38. Thirty-Eight
Damn… this woman. I can’t describe what she’s done to me, what she means to me—me, the fucking wordsmith.
Rowan drifts to sleep on my shoulder, her breathing soft and rhythmic. It’s late. I’m wired. But more content than I’ve ever been. Her gorgeous leg is draped over mine. My fingers lightly strum her bare lower back. Her arm lays across my stomach, fingers over my heart. We’re warm against each other, though we’re naked and still damp from the shower.
Ah, the shower.
I replay the memory, fiddling with the damp ends of her hair on my chest.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I asked her when our after-sex conversation drifted into silence.
She laughed, her cheeks reddening. “I can’t say.”
“How come?”
“It might seem… I don’t know… like too much.”
My eyes must’ve widened to the size of chestnuts because she giggled at my expression. “Now, you have to tell me.” My arms tightened around her while I tickled her with quick kisses—cheeks, neck, nose. “Tell me now, or I’ll do this forever.”
“This isn’t so bad,” she snickered.
I vampire-bit her neck, turning her laughs into playful screams. Then, I went for her lips, my teasing kisses turning into serious ones. “Tell me.”
“Shower. Let’s get in the shower,” came out in a breath.
“Damn. You. Me. Shower. I love it… and I fucking love you for saying it.” My breath caught on the words as they spilled out, relieved and surprised at myself. “I do, you know. I love you, Rowan.”
I almost winced when I said it, fearing it was too much. But the love for her that I’d been toying around with had suddenly strengthened. A tidal wave rushing over me. A confession, once again, crashing at her feet.
But I doubted she was ready for it.
In her silence, I scrambled for the right words to get us to the other side of this—to free her from any pressure. I didn’t need her to say it back. I didn’t need anything beyond her.
But the words came anyway—soft, sweet, smiling. “I love you, too.”
I expelled a breathy sigh—I couldn’t help it. Those words crumbled the last of her walls, and I loved her even more for saying them.
Still, I played it cool. “It’s settled then. Shower it is.”
I used shower time to study Rowan’s geography like there’d be a test afterward. I memorized her slopes, curves, plateaus, peaks, ridges, and valleys first with my eyes and then my hands as I washed her with a soapy cloth. She moaned with every touch like each hit her erogenous zone. And that’s what she wanted—for me to see all of her, there, where neither of us could hide. I read her nakedness, her openness, her confidence, like a promise between us. I trust you. I want you. I love you.
Then, with those glorious legs of hers wrapped around me, I pinned her against the tiles, hot and cold together, and took her. Deep. Wet. Hard-pressed.
Damn… this woman.She isn’t just sexy and intense and fucking amazing, she’s warm and funny and familiar and everything I never knew I wanted until her. My world has shifted onto her axis—I’ll never be the same again.
And I don’t want to be.
I was serious when I said I’d marry her. I’d ask her today if I didn’t think it’d scare the shit out of her.
Morning arrives. She foregoes her run because of her leg, and that means more shower time with me. I fix her breakfast as she hobbles around the kitchen, shoving things into her bag.
“Your career is putting a serious dent in my playtime,” I tell her, handing her a plate of eggs and toast.
She smirks. “What’re you doing today?”
“Gutters and drains with the boys for Hurricane Nadine,” I report, eyeing the texts from Vernon and Tom. “Fantasizing about you… oh, and writing.”
“Don’t do the fantasizing while you’re with the boys, huh? That’d be weird.”
“Understood. What’s your day like?”
She shrugs, grinning. “I’m talking books with a bunch of cool kids. Jealous?”
“Definitely.”
At the back door, she kisses me goodbye with a skeptical look, as if parting ways for a few hours might break the spell we’re under, and we’ll be back to cordially volatile neighbors by the time she gets home. Her default is to expect good things not to last, and I get it—most of the time, they don’t. “See you later?”
Damn, this woman.“I’ll be waiting for you.”
After another lingering kiss, I leave her, crossing her backyard and slipping into my own. Ideas swirl, thinking of Rowan, her class, and all she does for them. Teachers must be so many things beyond educators—managers, accountants, organizers, creators, shrinks. It’s a wonder anyone takes it on, especially for so little pay. I think of Rowan’s binder bookshelf, her classroom pantry, and her raiding my library because she couldn’t get bestsellers at the public one—they should give her a book budget, at least. Teachers give so much and expect so little in return.
Harper Lee purrs at my feet as I feed her. Then, desperate for my laptop, I head to my office.
I started a new book as soon as I finished Bare, a paranormal romance called Strangers Together about a woman starting over after an abusive relationship. She moves into a condo only to discover that the entire complex is haunted by a ghost—the dead brother of the reclusive man who lives on the top floor. Desperate to see his brother happy so he can finally cross over, the ghost does what he can (which is limited) to bring the residents together—that is, get his brother to connect with other people so he won”t take his own life. Only his plans, ranging from mischievous to creepy, continuously backfire. Until the woman comes along. Having been through something horrible, she’s more open to the ghost, and soon, she finds herself wanting to learn more about the mysterious man upstairs. It’s lighthearted and sad and probably the strangest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s practically writing itself.
Fuck you, writer’s block.
“Wait, am I the ghost in this story?” Devin plops into my reading chair. “I feel a little typecast. Why can’t you make me a professional baseball player? Or a damn superhero, huh?”
I sit in front of my laptop, stirring the touchpad. “Just keeping it real. At least you’ll have a starring role in this one.”
He shrugs. “Sounds like you do, too. Tell me, does the recluse on the top floor know it’s his brother haunting the building?”
“I don’t know yet. Yes, maybe. Why?”
“If his unhappiness keeps his brother around, he might be inclined to stay that way.”
“No.” It comes out emphatically as my story mixes with Rowan’s words to Mira. No one wants to be alone. But Devin catches my eye, looking more serious than usual as he cocks his head at me. With an uneasy shrug, I reconsider. “He’ll resist happiness at first. If his brother can’t have a happy life, why should he? He’ll try to say he’s not that guy, that he’s better off alone. He’ll believe it, too. It’s easier being alone. Not letting anyone else in means…”
My brow pinches as I see where this is going.
“Means what?” Devin pushes.
“Nothing changes, and he never gets hurt again. He’ll hold on to his brother and his misery, keeping them both in limbo.”
Devin leans into the plush red chair, hands latched behind his head. “Until… dun, dun, dun… what happens?”
“Until he meets someone who—” A smile slips up my lips as I think about her. “Brings him out of his misery. Then, loving the right person matters more than the risk, heals the emptiness left by his brother, and…”
“He doesn’t need him anymore.”
Air evacuates my lungs like I’ve been jabbed in the stomach. He’s right—I don’t need him anymore. Not that he’s really here in the first place. He’s definitely a welcome character in my overactive imagination. But, if he really were here, he’d tell me not to hang onto my grief anymore—that’s not the damn takeaway from Devin’s short life. To love and be loved—that’s what he taught me.
And that’s what I have now, too.
Devin rises from my reading chair. “It’s like me and Corey used to tell you—three’s a crowd.”
I laugh—he said that a lot. Though I’m bubbling with ideas, I minimize the tab for Strangers Together—that’s not what I’m writing today.
Devin cracks his fingers at the same time I do. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I have a hot elf to ravish.”
I laugh and open a new document that I hope will make it a little easier for the woman I love to do what she loves.
And the next time I glance up from my keyboard, Devin is gone.