Scarred Beautiful

by

Beth Michele

To Mom and Dad, you were the first ones to show me that I could be whatever I wanted to be in this life. I am forever grateful for your love and support. I love you.

Everyone has scars. Remember that you are stronger than your broken parts. Don’t let them define who you are.

Prologue – Fran - 7 years old

My nose felt like a million tiny icicles were sitting on it, and my hands were shaking since Daddy didn’t give me any gloves, but I was still smiling because I was with Kera.

The swing set creaked and the poles popped out of the ground as Kera and I rocked up toward the sky, seeing who could pump faster. She always won because my thighs and tummy were sore, and sometimes when I kicked my legs up, my belly squished and it started to hurt.

“Faster, faster,” Kera said.

“I’m trying,” I told her. I was trying as hard as I could.

She giggled as she got higher and higher. “I’m going to touch the clouds first!” she screamed.

“No, me!” I shouted back, swinging as far as my little legs would take me.

We were smiling and laughing so hard, I thought I might have an accident in my pants, but I knew I better not because Daddy would be mad.

“Look, that cloud looks like a teddy bear,” I sang, my cheeks turning pink from the chilly winter air.

“I see a giraffe. Look at his funny, long neck!” she exclaimed, sticking her own neck out and making a silly sound with her throat.

We were giggling so hard my stomach started to hurt even more than it already did, but I stopped once I heard Daddy’s voice.

“Franny, come inside, now!”

“I have to go,” I told her, jumping off the swing and running toward the house as fast as I could.

When I looked over my shoulder to say goodbye, Kera smiled happily and waved as she skipped off to her mom who was waiting on their front step.

“Take me with you,” I whispered, before he pulled me inside. I wanted to scream those words out but it suddenly felt like there was a big ball of Play-doh stuck in my throat.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with Daddy.

And even if I could scream no one would hear me.

So no one could save me.

Chapter One – Fran - Expressive Dramatic

“Peyton! You know how difficult it is for me. It was hard enough overcoming my fear of elevators, but this…I just don’t know.”

I’ve had a fear of planes since I was sixteen. It’s not validated by personal experience so I realize it’s irrational. Logically, I know there’s a better chance of something happening in a car than on a plane, but the part I can’t wrap my head around is the escape route. At least in a car I’m closer to the ground and not floating in the vacant sky with nowhere to go but down, the long, agonizing drop to the earth my only thing to look forward to.

Peyton sifts through rows of clothing in my closet looking for a dress to wear to the club tonight. I say rows because I have a walk-in closet that’s bigger than our oversized bathroom and I’m a bit of a clotheshorse…oh, and shoes too. “Fran, what’s so hard? You’ll get on…take a nice, plush, cushy seat, lean your head back, and go to sleep. Or, better yet, stick a couple of mini Jack Daniels in your purse, and you’ll do just fine.”

My voice rises to a high-pitched shriek that reverberates off the walls. “It’s five freaking hours and forty-five minutes, Peyton! That’s with plenty of chances for it to encounter turbulence, storms, and who knows what else? Just like in Castaway!”

Peyton rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and I realize that I may be laying it on pretty thick. “Really, Fran…Castaway? You’ve been watching way too many movies. What choice do you have anyway? Do you actually want to be on a train to California for three days, or would you rather sit in luxury for six hours?”

I let out a huge groan and a giant puff of air releases right along with it. “Yes, because if you’re going to go out, you might as well do it in style.”

She waves her hands above her head, drawing pictures in the air. “Oh my God, Fran…you’re SO dramatic! Come on, you can do this. It’ll be a piece of cake. I have faith in you.”

“I prefer to call it expressive,” I grumble. At least that’s what my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Hemler called it when she made me sit up front in class because I talked too much.

“Okay, then.” Peyton gives me a crisp nod. “You’re an expressive dramatic.”

My parents said I should’ve been an actress. I was always making mountains out of molehills, like going into a thirty minute monologue about the reason I shouldn’t eat peas, which by the way was because I’d turn green. It was my way of trying to get their attention which is laughable considering I was an only child.

The only attention I ever got was the kind I never wanted.

I remember everything about my early childhood, although there’s so much I’d like to forget. My fondest memories are those rare moments I spent with Mom when she wasn’t working, and time with my friends, laughing and singing on the school bus.

What I like to remember least—the way my pint-sized heart pounded in my chest as I hopped off that same bus, giving a small wave to my friends with their crooked smiles and toothy grins. They were kids in every sense of the word, happy and carefree, not weighted down by the frightful sound of a door creaking open or loud footsteps echoing down the hall. Even now the memory is so vivid: walking through overgrown weeds, nearly tripping on the cracked sidewalk leading to the beat-up yellow door of my house, reaching out a shaky hand to turn the knob, never knowing if Dad would be there. His inability to hold down a job left him at home all too often, filling the air with the stench of cigarettes and beer, and his cold, hard demeanor.

Then there was Mom, God bless her, working two jobs, waitressing at night and doing hair during the day, only to come home to complaining and screaming. I remember watching her cower in the corner, her face pale, eyes glazed over, unsure of her destiny from one minute to the next. The way my tummy squeezed tight, wanting so much to help her, but knowing as a seven year old child there was little I could do except be resigned to our fate.

I drag myself back to the present and continue to get ready for this design conference, the first of many from what I’ve been told. I was recently promoted to Design Manager after working my ass off for five years due to a proven track record of developing strong client relationships and strategic vision. The money’s great, and since my best friend Gabby is now living with her fiancée Brad, my colleague Peyton and I moved in together a couple of months ago. Peyton’s great and all, she’s tough and doesn’t take any shit. We’re actually a lot alike. She’s no nonsense and I know she’ll always give me a hard dose of reality, but she doesn’t climb into bed with me and stroke my hair when I’m having a nightmare, or know just the right words to say when I’m having a bad day. She doesn’t know all of my secrets.

I look over at Peyton, lower my head, and beg her with persuasive green eyes—the ones she usually can’t resist. “Come with me, Peyton…pretty please? I’m willing to go to all lengths of bribery. Hmph…that even includes trying to set you up with that hot design director you’ve been crushing on when I get back.”

I have no idea who the current object of her misguided attention might be, but she’s always lusting after one of my coworkers. My boss is known for hiring attractive men, it is advertising after all, and they’re impossible to ignore. At desperate times like these, I’m not above using this little fact to my advantage.

Peyton turns around with daggers in her eyes. “That’s a low blow, Fran, and as much as you know how bad I’m crushing on him, I can’t go to the conference. You know I have too much work to do on that new sneaker campaign that just rolled in.”

I sigh and fall backwards on my bed, right next to the large pile of clothes I’m bringing with me if—and it’s a very big if—I decide I’m taking the death plane.

Chapter Two – Matt – Roses, anyone?

“Why am I doing this again?” I throw out to Caleb while I scramble to get my shit together so I can prepare for the conference.

He sinks in the chair, grinning. “Because the CEO can’t go, that’s why, and as one of the vice presidents of the firm, you need to represent.”

I grab my dick through my jeans. “Well, they can represent this.”

Caleb clutches his belly and laughs. “Yeah, I’d like to see you say that in a staff meeting. You’d certainly have all of those sexy female project managers turning their heads.”

“That’s the last thing I need.” This job at the architectural firm keeps me busy around the clock and I don’t have time for complicated relationships. I’ve dated here and there over the years and had my share of women, but nobody has kept my attention. Besides, I don’t need them trying to reorganize my life. It’s perfect just the way it is. My brother Brad razzes me about it all the time. Now that he’s found Gabby and is deliriously happy, he wants the same for me.

“You, my friend, need to get laid. You work way too much and don’t stop to smell the roses…and let me tell you from experience,” Caleb taunts, inhaling through his nose, “those roses smell pretty damn amazing.”

“Yeah,” I joke, tossing a couple of polo shirts into my suitcase, “and we all know how many roses you’ve smelled, so many I’m surprised you don’t have thorns digging in your ass.”

“Hey,” he says with a satisfied smirk, “it’s better than having Allison’s heel in my ass when she kicked me out the door after a few years. I can’t believe I actually considered having handsome little Calebs with her. Speaking of which, my mom called me the other night and gave me the spiel about finally settling down and finding a ‘nice girl.’ I told her I found a nice girl, but she turned out to be a bitch.” He chuckles. “She didn’t really appreciate that.”

“Go easy on your mom, Caleb, she just wants the best for you. Besides, you know how much I love her, so you’re not getting any sympathy from me on that front.” I grab a few more t-shirts and several pairs of Calvin Klein boxers and stuff them in my bag. “Okay, I’m all set. Do you want to get some breakfast and hang out with me at the hotel for a while?”

Caleb sags back in the chair, hands knotted behind his head. “Yeah, that sounds good. But can I ask you a stupid question? Why are you staying at the hotel when your apartment is only twenty minutes away?”

I zip up my suitcase and haul it off the bed. “You do realize the conference is at The Ritz-Carlton, right?”

Caleb shrugs his shoulders, looking dumbfounded. “And?”

“And it’s one of the most upscale hotels in LA, on the company’s dime. That’s why. I intend to chill out all week, order some room service, watch a couple of movies, and then I’m coming home.”

Caleb shakes his head. “That sounds boring as shit, man.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter Three – Fran – Leaving on a jet plane

The ride to JFK airport is filled with silence, void of conversation that is, with the exception of Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” blaring through the car speakers. Peyton is obviously mistaking her Acura Integra for the club. The music is booming and my head is pounding as I press it to the glass, trying to keep my heart palpitations to a minimum.

I turn to her, raising my voice to a screech so she can actually hear me. “Peyton, please turn down the music!”

She tunes me out and continues doing her erotic dance, which only infuriates me. My teeth grab at the inside of my lip, fingers scrape through my hair. By the time I get on the plane I’m going to be a hot mess.

We stop at a toll booth and wait in the very long line of cars. Peyton finally turns down the music and angles her body to face me. “Fran, this is supposed to loosen you up. Shake your bon bon a little before you have to sit in a confined seat for six hours.”

And there it is.

“Thank you so much for reminding me how long I’ll be on the plane in which I’ll plunge to my death, no doubt into the ocean where I’ll get eaten up by sharks.”

She bursts into laughter, the sound drowning out Beyonce’s voice. “When you get back, Fran, I’m signing you up for an acting class.” She shakes her head at me and pulls the toll pass from the center console. “Sharks, really?”

We make it to JFK in record time, two hours before my scheduled flight thanks to Peyton’s Mario Andretti tendencies. Even though I know she has better things to do, I make her come in with me so I can give her a proper goodbye since this very well could be my last day on earth.

“All right, all right.” I slap her hands away. “I’m going! Stop pushing.”

Peyton’s hand remains on my back. “I’ll stop pushing as soon as you start walking.”

The path to the terminal is the longest of my life. I can hear my heart beating loudly in my ears, my breathing uneven. We push past the crowd of travelers striding briskly, coffees in hand, cell phones plastered to their ears, seemingly relaxed. I wish I could be that way, too.

I stop short in front of the double doors of the terminal. I hear a grunt from behind and turn to see a gentleman with peppered hair sidestep me, cursing under his breath and wiping the brown liquid that just spilled on his fingers from our near collision.

“I should’ve told them I had travel-phobia,” I say, my eyes focused to a spot on the ground.

She sets her hands on her hips, an exasperated sigh leaving her glossy red pout. “Travel-phobia?”

“Yes,” I reply, wishing I had thought of it sooner. “You know, that the farthest I can travel is to the nearest Starbucks and to the All Male Review on West 27th Street.”

Peyton laughs and grabs my hand forcefully to drag me through the entrance. Once inside, she doesn’t let go, but continues to pull me toward the Delta ticket counter.

Digging my fingernails into the palm of my hand that’s clinging tightly to my suitcase and sucking on my lip isn’t helping. Neither is Peyton. She feels when my feet come to a halt beside her and turns her head to glare at me, her pecan-colored eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

“Okay. Deep breath and count to ten,” she instructs, splaying her hands out in front of her.

“How about, deep breath and we go home?” I reply, my lips twisted into something resembling a grin.

She cracks a smile, then blows a chestnut strand of hair away from her face. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Hold out your hands.”

I drop my bag to the ground and release my firm grip on the suitcase handle. I hold out both hands in anticipation…of what, I have no idea.

Peyton shakes something that sounds like a maraca and it lands in my palm. “Ambien,” she says with a smile. “Just in case you have a freak-out.”

I roll my eyes.

“Now, for the good part.” She reaches into her Gucci purse, pulling out three mini bottles of Jack Daniels, and shoves them into my hand. A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “In case you get thirsty.” She winks and her brown eyes light up like the Fourth of July.

I look at her lovely gifts. “Great. So you’re trying to get me drunk and high.”

“Yeah. Pretty much,” she states blandly.

My ears pick up a child screaming in the distance, seemingly over a lollipop that has fallen to an untimely demise. It jolts me and I nearly drop my newfound addictions to the ground, the child’s cries morphing into the voice of Dad yelling at Mom because she got him the wrong cereal.

I watched Mommy hover in the corner, Daddy’s arms against the wall on both sides of her head. He looked so scary, and I was afraid for Mommy.

“I told you to get the Goddamn Captain Crunch,” he shouted, and I saw Mommy’s eyes fill with tears, just like mine did when Daddy would come to my room.

“Now get the fuck out of here and go get my cereal,” Daddy yelled again, and Mommy ran out like a scared little mouse. I wished I could have helped her, but I couldn’t even help myself.

I shake off the shiver that crawls down my spine and quickly stuff the pills and liquor in my bag before meeting Peyton’s gaze. “Well, this is it. You’re entitled to my clothes and shoes, even the Louboutins, after I’m gone.”

She nudges my shoulder with her own. “Will you stop! You’re going to be fine. Besides,” she begins, winking and rolling her hips, and I look around to make sure no one noticed her obscene gesture, “you know what people do when they go away to these conferences, don’t you? Sin, baby. Flings of sin.” She laughs but her expression falls when she sees the color drain from my cheeks. With a soft exhale she reaches for my hand. “Seriously, sweetie, all will be well. Text me through the entire flight if you need to.”

I throw my arms around her, pressing my lips together and forcing my eyes shut as if this single embrace can overcome my internal struggle.

“You’re going to squeeze all the life out of me if you’re not careful,” she squeaks out.

Reluctantly, I pull back, dropping my hands to my sides with a sigh. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

“See ya, and I wouldn’t want to be ya,” she teases, laughing and walking toward the exit, her manicured fingernails waving high in the air.

“Very funny,” I call out, but that’s why I keep her around.

I grab my suitcase and turn briskly to wave at Peyton one more time before watching her amber waves and perfectly curved figure disappear into a sea of travelers, leaving me completely alone. An extraordinarily happy woman with a blonde bob and straight, white teeth greets me from behind the counter. I feel like I’m in a commercial.

“Good morning! Welcome to Delta!”

“Morning,” I reply, suddenly wishing I could have whatever she’s just had. As soon as she turns her head to wink at the dark-haired Adonis further down the counter, the one who must use the same brand of whitening toothpaste, I realize maybe that’s exactly what I need.

After leaving Miss Congeniality, I check my suitcase and go through security clearance to find Gate 35. I’ve still got about an hour until it’s time to board the plane, so I take out my cell phone and send a couple of texts: one to Gabby, letting her know I’m at the airport, and one to Peyton, telling her I’m still alive.

I can’t seem to stop fidgeting so I plod over to one of the shops to kill some time, grab a bottle of spring water, and some M&M’s to calm my nerves. My heels drag as I make my way back to the sitting area before I finally take a seat and tear open the bag of candy, picking out the green ones first because they’re my favorite. I remember always hearing stories about how they’re an aphrodisiac, not that I necessarily need any help in that department.

The contemporary romance I’ve been reading on my Kindle is calling my name, so I pull it from my Dooney & Bourke handbag and dig in. I love getting lost in a good book, especially one with a happy ending, mostly because I know that won’t be in the cards for me. The screen blurs as a heavy breath releases from my chest before I continue to read about Andrew and Camryn. I’m completely absorbed in the story so it takes me a while to notice the little girl standing in front of me with short, curly red hair, a multitude of freckles, and the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I stare at her face, a happy smile lifting her pudgy cheeks.

“Hi,” she says, rocking back and forth on her black Mary Janes while she eyes my M&M’s.

“Hi, sweetie,” I return, peering at her tiny body until my gaze lands on her Scooby Doo t-shirt and I freeze. My throat closes up and my neck burns. Her lips are moving but her words are no longer registering in my ears. The only thing that is, is the rush of blood. Suddenly I’m back there. In my room. With my dad.

“Remember, this is our special thing we do together.” He smiled but it wasn’t happy like Mommy’s. “I’ve got your favorite Scooby Doo band-aids all picked out.”

I drop the bag of M&M’s to the ground, scrambling to my feet before I stumble to the nearest bathroom. Pushing open the door, I stagger to the sink, turn on the faucet and splash a blast of cold water on my face. It’s a wake-up call, but one I desperately need right now. I’m not that little girl anymore, I keep telling myself, I’m a twenty-eight year old woman. Yet as my head lifts slowly and my eyes crawl up to the mirror, the image of a scared, fragile child with sad, bleak eyes is staring back at me. My hands grip both sides of the sink and I clamp my eyes closed, hoping like hell when I open them, she’s gone.

By the time I make it back to my seat, the red-headed girl is nowhere in sight, no doubt telling her mom about the scary lady with the candy. The only thing that remains are my M&M’s scattered all over the floor. I reach down and pluck them up one by one, throwing them away in the nearest garbage, and that’s when I hear my flight being called over the speaker.

“Flight three-fifty-five from New York to Los Angeles now boarding at Gate thirty-five.”

A wave of heat washes over me and I feel lightheaded. For a second, I consider bolting out of the airport to anywhere. I don’t even care where, just as long as I don’t have to fly. But then my subconscious smacks me over the head, reminding me that this is the first of many trips I’ll have to take, and I need to get a grip on the swell of emotions threatening to swallow me whole.

I grab my purse and carry-on and get in line behind the other passengers, waiting for my group to be called. Closing my eyes, I try to picture myself in a calm, serene place, just like my therapist always suggested. I’m trying, I really am.

After the all-too-happy flight attendant checks out my boarding pass, I slowly walk through the tunnel leading to the plane. I take one last, longing glance back at civilization before I step in and my fate is sealed.

The plane isn’t too crowded yet. I scan the rows looking for seat 4D and thankfully find that it’s along the aisle. I have no desire to be near the window so I can watch as we descend into oblivion. After stuffing my carry-on in the overhead rack, I sink back into the seat which actually feels pretty comfortable. My eyes drift closed, mostly so I can stave off the panic attack that’s headed my way like a tornado. I wipe my sweaty hands on my gray pencil skirt. I can do this, I can do this, I tell myself. Of course, I eye the Jack Daniels in my bag and decide it couldn’t hurt. With a darting glance to the seats nearby, I quickly twist the cap off and take a couple of swigs, wincing a bit as the strong taste glides down my throat.

The white-lined notepad is hanging out of my bag and I pull it out to work on a redesign for one of our clients. The flight attendant announces we’ll be departing shortly, and with that, I take a deep breath and let it out gradually.

I feel eyes on me and turn my head to see a man with salt ‘n’ pepper hair and a wrinkled forehead staring at me. It makes me want to glare at him and shout, “What the hell are you staring at?” but that would be incredibly rude and that’s just not me. I mean, I realize he’s only looking at the shell: the shoulder-length raven hair highlighted in caramel, the startling green eyes, the dimple on my left cheek. Kyle used to love my dimple. I’m temporarily rattled by the memory but quickly try to brush it off.

I focus instead on my sketching, desperate to distract myself from the hollow in my chest, the many cuts that refuse to heal no matter how much ointment I slather on top of them. The juice bottle design is coming along nicely, the label taking on a more contemporary look with bright colors and bold lettering, exactly what the client requested.

“Hey, beautiful, is this seat taken?”

A voice attempts to snap me from my thoughts but I ignore it, until I hear it again. It’s thick, it’s rich, and it’s throaty.

“Yoo-hoo…beautiful. Is it okay if I sit down?”

And when I look up, it’s sexy as hell.

Dear Lord, Sweet Baby Jesus, and an Oh My God all wrapped up in one. I hope to hell my mouth isn’t hanging open right now. He has hair the color of the night sky and eyes a deep brown, a square jaw, and lips with a contour so perfect it looks like they were hand-drawn. Oh, and did I mention he’s cut. Yeah, he’s cut—like ripped: strong, athletic build and a slim waist, a six-pack accentuated by low-slung jeans, and a white t-shirt that adheres to every single muscle, and I mean…every…single…one.

When I finally find my tongue and make sure it’s securely in my mouth, I speak. “Sure. Let me just move my bag.”

He grins, and then all bets are off—like full-on gorgeous off. He’s got perfect white teeth and a captivating smile. We’d make a good complement to one another. I mentally scold myself for sounding like a dog in heat but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying the view.

When he reaches up to place his carry-on and briefcase in the overhead compartment, his shirt eases up and I glimpse the tiniest sliver of tanned, hard stomach. If he wasn’t so close to me, I’d pull out the Jack Daniels because I definitely need a drink.

He sits down and I immediately inhale something spicy mixed with sweat. I might not need that Jack Daniels after all. At the rate I’m going, I could get drunk on him in about two seconds. I breathe deeply through my nose and hope he doesn’t notice that I’ve taken a liking to his scent. There is something terribly wrong with me, I know. You’d think I’d never seen or been near a guy before. But this guy is, well, he’s hot with a capital H. Just the way he called me beautiful made me want to give myself over to him, bow to his every whim.

I busy myself again with the design I’m working on when Mr. Hotness speaks.

“So, do you come here often?”

When I look up, he’s grinning, making the green flecks in the brown of his eyes sparkle. I smile back and wonder if it’s obvious I find him unbelievably hot. I have to press my thighs together, that’s how hot I think he is.

I arch a brow, scrutinizing his forward approach. “Does that line usually work for you?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never used it before,” he replies with a slight tip of his lips.

Yeah, right.

“I’m Ryan,” he says, extending his hand, a cocky smile sitting on his ever-so-perfect mouth.

Well, Peyton was right about the freak-out, but not for the reasons she initially expected. I’m a bit afraid to touch him. I already feel like I need a new pair of panties and that could be just the thing to push me over the edge. But what other choice do I have? I can’t leave him hanging. It’s like an olive branch dangling in front of me and I have to take it.

His hand is rough yet smooth, strong yet gentle, and I can almost imagine him kneading my skin with those hands. I make the mistake of looking up, and when I do, I’m greeted by those alluring, dark irises and an expectant stare.

“Your name?”

Oh yeah.

“I’m Fran.”

I try to pull my hand back but notice he seems to be exploring it. His thumb is stroking over my knuckles and I’m getting turned on…just from that simple touch. “Can I have my hand back?”

His lips turn up in a grin. “I don’t know. I kind of like the way it feels in mine.”

Okay. Where’s the Jack Daniels?

He lets go and I instantly regret it. The rubbing sensation was lulling me into a sensual calm and slowing my rapid heartbeat.

I’m tapping the pencil on my pad, needing to keep my hand occupied, but it’s a bit hard to concentrate because I keep catching whiffs of his cologne. It’s soothing and makes me want to just curl up next to him and go to sleep, or fuck him senseless—I can’t decide which one. My thoughts make me sound like a sex-crazed lunatic. The fact is, I do love sex but in all honesty it’s a coping mechanism. It helps to block out the pain. As far as I’m concerned, if it’s sex or alcohol, I choose sex. It’s not an addiction for me. It makes me forget…and I’d do anything to forget.

I glance at Ryan from the corner of my eye and notice he’s reading a magazine. I tilt my head to the side trying to make out what it is.

He senses my stare and turns the cover my way. “Architecture Magazine. Pretty interesting stuff, in case you’re wondering.” Closing it, he shifts his body my way, once again giving me a great view. I can now see his long, lush eyelashes that practically fan his cheeks, and his smooth, gentle eyebrows.

“So, is that what you do?” I ask, trying hard to maintain eye contact and not drift to his lips. They’re very distracting.

“I am an architect,” he answers proudly.

He eyes my notepad, squinting to make out what’s on the page. “What do you do? Are you some kind of an artist?”

I giggle. “I guess you could say that. I’m a design manager.” Listen to me, I sound like I’ve been doing this job forever. Not. But, if there’s anything I am, it’s focused and determined to succeed, and I won’t let anything stand in my way.

His lips turn up at the edges, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “What kind of design do you do?”

I’m kind of used to this line of questioning and where it leads. I flick the tip of the pencil against my mouth and evade his gaze. “Mostly advertising and branding.”

He smirks and raises an eyebrow, and I already know what he’s thinking. “Sexy ads?”

I sigh a little louder than I’d intended. “Not exactly. I mean, there is….” I pause, like I’m about to say something taboo, “a sexy quality to the ads sometimes.” When I say the word sexy I can feel his stare move leisurely down from my face to my breasts, and then travel to my legs, leaving a trail of heat on my skin.

“How ‘bout a demonstration?” he teases, grinning that ridiculous smile of his that must bring women to their knees.

“The bathroom here is a bit small,” I flirt back, and then scold myself again for acting this way. This isn’t what I really want, but the longing inside my chest, the constant twist and pull at my core tells me something different. It’s been a long time since anyone has touched me, held me.

He laughs, the sound a deep rumble from his chest. “I’m sure we could make it work.”

And just like that I want him.

His eyes roam over my body in slow appreciation. “Hmm…perhaps another time, another place.”

“Perhaps,” I reply, my face flushing a bright shade of red before I look in the other direction. I’m starting to feel an ache between my legs and the waywardness of my mind is taking me places with Ryan I need not go.

I slowly turn back around to find his gaze hasn’t shifted. It’s still deadlocked on me, so I divert my focus back to the drawing. I’m paying way too much attention to Ryan and decide I’m going to punish myself for the rest of the trip and ignore him.

The ‘fasten your seatbelt’ sign lights up above me and I hear the accompanying ding. Knowing what comes next, I latch on to both sides of the seat and suck in a breath. I scrunch my face up, close my eyes, and count backwards from ten, feeling Ryan’s eyes on me, yet again.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice sincere, offering a small smile.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Totally fine. Thanks,” I respond a little too quickly, trying to ignore the fact that the plane is tagging down the runway. Well, that was sweet, he actually looks concerned.

I take out my iPod and earbuds and pop them in my ears, playing the songs of Parachute so loudly that I can drown out not only the sound of the plane but my own thoughts. I close my eyes and let the music carry me away.

* * *

An unsettling feeling stabs at my stomach and jolts me awake. I look beyond Ryan snoring quietly beside me and see why. We are dropping. The plane is falling out of the sky. This is it. This is how it all ends for me. My breathing picks up as tears fill my eyes. Without realizing it, I let out a strangled noise and Ryan stirs. When he sees the panic overtaking me, he immediately sits up and reaches for my hand.

“Fran, what is it?” he asks, my terror reflected in his eyes.

I squeeze his hand, my nails biting into it, shaking my head frantically as the tears fall down my cheeks and slap against the silk fabric of my blouse. “We’re…I…I d-don’t want to die yet.”

Ryan looks at me, his brow crinkling, unable to comprehend my emotional breakdown. He places his other hand over mine and attempts to stop the trembling that has finally reached there. “Fran, what are you talking about? You’re not dying,” he assures, his voice soft and even, a valiant attempt at talking me down from the ledge I’m about to fall from.

“I-I can feel it,” I sputter, “we’re d-dropping fast….I never should’ve…should’ve gotten on the plane.”

There’s a momentary flicker of recognition in his eyes before he takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “Fran, we’re not dropping. We’re descending. We’re about to land at LAX.”

I blink several times, trying to process his words. “You mean, we’re not plunging into the ocean? W-we’re not going to die?”

He chuckles, wiping away my tears with his calloused thumb. “No, baby, we’re not dying. We’re very much alive and about to make our presence known to all of Los Angeles.”

My mouth hangs open and I immediately cover my face, the sheer idiocy of my actions washing over me. Ryan reaches over and pulls my hands into his lap.

“It’s okay, Fran. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I get it. I used to be deathly afraid of heights. I’ve since overcome it, but it hindered me for many years.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I ask, relaxing under the soothing touch of his fingers.

“I do want to make you feel better, but no, I’m not just saying that.”

A smile edges the corner of my mouth. “Thank you,” I say quietly, noticing how his eyes have sailed down to my lips. For a split second, I want his mouth on mine. I’m silently willing him to kiss me, needing a connection, but he doesn’t.

The voice of the pilot comes over the speaker: “Welcome to Los Angeles. On behalf of Delta Airlines we hope you had a pleasant flight, and we hope to see you again soon. Enjoy your stay.”

Ryan reaches up to the overhead rack and pulls both of our bags down. Unable to help myself, I take a quick glimpse of his ass in the worn jeans he fills out so completely, licking my lips that suddenly feel parched.

I stand up, stretch the kinks from my arms and legs, and stuff the notepad back in my purse. There’s a line forming in the aisle and Ryan ushers me out before him. We follow the crowd inside the terminal to the baggage area without a word, only periodic glances at one another.

He sees his luggage and pulls it from the conveyor belt then heads back over to me, stopping just a few feet away. “It was really nice meeting you, Fran. Hope you enjoy your trip,” he says, popping the handle of his suitcase up and turning to leave.

“You, too,” I reply, but then realize I need to say more as he’s walking away. “Ryan, wait!”

He stops instantly and spins around, his dark hair falling over his questioning eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I answer, smoothing the sides of my skirt. “I just wanted to say thank you.” I reach out and place my hand on his arm. “For what you did on the plane, for calming me down. I really appreciate it.”

He eyes my hand and then raises his brown eyes to my green. “Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He lets out a small laugh. “And alive.”

I smile, the recent memory of my ridiculous behavior painting a layer of red on my face. “Yeah, me too. So I guess I’ll see you around.”

“See ya, Fran.” He flashes me that brilliant smile before he disappears, and I smile right back.

Chapter Four – Matt – One condition

I steer my Aston Martin up to the circle drive of The Ritz Carlton and Caleb and I step out, heading to the back of the car to retrieve my suitcase and his portfolio. As I hand my key to the valet, Caleb quirks a brow and shoots me a quizzical look. He doesn’t have to say anything, I can already read his mind. That’s what happens when you’ve been friends for twenty-five years. Caleb Brody knows everything there is to know about me, including the simple fact that I don’t trust anyone with my baby.

“Are you seriously valet parking your reason for living, your one true love?” he asks, keeping his voice down so he doesn’t offend the guy looking at my car like he just won the fucking lottery.

“Caleb,” I say, raising a hand in gesture at the display of wealth and understated elegance behind us. “Does this look like a place where I need to be worried about my car?”

He looks back at the hotel, nodding his head and chuckling softly. “I guess not. It’s just that I think this might be a day to go down in history.”

I shake my head as I walk over to the valet attendant and slap a fifty in his hand. “Take care of my baby,” I instruct, forcing a laugh, but my underlying tone says there’s nothing funny about it. He smiles, knowing he’s about to get in my car. The moment he pulls away, I release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I look over my shoulder one more time, watching until the last remnants of black disappear from my vision. We enter the hotel and Caleb stops short beside me, taking in our surroundings: the ultra-modern lobby with rich, dark wood and warm, leather seating, modern artwork in muted ocean blues hanging on the walls, and a soothing waterfall built into one of the side panels.

“Holy fucking shit,” he mutters, and a middle-aged, smartly dressed woman reading a newspaper looks up, pursing her lips and tossing him a sneer before becoming engrossed in her paper again.

“Caleb! Keep your voice down,” I scold. “I don’t feel like being kicked out of here before I’ve even checked in.”

Caleb is like a brother to me. We grew up together in Pleasantville, New York, starting with elementary school all the way through college, where we both received a Master of Architecture from Parsons. I moved to California immediately after, while Caleb stayed on and landed a job at a firm in Manhattan. With the financial help of a family friend, I started my own company, which I ended up selling to our current CEO three years ago. After Mr. Brody was transferred to California and Allison ended things with him, Caleb was ready to move here to be closer to his family. Once a position opened up, I immediately had Caleb flown out to interview and the rest is history.

It may sound strange, but in many ways Caleb has been like a lifeline for me. When Mom and Clara passed away from breast cancer, it was Caleb’s family who was there by my side, and Brad’s, every step of the way. With my father’s lack of presence in my life, it was Caleb’s parents who supported me, his family who I drew strength from when I needed it the most.

“Okay,” he says quietly, raking a hand through his dark, cropped hair, “so now I get why you want to stay here. Why am I not staying here? Oh wait, I am staying here. I’m staying in your room.”

“Caleb.” I smirk, foolish me thinking that I could actually have a week to chill out. “I booked an extra room, and you’re more than welcome to stay. We’ll just need to get your clothes later.”

“Fuck, yeah!” he calls out, slapping me on the back and earning another dirty look from the lady with the newspaper. “You need to loosen up…and we’re going to have some fun!”

I look over at him, my brows rising and a half-smile crossing my lips. “I have one condition, though.”

“What?” he asks innocently, popping a mint in his mouth.

“Well, that you keep whatever roses you decide need watering in your room with the door closed.”

He grasps my shoulder and lets out a hearty laugh. “I will, man. I promise.”

Chapter Five – Fran – Goodbye girl

The ride in the shuttle from LAX to The Ritz Carlton is nothing like I expected. The traffic in LA is crazy yet the driver seems relaxed, his arm leaning against the open frame of the window, his fingers gently tapping the steering wheel to the beat of a song I can’t quite make out. I wrestle the cell phone from my bag to call Peyton, but her phone instantly goes to voicemail so I send her a text.

Arrived in LA, safe and sound. Call when you can. xox

Everything around me is at a low hum. There are no horns honking or drivers screaming out their windows like I’m accustomed to in Manhattan. It’s a welcome change and I feel an unusual sense of calm. As much as I didn’t want to come on this trip, I desperately needed to get away. Work has been absolutely insane since my promotion and I’ve barely had time to go out and have any fun. Gabby moved in with Brad so I rarely see her now. My heart squeezes in my chest as if it’s trying to escape. Happiness seems to be floating all around me, yet it doesn’t stop to land on my shoulders.

What happened to that girl? The girl who fearlessly passed out watermelon Jolly Ranchers in elementary school knowing full well what the consequences would be once the teacher inhaled the sweet smell wafting through the air; the girl who smiled as she got thrown off a jet-ski, the wind whipping through her hair, only to get right back on and ride it again; the same girl who told Gabby to get her head out of her ass and live her life when her fiancée died. I want that girl back.

I close my eyes and steady my breathing. I refuse to continue down this path, so I make myself a silent promise. I’m going to have a great time on this trip and get back to being fun-loving Fran, tucking away all the painful memories that threaten to steal her from me.

* * *

This hotel is fucking amazing. For the second time today, I have to close my mouth for fear the drool is pouring from my lips. I look up at the massive skyscraper, beaming, visions of basking in elegance and massages from seriously hot men in my future.

The driver helps me out and pulls my suitcase from the back. I give him a twenty-dollar bill and have absolutely no idea if that’s too much or too little, but I’m guessing from the grin on his face that it’s just right.

The moment I walk inside, I take it all in and can’t help but smile. I love the ultra-modern touch of this hotel. It’s totally my style with muted dove grays, browns, and relaxing creams, abstract art lining the walls, and various leather chairs and couches sitting beside rich, wood tables scattered throughout the lobby. I check in at the front desk and grab a keycard for my room on the twenty-third floor. Rolling my suitcase over to the elevator, I wait for it to ping and then step inside. The walls are covered with mirrors and I glance at my reflection as the car ascends. Dark blue circles rest below my eyes and my clothes are slightly wrinkled, evidence of the stressful journey I endured today. But, I’m alive and I conquered one of my fears, albeit with a little help from Ryan. The thought makes me smile.

The elevator doors open and I drag my suitcase into the hallway, looking for room 2301. I follow the arrows, taking a left and heading straight down the corridor until I find my room. Once the keycard is in the door, I push it open, my mouth forming a huge smile the moment I enter. The place is stunning. Again, there’s a contrast of light and dark wood and soft lighting. A king-sized bed sits in the center of the space covered in luxurious white fabrics. There’s a gorgeous abstract painting of the ocean in an array of blues hanging to the left of the bed, and against a wall of windows is a white couch decorated with pillows in various shades of orange. I step further into the room and walk toward the glass. The view is absolutely breathtaking. You can see all of Southern California. I’m sure once night falls, it will be even more spectacular, the city bathed in a sea of twinkling lights.

I kick off my heels, let out a huge squeal and jump on the bed. Excitement causes a rush of adrenaline to spread through my body, the thought of having fourteen days away from the hustle and bustle of New York is suddenly incredibly appealing. I venture into the bathroom to wash my face, letting out one more happy chirp when I see the extra-large tub and Jacuzzi encased in cream and orange marble. My bathroom is nice, but it pales in comparison. At the rate I’m going, I may never go home.

I make my way back out to the suite and grab my cell phone to call Peyton, but again it goes to voicemail. Where the hell is she? She always answers my calls. It occurs to me that maybe she’s indisposed. I hope she’s indisposed doing something naughty.

The bed is inviting and I flop back on the comforter, exhaustion completely overtaking my limbs, the softness cradling my entire body. The next thing I know, I’m startled awake by tapping on the door. With a gentle rub of my tired eyes, I try to get my bearings, noting that darkness has fallen but unaware of what time it is.

My legs feel heavy from sleep but I manage to swing them over the bed and trudge to the door. I pull it open, yelping loudly at the sight of Peyton standing on the other side with a huge smile on her face and a suitcase by her feet. I throw my arms around her, relief and happiness flooding me all at once.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, an edge of excitement mixed with surprise in my voice.

“Nice to see you, too.” She winks, entering the room and pulling her bag behind her. “Fucking wow,” she comments, dropping the handle of her suitcase to the carpet with a thud. “This place is fucking unbelievable.”

“I think you need one more fuck in there,” I joke.

Peyton looks ridiculously gorgeous every day of the week and today is no exception. With her skintight black dress, perfect curves, almond-colored eyes, and bouncy waves cascading over her shoulders, she is the picture of perfection. Then I look down at her feet. “Hey, are those my shoes?”

She laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder. “You said I could have them once you were gone.”

“Interesting interpretation of my words.” I laugh and pinch her arm as we take a seat on the bed. She kicks off my shoes and leans back on her elbows. “I’m really glad to see you but I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“Lisa was supposed to be the one coming on the trip,” she begins, “but the VP called me shortly after I left you at the airport. Apparently she woke up with a wicked stomach bug this morning, so the boss lady asked me if I’d take her place.” She huffs out a sigh, and I know there’s something else she’s not telling me. “Plus, I didn’t say anything earlier, but my mom came to visit me in the office yesterday. She never comes by there, but I guess she came to gloat about my sister. Apparently, she’s been made Vice President of the hedge fund she’s working for, so they’re having a big party tonight to celebrate.” The wide smile she had when she entered has all but disappeared. “You know, when she was in my office, she walked around and eyed all of my drawings and not once did she say they were good. Not once has she ever given me one compliment about the work I’ve done.” Her eyes cloud with emotion and it’s the first time I’ve seen her like this. “And they’re good, Fran. They’re really good.”

I suddenly feel the urge to comfort her. We typically don’t have that type of relationship, but she seems to need it now and I want to be there for her. I lean in and fold my arms around her. “They’re exceptional, Peyton. You’re incredibly talented and I’m sorry your mom doesn’t realize it.”

She relaxes a bit before pulling back, resigned. “Anyway, the moment I got the call, I decided I was catching the first flight to LA, fuck my sister’s party. She doesn’t really care if I’m there anyway.”

A twinge of guilt washes over me at her confession. I immediately feel like I need to tell her one of my secrets, but I just can’t. I’m trying to lock them away, not release them so they can stifle the air around me.

She quickly recovers, sitting up on the bed with a new resolve. “I just want to forget about all that. My room is just down the hall so I’m going to go freshen up. Put something sexy on, we’re heading to the bar, sister. It’s time for some sin.”

After Peyton leaves, I sort through the dresses I brought with me and finally decide on a green, knee-length satin number that squishes my boobs together, saying yes to cleavage, before sliding on my black heels. I freshen up my makeup in the bathroom, adding some under-eye concealer, a hint of blush to my cheeks, and a subtle shade of pink for my lips. With one last pucker, I glance approvingly at myself in the mirror and make my way out to wait for Peyton.

I open the door just as she’s about to knock, and the dazzling grin on her face gives me a boost of confidence.

