36. Why the Hell Not
Chapter 36
Why the Hell Not
A fter I typed in the address Tyler gave me, GPS directed me to an apartment complex with red brick buildings. I followed the signs to a door on the third floor of a building in the back, where I stand now, hand raised to knock. But I can’t do it.
Too many what-ifs whirl around, keeping me locked in place. Too many doubts and insecurities. I shouldn’t be here, I’m not ready. But my phone dings with an incoming text from Roommate, a reminder that I need to change his name.
Roommate: Do you want me to open the door?
He must be watching through the peephole. Nick wouldn’t judge me if I ran away right now, and it’s that very fact that has me replying, Yes please.
I knew I missed him, but I didn’t realize how much until the breath is sucked from my lungs at the sight of him. He wears a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his damp hair sticks up in many directions, and the familiar scent from his soap takes over my senses.
“How are you?” I ask to distract myself.
“I should be asking you that.” He holds my gaze. “Especially after this evening. Tyler texted me, said it wasn’t pretty.”
“It wasn’t, but it’s over now.”
He shifts, allowing me to enter. It’s empty except for a backpack leaning against the wall, and grocery bags on the counter.
“The only seating is my bed,” he explains, slipping his hands in his pockets.
I slip my shoes off by the door.
“I don’t mind the floor.” I sit crisscross in what I assume would be the living room, and he sits across from me. “I’m sorry for the other night.”
“Why would you be sorry? I’m the one who should apologize. I should have told you, I should have-”
I hold up a hand to stop the words rushing forth. “I know, but I also understand why you didn’t. I’m mainly sorry for accusing you of wanting revenge. I was hurt in more ways than I can list and my emotions were all over the place. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I felt sad at what Sam did and for how rashly I reacted.”
“My only intention was to be with you in whatever way I could.”
“And deep down, I know that. But I still need to learn how to silence those voices that tell me I’m not enough. I have a lot of work to do on myself.”
“Well, I’m here to help in whatever way I can.”
“Thank you.” I pull at a loose thread on my sock.
“Oh. Guess who’s pregnant?”
My head snaps up and a muscle in my neck pinches. I massage the area as a lump forms in my throat. Surely, it’s not Kenna.
“My mom,” he answers, and the dam breaks on my relief. I don’t think I’d care if they had kids together, or got married and lived out a fairy tale, at some point in the future. But a kid conceived while Sam and I were together would make me very uncomfortable.
“Wow. I didn’t see that one coming.”
He laughs. “Me neither.”
“How do you feel about that? That’s kind of weird. I mean, Solomon was born when I was thirteen, and even that was weird.”
“It’s definitely that. But, I don’t know.” He shrugs and looks at the carpet. “I’m really happy for them. And I know I’m going to love the baby. I kind of feel like an outsider, though. Like, I’m going to be forcing myself into their little family.”
“Isn’t that probably how Jonah felt all those years? And y’all wanted him part of your family.”
He rubs his forehead. “My God, you’re right. I’m being irrational.”
“Life changes mess with your head.”
He nods and, even though the silence is thick with tension and uncertainty, it’s somehow comfortable. Because it’s Nick.
“Hey, I got your birthday present. It isn’t wrapped, though.” His smile is so breathtaking that what he said doesn’t hit me until he stands. I stand as well and wait for him at the counter. When he returns, he places a thin, cardboard box into my hands. I pull out a picture frame with the words, “First Dollar,” and space to write in a date.
“For your coffee shop.”
Gifted by the man who’s never shown me anything but support. Who’s only believed in me every second I’ve known him, despite the idea of opening a coffee shop being idiotic. Even if I were rich with millions of dollars to spare, even if I knew every in and out of running a business, opening a coffee shop would be foolish because of the huge names that already dominate the coffee community. But Nick’s belief in me is tangible, wrapping my body in the warmest of hugs.
Sam has the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in all of my life. But they’re shallow and unburdened like he’s never truly seen me, while Nick’s are deep and full of love as if he’s always seen all of me.
I lose myself in that depth now, unable to look anywhere else. Nick said he would be there to help in whatever way he could, but he’s already helped so much. I stumbled around in the dark before I met him. He turned the light on for me.
“Do you not like it?”
“I love it,” I whisper. Breath quickening, my lips part, and his gaze catches the movement. He moves to stand directly in front of me, arms braced on the counter on either side of my hips. I lean in, unintentionally, but so does he.
We shouldn’t be doing this, it’s too fast. But also, why the hell not?
