Chapter 30
30
[Genie]
T oday is the big day. The reason I came to Sterling Falls in the first place. While I’d hoped for a better outcome with my mother, giving in to her request to attend the Buttercup Society Garden Party and lingering for an entire week to spend Mother’s Day with her, the real purpose of my visit is today.
And my mother didn’t bother to remember.
While Judd and I spent the night in his bed, learning ticklish places and exploring other ways to please one another, I feel off in the morning. The day feels like any other day when it shouldn’t and it’s going to be a long one. The energy around me is a spiral of melancholy.
“Good morning,” I greet Judd as he stands in his kitchen making coffee. He’s perfected my almond milk and honey mixture better than even I make the morning brew. He woke early, running through a workout regime that complements his boxing practice. He’s very disciplined.
“Hello, firefly.” He steps over to me, cupping the side of my neck and kissing me.
Couple goals . This.
Only, today, I have somewhere I need to be. “I’m going to head into town for a little while this morning. I have . . . something to do.” The explanation is vague even to my ears but I’m not ready to share this date’s significance. I don’t want Judd to pity me.
“Want company?”
Yes . “Thanks, but I won’t be long.”
Judd watches me, his gaze assessing. “You’ll be back, right?” The question is meant as a tease but there’s a tremor to his voice. I promised I wouldn’t disappear. I’d never leave without saying goodbye.
“I’ll be back.” I offer him a reassuring smile.
Today is the day I’m supposed to head back to Knoxville, and we haven’t discussed what Judd asked last night.
Stay with me a little longer .
I don’t know how that would work and it’s not something I can tackle yet.
When I enter the Curmudgeon Bakery, I hadn’t considered Sebastian Sylver might be present as the owner and head baker of this small-town establishment. He does a double take upon seeing me and greets me before I reach the display counter.
“Hey, Genie.” Sebastian wipes his hands on the apron tied around his waist. “What can I get you?”
The bakery is bustling but I’m quick to spot what I’d hoped he’d have at the ready.
“I’ll take one of those.” I point at a vanilla cupcake with a thick swirl of white frosting on top plus an overload of confetti sprinkles. “To go, please.”
“Birthday cake cupcake, coming up.” Sebastian retrieves the delicacy and gingerly sets it in a plastic container.
“Is it your birthday?” His tone is all tease.
When I don’t answer, he glances up, catching me chewing on my lower lip. His expression turns stern. “If it’s your birthday, why are you buying one cupcake? Better question is, why isn’t Judd picking this up?”
I hold the intensity of Sebastian’s stare only so long before I sheepishly glance to the side. “Uhm. He doesn’t know it’s my birthday.”
Sebastian folds his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. He looks like a man who has led a hard life before turning into a big softy for bakery items, and his wife and children. His jaw ticks once before he says, “You and Judd keeping birthdays from one another for some reason?”
I won’t admit I don’t know when Judd’s birthday is, so I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Every birthday is a big deal.” Sebastian continues to eye me, as if reading the truth. “Even if it isn’t the happiest.”
He’s guessed correctly. My birthday doesn’t hold the fondest of memories. The date is a reminder of one of my biggest mistakes.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask, while retrieving my wallet from my bag.
“Happy Birthday.” Sebastian slides the plastic container closer to me, implying this is his gift.
“Thanks,” I whisper, picking up the package. I turn toward the door and then turn back to Sebastian, needing one more favor from him. “Promise me you won’t tell Judd.”
Sebastian tips up his chin. “Not good at keeping secrets anymore. They cause too much trouble.”
From what I’ve learned, Sebastian knows a thing or two about trouble, so I won’t ask him to go against his principles.
Instead, I nod and leave.
When I arrive at a roadside scenic viewpoint, I take a seat on the short stone wall lining the gravel parking spaces. Taking a deep breath, I glance out at the mountain view. The forest is awake in a variety of vibrant greens. The air is crisp with the scent of pine and wood and the fresh scent of something bursting from the earth. Life is blooming all around me.
With no one else present, I’m able to hold a private conversation with the trees.
“It’s my birthday, Dad. The big four-oh.” Still in its container, I hold the cupcake in my lap and stare down at the generous swirl of frosting. “I think you’d be proud of me. I’ve accomplished so much.”
I reflect on attending business school and taking art classes on the side, finding my true passion and a place for my quirky girl designs and my love of organization. At least, the organization of dates.
“Big day today,” I whisper. “But an even bigger date is coming.” The potential sale of my company. For twelve years, I’ve been my own boss, and it’s been rewarding in so many ways. My time is mine. My schedule, too. However, I don’t know what’s next, or at least, how to handle working beneath others again as I will no longer fully be in charge. I’ll be a creative designer, and nothing more. The idea is bittersweet.
