Stumbling into Love
Page 35
“About what?” I ask, not willing to get my hopes up.
“About everything.”
“Everything?” I narrow my eyes, and he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. The move makes him look like a scared little kid.
“I messed up.”
“I know,” I agree.
There is no sense in coddling him—he did mess up. But then again, maybe we both messed up. He should have talked to me, and I shouldn’t have run off because I was afraid.
Looking around my office, he shakes his head. “Are you busy now?”
“I have a client coming in soon, but it’s my last one of the day.”
“Will you come over to my place tonight so we can talk?” he asks.
I swallow over the lump forming in my throat.
“I don’t know if your place is the best place for us to talk. We tend to end up in bed whenever we’re there,” I tell him quietly.
I see him clench his jaw.
“Right.” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I’ll meet you wherever you want to meet.”
“There’s a frozen-yogurt place across the street. How about we meet there in two hours?” I say.
Relief fills his eyes and his body relaxes.
“That’s fine with me,” he agrees, taking a step toward me.
My whole body goes on alert. I know the minute he touches me, I’m done for, so I can’t let him touch me until we’ve talked and have gotten things sorted out.
“I miss you.” The words sound pained, and it takes all my willpower not to go to him to soothe him—to soothe myself.
“Me too,” I croak as my throat fills with tears.
“I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”
“Sure.” I watch him go. Closing my eyes, I pray that he’s ready to open up to me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
WESLEY
As I wait on the sidewalk for Mackenzie to show up, my stomach fills with anxiety. The idea that she might not forgive me is something I can’t handle. Seeing her come across the street toward me, I soak in everything about her. Her hair is up like it normally is when she’s working; her face is clean of makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine through; and she’s wearing a long jacket that covers her from neck to knee so I can’t see if her body has changed in the past week.
Jogging toward her, I meet her halfway across the street, then take her hand. “Hey.”
She smiles up at me, and all I can think is, God she’s so beautiful, and I have missed her so much.
With her hand in mine, we enter the frozen-yogurt shop. I wish it was farther away so I could keep my hold on her a little longer.
“Do you want to get some yogurt?” she asks me as she gets herself a big cup.
I shake my head. I just want to watch her. “I might have some of yours.”
“No,” she says bluntly as she pulls down the lever for chocolate. “I have been craving this for the last couple days. If you try to take any from my container, I might attack you,” she says, making me smile.
“Are the cravings that bad?”
“This was the first time I’ve had one,” she says softly.
Once again, I curse myself for having missed out on time with her.
“Have you had any other symptoms?” I ask, trying to remember what the book I got said happens in the first couple of months.
“I’ve had morning sickness, and heartburn so bad that I might have to buy stock in Tums,” she says.
Every word makes me feel like shit. I should have been there to take care of her through this. Instead, I’ve been . . .
“Stop.” Her hand presses into my chest, cutting off my wayward thoughts.
I drop my eyes to hers.
“Please stop.”
Her words are soft, and I swear she knows where my mind is taking me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Me too,” she says quietly, finishing up her serving and heading toward the cashier. I pull out my card to pay—noticing that the frozen yogurt is overflowing the container—then lead her to the back of the store, where there is no one around.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks.
I can see the doubt in her eyes. I can tell she doesn’t think I will open up to her.
“My best friend from childhood was also my partner back in Seattle,” I tell her.
The spoon in her hand pauses an inch from her mouth.
“We had so many plans for the future. Then, one day, that was all taken from me.”
“What happened?” she asks.
I close my eyes, remembering the day like it was yesterday.
“We were on a routine drug bust. After we got into the house and had already made our arrest, we started collecting evidence. Suddenly, gunshots started going off. We all dropped, not knowing that we were setting ourselves up for disaster. None of my team realized that the shots were being fired from a man hiding in the attic—until it was too late. I took three bullets to the shoulder, but not before seeing Dustin take a bullet to the head. He died right in front of me,” I say.
Tears fill her eyes.
“I blamed myself for his death. I had always protected him, but I didn’t protect him when it really mattered.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She wipes her eyes.
“I know.” I gasp in anticipation as she stands up from her chair.
She slides into my lap—where she belongs, and where she will always belong.
