Chapter Twenty-One

 

Microwaved salmon doesn’t taste so bad when it mixes with her sweet tang on my tongue. We eat, we slow things down and take our time for a second round of sex, and then we sleep.

Well, she sleeps.

Me...not so much.

Even though I’m exhausted from two glorious rounds of sex with my girl, I can’t sleep.

I lie awake as I hold her in my arms and stare up at the ceiling as each passing moment brings us closer to daylight.

Daylight is when the truth emerges. I want to trust her, and I think I do...but since the last time I woke up with her in my arms ended so horrifically, I think it’ll just take some time before I believe this is real.

The sun peeks through the blinds. They were closed when we fell into bed last night, so it’s not full sun, just rays peeking through the slats. But it’s enough to cause my heart rate to increase as the fear of losing her again becomes this tangible thing.

I must lie there another hour before she stirs. Her eyes flutter open, and when they land on mine, she gives me a sexy, sleepy smile. “So it wasn’t just a dream.”

I chuckle. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that line, but for some reason, it means something to me this time.

She presses a kiss to my bare chest before she turns to stretch her back. “How’d you sleep?”

“Horribly.”

She glances at me with a bit of alarm. “Why? Having second thoughts about me?”

I sit up quickly—too quickly, forgetting I’m completely naked as the sheet falls off me and my very obvious morning wood greets the both of us. But instead of laughing, I’m completely serious.

“Never. Are you?”

“Can you put that thing away if we’re going to have a serious talk?” she asks, gesturing down to my dick.

I toss the sheet over it as my heart races at her serious talk comment. Her eyes soften almost immediately.

“To answer your question, no. Never.” She runs a hand along my jawline. “We’re solid, Brian. We’re good. I’ve had a lot of time to process how I feel about you—six months, actually—and I’m stuck on you.”

My lips lift with a smile. “Well you’re stuck with me.”

She shakes her head. “Going through a divorce taught me something. You’re never stuck with someone. Both parties are free to come and go.”

My brows furrow. “But you just said—”

“I said I’m stuck on you,” she interrupts me. “Do you hear the difference? You’re not stuck with me. I am stuck on you, and I’m happy to stick right where I am. For now, and forever.”

I nod as it starts to make sense. Even though it’s just semantics, it’s obviously important to her...and it’s a beautiful way to say that somehow she has managed to wedge herself into my heart, a place I vow to hold and keep her safe.

 

* * *

 

It’s over breakfast when we have our next serious conversation. We’re past the getting to know you stage but we’re not quite to the we’ve been together so long we can finish each other’s sentences stage yet. We’re in this strange limbo where we know certain parts of each other really well, but there are other things we know little to nothing about. And so, with the future in mind, we’re covering the topics we missed out on over the past few months.

She took me to a diner just across the street from her apartment complex, and as I enjoy French toast and fruit, our lighthearted conversation takes a serious turn as we dissect our family dynamics.

“My sister has three kids,” she says. “I love being Auntie Vivian.”

“My sister is pregnant and Ashton’s already seven months old. I love being an uncle, too. I never thought I wanted my own, but since I’ve been living with Mark and Reese, I find myself thinking about it more.”

Her eyes move sharply up from her plate of pancakes to meet mine. “You have?”

I nod. It’s not just Ashton that has me thinking I want one or two of my own. It’s Vivian. I have this strange, primal urge to create life with her. I’ve never felt that before—not with Kendra, and not with anybody else.

“And?” she asks.

“And I want them with you,” I finally say softly. I glance up at her, and I can’t help my chuckle despite my very serious confession. Her expression meets somewhere in the middle of confused, horrified, and hopeful.

She clears her throat. “Oh.” She pauses.

“Did the topic ever come up between you and your ex?” I ask. It’s the first time I’ve specifically asked a question about her husband.

“Of course it did, and honestly, it’s what drove the first wedge between us.”

“You wanted them and he didn’t?” I guess as fear lances through me it’s the other way around.

She averts her gaze to her plate. “We both did for a while. We tried, and it didn’t happen.”

“How long did you try?” I ask.

“Six months or so. And then I started traveling more for work, so we stopped trying. It just didn’t fit in well with the work I had to do, you know?”

I lower my voice. “It didn’t fit in well with my brother’s plans, either, but I’ve never seen him happier than when he holds that baby in his arms. And I think I want that.”

