27. Text To Talk
Chapter twenty-seven
Text To Talk
Albany
T he week that followed my encounter with Haze flew by. There was work, class with Sal, and texts with an unknown number on my phone.
I'm sorry
I know immediately who the text is from, but I don’t assign a contact to it. Doing so, keeping the number, feels wrong. Why didn’t he identify himself? Is he ashamed? I’m not.
I think about asking Sal if he gave Haze my number, but it doesn’t matter if he did. I would have said yes had he asked me. I keep my information as private as possible, considering the nature of my work. Knowing Haze Harmon, he could have gotten it any number of ways.
click on the text, staring at it for the millionth time. And then I reply.
I can’t stop thinking about you. About him. About them.
Me too.
I want to say more, but this conversation isn’t about me. I’ve made my peace with Jake’s death. Haze is still finding his way. Sal told me about the discussion he had with Haze. About the promise he made to Angie. The reality of his vow took my breath away. Some people never wish to find love again after they lose their person, and that’s okay. Opening your heart again…. Sometimes, it isn’t a decision. But for Haze, who so obviously loves Sal, that promise was a self-imposed prison.
The only person who can let Haze out of the cell he’s constructed is himself. I sigh, sending a prayer up that Haze is comfortable seeking therapy from someone specializing in grief.
Did Jake ever tell you about the zucchini bread?
Zucchini bread?
About the time I wanted to make zucchini bread for Angie because she said she missed her grandma’s. Jake copied the recipe, bought the stuff, and brought it over so I could make it. When I put the zucchini in the food processor, I didn’t put the lid on and sprayed it all over the ceiling.
That must have been messy.
I was messy. My mother would have lost her shit. While I cried, Jake cleaned the whole ceiling. Then he took me to the store, bought the ingredients again, and took me to his grandmother’s to make the bread with her. He never mocked me for crying, never complained about the extra work, and still found joy in the journey. That’s who he was. What he was. He was an incredible person.
Tell me more about my son.
I do. I tell him about the little moments I remember. About how he played basketball. How he loaded groceries for the elderly when we went to the store. How he loved his family. Tidbits and anecdotes about his kindness. I tell Haze about how Jake struggled with his desire to play ball, and how he wanted to pursue a medical degree and maybe get into research because there was nothing he wanted more in life than to find a cure for the disease that plagued his little sister.
And then Haze wanted to talk about Sal. This I asked Sal about. The question earned me a raised eyebrow, a hand around my waist, and another twisted in my hair. After he kissed me until I saw stars, he murmured, “I trust you.” And then he let me go, winked, and slapped my ass just hard enough to make it sting.
By week two, Sal found a rhythm staying between the guest house on my nights off and at Haze’s on the nights I worked.
If I’m honest, I thought I would be a little jealous but… I’d call what I’m suffering pure, unadulterated curiosi-lust while Sal walks around grinning like Cheshire cat. But my views have hit record numbers. Because the orgasms I give myself now aren’t fake. It’s not hard to come all over my own fingers while imagining what the two of them are doing together when they watch me.
On Monday, three weeks after the anniversary of Jake’s death, DarkandDisturbed logged on. His background was dark, only a small bit of light limning his profile. Enough for me to see the swell of his pecs dipping into shadow, to see the light scatter over the curly dark hair of his chest, then coalesce over the hills and valleys of his washboard abs. I locked eyes with him through our screens, only closing mine when I came hard enough that I could hear my arousal splatter onto the floor.
When it came time for our private session, it was me watching as a familiar head of dark glossy hair, rippling loose over a beautifully defined, well-muscled back, gave the most beautiful blow job I’ve ever seen.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my monitor.
Not a sip of water, and I came so hard a fourth time I got dizzy from the loss of bodily fluids.
And then a text.
Lunch tomorrow.
My stomach flips like a diver spinning off a ten-meter board, explodes into a thousand butterflies, and then turns into a rock and plummets to my toes. I don’t answer. Instead, I get in the shower, dress, and drive home. It’s already 2 a.m., and Sal is taking the morning to help me sculpt. Then the two of us have the photo shoot for the Behind the Lens calendar.
