Chapter 13
Matt
Surprise. That’s what I feel when I see Cadence’s name on my delivery manifest the next day. Why didn’t she tell me that she had a package coming when I saw her? Instead of telling me that she’d already told me what to wear to the wedding, she could have said that I’d see her today when I dropped her package off. But she didn’t.
Which leads me to believe that maybe she ordered whatever it is after I left her at her open house. She must have asked for overnight delivery. And even requested the latest drop-off time we provide. So I’m going to make sure I show up late. Late enough that she won’t mind going to bed when I get there.
But not with the package. I think about handing it off to Aidan, but the last thing I need is for him to show up at her house and spill the beans about my grandpa. So I give it to one of the rookies before heading out in my truck for the day. Then I go about my work, delivering packages to my regulars and not giving her a second thought.
So what if that’s a big, fat fucking lie?
My grandpa calls me on it the second I enter his room after work though. “Matty, somethin’s eatin’ at ya. What’s goin’ on, son?”
“Can’t keep anything from you, can I?” I tell him as I pull a chair up next to his bed.
“Nope.” He turns his TV off and holds his hand out for mine. “So spill.” Then he winks at me.
Sometimes I don’t know if he remembers that he’s in his eighties, but that’s okay. Whatever keeps him young. And here with me.
I take his hand. “Well,” I start, wondering if I should come clean, tell him the truth, and get real advice. But I don’t want to crush him, so I tell him a different kind of truth. “I think Cadence and I are fighting.”
“’Bout what?” He focuses his gaze on me through his glasses.
“You know, I’m not exactly sure.” I look at the ground while I think this through. “I think she wanted to tell me something the other morning, and then I wanted to ask her something yesterday. We haven’t been on the same page lately, I guess.” I shrug one shoulder so I don’t disturb his arm with the movement.
“So get on the same page,” he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
I expect him to say something else, to add on to that ridiculous thought. Maybe to tell me how to get on the same page with her. But he doesn’t. So we’re left staring at each other. He’s looking at me like I’m an idiot, and I’m wondering if he’s still lucid and with me.
Finally, I break the thick silence. “And,” I start, stretching the word out, “how do I do that, exactly?”
“You just ask her whatever you wanted to ask her.” Again, his tone implies that this should have been common knowledge.
“Grandpa, it’s not as easy as that,” I try to tell him.
But he won’t hear it. “Of course it is, son. You open your mouth and words come out. You’re doing it with me. It’s not that hard.”
I jerk my head back, shocked that he’s being so blunt. I shouldn’t be, but this is rare form for him.
“Or,” he says, “I have another idea.”
Finally. Another idea would be helpful, seeing as his last one was total shit. But he doesn’t come right out with it. Instead, we stare at each other again. Same as last time.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re making me work for it today, aren’t you?”
“Anything worth having is worth working for,” he tells me, wagging a finger at me.
“Yeah, yeah.” Smiling, I wave him off. “You tell me that all the time. But what should I do right now? With Cadence?”
“Like I was saying,” he says before coughing into his hand. He wipes he hand on his shirt, and I hope the lighting is playing tricks on me when the spot left behind looks darker than it should. “My other idea is that you could bring her here. I could mediate while you figure it out. Like a referee in a boxing match.” He winks at me like he’s being clever.
But it gets me to laugh. Because the idea of bringing her here to meet him keeps coming up, and each time, it sounds more and more ridiculous.
And more and more like something I want to do. I want to introduce Cadence to my family. I’ve met hers, so it’s only fair. Except that there’s nothing fair about any of this anymore. I can’t bring her here. That’s too personal for two people with no strings.
No strings. No commitment. No chance to get hurt.
That’s our motto.
“That’s not a great idea yet,” I reason on an exhale. “I’m still not sure if we’re ever going to be serious, and I don’t want to introduce you if it’s not going to last with her.”
That’s what I’ve told him several times over the course of the last year. Every time he’s asked about meeting her. And, every time, he’s waved me off like I would figure it out sooner or later. Apparently, I haven’t. Because he calls me on it this time.