“Wow!” she says excitedly, eyeing me from top to bottom and nodding in approval.

“Thanks. You look hot, too.” I giggle as we link arms, a genuine smile encompassing my face. I feel like the old Fran, and it feels good.

Chapter Six – Matt – A crazy coincidence

As I jerk my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans, I hear laughter in the distance. It momentarily distracts me, but I resume my focus on the bar and try to get the bartender’s attention. It’s hard to admit that Caleb’s right, but I’m a bit wound up and definitely need to relax. I thought that selling the company a few years ago would ease some of the tension I feel. Instead, it’s done nothing but increase it.

I already know the exact moment the switch flipped, the final straw that had me deciding to sell the firm and slow my life down—right after Brad got beaten up and I came pretty close to losing him, too.

He was on his way to Gabby’s apartment after leaving the gourmet coffee shop he owns in Manhattan when he was jumped from behind, sustaining a serious head injury that left him unconscious for several days. At the time, the doctors were unsure whether he would pull through. I remember the crushing feeling that overwhelmed me, the desperate prayers and pleas as I bargained with the universe for his life. It had been hard watching Mom and Clara battle breast cancer, but the aftermath of Brad’s assault almost put me over the edge. My chest floods with relief and gratitude that he survived…even though he’s the only one who did.

I shake it off and hope I can drown my sorrows for just a little while. “Hey, Caleb, what do you want to drink? Your usual?” I ask, and when I don’t get a response, I flick his shoulder. “What do you want to drink?”

“Huh?” he replies, as if in a trance, his eyes focused on something or someone at the end of the bar.

I step around him to see what’s caught his eye and notice two women deep in conversation and laughter. “Do you know them or some—” Just as I’m about to finish my sentence, the one with long, dark hair throws her head back on a laugh and I’m frozen in time. I know that face. “Holy shit,” I mutter, not realizing I said it a little stronger than I’d intended. I squint, trying to get a better look to make sure I’m not seeing things. I’m definitely not seeing things. “Holy shit!” I say again, but this time much louder, before I start walking in their direction.

Caleb’s voice calls out from behind me but I keep walking. I shove one hand in my pocket, running the other one through my hair a couple of times as I get closer. Once those emerald eyes come into focus, I immediately know there’s no mistaking her. How could there be? She’s fucking gorgeous.

I clear my throat to get her attention just before I speak her name. “Fran?”

She looks over at me and her eyes widen in disbelief, while a slow smile creeps across her lips. “Matt?”

“The one and only,” I reply, grinning, unsure as to why I’m suddenly so excited. Women don’t typically have that effect on me.

“Holy shit,” she says, mimicking my reaction, laughter bubbling up from her throat as she drops her head, her dark hair a curtain around her face. But she doesn’t stop laughing and it’s kind of ticking me off, my jaw working its way back and forth. I can’t figure out what’s so funny. Maybe she’s drunk. I’m about to say something when I hear Caleb’s voice and turn around just as he clasps my shoulder.

His brow furrows as he looks from me to Fran and back again. “What’s going on? You guys know each other?”

Fran continues to laugh which causes her friend to start laughing too, leaving me completely at a loss and Caleb very much in the dark.

“Okay, is someone gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?” he asks, while eying Fran’s friend who is without a doubt very attractive as well, with her caramel-colored waves and her cleavage peeking through the top of her black dress.

Fran finally manages to get a hold of herself, clutching her belly to try to suppress the laughter. She waves her hand in my direction. “Peyton Vinsant, meet Matt Dixon, Brad’s brother. Matt, this is Peyton, my roommate and really good friend.”

Peyton’s eyes pop open as she slowly appraises me, starting from the bottom and working her way up. “Brad’s brother?” she asks, arching one of her brows and licking her lips like a cat on the prowl.

“Yes,” I reply, unable to take my eyes off of Fran. She’s just as stunning as I remember, even though I only saw her for a short time while Brad was in the hospital. I’ve been back to New York several times since then, but somehow never ran into her. She’s unforgettable, though: the yellow flecks against the bright green backdrop of her eyes, her hair like black silk, not to mention the woman has curves. Jesus does she ever.

Caleb coughs loudly and I realize he’s waiting for an introduction.

“Oh, sorry. Caleb, this is Fran Heller, Brad’s fiancée Gabby’s best friend, and Peyton of course. Ladies, this is Caleb Brody.” I smack him on the chest. “My oldest friend.”

Caleb reaches for Fran’s hand first, kissing the back of it like the gentleman that he isn’t, and then moves on to do the same with Peyton. “Nice to meet you two lovely ladies. Can we buy you drinks?”

“Sure,” Peyton replies, and Caleb takes the opportunity to sidle up next to her at the bar while Fran and I continue staring at one another.

“What are the chances?” she murmurs quietly, shaking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know, right?” I’m trying to think of something witty to say, but failing miserably. I barely know her and I’m already off balance. It makes me uncomfortable so I cross my arms over my chest to protect myself…from what I have no idea.

Caleb hands us each a drink, then goes back to his conversation with Peyton. I look to Fran who almost seems as unsure as I am about what to do next.

“You want to sit?” I ask her, motioning with my hand to a table by the window. The view is pretty amazing, so if we can’t find anything to say we can always just stare out at the lights of the city.

“Sure,” she responds, and I let her go ahead of me, still shaking my head at the bizarre nature of this situation and at the same time catching a quick glimpse of her ass.

We take a seat at the table, both of us still reeling from the strangeness of it all. Fran twirls a strand of her hair around her finger absentmindedly, while I take a sip of my drink, eyeing her over the rim of my glass.

“So, Fran,” I say, placing my drink on the table and settling back in the chair.

“So, Matt,” she follows, continuing the lazy twirl of her locks.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her, lacing my hands behind my head and shifting my feet under the table.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replies, raising a brow and smiling mischievously.

“I’m here for the conference. It’s my company who sponsored it.” I lean forward and grab a couple of peanuts from the bowl as I wait for her response.

“No shit?” she comes back with, and for some reason it makes me chuckle. She’s got quite the mouth on her, and I let my eyes drift to it momentarily.

She catches my gaze and grins at me, resting her elbow on the table and her head in the palm of her hand. Her tongue sneaks out to drag across her bottom lip. “Something appeal to you?”

Well, she’s either drunk or very forward. Not really my style either way. I’ve had my share of drunken women and I can’t stand women that are overtly flirtatious like they’re trying too hard. She’s gotta be plastered, because to look at her, you wouldn’t think she’d have to try hard at all.

“No, not particularly,” I reply with an abrupt smile, scraping my hands down the front of my jeans, not knowing why the hell I’m reacting to her this way.

“Geez, kill me with kindness, why don’t you?” She smirks. “So I guess it’s safe to say you’re not as sweet as your brother.” Her laughter rings out, and I can’t tell whether she’s serious or not but I’m immediately taken aback. She doesn’t even know me.

I narrow my eyes, my lips forming a hard line. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

She flicks the ice in her glass with her finger before looking back at me, assessing me a little too heavily for my liking. “You seem…uptight. Like you need to dislodge the stick that’s up your ass.” She lets out a hearty, and I think, drunken laugh. “I’d give you some help with that, but it’s not my thing.”

What the fuck? Fran’s got some nerve. The girl has barely spoken to me and already she’s pissing me off. Maybe because there’s a ring of truth to her words. I didn’t realize I was that transparent.

I smirk and sit up straighter, rolling my shoulders to ease the discomfort there. Suddenly I’m very curious what her thing is. “First, you imply that I’m not sweet, and now I have a stick up my ass? Boy,” I chuckle, before adding, “you’re a real ego booster. Remind me to hang out with you more often.”

Chapter Seven – Fran – The stick

I’m sitting across from Matt, slightly buzzed and amused all at once. I think I’m getting under his skin and I like the feeling. I wouldn’t mind getting under him, period. Gabby would probably scream at me if she knew I was lusting after Brad’s brother in just the ten minutes since we’ve been in each other’s company. He’s definitely not sore on the eyes, though, and more ruggedly handsome than I remember: sandy brown, shaggy hair that falls over eyes the color of sea glass, a chiseled jaw with just a hint of stubble, that adorable dimple on his right cheek, and the subtle curve of his lips. Not to mention the way those jeans hug his slim waist and that black t-shirt clings to the defined muscles of his chest—I have to stop myself. That would be wrong, right? He’s Brad’s brother.

He must sense me staring because he smirks even after I’ve insulted him. He’s kind of an open book, though. His clothes may be relaxed but his body language screams uptight, and I bet he’s a workaholic, too.

“So have you talked to your brother lately?” I ask him, trying to distract myself from my indecent line of thought.

“Oh, you mean, my sweet brother?” he taunts, raising a brow and throwing my words back in my face.

“Yeah, that one.”

His lips flip at the edges and he shakes his head as if he can’t believe I would think he’s uptight. “I just talked to him yesterday, in fact. He’s doing well, and he’s consumed with Gabby and their wedding plans. She makes him really happy and I’m glad. My little brother deserves it.”

I see the admiration and genuine love in his eyes when he talks about Brad. It mirrors exactly the way I feel about Gabby. After her fiancée died, I wasn’t sure she’d ever open up again, so finding Brad was truly a miracle.

“They both deserve it,” I say, drawing invisible doodles on my napkin. “Gabby finally has her fairytale ending.” My voice lowers and my smile fades at the thought of what lies ahead for me.

“What about you?” he asks, scrutinizing me under his thick, full lashes. “What’s your fairytale ending?”

I thought I had it. I finally accepted that maybe I deserved happiness after all, reaching my hand out to a future that was so close I could feel it, I could taste it, and just when I grabbed hold of it, Kyle was wrenched away from me. My throat begins to close up, only a few words leak out accompanied by a laugh that’s filled with sadness. “There’s no fairytale for me. It’s not in the cards.”

He cocks his head to the side, his expression shifting to one of concern mixed with maybe a bit of curiosity. I don’t know what possessed me to say that to him, it’s not something that should’ve slipped out. It’s none of his business. “Why is that, Fran?”

Luckily, Peyton and Caleb show up at the table just in time, saving me from having to respond to Matt’s question because there is no simple answer.

When I look up, Caleb is holding a tray of shot glasses. Peyton’s face is flushed pink and she can’t take her eyes off of him.

“Let’s get trashed!” Caleb shouts over the music now booming from the speakers around the bar. He takes a seat and immediately pulls Peyton next to him, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers. Her eyes make their way to mine and she winks, letting me know this night is about to get interesting.

“What is it?” Matt asks, picking up one of the shot glasses and swirling the liquid around.

“It’s tequila,” Caleb replies, passing one out to me and then to Peyton. “Ready, on a count of three—”

Matt holds up his hand. “You know I’m not a fan.” He places the shot glass down on the table and pushes it away.

I look over at him and smile, sliding it back in his direction. “Matt…remember the stick? Remove it, and live a little. You can always put it back in later.”

His lips turn up in a lopsided grin, forcing his dimple out and, for a brief moment, making me weak in the knees…and I’m sitting down. He picks up the shot glass and clinks it against mine. “Cheers.”

We down the tequila, followed by two more, and suddenly my body is heated and my head is swimming. I’m glad tomorrow’s Sunday because there’s no way I won’t wake up with a hangover.

I can see Matt staring at me from the corner of my eye before he gets up from the table. A minute later he returns with a large glass of ice water and passes it to me, his fingers skimming mine for the briefest of moments, and I can’t deny the quickening of my pulse or the desire building between my legs. I haven’t been with anyone in over eight months, since my last attempt to forget Kyle, which ended in complete disaster. Right when we were in the heat of the moment and he was about to enter me, I rolled over and asked him to leave. It wasn’t working. He wasn’t making me forget and that’s all I wanted him for.

“Drink,” he commands, continuing to watch as I gulp down the entire glass. A shiver rolls through me, the blast of cold a shock to my system.

“A bit demanding, aren’t you?” I tilt my head and let my eyes flirt lazily with his body, while other parts of me are more than curious just how demanding he might be.

Caleb and Peyton are whispering to one another, her fingers toying with the dark hair around his ear, and I already know where that’s leading so I decide I’m going to call it a night.

“All right lovebirds,” I slur, and notice Peyton giving me the death glare, “I’m heading up to bed.”

Matt stands up and kicks his chair back, the scraping noise jarring my drunken state. “I’ll walk you.”

Shit.

I say goodbye to Caleb and give Peyton a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you in the morning…after you’ve slept in,” I whisper, and feel a pang of jealousy hit my alcohol-ridden gut, wishing that I didn’t have so much baggage dragging me down, pulling me under and making it impossible for me to breathe.

Matt places his hand on my lower back and ushers me through the bar and out to the bank of elevators. If I was the old Fran, I’d have jumped Matt’s bones the minute I saw him…not that I’m not still thinking about it. He just can’t know that I’m thinking about it.

We step into the elevator, neither of us saying anything, but as the car ascends I can feel Matt’s stare boring a hole through my dress. I look up to meet his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders, “it’s just that you’re freaking cute…that’s all.”

I put my hands on my hips, my eyebrows crinkling, attempting to appear offended and not tip over at the same time. “I’m not having sex with you, Matt, so just forget it.” Even though I really want to.

Before I can even blink, Matt is standing in front of me. He places his hands on either side of my head and leans in, his scent filling the space around me, masculine yet sweet, intoxicating. His soft lips brush the shell of my ear, his breath a warm dusting across my cheek. “Did I say anything about wanting to have sex with you, Fran? Because if I wanted to be inside that hot little body of yours, you’d know it.”

My throat goes dry, his words turning me on. I drop my gaze to his mouth, close my eyes and inhale a deep breath through my nose, attempting to control my raging hormones. When I open them, he’s smiling down at me.

“Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out,” I croak, just in time for the elevator doors to open.

Chapter Eight – Matt – Dirty thoughts

Fuck she’s hot. I can feel her uneven breaths against my lips as her chest rises and falls after hearing my words. Those eyes, like green panes of stained glass. That plump bottom lip, I’d love to take between my teeth. And she smells good, like jasmine and lavender.

I’m not sure what possessed me to say that to her. I know nothing about her. She’s like a little spark though. She lit me up tonight with her smart, sexy mouth, and now she’s got me thinking thoughts I haven’t in a long time, stirring something deep inside of me that’s been asleep. Like how I want to take her right here, make her scream my name while she comes apart beneath me.

The elevator doors open and she ducks down and sneaks underneath my arm to make her way out.

“Goodnight, Matt.”

I hold the doors open and watch her walk down the hall, taking one last look over her shoulder before she turns the corner to her room, leaving me with only one thought.

When do I get to see her again?

Shit. I’m fucked.

Chapter Nine – Fran - Scars

I slip the keycard into the door as quickly as I can, my hands somewhat shaky, my feet aching from the high heels I desperately need to remove. The moment I’m inside, I sag back against the door and slide down to the carpet, immediately taking off my shoes and tossing them aside. The guy went from tight-ass to hot-as-hell quicker than it takes a Ferrari to pick up speed. Maybe he’s bipolar.

I’m breathing heavy and I know it’s not from the alcohol or from any form of physical exertion, although I wish it was—shit. What possessed me to say that to Matt in the elevator? Gee, Fran, I don’t know, maybe the fact that all you could think about as he was sitting across the table from you was having sex with him.

With a frustrated sigh, I push myself up off the floor and strip down to my bra and panties. I pad to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face, trying to put out the flame that’s been ignited deep in my belly. There’s a part of me that wishes I could knock on the door to Matt’s room and just tell him what I want, but I know I’ll only regret it in the morning. It’s a temporary fix. It won’t fill the void in my heart, the crack that’s irreparable.

As I’m lying in bed, my hand lowers to my belly, touching the scars inked on my skin like a tattoo, the permanent reminder of the past that I’ll never escape. I remember sitting in school wishing I could just erase my father, take one of those No. 2 pencils and make him disappear, drawing a new dad in his place. The kind of dad who sits and reads you bedtime stories and seeks you out for a tackle hug when he comes home from work…a dad who doesn’t have a twisted fondness for a paring knife.

A knock on the door yanks me from that horrible place and when I glance at the clock on the side table, it reads 1:00 a.m. I can’t imagine who that could be at this hour. Even though I wasn’t sleeping, I let out an annoyed breath then look around for something to cover my skimpy tank and panties, when I spy one of those fluffy hotel robes hanging on the bathroom door. It might just end up in my suitcase. I wrap it around me and belt it, taking a second to revel in its softness before tiptoeing over to the door as if someone can actually hear me from behind it.

Peyton’s eyes are staring back at me through the peephole and I wonder what the heck she’s doing here. I thought for sure she’d be in the throes of passion right about now.

I pull the handle for the door and it clicks open to reveal Peyton, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Ahhhhh!” she screams with excitement, before running in and jumping on the luxurious king-sized bed that just moments ago was going to lull me into a not so peaceful sleep.

“What are you doing here? I thought for sure you’d be with Caleb,” I say, before sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“I was with Caleb, and if he isn’t the sweetest thing.” She pauses and exhales a breath. “And so sexy, too.” She touches her fingers to her lips. “Oh my God, Fran, the guy can kiss. I honestly could have kissed him all night.”

I can’t help but smile, she’s acting like a girl who just had her first date. “So, I ask again, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you off kissing Caleb?”

“I guess I wanted to play a little hard to get.” She lets out a huge groan. “But now, I’m kind of regretting my decision.” She puts both arms over her face, covering her eyes. “Now I’m all hot and bothered.”

I laugh, slapping her leg, and she flinches. “Well, can’t do much for you there, I’m not into girls.”

She lifts her arms away, revealing a smirk. “Ha ha. So what happened with you and Mr. Broody?”

“Mr. Broody,” I repeat, mulling the name over in my head. “Nothing. He just escorted me upstairs. That’s it.”

Peyton leans up on her elbows, glaring at me. “You didn’t even kiss the guy?”

“No. It’s not that I didn’t want to, though. He’s all kinds of hot with a dab of uptight. I like teasing him to see if I can get a rise out of him.”

She quirks a brow, her lips curving into a grin. “Oh, I’m sure you could get a rise out of him.”

Our laughter engulfs the room and I lie down on the bed next to her. My robe shifts, her fingers accidentally grazing the burn scars on my thigh, and she blanches, bolting upright, her eyes wide in shock. I hold my breath, wanting to avoid this, desperate to run.

“What happened, Fran?”

Peyton and I have only been roommates for a short time and I’m very careful that she doesn’t see my scars. I don’t know why, really. I guess it’s because I hate having to explain myself all over again and dredge up painful memories I’d rather leave behind. I’ll never leave them behind, though, because they’re always chasing me, threatening to expose my secrets at every turn.

I immediately slide off the bed, covering my legs with my robe, keeping my face hidden. “It’s nothing, really. I need to get to sleep, Peyton. You should probably go.”

She jumps from the bed and touches my elbow softly. “It doesn’t look like nothing, Fran. It looks like a whole lot of something. Who did that to you?”

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the wave of tension rolling through my body at having this conversation with her. The idea that she means well is in the forefront of my mind, although it doesn’t squelch the bile churning my stomach, making it impossible for me to get the words out. But I’m suddenly struck with what Gabby said to me her last night in our apartment. “Take another chance, Fran. You have to let someone in. Let someone care for you.” I don’t think she was referring to Peyton, but if I ever want our friendship to move to the next level then I at least have to try.

Turning to face her, I gather some courage and say the two words that have always caused me nothing but pain and utter devastation, leaving my life in a state of ruin. “My dad.”

“Jesus, Fran,” is the only thing she says before pulling me into a hug, wrapping her arms around me, comforting me. A single droplet slides down my cheek, the cheek of a twenty-eight year old woman who has undergone years of therapy yet still can’t manage to say those two words without tears.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She squeezes me tighter before backing away to examine me. “Thank you for telling me,” she says, sincerity lacing the rich, brown depth of her eyes. “You know,” she starts, “when I was sixteen years old, my best friend Susie….” She hesitates as sadness spreads across her features. “She…she’d been physically abused by her uncle, and…she never got over it.” Her eyes pool with tears and then close briefly as if to blink away the pain. “She couldn’t handle it. She tried for so many years but it ate her up until she finally didn’t want to live anymore. I desperately wanted to save her but there was nothing I could do. She didn’t make it, Fran…but I’m so glad you did.” She smiles and clasps my hand, my heart expanding at her words, and I’m suddenly very grateful she’s here.

I draw her into a hug, wanting to comfort her as much as she’s now comforting me. “Thank you, Peyton, so much,” I tell her, and she’ll never know what her words mean to me. A few seconds go by and I finally release her and back away as a yawn escapes.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” she asks, flicking a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m good, really. Thanks, though. I’m just gonna get a good night’s sleep.”

“If you’re sure,” she says, checking me over one more time before heading to the door.

“Positive.” I yawn again as I hold it open for her, exhaustion getting the better of me.

“Oh,” she says quickly as the door closes, “we have plans tomorrow morning, be ready by eleven.”

I yank the door open and poke my head out just in time to see her wink before disappearing down the hall.

Plans, what plans?

Chapter Ten – Matt – Gotta love aggravation

I step in the shower and turn the water to hot, letting the warmth cascade over my muscles, sore from an early morning workout. I’m more achy than usual, probably because I worked out harder than I normally do, visions of Fran’s flushed cheeks and hot little body pressed against the elevator wall spurring me on. Vivid images of those cherry red lips and what they might taste like, what they might feel like if they were sliding down my cock pushing me to exhaustion. I bet her skin is smooth and the thought of slipping my hand, or better yet, my tongue between her creamy thighs makes me so damn hard I can barely think straight.

There’s something about that feisty attitude of hers, too, coupled with the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous, that makes her irresistible. Work has consumed my life for so long and I’ll admit she sparks something in me. The flip side to that is I really don’t need the aggravation and Fran is very aggravating, exactly the reason why I’m seeing her today…so she can aggravate me a little more. I smile as I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist.

There’s a knock at the door and just by looking at the time I know it’s Caleb. When he says he’ll be here at 10:00 a.m., he’ll be here at 10:00 a.m. He’s got this thing about being prompt. With six kids, his mom had to keep everyone in line so she didn’t go insane.

“Morning!” he greets me as I open the door, giving me the eye when he sees I’m not ready. “We’re picking them up at eleven, you were supposed to be ready by now.”

I flip him the bird, then head to the closet to grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “Yeah, eleven. It’s ten, Mr. Rogers.” I shake my head in frustration. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this, I’m really not in the mood to socialize and I need to be preparing for the conference tomorrow.” What a crock of shit, who am I trying to convince?

Caleb takes a seat on the sofa beside the wall of windows overlooking the city. “This is exactly what you need, man. You’re wound so tight, you’re gonna snap any minute.”

“Is that so?” I sneer, but realize he has the twenty-five year old privilege of knowing what’s best for me. I slide my t-shirt over my head. “So what happened with Peyton last night after I left?”

His lips curve into a mischievous smile. “Dude, I wanted to get with her so bad, but she made me wait, said she wanted to save something for later. The woman has the lips of a goddess though. When she left I was in a severe amount of pain.”

I grab my key fob and wallet from the drawer. “You’re just going to continue being a gigolo, huh?”

He throws a pillow behind his head and stretches his legs out, grinning widely. “Listen, I did the monogamous thing for three years with Allison and look what that got me…dumped and heartbroken. Both of which sucked…so yeah, I’m gonna play the field for a while. If you ask me, you should do the same.”

“Is that your answer to everything?” I question, heading for the bathroom to brush my teeth. While I’m resisting with my words, my subconscious is singing a different tune, one with Fran laid out on my bed, my dick buried between her wet folds.

“No…well…maybe. Oh, yeah, so my dad called me this morning. My baby brother got accepted into a master’s program at Duke and my parents are over the moon.” he says, pride filling his voice.

Caleb’s dad went to Duke and he was hoping at least one of his kids would follow in his footsteps. “That’s awesome. So, your dad scored one,” I tease, “now he can let up on Tracy.”

“I know, right,” he says chuckling. “Now she can breathe easy. All right,” he calls out as he stands up, “let’s do this. Am I driving the Aston Martin today or what?”

I swipe my sunglasses off the table as we head out the door, shooting him an incredulous look along the way. “Have you lost your freaking mind? Or maybe you think I have. No one is driving my baby, but me.”

He shakes his head on a laugh. “Damn, it was worth a try.”

Chapter Eleven – Fran – Verbal sparring

I slide on my strappy sandals and check myself in the mirror for the tenth time. The floral skirt in shades of bright orange clings to my hips, while the white tank top clings to other parts of me that I didn’t think I was trying to draw attention to, but maybe I am.

Running a brush through my hair one more time, I pull it up in a high ponytail, take a deep breath, and wait for Matt, Caleb, and Peyton. I walk over to the window and glance out at the city. The day is stunning. There isn’t a white cloud in the backdrop of baby blue that coats the sky, and the sun bouncing off the buildings leaves them with a brilliant sparkle. There are rows of cars lining the freeway, yet no one’s in a hurry. I can definitely see the draw to LA—the laid back attitude and the year-round beautiful weather here make all the difference in the world.

There’s a knock at the door and I swallow one more breath before I casually walk over to answer it. It’s not like I’m in a hurry or anything. The moment I open it, I suddenly feel the need for a paper bag so I can hyperventilate. Matt’s standing there with a dimpled smile, a pair of board shorts revealing strong, tanned legs, and a white t-shirt that accentuates his solid abs and pecs. His sandy hair is slightly messed and his crystal blue eyes are reminiscent of the sky I was just admiring moments ago. He’s really handsome but in a sexy way.

“Hey,” I utter, when I can finally find my voice and stop blatantly checking him out.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies, moving his eyes over my frame with appreciation. “Oh,” he starts, grinning, “before you say anything, I’m not here for sex, just a day trip.”

His comment makes me smile and my cheeks turn pink. He’s giving me a dose of my own medicine and it’s my turn to volley back. “Oh well”—I flip my ponytail around my finger—“and to think I might have said yes.”

My words catch him off guard and he raises an eyebrow before sweeping his gaze up and over my body once again. “One point for you,” he admits, chuckling, “let’s go.”

Chapter Twelve – Matt – Little Spark

Jesus, if she isn’t the most beautiful, aggravating woman I’ve ever seen. I lag behind her just so I can watch her hips sway in that snug little skirt she’s wearing. She’s got killer legs, long, toned, and lean, and I have to close my eyes momentarily and breathe deeply in an attempt to remove the image of them wrapped around me.

She turns around right after the air has left my lungs, a steady hand on her hip. “What are you doing?”

“Uh…nothing, really, I’m…moving a little slow because I worked out pretty hard this morning.” I fall in step with her, disappointed that I can no longer stare at her ass.

Fran arches one of her dark, manicured brows, a question on the tip of her tongue. “So how’s your ass this morning?”

My eyebrows pull in, while my mind tries to unearth just what the hell she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” She looks behind me, pointing with her finger. “I was wondering if you were able to remove the stick.”

“You’ve got a little spark, don’t you?” I ask, chuckling at her constant ability to get under my freaking skin. It’s like she’s yanking my chain and I’m on my hands and knees, begging for her to pull just a little bit harder.

“Maybe…and maybe not,” she utters, shooting me a wink and tilting her head, that gorgeous silky hair falling over her shoulder making me wonder what it would feel like between my fingers.

We get on the elevator, neither of us saying a word, but I can feel the energy charging the air between us. She does something to me—what, I’m not quite sure—but there’s something nagging at me, telling me to find out what the hell it is. I just don’t know if I should listen or not.

I raise my eyes to meet hers. “What, no sex comments on the elevator today?”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she taunts, wetting her lips with her tongue, and I nearly explode in my pants.

Holy fuck.

I’ve never had sex in an elevator before, but there’s a first time for everything. One thing’s for damn sure, I’m about two seconds away from finding out if it lives up to the hype.

Chapter Thirteen – Fran – I dare you

My pulse is thumping feverishly and I’m suddenly anxious to get off this elevator. His eyes have darkened and his stance has shifted. I struggle to break his stare, tapping my foot nervously and watching the numbers light up on the panel as we make our way down to the lobby. My breathing picks up and the walls are closing in, the feelings foreign and strange because I don’t think they have anything to do with my old fear of elevators but everything to do with the guy standing before me. Thankfully the car dings, and when it does, I practically run out, eager to get away from him.

I smack into an elegant arrangement of pink lilies on the center table in the lobby. The scent fills my nose, making me feel dizzy, bathing me in Kyle’s memory, the one that invades my mind and envelops my heart. The silent reminder of why I’ll always be alone.

It wasn’t until recently that I finally came to terms with waking up on Fridays knowing I wouldn’t receive those fragrant lilies he always sent. I’ll never forget that last delivery. It was the Friday before we left for Hawaii. The card in Kyle’s handwriting read: There is only one word to describe your eyes…mesmerizing. There is only one word to describe your heart…beautiful. There is only one word to describe our love…forever.

A tear wets my lashes, sliding down my cheek, and I thumb it away. My heart scrunches tight with so much longing and there’s nowhere to channel it, so it sits inside, eating away at me.

I feel Matt’s hand on my shoulder and realize I’ve disappeared momentarily, as he draws me from my past and into my present…the one without Kyle…only me and my scars.

“Are you okay?” he questions softly, his voice laced with concern, his hand providing touch when I need it so desperately.

Without thinking, I throw my arms around him, needing to be held by someone, anyone who can take this awful pain away—the ache that comes from the hole in my heart, the ugliness that resides there serving as a barricade to anyone trying to break in.

He holds me for what feels like minutes as my body sags against his embrace, the warmth of his arms a temporary shelter from the storm brewing within me.

I pull away embarrassed and now unsure of my ability to get through the day, the lure to go back to bed and curl into a ball is strong. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unable to look at him, “I don’t think I can do this.”

He reaches down and tilts my chin to meet his gaze, his blue eyes burning with intensity. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. And…as far as today goes, I understand, but I’d love for you to come. It seems like it would do you some good to get some fresh air, and well, we were planning on taking a drive along the Pacific Coast Highway, to Malibu.”

I’m just about to respond when Peyton comes up beside me with a sympathetic smile. “You okay?”

Matt walks away to give us privacy, which I appreciate, and as soon as he’s out of earshot she turns to face me. “What happened?” she asks, her tone gentle and caring, as she pushes a stray hair away from my face.

I let out a huge sigh, my whole body shaking with the exhale of breath. “I saw the lilies and it made me think of Kyle. I just…miss him, that’s all.” I couldn’t tell her how I miss someone looking at me the way that Kyle used to, like the sun rose and set in my eyes. Someone that would touch me with feathery hands and breaths, that would look at me naked with the lights on…and still want me.

“Oh, Fran, I don’t know what to say. I can’t pretend to know how that feels. But I do know one thing, I’m worried about you. Between last night and today, well….” She cocks her head to the side and studies my face. “I think it would be good for you to get out. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to do, but I think you should push yourself. I can’t stand the thought of you staying behind. Besides,” she laughs out bitterly, “my mom has been calling my cell phone non-stop since I didn’t show up at my sister’s little celebration, and I want to call her and gloat when I’m standing on the beaches of Malibu.” She winks and links her arm with mine. “So, what do you say? Let’s go enjoy the day with two of the hottest guys in LA.”

The corners of my lips curve up, the thought of spending the day in bed suddenly not all that appealing. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Her face bursts with a satisfied smile and we head further into the lobby seeking out Matt and Caleb who are seated in two leather chairs, deep in conversation. Our sandals click loudly on the tile floor signaling our presence, and Matt’s eyes climb to mine, a genuine smile playing on his lips. It’s hard not to smile back.

“Ladies! Let’s blow this joint!” Caleb says excitedly, moving in to squeeze Peyton’s side and pull her close. Matt steals a look in my direction and I shrug, praying that Caleb and Peyton aren’t groping each other during the entire trip.

The valet pulls Matt’s car around, a little too fast for his liking apparently, judging by the scowl on his face.

“Holy fucking shit,” Peyton shouts, “this is your car? This thing costs more than I make in a year.”

Matt chuckles while the rest of us break out into laughter. That’s Peyton—funny as hell but possessing the tact of a fly.

Caleb ushers her into the back seat of the car, while Matt comes around to open my door, hesitating on the handle. “I’m…glad you decided to come,” he teases, “otherwise, who would’ve harassed me all day?”

I smile as he opens the door and slide onto the plush tan leather, making sure to pull my skirt down that’s suddenly hiking up my legs. I don’t want him seeing my scars.

Matt revs the engine and the darn thing sounds like an airplane it’s so loud. Boys and their toys. The thought makes me shake my head as we pull onto Highway 1 toward Malibu. The windows are rolled down and the sunroof open, the breeze warm and welcoming. It makes me realize this was the right decision. This is exactly what I needed.

The breeze causes wisps of hair to stick to my face. I’m attempting to push them back into my ponytail, when the window automatically rolls up. I turn to Matt who has his arm dangling out the window, one hand on the wheel. “What are you doing? I want it open.”

He keeps his eyes on the road but nods in my direction. “I figured you wouldn’t want to mess up your hair.”

I look to my left and my right and crinkle my nose, eyeing him like he has two heads. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t give a shit about my hair. I just want to feel the breeze on my face.” Then it hits me and I start cackling. “Listen, Matt, I’m not like those prissy women you’re probably used to hanging out with—the ones who have a nervous breakdown when they crack a nail, that’s not me. I spent a good portion of my life in the Bronx, and they grow ‘em tough over there.”

He smirks, and even from the side I can tell he’s trying not to bust out a laugh. “Prissy women? I don’t spend time with prissy women.”

“Whatever, just open my window, please.”

He pushes a button on the side panel. “There. You can open it yourself now, feisty.”

“Dude, turn on some tunes!” Caleb shouts loudly over the force of the wind coming through the windows. “We don’t feel like listening to the two of you argue like an old married couple. Come on! Let’s get this party started.”

We ignore the comment and Matt turns on the radio and the sound of Justin Timberlake’s “Sexyback” booms through the speakers. Peyton starts singing and when I flip around, she’s raising her hands above her head and Caleb is gyrating his hips to the beat of the music.

I swing my arms around and wave them wildly, singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. The music moves through me and I close my eyes, my body swaying to the sultry rhythm. When I open them, I catch Matt rolling his eyes, which just pushes me even more. “Matt,” I scream over the thundering lyrics, “lighten up.” I grab his free hand, shaking it in the air, and he lets out a hearty laugh, his whole face relaxing and his dimple making an appearance. He suddenly looks so boyish and absolutely adorable, and it becomes him.

By the time we arrive in Malibu, my voice is hoarse and my legs are cramped. We drive down a narrow dirt road and through a set of gates until we finally reach the parking lot. The tightness in my muscles evaporates when I look to my right and see the vista before me: the towering cliffs overlooking smooth white sand and crisp, blue water, the smattering of boats off in the distance. It’s spectacular.

A year ago, coming to the water would have brought me to my knees, caused me to internally crumble at the sight of the waves thrashing about on the shore, but I’m better now. The one thing I worked so hard to do after Kyle was to not let my favorite place get tainted. He wouldn’t have wanted that for me, and I didn’t want that for myself.

Peyton and Caleb immediately hop out of the car, tossing their shoes in the back seat and running out onto the sand. Matt makes his way over to my side and opens the door. Just as he’s about to close it, I lay a hand on his arm and reach up to him with my eyes.

“You know, you should really laugh more. It’s like the sun breaking through the clouds.”

A blank look crosses his face before it gets covered by a beaming smile. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it, letting the depth of his smile speak for itself. “Come on, let’s go down to the water.”

We walk past a sign and I stop just in front of it, reading the words that are carved into old, faded slabs of driftwood. They make me smile.

Welcome To

Beautiful Paradise Cove

Have A Seat

Bring The Kids

Sea The View

Enjoy Malibu

“It’s amazing how I spent the first nine years of my life in California but never even knew paradise like this existed,” I say, completely mesmerized by the beauty surrounding me, but unfortunately knowing all too well it can turn deadly in the blink of an eye.

“I didn’t even realize you grew up in California,” Matt replies, kicking up the sand with his feet as we make our way to the water. He gets hit in the knee with a beach ball and a blue-eyed, blond-haired little boy runs up to him with a goofy smile. Matt tosses the ball back and he giggles then runs away.

“Yes, well, I consider myself a New Yorker.” I emphasize my subtle accent when I say the last two words. “You know the type, we’re tough shit, so don’t mess.”

Matt chuckles at my last comment as we finally reach the ocean and he dips his feet in, jumping back quickly. “Wow, that’s seriously cold.”

“Chicken,” I joke, bending down to splash him with water until I notice the playful gleam in his eye and realize I might be in trouble.

“Oh, you don’t think it’s cold, Fran? Maybe you’d like to go for a little swim?” He takes two steps toward me and I take three back.

“You wouldn’t dare,” I counter, pursing my lips together as I watch him stalking me, ready to pounce.

“Oh, I would dare, Fran. Ask Caleb. He’ll tell you how I respond to dares….”

Before I can utter a reply, Matt grabs me under my knees and scoops me up while I kick my legs furiously in the air.

“Put me down,” I shout, laughter mixing with the high-pitched screams that are leaving my mouth. “Peyton, help me!” I shriek, throwing my head back, but when I see her and Caleb making out further down the beach, I know she won’t be saving me anytime soon.

When I boost myself back up, Matt’s face is inches from mine, our eyes now locked, our breathing intense. I can feel his breath on my cheeks, making them red with heat, the sun no longer an excuse for my warmth.

“You can’t throw me in,” I pant, “I’ve got a skirt on.”

His eyes focus on my lips and I wet them to ease the sudden dryness there. “I think I’ve got you at an advantage right now and I can do whatever I like,” he says, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths, his muscles bunching underneath his shirt.

After a pause, he drops his gaze and lowers me to the ground. “I’ll let you off, for now.” He smiles, and I quickly smooth my skirt back down and fix my ponytail.

We stand next to one another, inhaling the salty air, embraced by the calmness of the sea. Matt looks over at me and then back out to the ocean. “She loved it here, my sister. I remember the first time I brought her here,” he says, nostalgia crossing his face, softening his smile. “She ran right into the water, headfirst, and started screaming and laughing, said it was the most beautiful place on earth.” He’s quiet for a minute and when I glance over at him, his shoulders droop, his solid posture suddenly shrinking. “I also remember the last time I brought her here,” he murmurs so softly I almost don’t hear him. “I carried her frail body, wrapped in her favorite flannel blanket so she could keep warm, honoring her wish to see the ocean for one last time.”

I remember Gabby telling me that Brad’s sister and mom had both died of breast cancer, and seeing Matt standing here, understanding his overwhelming loss, one that tears at your soul and hinders your every thought, I reach out my hand to him. He doesn’t flinch as I half expect him to, but squeezes my hand, releasing a hard breath.

“She was so full of life, you know? She was stubborn and hard-headed, a real spitfire.” He angles his head in my direction. “Reminds me of someone,” he says, his dimple rising with a small smile as he recalls the memory. His eyes move from my face to our adjoined hands, and I casually let mine fall away, still wanting to be there for him, but fear mixed with guilt churns my stomach and I need to let go.

“I’m sorry,” I utter quietly, “I know all too well what it’s like to lose someone you love. It’s like having to drink poison every day after they’re gone, your insides slowly decaying until there’s nothing left.” When I realize what I’ve said, I wince, wanting to take the words back immediately. “I’m sorry,” I say again, “that sounded really depressing.”

He doesn’t look at me, but continues to be mesmerized by the rippling of the tide. “It’s okay.” He lets out a sad laugh. “It’s actually a pretty accurate analogy.” He finally turns to me. “Who did you lose, Fran?”

I breathe out a rush of salty air as the memory grabs hold of me.

We’d been dating a year and Kyle planned the vacation as a surprise, knowing how much I loved the ocean. The Hawaiian island was simply magnificent: black sand, the cerulean blue sky, crests of snow-capped waves brushing the shore, and the sun reflecting off the water casting a warm glow on my skin. Kyle and I were swimming in the sea, like fish in their natural habitat. I felt so free…so happy. Then suddenly everything went black. The last thing I heard was our laughter, followed by the sound of splashing filling my ears before it became muffled and I got tugged under by the force of a wave so powerful that it stole all of my breath.

I was being pulled further into the depths of darkness until I saw an array of exquisite colors and dancing light. I had the weightless feeling of floating on a cloud and then being blanketed by warmth, soft lips covering mine. It was wonderful until I started gasping, water spurting every which way, my head turned to the side, coughing relentlessly.

