Chapter Seventeen
THE NEXT MORNING after Carson left for work, Tawny made breakfast, remembering how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other their first morning together. It felt like she’d been there for a month, not just shy of a week. She showered and dressed in her skinny jeans, which went so well with the boots Carson had given her. She put on a white blouse with a scalloped lace hem and a wide collar, giving Carson easy access to her shoulders. She put on her most comfortable long cardigan, her favorite because it was soft, had big pockets, and was speckled with pink, black, and white. She felt pretty, and when she looked in the mirror, her eyes were brighter than they had been in years. She looked happy. Even her skin looked more radiant than it had before, and she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. When Tiffany called to say goodbye, she said she could hear the smile in Tawny’s voice. They talked for half an hour about the possibility of opening her own perfumery, which was another thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. This morning she and Carson had talked about it again, and they’d begun making a list of the things she’d need in order to move forward. It was beginning to feel real. Almost as real as my relationship with Carson.
Ally texted a few minutes later, making Tawny feel like she already had a circle of friends. Have a safe trip and let me know when you come back so we can get together. I’ll torture you with yoga!
Yoga didn’t sound like torture to Tawny, especially if she was doing it with the girls. She sent her a quick reply before packing her bags. Thank you. I’ll look forward to it. I’m glad we had a chance to meet.
Even though Carson was going with her to Paris, filling her suitcase brought a sense of finality. Tomorrow they’d be in her apartment, in her world. A world that had felt lonely for more years than not, and now felt full to near bursting. She had the urge to call her father and tell him how happy she was. When he’d first died, she’d reached for the phone on a weekly basis for about a month, wanting to touch base, to hear his voice. She rarely felt that familiar urge anymore, and she realized it was because until now, with the exception of the time she spent with Adeline, she hadn’t had many things happen in her life worth sharing. It was funny how one question could change a person’s direction in life so dramatically.
She headed downstairs, scrolling through the pictures of her father on her phone. He had been the epitome of a scientist, with wire-framed glasses, blondish hair that was always sticking up, and clothes that were never pressed, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, or had been up for days working. She found her favorite picture of him, taken two Christmases before he died. He hadn’t lost weight yet, and still looked healthy. He was reaching up to put the angel on top of the tree, and he’d turned when she’d called his name—“Dad?” His brows were lifted, and a hint of a smile played on his unshaven face. His dress shirt was untucked on one side, rumpled, and it had an ink stain on the pocket. Her heart ached to hear him say, “What is it, Tawn?” He’d hardly ever called her Tawny, as if his mind moved on to the next thought too fast for his mouth.
She stood by the mantel and ran her finger over the picture of her father’s handsome face. “Thanks, Dad,” she said softly. Now when I look in the mirror, I see happiness and love and all the things that were missing. I can honestly say I only have a few regrets. Everyone had a few, didn’t they? She regretted ending things with Carson in college instead of having the courage to talk things out, and she regretted her visit to the BDSM club, which was horrendously mortifying. She also regretted marrying Keith when she hadn’t been truly in love with him. That hadn’t been fair to either of them. But at least now she wasn’t carrying her biggest regret of all—hiding her feelings from Carson and trying to live without him.
She looked over the pictures on the mantel and walked around the room touching the back of the couch, the balcony doors, the recliner. She was comfortable there. More comfortable than she was in her own apartment in Paris. Was it Carson? Would her apartment feel more like a home with him there?
She sat down in front of the recliner and set her phone on the floor to leaf through the last few letters she hadn’t yet read. The first was sent five months before her mother was killed. She set it aside, examining the second envelope, sent two months later. She wanted to read them, but she also wanted to savor them. She put that one with the other and her jaw dropped open at the sight of her name scrawled across the last envelope—in her father’s handwriting. He must have known she’d go through her mother’s letters after all.
She swallowed tightly and opened the stiff envelope, withdrawing a photograph of her and Carson in their first year of college. They were so young. His arms and chest weren’t nearly as strong as they were now. His face still held the softer sheen of a teen on the cusp of manhood. The picture was taken the night they’d had dinner with her father. They were sitting side by side at the table, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes like lovers, though they had only been friends at the time. She remembered that evening and her father asking if he could take their picture. As he’d dug out his camera, he’d asked, “Why aren’t you two dating?” They’d only looked at each other for a second or two before laughing at the question and facing the camera. How had he captured that moment so perfectly? How had she missed the way Carson had looked at her?
She turned the picture over, finding her father’s messy handwriting. It was as illegible to most people as a physician’s, but Tawny had always been able to decipher his scribbles. She read what he’d written. When you don’t know the answer, question the question. He’d known all along? He’d seen through their veil of friendship? A veil neither of them had the guts to breach for two long years.
She was sitting in the recliner reading her mother’s letters and soaking in every overly exuberant exclamation point when the front door opened and Carson walked in. Holy cow. His chiseled jaw line had a sheen of dark whiskers, making his lips appear even fuller and more kissable as they curved up in an appreciative smile, and he closed the gap between them. His leather bomber jacket made him look even bigger and broader than he was. He looked like the sexiest badass genius she’d ever seen. The necklace she’d given him glimmered against a patch of dark chest hair between the open buttons of his dress shirt.
