Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Len
Curled up in my sheets with the TV on, I hear the suite door open and close. Before, I’d run out there and ask Zaiah how his day was. Even before we started dating, I’d make some excuse to go out there to be next to him.
Instead, I stuff my head into my pillow and wonder when he’s going to get sick of my bullshit and break it off with me. I said some horrible things. I basically said I didn’t like hockey. Of course he would want to celebrate that day. Why did I have to bring it up at all?
This stupid thought stays with me, biting like a piranha, taking little chunks out of me each time with every misstep.
Maybe we aren’t right for each other. Maybe the fact that I love him actually doesn’t matter. I tried too hard. I wanted too much. I tried to force a puzzle piece into a slot that didn’t fit.
In my gut, though, it doesn’t feel that way. If that were true, why would I be lying in my bed, miserable, watching The Mighty Ducks over and over, trying to connect to anyone who plays hockey when I really only want one person who plays hockey?
With bated breath, I wait in agonized hope to see if he comes to my door.
I’ve had my heart broken before, but never by someone I gave it to so willingly. So completely. I don’t even want to know what it will feel like. If he decides what I did was too much for him.
In the main suite, I hear him rummaging around. The worry—the guilt—sits heavy like a dark rain cloud on my shoulders.
A soft knock sounds on the door, and I gulp, sitting up in bed. The air charges around me, and I’m too paralyzed to move.
Whatever relationships are like, I know it’s not this.
Gathering all my courage, I slide my feet to the floor and get up. Slowly, I walk to the door and put my hand on the knob. Another breath later, I’m twisting it open to…nothing.
It’s dark. Zaiah isn’t waiting on the other side for me, and I’m stuck wondering if I imagined the whole thing. Maybe I wanted him to come to me so badly that I conjured it up at the same time the Ducks were doing the flying V for the first time.
I start to shut the door when a tiny flicker flares to life in the kitchen, a halo of light that has me swallowing. Zaiah moves the flame to a candle. It catches to life before shifting to another candle. Soon, the kitchen is alive in a soft glow.
Stepping forward, I hit something with my socked feet. Rounded dark spots litter the floor in a trail through the living room to the kitchen. I take one step, then another. It isn’t until I’m closer to the kitchen that the red petals pop out in a subdued haze. I lightly walk over them, a few of them fluttering away from me, until it brings me right to him.
I stop short of his shoes, my stomach tightening. Then he reaches for me, putting his hand under my chin and lifting so that I meet his gaze.
“W-what’s this?”
“You just walked a pathway to the new and improved Isaiah James.” He swallows like he’s nervous. His gaze is earnest as he stares right into my eyes until my insides flip. I peer away from the intensity of it all, and he nudges me back. “The trail led you here, and it always will. Every rose petal is a promise I’m making to you, Lenore Robertson. What I did wasn’t right. I took you for granted without giving you any of the credit. I saw the world through the eyes of someone so driven I didn’t take the time to look around and see what the determining factor was. You .”
“I think maybe I—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “There’s nothing you said that wasn’t true. I’m ashamed of myself for doing that to you. You did so many things for me, and I want to be that person for you. I think I got caught looking through a pinpoint, and all I saw was what I was going through.
“I need to make this up to you because you being indifferent to me is slowly killing me inside, sweetheart. I want your laughs and your smiles. Hell, I’ll even take your anger and putting me in my place as long as you’re not indifferent.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
He takes my shoulders. “None of this is your fault. What you said to me was spot on. You deserve nothing less than the best, and what I gave you wasn’t even worthy of a third stringer.”
I nearly smile at that, glad that I understand what he’s saying, hockey references and all.
“So,” he says, stepping back, “I’m doing something I should’ve done a while ago.” He waves his hand to the kitchen table where a spread is laid out. My favorite pizza from the place in town, including the rolls dripping with garlic sauce. “This is your celebration dinner for hearing back from that magazine editor.”
Walking over, he pulls out a chair for me, and I sit. When he moves to the other side, the candlelight flickers, reaching toward him, and I understand how that flame feels. Zaiah’s a magnet, and whatever it is he attracts, I think I’m made up of mostly that.
