16. Wendy
“What. A. Day,” said Marissa, counting out the drawer, finalizing the receipts for the end-of-day cash out.
And it was a day. The restaurant was packed, and my body ached with a lingering delicious buzz from last night. That didn’t mean my head was totally fucked with what I did and how I would handle Vincent going forward. It was a strange feeling, though. Sleeping with Vincent didn’t tie me in emotionally any more than I was before we reconnected. And to be honest? The one part about last night that disappointed me the most was how I wanted him to be rougher. I wanted to be punished for my heart and mind wanting him. Needing his touch to be free again. And I still wasn’t satisfied. I knew we had to speak again, but it couldn’t involve sex. It just needed to be us and our words.
“You look different. I’ve wanted to ask you all day, but I kept getting distracted by every table. And, oh my God, did you see how many bottles of wine that party of five ordered?” Marissa gestured to the now-empty cafe.
“I know,” I snorted. “I think they have a problem.” I nudged Marissa’s shoulder while wiping down the counter.
“Let their problem be our next great find.” Marissa glanced in my direction. “So, anything new?”
“New? Not really.” I shrugged, totally blowing this lie that barely started.
“You look like you have the glow.” Marissa dropped her gaze, throwing me a knowing look at what she meant by the glow.
I tossed the damp rag aside, rolled my sleeves, and laughed. “Marissa, it’s been a wild twenty-four hours.” I bit the inside of my cheek, quelling a smile. My fingers trailed along my neck, where Vincent’s fingers wrapped tightly around. My head tingled when Vincent tugged my hair. I dropped my hands to my sides, brushing my bruised hip bones where Vincent’s vice-like grip punished my skin, grabbing onto me as he fucked.
Marissa closed the cash register, pivoting her body and crossing her arms. “Come on, Wendy. You can’t leave me hanging like this.” And then her eyes popped. “Did you sleep with Stephen?”
I threw my head back, laughing. If only she knew about that fiasco.
“I’m serious, Wendy. I saw Stephen pass by the shop today, looking through the glass like he was searching for you, but he didn’t come in. And now it all makes sense.”
“Marissa, no.” I shook my head. “We didn’t sleep together.” Scratching my head, I decided why hold back any details. “I mean, I did try to seduce him when I came back from New York that night, but it didn’t exactly go as planned.”
“Oh?” Marissa's eyebrows rose in intrigue. “This better be good.”
I sighed, leaning on the counter and staring at a spot on the wall. “Oh, it was bad. It was so bad.” I laughed, remembering the flash of fear swirling in Stephen’s eyes. “I wanted it roughish? Yeah, after the day I ran into Vincent after three years, I didn’t want anything gentle. Stephen wasn’t into it, to say the least.”
“The least,” Marissa repeated.
“The very, very least. I think it turned him off, actually.” I squinted into the overhead light.
“Really? That’s weird.” Marissa twisted her face. “Like, what did you ask him to do?”
“I kind of guided his hand to my neck…” I trailed off, letting my hand around my neck complete the sentence.
“Oh my God, I love hand necklaces.” Marissa laughed, and soon I joined. Except, we were dead serious.
“Right? It feels good.” The thought alone triggered a blush spreading across my face and chest.
“With the right person, everything feels good.”
“Well, Stephen was not that person.” I shrugged.
“Definitely not.” Marissa shifted, wanting to ask something. “So, who was the right person then?” Her eyes lifted from the floor to meet mine.
My silence offered too heavy a hint, and I swore Marissa’s eyes bulged out of their sockets.
“You slept with Vincent last night, didn’t you?”
“Please don’t judge me.” I slapped my hand over my eyes.
“Oh, I am judging you. But in a good way.”
My hand slipped off my hot face. “I mean, I don’t think I regret sleeping with him. I’m just not sure where to go from here.”
“Oh, please. Don’t regret sleeping with him. If you were here crying to me about regretting it, fine. Regret away. But you look great. Your face has this light I haven’t seen since I’ve known you.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. It's like a fog lifted. You seem... alive.”
Her observation brought a smile to my face, one I didn't bother fighting off. Embarrassment slipped away, replaced by a warm weightlessness filling me from head to toe. Maybe it was reckless to sleep with Vincent again; maybe it was stupid, but for the first time in years...I did feel alive.
“I guess I better get my act together before he breaks my heart again,” I said more to myself than Marissa.
Marissa shook her head fervently. “No, Wendy. Don't go into this expecting the worst. If you're going to take anything away from your night with Vincent, let it be that you're capable of feeling something real.” Her eyes shifted to the front door, and she straightened her posture. “And speaking of real, is that him?” She pointed to the window next to the entrance, and I followed her eyes.
