THE REYNOLDS TWINS
THE CHILDREN’S HOME ended up being out of power for two and a half days. It was a lot better than expected but, after the end of day one, Juliet was a nervous wreck. She was supposed to be back at work. There were clients in other counties and other states who weren’t snowed in. They were operating on a regular schedule and some may not wait for her. While her days were spent taking care of children, the nights were for catching up on as much work as she could through her cell phone, which mainly consisted of correspondence through email and a couple of phone calls.
She supposed Eric thought it would be different.
The truth was it was difficult to have a serious conversation about the design of an Italian restaurant while she was wrapped up in Eric’s arms. The beating of his heart, the sound of his breathing, his intoxicating scent…it was all too much. So she curled up on the opposite end of the couch so she could work.
He was aggravated. She could tell. But this was her business. Her livelihood. There wasn’t anyone else to pawn the work off on—it was her work.
By the time she would finish he would be fast asleep, wrapped up in a makeshift bed, feet away from her. They couldn’t sleep next to each other, not in the open where the children could see them.
First thing on the third morning, they’d had their first argument since their reunion.
Eric was frustrated with the entire situation. “I thought you were my girlfriend,” he lamented. “We’re fucking snowed in. You can’t even choose to spend five minutes of that time with me? We literally have nowhere else to go right now.”
It was the cabin fever. Juliet knew it was. It was cabin fever and thirty children and a fire that constantly had to stay going. He was tired, his nutrition wasn’t at its best, and Juliet couldn’t blame him for his outburst.
So she spent the next half hour with him in the back of his truck.
As he zipped himself back up and let out a sigh of relief, he reached for her and pulled her next to him. “I thought you said no sex?”
“That wasn’t sex. That was…apparently something you needed.”
“That’s not all I need,” he smirked.
“You were lucky to get that.”
“Come on, baby,” he coaxed seductively. “What about what you need?”
Shit. What she needed would require more room than the cramped back seat of a 2015 Ford Atlas could provide, that was for sure.
So she smiled. “You’re happy, that’s what I needed. Now maybe you’ll stop stressing me out so much.”
He blinked at her, his eyes wide with shock. Well, okay. That was a little harsh, Juliet had to admit. But with so much on her mind at the moment, she really didn’t have time to listen to Eric whine at her.
Besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed herself.
By the time the power was restored, Juliet was more than ready to go home and curl up in her own bed. But first, she needed to send a company-wide email and then schedule a meeting with a restaurant owner. At least.
Once they made sure that they were no longer needed at the children’s home, Eric and Juliet set out on the still-questionable roads. This time, however, Eric did nothing but chatter about the New Year’s Eve party that Travis and Beth were throwing.
“It’s…weird,” he mused. “Well, maybe weird is a strong word, but different, I guess. I’ve never seen this side of Travis. I guess I just assumed that he never really had it in him. All of a sudden, he’s living with a woman and hosting holiday parties and being charitable and…Jules, that whole deal with the generator? The old Travis would have never done that shit. He hates New York and he hates winter. And now he’s living in a penthouse he’d been trying to sell and he dresses for work when he’s not out on a worksite. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe not crazy,” Juliet replied. “Maybe he just finally grew up.”
“Maybe. I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m happy about it. For him, I mean. He needed this. I just…” Eric’s voice trailed off. “I don’t know,” he breathed.
His tone had changed and now Juliet’s nerves were set off. He just what?
“What is it?” She asked gently.
Reaching over, he slid his hand into hers and smiled. “Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. She knew what it was. And she didn’t know whether to be hurt or offended or guilty or anything, really. “You always thought that would be you,” she replied quietly.
Eric let out a breath. “It sounds worse when you say it out loud.”
“Well, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, everybody wants that, right?”
“Do they?” He blurted accusingly.
“Of course,” she whispered. Then she let go of his hand. She sensed an argument coming and she wasn’t in the mood for it. She didn’t really know exactly where it was coming from, but she sensed his sudden brooding. So she said, “Will you please take me home?”
He didn’t breathe a word as he avoided the turn he would have had to make to get to his apartment.
Several minutes later, he was standing inside her door as she removed her coat and shoes. He’d barely spoken two words since the mood had changed in the truck.
Approaching him, she took him by the hands and circled her thumbs over the backs of them, a last-ditch effort to find a way to lighten the tension. “We’ve had an exhausting, stressful couple of days. I think we need a little bit of time to chill out and regroup.”
“All right,” he replied, his voice monotone. “Call me tonight, then? When you get a free minute from work?”
“I can’t go back to work until they’ve restored power to that side of town. And…as I recall, the workday is over at five, right?” She paused and winked at him. “It’s ten after. Why don’t you stay? Stay and take a long, hot shower, and let me make you some dinner? We’ll just sit and relax tonight. And, you know, if we fall asleep, we fall asleep. No big deal.”
Eric searched her eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to go to the trouble, it’s fine—“
“And then maybe you can tell me what’s bothering you all of a sudden.”
“It’s not, I’m not—I’m just tired, that’s all it is. I’m cranky when I’m tired.”
“I have fresh sheets and a spare razor,” she offered.
He smirked weakly and ran his hand over his chin. “Is it really that bad?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen hair grow so fast.”
Finally, he caved and he chuckled in amusement. “All right, fine. What’s on the menu?”
Juliet shrugged. “I don’t know. But you head into the shower and I’ll figure it out.” Then she scowled. “I can’t believe I had to talk you into this.”
“I’m exhausted,” he breathed.
“Did you take your--?”
“Yes.”
Note to self: don’t poke the bear.
“All right,” she said, taking in a breath. “Well, you know where the shower is. You just make yourself at home and take a load off and I’ll get dinner ready. Okay?”
Catching her hand, he pulled her close and rested his forehead against hers. “Jules,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
She smiled as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. “No need to thank me. You’re mine now. I try to take care of my things.”
He grinned at her, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. “Careful. I could get used to this.”
“Good,” she winked. “Now go. I’m starving.”
As Eric retreated to the bathroom, Juliet stood in the middle of her kitchen, looking around nervously. Cook? Could she cook? Yes, of course she could cook. It may have just dawned on her that she had never actually cooked for Eric before, but…but she could do it, right? She cooked well enough for herself, right? And when she was married, she cooked for…
“What the hell do you call this shit? It tastes like fucking cardboard.”
“But…but it’s your favorite—“
“The fuck it is. Since when?”
“Since…always…”
“Don’t you play mind games with me, you worthless little shit. Don’t you dare forget what I’ve done for you. No man in his right mind would ever touch a used-up piece of trash like you, so you better be grateful for what you got.”
Standing up from the table, he threw his plate across the room and then he grabbed Juliet by the hair and shoved her down into the broken mess. “Be a good wife for once and fix this shit. By the time I come back, I better be eating like the goddamn king I deserve to be treated like. You understand?”
She nodded through her sobs as his heavy work boots disappeared through the door.
Juliet was shaken out of her trance when she heard the shower turn on. Wiping the tears she hadn’t realized were falling, she quickly searched for a glass and a bottle of red and she drowned the unwelcome memory in three long gulps. Then she took a deep breath, blinked her eyes, and forced herself to remember that this was Eric. Even if her cooking tasted like shit, he would eat it with a smile. Because he was polite that way. Because he was kind and he was gentle and he was good.
Juliet could do this.
Rooting around in her kitchen, she decided that a trip to the market was most definitely a priority, but she was able to make do when she found some fresh spinach and mushrooms that still had a little life left in them. Grabbing a few of her favorite spices out of the cabinet, she had shoved a meatloaf into the oven by the time she heard Eric’s bare feet padding toward the kitchen.
Her heart skipped a beat as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, except that it skipped in the thrilling, exciting way it always did when she saw him—never in fear. His blonde hair was in a spiky, damp mess all over his head and his face was smooth and freshly clean-shaven. He wore a gray tee shirt and black track pants and she almost saw the relief in his face.
“Hey, handsome,” she smiled. “Feel better?”
“Tons,” he smiled back. “I smell like a woman, though.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell,” she winked. Then she grabbed a second glass and clasped her hand around the neck of the wine bottle. “Wine?” She caught herself as soon as the offer left her lips. “I mean, um—can you--?”
He smirked in amusement. “I can have a little, yeah. I’ve behaved myself.”
She felt flustered as the heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I mean, please don’t feel like I’m treating you like an invalid or—“
“Just pour the damn wine,” he chuckled.
As she busied herself, a curled up piece of stationary, covered in dust, landed on the counter. Slowing her pouring, she glanced up at Eric. “What’s this?”
“Did you know I had clothes here? I never realized I had left any. I just wandered around your room, naked, for a couple of minutes before I spied the basket in the corner. That’s where these came from.” He paused and pulled at his shirt, helping himself to the glass that Juliet had prepared. “Anyway, thought I’d poke around a bit, see if any more of my stuff was laying around and—would you look at that? When’s the last time you cleaned under your bed, anyway?”
Juliet’s hand shook as she picked the old paper up and unraveled it so that she could see it. She wanted to vomit as she read it.
