Chapter 27 Skylar
Skylar
The night of my birthday, I step out of the hotel in slim black pants and an emerald-green crop top, pulling my long, open jacket closer around me.
Normally, it’s just pantsuits and pajamas on work trips, but Pike insisted on taking me out tonight.
He’s arriving in Ithaca in two minutes, according to his texts.
My fingers find the silver chain around my neck, and I thumb it gently as I wait.
A limo glides into the hotel loop, and I move aside. But when the chauffeur opens the back seat, the tip of a black cane appears, followed by polished black dress shoes and sharply pressed pants.
I inhale sharply.
It’s Pike. Wearing a tuxedo.
“Happy birthday, Skylar.” He smiles like he just won Olympic gold.
“You got a limo!?” I can’t stop staring. “And you’re…in a tux!”
“What do you think? Magic Mike hot?”
I approach cautiously, like his attractiveness might light me on fire. My mouth parts as I run my fingers over his lapels. “Hotter.”
“You haven’t even seen the best part.” He retrieves a black-and-white umbrella from the limo. It has a cartoon of three snowboarders in a chairlift with the inscription BOARD MEETING.
I burst into laughter, increasing my head pain, but it might be the first time I’ve truly laughed since my LP. I’m too delighted by everything to care—the umbrella, the limo, the tux—and by him, always surprising me with his thoughtfulness.
Pike’s smile turns up to full voltage. “Seeing you laugh makes this entire trip worth it. How’s your pain? Still up for dinner?”
“I left work early and rested for three hours. I’m underdressed, though.”
“No, you look beautiful as always. The tux is merely for your enjoyment.”
I step into the limo, still dazed. There’s room for eight with leather seats and an impressive beverage bar.
“Hi.” Pike sinks into the plush seat next to me. “How was your day?”
“Ending on an interesting note.”
More interesting is Pike’s arm easing around me.
“Can I lean on you a little more?” I ask. “Right now I have to twist a bit, and my back’s not loving it.”
“Of course. Today is for you.” He moves over, unbuttons his jacket, then slowly shrugs out of it and loosens his bow tie. The temperature rises twenty degrees. He splays out his long legs and pats the space between them. “Come here.”
I scoot over until my back aligns with his chest. The pain in my lumbar area eases as soon as I stretch out my legs.
His hand drops to my hip. “Good?”
“Perfect.”
His phone buzzes against my thigh, and he grimaces. “Sorry, my mom’s been calling all day about the surprise. She can’t grasp the concept of evening.”
“You haven’t told her we fake broke up yet?”
“Have you told your mom?”
Fair point.
“I picked her up,” he says, putting Laurie on speaker. “Everything is fine, Mother.”
Her squeal is earsplitting. “Of course it is! How could Skylar not love it?”
“If you knew what was going to happen, why continue calling?”
“Let me enjoy this, Brandon! First Whistler, now Ithaca? I knew once you had something else to focus on, all those bad thoughts would disappear.”
The spark leaves his voice. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he says before hanging up. He fiddles with his cuff links. “Sometimes it feels like all I’ve done is solidify her ableist viewpoint.”
I blow out my cheeks. “Will you eventually tell her the truth?”
“That would defeat the entire purpose.”
“Not about us. About how you struggle sometimes. With everything.”
He pauses. “I don’t know how.”
“There may not be an easy way. I hope you can figure out what role you want her to play in your life, though.”
“Well,” he says, “first I need to tell you what role I’d like to play in yours.”
I glance over my shoulder. He’s staring down at me with unbridled affection.
“Is this it, then?” My voice comes out rushed. “For the fake dating. Your image. It’s about as good as it’ll get in terms of publicity, so…”
“Yes, I promise it’s all over. The fake dating, at least. But all of this today, Skylar, it’s not—”
The chauffeur opens the door. We’re at the restaurant.
“—fake,” he finishes, quieter, but with his mouth by my ear, I hear it.