I’d lost all sense of space and time until I heard a voice that brought me back from the depths of my subconscious. I had yet to crack my eyes open but didn’t recognize the deep, rich sound.

“Hey, can you hear me?” the male voice said, concern evident in his words.

When I finally opened my eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight, the blond-haired, hazel-eyed face I was staring into was not familiar. Panic suddenly consumed me. “W-Where’s Kyle?” I choked out.

The man said nothing, just shook his head back and forth as if he didn’t understand my question.

You couldn’t hear my voice echoing in a scream across the island, nor could you see sobs racking my body. I simply reached my hand out to the ocean that minutes ago had lured us into its beauty, tears crawling silently down my cheeks as his name fell from my lips. “Kyle.”

I was used to suffering in silence and even more accustomed to the stabbing pain piercing through my chest. Kyle was gone, and yet again, I learned that love fucking hurts. Maybe I just didn’t deserve it.

An emptiness fills me, a burning ache that even after two years hasn’t gone away. He was the one person who thought I was beautiful in spite of my scars, who saw my broken parts and still managed to love me anyway. How do you go on when the one person who gave you a whisper of hope for something you only dreamed about, is gone?

“The love of my life,” I reveal in a murmur, not really wanting him to hear my words…not even wanting to hear my own words. Again, I mentally chastise myself, it’s been two years and I know it’s time to move on, just like I used to tell Gabby. I guess I’m better at giving advice than heeding my own. If I’m honest, even though I do miss Kyle, it’s the gift he gave me that I miss most, loving me in spite of myself, despite my scars and my broken past.

“I’m sorry,” he says so sincerely with his voice and his eyes that my heart nearly cracks in two. For some reason, it’s so meaningful that it shatters the rest of the way when he gathers me in his arms and just holds me while I cry.

“Shhh,” he says in a hushed whisper as he strokes my hair back and forth, soothing the wound in my heart and for the briefest of moments, instilling a seed of hope that I can heal.

He finally pulls away, but not completely, piercing me with his stare, his eyes a penetrating blue. “You know it’s possible to have more than one love in a lifetime, Fran, right? Especially for someone like you.” He pushes an errant hair from my face. “Someone so authentic and rare….” He clears his throat and faces the water once again, leaving me momentarily stunned by his words.

Matt just managed to repair one of the tiny cracks in my heart without even realizing it.

Chapter Fourteen – Matt – Castles in the sand

Is she for real? First she tells me that she likes it when I laugh, well, not in those words, but it was pretty clear. Then she taunts me and I find myself coming back for more. What the hell? The fucked up part. I liked it. All of it. I like the way I feel around her, the adrenaline surge that kicks in, the way she challenges me, almost to the point of not caring what I think about her. That is so damn attractive and she has absolutely no idea.

I’ve always been the pragmatic one, ever since I can remember. I’m not sure if it’s from being the oldest of three children, or if it’s something that was ingrained in my personality since birth. But I do know this—it’s been nearly a day and all of my rational thought has gone right out the fucking window. Nothing makes sense when I’m around her and I find myself in a constant state of confusion. She throws me off my game and I can’t figure out if I like the feeling or not. Well, I think I do. It’s just that I’m used to being in control and having my shit together, yet one snarky comment from her and I’m sent into a tailspin.

I’ve always loved a good challenge. Ever since I was a kid, if you told me there was something I couldn’t do, I’d work three times as hard to prove that I could. When I was eleven and Mom told me that if I ate one more peanut butter and jelly sandwich, bringing my count to four, that I’d end up getting sick—I mentally talked myself out of throwing up the entire night. I even snuck a couple glasses of ginger ale when she wasn’t looking, just so I could show her she was wrong.

When we went out on my parents’ small boat on Greenwich Beach as kids to go water-skiing and my friends said anyone who didn’t do it was a scaredy-cat, I was terrified, but never let on that it scared me to death. Instead, I went ahead and did it so everyone could see how brave I was…and then I ended up breaking my leg. But hey, they couldn’t call me chickenshit.

So when Fran looks at me with those dazzling green eyes and dares me, she has absolutely no idea what she’s in for, because that’s the one word in my vocabulary that gets my juices flowing, and she’s about to discover just how much.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, mashing her lips together, forming an adorable smirk.

“Oh, I would dare, Fran. Ask Caleb. He’ll tell you how I respond to dares….”

When Caleb dared me to eat a worm in third grade—I ate two. When he dared me to see if I could get to second base with Nancy Trimbell—I got to third. When he dared me to moon a car full of girls on the highway for one minute—I kept my ass up there for five. So this, well, this is cake.

I catch Fran by surprise and hoist her in the air. She tries to fight me, kicking her legs and attempting to wiggle out of my grasp, but I just tighten my hold.

“Put me down,” she yells, half laughing and half screaming while attempting to call Peyton for backup, but she’s way too busy locking lips with Caleb to come to Fran’s rescue.

When her eyes come back up to meet mine, I can feel that energy pulsating between us. Although my attention flickers to her lips, a dark pink from the sun, the cool breeze has made her nipples taut against the thin fabric of her tank, and my breathing accelerates. It’s impossible not to appreciate every single detail about Fran; she’s unbelievably gorgeous.

My gaze is drawn back to her lips when her tongue darts out to moisten them, making me want to taste her, to kiss her, to go exploring. What the hell am I saying? I’ve known this girl for barely twenty-four hours and yet I feel like I’ve known her for years.

I finally lower her to the ground, because if I don’t, I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself much longer. As if that isn’t bad enough, then the words start spilling out about my sister. I don’t know what possessed me to say them. I’m usually very tight-lipped about my mother and sister’s deaths, Brad and Caleb being the only ones to bear the brunt of my anger, my grief, and my absolute heartbreak over losing them. But for some reason, standing next to Fran, an ease washes over me and I let a little piece of myself go. And, fuck me, she grabs that piece of me by taking my hand. I exhale a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding, and by the time it leaves my mouth her hand is gone, and I want it back.

I vaguely remember now that Brad mentioned something about her boyfriend passing away, but hearing her tell me about it was devastating. I know all too well how it feels so I pull her into my arms, as much for myself as for her. I smooth her hair down and tell her it’s going to be okay, but sometimes that’s such a bunch of bullshit.

But I’m not bullshitting her though when I tell her she’s authentic and rare. What possessed me to say that? I have no freaking idea, but I do know I meant it with my whole heart. She’s the real deal. There’s nothing fake about Fran.

“I must look a bit like a raccoon now,” she says, changing the subject, as she wipes her face with the back of her hands, concentrating on the area underneath her eyes.

“A cute raccoon,” I jest. “Here, you missed some.” I swipe my thumb at the corner of her eye to remove the rest of the black from it. “There. All set. As good as new.”

She bends down and picks up a smooth rock, launching it into the ocean before plopping down on the sand in front of the water.

“Wow, that’s quite an arm. I’m impressed,” I say, joining her on the sand, the sun warming our backs.

A smile causes her lips to quirk up. “They used to call me the ‘golden arm of the Bronx,’” she tells me, holding her head up high with pride.

I turn my whole body to face her, making a pile of shells and rocks between us. “That’s quite a title. What’d you do to earn it?”

“Well, we didn’t have parks in the city, but my friends and I would play ball in the courtyard near our apartment and my ball always made it over the fence and into the street.” She covers her toes with sand, rendering them invisible.

“So did you ever play little league?” I ask, drizzling more sand on her feet.

“No. I never wanted to make it official. It was just fun playing around, you know? Less pressure. So…do you want to help me build a sandcastle or what? We’ve got the beginnings of a world class one right here.” She points to the mound of sand and our collection of shells.

“Sure, but we don’t have a bucket or a shovel.”

She rises to her knees and scoops sand into her hands. “Who needs those? It’s called improvising, you know, like what the cavemen did. Geez, you do need to get out more,” she says, smiling, and I chuckle before we get down to the serious work of digging a water hole for the foundation and pounding wet sand into odd shapes. We finish off with a surrounding wall to protect it.

“Where do you want to put the shells?” I ask, patting the sand down to create what looks like a road around it.

“Hmph. How about we put them on top? You know, instead of a flag. Ooooh!” she exclaims, eyeing a shell on the ground. “I love this one. It’s so pretty!” She examines it, holding it up to the sunlight. “It’s got silver and blue inside. Let’s use this one, too.”

“Okay, good thinking.” I choose a couple more shells and we both press them into the sand.

“There.”

We stand up and dust our hands off, admiring our work.

“For an architect, you certainly make crappy sandcastles,” she teases.

I cup my hands full of water, preparing to strike, and Fran retreats a few steps back.

“You wouldn’t d—” she starts to say, but then stops herself, already aware of the consequences.

“Ah, don’t say it, Fran. It won’t end well for you.” I grin, taunting her with the water as it seeps through my fingers.

She surrenders, holding her palms up and out in defeat. “All right, all right. Let’s go find the lovebirds. Knowing Peyton, I have a feeling they’re held up in a cave somewhere.” She laughs, and the sound carries in the air.

As we look for Peyton and Caleb further down the beach, we end up getting roped into a group volleyball game. We play for a while before we go in search of them again. I’ll admit I didn’t mind watching Fran jump up and down, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one.

“Wait, is that them?” I squint, trying to make out the couple I see a ways down the beach standing in front of the café. We start walking in that direction and I find myself wanting to reach for Fran’s hand but I hold back. She was just talking about losing the love of her life and I highly doubt she has any interest in me or my hand.

We meet up with Peyton and Caleb, and from the obvious swell of Peyton’s lips, he’s definitely been keeping her busy. I eye him suspiciously until I hear a grumble coming from Fran’s stomach. “Hungry there, little spark?” I grin and bump Fran’s shoulder playfully.

“Little spark? What’s that about?” Caleb asks, “Are you going to let us in on your private joke?”

“Nope,” I shoot back, and throw a wink in Fran’s direction.

Peyton leans over, whispering something in Fran’s ear and they both giggle, which leaves me wishing I knew what the hell they were saying.

We enter the café, a rustic interior that’s lined with wood tables, leather booths, and black and white framed photographs of the shore. I request a table outside overlooking the ocean and the hostess leads us to a terrace that’s lined with various exotic flowers in yellows, oranges, and golds. The tables are driftwood, bleached by the sun, each with a single yellow rose in the center.

I pull out Fran’s chair and she sits down, peering over her shoulder at me. “Such a gentleman,” she says, an edge of sarcasm to her sweetness.

Caleb directs his attention to Fran, raising both his brows. “Ha! Ask him how much of a gentleman he was with Hayley Williamson in eleventh grade.”

Peyton leans forward in her chair, her brown eyes aglow with curiosity. “That sounds interesting, do tell.”

I kick Caleb under the table and he groans, reaching under to rub his now throbbing knee.

Fran rests her chin in her palm as she waits for an explanation I’m not sure I want to give. “Well, we’re waiting. You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Oh trust me, he got off,” Caleb says laughing, and I’m two for two when I nail him in the shin. He scowls but doesn’t let my wrath deter him, continuing with the conversation. “The ladies are waiting.”

“How about you tell us, and then each one of us will also tell something about ourselves, to ease your pain,” Fran says, a mischievous smile floating across her lips.

I fold my arms across my chest, contemplating her proposition and interested in what story she might have to tell. “Okay, deal,” I concede, trying to figure out how to word what I’m about to say. “So…in a nutshell, Hayley’s mom caught her giving me head in their garage…in the front seat of her mom’s Mercedes…just as she was about to….” I hesitate and look to Caleb who isn’t any help at all. “Uh…swallow. Needless to say, her mom’s front seat needed a thorough cleaning.”

“Oh my God,” Peyton and Fran say at the same time, and their laughter ensues and it doesn’t stop. My ears heat and a streak of red slashes across my face.

I eye Caleb with a vengeful grin, anxious for him to take his turn so I can laugh my ass off, although he’s got a ton of stories and a lot more variety than I do.

“Caleb, you’re up dude,” I say, in hopes that he can take the focus off of me.

“Hmph,” he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There are so many good ones. It’s really hard to choose.” He glances over at Peyton and then back to me. “Okay, I’ve got one. This was when I was in high school. So my parents had gone away for the night and I invited my girlfriend Valerie over. My bed was way too small and she suggested my parents’ king-sized bed, which I thought was a bit weird, but decided to go with it. Anyway, she left me for a minute and came back with some whipped cream, and…some other stuff. We were getting busy with the whipped cream when my dad ran up the stairs because he’d forgotten something, and caught us stark naked with, uh, certain parts of Valerie covered in whipped cream.”

I shake my head and chuckle as I recall that night. Caleb called to tell me his dad went through the roof, not because he found them naked, simply because they was on his bed.

“Whipped cream, huh?” Peyton asks with an arch of her brow. “I didn’t know you were into that.” She moves closer to him, whispering something in his ear and once again, I feel like I’m in the dark.

“All right, break it up you two. Fran, it’s your turn,” I tell her, excited to hear what she has to offer up.

“Wait,” Fran says loudly, “does it have to be dirty? Or can it be anything?”

Caleb pipes back instantly, just as the waitress returns with our drinks. “It can be whatever you want, but we prefer it be dirty. Right, Matt?”

The waitress eyes us curiously and I bite back a grin, keeping my fingers crossed it’s something dirty so I can get a visual.

“Okay.” Fran takes a deep breath and rubs her hands down the front of her skirt and I take that to mean it’s going to be a good one. “So when I was in high school, I was dating this guy Eddy and we had sex in the haunted house at the Halloween carnival.”

That’s it? I had my hopes up for something with a bit more gusto. But I suppose it’s adventurous and fun and that does seem to fit Fran to a tee.

She looks to me and then over at Caleb and Peyton. “That’s it? No reaction. Nothing.”

Caleb gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to pat her hand. “To be honest, Fran, it’s not all that exciting.” He turns to Peyton. “Okay, babe, your turn.”

I move closer to Fran and talk quietly so only she can hear. “That’s okay. I liked it.”

“Figures,” she teases back, and there’s that sassy mouth again. My eyes are immediately drawn to her lips and I take a sip of water to cool down, distracting myself from the divine temptation sitting beside me.

Peyton’s entire face beams when it’s her turn, obviously taking a liking to this game. “Well, I’ve got a one-up on your garage story. My boyfriend Rob and I were messing around at my house and he asked if he could tie me up, to which I responded, ‘of course.’” Caleb’s head does a 360 and he coughs, nearly choking on his drink. Peyton pats him on the back a couple of times before she continues. “So, let’s just say I was tied to my headboard in quite the awkward position when my sister walked in, followed by my mom. The sheer terror on my mom’s face let me know I probably would never be allowed in the house alone again. So needless to say that was the end of my escapades with Rob.”

Caleb’s phone rings, interrupting our hysterics, and he puts his finger up in the air, motioning for us to hold on. “Hi, Mom,” he says, but the smile on his face disappears almost instantly, leaving me concerned.

I love his mom and dad as if they were my own. They’ve stepped up for me in every way possible since my mom died—from Friday night dinners and helping with my studies, to being emotionally available for me. They mean the world and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

I keep my eyes glued to his face until he hangs up. “What’s going on Caleb? Is your mom okay?”

He pushes his chair back and stands up, shoving his cell phone in his back pocket. “My dad fell and hurt his hip, and I want to get back so I can check on him.”

“Oh shit,” I mutter, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, man, but thanks. My mom said he’s really irritable because now he can’t get up off the couch and do his woodworking so you don’t want to be exposed to that right now. You remember how he gets when he can’t keep busy.”

“All right, well, I’ll definitely come by in a day or so to check on the old man. You know he’s gonna drive your mom crazy now.” We laugh, letting Fran and Peyton go ahead of us as we exit the restaurant.

Fran stops Caleb when we reach the car, setting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your dad,” she says earnestly, and it makes me smile. This little spark has a heart of gold.

Chapter Fifteen – Fran – Smile, Smile, Smile

I lean my head back on the seat and look out the window, my eyes drifting upward. The sky is a kaleidoscope of colors; streaks of orange, pink, and blue graze the landscape as we head back to the hotel. A contented smile sits on my lips when I think about the day. It was a lot of fun and I’m glad I decided to be a part of it. Rolling my head to the side, I catch a glimpse of Matt, his cheeks sun-kissed, his arms tanned, and his features relaxed. He must feel me staring because he looks over and sends a smile my way.

* * *

There’s a tap on my shoulder and I wake up disoriented, trying to get my bearings, when I see we’re already back in the front circle of the hotel. I rub my eyes and yawn, not knowing when I’d even dozed off, but feeling somewhat rested as a result.

Matt comes around to open my door and I climb out, stretching my arms before bending over to rub my calf, now cramped from the ride. “I can help you out with that, if you want,” he offers, one hand resting on his hip, a devilish smirk on his face.

“I’m sure you could,” I reply, standing back up and shaking my leg out, “but I’m all set.”

The valet pulls the car out and I look over my shoulder for Peyton, only to realize that she and Caleb are nowhere in sight. “Where are Peyton and Caleb?” I ask, heading in through the revolving door of the hotel.

“Caleb went to visit his dad and Peyton said something about heading to the bar for a quick drink. Do you want to join her?”

The only thing I feel like doing is crawling into bed. “No, thanks. I’m going back to my room. I’m super tired and we have to be up early tomorrow for the conference.”

“Okay,” Matt says, randomly kicking at the ground. “I’ll walk you.”

We’re quiet on the elevator ride up, my eyes practically drifting closed as I lean back against the wall. When I open them, Matt is staring at me, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a lazy smile.

“What?” I ask, reaching down and taking my sandals off, my feet feeling the effects of new shoes, the thought of a soak in the Jacuzzi tempting me.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. Like I believe that.” I grin. “You look like you’re up to no good.”

The elevator dings and I walk out into the hallway, Matt following close behind. We stop just as we reach the door and I dig in my purse and pull out the keycard, hesitating for just a beat, knowing there’s something I want to say.

“So I just—” we both say at the same time.

“You first—” we say, again in unison.

Matt waves his hand as if rolling out the red carpet for me. “No you. Go ahead.” He rocks on his feet, his tousled beach hair strewn across his forehead.

For some reason I find myself unable to look in his eyes, so instead I focus on the wall behind him. “I had a really nice time today, thank you.”

“I’m glad. I did, too. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while so thanks for helping me remove the stick.”

A wide smile eases onto my face, the thought that I’ve helped him in some way causes me to feel lighter. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I say brightly, and that simple flex of his dimple makes it impossible for me not to smile back.

“Yeah, it does,” he mumbles quietly, and starts off down the hall. “Goodnight, Fran.”

“Goodnight.”

He walks away, but jogs back just as I’m putting the keycard in the door. “Hey, I almost forgot.” He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out the silver and blue shell from the beach. “Here,” he offers, handing it to me, “I thought you might like to have this.” He shrugs. “You know, as a souvenir or whatever.”

My smile broadens and I close my fingers tightly over the shell before meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he replies, and takes off for the elevator.

I open the door to my room and start to walk through when I hear Matt’s voice.

“Hey, Fran,” he yells from the other end of the hallway, “I like seeing you smile.”

And then he disappears…leaving me doing just that.

* * *

I’m in my room for all of about two minutes when there’s a knock on the door. For a split second, I think it might be Matt, and I curse myself because a small part of me is hoping that it is.

“Fran, it’s me,” Peyton says from the other side of the door, “let me in.”

I open it and Peyton is standing there with a whimsical look on her face, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed.

“Hey.”

“Geez, don’t look so excited to see me. Were you expecting someone else?” she teases, kicking off her heels and dropping down on the bed, getting a little too comfortable.

“No,” I reply quickly. “I was planning on going to bed.”

“Hmm…mmm…yeah, okay, whatever you say.” She lets out a contented sigh. “I think I’m in love,” she says dreamily, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her face.

I place the shell on the side table, jump on the bed, and promptly remove the pillow, forcing her to look at me. “What did you say?”

“Oh, relax,” she responds playfully, “I’m only kidding…well, half kidding.” Another sigh escapes from her chest. “Caleb is so wonderful.” She touches her fingers to her lips. “And those kisses”—her thumb rubs across her bottom lip—“to die for.” She turns on her side, leaning her head on her elbow and smacking her lips together. “That Matt is pretty dreamy, too…don’t you think?”

“Yeah, he’s okay, I guess.” I try to conceal a smile. “When he’s not being uptight.”

My cell phone vibrates and I hop off the bed to retrieve it from my purse. It’s a text, but I don’t recognize the number it’s coming from.

Just testing, is this you?

“Who’s it from?” Peyton asks, tossing a pillow behind her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the number. It must be a mistake.”

“Let me see it,” she says, and I throw the phone on the bed. She picks it up and studies the number before a knowing grin appears on her face. “Oh, it’s not a wrong number, sweetie.”

“You know who it is? Who is it, then?” I ask, my nose wrinkling, a tiny crease forming between my eyebrows.

“It’s Matt.”

“What are you talking about? It can’t be Matt. I didn’t give him my cell phone number.” My brain is moving much slower tonight and it takes me a second to process before I place my hands on my hips and glare at her.

“I did,” she says simply, seemingly pleased with herself. “You dozed off and while you were sleeping he asked if he could have it, so I gave it to him.”

“Well, why did you do that?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit while I bite the inside of my lip.

“Why not?”

“Gah,” I grumble, before trotting into the bathroom to groan one more time. Why is she giving Matt my cell phone number? We’re in the same hotel for heaven’s sake! I peek out of the bathroom and she’s typing something on my phone. “What are you doing now, troublemaker?”

“I’m telling him it’s your phone.”

“Gah!”

Her voice bubbles with laughter as she calls out, “Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”

I stick my tongue out at her before I close the door so I can pee and compose myself in private. I’m not really sure why I’m so upset. Maybe because you like him, says the little voice. “Oh, shut up!”

“Who are you talking to,” Peyton yells through the door, “your little friend?”

I flush the toilet and take extra time washing my hands while staring at my reflection. My skin is touched by the sun, the caramel highlights in my hair are shining, and my eyes are bright. Hmph. I look happy. Almost.

It’s quiet when I make my way back out to the bedroom but I catch the devious look still stuck to Peyton’s face.

“So did he text back?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my skirt and secretly hoping the answer is yes.

“What do you care?” She smiles, lifting one of her shoulders in a shrug. “You don’t want him texting you anyway.”

I lob a pillow at her head and she nails me right back before I settle myself on the bed, leaning against the plush velvet headboard. “So what was up with that sex story, you being tied up? Quite the adventurous one in high school, weren’t you?”

“Hey! Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” She grins while rolling a strand of hair around her finger. “What about you? What was up with sex in the haunted house? It’s dark and scary in there.”

“Exactly,” I respond, picking at my chipped fingernail polish, a reminder that I need to re-do my manicure first thing in the morning. “Do you want to know the real reason that Eddy and I were having sex in there?” I ask, my eyes focused on a speck of lint on the duvet.

She waggles her eyebrows and swivels her hips, a wicked smile on her face. “Because you were horny?”

I shake my head back and forth, continuing to look down, unable to face my reality. “Because it was dark in there, and that way he couldn’t see my scars and find me repulsive like all the other guys did.” I’m not sure what possesses me, but I lift up my tank revealing the scars covering my belly and Peyton’s hand flies to her mouth.

The playfulness of the moment before is gone, replaced by thick, polluted air, the grin on Peyton’s face disappearing completely. She scoots up the bed and sidles next to me, twisting our arms together, her head against mine. If anyone had told me a couple of months ago that Peyton and I would be bonding like this, I would’ve laughed in their face. But here we are.

“Oh honey,” she says, taking my hand, her voice full of empathy. “I don’t know what to say. There aren’t enough words to express how awful it makes me feel that you had to go through that…but…you’re a wonderful person…and those scars don’t matter. They don’t make you who you are….”

I could tell her story after story about how they’ve mattered. How men have walked out on me time and time again, mouths gaping open at the sight of my scars, words filled with lame excuses battering my ears. I’ve heard the choking swallows, had the lights turned off more times than I care to remember. But instead, I don’t respond. I don’t tell her how wrong she is, that the ugliness has not only stained my skin but seeped its way into my soul, defining me…every single day of my life.

Chapter Sixteen – Matt – Scary clowns

I run a finger over the row of dress shirts hanging in the closet that are, of course, organized by color, and settle on a crisp, white one. Slacks are an easier decision. The only color I brought was black. I’m forgoing the fucking tie. I don’t like wearing them and I think I can actually get away with it here, not so much when I’m in the office, so I’m taking full advantage.

My obsession with having things in order started after Mom died. Her death seemed to affect me the most, well, aside from Dad. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the oldest and had been with her the longest, but her passing left a huge gap in my life, especially given the fact that Dad checked out to a degree once it happened. I’ve tried to taper it, but if anything, it’s gotten worse. But shit, if it helps me cope, I suppose there are a lot worse things.

My mind drifts to Fran as I eye the cell phone sitting on the bedside table, recalling wanting to send her another text last night but deciding against it. I don’t really know what she would’ve thought, but I had a great time yesterday and just wanted to tell her again.

The picture of her when we returned to the hotel is cemented in my brain. Her cheeks, pink from the sun, bringing out the green in her eyes, her hair an array of tangles from the salty breeze, her skin tanned and beautiful. She does things to me and she’s messing with my head. I look down at my dick. No, I wasn’t talking about you. Although.…

I slip on my shoes, swipe my briefcase from the closet and my watch from the corner table. The clock reads 8:45 a.m. and I’m seriously late. Shit. The conference starts at nine and I was supposed to be down there to prepare a half hour ago.

In a mad dash out the door to catch the elevator, I check my briefcase to make sure I have all the necessary blueprints for my presentation. The car stops on the twenty-third floor and I’m willing it to hurry up. I’m typically very organized and have everything laid out and ready to go before I present, but something’s off…or someone’s throwing me off. Fuck.

The doors open and my smile widens. Fran steps onto the elevator and I suddenly can’t remember what the hell I was doing or what I was looking for in my portfolio.

“Morning,” I greet, checking out the black pencil skirt, black spiked heels, and white blouse she opted to wear today. Her hair is piled atop her head with a few strands dangling around her face. “You look…nice.”

“Thanks,” she replies, taking a moment to observe my clothing choice as well, and from the look on her face it seems she approves. “You do, too.”

For some reason, unbeknownst to me, she walks over to the other side of the elevator as if she wants to be as far away from me as possible. I showered this morning so I couldn’t possibly be offensive but I lift my arm anyway just to be sure.

We start moving again and I try to reel in my thoughts from Fran and focus on what I need to accomplish this morning, but it’s hard when I catch a whiff of something sweet in the air. It’s that jasmine scent again but this time it’s mixed with something, maybe vanilla, and it’s very distracting.

The elevator comes to a jolting stop and the floor shifts beneath us. I look over at Fran who drops her briefcase and covers her face with her hands that are now shaking.

“Fran? Are you all right?” I ask, concern lacing my voice.

When she lifts her hands away, I notice the milky white color of her cheeks before she staggers backwards, bracing both arms flat against the wall. Her eyes are cloudy and unfocused, her breathing accelerated. I think she might be having a panic attack. Immediately, I push the emergency button on the wall to tell whoever is on the other end that the elevator is stuck and we need help right away. A man’s gravelly voice comes over the speaker.

“We’re aware of the issue and we’re working as fast as we can to get it moving again, and apologize for the inconvenience.”

I take a couple of steps to get to Fran. She still isn’t making eye contact, but rather staring right through me.

“Fran.” I take her face in my hands. “Fran, look at me.”

She turns her head and meets my eyes, looking dazed, beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead and neck. “We’re…going to…die…a-aren’t…we? The cable’s…gonna snap…I just… know it.”

“Fran,” I say again, holding her chin and forcing her to look at me. “We’re not gonna die. There’s a problem with the elevator and they’re fixing it right now. Come on, you need to sit.” I pull her down to the floor and sit cross-legged in front of her, taking both her hands in mine, noticing how clammy they feel.

The only response she’s giving me to let me know she hears me is the hard squeeze of my hands, her nails practically digging into the skin there. I’m trying to control the panic gaining momentum inside my chest. That won’t help Fran. I need to stay calm and figure out how to get her through this.

“Fran, I want you to take some deep breaths, okay? Come on, count backwards from ten…and breathe.”

She starts to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth slowly, and with each breath she takes, her fingers relax beneath mine.

“Better?” I ask her when she finally reaches one, and she nods her head in response. “So, I guess you have an issue with elevators, huh?” I joke, hoping to relieve her anxiety in some way.

She finally looks up at me, a scowl turning down those pretty lips of hers. “Are you… making fun of me?” she says, her voice choppy, still working hard to regain control of her breathing. Her eyes thin, making me realize I better do something to redeem myself pretty quickly.

“No, of course not. I just didn’t realize you had an issue with elevators.”

She tips her head back against the wall, the curve of her throat staring me in the face, taunting me. “Well, I honestly…thought that I’d gotten over it. I did have anxiety about them when I was younger, but had worked through it.” She lets out a wry laugh. “I guess not,” she says, her tone lighter, and with that her breathing evens out a bit and a feeling of relief washes over me.

“So…I’ve got a phobia too.” I pause, hoping this might make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I can share it with you.”

She leans her head forward, surprise making its way to her eyes. “You can’t share it with me? I practically just fainted in front of you. So spill it, Dixon.”

I like that she used my last name. That was kind of hot.

I exhale a breath, biting the inside of my cheek. “Okay, I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Promise.” She makes an X across her chest and I steel myself for her response.

“I have coulrophobia,” I say, knowing full well she probably has no idea what it is.

She cocks her head to the side, her nose wrinkling in confusion. “What’s that?”

I fill my cheeks with air and blow out with a popping sound. “Okay, so this is the part where you promised not to laugh, remember?”

“Yes.”

The words spill from my mouth as quickly as possible, anxious to be rid of them. “It’s a fear of clowns, not restricted to evil ones, either.”

She barks out a laugh, pressing her lips together to stifle it, but failing miserably. “Clowns, really?”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” I grimace, but her laughter is contagious so I start laughing, too.

She tries once again to compose herself, but it’s pointless. “Clowns? How did that come about? Did you have a circus experience gone wrong?”

I chuckle, knowing full well I never went to the circus because of the clowns. “When I was growing up my sister Clara had this stuffed clown with bright red, crazy hair and a striped suit. It wasn’t a happy looking clown. Anyway, she knew I didn’t like it and every night before I went to sleep, she put it under my bed so only the head was sticking out, and it scared the shit out of me. It reminded me of that scary clown scene in the movie Poltergeist, and that was enough to ward me off from clowns forever. Without even realizing it, her little prank ultimately scarred me for life.”

I expect her to laugh, but instead she winces and something flashes in her eyes. Whatever it was fades into the distance when she looks down, making me realize that I’m strumming my thumb back and forth across her palm, her skin warm under my touch, and she’s letting me. “You must miss her a lot,” she says in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I do. We were really close. We’d talk on the phone every other day and try to see each other at least four times a year. She’d always make fun of me when she came out to visit, too, because all of my food was alphabetized in the cabinets. She told me I was neurotic but I preferred to title it ‘supreme organization.’ So, what about you? Any identifiable neuroses you care to share?”

Her eyes drift upward in thought, while her finger raps against her cheek. “Hmph. Well, let’s see. You already know about the elevator thing. I do have this fear of planes, too.”

“What happened to cause that?” I ask, and she finally removes her hand from underneath mine, clasping her fingers in front of her, and I already miss her touch.

“Nothing. I’m aware it’s completely irrational. I just don’t like being that far away from the ground. There’s too much of a chance to drop out of the sky, fall to the concrete, into the ocean. You name it, I’ve got a scenario worked out.”

“But you made it to California. So you overcame,” I say with a smile, contemplating whether she would push me away if I grabbed her hand again.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, I…I flew once before, too,” she replies, and it looks like she wants to add something but changes her mind. Her eyes make their way around the elevator then come back to land on mine. “Hmph. So what shall we do now?” she asks, making my lips curve into a wicked grin.

“I don’t know. Let’s see. Umm, we’re alone in an elevator with nothing but time on our hands and you smell really fucking good.”

She edges forward, close enough that I can see the dots of gold in her eyes before she whispers seductively, “You think so?” Then she giggles and knocks me on the shoulder so I fall flat on my back—not a bad position to be in if she’d just acquiesce. “Unfortunately for you, the ambience in here doesn’t work for me.”

I’m sure I could change her mind.

Fran’s cell phone buzzes and she scrambles to find it in her purse at the same time mine beeps indicating a text message. I sit back up and grab my phone, seeing it’s a message from Caleb.

Where the fuck are you? You’re late.

I type out a quick reply.

Stuck on an elevator…with Fran.

He responds immediately.

Okay, I’m not worried then. Enjoy, which in turn makes me smile.

Fran finishes typing out a note on her phone.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Peyton,” she says, as she continues her reply, “she’s reminding me that the conference started today.” She laughs and sticks her phone back in her purse. “I told her I remembered, but I’m a bit indisposed.”

* * *

Fran and I spend the next hour or so discussing everything from what constitutes good design and how I ended up in architecture, to various other aspects of my life. It suddenly dawns on me that we’ve spent a good portion of that time talking about me.

“So…now that you know I alphabetize all of my food and my shirts and pants are all arranged in my closet according to color, tell me something else I don’t know about you.”

“Hmph.” She taps her finger against her mouth and my eyes can’t help but follow her there. I fight it, but I’m drawn to her lips. But it’s not just her lips, I’m starting to realize, it’s her, which means I’m royally fucked. There’s something about being with her that makes me want to throw caution to the wind, to mess up my orderly little world that suddenly seems so incredibly boring.

“I have a bit of a Twizzlers addiction,” she states, latching onto her purse and rummaging through it. “Crap, I thought I had some left.”

“I think you mean Red Vines,” I correct with a cocky smile, leaning back on my hands and crossing my legs.

“No. Red Vines suck. I meant Twizzlers.”

I ruffle my hair with my fingers, pushing it away from my eyes. “Well, I know all about Twizzlers from growing up on the East Coast, but you’re on the West Coast now baby, and we’re Red Vines all the way.”

She plays with the strap of her heel, sliding it off to rub the bottom of her foot. “Well, lucky for me then, I’ll be back on the East Coast in eleven days.”

Of course she’s going back to New York, she has a life there, but something about the thought of her leaving turns my stomach.

“Wait, what do you mean eleven days?” I ask, because the conference is over in four, but somehow I’m excited now that I might get the opportunity to spend more time with her.

“I’m staying on for a week after, you know, kind of like an extended vacation.” She releases a long, drawn-out sigh. “I haven’t had a vacation in a while, plus I want to try to see my mom.”

“What about your dad?” I question, just as the elevator roars to life and starts moving again. Fran’s eyes grow dim and she frowns, making me think that wasn’t a topic she was too interested in discussing anyway.

“Fuck!” I happen to glance at my watch and notice it’s eleven o’clock, which means I missed my presentation.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, gathering her briefcase from the floor.

“Well, the CEO is probably not going to be pleased that I missed the presentation.” I shake my head, not in the mood to face his wrath when things don’t go according to plan.

“Yeah, well, it couldn’t be helped, Matt. We were stuck. I’m sure he’ll understand that,” she says, before pressing the button for the next floor, and I rub my chin and eye her suspiciously because we’re going in the wrong direction.

“What are you doing? We need to go to the lobby.”

The elevator stops on the twelfth floor and she grabs my hand, dragging me through the doors as they slide open, pushing the up arrow on the car next to it.

“Where are we going?” I furrow my brow, looking to each end of the hallway, trying to make sense of what the hell she’s doing.

“Let’s play hooky,” she says with an excited gleam in her eyes, and for some reason my whole body tingles in anticipation at the thought of doing something spontaneous…with Fran.

“Hooky? What about the conference?” My insides have already begun their internal duel over what I should do in this situation.

“Matt, come on. It’s the first day and it ends at one today. We already missed two hours anyway. Come on, let’s get out of here,” she urges, flashing me that irresistible smile as she waits for me to answer.

I bite the inside of my lip and I’m sure she can literally see the wheels turning as I debate with myself. “Okay, why not?” I agree, just as the elevator opens and we step inside.

“Great!” She claps her hands and looks pointedly at me. “So what should we do?” she asks, with the face of a small child about to embark on a new adventure.

An idea pops in my head and I eye her clothes realizing we’re not appropriately dressed for what I have planned. “Okay, I thought of something we can do but we’re going to have to change.”

She looks down at herself and then back up at me. “Why?”

“Because you’re going to need comfortable clothing. Throw on a pair of jeans and some sneakers and I’ll be down to get you in a few minutes.” When we reach her floor, I hold the doors open and she gets out, stopping just a few inches from me.

She stares at me with those effervescent green eyes and it’s so hypnotic I can barely remember my own name. “Thank you, Matt, for being there and helping calm me down. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there. I probably would’ve freaked out.” She giggles. “Oh wait, I did.”

“I’m glad I was there to help and I think you did really well,” I tell her with sincerity, “because if it was me, and there had been a clown on there, it might not have ended as well.” I throw her a wink and she strolls off, her carefree laugh echoing through the hallway.

Chapter Seventeen – Fran – Let loose

The moment the door closes, I exhale a shaky breath. The whole experience in the elevator comes crashing down on me, relief and something else mixing in my gut. Thank goodness Matt was there or else I don’t know how it would’ve turned out. I smile, thinking about the scary clowns. Matt may hide it well, but behind that composed exterior is someone vulnerable. I inwardly cringe, hoping that during our conversation he didn’t pick up on my uneasiness. Scarred for Life. He doesn’t even realize how that phrase fits me so perfectly. I can actually picture it on a movie marquee.

I snap out of my thoughts long enough to remember that I just agreed to go somewhere with him. Me and my bright ideas. It also jogs my brain that I need to call Peyton.

I dial her number and after five rings she finally answers. “Where the hell are you?!” she screams into the phone. “It’s almost time for our lunch break!”

“Geez, nice to talk to you, too,” I shoot back.

“Sorry,” she mutters, her voice softening, “I was starting to get worried.”

“We just got off the elevator. It was kind of crazy, but Matt managed to calm me down. He was really great, actually.”

“Realllly,” she responds, her voice taking on a seductive tone.

“Anyway, I only have a second. We’re skipping out on the rest of the conference today. Matt’s taking me somewhere and I need to get ready,” I explain, holding the cell phone between my head and neck, sliding my shoes off and shoving my skirt down my legs.

“Where’s he taking you?” she asks, and there’s a muffled voice in the background and then a giggle from Peyton, leaving me to assume she’s with Caleb.

“I don’t know, but he’ll be here any second so I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I click the phone off as she says goodbye, pushing the buttons through the holes of my blouse and tearing it off.

After undressing at warp speed, I run into the bathroom and do a quick swipe of my teeth with the toothbrush, unclasp my hair from the tie, and comb through it to smooth out the tangles. I dab some blush on my cheeks and a hint of gloss on my lips before making my way back out to the closet and yanking a pair of skinny jeans from a hanger. While I’m tugging them on, a green tank top catches my eye and I slide it over my head just as a knock sounds at the door. I grab my sneakers and open it, standing on one foot as I try to coax a shoe on.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you’d be jumping up and down when you saw me,” he jokes, and while he’s distracted by laughter I take a second to check out the low-slung jeans and tight white t-shirt he’s sporting. “So, you all set?”

“Yes. But I’d still like to know what we’re doing.” I close the door and we walk side by side to the elevators. Matt’s eyes veer to the left and casually roam my body, my skin prickling at his attention.

“Fran, this was your idea, wasn’t it? And it’s a surprise. You don’t like surprises?”

“I know, and I like surprises,” I reply, as we step in the elevator, “but I like to be prepared for them.”

“Huh?” Matt shakes his head, a bewildered look pricking the blue of his eyes. “Then it’s not a surprise, Fran.”

We make it down to the lobby and outside the hotel entrance, finally seeing the light of day, and it’s a glorious one. The sun is warm and bright, helping to counteract the goose bumps on my arms from the frigid air conditioning inside.

The valet brings the car up pretty quickly and Matt opens the door for me before crossing to the driver’s side. He climbs in and rolls down our windows, pushing a button to slide the roof open. I instantly tilt my head back against the seat so I can feel the sun beating down on my face.

He eases the car onto the side streets of LA and we ride in comfortable silence until I dangle my feet out the window and Matt finally breaks it. “Hey sugar, watch the shoes near my car,” he says, half-joking, and I emphasize the half because I don’t really think he’s amused.

“Lighten up, sweet cheeks.” I angle my head to look at him. “It’s only a car.”

“Sweet cheeks?” he utters, and then he laughs so hard he snorts.

