Chapter 89
THREE MONTHS LATER
I wake to the sound of Sterling’s monster of a coffee machine. A fancy monster. It has a touch screen. It also grinds beans with the decibels of a jet engine.
Anytime I sleep here—three times already this week—I wake up to two things: Sterling or coffee. Sometimes both. Any and all combinations are great, although as I roll over onto his side of the bed, it would be nice to get a cuddle in before he leaves.
He might like to run at four a.m., but I don’t need to see what the world looks like before the sun rises. I don’t even need to open my eyes to find him in the kitchen.
He hums as I plaster myself to his back.
“What day is it?”
“Sunday.”
Oh good. Not a workday then. It’s hard to keep track, especially this week—I’ve been chasing a hospital administrator round in circles.
Technically, they aren’t refusing an interview, which would give credence to the wrongful death suit I’m investigating.
No, they’ve agreed to be interviewed, but it might as well be set for August 41st because the rain checks, delays, postponements are endless.
I sigh and try to melt into Sterling.
“No working,” I say.
“What isn’t?”
“You. I don’t care what you’re working on. I’m not letting you go.”
He shuffles in place, and I hear the beautiful sound of coffee being poured in to two mugs. He’s so good to me.
Sterling and coffee—there’s nothing better.
“Don’t worry; work is the last thing on the agenda. I was hoping to take you out.”
“Oh?”
Usually, our date nights consist of work and takeout. I’m not complaining—I love any time I spend with Sterling—but it’ll be nice to try something new.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re the one I want to share it with.”
I let my forehead fall to his chest. It’s too early for him to attack my heart like this; I haven’t even had coffee yet.
What hope do I have to respond? The best I’ve got is the lovesick sound that squeezes out of me, that I hope conveys the swell of you’re amazing, and every day I know you, I love you a little bit more, and I never knew I could feel so much for one person and not explode.
“There’s something else.” He brings his hands to my cheeks, tilting my head back until our eyes meet. He’s using the smile he knows makes me speechless. “I think I should let you know that I love you.”
I close my eyes on a groan. “Obviously, I love you, too, but tell me again after coffee.”
He’s still smiling as he kisses me.
* * *
It is a beautiful day. It’s the sort of day where anything might be possible.
It’s also possible I’m talking out of my butt because my vision is completely fogged over with Sterling-itis.
We end up across town, and I’m two blocks into explaining exactly why Alice’s cinnamon rolls have no equal when I hear music.
A crowd has gathered up ahead, surrounding two guitarists—a guy with long legs and tattoos and a young woman with her hair in a fantastic braid.
They’re laughing and battling while the crowd cheers them on.
I recognize the guy as my neighbor Lucky.
He looks good. Scruff dusts his jaw, and his hair is half tied back. A sleeveless shirt and tight pants put his fantastic body on display. He’s like a sexy pirate.
I’m so entranced by their playing that it takes me a second to realize Sterling’s stopped moving. He’s staring at Lucky with a look I recognize.
One I’ve seen directed at me.
One of the ways we differ is that Sterling prefers an organized attack. He’s sly—don’t get me wrong—but he never coddles, and he rarely softens the blow when it comes.
I prefer the softer approach. Less planned, more emotive. People are far more willing to open up than you expect, as long as you give them a chance. It just takes a little time.
For this though, I’m going to need to adopt Sterling’s way.
“Tell me about him.”
Learning to interpret Sterling’s restraint gets a heck of a lot easier once you understand that he’s hiding a tender, aching heart underneath all that grumpiness. So, it doesn’t surprise me when that’s where his story starts.
“I was at a loss after my parents died. Lucky was the first bright spot in a very angry darkness and a reminder of everything I wanted to fight for. Even after we lost touch, I would check in on him, saw his career grow and when he moved here.”
That’s a long time to miss someone, and knowing Sterling, I’m positive he’s kept himself away on purpose.
“You should say hello. I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
The battle finishes, and there’s a loud cheer. Someone’s decided as the winner, but I’m too focused on Sterling to see who. He isn’t moving, and I make a decision.
“Come on.”
I don’t know what their history is, but it’s obvious there is some, and it’s confirmed for me when Lucky spots us, his gaze triangulating between us and everywhere we touch—especially where Sterling has his arm around my waist.
We never did have that date, but if he’s sad or jealous, he’s hiding it well. In fact, he’s got the same glint in his eyes that he had when he asked me out, except this time, it’s directed at …
Oh, I see now.
Well, that’s interesting. Very interesting …
“You’re pretty talented on that thing,” I tell Lucky, who laughs. “Do you take requests?”
“Let’s find out.” He looks up from where he’s packing his guitar away, his eyes bright. There’s no mistaking who his next words are for. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Sterling replies.
“I heard about what happened at the bank. Good to know you haven’t given up your habit of throwing yourself face-first into danger.”
“It wasn’t always danger I threw myself at. I did kiss you first.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Lucky says, standing. It brings him close. “It’s kind of impossible to forget.”
“Are you …” Sterling gestures around us.
“Busy? No, you know I can always fit you in.” The words are directed at Sterling, but the wink is sent to me.
“Teaching,” Sterling finishes, his voice rougher.
Lucky laughs like he knew that, like he’s testing the boundaries on purpose. “Nothing official.”
It’s a beautiful day, the kind of day where anything is possible, but sometimes, Fate needs a helping hand.
“Hey, Lucky,” I say. “Maybe you can do something for me.”
He slides his hands into his pockets, casual as anything. “Anything, love.”
“Well, a few months ago, you asked me a question.”
He followed up on our maybe date a few days later, and I had to tell him I was seeing someone. If I’d known the possibility for something more existed … well, it’s never too late to make up for lost time.
“Can you ask me again? Both of us this time.”
The question is barely out of his mouth when Sterling is accepting—a short, sharp, “Yes,” that must have been waiting there for years.
Yes, I think, this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
THE END
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start over