“Anyway, I just wanted to share the news,” I explain.
And tell you, again, how sorry I am, Daddy .
Sorry that you aren’t here. That you didn’t see me march to my own beat.
“I met someone,” I announce to the trees because my dad isn’t buried in one place. His ashes were dust in the wind over this peak. “You’d really like him.” I swallow hard. “For me.”
Judd is patient and kind. He respects me and defends me. He wants me on some level, cherishing me when we’re together. Maybe, he even thinks of me when we’re apart.
If I kept people in my life, I’d keep him. Instead, I tend to lose them, like my father. Like my mother.
I’m forty and alone, and a bit iffy about my future. Then, I glance at the amethyst ring on my left hand.
Would being married be that bad? Not every day would be perfect, but overall, marriage might be nice. Having a partner in life. Sharing the days, both specialty ones and the mundane. Cuddling with someone at night and continuing to discover what makes each of us happy. Growing together, like Judd’s garden. Weathering any storm hand-in-hand.
Perhaps that’s been the issue for my mother. She never found a hand that fit hers. Maybe my father hadn’t even been it for her. Her numerous marriages might have been the desperate search to find a love that doesn’t sour; however, her rigid expectations have made everyone fall short. She is hard and bitter, and everything I don’t want to become.
And I am not her. Love doesn’t come with a manual or guidelines. It doesn’t fit in a box, or march to less rhythm, or force itself into an atrocious yellow dress. Love does not restrict or belittle.
Love is being tossed into a cool lake or found when lost or cuddled in a storm. Love is quiet nights reading and warm afternoons talking. Love is being honest and ink on skin and hearts marked with memories that can never be replaced.
Love is . . . Judd.
The revelation isn’t shocking. Like the flicker of a candle, it’s enlightening.
“Happy birthday to me,” I whisper and lift the cupcake container, like an offering to the sky, like a toast when I don’t drink champagne because of this day.
“My wish would be that you were here to celebrate.” I blow a kiss to the sky, hopeful that heaven exists and my dad is up there hanging with the entity that created the universe.
Then I bow my head and smile weakly to myself. I don’t know that I’ve ever believed in fate until ten days ago when Judd Sylver stood in the corner of my mother’s living room, a bit anxious, a lot handsome, and waiting on me when I didn’t even know he’d be present.
Could Judd Sylver be my destiny?
Sitting on the side of a different mountain pass, I open the plastic container and take a bite of the birthday cake cupcake, humming at Sebastian Sylver’s ability to create such a treat.
Then I make a second birthday wish.
Couple goals . Keeping Judd as my other half in a couple.
When I return to Judd’s place, I school my expression and try to tap into a happier place inside me. I’m forty. I’ve reached a milestone some people don’t see.
Judd sent me a text that he went to see Simon. Earlier, he didn’t mention asking me to stay, and I didn’t want to bring it up, afraid he didn’t mean to say it. Between the poem and the moments of passion afterward, maybe he simply misspoke. Asking him would resolve my doubt but my mind is already mush because of the date. Initially, I intended to leave Sterling Falls after a birthday celebration with my mother; however, as that moment didn’t happen, I find I’m stalling.
Taking a seat at Judd’s dining room table, I decide to work through the day, getting lost in some art. I have a good mental picture of my new Quirky Adventure Girl, the one who appreciates the outdoors a little more than my original girls who are more into plants and books. I’m eager to get started on some sketches.
With my laptop open and the sunlight streaming into the room, Judd enters the space with his laptop in hand.
“Simon missed you today,” Judd says, his gaze lowered, like he has more to say but doesn’t know where to start.
“I’m so sorry I missed him.” I mean it. Simon is important to Judd. They often text one another and Judd checks in with Trudy to see if Simon needs anything. He’s told me more about what he does for the young boy and how he feels about him, and I’m sorry I missed out on time spent with him.
However, I had a reason to be alone for a while.
“Mind if I join you?”
The rectangular table is dark wood with six dining chairs but suddenly I’m reminded of library tables. The arrangement of tables between the mass of bookshelves.
“This seat is open,” I announce, pointing to the one to my left as I sit at the head of the table.
Judd takes the chair, his back to the bright windows, and opens his laptop. Hardly a minute passes before he’s glancing at my paper sketch pad and some notes I’ve made.
“What are you working on?”
“Another Quirky Girl.” I hear the lift in my voice as I sit straighter in my chair and wiggle my shoulders. The one thing I love to talk about most are my calendars. Knowing Judd will listen, fully engaged, I explain my vision, share my initial sketches, and tell him a few of my ideas for specialty dates.
“National Love a Tree Day is coming soon. May sixteenth. And National Tree Day is in early August which is different from National Arbor Day which takes place in April.” I continue to tell him additional dates related to the great outdoors and explain my research for even more novelty dates to include.