By the time we make it to what I gather is Matt’s condo, I’ve got both feet hanging out the window and I’ve sang to the likes of Pink and Maroon 5. I think I even caught Matt bobbing his head a couple of times to the music.

For me, it’s impossible not to be carried away by the melody and lyrics. Music has always been a big part of my life and has gotten me through some pretty hard times. There’s a song for my every mood and I always marvel at how you can go without hearing a song for ten years, yet once you hear it again, you can recall every single word as if you just listened to it yesterday. Every single memory the song jars is raw and vivid, as if you’ve stepped back in time, the feelings bleeding out all over again. I touch my hand to my belly and wince at the analogy.

When I look up from my thoughts, I suddenly don’t feel like I’m in Kansas anymore. Matt’s condo looks like a Tuscan villa in Italy with three stories, loads of windows, a clay tile roof and cream slab exterior. There are various trees surrounding the property and a two-car attached garage. I don’t know what I pictured, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“Wow, this is really nice, Matt,” I remark, taking in the luxury cars parked in each of the driveways.

“Thanks. I like it here. I’m close enough to work, but far enough removed from the craziness of the city,” he says, opening his door and coming around to the passenger side to help me out.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot two little girls playing hopscotch and smile. “I used to love to play hopscotch!” I say excitedly, as Matt stops and watches them, too. “Gabby and I used to play a lot, except instead of rocks, we’d use Jolly Ranchers.”

“Jolly Ranchers, the candy?” he asks, as if I’m speaking another language.

“Yup, the one and only. We’d use those and when we were done playing, we’d eat them.”

“So after you’d jumped all over them, you ate them? That’s kinda unsanitary,” he comments, screwing up his face in mock disgust.

I laugh at his shocked expression. “When it comes to Jolly Ranchers, anything goes. So, do I get the grand tour?”

“Later.” He smiles warmly. “First we’re going to let loose. You’ve been telling me I need to work on that, right?”

“Well, yeah.” I raise a brow and place a hand on my hip. “What have you got up your sleeve, Dixon?”

He ignores my question and walks over to the side panel of the garage, pressing a four digit code into the console, prompting the first door to open instantly. Inside sits a red motorcycle accented with black and silver, shined and polished to perfection, the word ‘Ducati’ scrawled in large, white letters on the side. My eyes bulge from their sockets just in time for Matt to turn around and catch the terrified expression on my face.

“You have a motorcycle?” I gulp. “We’re not taking the car?”

He chuckles, striding past me and pulling two helmets down from a wooden rack. “No, little spark, we’re gonna grip the open road.”

The lump of fear in my throat makes it harder for the next words to find their way out of my mouth. “My ass would rather grip the front seat of your car.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, an amused smile crossing his lips at my rather sexual innuendo, albeit unintended, and proceeds to walk the bike out even as the fear starts to eat me alive. He places the helmet on his head and then spins around to put one on me, tightening the strap under my neck before tapping it three times. “Cute.”

He hooks one leg over the bike and sets his other foot on the pedal, crooking his finger at me. “Hop on and wrap your arms and those sweet little legs around me,” he says with a devilish grin.

“You know,” I comment, tapping my foot lightly on the pavement, my arms folded across my chest, “you seem a little too happy about this, and….” I stall. “I can’t believe you own a motorcycle anyway!”

“Why not, us tight-asses can’t have motorcycles?” he asks, seemingly offended, but then he continues. “If you must know, the CEO bought it for me after I landed two big clients. It’s certainly not something I would buy for myself and I barely ride the thing.”

“So why now, then?” I ask, picking at my thumbnail, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Honestly?” He looks away from me and into the distance. “I don’t know. I just wanted to ride with you.”

There’s a subtle pleading in the tone of his voice when he says it, like he’s trying to break free and he needs me to help him do it. It’s been a long time since anyone has needed me for anything so that alone pushes me to choke back the fear and let go.

“Okay.”

“Great. Let’s do this.” He turns back, giving me a megawatt smile, showcasing his perfect white teeth and deep dimple.

I take a huge breath before I climb on, grabbing onto Matt’s arm and throwing one leg over before situating myself. Encircling my arms around Matt’s waist, I lean in with my head close to his shoulder and inhale his clean, fresh scent. It has a calming effect that all but disintegrates the moment he kick-starts the engine and it roars to life. I force my eyes closed and say a few silent prayers.

“Hold on tight, little spark,” he says, and I can hardly hear his voice over the rumble of the bike.

We take off like a bat out of hell and a loud yelp escapes my throat. Matt laughs over the thundering sound and I squeeze him tighter for fear of my body flying off of this godforsaken vehicle and onto the LA highway.

“You okay?” he yells, and I have to shut my eyes from the force of the wind pounding our faces.

“Yeah,” I scream back, finally relaxing a bit since Matt seems to have good control over the bike, which is surprising for someone who doesn’t ride much.

The scenery on the way to wherever we’re going is just breathtaking: miles of captivating beaches, camel-colored sand, and an endless landscape of blue sky. I’m not sure how much time goes by when we finally pull into what looks like a lagoon—a small body of water surrounded by sand and tall grass. There are a few people scattered here and there but for the most part it’s quiet and peaceful.

Matt jumps off the bike first, removing his helmet, then takes my hand to help me down. He unhooks the strap, his blue eyes never leaving mine, and I find it hard to look away. “So, what did you think?” He pushes my now matted hair away from my face, his hand lingering between my cheek and my ear, sending a shiver through me that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Cold?” he asks.

“No.” I don’t know what I feel but it’s definitely not cold. If anything, his touch shoots a warmth through me that’s unsettling, mostly because I don’t know what to do with it. There’s a part of me that wants to lean into his hand but I hold back.

“I really enjoyed the ride,” I say quickly, trying to ward off this strange sensation. “It was actually pretty freeing. I didn’t get the fascination before but I think I do now.”

“I liked it, too. More so because you were wrapped around me,” he teases with a sparkle in the steel blue depths of his eyes, earning a shove from me.

“Ass.”

“I like it when you’re forceful,” he says, stumbling, before placing his hand on my lower back and leading me to the sand. “Sit.”

“So, why here?” I look around, barely noticing any sound except for the water rippling along the shore.

“I used to come here a lot after my sister died. It’s a good place to think. Plus, it reminds me of a small reservoir in Connecticut my family spent time at when we were growing up.”

Thoughts of New York wander through my head and make me smile. “I have a spot I go to in Central Park when I want to think or just reflect on things, too. There’s a bench that pretty much has my name on it now and a musician who’s always at that same spot playing his guitar and singing. I like to sit and listen to him, get lost in the music. It helps me sort through things sometimes.” I shrug. “I think everyone needs a place they can escape to….” I pick up a rock and toss it, watching it skim across the water. “Where I grew up in Northern California there was a playground across the street from my house and I’d always go sit on the merry-go-round when I was upset, especially if someone had teased me.”

“Oh no,” he says sympathetically, surrounding his head with both hands and shaking it, “the dreaded teasing which no child can escape. What were you teased about?”

I let out a sharp laugh, my head falling back. “What wasn’t I teased about? I’ll never forget the things they said to me.”

“What kinds of things?” he prods, huddling closer to me, but continuing to stare out at the water.

“It’s so embarrassing. They used to call me ‘big fanny Fran’ in third grade.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “I kind of always had a big butt.” My face heats at the memory of Gerald Windmeier chasing me around the playground screaming it and challenging the other kids to say it ten times fast.

Matt bumps my shoulder, a teasing grin lifting his lips. “I can’t confirm or deny unless you want to do a couple of twirls.”

I scrunch my nose and feel the wrinkle on my forehead popping out. “Fat chance.”

“That nickname really doesn’t suit you though,” he says thoughtfully, “I would’ve called you….” He cocks his head to the side, taking a second to peruse my face. “Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” I cast him a quizzical look. “Why sunshine?”

He tucks a wind-blown strand of hair behind my ear, the blue in his eyes connecting with the green in mine. “Why sunshine? Because the light in your eyes causes your whole face to beam…so yeah”—he smiles—“sunshine.”

I wrap my arms around my knees as my gaze dips down, a shyness enveloping me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

Chapter Eighteen – Matt - Sunshine

Jesus. Her bright eyes widen a fraction as the word ‘sunshine’ leaves my mouth. The way she’s looking at me, that brilliant twinkle alight in the green of her eyes, it’s like I just gave her the world. The fucked up part? I suddenly want to give it to her. And that scares the shit out of me.

She curls into herself, her eyes dropping to the sand and I gently touch her shoulder, wanting to bring her back to me.

“Fran,” I say quietly, “look at me.”

When she lifts her face, all traces of that little spark are gone, replaced by someone I don’t recognize…someone sad and maybe even a little lost. Tears swim in her eyes and it makes me want to wipe them all away, to hold her and chase away the demons that are threatening to surface.

“I didn’t realize there was any light left,” she murmurs hoarsely, and I can’t bear the devastation I see in the dimmed green flame of her eyes. The rawness in her tone brings a burning ache to my chest.

Without hesitating, I bundle her in my arms and surprisingly she responds by circling hers around my waist, allowing me to comfort her. “It’s gonna be okay, Fran,” I whisper, rubbing calming circles around her back. “It’s gonna be okay.” The small whimpering sounds she’s making are breaking my fucking heart. I want to be able to fix this for her but I know from experience that’s not possible. All I can do is be here if she needs me.

After a few minutes she lifts her head away from my shoulder, sniffling, rubbing her eyes and her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry for losing it.” She straightens her shoulders and heaves out a sigh.

I tip her chin, grasping it between my thumb and forefinger. “You don’t ever have to apologize for who you are, Fran, not with me. Besides,” I tease, grinning, “I got a hug out of the deal.”

The edges of her lips curl and she rolls her eyes as she pushes to her feet.

“I got you to smile. Mission accomplished. Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

She cups a hand to her ear, her eyes set in concentration. “Don’t you hear that?”

I still, listening for whatever noise I’m supposed to be hearing, but am on the receiving end of silence. “I don’t hear anything.”

She smiles and rubs her belly. “My stomach is growling. I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.”

We climb back on the bike after putting our helmets on and I wait for Fran to settle herself, wrapping her arms around me, our bodies molding together perfectly. She holds on tight, her breasts crushed against my back, the heat from her body settling into mine, working its way through every part of me. I’m definitely taking the long way home.

Chapter Nineteen – Fran – Decent company

I’m waiting for Matt to stop at any one of the restaurants we pass by as we weave in and out of various side streets, but he never does. I can’t figure out where we’re going and it seems like we’ve been on this bike for a while, not that I’m complaining. It’s actually a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

He veers into his condo complex and my stomach disapproves because I’m starving. He presses the remote for the garage and once it opens, pulls the bike inside, and cuts the engine.

“What are we doing back here? I thought we were going to get something to eat,” I ask, chucking my helmet at him, frustration and hunger drawing my grumpy side out to rear its ugly head.

He situates the helmets back on the shelf and turns around to face me. “We are getting something to eat. I’m gonna cook.”

“You cook, too?” My hand flies to my chest. “Say it isn’t so,” I tease, and he smirks. Matt seems to have a number of surprises up his sleeve and I can’t wait to see what’s next.

“Yes, I cook, and I’m pretty good, if I do say so myself,” he replies, confident. He leads us through a door at the back of the garage that takes us into his condo. The room we enter is a finished basement complete with pool table, an oversized flat screen TV, an air hockey table, and even a pinball machine. There’s a bar on the far wall and two black leather couches in an L-shape facing the television. A metal shelf sits behind them containing hundreds of movies.

“Holy shit. That’s a lot of movies,” I blurt out, and Matt chuckles at my comment. Walking over to the shelf, I check out the selection and find there’s everything from action and comedy, to drama, and even romance. Interesting.

“I guess it’s pretty obvious this is my man cave and I watch a lot of movies,” he says, before pointing out three other doors leading to a laundry room, a tool room, and a spare bedroom. For a place he spends a lot of time in, it’s exceptionally clean and barely looks lived in at all.

I follow him up to the next level and my mouth drops open as soon as we hit the last step. It’s gorgeous. The walls are painted in a muted green, complemented by cream leather couches laid out with chocolate brown pillows, black accent tables, and a selection of abstract art covering the walls. When I look to the left, there’s a full kitchen with granite counters, top of the line stainless steel appliances, and a center island. I catch a glimpse of Matt who’s staring at me. “This place is amazing. And it completely holds up to your tight-ass reputation.”

He laughs and heads into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine from the fridge. “What, because there aren’t any clothes lying around or beer bottles on the floor?”

“Pretty much,” I state blandly, taking a closer look at some of the artwork.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he begins, removing two long-stemmed glasses from a cabinet in the center island. “I was actually kind of a slob growing up…dropping clothes wherever they landed, leaving candy wrappers around my room. My mom always got on my case about it.” He holds up the bottle of wine. “Is white wine okay?”

I nod in response before spotting some photos on a side table and making my way over to them. There are five different pictures and all except one include Matt.

“That’s my mom and dad, and Clara. Of course you recognize Brad.” He continues milling about the kitchen, placing an assortment of peppers and broccoli on the countertop.

“Wow. You and Clara looked so much alike, and your mom…she was pretty.” I hold up the picture and examine it more closely. “Where was this? It looks like Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Yeah, it was, actually. We took that trip after my mom was diagnosed with cancer.”

I put the picture back in its place and prance into the kitchen, planting myself on a silver stool at the center island, kicking my legs underneath me. “So your mom taught you to cook?”

“Let’s put it this way. I always spent time with my mom in the kitchen when I was younger and she encouraged us to be independent and to do things for ourselves. I remember one time, I’m not sure how old I was, but I told her I wanted an apple, and she said ‘get it yourself, sweetie,’ and when I asked her to wash it, she walked out of the kitchen, brought a stepstool in and pointed at it. So yeah, I cook and pretty soon you’ll find out just how good of a cook I am.”

I swirl the wine in the glass and take a sip, the sweet flavor rolling around my tongue before gliding down my throat.

“Would you like to know what’s on the menu?” he asks with an air of confidence, reaching over and pulling various spices from one of the cupboards.

“I’m all ears,” I answer, realizing I’ve already drained the entire glass on an empty stomach, which won’t bode well for my head.

“Okay, so I’m making sautéed eggplant with capellini, broccoli and peppers, you like?”

“Yes,” I reply, my belly agreeing with a slight rumble. “Can I help?”

“Nope, just make yourself comfortable. Do you want some cheese and crackers?”

He must’ve heard the earth-shattering grumble of my belly.

“I thought you’d never ask. Yes…I’m staaaarrrving.”

Matt opens the fridge, grabbing a hunk of cheese and handing me a box of crackers to set on a plate. I take the box, and as I do, his fingers skim mine, our eyes locking momentarily before we both go back to occupying our hands.

“So do you cook?” Matt asks over his shoulder as he fills a large pot with water. He places it on the stove and adds a dash of salt.

“Well, let’s see. Does boiling water and scooping Cheerios into a bowl qualify?” I say with lighthearted sarcasm.

He cuts the eggplant into thin slices and tosses them into a sauté pan. “Your mom didn’t cook growing up?”

“My mom worked two jobs and wasn’t home a lot, so I usually ate at a neighbor’s house or had some sort of frozen food that could be heated in the microwave.” I press a slab of cheese onto a cracker and quickly devour it.

“What about your dad?”

“So, are you sure you don’t want me to help you do anything? I can slice some peppers. I’m decent at slicing,” I answer, as my stomach tightens, anxious to get away from the unpleasant subject of my father, not wanting to waste any more breath on him. He’s stolen enough of my ability to breathe over the years.

Matt’s hand stops mid-stir and he looks back at me with another question in his eyes, but when he sees my gaze darting back and forth and the amount of cheese I’m currently inhaling, he decides to end the inquisition. “Sure. The water is just about ready, could you add the pasta?” I nod in response and, with the utmost finesse, dump the capellini into the pot.

A half hour later, Matt and I are at the table in the large dining room adjacent to the kitchen. He takes a seat across from me and proceeds to serve the food, but stops short of sitting down. “I forgot something, hang on.”

He comes back a minute later with two candles encased in glass and sets them on the table.

“This looks really great, Matt. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve actually been eating a lot of takeout lately, so this is a welcome change,” he says, taking a forkful of pasta and grinning. “This is really good.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I retort, twirling the pasta on my fork and lifting it to my mouth, a combination of sweet and spicy hitting my tongue. “Wow, this is delicious. I’m impressed.” I take a bite of the eggplant, closing my eyes briefly and savoring the taste. “So…how many women have sat here before me eating sautéed eggplant?”

“None.”

I swallow another bite of pasta and raise the glass to my lips, eyeing Matt with a speculative glare. “None? Why is that?”

“Because I don’t typically bring women here,” he says after taking a sip of wine. “This is my private space and I like to keep it that way.”

I nibble on my bottom lip, my mind swimming with a variety of thoughts, none of which make any sense.

Matt puts his fork down, rubbing the light stubble on his chin, regarding me thoughtfully. “Listen,” he says, his eyes radiating warmth and crinkling with sincerity, “about today at the lagoon. I’ve been there and if you ever want to talk about what happened, you can trust me with it. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

The strange thing is, I do sense that I can trust him. But what can I tell him that won’t sound selfish? I miss Kyle, but it’s how he made me feel—that someone so broken inside could still be deserving of love.

I puff out a breath, wiping my mouth on a napkin and pushing my plate forward. “Remember when I was telling you that I lost someone special? Well, he just made me feel—” I swallow, forcing the words past the blockage in my throat as I fiddle with the tablecloth “—special in a way that no one else has before.”

Matt leans forward, resting his chin on his fist, studying me. “It’s hard to believe, Fran, that no one else has noticed how special you are. If anything, it’s kind of hard not to notice.”

My eyes fly up to his and for a split second, time stands still as we stare at one another, my chest expanding, my heart filling at his words. “Thank you,” I manage to squeak out, breaking our connection to drink more wine.

There’s a deafening silence that follows our moment, because I do feel like we had one, although I have no idea what it means. Matt stands to clear the table and I help him bring the dishes to the sink, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack.

“What are you doing?” he asks, finally crashing through the quiet.

“I’m going to help you wash and load the dishes.” I reach over him to turn on the water and he shuts it off.

“Sit down and relax. This is just going to take a sec,” he says, scrubbing food off of one of the plates into a nearby garbage can.

“I want to help.”

“Fran.” He turns around with the sink sprayer aimed at me and my mouth gapes open.

“You wouldn’t dare!” I shout, my pulse racing, my flight instinct kicking in.

“Did you just dare me, Fran? Because I think you did,” he taunts, resting his finger on the handle with a wicked gleam in his eye.

I freeze with my hands on my hips, green eyes blazing into his, until he lets me have it, spraying water all over my tank top. “I can’t believe you just did that!” I shriek, while he just stands there with a smug grin on his face. “Gah!” I raise my hands in the air. “That’s it!”

I stomp off down the first hallway I see, not knowing where the heck I’m going, while Matt’s laughter rings out behind me.

“Where are you going?” he asks, barely able to speak through his howling.

There are various rooms on each side of the hall and I keep opening doors until I find what I’m looking for—the bathroom. I march in there, determination fueling me, and dig around for something that can hold water. The bathroom is huge with both a shower and a Jacuzzi-tub, and there’s a picturesque window with a spectacular view of LA. There are a multitude of drawers near the double sink and when I pull one open, I notice Matt wasn’t kidding. Every single item in there is alphabetized, from the razors, to the soap, to the deodorant. Another cabinet stands next to it and I’m able to find a small bucket filled with cleaning supplies that I immediately dump out and rinse thoroughly. That’ll do. I fill it with water, armed and ready for battle, when I catch a glimpse of my t-shirt in the mirror, mortified that my nipples are also poised and ready. There’s a towel on the rack so I loop it around my neck, hoping to hide my obvious excitement.

When I come back out, Matt is standing in the same spot and hasn’t dropped the sprayer.

“Whatcha got there, Fran?” he asks, his eyes wandering and landing first on the bucket and then on my nipples, and I lower the towel to cover them.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He pauses for a second to cough and that’s when I make my move, adrenaline coursing through my system as I throw the entire bucket of water on his shirt, but I miss and some ends up on his face and in his hair. I have to say, the wet look definitely suits him. He points at me again, his blue eyes alight with fire, and I take off running. I hear his footsteps following close, but continue down the hall until he catches up and grabs me around my waist, hauling me off the ground.

“Matt!” I laugh, breathing heavy and barely able to speak. “Let me go!”

“Make me.”

I try to free my arms but his grip is too strong. Eventually, he releases me slowly, my back sliding down his front, feeling the planes of his muscles and his apparent erection, making my nipples even more pronounced. I cross my arms over my chest to hide my arousal and glance back at him over my shoulder. “So, what now? We’re kind of wet.”

“I like you wet,” he says, his brows rising under a fringe of hair, a smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “Let me get you a t-shirt.”

He walks down the hall, stripping off his shirt on the way, and I nearly melt into a puddle of lust. I can’t stop staring. Those jeans hang low on his hips exposing a slim waist, and the muscles of his back ripple as he moves. The edge of his boxer briefs are visible and my mind starts drifting to what’s underneath them when he emerges from a room at the far end of the hall, still shirtless. Holy crap. Broad shoulders and full pecs lead down to that V shape near his abdomen. My eyes linger on the tiny dusting of hair just below his belly button and desire threatens my ability to continue to stand or even form a coherent thought.

He finally covers his chest with a shirt, thank God, before tossing one to me. I head off to the bathroom to change, immediately locking the door and falling back against it. My heart rate is skyrocketing while my body is on fire. A minute later, when I can finally move without keeling over, I walk to the sink and catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bright, my cheeks a soft shade of pink, my hair a wild mess. I can’t help the smile spreading across my face.

I breathe in the scent of his shirt, clean and masculine mixed with detergent that sends a frisson of excitement coursing through me. With a quick tug, I pull off my tank and slide his shirt over my head before taking a deep breath. I come back out to find Matt reclining against the wall, staring in my direction.

“My shirt looks good on you,” he says, his eyes roving, his voice a deep timbre. He pushes off the wall and strolls back out to the living room.

“Thanks, and thanks for the lend.” My cell phone chirps in the distance and I get to it on the fourth ring to find Peyton on the other end. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey,” she answers, her voice low. She doesn’t sound like herself and it makes me nervous.

“What’s going on? You sound weird.”

“Where are you?” she asks, sniffling and blowing her nose into the phone.

“I’m at Matt’s. Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better. When you come back will you swing by my room?” she asks quietly, and now I’m concerned.

“Absolutely. We’ll head out now, okay?” I glance over at Matt, who sees the look on my face and grabs his keys.

“Thanks, Fran. See you soon,” she says before hanging up, and I hear relief in her voice.

“What’s going on?” Matt questions as soon as I click the phone off.

“I don’t know. Peyton sounds really upset so we should definitely get back.” I follow him down the stairs and out through the basement.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet, but my head is anything but…flipping back and forth between Peyton and my day with Matt. Every now and then I chance a glimpse at him, one strong hand clutching the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gear shift. There’s a part of me that wants to go to him, curl up next to the warmth of his chest and feel him, breathe him in, but I can’t.

It’s about six when we finally arrive back at the hotel and I’m completely exhausted. After I check on Peyton, I’m definitely calling it a night. Matt walks me to the door and for some reason my stomach is a jumble, twisting with nerves.

“Thanks for the adventure today. You’re pretty decent company.” I lean back, bringing a knee up, my foot resting against the door.

“Decent company, huh?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So…I think I’ll take the stairs in the morning,” I say with a hint of laughter, “wouldn’t want to get stuck on the elevator again.”

Matt digs a fist in his pocket as he glances down at the carpet. “Oh, I don’t know, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” I reply, smiling, “it wasn’t bad at all.” On my last word, Matt’s eyes climb to mine and he inches closer. I falter at his sudden proximity.

I watch his hand heading toward my face and my breathing picks up as he smoothes a finger over the arch of my brow, the angle of my cheek, and finally my bottom lip, sending my pulse racing and my stomach into an unfamiliar dance. I realize in this moment that I want him to kiss me…but not because I’m trying to forget, simply because I want to remember.

His nose glides down my cheek and his lips follow, a dance across my skin, and my heart skitters in my chest. Warm breath prickles my flesh, little bubbles of happy rising to the surface. “Goodnight, sunshine,” he whispers, his lips brushing my skin, before he backs away all too soon and pins me with a gaze that’s so unnerving, mostly because I can’t figure it out. It isn’t hungry the way other men look at me, it’s like he’s searching. I wish I knew what he was searching for, because suddenly, I want him to find it.

“Goodnight, Matt,” I call softly, touching my cheek, but he’s already gone.

After I manage to get my head out of the clouds, I make a quick stop to change into something more comfy, stride down the hall to Peyton’s room, and knock loudly on the door. She opens it with a face full of runny black mascara, a red nose, and puffy eyes, not a state I’m used to seeing her in.

“What’s going on? You look dreadful,” I say, trying to lighten the grim atmosphere.

“Gee, thanks a lot,” she replies, putting a bunch of tissues to her nose and blowing it. She perches at the edge of the bed, throwing the used tissues into a pile she’s accumulating on the carpet.

I sit down next to her and hook my arm over her shoulder. “That’s really gross, you know.”

“I know,” she says with a snort, “but I don’t care.”

“So what’s going on? I’ve never seen you this upset. Ever.”

“Well, first off, my sister called earlier today. She said she was so hurt that I didn’t come to celebrate her promotion. I don’t know, I know I was doing it to spite my mom but I didn’t really think about how it would affect her. I didn’t even think she cared that much. I guess I was wrong and now I feel horrible.”

“Okay, so when you get back, you can make it up to her. Take her out to dinner. I’m sure she’d really appreciate that, you know?” I squeeze her arm, pulling her closer to me. “But, what else is bothering you?”

She escapes my grasp and lands back on the bed with a thud, a fresh batch of tears brewing in her eyes. “It’s Caleb. We…we slept together this afternoon,” she mutters through her sobs, hiding her face with both arms.

“Wow, was it that bad?” I joke, lying down next to her.

“HA!” she laughs, a tear sliding down her neck. “It was beyond amazing. The guy’s got mad skills. The way he touched me, the way he held me, I swear I didn’t want to leave his bed.”

“So why did you?”

“Because.…” She releases a harsh breath. “I panicked. He’s got one of those personalities that kind of grows on you…like a weed.” She giggles slightly. “He’s addictive.”

I yawn, the drain of the day finally getting to me. “So what, Peyton? So be addicted for the next couple of days. You’re thinking with your brain. Stop thinking with your brain and just have fun.”

“Listen to you, Dr. Phil.” She turns on her side to face me. “I didn’t realize you were such an expert on relationships.”

A bitter laugh makes its way up my throat. “I’m anything but an expert. All I’m saying is don’t overthink it. Just enjoy it. Live a little.”

She wipes her eyes with another tissue, lobbing it over the bed and onto the Kleenex mound. “Speaking of fun, how was your day?”

I can’t help the grin that turns up my lips. “It was great. We had a good time. Matt took me for a ride on his motorcycle and then cooked for me. He’s…a nice guy.”

“What kind of a ride?” she says, her voice laced with sexual undertones.

I smack her in the arm and she whines, then rubs it. “No, a fully clothed ride, so get your mind out of the gutter.” I hesitate, before adding, “But there’s something about him that tugs at me just a little bit and I can’t put my finger on it.” I sigh, recalling the almost kiss, my skin still warm from his lips. “He almost kissed me and I find myself wishing he had.”

“Well, sweetie, if you ask me, you need to be kissed, and you need to be fu—”

I put my hand over her mouth, thankfully muffling her next words. “Don’t even say it. I’m removing my hand now and I don’t want to hear one word.”

“Fucked.” She clutches her belly as laughter spills from her mouth.

At least she’s not crying anymore.

Chapter Twenty – Matt – Alphabetizing

I wake up with images filtering through my brain like a movie reel on repeat: Fran on my motorcycle, Fran in her wet tank top, Fran with her arms wrapped around me, Fran and her full lips inches from my mouth. Fuck. My whole body is blanketed in sweat and my dick is hard, tenting the sheet that’s covering my body. I scrub my hands over my face. What the fuck am I doing?

I let out a frustrated moan before dragging my legs over the edge of the bed and managing to get up, surprisingly without my dick weighing me down. Jesus. I walk briskly into the bathroom, determined to get rid of the crazy thoughts consuming me. Turning the shower on and stepping in, I brace one hand against the tile wall, trying to get my breathing under control, letting the water drip down my hair, my back, my thighs…but she’s everywhere and I can’t get away from her if I tried. My thoughts jump to her breasts. I envision them, perfectly round and supple as I run my tongue over her nipples, flicking and teasing them until they become tight little buds. My hand goes to my cock, so hard it’s almost painful, and I begin to stroke myself slowly. I can practically smell the jasmine on her skin, see my fingers running down her spine to the soft curve of her ass, and hear her moan. I close my eyes and imagine reaching around to part her lips, sliding a finger inside, finding her soaked, then dropping to my knees because I desperately want a taste of her. The muscles in my jaw go slack and I start to groan with need while my hand moves faster as I visualize my face between her thighs, the sweet scent of her arousal intoxicating me as I suck on her clit and she clutches at my hair, pulling me closer, wanting me deeper. My breathing becomes ragged, my hips jutting forward, and as I picture my tongue licking her swollen pussy, my orgasm rips through me and I growl Fran’s name.

After standing under a hot stream of water for another few minutes and letting my breathing even out, I dry off so I can quickly dress, feeling somewhat better. It’s not the real thing, but it’ll have to do for now. I pull a pair of black pants down from the hanger and decide on a green dress shirt. The color instantly reminds me of Fran’s eyes and I smile, thinking about the glow she had just before I sprayed her. That was fun. But that leads me to thinking about her hardened nipples poking through the sexy little top she had on, and that’s where I have to stop. I can’t walk around with another hard-on all day.

I reluctantly shake off the thought and finish getting dressed, and while strapping my watch around my wrist, I notice it’s 7:45 a.m. I’m just about to give Caleb a ring in his room when I hear his voice through the door. When I open it, I find him leaning against the frame, his jacket over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, man,” he says, still wearing the same smile.

“Hey, come on in, and what’s with the face? Should I take it to mean you had a good day yesterday?”

He lays his jacket on the couch and takes a seat next to it. “You can take it to mean I had a great day, that Peyton is like a sex goddess.”

I chuckle at Caleb’s unique way with words. “Sex goddess, huh?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what happened. Things were going really well, yet afterwards, she got all weird and took off. I tried to talk to her, but she said she had to go.”

“Actually, come to think of it, she called Fran saying she was upset, so we came back so Fran could check on her.” I finish putting on my shoes and take out my briefcase to sort through some notes.

“Maybe I was too hot to handle,” Caleb says with a laugh that’s quickly followed by a frown. “I don’t know, we were having a good time. I’ll ask her again when I see her today. So what happened with you?”

“Just another day in the life,” I say nonchalantly. “First I got stuck in the elevator with a gorgeous woman, and then we went for a motorcycle ride and I cooked her dinner.”

“Wait, back up,” Caleb orders, a stunned look in his pale blue eyes. “You cooked? No Chinese takeout? And when was the last time you even rode that motorcycle I’ve been begging you to sell to me?”

I drop a stack of papers on the bed that suddenly don’t seem all that important, and take a seat on the couch. “There’s something about her Caleb. She makes me want to step outside myself. It’s like…I don’t know…like she’s one big dare to who I am. And you know how I respond to dares.”

“Well, she’s definitely fiery,” Caleb agrees, before standing up and sliding on his suit jacket. “It’s good for you. You need to break out, stop alphabetizing all your shit.” He chuckles and I sneer at him. “Before I forget, do you want to drive over to my parents’ after the conference for a little bit? My mom called me last night and she’s ready to divorce my dad. He’s exceptionally crabby still and she’s having a hard time. She hinted at having her sons over.”

I love the fact that Caleb’s mom refers to me as her son because for years I’ve considered her a second mother. No one can ever replace mine, but Mrs. Brody definitely comes close. The amount of times she’s been there to hold my hand and offer a hug or advice, starting when I was a gawky sixteen-year old until now, means that I owe her my life. This is the least I can do for her.

“Absolutely,” I reply, “and why don’t we stop and pick up one of those apple pies your dad likes from that bake shop over on Beverly Boulevard, maybe that’ll put him in better spirits.”

“That sounds good. Thanks.” Caleb makes a beeline for the door. “Let’s get out of here. I want to seek out my sex goddess.”

And I want to go find my little spark.

Chapter Twenty-One – Fran – Note slinger

The Los Angeles sun glows brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows in my room and I don’t want to open my eyes. I know it’s time to get up even though my alarm hasn’t gone off yet, but my dream about Matt was too good and I don’t want it to end. I lift his t-shirt to my nose and inhale, still smelling his fresh scent. My fingers go to my lips, recalling the way he kissed me…in my head. I let out a frustrated sigh and stretch my tired muscles. I’d give anything to stay in bed just a little bit longer and daydream about Matt.

I’m showered, dressed, and ready to head down to breakfast in thirty-five minutes, which is a record for me. I’ll admit to spending a little more time in front of the mirror than usual. A little extra lip gloss, some eyeliner to make my eyes pop, and a tad more color on my cheeks. I towel-dried my hair, too, to give it a little wave. I’m leaving it down today, especially since Matt was running his fingers through it in my dream. I look at my reflection and laugh. I’m being ridiculous but even I can’t deny that ridiculous feels good.

I throw on a thin strand of pearls, grab my portfolio, and stroll out to the elevators. I stop halfway down the hall, deciding to take the stairs, but then realize that would be twenty-two flights and while I’m in shape, it would be killer in heels. Instead, I ride the elevator down to the first floor and hold my breath the entire way, releasing it only once I’ve stepped off.

The banquet hall is set up in the traditional conference style with long, rectangular tables covered in white tablecloths. There are ten rows that seat about fifteen people to a table and carafes of water situated in the center located at every other seat. To the left of the tables is a breakfast area, complete with assorted foods: bagels, fruit, croissants, danishes, and a variety of juices.

My stomach is making wild noises and begging to be fed, so I snatch a plate and start piling food onto it. There’s no way I’ll get through the morning without fortification. Only a few people have arrived thus far, allowing me to have my choice of seats, and I pick one in the middle of the room.

Peyton wanders in a few minutes later and I wave her over in between bites of pastry. “Hey, you got down here early,” she says, taking off her suit jacket and hanging it on the chair.

I swallow a chunk of danish and chase it with some orange juice. “I woke up so I figured I’d get an early start.” It sounds good even though I know I’m completely transparent.

She takes a seat next to me, a slow smile building on her lips. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” I reply, emphasizing the P while stuffing part of another danish in my mouth.

“Whatever you say,” she mumbles, before getting up to grab a plate of food.

I look around the room every few minutes, more like seconds, wondering where Matt is. I hope he didn’t get stuck in another elevator. That would really suck. I continue to sneak glances at the door until Peyton returns.

“Who are you looking for, Fran?” she asks, setting her food on the table.

I fuss with the strand of pearls around my neck. “No one.”

“Well.” She smiles, buttering her bagel and edging closer to me. “No one isn’t here yet, and neither is Caleb.”

The right side of my mouth slants up and I go back to shoveling food in while waiting patiently for the conference to start, and not so patiently for Matt to arrive.

They start promptly at nine and there are a couple of speakers from design and architectural firms in London and Chicago communicating about design as inspiration. It’s only mildly interesting and I’m having a hard time focusing anyway, the strangest feeling coming over me, my back suddenly warm, my body on hyper alert. I casually scratch my shoulder with my chin and look back to find Matt wearing a dimpled smile and holding an index card in his hand with the words “Good morning sunshine” in bold, black letters. I grin, my dimple making a grand appearance.

Ripping off a piece of paper from the pad sitting in front of me, I scrawl, “Good morning tight-ass” in blue pen. I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but it was fun when I did it in middle school, so what the hell. “Hey, Peyton, where’s the bathroom?” I ask in a whisper.

“It’s outside and down the hall to the right.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

I stand up and walk to the back of the room, slinging the note onto Matt’s lap as I pass by him. The sound of his chuckling puts a smile on my face. When I reach the hallway, I let out several quick breaths. Did I really just do that? Yes, I did, and I loved every minute of it.

Since I’m out here, I decide I better make a trip to the bathroom. Once inside, I stop at the sink and brace my hands on the counter, staring at the person looking back at me from the mirror, the one I don’t recognize right now. The one who is being spontaneous. The one who knows that in ten days she’ll be back in New York and none of this will matter. I like this girl. I told myself I’d have fun while I was here and that’s what I fully intend to do.

I finish in the bathroom and open the door to find Matt leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, a grin sitting upon his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, sunshine.”

I make an attempt at words but my smile gets in the way and again I’m back in middle school. Looking down at the red swirls in the carpet, I try to compose myself and form a sentence. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you,” he replies, perusing me intently from my green pencil skirt and cream blouse, to the sliver of skin underneath my pearls. His eyes are all over my body dousing me with heat, and my belly is flip-flopping in several different directions.

He comes forward, placing his palm against the wall on one side of my head and hovering there. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well,” I reply, the high-pitch in my voice deceiving me when his minty breath hits my cheek, his gaze focused on my lips. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he says, licking his lips and inciting a riot within my chest, my heart unable to handle his proximity.

“We should get back,” I say casually, my voice cracking of its own volition and betraying me again.

“Yes, we should.” He doesn’t say anything else, but his hand brushes my waist and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of that fleeting touch. I need more of it.

We go back to our seats without another word and now all I can think about are Matt’s lips, well, his tongue, too. The pornographic images my mind is conjuring up are making it very difficult to sit through the rest of the conference. I’m squirming and fidgeting in my seat, my leg doing a continuous bounce under the table.

“What’s the matter with you?” Peyton asks, pausing from the elaborate doodles she’s drawing on her note pad. She’s obviously as enthralled as I am. “It’s like you’ve overdosed on caffeine.”

“Nothing,” I tell her in a whisper, “I’m just bored.”

The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly, the drip of molasses a marathon in comparison. They apparently don’t want us leaving the room since lunch is brought in, so we’re stuck here until late afternoon, which won’t come soon enough for me.

By the time four o’clock rolls around, I’m chomping at the bit to get up, my ass probably spreading several inches just from sitting so much. I spin around to search for Matt, only to discover he’s already left, and I’m hit with a stab of disappointment that I quickly shake off.

“What do you want to do now?” Peyton asks, gathering her notes and stuffing them into her leather briefcase.

“I don’t know. Do you want to hit up the spa, maybe get a massage?”

She lets out a wide yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’d love a nap, but that should relax me enough to have one after.”

“Cool. Let’s go change and drop our stuff off in our rooms first,” I say, still looking around in hopes of spotting Matt.

We’re on our way upstairs when my phone buzzes to signal an incoming text. I look at the screen and my face instantly brightens. It’s from Matt.

Do you have plans tonight? Want to meet up at the bar later?

I reply immediately.

Let me check my busy schedule.

Then I make him wait.

“Who is it?” Peyton asks, pressing the call button on the elevator.

“It’s Matt. He wants to know if I have plans tonight and if I want to meet up at the bar.” I giggle, tapping my fingers on the screen. “I’m making him sweat.”

“Tell him, hell yes, and make sure to bring Caleb,” she says, piling her hair on top of her head in a bun.

My phone buzzes again.

Tick Tock. I’m waiting, sunshine.

I type back a response.

Looks like my schedule is clear.

Matt responds right back.

Good. Caleb and I are stopping to visit his dad for a while. I’ll text you when we get back. Hope things worked out okay with Peyton. Caleb was wondering what was up with her.

That was thoughtful.

Sounds good. Hope Caleb’s dad is feeling better.

I close the screen and wait for Peyton to attack, which takes her all of about two seconds.

“So?”

I toss the phone back in my purse and dig for some gum. “They’re on their way to visit Caleb’s dad. He said he’d text when they got back. He also mentioned that Caleb wondered what was up with you.”

“Shit,” she utters, biting the inside of her lip.

“Peyton,” I coax as we get in the elevator, “you need to either talk to Caleb about what you’re feeling or let it go and have fun like I’m doing. In ten days I’ll be headed back to New York but I’m going to make the most of it while I’m here.”

Peyton’s eyebrows pull in, a crinkle forming between them. “What do you mean ten days? We go back in four.”

“No, I’m taking an extended vacation,” I tell her, the thought of lounging in bed for an entire week very appealing.

“How come I didn’t know that and how’d you manage it?” she asks, her voice falling into a pit of frustration.

