Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vivian
“Don’t say ‘Um.’ He hates that. Good eye contact. Except let him initiate it. He hates it if you get too cocky—”
“Frankie, stop.” I put my phone down. I was trying to take notes, but this is too much. And my heart isn’t in it. I can’t stop thinking about Jonah.
Frankie has a fabulous apartment. It’s an open-concept layout with two spacious bedrooms and three palm trees in the backyard.
When she suggested we meet here to prepare, I suspected ulterior motives. I could definitely see myself living here. Not just the apartment, but the city. The thing I can’t see myself doing? Living here without Jonah.
She throws herself on the couch next to me with a dramatic sigh and lets her body go limp—she calls it the wet noodle—before placing her head in my lap so she can stare up at me.
“Frankie—”
“I’m just going to lie here and wallow with you.”
“I’m not wallowing.”
She looks at me from her upside-down angle. And it’s clear she doesn’t believe me.
“I’m not. I hate that I disappointed Jonah. Hurt him.”
“Why’d you lie in the first place?”
I don’t want to do this. Talk about Jonah. Or my feelings about him. I run my fingers through Frankie’s hair. It’s long and luxurious and, damn, I appreciate someone who takes such good care of herself. It’s also relaxing.
She blinks her big doe eyes. It makes her look innocent. She’s not. “Are you in love with him?”
I let go of her hair. “Frankie—”
“Nope. None of that.” She sits up. “Your interview is in less than an hour. And your concentration is shit.”
“So?”
“So…” She waves her hands around. “Start talking.”
“Fine. I think I’m in love with him.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She rolls her hand in a keep-going motion.
“And I think he loves me, but what if he can’t commit? His mother did a number on him—and yes, it’s a little weird that I’m the one talking about commitment. My dad definitely—” I throw my hands out. “Now you have me doing it.”
She smirks like she’s proud of herself and pats my cheek—the non-injured one. “Sweetie, that boy is madly in love with you.”
“You can’t know that.”
She gently cups my face. “He emptied his savings account to buy a truck for you. So you could get here for your interview.”
“What? No, he didn’t.” Did he?
“He did. And he was saving that money for an apartment. His roommates don’t sound very nice. He wants to move out.”
I pull her hands down and study her face. “That can’t be true.”
“That’s what he told me. Why would he lie?”
“I don’t know. Why would he tell you?”
Her smile is one I’ve seen many times before. “Because people tell Frankie their secrets. It’s a gift.” And then she flips her hair back.
I laugh. “God, I’ve missed you.”
She boops me on the nose. “Now that we have that all figured out, let’s get you ready for your interview.”
The interview with Mr. Rainey goes smoothly. It’s less intense than every single session with Frankie that led up to it. Was that her plan?
He talks about the job. Asks about my experience. Raves about the video—my charisma and presence and that certain spark—and says he wants to see how I do under pressure.
“Under pressure?” I ask, trying to portray calm instead of this almost manic energy.
“The talent show tomorrow. You’re doing your own costumes and makeup, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect.” He gives me a quick smile, a shake of his hand, and that’s it. The whole thing lasts less than twenty minutes.
I can’t believe Jonah spent all his money and drove all night so I could get to a twenty-minute interview. Especially when the deciding factor will be my performance at tomorrow’s talent show.
“You’re going to get this job, babe.” Frankie links our arms together as we walk along the streets of Hillcrest in San Diego. “Now you just have to decide whether you want it.”
“Isn’t that like putting the cart before the horse or something?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to get offered the job and then not know if you want to take it.”
I stop, and she turns to look at me. “Frankie, would you be terribly upset if I didn’t take it?”
“Yes,” she says, grabbing both my hands. “I would be terribly upset.” She flashes me an impish smile. “It’s a good thing my opinion doesn’t matter. It’s definitely not as important as some people’s.” She doesn’t use air quotes, but her voice goes deeper on the last two words.
I tug on her hands. “You matter to me, Frankie. Why do you think Jonah’s opinion is more important than yours?”
