Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Flynn
“Suspenders?” I snap the black straps, staring in the mirror.
“They’re classy,” Rupert says, reclined on a cream leather sofa, drinking scotch beside Callie.
The store clerk holds out the suit coat for me to slide my arms into.
“June will love them.” Callie smiles, fiddling with her necklace and sipping red wine.
I look ridiculous. “Black dress shoes with no socks?” My face sours.
“It’s perfect for summer.” Donny, the suit expert, adjusts my tie.
It’s tight. Now I know why Rupert wears his loose, except today it’s proper.
“How much is all this?” I ask.
Donny looks at Rupert.
“How much do you think everything costs?” Rupert asks.
“I don’t know. A grand?”
“Do you think it’s worth a grand?” He studies me.
I look to Callie for help, but she sets her wineglass on the table and picks at lint on her white pants, offering me nothing.
After one last look in the mirror, I nod. “I suppose.”
“So you would pay a grand for it?” Rupert asks.
“No. June said I can wear my jeans and button-down shirt. Mrs. Rawlings already bought me loafers that don’t need socks.
This would be a waste of my money. I can buy gas for June’s car or help her buy groceries.
I think she has to pay for parking at her apartment.
I bet a grand would cover that for about a year. ”
“June is a lucky girl,” Callie says.
I remove the jacket. “I don’t know about that. But I’ve never been able to take care of anyone, and I don’t know how long this job will last. So I’m not wasting money on myself when I can do things for her.” I hand Donny the jacket and step behind the curtain to take off the clothes.
Rupert and Callie don’t say anything to me on the way back to their house. They don’t say anything to each other, either.
“You can have the rest of the day off,” Callie says when we get out of the car in the garage. “And we have a commitment tonight, so if you two want to hang out here and use the theater room or just get away from roommates, please feel free to do so.”
I look at Rupert, half expecting him to shake his head, overriding her offer. But he doesn’t.
“And I hope you at least take her somewhere nice to dinner before the orchestra,” Callie adds.
I nod. Good tip.
“Night.” She smiles and heads into the house.
“Would you like me to call and get you reservations at a nice place?” Rupert asks.
“Nah. But thanks.” I tuck my fingers into my back pockets.
“Well, you know where the key is to my Chevelle. If you want to drive it to the orchestra tomorrow night, you can,” he says. “I trust you’ll return it in one piece.”
“Are you serious?” I squint at him for a few seconds.
“About returning it in one piece? Yes. I’m dead serious.”
I shake my head. “About driving it.”
“Just be careful. She’s priceless.” He squeezes my shoulder.
“I’m not sure it’s priceless, but—”
“I’m not talking about the car, dipshit.”
June.
I nod. “Of course.”
He gives me a half grin. It’s a little creepy. “Very well, then. Have a good night. If you do bring June back here while we’re gone, keep your bodily fluids off the furniture. Got it?”
I bite my tongue. He’s being nice, so I try to do the same.
“And maybe get a haircut if you have time before the orchestra.”
I nod several times. “I’ll consider it.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says with a laugh, then disappears into the house.
When June gets off work, she walks toward the street, glancing up from her phone to see me at the last second as I stand in front of my car, arms casually crossed.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
I love the way she lights up.
I nod to her bike tour shirt. “Did you go home before coming to work?”
She shakes her head. “There’s a box of shirts behind the counter, so I grabbed one. I didn’t love doing the tour in jeans, but …” She shrugs before grabbing my shirt to pull me to her for a kiss.
I uncross my arms and wrap them around her.
“The Rawlings have an engagement tonight, and they said we could hang out there and watch movies or whatever. But I’m thinking pizza first.”
June’s smile doubles. “I love that idea. And I love that you’re here to give me a ride.” She teases my nape. “And I love you. Where should we get pizza from? I’m starving.”
“I have a large pizza in the car.”
Her whole face lights up. I make a mental note to have pizza with me at all times.
“Just to make sure you heard me,” she says as I open her door, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
I chuckle, picking up the pizza box so she can slide into the seat. Then I hand her the box to hold. By the time I reach the driver’s side, she has the box open and a slice in her hand.
“You don’t want to wait until we get to their house?” I ask, closing my door.
June takes a bite and shakes her head, closing her eyes like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. I had a foster parent smack my face for stealing a french fry out of a to-go bag on the way home from a drive-thru.
