Chapter 18
18
Laird
I’ll be nothing more than a memory to her?
“I don’t want to be a memory.” I push up and drop to Poppy’s side, keeping my eyes on hers.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Twisting to her side to face me, she runs her fingers down my cheek. “Just that I’ll always remember this—”
“Fuck.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose, realizing my words are prisoners to her condition. I could lose her. I could lose her before she knows the truth because I can’t fucking say anything to her.
Not about Austin.
Not about the proposal.
Not even about me.
I should be glad she’ll remember me this time, but it’s not enough. Frustration consumes me, replacing the good and how amazing I felt.
With her hand coming to rest on my chest, on the star that we share, she says, “I’m sorry, Laird. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.”
Even in the dark, I can see her eyes widen. “You sound upset.”
“I’m upset at myself. Not you.”
A hint of frustration leaks from her exasperated sigh. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that I want to be with you.”
Her expression softens, her fingertips tapping on my lips, and then they are replaced with a kiss. “You are with me.”
“When we leave.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’m not even sure I should. It just feels too good in her presence. She looks at me like I can do no wrong. That’s all I’ve done since I left Austin. Fuck up my life . Poppy is my chance at redemption. “We’re supposed to have days, but I know life doesn’t work that way. So before the distractions and life creeps back in, I’m telling you that I want to see you after Deer Lake.”
“You say it as if Deer Lake is all we have.” Shaking her head, she uses her fingers to doodle across my skin again. “We’ll always have this place, but it’s not all we are.” She slides closer, tangling her legs with mine until I’m holding her tight in my arms. She places one kiss on my shoulder.
I kiss her head.
She kisses higher.
I kiss her forehead.
Our lips meet in the middle.
“Who are we, Poppy?”
“You’re the guy who stopped to help me when my car died.” Her cheek is pressed to my chest, and although she can hear the thunder of my heart, I don’t mind. I want her to know how she makes me feel.
“You’re the woman who got jealous when a server put her hand on me.”
“Ha!” She balks in laughter. “I wasn’t jealous, but her excessive touching was inappropriate.”
A chuckle rocks my shoulders. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.”
“You help me sleep at night.” With her hands stroking my shoulder blades, she kisses my chest.
I kiss the top of her head, wondering how long we’ll be able to remain like this. If it were up to me, it would be forever.
She whispers, “Can I ask you something?”
“Is that the question? The answer is yes.” I grin, seeing her smile in response.
Giggling, she tucks her head still wrapped up neat as a present in my arms. The laughter fades, and silence sneaks in. The quiet doesn’t bother me, though I’d rather not give my thoughts the space to stray. That only leads to second-guessing what’s right in front of me, the gift I’m being given, and if I’m doing the right thing. For her. And not just for me.
It’s not long, maybe a minute max, before she wriggles to give herself room. Tilting back, she rests her head on the pillow as her eyes find mine in the dark. “What do you do for a living?”
The question itself isn’t hard to answer. My career is part of my identity. It’s given me the life I live—the downfalls of fame and the upside of never wanting for anything. It’s only difficult to tell her because it has the potential to change what’s growing between us.
I take a sobering breath and then lean forward to kiss her forehead. With my lips pressed to her sweet and salty skin, I know I can’t hide forever, and I don’t want to. “I’m a musician.” Vague but honest enough to satisfy her?
“Guitarist.” The word is just a breath against my neck, so quiet between us.
I nod, wondering where we go from here as if that one word has broken our spell. I want to see her reaction, to know if she feels differently about me. “Wild guess?”
Fame affects everyone unpredictably, even if only being in proximity. I pray it doesn’t do the same to us.
“Not a wild guess. There’s a photo in the bedroom, and the tattoos gave it away.”
“They usually are.”
“There’s also a guitar in the living room, but it hasn’t been played since you’ve been here.” She grins as if she’s cracked the code. She has.
Caressing her cheek, I run the pad of my thumb over the apple of it. “I’ve had other things to keep me occupied.”
Her sweet smile falters, and she whispers, “You’re famous, aren’t you?” The burdens of the world infuse her pretty eyes as the realization of what that means begins to dawn. I know. I live it every fucking day of my life. No peace. No privacy. No sincerity. It’s hard to trust anyone, and I question everybody’s motives.
I don’t want that with her, but I knew I couldn’t hide my life from her forever, even if I wanted to protect her from it. “Not enough, apparently,” I reply, trying to win back her smile.
A laugh jolts her body, but then she playfully pushes me with a pout built on her mouth. “Funny,” she replies. “But I feel stupid for not knowing.”
