by Parker, Ali
Olive’s hand fell to my shoulder and she rubbed it gently. “You are worth it, honey. I promise you are, and you know it too. Finding employment can be hard, though. There are way more people looking for jobs than there are jobs available, especially if you’re not super flexible about what you want to do.”
I swallowed the tears burning the backs of my eyes, hating the lump that had formed in my throat. “Damn it. I’m starting to understand why Heidi said one of the suckiest things about pregnancy is not being able to control your emotions. I’m not even pregnant and it feels like anything can make me cry these days.”
“It’s because this means so much to you,” Olive said in a soft, soothing tone, “and that’s a good thing. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but finding something that means this much to you is going to change your life.”
“Yeah.” My lips begged to pout, but I refused to let them. I went for bitterness instead. “It’s going to change my life into one of a homeless person if I don’t find a job soon.”
“That won’t happen.” Her tone was insistent, but when I looked up, I saw her biting her lip. Olive was worried about this too. Of course she was. If I couldn’t hack it and get a job soon, she was going to be stuck covering all our bills.
I felt awful. I knew I was acting like an ostrich and burying my head in the sand, but I covered my eyes with my palms again, anyway, so I wouldn’t have to see the distress I was causing her. “I’ll go back to cleaning if I have to. I promise I won’t leave you high and dry. At least that’s something I have experience in, cleaning up other people’s filth.” I dropped my hands away from my face
“No.” She slammed both her palms down on the table. “Look, I know you said you didn’t want to do this, but why don’t you just use Fulton as a reference? You don’t have to ask for his help to get a job with one of the people he knows, but maybe he could write you a recommendation or something.”
“No.” I looked into her sympathetic blue eyes. “I don’t need to do that. I’m going to do this on my own. I want to make a success of myself, Olive. It’s taken me this long to figure out what I want to do with my life and now that I have, I want to do it myself. I appreciate all of Fulton’s help, but I can’t owe him my success. It’s too much. I need to do this myself.”
Chapter 29
Fulton
“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” A smile quirked the corners of my lips as I opened my door all the way and took Valerie into my arms. “I’m happy you’re here, but what’s going on?”
I gave her tight hug, concerned about the slight tremble of her small frame against mine. Her eyes hadn’t been exactly wet when I’d opened the door, but they seemed strangely glassy and red.
Slipping her arms around my neck, she clung to me like I was a fucking life raft. Something was definitely wrong. I lifted my hands to her arms, gently loosening her hold before stepping away from her. “What’s wrong, Valerie?”
“It’s nothing.” She released a slow breath, crossing her arms over her chest. It wasn’t in a way that made it look like a defensive pose, but rather like she was trying to support herself. “I just wanted to see you, is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay.” I reached for her hand and led her inside, shutting the door behind us. “I wanted to see you too.”
“You did?” There was a flash of vulnerability when I could see the disbelief in her eyes, but she hid it quickly. “Why?”
I turned to face her, encircling her waist with my arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Because I missed you, that’s why.”
A soft smile lifted her lips. “Are we saying stuff like that now?”
“We are.” I’d been thinking a lot about what Elliot had said, and while I still didn’t know exactly how I felt about Valerie, I knew that I had missed her.
Based on her reaction, he might have been right that I had to talk to her if I expected her to be honest with me. “I missed you too.”
She took a step to close the distance between us again and wrapped her arms around me, pushing up on her toes to rest her head as near as she could get to the crook of my neck. “I’m sorry for barging in on you. Were you busy?”
Her voice was muffled by my shirt, but I managed to hear what she was saying. One of my hands started stroking her back while the other traveled into her hair. “No, I wasn’t busy. I was just about to start cooking dinner … and I hate cooking for one. Will you stay to eat with me?”
“Depends.” She pulled away from me just enough to look into my eyes. “What are you cooking?”
“There she is.” I grinned, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
Valerie frowned, turning her head from side to side like she was looking for someone. “There who is?”
“You.” Taking her hands, I broke our hug and walked with her to the kitchen. “I was worried for a second that the sassy you was going to buried by the sad you. In case it really matters what I’m cooking for dinner, it’s fish-and-chips with mushy peas.”
“How very British of you.” She smirked, then bumped her hip into mine. “If you have to know, I’m not sad so much as feeling rejected. I’ve been applying to galleries and museums all week and none of them will even look at me.”
“What do you mean they won’t look at you?” We came to a stop next to the marble center island and I pulled out a stool, motioning for Valerie to sit. While listening to her explanation, I poured us each a glass of wine. I handed her one, then leaned my ass against the counter, holding my own glass.
“They won’t give me the time of day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not asking for your help and don’t want it, but I can’t even get an interview. It’s like they look at me and all they see is a young girl covered in tattoos with no qualifications or experience, and they just dismiss me out of hand.”
“The art industry has no issues with tattoos or youth,” I assured her, but I could see how disappointed she was. “Are you sure your application isn’t being considered? It’s very rare that a person will get hired on the spot. Maybe you’ll still get a call back.”
