Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
ANDY
Declan
You have a delivery.
Me
What are you talking about?
I hit send on the text just as there's a knock at my door. Placing my phone into my back pocket, I walk toward the door and look into the peephole, finding two men wearing yellow vests on the other side.
What the fuck?
Usually, I wouldn't open the door for a stranger, let alone two strange men, but I do it anyway because Declan texted me and seemed to know what was happening.
Cautiously, I unlock the deadbolt and open the door. "Hi. Can I help you?"
The tallest of the two men takes a step forward, a clipboard in his hands. "Good evening, ma'am. We have a delivery for Andy Harris." Scrunching my face in confusion, I shake my head as I look between the two men.
"There must be a mistake. I haven't ordered anything."
The tall, bald man looks down at the paperwork in his hand and then turns it to face me, "Is this your name and address?" he asks, and I nod after reading it.
"Great. No mistake. We have the bed frame right here and can get that set up. The installation has already been paid for."
My jaw drops. "You're bringing me a… bed?"
Baldie nods. "Yes, ma'am. We have a bed frame, box spring, and mattress."
Fucking Declan.
Moving to the side, I allow the men into my home, watching as they carry inside a box that I assume is the bed frame they will assemble.
"I'll show you the bedroom." I guide them toward my bedroom, quickly pulling the plug on the air mattress to deflate it.
The men set the box beside the wall. "We're going to grab the other two items and will be right back." Nodding, I let them see themselves out while quickly picking up my room in preparation for my new bed.
"Mommy, who was that?" Max asks, peeking her little curly head into my bedroom.
"Come here, baby. Jump on the air mattress and help me get the air out." Her eyes light up, her hands rubbing together as if she's been preparing for this Olympic moment her entire life.
Max runs toward the mattress, arms and legs spread out like a starfish as she jumps, landing with a slight thud. The air whooshes out, a small hiss filling the air.
Max giggles, rolling back and forth on the bed, living her best life. She's not allowed to jump on her bed, so I'm sure she's loving every moment of this.
Once the mattress is flat, I gather all the bedding and pillows into a pile, shoving them into my closet until my new bed is assembled.
A quick peek at the box tells me it's king-size. Thankfully, so was my air mattress, so I can use the same sheets .
Fuck yeah.
When the men return with the mattress and box spring, I excuse myself into the kitchen to prepare dinner for Max and me while they work.
Me
How do you know my last name?
Declan
Steven at the front desk.
Me
You really asked my night shift employee for my last name?
Declan
Sure as fuck did.
Me
Why? Thinking of stealing my identity or stalking me?
Declan
I don't need your last name to stalk you.
Me
That's… creepy.
You didn't answer me about stealing my identity or not.
Declan
Ha, I promise not to steal your identity.
I assume you got my gift?
Me
I did. It's way too fucking much, but I won't pretend like I'm going to fight you on it or try to give it back. It's currently being assembled in my room, and I can't wait to sleep on it. So, thank you so much.
Declan
You're welcome, mama. I hope you sleep good tonight.
Me
I hope you do, too.
Declan
Unlikely, but thanks.
Me
Still can't sleep at your friend's house?
Declan
Nah. Got a lot on my mind too.
Me
Talk to me.
Declan
Let me gather my thoughts first, and then I will.
Me
Whatever you need, whenever you're ready, I'm here.
Declan
I know, mama. Enjoy the bed.
Three hours later, my brand-new king-size bed is assembled, and the pillow-top mattress looks heavenly beneath my new sheets. After it was assembled, they informed me new bedding had also been ordered and was included in the delivery.
Not only do I have a brand new bed, but I also have brand new Egyptian cotton sheets, silk pillowcases, and a comforter that feels like a cloud.
I may have gotten teary-eyed when I saw the silk pillowcases. I’m not sure how he knew it’s what I needed for my hair, but he did .
Be still my heart.
After the new sheets were on, I snapped a picture and sent it to Declan, thanking him again for the expensive gift.
Tomorrow is Friday, but he hasn’t said anything about when he's coming back. If he's coming back. Or anything about our date.
I have yet to bring it up either; I'm afraid to hear his answer in case he doesn't plan on returning or if he forgot about our date. Just in case, though, I scheduled a babysitter and bought myself a nice outfit from the thrift shop. They rarely have my size, but whenever they do, I always grab the items regardless of whether I like them or not. If I don't like it, at least it's my size, and I can style it somehow that I will like. But I got lucky and found a stunning midnight-blue velvet dress. The ruffles in the velvet lay smoothly over my belly, so I won’t have to wear shapewear with it.
