31. Changing Things Up
Chapter 31
Changing Things Up
Rafe
I let Bonnie sleep in. It’s Sunday, and the light peers through the large foggy windows in my studio, illuminating her hair in its rays, making it appear more ginger than red. Bonnie’s breaths leave in small sighs on my pillow, and strokes of paint are spread down her neck and over her chest. I can’t disturb her sleep.
Instead, I take a shower, throw on some clothes, and leave the shop to get us coffee.
I don’t know what time it is, but there are only a few other people awake so far. Moira pauses dusting off her candle shop’s stoop, waving in my direction.
The crisp breeze coming off the sea pushes against my black sweater. The rain from last night is just a memory, almost forgotten by the warm sun rising overhead. I’m not normally one for morning optimism, but something about this sunrise feels different.
I wave to Moira with a smile, dip my palms in my pockets, and walk the short couple of blocks over to Peg Leg Press. The bell dings above my head when I push the door in.
The store is empty except for me, so I tap the front counter bell to get Bobbi bustling out from the back.
“Rafe! You’re up early,” she says. “One coffee? Two sugars?”
I almost say yes and order a second to-go cup for Bonnie, but I stop myself. Ordering two might look suspicious.
“No, actually,” I say. “I’ll add sugar when I get home. Could I get some creamer though? Just a bit. And a muffin?”
Maybe the order change is suspicious enough. I wish I didn’t feel tense about it, but I do.
Bobbi hums to herself. “Changing things up on me, kid.”
“Gotta keep you on your toes sometimes.”
Bobbi tucks the coffee in its cardboard slip and slides it to me, along with the small brown-bagged pastry.
I tip the coffee up at her, trying not to seem suspicious. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I prop open the door, and the bell above the door sings its friendly tune.
I’m happy today. I am. But there’s a small part of me, infinitesimal, that wonders what will happen when people slowly find out. Because they will now, if it’s up to me. Last night meant something, and I won’t deny that fact if Bonnie asks. I don’t know how I got in this situation where my world is turned upside down. It’s a new world where I get coffee for the woman in my bed—a world where I bring a woman back home to my mom.
God, Bonnie was so good with her. Mom can be such a handful, such an absolute mess sometimes, that the moment we left, I just knew Bonnie was going to run for the hills. But she didn’t. She stayed. And I don’t know what to do with a woman like that.
Worship her? Say fuck it and break all my rules for her?
Yes. That’s exactly right.
I kiss her regardless of whether it’ll be the end of me. I let myself fall to her feet and pray to her the whole way down.
I stroll past the park, where, across the large lawn, two people unload baskets of streamers and bags. A stout woman inflates a balloon from a small helium tank. When the woman turns around, I see that its Maggie Davies. It’s only instinct, but my body tenses. She doesn’t know about me and Bonnie. Hell, she doesn’t even notice me in this moment. She’s too busy talking to her husband, David.
Bonnie’s brothers don’t intimidate me, but something about David Davies might. Not on the surface, no. He looks like a small bear with his thick mustache and a slight pooch. Christ, the man wears polo shirts and Crocs. But I also have his daughter naked in my bed right now, and I’m holding her coffee order.
Just when I think I can keep walking, his eyes snag with mine. His mustache upturns into a smile as he waves, goofy as ever. A real Ned Flanders kinda guy. I wave back. But then his wife taps his shoulder and shoves a finished balloon into his chest.
I’m forgotten, but I know that interaction is far from over, even if he doesn’t realize it yet. It’ll be a while before we cross that bridge—a man telling a father that he has feelings for his only daughter—but I realize I want to have that conversation one day.
It’s funny how things change so quickly. But how quickly was it really? I knew the moment she left my booth at Spring into Summer that I needed to be careful around her. I’ve always been a sort of reckless man though.
I walk on, reaching for my cigarettes. But the moment I hold the box, I stop. Not just because I have no way of lighting up anyway—I left my lighter on the kitchen counter—but because I don’t want to go back to my loft and breathe in Bonnie’s lovely coconut shampoo, only to taint it with my addiction.
Bonnie has never tried to change me. She’s never once asked me not to smoke. And yet … maybe it’s time I quit anyway. If I’m going to convince a man wearing Crocs to like me, smelling like nicotine isn’t gonna help.
I toss the pack in a street trash can and keep walking. There’s definitely an itch in my chest at the thought of nothing in my pocket, but that’ll be a problem for later.
I’m almost home when the first car of the morning rolls down the road. I’m happy to find it’s a green Volkswagen. Izzy’s car.
I step into the street, and she slows. But when she rolls down her window, my head jerks back. Her nose is flushed, her cheeks are blotchy, and a sheen of wetness swims over her blue eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says with a sniff. “It’s nothing.”