At one point, Judd’s bare toes connected with mine beneath the table and we hold that hidden connection throughout my chattering.
Judd is attentive as I suspected he’d be, asking questions, offering suggestions, until finally he says, “I don’t think you should sell.”
“What?” I stammer. I could instantly be on the defense. It’s my company, I can do what I want with it, but I’m also curious why Judd is saying such a thing.
“You have great ideas, and you can do this on your own.”
“I can’t?—”
“You just need help. Some assistance and maybe some financial resources.”
I’m already shaking my head, but Judd is holding up a hand. “I can help.”
“I’m not taking your money.” The moment I speak, I realize he isn’t actually offering.
Judd simply smiles, though. “Let me look at your financials. We can form a budget and make a plan. You might not have that lump payout Greetings Ambassador is promising but you’d still have control, and over time, you might benefit more from that. You’d have longevity. Maybe even a legacy.”
His suggestion isn’t about money but about keeping my brand. Plus, Judd has told me how he’s good at investing. He helped Sebastian set up his bakery and he keeps Sylver Seed & Soil in good financial standing. He’s mentioned helping other small businesses in the area as well, even a non-profit one called Art’s Studio.
“I don’t know.” I set my elbow on the table and drag my fingers through my short hair, before holding them on the back of my head. It’s a lot to consider, and today I just want to draw.
Sensing my frustration or hesitation, Judd sits back, watching me. “Okay. Well, I’m here for whatever you need.” The way he continues to look at me, I sense he means more than just looking at my business spread sheets. Judd could be the moral support I want, both in business and beyond.
Eventually, he glances back at his open laptop. “When we were in high school, I pictured us like this.”
I press off my elbow and stare back at him.
“Hanging out in the library together. Studying or talking. Just anything.”
“Anything?” I quirk a brow.
“Well, I also might have thought about clearing the books off the table and ravishing you on top of it like I am now, but?—”
“I’m open to ravishing,” I blurt, glancing at the sketch pad and laptops between us.
Judd leans forward again, while forcing his chair backwards. He’s reflective another minute. “Laptops are expensive.”
Then he stands, takes my hand and walks me to the other end of the table.
“Would it sound strange if I told you how turned I am by how rational you just were?” I ask, as he takes my hips and lifts me to the table.
“Only if I can tell you I’ve had a hard on since listening to you talk about national days on a calendar.”
Oh my God , I could love this man.
And when his mouth lands on mine, and he presses my body back, I forget my name and the significance of this date for a little while, especially when his fingers and lips work their magic.
His tongue dips and his fingers spread me. Every time Judd touches me is an adventure. Although his mouth has been on me before, his tongue will move in a different way or his lips will add new pressure, and I’m taken over the edge in a manner I haven’t experienced before.
Judd is voracious today and as soon as I’m crying out, he’s tugging me to the edge of the table and flipping me over.
With my breasts pressed to the warm wooden tabletop, heated from the sunlight streaming into the dining nook, my nipples are hard peaks. My palms streak against the surface as Judd tugs me backward, then hitches my leg upward so one knee rests on the table. My other foot is tiptoed on the floor. I’m open and exposed to Judd in a new way, and I hold my breath anticipating what he’ll do next to me.
What I do not expect is the heat of his length suddenly pressed between the crease of my backside. His stiffness wedged in place, then sliding up and down until he positions himself between my legs.
“So wet for me, firefly,” he hums near my ear as his hand slips around to my front and his fingertips flick my clit.
“Judd,” I cry out.
I can feel the tip of him near my entrance as his fingers circle that sensitive nub, already ripe and swollen from his mouth moments ago.
“God, Genie,” he grunts, running his length back and forth against damp folds. He’s so close and I tip my hips, wanting him closer. Wanting him to fill me.
“Come inside me,” I cry out, wanting him to enter me.
Judd groans, fisting himself to prevent his dick from diving in. “Not yet.”
Frustration hits me, and I whimper, “No!”
He’s so close. He could just slip inside me. Complete me.
But Judd doubles down his attention, using the tip of his cock at my clit, teasing me, torturing me, until soon enough, I’m crying out his name again, thumping my palm against the table as I let go.
I preen as I release against his tip, arching my back and jutting up my backside, until Judd quickly pulls himself from between my legs, laying his length against my lower back and jetting over me.
Sprawled out on the table, cheek pressed to the top, I breath heavily. My body relaxed. My mind a void.
“You look so beautiful with me spilled on your skin.” He runs his fingertip through the mess, like he’s painting a tattoo on my back. Admiring a masterpiece.
Oddly, the motion feels like the shape of a heart is being drawn on my flesh. He’s marked me again.
Happy birthday to me after all .