A Toast to the Good Times (18 page)

He claps a big hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I am. And I know I acted like an ass about your grandfather’s money. When I thought you and that
Tyler
idiot were really pulling through together, I wanted to rip your head off your shoulders. But you got rid of that dead weight, and the bar is doing well. Money is just money, we all have to make our own choices about what to do with ours, and the rest...” Dad pauses. Getting all sappy isn’t his thing. “Well, I noticed your place got a write up in the Herald.”

“You saw that article?”

It was a write up in Boston’s paper that proclaimed us the “best place for an old-fashioned drink mixed properly with good atmosphere that will improve as a stable base crowd finds its niche within the simple walls.” My favorite write-up of the seven that chose to feature us. It made me proud to know Dad read it.

“Of course. And I’m glad. I really am, son. Putting your love and heart into a bar is a commitment that’s gonna last a lifetime. Gonna satisfy you for a lifetime.” He nods to Mila, who’s turned the tables on Henry and is showing him how to shoot properly.

I can practically see my brother’s blush from here.

“You like that girl.” It’s not a question the way my dad says it. “Here’s my advice, son. Stop worrying about other guys who are better and fuckups from your past. Because there are better guys and you have been a huge fuckup. But you deserve that girl more than anyone else, because you understand a true vintage. You know how rare it is, among all there is to choose from, to find something so delicate and sweet, but also fulfilling and robust. She’s the champagne son, and you’ll be able to celebrate with her for the rest of your life. You need that. You really do.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, holding my glass to his.

“Cheers.” He clinks and we swallow the last sweet, hot rush of a memory-bonded drink. He grabs my mug and says, “Tell Henry he’s on glass stocking duty. That little shit think he’s fooling anyone showing up twenty minutes after you actually need him every single time? Plus that, he’s trying hard to reel in your woman, and that’s one fish too big for that boy’s line.” He shakes his head, laughing appreciatively. “Man oh man, it’s nice to watch the boy try his heart out.”

My dad and I take a moment to enjoy the sight of Mila mercilessly schooling Henry, and then I stride off to her, my dad’s words solidifying my resolve.

“Dickhead, Dad needs you to do some actual work, so get back there and help. Not that your karaoke didn’t gladden all our hearts while we were busting our asses while we were in the weeds tonight.”

I smile at his scowl, then scowl myself when he kisses Mila way too close to the mouth. He goes back to the bar with a grin I’m sorely tempted to beat off his face.

“You both need to stop it,” Mila sighs. “I’ve decided that New Jersey, as gorgeous and welcoming as it is, is no place for romance. It’s too complicated here. Why is that?”

“Are you trying to say it’s less complicated in other states?” I ask, ringing my arms around her waist.

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft and her eyes, wide and green, are on me, shining then extinguishing, half-nervous, half-excited. “Why?”

“We are the most densely populated state in the nation. You know what that means. We’re used to being close to other people. That’s the key to romance.” I edge closer, she dodges back.

“Proximity?” She shakes her head. “No wonder you’re an opportunistic dater.”

She means for it to be funny. But neither one of us laughs.

“Hey. Stop saying that, okay?” I lean down and brush my lips over hers, softly.

I think about what Toni probably said to her.

I think about Reggie and Henry.

I think about my own fuck-up-and-run personal dating philosophy.

Then I just think about her. Having her in my arms, having the chance to maybe, possibly, make things right. Finally make things right.

I kiss her a little more, and she opens her lips to me.

“You stop,” she says, but her voice is dreamy.

“You mean I should stop kissing you here and get you on my futon?” I whisper. “And right now would be the best time, of course. Because I’d really like to get it on before we sleep. Santa skips the houses where kids are awake.”

She laughs, but it’s jangly. “Landry, I can’t just crash your parents’ house and stay over on Christmas. And I’m definitely not staying in your bed.”

I cup her face and rub my thumb over her bottom lip, loving the way she shivers in response. “You came out here, drove all those hours, on this night of all nights, and you’re not even gonna get the goods?”

She blushes and backs up, almost bumping into another slowly swaying couple. “Landry, I didn’t come here to sleep with you.”

“You did too,” I insist. The smile that tug-of-wars on her lips is equal parts embarrassed and excited. “You did because what we have is chemistry. Undeniable chemistry like I’ve never
had with anyone else. If you have had it before, just don’t tell me, okay? So let’s see if it means anything, if it works out to be more than we think. If not, we know and we can move on, okay? But if we don’t do this, we’re never gonna know. It will make daily life together hellish.”

“And if we have sex and regret it?” she presses, her hands rubbing slowly up and down my back.

“Then it won’t be uncomfortable at all. It just won’t be. I know this seems like it came out of nowhere to you, but I had an epiphany. You’re the one, Mila. And if I can’t use my limited charm and sexy prowess and incredible work ethic to convince you that we should be together, I’m going to hole myself up in my bar, grow a long, scary beard, and grumble along with all my unsatisfied, miserable customers. But, before I throw out all my razors, be with me. Do this with me.”

She shakes her head a little, and I grab her hands.

“Listen, imagine we were on
Serenity,
okay? You’re like the hot cheerful fixer girl
—
”

“Kaylee.” Mila is trying hard not to smile, but just the mention of that show lights her up.

“Right! Okay, and I’m the doctor with the stick up his ass sometimes
—
”

“Simon.” She grins and grabs me by the shirt, tugging me closer.

“Right. Could you imagine the end of
Serenity
without the Simon and Kaylee romance having some resolution?” I’m reaching here. I’m pulling from deep down to find something, anything to sway her.

