39. Carlisle
39
Carlisle
Earlier that day
H arper cajoles me from my comfy spot on the couch. “C’mon, let’s go!”
After sitting here for most of the past two months, I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent indentation on the couch cushions from my ass. That thought alone is enough to propel me to my feet and agree to go shopping before my date tonight.
How did I let her talk me into going on a blind date with some guy from a dating app?
Scratch that. I know how. She got me drunk on cheap white wine and then set up my dating profile after I passed out.
With a friend like Harper, who needs enemies?
“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because none of my clothes fit anymore.” It’s true. Despite my broken heart diet of alcohol and sweet treats and cooking daily for my recipe blog, I somehow lost ten pounds. As much as I love preparing food, I can’t stomach eating very much .
“Yay, let’s go!” Harper tilts her head and squints her eyes. “How do you feel about a haircut? Add some highlights too?”
I don’t hate the idea. Perhaps a hair transformation will help me leave the past behind me and move forward. “Okay, but no bangs." I draw the line at bangs. I'm not that desperate for a new beginning.
I received a surprise in the mail last week—a belated severance check from Staples King. It wasn’t much, but it was a hell of a lot more than I was expecting. I have no idea why they paid me off. Possibly Mr. King felt guilty for how he treated me? Doubtful, but I don’t have any other idea to explain it. I might as well spend some of that money on a new look.
“Great! Let’s get makeovers at Sephora while we’re out. Some new make-up to go with your new clothes and hair!”
After hours of Harper marching me from shop to shop and store to store to find the perfect outfit, get my haircut and colored, and buy new make-up, we finally return home, and all I want to do is take a nap. Unfortunately, I’m supposed to meet my date in less than an hour, so my bed will have to wait. The good news is that I have very little left to do other than change clothes.
“I’m going to go get dressed, Harp.” But before I head into my room, I pull her in for a hug. “Thanks for today and for always being with me through thick and thin.”
“That’s what friends are for, Car.” She releases me and then slaps my butt when I turn to leave. “Wear those new jeans tonight! They make your ass look hot!”
Rolling my eyes, I shut the door quietly behind me, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above my dresser. I’m taken aback by my reflection. I’m still getting used to the changes. My long, dirty blonde locks are gone, having been chopped off in favor of a long bob with lots of pale blonde highlights. The hairstylist tousled my natural curls to create effortless, sexy waves. I run my fingers through my shorter hair, enjoying the way it feels.
I even like the bangs that Harper talked me into adding.
When we had our make-up done, Harper suggested that I go with a bolder look to bring out my inner badass, which I agreed to against my better judgment. Grabbing a tissue, I swipe it around my eyes to lighten the heavy, dark eyeliner. Fishing out my eye shadow palette from my cosmetics bag, I brush lighter colors over my lids. Most of my lipstick has already come off, leaving just a hint of the dark wine hue on my lips. Instead of adding more lipstick, I swipe on some nude gloss and call it good.
Harper was spot on in her assessment of my new black jeans. They really do make my ass look great. I smile to myself. I may not really be ready to start dating anyone seriously, but it feels nice to care about my appearance again. Removing the bra that I wore shopping, I slip on a sexy black bra that matches my panties. Harper talked me into a Herve Leger-inspired black bandage top that nips in my waist and pushes up my boobs. I finish the outfit off with black heels, a snakeskin clutch, and some gold jewelry. Modeling my outfit in front of my full-length mirror, I look chic. Best of all, I feel sexy and confident.
When my date walks into the small Italian restaurant, I’m pleased. He’s cute. Not smolderingly hot like Ben, but he’s benignly attractive. Besides, smolderingly hot didn’t go well for me last time.
Dressed in expensive jeans and a dark gray Henley, he’s ruggedly stylish. When he greets me with a wide smile that showcases his perfect smile, I think he has potential. While he doesn’t immediately make my stomach dance with butterflies or my heart stop with longing, I feel like maybe, just maybe, my feelings for him could grow into something more given enough time.
Then he opens his mouth and all his potential dissolves.
Turns out that Chad is a twenty-six-year-old production assistant for Silver Spoons Films. Over a shared appetizer of fried calamari, he regales me with stories of all the celebrities, mostly B and C-list, that he has worked with since moving here from Pennsylvania. I try my best to be polite, but I’m having difficulty feigning interest. I really would love for Chad to stop talking about anything related to the movie business, especially when I’ve spent the last few months sidestepping that very topic. But each time I attempt to change the subject, Chad steers it back to his job. To be fair, his job and his brushes with fame probably impress most of his other dates.
But with each story he tells, all I can think of is Ben.
Stupid Ben.
He can’t even leave me alone to enjoy my first date since he dumped me via his publicist. A heavy sigh escapes my lips accidentally. Grabbing my cocktail, I take a big sip followed by an even bigger sip. At least if I’m tipsy, the time will go by faster, so this date can end.
As our waitress delivers our entrees, there’s some sort of commotion happening in the front of the restaurant—a moment of stunned silence followed by gasps of surprise and hushed murmurings. Someone’s fork clatters loudly onto their plate. I turn in my seat, craning my neck to see what’s happening.
I hear him before I see him. Ben calls my name in his gravelly, deep timbre that rumbles like thunder on a summer night. The voice that I haven’t heard in close to two months .