Monday
I walk out of my bedroom, my feet nudging against something on the floor, pushing it away. Peering down in the early morning light, I find the rose petals from last night gone, and in the very spot where Zaiah kissed me good night sits a small white box with a clear top.
In the box, a word is written in thick, creamy hard chocolate. Dreams.
I open the attached notecard.
My dearest Len,
I’m not surprised the editor wanted to talk to you on the phone. Your talent jumped out at him from the thousands of articles he gets every day, and you’ll continue to amaze other editors, too. Watch out, publishing industry, Len isn’t messing around.
The backs of my eyes heat. I hold the box to my chest, acknowledgment ringing through me.
He gets it. He understands.
Tuesday
The newsroom buzzes. Flora bought a clickety-clack keyboard, and at first, it drove me up the wall, but the sound is kind of soothing…as long as she’s typing. When she stops, its absence is deafening, and I find myself staring off, thinking of Zaiah.
Every day that passes, he’s making the past up to me, adjusting our puzzle pieces to the perfect fit.
Sneakily, I pull open my bag and break off a piece of my Dreams candy bar. After looking around to see who’s watching, I pop it into my mouth. Flora gets handsy with sweets. Like she has a sweet tooth sixth sense, she looks over at me. I stop chewing until she looks away, then I start chomping down again, the milk chocolate nearly melting in my mouth.
I’m still hiding behind my laptop screen, trying to keep out of her line of sight, when the newsroom door opens and closes. I hear several oohs and aahs from my fellow journalists, so I poke my head up.
A dozen red roses sit in the crook of a delivery man’s arm. Clark comes out of his office, and then he points at me with a scowl. I can unpack that later, but when the man starts walking toward me, I tense. I’ve never had flowers delivered before.
“Lenore?”
“That’s me,” I croak out.
He sets the flowers on the long table, and I eke out a thank you while standing to admire them, but suddenly, a small radio clatters to the table, and the delivery man’s coat flips out as he spins a 360 like a graceful ballerina. I nearly shriek until he lands in a pose, one hand stretched high to the ceiling, remaining still for some time before his hand shoots out to hit play on the radio.
A note rings out, and I take a step back, nudging my chair out of the way. The delivery man turned dancer flashes the inside of his coat again. With ease, he shrugs it off, turns it inside out, and pulls it on once more before zipping it up. He stands still, showing off the entire picture. A tux. Well, a sublimation print tux. Somehow, he has a hat in his hand now and poses with his head down, the bass on the radio ramping up.
A few feet away, Flora giggles. I shoot her a look, as if to say “What is happening?” When I peek over, though, I spot Zaiah above her head. Hands pressed against the glass, he stares in at me, the softest smile on his face.
A flurry of movement in front of me catches my attention again, as well as a shout from the dancer’s mouth that has me jumping. A rendition of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” starts playing, except he doesn’t sing bad , he sings rad .
The dancer grabs his crotch and does another spin, dropping into a split before pushing back up again.
“Oh my God!”
He sings about the sky being the limit, but when he hits the chorus, he says, “You know, you’re rad. You’re rad. You know it.”
I double over, laughing. Everyone in the newsroom starts clapping and cheering as the singer-slash-dancer-slash-delivery guy does his thing. At the end, he does another spin and grabs my hand. “Congratulations on the article, Lenore.”
Then, with fluidity I thought only known to cats, he turns his jacket back the other way, hides his hat, and walks out the same way he came in.
“What in the world…”
Flora runs over, as well as a few of my other coworkers. I try to see above their heads, but when I search the glass for Zaiah again, he’s gone.
The following Tuesday
Zaiah yawns next to me on the couch. For over a week, I’ve had surprises every day. Sometimes, it’s a little thing like a card thanking me for getting the laptop so we could make the video. Other times, it’s big things like the dinner or the delivery dancer. My roses from that day still sit on the table in a beautiful blue vase. He takes them out every morning to refresh the water before putting them back in and arranging them again.