With a gentle touch, I run my hands up his abdomen. They stop at his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly. I start to second-guess myself, but his lips finally slam into mine. He lifts me onto the counter and my legs wrap around his waist. I fist his shirt tightly, overwhelmed by him.
When my eyelids flutter open and find his dark eyes boring into mine, witnessing every moment of ecstasy flickering across my face, I can’t breathe. Because it’s Nick’s tongue clashing against mine. It’s Nick’s large hands caressing my jaw. Nick carrying me to his bedroom, not once mentioning how heavy I am.
He lays me on the bed and straightens, ripping his shirt over his head and, for the first time, I don’t shy away from admiring his toned body. The sight shoots sparks straight through my core. He lowers himself on top of me, and our hands slide down each other’s backs, searching for confirmation that this is real.
His scorching touch comes around to my belly and dives underneath my shirt. Leaving a trail of goosebumps along my skin, he nears my chest. His hand slips underneath my bra and palms my breast, and I arch into the pleasure, my vision blurring and my cheeks heating. But not from embarrassment this time. No, this time it’s all lust.
Like starving animals, we paw at each other, touching and kissing whatever inch of skin we find, and when he undresses me, there’s not an ounce of shame. For the first time, as he kisses his way up my thighs to my center, as his tongue strokes up my seam, I’m not worried about taking too long to reach orgasm.
For the first time, as he flips us so that I’m straddling him, I’m not worried about dimming the lights to shield my body from view.
For the first time, as he flips us again and throws my legs over his shoulders, I’m not worried about hiding my fat rolls.
And for the first time, as I reach my second release at the same time he finds his, I’m not worried about being enough.
* * *
A fterward, I lay in his arms, content to stay there forever, skin to skin, his breath skimming over my neck. I have no immediate plans to leave, but I’ll have to eventually. We’ve quenched our thirst for now, but Hailey was right: I need therapy.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to a stranger; I’d rather avoid therapy altogether. It’s just one more thing I’m supposed to do, that’s been suggested to me by someone else. But I think it’s one of those pains I have to go through to feel better in the end.
Because this jumble of emotions inside my head needs a professional to sort through it. For the most part, I know what I need to do to improve myself. But the how is what trips me up. And, most importantly, I need someone to listen. And I can’t put that responsibility on Nick who has his own stuff to figure out.
We go long enough without speaking that Nick falls asleep. I don’t want to leave him here alone like I did with Sam, so I turn the brightness on my phone as low as it can and get to work.
While Hailey was at Tyler’s, we brainstormed a plan for me, and the first step in that plan is to find a source of income. I could return to the diner and grovel for my job back, or I could go after my dream. Because the time to trust myself, to stop being a wilted flower, has come.
After the coffee samples proved good, the decision was easy to go with that roaster. I don’t need the notes that are probably still sitting in Sam’s trash can, considering no one is there to take out the trash for him. All that’s left to do is narrow down the flavors I want since my investment amount is lower than I’d hoped to start with and email the sales representative that I’ve been messaging back and forth.
Once again, the timing is all wrong. I don’t have a job. I don’t have much in the bank, and I’ll have even less after I submit the order. I don’t even have a home, and most of my belongings are still at Sam’s.
But it’s what I want and I’ve waited long enough.
Next, I send a text to Sage.
Me: I have a proposal: Let’s go into business together. Ground coffee and coffee-related designs on your towels/shirts/signs.
Me: I understand if you’re not interested, but I figured I’d ask.
While I wait for her to respond, the ideas start rolling in and I make a list. Sage and I can work the tables at the events she attends together and I’ll help make the actual products. I could take a small coffee pot and give out samples, maybe a free coffee cup with the purchase of three or more bags. And offer a small discount to those who follow me on social media. There are so many neat things I could do for my customers, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even have the product yet, let alone a single customer.
The second step involves finding a place to live. I write an email to Dad because I’m too chicken to have this conversation in person. I offer him rent in whatever amount he wants—within reason. If I do any work on the house, painting, or replacing flooring, anything I spend will come out of rent.
After the email is sent and my hands begin shaking, I start the search for a therapist. I bookmark a couple that offer therapy online, as well as a website for family counseling.
When I find myself fighting to stay awake, I put my phone down and cuddle up close to Nick’s warmth, savoring this time with him. He can’t be my knight in shining armor; I have to be that for myself. I have to learn to love myself before I can ask him to love me, and I can only pray that happens before he finds someone else. I’m hopeful, though, with his support and friendship the foundation of my healing, of finding a way to keep going.
Because, not only is my birthday gift symbolic of Nick’s belief in me, but it’s practical for the final, and longest, step in my plan: opening a coffee shop right next to Dad’s diner.