“Why do you assume I’m talking about Jonah?” She leans closer and winks. “Newsflash. I was talking about you.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Let’s go celebrate.” She grabs my arms, and I know the squealing is about to start. “There are so many Pride parties going on.”
“Can’t, sorry. I’m going to this super-exclusive party. Just me and my hot but sweet farm boy. I might even let him boss me around.”
When I get to the room, Jonah is passed out. I take a shower and then slip into bed with him. I snuggle against him, and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer.
The next time I wake, I’m lying on my stomach, and Jonah has one hand on my back and the other is squeezing my ass as he brushes kisses down my spine.
“Good morning to you too,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
His eyes are fond. “I’m obsessed with your ass. It’s perfect.”
“Carry on then.”
He bites the left cheek, and I let out a soft cry. “Yes, please.”
“Is every part of you smooth?”
“Why?”
His gaze shoots up. “It’s not— I’m not judging you. It’s hot.”
Oh. “Yes. I wax.”
There’s a question in his eyes, but I’m not sure what it is. He licks his lips. “Even your…hole?”
I suck in a breath. Holy hell. “Do you like that idea?”
“Can I see?”
My cock instantly grows hard at the thought. I get on my knees, lean down on the bed, spreading my legs apart, almost like a frog. I could get on my back, but this feels more vulnerable. And I like that for some reason. I like the idea of exposing myself to Jonah.
I lift my ass, and his hands squeeze it again before he pulls my cheeks apart.
“I want to see every part of you. Want to taste every part of you.”
I groan. “Then stop talking about it and do it.”
He slaps my ass. God, yes, more of that. But then he’s licking my hole. Teasing the rim with the tip of his tongue, pressing in slightly.
“Jonah, I haven’t—you know, I didn’t think— Oh fuck.” He’s back to licking and biting the sensitive skin around my hole.
“I can’t wait to feast on this ass. I want to fuck you with my tongue. My fingers. My cock until you’re begging me to let you come.” He presses his thumb against my hole and pushes in slightly. Just the thought of Jonah shoving every body part he can into my needy hole has me coming with a shout.
And then I take care of him, showing my appreciation until he’s yelling my name. Sorry, neighbors.
“You’re catching on fast, doll,” I say, snuggling against him.
He kisses me sweetly. “I have an amazing teacher. Patient. sexy. And a surprisingly bossy bottom.”
We eat breakfast in the hotel dining room. Well, I have coffee and fruit. But Jonah makes up for it. His plate is piled high with a little of everything and tons of bacon. This man can eat.
“How’d your interview go?” he asks between bites.
“I think it went well. But everything depends on the talent show.”
He stops with his fork almost to his mouth. “Why? I thought the job was about fashion or hairdressing or something.”
“Sort of. I’d be a fashion consultant, so it’s about all those things.” This place has the best coffee, so I sip it slowly, savoring it. And that brings back memories of our morning in bed. Jonah torturing me.
Jonah is dressed in cargo shorts and a light-blue linen shirt that matches his eyes and shows off his biceps. I definitely approve.
“Let me guess. This is what you’re wearing for the talent show.”
He glances down at his clothes. “Should I change?”
“Nope. It’s close to what I would have chosen for you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Only close?”
I’d unbutton the shirt to show off his sexy body. This is Pride. But baby steps. And no sense in unnecessarily overheating the crowd. “It’s perfect.”
He smiles, and it’s warm and sweet like the butter-syrup combo coating his pancakes. “You’re so good at this lying thing.”
Is that meant to be a compliment? “Thanks, babe. Turns out being completely honest when styling someone is not the way to go, according to Frankie.”
“Then this job is perfect for you.” His gaze drops to his plate. And I suspect he’s not thinking about the bacon. Not this time. “Viv, if you get this job—”
“Nope.” I force a smile. “Let’s not talk about that.”
“Hey,” he says, wiping his hands and then tipping my chin. “You deserve this job. Your talent is wasted at Cassandra’s. I want you to live your dream.”
“So, you won’t stop me?”
“Of course not.”
“Or…ask me to stay.” My heart picks up speed like I’m going for a sprint. Do I really want the answer?