“I should have opened up to you, gorgeous. You were right. I should have talked to you. I should have trusted you with everything. I was afraid you would think I was weak and a coward because that’s what I have been telling myself I am for so long.”
“You’re the strongest guy I know. You could never be weak.” She rests her lips against mine. “I’m so sorry for leaving. I shouldn’t have left.”
“I’m not.” I kiss her because I can, because I’ve missed being able to kiss her when I want. “I wouldn’t have dealt with my issues if you hadn’t left. I would have continued to ignore it all, like I had been doing.” I push her hair back out of her face. “Because of you, I finally got the closure I needed. And I finally heard what Dustin’s parents have been trying to tell me for a long time.”
“I’m glad you got that,” she says, running her fingers up my jaw and into my hair. “I love you. You know that, right?” she asks.
I press my forehead to hers, wondering how the hell I came to deserve her.
“I know. I don’t know why the fuck you love me, but I’m glad you do.”
“I love you because you love me just the way I am. I love you because you make me feel special, because you make me laugh, you make my soul happy . . . and because you give me really great orgasms.”
She says the last bit quietly, and I smile.
“I do, don’t I?” I say smugly.
She laughs. “Yeah, you do.” She shifts her fingers through my hair once again, studying me.
“Are we okay?”
“Yes.” She kisses my cheek. “Now let me finish my yogurt.”
She gets off my lap and takes a seat across from me.
“What was that whole thing with Edward about?” I ask.
She drops her spoon and covers her face, cracking up. Eventually she pulls herself together enough to tell me. When she does, I’m the one who can’t stop laughing.
“Oh my god. Hurry.” Mackenzie jumps up and down at my side as I put the key in the lock.
“It’s hard to focus when your tits are bouncing around like that,” I say. She smacks my chest and laughs. “There you go.”
I open the door, and she runs into my apartment ahead of me, straight for the bathroom. Shutting the door, I drop my keys and the pizza on the table. I take off my jacket and hang it on the back of a chair.
When she comes out of the bathroom, she freezes in place and then swings her head around the living room.
“You unpacked.”
“I did.”
She does a circuit around the living room, looking at the photos and all the stuff that is now out and on display.
“About everything.”
“Everything?” I narrow my eyes, and he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. The move makes him look like a scared little kid.
“I messed up.”
“I know,” I agree.
There is no sense in coddling him—he did mess up. But then again, maybe we both messed up. He should have talked to me, and I shouldn’t have run off because I was afraid.
Looking around my office, he shakes his head. “Are you busy now?”
“I have a client coming in soon, but it’s my last one of the day.”
“Will you come over to my place tonight so we can talk?” he asks.
I swallow over the lump forming in my throat.
“I don’t know if your place is the best place for us to talk. We tend to end up in bed whenever we’re there,” I tell him quietly.
I see him clench his jaw.
“Right.” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I’ll meet you wherever you want to meet.”
“There’s a frozen-yogurt place across the street. How about we meet there in two hours?” I say.
Relief fills his eyes and his body relaxes.
“That’s fine with me,” he agrees, taking a step toward me.
My whole body goes on alert. I know the minute he touches me, I’m done for, so I can’t let him touch me until we’ve talked and have gotten things sorted out.
“I miss you.” The words sound pained, and it takes all my willpower not to go to him to soothe him—to soothe myself.
“Me too,” I croak as my throat fills with tears.
“I’ll see you soon, gorgeous.”
“Sure.” I watch him go. Closing my eyes, I pray that he’s ready to open up to me. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
WESLEY
As I wait on the sidewalk for Mackenzie to show up, my stomach fills with anxiety. The idea that she might not forgive me is something I can’t handle. Seeing her come across the street toward me, I soak in everything about her. Her hair is up like it normally is when she’s working; her face is clean of makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine through; and she’s wearing a long jacket that covers her from neck to knee so I can’t see if her body has changed in the past week.
Jogging toward her, I meet her halfway across the street, then take her hand. “Hey.”
She smiles up at me, and all I can think is, God she’s so beautiful, and I have missed her so much.
With her hand in mine, we enter the frozen-yogurt shop. I wish it was farther away so I could keep my hold on her a little longer.
“Do you want to get some yogurt?” she asks me as she gets herself a big cup.