“Peyton, I haven’t taken any time off for a while,” I reply, looking past her at my reflection in the mirror. We exit the elevator once it reaches our floor and head to my room. “I have a lot of days accrued so I decided to take some now.” I insert the keycard but glance back at her. “Why don’t you see if you can take extra time off, too? Maybe the VP’s in a good mood this week.”

She toes off her shoes and jumps on the bed while I immediately head for the closet, my focus solely on choosing the right outfit for tonight. “Hey, what’s this?” she asks in a slow drawl. “A new addition to your wardrobe? It looks a little big.”

I turn around to find her holding up Matt’s t-shirt, a big, fat grin on her face. “That’s Matt’s.”

“Hmmm…I gathered as much. The question is, what’s it doing here? Something you want to share?”

I shake my head and snatch it out of her hands, throwing it in one of the drawers. “No. I got wet so he loaned it to me when I was at his place.”

“Wet, huh?” She smirks, sprawling her lean body out on the bed.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m sorry to say it was nothing like that. It was all pretty innocent.” I sigh, realizing I wished it was anything but, the memory of sliding down Matt’s body still fresh in my mind.

“Okay, so what am I going to wear tonight?” I start pulling clothes off hangers and hurling them onto the bed. With a loud groan, I fling myself on top of the pile. “I don’t like any of these things. I’m not going.”

Peyton hits me hard with a silk scarf, my face reeling from the abrupt sting. “Are you psychotic? One minute you’re excited about going, and now you’re not going.” She gets up from the bed and walks into the closet. “Let’s see what we have here,” she says, as her slender fingers roll over each dress, stopping on one in particular. “This is perfect. Stunning and sexy, revealing with a little bit of mystery.”

I stare at the black, knee-length jersey dress that I know fits me like a glove. It has a plunging neckline, highlighting my breasts, and the rest of it molds to my curves. It’s actually my favorite one. “Sold,” I call out, before yanking it from her hands and sauntering to the bathroom. I take off my skirt and blouse and ease into the dress, the material smooth against my skin where little beads of excitement are popping up all over the place. I rub my arms and embrace the feeling. I haven’t felt this excited since…well, in a long time. I’m not going back there. I’m moving forward and smiling at the thought.

“Come on, hot stuff,” Peyton says, and I promenade out of the bathroom doing my best runway model impression, swinging my arms and swaying my hips. It reminds me of when Gabby and I played dress up in eighth grade, trying on her mother’s fancy high-heeled shoes and strutting around the house.

She makes a whistling sound through her teeth. “Shit, Fran. Wait until Matt sees you. You look gorgeous, but we need to do hair and makeup. Let’s go.”

By the time Peyton’s finished, my eyes are smoked out, my skin is bronzed, and my lips are a crimson red, a stunning contrast against the dark backdrop of waves she’s created with the help of a trusty round brush and a little styling gel.

“Wow!” I exclaim, “I don’t remember the last time I looked this good.”

“You’re welcome,” she says with a haughty smile. “I do good work. Oh, and for the shoes, might I suggest the black Louboutins.”

“Thanks, Peyton. I really appreciate it. Honestly, I…this means a lot to me.”

She pushes my hair back over my shoulders, spinning me around to face the mirror. “You’re gorgeous, Fran. I can’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when he sees you.”

Neither can I.

Chapter Twenty-Two – Matt - Consumed

“Mom, Dad,” Caleb calls out as we walk through the front door of the house. His mom comes bolting out of the kitchen in her bare feet, her honey brown shoulder-length hair tossing about, her tawny-colored eyes filled with adoration. A white apron with the words “Kiss the Cook” graces her petite frame.

“My boys are here!” she screams excitedly, hugging Caleb first and then engulfing me in a warm embrace. She ruffles her fingers through my hair and kisses my cheek. “We missed you last Friday for dinner, Matty. I even made your favorite dessert, chocolate cream pie.”

“I’m sorry, Ma.” It’s always been hard to call Mrs. Brody “Mom” because I felt like I was dishonoring mine in some way, even before the cancer took her from me. When I was in middle school, though, I started calling her “Ma” and it stuck.

“I ended up having to work late on a new project. I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Well, lucky for you”—she winks and nods her head toward the kitchen—“I just finished one up. Go on ahead in the living room and I’ll bring it out. Grumpy’s sitting on the couch, glued to the TV.”

“He’s still grumpy?” Caleb replies, kicking off his shoes and leaving them by the front door.

“He’s extra grumpy,” his mom yells from the kitchen. She pokes her head out. “You know, with his hip, he’s not getting any.” Like mother, like son, I think to myself and chuckle.

“Mom!” Caleb scolds, rolling his eyes in my direction and shaking off his mom’s off-color remark. “Is that really necessary for us to know?”

“Caleb, you have five brothers and sisters. I think you know that your dad and I quite enjoy our time together,” she says, waggling her eyebrows, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth.

Caleb cranes his neck out to the living room and motions to his dad. “Okay, then. I’m going to say hi to Dad.”

I follow behind him, pausing to take a look at all the family pictures lining the wall, my face in so many of them it tugs at my heart. “Hey, Pops,” I say, walking over to the couch and bending down to give him a hug. With his thick salt ‘n’ pepper hair, Duke sweatshirt, and matching sweatpants, Mr. Brody looks nowhere near fifty-five years old. “How’s the old man doing?”

Caleb slaps his dad on the back and sinks down beside him. “Yeah, how’s my old man doing?”

His dad presses a button on the remote and tosses it on the coffee table. “Let’s see, I’m stuck on the couch and your mom’s withholding sex from me, other than that I’m great.”

Caleb leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “Oh no, not you, too.”

“A man’s got needs, son,” his dad says, and we all bust out laughing until he finally directs his attention at me. “What’s that in your hand, Matt?”

“Your favorite apple pie. I thought maybe it could help bring you out of your foul mood.” I set the box on the table. “Do you want a piece?”

“I’m afraid there’s only one thing that’s gonna bring me out of my foul mood.” He chuckles and slaps his knee. “I’ll have one later, thanks for bringing it by. So what’s up with you boys? How’s the conference going?” He rests his legs on the coffee table, folding his hands in his lap.

I take a seat on the recliner across from the sofa. “It’s going well. I’m giving a presentation tomorrow so that should be interesting.”

Caleb tucks his hands behind his head with a fiendish grin. “Matt missed the entire first day. He got stuck in an elevator and then went out gallivanting…with a hot brunette.”

“Now that sounds like a story I want to hear.” He winks, elbowing Caleb in the side.

My mind wanders to Fran and a smile inhabits my mouth, one that’s pretty hard to get rid of, and I glance at my watch to check the time. “There’s not much to tell. We ended up on the elevator for a while. It was pretty uneventful.” If you don’t count the warmth of her skin as I was massaging it with my finger or the calm I felt by having her so close to me.

Caleb’s mom comes out with plates of pie and hands one to each of us, taking a seat next to Caleb on the sofa.

“So? What did I miss?” she asks, eating a bite of pie and closing her eyes, clearly enjoying the taste. “I can’t deny how good this is. I do make a mean chocolate cream pie.”

“Matt’s hot after his future sister-in-law’s best friend,” Caleb says, laughing, and I nearly stab him with my fork.

“It’s about time,” his mom and dad say at the same time, then look at each other and smile. “It’s about time you find a nice girl, Matt.” His mom clears her throat, glaring at Caleb. “We’re waiting on you too, Caleb.”

“Mom. We just had this conversation. You’re gonna be waiting a while. Been there, done that. It didn’t work out all that well for me.”

“Well,” she says, taking our plates and wandering back into the kitchen, Mr. Brody’s eyes never leaving the subtle movement of her hips, “there are plenty of fish in the deep blue sea.” He continues to stare at her and it never ceases to amaze me. Even after more than thirty-five years of marriage, he still can’t take his eyes off of her.

“Speaking of fish,” Caleb’s dad pipes in, finally tearing his gaze away, “do you remember that time we went fishing out on Achorn Lake and you and Matt had to grab hold of that fishing line to reel in that ten pounder? Now that was a fish.” He points his finger to a picture of Caleb and me when we were twelve years old, holding the trout with pride, the head of it almost bigger than the two of us combined.

My eyes move from the picture to my watch and I tap it in a subtle attempt to get Caleb’s attention, motioning to the door when he looks my way.

“Well, we should probably get going,” he announces, pushing himself up off the couch.

“Already?” his mom asks coming out of the kitchen, her chin down, a glint of disappointment in her eyes.

“Yeah, Mom,” Caleb says, giving a quick hug to his dad and putting his arm around his mom. “We’ll be over next Friday for dinner.” He glances over at me. “Right, Matt?”

“Absolutely. Also, give Tracy a hug for me.”

I say goodbye to Caleb’s dad and his mom walks us to the door, a genuine smile spread clear across her face. My own smile grows wider knowing just how happy this visit has made her. I give her a hug and a kiss before we head out.

“Love you!” she yells as we traipse down the driveway.

“Oh man, dude, your parents crack me up.” I chuckle as I climb into the driver’s seat. “Even I have to admit, it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, real sweet.” Caleb laughs. “You’re not the one who had to hear them going at it through the walls at least three times a week growing up.”

I edge onto the highway that’s now lined with rush hour traffic. “My mom and dad were a lot like that, too, remember…before she got sick. They were so affectionate with one another. I often wonder how different things would’ve been if she’d lived, you know?”

Caleb stares out the window and a moment of silence passes between us, both of us lost in thought. “Do you think you’ll ever speak to your dad again?”

I scratch my chin, pondering his question. It’s not an easy one to answer. “I don’t know. I’m not the one who cut off contact. Do I think about him? Sure. Wonder what he’s doing? Yeah. But he left us emotionally after Mom passed and then physically after Clara died. I wouldn’t even know how to find him at this point. Last I knew he was in Wyoming.”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says with the utmost sincerity. “I wish things could’ve been different for you.”

“You know what, Caleb?” I smile warmly, keeping my eyes on the road. “Ever since I can remember, your family has felt like home to me, and for that I’m not sorry at all. You have an amazing family and a mom and dad who love you. I hope you know how lucky you are.”

“I do,” he replies, knocking his head back against the seat. “As crazy as they are, I do.”

The remainder of the ride back to the hotel is quiet. Thoughts of Dad, Mom, and Clara taking up residence in my mind. Dad wasn’t the only one who changed. I changed, too. I lost my faith and became obsessed with making sure things were perfect in my life, but it dawns on me now just how far from perfect they really are.

* * *

“What do you want to drink?” I ask Caleb as he heads off to grab us a table.

“I’ll just have a beer, man, thanks.”

I squeeze through the crowd at the bar and while I’m waiting to catch the bartender’s attention, I pull out my cell phone and text Fran.

Hey. We’re downstairs in the bar. Waiting on you.

I was about to type “Can’t wait to see you” but something held me back.

A second later my phone dings.

Be right down.

And just like that my chest feels lighter, my breathing steadier. I may not be able to voice it out loud, but my head is screaming that I can’t wait to see her.

I order two beers and scan the crowd, drumming my fingers against the bar to keep busy. Something catches my attention near the entrance and I turn my head just in time to see Fran and Peyton. It’s almost as if I could sense her presence, the hairs on my skin letting me know she was close.

“Wow.” I know I said that out loud. She’s exquisite, wearing a black dress that hugs every curve, her hair cascading over her shoulders in sleek, dark waves. Even from here I can glean the sparkle in the green of her eyes. She’s stolen all of my breath and maybe even a sliver of my heart. I quickly take a swig of the beer set down before me, my throat dry as I watch her make her way toward me. I can’t move or breathe, and when she’s finally standing in front of me, I can barely speak. “Hey,” I manage, unable to pry my eyes from hers.

“Hey, yourself,” she replies, and a huge grin breaks out across my face.

I vaguely hear Peyton coughing to make her presence known and I shift. “Hi, Peyton.”

“Hi, Matt. Oh, I see Caleb. I’m going over.” She continues walking but calls back, “Can you get me a vodka tonic, Fran?”

“Uh huh,” Fran replies, and I finally decide it’s time to find my voice.

“You look…beautiful, Fran.”

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes raking over my body. “You look pretty decent, too.”

“Don’t go overboard with the compliments,” I tease, motioning toward the bar. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a rum and coke, please.” She eyes the table, Caleb and Peyton already getting cozy in the corner.

“Why don’t you go on ahead. I’ll bring the drinks over.” I won’t deny I want to watch her walk away and Jesus, as she does, it was completely worth it. Her ass is perfectly outlined through that dress and she’s all legs and—shit, she just turned around and caught me staring.

I make two trips to bring the drinks over and then take a seat across from Fran. Peyton and Caleb are already lost in their own little world, so for all intents and purposes, Fran and I are alone.

She takes a sip of her drink and catches me eyeing her again. “You like what’s on the menu?” Her voice is low and sexy and my breath catches.

“Maybe.” I grin, but then for once in my life decide to say fuck it. “Yeah, I do.”

Her eyes light up with surprise, a subtle shade of pink sweeping her cheeks at the same time a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

Right answer.

Fran sits back against the chair and pulls her drink along with her, mixing it with her straw. “So… how is Caleb’s dad feeling?”

I chuckle before setting my beer down on the table. “He’s okay. A bit irritable, but that’s to be expected. He’s kind of immobile right now.” My mind drifts to the more important reasons behind his mood change and I smirk.

“What? What’s so funny?” Fran asks, peeking at me over the glass, that cute little wrinkle in her forehead popping out.

“Well….” I try to figure out a way to put this without being too blunt. “Because of his hip, his dad is feeling a bit…deprived.”

Her eyebrows squish together and her nose crinkles until the light bulb goes off in her head. “Oooooh,” she says, smiling, “that.”

“Yeah.”

She cocks her head, tapping her fingernails on the side of her glass, contemplating me. “You really love them, don’t you? His family?”

“Yes, as if they’re my own,” I say fondly. “They’re the closest thing I’ve had to a home since I was seventeen. After my mom died, well, things started to fall apart. My dad was devastated and started to withdraw from us a little every day. When Clara passed away eight years ago, he finally left and I haven’t spoken to or seen him since.” I let out a hard sigh, running a hand through my hair roughly. “It’s not that I can even blame him, though. First he loses the love of his life, and then years later he loses his daughter, both to the same illness. I wouldn’t even begin to know how to cope with that.”

“That couldn’t have been easy on you, either. It’s great that you had Caleb’s family, then.” Sadness lines the rims of her eyes and I wonder what’s behind it. “I never really had that kind of a home life either. That reminds me,” she mutters, putting a hand over her mouth briefly, “I’ve been here four days and I haven’t even called my mom.”

I’ve noticed Fran hasn’t mentioned very much about her mom and dad during the time we’ve spent together. “I assume you’re not that close?”

“I absolutely love my mom, don’t get me wrong, but since she left New York we end up on the phone a lot more often than we end up seeing one another. I don’t know,” she says with a faraway look, “I wish we were closer emotionally but it’s hard for her. She carries a lot of guilt.”

I’m just about to ask her what she means by that when Caleb comes up for air and breaks into our conversation.

“You guys want to play a game?” he asks, draining the last of his beer and slamming it down on the table.

“What kind of a game?” Fran asks cautiously, “One of your dirty secrets games again?” She and Peyton exchange some sort of covert glance before she returns her gaze to Caleb.

“No, nothing like that,” he amends, winking at her, “unless you absolutely want to. I was thinking something like truth or dare?”

The music around the bar suddenly starts pounding through the speakers and “Beautiful Goodbye” by Maroon 5 fills the room. Peyton lets out a squeak and kicks her chair back, reaching out to Caleb.

“I love this song, Caleb. Let’s dance.” She grabs his hand and pulls him off to the center of the bar leaving Fran and me alone, which is not a bad predicament to be in.

“Well, that was a quick game,” she teases, looking out at Caleb and Peyton dancing, their bodies completely entangled.

“We can still play if you want to,” I say, “unless you’re afraid.”

She straightens up in her chair and leans her breasts over the table. Well, it’s more like her chest, but her breasts are the first thing I see. “Okay, hotshot, truth or dare?” she says, her voice both smooth and seductive. Excitement rushes through my blood at the game’s potential.

“Truth.”

“First time you had sex?” She swirls the ice around in her glass, eyeing me and waiting on an answer.

“You just cut to the chase, don’t you?” She waves me forward with her hand, silently telling me to fess up. “I was seventeen and it was with Janet Thomas. It was angry sex though. I was grieving over my mom and I was pissed off and rebelling, although Janet did seem to enjoy it.” I grin, crossing my arms over my chest. “Your turn. What about you? First time?”

“I was seventeen. Harry Stilman in the back of his mother’s Chevy Chevette.”

“Harry?” I chuckle, picking up my beer and downing the remainder of it. “You had your first sexual experience with a guy named Harry, in a car?”

“Hey,” she replies, her cheeks warming to a soft pink glow, “don’t let the name fool you, he knew what he was doing. As far as the car, it was my idea. We couldn’t find anywhere to be alone, and I couldn’t wait.”

“It must have been a bit hard in the car…no pun intended.” I raise a brow and shrug at my own joke.

Fran shakes her head, her lips cracking a smile. “Oh, it was a lot hard.”

Shit. Now I’m hard.

Another song comes on and I squint my eyes and strain to hear what it is when Fran’s mood shifts dramatically, her eyes growing soft, a sweet smile curving her lips.

“I love this song.” I can barely hear her words over the music, but I see her lips move and I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.

I slide my chair back and walk over to her side of the table as Tyrone Wells’ voice croons the words to “This Love.” “Do you want to dance, sunshine?”

“Is this a dare?” she asks with a playful grin.

All joking leaves me the second I stare into those bright green eyes. “No.” I extend my hand to her and she slips her palm in mine as we make our way to the center of the room.

We stand there staring at each other for a long minute as if we don’t remember the mechanics of dancing. I finally take a few steps until I’m standing in front of her and weave my arms around her waist. She follows my lead by draping her arms around my neck, laying her head on my shoulder. The music moves our bodies and we sway back and forth, the smell of jasmine filling my nose, dizzying my mind. I close my eyes and my head is spinning. My whole life has been one big blur since Mom died. I’ve let too many moments pass me by, moments consumed by loss, towering over me until I became paralyzed, finally opening my eyes to a moment that was lost forever. With Fran though, something is different. I’m not willing to accept loss, only possibility, because that’s what I feel when I’m with her.

My breathing staggers as these thoughts push me over the edge, yet urge me on to finally open myself up to what’s in front of me—the slender arms embracing me and the gentle fingers brushing against the hairs at the back of my neck, the ones that stand from end to tip whenever she’s near.

“Fran,” I say into her hair and she pulls back to look at me, her face inches from mine.

“Hmmm.”

I reach out and brush her cheek with the backs of my fingers and she very subtly angles her head, letting me know she likes the feel of my hands on her skin. “We need to go.”

“What? Why?” She pouts, her plump bottom lip sticking out, making me want to drag it into my mouth.

My gaze drops to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Because I need to kiss you, Fran, and I can’t kiss you the way I want to if we’re surrounded by a crowd of people.” I lean in close, my breath a whisper above her ear. “I don’t want them seeing what I intend on doing to your mouth.”

She stills beneath my hand and when her tongue darts out to lick her lips, I decide it’s time to go. I pull her behind me through the bar and out the bronze French doors leading to a terrace overlooking the city.

A blast of muggy air hits us in the face and I scan the area, grateful for the fact that we’re completely alone. I tug Fran against me, placing my hands on either side of her face, my thumb brushing over the outline of her lips.

Her tongue sneaks out to dampen them and grazes my finger. That hint of wetness makes me crazy with desire, tasting her the only thing on my mind.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Fran?” I whisper, and she inhales a sharp breath. “Because I need to see what those lips feel like against mine, something I haven’t stopped thinking about since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Yes,” she breathes out, and takes me by surprise, pressing her mouth to mine, urgent and wanting. My tongue edges her moist lips and when she parts them, I slide inside, eliciting a moan so sweet that my cock stirs, a groan climbing from my chest. We melt against one another, tasting, licking, exploring. I flick my tongue back and forth over hers, the faint taste of rum and God, just Fran, wraps around me until we finally pull apart, our breathing heavy, our heartbeats frantic. Resting my forehead against hers, I thread my fingers behind her neck, massaging her skin, and goose bumps shimmer down her back.

I swallow, trying to catch hold of my breathing, but it doesn’t work because I’m too far gone and I sense she is, too. “Fran,” I rasp, “can we do that again?”

“God, I hope so.”

I grin before I crash my lips to hers, holding her mouth against mine, and she lets out a tiny whimper, spurring me to slip my tongue inside and capture it. She twines her arms around me, her fingers inching up my back to pull me closer and a shiver crawls down my spine.

Our lips and bodies remain locked for I don’t know how long, because I’m completely lost in the warmth of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the press of her tongue against mine. She is all-consuming and I am most definitely consumed.

We reluctantly back away from the kiss, both of us panting, our chests rising at a rapid pace. Her nipples are puckered through her dress, her lips swollen from our kiss, her eyes filled with desire. She’s fucking gorgeous and I’ve lost my words. I take her hand in mine and walk us over to the terrace wall, pulling her back against me. My arm snakes around her stomach, and for a split second she stiffens but then relaxes again. I know she must feel my erection, realize how much I want her.

She arches her head back and I place a gentle kiss to her temple as we stare out at the twinkling lights, the city bathed in bursts of color. “It’s really magical up here,” she says with a gentle sigh.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t know that I ever appreciated it as much as I do right now, here with you.”

She turns her head slightly to look at me and I steal her lips for a sweet kiss before we go back to being mesmerized by the mystery of the night sky.

“My dad bought me a really cool telescope,” I say, interrupting our quiet. “I think I was about eleven or twelve. Sometimes we’d wait until my mom was asleep and we’d sneak out into the darkness to check out all the stars. I remember he always told me to wish on the biggest ones because those are the wishes that would come true.” I let out a sigh filled with sadness. “I remember when I found out my mom had breast cancer, I wished so hard on one of those big stars, but.…” My voice trails off, not really wanting to go there.

Fran places her hands on mine, squeezing lightly. “Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

I take a deep breath and rest my chin on the top of her head, the topic of my dad always a constant drain. “Caleb and I were just talking about this. I honestly don’t know how to reach him and I don’t even know if he’d want to see me.”

“But what about you? Do you want to see him?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, because I really don’t. He wouldn’t know the first thing about who I am now, and I certainly know nothing about the man he’s become.

I hesitate for a second before I ask my next question. Fran doesn’t talk much about her mom and dad and something tells me I might be skating on thin ice. “What about your dad, Fran?”

Her limbs tense underneath me and she lifts her head away, her posture rigid. “My dad…he’s…dead.”

“Jesus, Fran. I’m sorry. I had no idea.” And now I feel like an ass for bringing it up. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk about it. I turn her around to face me and cup her shoulders, meeting nothing but emptiness in her eyes. “Honestly, I’m so sorry.”

Her arms go around my waist and she latches onto me. I hug her tightly, giving her whatever she needs right now. She sniffles, and I continue to hold her, combing my fingers through her hair in a rhythmic motion.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” I say in a soft voice and she nods her head against my chest but doesn’t let go.

I can feel her heartbeat, a slow boom against my own, the warmth of our bodies seeping into one another. She shifts and I kiss her hair before she backs away, staring into the recesses of my eyes, or maybe it’s my soul. I’m so lost in her at this point, I have no idea.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, fingering a strand of her hair and twirling it.

“I don’t know what I did, but you’re welcome,” I answer, taking a thread of her hair between my own fingers and rolling it around. “What do you say we go back in and find Caleb and Peyton?”

“Sure,” she responds, but still I feel so much sadness emanating from her and want to make her smile again.

“Hey,” Peyton says, when we make it back to the table, “I was wondering where you two disappeared to.” A subtle lift of her brow and a wink in Fran’s direction isn’t lost on me.

“We were out on the terrace, admiring the view.” Fran glances at me, a smile finally returning to her lips. Lips that I most definitely want to kiss again.

“So I have an idea,” I interject, “let’s go for a swim. There’s an amazing pool on the twenty-sixth floor with a view of the entire city.”

“I love that idea.” Peyton bounces with enthusiasm while the smile falls off of Fran’s face.

“Why don’t we do something else instead?” Fran asks. Her voice rattles, lacking its usual confidence. “Like…have a few more drinks or…maybe go out to a club.”

“Come on, Fran,” Caleb chimes in, “what’s better than a swim under the stars?”

Fran tries to catch Peyton’s eye as if to silently communicate something, which I’m now extremely curious about, but she’s too lost in Caleb to notice. This Fran is someone I don’t recognize, very different from the girl I’ve grown to know in just four short days. I’m trying to figure out the shift and it seems to have happened when I mentioned the pool. Maybe she can’t swim?

We cram our way through the packed bodies at the bar and out to the bank of elevators and it’s pretty obvious to me that Fran is lagging behind.

“I think I’m just going to go to my room and make it an early night.” She bites at her fingernail without looking up at us.

“No, you’re not,” Peyton says adamantly. She waves a hand at us and concentrates on Fran. “We’ll meet you up at the pool in thirty minutes.”

Caleb and I wait for the elevator and when it arrives I let him walk on first before taking one more look at Fran…and seeing nothing but fear.

Chapter Twenty-Three – Fran - Theories

Peyton drags me back to my room without saying a word, but once inside she lays into me. “What the fuck is going on? I want to know right now!” She sits at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, her leg anchored over her knee. “Well, I’m waiting,” she bites out.

“I’m not going swimming, Peyton. You go ahead and have fun. I just want to go to bed,” I say, resigned, hurling my shoes across the room.

“Okay, what am I missing here? Did something happen with you and Matt?”

I slink over to the dresser and pull off my earrings and bracelets. “Just go on, Peyton, I’m fine.”

She hops off the bed, her eyes brimming with determination. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me what’s wrong.”

I throw my hands up in the air and groan. “Fine. Why don’t I want to go swimming?” Grabbing the hem of my dress, I pull it up over the burn marks on my thighs and past my belly. “This is why! I don’t want Matt to see my scars! Okay! Happy now?”

The anger on Peyton’s face dissipates, her eyes softening, her shoulders slumping. “Oh, Fran. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’m such a bitch.”

“No,” I reply on a deep sigh. “You’re not. I just….” I cast my eyes to the carpet. “I don’t want him to know how damaged I am, to see all the ugliness. He kissed me tonight, Peyton.” I lift my eyes back up to hers. “I’ve never been kissed like that before. It’s like he took possession of me yet I felt so safe with him, and I’ve never had that, and…I feel guilty saying this, but it wasn’t even like that with Kyle. I was lost, completely and totally lost in his arms.”

Peyton takes my hand and sits me down next to her on the carpet, exhaling heavily. “Fran, ugly isn’t even a word that could be used to describe you, and…do you really think that’s the type of person Matt is? That he would honestly be bothered by that? I mean, I know you haven’t known him that long, but even I can see he’s not shallow. He’s a good guy, Fran.”

“I know!” I laugh bitterly, lying down on the carpet. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Oh, honey.” She falls back and leans her head against mine. “Aren’t you the one who told me not to overthink, to just have fun?”

“Yeah.”

“So let’s go have some fun.” She nudges me with her shoulder playfully. “Swimming under the stars with two seriously hot guys, what could be more fun than that?”

“Fine,” I concede, pouting, “but I’m wearing my one-piece and a sarong, and I may not swim.”

“One step at a time. You’re coming, and that’s good enough.” She hangs her shoes over her shoulder, smiling. “I’ll be back in ten to pick you up.”

After Peyton walks out, I lie face down on the bed and bang my head on the cushioned mattress before flipping over on my back. What the hell is wrong with me? I rub my thumb over the contour of my lips, remembering the kiss that’s washed away the memory of every other kiss I’ve ever had. I should feel more bogged down by guilt, but I don’t. Maybe that means I’m on the road to healing. God, the way Matt’s tongue caressed mine, I could’ve kissed him forever. But I don’t have forever. I have ten days.

I stuff a pillow over my face and let out a sharp whine before dragging my ass over to the drawer and digging for my Norma Kamali red, ruched swimsuit and matching sarong. As soon as it’s on and I have everything covered, it occurs to me what I need to do. I need to talk to Gabby.

The phone rings four times before she finally answers and I relax the moment I hear her voice.

“Fran!” She screams, “Brad, it’s Fran!”

“Hey.”

“I miss you! How’s California?” she asks, and I don’t even have a chance to respond before she starts giggling.

“Can you get the caped crusader to keep his paws off of you for a second so we can have a conversation?” I laugh, thinking about Brad’s superhero obsession. Gabby used to joke about wanting to see Brad in nothing but his cape. I’m trying to stay away from that visual.

“Brad, stop,” she whispers, and I sit here shaking my head as if she can see me. “So how’s the trip going? Is the conference interesting?”

“Yeah…It’s good.”

“Okay, what is it? What’s wrong? You sound weird,” she prompts, and then I realize there’s no way to keep anything from Gabby. She knows me too well.

“Well, I kind of ran into someone here, and you’ll never believe who,” I say, a slow smile creeping across my cheeks.

“Really, tell me!” she demands, excitement and interest lacing her voice.

“Matt,” I reply, and there go my lips running away from me again. I can’t even say his name without a ridiculous grin.

“Matt?” Her voice raises a couple of octaves. “As in Brad’s brother?”

“Yes, and well, we’ve been spending some time together, and well…tonight, we kinda…kissed.”

“AHHHHH!” she screams, and I hear muffled and hushed voices before she comes back on the line.

“Gabrielle Willis! Don’t tell Brad!” I shout with a frustrated groan.

“Fran, I tell Brad everything. Oh my God, I want to know all about it. I’m so excited!”

I can practically see her jumping up and down, popping Swedish Fish as we speak.

“There’s not a whole lot to tell. We’ve just been hanging out.” Somehow when I say the words it doesn’t feel like the truth.

She sighs heavily. “I’m glad. He’s a great guy, but then again, he is Brad’s brother so it’s not surprising.”

“Yeah,” I reply, and as my mind drifts to our kiss, my cheeks instantly heat. I know with absolute certainty that I want to kiss him again. “We’re just having fun. I’ll be home in another week or so, anyway,” I add, a knot already forming in the pit of my stomach.

“Hmph, yeah. Why don’t you sound more excited about coming home, Fran?” she asks in that probing way of hers.

“I am, I’m just kind of tired.”

“You like him,” she says, and it’s not a question, it’s a statement.

A huge burst of air leaves my chest and I fall back against the pillow. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Maybe a lot, is what I think. And I’m not surprised. He’s one of the good ones.” Her tone is filled with sincerity and appreciation.

Peyton knocks at the door interrupting our chat. “Listen, Gabby. I have to go, Peyton’s here and we’re heading out.”

“All right. Just have fun, okay, and say hi to Matt and Peyton.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I click end and scoot off the bed, lobbing the phone back in my purse before grabbing a towel, which I won’t need, and opening the door to find Peyton in a seriously skimpy black string bikini. “Jesus, Peyton, you look like a freaking swimsuit model in that thing. That is a hot suit. You may not make it to the pool without being mauled.”

She laughs and twirls around, finally stopping to give me the once over. “Fran, your tits look amazing. Wait until Matt sees you.”

I cup my breasts and push them up with my hands. “Yes, I’m fully aware of that. That’s why I bought this suit. The tag said it encouraged ‘foaming at the mouth.’ Shall we?”

Peyton breaks out into a full belly laugh complete with snorting before we link arms and make our way to the twenty-sixth floor.

There’s a wall of glass leading out to the pool and the view is stunning, but what’s even more unbelievable is what we see when we walk outside. Matt and Caleb are looking out at the city, low-riding swim trunks gracing their muscular forms, complete with strong, tanned legs and, from this distance, perfect asses.

Peyton stops in her tracks, squeezing my arm, and I wrench it away.

“Ow!” I rub my arm and sneer at her, making sure to keep my voice down so we can continue ogling from afar.

“I’m pretty sure if we checked out the word Adonis in the dictionary that both of their names would be right beside it,” she says in a hushed voice, and a couple of guys sitting by the pool look up from their conversation to give us the once over.

Matt turns around, almost as if he senses my presence, and when I see him it’s like a switch has been turned on inside of me, everything’s awake and alive now. The light in my stomach flickers on while the butterflies begin their dance, and I can’t take my eyes off of him as he walks my way. His muscles flex with every step and it’s obvious I’m staring but I can’t help myself.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets me, his eyes sweeping past my legs, making a brief pause at my breasts, and then finally my face. “I like your suit.” He bends down and gives me a chaste kiss, his lips soft and warm, and it leaves me wanting more.

“Hey, yourself.” I glance over at Caleb. “Hi, Caleb.”

“What’s up, Fran. You guys ready to ride some waves or what?” He grabs Peyton’s hand and they jump in the deep end of the pool.

“He’s crazy.” I laugh, saying a silent prayer for Peyton that her suit didn’t come off during that jump, not that she’d mind.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, reaching out to take hold of my hand and weaving his fingers through mine. “I was kind of…worried about you earlier. You weren’t acting like yourself.”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” I lie, smoothing my free hand down the side of my sarong in an effort to distract myself from my inability to tell Matt the truth. He cocks his head to the side, watching me with a look that tells me he’s not buying it. How is it he can already read me so well?

“Come on, let’s put your stuff down and go for a swim.” He leads me over to the white lounge chairs lined up in front of the pool where his towel is laid out and nods toward the water.

“I’m not feeling much like swimming, but you go ahead.” I try to sound as casual as I can, but once again, I don’t think he really believes me. Maybe I should just tell him the truth, although the thought of that makes my limbs feel shaky, the desire to flee overwhelming.

“Can you not swim, Fran? I mean, do you not know how to swim?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to insult me.

“Of course I can, I just don’t feel like it.”

“Okay, then I’ll sit with you for a bit.” He takes a seat on one of the chairs and pulls me down to lie between his legs. I can’t deny it feels good. My head on his bare chest, his warm breath blowing on my neck, his erection pressing into my lower back. All is right with the world.

“So I just got off the phone with Gabby.” A relaxed sigh leaves my chest at how the sound of Gabby’s voice can always put me at ease.

“Oh yeah, how are she and my brother doing?” he asks, strumming his fingers down my bare arm, goose bumps parading across my skin.

“She seems good, we didn’t have long to talk and Brad was distracting her.”

“So what did you talk about?” he questions, delving for information I suspect.

“Oh, you know, the usual…girl stuff, the weather,” I reply, a smile that he can’t see peeking out from my lips.

“The weather, huh? So how’s the weather?” he remarks on a chuckle and I can tell he’s smirking without even having to turn around.

“I don’t know how it is there, but I told her it’s amazing here.” And I wonder if he picks up on my hidden message. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“What’s with your brother and that superhero obsession?” From the beginning of Gabby and Brad’s relationship, she’d always tell me how he’d refer to her as Lois. She thought it was super cute, while I thought it was a bit odd…even though I love Brad.

“Yep, that’s my brother, Superman,” he snickers before continuing, “He’s been obsessed with Superman since he was in third grade and he made sure everyone knew it. I had to kick a couple of asses in his defense because he got teased about it a lot. The time he wore the cape to school was the worst. The boys in his class harassed him for days, especially this kid Robert Lankin. Asshole,” he barks out, and I love how protective he is and how he looks out for his baby brother.

“What about you?” I ask, “Did you ever have anyone you wanted to be like?”

“That’s a no-brainer,” he replies arrogantly. “Definitely Tom Selleck. What boy didn’t want to be Magnum PI—the shades, the red Ferrari 308GTS, the women.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I remember him well. Definitely not the women I was interested in though. More like his abs.”

“Why that’s very shallow of you, Fran,” he admonishes. “What about you?”

“Wonder woman,” I respond, without even having to think twice, fond memories of pretending I was using my gold handcuffs on the playground to ward off bullets from David Mulligan, my fifth grade crush, flashing in my mind. “You know, the gold cuffs, the invisible jet, the lasso. Those items come in handy.”

“I can totally picture it.” He cackles, and I can feel his gaze over my shoulder burning a hole in my cleavage. “You have similar attributes.”

I clip his arm with my finger and he bumps me. “You’re a jerk.”

“Yeah, but I’m a cute jerk,” he taunts, smiling against my hair.

“Eh. You’re all right.”

He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Is that what you were thinking when I was kissing you earlier?” His warm breath caresses my neck and I mash my lips together to try to slow down the sudden quickening of my pulse.

Two can play this game. “Actually, I was thinking about all the laundry I’ll have to do when I get back home.” God, I love toying with him.

“Hmph. Then I might just have to kiss you again so I can wipe away all those mundane thoughts.”

Yes, please.

Matt takes me by surprise, tilting my head back and cupping my jaw, the gentle stroke of his thumb back and forth over my skin encouraging my eyes to flutter closed. He coaxes my lips open, our tongues twisting as he takes what he wants, and what I’m so ready to give him. We kiss slowly until he pulls away, his breath a light tickle on my lips, and he leans his head back on the chair leaving me completely flustered. I exhale a breath at the same time he does. At least I’m not the only one who’s off-balance, and the thought surprisingly makes me happy.

A stretch of silence passes between us before Matt breaks it. “You know what’s really strange, Fran…never mind,” he says quickly, but my nagging curiosity won’t let this go.

“Now you have to tell me. Come on, I want to know,” I whine, hoping I’m persuasive enough.

“It’s just that…I don’t know. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but it seems like—”

“Like what?” I prompt, suddenly desperate to know what he feels.

“Like…we’ve know each other for years,” he admits, his voice quieter at the end of his words.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel the same.” And I really do. “We’ll have to keep in touch once I go back home,” I blurt out, and after the words escape my mouth, I suddenly wish I could take them back.

“I’m going for a swim,” he says rather abruptly, and I nearly fall back on the lounger when he gets up.

I can’t say that I blame him. He just kissed me and I’m talking about leaving. My head starts to pound, my mind battling the conflict within, and I know it’s my fear talking, not me.

With a frustrated groan, I sit back and watch Peyton and Caleb splashing at one end of the pool and Matt doing laps at the other. He hasn’t looked over here once and I know I’ve upset him. Hell, I upset myself, too. Where’s that invisible jet when I need it? I wish I could just run away from all of this. He won’t want anything to do with me once he gets a glimpse of my scars and the depth of my insecurities, once he sees how damaged I am.

“No one will ever love you like I do, Franny…no one.”

You’re probably right, Daddy. Even though I hate you for it.

* * *

I blink my eyes open when I feel drops of cool water hitting my feet. It takes me a second to realize I’m not dreaming when I see Matt, his hair slicked back, water dripping down his tight abs before disappearing under the waistband of his shorts. My eyes gradually travel down his form and the smirk on his face tells me he likes it. His smile is back in full force.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he says, his lips twitching at the corners.

“Oh, I’m up. That water is quite cold.” I wiggle my toes to emphasize my point.

He flicks more water on me with his fingers, smiling devilishly. “Are you sure you don’t want to go in?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I state firmly.

Caleb and Peyton come up behind him, and I have to say, Caleb isn’t hard on the eyes either. He’s slightly taller than Matt, maybe six-foot-two, but with dark hair, olive skin and a rock hard body.

Caleb steps in front of Matt. “Fran, are you sure you don’t want to go for a dunk? Take your skirt off and I could easily lift you and dump you in.” He stands in front of the lounger and my hands feel clammy, my limbs suddenly heavy, panic weighing them down at the possibility of being exposed.

“Leave her alone, man,” Matt orders from behind him.

He grins and turns around to clasp Matt’s shoulder. “I’m only kidding, dude. Relax.”

Matt’s cell phone rings and he walks off to take the call. He’s gone for just a minute before coming back and addressing Caleb. “That was the SVP. We have to be at the office tomorrow. He’s leaving on a business trip and there are some issues with the Winkler building and he wants us to handle them.” He chuckles. “I guess I won’t be presenting tomorrow, either.”

“So I’m guessing we should probably call it a night because we need to do some research before tomorrow,” Caleb says, somewhat deflated that work is interrupting his social life.

“Yep,” Matt replies, peering over at me, and I try to hide the disappointment lurking in my eyes. I don’t want this night to end yet.

Matt towels himself off and slides a shirt over his head. “Let’s go. I’ll walk you to your room.” He takes my hand after I say goodbye to Caleb and Peyton. I have a feeling they won’t be calling it a night just yet.

He seems lost in thought and distant as we ride the elevator to the twenty-third floor. The only connection is his thumb, a gentle caress to my skin as he holds my hand. He hesitates when we get to my door. “So…I’m not going to see you tomorrow. I’ll be at the office, but maybe we can hang out tomorrow night.” He grins. “If you’re not busy.”