"Good morning, beautiful--
You’re so beautiful when you sleep so I didn’t want to wake you. My brother, Travis, is a moron and had himself thrown in jail last night so I have to go pick him up. Last night was the absolute best night of my life. I’ve never met a woman quite like you before—you’re quite literally the woman of my dreams, I think. Call me when you wake up so that I can ask you on a real date. 555-0290 So sorry I had to rush out like this.
Yours,
Eric"
Juliet read the note fifty times over as her heart pounded in her chest.
The note. The godforsaken note, the piece of paper that started it all, the root of all evil, the culprit. If she had actually found this note on the morning that he wrote it, there was no telling where they might be at this moment. Would they have avoided all the trouble that followed? Would they be happy and hosting holiday parties together like Beth and Travis? Would she have run away when it was time to meet his family? Would she have quit therapy and had the fight with him that resulted in those words?
Would she have gone to therapy at all?
“Eric,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…”
“Nah,” he replied. His tone came across surprisingly laid back and she glanced up at his smirking lips and the sparkle in his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. I feel like I’m on top of the fucking world right now and that’s good enough for me.”
“But…but—“
“That’s what the old age-old feeling of ‘being right’ is like.” He winked at her. “I’ll be on the couch, basking in my own glory, if you need me.”
As he turned around and left the room, Juliet lifted her chin. Well, all right, then. She supposed she deserved that. And he deserved the opportunity to gloat. And now he also deserved the dinner she was about to serve him, in front of the TV, and the foot rub that she was going to begrudgingly surprise him with afterward.
Begrudgingly. Hah! She knew she would love every second of that damned foot rub as much as he would.
Rolling her eyes at herself and taking a deep breath, she picked up her own glass and followed him into her living room.
Something about him flipping channels with his feet on her coffee table made her want to smile. But she could still feel tension as she sat next to him and she didn’t know if it resonated from him or her own nervousness. Because she was extremely nervous. It was as if, all of a sudden, she didn’t know how she was supposed to act around him anymore.
“Eric,” she addressed him quietly, clasping her glass between her palms. “I’m so sorry about that note. Honestly. If I had known, if I had seen it—“
“It’s okay,” he replied. “It probably blew off of the table somehow before you were able to see it. It was pretty far up underneath the bed. I probably sneezed a half a dozen times as I went after it. I should have woken you up that day, though. Honestly. It was stupid on my part. I mean, who the hell writes notes anymore, anyway? Right?”
She shrugged her shoulders nervously. “But I love your notes.”
“Yeah?”
Juliet nodded.
“Did you know I’m addicted to Post-Its?”
Now she giggled. “I’m not surprised.”
“You shouldn’t be. I can go through a pad of those things in, like, a week.”
She grinned as she sipped her wine. “Maybe that’s what I should have gotten you for Christmas.”
“Next year,” he assured her.
“Eric,” she said again. “You wanna tell me what happened in the truck?”
He looked over at her blankly. “Nothing happened in the truck.”
“Yes, it did. We were talking about Travis and then you got…weird. And you’ve been weird ever since. And I’m pretty sure that, deep down, I know what it is, I just…I need to know.”
Letting out a breath, he ran his hand through his hair and then let it fall back onto his thigh. Then he looked at her, the strain returning to his face, and he sat his glass down onto the end table next to him. “You want the truth?”
She nodded.
“The truth is, maybe you’re not the only one who’s scared, here. And, yeah, you were right back there. About me wishing it was me. Because I always thought it would be. I thought I was at least light years ahead of him when it came to that. And then I met you. And, instantly, I wanted you to be that other half. That missing part of me that makes me whole, the one I hosted holiday parties with and shared secrets and—and all that stuff that Travis always hated. And I still do. That’s what I want in life, Jules. Those are my goals and—and I want them with you. But if I have to be honest with myself, I’m—I’m afraid that you’ll run. Again. I’m scared to death to get comfortable because I feel like I’m going to have to be prepared for the day when you’ll leave me again and I just—I’m sorry. But I’m afraid. That’s my fear. I know that we agreed to this, to trying this once and for all, but…what’s the life span on it? And that’s—yeah, I guess that’s it.”
Juliet swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked her wide eyes around the room. How was she supposed to feel about that? Hadn’t they talked this out already? Hadn’t they agreed to start over? Is that what had been going through his head for the past three days at the children’s home? His options?
“So…you’re pushing me away before we even have a chance because you’re already doubting me,” she concluded slowly.
“No,” he replied. “No, absolutely not, that’s not—“
“But it is. And I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve…I haven’t been as patient and understanding as I should have been. I get scared and I jump the gun. So I understand your fear. But I want this. I want you. I want to jump in blindly with both feet and leave it all up to my heart and I want…for us to overcome these fears. I want us to be the way we used to be with each other, free and happy. Weren’t we free and happy? I never had to talk you into staying like I had to tonight. Why doom this relationship before it’s even begun?”
“Then we have to learn to trust each other,” he said quietly.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Without a word, he leaned over and swept her hair off of her shoulder. Bringing her face to his, he kissed her gently and nudged her nose with his.
“For the record,” she whispered. “You’re the one who ran last time. Not me.”
“Noted.” Then he pulled his face away and he crinkled his brow. “What’s that smell?”
“Meatloaf.”
“You made meatloaf?”
“Mmhm,” she nodded. Then her eyes widened in alarm. “Why, does it smell bad?”
Suddenly, a loud rumbling came from between their bodies and they both looked down at Eric’s stomach. He laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” she replied, relieved. “My options were limited so I was thinking maybe potatoes with it?”
He smiled. “Potatoes are perfect.”
“Baked? Roasted…?”
“You know what I haven’t had in awhile?” He mused into the air. “Good old fried potatoes.”
She blinked at him. “Fried?”
“You’re from Kentucky. You never fried potatoes?”
“I’ve lived in New York for over ten years. I think I’ve forgotten how to fry everything.”
With a smile, he took her hand and he rose from the couch. “Come on. Let’s get some down south Louisiana in that kitchen of yours. I know some secret tricks of the trade that would make the taste buds leap right off your tongue.”
* * *
The next morning, Juliet awoke to a note.
And just to make sure she didn’t miss the note, it was wedged between her hand and the mattress beneath it.
"Good morning, beautiful,
Thought I’d give this note thing another try. If I’m not here when you wake up it’s because I’m at the market. Your kitchen is bone dry and I can’t make breakfast out of thin air. Also, don’t get up. Just be comfortable. I’ll come to you.
You know, on second thought, I have your number now. I could have just texted this to you instead. But you already said you love my notes so now you’re stuck with them. Guess I better stop before it turns into a letter.
Yours always,
The Stud In Your Kitchen"
The sleepy grin was so wide on her face that her cheeks nearly hurt. And then the aromas of bacon and coffee wafted into the room and she was even happier that she had slept through his shopping trip. She wasn’t quite ready to miss him, yet.
She thought the previous night, sleeping beside Eric, would be more difficult than it was. She anticipated high levels of sexual tension and having to fight Eric off and have an ongoing internal battle with herself, but it hadn’t turned out that way at all. In fact, by the time they had curled up together in her bed, it hadn’t taken long at all for sleep to overtake them.
Her sleep was deep, sound, and dreamless. Only once or twice did she wake up, feeling Eric’s strong arm wrapped securely around her, and smile into the darkness before closing her eyes once again. She was happy. For the first time, she was one hundred percent, completely and freely happy. She felt like she was floating on air.
But for now, she was ready to float to the kitchen.
She chose to behave, however. She had been given specific instructions and she intended to follow them. So she sat up in the bed, fluffed the pillows behind her, raked her fingers through her hair, and smoothed out the comforter across her lap. Just in the nick of time, Eric was carrying a steaming try through the doorway.
Her grin was a mile wide. “Eric! What is this?”
Sitting the tray on the bed across from her, he hopped over her and settled himself on the other side. As he adjusted the place settings for two, he smiled. “A proposal.”
The blood drained from her face. “A what?”
“A proposal,” he repeated. “This breakfast is to propose that we just stay right here in bed—all day. We can talk, we can watch movies, do crossword puzzles…work…” Then his eyes lit up. “We can even go over plans for your office building.”
This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening. Was this heaven? Was she dead?
“The—the building?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, since you shunned me, we haven’t gotten to directly discuss anything. And, according to your very explicit contract, I have full control of that project. Just thought you might like some updates. Or ideas…”
“Ideas…” she repeated warily as she bit off a piece of bacon.
“Coffee?” He offered her.
Accepting it, she sipped it, all while never taking her suspicious eyes off of him. She felt her brow furrowing over the coffee mug, but she didn’t care.
“What ideas?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replied, stirring the eggs around on his plate. “About the ground floor. Or any floor, really…”
She felt herself growing defensive. “Your company’s job is to erect the building, inside and out, according to the plans. It has nothing to do with what’s going on in the building. That’s my job.”
