Chapter Twenty- Two
Leighton
The night I told Holden what happened with my dad, why he did what he did and cast me out, proved to be a turning point for us, and two weeks later, things are better than they have ever been between us.
Oh there’s still tension, lots of tension, but it’s the good, sexy kind. Not the neither of us knowing if we’re in this for the right reasons kind. Which leads me to my stress for tonight.
This has been deemed something I’ve never done before: date night.
It’s never been something I’ve really ever experienced, but I’m excited for it to happen.
Holden called me on my way home from work, telling me we’re meeting a couple of the guys he works with and their significant others for drinks.
While I’m pretty sure I know who he’s talking about and I’m comfortable with them, I’m immediately nervous.
What if they don’t like me outside of The Café?
What if I slip up and do something stupid?
What if I embarrass Holden? What if I embarrass myself?
I’m not sure I’ve ever worked myself up into such a tizzy in this short amount of time.
Glancing at the clock, I see I have about an hour before he gets here. That hour has to count.
It’s almost as if I’m running a marathon as I quickly go into the bathroom and start the shower.
I probably take the quickest one known to man, before I’m getting out and wrapping a towel around my body.
Even though I’ve lived in Laurel Springs all but six months of my life, I’ve never set foot in any of the date-night establishments, so I have no idea how people around here dress.
And why this is slipping me up, I have no idea.
I’ve never given a damn what people thought of me because of my family. Why am I even worrying about it now?
“Because you want Holden to look at you and want you.”
It’s what I’ve wanted since the day he came to help me.
Maybe tonight is the night he sees me as someone worth it and worthy of him.
Maybe tonight is the night we finally can’t keep our hands off each other and we do what we’ve both wanted to for so long.
I know we both want it, we’ve come close so many times.
Deciding not to worry about the clothes, I stand in front of the mirror, putting makeup on.
It makes me feel weird; I normally don’t wear anything other than lip gloss and mascara most days because I bust ass waitressing.
Nobody wants to see a waitress with eyeliner running down her face and smudged foundation caking her cheeks.
“Let’s see if I remember how to do this,” I say to my reflection.
I dig through my makeup bag, hoping I haven’t lost my touch.
One day, not too long ago, I was really good at this.
I could make myself look older than I was, and could have a man bowing at my feet.
Hoping the makeup gods are with me tonight, I pull out everything I’ll need and go to work on my face.
In the end, I decide to forego the intricate looks I’ve had over the years, and stop before I hit the showgirl category.
Inspecting myself in the mirror, I smile, amazed by how much I look like an adult.
The past year has changed me, made me grow more than anything else ever has.
I see it in my eyes, even in the bone structure of my face.
Finally, I’m becoming the woman I’ve always wanted to be.
Grabbing the curling wand I plugged in earlier, I randomly curl a few pieces of hair here and there, giving it a bouncy wave.
Thinking back, I try to remember the last time I fixed my hair in some other way besides a ponytail for work, or just leaving it down when I’m at the house.
Maybe the wedding? God, no wonder Holden doesn’t ever look at me like he wants to rip my clothes off; we never had that getting to know you period.
And I sure haven’t put that old lady’s advice to use yet.
There was never the rush of feelings, trying my best to impress him, never the butterflies in my stomach when he came and picked me up for a date. Simply because that wasn’t our situation. The day he got me out of the back of the ambulance was the day we started living together.
He’s seen me at my worst from day one, and there’s nothing I can do to change the beginning, but fuck it, I can change the middle and the ending. It won’t take much for me to care a little more about what I look like, and hopefully he’ll appreciate it.
With hair and makeup done, I feel like a totally different person. I pick up my cell phone, checking the time. I have about twenty minutes before he should be here to pick me up. Just enough time.
Early April has turned a little cool at night this year, even though last year it was already sweltering.
I opt for a pair of jeans with a designer rip in the thigh, my riding boots, and a long-sleeve, body hugging shirt.