And then my heart skipped all its beats, and my stomach flipped. Vincent was pulling the door ajar and holding a dozen assorted roses. He swept through the entrance fluidly, his eyes scanning the empty dining room before they finally settled on me. Vincent looked different - his suit was replaced with jeans and a sweater. Even his hair was less formal, not neatly styled but ruffled like he had run his hand through it one too many times. The only vestige of the old Vincent was the self-assured smile he wore.
“It seems the universe is smiling at us today,” Marissa grinned, nudging my side as she pushed off the counter.
I shot Marissa a slight glare, begging her to be quiet and to wipe the smirk from her face, but the rush of blood flooding my face faltered my conviction. Nervously, I patted my hair down and adjusted my shirt as he approached, the scent of the roses already filling the room. His lips formed an endearing smile as he closed in on us, his stride confident yet cautious like a man trying to walk on ice.
“Oh please, don't just stand there with your mouth open. Say something,” Marissa whispered loudly enough for me to hear.
I nodded, unable to find the right words. Swallowing hard, I moved toward him. “Vincent,” I managed to say as our eyes locked onto each other's. “This is Marissa, the cafe’s general manager.” I gestured to Marissa’s figure standing beside me. “Marissa, this is my friend Vincent.”
He didn’t try to hide his smirk or the lazy wink he threw, causing a flurry of butterflies to swarm my stomach. “Pleasure to meet you, Marissa,” Vincent extended his hand in greeting, the striking smile never leaving his face. He then turned his full attention back to me as though Marissa had already faded into oblivion, “These are for you.”
I accepted the bouquet with a shaky hand, the bright hues of the roses reflecting the vibrant aura he had brought with him. Burying my nose in the flowers, their fragrance was intoxicating, almost as much as his own scent—earth and musk laced with a hint of cinnamon—that I was now only a breath away from.
“Thank you,” I managed to whisper, but my voice vanished into the thick air between us. His proximity began to unnerve me. “They’re beautiful.”
“And you look gorgeous,” Vincent said, planting his hands on the counter’s edge, leaning forward, eyes branding my skin.
Marissa silently took the roses from my hands. “I’ll put these in water and display them. Unless you want to take them home?”
I was about to answer, but Vincent took charge. “No, put them in the front. I think the red will pop against the white decor in here. What do you think?” Vincent motioned to the blanched ambiance of the place. And he was right. A splash of color would brighten the cafe. “Did you know Wendy’s favorite color is red?” He turned to Marissa.
“I thought it was blue?” Marissa answered, glancing at me.
“I go back and forth.” I shrugged before my eyes landed on Vincent’s slightly down-turned mouth.
“It was always red with me.” Vincent’s eyes lifted from the floor to meet mine, an uncertain sadness swimming in them that I couldn’t quite pin.
“Sometimes things change.” A weak smile crossed my face.
“I’ll put these up front.” Marissa held the roses in the air before disappearing to the storage room to grab a vase.
Seconds of thick silence passed until Vincent cleared his throat, shifting a step closer. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” I fired back, almost regretting the oil I had just thrown into the simmering fire.
Vincent’s hand slid along the smooth white counter, veined with gray streaks, until our fingertips touched. The light contact alone sent jolts of heat straight to my core, and it took every ounce of restraint in my body not to grab onto him to pull him against me. “I had been thinking about everything I missed…made you miss because of my actions. And I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do to make this right again between us.”
My eyes stayed glued to Vincent’s fingertips, now creeping up the back of my hand until his fingers curled around my wrist, offering a light, yet delicious, pressure. “What things were you thinking about?” I swallowed, my throat clicking.
“I hate how I missed your fortieth birthday.” Vincent’s grip tightened, heating my flesh.
“My fortieth birthday?” I echoed, fighting a shiver down my spine.
“All the birthdays,” he admitted. “All the milestones. Just the time lost because of my fucking stupidity.”
“You said you had no choice.” Thick tears threatened to spill over my lids while I tilted my head back to keep them hidden. “You had to keep me safe.”
“There’s always a choice, I realized.” He squeezed my hand. “I just chose wrong.”
This was what I would call a moment. And before I could answer, the front doorbell chimed, causing both our heads to jolt to the source.
Of course, Stephen entered like he half owned the place with a smile plastered across his face. Stephen was a vision in denim from head to toe, almost like a poorly dressed Ken doll if I compared him to Vincent. Then again, any man beside Vincent paled to a pathetic shade of what I wanted.
“Hey, Wendy!” Stephen’s boisterous voice echoed in the café, oblivious to the tension between Vincent and me. He lumbered over to us at the counter, flicking a playful glance at Vincent.
Vincent’s fingers slowly relinquished their grip on my hand, sliding away with an almost visible reluctance.