He glanced at her before he shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know,” he replied as he swallowed. “But…I mean, you’re moving because you’re expanding, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Expansion means new employees. Possibly new departments? Getting generally bigger.”
“Of course.”
“You have a lot of…female employees…”
“Eric,” she warned. “The only female employee you need concern yourself with is this one.”
A grin spread across his face. “I know. But I was thinking, have you ever thought of having a daycare in your building? You know, for those who have kids too young to go to school? I was—well, I was talking to Jason—“
“Yeah, about that—“
“And he was telling me about how finding childcare for his son was difficult during the summer months until he hired Clara. His office doesn’t offer childcare and he was having to pay exorbitant prices for daycares and summer camps and stuff. And I know you value your staff and you take good care of them. And I know you pride your company in being a great company to work for. So…don’t you think that having a daycare on campus would relieve so much stress off of some of your employees? And…in turn, they could be available more. You know, since they’re not rushing off to avoid late daycare fees?”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. I would love it. But daycares require special licenses and laws and rules—“
“And licensed, certified professionals to run them. So your building would probably have to meet a few specifications. All you have to do is tell me what they are and voila. Done. I’ll do anything you want, babe, you just gotta tell me what it is. Better to do it now than have to renovate after the fact, right?”
“Um. Well…”
Immediately, her mind went to Sarah, her current sales lead. She had gotten to know Sarah a little better as they were searching for a new receptionist and she learned that she was a single mother with a small daughter. A toddler. Juliet had seen pictures and she was like a little mini version of her mother with sweet, chubby cheeks. And then there was Sven. He and Marco had just adopted a child and she knew that daycare was a huge discussion for them recently. Maybe Eric was right. Maybe having an in-house daycare would ease a lot of tension and generate more quality productivity out of the employees.
Or would they constantly be in the daycare, checking on their children?
“I like the idea,” she said quietly. “I really do. I’ll have to discuss it with Beth first. We already have all these plans for all this space—“
“Just get back to me,” he smiled. “Like I said, anything you want. You got it. Okay?”
Anything she wanted, huh? At the moment, what she wanted didn’t involve work at all. It involved a gorgeous blonde with piercing blue eyes and a body that threatened to drop her panties every time she saw skin. She could never explain what it was about Eric that made her keep coming back the way she did. Why was he the only man in over ten years that she couldn’t get enough of? She’d been attracted to many men. Many men. But none of them had ever had the kind of hold on her that Eric Reynolds had. And, at this point, all she knew was that she never wanted him to let go. Ever.
She chewed her food in silence for a moment, her eyes drinking Eric in as he dove into his breakfast. He sat there with a leg tucked under his knee, shirtless, in nothing but his pair of black track pants from last night and, while he oozed sex while performing a task as simple as eating, something occurred to her and she had to wonder… “Eric? You went to the market, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered as he swallowed his food.
“So…then why are you shirtless?”
He smirked and she nearly melted. “You’ve never complained before.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” she replied, shaking her head rapidly. “That’s not what this is, I just…I mean, I don’t strip down when I cook…”
He glanced over her and arched an eyebrow. “Shame. If you made me meatloaf in your underwear, you’d wake up pregnant the next morning.”
“Eric, I can’t—“
“I know,” he said softly. “Wrong choice of words. But, damn, you turn me on. I can’t get enough of you, I’m not ashamed to say it.”
A shy smile crept across her face as she raised her coffee mug to her lips. He made her feel like an innocent virgin, the way he complimented her. The words hot, sexy, gorgeous, beautiful, and other creative synonyms flew into one ear and out the other so often over the years that she barely heard them anymore. But when Eric said them, it was the first time they ever actually meant anything. And it made Juliet blush every time.
“Eric,” she addressed him again quietly. “Breakfast is delicious. Thank you.”
He blushed and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not much. Nothing fancy—“
“But it is. Thank you for…for everything. For just being you. I’m a very lucky woman and not exactly deserving of the man that you are, I just…I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”
Reaching over, he took her hand and he squeezed it gently. His eyes bore meaningfully into hers and she was ready. She even shifted her weight so she could lean into his kiss easier.
“Babe,” he addressed her solemnly. No kiss? Where was the kiss? “We discussed this already. Meatloaf in your underwear. I don’t require much. If we’re going to be in this relationship, I’m going to need you to keep up a little better.”
She snorted a laugh. And then she covered her mouth and her nose in embarrassment. Finally, she replied, “Was it really that good?”
“I would have told you, but I was too busy shoveling it in. Sorry for not saying so last night. It was better than anything my grandmother—or my mother, for that matter—would have made. It was perfect and I loved it.”
“And you’re not just saying that…”
“Oh, baby, you know how much I love my food. I wouldn’t sugarcoat such a thing. What other specialties do you have up your sleeve?”
“Uh, well, that wasn’t really a specialty…”
He arched an unconvinced eyebrow.
“Stir fry in lingerie?”
He winked at her. “That’s my girl.”
Well, they always said that food was the way to man’s heart. Food, huh? Now that was something Juliet could do…
“NO,” TRAVIS OBJECTED as they sat with the party planner in her bright, spacious office with a view that overlooked Manhattan. It was a view Beth would have killed for. Large windows, panoramic view, right over top of Central Park...it was amazing.
But then, nothing really beat owning your own building, did it?
Elena Vasquez was the most sought-after event planner in New York and she was known for her take-no-prisoners work ethic. If you wanted it, and the price was right, you would have it if Elena had anything to do with it. So for her to be available to throw together a New Year’s Eve bash in a pinch was a near miracle.
The fact that she was a personal friend of Beth’s helped a little, too.
At the moment, the saucy Latina had flipped her gorgeous dark curls off of her shoulder and suggested a classy, sophisticated party with mood lighting and champagne. Beth was instantly on board. Travis…not so much.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he continued. I want to fucking throw down. It’s the biggest party of the year! We did Thanksgiving and we did Christmas your way. I want New Year’s Eve.” He turned his attention back to Elena. “I want, like, a huge fucking kegger and shit. All the beer, all the liquor, all of it. Maybe a deejay. Yeah, we need a good deejay…”
Beth rolled her eyes. A kegger with a deejay in a penthouse in the Upper East Side. If that didn’t spell out “Spoiled Rich Kid,” she didn’t know what did. It was a horrible idea. Beth didn’t “keg.” She didn’t “throw down.” Those years were already behind her. There were ways to throw a good party without turning it into a cheap frat party.
And so she used the voice.
“Are you sure that’s you what you want, baby?” She asked him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied excitedly, his hands waving around in the air. “I want gold everything. I want the hats, the noisemakers, everything you got. Ooh, hey, how do we get a ball to drop during the countdown like they do on TV?”
Elena looked bewildered. “Most people just go to Times Square…”
Beth cleared her throat and slid her hand into his. “Baby,” she repeated. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Slowly, he turned his head and met her eyes with a glare. “Seriously?”
The voice was a tactic that Beth had learned to use by accident one day. He had gone with her to see Manuel and as Manuel worked his magic on her trim, Travis had poked his head in the mirror and inquired about a mohawk. Beth thought Manuel would faint and Beth was having no part of that idea. And so she batted an eyelash or two at Travis and sweetly asked him, “Sweetheart, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
He’d blinked his eyes and sputtered for a moment. “Well, uh, I mean, it was just an idea…”
“Are you sure, though? I mean, it’s your hair, but I think you’re perfect just the way you are. That’s just my opinion, though.” And then she’d winked at him for an added bonus.
And, just like that, he was putty and he’d changed his mind. Pleased with her new skill, she used it any time she wanted to “sway” his opinion in her favor. She’d used it at dinner, for paint colors, clothes shopping…sex…
And, apparently, he was beginning to grow wise to it.
Damn it.
“This is my party,” he argued, hushed. “You said I could do this my way, that I could do whatever I wanted to do!”
“I just want to make sure that you’re extra sure that’s what you want, that’s all. This is your party, I just want to make sure it’s the best for you.”
“You want to make sure,” he clarified. “So you hate my idea, you think it’s shit.”
“I don’t…think it’s shit…”
“Yes, you do. You think you’re gonna pout your little lips and blink those doe eyes and you’re just gonna get your way. Well, not this time, sister. I got your number, I know how you operate.” He looked back at Elena and demanded, “Kegger. Disco ball.”
“Well...” she pouted. “I was just going to say, if we did a ball and a deejay, that would require space for both and we wouldn’t have room for my photo booth”
Turning to face her, Travis’s expression suddenly softened. Boom. Got him. She fought a grin.
“Oh, babe,” he said softly, taking her hand once more. “This is your party, too. What do you want?”
Beth and Elena cut eyes of quiet triumph at each other and, by the time it was over, the keg and the ball dropping had been replaced with a photo booth and a tasteful bartender with an array of beers on tap. Beer pong and corn hole had been replaced with a couple of card tables for poker and professional dealers would be hired. The deejay stayed, along with Travis’s request for hats and tiaras and noisemakers, and Beth had even suggested shooting fireworks from the balcony for good measure. Beth was happy, Travis was happy, and the party would be tasteful and amazing.
