Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sophia
I stare at my computer screen. It’s been six weeks since Tate left.
I’ve continued to message Penn every week. Jordan sent me a cute thank you video of him and Alisha from their Hawaii trip last month. And Rex sends me regular photos of his family’s estate over in England, trying to entice me to come visit. But I haven’t heard from Tate. It hurts. I’ve typed out a text to him at least one hundred times and then promptly deleted it. I’m not sure if it’s my stubbornness or my pride getting in the way, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. I suppose, deep down, I wanted him to chase me. I wanted that grand gesture.
Just a few days ago, Carol sent Marti a contract to option the film rights. It was strange for so many reasons. First, it was strange because Tate didn’t even bother emailing me. Then, it was even more strange when it didn’t come from a big studio, but instead, a brand-new studio that neither of us had ever heard of. They have a simple website, and I would be their first film.
I told Marti that I want to talk to Tate first before I sign anything. But I haven’t. I’ve told myself that I’m too busy to call him and that I need to think about how to word an email. I’ve talked to Anissa. I’ve even talked to Mark about everything. They have both told me to call him. God, I want to call him so badly, but the fact that he hasn’t called me makes me mad. I want him to reach out first, which is so irrational. I know it. Ugh! I hate this!
And now, I don’t even have the excuse that we need to lie low. It was a little brutal for a few days of media coverage after I got home, but then some actress got caught cheating on her husband with his best friend, and now no one gives a shit who I am or that Tate and I were photographed together. Tate’s publicist did do a good job though. They made a cover story that we were all scoping out filming locations and that he was a huge fan of my books. I’ve sold a ton more books since that happened. I hate admitting that Tate was right. It did blow over and it’s not as big a deal as I felt it was at the time, which only makes me feel worse. I can’t believe I let my fears come between me and potential happiness. It’s probably too late now. I hope it’s not awkward when I do have to contact him about this contract. Double ugh!
“I’m going to get coffee,” Lex yells into my office. “You want?”
“Sure,” I mutter as I pretend to try to rework a paragraph.
“Don’t sound so excited,” she says. “You know, you could just call him.”
“Not happening, Lex,” I reply as I glare at her over my screen.
She holds up her hands. “OK, OK. Just a suggestion.”
She disappears from my doorway, leaving me in silence again. My phone pings.
It’s a text from Marti.
Marti: We need to talk about this contract. Stop stalling! Call me tonight.
Me: Fine.
I really don’t want to talk about it yet. I need more time before I have to talk to Tate. I need more time to forget him, to forget what I felt for him.
When my phone pings again, I groan but this time it’s from an unknown number.
Unknown: What if I chased after you? Would you say yes?
I frown. What in the actual hell? I look around as if I’ll find someone here, but my empty office is the only thing I see.
Unknown: What about if there was a grand gesture?
Now, I’m fully freaking out. Do I have a stalker? I pick up my phone to call someone…I have no idea who, but then there’s a knock at my door. I nearly jump out of my seat.
“Uh, there’s, like, a delivery for you,” Holly says.
“There is?” I ask as I stand, totally confused and also worried that some sick stalker crazy person has sent me a dead bunny or worse.
“Yeah, flowers,” Holly says. I relax just a little.
“Oh, well, have them bring them here,” I say still hesitant.
“Uh, there were a lot, like a lot, so I sent them to your house,” she says with a sheepish look.
“Holly!” I yelp.
“Sorry,” she says with a shrug.
“Ugh. I’ll just finish this from home,” I say as I stand. Lex walks back in with my coffee.
“Why was there, like, a whole train of florists leaving here a few minutes ago?” she asks, setting my coffee down.
“I’m sorry what?” I frown as I stuff my laptop into my bag and grab the coffee.
“No idea,” she says with a shrug.
“I’m heading home. Call me if you need anything,” I say to them as I head to my car. They both give me looks that leave me wondering what the hell is up, but I don’t have time to figure that out now. I need to figure out who is sending me flowers. I drive home in total confusion. I call Mark.
“Hey, will you stay on the phone with me?” I ask.
“What’s wrong?” he questions.
“Maybe nothing, but I got this weird text and then Holly said I got flowers, but she sent them to my house because there were too many for my office, which leave it to Holly to make a bad decision. It’s just weird,” I say.