He tells the driver to leave us.
“Are you sure you didn’t rent a limo to convince me to keep fake dating?” I tease. “Because it’s kind of working.”
“Now there’s an idea. Whenever I need you, I’ll show up to cart you around.”
“You’re shameless. You just want me to help you keep up appearances.”
“No,” he says softly. “I just want you. Full stop.”
I go still. “Pike?”
“I was going to wait till dinner, but…” He straightens up.
“In Whistler, I fucked up. I was trying to admit I wanted us to date when we got back to Rochester, but when you said it was a one-time thing and you’d never fall in love with me, I played it off as not wanting to overcomplicate things.
” He strokes my hip, a soft, steady pressure.
“But that complication is me. My own feelings getting involved. I’m really into you, Skylar, and not just physically. ”
“You are?” It’s the only coherent response I can form.
He lets out a low laugh. “I see a Buy Two Get Two coupon for Wahlburgers and think about surprising you with lunch. When Luis and Cyrus play a board game, I want to invite you over for a rematch. When I see anything related to head pain, I think about IIH and ways I could help make things more tolerable. When the forecast says low seventies, I think about ice cream by the canal with you, just because you said that’s your most tolerable temperature range. ”
“You remember that?” I ask, more than a little stunned.
“It’s a detail about you. Of course I remember.”
I feel a surge of something unnamable, too overwhelming to put into words. I suspected he caught feelings, but I didn’t expect him to say anything. Not this soon. Or this directly. Why does he have to get confrontational now, with the only thing I don’t know how to talk about?
“We saw each other so much after Whistler,” he says.
“I thought I’d be relieved for space once your fairs started.
Instead, I just miss you. I know you don’t normally do relationships, but Skylar, I don’t either.
We’ve got something here, and I think it’s worth seeing how it could grow.
It could be easy between us, if we let it happen.
And I’d be good to you. That’s the one thing I can promise. I’d be so good to you, sweetheart.”
I’m totally speechless. My limbs are all sorts of shaky. Pike’s telling me he wants more.
In a limo.
In a tux.
The only thing more appealing than Pike in a tuxedo would be Pike stripping out of his tuxedo. That could be a reality now. All I have to do is tell him I want him too.
The thought of his mouth moving forward just an inch and connecting with mine sends a surge of electricity through me. I can already taste the fireworks that would ignite if our lips were to meet. My stomach twists with anticipation.
But this is going to change everything. Every nerve ending in my body is on high alert from his confession. What if this shift in our dynamic ruins everything between us?
“I’m guessing you still feel the same as you did before,” he says, unable to hide his disappointment. “I wasn’t sure if this vibe between us was just sexual tension or if you were into me too. But at least now you know. It’s not fake on my end. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
“No! I…I care. For you. It’s not fake for me anymore either. I need time to…to think. I…” I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone. I don’t want to mess it up.
“Yeah?” He releases his breath in a rush. “Okay. Yeah.” He hugs me with his whole body, and I relax. “You may not be ready for more yet, and that’s okay. I’ve waited this long to find someone who makes me feel the way you do. I can wait a little longer if you need time.”
Dinner passes in a beautiful blur. We get a romantic, candlelit table with a view of the gorges.
There’s deep conversation. Laughter. Pike surprises me with a necklace that matches my septum piercing.
He assures me the diamonds are modest, urging me not to feel pressured to accept it, but he saw it and thought of me.
“You do deserve diamonds,” he says, and I flush from head to toe. “Analia and Emy thought so too.”
Pike’s confession lingers at the center of my mind. He wants a relationship. There’s so much I need to discuss, so much I need to confess, too, but this moment he’s crafted is too perfect. I just want to savor it.
Because he’s right. It does feel easy. It feels natural.
We head back to the hotel together. He booked his own room to avoid another drive tonight, and it’s taking all my self-control not to suggest he cancel and stay in mine. The last thing I want to do is toy with his feelings. They’re important.
