Chronicles of a Lincoln Park Fashionista (19 page)

Chapter 20

“This,” I gasp, staring out over the fog-shrouded bay in front of me, “is
beyond
fabulous.”

Deke grins as I look at him. “Well, I don’t know if it’s beyond fabulous, as you like to say, but it will certainly make for a
beyond
unconventional fireworks display.”

I nod excitedly in agreement. It’s the 4
th
of July, and we got to Pier 39 early in order to snag seats near the bay. The air is very damp and cold, but I’m snug in my pea coat and Burberry scarf. My skin tingles as a chilly wind moves off the bay and across our bodies, and I know my cheeks and nose have a rosy, cold-weather glow.

And I’ve never felt more alive in my entire life.

The past two days have been the best days I’ve ever had. And I know I’ve said that before, but I really mean it this time.

Deke arranged a whirlwind tour of San Francisco for me. Yesterday, as soon as the meetings broke up, we went to Chinatown for lunch. Then we went to Golden Gate Park and explored it for hours. We ended the day by having dinner at a fantastic Vietnamese restaurant, and I absolutely loved my first experience with Vietnamese cuisine.

This morning started off just as well. We went to the Ferry Building Marketplace, a fabulous place filled with shops and restaurants. And there were food shops for
everything
—coffee, wines, cheeses, pastries, caviar . . . and we ate our whole way through it. We ended the day shopping, going to some fabulous boutiques and then, of course, to a vintage T-shirt store for Deke. We went to the Golden Gate Bridge and drove across it, which was nothing short of magical.

And after having a very un-
4
th
-of-July dinner of Dungeness crabs, we’re content to sit and talk while we wait for the firework show over the bay.

I sneak a glance over at Deke, the person who has lived up to his promise to show me the time of my life in San Francisco. He’s sitting just inches from me, and when the wind blows, I can smell his cologne. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and woolen knit cap, and he looks rugged and outdoorsy to me.

Not to mention smokin’ Drop Dead Gorgeous hot.

But since I’ve been focusing on our friendship the past two days, I can totally ignore that aspect while sitting next to him.

Okay, so maybe that’s a lie. But Deke really is sexy with the two-day stubble on his jaw line, and the way his sun-highlighted hair peeks out from underneath his cap.

“So are you sure you’re okay with waiting down here for a few hours before the show starts?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I quickly shift my eyes to the water, thinking it is safer to focus there than at the Caribbean Sea-colored eyes that are looking at me now.

“Yes,” I declare, bringing the San Francisco Giants stadium blanket we bought earlier up over my thighs. “But are the fireworks really going to be hidden under the fog?” I go to take a sip of the hot coffee we’ve just purchased, but Deke stops me.

“Wait. Before you take a sip of that, I’ve got something that will help warm you up.”

I hesitate for a moment then Deke reaches inside the pocket of his leather jacket and withdraws a miniature bottle of Baileys Irish Cream.

“Baileys,” I say, delighted. I quickly take off the plastic lid on my cup, and he pours a bit of the creamy liqueur into my coffee. “Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” he says, adding some to his own cup. “Now, in answer to your question about the fireworks. Yes. Because of the fog, you’ll hear a distant thud and the clouds will light up in the color of the firework.”

“I can’t wait for it to start,” I say, smiling at Deke. “I never thought of fog interfering with fireworks before.”

I pause to take a sip of my coffee, and the Baileys slides down my throat, warming my insides. And the taste of coffee and Irish cream together is delicious.

“Mmm,” I say, sighing happily. “That does warm you up.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” he says, taking a sip.

A comfortable silence falls between us, and I gaze at Deke again, thinking of how incredible he has made my whole journey to San Francisco. Of how no one else could show me the world like he has, introducing me to so many new things and experiences. And I know now is the time I want to thank him for it.

“Deacon?” I say quietly.

He turns toward me. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything,” I say softly. “I couldn’t have asked for anything more from you these past few days. You’ve shown me the most fabulous city in a way no one else could have. I’m honored you wanted to share it with me.”