“Stephen,” I forced out a smile, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Within seconds, the comfortable bubble that enveloped Vincent and me shattered. “Hi, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to, um, talk to you about something.” His eyes flickered to Vincent. And I knew just what limp dick Stephen wanted to talk about. “Hey, I’m Stephen.” He extended a hand out to Vincent.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I scooted back from the two men. “Stephen, this is Vincent. An old friend from New York.”
Vincent clenched his jaw, nearly glaring at Stephen, but accepted his hand, pumping it twice. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, Marissa!” Stephen beamed at Marissa, who emerged from the storage room with a large vase cradled in her arms. He swiped a red rose from the bouquet and twirled it between his fingers, eyes dancing with amusement. “These are pretty. What’s the occasion?” He held up the rose.
“Can’t we have roses without a reason?” Marissa asked.
“Not really.” Stephen laughed and stuffed the single rose back into the vase. “You got a minute?” He clasped his hands behind his back, eyes darting between me and Vincent.
“I’m gonna go in the back if that’s okay?” Vincent pointed to the kitchen. “I need to make a call.”
“Sure, of course,” I answered, smiling at Vincent and his brilliant social cues. He shot me one final look, those come fuck me eyes telling me whatever happened before Stephen’s interruption wasn’t over yet, and then disappeared into the kitchen.
“Alone at last,” said Stephen, laughing. His eyes flicked to where Vincent had disappeared before returning to land on me, a smirk curling his lips.
I frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course.” A nonchalant shrug as he casually leaned forward, propping his elbows on the counter, fingers laced together. “Well, actually, I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to ensure you and I are okay after the other night.”
I ran a hand through my hair, wincing. “Right, again, I am so sorry about that. I should have called sooner to apologize. You did nothing wrong. That was all me.”
Stephen waved a hand in the air to silence me. “Look, I’d be lying to say I haven’t thought about you that way. I mean, you’re beautiful, Wendy, and I didn’t just want to sleep with you and be done with it, you know? I would have wanted to do things the right way with you. Maybe you’d finally take up my offer for dinner, but…” Stephen trailed off as he gazed at the closed kitchen door. “I don’t think now is our time. Right?”
“Right,” I confirmed, my heartbeat echoing the word. It was a relief to hear him agree. “I think we’re better off as friends.”
Stephen nodded slowly, his eyes fixated on me. The relief on his face was palpable, mirroring my own. He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his perfectly messed sandy hair. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
A moment of silence passed between us, and all I thought about was going back into the kitchen to see Vincent standing there, waiting for me. Suddenly, my body yearned for him, and my heart ached. Choosing anyone over Vincent felt like a cold, jagged rogue wave crashing over, sweeping my body out to sea.
“I should get going.” Stephen swallowed hard, breaking the silence and motioning toward the door. “Got a few errands to run.”
“Okay.” I nodded, wrapping my fingers around a glass cup beside me for something to do. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He gave me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and patted my hand gently. “For sure.”
By the time Stephen exited the café and vanished from sight, I felt an unburdening sigh leave my lips. A sense of relief washed over me as I turned my attention back toward the swinging kitchen door.
“Marissa, I’m heading into the kitchen real quick,” I called over my shoulder as I began moving toward it.
She barely looked up from her task of arranging the rose vase. “Yeah, sure, Wendy.”
I pushed open the door and found Vincent leaning against the meat locker’s door with an air of nonchalance that seemed too practiced. His arms crossed his chest, and a slight frown marred his face.
“I just want to throw it out there now. But, if you slept with Stephen, I accept it.” Vincent nodded and dropped his arms to his sides.
I scanned Vincent’s perfect form, wanting to say something, but before I knew it, my feet moved quicker than my brain could process any words. Half a second later, I wrapped my arms around Vincent’s neck, crashing my lips against his. I welcomed his velvet-invading tongue into my mouth. His arms coiled around my waist as he kissed me back fervently, this time not deterring any of his passion. He pulled away for a moment, just long enough to look into my eyes with an intensity that set my whole body ablaze before crashing his lips onto mine again. It was desperate and raw, everything I missed. Everything I had wanted each day for the last three years.
“Fuck, Wendy,” he rasped as we parted for breath. His thumb traced the line of my jaw gently, affectionately. “I've missed you.”
“I've missed you too,” I whispered in return, resting my forehead against his chest and listening to the frantic beat of his heart alongside mine. And what else was I supposed to say? That I didn’t miss him? I was tired of lying to myself, even if he didn’t deserve a second chance. I was so tired of fighting this urge I held dormant when I finally could wake up. The single tear sliding down my cheek I wasn’t even aware of, Vincent caught on his index finger, bringing his wet digit to my parted lips, and silently I obeyed. He inserted the salty finger through my lips, and I sucked, staring deep into Vincent’s stormy bottomless orbs.
