LoveLines (37 page)

“You were talking to someone,” he said, confused.

“No. I just said that because I didn’t know who was at the door. I didn’t want them to think I was alone,” I explained.

“Oh,” he replied, relieved. “That’s smart.”

Only then did he notice Poppy howling and jumping at his feet, begging to be touched and picked up and taken out of this awful house.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Reece said, bending down and sco
oping her up.

Her tail wagged so hard that it shook her entire body. She doused him with kisses, and I swallowed the urge to blurt out, “Don’t leave her! Don’t leave me!”

I watched him snuggle the dog we purchased together then set her on her feet. She tore around the room, grabbing the first toy in her path, and raced to Reece—her play partner for the rest of the night. He dropped to his knees and wrestled the toy from her mouth, throwing it down the hall where she retrieved it and brought it back. Over and over and over again, like the faithful dog she was, and they played for what seemed like hours while I looked on. An outsider.

When she was sufficiently worn out, she trotted to her water bowl, and Reece
took the opportunity to address me.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he asked. “Coming over like this?”

“No!” I tried again, softer this time. “No, Reece. It’s not weird.”

“I—” We both said it simultaneously and smiled.

“You first,” Reece said.

“I saw your perfume commercial tonight,” I said.

He pulled himself off the floor and onto the couch. Beside me. If I wasn’t already hopeful because he was the one at my front door, I was now, sitting so close to him.

“What did you think?” he asked softly. He played with his fingers in his lap—something I’d never seen him do.

“I thought it was beautiful and sweet and sexy,” I replied.

“I was going for all three of those things,” he said. “So that’s good.”

We fell silent. It made no sense when I was bursting to the gills with words, and I knew he must be too, or else why would he have knocked on my door?

“Was it me?” I whispered.

He didn’t look at my face.

“You know it was you, Bailey.”

“Why did you do it?” I asked. “I mean, after everything I put you through. Surely you can’t want to be with me anymore. I don’t deserve you.”

He looked at me then.

“This isn’t about deserving. This is about wanting. And I want to know. I can’t wait any longer for you to come to me. I want to know right now. That’s why I came to you. Is there a chance to make things right? Is there a chance you may still love me?”

I didn’t know what to say first. I thought it terribly unfair that he came to me. He shouldn’t have! I should have gone, and I’d planned to. Tomorrow. But that’s the thing about tomorrow. Tomorrow is sometimes too late. And then what do you do?

“I was going to see you tomorrow!” I said. “I planned to go to your house.”

“Don’t,” Reece said.

“It’s true!” I replied, clasping his hands. “It’s true, Reece. You didn’t give me time—”

“Six months, Bailey! Six
!” he shouted. “You don’t go from having what we had to six months of nothing!”

He ripped his hands from mine and jumped up from the couch.
I readied myself for the words—the ones he never got to say when I broke it off. I was both confused and not. I deserved his harsh words, but I was confused by the ad campaign. Did he want me, or did he want to teach me a lesson? If he wrote the campaign as a cruel joke, I would never recover from it. My fragile heart couldn’t take one more beating. His angry words? Yes. As long as he loved me after he said them.

“You made me feel like I was nothing!” he went on. “Discarded and used. Like a goddamn foster kid!”

I wept openly. I knew these were all the things he wished he could shout at me the moment I threw him out. But a stunning blow doesn’t allow you to process anything but confusion. Pride and anger come along afterward, and for most, it’s too late to say the things we wished we could. Too late and not worth the effort.

“I didn’t mean to,” I cried.

“I knew you, Bailey. I understood your problems. And I wanted to help you through them. I knew it would be tough, but you never let me try. You never gave me the choice. I wanted you. Always. And you wouldn’t let me choose you.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“You’re selfish,” he spat. “You shared yourself when it was convenient for you. When it felt good for you. When you enjoyed it. But then you pushed me away when things got rough.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” I cried. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with me. I know how I am. I know I’m impossible. I can’t expect someone to handle that.”

“That was NEVER your choice to make!” he roared. “Why don’t you understand that?”

“I wanted to
save you the heartache,” I replied. “I wanted you to be with someone who was normal. Someone you wouldn’t have to manage.”

“Why don’t you get it?” he asked. He pulled me from the couch forcefully and placed his hands on my head. He pressed his fingers hard against my scalp. “How do I make your brain understand?”

One, two, three, four . . .
I counted because I was frightened. He increased the pressure, and I didn’t know if it hurt or felt incredible.

“How do I open your brain and rewire it, huh?” His words were low and heavy. Ominous. “How do I rewire it to make you trust me? Accept me?”

“I do accept you,” I whimpered.

“Then why won’t you let me love you?” he asked. “Why won’t you let me be with you? I choose to be with you.”

I sniffed and wiped my nose.

“I choose. But you want to take the choice away from me,” he said. He dropped his hands. I dropped my face. “Look at me,” he demanded.

“I can’t, Reece,” I said. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid you won’t look at me the way you used to,” I said.

“You don’t know
unless you look at me,” he replied.

I paused a half
-second before lifting my eyes to him. His face relaxed. Jaw no longer set. Eyes softened. Inviting, even. And I saw it—the love that had never left. It was buried deep inside his eyes, but I could see it flickering from afar, signaling a will to fight.

For me.

I wouldn’t let him. This was my battle. I had to be the hero. I had to be the one to rescue because I was the one who discarded.

“Marry me,” I said.

His eyes went wide.

“Marry me, Reece.”