It was time, however, to change her tactics up a little.
But not soon enough. Because as soon as the couple stepped out into the overcast, bitter December air, Travis let loose. “You think I’m some kind of moron or something, don’t you?”
Beth stopped and she gaped at him. This wasn’t normal, inquisitive Travis. He was upset. Fully, one hundred percent upset. But at what?
“You do,” he continued. “What you did in there was fucking humiliating. Cutting my balls off like that? Jesus, Beth, I’d expect something like that from…from Juliet Carson or something, but not from you.”
And, in that moment, was when Beth realized that her time of the month was right on schedule—because her emotions came on full force.
She blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes all of a sudden. “What are you talking about?”
“You made me look like an idiot in front of that planner,” he accused her. “It’s just a stupid party. If I want to have fun the way I want to have fun with my boys, I reserve that right. I don’t need you sitting there, holding my hand. This is who I am, Beth. What you see is what you get. If that’s not good enough for you, well, then…”
Her jaw dropped and she felt it quiver. She didn’t even care. What was—what was he saying? Was he even making any sense? She couldn’t tell.
“Travis,” she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “What are you saying?”
He stared at her blankly, his hands shoved in his pockets, his loose hair blowing in the wind. She could see the regret on his face almost instantly. “Babe, I—I didn’t mean—“
She couldn’t stand there any longer. For various reasons, she had to get out of there. Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, she sniffed back the tears and ducked her head. “I have to go home,” she squeaked. And then she took off running past him.
“Beth!” He called after. “Baby, wait, come on!”
But she didn’t wait. She hailed herself a cab and got the hell out of dodge.
* * *
Once a month, a woman turns into the kind of crazy you read about in thriller novels or see on supernatural television shows. Emotions are heightened, melodramatics become the norm, and everything is either the end of the world or the highlight of your life. There’s never a happy medium and there’s never a warning. Like today, for instance. One minute you’re thrilled about the outcome of a planning session and the next minute you’re bawling your eyes out in the backseat of a taxi.
By the time Beth reached the penthouse, Travis wasn’t there. The first thing she did was make a beeline for the bathroom. As she took off her clothes to change into a much more comfortable cotton pajama set, she realized that her suspicion was on point and she cleaned herself up and took the necessary precautions. Once she felt slightly more human again, she directed herself to the kitchen.
The cramps were unbelievable. They’d started as soon as she’d stepped into the cab. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt her period come on quite this fast before, or maybe this was the first time she was actually paying attention to the process. She supposed it was easy to lose track of time when you found yourself stranded without power for two days in an orphanage because she sure hadn’t recognized the PMS when she’d had it.
But damn if her cycle wasn’t going to let her know it was there.
She stood at the counter and tossed a couple of painkillers down her throat, chugging the glass of water she held over the sink. Now that she was calm, and she had time to think, she was ashamed of herself. She should have let Travis have his party. She should never have been so selfish and manipulated him the way she did. And in front of Elena, no less. That wasn’t fair. Travis had always been fully and openly accepting of Beth and who she was, no matter what—including the time that she bled all over his sheets during sex. He’d stayed after that. He still wanted her after that disaster. He deserved better. So much better. Maybe she should just call Elena and change the whole thing back to the original plans.
And then the scene on the street. That was humiliating. But maybe she deserved to be humiliated. She’d only done it to herself, running away and hailing the cab like she did. Hell, she was sure that the only reason Travis would come home tonight was because it was his penthouse. She should probably see about taking her apartment off the market…
Speaking of Travis, she never heard him come in until she heard his voice behind her. “Beth,” he said softly.
Turning around to face him, she sat her glass on the counter and observed the way he had already shed his shoes and his coat. But the most unmistakable observation was the massive bouquet of roses he held in his hand.
Her heart melted.
“Baby,” he said, the pain all over his face. “What I said earlier, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s not—it’s not what I meant.”
“Travis,” she squeaked. And then she snorted her tears back, a loud, honking, ugly snort, but she refused to care. “I should have bought you roses!”
“What?”
She held her arms out for him as she burst into tears and he crossed the kitchen in two giant steps, laying the roses on the counter beside her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She soaked his shirt as she sobbed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I should have let you have your party! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way and I don’t feel that way about you at all and I’m sorry for the way I humiliated you on the street and I’m just—I don’t want to lose you, Travis!”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the top of her head as he smoothed her hair down her back. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. And you’re not losing me or anything—well, except maybe your apartment. I found a buyer, I think. So you’re trapped, you’re stuck with me now.”
Finally, her tears began to dry up and she hiccupped as she wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Let’s call Elena and tell her we want to change the party. I’m sure she can find you some kind of disco ball somewhere, it shouldn’t be difficult—“
“No,” he shook his head. “No, you were right. You probably just saved me from a world of ridicule with that party. I’m twenty-seven years old. I can’t keep throwing the same parties I threw when I was twenty, you know? And, hey, I like poker. Poker’s fun. And the photo booth will be fun.”
“There will be costumes and funny hats and everything,” she offered.
“Exactly,” he grinned. “It’ll be a blast. Hey, I think we’re going to turn into ‘that’ couple that throws that awesome annual party each holiday, what do you think?”
“It’s everything I ever wanted,” she whispered. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”
His lips crashed into hers and suddenly all was right with the world. Pulling her body tighter against his, there was a warmth and a safety in him that was even more addicting than his kiss was. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow steamy and it was while her hands were tangled in his hair when he tore his lips away and whispered, “Come on, let’s take this into the bedroom. Hot make-up sex is just what the doctor ordered.”
Regretfully, she let out a sigh and shook her head. “I can’t. I got my period today.”
“Aw, man,” he whined. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” she nodded. “It’s why I’m such a mess like this.” She paused and studied his face for a moment, a smile creeping across her lips. “But, hey, you know what? That doesn’t mean that I can’t take care of you.”
The moment her hands dropped to the button of his jeans, his hands wrapped around her wrists almost instantly. Startled, she looked curiously up at him.
“You know what?” He said. “You don’t have to do that.”
Confusion set in. “But—but you just—I thought—“
“No,” he shook his head. “Why don’t I just—let me take care of you tonight. That’s what I want.” He brought her hands back up and draped them around his neck. “Why don’t I run you a bath? A long, hot bubble bath. I’ll wash your back. And then we can spend the rest of the night in bed. I’ll pour you some champagne, massage your feet…”
“I love foot massages,” she whispered.
“I know,” he smiled.
“Travis, you don’t have to do all that, I was the one who was in the wrong today.”
“It doesn’t matter who was in the wrong with anything. This isn’t about that. This is about you. This is about me just wanting to take care of you. About me wanting you to be happy.” He took her face in his hands. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t know how lost I was until I met you. And I’d still be lost if I didn’t have you now. And today? Today you took care of me. You keep me in check when I start to lose my mind and today—I was going to invite my friends—CEO’s and PR reps and bankers—to a kegger to ring in the new year. But you turned it around and made it tasteful and fun. You complete me, Beth. You’re the part of me that was missing and I don’t ever want to let you go.”
She looked up at him with stars in her eyes. God, she loved him. And she wanted to tell him so bad, but she just couldn’t take the chance and rock the boat. Not yet. She had a feeling he already knew anyway, they’d danced around it for awhile now. But those words, those three words, those were permanent once they were said. And she wanted to make sure Travis was ready for them.
So she smiled coyly. “Well, you already sold my apartment out from underneath me.”
“That’s right,” he grinned. “I did. Actually, I may have technically kidnapped you…”
“Or maybe I simply ran away from home,” she suggested.
“Maybe you were already lost. Maybe now you’ve found your way back home. Maybe we both just found our way home.”
“Yeah. I like that.” Tightening her arms around his neck, she nudged his nose with hers. “Travis? If I wasn’t around, what would you be doing for New Year’s Eve?”
“Honestly? I’d probably be in a bar somewhere, peeling Eric off the floor. You?”
Beth shrugged. “Juliet and I usually just winged it. There was always a party somewhere. This year, though. This year will be my favorite.”
“Yeah,” Travis smiled. “At least I can peel Eric off of my own floor and then ring in the new year with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve never done that before.”
“Travis, is Eric…I mean, is it really that bad?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I mean, he barely drank anything at the Christmas party. And he’s with Juliet now, so…hey, maybe I won’t have to peel him off of anything for the first time. This will be the best new year’s yet!”
As that marked the end of the conversation, the pair of them headed toward the bathroom, the painkillers finally starting to work their magic and making Beth a little more comfortable.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say the words. From the moment he poured the bubbles into her bath, to the moment he brought her pudding in bed, and until the very last moment of the night when he turned out the bedroom lights and wrapped her in his arms, she wanted to say the words. Except that it was fear that kept them in, and so she stayed silent.
The words would just have to remain blissfully unspoken for another day.