God, Declan. Please don't stand me up.
I've been looking forward to going out with him. He has been the first person I talk to every morning and the last person I talk to before I fall asleep. Every day that I wake up, there's a text waiting from him. Sometimes, he asks simple questions, like my favorite book series or favorite flavor of ice cream.
My favorite book series is Down We Go by Kyla Faye, and I love the Superman ice cream from Scoops. He thought it sounded ridiculous, but I said I'd take him and he could try it before he judges it.
Other times, he'll ask me about my childhood and what it was like growing up in Loganville. I told him it was challenging because everyone knew me as the granddaughter of Max and Claire Harris, whom they raised because their daughter Diane was too busy doing drugs.
I never had friends because parents didn't want their children playing with the girl who had a drug addict for a mother. They weren't allowed to come to my house, and I wasn't allowed at theirs.
When kids in my class were handing out invites for their birthday parties, I was always the one who was excluded. I was the outcast that people liked to stare at and whisper about.
I told Declan all of that.
He told me about how he was in foster care because his drug-addicted mother left him outside of an ice cream shop. He shared that he was eventually transferred to a group home when he was sixteen, where he met Adam—his best friend and bandmate.
For the first time, I've found myself having something new to look forward to daily. A break in my regular, mundane routine. It's refreshing to have someone new in my life to talk to. To share my day and thoughts with.
Someone who doesn't care about what I've been through and isn't judging me for the sins of my mother. Or judging me for being a high school dropout.
Declan doesn't care about any of that. I'm convinced it's me that he cares about.
Once Max is asleep, I quickly shower, going through the steps for my typical night routine. Excitement courses through me until I'm bouncing on my feet, ready to get between the sheets and sleep on the memory foam mattress I tested out briefly earlier.
Wanting to feel the softness against my bare skin, I don't bother putting clothes on. Instead, I turn off the light, encasing my bedroom into a soft purple glow thanks to the purple Halloween lights I bought and hung around my walls.
My naked body slips beneath the cool sheets, a groan of satisfaction releasing from my lips at the contact and the content feeling of sleeping on something besides a hard air mattress.
Bringing up my phone, I take a picture of the empty side of my bed and send it to Declan.
Me
This bed feels fantastic. Thank you again .
His response is instant.
Declan
If you're going to send a picture like that, make sure you're in it.
Feeling more confident than usual, I flip the camera and bring the phone to my face. Tucking the blanket underneath my arms to cover my breasts, I smile and snap a picture, sending it instantly to Declan before I can stare at it and criticize everything about myself.
For once, I want to do something without overthinking it and picking myself apart. I don't care if my double chin is showing or if I didn't force my collarbones to show. It doesn't matter if my cleavage isn't perfect because my breasts aren't high and perky.
It's fine. He knows what I look like.
Declan
Do you always sleep naked?
Me
No, but tonight, I wanted to be comfortable and feel the sheets beneath my skin.
Declan
You're killing me, mama.
Me
Why did you get me silk pillowcases?
Declan
I read that it’s best for your hair. I know you wear your bonnet, but I thought the pillowcases would help, too.
Me
Did you read it, or you know from experience dating a lot of black girls?
Declan
I don’t date.
You were the only one I was thinking about.
Me
What are you doing?
Declan
Sitting in Adam's backyard, working on new lyrics. Got to come up with a few more songs for the album.
Me
Can you share any of the new songs with me?
Incoming FaceTime call from Declan
Propping myself up on the pillows, I double-check that my breasts are covered before answering the call. "Hey, Dec." A smile finds my face at the sight of him. I take in his appearance, his hair disheveled as if he's been running his fingers through it.
"Hey, mama." He breathes a sigh of relief, but I'm not sure why he's relieved. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear your voice."
"Why? What's wrong?"
He rubs a hand down his face, his stubble prominent. The last time we were on video chat, he was freshly shaved, but that was a couple days ago.
"I'm stressed as fuck," he admits.
"What's going on?"
"I learned a few days ago that we will perform next Friday. My manager, Benny, booked us a few shows here in Vegas beginning next week. Then, in less than two months, we will do a few shows in four states."
My heart sinks, dread filling my stomach. "Are you going to move to Vegas so you can be with your band?" The question is like acid on my tongue. I hold my breath, dreading the answer.
