Chapter Fourteen
Leo climbed out of the tub first, his body slick with suds and glowing in the golden candlelight.
I was in awe. Daaaaamn. He was undeniably gorgeous.
How had I forgotten he looked like that?
! Perfect golden skin, even in February.
A thick head of dark hair that had a soft wave at its ends.
And the perfect amount of stubble to accentuate his rugged good looks.
Droplets of water clung to his skin before sliding away, causing rivulets to curve and wind along the dips in his lower back.
I literally had to pick my mouth up out of the tub when my brain decided to rejoin my body.
Reaching for a towel, Leo ruffled it through his hair before tying it (low!) around his waist. Then grabbing for another, he snapped it open and extended the fluffy plush to its full width, an invitation to be wrapped up. To continue to be cared for.
I stood, the water splashing as I modestly positioned my back to him and allowed him to drape the soft cloth around me.
Spinning me around, Leo offered his hand as I stepped out of the tub and then rubbed my biceps up and down, to warm me.
He was remarkably gentle and intent, his focus never wavering.
We changed into warm pajamas and settled onto the couch in the living room.
Outside, a light February flurry had started.
Nothing that would shut down New York City, but enough to at least slow it for a while.
Leo pulled up the shades for a better view, the streetlights catching each flake as it drifted past.
“I think this weather calls for hot cocoa,” Leo said.
“There’s a bag of mini marshmallows in the cupboard right next to—”
“—the box of Rice Krispies, I know,” he answered, looking confused by my direction.
Of course he knows where the mini marshmallows are . . . He’s been living here for months.
A few minutes later, he returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs piled high with whipped cream. “For you,” he said, passing one over.
I took a sip, and the drink was rich and velvety and delicious.
“The secret is a hint of chili. It gives it a little kick,” he said with a wink. “My dad’s recipe. Speaking of dads, are you doing okay?” Leo set down his mug, lifted Pickles out of her cage, placing her in his lap, and curled next to me on the sofa.
“I’m sorry you had to bear witness to all that. It’s complicated with me and my dad. He hasn’t been around for most of my life. Moved on to his new family. Seems me and Mom were just the warm-up act before the main event.”
“As if you could ever be that. Anyway, I kinda figured he wasn’t really in your life since you don’t talk about him much.
For the few times I’ve met Sonja, I’ve never heard you mention more than a word or two about your dad.
Especially not that he lived within ‘drop by’ distance to your flat.
But he seems to want to be involved now?
Trying to make some kind of amends with your mom? It sure sounded like he does?”
As if almost instinctually knowing Pickles had become my support animal, Leo passed her over to me. With big round eyes and her nose twitching with curiosity, she slowly inched up my chest, finally nestling herself in her favorite spot, squarely between my boobs.
“Who even knows with my father? He seems to flit in and out when it’s convenient or interesting to him, no real permanence or dependability.
His attention span is even shorter than his list of excuses, so sure, today he wants to make things all hunky-dory with Mom, but tomorrow, he’ll probably go back to referring to her as Secondhand Stevie Nicks. ”
He laughed at my joke and said, “But what if they really did put their differences behind them?”
“Then what? We’d somehow fool everyone into believing we’re the picture-perfect, dysfunctional-functional family? Hard pass. Putting us all in one place is more combustible than a Real Housewives reunion, which is just one of the maaaannny reasons I will not be attending Sonja’s fourth wedding.”
Leo got off the couch, clutching his mug of cocoa, and walked over to the window. “I hope you’ll reconsider your decision. I’ve always believed that it’s important to show up for the people we love, even if they make it incredibly difficult to love them back.”
He stared out into the dark, the wind tossing thick flakes to and fro against the glass. His gaze tracked their descent as he watched in amazement, like a little boy catching his first glimpse of winter’s magic, afraid to even blink in case it disappeared.
“As you can imagine, we don’t get much snow in South Africa,” he said softly, leaning closer to the pane. “It still gets me every time. There’s just something about how it looks, how it falls, you know?”
I crossed my legs under me on the couch and reached for a blanket from the armrest.
“Tell me more about South Africa. Cape Town. What’s it like there?”
He crossed back to the sofa, and I opened the blanket as an invitation to join me.
He snuggled in and sighed. “Like nowhere else, really. Table Mountain towers over the city—its flat top gets covered by clouds every morning. Us locals call it the ‘tablecloth.’ You’ve got Camps Bay with its white, sandy beaches and palm trees, perfect for watching the sunset.
And during whale season, you can sometimes spot humpbacks breaching just off the coast. It’s incredible, like the ocean itself comes alive. ”
“You come alive just talking about it. Sounds breathtaking.”
