Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
D espite his best intentions, every session with Kristof included a conversation about Clementine. His therapist wasn’t happy about it and brought up replacement addictions, which then made Oakley irritable. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, but it still annoyed him.
In the first few sessions after his last stretch in rehab, Kristof warned him about the possibility that he’d find something new to fill the gaping hole drugs and alcohol left in him. Back then, he understood and heeded the warning. He’d call Mia, his sponsor, every time he had an itch for a new tattoo or his mind prickled with the need to not feel anything. It took him a long time to kick that habit, but Oakley had finally found a balance.
Until Clementine, some would say.
He never thought of her as an addiction. It was an all consuming love, sure, but not an addiction. If she left him, he might spiral but he wouldn’t let it destroy him. When he said as much to Kristof, his therapist didn’t believe him either. She was the best thing that happened in his life in a really long time, so yes, he might be attached to her in a way that was unhealthy. But it wasn’t debilitating.
Yet.
He missed her, especially since they’d just started exploring further into their relationship. Leaving the bed the past week had been torture, even though he did end every day in her arms. He’d never felt this way about someone before—which was another thing Kristof was concerned about—and there was this niggling worry that he was imagining all of it. Neither of them had said what they felt and while he could read it in the little things she did, Oakley craved the words. Even if he struggled to get them out himself.
However, his focus right then was on the group of kids sitting around the table in the break room. A Fine Needle was playing host to kids from a neighboring school all week. As part of their charity contributions, they invited kids from broken homes, those who needed guidance and help, somewhere safe to hang out after school every day. It was a combination of honing their art skills and teaching them about running a business. It reminded him so much of the work he’d done in San Clemente that Oakley dedicated all of his time to the kids that week.
The mornings were for their clients and regular schedules. The minute school let out, all the equipment was put away and the place was cleaned up for the kids. Each of them worked with a small group, ranging between ten- and thirteen-year-olds, and helped them with almost everything. After clearing it with Auburn and the organizer from the community center, Oakley had tasked his group with designing tattoos. They’d spent a long time admiring the wall of art before settling down to do their own stuff.
He was picking at crumbs in the Pretty Baked box—Clementine, the fucking goddess that she was, had sent a special box of donuts—as he thought about their text exchange, smiling to himself when someone cleared their throat.
“What are you smiling about, Mister Oakley?” one of the kids asked.
He chuckled and dusted off his hands. “Remember how we talked about my girl?”
“She made the donuts!”
“She did! She doesn’t have any tattoos, but I really want to gift her one. I can’t think of what would be perfect for her, because there’s so many options. How do you feel about helping me design something?”
They shuffled papers around excitedly when another kid asked, “What is she like, Mister Oakley?”
“Aw, man. She’s everything,” he said softly, feeling like such a sap for not being able to describe the woman he loved properly. “She’s a really good baker—those donuts are good, right? She’s passionate and funny, she’s also a little grumpy but that makes her extra special. She’s beautiful, obviously. She’s the kind of person you fall in love with knowing that you don’t deserve her.”
“Does she love you, Mister Oakley?”
He huffed out a laugh, staring at his hands instead of at the kids. “I think so.”
“It’s okay if she doesn’t love you. You love her enough for both of you,” one of them said with all the confidence of a kid.
“Does this mean you’re going to help me?”
“Yes!” they yelled together and he grinned as they got down to work.
He opened up his notebook and resumed his drawings—more desserts and a sketch of Clementine on the couch with Gracie curled up in her lap. He was terrified of these feelings, because even though it was in everything they did and all the things left unsaid, he was worried that she might not actually feel the same way. Unlike Kristof, Oakley’s fear wasn’t that he would turn to substances if she ended things. That fear of being left behind and being abandoned was what surfaced often. Losing his family and having to navigate the world alone had been difficult; all of the bad things followed their death. In this aspect, he felt like maybe heartbreak and death would have the same effect.
Walking away from her wasn’t an option, but if she didn’t feel the same way, he would have no choice. Quit it, don’t get ahead of yourself. Nodding to himself, Oakley focused on the positive side of things, that all of this could turn out better than he expected.
“Mister Oakley, we’re done!”
Glad for the interruption, he closed his notebook. “All right, let’s see those masterpieces.”