“Hey, Mom!” Cal yells in the background. “Guess what?”
“What, buddy?” I ask, grateful for the distraction. The kids are back over at Mark’s for the week because his parents are visiting.
“I got a signed hockey jersey from Kellan Jacobs!” he yells.
“Wow, that’s awesome! Did he come to camp today?” I ask. We ended up signing them up for another hockey camp because they liked the first one so much. Thankfully, they still had space this late in the summer. It’s nearly time for them to head back to school.
“No, Mr. Tate sent one to me and one to Lizzie,” he says.
“Oh?” I ask, wondering how in the hell he got Mark’s address.
“He asked for my address. Said he had something for the kids,” Mark explains. Why in the hell does he keep getting people’s home addresses?
“Weird. I didn’t know you guys talked,” I state.
“Yeah, he’s emailed me a few times, like about telling Cal he was sorry. I thought it was cool of him. I can’t believe he remembered that was their favorite player,” Mark says as I pull up to my house. There are half a dozen florists in front of it. I park and get out, staring at them as they start bringing up floral arrangements.
“Ma’am, can we bring these inside?” a man asks as he motions to a beautiful peony arrangement.
“Uh, sure,” I say slowly, opening my front door. “In here, I guess.” I motion to the kitchen, and he nods. I take my things upstairs and head back down to find six delivery guys bringing in even more flowers. I stand by the stairs until they finish five minutes later. I thank them and walk into my kitchen which is covered in flowers and so is my family room and dining room.
What in the hell is happening here? I’m about to call Marti to see if she might have an idea of what’s happening, but then I hear a noise. I look around for a bat or hockey stick or something to protect myself.
“I once heard that men should make a grand gesture,” A voice comes from behind me. I feel my heart beat faster when I register who is speaking. I turn to find Tate Anders standing in front of my screen door. My heart begins to gallop like a horse across a wide-open field.
I open my mouth and close it. And open it again but then close it.
“I once told you I’d only chase after a woman that I wanted to spend my life with,” he says. “May I come in?”
I nod but I still can’t find my words as he steps inside my home.
“I should have stayed that night. I should have gone up to your room and made love to you until you came to your senses,” he says.
“I think your speech could use some work,” I state, trying to calm my breathing and heart rate at Tate’s nearness.
“I’m without my best writer, so it’s going to have to do,” he says as he steps closer to me.
“I’ve missed you, M. I don’t want to do this.” He motions between us.
“Do what?” I whisper as I inhale his scent. He’s so close to me now that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to give you any more time to think this through. I don’t want to get over you. I just want you. I want us. I want to be together. Fuck the media. Fuck all the reasons we shouldn’t do this. There’s only one thing that matters,” he says.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him.
“That I love you,” he says as he leans down and holds my face in his hands. I feel the tears begin, the tears I’ve been holding back for days now, weeks.
“Don’t cry, baby. We can do this. Please give us a chance,” he whispers as his thumbs catch the tears falling down my face.
“I—I’m scared,” I whisper back.
“Me too. I’m scared of losing you forever,” he admits.
“Stop saying lines like a book boyfriend,” I scold, my lips twitching with a grin despite my tears.
“Stop writing them,” he retorts, his lips forming into his perfect panty-dropping smile.
I laugh through my tears. “I love you too,” I confess.
He leans down and kisses me and it’s everything. With his lips on mine, the entire world disappears. It’s just Tate and me in our own little bubble. I relish the feel of his skin against mine. My hand goes to his chest. I feel his heart thumping. Shit! Is he as nervous as I am right now?
All too soon, he pulls back. “No more tears, gorgeous,” he says as he wipes the last ones away. I nod my agreement. The time for tears is over. Everyone was right. Now that he’s here in front of me, it’s so clear. We belong together. He’s worth it. The fear was keeping me from being with the man I love and that’s just plain silly. I suddenly feel like an idiot for letting my overactive brain scheme up ways to keep me from this perfect man who loves me. Tate Anders loves me!
“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” he says with a smile as he leans down and picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder. I yelp and he slaps my ass.
“God, I missed this,” he states.
“Missed what?” I ask as he carries me upstairs.
“Us,” he replies, and I smile. Us. I like that.