She’s in an oversize T-shirt with The Hideaway’s logo—a tee much too big for her small frame. I swear I see red.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing,” she snaps. Her eyes sear through me. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she grumbles. Her hands tighten on the wheel. “It’s just Peter being Peter.”
“I don’t like it when he’s Peter,” I counter.
It’s the first time in a while that we’ve ever truly addressed him by name, and it’s a curse on my tongue.
“You don’t like it when he exists,” she says.
“My point exactly.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know,” she says through gritted teeth. “Look, it’s a rough day for him, all right?”
“How?”
“It’s his ex-fiancée’s baby shower today. Who is having a baby with his brother.”
“Wendy’s shower is today?”
Izzy’s gaze trails down to the small Peg Leg Press bag in my hand, hanging heavy with Bonnie’s muffin.
“You hate pastries,” she observes.
She looks at my apartment down the street. She’s far too perceptive.
“Shouldn’t she be setting up for the baby shower?” she asks.
I clench my jaw, but don’t correct her. She knows Bonnie is at my apartment. No point in denying it.
She sniffs and huffs a laugh. “I called it, by the way.”
“Called what?”
“You weren’t careful even a little bit.”
I rap my knuckles on her door with a sigh. “I should go.”
“I figured.”
“You sure you’re all right?”
She smiles back. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Go,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And tell Bon I said hi.”
Before I can argue, her Volkswagen putters off, and I’m left in the dust, staring at the bumper and shaking my head.
Strike two for Dickbag Davies.
I ascend the stairs to my loft a couple minutes later. The shower is running, and misty heat swirls from under the bathroom door. There’s a splash of water, followed by the gurgling drain. I open the door, letting the warmth hit me as Bonnie stands naked behind the clear sliding door, wringing out her long hair. I lean against the threshold, shamelessly admiring.
“I didn’t know you showered in volcanic temperatures.”
She jumps. “Oh my God.”
“Are you melting off your skin?”
Bonnie laughs. “If my skin looks like the inside of a raw steak, then it’s been a good shower.”
“Well, I got you coffee,” I announce, placing the cup and bag on the counter. “And a muffin.”
“For a job well done?” she teases.
“Job well done?” I ask.
“Y’know, last night.”
“No, for being you,” I correct, but quickly add, “You brat.”
Her giggle echoes off the tiles as she cuts off the water. I reach into the linen closet, tug out my fluffiest black towel, and toss it over the glass wall so she doesn’t have to open the door and let cool air in.
“Saw your parents,” I say. “They were unpacking for something in the park. Wendy’s shower, I think?”
“Oh my God,” she says, pausing mid-patting her face. “It’s her baby shower this morning. I was supposed to help.” Then, she groans again. “My clothes are covered in paint. I’ve gotta go home.”
“You’ll be late. You can wear some of mine.”
“They’ll be baggy.”
“Isn’t that the style now or something? I think we own the same Howling Ravens shirt. They won’t notice the difference.”
She steps out, wrapping the towel around her and tucking it in. I like how natural this feels, the little back-and-forth and domesticity. I could do this for a while. A long while.
“You’re lucky I care about your warmth,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because I wanna rip that towel off you.”
“Only if you do it with your teeth,” she taunts.
I look away and tongue my cheek. “Don’t start.”
“I think you started that one.”
I slide the coffee closer to her on the sink counter.
She takes it, sipping and bending at the knees, as if buckling under the good taste.
Cute.
“Okay, so,” she starts, walking past me out of the bathroom, “they were already in the park?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll need to head straight there.”
I follow her up the stairs to my bedroom, where the bed is already stripped of its sheets and in a pile in the corner.
“I couldn’t find your laundry machine,” she confesses.
“Not your fault. It’s hidden in a closet beside the kitchen. I’ll help next time.”
“Next time,” she muses more to herself than me.
I like the little twitch at the edge of her pink lips and the twinge of red growing over her ears.
“Will you come?” she asks.
I squint. “I thought I already did.”
“No,” she says, laughing. “To Wendy’s shower.”
My chest tightens. I cross my arms and lean back against my closet.
“With your family?”
“Practically the whole town will be there,” she says. “It wouldn’t be weird.”
That doesn’t make my nerves feel better, but I understand. A part of me—selfish and greedy—wants her to say she wants me there because we’re something more. But that’d be changing the rules of our agreement that I established. That’s unfair to her.
I know that the town isn’t ready for us. Maybe we aren’t either.
Except I know in my gut that I am.
Bonnie is more than just a simple one-night stand. She always has been, and I hate that it’s taken this long for me to see that.
“I’ll see you there then,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
Bonnie’s beaming smile only cements my decision further.
Izzy was right. I’ve fallen way too hard.