Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
WILDER
Scottie: Just got off the subway, be there soon.
I pocket my phone and stand outside the building, waiting for Scottie. I thought about picking her up at work but then decided to let her meet me. All weekend, I sent her text messages. Making sure to say good morning and good night. Telling her about my day, asking about hers. Engaging in thoughtful conversation. She even sent me a picture of her yesterday, sitting on her couch, looking fucking adorable in her tank top as she fanned her face from the heat.
I told her that I was going to buy her another AC unit, but she told me not to.
I considered disobeying, but I figured she probably got enough of that from Matt, so I practiced restraint and listened.
But fuck, it was hard, because I don’t like her being so uncomfortable.
I look to the left just in time to see her approaching in a black flair dress with her hair tied back and cute loafers. Smiling, I meet her halfway and pull her into a hug, kissing the top of her head.
“Hey, you,” I say and then pull back. “Jesus, you look good.”
“Oh, this is just?—”
I grip her chin softly and say, “Pips, you look good, really good. Do not tell me differently.”
She slowly nods her head, a smile peeking out on her lips. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She playfully tugs on my beanie. “You know it’s the summer, right?”
“Nothing stops me from representing my emotional side.”
She rolls her eyes but then sweetly kisses my chin and, to my surprise, hugs me. Knowing this girl needs all the affection, I wrap my arms around her and hold on to her tight, kissing the top of her head once again.
After a few seconds, she pulls away and smiles. “Where are we?”
“Glad you asked,” I say as I take her hand in mine. “Come with me.”
We head up some steps to a brownstone, and I open the door for her, only to press my hand to her lower back to guide her up another set of stairs. “Are you ready to partake in a cooking class?”
She pauses. “Wait, really?” Her eyes grow big as pure joy crosses her expression.
“Yeah, really. I was looking up different classes, and this one is six weeks. I hope you have time to spare, because I signed us up for all six.”
“Oh my God, that’s…that’s so exciting.”
“Yeah, you want to cook with me?”
“I really do.” She stands on her toes and kisses me, and the feel of her mouth, her excitement, her gratitude, it hits me differently.
I like this.
A lot.
“Don’t stop stirring,” I say. “We can’t screw this up like the other couples.”
Decked out in black cat aprons—for no reason other than Scottie said the tied strings in the back resemble a tail—we’re in the back of the class, and we’re the only couple who has not burnt something yet or that the teacher—Miss Mary—didn’t have to help.
But this stage, making the cheese sauce, this is crucial.
“Oh, we’re not screwing this up,” she whispers as she continues to stir the cheese sauce while I sprinkle cheese inside the pot to melt. “Steady, not too much all at once. We don’t want a clumpy cheese.”
“Fuck no,” I whisper. “Our cheese will be the smoothest in all the land.”
“Kings and queens will bow down to it.”
“Pictures will be taken.”
“Autographs will be asked for.”
“And before you know it, there will be billboards around the world with our mac and cheese on full display. Written underneath, it will say…they brought the cheese to the table.”
She lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “That’s a horrible slogan.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, insulted. “That’s what people like most about mac and cheese: the cheese. So if we state we’re bringing the cheese to the table, that implies that we are.” I finish sprinkling the rest of the cheese as she continues to stir. Thankfully, we’re so good that we can talk and work at the same time.
“Sure, I guess.”
“And,” I continue, “what does the man with the deep voice in the Arby’s commercial say? ‘We have the meats.’ People know, they go there and they’re going to get a mouthful of meat, just like I give you a mouthful of meat.”
She snorts so loud that it gathers attention from other couples. I casually wave at them as they turn around, hovering over their hot plates.
“Hey, watch it. We might bring the cheese to the table, but I don’t want to bring boogers with it too.”
She glances up at me, mirth in her eyes. “You bring the meat…with piercings.”
“Proud of it, babe.” I kiss the tip of her nose and move behind her back, where I place my hand over hers and begin stirring. “Should I start humming ‘Unchained Melody’? Have a Ghost moment with you?”
“How do you even know that movie?”
“I’m cultured, Pips. So what do you think?”
“I think the other couples would hate us.”
“Jealousy looks ugly on them.”
“It sure does,” she says and starts me off with a hum.
“That was so much fun. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t forget, it’s a standing date. Mark it in your calendar,” I say.
“Consider it done.” Her hand tugs me closer to her door. “Want to come in?”
“Dying to,” I say, “but I’m not.”
She pouts, which I think is the cutest thing ever.