Deke’s eyes burn intensely into mine. “I’m glad I could share it with you, Avery. I really am. And I’m glad you weren’t disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” I ask, shocked he would choose this word. “How on earth could I be
disappointed
?”

He turns away from me, fixing his gaze down to the coffee cup in his hand. “I don’t know. I seem to have disappointed a lot of women in my lifetime.”

I pause for a moment. He’s opening up to me. I know now is the time to unwrap more of the protective layers Deke keeps so tightly wrapped around himself.

“Who have you disappointed?” I ask quietly.

“Who have I not disappointed is more like it,” Deke says, fiddling with the lid on his coffee cup. “Starting with my mother. I could always tell she was disappointed with being a mom. She was always frustrated or depressed when Zach and I were little. And that’s why I tried to become invisible as a kid. I figured if she didn’t know I was there, she wouldn’t be so disappointed with what her life had become because she had me.”

My throat swells up as I take in his words. I swallow hard as I study him. And suddenly I know how Deke got the mindset to be a videographer. To blend, to stay behind the scenes, to observe life around him rather than star in it.

“Then there was Christine,” Deke says, taking a sip of his coffee before he continues. “She was my first serious girlfriend. I thought I was going to marry her.”

“So what happened?”

“Oh, we dated during high school and college. She went to DePaul,” he says. “And one night we were chatting on Connectivity messenger. Apparently she was messaging a friend at the same time, and she mistakenly thought she was talking to her friend when she typed to me how bored she was with me and our relationship. That I was going nowhere chasing this videographer dream, but she didn’t want to break up with me until something better came along.”

I gasp aloud, horrified that Deke had to read that about himself. “Deacon,” I say, my heart hurting for him, “that’s awful. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

Deke smiles wryly at me. “Thank you. But needless to say, I dumped her on the spot.” He sighs and stares out over the water. “I haven’t had a serious girlfriend since then. Not necessarily because of what happened with Christine, but due to my travel schedule. I’m really not one for casual relationships, you know?”

My heart freezes inside my chest. I know he’s finally moved on with Isabel, and from what he is telling me now, Deke must have really strong feelings for Isabel if he’s dating her.

I clear my throat, not wanting to think about that.

“I’m not into casual relationships, either,” I admit quietly. “I’ve had exactly three serious boyfriends in my life: one in high school, two in college, and that’s it.”

Deke grins at me. “I bet you had to beat guys back in college.”

“No,” I say, smiling. Then I decide to turn the tables on him. “What about you, shooting in all those exotic locations with gorgeous TV personalities? I’m sure you had to beat girls back, too.”

He grins and takes a sip of his coffee. “Not exactly.”

“So is travel the only reason you haven’t had a serious girlfriend in a while?” I probe carefully. “Or is it because you are afraid of being hurt again?”

“I guess I’d be lying to you if I blamed it all on my travel schedule, wouldn’t I?” Deke says softly.

“Deacon, none of those things—with your mom, with Christine—were your fault,” I say. “You can’t take on their issues and take the blame for their unhappiness.”

Deke gets a stunned expression on his face. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“All I know,” I say, speaking from my heart, “is that you are an
incredible
man. You have compassion and kindness for others. You’re the most insightful person I’ve ever met. And best of all, you challenge people to be better than they are.”

I’m silent for a moment, and Deke simply stares at me, taking in my words.

“Avery,” he says softly, “I’ve never had anyone say anything like that to me before. Ever. You have no idea what that means to me that you think that.”

I blink as I stare into his beautiful eyes, which reflect nothing but emotion. Then I swallow hard and tell him the absolute truth, however painful it is for me to admit.

“I think Isabel is a very lucky woman to have you, Deacon,” I whisper. “Very lucky.”

Deke stares at me for a moment. Then he turns his head and studies his coffee cup.

“Right,” he says quietly.

I blink back tears as I gaze out over the bay, watching the whitecaps dance on the water. Oh, God. This is too hard. I know Deke needed to hear that, but realizing just how much he must feel for Isabel is tearing me apart.

“No,” he suddenly says. “That’s not true.”

I turn to find him staring at me. “No?” I ask, confused.