THE CHILDREN’S HOME ended up being out of power for two and a half days. It was a lot better than expected but, after the end of day one, Juliet was a nervous wreck. She was supposed to be back at work. There were clients in other counties and other states who weren’t snowed in. They were operating on a regular schedule and some may not wait for her. While her days were spent taking care of children, the nights were for catching up on as much work as she could through her cell phone, which mainly consisted of correspondence through email and a couple of phone calls.
She supposed Eric thought it would be different.
The truth was it was difficult to have a serious conversation about the design of an Italian restaurant while she was wrapped up in Eric’s arms. The beating of his heart, the sound of his breathing, his intoxicating scent…it was all too much. So she curled up on the opposite end of the couch so she could work.
He was aggravated. She could tell. But this was her business. Her livelihood. There wasn’t anyone else to pawn the work off on—it was her work.
By the time she would finish he would be fast asleep, wrapped up in a makeshift bed, feet away from her. They couldn’t sleep next to each other, not in the open where the children could see them.
First thing on the third morning, they’d had their first argument since their reunion.
Eric was frustrated with the entire situation. “I thought you were my girlfriend,” he lamented. “We’re fucking snowed in. You can’t even choose to spend five minutes of that time with me? We literally have nowhere else to go right now.”
It was the cabin fever. Juliet knew it was. It was cabin fever and thirty children and a fire that constantly had to stay going. He was tired, his nutrition wasn’t at its best, and Juliet couldn’t blame him for his outburst.
So she spent the next half hour with him in the back of his truck.
As he zipped himself back up and let out a sigh of relief, he reached for her and pulled her next to him. “I thought you said no sex?”
“That wasn’t sex. That was…apparently something you needed.”
“That’s not all I need,” he smirked.
“You were lucky to get that.”
“Come on, baby,” he coaxed seductively. “What about what you need?”
Shit. What she needed would require more room than the cramped back seat of a 2015 Ford Atlas could provide, that was for sure.
So she smiled. “You’re happy, that’s what I needed. Now maybe you’ll stop stressing me out so much.”
He blinked at her, his eyes wide with shock. Well, okay. That was a little harsh, Juliet had to admit. But with so much on her mind at the moment, she really didn’t have time to listen to Eric whine at her.
Besides, it wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed herself.
By the time the power was restored, Juliet was more than ready to go home and curl up in her own bed. But first, she needed to send a company-wide email and then schedule a meeting with a restaurant owner. At least.
Once they made sure that they were no longer needed at the children’s home, Eric and Juliet set out on the still-questionable roads. This time, however, Eric did nothing but chatter about the New Year’s Eve party that Travis and Beth were throwing.
“It’s…weird,” he mused. “Well, maybe weird is a strong word, but different, I guess. I’ve never seen this side of Travis. I guess I just assumed that he never really had it in him. All of a sudden, he’s living with a woman and hosting holiday parties and being charitable and…Jules, that whole deal with the generator? The old Travis would have never done that shit. He hates New York and he hates winter. And now he’s living in a penthouse he’d been trying to sell and he dresses for work when he’s not out on a worksite. It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Maybe not crazy,” Juliet replied. “Maybe he just finally grew up.”
“Maybe. I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m happy about it. For him, I mean. He needed this. I just…” Eric’s voice trailed off. “I don’t know,” he breathed.
His tone had changed and now Juliet’s nerves were set off. He just what?
“What is it?” She asked gently.
Reaching over, he slid his hand into hers and smiled. “Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. She knew what it was. And she didn’t know whether to be hurt or offended or guilty or anything, really. “You always thought that would be you,” she replied quietly.
Eric let out a breath. “It sounds worse when you say it out loud.”
“Well, I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. I mean, everybody wants that, right?”
“Do they?” He blurted accusingly.
“Of course,” she whispered. Then she let go of his hand. She sensed an argument coming and she wasn’t in the mood for it. She didn’t really know exactly where it was coming from, but she sensed his sudden brooding. So she said, “Will you please take me home?”
He didn’t breathe a word as he avoided the turn he would have had to make to get to his apartment.
Several minutes later, he was standing inside her door as she removed her coat and shoes. He’d barely spoken two words since the mood had changed in the truck.
Approaching him, she took him by the hands and circled her thumbs over the backs of them, a last-ditch effort to find a way to lighten the tension. “We’ve had an exhausting, stressful couple of days. I think we need a little bit of time to chill out and regroup.”
“All right,” he replied, his voice monotone. “Call me tonight, then? When you get a free minute from work?”
“I can’t go back to work until they’ve restored power to that side of town. And…as I recall, the workday is over at five, right?” She paused and winked at him. “It’s ten after. Why don’t you stay? Stay and take a long, hot shower, and let me make you some dinner? We’ll just sit and relax tonight. And, you know, if we fall asleep, we fall asleep. No big deal.”
Eric searched her eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to go to the trouble, it’s fine—“
“And then maybe you can tell me what’s bothering you all of a sudden.”
“It’s not, I’m not—I’m just tired, that’s all it is. I’m cranky when I’m tired.”
“I have fresh sheets and a spare razor,” she offered.
He smirked weakly and ran his hand over his chin. “Is it really that bad?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen hair grow so fast.”
Finally, he caved and he chuckled in amusement. “All right, fine. What’s on the menu?”
Juliet shrugged. “I don’t know. But you head into the shower and I’ll figure it out.” Then she scowled. “I can’t believe I had to talk you into this.”
“I’m exhausted,” he breathed.
“Did you take your--?”
“Yes.”
Note to self: don’t poke the bear.
“All right,” she said, taking in a breath. “Well, you know where the shower is. You just make yourself at home and take a load off and I’ll get dinner ready. Okay?”
Catching her hand, he pulled her close and rested his forehead against hers. “Jules,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
She smiled as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. “No need to thank me. You’re mine now. I try to take care of my things.”
He grinned at her, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. “Careful. I could get used to this.”
“Good,” she winked. “Now go. I’m starving.”
As Eric retreated to the bathroom, Juliet stood in the middle of her kitchen, looking around nervously. Cook? Could she cook? Yes, of course she could cook. It may have just dawned on her that she had never actually cooked for Eric before, but…but she could do it, right? She cooked well enough for herself, right? And when she was married, she cooked for…
“What the hell do you call this shit? It tastes like fucking cardboard.”
“But…but it’s your favorite—“
“The fuck it is. Since when?”
“Since…always…”
“Don’t you play mind games with me, you worthless little shit. Don’t you dare forget what I’ve done for you. No man in his right mind would ever touch a used-up piece of trash like you, so you better be grateful for what you got.”
Standing up from the table, he threw his plate across the room and then he grabbed Juliet by the hair and shoved her down into the broken mess. “Be a good wife for once and fix this shit. By the time I come back, I better be eating like the goddamn king I deserve to be treated like. You understand?”
She nodded through her sobs as his heavy work boots disappeared through the door.
Juliet was shaken out of her trance when she heard the shower turn on. Wiping the tears she hadn’t realized were falling, she quickly searched for a glass and a bottle of red and she drowned the unwelcome memory in three long gulps. Then she took a deep breath, blinked her eyes, and forced herself to remember that this was Eric. Even if her cooking tasted like shit, he would eat it with a smile. Because he was polite that way. Because he was kind and he was gentle and he was good.
Juliet could do this.
Rooting around in her kitchen, she decided that a trip to the market was most definitely a priority, but she was able to make do when she found some fresh spinach and mushrooms that still had a little life left in them. Grabbing a few of her favorite spices out of the cabinet, she had shoved a meatloaf into the oven by the time she heard Eric’s bare feet padding toward the kitchen.
Her heart skipped a beat as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, except that it skipped in the thrilling, exciting way it always did when she saw him—never in fear. His blonde hair was in a spiky, damp mess all over his head and his face was smooth and freshly clean-shaven. He wore a gray tee shirt and black track pants and she almost saw the relief in his face.
“Hey, handsome,” she smiled. “Feel better?”
“Tons,” he smiled back. “I smell like a woman, though.”
“It’s okay, I won’t tell,” she winked. Then she grabbed a second glass and clasped her hand around the neck of the wine bottle. “Wine?” She caught herself as soon as the offer left her lips. “I mean, um—can you--?”
He smirked in amusement. “I can have a little, yeah. I’ve behaved myself.”
She felt flustered as the heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I mean, please don’t feel like I’m treating you like an invalid or—“
“Just pour the damn wine,” he chuckled.
As she busied herself, a curled up piece of stationary, covered in dust, landed on the counter. Slowing her pouring, she glanced up at Eric. “What’s this?”
“Did you know I had clothes here? I never realized I had left any. I just wandered around your room, naked, for a couple of minutes before I spied the basket in the corner. That’s where these came from.” He paused and pulled at his shirt, helping himself to the glass that Juliet had prepared. “Anyway, thought I’d poke around a bit, see if any more of my stuff was laying around and—would you look at that? When’s the last time you cleaned under your bed, anyway?”
Juliet’s hand shook as she picked the old paper up and unraveled it so that she could see it. She wanted to vomit as she read it.