“I’m supposed to—”

“No. I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to ask you. I should have gone to
you. I shouldn’t have waited six months. I shouldn’t have waited a day. I should have gone to you the moment you walked out my door. I should have gone to you and clung to you.” I took his hand. He didn’t resist. “I spent many years convincing myself that I wasn’t deserving of love—that I was a problem that couldn’t be fixed. Who could possibly want me?”

“I wanted you,” he said. “I still do.”

“And I knew that. But the devil in me kept feeding me lies. Telling me you’d leave me. Telling me I’d mess it all up. I thought to save us the trouble and just break up with you. Let you find someone better.”

Reece crushed me to his chest and sucked in a ragged breath. “Jesus, Bailey. Don’t you know by now that there isn’t anyone better than you?”

I mumbled something incoherent against his shirt.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me. You adopted me, for Christ’s sake! Remember?”

I thought back to that conversation in the office parking lot. I’d made what I thought was a sweet and clever statement, then feared I’d offended him: “I’m adopting you.” I’d never seen that look on Reece’s face. It was confusion, at first. Or maybe just his “I’m trying to process this” look. For a moment I thought I’d said something insensitive. But then his look changed. His eyes lit up. Clarity and pure joy. It was the look of a little boy who heard for the first time in his life that he was loved. That he was wanted.

It turned out to be one of the happiest days of my life.

“I remember,” I said.

He pulled me away from him and looked down at my face.

“I want you to adopt me again,” he said. “And this time, you’re not allowed to let me go.”

“Never,” I cried. “I’ll never let you go. Marry me, Reece. Please marry me.”

He considered the desperate look on my face.

“I came here to propose to you,” he said finally.

I smiled.

“I wrote that ad campaign the moment I learned the perfume’s name. I saw you running away from me. I saw you making excuses, thinking you weren’t good enough. Thinking you didn’t deserve happiness in your life. But I knew better. I knew you’d round that corner and ask me to keep you. That’s what you always needed, Bailey. Someone who wouldn’t comply. Someone who wouldn’t let you push him out. And I’m sorry I wasn’t that someone for you all those many months ago. But I’m that someone now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I flung my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to his. He opened his mouth to mine, kissing me hungrily. I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like, but his lips were like the familiar, worn sweater—soft and warm. And cherished. I wanted to kiss him forever, but I needed his words. I needed him to say it.

I pulled away. “Marry me. Tell me you’ll marry me, Reece.”

“I’ll marry you, Bailey. And I’ll be married to you for the rest of my life.”

This time I jumped on him and wrapped my legs around his waist. I was desperate for his love. I was desperate to be naked against him. I needed him in me, filling me with all the sweetness I’d missed out on for so long. I needed the emptiness filled with his promises of forever. I needed the safety of his arms.
I didn’t need any more words. I just needed his touch.

He carried me to the bed and collapsed on top of me.
Ahhh
the weight of him! I’d missed the weight of those muscles, so easy to bend and break me, but he never did. He was careful. Cradling me, not pinning me. Asking. Not demanding. Though I wouldn’t mind if he demanded.

“
Bailey?” His voice was ragged and hoarse.

“Do whatever you want!” I cried, and I meant it.

“I don’t know what I want! That’s the problem.”

I was confused.

“Do I rip your clothes off? Do I take them off slowly? Do I kiss you? Bite you? Do I put you on top? Do I get on top of you? Do I . . .”

I smiled, listening to his list. It was a long list. And it was Reece. The same old Reece who found himself talking way too much when he was nervous. It was precisely what we needed to temper the intensity of the moment. Why? It’s simple. We’d had enough intense moments to satisfy for years to come.
I thought I needed passion. All I really needed was silly, nervous Reece.

“. . . Do I eat you out on the bed, the table, the floor? Do I tie you up
? Tie you down? Punish you? Reward you? Do I—”

I kissed him hard. Our teeth struck, and I tasted blood. But I kept kissing him. I violated his mouth with my tongue, tasting the faint remnants of whiskey—his pre-game energizer. I smiled against his lips thinking of that shot. Thinking of him standing at the bar saying to himself, “You’re fucking Reece Powell. Now go get her!”

I pulled away.

“You’re not
gonna do any of those things,” I said, my voice low and sultry.

“I’m not?”

“Nope.”

“And why’s that?” he asked.

My mouth curled into a naughty grin. “Because I’m taking over this entire operation.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “Now take your pants off. And be quick about it.”

He showed me all his teeth with that smile.

“You’re amazing,” he breathed.

“No, you are,” I replied.

I watched him slide out of his shorts, then stand in front of me, waiting for further instruction.

“Underwear,” I said.

He slithered out of those, too, and I looked at what I’d been missing for six months. Six long, hard months.

I knelt in front of him. It seemed like the appropriate position. I imagined I’d ask for forgiveness by means of the most explosive blow job he’d ever had. He deserved it. And I thought suddenly that I deserved it, too. I deserved him. After
all these months of working on bettering myself, of learning to love me and to let others love me, I deserved him.

“I deserve you, Reece,” I said, wrapping my tiny hand around his shaft.

“Yes, you do, Bailey,” he replied.

He closed his eyes in anticipation of my lips, my tongue. It darted out and licked the tip of his penis. He hissed. I licked that soft spot right under his head, and he moaned.

“I deserve every bit of you,” I said. “And you deserve every bit of this.”

I took him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip before pushing farther down. I wanted to choke on him—on the love I gave him—and pass out in a state of sweet ecstasy.