“Bullshit,” he says, looking me square in the eyes.
I blink rapidly at him, frozen in my seat. “I’m sorry. What? Did you just say—”
“Bullshit,” he repeats. “I said bullshit. You’re speaking bullshit.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Got it now?”
I’m still blinking like the idiot he really has been thinking I am this whole thing. “Why?” is all I can utter.
“You clearly love her, son.” He tries to sit up more in his bed. “It’s been written all over your damn face all week. You fall fast. You always have. So quit lying to yourself.”
I gulp. Because what the hell?
“Look, you don’t have to admit it to me,” he continues, no nonsense in his tone. “And you don’t have to tell her right now. But you should probably tell yourself. And then ask her whatever the hell you wanted to ask her. I’m sure she’ll tell you what she wanted to tell you too.”
“But you’ve never met her, Grandpa,” I remind him. “You can’t know that for sure.”
“And whose fault is that?” He gives me a sly smile. “Who’s been asking to meet her for a long time? Huh?”
I lean an elbow on the armrest and prop my chin in my hand. As a slow smile pulls at my mouth, I point a finger at him. “Okay. That one, I’ll give you.”
He grins more at me. “You’re going to a wedding with her. She can come here to meet me too. Fair’s fair.” He winks at me again, and I realize where I get that habit from.
I release a deep, long breath. It’s more like a sigh. And then I relent. Because he means the world to me, and I’ll do anything I can to make him happy while he’s still here. Even if that means blowing everything in my own life apart, I guess.
“Fine,” I tell him, hiding my smile with my hand. I turn my head a little and look at him out of the corners of my eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“That’s a good boy,” he says like I’m a well-trained puppy. Maybe I am with him. And that’s fine. “Now, see if I can get some more of that green Jell-O. That’s some good stuff.”
I chuckle as I pat his hand and get out of my chair. That’s probably all I’ll get tonight from him, and honestly, that’s all I want. So I walk out to the front desk and ask Randi for more Jell-O for my grandfather. Once I’ve said goodbye, I make my way back to my car, holding my light jacket over my head to keep from getting drenched by the rain. My breaths are shallow and quick as I wonder how the hell I’m going to pull this off.
I’m going to have to come clean—either to my grandpa or to Cadence. One will make me a jerk and one will make me sound like a creepy stalker. Either way, I can’t win. But it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lied to him. And I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her if I didn’t want someone to get hurt.
No strings. No commitment. No chance to get hurt.
Then why does it already hurt before our agreement has ended?
∞∞∞
Cadence
Headlights shine in through my raindrop-covered front window at nine thirty at night. The second I see them, I know whose they are. And I can’t tell if my heart is in my throat and my stomach is full of butterflies because I’m excited or pissed.
This whole no-commitment thing was supposed to make things easy. Yet I’ve continually made it difficult for myself this entire time. So maybe it’s time I stop making it hard on myself. Maybe it’s time to put a pin in it for good.
Whatever my stomach is doing at the thought of that can stop. I’m done caring about the outcome. Because how dare he give his work to someone else after I tried to reach out to him. That’s the only way we know how, and I did it, thinking we’d be able to talk. So he can say whatever he has to say, and then he can go. If he doesn’t want to go to the wedding with me, then fine. I can tell my mom and my sister that we broke up. Then we won’t have to do this ridiculous song and dance anymore.
That line of thinking is squashed the moment I open the door for him. He’s a little damp from the rain, his hair a bit disheveled. His hand is in the air like he was going to knock, but I got here first. And an unhurried smile curves his lips the moment the shock wears off from my opening the door before he could knock.
Despite still getting pelted by rain, he looks…relieved to see me.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be home. Or awake,” he says over the noise of raindrops hitting the cement.
I wave him inside. Mad or not, I don’t want him to get all wet. Instead of coming in, though, he backs up a step. Then he takes another one and holds his hand out to me.
“You hurt my feelings today,” I tell him, taking the honest route for a change.
“I did?” he questions, his voice rising at the end.
I nod, still not approaching him. “Why didn’t you deliver my package?”
