Chapter Twenty-One Indulge in Spontaneity
Chapter Twenty-One
Indulge in Spontaneity
“Alessia.” Hart’s deep voice lingers over my name, as though he’s savoring the sound of it.
I grip my clutch in one hand and the brown paper bag containing the whiskey in the other. I want to ask him where his date is, but I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud. Then they’d be real, and I’d have to hear him say her name instead of mine.
“Hi,” I whisper instead.
“You look ... stunning ,” he says, his eyes moving from mine, down the length of my form-fitting gown.
A flash of memories races through my brain all at once of our last night together in Aspen—the heat of his mouth at my throat, the way he held me close and made me ache with desire, the helpless groan he made when we came together. Memories that will now only live on in my imagination.
“You’re not here with anyone?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Where are you headed?” He notices the brown paper bag in my hands and maybe the fact that we’re standing outside the florescent-lit liquor store. It’s embarrassing to know that my plan of drowning my heartbreak in alcohol isn’t as secret as I hoped.
“Where’s your date?” I finally ask.
He tilts his chin. “Date?” Realization flashes across his features. “Oh. That was my cousin Abigail.”
His cousin .
Relief floods through me. The idea that he’d moved on already was almost more than I could bear.
“Hayes’s sister?”
He shakes his head. “No. Hayes doesn’t have any siblings. Abigail is a cousin from my mother’s side. She’s here visiting from Maryland, and my mother invited her along. You didn’t think ...”
I duck my chin. “I thought you were dating her.”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
Neither of us moves or looks away, unwilling to break the spell, to end this perfect quiet moment.
Talking seems unnecessary. The solemn stillness that settles around us is warm, like a blanket on a cool day. Utterly calming and perfect and so comfortable I feel like I could melt.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
“Walk with me,” he says like it’s the easiest thing. Like we haven’t broken up. Like I haven’t shattered everything between us with my neurotic anxieties.
“Okay,” I agree.
We walk along in silence on the dimly lit street for a few paces before Hart stops me.
He lifts my face with his fingers under my chin, and without warning, he presses an urgent kiss to my mouth. It’s ... claiming. There’s no other way to describe this kiss.
I don’t want it to end, but the rational part of my brain kicks into action. With a press of my hand to the firm wall of his chest, I push him back a step.
He dips his chin. “I’ve missed you.”
The weight of his words breaks the last of my resolve. “Come on. It’s freezing.” I tug him by the hand and lead the way back to my hotel.
But a few steps in, I pitch sideways, stumbling, and feel Hart grab me before I topple. The combination of the uneven sidewalk and my very high heels.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I grimace. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
He laces one hand around my waist. “Lean on me. I’ve got you.”
Hobbling now, we continue toward the hotel.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
“It’s okay. I’ve always wanted a limp. It makes me feel like a pirate.”
Hart chuckles. “You know a pirate’s favorite letter of the alphabet?”
“ Arrrgh ,” I say, impersonating Jack Sparrow.
“Nope. Sea. ” He draws out the word in his best pirate accent.
I dissolve into giggles, the pain in my ankle suddenly gone.
As we pass by a trash bin, I drop the bottle of whiskey inside, and it makes a loud thump.
“What was that?” he asks, looking at me quizzically.
“Nothing.”
I’m not brave enough to invite him up to my room, not when I don’t trust myself to make good decisions.
So we sit at the bar in the hotel lobby and talk over a cocktail.
I imagine how we must look—he looking dapper in a black custom-made tuxedo and crisp white shirt.
I in a floor-length silver gown with a bag of ice on my ankle that Hart requested from the bartender.
“You were brilliant tonight. And that speech was incredible. It was funny, moving ... and very powerful.”
I almost admit that I could barely get through it when I spotted him sitting there in the crowd. “Thank you,” I say instead.
He fills me in on the work he’s done on his friend Monty’s app and that he’s been invited to deliver the commencement address at his former boarding school’s graduation ceremony this spring.
“That’s amazing.”
“How long are you in New York?” he asks, swirling the remnants of his old-fashioned around in his glass.
“I’m actually flying home in the morning.”
He frowns. “Home. California or Nairobi?”
“California,” I confirm. “My parents would kill me if I was in the States but didn’t visit. I haven’t seen them since Christmas. And Scarlet’s baby is being baptized, so I’ll stay for a long weekend.”