“I do have a question for you though.”
She leans against her door and says, “Okay.”
“What is one thing you wish you had spoken up about when it came to Matt?”
Her lips purse to the side as she thinks about it. “Umm, there were a lot of things, but I guess one of them would be that I wish I asked him to be more affectionate, more loving, to treat me as his wife, not his roommate.”
“I can understand that. I’m sorry he wasn’t more affectionate,” I say as I move in close, pinning her against her door. I press my hand to her hip and use my other hand to cup the back of her head. “His loss, my gain.”
Then I kiss her…passionately.
“Comfortable?” I ask as we both take a seat in the front-row seats of the suite that I bought out for the night.
She looks around, taking in the baseball field in front of us, the full stadium, the game that’s already been playing for two and a half innings.
“Uh, yeah. I’m just a little confused.”
“Why?” I ask as I open a box of Cracker Jack. If the prize is a ring, she’s getting it.
“Because you never told me you liked baseball.”
“Oh, it’s okay. Can be boring at times but also thrilling when runners are on the field and there’s a possible chance for a goal to be scored.”
“I think it’s called a run,” she corrects me.
I chuckle. “Sure.”
That makes her laugh as well. “Are you telling me that I might know more about sports than you?”
“Nah, I’m only kidding. I know all the sports. Go, balls.”
She laughs again, and the sound is so sweet to my ears. And considering when I first met her, it’s such a contrast. There was zero joy in her expression. Just worry, maybe a hint of depression. It was as if she was living under a dark cloud the entire time. But now—now it’s different. There’s joy in her eyes. There’s playfulness. She has no problem laughing and no problem getting lost in the day, in the hours, in the minutes…in the seconds.
“Well, I’m excited to cheer for the balls.”
“Because you like balls.”
Her eyes roll. “Your maturity is really showing.”
I press my hand to my chest. “Aw, thank you.”
She snags my Cracker Jack from me and then pops some in her mouth.
“You know, if you didn’t look so hot eating those, I’d steal them back. But I don’t know. Kind of enjoying the view, especially in that skirt.”
She glances down at her flirty white skirt and then back at me. “First time I’m wearing it.”
“Trust me, won’t be the last. Your legs look amazing in it.”
“Thank you,” she says as her cheeks stain. And I wonder if it will always be like that, if my compliments will always garner a cute, innocent reaction from her.
I sure as hell hope so.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I quickly take a look at it.
One minute and counting.
I slip my phone back in my pocket and then turn toward her. I take the Cracker Jack and offer her a drink.
Confused, she says, “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Drink up, Pips.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
She chuckles. “Okay, so tell me what’s going on.”
“Take five sips of your drink, and then I’ll show you.”
She eyes me for a few more seconds, probably trying to figure me out, but then she takes her sips and sets the drink down.
“Okay, tell me exactly what’s going on.”
Thankfully, it’s perfect timing, as the jumbotron flashes over a couple. They’re framed in a camera shot with Kiss Cam written at the bottom.
Smirking, I point to the jumbotron just as we both come on-screen.
When she takes in what’s going on, I grip her cheek, pull her in, and kiss her…wildly. I kiss her like no other kiss cam has ever seen.
The crowd erupts in cheers. I pump my fist to the sky while I continue to kiss her—even with a little tongue—and the stadium laughs. When I pull away, I smirk at her and then lean back in my chair.
She blinks a few times and then says, “Did we just kiss on a jumbotron?”
“Yeah, Pips, we did. You can check that off your bucket list.” I wink just as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out, and sure enough, there’s the picture I was hoping to get.
I flash it to her, a picture of us kissing on the big screen, my clenched fist up in the air.
“Did you…did you plan this entire thing?”
“Of course.” As I’m slowly learning, I will do anything that brings you true joy. “We have to make sure we’re checking things off that list, Pips. Because once we do, it means we can add more. Together.”
“How did it go?”
I catch the football and toss it back to Sanders.
“Like clockwork,” I say. “Thank you for helping me score that suite. It was perfect. After the whole kiss cam thing, we snuggled and watched the game, even though we couldn’t care less what was going on.”
“Not a problem. Glad it worked. How do you think she’s feeling right now?”
“Good,” I say. “Last night, when I was at her door, I asked her another question.”
“What was it this time?”
“Asked her what’s one thing she wished Matt did different in the bedroom?”
“Perfect. That’s the question we were considering, right? To show our progress with her?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she answer?”
“She said she wished he was more adventurous.”