They turned their papers around and he was beyond impressed. Everyone brought something fresh to the table. His heart ached for these kids, hoping that as they got older, the right people discovered and nurtured their talents. Because they deserved that. He had been so lucky to be raised by parents who had money and resources to help him learn art and appreciate it. If he could, he would be the one to teach and guide them.
“These are beautiful, kids,” he said, smiling even wider at them as they bounced in place. “I really love them.”
“Think your girlfriend will like them?” one kid asked, the corners of his paper crinkling in his hands.
“Absolutely. She’s going to love them too.”
And she would; Clementine would gush over every detail. They handed him their art as Auburn knocked on the door to the break room with a smile. “Their ride’s here.”
He nodded and turned back to the kids, unable to hide the emotions swirling through him. “This week has been the best since I got here. Thank you for spending all this time with me.”
Some of them sniffled and wiped at their faces before everyone charged at him for a hug. He laughed, doing his best to hug them back. They detangled, grabbed their things and said bye before rushing out the door.
Auburn gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I think you made the most impact this week, thank you.”
“It was fun, thank you .”
He walked back to his workstation, sorting through the art—brightly colored cupcakes, donuts and donut holes, and the last one had baking tools. Setting everything on his table, he grabbed his things to wind up for the day when Carin appeared.
“Heard if there was an award for best mentor, you’d win.”
He popped his collar. “Jealousy looks good on you.”
“Fuck off.” They laughed and pointed at the art on his table. “Your kids did this?”
“Incredible, right?”
“Dude, these are beautiful .”
“When do you have some free time?”
“Why?” Carin asked, one eyebrow raised.
“I designed something that I want done.”
“You’re getting ink for your girl? I thought we don’t do that.”
He sighed, shoving the papers into his bag. “I need something of her on my skin.”
“A tattoo is a permanent thing.”
“I want to permanently remember her, Carin.”
One of the first things he, Carin and Fox had talked about was how they would never get tattoos for people they loved that weren’t family. Both his friends had ink dedicated to friends and family they loved and lost. Just like he did. But romantic partners? That was a big no-no. In fact, when clients came in with requests of that nature, Oakley was always trying to push them in the other direction—get something symbolic that could mean something else if the relationship fell apart. It didn’t always work, like this conversation with Carin wasn’t going the way they hoped.
“I don’t want her name or initials or anything, just stuff that represents her.”
Carin stared at him a long time and when they realized he wasn’t going to change his mind, they nodded. “ Fine. ”
“Thank you.”
“You should tell her, you know. That you’re fucking serious about her. Otherwise the only person getting hurt will be you.”
He nodded and Carin punched his arm gently and then walked out. Closing his eyes, Oakley inhaled deeply, mentally telling himself that everything would work out.
She loves you, but she’s scared and rightfully so. She loves you, be patient. She loves you, trust in that.
It took another few hours before he could actually leave the shop. There were some schedule changes and they needed to clean up since the kids were all gone. It took them a little over an hour before everyone left. In his Jeep, Oakley considered his plans for the evening. They’d woken up in her bed that morning, so there was a good chance they would fall asleep there. But he was also so tired from the day that he just wanted to collapse into bed. Besides, a good night’s sleep before seeing Clementine was never a bad idea.
The whole drive to his apartment, he had a conversation with himself about how he was expecting too much from someone who wanted to be friends with benefits. Sure, the relationship had evolved from their first conversation and even from the first kiss at the tattoo shop. It was still something he was unclear about and he didn’t know if talking about it would solve this confusion.
Except when he let himself inside his apartment, all the noise in his head faded away. Clementine was sitting on his couch in one of his T-shirts, gorgeous legs stretched out while one hand played with Gracie’s ears and the other scribbled in her notebook. His heart did a funny dance at the sight of her, a smile stretching across his mouth instantly. She lifted her head and her face lit up, making his stomach tumble. How can I not love this woman?
“Hey you.”
“Melor,” he whispered, closing the door and dropping everything to the floor. He moved to the couch and lay down. It was the most awkward position, but he managed to set his head in her lap as she moved her notebook away. Gracie was alert, one paw on his face, like she was attempting to soothe him. He smiled and scratched his dog, silently assuring her that he was okay. He might not have been earlier, but he was now.