He drops his hand, but his gaze is intent on my face.
“I want to be with you, Vivian. I’m not sure what that will look like, but we can figure it out.
” He moves his silverware around like he’s working up the nerve to say the rest. He’s no longer looking at me, and my stomach drops.
“I care about you so much. But I can’t…” He swallows, and his voice is softer.
“I don’t want to wake up one day and find you gone. ”
My heart breaks for this sweet man. This isn’t about me at all. “I’m not your mom.”
He laughs and then clears his throat. “I know that.”
“Do you?” I wait for his eyes to meet mine. “I know what I want, Jonah. Regrets happen. But I will never regret being with you.”
“You say that now.”
I open my mouth to protest. We just talked about this. Didn’t we?
But he shakes his head. “This is my first real Pridefest. My first time singing in front of this many people—the karaoke bar doesn’t count. It’s just a lot of firsts for me today. And you too. I want to enjoy this with you. We can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”
“Fine. I enjoy experiencing your firsts with you.” I bite my lip and let my eyes roam over him. “I like seconds even more.”
His hand possessively wrapped around my ass cheek. The smack of his hand.
“Vivian,” he says with a warning tone. “We don’t have time for any of that.”
“Who says? We’re adults. We can do what we want.”
“There’s just one little problem,” he says, leaning closer. “All I can think about is gripping your hair, pulling your head back, and coming all over your face.”
It’s suddenly very hot in here. “That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
“It will be when you have to redo all your makeup.”
The line to get into the event is long. But Jonah provides commentary on things they could have done better.
I swear he’s thinking of next year and how they can include a Pride event at Bishop Fields in between all those weddings.
Once we’re finally in, his eyes go wide, and I imagine it’s the same look I had at fourteen when Frankie and I first visited Times Square.
Booths cover the area, selling everything from coffee and candy on one side to flags and things we wouldn’t want Maisy to find on the other. On the perimeter are food trucks of every variety. A big stage is set up on one end. My stomach swoops in excitement. This is it.
Just like the parade in Colorado Springs, but on a larger scale, there are people of different ages, ethnicities, and colors of the rainbow.
Many are dressed outrageously in bright colors and glitter, wearing wigs and even some wings.
But there are also people not dressed up, only wearing shorts and T-shirts, with rainbow bands around their wrists.
“There are so many people here.” His voice sounds shaky.
I search his face. “Are you okay?”
He nods and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s just being in a crowd of this many people and not having to worry about what I say or do.” He laughs. “I can kiss who I want, and no one cares.”
That is not completely true. But I’m not going to remind him of that. Not yet.
He lifts his shirt like he’s going to wipe his eyes. I tsk at him and hand him a tissue from my bag. “Thanks. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“It’s overwhelming.” I squeeze his hand. “And crying is accepted here. Encouraged even. But fair warning, there are lots of people giving away free hugs, which is amazing, but just…be cautious.”
He laughs. “Jealous already?”
“Absolutely. You may be oblivious to this boy-next-door-muscled-farm-boy-charm thing you have going on, but I can assure you, I am not.” I catch a guy a few feet away eyeing Jonah with interest. “Move along, honey. This one’s mine.”
Jonah laughs and pulls me into his arms. “Mine. I like the sound of that.”
I’m not sure if it’s the Pridefest, the look in Jonah’s eyes, or the happiness that seems almost foreign, but I throw caution to the wind or whatever that saying is and kiss my guy. Right then. Right there.
I can’t believe I get to have this. A giddy feeling bubbles through me as I rub our noses together playfully and Jonah wraps me in his arms.
“Jonah?”
We break apart at the sound of George’s voice. He’s standing beside Mom with his hands over Maisy’s eyes. All the color has drained from his face.
“Dad…” Jonah moves toward him.
George shakes his head slowly as if he’s trying to process what he’s seeing. He takes a stumbling step back. “I don’t understand.”
“George…” Mom puts her hand on his arm, but he shakes her off.
“No. I…can’t.” His eyes are almost pleading. As if we could somehow take it all back. Make it not be true. Then he swallows and his eyes harden. “What the hell is going on?”