"Good morning, beautiful--
You’re so beautiful when you sleep so I didn’t want to wake you. My brother, Travis, is a moron and had himself thrown in jail last night so I have to go pick him up. Last night was the absolute best night of my life. I’ve never met a woman quite like you before—you’re quite literally the woman of my dreams, I think. Call me when you wake up so that I can ask you on a real date. 555-0290 So sorry I had to rush out like this.
Yours,
Eric"
Juliet read the note fifty times over as her heart pounded in her chest.
The note. The godforsaken note, the piece of paper that started it all, the root of all evil, the culprit. If she had actually found this note on the morning that he wrote it, there was no telling where they might be at this moment. Would they have avoided all the trouble that followed? Would they be happy and hosting holiday parties together like Beth and Travis? Would she have run away when it was time to meet his family? Would she have quit therapy and had the fight with him that resulted in those words?
Would she have gone to therapy at all?
“Eric,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…”
“Nah,” he replied. His tone came across surprisingly laid back and she glanced up at his smirking lips and the sparkle in his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. I feel like I’m on top of the fucking world right now and that’s good enough for me.”
“But…but—“
“That’s what the old age-old feeling of ‘being right’ is like.” He winked at her. “I’ll be on the couch, basking in my own glory, if you need me.”
As he turned around and left the room, Juliet lifted her chin. Well, all right, then. She supposed she deserved that. And he deserved the opportunity to gloat. And now he also deserved the dinner she was about to serve him, in front of the TV, and the foot rub that she was going to begrudgingly surprise him with afterward.
Begrudgingly. Hah! She knew she would love every second of that damned foot rub as much as he would.
Rolling her eyes at herself and taking a deep breath, she picked up her own glass and followed him into her living room.
Something about him flipping channels with his feet on her coffee table made her want to smile. But she could still feel tension as she sat next to him and she didn’t know if it resonated from him or her own nervousness. Because she was extremely nervous. It was as if, all of a sudden, she didn’t know how she was supposed to act around him anymore.
“Eric,” she addressed him quietly, clasping her glass between her palms. “I’m so sorry about that note. Honestly. If I had known, if I had seen it—“
“It’s okay,” he replied. “It probably blew off of the table somehow before you were able to see it. It was pretty far up underneath the bed. I probably sneezed a half a dozen times as I went after it. I should have woken you up that day, though. Honestly. It was stupid on my part. I mean, who the hell writes notes anymore, anyway? Right?”
She shrugged her shoulders nervously. “But I love your notes.”
“Yeah?”
Juliet nodded.
“Did you know I’m addicted to Post-Its?”
Now she giggled. “I’m not surprised.”
“You shouldn’t be. I can go through a pad of those things in, like, a week.”
She grinned as she sipped her wine. “Maybe that’s what I should have gotten you for Christmas.”
“Next year,” he assured her.
“Eric,” she said again. “You wanna tell me what happened in the truck?”
He looked over at her blankly. “Nothing happened in the truck.”
“Yes, it did. We were talking about Travis and then you got…weird. And you’ve been weird ever since. And I’m pretty sure that, deep down, I know what it is, I just…I need to know.”
Letting out a breath, he ran his hand through his hair and then let it fall back onto his thigh. Then he looked at her, the strain returning to his face, and he sat his glass down onto the end table next to him. “You want the truth?”
She nodded.
“The truth is, maybe you’re not the only one who’s scared, here. And, yeah, you were right back there. About me wishing it was me. Because I always thought it would be. I thought I was at least light years ahead of him when it came to that. And then I met you. And, instantly, I wanted you to be that other half. That missing part of me that makes me whole, the one I hosted holiday parties with and shared secrets and—and all that stuff that Travis always hated. And I still do. That’s what I want in life, Jules. Those are my goals and—and I want them with you. But if I have to be honest with myself, I’m—I’m afraid that you’ll run. Again. I’m scared to death to get comfortable because I feel like I’m going to have to be prepared for the day when you’ll leave me again and I just—I’m sorry. But I’m afraid. That’s my fear. I know that we agreed to this, to trying this once and for all, but…what’s the life span on it? And that’s—yeah, I guess that’s it.”
Juliet swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked her wide eyes around the room. How was she supposed to feel about that? Hadn’t they talked this out already? Hadn’t they agreed to start over? Is that what had been going through his head for the past three days at the children’s home? His options?
“So…you’re pushing me away before we even have a chance because you’re already doubting me,” she concluded slowly.
“No,” he replied. “No, absolutely not, that’s not—“
“But it is. And I get it. I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve…I haven’t been as patient and understanding as I should have been. I get scared and I jump the gun. So I understand your fear. But I want this. I want you. I want to jump in blindly with both feet and leave it all up to my heart and I want…for us to overcome these fears. I want us to be the way we used to be with each other, free and happy. Weren’t we free and happy? I never had to talk you into staying like I had to tonight. Why doom this relationship before it’s even begun?”
“Then we have to learn to trust each other,” he said quietly.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Without a word, he leaned over and swept her hair off of her shoulder. Bringing her face to his, he kissed her gently and nudged her nose with his.
“For the record,” she whispered. “You’re the one who ran last time. Not me.”
“Noted.” Then he pulled his face away and he crinkled his brow. “What’s that smell?”
“Meatloaf.”
“You made meatloaf?”
“Mmhm,” she nodded. Then her eyes widened in alarm. “Why, does it smell bad?”
Suddenly, a loud rumbling came from between their bodies and they both looked down at Eric’s stomach. He laughed. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” she replied, relieved. “My options were limited so I was thinking maybe potatoes with it?”
He smiled. “Potatoes are perfect.”
“Baked? Roasted…?”
“You know what I haven’t had in awhile?” He mused into the air. “Good old fried potatoes.”
She blinked at him. “Fried?”
“You’re from Kentucky. You never fried potatoes?”
“I’ve lived in New York for over ten years. I think I’ve forgotten how to fry everything.”
With a smile, he took her hand and he rose from the couch. “Come on. Let’s get some down south Louisiana in that kitchen of yours. I know some secret tricks of the trade that would make the taste buds leap right off your tongue.”
* * *
The next morning, Juliet awoke to a note.
And just to make sure she didn’t miss the note, it was wedged between her hand and the mattress beneath it.
"Good morning, beautiful,
Thought I’d give this note thing another try. If I’m not here when you wake up it’s because I’m at the market. Your kitchen is bone dry and I can’t make breakfast out of thin air. Also, don’t get up. Just be comfortable. I’ll come to you.
You know, on second thought, I have your number now. I could have just texted this to you instead. But you already said you love my notes so now you’re stuck with them. Guess I better stop before it turns into a letter.
Yours always,
The Stud In Your Kitchen"
The sleepy grin was so wide on her face that her cheeks nearly hurt. And then the aromas of bacon and coffee wafted into the room and she was even happier that she had slept through his shopping trip. She wasn’t quite ready to miss him, yet.
She thought the previous night, sleeping beside Eric, would be more difficult than it was. She anticipated high levels of sexual tension and having to fight Eric off and have an ongoing internal battle with herself, but it hadn’t turned out that way at all. In fact, by the time they had curled up together in her bed, it hadn’t taken long at all for sleep to overtake them.
Her sleep was deep, sound, and dreamless. Only once or twice did she wake up, feeling Eric’s strong arm wrapped securely around her, and smile into the darkness before closing her eyes once again. She was happy. For the first time, she was one hundred percent, completely and freely happy. She felt like she was floating on air.
But for now, she was ready to float to the kitchen.
She chose to behave, however. She had been given specific instructions and she intended to follow them. So she sat up in the bed, fluffed the pillows behind her, raked her fingers through her hair, and smoothed out the comforter across her lap. Just in the nick of time, Eric was carrying a steaming try through the doorway.
Her grin was a mile wide. “Eric! What is this?”
Sitting the tray on the bed across from her, he hopped over her and settled himself on the other side. As he adjusted the place settings for two, he smiled. “A proposal.”
The blood drained from her face. “A what?”
“A proposal,” he repeated. “This breakfast is to propose that we just stay right here in bed—all day. We can talk, we can watch movies, do crossword puzzles…work…” Then his eyes lit up. “We can even go over plans for your office building.”
This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening. Was this heaven? Was she dead?
“The—the building?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, since you shunned me, we haven’t gotten to directly discuss anything. And, according to your very explicit contract, I have full control of that project. Just thought you might like some updates. Or ideas…”
“Ideas…” she repeated warily as she bit off a piece of bacon.
“Coffee?” He offered her.
Accepting it, she sipped it, all while never taking her suspicious eyes off of him. She felt her brow furrowing over the coffee mug, but she didn’t care.
“What ideas?”
“Uh, yeah,” he replied, stirring the eggs around on his plate. “About the ground floor. Or any floor, really…”
She felt herself growing defensive. “Your company’s job is to erect the building, inside and out, according to the plans. It has nothing to do with what’s going on in the building. That’s my job.”
He glanced at her before he shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “I know,” he replied as he swallowed. “But…I mean, you’re moving because you’re expanding, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Expansion means new employees. Possibly new departments? Getting generally bigger.”