I shrug but my lips deceive me, curling into a smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m clear for tomorrow night.”

“Good,” he says, moving closer, removing his fingers from mine and placing his hand beneath my hair, grazing my neck and encouraging tingles to shoot down my spine. “I want to kiss you one more time before I say goodnight because if I don’t, when I get back to my room I’ll be wishing I had, and I don’t want to have any regrets with you, Fran.”

I can’t begin to understand what that means, but I know I want him to kiss me again…more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.

Our breaths become one when he nears, my skin bristling with anticipation, and I close my eyes and wet my lips, my mind reeling from his scent. “Fran, open your eyes,” he whispers, and I oblige, lost in a sea of blue as he drags my bottom lip between his teeth and gently sucks on it. A breathy moan slips out, spurring him to slide his tongue inside and seek out mine.

Our kiss isn’t hurried or frenzied, but slow and tender. He’s exploring my mouth and I find myself wanting him to take his time, to taste me, to savor me. Our tongues wrap around one another and then our arms follow, his chest brushing mine causes my nipples to instantly harden, and I whimper.

He smiles against my lips as he ends the kiss all too soon. “You make a lot of noises,” he says, licking at my bottom lip. “I like them…I’d like to hear more of them.”

Fucking hell. And I’d like to not have an orgasm in the hallway.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I wink, before he swats me playfully on the ass and takes off down the hall.

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

The door closes behind me and I sprint to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m hot, I’m horny, and it’s all Matt’s fault. He drives me absolutely insane. First I had to watch water dribble all over his flawless body and then he tells me he wants to hear me moan, well, those weren’t his exact words, but yeah.

“GAH!” I let out a loud, frustrated howl that thankfully only I can hear, and throw my shoes against the wall with a thud, before ripping off my dress and plunging into the drawer for Matt’s shirt. I’m probably making matters worse but I don’t care. If I can’t have him wrapped around me, his t-shirt is the next best thing.

I stumble over to the chair and dump my purse, unfazed by all the crap that comes flying out until I see my cell phone. Scooping it up, I type in my password to unlock the screen and send Peyton a text.

Come to my room when you can.

Within less than five minutes, there’s a light rapping on the door and in she walks, the words spilling out of my mouth before she can even sit down.

“All right.” I begin pacing around the room, my hands on my hips. “So, I like him, okay. I like him a lot…and yeah, I thought he was a tight-ass, but he’s not, and…I…I don’t know what to do. And…and you’re not saying anything!”

Peyton stands there, letting me ramble, a wide grin stretching across her face. “That’s because you’re talking and you’re really funny.”

I scrunch up my face at her, throwing my hands up in the air. “I’m not trying to be funny!” I shout. “I need help and you’re not helping!”

“Okay, okay.” She bites back a laugh. “Why do you have to do anything? Why not just go with it? Like you told me to do.”

“Because I’m afraid. Because….” I fling myself onto the bed. “I like him. Because…I want to have sex with him and I’m terrified.” Tears pour from my eyes and I’m helpless to even try to stop them, so I let them fall.

“Oh, sweetie.” She lies on her side next to me and props herself up on her elbow. “I know it’s scary but it’s obvious that Matt likes you, too, and I’m pretty sure there’s nothing that’s going to take away from that. But you know what, Fran? You’re never gonna know unless you take a risk and if it doesn’t pan out, then at least you’ll know one way or the other.” She pushes away some of the hair that’s stuck to my face. “Personally, I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit. He’s not a dick, Fran. However—” she belts out a laugh “—I’m sure he’s got a big one.”

I lift my face up, my mouth falling open before I giggle so hard my stomach starts to hurt. When my laughter subsides and I get a hold of myself, I tell her, “I’m sure he does, too. Those swim trunks were a dead giveaway.” I sit up and wipe my face with the sleeve of Matt’s shirt, covertly inhaling when it reaches my nose. “What about you?”

“I’m good. Just like we talked about before. I’m not thinking. I don’t have time for attachments right now, anyway. No matter how kick ass he is. So…I’m just gonna have fun, that’s all Caleb wants, anyway.”

“Fun. Right. That’s my theory, too.”

Peyton goes back to her room and the rest of my night is a total disaster. I toss and turn the entire time because not only is Matt invading my dreams, but now he’s on my mind when I’m awake, too. Finally at three in the morning, I throw off the covers and head into the bathroom, sprinkle some bubbles and take a nice, warm bath. After an hour in the tub and sleep still evading me, I take out my Kindle and become so entrenched in a story that before I know it, streaks of orange and pink are blanketing the sky just around the time I’m starting to feel sleepy. Setting the alarm for 7:30 a.m., I pull the covers over my head to block out the morning light when I hear what sounds like rustling outside my door. I slip off the bed and tug on a pair of shorts before traipsing over and clicking the handle, only to find an empty hallway. Something on the floor catches my eye and when I look down there’s a single powder pink rose with a hand-written note card that reads:

And there goes my theory, straight to hell.

Chapter Twenty-Four – Matt – Daydreams

I had to get myself off again last night. There was no way around it. After kissing Fran and then seeing her in that hot swimsuit, her nipples on display, the thought of her skin under my lips, I had no choice. Well, I had a choice, but my first option wasn’t available, so I had to use my second one.

She’s driving me crazy. That smile, that spirit, those little moans. Jesus. And then, I bought her a flower and left her a note at six this morning after not sleeping for shit. I stood in that hallway for ten minutes debating whether or not I should leave it for her, but I really wanted to, so I did. What the fuck is happening to me? At the rate I’m going, I’ll be rearranging my cabinets pretty soon and jerking off on a regular basis.

There’s something going on with her and I can’t figure out what it is because she won’t let me in. I’ve seen glimpses of her vulnerability though, on the beach, last night on the terrace. She’s happy one minute, sad the next, or apprehensive—I can’t put my finger on it. I’m trying to piece together the puzzle that is Fran. Problem solving is usually a strength of mine, but not this time. I’m completely stumped.

I stop and grab two coffees for Caleb and me before meeting him in the lobby. He’s dangling an arm over one of the leather couches flirting with a cute, leggy blonde. I shake my head and smile. “Hey, Romeo, you ready?” I ask, nodding toward the door.

Caleb puts an end to his flirting and walks my way, taking a coffee from my hand. “Thanks for the coffee, man.”

“Sure. You know, even after all these years I’ll never understand how you can drink it black, it’s like sludge.” I take a sip of my coffee, grateful for the fact that it doesn’t taste like sludge.

“And I’ll never understand how you can be afraid of clowns,” he mocks.

I nearly choke on a laugh, spitting some coffee onto the sidewalk. When I finally compose myself, I look over at Caleb. “I told Fran.”

“What?” Surprise muddles the gray in his eyes. “I thought I was the only one who knew your darkest secrets.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I’m deeply wounded.”

I chuckle, handing my key to the valet. “I can’t help it. She coaxed it out of me with her charm.”

He smirks and swallows some of the sludge. “Charm, huh?” He pauses, releasing a hard sigh. “I miss your sister, man. She had balls and was such a great partner in crime growing up. Remember when she and I let the air out of old Mrs. Crowley’s tires because she used to bat us away with her broom if we stepped on her lawn. She might as well have been riding that broom,” he jokes, letting out a laugh. “Mrs. Crowley found out it was us and threatened to tell our parents but I told her it was all my idea. I didn’t want Clara to get in trouble.”

“Yeah, you roped Clara into quite a few of your stunts.”

“There was no roping involved. She came willingly,” he replies, a reminiscent smile on his lips, laughter no longer mixed with his words. “I could’ve loved her.” His voice fades into the distance, almost to a hum that’s difficult to hear. “I think I did love her.”

“What?” I ask, completely taken aback by his admission. I knew he and Clara were as thick as thieves but I always thought of them as siblings. On the other hand, it was impossible not to love her.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” he says, trying hard to shake it off. Caleb’s eyes flicker with sadness. “I can only imagine how much you miss her. She was something else. So damn feisty.”

“Yeah. I do miss her. I think about her all the time.” My thoughts veer immediately to Fran. “Fran reminds me a lot of my sister, at least in attitude.”

His melancholy shifts to humor as he lets his briefcase drop to the ground. “Let’s talk about Fran for a moment, shall we?” he says with a mischievous grin, rubbing his hands together. “So…can I assume that the reason you look like shit today is because you spent the night with her?”

I try not to sound too disappointed when I respond. “That would be an incorrect assumption.” A frustrated sigh escapes just as the valet pulls my car around. I ask him to remove the key fob from the ignition before I launch it at Caleb and he deftly catches it with his free hand. “Wanna drive?”

He shuffles back a step, a tentative smile building as my words sink in. “Is this a joke?”

“No. I’m working on not being such a tight-ass. Hurry up and make a decision before I change my mind.”

“Hell yeah!” he exclaims with so much excitement I’m starting to second-guess my spontaneity.

He hands me his coffee, snatches up his briefcase and practically pole vaults into the driver’s seat. “I like the effect that girl has on you. You need to keep her glued to your side.”

Not a bad idea.

I shut the door and Caleb inserts the key fob into the ignition. “Just one minor detail I forgot to mention.” My voice feigns irritation. “If you crash my car, you won’t live to see tomorrow. No pressure, though.”

My comment has little effect on him as he revs the engine with purpose and takes off toward the office.

* * *

The SVP made the right decision calling us into the office today. The Winkler project is in complete disarray and Caleb and I need to put our heads together and take care of it. There’s no disputing we’re a great team. Caleb is not only smart, but he has an uncanny ability to leave no stone unturned when it comes to the structure and safety of a building. Couple that with my ability to translate thoughts into vision and issue resolution, and we’re unstoppable.

After regrouping the designers and projects managers, Caleb and I split up and get to work. I won’t deny I’m distracted…in a big way. My mind is not a hundred percent on this project. It’s probably a 70/30 split, which is not good considering the seventy percent is on a woman. A woman who in nine days will be out of my life. I heave a sigh and bring a hand to my forehead, knocking half a cup of coffee onto the blueprint. Shit.

Once I’ve managed to clean up the mess, I take a minute to look around my office. Two burgundy leather couches are settled across from one another in front of a large oval window overlooking LA. A rich, mahogany table sits in between them with eight Architecture Today and Architecture Week magazines in a straight line. A floor to ceiling bookcase takes up the far wall, each book neatly arranged without a gap to be found. Pictures of buildings we’ve constructed hang on the opposite wall, strategically placed to give the best visual effect. I get up from my walnut desk and walk over to the coffee table, take one of the magazines and toss it on top of another haphazardly. I force myself to go back to my desk while clenching and unclenching my fists, the pull to return the magazine to its original spot is strong, but I resist as best I can…for now.

I lean back in the chair with my hands behind my head, propping my legs up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. As I stare out the looking glass to the city, my mind drifts to Fran. The way her soft lips moved against mine, the feel of her silky hair threaded through my fingertips, the glimmer in her eyes just before we kissed. I can’t wait to see her again. A rap on the door snaps me from my thoughts.

“Hey, man, I just need to talk to you about the fire escape routes for the new building,” Caleb says upon entering my office. He drops the plans on my desk and takes the chair across from it, folding his hands in his lap and kicking his legs up onto the wood. “What are you doing? From the looks of it, I’d say you’re daydreaming, and just so you know, that’s a chick thing to do.”

“Caleb,” I say grinning, “what would I do without your comic relief?”

“Lead a rather boring life,” he states confidently, clasping his fingers together and stretching his arms above his head.

“Precisely.”

My phone dings with an incoming text and I smile when I see it’s from Fran.

Thank you for the beautiful flower.

My fingers get busy on the keypad.

Don’t mention it, sunshine.

Her response comes instantly.

I just did.

I shake my head with a smirk and Caleb eyes me curiously while I type back a response.

Still feisty I see. Save that for tonight.

When I don’t get anything in return, I imagine her sitting there trying to come up with something clever but I don’t wait.

I like when I can render you speechless…see you later.

As I flip the phone onto my desk, I look up to find Caleb glaring at me with an expectant smile.

“Well?”

“It was Fran. She was thanking me for something I left for her this morning.”

He slides his chair forward, inching closer to the desk. “And what would that be?” he prods.

“It’s no big deal. I just left her a flower,” I say quickly, brushing it off as unimportant when I know damn well it feels anything but, and Caleb knows it, too.

“A flower? Interesting.” He studies me, one brow cocked in amusement.

“That’s it. That’s all you’ve got for me.”

“Yup…for now.” He grins before standing up and heading for the door. “I’m going to get some more sludge. I’ll be back in a bit when you can concentrate on the task at hand.”

That might be never at the rate I’m going.

Chapter Twenty-Five – Fran – Knock, knock

I look down at my chipped nail polish, not due from wear and tear, but simply from the incessant picking at it all day during the conference. I might as well be back in Mr. Shanley’s classroom my freshman year of high school, doodling Matt’s name on my notebook. That’s exactly what this feels like. The way my heart speeds up at the thought of him, the way my palms get just a tiny bit sweaty when I’m about to feel his hand on mine, the way my body buzzes when he gets close to me. I love it but at the same time I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and that scares me to death. Needing a distraction, I do what I should’ve done days ago. I call Mom.

She answers on the first ring and I smile, knowing how much she lives for my phone calls, always needing to make sure that I’m happy and well. “Fran, honey, I’m so thrilled to hear your voice! How are you?”

“I’m good, Mom. I actually have a surprise for you,” I say, suddenly realizing I’m just as overjoyed about seeing her and can’t wait to tell her that I’m here in California.

“What kind of a surprise? Are you engaged?” she asks, her voice taking on a whole new level of excitement.

“No, Mom.” I laugh out loud at how crazy that sounds. “I’m not engaged. But…I am in Los Angeles for a conference and I’m going to fly you out so we can spend the day together.”

“That’s wonderful, honey!” she practically shouts through the phone. “Except I’m not home, I’m actually in Santa Barbara visiting my friend Vivian.”

“Even better. Then I’ll drive to Santa Barbara to see you. I think that’s only a little over an hour from here.” The thought of seeing Mom brings a smile to my face. We haven’t seen each other in nine months and I could use one of those hugs that only she can provide. “How about tomorrow, Mom? I’ll leave the conference a bit early, say around noon, and then I could drive out and we can have lunch together.”

“I would love that, sweetie. Oh,” she says, her voice filled with warmth, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me, too, Mom. I’ll pick a restaurant and then text you the address. I’m going to rent a car and then I’ll head out when we break for lunch.”

She sighs heavily into the phone. “I’m so glad you called. You’ve made my whole day. Wait until I tell Vivian I’m seeing my baby tomorrow.”

I giggle and hop on the bed. “Yup. Your twenty-eight year old baby. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom.”

“Okay. Love you and drive safe.”

“I will. Love you, too.”

I hold the phone to my chest and smile, the idea that I’ve made Mom happy brings me a sense of joy. She’s had so little to be happy about over the years and I really want things to be different for her. Although she’s much better now, knowing Dad can no longer harm her and she doesn’t have to live in the shadow of fear, she still works two jobs and sometimes finds it hard to make ends meet. He beat her down until she lost her drive, first to live, and then later to pursue her dream of being a legal secretary, so she continued working at various restaurants and hair salons without ever looking back.

An audible sigh fills the air around me before I go back to obsessing about the evening ahead. Without a clue as to where we’re going, I dig in the closet to find something to wear. The decision is made for me once I spot the emerald green wrap dress, knowing the way it makes my eyes pop and how much Matt likes it when I look at him, or at least that’s what he said. “Fran, open your eyes.” The smooth, yet commanding tone of his voice went right through me and I shudder, even now. Plus, who am I kidding? I love looking into his eyes. Aside from the fact that they’re absolutely captivating, a smoldering blue I’m unable to turn away from, there’s a normal there and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt normal, but I desperately want to.

The clock reads 6:30 p.m. and after taking a few more glances in the hand-carved, full-length mirror, I shuffle to the bathroom to put on some makeup. I apply a couple sweeps of mascara and a hint of blush to pink my cheeks, but go heaviest on my lip gloss where it matters most. Perhaps I’ll get a kiss out of the deal.

Now for the verdict on the shoes. It’s a toss-up between the black or the green strappy sandals, and I opt for black. The green would be way too much and I don’t want to look like a leprechaun.

A ding signals an incoming text and I jump hurdles to get to it. It’s from Matt.

I’m coming for you.

The authoritative way he’s written that has my skin immediately covered in goose bumps. How can I get turned on from a text? Yes, my mind is seriously in the gutter. I can’t help myself. There’s something about the way he says things, an undercurrent of something sexual mixed with control. I know from what he’s told me that he has a need for control and I have to wonder if it extends to all areas of his life. I can only imagine it does.

I’m nearly jumping out of my skin and this feeling hasn’t left me all day. I’ve been fidgety and restless and now I’m biting my lip so hard I might just draw blood. I need to get a grip.

I text Peyton to let her know Matt and Caleb are on their way and she responds by telling me she’s running late and still primping. This boggles my mind because Peyton doesn’t need to do much of anything to look gorgeous. It comes naturally.

The glow illuminating the room from the city lights attracts my attention and I walk over to the window to admire the view, lost in the colorful haze until I hear the knock I’ve been waiting for all day. I take a couple of quick breaths and wring my hands out, releasing one final puff of air before I open the door.

Matt’s propped up against the doorframe, a lopsided smile alights his face. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” I whisper, and I’m struck dumb because not only does he look incredibly handsome, but his smile warms my insides and all my previous tension has been washed away.

“You look stunning,” he says, as he artfully scans my body with appreciation, moving over the threshold of the door and standing close to me. “Did you think about me today?”

“Eh,” I respond, taking my thumb and forefinger and pinching them together while doing my best to fight back a smile. But I did think about him more than I’m willing to admit and the realization hits me hard. That’s why I’ve been so on edge even though I can’t tell him that.

“Well, I thought about you,” he says in a low voice, “a lot.” He toys with a strand of my hair before gently pushing it behind my ear, pausing to stroke my cheek with his fingers, my skin heats at the contact and I want more. His head dips down and he brushes his lips against mine, once, twice, and then slips past the seam of my mouth to caress my tongue and I sigh into him, loving the feel of his mouth on mine. He weaves his hands through my hair, holding me in place until his kiss becomes softer and he lets go of me completely. “I think we should go,” he says, his tone hoarse, and I can tell he’s trying to maintain his composure.

“Where are we going?” I ask, aware of his fingers that just linked with mine to lead me out the door.

“There’s a bar down on Sunset called The Grand that we thought we’d try out. It opened last year but since I don’t get out much, I haven’t been there.”

“Don’t get out much, huh?” I laugh, giving him a shoulder bump.

“Well, when my movie collection calls…it’s hard to resist,” he replies on a shrug.

I press the call button for the elevator and say a couple of silent prayers for a smooth ride. “It’s a good thing I’m here then, you need a little excitement in your life.”

“I’m starting to think it’s a very good thing,” he says, and my eyes dart to his, a gleam of sincerity radiating off of them, but then he smirks. “And, I did re-arrange my magazines today.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He snickers at his own private joke and removes his hand from mine to shake off whatever it is, leaving me to wonder what he meant by that comment.

“So how did everything go with your project today?” I ask once we walk on the elevator, a clear attempt to distract myself from the ride down to the lobby.

“It went okay. We’ve still got quite a bit of work to do, but we’ll get it done.” Matt’s got a wicked grin on his face and I need to know what’s behind it.

“What’s the look for? Something you need to get off your chest?” I ask, pushing my hair over my shoulder.

“It was hard today. I was distracted,” he admits, suddenly unable to meet my eyes.

I cock a brow, placing a hand on my hip. “I bet,” I tease with a flirtatious smile, thankful he can’t see my gaze raking over his body.

“Let’s go, feisty,” he says, as the elevator doors open to the lobby and we spot Peyton and Caleb just beyond the entrance to the hotel.

“Hey, kids,” I utter once we get outside, interlocking arms with Caleb and Peyton as Matt waits on the valet. “Ready to party?”

“I’m always ready to party,” Caleb retorts, “and I heard this bar we’re going to is pretty hoppin’. It’ll be a bit of a change from Manhattan, but I think you’ll like it. LA is where it’s at, after all.”

“Ha!” Peyton returns his jab. “Dream on. New York City is where it’s at. You guys should know that.”

When the car comes into view, she leans over to whisper in my ear. “Sit in the back with me, okay.”

I nod and when Matt opens the door for me, I point to the back seat with my finger. “I’m going to sit in the back with Peyton. You know, girl time,” I add.

“Okay,” he responds, but drags a hand through his hair and presses his lips together tightly, in disappointment maybe?

He closes the door behind me and as soon as it shuts I turn to Peyton. “So what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Caleb turn up the music,” she says, before focusing her attention back on me. “So remember that guy Nick I dated, the son of my mom’s friend? Well, I guess he’s been looking for me. My mom called and said he came around for a visit and asked about me. You know how my mom just adored him,” she says sarcastically. “Lawyer, loaded, comes from a well-to-do family, none of which I’m interested in. I keep telling her I can make my own money. Do you know what she said to me?” Her nostrils flare and she fists her hands in her lap. “She said, ‘how much money do you expect to make as a graphic designer?’ To which I replied, ‘Design Manager, Mom.’ Ugh. She’s so annoying.”

“I’m sorry. I wish she paid more attention, Peyton. You deserve that. I do remember Nick though and you weren’t into him, anyway.” I sense eyes on me and peek up to see Matt glancing in the rearview mirror. I give him the Queen’s wave and he laughs. “So who are you into?” I poke her with my elbow and she smiles, gesturing a finger at Caleb under the radar.

“I want to be into him, tonight,” she whispers, “or maybe I want him to be balls deep into me.”

I throw my head back as I shake with laughter, the volume on the music suddenly lowering around us.

“What are you two cackling about?” Caleb asks, angling his head to get a better look at us, his eyes flicking back and forth between Peyton and me.

“Balls,” I reply, and we both hunch over practically spitting out a laugh.

“Well, that sounds like a conversation I can participate in,” he says in that cocky way of his and that makes Peyton and me lose it a bit more.

By the time we arrive at our destination I have a cramp in my side from laughing so hard. We climb out of the car and get in a line that’s practically wrapped around the block. There’s an eclectic group of people waiting, some dressed in jeans and t-shirts, others in what looks like couture fashion, and some even in leather. It makes for good people watching.

Caleb cuts in line and walks right up to the bouncer who stands about six-foot-four and is covered in tattoos, with bulging biceps and a shaved head. He’s built like a brick wall and seemingly not one to be reckoned with, although that doesn’t stop Caleb who slaps him on the shoulder. “Leon, what the hell are you doing here?” he greets, and I smile because I can’t help thinking only Caleb could get away with that.

“Caleb, my man, what’s up?” He lifts Caleb off the ground into a giant bear hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him.

“I thought you were working over at Tundra?” Caleb asks when his feet finally hit the ground again.

“Yeah, I was,” the baritone voice responds, “but I wasn’t happy with the management so I came here.”

“Cool. So can you do me a solid and get the four of us in?”

Leon nods at the door and opens the velvet rope so we can pass. “Enjoy.” He tips his head and gives us the once over as Peyton and I walk by. “Ladies.”

“Caleb, your connections never cease to amaze me,” Matt screeches over the roar of the music as we enter the bar.

It’s really dark in here with the exception of dim lighting, allowing me to make out silhouettes, glasses being raised in cheer, and round booths in crushed, red velvet upholstery along the walls. Various tables in crimson surround the dance floor. There’s a lot of red in here and I blink several times to shake off the color and the sharp pain piercing my stomach at the sight of it. Matt’s protective hand goes to my back and it steadies me.

Caleb says something I can’t make out and we continue to follow him past the dance floor and through a door leading into another space. It feels as though I’m no longer at the club. The area we entered has more of a lounge feel. A full fireplace takes up one wall and facing that are various booths and tables in, you guessed it, more red. My head is spinning and my fight or flight instinct is kicking in. I need to stay and fight this. That’s the only way I’m ever going to win.

Caleb snags us a booth against the wall and I slide in first with Matt right behind me. I rub my temple and force my eyes closed to alleviate the buildup of pressure until I feel Matt’s warm breath in my ear and it startles me.

“You okay, sunshine?”

“Yeah. I’m good, thanks, I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” I lie and feel horrible about it, but I’m trying to protest against my overwhelming desire to run.

“Do you want me to find you some Tylenol?” he asks sweetly, even though I’m not sure where the heck he’d find that here.

“No, thanks, really, I’m okay,” I reply, clutching at the table, but the moment his hand touches my back I begin to relax.

“Shots for everyone!” Caleb calls out, and he and Peyton head to the bar.

“So how was the conference today?” Matt asks, one arm draped around the booth while his other hand continues to sketch pictures on my back with his finger.

“It was pretty boring. Honestly, I think they could’ve condensed it into three days, I don’t think they needed four whole days for it. I can’t believe tomorrow’s the last day already. It went by fast.” My eyes lift from a spot on the table and I chance a glimpse at Matt.

He’s quiet for a minute, a pensive look scrolling across his features. “When do you go back to New York?”

“Next Friday. Remember I’m taking an extended vacation.”

His face brightens and his dimple appears. “Good. I can show you around LA some more.”

“On the motorcycle?” I ask, nudging him in the ribs and edging closer to him. I’m anxious to experience that freeing sensation again and be wrapped around him at the same time. It was seriously hot.

“Motorcycle? I thought you were terrified,” he muses, taking a drink of water, and my eyes are glued to his lips as they surround the glass. I need to feel them again.

“You helped me to overcome my fear,” I admit. “It was actually pretty exhilarating.”

“I’d like to help you overcome a lot of things,” he says huskily, leaning in to place a soft, wet kiss behind my ear, a shiver traveling down my neck. His nose skates up and down my skin and my breathing becomes ragged. “I love the way you smell, Fran. I could get drunk on you.”

“Matt,” is the only word I can manage because my throat feels dry and the only thought running through my head is to go somewhere so he can get drunk on me…right now.

His hand comes up to my chin, angling it slightly, his lips connecting with mine, and I have to quell the desire to pull him to me until we’re a tangle of tongues and lips. “Breathe, Fran. You’re not breathing.” He smirks against my mouth. “I know, I tend to have that effect on women.” My lips twist into a shameless grin as Matt tips his head back, his gentle blue eyes searching mine. “God, I love your smile,” he says, running his finger gently over the curve of my mouth.

My heartbeat kicks up a notch and our eyes remain pinned for what seems like an eternity. I’m floating on a cloud, suspended in a clear blue sky and I couldn’t look away if I tried. I don’t want to look away but the sound of Peyton’s voice brings me back down to earth.

“Okay, kiddies.” She winks at Matt. “Since tequila was out, we got some Kamikaze shots.”

“I’m driving, remember? So I won’t be drinking,” he tells her, and I like that he’s so responsible.

“Kamikazes, I haven’t done those since I was in college,” I say, remembering how Thursday was always the designated party night at Berkeley, making Friday morning classes impossible to navigate with a head clouded from drink and a body aching from too much dancing.

Caleb claps his hands together and rubs them. “Time to get back on the wagon, Fran!” He and Peyton bounce back into the booth and the three of us lift our shot glasses. “A toast,” Caleb announces, “to making new friends and getting rip-roaring drunk with them!”

“Here, here!” Peyton shouts and we all clink our glasses together, sloshing some of the greenish liquid on the table.

As I bring the drink to my mouth, Matt’s lips hover close to my ear again.

“And to so much more,” he whispers, nipping my earlobe and nearly making the drink become one with my dress.

My cheeks are ablaze with heat and I try to steady my breathing when Matt’s hand slips under my hair, his fingers strumming lazily across my flesh. There’s a tap-dance going on in my chest and an explosion building between my legs. I’m not sure how much more I can take.

“So, how did you guys meet anyway?” I ask, desperate for any kind of diversion from the fact that my body has a craving that can’t be satisfied right now.

“We met back in third grade,” Matt begins, continuing his stroll over my skin. “We bonded over Mexican jumping beans.”

Caleb interjects with a laugh, “Matt’s grandparents had brought him some Mexican jumping beans and I was completely fascinated and had to have them. He wouldn’t give them to me, but he let me sit with him for a half hour while we watched the darn things jump in the box, trying to figure out how the hell they did it.” He pauses to take a sip of water. “But the clincher was”—he looks over at Matt, his eyes sprinkled with gratitude—“he eventually told me I could take three home, and I thought, yeah, this dude is pretty cool. Plus, he was friends with all the cute girls, so it was a done deal…and the rest, as they say, is twenty-five years of history—”

“Fran?”

A low timbre drags me from our conversation and my eyes move to the source—a tall, muscular body connected to a face I recognize, but I blink anyway just to make sure I’m not seeing things.

“Ryan? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” He chuckles, before reaching out and taking my hand to place a kiss upon it.

Peyton kicks me under the table with her heel and glares at me.

“Oh, Ryan, these are my friends, Peyton, Caleb, and Matt.”

Ryan greets everyone before returning his focus to me. “So, fancy meeting you here?” he says, raising a brow and eyeing me suggestively.

Matt’s hand comes around my shoulder in what I perceive to be a territorial gesture, and the pissing contest has just begun.

“I’m here for a design conference, you?”

“You’re kidding me. You’re at the Carlton?” he questions, a hint of pleasure in his voice, and I find it strange that we haven’t run into each other. But then again, I haven’t been there the entire time.

“Yeah. Let me guess. You are too?” I ask, even though I already know the answer and I have to internally laugh at the irony. Ryan is all kinds of gorgeous and I remember my reaction when I first saw him on the plane, but now I’m happy just where I am. I glance over at Matt to give him a reassuring smile before returning my attention back to Ryan.

He’s about to say something when Matt interjects, “So how do you two know each other?”

“We kind of had a near-death experience.” Ryan winks at me and Matt’s hand grips tighter around my shoulder.

“We met on the plane,” I say quickly, not wanting to rehash the embarrassing story of how I panicked, thinking we were crashing into the ocean when the pilot was just landing the plane. Let’s see how many more ways Fran can humiliate herself.

A voice calls out and Ryan turns around, raising a finger in the air. “I need to run, but it was great seeing you, Fran, and nice meeting you all. I’m not sure how long you’re in LA, Fran, but I’ve got business after the conference and will be here for another few days. So maybe we can hang out one night?”

“Oh…sure. That sounds good,” I reply, just for the sake of formality…I think.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks back to me. “What’s your cell number?” he asks, and I quickly rattle it off. “Great. So now I’ll know how to reach you. See you around, beautiful.” Ryan winks again and disappears into the darkness.

“Well, he’s hot as hell,” Peyton blurts out, and I laugh, because that’s exactly what I was thinking.

“Tell us how you really feel.” Matt’s tone is biting and I shift in my seat, the change in his mood palpable.

Caleb raises a hand in the air, motioning back and forth between him and Matt. “Lest not forget the hotties that you’re sitting with,” he utters with a Shakespearean drawl, which thankfully eases the mounting tension. “I’m going to get some more shots. I’ll be back.”

“I’m going to the bathroom. Fran, do you have to go?” Peyton silently urges me to come with, and I oblige.

“Be right back,” I tell Matt, before sliding out of the booth and following Peyton.

There’s a long line of irritated women waiting for the bathroom and Peyton and I attach ourselves to the end of it. I don’t really have to pee but felt the need to get away from Matt for a little while.

She pivots around and gets in my face. “Okay, so that guy Ryan was seriously hot. In fact, if I wasn’t here with Caleb I would’ve wanted a personal introduction.” She raises a chestnut brow and reclines against the wall. “You should’ve seen Matt’s face. I swear steam was going to shoot out of his head. Someone has a jealous streak.”

“Jealous? I think not,” I counter, lifting my sweaty hair up to catch the breeze blowing in from a side door. “It’s not like we’re a couple. We’re just hanging out and having fun.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“Yeaaaaaah,” she quips, adjusting her bra strap, “how’s that working out for you?”

“Shut up,” I bark, pushing her forward with my hand flat on her back. “Move it.”

After twenty-five minutes of waiting and Peyton nearly peeing on herself, we forge our way back through loud clusters of slurred conversation and grinding hips to find our table. Matt and Caleb appear to be scanning the crowd.

“We were just getting ready to send out a search party,” Matt jokes, seemingly back to his old self, and it makes me smile. When does he not make me smile? Maybe it’s his face that makes me smile. Or maybe it’s just him.

I eye the number of shot glasses on the table. “Are there more people joining us?”

“No,” Caleb answers with a grin, “they’re for us. Surely you can handle it, Franny.”

His words knock me back and take me to a place I never want to go again.

“Shhh, Franny, you can do it. You’re a brave little girl…you can handle it and I’ll help you.”

My muscles tense up and my back stiffens. “Don’t call me that,” I say sharply.

“Come on, Franny. Show us what you got.”

“Lift up your nightgown and show me your belly, Franny, and remember, Scooby Doo is waiting for you when we’re done and he loves you just like Daddy does.”

My chest constricts and the walls are closing in, the pungent odor of cigarettes and sweat attacks my nose, the door to my room shutting, the click of the lock vibrating loudly in my ears as I scoot back on my bed to get away from him.

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, my fingernails digging for skin in my palm, and I barely register the pain I’m inflicting upon myself. I’ve grown too accustomed to it.

“Fran?”

Matt’s talking but he suddenly sounds very far away. Or maybe it’s me who’s far away. The instinct to run is too strong now and I have to get out of here. Springing up from the booth, I barrel through the crowd and even though they’re calling after me, I don’t stop. I just keep running. I only wish I knew where I was going.

After all these years, I hate that my father still has this kind of power over me. I remember the words from my therapist. ‘He only holds the power as long as you bestow it upon him.’ Easier said than done. I manage to hold it together pretty well on most days, but then out of nowhere, the triggers come, and I’m that weak, frightened seven-year old girl who only wants to please her daddy and be loved—no matter what the cost. I just never realized it would cost this much.

I’m bumping into a maze of drunken bodies when a hand grabs my arm.

“Fran, wait,” Matt says, but I can’t look at him.

“Matt, just leave me alone. I want to be left alone!” I try to wrench my arm away, but his grip is too strong.

“Fran, please don’t shut me out,” he pleads, “talk to me dammit!”

I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his stare. “Why does it matter to you?”

“I don’t know, Fran, but it does.” His voice lowers and he steps closer. “It matters a lot.”

My eyes crawl up to his, begging him to listen. “Please…I need you to leave me alone.”

He drops his hand in defeat and lets me go…and I keep going.

There’s a door toward the back of the bar and I anxiously will my feet to move as quickly as possible to get to it. I knock once and when there’s no response, turn the knob to thankfully find a room that’s empty. There are cardboard boxes labeled with black marker against the wall and it appears to be some kind of storage area, but nonetheless I’m grateful for the solitude. I quickly close the door behind me, sliding back against it and landing on the floor…and that’s when the flood gates open. Tears fall mercilessly down my cheeks and I let them have their way with me, the feelings too overwhelming, the mountain too tall to climb. I blow out a quivery breath and try to steady myself before closing my eyes and banging my head against the door over and over, attempting to anesthetize the searing pain and the years of horrific memories.

“Shhhh…princess,” Daddy said as he held the paring knife in one hand and tucked a strand of thick, frizzy black hair behind my ear. “Remember, this is our special thing we do together.” He smiled but his eyes weren’t happy like Mommy’s. “I’ve got your favorite band-aids all picked out.”

Tears slid down my cheeks but Daddy didn’t care. As he lifted up my favorite nightgown, the one with the cupcakes on it, I felt my tiny body start to shake. I stared up at the stars on my ceiling and wished I could fly to the moon right then and sit amongst them. Where’s Mommy? I thought to myself. Then I felt it. That first bit of pain that always came when Daddy was in my room. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited. The pain came back…again, and again, and again.

“Mommy….” I sobbed quietly. “I want Mommy.”

“Shhh…Franny. Mommy’s not here and Mommy will never love you like I do.” He patted my head and when I looked down at my belly, I saw red. Always red. I hate the color red…and I hate Daddy.

More tears come and after a while, I don’t even feel them anymore, a numbness settling in as if my limbs are asleep, the burning sensation dulled in my chest. A familiar voice pulls me from my grief.

“Fran, I know you’re in there and I want you to let me in,” Matt says in a hushed tone and I don’t answer in hopes he’ll just go away.

“I’m not leaving so I guess I’ll just plant myself here until you decide to let me in.”

There’s a loud thump and I can tell he’s mirroring my position on the other side of the door. For whatever reason, Peyton’s voice pops into my head. ‘Even I can see he’s not shallow. He’s a good guy, Fran.’ In my heart I know she’s right, but I just don’t want to see the look of horror in his eyes, followed by pity when he sees how damaged I am, when he sees all of my broken pieces.

With a resigned sigh, I push myself to a standing position, wiping the wetness from my lashes and cheeks before clicking the lock. Backing up a few steps, I wait for the inevitable to finally happen…for Matt to see who I really am.

He walks through the door, a somber expression covering his face, worry lines crinkling his eyes. “Thank you for letting me in,” he says with so much relief that it nearly breaks me knowing I ran from him. “Now that you have, I want to know if you’re okay and I want you to tell me what’s going on. You’ve been crying, and before you say anything, I’ve seen you go through so many different emotions this past week, so don’t tell me it’s nothing and try to sweep it under the rug.”

“It’s not nothing,” I reply, trying to swallow the nausea crawling up my throat at the thought of revealing my darkest secret.

“What happened out there, Fran?” He keeps his distance but his voice is soft, his hands remain at his sides.

“My dad used to call me Franny,” I mutter, and I don’t have a chance to say anything else before he interrupts me.

“God, Fran, you must miss him so much.”

I shake my head back and forth in a violent fashion and know I must look like a crazy person, which is fitting considering what I’m about to say. “I don’t miss him. I’m glad he’s dead.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, his brows knitting together, his arms now crossing his chest.

Everyone has a defining moment and this is mine. I’ve never willingly showed a man my scars, even with Kyle, he stumbled upon them. But now, here with Matt, it’s as if I’m standing on the precipice, about to hurl myself over the edge. The fear is crippling, all of my life’s insecurities culminating to form a tight, uncomfortable ball in my throat that strangles me from the inside out.

I never thought this would be the way Matt would first see me naked, but I suppose it’s better he know now. Before I lose my nerve, and with my heart pounding fiercely inside my chest and beads of sweat dotting my upper lip, I lower my hand to the belt and slowly pull it loose until it unravels and my dress is parted down the middle. With one last look at Matt—his eyes narrowing, the lines of confusion burrowing deeper into his face—I push the fabric apart.

An audible gasp breaks the silence in the room.

His eyes widen and his jaw hangs open as the sound travels between us. It’s the sound of horror, of mortification, of disgust. I’m scared to look into his eyes, to see the disappointment I’ve become all too familiar with. Instead, I glance down and notice the vein in his neck pulsing as he examines me, taking in the rough, jagged lines on my belly, the dark circles on my thighs, weathered imprints of pain, of survival. Everything bad in my life stems from these scars, as if they’re the tree and I’m the branches, when it should be the other way around. My legs and knees grow weak and I feel faint. I’m completely vulnerable under his scrutiny, the need to cover up and hide overwhelms me, but I’m tired now and I can’t run anymore.

“Jesus Christ, Fran. Who did that to you?”

But before I have a chance to respond, he answers his own question, realization of my previous words hitting him hard.

“Your dad,” he utters in a shocked whisper.

“He used to come to my room at night,” I say, my voice a strained whimper, not wanting anyone to overhear even though there’s no one else in the room. “He had these black, heeled boots he always wore and when I heard them tapping on the wood floor, I knew it wouldn’t be long.” A recurring shiver crawls across my skin at the memory. “I was so scared, you know, and I didn’t know what to do. I was just a child and he was my father.” An anguished tear rolls down my skin and I wrap my arms around myself. “He wasn’t supposed to hurt me. He was supposed to love me.”

Matt wastes no time, closing the gap between us. He tilts his head to the side, forcing my eyes to meet his before his hand comes toward my stomach and I flinch.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Fran. I would never hurt you.” His hand reaches my belly, his jaw clenching as he traces one of the rigid scars with his fingertip, and when his gaze finds mine again, his blue eyes are clouded with tears. “Oh, baby.” He doesn’t say anything else, but I see the pity in his eyes. The look I didn’t want to find there. I don’t want him feeling sorry for me.

