24. Tyson
TWENTY-FOUR
TYSON
My pulse thrums erratically. Josie telling me to kiss her might be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
I force myself to look away from her to check our surroundings.
The patio is even more full now than it was minutes ago, when we were seated.
If I kiss her right now, it’d be for everyone to see.
While I don’t necessarily mind the chatter, I know I shouldn’t.
We’ve only just met and started spending time together.
The last thing I want is the opinions of others, or gossip, to get in the way before things with Josie even really start.
But fuck, I want to kiss her. I want to pull her into my lap at this very table and finally figure out what she tastes like. I’m desperate to kiss the lip gloss right off her mouth. And I will. I’ll do all of that, but not here. Not in public.
I wipe my hand over my mouth, trying to ignore the way my pants are suddenly tighter underneath the table. I can’t help but wonder if she’s even aware of the effect she has on me. “I will. But I’d prefer to not have this many witnesses the first time I devour your mouth with mine.”
Josie watches me carefully. I want to know what’s running through her mind.
Is she disappointed? Would she really not care if I kissed her here for everyone to see?
I know she’s mentioned she doesn’t spend a lot of time with the people in this social circle, but I’d still be shocked if she was okay with me kissing her in front of everyone for the first time.
She doesn’t say anything, and before I can think better of my choice, I change the subject. “Tell me more about you, Josie Russell.”
If the redirect bothers her, she doesn’t say anything about it. Her full lips—the ones I’m still fantasizing about—spread into a soft smile. “What do you want to know?”
“What got you into writing?” I ask, the question rolling off my tongue instantly.
Her cheeks puff out a little as she thinks. She folds her arms over her chest. “We haven’t even eaten yet, and you’re already asking the deep questions.”
I trace my finger over the space between my nose and top lip. “Is the question deep?”
Josie nods. “Yeah, for the most part.” She sighs as her hands fall to her lap and absentmindedly play with the hem of her dress. “When I was young, my parents passed away. I don’t really have memories of them. I was raised by my grandparents.”
I swallow past a lump because now I feel terrible for asking about it in the first place.
I’ve always known about Arthur Russell—he’s a legend in my line of work—but I didn’t know anything about his personal life.
I didn’t even know he had a granddaughter until I met Josie and she divulged who she was.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, knowing the words don’t do anything to help, but needing to say them anyway.
“My grandparents stepped in effortlessly. Again, I don’t really remember anything besides them raising me.
As I grew up and realized my family dynamic wasn’t like my friends’, I started to ache for the family I didn’t have.
I loved my grandparents, but I couldn’t help but picture what it was like to have parents and grandparents.
I’d picture what it’d be like if my parents were alive and what we’d do, and before I knew it, I started writing it out.
I’d write one story after the next, outlining all these adventures I envisioned happening if I just had parents who hadn’t died too young. ”
I let her words sink in. I don’t know what answer I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the reason she gave. My heart aches picturing the child version of Josie writing just to have the chance to imagine what it’d be like to have a mother and a father.
A guilt settles deep in my chest, knowing how both of my parents are still around, and I speak to neither.
When Winnie and I stole Bishop Hotels from under our father’s nose, not only did it enrage our father, but our mother never forgave us for it.
I wonder what Josie would think of me ignoring my father’s calls recently.
Would she judge me for it? Or would she understand why I haven’t brought myself to answer?
Josie grabs her glass of water and brings it to her lips. Her gaze stays pinned on me as she takes a drink. As her hazel eyes study me closely, I wonder what she’s looking for. Whatever it is, I hope she finds it.
I let her words settle for a little while longer before I let out a long breath. “Wow,” I begin, sitting up in my chair. I reach across the table and place my hand over her free one. “I’m sorry again for asking a question that was so heavy.”
She gives me a warm smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing the story. I’m flattered you cared enough to ask. I can’t remember the last time someone asked how I got started.”
“Did you always know you wanted to be a writer, then?”
Her smile grows. “Yes. I thought Pop would disinherit me when I made the official decision to pursue a writing career instead of taking over the company he worked so hard to create.”
“Did he?” I ask, my fingers tracing circles over the top of her hand.