“Hi,” Clementine said softly, amusement clear in her voice, fingers brushing through his hair, her short nails scraped against his scalp. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She’d been calling him that for a few days now. When she was drunk on sex and coming down from her orgasm high, she’d call him baby and he would get hard again instantly. But sweetheart ? It held power that he hadn’t expected.
“A long week.” He snuggled into her lap and kissed her bare thigh. “Coming home to you in my clothes might be my favorite thing ever. Are you naked under there?”
She laughed and tugged on his hair gently. “Got underwear on, horndog.”
“A guy can hope.”
“You hungry? I can heat up dinner.”
“You cooked?”
“Yup. Got home a few hours ago and made spaghetti with cheesy meatballs.”
All his brain registered when Clementine stood up was the words home . Then his eyes were drawn to her ass clad in dark underwear, the bottom of the T-shirt stuck in the waistband. She walked to the kitchen and his gaze followed her, dumbstruck that this woman wanted anything to do with him. Collapsing back onto the couch, he listened to her move around the kitchen. Maybe all the things he was working himself up about were for nothing. Because there she was, in his clothes and cooking him dinner.
She returned with a bowl of food and a bottle of water, handing them both to him. She sat down beside him, hand sliding into his hair. Like it was the most normal fucking thing in the world. He stared at the deliciously steamy food, then at his girl. She raised an eyebrow and he leaned in to kiss her. Her other hand cupped his jaw as she kissed him back and when he pulled away, all the words he wanted to say to her almost tumbled out. But he stopped himself, focusing on the food.
“How was the last day?”
He nodded, eyes slipping closed as he ate. “Good. How do you always make the best pasta ever?”
“I was born this way.”
Oakley smirked and shoved another forkful of pasta into his mouth, moaning at the flavors. “The kids are so fucking talented. Brought some of the art to show you. Like…I wish I could adopt them and give them what they need.”
“Maybe you can still work with them outside the shop.” He paused mid-chew and glanced at her, who was watching him with a smirk and added, “Because adopting six kids seems like a lot of work.”
The question to ask her if she wanted kids was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he chuckled. “That’s a really good idea. I’ll speak to Auburn about getting me in touch with the center.”
“Good. I’m glad you bonded with these kids, Oak. Even if you’ve been so busy and exhausted, I can see that this makes you happy.”
“I was upset at first, because it meant less time with you. But I learned so much from those kids too,” he admitted, eating more of his dinner. She was watching him, but he kept his eyes on his food. “How did real estate shopping go?”
“Pretty good. I’m pretty sold on one of the places. I could totally envision myself setting it up the way I’ve always dreamed.”
“But…” he said, urging her on.
“But, it’s a little more than I was willing to spend. Not totally out of my budget and it would be worth it in the long run. Might need to move my finances around a little.”
“What’s the one thing about this place that you love that the other spaces don’t have?”
“Big windows, so lots of natural light flooding in. Even the kitchen.”
He smiled at the joy on her face. “Will it help to have fresh eyes on the place?”
Clementine stared at him a moment, eyebrows dipping. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, baby. This is your entire business and your future. I’d love to help.”
She grabbed his face in both hands and pressed a kiss to his mouth with a loud smack . When she pulled back, her face was bright. “I’d love that.”
And I love you . Instead he said, “Lemme show you what the kids did today.”
Oakley set his bowl on the coffee table and grabbed his bag and returned to the couch. He pulled out the sheaf papers and held it out to her. She looked through the sketches, but he tried not to pay attention. When the rustling stopped, he snuck a peek and found her staring at him.
“This…what is this?”
He smiled and tapped the top sketch with his finger. “Told the kids to draw tattoos for my girl.”
“What did your girl have to say about these?”
“Seems kinda dumbstruck, if I’m being honest.”
The corner of her lips twitched and he shoved food into his mouth to hide his smile.
“These are really good, Oak. You’re pretty focused on me getting tattooed, huh?”
“Nah. But if you ever want to, we’ve got tons of options now.”
“Tons? There’s only six here.”
He cleared his throat. “Six is a lot.” She didn’t need to know about the sketches he’d done in his notebook.
“ Oakley. ”
“Sounds better when you’re screaming it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome? Charming? Funny?”
She snorted and he felt her lips against his cheek. “All of the above.”
“I’ll take it,” he whispered and turned his head to capture her lips, sighing when she scooted closer and took his face in her hands.
I could do this with her forever, and it would not be enough .