Sanders nods and tosses me the ball.
Ever since I got back from Camp Haven, I’ve had weekly meetings with him. We talk about me and my relationship with Mika and my mom—he doesn’t just focus on marriages but all kinds of relationships, which I like—and of course, I’ve been heavily focused on educating myself on what Scottie experienced in her marriage. No man is perfect, so I know I won’t ever care for her perfectly. But that man made vows to Scottie. He declared that he’d do everything in his ability to love her well, and he didn’t take those vows seriously. It just pisses me off, as not only did she learn to devalue her needs, but her self-confidence suffered terribly.
I have also learned that even though she might seem happy on the outside, she’s probably comparing every new moment I have with her to her ex. Sanders said it’s a natural thing to do, especially when it comes to someone who was in a mentally absent relationship.
Which is exactly what Scottie endured.
Sanders explained to me that being mentally absent from a marriage can dismantle a person’s confidence, because it makes it seem like they’re not important, that they have no significance. And if treated like that for sufficient time, they start adapting those qualities, which is why when I first started complimenting her, she wouldn’t accept the compliment.
It’s why I ask her a question about Matt after our dates, because I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. I also want to ensure she feels significant. Valued. Listened to. Happy.
“More adventurous. Do you think you can make that happen?”
I catch the football and give him a look, making him laugh. “What do you think, Sanders? My damn dick is pierced.”
He lets out a roar of a laugh. “Adventurous it is. So is that what you’re going to do next as one of the big dates?”
“I think so,” I say, thinking back to all the little things we’ve been doing during the week.
Dinners, walks in the park, riding the ferry just to fucking ride it and spend time together. There are moments that I’ve been capturing with her the last few weeks, and when we’re not together, we’re constantly texting or talking on the phone. But the big dates, or the dates that are centered around the bucket list that we wrote out at Camp Haven, those are the ones that I’ve been planning and putting effort into.
“You ready to get intimate with her?”
“We’ve already been intimate, Sanders.”
“Well aware,” he says. “We heard it at the camp.”
That makes me smile.
“And I saw you two in the lake.”
I chuckle. “That was hot.”
“I’m surprised that water didn’t make everything shrivel up.”
“You know, I’m just that attracted to her that no cold water could make my dick disappear.”
“Aww. To be young again.”
I toss the football to him and answer his question. “But yes, I am ready to be intimate. I think it’s time. We’ve been doing this for about three, four weeks now, and every time I answer no to her request to go into her apartment, I can see her get sadder and sadder. I think it’s time.”
“Good. You have everything you need?”
“Yup,” I say. “I’ve got everything. Just have one question for you.”
“What’s that?” he asks.
I glance around his room, taking in the wreck of an office he maintains. “There’s something that’s been on my mind, ever since we signed up for the marriage camp.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, from a quick Google search, I was able to find that your grandparents owned Camp Haven before you. It was a sports camp, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“And then it was passed on directly to your mom, right?”
“Yes,” he drags out, trying to see where I’m going with this.
“Of course, being the curious one that I am, I looked up who your mom is.”
His smile grows wider.
“Fucking Whitney Martin is your mom.”
He slowly nods. “Uh, she was a legend matchmaker in the seventies. Not that you need to know this, but Camp Haven was where the most infamous couples were matched. Olive and Rund, the cat burglars of Brooklyn. Nancy and Hank, the pyramid schemers. Georgina and Tom, the Assassins of 8th Avenue.”
I blink a few times. “She matched up felons.”
He chuckles and then rubs his hand over his cheek. “Yeah, she really knew how to join people together with common interests.”
“Please tell me you didn’t study at the same school she did. Because I really like Scottie and if you helped me figure out things with this girl and she ends up being a night killer…”
He smirks. “About that.” He stands. “Didn’t really go to school for any of this.”
“What?” I nearly shout.
He shrugs. “Yeah, was kind of good at the matchmaking thing in college, where I was studying kinesiology. That’s where I met Ellison. Found that I was pretty good at cooling down arguments after a night out at the bars and, well…went from there. Ellison hooks me up with couples she knows and, well…the rest is history.”
“Wait, you’re serious.”
He tosses the football in the air. “You don’t become the best by going to school and studying. You become the best by life experience.” He taps the side of his head. “Think on that.”
“Hold on, so you’ve been offering marriage counseling to couples without ever being certified.”
“You know, Wilder, lawyers always tell you to read the fine print for a reason.” He winks and then nods at me. “Go long.”
No fucking way.