44. Celebrating
Chapter 44
Celebrating
Rafe
Leo’s an asshole. Not because he didn’t tell me about the competition though.
When I finally called him, he started losing his mind, telling me he had no say, that it was his manager’s decision. I apologized for not picking up and told him that Bonnie’s happiness wasn’t his responsibility. I should have been a better friend.
No, what makes him an asshole is when he said, “So, when am I seeing her again? Or are you an idiot who didn’t lock that down?”
Asshole.
When I looped Bonnie in on the call, I made sure he knew exactly how much I’d locked that down. Nice and secure.
I’m a possessive man. What can I say?
That night, I do as I promised and celebrate her. I pull Bonnie onto my chin and feast until she’s writhing above me, bucking against my tongue and pleading my name.
After, I stroke my fingers through her hair, sighing out contentment. I can’t stop looking at her. It doesn’t matter how much she claims to be mine; it doesn’t feel real.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, lighting up the dim studio, only illuminated by the glow of the couch lamp and the light above the kitchen sink.
Bonnie reaches for my phone, sliding it across the surface and handing it to me.
It’s my mom.
“No.” I shake my head. “I can call her back later.”
“She might not be available though.”
I tense, debating between that being a good thing or a bad thing. I’m done with being yanked around. With existing under her terms alone with her rules and schedule. But does that make me any better than her if I refuse?
I swipe my thumb over the phone and put the call on speaker.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Baby! I was wondering if you’d ever call me.”
I tense. “I did. A couple of days ago.”
“Oh, sorry. I must have been working.”
“Yeah …”
The word lingers between us.
Bonnie softly strokes over my wrist, down to the ring she gifted me.
It’s this same refrain. I’m busy.
“Why … why don’t you ever answer my calls?” I ask—no, I basically blurt out into the silence.
“What, I?—”
“Sorry. That’s not fair. Rhetorical question, I guess.” I shift on the couch. “I just … I really wish you would.”
She scoffs. “Well, you know I’m busy.”
“I know, I know …” I can’t find the words.
She sighs. It’s testy. “Well, I’m sorry,” she says. She doesn’t sound sorry at all. “So, listen, the other day, I went to the store. Guess who I ran into. Bob . The guy who cut my lawn forever ago. Remember that? And he never came back. I never got a single flyer. I wonder if there was something?—”
“Mom. Are you listening to me?”
“What, baby?” The tone is irritated. Cutting.
“I want to talk about this. I want you to visit Never Harbor.”
“You know I’m busy.”
I deflate. Bonnie runs a thumb over the back of my hand.
“You are, but I call a lot. And you never pick up.”
Mom groans. “Why are you being so pushy?”
“I’m just trying to say how I feel more.”
“By attacking me?”
“No, that’s not …” I let out my own groan.
Bonnie’s fingers slide through mine.
“Sometimes …” Mom clicks her tongue. “Sometimes, I forget you’re your father’s son.”
“What?”
“Just … being like that.”
My molars grit together. I shake my head. Bonnie leans against the couch, taking my hand and holding it tight. This is the woman who accepts me. This is the woman who doesn’t view me as anything but me.
I’m not my dad.
I know I’m not.
“I should go,” I say. “I’ll call you later.” And I will.
It’ll be me every time, and trying to make my mom into someone she’s not will never work. But when I have Bonnie across from me, tilting her head to the side with a reassuring smile, I think that maybe I deserve better. I have better.
A feisty woman who will call me out, and I’ll listen. A woman who understands who I am at my core.
Mom scoffs. “Did I say something?”
“It’s nothing,” I answer. “I’ll call later,” I repeat.
It’s the first time I haven’t continued a frustrating conversation. And it’s the first time she hangs up on me without a single goodbye .
I set the phone to the side again.
Bonnie rises to her forearms and stares at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod solemnly, stroking fingers through her locks once more. “I will be.”
I’m just finally seeing what it’s like to be appreciated. To not be seen as a burden. My fingers hesitate near my pocket, almost reaching for a new cigarette that won’t be there. Instead, I grab a stick of gum and place it in my mouth, gnawing until the need dissipates.
Bonnie’s hand strokes over my chest and down to my waist. “You’ve been chewing a lot of gum lately. New habit?”
She pushes fingers through my hair, taking it strand by strand and tucking it back. It’s so comforting.
I chuckle. “I’m quitting. Trying to anyway.”
“Quitting?”
“Smoking.”
She pauses. “You what? You are?”
“It’s not as easy as I quit , but, yeah … I’m giving it a shot.”
Her eyes dart between mine. “Why?”
“I found a new addiction,” I say, grinning up at her, stroking a line down her thigh. “And I like this one much more.”
She takes my cheeks between her palms and kisses me again. “You’re such a sap.”
“Might be.”
“Definitely.”
I hum in agreement, kissing every space of her mouth I can access before she pulls back and says, “I think we should celebrate you next.”
“And what does that entail?”
She doesn’t have to say. Her hands wandering under the band of my boxer briefs answers it for me.