What Comes After

by Toppen, Melissa

  “A few minutes is pretty broad. Did you mean ten minutes or thirty? Or maybe sixty?” I trail kisses from the corner of her mouth down to the crook of her neck. She leans her head back, giving me easier access.

  “Abel,” she half moans, half pleads.

  “What?” I murmur against her skin. “You want me to stop?”

  She hesitates for a moment before grabbing my head in her hands and pulling my face back up to hers.

  “Never.” She kisses me, deep and demanding, just as hungry for me as I am for her.

  I can’t explain it, but there’s something about her. Something that makes me want her in a way I haven’t wanted a woman in a very long time. I crave her. She’s like my new addiction and I want to keep pushing the boundaries to see how high I can get before I plummet over the edge.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Peyton

  “I knew it!” Henna slaps her hand down on the kitchen table where she’s sitting across from me. “I knew you were lying yesterday. A work friend.” She snorts. “I told Aaron something was going on with you two and he said I was crazy.”

  “You can’t tell Aaron.” I interrupt her rant. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  “What? Why the hell not? This is the juiciest news I’ve gotten in a while.”

  “I’m serious, Henna. We’re keeping things casual. Because of that we don’t want a lot of people knowing.”

  “You don’t or he doesn’t.”

  “Well, he doesn’t,” I admit, knowing I’ve wanted to shout it from the rooftops ever since the night of Sven’s party. “I think it’s so it’ll be easier to cut ties when whatever this is has run its course.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Henna leans back in her chair, a strange look on her face.

  “What?”

  “Since when do you, Peyton, have things such as casual sexual affairs? And since when do you let the man determine what kind of relationship you have?”

  “I’ve had casual flings before.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “What about Carter?”

  “You dated him.” She shakes her head.

  “After we had a casual fling.”

  “Not the same thing and you know it,” she argues. “It may start casual, but it never stays that way for long. You’re incapable of being with a man and not forming feelings.”

  “So your argument isn’t that I can’t have a casual affair, but that I can’t have one without falling for the guy?” I question.

  “Exactly.”

  “Not everything is so black and white. Circumstances change when the people involved in them do.”

  “So you’re telling me that you’re having amazing sex with one of the hottest guys in existence and you don’t have any feelings.”

  “Not a single one,” I lie.

  “Oh my god.” She smiles, giving me a look that says she’s got it all figured out.

  “What?”

  “You’re in love with him,” she accuses.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve only been seeing each other, if that’s what you can even call it, for a couple of weeks.”

  “And? I knew I loved Aaron after the night of Sam’s bachelorette party. One night. That’s all it took.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Yeah, and you didn’t tell me you were screwing his hot brother, either. So we’re even.”

  “Have you told him how you feel?” I ask.

  “Have you told Abel how you feel?” she counters.

  “No, because truthfully I don’t know how I feel. And it wouldn’t matter even if I did. He doesn’t want a relationship.”

  “So what? You just accept that as his final answer and move along?”

  “It is what it is, Henna. I can’t change that.” I push away from the table and walk toward the living room, needing to move for a moment.

  “You’re scared.” She follows me to the couch and takes the opposite end from me when I sit down.

  “It’s casual sex, Henna. What do I have to be scared of?”

  “The fact that you’re in fucking love with him for one.”

  “I’ve already told you, I’m not in love with him.”

  “No, you gave me some BS excuse as to why you can’t be. Not that you aren’t.”

  “Well I’m not.”

  “I call bullshit.”

  “Seriously, Henna, this is why I didn’t tell you. You always make things so much bigger than they are.”

  “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that to me.” She narrows her gaze.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just tired and I don’t want to do this with you.”

  “Do what? Have a conversation with your best friend about a guy you’re very clearly into?”

  “That’s exactly what I don’t want to do.” I run my hands down my face. “Because if I do, if I let myself for even one moment entertain the idea that I could feel more, than I’m completely screwed.”

  “Why are you screwed?”

  “Because he’s still in love with his wife,” I tell her like it should be that obvious.

  “He will always love his wife. But Peyton, that doesn’t mean he can’t love you too.”

  “Maybe someone should tell him that,” I grumble, not sure where this is coming from. When I left Abel’s, I was on top of the world, now I feel irritable and frustrated.

  “I hate to break it to you, girl, but whether you admit your feelings out loud or not, they’re still going to be there. Whatever you’re afraid of, it’s already too late.”

  “Shit.” I plop my head backward onto the top of the couch cushion. “I tried to resist him, you know?” I straighten back up. “I knew it was a guaranteed broken heart, yet even then, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t.”

  “Sometimes we meet people who make us lose sight of all reason. Trust me, I know that better than anyone.” She laughs.

  “What should I do? If I tell him that I’m falling for him.” I throw her a menacing look to keep her from saying what I know she’s about to – that she was right. “If I tell him, it’ll scare him off for sure.”

