Chapter 27
Dear July,
If you ever change your mind and want to write, I’ll answer. I promise.
Joe
Before I even open my eyes, I know who I’m with and where I am. Home.
No home I’ve ever actually lived in, but it’s been in my dreams all my life.
We smell of shampoo and July’s sweet soap and each other. She’s warm and soft and perfect against me, one leg over mine, one of her hands at my waist and the other curled at my cheek. If I never wake fully up, never move again, that’ll be just fine.
I breathe in and smile and ease my eyes open to find her looking at me. She’s quiet, studying me, uncurling one finger to stroke along my cheekbone when she sees I’m awake. I gaze back at her, letting my smile melt into something softer. “I missed this so much.”
When we were together before, we used to spend hours at the lake, sometimes in the water, sometimes sitting on our rock, sometimes just lying on our towels together, talking and looking our fill. Well, and kissing. Lots of kissing.
“Me too.” Her pupils are large in the dim light, extending nearly to the dark rim surrounding the gray. “I was so awful to you that roadhouse night.” This comes out on a sigh.
The attempted sexorcism’s not my favorite memory either, but I can’t stand the torment in her eyes. I slide my hand up and down her smooth back. “It was just one mistake.”
“I feel like it was unforgivable. Like you shouldn’t forgive me.” Her eyes fill, and she looks away toward the window. “It was so selfish. I was so selfish.”
Newsflash for me: I feel pain when she does.
I wrap my arms around her, gather her in. Press a kiss to the top of her head. Stroke my fingers through her hair. “Before that, when was the last time you thought just of yourself?”
She’s silent so long I wonder if she’s fallen back asleep, but finally she says, so quietly I have to lower my head to hear. “Sixteen, seventeen. That year.”
I keep my fingers moving in her hair. “And what did you do then that was so selfish?”
She clears her throat. “Worried everybody. Almost bailed on them.”
“Why?”
Another silence. Then, “It was like…everything felt bad all the time. Like my feelings were big worms, writhing around in there, eating me from the inside. And there was no way to get away from them because…they were me. So I starved them.”
I hold her a little tighter. “So…you were grieving the loss of us. You were sad and angry and worried about me.”
She nods, her hair tickling my face. “Yeah. My hope was gone. My interest in the future. And…I couldn’t believe I’d been so wrong about you. I thought that meant I wasn’t the person I’d always felt I was either.”
Yep, that pretty much sums up that period for me too. “And the thing that finally pulled you out of it was wanting to help other people? So you focused on other people for twenty years before you finally had a selfish moment?”
She tips her head back to look at me, a furrow between her brows.
“July, what would you say to Sam or Maisie or, hell, anybody, if they had a twenty-year run like that before messing up?”
She stares at me for a long minute. Her voice comes out tentative when she finally speaks. “I wouldn’t say anything.” She grips my shoulders. “They’d be past due for thinking about themselves. I mean, it doesn’t justify using someone like I tried to use you…but it’s not the thinking about themselves part that’s bad.”
I gaze back at her, watching her let her own words sink in, seeing color come back to her face and light return to her eyes.
“I love you.”
Her mouth forms the same words at the exact same time mine does.
“I love you,” we say again, again simultaneously, and then we’re laughing and rolling across the sheets, trying to get out solo I love you s between kisses. Kisses become caresses and then I’m inside her and we’re tangling the sheets, making love physically as well as with words, and this is the perfect morning. The best morning anyone has ever had.
Afterward we’re quiet again, lying together, looking in each other’s eyes when her alarm chirps.
“You work today?”
“Is it a day that ends with day ?” She stretches and sits up. Stretching does wonderful things to her breasts. So does nakedness.
But I heroically corral my attention. “May I help?” I roll to my side, take her bare hip gently between my teeth.
Her brows shoot up. “Why?” She trails her fingernails up the center of my back.
I shiver and release her. “I’d just like to be with you today. Don’t care what we do. If you want me to chop onions with you for fifteen hours, I’m there.”
She studies me, her eyes crinkling in a near smile, and then she touches my face. “All right, then, sweet man, let’s go take our shower.”
So I spend the day working in the kitchen with her.
Tina is just letting Donna in the back door when July and I come downstairs. I see Tina’s quick victory fist pump and catch Donna’s tiny smile before I slip out to go change clothes.
Word spreads fast, I guess, because no one even asks why I’m there. They fall straight back into heckling me the way they did when July was sick. This time, though, I get to see July in action, and she is a wonder. The woman can churn out ten perfect, beautifully plated orders while giving Tina a hard time and carrying on completely different conversations with Donna and Sonya and the dairy delivery guy. And still have time to feel me up in the walk-in before the next orders are due.
This place feels like home too. Home and a real, happy family.
Maisie shoots us shy looks all afternoon after the kids arrive for their shift. Sam doesn’t say much, but when he comes back from break, he shoves a small piece of paper into the front of my apron.
I dry my hands and fish it out. It’s a drawing of a heart with a beautiful rendition of July and me smiling at each other. I admit, I’m actually a little misty as I tuck it carefully away in my wallet. I squeeze Sam’s shoulder next time I pass him. “Thanks, man.”