I must be on my game for the shoot. Getting asked to participate is an honor. I owe BTL and the folks who stand to benefit from my best work. I cannot spend the next few hours tossing and turning. I need to get some sleep.
Fiddlesticks! What do I do? Should I just be honest and tell him I have something at work I can’t miss? A man like Haze should understand that. But he’s finally reached out. If it were anything else, I’d cancel. Anything. But I can’t miss the shoot. There are too many working parts. I know he hasn’t included Sal. Sal would have told him about the shoot.
I can’t do lunch with you tomorrow.
Dinner. I’d like to avoid a public venue. My place or yours.
Dinner, your place, Thursday evening.
8 p.m. Dress comfortably.
I’ll see you then.
I drop my phone on the seat of my car and chuckle. Arrogant prick. I would have asked him what his favorite meal is. I bet Haze thinks he knows what mine is. We’ll see. I press Piper's number and put the call on speaker as I pull out of the driveway. It rings a few times before she picks up, sounding a bit breathless.
"Hey girl, what's up?" she says.
"Piper, I need your advice." I launch into the details of Haze's dinner invitation, my excitement and nervousness palpable in my voice.
"Wow, Albs, that's a big deal!" Piper exclaims. "I can't believe Haze wants to do dinner. Privately, no less. I'm sure he’ll understand if you tell him about the photo shoot. The Commanders have them, too. He's probably had to participate in quite a few since Harmon Holdings bought the team."
"I know, right?" I say, chewing on my lower lip. "I'm so excited for the shoot, but I'm also kind of dreading this dinner with Haze. What if, after all the texting and all the trying, he decides I'm not what he wants? What if,” I whisper, “I can’t fall in love with him like I did with Sal?"
"Hey, don't stress about it," Piper reassures me. "Just be honest and be yourself. If it's meant to be…. "
I nod even though she can't see me. Piper is correct. What will be will be. No amount of worry or gnawing half my lip off will change things. It’s time to talk about something else. "I'm so pumped for the photo shoot! Sal is going to be there to help with the chocolate, can you believe it?"
Piper laughs. "That's amazing, Albs. I bet the two of you are going to make one hell of a team. You better have a really private place to clean up after."
A deep blush stains my cheeks as I think about Sal pouring warm chocolate over my body on a set. "It'll be nice he gets to see where I work." I pause, then add, "Oh, and Piper? Thanks for being so supportive through all of this. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Aw, you sap," Piper teases. "What are best friends for, right? Speaking of, I've got a bit of news myself..."
I perk up, eager to hear what Piper has to say. "Oh yeah? What is it?"
"Well, you know that plumber I had to call the other day to fix my sink?" Piper begins, her voice taking on a suggestive tone.
I can't help but grin. "Uh-huh, go on..."
"Let's just say he might be coming over for a different kind of 'service' visit later," she says with a giggle.
"Piper Renee Reynolds!" I exclaim, laughing. "You dog! Let me guess, at least 6' 3" with an eight-pack and legs that would make Lagertha weep."
Piper joins in my laughter, the sound of her joy filling the car. "What can I say? A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?"
"Amen to that," I agree, feeling my own spirits lift. Leave it to Piper to brighten my day, even when I'm feeling a bit anxious. "I'd love to meet him. You know, if you decide to keep him around for a minute."
As I pull into my empty driveway, my heart spasms. I know Sal is probably curled up with Haze. A mixture of feelings wash through me, but jealousy isn’t one of them. Not that they are together. Maybe just a little envy that I’m not with them? It’s probably for the best. I need some beauty sleep before my shoot. My heart flutters with anticipation for the day ahead. "Hey, Pipes, I'm home. I should probably get going and get ready for our sculpting session."
"Alright, bestie, go get 'em!" Piper cheers. "And let me know how the dinner with Haze goes, okay?"
"You got it," I promise. "Love you, Pipes."
"Love you, too, Albs. Go crush that photoshoot!"
I disconnect the call, smiling in gratitude for the peace and strength that infuses me after a good talk with my best friend. With Piper's encouragement and Sal by my side, I feel ready to take on whatever Haze has in store for our dinner. Time to get to work.