22. fallon
TWENTY-TWO
fallon
W e did not play board games last night. I tried. Jokingly, of course. When we arrived at my apartment, I pulled Monopoly out and placed it on the table. Fitz ended up knocking it off the table and laying me down on it instead, nearly breaking one of the legs from how hard he fucked me. I might be delusional, but the time apart seemed to be as difficult for him as it was for me. I did a great job of convincing myself yesterday that I’d most likely never hear from him again—that he’d already grown bored.
But he’s been at the store with me all day today and sends me hourly texts to be a passive-aggressive asshole, but at least he’s taking what I said seriously. His most recent text was a picture of Thomas eating a brownie in the storeroom and flipping off the camera. Their blossoming friendship is adorable, but I’d never tell them that.
A minute before closing, I hear someone walk through the door. Usually, I wouldn’t mind staying open for them to peruse, but Fitz promised a surprise this evening. But when I look toward the front, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Andrew. He seems to be the lesser of two evils when it comes to Fitz’s friends. “Andrew!” I greet. “What are you doing here?”
Andrew waves lazily. “Fitz needs to borrow my car for the evening. I’m here to pick up his bike and take it back to his place.” He looks around the store. “Where is the bastard?”
I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “Doing his job in the storeroom, hopefully. Why does he need your car?”
Andrew shrugs, but his face gives it away. He knows the reason but was probably told not to spoil the surprise.
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m surprised you ride.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning against the counter. “I don’t. I hate that Fitz does. But he taught me how when we were teenagers. I remember enough to make it back to his place.”
I still find it a little strange that Fitz hasn’t invited me over yet. “Ah, yeah. Where does he live again? He told me which building, but I forgot.”
“Pleasant Park,” he replies.
Pleasant Park? He has to be mistaken. That building has condos that rent for thousands a month. I’m not paying Fitz enough to live there. I know he mentioned his dad owning a business once but goddamn . Why is he working for me if he can afford to live there?
I nod absentmindedly. “Right. I haven’t been there yet.”
It takes seconds for Andrew to notice my confusion, but he doesn’t try to explain further. Instead, he clears his throat and points toward the backroom. “I’ll just, uh, go grab Fitz’s keys from him and be on my way.”
I drum my fingers against the countertop, not bothering to say goodbye to Andrew. Okay, so there’s something Fitz isn’t telling me. Why did he need a job here while living in a place like Pleasant Park? Why did he actually leave Boston?
If I had spidey senses, they’d be tingling.
Fitz and Andrew emerge together. If Andrew warned him about spilling his secret, Fitz shows no sign of it. He tells Andrew goodbye before kissing me. “Ready?”
“Mhm,” I hum, then shout to Thomas that we’re leaving and to lock the door behind us. “Let’s go.”
* * *
We don’t exchange pleasantries, nor does Fitz tell me where we’re going or what our plans are for this evening. And honestly, I don’t think I should ask. My mind is swirling with so many questions and scenarios that I don’t even hear him ask me a question until he puts his hand on my leg.
“Are you okay?” he repeats.
I blink to clear the fog. “Um, yeah. Why?”
It’s evident from his expression that he doesn’t believe me. “You haven’t said a word since we left.”
“I’d love to see your place,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t flinch or shy away. Instead, he shakes his head with a grin. “I wondered how long it’d take you.” He makes a dramatic show of looking at his watch. “Ten minutes.”
I mutter an obscenity under my breath. He was baiting me the entire time, just waiting for me to pry.
“Trust fund? Nepo baby?” I twist the ends of my hair. “I toured one of those condos with Thomas once just for the hell of it. Living in one is in my five-year plan.”
He listens silently.
“I’m one year into my five-year plan,” I continue. “Even then, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford it?—”
“You will,” he assures. “At the rate you’re going? It won’t even be five years. Two years, maybe.”
“Great.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in my tone. “But you’re two weeks into working at the store, and you have one.”
He releases a deep sigh.
“Were you just never going to invite me over?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he mumbles.
“Okay.” I pull my leg away from his hand. “Got it.”
“Fallon,” he sighs. “It’s not because I don’t want to invite you over. Do you want to come over? We can go right now.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “ No .”
He pulls into the lot across from the lighthouse and switches the car off. The tension between us is thick and filled with frustration. I’m realizing just how little I know about the man I’ve let explore my entire body these last two weeks.
“I have something planned for us,” he says after a moment. “And I’d still like to show you.”
“You’re avoiding being honest with me, Fitz.”
He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and stares at the water crashing onto the rocks surrounding the lighthouse, quiet for a long moment. “I’m trying to find out who I am outside my family’s expectations. That’s why I’m here.” His jaw clenches and releases. “Do I have money? Yes. But that shouldn’t change your opinion about me.”
“It doesn’t,” I say quickly. “Fitz, I don’t care where you live or if you have money. I just feel like there are things you’re not sharing with me. Why wouldn’t you invite me over?”
“Because I like being where you’re most comfortable.”
I nod slowly while trying to read between the lines of everything he’s saying. “Are you not comfortable at your place? Are you afraid I won’t be?”
