35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Addie
T he sound of the front door closing shakes me from sleep and I peel my eyelids open. The exhaustion weighs heavy on them. I feel no more rested than I did when Cal woke us up this morning. I’d dozed off again, hoping to feel a bit more rested before starting my apology tour, but I don’t feel more rested. In fact, it feels like I used sand as saline. I think I slept a whole seven minutes last night, and that’s being generous. Sam’s face played in my head like a movie, over and over.
But enough wallowing. It’s Get My Boyfriend Back Day.
Rolling off the couch, I make my way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, I almost jump at my reflection. My eyes look as shitty as they feel. Blotchy redness covers them, and they’re so puffy, I might as well have slept on a pillow of pollen. Geez Louise. Won’t be winning anyone back by looking like a zombie.
A splash of water on my face makes me feel just a little bit more alive.
The smell of coffee wafts through. Freaking Cal must’ve made coffee before we kicked him out for breathing too loud in the kitchen. Actually, what day is it? It’s Saturday, right?
Going back to the living room, I pop my phone off my charger. It’s 6:30 in the morning. Seriously, what kind of hardware was Cal born with that he’s just up at this hour? I say a silent prayer for Isla because she’s stuck with this for the rest of her life, and she sleeps in more than I do.
I tiptoe through the kitchen and grab a cup out of the cupboard, pouring myself some coffee. Cal even left the creamer out on the counter. What a guy. These Reynolds boys are something else. Fuck, I hope I didn’t lose mine. Telling myself I’m an idiot again will not help. The guilt still fills me, but today, we’re doing something about it. No wallowing. No self-induced pity party. We’re on the uphill slope of getting my shit together. But first, I need to finish this cup of coffee.
Sitting at this island feels all too familiar. Sipping my coffee, I run through my game plan and force myself to wake up.
Once I’m decently caffeinated, I shake Isla awake. We had a girls night on the couch, and I’m sure her sleep was as restful as mine.
“Hey, I’m going to head home. I’ll call you later.”
She peels one eye open, and if looks could kill, I’d be deader than an opossum on the side of the road in Texas.
“Don’t give me that look. You know you would have chewed my ass if I left without saying goodbye. Beggers can’t be choosers. Now, go back to bed and sleep the bitchy away.”
“Whatever. Love you. Good luck. Call me if you need anything.”
I’m barely able to decipher her words through the pillow muffling everything. Well, at least she didn’t tell me to fuck off.
A deep sigh rattles through me as I sit in my car. My heart hurts and my head aches from the lack of sleep. There’s a lot of wishes going through my head, but honestly, this proves to me how badly I want to be with Sam.
I’ve never been the one with the urge to fight and hold on. If it got tough, good riddance. No one has called to me quite like Sam. He challenges me in the best ways and makes me feel more like myself than I have in months. Perfectly reminding me that I am just fine where I am.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest. Fuck, it’s like I just ran a marathon. My nerves make me feel even more on edge. I’ve tried not to think too much about what I will do if this backfires straight in my face. Maybe I should have gone more all out in this? What if he thinks this was just my lazy way out? But this reminds me of my best memory of him. When everything changed and I felt utter clarity for the first time.
Swinging my purse over my shoulder, I pick up everything else off the counter and turn the knob on the door. A big, deep breath, and I’m out the door.
Except, I’m not. Sam’s hand is raised, ready to knock. Only, the door moved out of the way.
It fills me with a little bit of joy that he looks as terrible as I do. Maybe that means this shit is eating him alive like it is me.
“Hi. I was actually on my way to your place.”
“Ya snooze, ya lose.” A shy smile tugs his lips up.
I go to say something, but for the first time in my life, words fail me. Since when can I not speak? I haven’t ever shut up a minute of my life.
Sam must notice my lips opening and closing like I’m a damn fish. Seriously, brain? Literally any words would be good.
“Whatcha doing with those?” He nods down to the pan in my hand.