I stiffen. In slow motion, I lift my head to meet his gaze as he storms towards me.
Ben is dressed in jeans that showcase his powerful thighs and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up. The first few buttons are open allowing me a glimpse of his tanned chest. His hair is mussed, probably because he’s been running his fingers through it as he’s prone to doing, and I long to do the same. He looks sexier than I’ve ever seen him, and my heart jumps. Despite my best efforts, the longing and desire that I feel for him haven’t waned. My pull to him is still just as potent as ever.
But what the hell is Ben doing here?
Why the hell does he look angry at me ? The gall. He’s the douche canoe who had a member of his management team break up with me. If anyone has a right to be mad, it’s me.
Then I notice my frazzled roommate in Ben's wake, and I become even more confused. Why is Harper with him? Seriously, what the hell is going on here? My uncertainty is splayed across my face. I sit motionless with my mouth agape as my eyes ping-pong back and forth between my ex-boyfriend and my best friend.
When he reaches our table, Ben juts his thumb out, motioning for Chad to leave. “Move,” he demands, his tone leaving no room for argument from my speechless date, who immediately hops up. The spineless dweeb just abandons me.
I’m sure Chad will add this story to his repertoire of celebrity encounters to share with his next date.
As Ben takes Chad’s seat at the small table, I regain the ability to speak. Leaning forward, I whisper angrily, jabbing my finger in the air, “What the hell, Ben? You don’t get to disappear from my life and then suddenly turn up here to ruin my date! ”
Ben grabs my hand and refuses to let go even as I attempt to tug myself free from his grip. “I have every right to break up your date because I am in love with you, Carlisle. So fucking in love with you. The kind of love that makes it impossible to breathe deeply when I'm not with you. The kind of love that makes my world muted, dull, and gray when I'm not with you. The kind of love that makes it feel like I’m missing a limb when I’m not with you. The kind of love that I can’t live without. Your love. I can't live without your love , Carlisle.” His eyes convey the depth of his feelings even more than his words. Despite my confusion, my heart swells as my brain processes his next words. “I have missed you so much. I never wanted to break up with you.”
Instead of trying to pull my hand from his, I twist my hand and grab onto his. I need his presence to ground me, to confirm that what he’s saying is true. With the pad of his thumb, Ben caresses the top of my hand before flipping my hand over and softly kissing my wrist. My pulse jumps capriciously under his lips.
Seeking understanding and confirmation, my eyes dart towards Harper, who is standing behind Ben, nodding her agreement to his words.
“Then why did you?” I can’t hide the anguish in my voice.
His penetrating gaze never leaves mine. “I’m not sure exactly how or why it happened, but it looks like Becky played us both. She told me that you didn’t want to date me anymore and that we were done. I didn’t want to believe her, but then Jo told me that you’d moved out and left the house key and bracelet that I gave you.” A muscle in his jaw clenches and unclenches several times before he continues. “I tried calling and texting you to see if we could work it out, but you never responded to me. I figured it was all true, that you were done with me.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “But I didn’t and you never –"
“I know, baby, I know.” Ben jumps from Chad's vacated seat and kneels in front of me, running his hands up and down my arms. “Someone changed your phone number in my contacts. I was trying to contact you, but unbeknownst to me, I was calling and texting someone else. Someone who never responded, so I had no idea that I wasn’t contacting you. I just thought you were ignoring me.”
I blow out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding and slouch in my chair, shocked to my core by what he’s telling me.
“You mean you didn’t dump me?”
“Fuck, no. I never wanted to stop seeing you! I’ve been devastated without you. These past few months have felt like someone reached into my chest cavity, pulled out my heart, and then pulverized it in a food processor.”
“Wow, that’s a little graphic,” I remark flippantly, the friction between us easing slightly.
He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I thought you’d appreciate me using a small kitchen appliance in my analogy since you love to cook.”
“And you… you love me? You’re really in love with me?” I need to hear this part again.
Preferably, again and again for the rest of my life.
Ben stands suddenly, pulling me up with him. Snaking his strong arms around me, I feel blanketed in his warmth, my head tucked under his chin, my face pressed against his chest. I hear his heart beating, and I feel his love deep in my marrow in a way that I never have before.
“I’m head over heels in love with you, Carlisle. Being away from you absolutely shattered me. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world.” He releases me and strokes my jaw lightly with his fingers, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. “I am so in love with you, babe.”
Unbidden, tears creep down my cheeks in thick rivulets. “Brent Benjamin Sutton, I love you too. So much.”
His lips descend upon mine, but when he kisses me, it isn’t merely a kiss. He worships my mouth with his lips and his tongue until I feel thoroughly cherished and adored. The intimacy and connection between us sizzle as we release months of pent-up sexual tension into this scorching kiss. Our tongues tangle as I slide my hands up his chest. This moment is everything that I have hoped for and dreamed of since December. Lost in each other, the whole world falls away…
Until the sights and sounds around us permeate my brain. There are camera flashes going off as some of the restaurant patrons film our interlude with their cell phones. Others begin to clap and whistle.
Grinning sheepishly, Ben lowers his mouth to my ear, “Come on, let’s get out of here. We have lost time to make up for.”
We run from the restaurant hand-in-hand, leaving Harper to find her own way home. But based on her smile, I don’t think she minds.