“Of course.”
“You have a lot of…female employees…”
“Eric,” she warned. “The only female employee you need concern yourself with is this one.”
A grin spread across his face. “I know. But I was thinking, have you ever thought of having a daycare in your building? You know, for those who have kids too young to go to school? I was—well, I was talking to Jason—“
“Yeah, about that—“
“And he was telling me about how finding childcare for his son was difficult during the summer months until he hired Clara. His office doesn’t offer childcare and he was having to pay exorbitant prices for daycares and summer camps and stuff. And I know you value your staff and you take good care of them. And I know you pride your company in being a great company to work for. So…don’t you think that having a daycare on campus would relieve so much stress off of some of your employees? And…in turn, they could be available more. You know, since they’re not rushing off to avoid late daycare fees?”
“Of course I’ve thought about it. I would love it. But daycares require special licenses and laws and rules—“
“And licensed, certified professionals to run them. So your building would probably have to meet a few specifications. All you have to do is tell me what they are and voila. Done. I’ll do anything you want, babe, you just gotta tell me what it is. Better to do it now than have to renovate after the fact, right?”
“Um. Well…”
Immediately, her mind went to Sarah, her current sales lead. She had gotten to know Sarah a little better as they were searching for a new receptionist and she learned that she was a single mother with a small daughter. A toddler. Juliet had seen pictures and she was like a little mini version of her mother with sweet, chubby cheeks. And then there was Sven. He and Marco had just adopted a child and she knew that daycare was a huge discussion for them recently. Maybe Eric was right. Maybe having an in-house daycare would ease a lot of tension and generate more quality productivity out of the employees.
Or would they constantly be in the daycare, checking on their children?
“I like the idea,” she said quietly. “I really do. I’ll have to discuss it with Beth first. We already have all these plans for all this space—“
“Just get back to me,” he smiled. “Like I said, anything you want. You got it. Okay?”
Anything she wanted, huh? At the moment, what she wanted didn’t involve work at all. It involved a gorgeous blonde with piercing blue eyes and a body that threatened to drop her panties every time she saw skin. She could never explain what it was about Eric that made her keep coming back the way she did. Why was he the only man in over ten years that she couldn’t get enough of? She’d been attracted to many men. Many men. But none of them had ever had the kind of hold on her that Eric Reynolds had. And, at this point, all she knew was that she never wanted him to let go. Ever.
She chewed her food in silence for a moment, her eyes drinking Eric in as he dove into his breakfast. He sat there with a leg tucked under his knee, shirtless, in nothing but his pair of black track pants from last night and, while he oozed sex while performing a task as simple as eating, something occurred to her and she had to wonder… “Eric? You went to the market, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered as he swallowed his food.
“So…then why are you shirtless?”
He smirked and she nearly melted. “You’ve never complained before.”
“Oh, I’m not complaining,” she replied, shaking her head rapidly. “That’s not what this is, I just…I mean, I don’t strip down when I cook…”
He glanced over her and arched an eyebrow. “Shame. If you made me meatloaf in your underwear, you’d wake up pregnant the next morning.”
“Eric, I can’t—“
“I know,” he said softly. “Wrong choice of words. But, damn, you turn me on. I can’t get enough of you, I’m not ashamed to say it.”
A shy smile crept across her face as she raised her coffee mug to her lips. He made her feel like an innocent virgin, the way he complimented her. The words hot, sexy, gorgeous, beautiful, and other creative synonyms flew into one ear and out the other so often over the years that she barely heard them anymore. But when Eric said them, it was the first time they ever actually meant anything. And it made Juliet blush every time.
“Eric,” she addressed him again quietly. “Breakfast is delicious. Thank you.”
He blushed and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s not much. Nothing fancy—“
“But it is. Thank you for…for everything. For just being you. I’m a very lucky woman and not exactly deserving of the man that you are, I just…I just want you to know how much you mean to me.”
Reaching over, he took her hand and he squeezed it gently. His eyes bore meaningfully into hers and she was ready. She even shifted her weight so she could lean into his kiss easier.
“Babe,” he addressed her solemnly. No kiss? Where was the kiss? “We discussed this already. Meatloaf in your underwear. I don’t require much. If we’re going to be in this relationship, I’m going to need you to keep up a little better.”
She snorted a laugh. And then she covered her mouth and her nose in embarrassment. Finally, she replied, “Was it really that good?”
“I would have told you, but I was too busy shoveling it in. Sorry for not saying so last night. It was better than anything my grandmother—or my mother, for that matter—would have made. It was perfect and I loved it.”
“And you’re not just saying that…”
“Oh, baby, you know how much I love my food. I wouldn’t sugarcoat such a thing. What other specialties do you have up your sleeve?”
“Uh, well, that wasn’t really a specialty…”
He arched an unconvinced eyebrow.
“Stir fry in lingerie?”
He winked at her. “That’s my girl.”
Well, they always said that food was the way to man’s heart. Food, huh? Now that was something Juliet could do…
“NO,” TRAVIS OBJECTED as they sat with the party planner in her bright, spacious office with a view that overlooked Manhattan. It was a view Beth would have killed for. Large windows, panoramic view, right over top of Central Park...it was amazing.
But then, nothing really beat owning your own building, did it?
Elena Vasquez was the most sought-after event planner in New York and she was known for her take-no-prisoners work ethic. If you wanted it, and the price was right, you would have it if Elena had anything to do with it. So for her to be available to throw together a New Year’s Eve bash in a pinch was a near miracle.
The fact that she was a personal friend of Beth’s helped a little, too.
At the moment, the saucy Latina had flipped her gorgeous dark curls off of her shoulder and suggested a classy, sophisticated party with mood lighting and champagne. Beth was instantly on board. Travis…not so much.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he continued. I want to fucking throw down. It’s the biggest party of the year! We did Thanksgiving and we did Christmas your way. I want New Year’s Eve.” He turned his attention back to Elena. “I want, like, a huge fucking kegger and shit. All the beer, all the liquor, all of it. Maybe a deejay. Yeah, we need a good deejay…”
Beth rolled her eyes. A kegger with a deejay in a penthouse in the Upper East Side. If that didn’t spell out “Spoiled Rich Kid,” she didn’t know what did. It was a horrible idea. Beth didn’t “keg.” She didn’t “throw down.” Those years were already behind her. There were ways to throw a good party without turning it into a cheap frat party.
And so she used the voice.
“Are you sure that’s you what you want, baby?” She asked him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied excitedly, his hands waving around in the air. “I want gold everything. I want the hats, the noisemakers, everything you got. Ooh, hey, how do we get a ball to drop during the countdown like they do on TV?”
Elena looked bewildered. “Most people just go to Times Square…”
Beth cleared her throat and slid her hand into his. “Baby,” she repeated. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Slowly, he turned his head and met her eyes with a glare. “Seriously?”
The voice was a tactic that Beth had learned to use by accident one day. He had gone with her to see Manuel and as Manuel worked his magic on her trim, Travis had poked his head in the mirror and inquired about a mohawk. Beth thought Manuel would faint and Beth was having no part of that idea. And so she batted an eyelash or two at Travis and sweetly asked him, “Sweetheart, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
He’d blinked his eyes and sputtered for a moment. “Well, uh, I mean, it was just an idea…”
“Are you sure, though? I mean, it’s your hair, but I think you’re perfect just the way you are. That’s just my opinion, though.” And then she’d winked at him for an added bonus.
And, just like that, he was putty and he’d changed his mind. Pleased with her new skill, she used it any time she wanted to “sway” his opinion in her favor. She’d used it at dinner, for paint colors, clothes shopping…sex…
And, apparently, he was beginning to grow wise to it.
Damn it.
“This is my party,” he argued, hushed. “You said I could do this my way, that I could do whatever I wanted to do!”
“I just want to make sure that you’re extra sure that’s what you want, that’s all. This is your party, I just want to make sure it’s the best for you.”
“You want to make sure,” he clarified. “So you hate my idea, you think it’s shit.”
“I don’t…think it’s shit…”
“Yes, you do. You think you’re gonna pout your little lips and blink those doe eyes and you’re just gonna get your way. Well, not this time, sister. I got your number, I know how you operate.” He looked back at Elena and demanded, “Kegger. Disco ball.”
“Well...” she pouted. “I was just going to say, if we did a ball and a deejay, that would require space for both and we wouldn’t have room for my photo booth”
Turning to face her, Travis’s expression suddenly softened. Boom. Got him. She fought a grin.
“Oh, babe,” he said softly, taking her hand once more. “This is your party, too. What do you want?”
Beth and Elena cut eyes of quiet triumph at each other and, by the time it was over, the keg and the ball dropping had been replaced with a photo booth and a tasteful bartender with an array of beers on tap. Beer pong and corn hole had been replaced with a couple of card tables for poker and professional dealers would be hired. The deejay stayed, along with Travis’s request for hats and tiaras and noisemakers, and Beth had even suggested shooting fireworks from the balcony for good measure. Beth was happy, Travis was happy, and the party would be tasteful and amazing.
