Chapter 34 #2
“Sad to say, most of the last decade for me has been spent in college and building my investment business. I haven’t traveled for pleasure, only for work. I did have a girlfriend in college, but we broke up right after graduation, when I moved to New York.”
“How long were you together?”
“My junior and senior years.”
“What was her name?” I already know the answer to this, but I don’t want him to know I cyberstalked her.
She was, of course, stunningly beautiful. Not the same kind of striking beauty as Noelle. Anna was dark-haired and softer-looking with round cheeks, the kind of woman most men would call wifey material and take home to meet their grandmothers.
“Anna.”
I nod. “So, why did you break up?”
“I was moving. She had another year in college. I didn’t see any reason to keep dating long distance.”
“What’s another year if you’re in love?”
He studies me for a moment. I squirm in my seat.
“If you’re in love, a year is nothing.”
“So, you didn’t love her?”
He shakes his head.
“Then why were you with her for two years?”
The waiter approaches and deposits the oysters and truffle-stuffed mushrooms on the table, along with two small plates. He refills both of our wineglasses.
“I was trying to get over someone else,” Dayton says.
My hand halts above the tray of oysters. I blink at him, wondering who he’s talking about. There’s a mystery third girl, someone he must have met in college before Anna.
He leans forward. “No, it wasn’t a girl you don’t know about.”
He grabs an oyster and lifts it to my lips. I open, letting him feed it to me.
It’s creamy and delicious with a buttery flavor. I swallow it before reaching for another one. I lift it up to his lips. He grimaces before dutifully opening his mouth and letting me feed him. He winces at the flavor.
“Slimy,” he says, reaching for his wine.
“Have you never had an oyster? I would’ve thought you ate fancy shit like this all the time.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had one. I just think they’re gross.”
I grab another one off the tray, trying to hide my smile.
“So, who were you trying to get over? Someone from high school?”
“It was you,” he says simply.
I feel like the floor is sinking, like gravity suddenly got stronger. The corner of his mouth turns up. I grab my wine.
“What about you? What has the last decade of your life looked like?”
“I’m not done. What’s up with Noelle then? Another attempt at getting over me when you’d never done anything to even let me know you liked me?”
“Eh, like doesn’t really cover it. I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation yet.”
“Try me.” I grip the wooden armrests of my chair.
His amber eyes darken. “I’m trying to ease you in, give you a chance to adjust.”
My mind whirls with the memory of him easing into me just a few nights ago. His eyelids look heavy, like he’s remembering too.
Maybe it’s too painful to talk about. Maybe he got her pregnant.
I lick my lips and reach for a truffle-stuffed mushroom. He sighs, shifting his weight. He looks out over the water and chuckles before his eyes come back to mine.
“It was her hair. It reminded me of yours.” He says it like he’s telling me his favorite color, not dropping a bomb in the middle of the table.
“The first time I saw her, I thought she was you. I’m not proud of it, but I kept pretending that she was after that for … a while.”
My limbs lock up. I still don’t know what to do with this information. I know Dayton has OCD and gets hyper-focused on things, I just don’t know how to cope with being one of those obsessions.
But obsession doesn’t mean we’d be happy together. It doesn’t mean he’d kiss me with morning breath and love me when I’ve got crow’s-feet on my face.
The waiter returns. “Can I interest you in any of our dinner entrées?”
Dayton orders the beef Wellington with a salad. I ask for the same as him because I forgot to look at the menu and it sounds good.
“How has the last ten years treated you? Clara kept me informed on some of it.”
It’s odd to me that my mother talked about me to Dayton so much when she knew I couldn’t stand him. I wonder why she didn’t tell me he asked about me.
I don’t know exactly where to begin, so I start with meeting Andrew.
“I met Andrew because I was hired to take his family photos on the beach. He was really sweet to his mom, which I found endearing. He asked me out, and we’d only dated for six months when he proposed.
Looking back, that was really stupid. But we eloped and moved in together.
He had just started working at his uncle’s law firm.
When I found out I was pregnant, he was excited to start a family. ”
Dayton’s eyes flash with surprise.
So, Mom didn’t tell him everything.
“I miscarried at sixteen weeks. It, um … it sort of sent me into this state of depression. I didn’t leave the house unless I had to.
I stopped socializing and just kind of kept to myself for six months.
Andrew tried to comfort me at first, but he got sick of me moping around.
He just didn’t get it. I was the one carrying her, but to him, I had no excuse to be feeling that way since it was so early.
He wanted to try again, but I wasn’t ready.
So, we grew distant. I had no interest in sex, and he found it somewhere else. With his secretary, at work.”
I wish Dayton were more expressive. His face hasn’t changed throughout the story.
“Did she have a name?” he asks.
“Julia. She was married, too, and she had a healthy baby girl.”
“Not her, your baby.”
My heart pounds. Tears prick my eyes and threaten to spill down my cheeks. No one has ever asked me that before.
“Rosemary,” I whisper.
Andrew didn’t even know I’d picked out a name. I’d only known she was a girl for a week when I lost her.
Dayton reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “That’s beautiful.”
I refuse to cry right now, so I keep going with the story of the divorce, meeting Savannah and Axel, our backpacking trip that we took through Europe and when we got robbed at a hostel. I tell him about Axel winning a game show and blowing half the money in Vegas the next weekend.
He rolls his eyes, clearly disapproving of the misuse of finances. “He could’ve started a business or invested it.”
“He was terrible with money.”
Our food arrives, and we start eating. The beef is tender and bursting with flavor.