“Besides,” she mumbles over her bite of pizza. “It’s better when it’s hot.” She looks over at me, with a funny grin just before taking another bite. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Are you sharing?”
“Maybe.” She laughs, opening the pizza box.
We eat the entire pizza, parked along the street in front of the bike shop before driving to the Rawlings’ house.
“Hey,” I say, stopping in front of their house. “Whatever that was back there, don’t ever stop.”
June looks behind her. “Back where? What are you talking about?”
“Eating pizza in the car.”
It takes a few seconds for her wrinkled brow to relax before she laughs. “I love this.” She opens her door before I get the chance to do it for her.
By the time I get out, she’s at the front of the car, reaching for my hand.
“What is the this that you love?” I ask as we make our way to the front door.
“Everything with you feels easy. Life is simple, the way it should be. Eating pizza in the car is a fantastic day. Being alone for a few hours feels like winning the lottery.”
“The lottery?” Before I open the door, I pull her into me. Then I slide my thumb along the scar on her lip. “Well, at least the lottery is real. I’m pretty sure you’re a dream.”
“Kiss me,” she whispers.
I grin, loving how fucking alive I feel when she whispers those two words.
“Soon,” I say, reaching past her to unlock the door.
“You’re such a tease, Flynn Morley.”
We take off our shoes in the entry.
“I know you want to find a guest room and immediately get naked,” I say.
She rolls her eyes, but her grin tells the truth.
“But I want you to do something for me first,” I say, guiding her up the stairs.
“It’s not sex? But is it sexual?” she asks.
“It is to me.”
“Now I’m intrigued. Wait.” She pulls on my hand to stop me from going into Callie’s bedroom. “No. We’re not doing anything kinky in her room. In fact, I don’t think we should be in her room if she’s not here.”
“Fine, then you stay here.”
“Flynn!” She protests, but I release her hand and disappear around the corner.
“What are you doing?” she asks, poking her head around the door, whispering like the Rawlings can hear us.
I pull the cello from the top shelf in the closet. “I want you to play this for me,” I say, meeting her at the door. “Naked.”
Her gaze snaps from the cello to me. Eyes wide.
I chuckle, nodding for her to head back down the hallway. “Kidding.”
“Why do you want me to play for you? I doubt cello music has ever been your favorite.” She leads the way down the stairs.
“You’re my favorite person, June. So everything you do becomes my favorite thing.”
She turns at the bottom of the stairs, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed. “That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Really?”
She nods several times.
“Huh. That’s crazy.” I lead her to the formal living room that overlooks the back of the house and the lake. The uplights at the base of their trees make everything look like a magical garden.
June looks around the room, then pulls a gold and white upholstered chair toward the middle. I hand her the cello case before sitting on the love seat by the window.
“What shall I play for you?” she asks, tossing me a flirty grin.
“Something that makes you think of us.”
June hums, positioning the cello between her legs. She slides the bow along the strings several times. I don’t know if it’s a song or a warm-up, but as she continues, the melody sounds a little familiar. Her left hand shakes while pressing the strings. She’s so graceful.
I lower to the floor next to the cello, gazing up at her past the long lines of the strings. She grins.
Sometimes she closes her eyes, and I want to crawl inside of her and feel everything she’s feeling, hear the music the way she hears it. I don’t have big dreams, but if I did, I’d want to live life through June’s eyes.
When the song ends, she rests her bow hand beside her.
“What was that song?” I ask, interlacing my fingers behind my head.
“‘Moon River.’”
“Why does it make you think of us?”
“The lyrics make me think of adventure, yearning, love, and dreams. It’s what I see and how I feel when I’m with you. Possibilities. The unknown.” She shrugs. “Following your heart, no matter the outcome. Dream maker. Heart breaker.”
I roll onto my side, propping my head up on my arm while reaching for her bare foot.
She pulls it away like it tickles, but I reach for it again, rubbing my thumb along the arch.
I had one good foster home growing up. The wife was pregnant, and I went to another foster home after her baby was stillborn.
But while she was pregnant, her husband would sit on the sofa and rub her feet, focusing on the arch. She’d close her eyes and softly moan.
“Do you think I’m a dream maker or a heart breaker?” I ask.
June relaxes the more I rub her foot. “Maybe a bit of both.”
She smirks and starts playing another song.
After she’s thoroughly convinced me the cello is the best instrument, she returns it to its case. “You’ve seen my passion. What is yours?” she asks.