  “I agree, that might be a lot right out of the gate. My advice, give it some more time, really lay on that Peyton charm, and before he knows it, he’s going to love you too. If he doesn’t already.”

  “He doesn’t,” I say, very certain of this fact.

  But he took off his wedding ring.

  There she is again, that stupid voice spreading her false hope through my heart like wildfire.

  “Are you sure about that?” Henna questions.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I give her a knowing look.

  And he told you to tell Henna.

  “I mean, sometimes,” I hesitate. “Sometimes he looks at me and I feel like there’s no way he can’t feel it too. When we’re together it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It can’t be just me, can it?”

  “Based on what I’ve witnessed between the two of you, I would say no, it isn’t just you. Even Aaron has made comments about the way Abel looks at you. If Aaron is noticing then you know it must be pretty obvious.”

  “Claire said something to me at Sven’s. She said she could tell Abel cares about me.”

  “See.” Henna leans forward and smacks my leg. “If she’s telling you then it must be true.”

  “I just don’t wanna get my hopes up, ya know?”

  “Honey, I hate to tell you that’s not going to prevent you from getting hurt. You opened yourself up to that the moment you let him in.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “But life is unpredictable. Sometimes when we’re so sure something is going to go one way it does a complete one-eighty and darts in the other direction. This could be the best thing that ever happened to you. And unless you’re willing to ride it out, you may never even know it.”

  “So you’re saying I should dive in.”

  “Sink or swim, baby. That’s my motto.” She winks.

  “Such wis
dom,” I deadpan. Seconds later we both burst into laughter.

  I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed this. How badly I’d needed to tell someone, to talk to someone. To air out my concerns and face what I’m too scared to face on my own.

  While I don’t always agree with Henna’s logic, I have to say that this time she might be right. The only way to know how this will end is to have the want and courage to see it through.

  I can’t imagine walking away from Abel now, especially not after last night. Falling asleep in his arms will go down in history as one of the best nights of my life.

  So, I really don’t have a choice to make. I love him. There. I’m admitting it. I love him. And that’s all I can do. Love him and hope that one day he loves me back.

  ——

  “What are you doing two weeks from today?” Abel asks, rubbing his hand up and down my shin as we sit facing each other, legs stretched out on the couch between us.

  “Two weeks from today.” I try to figure the date in my head. “Two weeks from today I’ll actually be in New York.”

  “You’re going to New York?” His hand stops moving. “Who are you going with?”

  “My boss and another co-worker.”

  “And how well do you know these people?”

  “Pretty well, why?”

  “Just asking.”

  “Just asking?”

  “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I can promise you that I will be. I’ll be in good company.”

  “That’s all I need to hear.” He resumes rubbing my leg, this time in a slow, circular motion.

  “Speaking of New York, I could really use a ride to the airport Friday morning.”

  “What time do you leave?”

  “Four.” I drag my bottom lip through my teeth.

  “In the morning?”

  “Yeah.” I laugh at his reaction.

  “I’ll have to check and see if I have a gig the night before. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay. If you can’t, Henna already said she could. I would just,” I pause. “I’d much rather ride to the airport with you.”

  “You would, huh?” He grins, amused by how flustered I get for no reason.

  There is a reason. It’s him.

  “Most definitely.”

  “Would you ever move out of Chicago?” he asks, seemingly out of the blue. “Talking about New York made me think of it.”

  “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on the circumstances. Why?”

  “Just curious.” He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. “Sometimes I think about moving, starting over somewhere new.”

  I ignore how the thought of him leaving makes me feel.

  “Where would you go? Back to California?”

  “Nah, I’m not much of a West Coast kind of guy. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful there, but I don’t know. It just never really felt like home.”

  “I get that.”

  “Where would you go? If you could pick anywhere in the world to live, where would it be?”

  “In the world or in the country because those would be two very different answers.”

  “Let’s start with if you could live anywhere in this country, where would you live.”

  “Hmmm.” I hum aloud. “That’s a tough one. I guess if I had to pick it would be Maine.

  “Maine?” He seems surprised by my response.

  “I’ve never been but I’ve always been obsessed with the idea. But I’d wanna live on the coast. I want to be able to see a lighthouse from my backyard and be able to hear the waves of the ocean at night.”

  “Just a quiet little costal town in Maine.” He leans his head back onto the armrest.

  “Exactly.”

  “I like that.”

  “What about you? Where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. Probably south. I’ve always loved the Florida Keys. Maybe I would find me a little beach cottage. I could spend my days on the beach and my nights playing music at the local bars.”

  “Do you think it’s something you’ll ever do?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” I playfully smack his leg.

  “Unlikely,” he tries again.

  “That’s a little better,” I agree with a smile.