“Don’t.” I grasp her wrists and bring her hands to my mouth, kissing each one. “I’m glad you don’t know who I am.”
“I felt I did. Inside . . . or was starting to.” A sigh carries her breath away, and she adds, “So much about you felt familiar.” She humorlessly laughs to herself, one of her hands slipping from me to rub her forehead. “I thought we were sharing something special.” Her eyes dart to the ceiling, but I can see her emotions distancing from me. “You’re only familiar because you’re famous. I feel like a fool because none of it was real.”
“It is, Poppy.”
“I probably saw you on TV or . . .” She doesn’t say in concert, but the inference is out there. Fuck.
Sitting up, I say, “I wouldn’t be here—”
“You mean, I wouldn’t be here. Not still. Not after we had sex.” She pulls back even more, her entire body shifting away. “Not in your bed. I would have been the fun you had in the hot tub or the girl you fucked on the couch.”
“Don’t say that.” Anger doesn’t come for me, but the fear of losing her hits straight to the heart. “Don’t doubt that I’ve given—”
“What have you given, Laird? Not your last name. Not even your profession until after I had sex with you.” She covers herself as if she needs the protection. From me?
What the fuck is happening?
She says, “You know so much about me, that I’m a chef, that I—”
“I don’t know your last name.”
“Stanfield. Poppy Stanfield. You can look me up. You’ll find more than I want out there. I’m the daughter of a CEO of some mega-corporation who doesn’t care about the planet or the damage he does to others, and he most definitely doesn’t care about me.” Her eyes haven’t left mine, but her expression has morphed, the doubt replaced with fire. “I was raised by a mother who told me to always marry for money because you can never have enough. To have kids quickly to trap that inheritance and secure the prenup payment for when they cheat on you and find a younger model. For reference, she’s worth more than she can spend in four lifetimes. I’m a—”
“You’re a trained chef and have three different knife tattoos to honor levels of achievement you haven’t shared with me, but I want to hear all about it or, even better, watch you in action. You laugh more when you’re drunk, and you don’t hide your feelings. Your eyes have these gold flecks, and every time I’m lucky enough to see them in the sunlight, I feel like I’ve discovered treasure. Little gold coins that are sometimes lost in the waves of sea green and driftwood. You’re spontaneous, but because of the accident, you hesitate more. A confidence that deserves to be there is now shaken.” I exhale but lower my voice and say, “I don’t know who was by your side after the accident, but I wish I could have been there for you. I wouldn’t have left.”
I want to take her hand that’s fallen to the bed, the one that lies palm up instead of fisted at her chest. I don’t because I won’t pressure her. But I do add, “This is real for me, Poppy. I have a lot to be ashamed of. Being with you is one of the few things not on that list.” I suck in one more deep breath because even though I had no intention of laying out my feelings like this, there’s no point in stopping now. “I was going to say I gave you more of me than anyone else. Everyone else just took what they wanted.”
We’re stuck in a staring standoff—no smiles are exchanged, no words, not even a breath. And then she lunges for me, her mouth crashing into mine, her hands grabbing at my head, pulling my hair, then dropping to my shoulders as we fall back on the bed. I’m pinned to the bed with her on top. Her hands slide into mine, our fingers entwining.
With her legs straddling me, she lifts to look into my eyes. But horror fills them instead of pleasure. “Oh God.” She starts trying to free her fingers, but I don’t let her. “I just did what you said everyone else does. Takes. I was taking what I wanted—”
“No, you were accepting what I was willing to give.” Still locking her hands to mine, I say, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You can have all of me, Poppy. Take it because I’m no good without you.”
Her chest heaves above me, her thoughts spinning in her eyes as she searches mine. “You haven’t lied to me, right?”
I’m shaking my head before I even answer. “No. Never.” I tick through my confessions, moving the omissions to justifications because I’ve only ever done what’s right for her. “For me, this is real. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
Worry creases her brow, and she bites her lip while studying me. “It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours, and we’re making declarations?”
“Yes. I don’t need to protect myself from you. I know who you are. I know I can trust you.”
When she bends to kiss me this time, it’s slow and deliberate. “How can you say that when you barely know me?”
“Because I see the person you are. I know who you are on the inside.” I free her hands, having said all I can in hopes of her believing me, in hopes of her staying.
She caresses my face as her body rocks on top of me. “I trust you, Laird.” She stills only briefly. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I swear to God, Poppy. I will never hurt you. I’ll never let you down, baby.”
And when I slide inside her, it’s not only sex we’re sharing. It’s love we’re making.