She stands on her toes and pulls my head down, until her mouth is level with my ear. “Will you talk nerdy to me if I sleep on the futon with you?”

“All night long. It’ll be like that episode where Mal tricks Simon into thinking Kaylee’s dead, and Simon goes nuts on him. But, you know, not that morbid. Was that too morbid?”

She’s so alive, her eyes bright, her hands running in a hot, frantic pace over me, her lips parted, and before I can blabber on about her favorite show or whatever she thinks is sexy, she pulls my lips down and kisses me, fierce and fast at first, then slower, with more tongue and moaning and rubbing against me.

I know everyone can see us. I know my dad is probably completely uncomfortable and Henry is most likely contemplating jumping the bar and beating the crap out of me, but I don’t care. I couldn’t care less.

She’s in my arms, she’s kissing me back, we have this night, this one night she was so sure would be filled with so much crazy magic.

And, just as quickly as I screwed it all up for her, I have the chance to make it all right again, to make the two of us take the leap from awkward roommate- friends to lovers and everything else we should be.

“Come home with me,” I suggest, pulling back from her lips and kissing each one of her eyebrows, on the side of each eye, down along to her ears. I kiss her and I know, for sure, no questions, that as long as she’s with me, I’ll be home.

“Let’s go,” she says, and tugs my hand.

We leave without a second glance, into the blustery snow, away from the warmth of the bar, towards a new beginning that might link us together or unravel us permanently.

I’m ready to gamble on this. I’m ready to take my shot at being with her, no matter what happens in the end.

I’m ready to make my home.

Chapter 12

By the time we get to the house, it’s dark inside except for the multi-colored glow
of
the Christmas tree shining from the living room.

“This feels...this isn’t a good idea,” Mila whispers as I push her up against the front door and kiss her along her neck. “Mmm, Landry, maybe I should just sleep on the couch.”

“Impossible.” I suck on her earlobe and love the gasp that jumps out of her lips. “If Santa sees you, he won’t leave us any presents.”

She presses her face into my coat to muffle her laugh. Even though it makes sense to muffle it so she doesn’t wake the whole damn house, I hate not being able to hear that laugh.

“Come downstairs with me.” I tug her by the coat, and she follows, one slow, uncertain step at a time.

“Are you sure this is okay with your parents? I feel like this is a really inappropriate holiday crash. I mean, I know they said
it’s
okay, but it’s Christmas tomorrow and
—
”

“Shhh.” She comes down one stair, then another one, and I bury my face in the comforting dark between her tits. I poke my head back out and she’s laughing again, hand over her mouth. “My parents will be fine with this. I’m an adult. An adult who is sleeping in his old basement room, but still... And you drove from Boston to New Jersey on Christmas Eve. You deserve a warm futon. This will be fun. I promise.”

Her smile falters. “Oh, I have no doubt it will be
fun
.”

And I realize I made her sound like a fling.

Shit.

Not the message I want to send at all.

“It will be the
beginning
of lots of fun.” I kiss her, my hands tangled in her good-smelling hair, running up and down her back, filling up with the swells of her tits, squeezing her narrow shoulders possessively, because that’s the way I feel about her: possessive. “Come to my futon.”

She rolls her eyes, but she follows me down the stairs, into the basement, past the washer and dryer and into the room where I spent my entire teenage life and the very beginning of my adulthood.

“It’s cozy.” She twists her hands. I close the door and flip the lock, just in case any idiot sibling bumbles down in the night.

Luckily, since I moved out, my mother gave it a thorough cleaning and no one bothered with it again, so there’s nothing too embarrassing
—

“Is this a lava lamp?” Mila flips it on, watching as the blobby ‘lava’ in the bottom heats up and starts to float. “I knew you were a player back in the day, Landry, but I had no idea you were, like, some kind of professional gigolo with a whole sex lair lit with lava lamps.”

“Lava lamps are
not
just for sex lairs. That’s a really popular misconception.” I sit on my futon bed and pat the thin mattress. She comes over and takes a cautious seat next to me. “Sometimes they’re just a psychedelically cool way to light your room.”

I tug her close, kiss her, and put my hand up on the side of her face. She grabs my wrist and kisses back.

She pulls away, her lips still slightly puckered, her eyes closed. “Back up for just one second. How did this happen again?”

“What?” I press strands of dark hair back off her face, and she licks her lips, then pinches them together.

“How were we just friends last week? And now? How did we get here? It feels like
—
”

“Me getting my head out of my ass?” I press my forehead against hers. “I don’t know how I lived with you for so long and didn’t see what was right in front of my face, Mila. I’m a little dense, alright? But once I realized how right you and I are for each other, I didn’t want to waste any more time. I feel like an asshole for wasting this much already. I know you’re not sure about all this, but keep me around for a while. I swear to you, I won’t let you down.”

I say the words, but even I wonder if they’re all just words turned into promises I’m not sure I
 
can keep. I let people down. It’s what I do.

I’ll have to work my ass off to change that.

For her.

I think about Reggie and everyone else who realized how freaking awesome Mila was before I woke up to her general amazingness, and it scares the shit out of me. It’s a whole new sensation. I’ve been afraid to lose things before or to fuck up, but I’ve never been scared about a girl.

Even when things went south with Heather, it was more aggravation followed by a strange, strong dose of relief.

With Mila, my world and the way I look at it has been turned upside down and shaken, and I’m just grabbing on to her like my life depends on it.

Because I have a feeling it does.

“Landry,” she sighs, and when she kisses me this time, it’s all the wild, insistent slide of her tongue, the quick nip of her teeth, the pressure of her mouth, crushed to my face as she tries to keep connected and pull her clothes off at the same time.