“Maybe I’ll see you there,” he says, watching for my reaction.
It was the same thing he said when I told him I was heading off for London all those months ago.
“Do you have some unfinished business in California that I’m not aware of?” My mouth twitches with a smile.
“Maybe I do.”
Standing on the front porch of Scarlet and Will’s house with Hart by my side is like an out-of-body experience.
We sat through the church service, the lengthy Catholic mass this morning and baby Cullen’s baptism, and now we’re here for a small luncheon gathering.
And based on the lack of cars on the street, we’re the first to arrive.
I fidget nervously. The last time I was here was on Christmas Day, when I poured my heart out to her about how it could never work between me and the man standing beside me.
I knock twice and then let myself in. We find Will in the kitchen washing bottles. He presses a kiss to my cheek, and I introduce him to Hart.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Hart says, extending his hand.
“Likewise. Scar’s in the den. And there are drinks in the fridge. Make yourself at home.”
Scarlet waves us over to where she’s seated in a plush armchair with the baby in her arms.
“Hi, lady.” She smiles. “And you must be Hart. Come sit down.”
We join her, settling in on the sofa across from her.
The moment Hart seems to realize that Scarlet isn’t just holding Cullen, she’s nursing him, he stands suddenly.
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll wait in the other room.”
Scarlet chuckles at his obvious discomfort, which is admittedly adorable. “It’s just a boob. I’m good if you are.”
And it’s not like you can really see anything; Scarlet has covered Cullen with a swaddling blanket that’s draped across her shoulder. But we can hear him noisily sucking away.
At this, a lopsided smirk lifts Hart’s mouth, and he sits back down beside me. “I’m good.”
Scarlet grins like she’s amused by him.
“It’s good to finally meet you,” Hart says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
She laughs. “I bet you have. Here’s the deal. You believe half of what you hear about me, and I’ll believe half of what I hear about you.”
Hart chuckles. “Deal.”
I roll my eyes. “It was a beautiful service,” I say to Scarlet.
She strokes Cullen’s chubby cheek. “It really was. I’m glad you could come.” She studies us, sitting on the sofa side by side—the way he holds my hand, the comfortable way my knee brushes his. I know she’s wondering if we’re back together. I am, too, to be honest.
Once he’s finished nursing, Scarlet secures her top and hands me the baby. “Will you burp him?”
“Of course.” I accept the pudgy bundle and settle him on my shoulder with a burp cloth.
I’m thumping his back with my palm when I feel Hart studying me with a crease in his forehead.
I wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s really here.
And if I should give in to what my heart is telling me or what my head is this time.
I’m also unsure if I’m prepared to face the gauntlet of public scrutiny again. Though just like his father predicted, my entire affair with Hart was soon forgotten. Or at least overshadowed with other, more pressing news. That’s not to say it couldn’t flare up again.
Cullen lets out a big wet burp, and we both smile.
“Impressive for such a small thing.” Hart grins.
I turn him over and cradle him in my arms. “There you go, buddy.” His eyes blink open, and his lips part in a gummy smile. I coo at him and stroke his soft cheek, the downy smattering of fine hair on his head.
“Less?” Scarlet calls from the kitchen. “Give me a hand in here for a minute?”
I consider my options. “I can put him in his chair ...,” I say to Hart, glancing over at the baby swing in the corner, “or you can hold him.”
His eyes widen with a look of uncertainty, and I wonder if he’s ever held a baby. “I can hold him,” he says quietly.
Transferring the baby to Hart’s big unsure hands is tricky, answering my question about his experience level in an instant. His expression fills with wonder like he’s never held something so fragile. Once he’s settled, I join Scarlet in the kitchen.
“What did you need?” I ask.
“Hmm?” She waves me off. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted to gossip.”
I shake my head. “About?”
“Girl.” The look she gives me is stern, like I’m about to be in big trouble.
“What?” I ask, nervously.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was practically a male model?! That was rude.”
I dissolve into a fit of giggles like I’m a teenager.
“Are you guys back together?” she whispers.
“No.” I run one hand through my hair. “I don’t know.”
“Cool. Glad that’s cleared up.” Her tone drips with sarcasm.