Just because I don’t usually show it off anymore doesn’t mean I don’t have what some have referred to as a bangin’ body.
Fifteen minutes later, I have earrings in, jewelry on, and perfume spritzed at all the points Holden might be smelling me tonight (with any luck). Operation Seduce My Husband is in full effect.
My hands are shaking as I wait for Holden to get home, and my hearing is superhuman as I listen for his truck in the driveway. I have a very distinct feeling that when I look back at my marriage it will be split into two categories. Before tonight, and after tonight.
And when I hear the crunching of the gravel, I know my time has come.
I realize with great clarity that the only person who can change my marriage and what I want in it, is myself.
Do I want this marriage to be merely a piece of paper; do I want him only as a protector?
No, I don’t think so. I want him to be my lover; I want him to be my best friend, to be the person he turns to in the middle of the night when he’s having a bad dream.
Desperately, I want to be the person he wakes up when he has a hard-on that just won’t go away.
I want to be the reason Holden smiles in the morning and the person he holds at night.
I want to be the person he kisses on the neck when he spoons me from behind and the one hug that can make his day better.
I vow right here and now, I will be this person.
There won’t be anything that stands in our way.
If there is, we’ll go through it, over it, beside it, or jump that motherfucker like it’s a canyon.
Together we’ll make it, and it’ll be because we wanted to, not because we had to.
Havoc
To say I’m a little nervous is an understatement.
When the guys asked me if Leighton and I wanted to go out, I’d balked, but then I realized I want to.
I want to be seen with her, I’m sick of hiding at our house like we’ve done something wrong.
Nothing about me wanting to protect her was ever wrong, and I’m getting the feeling that my trying to protect her has maybe given her the idea I’m not proud to be with her.
I am. There’s something about putting my wedding ring on every day, about knowing I’m coming home to her at night, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt I’m waking up next to her in the morning.
I never thought this would be me. In a million years, I never imagined I’d be the guy who got so caught up in a woman. But yet, here I am, dying to get inside the house to see if she’s fixed herself up for our night out.
When I unlock the door and step through the threshold, I’m completely unprepared for the woman who meets me.
I’ve seen her before, but not in a long time.
Immediately my mind goes back to one hot night in Birmingham, where Leighton Strather blew my mind and made me aware of her in a way I haven’t been able to forget since.
She’s got on these boots that I jokingly call basic bitch, white-girl boots when I typically see women wearing them, but on her, they look amazing.
They frame her legs in a way that immediately gets me hard.
Same with the tight jeans and tight long-sleeve shirt she’s wearing.
It hugs all the right places, and rides high on her body, brushing the waistband of the faded jeans.
I knew she had a body this bangin’ underneath her clothes, I’ve inspected it, but damn there’s something intimately sexy seeing it covered the way it is tonight.
She’s done something to her face, too. Those eyes of hers pop impossibly bright, like the night we took our dance lesson, making me want to stare into them for the rest of my damn life.
Her hair? Shiny as hell and I have to curl my fingers into the palms of my hands to keep from reaching out and touching the waves.
“Wow!” I try to inhale, to feel my lungs with life-giving oxygen, but she’s literally rendered me breathless and speechless.
“Too much for where we’re going?” She frowns as she runs her fingers through her hair, doing something to the curls she’s arranged.
“No,” I push my arm out, grabbing her hand to stop her, “not at all,” I swallow roughly against the knot that’s formed in my throat. She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. “Completely perfect.” I entwine our fingers together, bringing them up to my lips. “Don’t change a thing about yourself.”
She gives me this smile. It’s equal parts sexy, sweet, unsure, and totally quirky. All in that ten second exchange, I do what I once believed to be the impossible for me with any woman.
That guy who got his heart broken while he was fighting a war, watched all his friends move on, in one way or another. That guy who’s watched his guys on the MTF find love and become comfortable in their skin? In this moment, that guy falls head over heels in love with his wife.
I put my hand to my chest to make sure my heart is still beating, because fuck what a breath-stealing moment it is.