Chapter 15
Elodie
Mud Tunnels & NFL Suites
“Thanks for offering to bring me lunch today.” Laney unwraps her sandwich from The Happy Belly Deli, smiling at me from the seat to my right.
We’re at a table in the break room of her salon, having lunch together since I needed someone to talk to and she has a fully booked schedule all week.
I didn’t just want to call or text her for advice because I feel like what’s happened between me and Henley over the past five days requires a face-to-face conversation.
Remy drains the rest of her bottle, so I move her to my shoulder to burp her. “No problem at all. I appreciate you making time for a lunch.”
“Well, you said you needed some advice and I’m not sure I can be of any help, but I can try.”
“If this advice you need is about men, you should be talking to me, honey.” Glenn, one of Laney’s employees, interrupts our conversation from the doorway of the break room.
He nods in Laney’s direction. “This one over here used to call Fletcher ‘Lucifer’ until she realized that his dick could tempt her to sell her soul, so I wouldn’t be so sure she’s the expert when it comes to men. ”
Remy lets out a remarkably loud burp. Laney points to the baby. “I echo Remy’s response. No one asked you, Glenn.”
He leans against the doorway with a smirk. “I know, but I felt compelled to offer my two cents.”
“But your expertise is in gay men, Glenn. Otherwise, I might just take you up on that.”
He shrugs. “Honey, gay and straight men aren’t really all that different. Put a finger in a man’s mud tunnel and they’ll be coming in seconds. I find that solves most problems.”
Laney starts choking as my jaw drops, watching Glenn walk right back out of the room.
I turn to my friend, patting her on the back. “Are you okay?”
“I should have known better than to take a bite of my sandwich while he was talking,” Laney manages to croak out, reaching for her bottle of water and draining half of it, trying to clear her throat. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m so glad that Remy doesn’t understand words or repeat them yet because trying to explain that to Henley would be a nightmare.”
Laney loses her composure, laughing while still coughing. “Oh God. I can’t handle this right now.”
Once the two of us get all of our giggles out, I place Remy back in the stroller and reach for my sandwich, finally. “I think I’ve forgotten why I even came here at this point.”
Laney mumbles around a mouthful of food. “Well, before I forget, there was something I wanted to talk to you about too.”
“All right. Shoot.”
Laney swallows and then takes a drink of her water. “The winery hosts a Concert in the Courtyard each month and the act I booked in November had to cancel, unfortunately.” My heart starts to race when I realize where this conversation is going. “Is there any way you’d be interested in performing?”
“I think it’s my turn to choke,” I say, clearing my throat so I don’t start coughing. “You—you want me to do an entire set? Like…by myself?”
Laney nods, sitting up taller in her chair. “Yes, if you’re interested. Dilynne mentioned that you are one hell of a performer, and she might have shown me a video she took of you at The Charming Bull.”
“Oh, joy.”
Laney laughs. “Look, I have another band I could call, but I figured I’d offer it to you first. Given your situation, I thought it might be a good way to dip your toes back into music with very little pressure.
Plus, the locals love supporting our own, and everyone knows you’re Henley’s nanny now, so I’m sure the whole town will show up. ”
“I thought you said no pressure.” I drag my palms down my thighs, trying to wipe away the sudden clamminess.
Laney’s smile softens, her eyes warm with understanding. “Seriously, just think about it, but could you let me know by next week maybe? That way, I can still contact a replacement if you decide against it.”
Blowing out a breath, I reply, “Yes. I can do that.”
“Great. Now, you said that you needed some advice…”
“Oh, yeah.” Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I adjust myself in my seat. “Not that I don’t appreciate Dilynne’s perspective on things, but since this pertains to her brother, I wanted a more neutral opinion.”
“So this is about Henley?”
“Yeah.” I bite my bottom lip before whispering, “He sort of kissed me this past weekend.”
Laney’s eyes widen in shock. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, and there’s been a bit of…touching since then,” I say, feeling my cheeks flame from the admission. I quickly add, “Nothing crazy! In fact, most of our clothes have stayed on.”
Laney waggles her eyebrows. “Oh! Scandalous.”
I roll my eyes. “Very high school, I know. But he was insistent about it.”