  Abel laughs, the full sound bouncing off the walls around us. I swear he laughs at me more than anyone else. Either I’ve done a really good job at convincing him that I’m funny. Or, and the more likely of the two, he’s laughing at me – as in at me.

  “Why are you laughing at me?” I pout out my bottom lip in dramatic fashion.

  “Because you’re fucking adorable.” He sits up, pulling my feet into his lap. “Tell me about this.” He runs his finger across the feather tattoo on my foot.

  “My tattoo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “After my mom got really bad, and we knew she wouldn’t be with us much longer, I started spending every free moment I had with her. I would sit next to her bed and read to her, talk to her, just be with her. I wanted to hold onto every single second that I could for as long as I had.” I pause. “One evening, I was sitting next to her, going on and on about whatever stupid thing was happening in my teenage life at the time. And Mom was just looking at me. But then something in her expression changed, and I don’t know, there was just this look on her face that stopped me mid-sentence.”

  “What happened?” he asks when I don’t immediately continue.

  “She told me that she had a dream the night before. That she saw herself as a bird, flying high and free, watching over all those that she loved. She said she didn’t think it was just any dream, but a telling of what was to come. She was going to come back as a bird and she promised that when she did, she would leave feathers for me to find, so that when I needed her the most, they would remind me that I’m not alone. That she’s here with me.” I have to fight back the well of emotion that lodges in my throat. “Nine days later, as they lowered my mother’s casket into the ground, a feather floated down from the sky and landed directly next to this foot.” I wiggle my toes.

  “Your mom.”

  “Who knows. Could be. Or it could have just been a crazy coincidence, but I like to believe it was her. Which is why on my eighteenth birthday I went and got this tattoo. Whenever I’m feeling sad or I’m just missing my mom, I look down at my foot and it makes me feel a little better. Like she’s here.”

  “I get that.” He runs his fingers along his chest where Finley’s name is hidden beneath the material of his shirt.

  “Why don’t you tell me about some of your tattoos?” I gesture to the arm that’s sleeved from wrist to shoulder.

  “These?” He holds up his arm, giving it a quick onceover. “None of them are even half as meaningful as what you just shared with me.”

  “Except one.” My eyes go to his chest.

  “Except one,” he agrees. “I think I’ll eventually get more. I guess I’ve just been waiting for something to inspire me. What about you? Do you want more tattoos?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “That one hurt like a bitch.” I point to my foot. “I have no desire to feel that kind of pain ever again.”

  “Not a fan of the needle, huh?” He chuckles.

  “I know some people say it’s therapeutic, but it didn’t feel that way to me. It just felt painful.”

  “They’re always painful. Sometimes that’s the point.”

  “Well it must be over my head because I don’t get it.”

  “That’s fair. It’s not for everyone.”

  “Clearly.” I gesture to myself. “Anyway, so yeah, that’s the story on the tattoo.” I sit up and glance at the clock on the wall behind me. “Ugh.” I groan, turning back toward Abel.

  “What the heck was that about?” He chuckles.

  “You have to leave for your gig in an hour.” I pout out my bottom lip and make the most pitiful face I can come up with.

  “An hour.” He narrow
s his gaze at me and my skin instantly prickles. “I can think of a lot we can do in an hour.”

  “Can you now?”

  “Most definitely.” He shifts up onto his knees. Wrapping his hands around the backs of my legs, he pulls me down the couch in one swift tug and settles in on top of me. “You are under my skin, Peyton Rivers,” he murmurs, dropping his mouth to mine.

  “You’re under mine.” I whisper back.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Peyton

  The two weeks with Abel are effortless. We don’t talk about feelings or the future or anything of any real substance. But we’d laughed. We’d made love. And we’d spent the last few days really getting to know each other. And the more I learn, the harder I fall.

  It’s impossible not to love a man who’s impossibly perfect for you in every single way imaginable.

  But as much as I’ve loved every minute with Abel, I’m grateful for my upcoming business trip to New York. I need a minute to remove myself completely. A moment where I can think, without the cloud of Abel consuming me.

  I’m drowning in him.

  Plain and simple.

  I think it will be good for me to take a step back.

  “You about ready?” Henna pops her head into my bedroom as I’m zipping my suitcase.

  “Yep.” I pull the case to the floor and roll it toward her.

  “Nothing like last minute packing.” Henna snorts. “What happened to my planner?” she teases.

  “She’s been a bit preoccupied,” I say, knowing that may be a bit of an understatement.

  “I’ll say.” She smiles as I slide past her out into the hallway.

  “Thank you again for driving me.” I stop at the front door and slide on my flats. “I really didn’t want to leave my car at the airport.”

  “And miss getting up at four a.m. Never,” she drones out sarcastically.

  “Drink some coffee and perk up, buttercup. I need you alert and awake. I’d like to make it to New York in one piece.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m awake,” she says, both of us jumping when a knock sounds on the door.

  “Who in the...” Henna trails off, stomping toward the door.