“How’s my beautiful girl?” He leaned down for a kiss, bringing his intoxicating sandalwood and champagne scent.
“Mm. I would like to breathe you in all day long.”
His warm lips touched hers again. “That can be arranged. But first we have someplace we need to go.” He pulled her to her feet, his gaze raking down the length of her. “You look good enough to eat.”
Would she ever get used to his naughty talk? She bit her lower lip, and he tugged it free with his teeth.
“If we don’t leave, I’m going to be all over you.”
“Not a threat,” she whispered.
He chuckled and helped her on with her coat. They headed out to the car, where Barton was waiting.
Tawny gazed out the window, feeling the heat of Carson’s stare like a sunburn, rousing a nest of butterflies in her stomach. When she met his gaze, he had that look on his face. The one that told her that all the feelings she felt were real. “Why are we rushing? I thought we weren’t meeting Mick for another hour.”
“We’re not, but I have a surprise for you.”
“The last time you surprised me, we ended up having sex in a dressing room.”
He brushed his grinning lips over hers. “An act of passion. If I didn’t love you so much, maybe it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Then I hope you try to have sex in public with me for the next hundred years.”
He raised his brows with a look that told her he was happy to comply.
“I said ‘try.’ You won’t succeed.”
A few minutes later Carson squeezed her hand and said, “Close your eyes, Tabs.”
“What? Why?”
“Because,” Carson said in a low voice, “you trust me enough to do what I ask.”
She swallowed hard. That probably shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. She closed her eyes, and the car came to a stop. She felt the warmth of Carson’s face near hers, smelled his minty breath. The car door opened and cold air rushed in. She felt Carson’s retreat before she heard him step from the car, and then his hand was on hers, helping her onto the sidewalk. His other hand settled on her lower back, firm and protective, as he led her silently along the sidewalk. Surrounded by the scents of the city—exhaust, fried foods, and a plethora of indistinguishable human smells—she heard the bustle of people passing by, felt them encroaching on her personal space, and clung a little tighter to Carson.
“I’ve got you, babe.” They stopped walking. “I’m going to take my hands off you, but you’re fine. Nobody’s going to run into you. Keep your eyes closed, please.”
She heard the clink of keys, the whoosh of a door. Carson’s hand touched her back, guiding her forward. The sweet scent of roses engulfed her, and Carson’s hands left her again, followed by the sound of keys and a lock latching.
“Carson…?” Her heart beat a mile a minute.
“Open your eyes, Tabs.”
Her gaze coasted over a sea of red roses covering every inch of the floor and countertop in what was once the Biology Café. “Carson? I don’t understand.”
“I made a few calls and found out the café shut down three months ago. The building was for sale. Now it’s yours. I close on it next month.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I…but…You bought it? For me?”
Carson stepped in front of her and took her hand in his. “I know we’re going to Paris, and that’s still the plan. I don’t want you to leave Adeline. But you’re my forever, baby. I want your dreams to come true, and I want to be there to help you and celebrate with you, whether it’s here or in Paris, or anywhere else you want to live. I know how much this place means to you, and now it’ll never be taken away. There’s no pressure to do anything with it. If you ever want to open your business here—next year, in five years, ten—it’ll be waiting for you.”
A river of tears slid down her cheeks. “Oh, Carson. This is so much.”
“Too much?” He arched a brow. “If you say yes, know I’m going to tell you to get used to it.” He smiled, and a nervous laugh escaped her lips. He framed her face with his hands, holding her gaze. “I let you go once. I’m never letting you go again, baby.”
He dropped to one knee, and her hands flew to her gaping mouth, dams to her falling tears. Ohmygod…
“Tawny Faith Bishop, I have loved you for so many years, I don’t know what life would be like without loving you. You’re a part of me, and for as long as I live, I want you by my side. I want to love you, cherish you, and see that sparkle in your eyes every day of our lives. I promise to take you to a real Comic Con, and we won’t have sex in public places—”
Another nervous laugh fell from her lips.
He rose to his feet, big and broad, and she swore she felt his loving, open heart beating between them. He pulled out a box from the inside pocket of his coat and withdrew a gorgeous ring with two infinity-twisted rose-gold bands with inlaid diamonds, connected by a marquis-cut diamond. One band only went three-quarters of the way around, ending at the stunning diamond, forming the letter h.
“Marry me, Tabby. Be my constant, and I promise to make the rest of our lives better than you ever dreamed possible. Will you be my wife, baby?”
She opened her mouth to speak, and sobs burst out. It was all she could do to throw her arms around his neck, nodding like a bobblehead doll. He twirled her around, his deep, sexy laugh making her laugh, too. When he set her feet back on the ground, he put the gorgeous ring on her finger and brushed his thumb over the back of her hand.
“You should probably say yes,” he said, drawing more elated laughter and tears.
“Yes, Carson. Yes! A million times around the earth and back. Yes!”