend that you wouldn’t cut me out of your life completely. But you did. And when I called you and texted you and told you that I needed to talk to you, I thought you would have the decency to honor our friendship. But you didn’t.”
She speared him with her dark blue gaze. “I need to know why. Why couldn’t you be there for me? Why didn’t you return my calls or texts? And why did you suddenly change your mind and decide that you wanted to be with me? I need to know. You said you could explain, and I haven’t given you the chance to do it before now. But I’m going to sit here, and I’m going to listen.”
She took a deep breath. “One more thing . . . Vanessa was checking the renovations when I got here, and she brought something to my attention, something I’ve never noticed before. She told me you stutter, quite severely, in fact. I don’t know if you’ve gone out of your way to hide it from me or not, but you don’t need to. And if it’s difficult for you to get the words out so you can explain, give me a sign, and I’ll wait until you can.”
She gestured to him. “Your turn to talk.”
Nick stared at the woman who had turned his life upside down and his soul inside out. He slowly rose from the chair, took two steps to reach Teagan, and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he cupped the back of her head with the other and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her until she was limp against him and he was hard against her.
Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers. He waited for a few moments for his mouth to catch up with his brain, and when it did, he started talking.
“I love you. I love you. I’m sorry for hurting you . . . for being an idiot and w-w-w-wasting so much time.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “You need to sit down in the chair. I’m going to sit on the sofa. And you are going to spill your guts like I just spilled mine. And then maybe you can kiss me.”
Taking a step back, he dropped heavily into the chair. She curled up on the sofa, the sage-colored throw over her legs, and raised her eyebrows.
Sweat broke out over his body. He didn’t know if he could explain, not just because of his stuttering but because his feelings were so difficult to put into words.
“T, I didn’t w-w-w-want to ruin our friendship.” He wiped his damp palms on his thighs. “I tried n-n-not to. Your friendship was more important than sex. But the more time I spent with you, the more I w-w-wanted you.”
He stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa. Sometimes his mouth worked better if his body was in motion.
“I tried to stay away from you, but I couldn’t.” He pointed at her. “I didn’t w-w-w-want to want you. But you’re . . .” He paused, trying to think of a word that would describe how special she was.
“Incredible,” he finally said.
Darting a glance toward her, he noticed her cheeks were tinted pink. She still didn’t have any idea how tempting she was or how hard he had tried to resist her.
“I dreamed about you. Your lips, your ass, your fantastic rack.”
Her eyes widened, and a wave of red washed over her face.
“I thought about you all the time, even w-w-w-when I fucked other women.” She gasped, shaking her head, and he nodded. “Yes, I know I’m an asshole.”
She put her hand over her mouth, muffling her laughter, and he smiled ruefully before sobering. “The night of your birthday, I felt things w-w-w-with you I had never felt before. It scared me to d-d-d-death.”
He ran his hand over his hair, trying to figure out the best way to explain how confused he had been. “I had a meltdown. I thought I had ruined everything by sleeping with you. You n-n-n-need to understand that I had never been in love before. I never thought I could have a relationship because of my stuttering.”
She pressed her lips together, and he could tell she was holding in her questions, trying to honor her promise not to interrupt him. “My stuttering ruined my relationship with my d-d-d-dad.”
He looked away from her. He hated to admit his own father thought he was stupid and worthless except for football.
“He thinks m-m-m-my stuttering is a reflection of my intelligence.”
He had never talked this much in his whole life, and he could feel his mouth and his brain start to disconnect. He pressed his tongue against his teeth, hoping to squeeze out another couple of sentences.
“If I’m upset, I can’t t-t-t-talk. That’s w-w-w-what happened at my condo.”
His mouth locked up, and he knew he had said all he could. The familiar panic built in his chest, and he glanced at Teagan, half expecting her to get up and leave. She tilted her head, and after a moment, she pushed aside the cashmere throw and stood. She walked over to the iPod docking station, scrolled through the songs, and hit Play.<
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“You have good taste in music,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him.
He might have good taste in music, but he had great taste in women. Obviously Teagan had noticed his stuttering had gotten worse, and she was giving him time to get his mouth and his brain to cooperate.
The sexy sounds of Norah Jones’s “Turn Me On” poured from the speakers. She turned toward him, holding out her hand.
“Dance with me?” she asked softly.
Taking her hand, he wrapped her in his arms. She felt so good against him, her warm curves shaping to his harder form. She laid her head on his chest, and he nuzzled his face in her sweet-smelling hair.
Like always, a tingle of desire ran through him, but mostly he just felt an overwhelming sense of peace. When he was with Teagan, everything was right in his world. He prayed he would have a chance to dance with her like this at their wedding, at their children’s weddings, and hundreds of other special occasions.
They danced through Norah Jones and Ava Grace’s hit song “Lost & Found.” Holding Teagan had calmed him, and he was relaxed enough to talk again.
“I’m sorry for not being there w-w-w-when you needed me,” he said as they swayed together to the music. “I didn’t know about your d-d-d-dad. After you left my condo, I caught a flight to Denver. I holed up in a cabin for three w-w-w-weeks with my phone t-t-t-turned off.”
She jerked back to look into his face. “You didn’t get my messages for three weeks?”
He shook his head. “As soon as I got them, I flew b-b-b-back to Boston. I knew you would be devastated about your dad, and I drove straight to your condo from the airport.”
She gazed up at him, her face etched with disbelief. “You came to my condo? When?”
He ignored her question because he thought it was more important to explain his decision not to see her. “By then, I had figured out how I felt about you. I knew I loved you. I w-w-w-was sitting in your stairwell trying to find the balls to go see you, and I ran into Marshall.”
His words backed up again, and he cleared his throat. That didn’t work, so he hummed a little, and the muscles relaxed.