“You ready for bed?” I ask, trying to dismiss the sudden tightening of my stomach.
He nods slowly, helping me from the couch and walking me to my bedroom door. It’s as if he’s dropping me off from a date, even though we only walked a few feet. He takes my head between his palms, his hold like a caress. “I love you, Lenore.”
“I love you, too.”
He presses his lips to me softly, like he’s done for the last week, but this time, I hold back on his hand when he tries to leave. He raises his brows, his gaze dropping to where I hold on to him.
I press into his hand, needing it to ground me as nerves skate over my skin. “Zaiah, why haven’t you…come to my bed?”
Fully facing me again, his fingers immediately intertwining with mine. “I’m trying to show you the man I can be.”
“Does the man you can be involve lying next to me?”
My heart pounds, the fear of rejection coating my tongue. Worry that I’ve pushed him too far away hovers like a shroud.
He moves closer, winding his arms around my back. He’s in my space, but not suffocatingly so, like the two of us are in our own cocoon. “You think I don’t want to?”
I lick my lips, gaining myself some time. “I don’t know what I think. I just miss you.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to feel comfortable, sweetie.” His hot breath hits my mouth.
My eyes flutter closed. The bond between us has only gotten more palpable. Without me realizing what the issue really was, Zaiah solved it. I wanted to feel seen, to be heard, to feel loved. And like he knew the sound of my next breath, he gave it to me. Everything that was a mess inside myself, he knew, untangling the myriad of feelings, smoothing them out, and breathing life into them with every note, flower, and caring word.
He treated me like the woman I wanted to be.
“You’ve been showing me the man you truly are. Not who you could be, Zaiah, who you are.”
He threads his fingers through my hair, capturing my neck in his large palm. “I’m only catching up to you. How do you think I learned to be this way? I took note of what you did for me. The way you believed in me. The way you celebrated with me night after night on the ice, cheering me on.
“Lenore, I’m this way because you were this way first. My North Star. My guiding light. I haven’t been the best boyfriend, too wrapped up in myself, but that’s gone now. You showed me I can be a person who goes after their dreams while supporting someone else because that’s what you’ve been for me since day one. Look at you. You’re perfect.”
I run my hand up his chest, stroking the length of his corded neck. The way I love him is breathless. It used to scare me, like maybe he’d slip out of my grasp and leave me broken.
But I’m not scared anymore.
“Zaiah.” I swallow, my throat suddenly parched. I force my breaths out in even measures. “Sleep with me?”
“You sure?”
“One hundred pucking percent.”
The intensity ratcheting between us overflows until he grins. “So we’re clear, is there going to be more than sleeping?” he asks, leading me into my room, his touch never wavering.
I don’t have to answer because I slip away to take my shirt off, leaving it nonchalantly on the floor behind me as I walk to the bed.
When I turn, Zaiah is feasting on me like a hungry shark, and that look, it’s as good as any card he signed with love. The spark in his eyes ignites a heat inside me, and while he slowly takes his own shirt off, I move my way up the bed.
We needed the gut-wrenching honesty, the pain and worry. The absolute relief I feel to have gotten through that and still be looked at with that same ferocity in Zaiah’s eyes says so much. In fact, it says everything.
There isn’t anything that can tear us apart when we grow together. Two people who care enough to work with each other. Who want to see the other win in the best of ways. Who will be by the other’s side while they do it and be the first to don the party hat.
Zaiah has left no doubt that he’ll be that person for me.
My body flushes with desire. “I’m going to need you to hurry,” I breathe, nearly out of my mind with want.
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “I think I’m going to need to take my time. Savor you. Love you.”
He starts unbuttoning his pants, a tantalizing tease as he slides them down his hips in a slow, seductive caress.
“Zaiah James.”
“Lenore Robertson…” He waits until I meet his eyes, then he crawls up the bed, whispering beautiful things into my skin, his lips like a feather, his touch like a flame.
And there, we remind each other of the rawness of our love. We come together even more completely than we have before. All the barriers stripped away. All our flaws showing in beautiful simplicity, and we take each other, faults and all.