“Isabel isn’t lucky. There is no more Isabel, Avery.”

My heart pounds rapidly inside my chest. Another cold wind rips across us, and I inhale the salty ocean air, desperately trying to breathe again.

“No Isabel?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Deke puts his coffee cup down. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and finally turns to me.

“No. Avery, I . . . I’ve got to tell you something. And I don’t know how you’re going to react to this, but I have to say it. I’m not with Isabel. I never have been.”

Oh my God. I can’t breathe. I really can’t. I’m so stunned and shocked and hopeful all at once that I don’t know what to do.

“W-Why not?” I manage, my voice still shaky.

“We had an insurmountable problem. One we could never get past to go anything beyond a handful of dates.”

“What was that?” I whisper.

Deke stares at me. “She wasn’t you. Isabel couldn’t be
you
.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, sitting very still.

Deke takes a deep breath of air before speaking. And I can tell he’s really nervous.

“I like
you
,” he says. “I know I’m not supposed to, I know I’m your videographer, and I tried like hell to fight it. I
swear
to you I did. But every time I tried to pull away, I came right back. I’ve never known anyone like you. Never. You’re radiant. And I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter what I do, I can’t get you out of my head.”

Oh my God. I try to speak, but I can’t. I’m so overrun with happiness and joy that a huge lump has formed in my throat, making it impossible to get any words out.

A pained expression filters across his handsome face. “I know you just see me as a friend,” he says softly. “I know that’s why you kept bringing up Isabel, to remind me of where I should be—as your videographer and nothing more. I promise I won’t do anything else to make you uncomfortable. I’ll take you back to the hotel, and as soon as we get back to Chicago, I’ll turn over my assignment to another videographer.”

“
Deacon!
” I finally cry, finding my voice. “Can I please say something?”

Deke blinks, a surprised look passing over his face.

“Deacon,” I say slowly, smiling at him. “I like you, too.”

His eyes widen in shock. “
What
?”

“I like you!” I yell out gleefully, as I want to scream it to the world.

We simply stare at each other for a few moments, as it’s finally out there. And neither one of us, it seems, can believe our hearts are beating in exactly the same place—and have been for quite a while.

Finally Deke bursts out laughing, and I do, too. He cups my face in his hands, his fingertips deliciously gliding across my skin, and he nuzzles his cold nose against mine.

“Do you really mean that?” he whispers, sliding one hand underneath my hair so it cradles the back of my head in a loving way. “Do you want to be with me?”

“More than anything,” I whisper back, inhaling the sea air as it mixes with the scent of Deke’s skin.

Then, on Pier 39, Deke kisses me. His lips are warm and soft and gently easing my mouth open. I melt into him and his sensual kiss.

My heart pounds rapidly as I feel his stubble against my face. I taste Baileys on his warm lips, and I kiss him deeper, wanting more of him. I lift my hand to the back of his neck, gently stroking it and playing with the hair that is sticking out from underneath his cap. Suddenly butterflies are swirling in my stomach with an intensity I’ve never known before.

And as I kiss the man I love, I know we need to change our plans for tonight.

“No fireworks,” I murmur against his mouth as I kiss him again.

Deke immediately breaks the kiss, an anguished expression on his handsome face. “What? You . . . you don’t feel anything?”

Oh God! He thinks I’m taking about the way he kisses!

I burst out laughing and frame his sexy face in my hands. “Oh, no, no, no. I
definitel
y have fireworks with you. And I think those are the only ones I want tonight,” I dare to admit.

Recognition flashes in his eyes. “What are you saying?”

My pulse races as I feel his warm skin against mine. The wind whips across us again, and as I inhale the scent of him, I have no doubts of what I want to do tonight.
I love this man
. I’ve waited forever for him, and I’m not waiting another second.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I murmur softly to him. “I want to be with you, Deacon.”

“That’s all I want, too,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re all I need.”

So we gather up our things, dump our coffees into the trash, and I put my hand in Deke’s. We work our way through the crowd, eager to get back to the Fairmont.

Suddenly I realize I need to ask him about protection.

“Deacon?” I ask, coming to a stop.