He shakes his head. "I don't fucking know. I'll be gone for shows for two weeks, then we'll be on tour, either the end of this year, or beginning of next year. Benny is anticipating this year."
"Your plan was always to go to Vegas after two months here. Why not go now, since you'll be playing in Vegas? It might be easier. Less commute."
"The commute isn't an issue." Maybe not to him, considering he has a personal driver. But that hour might as well be six to me.
"What's the issue?"
"Performing again. We've been playing all week, and it feels so fucking incredible. But the last time I was on stage, I celebrated by snorting a line of coke off a pussy." I cringe, but he doesn't apologize. Not that he should because he's telling the truth. I asked for honesty, no matter how ugly it can be.
"You're worried that you'll be tempted to use," I clarify. He nods.
"During the times I was performing, it was the worst for me. Having that adrenaline in my veins, being hopped up from hearing the crowd going wild for me, all I wanted after I stepped off that stage was a cold drink and a little white line waiting for me. I'm not sure how to play sober or party with my bandmates while remaining sober," he confesses, many emotions swimming in his dark eyes. "I don't want to do any of that."
"What if you have someone there to help you? Prevent you from using," I suggest.
"Like a babysitter?"
I shrug. "I read that sometimes labels will hire a sober coach for their artists when they're struggling with addiction. "
"You just happened to read that? Or you looked into it?"
"I knew this day would come. The day you'd be back on stage, so I looked it up."
He sits straight in the chair he'd been slouched in, a smile tugging at his lips. "You surprise me, Andy Harris."
"Don't read into it. It's not a big deal."
"It is," he whispers, quickly clearing his throat. "You want to hear one of the songs I've been working on?"
Holy fuck, yes! Like the rest of the world, I've been waiting for Riot to release a new album. It's been a few years since they've released any new music. Trying not to seem too eager, I shrug. "I guess that would be okay."
He eyes me suspiciously. "We've never talked about it before, but you once told me you knew who I was when we met." Why is he bringing that up?
"Yeah, so?"
"Andy Harris, are you a fan?" He cocks his eyebrow, his dimple appearing deep in his cheek when the slow smile takes over his panty-wetting face.
"You know what, Declan Valentine, I am. There. I admit it. Riot is my favorite band."
He tilts his head back, exposing his tattooed throat as he laughs. "I fucking knew it. Why haven't you told me? We've talked about music before."
"I never told you because I didn't want your ego to get any bigger."
"Too late for that, baby."
"Whatever. Yes, I love Riot, and I'm excited for the new album, but I also understand the risk that comes with it." The risk of relapse.
"What's your favorite song?"
"‘It’s Over Now,’" I answer without thinking about it. That was the song that was playing the day I tried to take my life. The song that saved me.
"Damn, mama. That song is heavy as fuck." He's not wrong. The song's beat is low and sung slower than his others. Listening to it is a personal experience. Anyone who can relate to it is someone who has been to hell and back. Someone who understands what it's like to feel so hopeless and broken that you want to die.
"One day, when I need a reminder of why I'm getting on that stage, I want you to tell me why that song is your favorite."
"Deal."
"Good. Now, lower your phone a little bit and lift the blanket."
I laugh, blushing at the insinuation. "Stop. We're not going to have phone sex."
He pins me with a look. "Who said anything about phone sex? I just want to see you."
"Not happening."
"Pussy," he grumbles.
"You're awful. I'm going to sleep."
"Goodnight, mama."
"Night, Dec."
His face disappears as the call ends. Reaching my nightstand, I plug my phone into the charger, then double-check that my alarm is set so I can wake up in time for work.
Another night was spent with a belly full of butterflies, and Declan as the last person I talked to.
Snuggling down in the sheets, I close my eyes, ready for sleep, when my phone pings with a new text.
Declan
I'll pick you up tomorrow at five.
Can't wait to see you.
I'll play one of the new songs for you then.
Me
You just saw me.
Declan
In person. A screen doesn't do you justice. I need more.
Me
Tomorrow at 5. See you then.
Declan
Counting down the hours until you're in my presence. Until I can feel your skin beneath my fingertips.
Dammit. Lying on my back, I spread my legs, pinching my nipples before trailing my fingers down to my wet center, using one hand to text.
Me
Where do you want to touch me?
Declan
Go to bed, Andy.
Oh, I will. Right after I get myself off while rereading our text messages.