There was a silence then, only the sound of our heavy breathing filling the room. Vincent pressed his thickening cock against my stomach, sending an aching rippling to my sex as liquid heat flooded my pussy.
“What are we doing?” I heard him murmur into my hair after a long pause.
“I don't know,” I confessed softly, pulling away to look up at him.
His eyes searched mine—dark and hopeful. “Is there any chance?” His voice broke on the last word. Any semblance of nonchalance had faded. “Come to Florida with me.”
I frowned because that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “No. My life is here. After you left, I started fresh. I just can’t leave.” Swallowing, I forced myself to ask questions I didn’t want answered. “What do you do now, Vincent?”
He tipped his head to the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling and released a fatigued sigh. “After I left, I returned to what I knew how to do.”
My eyes closed as I absorbed the disappointing news. There was no way I could ever be with Vincent now if he was back to his old ways. “And you expect me to just be okay with it?”
“Wendy, of course not. I’m not even okay with it.”
“Then why are you doing it?” The words exited my mouth with a fierce sting.
“Because I didn’t know what else to do. The poker games are almost like a weighted blanket for me. It’s what I feel safe doing.”
“And it’s also the reason you had to flee.” I shook my head, stepping away from Vincent. A flash of panic crossed Vincent’s chiseled face when the distance between us increased. He reached for me, but only air met his outstretched hand.
“What do you want me to do?” Without warning, Vincent dropped to his knees. “I’m begging now. Tell me, and I promise we’ll figure this out together.” Vincent’s voice dropped as he ran a shaky hand through his messed hair.
“I want you to give it up. Give it all up, and then come back for me. And we can try to give it another chance here in Newport.” I crossed my arms, leaning against the cold stainless steel counter as a sudden calm flowed through my veins. Oddly enough, a strange inner peace settled in the bottom of my stomach. If Vincent was willing to give up his sordid games, I’d be willing to give us another chance. But, if he wanted to keep earning his way through lies, I would let him go. At this point in my life, there were certain things I could live without, and finally, I had come to realize what they were.
Vincent’s face and hands dropped. “Give it up?”
“Yes. Give up the lies. Earn an honest living so our lives don’t get fucked up again.” My pulse increased as I watched Vincent’s eyes squint into the light. Was he serious right now?
“What will I do? I need to work.”
“I don’t know, Vincent. Don’t you have several businesses you took over? Come on, this should be the easy part.”
His eyes almost popped out of his head as he clutched his heart. “Easy for you to say.”
I wasn’t having this or him, and I took steps away as he shuffled on his knees after me. “Hold on, hold on. Let me figure things out.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” I crossed my arms, continuing to back away.
A sigh escaped his lips, his shoulders sagging with the weight of my words. With his fists clenched, he looked like he was tearing himself apart internally, struggling between what he had relied on and what he wanted. The silence hung heavily in the room as I waited for him to say anything. “Give me a week.”
“A week for what?” I managed through gritted teeth.
“A week to figure things out.”
I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands in the air and stumbling away from Vincent’s form. “You’re unbelievable.” I stopped myself mid-step. “Seriously, Vincent. Why did you come back here?”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious?” He did a double-take. “Wendy, I’m not giving up on us.”
“Right. You just need a week to figure out if I’m worth the sacrifice,” I scoffed, heading to the kitchen door.
“That’s not what I need the week for.” Vincent scrambled to his feet but didn’t take a step closer. “Let me explain.”
“No!” I fired back, inhaling. “No. You really messed me up, Vincent. And after three years, I was finally feeling okay. But now, you’re back, and I can handle whatever we’ve done. But if you think I will take this an inch deeper, knowing you’re uncertain about what I’m asking to make this work, then we’ll stop here.”
“I just need a few days, Wendy. That’s all I ask.” Vincent inched toward me. “Just as you’ve built a life here, I also built a life down there. I can’t just abandon it.”
“But you expected me to abandon mine for you.” I shook my head, realizing this might be the end. I was so stupid.
“You're twisting my words.” Vincent's voice cracked.
“Am I?” I shot back, the bitterness in my tone stronger than I intended. “Or is this just the sad truth of who you are?”
Vincent stood silent momentarily, his eyes scanning me as if trying to read a map of my emotions, figuring out where he had lost his way. “It's not that simple,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Well, it should be.” I pressed against the swinging door, ready to leave. “Leave tonight. And while you’re gone, don’t contact me because I won’t answer.” My shoulder inched the door ajar, and the cooler air from the dining room brushed against the back of my neck. “If I don’t hear from you in seven days, that’ll be our answer.”
Seven days. I couldn’t believe I offered seven days for Vincent to make a decision. And if he actually took that long to decide what he wanted, I wasn’t even sure if I would even take him back.