He gives me a quick, silent smile.
Rose and Angus come in for dinner. We join them for a few minutes after sneaking in some alone time upstairs.
Eagle-eyed Rose looks us over, clearly registering something in our faces and the way we’re sitting close in the booth. And maybe the whisker burn on July’s neck.
I’m going to have to shave more often so I don’t hurt my girl.
Rose turns to look at Angus, who gazes back at her with a twinkle in his eye.
“So,” Rose says.
“So,” Angus rumbles.
July flaps her hand at them. “Oh, don’t pretend like you two weren’t just doing the same thing. Your shirt’s on backwards, Rose, for god’s sake.”
Rose’s eyes go wide. She tilts her head to look down at her blouse, which of course is on properly, and the rest of us burst out laughing.
“They might not have known for sure before, Rosie, but they do now.” Angus tugs her close and kisses the top of her head.
She blushes and grins and changes the subject back to me and July. “I’m glad to see you two finally quit beating around the bush!” She frowns. “Wow, that sounded a lot worse out loud than in my head.”
Angus snorts into his water. July drops her head to my shoulder, laughing silently.
Rose tries again. “What I mean is, ’bout time. Everybody could see you belong together.”
July’s turn to snort. “You’re a fine one to talk, Ms. Had-a-Big-Beautiful-Dude-Practically-Living-Under-My-Roof-For-Months-and-Didn’t-Figure-Out-He-Was-Interested-until-He-Dragged-Me-Out-Back-and-Kissed-Me.”
I raise my eyebrows at Angus, who is blushing furiously. “Mr. Big Beautiful Dude, I presume?”
“Not how I usually introduce myself, no. And I object to the word dragged … Unless some other guy kissed you out back too, Rosie? And then I’d have to object to that.”
Rose waves this away. “Okay, okay. I’m just happy to see you two together, that’s all. And now it’s time for us to find somebody for Andi.”
July shoots her a look I can’t interpret. “I think if Andi ever decides she wants a partner, she’ll do just fine finding one herself.”
She’s not wrong. Andi’s great. And for all of her baggy softball gear and scraped-back hairdos, she’s gorgeous. If she ever unbanks her fire, god help the single people of this town.
***
July
Joe goes out to get Devon and his guys what they need while I reconcile the day’s receipts in the office. When I come looking for him a little later, he’s at the far end of the kitchen, whistling, his back to me as he mops the floor. The sight stops me in my tracks.
He doesn’t have to be here. There’s no money or excitement or anything in it for him. But here he is, looking relaxed and happy mopping a floor at the end of a fifteen-hour workday. He could be somewhere comfortable watching TV or reading one of his books or drinking a beer while he waits for me. But he just wants to be with me. It makes him happy to help me out.
Love and gratitude wash over me like a warm shower. How could I have gotten so lucky as to find this guy twice?
I am starting to believe in soul mates again.
When he finishes the floor and sets the mop back in the bucket, I’m there, slipping my arms around his waist to hold him, my cheek on his shoulder. His arms come around me, and he rests his cheek on my head. Presses his lips to my hair. “You tired?”
“Mm, only a little. You?”
He shakes his head. “I have something I want us to do, if you think you can stay awake a couple more hours.”
I tilt back to look at him. This sounds…structured. “Okay.”
“Let’s get cleaned up. Jeans and comfortable shoes, okay? I’ll be back for you in half an hour.” He heads for the back door.
“You gonna tell me what it is?”
His grin flashes. “Nope. Not yet.”
After I shower and brush my still-damp hair, I let Joe hand me into his truck.
He heads out of town but then pulls into the gravel lot at Woollybooger’s.
I eye him as he parks between a battered Ford and an equally battered Dodge pickup. Anxiety nibbles at my gut. “Joe, what’s your idea?”
He turns off the ignition and picks up my hand, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. “A do-over night.”
The only time we’ve been here together was the sexorcism night. I’m not sure how I feel about this. What good can it do? How could either of us forget the hurt I caused him that night? I’m not sure I should ever forget it.
He climbs out, comes around to open my door, and gently tugs me out into his arms. “C’mon,” he murmurs into my hair. “This is our chance to do what we wish we’d done differently that night.” His mouth lands softly and too briefly on mine. “Replace a bad memory with good ones.”
Okay, that has some appeal.
He can see my answer in my eyes. He grins, tugs me inside, and pulls me toward the only empty booth, sliding across the bench seat, still holding my hand so I have to slide in after him, and then he puts both arms around me and whispers in my ear, “I won’t ever forget that dress you wore. Wouldn’t mind seeing you in that again.”
I drop my head. “I almost burned it after that night. I shoved it way down into the bottom of the laundry hamper. Haven’t touched it since.”
He nods, his expression serious, but an unholy light dances in those eyes. “I understand. Gonna take some serious mojo to exorcise the demons from that dress. Maybe you should put it on later, and we’ll work on that.”