He swipes a hand down his face. My line of questioning is agitating him. This isn’t the first time he’s avoided having an honest conversation with me. But I need to be able to compromise with him. He’s already shared more than he wanted.
“Okay,” I whisper, placing my hand over his. “Thank you for telling me. Show me what you have planned for us.”
With a steadying breath, he nods and exits the car, coming to my side to open the door for me. Each time he does that, it reminds me of my father, which only makes my fondness for him grow. I watch him go to the trunk with a smile on my face, clapping my hand over my mouth when he retrieves a rather large picnic basket. Now I understand why he didn’t want to carry both me and the basket on his bike.
“Fitz!” I exclaim, bouncing on my toes.
He finally relaxes into a smile and takes my head, tugging me with him up the steps of the lighthouse until we’re at the top. The setting sun casts a warm glow through the small window, providing us with just enough light to dine comfortably. Fitz sets the basket down and flips the lid open, pulling out a blanket to spread across the floor.
I lower to my knees, anxiously awaiting to see what he brought. “Did Andrew put the basket together?”
“Fuck no,” he says with a laugh. “It was catered.”
I don’t know of any places that cater picnic baskets here, which means Andrew picked it up in Boston.
Fitz spreads a variety of foods across the blanket. It’s way more than either of us will eat. Shredded chicken, various sauces, grilled asparagus, ripe tomatoes, hummus, potato salad, foods I don’t even recognize, and a bottle of wine.
He dispenses the utensils and napkins, puts a little of everything on a plate for me, and then fills my wine glass. I’m overcome with gratitude at this grand gesture, leaning forward to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He nearly drops my plate but sets it down in front of me before fully engaging in the embrace, pulling me into his lap to deepen the kiss.
“This is amazing,” I murmur against his lips, kissing him twice more. “Truly, Fitz. Thank you for arranging this.”
He gazes into my eyes. “You’re happy?”
I place my palm against his cheek. “So very happy.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth before readjusting me in his lap. “You’re the dessert, so eat.”
I relax against his chest with a sated smile. I doubt I’ll be able to stop smiling for days to come. “If only you brought grapes to feed me.” I pop a piece of chicken into my mouth.
He hands me the wine glass. “Next time.”
* * *
We spend an hour eating, talking, and drinking the entire bottle of wine. We discussed my upcoming trip to California—a trip he still wants to partake in. “After California, there’s a banquet for small businesses.” I finish my third glass of wine. I’m definitely feeling the alcohol running through my veins. “Would you like to be my date?”
He kisses my neck. “Of course.”
It could be from the wine, but my entire body warms at his confirmation. That’s two weeks away, but his agreeing to be my date makes it seem like we’ll still be doing this by then.
“I’m attending a baby shower in California.” I don’t know why sharing that tidbit of information felt important. “I hope you can keep yourself entertained.”
He sucks my earlobe between his lips.
“I was the first one to learn about her pregnancy,” I continue. “It’s a superpower I have.”
That gets his attention enough for him to sit up. “What?”
I draw shapes on his knee. “Mm, my superpower. I can always tell when a woman is pregnant.” I trace a heart. “They emit a glow. I’ve always been able to tell.”
“Maybe we should have you studied.” He lays down on his back and pulls me with him, stroking my back. “This banquet of yours… you said it’s only for small businesses?”
“Mm,” I hum, balancing my chin atop my hand on his chest. “It’s our second year attending. With any luck, I’ll be attending next year’s events with two locations.”
His hand stills. “Oh?”
Frowning, I shrug slightly. “I applied for a location in the city. Something is holding it up. I don’t think there’s a reason it wouldn’t be approved, but they won’t give me any information on what could be taking so long. My approval to open Shoreline Scribes last year was approved almost instantly.”
“Maybe there’s a competing offer,” he offers.
I’ve considered that possibility along with many others. “Maybe, but I’m putting all my assets into this possible second location. I’ve already taken out a loan.”
Genuine concern fills his face. “Fallon, why?”
“Because I have big dreams.” I’m positive my words are starting to slur. “I’m able to make the payments from Shoreline’s revenue. I don’t want a chain of stores. This next location will have more than just books. I’ve talked with the owner of Corner Brews, and she’s willing to share the space. It’ll be a joint venture. She’ll pay me to rent the space and keep everything she earns from sales.”
“Have you had contracts drawn up?”
“God.” I roll my eyes with a deep sigh. “Yes. And that was another unexpected expense. Lawyers aren’t cheap.”
“The good ones never are,” he mutters.
I wonder how he knows that, but I decide not to press him for any more information tonight—not when he’s gone to all this trouble to convince me he’s not using me just for sex.
Instead, I scoot closer to him until I’m practically lying on his chest—a position he seems to favor. “Fitz,” I whisper, tracing his jawline. “I think I’m starting to like you.”
He closes his arms around me, then studies me for a quiet moment. Something unreadable behind his eyes makes me wary, and I regret saying it aloud for a moment.
But then, he leans up and kisses me. “Likewise.”
And my universe recenters.