I shake my head. I just want to watch her. “I might have some of yours.”
“No,” she says bluntly as she pulls down the lever for chocolate. “I have been craving this for the last couple days. If you try to take any from my container, I might attack you,” she says, making me smile.
“Are the cravings that bad?”
“This was the first time I’ve had one,” she says softly.
Once again, I curse myself for having missed out on time with her.
“Have you had any other symptoms?” I ask, trying to remember what the book I got said happens in the first couple of months.
“I’ve had morning sickness, and heartburn so bad that I might have to buy stock in Tums,” she says.
Every word makes me feel like shit. I should have been there to take care of her through this. Instead, I’ve been . . .
“Stop.” Her hand presses into my chest, cutting off my wayward thoughts.
I drop my eyes to hers.
“Please stop.”
Her words are soft, and I swear she knows where my mind is taking me.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Me too,” she says quietly, finishing up her serving and heading toward the cashier. I pull out my card to pay—noticing that the frozen yogurt is overflowing the container—then lead her to the back of the store, where there is no one around.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks.
I can see the doubt in her eyes. I can tell she doesn’t think I will open up to her.
“My best friend from childhood was also my partner back in Seattle,” I tell her.
The spoon in her hand pauses an inch from her mouth.
“We had so many plans for the future. Then, one day, that was all taken from me.”
“What happened?” she asks.
I close my eyes, remembering the day like it was yesterday.
“We were on a routine drug bust. After we got into the house and had already made our arrest, we started collecting evidence. Suddenly, gunshots started going off. We all dropped, not knowing that we were setting ourselves up for disaster. None of my team realized that the shots were being fired from a man hiding in the attic—until it was too late. I took three bullets to the shoulder, but not before seeing Dustin take a bullet to the head. He died right in front of me,” I say.
Tears fill her eyes.
“I blamed myself for his death. I had always protected him, but I didn’t protect him when it really mattered.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She wipes her eyes.
“I know.” I gasp in anticipation as she stands up from her chair.
She slides into my lap—where she belongs, and where she will always belong.
“I should have opened up to you, gorgeous. You were right. I should have talked to you. I should have trusted you with everything. I was afraid you would think I was weak and a coward because that’s what I have been telling myself I am for so long.”
“You’re the strongest guy I know. You could never be weak.” She rests her lips against mine. “I’m so sorry for leaving. I shouldn’t have left.”
“I’m not.” I kiss her because I can, because I’ve missed being able to kiss her when I want. “I wouldn’t have dealt with my issues if you hadn’t left. I would have continued to ignore it all, like I had been doing.” I push her hair back out of her face. “Because of you, I finally got the closure I needed. And I finally heard what Dustin’s parents have been trying to tell me for a long time.”
“I’m glad you got that,” she says, running her fingers up my jaw and into my hair. “I love you. You know that, right?” she asks.
I press my forehead to hers, wondering how the hell I came to deserve her.
“I know. I don’t know why the fuck you love me, but I’m glad you do.”
“I love you because you love me just the way I am. I love you because you make me feel special, because you make me laugh, you make my soul happy . . . and because you give me really great orgasms.”
She says the last bit quietly, and I smile.
“I do, don’t I?” I say smugly.
She laughs. “Yeah, you do.” She shifts her fingers through my hair once again, studying me.
“Are we okay?”
“Yes.” She kisses my cheek. “Now let me finish my yogurt.”
She gets off my lap and takes a seat across from me.
“What was that whole thing with Edward about?” I ask.
She drops her spoon and covers her face, cracking up. Eventually she pulls herself together enough to tell me. When she does, I’m the one who can’t stop laughing.
“Oh my god. Hurry.” Mackenzie jumps up and down at my side as I put the key in the lock.
“It’s hard to focus when your tits are bouncing around like that,” I say. She smacks my chest and laughs. “There you go.”
I open the door, and she runs into my apartment ahead of me, straight for the bathroom. Shutting the door, I drop my keys and the pizza on the table. I take off my jacket and hang it on the back of a chair.
When she comes out of the bathroom, she freezes in place and then swings her head around the living room.
“You unpacked.”
“I did.”
She does a circuit around the living room, looking at the photos and all the stuff that is now out and on display.