The server—one of Tina’s cousins—comes to the booth, and we order the same things we had that Very Bad Night: ribeyes, medium-rare; steak fries; and a frosty pitcher of beer. But this time when the food comes, we eat it all, with lots of laughter and talking and touching. Like last time, we get up to line dance, but this time we don’t let go of each other, and I’m not worried my world and I are about to crack apart over this man. Instead, I hold him close, feeling safer and warmer for being with him.
And when, on the way home, he asks if I’d like to see what Angus and Rose have done with his place, I say yes, and soon I’m upstairs in his apartment, with him handing me a beer as he did that other night.
But this time he’s showing me the great changes our friends have made. Angus has refinished the old hardwood floors to a warm, light natural color and put in great lighting and shelves. Instead of a lumpy love seat, Joe’s got a sleek purple sofa paired with a coffee table made from a battered old leather trunk on legs, courtesy of Rose.
He flips on a ceiling fan, dims the lights, and settles next to me on the sofa, close but not touching. “Scared?” He watches me as he tips his bottle for a drink.
“A little. I don’t know why.” I turn my beer between my fingers.
He moves his knee just enough to brush mine. “I know the first thing I wish I’d done differently. I wish I’d been the one to take our bottles and set them aside.” And he does, and then he puts his arm around me and pulls me close so that my back rests against his chest. He picks up my hand and traces my knuckles with his thumb. “I knew something was off that night. I could tell you were half somewhere else. I wish I’d taken your hand and asked what was wrong.” He squeezes my hand. “Would you have told me if I’d asked?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
He moves his hand to my nape and begins rubbing the back of my neck.
A groan escapes me and I relax against him. “If you’d done this, I might not have been able to speak. I was so exhausted and so upset, I probably would’ve either gone unconscious or burst into tears.”
He presses his lips to my temple and sets me away from him just enough to massage with both hands.
I let my head fall forward. Let him massage the last of the tension out of me. “I wish I’d told you I was scared.”
“Of?” He sweeps the hair away from my cheek, kisses me just beneath that ear, and softens the movements of his hands.
“Everything.” I sigh. “I wanted you so bad it scared me. But…the time before left me believing I was weak. Like, lacking any kind of coping ability for tough times. And everything was feeling so intense again…”
He combs a hand through my hair and keeps massaging, listening, so I keep talking.
“I was afraid the restaurant, the one thing everything I do hinges on—was suffering because of my…obsession over you. I was afraid I’d lose the one kind of strength I knew I had and be as wrecked and useless as last time, only this time I’d take a lot more people down with me.”
He wraps his arms around me from behind and lays his cheek on my shoulder.
“What are you thinking?” I turn my face to his. It’s his turn to confide in me.
His voice is as quiet as mine. “I’m wondering what I would have said or done if you had told me all that. I’m hoping I would’ve just held you.” He lies back on the sofa and pulls me down onto him. He strokes my hair and I nestle closer, tucking my head under his chin. Somehow he must have found time to shave, because his skin is smooth, his woodsy scent soothing and delicious.
We’re silent for a bit before he says, “I wish I’d offered to hold you anytime you need reassurance. And feed you anytime you forget to eat. I wish I’d offered to come work with you so my hands could make up for any distraction I caused. I just want…me being in your life to be good for you.”
I don’t want him to ever doubt that. “I can’t think of a single thing that could make me happier.” I spread my fingers to frame his face and bring him to me for a slow, soft kiss. “You asked, that night of the thunderstorm, what I wanted for me. I want you .”
Beneath me his body loosens as if I’d said magic words that eased his mind.
I wrap one leg around his. “What if, on the sexorcism night, I had told you how I was feeling and asked you to make love to me? Would you have said no?”
“July, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could keep me from trying to give you something you need.”
I reach between us and tug the hem of his T-shirt up, pressing my lips to the bare skin over his heart. “Make love to me now?”
I laugh when he flips me on my side, laugh at him through kisses, but it’s a relieved laugh. I help him unfasten our clothing and push it down out of the way, and then he’s sliding into me, full and hard and hot and perfect.
I sigh with the joy of it. “Click.”
His laughter is brief, and then we’re moving together, my leg and his hands on my hips pulling us into our own perfect, irresistible rhythm.
“Oh god.” I skate my hand up his chest into his hair and hold on. “If only I’d known to just ask that night.” Because he is giving me every single thing I need.
Afterward we linger, kissing and touching. I outline a big heart on his chest with one fingertip. “Joe, what were you thinking and wanting and needing that night? And now?”
He strokes my hair back off my face. His eyes have never looked so dark or so determined. He locks his hands together at the small of my back. “I want…I want us not to lose any more years by being apart. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
There’s that warmth washing over me again. “When you imagine that, what’s it like?”
He closes his eyes as if to picture it. “Mm. Waking up every morning to realize I’ve been lucky enough to hold you all night. Knowing at the end of the day we’ll be together sharing stories. Laughing and kissing and holding each other. Celebrating good times with people we care about. Getting through bad times by holding on to each other. Lots and lots of holding on to each other.”
Yes, he is my soul mate.
“Click,” I say, and our next kisses are promises.