Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Adelaide
God, he looks good up there.
This is the Zander I adore. The confident, charming man who knows he’s good at what he does. He tends to each one of his readers like they’re the only person at the event. It doesn’t matter that the line snakes around half the bookstore, Zander is giving everyone their time.
And he is so hot doing it.
Though, to be fair, he’s looked like this the entire night.
He graciously wore my yellow shirt, paired with a basic pair of jeans.
His hair is messy, framing his face in a delicious way that highlights his dimples.
Throughout his interview and reading from his next installment in the Detective J.D.
series, he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
Yes, he worked the crowd, but he circled back to me any chance he could.
I’m inconspicuous, at the back of the seated area the store set up specifically for him, holding a glass of water. Here so he can see me, but letting him have his moment on his own.
“Oh, those are fuck me eyes,” Tabitha says.
True to their word, Tabitha and Simon crashed the launch party. When all three of us walked in shortly before the event began, Zander’s eyes lit up. I caught him turning away and swiping the back of his hand over them when he thought no one was looking.
“What do you mean?” I ask, sipping from my clear, plastic cup.
“I mean, you’re going to go home and fuck him, aren’t you?”
I shrug, nonchalant. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Adelaide!” She grasps at my arm, making me slosh water onto the floor. I drop a napkin, leftover from the light refreshments provided, and wipe it up with my foot. “You did not tell me about this development.”
I lower my voice, “It’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“It wasn’t much of a competition.”
“No, it wasn’t. But it should have been, you know? They should have cared enough to be the best.”
“One hundred percent.” Tabitha takes a bite of her cookie and makes eyes at her husband, who is standing in Zander’s long line of supporters, a book under his armpit. Simon showing up for him is truly wonderful. “I’m happy for you. You’re happy, right?”
“I’m very happy.” I smile, hug my arms to my body, and rock. “I love him. I think it’s one of the easiest things I’ve ever done, which is kind of scary, but I’m also not really scared.”
“Then you made a good choice. Did I tell you I like him? Like, outside of the whole caretaking thing...He’s really genuine and he has stars in his eyes when he looks at you. You guys also flirt like it’s your motherfucking job. I’ve never seen you be so fully Addie with a guy.”
“Yeah.” I feel the blush creep up my chest. “I didn’t even really think about it. I didn’t shrink myself for him.”
“Because you didn’t need to. You’ve never needed to, actually, but this guy loves you because you’re so big and full. Like I said, I’m proud of you.”
I’m proud of me, too. After my mom left, I tried to be less me, as if it was my fault she left. Dad never made me feel that way, but I still…wondered. At home, I was bright and joyful, with my hundreds of hobbies. Anywhere else, I tried to slot myself in with everyone I deemed normal and undamaged.
It took breaking up with Daniel—who is fine, if a little boring—for me to start wearing the clothes I made again.
Which was right around the time I started going for it in every aspect of my life, publishing books, redoing the house beyond tiny projects, dancing in the fucking street if I wanted to.
And now I’m here, at my boyfriend’s book launch, with my best friend at my side, talking about the best sex I’ve ever had.
Go Addie.
The event wraps up shortly after, everyone getting in one last applause for Zander and his newest book. He beams from the stage they’ve created for him, and I cheer louder than anyone in the room. The sun is just setting by the time he makes his way to me.
“C’mere,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist with an ease that suggests his hands belong there. And they do. “I want to get a picture together before we leave.”
We make our way through the maze of black folding chairs and up to his table, which only has one final book laying on it. I pick it up, the same thriller he carried the first day I met him, now in its final form.
“Do you want me to hold it like a fish?” I ask.
“No,” he says, plucking the book from my hands and placing it back on his table. “I don’t want you to hold it at all. I just want to hold you.”
Noted. Make me melt, Mr. Browning.
We don’t even have time to pose before the manager running the event, whose name is Leanna, snaps a photo of us. She rushes up, turning Zander’s phone our way.
“Sorry,” Leanna says, flipping through a few photos. “I’ll take another if you want, but you guys were so cute candid, I couldn’t resist.”
She lets me scroll through the gallery. In all of them, we can’t take our eyes off each other.