In the elevator, I try to wrangle all my screaming thoughts into something resembling coherence, but a new notification blinks onto my phone.
Still up for tonight?
Shit. I totally forgot about Marcus. I hastily reply, Sorry, no, and shove my phone back into my purse, but Pike’s already seen it.
“Who’s Marcus?”
“Just someone I sometimes meet up with,” I explain awkwardly.
“‘Meet up with’…”
“Hook up with,” I clarify, my cheeks burning. “I forgot to cancel.”
“I see.” Pike jabs the elevator button with his cane. “If you were planning on being with someone else tonight, I guess I have my answer.”
“That’s not fair. My birthday was approaching, and I didn’t know you were coming here when I first messaged him. Once you told me, he slipped my mind.”
Pike keeps his eyes on the floor.
“It’s just sex,” I say. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Who you’re sleeping with matters to me.”
“Hey. I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that.”
I reach for Pike’s hand, and we stand there, connected but still too far apart, and I know I should follow up with something like I have feelings for you. The unspoken words choke the air around us, and before I can gather the nerve, Pike lets go.
“It’s none of my business. I’m sorry for overstepping.”
The elevator dings, and he hurries out. I catch up with him in front of my door.
“Pike…”
“Please don’t,” he interrupts, soft but gruff.
“I want to be in your life no matter what, but it needs to be without all this touching. I’m having trouble separating what’s real and not, and you know my feelings.
” He grips the back of his neck. “Let’s call it a night, yeah?
Talk more after we’ve rested. When you’re ready.
” He steps away with a nod. “Good night, Skylar. Happy birthday.”
My head pounds along with my heart. If he hadn’t pulled away so quickly, would I have managed to tell him how I felt in the elevator? Could I have walked away if he didn’t?
I check my phone. No one’s online. Just messages asking how the surprise is going.
Anyone available? I write.
No response.
Damn it.
I shouldn’t have mentioned Marcus. He’s a math teacher at the charter school, and we usually grab drinks when I’m here—or, honestly, skip the drinks entirely. Twice a year, max. But I told him I’d be in Ithaca before I even went to Whistler.
It’s my birthday. I didn’t want to spend it alone. Pike and I aren’t even together. He only admitted that he wants more tonight.
I try to put myself in his shoes. If Pike had met up with another woman tonight, would I be upset? He’d have every right, thinking I’m trying to let him down gently. But that’s not it at all.
I swipe my key card but can’t bring myself to go inside. The lock shuts again, three blinking red dots.
I can’t leave it like this.
“Pike!” I run down the hallway. Pound on his door. “Pike!”
“What’s wrong?”
I gape at him, out of breath. “You’re…”
Half naked.
Shirtless.
Too beautiful.
“What?” He peers into the empty hallway. “What happened?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Maybe we should talk tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait. Please.”
He studies me, eyes serious and sad, then pushes the door open wider and walks back inside. His back muscles contract, and my knees go weak. How does he always manage to look this good?
He sits on the bed. “So, talk.”
“It’s…What you said earlier…” I spin toward the door. “I can’t focus when you’re not wearing a shirt. It’s muddling my thoughts.”
There’s a sigh, then some rustling. “Shirt’s on.”
But when I face him again, it’s only closed with two buttons in the middle. “How is this better than being shirtless? You’re on a bed.”
“I’m tired, Skylar.”
I gesture toward the armchair where he left his tuxedo jacket.
“Too deep,” he says, but gets up and limps into the bathroom.
I follow hesitantly, digging my palms into my eyes. I need a moment of respite from my pressure so I can think clearly.
Pike sits on the wooden bench inside the accessible shower and leans forward, elbows on his knees. With his tux shirt still mostly unbuttoned, he looks like a model for accessibility.
“Skylar,” he says, his voice strained. “What do you need?”
I tremble. “You.”
He flexes his hand, and I exhale another pent-up breath.
“I need you.”