“And then my mom died in a tragic plane crash. I inherited this beach house that needed saving and was forced to start a renovation process with this guy who is, frankly, the most confusing man I’ve ever met.”
“I can’t imagine how annoying that must be. Is he at least good-looking?”
“Some people might think he is.”
“Well, at least you don’t have to share a bed with him or anything crazy like that.”
“Ha! He actually started sleeping in my bed without an invitation.”
He clutches his chest. “You’re kidding. That’s so invasive.”
“It is. It’s rude.”
“Does he at least stick to his side of the bed?”
I slowly shake my head.
“Wow. You want me to beat him up?”
“You could just try talking some sense into him instead.”
“What should I say? He sounds like a real piece of work.”
“Just tell him to chill out and try being a nice guy for a change.”
He leans back, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
The waiter comes to take away our plates. “Can I interest you in any dessert?”
“Yes. The crème br?lée, please. To go,” I say.
Dayton’s intense gaze heats my skin. “Two things I’ve never been accused of are being chill and being a nice guy, so if that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to accommodate your request. But I’m going to need specific examples.”
“It’s not that complicated. Don’t sleep with anyone else. Lie on the beach with me and nap in the sun. Let me take your picture. Learn a new recipe in my tiny kitchen. Play a game of Scrabble on the deck. Tell me about your day while we hike to Hidden Cove and watch the sunset.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone else since before the funeral. Are we doing all these things as friends?”
I hesitate, twirling my hair around my fingers. The waiter returns with a brown paper bag. Dayton pays the check and stands.
He guides me out of the restaurant with a hand on my lower back. We make our way down to the beach. The moonlight casts a glow on the sand and the waves. The debris from the storm is still littering the beach.
My heart skips a beat when he reaches for my hand and interlaces our fingers.
“Is this something a nice guy would do?”
“Yes,” I squeak.
We’re just holding hands, but it feels almost as intimate as being in bed with him.
After everything we shared at dinner, the tension between us has shifted.
It’s still there; it’s just less of us resisting the desire to fuck the person we hate and more of us trying to resist the desire to fuck someone we’re really starting to like.
“Thank you for having dinner with me,” he says.
“Thank you for dinner.”
We’re about halfway home now, and he pulls me to a stop. “You want to try your dessert?”
I nod, and we sit down on the sand. I tuck my feet underneath me. He pulls the plastic container out of the bag and unwraps the spoon.
He scoops a bite of it out and holds it to my lips.
I moan. “Tastes like heaven. You have to try it.”
He holds up another bite for me. I’m about to open my mouth to eat it when he turns the spoon over and smears it across my neck. He leans closer, his gaze meeting mine briefly before his tongue is on me. He licks it once before his lips make contact, and he sucks the rest of it off.
“Hmm, you’re right; this does taste like heaven.” He continues kissing my neck.
My eyes roll back in my head. I grip his arm, my thighs clenching together as my core heats. His hand moves around and cups my side, his fingers squeezing my waist. He gently pushes me back against the sand. His body moves over mine, but he’s supporting his weight with his other hand.
He trails the kisses from my neck up until he finds my lips with his. His kiss is sweet, like caramel. He threads his fingers through my hair and holds on tight. I feel his erection on my hip, and I can’t believe he’s already rock hard just from kissing me.
I reach down to cup him. He groans into my mouth, thrusting against my hand. His dick brushes over my clit. I love the feeling of his weight on me. My hands move up to wrap around his neck. I pull him down more, wanting to feel him all over me, everywhere he can possibly touch.
His movements grow more aggressive. His knee shoves my thighs apart, making space for him between them. I moan into his mouth when he presses against me harder. A bud of pleasure is already starting to build just from him dry-humping me.
His tongue is exploring my mouth, tasting me.
He’s panting, his hips rocking slow and steady.
I move my hands down to his shoulders, wishing I were naked and he were fucking me right now.
I reach down to pull my dress up higher.
I tilt my hips up, meeting each of his thrusts and trying to get him closer.
He pulls back, biting my lower lip and scraping his teeth over it. My eyes flutter open to meet his. My hand comes between us, and I wrap it around his erection again. He closes his eyes, his body growing still.
“Fuck,” he breathes, slowly pulling back from me.
I whimper when he rolls off of me. He sits up in the sand, his head dropping low as he rests his elbows on his knees.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he exhales.
I sit up beside him, my hand trailing over his back. I want to tell him I don’t care. I want to tell him to get back on top of me and to lose the pants this time.
“I didn’t mind.”
He lifts his head. “I want it to mean more the next time it happens. I want it to be more than just sex for you.”
It’s not lost on me that he’s implying it already is more than just sex for him. I don’t know exactly where I am with him emotionally right now. All I know is that he turns me on like no man ever has.
And he flew here just to show me how sorry he was for hurting me.
And he asked me my unborn baby’s name.
And he’s starting to feel a lot less like someone who hates me.
“I get that. I’m just … I’m really turned on now. And I want to feel your dick pulsing inside me.”
He groans, reaching over to slide his hand over my thigh. He squeezes it. “You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now. But you asked me to prove some things to you, and I’m going to. Come on. Let me walk you home.”
He stands and pulls me up behind him. He starts gathering the discarded crème br?lée and the bag.
“Walk me home? You’re not staying in the bungalow with me?” My stomach sinks.
He shakes his head. “There’s no way I can sleep next to you tonight and not fuck you.”
Why did I have to say I wanted to stop having sex? I can’t think of any good enough reasons right now. But he keeps his word. He walks me right up to the door, gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek, and doesn’t set foot inside.
“Good night, Cupcake. Get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”