He drops his arm. “You hurt my feelings too.” Then he wipes his eyes to clear the rain from them.
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I guess we’re both taking the honest route for a change.
“I really do want your phone number,” he says. “I don’t have to use it if you don’t want me to.”
“Then why do you want it so badly?” I ask, staying in my spot in the doorway.
He shakes his head and hangs it. Then he looks at me again. “I don’t know. I’m in no place to start a relationship, but I like being with you.” His eyelashes are soaked as he peers up at me through them. “Can that be enough?”
I swallow hard. Because I can’t deny that I feel the exact same way. I don’t know if it’s enough, but I sure as hell hope it can be for now. So I take a deep breath and step through my doorway, joining him in the rain. When I take his hand, he tugs me toward him. The rain seeps through my sleep clothes and falls into my eyes, but not one part of me cares. With my actions, I told the truth, and that feels wonderful. Like a breath of fresh air.
Our smiles grow together. His is nearly a mile wide while mine is still a little shy when our lips meet. But I open up fast and settle into the moment with him. It’s a frantic tangle of mouths and tongues, and after a moment, he slides his hands down my back to my butt, pressing me closer to him. Knowing he’ll catch me, I jump and wrap my legs around his waist, his strong arms holding me up.
The cold raindrops fall on our faces and slip into our mouths as we continue to kiss, and soon, we’re both soaked from head to toe. When my lips start to quiver and my teeth chatter, he backs us up toward the door. Inside, he closes the door behind us and carries me toward my bedroom. We lose clothes along the way. First, it’s his shirt. Then it’s mine.
In my bedroom, my back hits my bed as he sets me on it, and I work to undo his pants. As soon as he steps out of them, he pulls my shorts down my legs and tosses them onto his pants, our clothes in a wet puddle on the floor. Now that we’re stark naked—save for the condom he’s rolled on—we let our bodies tell the truth. If we’re not speaking, we can’t lie, and we enjoy the pounding of the rain on my roof while we become one on my bed.
It’s fast and it’s slow. It’s smooth movements and chaotic thrusts. It’s pushes and pulls, gives and takes, a tug-of-war for dominance and power. Basically, it sums us and our turbulent relationship up nicely. And it’s everything I could ever ask for in a moment like this.
We’re slick with rainwater and sweat when we both come on grunts and gasps. His sound just like my name, while mine include more of an appreciative-sounding expletive. And we stay wrapped up in each other while we come down from our highs. It’s a freeing, safe, and wild feeling, being with him this way. Giving him that part of me I would never give to someone I didn’t feel connected to.
That last thought stops me cold. I do feel connected to him. To a man whose name I don’t know. To a man who shows up in the rain and tells me the truth. To a man who’s met my family and told them the truth.
To a man who likes strawberry freaking jam on his toast.
I’ve always thought he was attractive. I’ve watched him deliver packages to my home since I moved in. And I’ve been ordering things just so I can see him for weeks now. Something is there. Something for him is there. And I can’t get enough of it.
So I lift up and kiss him on the lips, preparing myself to stay open to the truth. To the possibility that I’m in too deep already and I might have to accept that there’s more to this than I’ve wanted to admit. If he doesn’t want that too, then I’ll figure out how to move on. Just like I did last time. Even though it might be harder than it was last time. I’ll somehow manage.
He rises and sits up, taking me with him. I get comfortable in a straddle over him, and he wraps his arms around my back. So I snake mine around his neck, and when the kiss winds down, I rest my head on his shoulder.
“It’s been a long, weird day for me,” he says, drawing circles on my back. “Sorry it took so long to get here.”
“It’s okay,” I sigh into his skin.
“It’s not, but thanks for pretending,” he chuckles. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m glad I’m here now.”
I tangle my hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Me too.”
With his lips still on my skin, he says, “Any chance your bath works?”
At that, I raise my head and look him dead in the eye. “A realtor with a shitty bathroom? Yeah right.” Then I unwind myself from around his body, hop off the bed, and reach a hand out for him. “Follow me.”