Another tear slides down my cheek, landing on his finger. “I didn’t want you to see the ugliness and I don’t want you to look at me and feel sorry for me. I don’t need your pity.”

He brings my face to his, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Is that what you think? That I see ugliness? Jesus, Fran, what kind of a person do you think I am?” He drops his hands with a pained sigh. “Do you know what beauty is to me, Fran? It’s not wrapped up in porcelain skin and eyes that sparkle. It’s the human spirit that shines through when cancer comes knocking…when thick eyelashes have fallen out, when once-prominent cheekbones are sunken into hollow cheeks, when a graceful neck has turned to nothing but bone. A soul that remains hopeful in the face of devastation…that’s the most beautiful thing on earth.”

A rush of air leaves his mouth before he continues. “Your dad may have marked your body in horrible, unthinkable ways, but your soul, Fran, your soul is intact, and it’s beautiful.” He stares at me, determined blue eyes to shattered green. “So, you don’t need to be pitied, Fran, and no, I don’t feel sorry for you when I look at you.” He pauses, lifting a finger to my wet cheek. “I just feel.”

That’s all it takes for me to crumble, my insides melting at his raw honesty, my tears resuming their natural course down my cheeks. With a trembling hand, I reach out and smooth a piece of hair away from his forehead, needing to see his eyes. I’ve always heard the saying ‘the eyes are the windows to the soul,’ and I’ve just seen a soul so pure, so brilliant in its magnificence. It’s blinding and beautiful and I’m undeniably drawn to it.

“Matt,” I murmur, before gently pressing my lips to his, wanting to be one with this kind, beautiful spirit.

His hands come to my face, caressing me so tenderly I nearly fall apart again, while still wanting to show him with this kiss how much this moment means to me. It’s something that I will tuck away in a corner of my heart. Something I’ll take with me when I go. And as that last thought hits me, I part his lips with mine and wind my arms around his neck, giving myself to him in a way I’ve never given myself to anyone, our mingled breaths joining our souls for one precious instant. One I will never forget.

When we finally untangle our tongues, Matt continues to kiss the corners of my mouth while I try to rein in my ability to breathe. “You realize that you’re standing here kissing me like that wearing just a sexy bra and panties,” he whispers, his grin a tickle against my lips.

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about it?” I purr, drawing his body closer to mine.

“Nothing. I don’t like the ambience here. The cardboard boxes are kind of ruining it for me.”

I belt out a laugh and playfully tug on his shaggy hair.

“Come here and let’s get you dressed. Caleb and Peyton are worried about you and Caleb feels awful,” he says, tying my belt back up and looping it into a knot.

“I feel terrible that I snapped at him. I need to apologize,” I reply, feeling regretful of my outburst and the way I stomped off.

“No worries. Caleb is a very understanding guy and you have nothing to apologize for.” He finishes with my belt and reaches into his pocket for some tissue, sweetly wiping away the remainder of my tears before dropping a kiss on my nose. “There, good as new.” He laces our fingers together. “Come on.”

When we finally charge through the packed bar and make it back to the table, Peyton springs up from her seat and hugs me. “Jesus, Fran, I was so worried about you,” she says, her concern echoing in my ear.

It’s amazing how our friendship has risen to a whole other level since we’ve been here but I guess that’s what happens when you decide to let someone in. My eyes stray to Matt before Caleb’s up next, giving me a huge squeeze.

“I’m so sorry, sweet cakes,” he apologizes, and I smile at the endearment. “Whatever I said, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I push away and look him in the eyes. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry, Caleb. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It’s just that…I’ve got issues.”

He puts his arm around my shoulder, resting his head against mine. “We’ve all got issues, Fran. We’re all fucked up. That’s what makes the world go round.”

Chapter Twenty-Six – Matt – All good things…

I’ve never wanted to kill anyone with my bare hands until now. And the fucked up part? The person I want to kill is already dead. Still, I’ve never felt rage like this before, a seething hatred, the kind that makes your blood boil. I couldn’t breathe at the sight of those marks that Fran’s asshole father left on her, the thought that a father could do that to his own daughter—a vulnerable, innocent child who only craved love, and instead got brutality—what a poor excuse for a human being. Bile churns my stomach, my veins straining against my skin.

Then the other side kicks in, the one who looked into Fran’s eyes and saw the undeniable agony, the eyes of a child who’d been hurt by the person she trusted most…and it nearly killed me. I want to strip away the layers of her pain, peel them back to reveal the beauty that lies beneath…because there’s so damn much of it.

She thinks I feel sorry for her. She’s so far off and has no freaking idea. I feel so much when I look at her and none of it has anything to do with pity. Truth be known, it scares me to death.

That guy Ryan’s face suddenly flashes in my head and I go from seeing red to seeing green. He’s good looking, I’ll give him that, and he’s obviously into Fran, but then again who wouldn’t be?

I don’t even realize my teeth are clenched tight and when I glance down, I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel. Well, my left hand is. My right hand is enfolded in Fran’s as she stares out the window, the lights of the city passing by in a colorful blur. She seems lost in her thoughts, so every now and then I gently squeeze her hand to bring her back to me, a reminder that I’m here for her.

The emotional drain of the night has taken a toll not just on Fran, but on me as well, taking me back to Mom and Clara, replaying it in my mind as if I were stuck in the past, watching them die all over again.

Fran turns her head to look at me, a part of her face disguised in the shadows. “You okay?” she asks, and she must feel the tension rolling off of me, see the ticking of my jaw.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about you, honestly. It’s been a rough night.”

“Well, you made it better for me. I don’t think you realize just how much.” She whispers the last part, hearing Peyton and Caleb snoring lightly in the back seat. She glances back at them and smiles, continuing quietly, “I think they’re really cute together, even though I know it’s only temporary.”

Her words cut me deep and lure me back to reality, the one where she’s going back to New York soon, and I suddenly wonder what the hell I’m doing, what I’m allowing myself to feel knowing it won’t last. She has a life to get back to just as I do but it feels like we’re living a double life right now, one I’m not anxious to leave.

“Yeah, they are,” I admit, “and I think Caleb thinks so, too, although he probably won’t fess up to it.”

“All good things must come to an end, I suppose,” she states flatly, and her profiled expression changes as she stares blankly out the window. I squeeze her hand once again.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Caleb and Peyton are still snoring and Fran is dozing as well. When we arrive back at the hotel, I’m hit with the same wave of exhaustion that everyone else seems to be feeling. As much as I don’t want this night to end, I need some sleep.

It’s midnight, and the lobby is scarce, the only exception being the tanned, bottle-blonde behind the registration desk and an elderly couple walking to the elevator.

Fran stops and addresses Caleb and Peyton. “Listen, I just want to apologize again for ruining the night.”

“You didn’t ruin the night, Fran. Peyton and I still had fun while you were gone,” he teases, knocking Fran’s arm playfully. “Seriously, sweet-cakes, it’s fine. We’re just glad you’re okay.”

Caleb gives Fran a kiss on the cheek and Peyton hugs her, whispering something in her ear, and then they take off to do whatever it is they’re “temporarily” doing.

I latch onto her hand at the same time we hear a crashing noise. She immediately pulls away, running toward a frail, gray-haired woman who has fallen, her walker tipped over on its side. Fran bends down and clasps her elbow, helping her rise to a full stand before placing her fragile hands back on the arms of the walker that she places upright in front of her.

“Can I help you get to your room?” Fran asks, turning to what I assume is the husband, his eyes filled with both worry and gratitude.

“No, thank you, dear,” he replies in a shaky voice, “but thank you for noticing we needed help and not walking on by.”

Fran’s mouth pulls up in a smile as the old woman lifts a trembling hand to her cheek.

“Such a darling girl. Thank you,” she utters, her voice cracking, “you have a good heart.”

Truer words were never spoken.

Fran keeps her head on my shoulder the entire ride up to her room, her arm entwined with mine.

“Sleepy, sunshine?” I ask, basking in the smell of jasmine floating in the air.

“Hmmm…,” she replies, her eyelids fluttering closed, a dreamy smile on her lips.

We stop just outside of her door and she rests against it, sliding her hand down my arm and her fingers between my own.

“So I’m going to visit my mom tomorrow in Santa Barbara. She’s staying at a friend’s house,” she tells me through a wide yawn, “I’m leaving during the lunch break.”

“Oh? Do you want some company?” I ask, looking down at our hands and hoping she’ll say yes.

“Normally, I would, but I want to spend some time with her. We haven’t seen each other in a while and we have a lot to talk about, but…thank you.” Her slumberous eyes meet mine and a sweet smile curls her lips.

“Sure,” I reply, trying not to sound or look as disappointed as I feel. “Wait. How are you getting there?”

“I’m going to rent a car. It’s only a little over an hour from here,” she says casually, toying with my fingers.

“You can take my car,” I offer, surprising even myself with my spur of the moment decision.

“What? No. I couldn’t possibly take your baby,” she kids. “That’s your pride and joy.”

“Seriously, I want you to take it. I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.”

She narrows her gaze, her dark brows pulling in. “What’s happening to your tight-assedness?”

“Tight-assedness? I’m not sure Webster would approve of that word.” I chuckle, plucking at her hand. “You know, I wasn’t always a tight-ass,” I volunteer unexpectedly, feeling the need to explain, wanting her to understand.

“HA!” she barks out, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“It’s true.” The mood around us shifts suddenly and I pause to find the words. “When my mom died, I felt my whole world come crashing down, but Brad began to spin out of control and I had to watch out for him, and Clara, too. My dad was no help; he was too lost in his grief. So, I…I don’t know. I felt like the only way I could handle things was if I was sure they were in order, it was the only thing that gave me any sense of control over my life.”

She cups my cheek with her hand, sending an empathetic smile my way. “Matt, if anyone can understand that, it’s definitely me. I get it, you know. You do what you have to do to survive.”

Except I don’t want to just survive anymore.

“Well, I guess I should go so you can get some rest,” I say hesitantly, taking a step closer, her warm hand remaining on my cheek, and I circle her nose with my own.

Shy green eyes look back at me with a careful gaze as she bites her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did for me tonight.”

“Fran,” I reply, meeting that soft gleam in her eye, “I really didn’t do anything. You’re the one that bared yourself to me in such a brave way. You’re stronger than you realize…and you’re a survivor.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “We both are.”

I study her face, the wonder of it, of her, and the emotion overwhelms me. “But it’s time to do more than that now. It’s time to live.” My knuckle slides down her cheek and she blinks. “Do you know who showed me that?” She shakes her head, unaware of the effect she has on me. “You did.”

She lifts her chin, offering her mouth up to me and I don’t need to be asked twice.

I watch her lashes spill across her cheeks before our lips come together, starting out as a soft brush but turning into so much more. She parts for me, her tongue seeking out mine, flicking it back and forth, the feel like velvet stirring a groan to rip through my chest and hunger to take over. I’m trying to go slow, but the smell of vanilla mixed with the warmth of her mouth and the feel of her pressed up against me spurs me on until my hands are in her hair, angling her head so I can penetrate her mouth, taking as much as she’s willing to give. She whimpers when I suck on her tongue and the sweet sound travels to my cock, now straining against my jeans.

Reluctantly, I break the kiss, the pounding of my chest and my hard-on a dead giveaway to my desire for her. “Fran….” I let out a jagged breath. “I should stop now or I won’t be able to stop at all.”

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” She looks up at me with those lustful green eyes and my resistance threatens to crack in half.

“Fran,” I whisper into her neck, “we’re both exhausted and I want you wide awake when I’m exploring you.” And that gets her attention.

She brings her head to my chest and exhales, making it apparent that stopping this is as hard for her as it is for me. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

I reach down and tilt her chin up, landing a chaste kiss on her lips. “That’s what you do to me…among other things.” I smirk, finally tearing myself away from her.

“To be continued,” she says with a seductive smile and a crimson flush on her cheeks.

“Oh, you can bank on that, sunshine. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

I have to summon every bit of willpower from the gods to keep walking and not sprint back to her, the only place I want to be. Instead, I’m going back to my room to get myself off again, while visions of Fran in her black bra and panties dance in my head, and I’m not talking about the one attached to my neck.

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Fran – Half a heart

Peyton corners me by the buffet table during the lunch break. I ran late this morning and we haven’t had a chance to catch up from last night. “Are you okay? What happened last night?”

I let out a relaxed sigh, setting my briefcase down beside me and leaning a hand on the table. “Caleb said something that set me off. It wasn’t his fault. It’s just something my dad used to say to me and it forced a lot of bad memories to the surface.”

“I had a feeling it had something to do with your dad,” she says, her lips pulling down into a frown, “Caleb felt so awful last night, but I’m glad Matt went after you.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I tell her honestly, and I really am. “He was so supportive, especially after I showed him my scars.” I’m still letting everything that happened last night sink in and a part of me thinks it had to be a dream. I feel stronger today, like I can get through this. I can overcome.

“Ah, so I was right about him, was I?” she says with a cheeky grin and a lift of her brow.

“Yes, Peyton. You were right. He was…amazing.”

“Good. It’s nice to be right about something for a change. Lord knows I can’t please my mom in that department. Although, I talked to my dad this morning and he was so wonderful it’s hard to believe they’re married.” She cackles and her head falls back, her wavy locks tumbling down her shoulders. “What should we do later?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. My mom is in Santa Barbara and I’m actually headed there now to spend some time with her. Matt said I could take his car,” I add, a pleased smile appearing on my lips.

Her brown eyes widen in shock, and her mouth follows. “Holy shit!” she exclaims, “He’s letting you take his car?”

“Yes, he is,” a smooth voice says from behind her, both of us turning to find Matt looming just a few feet away.

My cheeks heat and an even bigger smile stretches my mouth. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. You ready?” He comes forward and holds out his hand to me, and I reach down and pick up my briefcase before taking it.

“I’ll see you later, Peyton.”

As we’re heading out, I glance back to see her grinning a cat-like smile, and I send a happy wink her way.

* * *

“I don’t mind telling you I’m scared to death to drive your car, Dixon. What if something happens to it?” I ask, my eyes going back and forth between Matt and his toy.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Fran. You’ll be fine. It’s just a car,” he replies, but his Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a hard swallow and I know this is difficult for him.

“I want you to know I realize how hard this is for you and I really appreciate it.” I kiss his cheek before leaning back against the car.

He places a hand beside me and inches closer. “Just drive safely and text me when you get there.”

I clasp his arm, conveying a smile of reassurance. “I promise your car will be fine.”

He brushes his fingers across my temple, a batch of goose bumps flaring up on my skin. “It’s not my car I’m worried about.” He presses his lips to mine, lingering just enough for me to smell cinnamon on his breath.

“You smell like cinnamon or something. What have you been eating?”

“One of those sticky buns from the buffet,” he confesses with a childlike grin, lacing his fingers with mine.

“Yum. I’d love one of those for the road, but I don’t think it would be good for your upholstery.”

“Nah. I’d tend to agree with you on that one,” he says, his lips twitching in response. “So…maybe I’ll see you tonight if you don’t get back too late.”

“I think that can be arranged.” I’m positive that I want to see him. In fact, I want to do a lot more than just see him.

He walks me around to the driver’s side and holds the door open. Once I’m tucked inside, he bends forward and props his elbows on the window frame. “Have fun.” He gives me one more quick peck before backing away reluctantly, his hands shoved deep in his pockets looking for something to do.

I wave one last time before I watch his figure disappear in the rearview mirror, my stomach twisting in knots, and I know with absolute certainty that whatever this is we’re doing means something. I just don’t know what the hell that is yet.

* * *

The drive to Santa Barbara is picturesque; an eclectic mix of long stretches of beach, cottage-style shops, and quaint art galleries. This is so far removed from the rush of LA and I love it. There aren’t throngs of people everywhere, nor are there congested highways filled with cars. People are out for casual strolls or sitting outside cafes enjoying the sunshine and a good meal. The creative side of me wants to go explore the shops, check out all the local artists, and be a tourist for a change.

I feel surprisingly at peace today, especially after last night. My heart beats a little bit faster at Matt’s unique ability to, in many ways, set me free. I hope to do that for Mom today, to finally rid her of the tremendous burden that has plagued her, the anchor of guilt weighting her down, not allowing her to truly move on with her life. As a child it was hard to understand, but I can clearly see now that there was no way she could have known what my father was doing to me. She was paralyzed by her own fear, not to mention the amount of time she spent outside the house working to support us. Even when she was around, my father insisted on being the one to supervise my bath-times, always counting on my absolute fear of him preventing me from ever telling her or anyone else the truth—until the day he made the mistake of passing out drunk and she made the discovery on her own, one that changed our lives forever.

Tears prick my eyes and I blink, shutting off my past. I dig in my purse for my cell phone when I notice something crinkly blocking my path. My hand reaches in to find a jumbo package of Red Vines licorice with a handwritten note card: Twizzlers suck.

“HA!” I laugh and realize once again Matt’s uncanny ability to make me smile just when I need it most. Veering the car over to the side of the road, I rip open the package and bite off a small chunk that is noticeably firmer in texture and not as sweet as my favorite addiction, immediately bringing me to the conclusion that Twizzlers are still the best. I reach for my cell phone and send a quick text to Matt.

Thanks for the Red Vines. They still suck in comparison.

I get an immediate response.

Your taste buds are obviously off, and I hope you’re not driving and texting.

I type back.

No, pulled over to sample the sucky licorice.

His reply.

Ha, ha. Good. Have fun with your mom.

I don’t really have a smart comeback for that one so instead I text Mom and let her know I’m on my way.

* * *

I steer my luxurious ride into the parking lot of the Santa Barbara Shellfish Company, a weathered little restaurant nestled across from the sprawling blue ocean. The atmosphere is laid back and unpretentious just like Mom, with old oak tables, worn leather chairs, and pictures of fishermen catching lobsters scattered along the walls. A young girl with a t-shirt bearing the restaurant name greets me when I walk in.

“Hi, welcome to Santa Barbara Shellfish.”

Mom sees me instantly and springs up from her chair. Warmth spreads through me at the sight of her, mixed with a twist of sadness at her haggard appearance. She wastes no time, embracing me in her arms lovingly, holding me as only a mother can hold her child.

“Mom,” I whisper, my head nuzzled in her neck, breathing in that inexpensive fruity perfume she’s worn since I was a little girl. Some things never change.

“Baby,” she chokes out, and she’s already crying. “I’m so happy to see you. Let me look at you.”

She grasps my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, and as she’s perusing my appearance, I’m doing the same. With her dark tresses, sculptured cheekbones, and light green eyes, we are the mirror image of one another. As I take in her presence though, I notice the creases surrounding her eyes, the sag of her clothes, and the gray in her hair. She looks much older than the last time I saw her and it causes a dull ache in my chest.

“You look wonderful, sweetie,” she says, her eyes brimming with pride. “Come, let’s sit.”

We grab a table by the window with a great view of the ocean. This was the perfect place for us to meet. She and I are very similar in that neither of us likes pretention. I may have a love for expensive things, but it doesn’t define me and I don’t flaunt it.

She reaches for my hand with a soft smile. “I’m so glad I got this chance to see you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot and decided we need to try to see each other more often. I love our phone calls but it’s not enough, you know?”

“I’d like that….” I pause, letting the warmth of her aura wash over me. “You look tired, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course, sweetie. I’m just working a lot of hours at the salon and picking up some additional shifts at the restaurant to make extra money.” She takes a sip of one of the waters the waitress left for us. “I’m fine, though. Really I am.”

I hand her a menu and open one for myself. “So how long are you staying at Vivian’s?”

“Just until Sunday. Then I’m going back home. How is this conference of yours going and more importantly, how are you enjoying your new position as design manager?”

I close the menu, already knowing that I want the lobster. It’s kind of a no-brainer for me. “It’s good. I’m liking it a lot. The only part I don’t like, as you know, is the travel. But I managed to get through the flight okay, and the trip is going really well.”

“What was that?” she asks, a smile curving up one side of her mouth. “That little twinkle I see in your eye?”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t ‘Mom, what are you talking about’ me. What’s responsible for that twinkle, or should I say who?” She taps her fingers on the table waiting for an answer.

“You’d never even believe it if I told you, Mom,” I offer, having a hard time believing it myself.

“Try me,” she replies, removing her hand from mine, crossing her arms and leaning into the table with interest.

“So I ran into someone at the conference. Someone who is Brad’s brother,” I say, trying to wipe the ridiculous smile off my face while I’m speaking, which is utterly impossible.

“Brad as in Gabby’s Brad?” she asks, and I can see the wheels spinning as she tries to put two and two together.

“Yes, that one. Well….” I let out a happy sigh. “I ran into him at the conference and we’ve been spending quite a bit of time together. I like him…a lot. Although.…” I know I’m starting to babble. “I’m leaving next week, so we’re just having some fun and enjoying each other’s company. It’s nothing serious because we don’t even live near one another and well, that’s that, really.”

She presses a finger to her mouth with a smirk while she nods her head, the words continuing to tumble endlessly from my lips.

“So that’s it. It’s nothing really, but he’s a nice guy and he’s…really changed my perspective in some ways.”

“Hmph,” she replies, “yes, it sounds like you really like this boy.”

“Mom, he’s not a boy, he’s a man,” I say, a fact I’m fully cognizant of, and my skin tingles with that awareness.

“Well, I’m delighted, honey. It seems like you might finally be ready to move on from Kyle, and while I know that was difficult for you, it’s time. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you, Mom.”

The waitress comes over to take our order and we make it very simple for her by both ordering the lobster special with extra melted butter on the side. We hand her our menus and she walks away.

“Fran, I’m just fine. Work keeps me very busy and when I have time I see my friends.”

Another waitress stops by to place a basket of bread with squares of butter in the center of the table. I reach over to break off two pieces of bread, handing one to Mom first.

“Still the carbohydrate queen,” she teases, and I laugh at the truth in her statement. Give me pasta, bread, or rice any day of the week and I’m a happy girl.

“Mom,” I begin, wanting to gather my thoughts together so my words come out right, “I—”

“Oh!” she interrupts, “I almost forgot!” She reaches for her purse on the chair and digs through it for something, a huge smile appearing once she’s found it. “So my friend Vivian likes those knick-knack things and I was in the basement the other day going through one of the boxes and putting some aside for her when I came across something I thought you might like to have.” She pushes a zip lock bag across the table that’s filled with tissue paper. “Open it.”

I pull open the bag with both excitement and curiosity, taking a quick glance at her face but she gives nothing away. As I rip the tissue paper apart, something gold and shiny falls out and my green eyes fly up to the twin pair across the table. A lump forms in my throat and I close my eyes that are now filling with tears. She lays her hand on my arm as I clutch the precious object firmly to my chest, and the memory comes rushing back.

I turned nine years old today and I got to be with Mommy. She didn’t work tonight so we could celebrate with my favorite chocolate cake and fudge ripple ice cream. Daddy wasn’t there when I blew out my candles because he was snoring on the couch and he smelled really bad so I didn’t want him anywhere near my cake.

After I blew out my candles, I made a wish that Mommy would never leave me again, that she would stay with me and Daddy would be the one to go away.

She let me have two pieces of cake and three scoops of ice cream, and she let me finger paint with my ice cream when I was done. I kept leaping off my seat like we did at my friend Tina’s birthday party when we played musical chairs, peeking out to make sure Daddy was still sleeping. He would’ve been mad at us if he had seen the mess we were making. I didn’t like it when Daddy got mad.

“I have something for you,” she whispered, taking a small pink box with a matching bow from her purse and I perked up in my chair.

“Yay! A present! I love presents, Mommy!” I tried to keep my voice down because I didn’t want to wake up Daddy.

“Of course, baby,” she said with her pretty smile and her big green eyes. “It’s something special for my sweet girl. Go ahead, open it.”

I untied the bow and popped open the top of the box. Inside was a gold necklace with half of a gold heart hanging from a chain. “It’s so pretty, Mommy. But…where is the other half?”

“Right here,” she said, scooping her shiny, dark hair away from her neck.

I opened my mouth and a strange sound came out. “Mommy, you’ve got a half, too,” I said, so excited that Mommy also got a special necklace. “If we put them together we can have one big heart, Mommy!”

“That’s right, sweet girl. You see, you’re the other half of my heart, so even when I’m not right next to you, you’re always with me…and I’m always with you.”

“Oh, Mommy,” I cried, tears mixing with the chocolate on my cheeks while Mommy came over and hugged me so tight, I felt the other half of the heart beating underneath me. “I love it, Mommy. Can you put it on me, please?”

“Sure, baby,” she said, and she lifted my messy nest of hair and clasped it around my neck before letting it fall back over my shoulders.

“It’s so pretty, Mommy.”

“Just like you.” She looked over at me, smiling at the frosting in my hair and globs of ice cream on my pink shirt. “We need to go get you clean so you can be ready for school tomorrow.”

I hopped off my chair and ice cream dripped onto the floor as I looked around the corner into the living room. My tummy started to hurt and I felt like I might throw up. “Daddy likes to get my baths ready,” I told Mommy.

“Daddy is sleeping, sweetie, and you need to get clean. Come on.” She pulled on my little hand and I went with her, but I knew soon that I was going to be in big trouble with Daddy, and when we reached the bathroom, I started shaking.

I stood in the corner pressed against the wall while Mommy filled the bathtub up with water and strawberry bubbles.

When it was half-full she turned around to me. “Come here, Fran. Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes.”

“No. I can do it myself, Mommy.”

My heart started beating very fast and I wanted to run away, but I didn’t move because it felt like my feet were stuck in mud, and my fingers and toes felt weird, like someone was tickling me but I couldn’t laugh.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Mommy asked, and when I didn’t move she crawled over and kneeled in front of me. “You’re crying. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I couldn’t answer her because I wasn’t supposed to tell and now I wasn’t only scared for me, I was scared for Mommy, too. I just stood there shaking my head as Mommy wiped away my tears with her soft fingers.

“Let’s get you undressed. I think a nice, warm bath will make you feel better.”

I stared at the dust flying around the room and wouldn’t look at her as she lifted my shirt up, and that’s when I heard a scary sound come from Mommy’s mouth. It sounded like she had sucked in a big gulp of air or something and I knew she saw what Daddy did to me.

I felt her fingers touching my belly and it hurt because some of my boo boos were new but the band-aids had fallen off.

Mommy held my face and started crying hard. “Dear God, F-Fran…w-who did this t-to you?”

When I didn’t answer, she took my shoulders and shook me but it didn’t hurt. Mommy would never hurt me. “Baby, you need to answer me. Tell Mommy who did this to you.”

My eyes filled with more tears and I sniffled and wiped my nose with my finger…and then I whispered, “I can’t tell you, Mommy. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Fran. I need you to tell me and Mommy promises you won’t get in trouble, okay? Do you believe me?”

I nodded my head. I did believe Mommy.

“So tell me who did this, baby?” she asked, and I noticed her lips were doing this funny quivery thing.

I leaned in as close as I could to Mommy and whispered, “Daddy did.”

Mommy pulled me into a hug on her lap and rocked me like when I was a little baby, telling me that everything would be okay now, that she would make sure of it. I cried with Mommy on the floor for a long time and then she got in the bath with me and we cried together some more.

Later that night, while Daddy was still snoring, Mommy and I snuck out in our pajamas and left him. It didn’t matter where we were going because I was with my Mommy now and together we had a whole heart.

When I finally open my eyes, my next words come out in barely a whisper. “That was the day you saved me, Mom.” Silent tears wade down my cheeks as I recall it once again. “I remember. You carried me out to the car in my froggy pajamas when it was pitch black and the moon was the only thing I could see, then you kissed my forehead and said, ‘we’re together, you and me baby, and we’re going to be okay.’”

Her tears are falling, trying to catch up with mine. “I wish I’d saved you sooner, Fran. I’m your mother and I should’ve known. I should’ve protected you. That’s why I was put on this earth, and I failed you.”

I’m so glad we’re finally talking about this, because throughout the years whenever I’d try to bring it up, she would avoid the subject altogether, the pain and guilt too much for her to bear. Maybe a small part of me blamed her, too. But I can’t let this go on any longer, let it rule her life any more than it already has. She’s lost so much.

I get up off my chair and crouch down in front of her, taking both her hands in mine. “Mom,” I say quietly, “you didn’t know. Dad made sure of that. And you were scared, I get that. I understand now and I don’t blame you. I forgive you.” I cup her wet cheeks, gazing into her eyes with intent. “I forgive you…and now I want you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, Fran,” she sobs, gathering me up in her remorseful arms, squeezing me tight. “I love you, sweet girl, I love you so much.”

She holds onto me until the waitress comes over with our lobster plates and that’s when she pulls back. “Look at the two of us, we’re blubbering messes.” She drags a finger under my eye to no doubt wipe away my runny mascara. “We better get it together if we have any hopes of tackling these lobsters.” She laughs, and I laugh with her…and it feels good, like everything’s going to be okay. Just like she told me it would be.

* * *

After hacking our lobsters apart and devouring every last bit of meat on our plates, I pay the bill and we head out arm in arm into the sunshine. That’s when a brilliant idea strikes me.

“Mom, let’s go get pampered. Manicure, pedicure, maybe a new haircut, whaddya say?”

“Sure, honey. That sounds great, but don’t you have to get back?” she asks, angling her face up to absorb the warmth of the sun.

“No. There’s no rush.” Even though I’m anxious to get back and see Matt, this time with Mom is so important. “I want to check out some of those shops I saw on the way here.”

She stops short and I stumble backwards. “Francis Marie Heller, is there something you want to tell me?” she asks, as we come upon the Aston Martin and I suddenly feel like I’ve been caught sneaking a lollipop from the kitchen cabinet. “Whose car is this?”

“Matt’s,” I respond with a smile. “He let me borrow it for the day. Hop in, I’ll show you how this baby corners like it’s on rails!” And with that, and an abundance of laughter, we climb in, buckle up, and head down the highway.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up at this chic little salon and spa called Tumble, and slide off the plush leather upholstery and back out into the sunshine. My phone vibrates indicating a text and I grab it from the zippered pocket of my purse, smiling when I see it’s from Matt.

Hope you’re enjoying yourself. Any idea when you’ll be back?

I shake my head. He must be worried about his car. I’m just about to type back when another text comes in.

I miss you, sunshine.

My heart does a strange little dance and my pulse quickens, those three words taking me by surprise and throwing me for a loop because I don’t know how to respond. I only know how I feel. I miss him, too.

My fingers hover over the keypad and I type and re-type the words four times, feeling Mom’s eyes on me, knowing she’ll be looking for an explanation when I’m done. Another minute goes by and suddenly I realize that I don’t want to waste another second so I type back:

I kind of miss you, too.

I let out a deep breath as if that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and then I wait.

My heart continues to pound as I stare down at the screen, wondering what he’s thinking and willing him to answer, when he finally does.

Kind of…Good to know.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too wide and toss the phone back in my purse, my footsteps feeling lighter now.

“Hmph. From the look on your face, my maternal radar says that maybe that was…Matt?”

“You’ve still got it,” I joke, before skipping my way into the spa with Mom keeping pace at my side.

The salon has a trendy sophistication with its hardwood floors and exposed beams, combined with a Zen-like feel brought to life by decor in earthy taupes and greens, bamboo, and a variety of plants. It elicits a feeling of instant calm and is the perfect place for Mom and me to spend the rest of our afternoon.

She grabs my arm and pulls me aside, out of the way of two customers leaving the shop. “Honey, this is too fancy. I think we should go somewhere else.”

“Mom.” I tilt my head to the side and meet her eyes. “This is perfect and it’s my treat. I want you to relax and enjoy. Okay?”

She huffs out a frustrated breath, knowing she won’t win because I’ve cornered the market on stubbornness. “Fine,” she retorts with a smile and a roll of her eyes. “I know better than to argue with my daughter.”

“Exactly.”

A buxom blonde with perfectly coiffed hair, lips painted red, and legs that go on for miles leads the way to the stations where we’re getting pedicures and hot stone massages. I’ve been so busy with my new job that I hardly have time to pamper myself so I’m glad for the opportunity and especially happy to be here with Mom. I hope our conversation earlier helped her in some way, maybe made her spirit a bit lighter, her burden a little less heavy to carry.

We chat and laugh for what seems like hours, drifting away into the sphere of relaxation as our legs are massaged, hot stones pressed firmly to our skin, blissful smiles covering our faces.

“So when are Brad and Gabby getting married? They’ve been engaged for a while now,” she asks over the sound of bubbles whirling at our feet.

“Honestly,” I tell her, “I have no idea. I think it’ll be sometime before the end of this year. She doesn’t seem in a huge hurry although Brad would marry her tomorrow. She’s so happy, though, and if anyone deserves it, she does.”

“You do, too,” she says, surveying my face and landing on my eyes. “Something’s holding you back though, and I want to know what it is.”

I wish I knew the answer to that question. Maybe it’s my overactive brain that’s holding me back. It’s never been a problem before, or at least it wasn’t until two years ago when I lost Kyle, but now it feels like a stone wall that I can’t knock down but am desperately trying to chip away at, piece by piece.

“I can’t make sense of anything right now.”

“What’s there to make sense of, sweetie?” she asks casually, as if nothing has to make sense.

“Well, I…with Matt for example,” I say openly, because let’s just cut to the chase. I relax my arms on the sides of the leather chair as my feet soak in the whirlpool. “We’ve barely known each other a week but I feel like I’ve known him for years, and, I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, there really can’t be anything happening because as I said before, I’m leaving. But, yet…he makes me feel things that I shouldn’t feel so soon. It’s impossible.”

“Sweetie, listen. You know, I knew your dad for three years before things got serious and well, he seemed like a safe bet for me.” And the irony in her words is not lost on me. She laughs yet it holds nothing but bitterness and regret. “You know what I think? I think you need to stop listing all the reasons why you shouldn’t eat the peas, and if you want the peas, just eat the damn peas. Time doesn’t dictate feelings, Fran. Time speeds up when you feel…. Everything’s magnified when you feel. The sky suddenly shines brighter, that piece of chocolate you ate just got a bit sweeter, that song you listened to takes on a deeper meaning.” She pats my knee, closes her eyes and sinks back against the leather seat, leaving me to think about how much I want those damn peas right now.

It’s amazing to me how wise my mom is and how much I need her in my life. She’s been through so much, and yet here she is, giving me advice that she probably wishes someone had given her all those years ago. The years before she met Dad.

When our legs are smooth and our toes are a bright pink, we head over to get her hair done. I told Claude, her assigned stylist who is wooing her with his French accent, to give her the works: haircut, color, and blow dry. Looking at her dated hairstyle, I can’t even imagine when she last made time for herself, and it warms me knowing I get a chance to do this for her today.

By the time we’re finished, Mom’s old-fashioned locks have been transformed into silky, ebony, shoulder-length strands of glossy perfection. Claude threw in some auburn highlights and gave her a cut with blunt angles to accentuate her cheekbones and some fringe to make her green eyes pop.

“So what do you think?”

She glances at herself in the mirror, shaking her head from side to side, watching her hair bounce, a satisfied smile lifting her lips. “I like it. Yes, I like it a lot.” She turns to face me. “Thank you, sweetie. I think I needed this without even realizing it.”

It’s amazing what you can need without realizing you need it.

Once I’ve paid and left generous tips for the staff, Mom and I make our way back outside. I notice she has a renewed spring in her step and a beaming smile on her face, making this all worthwhile.

We stroll down State Street, taking in everything from the luxury boutique shopping to the larger stores like Nordstrom, to the adorable mom-and-pop specialty shops. There are restaurants galore and I can’t imagine not being able to find something you like with all the culinary options to suit every palette.

A window display of ceramic knick-knacks calls to her. “Let’s stop in here, Fran. I’d like to pick something up for Vivian as a thank you.”

“Sure,” I say, smiling, as I remember all the funny novelty items we had in our house growing up. Even then I thought they were a bit strange.

While Mom is chatting it up with the cashier, I mill around the store for nothing in particular when something catches my eye. It’s a keychain with a ceramic clown. He’s got large clown shoes, a big red nose, and an even bigger smile on his face. Sold.

“What’s in the bag?” she asks as she holds the door open for me.

“Just a little something for Matt I thought he’d like,” I reply with a grin, as I picture his face when he opens it. “It’s kind of a joke.”

“Good girl.” She nods her head approvingly, flipping her newly coiffed hair over her shoulder. “It’s a step in the right direction.”

* * *

By the time we make it back to the restaurant where her car is parked, the sun is dipping down into the horizon, and my heart can relate. It’s sinking in my chest knowing that I have to say goodbye to her.

I cut the ignition and twist my body toward her, picking up her hand and clasping it in mine. “Mom, I’m so glad we did this. I had such a nice time. And…thank you for finding my heart.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, pulling me close, “it’s impossible to miss,” she whispers into my hair, “it’s so big.” She breaks away and holds my face, peering into my eyes. “I love you so much. Thank you for what you did for me today…and I don’t mean the Hollywood hair.”

We say our goodbyes and I watch her drive away in that Volkswagen Jetta, the same car she’s had for the last ten years, but at least now she’s got new hair to go with it. She’s also got an envelope filled with money that I slipped into her purse. I knew if I gave her a check she would rip it up, so now at least she’ll have some extra money when she needs it.

A surge of excitement rolls through me knowing I’m on my way back to see Matt and of course, I get to play with his car for just a bit longer. I won’t tell him that I put the pedal to the metal a couple of times to see just how fast his baby could go.

The drive back to the hotel is mesmerizing, the sky a pool of soft pinks, bright oranges, and deep blues drowning in one another to create an abstract work of art. I’ve always found beauty in the sky but tonight it seems that much more stunning. Mom’s words ring in my ears, ‘Everything’s magnified when you feel.’ I suppose she’s right.

When I’m about two minutes from the hotel I text Matt to let him know that his car and I are back, and in one piece. While he may not admit it, I’m sure he was nervous about his car.

I round the circle and meet the valet attendant, who is once again drooling as I pull up. You would think he’d be accustomed to luxury cars, but for some reason this particular one seems to get his juices flowing. He comes around and opens my door and I hand him the key before he quickly gets in and speeds off toward the garage.

I giggle and shake my head at his eagerness only to turn and find the world has fallen silent around me. I stare at Matt, winded, my heart stuttering in my chest at the mere sight of him. I’m suddenly seventeen years old again, opening the door to the boy I’ve been crushing on who’s finally taking me out on a date. He’s standing against the copper doors with a white dress shirt hanging loosely over a pair of faded blue jeans, hair slightly mussed as if he’s been running his fingers through it, hands deep in his pockets. His dimple is puckered from his smile and his blue eyes are sparkling with the night sky.

I’d like my peas now, please.

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Matt – Giving chase

I’m crawling out of my skin and think my watch might explode like in one of those James Bond 007 flicks if I look at it one more time. Fran’s only been gone for six hours yet it feels like forever. I’ve missed her like crazy today and I can’t wait to see her smile, talk with her, kiss her lips, hold her close.

I’m surprised I was able to focus on my presentation after she left. The entire time I was speaking to the audience, I was thinking about Fran, glancing over at the empty seat beside Peyton and wishing I was looking into her eyes, my heart tight with a longing I haven’t felt before.

So the moment she texts me, I run a marathon to get down to the lobby and wait for her, tapping my foot against the sidewalk and biting the inside of my lip in anticipation, until I can catch a glimpse of her, the only thing that will calm me down right now.

The second the Aston Martin pulls into the drive, I find myself frozen, unable to move or even breathe…until I see her.

Jesus.

She is exquisite. I drink her in like a tall glass of water after a severe drought: her ruffled hair, the green spaghetti strap dress adorning her curvy frame, her strappy sandals and cute pink toes, and when our eyes finally meet, her smile that wraps around me like a warm blanket in the dead of winter.

I push off the wall at the same time she starts walking toward me, adrenaline surging through my veins with every step until I swallow the distance between us. In one swift motion, I lift her off the ground and squeeze her tightly, burying my face in her neck, her hair tickling my cheek, her scent making me see stars. “I missed you so damn much, Fran.” I feel the beat of her heart pounding against mine in response and even if she can’t say the words, I know she feels it, too.

Setting her down and filled with the need to still touch her, I caress her face with my hands, feathering kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her lashes, her nose, and finally her lips. I trace the curve of her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue and she lets out a whimper of pleasure, opening for me so I can lick inside her mouth and move against her tongue. Her hands twist around my neck, playing lazily with my hair and sending shivers racing over my skin.

As our kiss becomes lighter, she brushes her soft lips against mine before gently nipping at the corners of my mouth.

“So is this how you show that you kind of missed me?” I tease, my thumb strumming down her cheek, my eyes completely charmed by her own. “Because if this is how you show kind of, I’m interested to see what it’s like if you really missed me.”