Rolling my eyes, I give her a look. I truly have no idea what to think about me and Hart right now.
I only ran into him last night after the gala.
Why he agreed to a cross-country flight to be here today is beyond me.
Unless he really does have business in California this week .
.. who knows, maybe he’s heading back to his grandparents’ winery.
“You guys are cute together. I can see how much he likes you. And he’s probably the one man who could keep up with your lifestyle. If you think about it, maybe he’s a perfect choice.”
The perfect choice ... does she actually hear herself? “Are you okay? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been the one cautioning me this entire time. Now you’re telling me he’s the perfect choice?” I throw up my hands in a gesture of giving up.
Scarlet only smiles knowingly. “Now that I’ve seen you together, I’m allowed to change my opinion, aren’t I?”
I know what she means. Other times, in the past, when I tried to date, my schedule didn’t exactly work with someone who had a regular nine-to-five job.
I’d set off for Africa for months at a time—or London or New York—and the distance would usually end things.
With his family connections and money, Hart would have no problem keeping up with my travel schedule.
But I don’t give Scarlet the satisfaction of being right about this. “I just left your infant son in the arms of a person I’m pretty sure has never even held a baby before. Unless you have anything else to say, I’m going to go check on them.”
She waves me off like she’s not worried in the slightest. “You know I’m right.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” I say, walking away.
When I walk into the den, I’m unprepared for the sight before me.
Hart is on his feet, holding the baby in one big hand while the other rubs small circles along his back. He’s bouncing him slightly and whispering softly, “There ya go, little man.”
Emotion slams through me at the sight of them, and my ovaries flip-flop.
That’s not good. I’m pretty sure ovaries aren’t supposed to do that.
“You’re a natural,” I say, interrupting possibly the sweetest moment I’ve ever seen.
Hart grins. “Were you worried?”
I give him a soft look. “Maybe a little.” I take a seat, still watching them. I can’t tear my eyes away.
“Do they need help setting up for the party?” he asks, sitting down beside me. I expect him to try to hand the baby back, but he doesn’t.
I shake my head. “Scarlet wanted to gossip.”
“About me?”
I nod, fighting off a smile.
“Well. Don’t leave me in suspense, woman. Did I pass inspection or not?”
I laugh. “You did, actually. It seems she doesn’t have the same reservations I do about our ages.”
Hart frowns, looking down at the baby and caressing one hand along his round tummy.
I try and fail not to notice the endearing way he cradles the baby in his big capable hands. The sight of them together has my chest constricting.
“It was sweet of you to come today, but you know it won’t work,” I say carefully.
“I know how I feel when I’m with you.”
“That aside, I still don’t believe ...” I don’t get to finish that sentence.
“I’m not letting you go without a fight. You want one of these?” He gazes down at the baby cradled in his arms. “Then let’s do it.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. “You don’t mean that.”
“Why don’t I mean that?”
“Because you’re young, Hart, and you have many more years ahead of you to enjoy just being young and single without being tied down.”
Pressuring a man into having a baby simply because my eggs are hurtling toward their best-by date isn’t something I would ever do.
It can’t work between us, and I wasted so many years of my life with Sean.
I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, not when I no longer have the luxury of time on my side.
No matter how we might feel about each other, I can’t deny our reality, even if Hart wants to.
I remember his admission to Vaughn that night about whether or not he wants kids— someday, maybe.
My someday is today. His might be ten years from now. Or possibly never.
Almost as if he can hear my wheels turning, he says, “If you’re going to have a meltdown, can you do it later? I’m kind of enjoying this.”
He strokes Cullen’s cheek again, and the baby lets out a happy little cooing sound. We hear Scarlet greet the first of the guests at the front door.
“Hart . . . ,” I begin gently.
“Let’s talk about this later,” he says, voice low, seeming to understand that I don’t want to cry right as a party is about to start.
I release a slow, shaky breath and nod.
I know it’s a little crazy, but I’m thankful he’s here with me.
As the guests filter in, I realize everyone else is part of a couple.
Scarlet’s parents are here, along with Will’s mom and stepdad.
Her sister and her husband. Our friends Carol and Micah that I haven’t seen in forever.
Everyone is friendly, and they only side-eye me a little about Hart’s age relative to my own.
Or maybe it’s my imagination, who knows.