Her shoulders slumped. She cupped both of her hands around her glass as she tilted her head back for a long sip. “No, they’re not going to call. You don’t understand, Fulton.” Eyes on the glass, she sighed before continuing, “Most of them didn’t even accept my typed application. Olive looked it over for me and said it looked good. They didn’t want it, though. Out of everywhere I applied to, maybe two places even bothered to take it. The rest just told me to leave my name.”
“Ouch.” The word was out before I could stop it, but it was true. “I’m sorry it’s not going well.”
“Not going well is an understatement.” She lifted her sad eyes to mine only to roll them. “I don’t want to give up, but I don’t know what to do.”
I perked up, hope bubbling in my chest. “Does that mean you’ve come to me for advice?”
Valerie shook her head, popping one of my bubbles with each movement of her raven black hair. “No. I’m just bitching, that’s all. You can tell me to shut up, I won’t take it personally. You and Olive both told me it might not be as easy as I thought, and I wouldn’t listen.”
She still wasn’t listening, since she still wouldn’t let me help or take her friend’s advice, but it hardly seemed like a good time to point that out. Pride was a difficult hurdle to cross, and Valerie had it by the shit ton.
It had taken me many years to learn when it was time to take a bit of my pride off the top, stash it in my pocket, and face what needed to be faced in order to get stuff done. I understood how hard it was to ask for help or take a step back to let someone else control anything in your life.
Hell, I was hanging on to control with an iron grip on the reins. I was hardly one to judge, even if I did wish she would let me help.
“I’m not going to tell you to shut up.” If what she came here for was to bitch, I was more than willing to listen. Elliot had dropped a few truth bombs on me, a
nd I took them to heart. The man had to know something. As he had so helpfully pointed out, he had been happily married for more than twenty fucking years—not that I was thinking about marriage. “You can talk to me, Val. I know how excited you were about this, and I know how much all this rejection must hurt.”
“It’s hurts like being stung on the inner thigh by a jellyfish.” She drained the wine, then held the glass out to me for a refill.
I took it, picking up the bottle and talking as I poured. “That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s happened to me, and it hurt. Badly.” She accepted the glass when I handed it back, spinning it absently on the counter with the stem between her delicate fingers. “Actually, I was lying before. The rejection hurts worse than that did.”
“Want to talk about why it’s hurting you so much?” I had a pretty good feeling about the why, but sometimes it helped me to have to formulate something in my head that I knew I would have to say out loud.
My therapist would have been so damned proud of me. Too bad I hadn’t seen him in years. I’d stopped going about a year after Dad died. “I know it’s hard to say these things sometimes, but it might help you.”
Valerie sighed, nodding. “It is hard, but I’ve been thinking it all week, so I might as well admit it out loud. I’ve lived a mediocre life until now. I’ve never given anything my best and I’ve never really gone for anything the way I’m doing now. This could be the start of something great for me, but nothing is happening.”
Each word she said was like a stab to my heart, gut, and my own pesky pride. Valerie needed help, and I could help her. She just didn’t want me to. I got that she wanted to do this herself, but what would it matter in a month or even in a year how she got into the industry when I knew she would be wonderful at it.
The answer was that it didn’t. How you got in rarely mattered, it was what you did once you got in that would either make you skyrocket or fizzle out. Valerie was destined to be one of the rockets, I was sure about it.
If I was wrong, she would simply get fired. That was why it didn’t matter how you got in. Success wasn’t dictated by getting in, it was dictated by doing a good job once a person was in. The only problem was that in order to do a good job, you needed to get in.
No one was giving Valerie that chance to prove herself, and knowing I could get her in, but that she wouldn’t let me, was fucking killing me. Instead of saying so, I cooked her dinner and offered her encouragement.
“Keep trying, Val. Okay? Don’t give up.”
I saw some of that fire I knew so well returning to her eyes slowly but surely as the meal went on. “I won’t give up, I promise. I just need to think of something, that’s all. I’ll get there, though. One day, all these people are going to be sorry they wouldn’t give me a chance.”
“There’s not a doubt in mind that they’re going to kick their own asses up and down the shiny floors of their exhibits.” I flashed her a confident smile, clearing away the dishes from where we’d eaten right there at the kitchen island. “You’re going to be wonderful, Valerie. I know you are.”
After hitting start on the dishwasher, I went over to refill her glass again. I didn’t move away this time after I’d poured it. I set my glass down and put my hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them.
The knots of tension melted beneath my hands, giving me a rush of satisfaction. At least I could help her in this way. I swore to myself I would do nothing more than rub her damn back and shoulders all night without trying anything else if that was making her feel better, but then she turned her head and pressed her lips to mine.
When our kisses grew hungrier and more frantic, I knew my vow was about to be forgotten. I should have known we would never be able to keep our hands off each other. But it was a good idea at the time.
Chapter 30
Valerie
Thou shalt not get it on in the kitchen was probably the first commandment of hygiene. Somehow Fulton and I couldn’t seem to obey it. It was a little bit like as soon as he touched me, my worries melted away and my body took over.