My nose scrunches as I laugh, probably at my own fish joke.
Zander’s eyes crinkle. His hands are on my hips, mine are on his chest or neck or face.
We’re not even trying and we fit together.
I can’t explain it, but I almost start crying.
“Thank you,” Zander says, taking the phone from me and shaking his head. “These are perfect. Thank you.”
Zander and Leanna square away event things. She lets him know the one book left is the only one they have in store now, and he offers to sign it for her. She’s thrilled about this development, tells him as much, then lets him know he’s welcome anytime.
“Hey, by chance, do you have any Adelaide Ramsay books?” he asks.
“We absolutely do,” she says and almost starts walking off without him.
“Sorry, I’m so used to taking people to the books they ask for.
We have both of her books and we’ll have her third when it’s out later this month.
My coworker is begging me to get her in for a signing. She’s from around here, yeah?”
I laugh as I have an out of body experience. “Hi, I’m Adelaide.”
“Oh my God, an author power couple. I love it. You guys should write a historical thriller together.”
We share a look.
Someday.
I sign a few books for Leanna before we say our goodbyes. We’re just down the street from Zander’s place. He walked. I drove, parked in the guest spot in his parking garage, and walked over with Tabitha, who has now gone home with Simon.
“Take me back to your sad, grey apartment, baby.”
Zander laughs in a God my girlfriend is exhausting kind of way, and squeezes me further against his body. We stay glued to each other, bantering until we reach his apartment’s front door.
“For the record,” he says, letting me in first, “it is less sad and grey now.”
It’s shocking. Not only does he have the little bits and pieces of me all over his apartment, now he has yellow throw pillows on his leather couch, colourful spatulas in a jar in his kitchen, and a stained-glass sticker on the sliding door out to his balcony, just like mine.
“Zander,” I say and then I just stop talking, because what else is there to say?
“You inspired me. It’s happier at your place. I wanted to see what something like that would do for me.”
I jump on him, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him. He responds in kind, his hands moving to the small of my back, then lower. An idea takes root, the very same one I got when I spotted his balcony as we walked up to the apartment block, the very same from our writing date in the park.
“And are you happier?” I ask, breaking away just enough to sneak in a breath.
“Much. So much.”
“I mean, yeah, I was going to say…either you have a book in your pocket or you’re happy to see me.”
He squeezes my ass, aligning my hips closer to his, letting me feel just how happy he is.
I run my hand down his arm, link his hand with mine, and drag him further into his apartment.
He doesn’t protest when we end up on his balcony.
In fact, his eyes darken. I hook my fingers in the elastic of my underwear beneath my dress and discard them, kicking them off.
“Jesus, Addie,” he hisses. And then he’s on me, kissing along my jawline, down my neck. “You’re wearing black today. I’ve never seen it on you.”
“It’s my sexy alter ego,” I say as he nips at my collar bone. “Figured since you were wearing colour that we should switch. I wanted to be broody today. Maybe you could take what you want this time. Bend me over the railing.”
He spins me away from him and pins me against the tinted glass of his balcony.
I grab hold of the iron bar at the top. I shoot him a devious smile as I look back at him.
He bunches up my dress like he’s savouring the moment.
When his eyes meet mine, I can see the restraint in them, how hard he’s focusing on not ripping my clothes off.
We’re concealed in the dusky evening. He faces the back of the complex, a view of luscious trees and a roadway in the distance.
There are no lights back here. If he wanted to ravish me completely, he could.
But there’s something distinctly sexy about him taking his time, lifting up my skirt, and discretely having his way with me.
His fingertips trail along my ass, leaving me aching in anticipation that he won’t let me give in to. Though, I guess I did tell him to do what he wants.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” I say, parroting what he said to me our first time, but in reverse. “I want to know your dirty thoughts, Zander.”
“Addie, you’re going to kill me.”
“If that’s part of your fantasy, then sure.”
“I’m going to make you squirm.” His fingers deliver on the promise as he dips between my legs. I gasp as he draws a full circuit from my clit, down to my opening, and back again. “You’re soaked,” he whispers right by my ear.
Though he still hasn’t freed himself from his pants, I can feel him pressing against my back. It causes a whine to leave my throat.