“I–I made you I’m sorry I’m the worst girlfriend ever cinnamon rolls.” I lift up the pan a little and look down at them thoughtfully. “Cinnamon rolls have always been my favorite, but due to recent events, I can’t make them without thinking about you. And when everything changed. And how it was all for the better.”
That day lives on a constant loop in my head, breaking in my kitchen in more than one way. But more so, just the way it all felt so freaking right. The way his touch felt, the way he made me laugh, and the way it all felt so natural. Like we had known each other our whole lives.
His eyes pierce into mine. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, his sleep probably went as well as mine. The fact that my actions and doubts about myself ended up hurting him like this, physically makes my heart hurt.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Without a doubt. I am so sorry that I made you think that I didn’t. It was never a you issue; it was always a me thing, and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it. This is my fault.”
“A recent chat with my brother taught me a few things.”
“When did you talk to Cal?” I tilt my head, unsure of where this conversation is going. I still can’t believe he showed up at my door.
Sam lets out a half chuckle. “He decided that showing up at my door at 7 a.m. was a good idea.”
It all clicks then, where he went this morning. “Oh, I was wondering where he ran off to after we threatened to throat punch him if he made any more noise in the kitchen.”
The half smile that stretches across Sam’s face gives me a little hope. Hope that I didn’t just mess up the best thing that’s happened to me.
“We had a good, long talk, and he helped me realize some things. I might have been pointing some anger at you for things that weren’t your fault. I’m not going to say that what you did, didn’t fucking hurt.” My eyes drop from his to the floor as my body is flooded with guilt. “But it hurt worse because of the shit with my past. I’m sure at some point, I’m going to fuck up, too.”
My hands find his chest and I grip his white T-shirt. “I promise I won’t ever do anything like that again. It wasn’t like me in the first place, and I’m not making excuses for my actions, but I was in such a funk, I was afraid on all fronts.”
I begin to shake my head as all my thoughts and fears tumble from my lips. “Afraid, I would mess it up, which I did. Afraid that Isla would judge me, which, by the way, she did not. She was very excited. But the more time passed, the harder it got to deal with it because, either way, someone was going to be mad at me, and I didn’t want to make people feel more disappointed in me. I think I was just paralyzed by fear. And I was a fucking idiot.” My hands slowly drop and my head follows. “I know that.”
“Never in my life have I felt disappointed in you. You made that narrative up all on your own. There’s nothing about you I’m not obsessed with.” His words stun me into silence. Once again. Fuck, this man brings me to my knees. “I’m going to set these down, okay?” As he walks to the counter, the need to tell him how much he means to me bubbles up.
We’ve already said this, but it was all wrong. There was too much anger for me to feel like he gets it. I need him to hear it and know that I mean it down to my bones.
“Sam, I need to tell you something.”
He pulls back, looking over at me from the counter as he sets down my ‘I’m sorry’ cinnamon rolls. Worry crosses his features.
“I love you. Like, a lot, and it scares me. This is a new feeling for me, and I don’t know how to do it right. But I think I’m more scared of not getting to love you.” Even the thought of this being over before it really even has a chance to begin makes my stomach drop.
He walks toward me with a soft expression covering his face. His thumb grazes across my cheek, wiping the tear from my face. “Addie, baby, I’m not going anywhere. This was a minor blip in the big scheme of things. This is new. We’re still learning.”
I nod, a traitorous tear sneaking down my cheek. A few more tears drop and he catches every single one, then pulls me into his chest. His scent fills my senses, and it feels like home. All the anxiety creeps out my body, and I know one thing for certain: I will never love another like I love Sam.
His hands sweep under my ass, and in seconds, my legs wrap around his waist and we’re walking. Hitting the bed with a thud, my loose hairs fly across my face. Gently, he pushes them all back.
“I hope you didn’t have any big plans today, because I plan on showing you just how much I love you. All day long.”
“Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?” By the way his kiss moves down my neck, I have a pretty good idea. But you know what they say about assuming.
“Worshipping every inch of you, until you believe you’re as perfect as I see you.” How can a man who is so broody be so damn sweet to me?
“I think I can clear my schedule.”
His chuckle vibrates down the side of my neck as his kiss dips lower. He pulls me to a sitting position and pulls my shirt over my head. I’m not sure if it’s the chilly air from the room or the anticipation of what’s about to happen that make my skin pebble, but it’s making every touch of his so much more intense. I want, no, I need his skin on mine. To steal back some of the warmth he’s bled out of me.
Fumbling with the edge of his shirt, I get the view of his chest. His beautiful olive skin. My hand wraps around his nape, pulling him closer to me. If his lips aren’t on mine, I quite literally might pass away.
His kiss turns more heated, something I didn’t even think was possible. Our fire burns so fucking bright when we bring it together.
“More,” I whisper.
“Nope. We’re taking this nice and slow, shortcake.” Every second that he isn’t on me or in me feels like fucking torture.
“No. I want it now.”
“And what is ‘it,’ baby? Can you ask for it?” I know this motherfucker isn’t about to make me beg him to fuck me. Only, I know he is a little bit of an asshole and is absolutely going to make me beg. My poor precious pride is about to take another hit.
“Your cock, Sam. I’d even go for a finger right now.” Literally anything to ease this pulsing ache I have for him.
His body shifts off mine and I let out a whimper, which causes the smug son of a bitch to smirk.
“This doesn’t feel like my body is being worshipped.” I meant for it to sound stern, but I absolutely sound whiney.
“You could learn a little patience, babe.”
A buzzing sound fills the room. Oh no. That stupid box is coming back to haunt me again. My cheeks burn. How the hell am I still embarrassed in front of him?
He presses it against the world’s most tender spot and I swear I see stars. This fucker could absolutely make me detonate in two seconds flat right now if he tried hard enough. But he’s in it for the long haul. The thought makes me realize he’s in it for the long haul on all fronts of our relationship, and wow, does that feel freeing.
His finger finds its way into me and my eyes roll back a little. It’s a testament to how badly I am needing to be filled by him that a single, lonely finger could cause this reaction. A second quickly follows. Between that and the humming on my clit, I fall apart instantly. The last thing I see before falling into the abyss is his smile. His beautiful, perfect white smile.
The depth of how much I love him feels immeasurable, but when I see him smile like that? And for me? I fall even farther. Makes me wonder if there is an end—a bottom where this will feel concrete. Or will I just be falling for him until the end of time? I don’t think either option sounds so bad.
“That’s it, baby. Come apart for me.” And I do in more ways than one.
“Yes, Chef.”
He lets out a guttural groan at my response. Words are hard when you’ve been fingerbanged into oblivion. But I know when to do what I’m told. Finally, he steps out of his boxers and onto me. Resting his forearms on either side of my head, he cages me in. The look in his eyes could set wildfires, I swear.
“I love you,” Sam says. The words, matched with the intensity in his gaze, strike deep.
Instead of feeling uncomfortable with the emotions balling in my chest, I let myself feel it through and through, with tears pricking my eyes. These ones are the good ones—the ones that come from feeling so happy that it’s too much and it has to go somewhere.
He kisses them off my face, as he pushes himself into me.
“Yes. That’s it.” My words come out in a jumbled mess. Too lost in the feeling of all this. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. My hands roam his bare back, and I memorize every dip and curve of his body, committing them to memory. “I think your body was made for mine.”
His lips graze my nose. “I’ve had that feeling for a while.” His kiss moves to my lips and I can’t help but smile into them.
It takes no time at all for another round of pleasure to wash over me. His body moves in all the right ways, and it just feels right. And good. And perfect. I’ve felt a little lost lately, and how freaking lucky am I to have found my way back in a person like Sam?