Some might have blamed it on the ridiculous amount of chemistry we had, but I thought it was because he had a magical and direct line to my hormones. He was the Valerie-libido whisperer.
Fulton’s lips slammed into mine again and again, his hands making a mess of my hair. I was doing the same thing to him, though, so I couldn’t complain.
He groaned into the kiss when I gave his soft strands a tug, grabbing me by the hips and hauling me off the chair and against him. I gasped into his mouth, sliding my hands to his shoulders and hanging on to him for dear life—just like I had before.
When I’d arrived at his house, I’d just needed him to hold me. I wasn’t the type to fall apart, but it felt like that was what was happening to me earlier. Any one person could only be strong for so long before their seams began to pull apart.
Mine had started pulling too far apart that morning when I woke up knowing I had applied everywhere I could and nothing had panned out. The realization that I was at the end of the road hit me like a ton of bricks. I was cornered, and there was nowhere left for me to go.
All day I tried to come up with an answer, anything that meant I was still trying to achieve my dream and hadn’t given up. I walked the streets alone, ducking into any storefront that looked like it might be the kind of place I could get hired at. I’d even hit up a tattoo parlor, figuring I could go back to my artistic roots and take it from there.
It had been a swing and a miss, and when I walked out of there, I realized the only place I had left to go was Fulton’s. I still didn’t want his help with getting a job. I hadn’t come over for a handout. What I had come to him for was comfort and to talk to someone who would understand how much this meant to me.
He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up, tapping beneath my thighs to prompt me to put my legs around his waist. I did it, moaning when I felt his hardness against my center.
Fulton pulled back, his eyes dark and hungry on mine, and his voice rough. “I’m sorry, you wanted to talk. This is going too far.”
“No, no it’s not. You’re not taking advantage of me while I’m feeling vulnerable.” I rocked my hips, reveling in the way his eyes momentarily rolled back and the sharp hiss of pleasure he made. “I promise. I want this, I want you.”
A low growl worked its way out of his throat before he kissed me again, stealing my breath and a little part of my heart. His thumbs slid under my clothes, his touch searing my skin and setting my nerves on fire.
I was so consumed by him that I didn’t realize we were moving until I felt my back slam into a wall. Fulton ground his hips against me like he just couldn’t wait any longer for some kind of relief. I knew exactly how he felt, since I felt the same way
I wanted him in a way that bordered on need, addicted to feeling him on me, against me, in me. My panties were wet, the space between my legs slick. I whimpered and writhed, letting my head fall back against the wall. “Fulton, please.”
“Right there with you,” he rasped, making a sound in the back of his throat before we were moving again. “I want you on my bed.”
I nodded wordlessly, too focused on the inferno of need raging inside to protest and beg him to take me right there and right now. My nipples rubbed against the fabric of my bra, the peaks hard and sensitive.
We kissed so hard and so much that my lips were tingly by the time he laid me on his bed and undressed me before shedding his clothes. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on fast, then settled between my legs.
“Fuck, Valerie. I need you.” His words were a groan, as if they were almost too painful to say. “You don’t even know how much I need you.”
“I do.” I gasped when he spread my legs farther apart with his knees, his hand suddenly on my pussy and a finger dragging through my folds. He circled my clit a few times, making my muscles tense and ripping a scream from my lungs. “I need you, too, Fulton. Please.”
I felt a shudder work its way through his body. My core clenched and my clit throbbed. He held my chin with one hand and made me look into his eyes as he fisted his cock with the other and lined himself up.
He pushed into me slowly, both of our gazes riveted on each other. Once he was completely sheathed inside me, he held onto my hip and started thrusting. His hand slid between us to find my clit, his thumb working it in time with his thrusts.
Exquisite pleasure crept up on me almost immediately, forcing my body into a spiral that hurled me off a cliff into an orgasm so intense I was pretty sure I heard angels singing. Fulton picked up his pace until it was almost frantic, becoming wild and unrestrained before his cock pulsed inside me and he came with one last roll of his hips.
Once neither of us was gasping for air anymore, I lay my head on Fulton’s chest and ran my fingers along the hard ridges of his abdomen. He shivered under my touch, but when I looked up at him to ask if I should stop, he was smiling serenely.
His eyes were closed, but I knew he was awake because he was drawing lazy patterns on my back with his hand. I heard his heartbeat beneath my ear, noticing how it was steadily slowing down.
More and more I realized that I enjoyed finding out these intimate little tidbits about Fulton, like what he looked like first thing in the morning, what color his toothbrush was, and how long it took his body to calm down after an orgasm.
These were things people who were in real relationships knew about each other, and it was starting to feel like that was what we had. I knew he had to go back to Boston, nothing could change that, but I had begun to question if that meant that we had a definite expiration date.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew long-distance relationships were tough and almost never lasted, but I also knew that some people made it work. If Fulton and I wanted to, we could at least try it. It wasn’t something I was ready to talk to him about yet, but it was an idea I was playing with.