That makes Laney’s jaw drop. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I take some time to explain what’s happened from the kiss to where we are now, and just a little over a week away from traveling to Charlotte together for Fletcher’s game without Remy as a buffer.
“Part of me so desperately wants to push him for more, but I also know that he has to do this on his own time. I’m just terrified of getting hurt.
You heard Dilynne. She said I’m his type.
The man hasn’t had sex in months probably, and he’s used to consistent action, so I’m sure that the physical aspect is a driving force here. ”
Laney tilts her head to the side, reaching for my hand. “Elodie, I want you to really hear me when I say this.” I brace myself for what she’s about to say. “Henley has never looked at a woman the way he looks at you.”
My stomach flips, then dread rushes back in. “But I’m leaving…”
“Well, is there a scenario where you don’t?”
“Music is still such a big part of my life, Laney. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
” Closing my eyes, I say, “I can still remember the first time I picked up a guitar and what that felt like.” When I open my eyes again, Laney is watching me.
“But being with Henley for the past two months, living with him and taking care of Remy, has shown me this entirely different side of life that I want too.”
“Well, if the man is opening up to you, I think you owe it to yourself to see what’s there. You don’t have to be back in Los Angeles by Christmas, do you?”
“No. My lease was up with my roommates. The deadline was self-imposed so I wouldn’t stall on making a decision.”
“Then maybe the timeline you gave Henley doesn’t really matter if you’re still figuring things out.
Don’t tell him that, though.” She taps her chin in thought.
“No, I’d see how things pan out. Sometimes all we need is time to push us into taking action.
That certainly was the case with me and Fletcher. ”
I pop a chip in my mouth. “You know, I haven’t heard the full story of how the two of you got together yet. I’ve gotten bits and pieces, but I’d love to hear it from you. I mean, you’re living out many women’s fantasy.”
Laney laughs. “Which is?”
“Marrying a professional athlete. There’s a reason why that trope works so well in romance novels, girl.”
“Yeah, well, I fell for Fletcher Adams long before he was one of the top wide receivers in the league, long before he was the man he is today.” She lets out a wistful sigh.
“But I think being able to know that version of him and the man he is now makes it even more fulfilling because I know how hard he’s fought to become who he is today. ”
Her words hit me hard. Is that what Henley is embarking on right now? That same journey? And do I want to be around to watch it?
Or should I focus on my own path and the journey I’ve been working toward for myself?
***
“God, it smells amazing in here.” Henley’s voice is by my ear before I realize he’s home, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.
“Jesus Christ!” Swatting at him over my shoulder, I twist to find him smirking down at me before he leans down to place a kiss on my lips.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me.”
“Normally I do,” I say truthfully, but I know why I wasn’t paying attention—because between the sound of the water running in the sink and my mental recollection of the words to another song that I wrote this afternoon, I certainly wasn’t aware of my surroundings.
Luckily, Remy has been content in her high chair while I checked out.
I reach for the kitchen towel on the counter, wiping my hands dry. “I made lasagna. It’s my—”
“Mother’s recipe,” he finishes for me. “Seems to me that your mom had a lot of recipes.”
“I told you. Her philosophy was that homemade was always better.”
He kisses me softly again, cupping my jaw. “She obviously knew something since nothing you’ve cooked for me so far has tasted like garbage.”
“I think that was supposed to be a compliment, but I’m not sure.”
Henley chuckles. “It was.” Releasing me from his hold, he walks over to his daughter and extracts her from the high chair. “And how is my baby bear tonight? Did you have a good day with Elodie?” He tosses her up in the air once, making her squeal.
My cheeks are burning from how hard I’m smiling, but I can’t help it. When Henley smiles, so do I.
After my lunch the other day with Laney, I decided to take things one day at a time.
Her point about my timeline has also been at the forefront of my mind, that I do have the choice to stick to it or not.
And while I decide on that, I want to support Henley.
He seems so different since that night when we admitted the feelings developing between us.
He’s smiling more, cracking more jokes, and I won’t lie and say that I haven’t enjoyed the kisses and orgasm.
Yes, only the one. Even though I’ve pressed him for more, he’s insisted that we take things slowly, which my libido continues to protest.