Chapter 15
Earlier, I’d dropped off a card and a few photos from Sophia’s birthday to Eva as a thank-you. I’d stayed longer than planned, enjoying her company and the maternal nurturing I crave.
I just want tonight to go well. Our first at-home date. It feels significant. Then again, everything with Chaz does. Even the smallest details are meaningful.
When the doorbell rings, I nearly jump out of my skin. For a moment, I just stand there, tapping my fingers, unsure what to do with myself. Don’t get in your head. Nothing’s going to go wrong.
Lemons float, but limes sink. It has to do with their densities, I recall, attempting to calm my nerves on the way to the door.
I take a deep breath, and pull it open. There he is, afro and coat dusted with snow, smiling as though he’s been waiting all day to see me. And just like that, my worries scatter.
“Hi, Blue.”
“Hi.” I smile back. “Come on in.”
“For you.” He hands me a gift bag.
“What happened to coming empty-handed?”
“Technically, I stuck to the rules. You said you’d take care of dinner and wine, and this is neither.”
“Well then, thank you.”
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket to reveal charcoal joggers and a black crew neck.
My gaze drifts over the strong column of his throat, wondering if he likes to be kissed there.
My eyes fall lower, tracing the broad width of his chest, imagining the body beneath his clothes—imagining him last night, when he was touching himself and breathing heated sex words into the phone as he unraveled me.
“Lex?” His voice pulls my mind back to the present.
“Sorry. I got distracted. I’ll open your gift while you pour the wine.”
“Sounds good.” He unlaces his boots and thoughtfully lines them up by the door the way mine are. Then he follows me to the kitchen.
“Glasses are in the freezer; wine’s in the fridge.”
“Got it. But first things, first.” He reaches for me, gently tugging me to him. His gaze moves over my face. “I missed you.”
“It’s been less than eight hours.”
“Eight hours too long.”
“You should probably kiss me then.”
“I probably should.” His lips capture my smile. He tilts his head, moving his mouth over mine—slowly—his hands cruising along my sides, adding a seductive punch of heat.
My stomach flutters, and when I feel the strength of his broad chest and rounded middle pressed against me, I realize I’d been the one to move in closer.
Hot sparks of desire kindle deep inside me.
I shove my hands into his thick, damp curls as his palms press against my lower back.
I feel him hard and ready—a reminder of what could be if I want it.
And I do. But we have the whole night ahead of us.
I break the kiss first, although I pause before stepping back. Our eyes meet, our mouths mere inches apart, breathing each other’s breaths.
“Y-you should get that um…the um—”
“Wine,” he supplies on a soft chuckle, clearly aware of his effect on me.
I’m not mad about it, knowing my effect on him too.
Chaz presses his lips to my forehead and drops his hands from my waist.
While he retrieves the glasses, I pull out the tissue paper from the gift bag to find a high-quality polarizing kit.
The filters are designed to bring out richer colors, manage reflections, and create smooth, dreamy effects.
I’ve been given diamonds and haute couture, but this is the most romantic and insightful gift I’ve ever received.
It validates me in a way nothing else has.
“I love it, Chaz! I can’t wait to try out these cool lenses. They will add so much more depth and clarity to my photos. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He hands me a goblet and clinks his against mine. “To finding inspiration.”
The chilled Riesling goes down cold and smooth, stirring the need to taste him again.
“Great choice of wine,” he says.
“I know you don’t like sweet things, so I selected one that was a bit drier.”
“There are some sweet things I like.”
My cheeks warm, and we grin at each other, which has become an actual thing between us. Connecting over a smile.
“I just need a few minutes to get dinner ready.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. You’re always so good at taking care of other people. Tonight, I’ve got this.” I open the fridge and pull out a container. “Though to be fair, I didn’t have to do much. Grab a seat. I’ll bring everything over.”
He slides onto the stool and watches me spoon coleslaw onto two plates.
But his gaze isn’t on the food; it’s on me.
On my curtain bangs framing my face, the curve of my neck, and the set I’m wearing.
Cozy with an eye toward sexy. The gray scoop-neck top clings to me like smoke, revealing a strip of midriff above loose drawstring pants that ride low on my hips.
His gaze catches on the tie in front—one he could undo with a flick of his wrist.
I’m not sure I would stop him, but all things considered, I want to take things slowly.
The rolls are gigantic, wrapped in red and white checkered parchment.
“You did this for me, Blue?” His words make it sound like I’ve presented him with something far more precious than just a sandwich.
“Val did the real work,” I shrug, adding a handful of potato chips to our plates and bringing them over. “But I remembered it’s your favorite and wanted to surprise you.”
“You did. In the best way.”
“I’m glad.” I light two candles, dim the overhead light, and join him on the next stool.
Armed with napkins, we dig into the buttery rolls and mounds of lobster chunks tossed in spicy mayo. I close my eyes, savoring the decadence.
“No wonder this ranks at the top of your list.”
“Right?!” He grins as we dig in and get messy, laughing and wiping our hands and mouths between bites. “This one’s going in the treasure box,” he says, tapping his temple.
“Treasure box?”
“It’s what my mother used to say about special memories—storing them away like keepsakes.”
“Aw, I love that.”
“She had a ton of expressions. One for everything. And they were always profound.”
“Like what?” I ask, wanting to hear more about her.
“Dreams are the illustrations of your soul. Draw them on every surface.”
“Wow. That’s deep.”
“Moms was like that.” He swallows a bite. “Warm and funny, but when she had something important to say, she aimed straight for the heart. She was big on following your dreams and finding your version of happy. Never settling.”
“Your mom sounds amazing and wise.”
“She was.” He pauses, but it’s not heavy like when he speaks of his father. It’s as if he’d grieved her loss. But not his dad’s.
“Did you have any dreams, Lex?” he asks, bringing the moment back to his mother’s expression.
“To open a café,” I say, telling him what I’ve only ever told Jordyn and Dee.
“Are you messing with me?”
“No. I’m serious. An art café, actually. Galleries can feel so exclusive. I thought about creating a space where people could enjoy art, food, drinks—without pretense.”
“Casual but chic,” he says.
“Yes! Pieces from local artists, events to showcase new work, and even workshops. That kind of thing.”
He nods as if seeing it unfold. “An art-inspired menu. Claude Monet Cappuccino and Picasso Pastrami on Rye.”
I laugh. “I hadn’t thought of that, but yes.”
“It’s a great idea. You could still do it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.” My gaze drifts to the window where frost creates lace patterns on the glass. “I’m not sure I want that anymore. Still figuring it out.”
“You’ve got time,” he reminds me.
Less than three weeks. Not much time. “What about you?” I ask. “Do you still dream of a recording contract?”
He glances at the musical notes tattooed on his fingers and sighs. “Not anymore. That dream shifted a while ago. I like where I’m at—running the café and making music on my own terms.”
“You’re amazing at both.” I crunch into a chip. “No other dreams waiting in the wings?”
“It’s always good to keep dreaming.” His gaze lingers on mine, softly, intently.
I don’t press him to explain.
I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it.