It was time, however, to change her tactics up a little.
But not soon enough. Because as soon as the couple stepped out into the overcast, bitter December air, Travis let loose. “You think I’m some kind of moron or something, don’t you?”
Beth stopped and she gaped at him. This wasn’t normal, inquisitive Travis. He was upset. Fully, one hundred percent upset. But at what?
“You do,” he continued. “What you did in there was fucking humiliating. Cutting my balls off like that? Jesus, Beth, I’d expect something like that from…from Juliet Carson or something, but not from you.”
And, in that moment, was when Beth realized that her time of the month was right on schedule—because her emotions came on full force.
She blinked away the tears that sprang to her eyes all of a sudden. “What are you talking about?”
“You made me look like an idiot in front of that planner,” he accused her. “It’s just a stupid party. If I want to have fun the way I want to have fun with my boys, I reserve that right. I don’t need you sitting there, holding my hand. This is who I am, Beth. What you see is what you get. If that’s not good enough for you, well, then…”
Her jaw dropped and she felt it quiver. She didn’t even care. What was—what was he saying? Was he even making any sense? She couldn’t tell.
“Travis,” she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “What are you saying?”
He stared at her blankly, his hands shoved in his pockets, his loose hair blowing in the wind. She could see the regret on his face almost instantly. “Babe, I—I didn’t mean—“
She couldn’t stand there any longer. For various reasons, she had to get out of there. Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, she sniffed back the tears and ducked her head. “I have to go home,” she squeaked. And then she took off running past him.
“Beth!” He called after. “Baby, wait, come on!”
But she didn’t wait. She hailed herself a cab and got the hell out of dodge.
* * *
Once a month, a woman turns into the kind of crazy you read about in thriller novels or see on supernatural television shows. Emotions are heightened, melodramatics become the norm, and everything is either the end of the world or the highlight of your life. There’s never a happy medium and there’s never a warning. Like today, for instance. One minute you’re thrilled about the outcome of a planning session and the next minute you’re bawling your eyes out in the backseat of a taxi.
By the time Beth reached the penthouse, Travis wasn’t there. The first thing she did was make a beeline for the bathroom. As she took off her clothes to change into a much more comfortable cotton pajama set, she realized that her suspicion was on point and she cleaned herself up and took the necessary precautions. Once she felt slightly more human again, she directed herself to the kitchen.
The cramps were unbelievable. They’d started as soon as she’d stepped into the cab. She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt her period come on quite this fast before, or maybe this was the first time she was actually paying attention to the process. She supposed it was easy to lose track of time when you found yourself stranded without power for two days in an orphanage because she sure hadn’t recognized the PMS when she’d had it.
But damn if her cycle wasn’t going to let her know it was there.
She stood at the counter and tossed a couple of painkillers down her throat, chugging the glass of water she held over the sink. Now that she was calm, and she had time to think, she was ashamed of herself. She should have let Travis have his party. She should never have been so selfish and manipulated him the way she did. And in front of Elena, no less. That wasn’t fair. Travis had always been fully and openly accepting of Beth and who she was, no matter what—including the time that she bled all over his sheets during sex. He’d stayed after that. He still wanted her after that disaster. He deserved better. So much better. Maybe she should just call Elena and change the whole thing back to the original plans.
And then the scene on the street. That was humiliating. But maybe she deserved to be humiliated. She’d only done it to herself, running away and hailing the cab like she did. Hell, she was sure that the only reason Travis would come home tonight was because it was his penthouse. She should probably see about taking her apartment off the market…
Speaking of Travis, she never heard him come in until she heard his voice behind her. “Beth,” he said softly.
Turning around to face him, she sat her glass on the counter and observed the way he had already shed his shoes and his coat. But the most unmistakable observation was the massive bouquet of roses he held in his hand.
Her heart melted.
“Baby,” he said, the pain all over his face. “What I said earlier, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s not—it’s not what I meant.”
“Travis,” she squeaked. And then she snorted her tears back, a loud, honking, ugly snort, but she refused to care. “I should have bought you roses!”
“What?”
She held her arms out for him as she burst into tears and he crossed the kitchen in two giant steps, laying the roses on the counter beside her and wrapping his arms tightly around her. She soaked his shirt as she sobbed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry! I should have let you have your party! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way and I don’t feel that way about you at all and I’m sorry for the way I humiliated you on the street and I’m just—I don’t want to lose you, Travis!”
“It’s okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the top of her head as he smoothed her hair down her back. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. And you’re not losing me or anything—well, except maybe your apartment. I found a buyer, I think. So you’re trapped, you’re stuck with me now.”
Finally, her tears began to dry up and she hiccupped as she wiped her eyes and looked up at him. “Let’s call Elena and tell her we want to change the party. I’m sure she can find you some kind of disco ball somewhere, it shouldn’t be difficult—“
“No,” he shook his head. “No, you were right. You probably just saved me from a world of ridicule with that party. I’m twenty-seven years old. I can’t keep throwing the same parties I threw when I was twenty, you know? And, hey, I like poker. Poker’s fun. And the photo booth will be fun.”
“There will be costumes and funny hats and everything,” she offered.
“Exactly,” he grinned. “It’ll be a blast. Hey, I think we’re going to turn into ‘that’ couple that throws that awesome annual party each holiday, what do you think?”
“It’s everything I ever wanted,” she whispered. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”
His lips crashed into hers and suddenly all was right with the world. Pulling her body tighter against his, there was a warmth and a safety in him that was even more addicting than his kiss was. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow steamy and it was while her hands were tangled in his hair when he tore his lips away and whispered, “Come on, let’s take this into the bedroom. Hot make-up sex is just what the doctor ordered.”
Regretfully, she let out a sigh and shook her head. “I can’t. I got my period today.”
“Aw, man,” he whined. “Seriously?”
“Yep,” she nodded. “It’s why I’m such a mess like this.” She paused and studied his face for a moment, a smile creeping across her lips. “But, hey, you know what? That doesn’t mean that I can’t take care of you.”
The moment her hands dropped to the button of his jeans, his hands wrapped around her wrists almost instantly. Startled, she looked curiously up at him.
“You know what?” He said. “You don’t have to do that.”
Confusion set in. “But—but you just—I thought—“
“No,” he shook his head. “Why don’t I just—let me take care of you tonight. That’s what I want.” He brought her hands back up and draped them around his neck. “Why don’t I run you a bath? A long, hot bubble bath. I’ll wash your back. And then we can spend the rest of the night in bed. I’ll pour you some champagne, massage your feet…”
“I love foot massages,” she whispered.
“I know,” he smiled.
“Travis, you don’t have to do all that, I was the one who was in the wrong today.”
“It doesn’t matter who was in the wrong with anything. This isn’t about that. This is about you. This is about me just wanting to take care of you. About me wanting you to be happy.” He took her face in his hands. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t know how lost I was until I met you. And I’d still be lost if I didn’t have you now. And today? Today you took care of me. You keep me in check when I start to lose my mind and today—I was going to invite my friends—CEO’s and PR reps and bankers—to a kegger to ring in the new year. But you turned it around and made it tasteful and fun. You complete me, Beth. You’re the part of me that was missing and I don’t ever want to let you go.”
She looked up at him with stars in her eyes. God, she loved him. And she wanted to tell him so bad, but she just couldn’t take the chance and rock the boat. Not yet. She had a feeling he already knew anyway, they’d danced around it for awhile now. But those words, those three words, those were permanent once they were said. And she wanted to make sure Travis was ready for them.
So she smiled coyly. “Well, you already sold my apartment out from underneath me.”
“That’s right,” he grinned. “I did. Actually, I may have technically kidnapped you…”
“Or maybe I simply ran away from home,” she suggested.
“Maybe you were already lost. Maybe now you’ve found your way back home. Maybe we both just found our way home.”
“Yeah. I like that.” Tightening her arms around his neck, she nudged his nose with hers. “Travis? If I wasn’t around, what would you be doing for New Year’s Eve?”
“Honestly? I’d probably be in a bar somewhere, peeling Eric off the floor. You?”
Beth shrugged. “Juliet and I usually just winged it. There was always a party somewhere. This year, though. This year will be my favorite.”
“Yeah,” Travis smiled. “At least I can peel Eric off of my own floor and then ring in the new year with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve never done that before.”
“Travis, is Eric…I mean, is it really that bad?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I mean, he barely drank anything at the Christmas party. And he’s with Juliet now, so…hey, maybe I won’t have to peel him off of anything for the first time. This will be the best new year’s yet!”
As that marked the end of the conversation, the pair of them headed toward the bathroom, the painkillers finally starting to work their magic and making Beth a little more comfortable.
She wanted to tell him. She wanted to say the words. From the moment he poured the bubbles into her bath, to the moment he brought her pudding in bed, and until the very last moment of the night when he turned out the bedroom lights and wrapped her in his arms, she wanted to say the words. Except that it was fear that kept them in, and so she stayed silent.
The words would just have to remain blissfully unspoken for another day.