This makes Josie laugh. “Not at all. He fully supported me in it. I know it hurt him a little because after my mom died, I was supposed to carry on his legacy for him. But he understood. He’s the greatest.”
“Sounds like it,” I murmur, completely entranced by the way her entire face lights up when she talks about her grandfather. It’s clear that she absolutely adores him, and it makes me want to get to know the man who raised her.
She’s magnetic. The more I learn about her, the more I still want to know.
“He’s my everything. My nan passed away last year.
It hurt both of us hard. She was the glue that kept us together.
Now…” She shakes her head and pauses. There’s a glassiness in her eyes that wasn’t there before, and a heaviness settles on my chest when I realize just how shitty of a hand life’s dealt her.
Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath.
“Now, we’re all each other has. Pop’s my entire world, and he’s truly the most incredible man in it. ”
My fingers tighten around hers, and I don’t care who’s at the club to witness it. All I want to do is find some way to comfort the woman sitting across from me, and holding her hand and telling her I’m here just by the small connection of our bodies seems like a good place to start.
“Josie…” I begin, wondering what I’m even supposed to say. There isn’t anything I can say that would take the pain she’s endured and make it better.
She sets her water glass down on the table before swiping at her eyes. “I promise you don’t have to say anything. I didn’t mean to get sappy on you. It just happens when I think of Pop and him getting older.”
I nod, my thumb swiping over the top of her hand as a continued reminder I’m here.
Her glossy eyes find mine as she offers me a smile. “Plus, your question also reminded me of Nan. She was the one who first found my writing and encouraged me to keep going. When I wrote my first book, she was the very first one to read it.”
My jaw pops open. “You mean, you let her read your sex scenes, but you won’t let me?”
Josie throws her head back and laughs. The sound is like sunshine and joy all bottled up.
Or maybe the joy is because the sadness that washed over her when talking about her grandmother has finally left her face and is instead replaced with a happiness that’s refreshing to see on her.
“To be fair,” she finally gets out, her voice shaky from her laughter, “I didn’t want Nan to read it either.
I was horrified when I found out she did.
And not only did she read it, but she printed out my manuscript… and even made notes.”
I let out a bark of a laugh. “No, she didn’t.”
Josie’s entire face turns red as she covers her mouth with her hand. “She sure did. And then she made copies and shared it with her hobby friends.”
My head tilts to the side. “Hobby friends?”
Josie looks up for a moment as if it just dawned on her that I might not know what she means by the term.
“She had a group of women she spent every Wednesday morning with. It started out with them just getting tea, but then they grew bored with that. After that, they all took up knitting, but then grew bored with that as well. So, eventually, it turned into a hobby group. Every few months, they’d find a new hobby for all of them to learn.
They did scrapbooking, sewing, mahjong…you name it, and they probably tried it. ”
“That’s so epic,” I say, my voice laced with wonder.
Josie nods as she grabs her orange juice. “She was so funny and full of life. She didn’t see anything wrong with reading my books, even if they had sex in them. She was my biggest supporter, my first fan. Told everyone about my books, even if I preferred she didn’t.”
I lean forward, placing my elbow on the table as I cup my hand in my chin. My other hand still holds hers on top of the table, and I love how natural it feels. “She was proud of you.”
A somber look passes over Josie’s face. “Yeah, she was.”
“She still would be.”
Her lip slightly trembles as she looks at the sky for just a moment. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t know her.”
“But I know you. And it’s clear from your success that you’re talented beyond belief.
Just because writing has been a little harder than normal recently doesn’t mean you still don’t possess that talent.
I know your nan would be so proud of you.
She might just have a few notes on how to make the sex scenes better,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
Josie snorts. It’s the most adorable sound I’ve ever heard. “Oh my God, you’re so right. It’s like you knew her. She definitely would’ve made notes in the margins on how much their connection lacks and how they need to have more sex.”
Before I can respond, our server arrives at the table, holding a large tray. As much as I don’t want to, I give Josie’s hand one final squeeze before letting go of it. I sit back in my chair, taking in the massive amount of food our waiter sets in front of us.
Once all of the plates are on the table, I look at Josie with a wide grin. “So, what do we try first?”