I push the envelope a little further than I should considering we’ve been together less than twenty-four hours, but I feel the need for full disclosure. I can’t pretend like it’s something I don’t want no matter how recently I decided I want it. If it’s completely out of the question where she’s concerned, I need to figure out if that’s something I can live with or if it’s something that’ll break us apart before we ever get the chance to give this a real try. “Someday,” I clarify.

“You know, when I picture the future, I always saw a loving husband and two or three little ones running around. When I started fixing companies and traveling more, I still envisioned that, but I never saw the husband’s face clearly in my mind. I just knew it wasn’t Trent. And when I was in the thick of things, involved in a marriage I wasn’t happy in, it’s just hard to see the forest for the trees, you know? I felt that sense of being stuck with him, and it wasn’t until I met you I knew I couldn’t stay stuck in that place. I owed myself happiness.”

“And you think I can make you happy?”

She reaches across the small table and rests her hand on my arm as warm, sincere blue eyes meet mine. “I know you can.”

“Are you saying you want to get married and have two or three babies?”

She shrugs but doesn’t crack a smile. “I’m saying it’s what I’ve always wanted for my future. And I’m saying I think I could have it with you.”

My heart surges with love for her. “Really?”

“Sure. Why do you seem so disbelieving about this?”

“I had a buddy go through a divorce and it turned him off of ever wanting to get married again.” I push my fruit around my plate.

“I still fully believe in marriage when it’s between two people who both want to be there. I never thought I’d be a divorce statistic. People don’t tend to go into marriage thinking it’ll end that way. I still think I can find my happy ending.”

My eyes find hers as I’m reminded of the minister’s words at Beck and Jill’s wedding about how each of us has a love story. It was before I met Viv, so not a single word of our story had been written yet. I remember thinking some people are meant to have happily ever afters, and I wasn’t one of them. I felt so strongly that if I opened my heart up for heartbreak, I’d only get what I expected.

But I had it all wrong, and it took the woman across the table from me to realize the risk is totally worth the payoff. “I think we’re writing that story as we speak.”

“I do, too,” she says with a soft smile. “And with that in mind, I have something else I need to talk to you about.”

I cut into my French toast as my heart races again. I’m not sure how many more curveballs I can take from her.

“Vick’s parents decided to sell the apartment I’ve been staying in. They already have a buyer and they need me out by mid-January.”

“Do you want to go house hunting?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “Not really, but I’ve got a few jobs already lined up next month, so I’m not sure when I’ll have the time to look.”

“Why don’t you stay at Mark’s place with me until we decide what to do?” I ask. “He’s got plenty of room.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to impose.”

I chuckle. “I’ve been imposing for months now. They don’t care. We’re live-in babysitters.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Brian. How long are you planning to stay there, anyway?”

“I don’t know. I’m still not totally convinced I’m staying at Ashmark forever.” I stare out the window at the cars racing past us. “If I’m being honest, I want FDB back.”

“Why didn’t you fight for it?” she asks.

I blow out a breath. “I can’t just work at a place where my best friends don’t want me, you know?”

“You still own a stake, don’t you?”

I nod.

“Then fight for it. You’ve already lost the friendships. Don’t just roll over on the company you built with your own two hands.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

“Would you go back to Vegas?” she asks after a moment of silence stretches between us.

“I love California. I love the beach. And I love Chicago, too, where I was born and raised. But Vegas is home.”

She nods. “Then buying a beach house together here in Santa Monica probably isn’t the best idea.”

My jaw drops open a little as my eyes widen and my brows arch. “You want to buy a house together?”

She grins and shakes her head a little. “I’m done wasting time, Brian. I know what I want, and I want you. I want to wake up in your arms, eat breakfast at crappy diners together, hold hands on the beach, and, above all that, I just want to smile. And you make me smile so damn wide. I don’t care if I’m smiling in Los Angeles or Chicago or New York or Vegas or the moon. Wherever we land together, that’s where we’ll smile together.”

I chuckle. I love hearing her curse, even the minor ones, because it’s so out of character for her. It gives those overused words a whole dose of extra meaning when they drop from her mouth. “You make me smile really fucking wide, too.”

Her cheeks redden at my compliment. We finish our breakfast, walk down the street together holding hands, duck into shops, buy last-minute Christmas gifts for our loved ones, and just smile.