“Most special place in the world. And trust me, I’ve seen enough of it to know. Though I’d never been to Mykonos before last summer. I’m glad you were the one I got to experience it with. In truth, I’m grateful for all the moments I’ve gotten to experience with you, especially since I moved here.”
His voice trailed off, and for the first time, it hit me.
More than Ravi or Marin or any of my other friends, Leo was the one who could help me piece together the missing months of our relationship.
Why exactly did he leave Cape Town and his family behind and move to New York?
What transpired in Paris between us to make him take that kind of leap of faith?
It was time to slap on my Nancy Drew detective hat and do a little digging.
“So . . . it must’ve been a pretty big deal for you, leaving everything and everyone back in Cape Town and traveling practically around the world . . . just for . . . me?” I glanced up at him, eyes wide, hoping the question wouldn’t expose how little I really understood about the situation.
“Choosing you? Easiest decision I’ve ever made,” he said, tucking a loose, damp curl behind my ear. “I mean, you couldn’t just leave your radio show behind. My job was fine with me working out of the New York office. And now, here we are.”
I sat up a little straighter on the couch, Pickles shooting me a look of annoyance that I had disrupted her slumber.
I picked her up, gave her furry head a little smooch, and set her back in her cage before rejoining him on the sofa.
“Right. Now, here we are. Living here. Together. All these months. Together. And you were just that sure it would all work out this way. That leaving everything behind . . . would be worth it?”
“Until now, my career has been the most important thing in my life. Do you know how many countries I’ve traveled to for work?
Over thirty. Do you know how many places I’ve actually taken the time to explore or truly experience?
Almost none. When I met you that day at the beach, it was like .
. . I don’t know, maybe it was your moxie or something?
The way you carried yourself with so much confidence?
And then you talked to every single one of my mates but not me, and if I’m being honest here, I think that made me jealous without you even trying.
” Leo shrugged with a shy smile. “I know I acted like I’d extended a million work trips before, all cool and confident, but honestly, I’d never done that in my life.
But I wanted to get to know Mykonos better, not to mention the girl who claimed she categorically did not believe in love. I wanted to get to know you.”
“Leo, that wasn’t just some line I threw out as a challenge or anything, I really do mean . . .” Then, remembering we were sitting in the alternate version of our relationship and not mine, I chose my words more carefully. “I really . . . I really meant it.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I truly believed in love either.
I mean, I’d seen my parents’ relationship.
Forty years plus together and they’re disgustingly in love and completely obsessed with each other.
So of course, I knew it was possible. I just wasn’t sure it would happen for me.
Not with the way I was dedicating so much of my time to work over relationships.
Before I met you, I had a series of failed ones.
I prioritized my career and my independence, being able to travel anywhere I was staffed, but I was alone.
I had no one to share it all with. And then you came along like a breath of fresh air, and I had the most fun exploring Greece with you that I’d had in .
. . well, I can’t even remember how long.
And the harder you insisted we were just a summer fling, the more I realized I wanted us to be something more, something real.
So I threw down that stupid Paris gauntlet, hoping it would keep us both open to the possibility of love . . . and thank God it did.”
My mind kept echoing my own words like a Ping-Pong game: But I categorically do not believe in love.
Howeveeeeer, the possibility of love? The one that seemed to be staring me right in the face, nestled beside me on the couch, sipping hot cocoa with a sexy whipped-cream mustache as the snow continued to fall outside?
Why was I pushing so hard against whatever this was that the universe was trying to show me?
Why was I denying myself what I knew could feel so good?
So when he leaned over and his fingers lifted my chin to draw my mouth to his, I kissed him back, with no reservations and no hesitation.
The sweep of his tongue against mine caused all the blood in my body to rush to my head, and I felt lighter and dizzy with every sensation.
Every wall I had built between us softened beneath the heat of his lips, every reason I’d told myself to keep him at a distance dissolving into the taste of him.
The need was intoxicating, electric, curling through me until it was impossible to imagine letting go.
So why was I fighting it? I guess that even though this glitch-in-the-matrix version of me had known Leo for months now, real me had only been with him for what amounted to a couple of weeks.
And honestly, I wasn’t sure what the ethics of sleeping with someone who might be an apparition were.
However, when he deepened the kiss, all thoughts of propriety or resistance completely evaporated, and I ran my hands through his hair to settle around his neck to pull him even closer.
He stood, scooping me effortlessly into his arms, and I expelled a breathless laugh against his cheek.
Without breaking the contact of his mouth on mine, he carried me down the hall, the quiet thud of our bedroom door snapping closed behind us, sealing the choice I’d already made.