She shoves against my chest and picks up the purse she dropped on the ground before looking back at me. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” She winks and struts through the doors of the hotel, leaving me momentarily stunned and with a vicious hard-on that I’m hoping might finally get some relief.

I follow Fran’s trail of crumbs as she makes her way to the elevator and steps inside. Once the doors close, I corner her, caging her in, my arms on either side of her head. “You can’t say things like that to me and just walk away, because I’m definitely giving chase.” Lowering my hand, I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. “Do you want me to chase you, Fran?” I whisper huskily into her ear and she sucks in a breath. “I will…because that’s how much I want you.”

She closes her eyes and moistens her lips with her tongue, seemingly fighting for the same control that I am, but it’s useless and so I give in. Wrapping an arm around her back, I tug her against me, every inch of her rubbing against my eager body and I go rigid with desire, fisting my hands in her hair and taking possession of her mouth with my tongue. She moans and it turns me on even more, making me realize we need to get to a room before I lose myself in her on this elevator. I’ve never craved anyone like this before. But that’s the thing, deep down I know this is more than just a craving, and she’s the only one who can satisfy it.

“Matt,” she breathes my name on a sigh that has my whole body wanting and ready, my cock twitching inside my pants.

“Hmmm?”

“I really missed you.”

The weight of her words assaults me in the best way, making me realize I wasn’t imagining this, imagining us. My eyes snap to hers just as the car signals we’ve arrived on my floor but we remain unmoving, our gazes locked, the air thick with longing and unspoken promises.

Somehow I manage to snap out of the daze, grab her hand and squeeze us out the doors before they close, immediately hauling her over my shoulder.

“What are you doing?” She giggles, thrown off by my surprise attack.

I playfully smack her ass and she squeals. “I’m just making sure you don’t run away.”

She hangs her head in total submission, her long hair dripping down my back, the heat of her skin burning into mine. “I’m not running…unless it’s to you.”

Every word out of her mouth tonight seems to be something I’ve been dying to hear, albeit subconsciously. I don’t know what the hell happened when she visited her mom today but I think she needs to spend more time with her.

If there’s any chance I could make it to my room faster, I would. I fumble for the keycard in the back pocket of my jeans and hastily ram it into the slot once we get to the door, letting it slam shut behind us.

Fran’s body slides roughly down mine, and I pin her against the door with my hips. My hands move upward to sift through her hair as she rubs her breasts against me and I can feel the hardened peaks through the fabric of my shirt. My cock’s delirious, not knowing which direction to go, only that it wants out of my pants.

I drape her hair over her shoulder, needing to taste that sensitive patch of skin behind her ear, the one that causes her to croon those sounds that make my dick hard. Bending my head, my tongue lashes out to taste the flesh there and she whimpers, furthering my need for her.

“Fran,” I whisper, grazing the shell of her ear with my teeth, “I want you naked, I want to touch and taste every inch of your skin. I need to know what you sound like when you come.”

A sexy noise leaves her mouth and I swallow it, covering her lips with mine before breaking the kiss, moving back just enough to see her eyes that are now green clouds of lust. “Do you want that, Fran? Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” she drawls, her voice shaking with desire, and it’s making me want to rip every shred of clothing from her body.

“Say it, Fran. I need to hear you say it.” I press my thumb to her lip, wanting to take the words I’m desperate to hear.

“I…I want you to make me come,” she says hoarsely, sucking on her bottom lip, “but.…” She pauses. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

With a tender hand, I draw her face back to mine, cupping her jaw. “Neither have I, Fran. I haven’t wanted to, before right now…before you…which makes it that much sweeter. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” I place a quiet kiss on her lips. “Turn around, sunshine,” I rasp, and she obliges. I twist her hair in a knot and unzip her dress, kissing across her shoulders as it drops and pools at her feet, leaving her in a strapless, purple lace bra and panties that has my mouth watering and my dick throbbing.

I touch her shoulders, gently bringing her back to me before I lean in to glide my tongue from the base of her collarbone up the length of her neck and she mewls softly, angling her head to the side to give me better access. Her hair is tangled around my fingers as I press open-mouth kisses down her jaw, her throat, and to the dip of her cleavage. “Let’s take this off,” I say gruffly, and without hesitation she reaches back for the clasp, unhooking it, and it falls away baring full breasts with soft pink nipples. “Jesus, Fran. You’re so beautiful.” And then I stop talking and take one of her nipples into my mouth, she cries out as I continue to lave the peak with my wet tongue before I move on to the other, sucking and swirling it around until it puckers and Fran moans softly, arching further into my mouth.

“Christ, baby, your skin smells so good. I can only imagine what your pussy smells like, what it tastes like,” I groan, feeling her wet heat press harder against my crotch. Her knees buckle and I clutch her lower back, easing her toward the bed. “I want you to lie down, sunshine…because you won’t be able to stand when I’m through with you.”

She falls back on the bed and rests on her elbows, her face flushed, her nipples hardened. “You’re overdressed,” she murmurs, licking her lips and shooting me a blazing glare.

I practically rip the buttons on my dress shirt trying to take it off and then somehow manage to shove my jeans past my bulging erection, all the while never taking my eyes off of Fran. Her gaze drops to my arousal and the thought of those full lips wrapped around my cock nearly has me exploding in my boxers.

When I realize how close I am to losing it, I climb onto the bed and settle myself between her legs until her arms fly up and cross her belly as if to shield me from it. Without a second thought, I inch my way to her side and support myself on my elbow, wanting to right the world for her in this one moment. My hand moves to stroke her cheek and her eyes close. “Don’t, Fran. You don’t need to cover yourself up. Don’t you know by now? I don’t see your scars when I look at you.” Her eyes open and I’m lost in green fields and bright sunshine. “I only see your heart.”

Before I register what’s happening, her hands are twining in my hair while her mouth lands on mine, prying it open and taking what she wants…and I surrender to the rhythm of her tongue and the pull of her body. I roll on top of her and a low rumble escapes my chest as I feel her nipples rubbing against me, her pussy lined up so perfectly with my cock, and I’m overcome with the urge to be buried inside of her…but I need to taste her first.

“Ahh,” a whisper of a moan sounds in my ear, “Matt, please.”

“Please, what baby?” I ask, kissing her dimple.

“Make me come,” she murmurs, breathless and needy and I’m so turned on I don’t know how long I’m going to last.

“I’m getting to that,” I tease with a grin, as my lips wander down the curve of her throat, my tongue lapping lightly while my fingers explore her sensitive flesh. I travel down to her supple breasts, leaving a trail of hot kisses that further tighten the peaks of her nipples, and I take them one at a time between my teeth, coaxing a whimper of arousal from her mouth as I continue rocking against her.

I draw a path down her belly with my tongue and when I get to the red scars covering it, a lash of anger pelts through me and I have to shut my eyes briefly and rein it in. I’d do anything to take this away for her but since I can’t, I do the only thing I can. I kiss every single scar with great care, Fran’s hands in my hair guiding me, while together we navigate a new course.

With every touch of my lips to her skin, Fran grows more impatient, her legs moving wildly on the bed, her hips pushing up against me. I know what she wants and I don’t want to deny her any longer so I ease myself between her legs, noticing the damp spot on her panties and knowing she’s soaked for me. “Lift up, baby” I tell her, and as soon as her ass leaves the bed, I slip her panties down and consider myself officially in heaven.

Spreading her open, I slide one finger up and down her wet slit, inhaling her sweet scent, before my tongue dips between her folds and she quivers at the contact. She cries out as I press one finger inside of her while my tongue circles her swollen clit again and again, and I’m getting harder by the minute, thinking about being inside her, the way her body is reacting to me. Her head is bowed against the pillows, her eyes half-lidded, soft moans leaving her lips.

“Matt,” she pants, dropping her legs open further for me, “that feels so…good.”

“You’re so wet,” I mutter, my breathing shallow, drunk on her scent, the taste of her almost pushing me over the edge.

She starts to pulsate around my finger, her body trembling, and I know she’s close. I’ve never cared so much about getting someone off before, but I want this to be amazing for her and I want to do it over and over again—my tongue between her legs, my name on her lips.

“Fran, look at me. I want to watch you when you come.”

She lifts her head and our fiery eyes meet as I continue licking and sucking on her clit, and when I push another finger inside of her, she arches her hips against my hand, forcing my tongue deeper, my finger touching the wall of her swollen pussy. I love how much she wants this, how she’s giving herself to me. “Please.” She lets out a pleading moan and when I delve into her one last time, the wave hits and she bucks against me, coming hard and screaming my name, her eyelids fluttering closed, cheeks flush with her release.

I continue to lap at her tenderly until she floats down to earth, her breathing slower, her limbs relaxed. When I work my way back up to her, she has a sated smile on her face. “You’re back,” I tease, kissing her swollen lips, letting her taste her arousal while our tongues mingle in a slow dance. “God, you’re so sexy when you come. I could get off just watching you.”

“That was…that felt…,” she fumbles, but can’t seem to get the words out.

“Amazing, earth-shattering, mind-blowing,” I joke, and she pushes me down on the bed, climbing on top of me, and I decide I really like this position. She could ride me right now and I’d be completely fine with it, but it appears she has other plans.

“My turn,” she says, and then all I see are her silky strands flowing across my stomach in a sheet of black, the feel of her lips trailing down my sensitized skin.

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Fran – Who needs reality?

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that was the best oral sex I’ve ever received in my life. Matt has a magic tongue that he can use on me anytime he wants. He’s amazing, really, and when he says those things to me about me being beautiful, my heart skips a beat at his sincerity. I’m so self-conscious about my scars, yet with a couple of words he managed to put me at ease because I know he means it. That’s one of the many things I’ve learned about him, there’s nothing but absolute honesty in those enchanting blue eyes. He makes me feel beautiful and that’s something no one has been able to do in a very long time.

So now it’s my turn to make him feel as good as he makes me feel. I roll on top of him, the heat of his erection taunting my core, his boxers the only barrier between us. “It’s my turn,” I say, before letting my eyes roam over his perfect form. I kiss my way down every tanned ripple of muscle, the defined lines that form a perfect V, and the trail of hair that disappears just below the waistband of his shorts. His chest is rising wildly underneath me as I tease him with my tongue and he lets out a low groan when my teeth skim his hip. Moving lower, I pull on his boxers to slide them down his legs and his erection springs free, and I’m mesmerized by the sheer size of him, my sex clenching at the thought of having him inside me. My hand fists the base of his arousal, reveling in the smooth feel of his skin as I stroke him. His breath catches when my tongue darts out to lick the tip before sliding his entire length into my mouth.

He lets out a groan and I take as much of him as I can manage to the back of my throat, while he gently holds my head, guiding me back and forth, and I can tell he’s desperately trying to hold on to his control. When he lets go of me and begins clawing at the sheets I speed up, wanting so much to do this to him, for him.

I use my tongue and lick up and down his cock, sliding him out, teasing the head, and then sliding him back in again while my hand grips him more firmly.

“Baby,” he says breathlessly, “I really want to come in that sweet mouth of yours, but if you don’t want me to, you need to—”

I don’t give him a chance to say anything else. I want this, so I pump him harder and faster until his hips rise off the bed, my name rolling off his tongue in a fierce growl as he lets go in my mouth.

“Sweet Jesus, Fran,” he mutters, wiping the sweat from his forehead and still trying to catch his breath. “Come here.” He pulls me up and I curl into him. He covers us with the sheet and kisses my hair repeatedly, while his hand takes a lazy stroll down my back, soothing me.

“You’re not the only one who has talent,” I taunt, and he tips my head back to plant a tender kiss on my lips that makes my toes curl and my insides unfurl with yearning. Panic flares in my chest and it must register on my face because Matt’s eyes grow wide with concern.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, never letting go of me.

What do I say? Do I tell him that I’m scared? That I want to know what this is we’re doing. I mean, I know what we’re doing right now but pretty soon reality is going to come crashing down on me because I’m going back to New York, back to my life…and he’ll go back to his. I keep telling myself this is nothing but two people spending time together, enjoying each other. But I know for me, it’s becoming more than that. The thought of not seeing him makes it difficult for me to breathe.

“I’m fine,” I lie, clearly unable to voice the crazy thoughts going through my head.

“Are you sure?” he asks tentatively, searching my eyes for an answer.

“Yeah.” I snuggle in closer to his side, draping my arm over his chest and hooking my leg over his.

“Do you want me to order some food? Are you hungry?” He combs through my hair with his fingers and I sigh, my eyes drifting closed. “All those little noises you make drive me crazy, you know,” he whispers, rubbing his erection against my thigh.

“Well, we might need some food for sustenance, I suppose.”

“All right, but in a little bit. I don’t want to move right now. I quite like being your pillow.” He squeezes me tighter as I scrape my nails across his chest, watching his muscles spasm under my fingers. “So did you have a good visit with your mom today?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling against his chest, “It was really nice. It’s been a while since we’ve spent quality time like that and I really miss it.” I grow quiet, my heart full to the brink just thinking about the relief on Mom’s face, the softening of her eyes when I told her I’d forgiven her.

“She blamed herself, you know, for what happened to me. All those years when my dad would come to my room while she was out waitressing, trying to keep our heads above water.” Matt tenses at the mention of my dad and tucks me nearer to him. “It wasn’t her fault, though. At one point, I remember being angry, but she was afraid of him. She’s carried so much guilt with her and I didn’t want her to live like that anymore so I told her that I forgave her, even though I don’t think there was anything to forgive. I knew she needed to hear it.”

“I can only imagine how much that meant to her, to hear that from you,” he says, trailing a finger leisurely up and down my arm, making my skin shiver with the sensation. “I still don’t know how you got through all that, Fran. You really are brave.”

“I don’t know about that. There were so many nights I thought about climbing out of my window and running away, before I smelled cigarette smoke from under my door, before he could use me as his own personal ashtray,” I say acidly, and let out a weakened breath. “But I couldn’t leave my mom with him.”

“Fran, it takes a lot more courage to stay than it does to run,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to my temple.

My tension releases with his kiss, calming me. “The one thing I do know is that after my dad committed suicide almost three years ago, both my mom and I were able to breathe easier. He was determined to find me, to have me in his life, and I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him. A little while later I found out he’d committed suicide…and I was relieved. I know that’s awful.”

He presses his lips to my forehead, determination in his voice. “I know he was your father, baby, but he wasn’t a good man. No one could ever blame you for feeling that way.”

“I don’t really want to talk about him anymore, if you don’t mind. Tell me about you. How was the rest of the conference?” I ask, brushing my fingers over his happy trail and loving that something else is happy down there, too.

“What is it you’re asking? You’re making it kind of hard for me to think,” he replies, chuckling and rotating his hips in my direction.

I let my fingers tiptoe back up his chest so he can concentrate a little better, although my eyes are drawn to the hard-on he’s sporting under the sheet.

“It was good. You missed my fabulous presentation. Although, I had some difficulty focusing.”

I lean up on my elbow so I can see his face. “Oh yeah, why is that?”

He rolls onto his side so we’re face to face, his deep blue eyes penetrating mine. “I was distracted by the thought of some girl with eyes the most stunning shade of green I’ve ever seen.”

“Some girl, huh? She sounds fascinating,” I reply, as he licks his lips before leaning in to sweep them over mine and I’m so ready to get lost in him all over again. My body instantly responds to the firmness pressing against my thigh, the ache between my legs starting up again.

His cell phone rings on the side table interrupting our moment of bliss. “Don’t get that,” I whisper against his lips, but then I listen to the song and start laughing when I realize it’s “ABC” by The Jackson Five. “Who is that?”

“GAH!” Matt groans in frustration and throws his head back against the pillow. “I have to get it. It’s Ma, I mean, Mrs. Brody, Caleb’s mom.” When he sees the confused look on my face he continues. “She loves The Jackson Five and when we were growing up we always had Sunday morning breakfast together. Whenever we’d walk into their house, there were only two things I’d notice, the smell of warm maple syrup and The Jackson Five playing loudly in the kitchen. She liked to dance while she was cooking.” He shrugs his shoulders with a sheepish smile. “So, it makes me think of her.”

He reaches for the phone and I can’t help but think that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard which makes me want to jump his bones right now. He’s so unexpected in such a good way, surprising me at every turn.

“Hey, Ma,” he answers with mischief in his eyes as he stares at my bare breasts until I clock him with a pillow. “No, it’s fine, it’s not too late.” He laughs, almost dropping the phone. “What’s up?”

They talk for a few more minutes and when he finally gets off the phone, he drops it on the bed and tackles me. “We need to get dressed. We’re going over to the Brody’s.”

His erection is pushing into me deliciously and the last thing I want to do is leave this bed, never mind this room.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, my eyelids flapping as his hand grazes the underside of my breast and a moan slips out. “If you want me to get dressed you better stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he teases, circling his nose with mine and grinding against me. His tongue reaches out for me and we find one another, bathing in the warmth of our mouths and the friction of our bodies. He sucks on my bottom lip before he releases me. “Okay, I’ll stop…for now,” he says with a devilish grin, pushing off of me and bending down to pick up his clothes, giving me a great view of his ass. “And, yes, everything’s fine,” he replies, pulling a t-shirt from one of the drawers and sliding it on. “His mom needs some help moving some bookcases and Caleb is over at his brother’s tonight. I’d rather help her tonight because I plan on spending the whole day with you tomorrow.”

“Oh!” I shout out, remembering the gift that I bought for him. “I almost forgot. I got you something.”

He spins around in the midst of zipping up his jeans, his blue eyes flooded with excitement. “What is it?”

“Don’t move.” I flop off the bed and haphazardly dress myself, then collect my purse from the floor. Sitting back on the edge of the duvet, I hunt for my surprise and feel myself grinning like an idiot when I find it. I pat the space next to me and he comes to sit down. “It’s just a little something. It made me think of you when I saw it.”

The look on his face is priceless, wide eyes and a dimpled smile like a little boy who’s getting his first present ever. Strangely, my heart soars with delight at being able to make him happy.

“What on earth?” He chuckles, holding up the clown keychain and taking stock of its huge clown shoes, big red nose, and most importantly, the smile on its face.

“So here’s the deal. I thought it might help start to, you know, help you overcome your….” I snap my fingers and my eyes drift upward in an attempt to recall the word. “I can’t remember the name for it, well, your fear of clowns. Baby steps and all. Plus, he’s not scary.” I point to his mouth with my finger. “See, he’s smiling.”

He cups my cheek and touches his lips to mine. “I love it. Thank you, sunshine.”

My lips turn up in a huge grin when he takes his keys off the table and immediately puts them on the key ring. “He goes great with your Aston Martin, don’t you think?”

“He’s perfect,” he says, when he comes back to sit beside me. The moonlight coming through the window casts a glow on his face and a flicker of vulnerability exists behind his eyes, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

* * *

My mouth practically drops to the floor of the car when we pull up to Caleb’s house. Well, it’s not really a house. It’s more like a mansion. It doesn’t have a weathered front door, nor does it have overgrown weeds in the front yard or a cracked walkway that you can break your neck on if you’re not careful. This house is pristine in every sense of the word and looks like something out of a movie set. The driveway is lit up brightly on each side by tiny floodlights as is the curved stone sidewalk leading up to the entrance. Even at night, I can see the trees are pruned to perfection and the lawn is manicured. Set back from the street, the front yard alone looks to be an acre’s worth of land, and that’s from what I can see in the dark. The design is a burnt orange Spanish contemporary with windows galore.

“Holy shit, this house is enormous,” I exclaim when he comes around to open my door.

Matt chuckles and takes my hand to help me out. “Yeah, it’s big.” He stops in front of the three car garage. “I just want to let you know that Caleb’s parents are…kind of open about things.”

My eyebrows squish together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he says with a smirk, and now I’m even more curious what he means by that statement.

“Matt.” I tug on his hand and step closer to him, trying to search for his eyes in the midst of the darkness. “That whole ringtone thing with Caleb’s mom, I think that’s really sweet.”

“Sweet, as in sweet like my brother,” he laughs out, bringing my words back to haunt me. A lump of regret lodges in my throat at the realization that I might have actually hurt him with that comment.

I cradle his face with my palm, skimming his jaw. “No. Sweet like you.”

He settles into my touch. “Do you have any idea how amazing you look right now, standing under the moonlight?” he asks, and I know he asked a question but I don’t give him an answer, not with words anyway. Instead I kiss him, our tongues tangling briefly before we break apart and stroll hand in hand up to the house.

One ring of the bell and Caleb’s mom is at the door. She’s absolutely adorable, all of maybe five-foot-two with welcoming blue eyes and wearing an apron that says “Sexy Mom Cooking.” She has an aura of warmth about her and I like her instantly.

She engulfs Matt in a hug and the fact that he dwarfs her in size by almost a foot is incredibly endearing. “Hi, sweetie. Thank you so much for coming,” she says appreciatively, then moves over and surprises me with an embrace as well. When she releases me, she places a hand on my arm. “It’s so great to meet you, Fran. Come in, come in.” She ushers us in and winks at Matt, nodding her head toward the kitchen. “I have pie.”

We walk in further and I immediately notice the understated and lived-in feel of their house, a stark contrast to the exterior. I expected formal sofas and designated sitting rooms, but am pleasantly surprised to find overstuffed couches and comfy chairs in muted yellows and blues. Vibrant green plants add additional bursts of color and mementos sit atop several rustic side tables.

Family pictures spatter two entire walls and as I get closer, my heart is instantly warmed at the sight of Matt’s boyish face in so many of them: fishing, playing baseball, at the beach, and at various celebrations. This is not a house. This is a home. I’m hit with a longing, a heaviness in my chest of something that could never be, never was. There were no family dinners for me where everyone was laughing and talking about their day. While my mother was working, my father was too busy passed out on the couch in an alcohol-induced coma, and when she was home, he was demanding she bring him his food in front of the TV. He expected her to cater to his every whim when she wasn’t busting her ass to support us so we didn’t end up on the streets. My dad was worthless in the job department; he was worthless in all departments.

Matt’s voice is a welcome interruption to my unpleasant walk down memory lane. “You okay, baby?”

I know he’s called me that before, but for some reason when he says it now, it gives me a fuzzy feeling in my stomach and sprinkles over me like a sun shower. He loops his fingers through mine and a shiver zaps me, starting with my head and ending at my toes.

“Hey, old man,” Matt calls out, and we turn the corner to find Caleb’s dad stretched out on the couch in front of the television. He looks so young in his matching blue Duke University sweats, a pair of black wire-framed glasses, and hair slicked back from an apparent shower.

“Hey, son!” he shouts, “two visits in a week. I’m likin’ it.” He peeks around Matt’s tall frame, sizing me up in a single glance. “And this pretty little thing must be Fran.”

“Jim!” Mrs. Brody yells from the other room, “keep it in your pants!”

“Hush, woman, that’s not what you said last night!” he counters with a deep, rich laugh.

Matt puts his hand to his head and shakes it, a lame effort to hide a smile while I make a gurgling noise and snort. He looks over at me with raised eyebrows and shrugs as if to say ‘I warned you.’

“Pops, this is Fran. Fran this is Mr. Brody.”

“Jim, call me Jim…we’re not that formal here, as you can tell.” He winks and offers his hand. “I’d get up but I’ve got this hip thing I’m recovering from still. Limited activity if you know what I mean.”

I walk over and shake his hand with a broad smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, Jim. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“Eh”—he flaps his hand in a shooing motion—“never believe everything you hear.”

“Fran,” Mrs. Brody’s voice carries from the kitchen, “why don’t you help me put the cream on the pie.”

The smell of chocolate leads the way, tantalizing my nose, my belly stirring from hibernation, answering the call with a rumble.

The kitchen is tremendous, the size rivaling my entire living room and bedroom put together. With stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, a center island with seating for six, and glass cabinets, it looks a lot like something right out of a design magazine. What catches my attention though is the framed black and white print hanging above the table. Your opinion is not in the recipe. I think I love Mrs. Brody.

“Here, Fran.” She hands me a knife and a spoon. “Let’s get the whipped cream on this chocolate cream pie so we can dig in. It’s Matt’s favorite,” she says, and now she winks at me, too. There’s an awful lot of winking going on around here.

“So tell me how you know Matt?” We stand side by side at the center island, a silver bowl filled with freshly whipped cream ready to go. She lifts a finger in the air as if she’s about to say something of the utmost importance. “But first, we taste,” she instructs, and then both of us proceed to dip our spoons in and savor the cream swirling around on our tongues.

“Actually, it’s kind of funny. Brad’s fiancée is my best friend,” I say, still marveling at the irony of this whole situation.

“Ah, that’s right. Caleb mentioned that,” she recalls, before taking another spoonful of whipped cream and putting a finger to her lips. “Shhhh!”

Matt barges into the kitchen and plods straight to the cabinets, sticking his finger in the bowl of cream as he walks by, and Mrs. Brody lightly pinches his arm before he leans in, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. My throat goes thick with emotion at the affection they have for one another, showing me a whole different side of Matt, a glimpse into his world.

“Matthew James Dixon,” she says sternly with a hint of a smile, “fingers out of the whipped cream.”

He continues on his mission, rummaging through cabinets until he finally spins around holding a package of Red Vines. He rips open the bag and pulls a piece of licorice out, dangling it in front of me. “Red Vine?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

“No thanks.” I giggle, shaking my head with amusement.

“All right, Matthew, we’re having some girl time in here, so out you go. The bookcases are upstairs in the guest room and I just need them moved over to Tracy’s room.”

“You got it, Ma,” he sings, giving me a little swat as he walks by and I wave my spoon at him, casting a sharp look his way.

We put the finishing touches on the chocolate cream pie and I can’t help but think how nice this feels. With the exception of a handful of moments with Mom, she wasn’t around a lot to bake with me or teach me how to cook. I stare down at the spoon in my hand as it loses focus and becomes one big blur, just like my childhood.

Mrs. Brody plunks the spoon into the empty bowl, the sound pulling me back to the here and now, a now that holds so much more promise, and I have to remind myself of that.

“Did you like to bake when you were little?” she asks, almost as if reading my thoughts.

“I liked it but my mom worked a lot and wasn’t around much,” I reply, trying to plaster a happy smile on my face, and she lays a hand on mine. It’s such a simple gesture yet it means so much. “I do remember this one time, though. My mom had the day off and we were going to make chocolate chip cookies. She had these two glass jars on the counter, one with sugar and the other with salt, and when we went to make the cookies she accidentally put salt in instead of sugar. It ended up being the cookie disaster of the century.”

Mrs. Brody wrinkles her nose and laughs before placing the bowl in the sink and running hot water in it. “I guess you didn’t bring those cookies in for the teachers,” she says, as she scrubs and dries the bowl before placing it back in the cabinet.

“Nope. The only place they went was right in the garbage,” I recall, giggling, and she laughs again, too.

“Well, the kids did a lot of baking, and with six of them, they made a lot of messes. Actually, make that almost nine with Matt, Brad, and Clara,” she declares, her lips curled up, her eyes smiling.

“Come sit.” She motions to the table and puts the pie in the fridge before coming to join me. “Can I make you some tea or would you like something to drink? Juice, water?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.” I feel completely at ease with Mrs. Brody and the words begin to flow without apprehension. “Matt speaks so highly of you and Mr. Brody and I think the fact that you were there for him when his mom died is pretty spectacular. You helped him make it through,” I say quietly, watching her face and her eyes shine with so much admiration and love that it takes my breath away.

She lets out a sigh that is happy, yet somehow tinged with a morsel of sadness. “Brenda was such a wonderful woman,” she begins, grabbing onto the table with one hand as if needing to brace herself for this conversation. “She was always there for them—playing, watching their games, encouraging and supporting them, talking them through the tough times…and when she passed….” She pauses and releases a breath. “They were devastated. I think Matt got it the worst because he saw how Clara and Brad were handling it and felt like he had to make it better for them.” She smiles and it lights up her eyes. “He’s such a good boy, well, good man. Do you know that when Caleb was still living in New York and my husband was traveling for business, Matt would come by here once a week to check that we were all okay and see if the kids needed any help with their studies, or really anything at all. He wanted to make sure we were taken care of.”

I smile at his thoughtfulness and my heart warms at her words.

“Even with all of his struggles, he’s grown into an amazing man and I’m very proud of him.” She stares at me and my cheeks flush in response. “You care about him.” It’s a statement not a question and she taps a finger to her lips as she waits for an answer.

“Yes, I do care about him…a lot. We’re having a nice time together. But, well, I go back to New York in eight days…back to my life.” The words leave my mouth and I feel as if I’ve eaten something rotten.

“Right. Matt mentioned that to me.”

He did?

She pats my knee with a warm smile, the kind of smile that tells you everything will be okay, the kind that makes you feel it, too. “One moment at a time, sweetie. Because in the end, that’s all we’ve got. So make the most of each and every one.” She stands up and heads to the fridge, looking over her shoulder at me. “I like you, Fran. You’re like a breath of fresh air. Matt hasn’t brought too many girls here over the years, but the ones that he has brought.…” She grimaces and shakes her head. “Well, they weren’t like you and me.” She winks like she just told me some big secret and holds the pie up in the air. “Let’s go eat pie!”

We trot back out to the living room just as Matt is coming down the stairs. He purposefully bumps into me and grins.

“Watch it, Dixon,” I warn, my lips quirking up into a teasing smile.

He grabs hold of my arm and pulls me close, his warm breath filling my ear. “When you say my name like that it makes me hard, and when I get hard I think about how much I want to fuck you. I’m so ready to be inside you, Fran, and if you’re not careful I might take you up to the guest room and spread you open right there. So choose your words carefully, baby.”

I let out a gasp I’m praying no one heard and shoot him a warning glare. “Mr. and Mrs. Body are right over there,” I whisper, and sure enough when I look up, Mrs. Brody is watching us with a pleased smile. Clearing my throat and willing away the desire unfurling between my legs, I link hands with Mr. Sex On a Stick and we plop down on the couch across from Mr. and Mrs. Brody.

It’s quiet for a minute as we all dig into the pie, Mr. Brody’s voice being the one to interrupt the silence. “So Fran, Matt tells us you’re in design, also.” And for the second time tonight I realize Matt’s been talking a lot about me and I grin internally at the thought.

“Yes, I work at Hudson & Mathers in New York. They’re an advertising firm, heavy into consumer branding and marketing campaigns. I like it a lot.”

“It’s interesting that you’re both in the creative field,” he says, his salt ‘n’ pepper eyebrows raising on a grin. “Quite a coincidence, I’d say.”

Mrs. Brody jabs her elbow into his side and he scowls, then takes a dollop of whipped cream and smashes it onto her cheek. She wipes it off and licks her fingers, and the way he’s eyeing her doesn’t go unnoticed, not by me anyway.

“Well,” Matt coughs rather loudly, as if that was a cue they want to be alone, “we should probably get going. It’s kinda late.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Brody says with a glimmer of disappointment as she glances at the clock behind the sofa, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

I walk over to Mr. Brody and bend down to give him a hug. “It was so nice to meet you, Jim, and I hope you’ll be all healed up soon.”

“It was great meeting you, Fran, and I hope to see you again,” he says, tilting his head and glancing over at Matt with an approving smile, and my heart does a tiny pitter-patter in my chest.

We collect the plates and forks from the coffee table and I help Mrs. Brody bring them into the kitchen while Matt says goodbye to Mr. Brody. She stacks the plates on the counter and turns to me, her gaze wrapping me in a warm hug as she takes both of my hands in her own.

“I’m so pleased to have met you, Fran, and like Jim said, I do hope we see you again.” She looks down at our hands in hesitation and I can tell she wants to say something else. “Be good to our Matt. He’s one of a kind.”

She’s caught me a bit off guard and I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I reply with the only thing I have…honesty. “Yes, I’m starting to see that.”

My answer must have satisfied her because she nods her head and we wander back out to the living room where Matt’s waiting for us by the door. “Ready, sunshine?” he asks, and I catch the smile on Mrs. Brody’s face.

“Yup.”

She envelops Matt in a huge hug and then lathers me with the same affection. “I’ll see you soon, sweetie. Thanks again for helping with the bookcases,” she tells him before walking us outside. “We’ll see you soon. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” we both say, as Matt puts his arm around my waist and we make our way to the car, turning back to see Mrs. Brody standing in the doorway with yet another huge smile on her face.

“Matty!”

I hear a high-pitched scream and watch a petite, willowy silhouette bound toward us in the darkness, throwing her arms around Matt, nearly knocking him over and making me take a step back.

He returns the hug immediately, engulfing her small frame, lifting her off the ground. “Hey! Trace! I’m so glad to see you!” he says with excitement, finally setting her back down.

“I’m just here to pick up something. I’m off to the club with some friends.”

He glances over at me and brings me close to his side. “Fran, this is Tracy, Caleb’s sister, Tracy, this is Fran, my.…” He pauses, and I wait for the label. Friend? Girlfriend? Fling?

“Friend,” he says finally, but then adds, “a very special friend,” and I blow out the tiny breath I’d been holding.

“Nice to meet you,” she says, her eyes roving from Matt to me and back again.

“So how’s school?” he asks, and while they’re chatting I take her in, noticing how much she resembles Caleb with her dark hair and her almond-shaped brown eyes.

“It’s good. Studying hard as always.” She winks and Matt chuckles.

“Anyone’s ass I need to kick?”

“Not yet.” She laughs, playfully punching his shoulder. “But I’ll let you know. Okay, I gotta run. Brooke is waiting for me at her house. Nice meeting you, Fran. Bye, Matty.” She kisses his cheek and skips into the house, turning around to wave before plundering through the door.

Matt waves back and gets me settled before he climbs in, revs the engine and takes off down the road.

“I love them,” I say immediately. “They’re so incredibly sweet and it’s great how laid back they are. His sister, too. I see where Caleb gets his fun-loving spirit…and I see why you love them so much. They obviously adore you.”

“What’s not to adore?” he shoots back, and I let out a laugh, toeing off my sandals and tucking my feet under my legs.

“I learned some things about you tonight, Matt Dixon.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” he asks, rolling to a stop at a red light and angling his head so he can better see me.

“Well, I learned that your middle name is James and that you love chocolate cream pie, and….” I lower my voice, twiddling my fingers in my lap. “I learned that there’s so much sweetness in you.”

I hear his sharp intake of breath, and when the light turns green, he makes a quick right, pulling into what looks like the entrance to a park and quickly cutting the ignition. He unbuckles his seat belt and leans into me, curling his hand around the back of my neck as he guides my face closer and a shudder runs through me.

“I taste really sweet, too,” he says, his breath a soft whisper on my lips.

“Oh yeah…prove it,” I murmur, inching my lips closer to his, my tongue sneaking out to moisten them.

“Oh, sunshine, you know how I like dares,” he counters, his voice gruff, before sealing his lips over mine, taking my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard. It’s just enough to leave a sting that he eases when his tongue glides back over it. I whimper at the torture because it feels so good, looping my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss and he groans, pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling him.

My dress bunches around my hips and I can feel how much he wants me, his erection pressing against the silk of my panties, and my skin suddenly feels hot all over because I want him, too…desperately.

He leaves my lips and trails his tongue down my jaw, dropping kisses all along my neck and I moan again, rubbing myself against him. “Fran.” His voice is breathy and desperate, too, while he continues to coat my throat with the warmth of his tongue. “I want you so badly,” he groans, and his hand moves from my lower back around to my bare thigh, his fingers brush my skin and I shiver, willing his hand to go higher. As if hearing my silent request, he begins a slow ascent, inching up my skin until he reaches the edge of my panties, circling his thumb, and I can’t help the sounds of arousal that are free falling from my mouth. He pushes the material aside, his thumb finding my clit, and I let out a jagged cry, his name the only thing on my lips.

“Matt….”

“Baby, you’re so wet…God, I wish I could lick you right now.”

“Matt,” I whimper again, loving the way he talks to me, the way he wants me, the desire oozing from his voice, pushing me toward the release I’m craving. I open my legs more, wanting this, so turned on that I can’t think straight. A coil inside me has snapped and I feel freer than I ever have and I know it’s because of him. After feeling nothing for so long, suddenly I’m feeling everything—and I want more of it, more of him. My hands tug at his hair and I pull his lips to mine, my mouth engulfing his tongue as my breathing speeds up and he spreads me open, inserting a finger inside of me. I ride his hand with wild abandon, his cock growing underneath me, his mouth fused with mine as we swallow each other’s moans.

I break the contact, my head falling back, my lips parting to let everything out. “Matt, I’m…so close—”

“Sunshine, look at me,” he says, and I lean forward to stare into eyes that even with only the dim lamplight are so piercing they strip me bare. He sees right through me—through all the bullshit, all the pain, all the hurt, and all that’s left is me…and yet, here he is, still wanting me.

He pushes harder against my clit, soaking me completely, my wetness dripping all over him. Another finger enters me and I’m lost, the pleasure overwhelming, my body clenching around him as I spiral out of control and let go screaming his name.

“Oh God, Matt!”

My head collapses onto his shoulder and I try to catch my breath, to come down from this amazing high but I can’t seem to collect myself. A tear trickles down my cheek, all these sensations mixed with my own rampant thoughts are colliding, an overload of emotions, of beautiful colors and blinding light. Matt has done more for me in six days than my therapist did for me in four years and I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. The connection I feel with him is unmistakable and it cuts into some deep part of me, a place that only he’s been able to reach. It’s like I’ve been playing hide and seek for so long, holding my breath, staying still and quiet, all the while secretly hoping someone would come and find me.

“Fran,” he says softly, and I respond immediately, lifting my head and gazing into his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m, yes, I’m great,” I respond, although the tone of my voice doesn’t match my words and he senses it.

He pushes my hair away before taking my face in his hands, caressing my skin. “I don’t think so and I want to know what’s wrong. Did I hurt you?”

“God, no…that felt amazing. It’s just that…what are we doing, Matt?” I ask, even though I’m scared to know the answer.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrows rise subtly, wisps of hair cling to his forehead and I smooth them away with my fingers.

“Well.…” I swallow the thick layer of emotion threatening my ability to speak coherently. “I’m leaving soon and—”

“Shhh, baby,” he interrupts, shaking his head before resting his forehead against mine, almost as if he can’t bear to think about it. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. I just want to enjoy being with you. Can we do that? Just enjoy every moment we have together?”

I exhale a sigh, recalling Mrs. Brody’s words—‘moments are all we have.’ “Sure,” I reply, but I can’t help thinking that the sand in the hourglass is running out and our moments are slipping away.

Chapter Thirty – Matt – Tumbleweeds

I’m trying to slow down. My heartbeat. My thoughts. Time. I’m all over the freaking place. I just watched Fran give herself over to me. I felt it…the second she let go, and I don’t mean the fact that she came relentlessly, which in and of itself was fucking amazing. I mean, I saw it in her eyes, like she was gifting me something she’d never given anyone before, and now I’m terrified because I don’t know what the fuck to do with it. Because I know if I’m not careful, the fragile treasure she just handed me could shatter into a million pieces.

Everything I knew about my life has gone to hell in six days. I don’t care what’s happening at work, if my car gets dented, or even whether my cabinets are alphabetized. The only thing I care about is sitting right in front of me and I’m left wondering how the fuck this happened. She blew into my life like one of those tumbleweeds in the old western movies Mr. Brody and I used to watch—unexpectedly, effortlessly—and now she’s about to blow back out just as quickly as she came in.

That look she gives me, the gold flecks of her green eyes pulling me in, is the one I’m seeing right now when she’s asking me what we’re doing. What’s my bullshit response? Moments. Because I know better than anyone that’s all we really have. Because the thought of her leaving and going back to New York makes my chest ache. The thought of not seeing the smile that sets fire to my heart annihilates me, and I can’t go there. So moments, yeah, that’s what I tell her. Because that’s all we’ve got.

I draw her lips to mine, holding her to me, feeling her softness, tasting her sweetness. We stay like this, unmoving, just feeling one another for seconds or minutes, or it could be days because I’ve completely lost track of time, lost track of my life.

“Let’s go back, baby,” I finally say against her lips. “I want to be with you tonight. I want to hold you. Can I stay with you?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice the smallest whisper of breath.

Fran climbs off of me and situates herself back on the seat and I already miss her. My pants are drowned from her sex, the scent of her covering me and filling the space between us, making it difficult for me to concentrate on anything but doing that to her all over again.

She takes her phone out of her bag and types in the code to unlock it and gasps.

“What is it?”

“Oh my God. Peyton has texted me about twenty-five times and I have two messages from my mom.”

“Is Peyton okay?” I ask, wondering if this has anything to do with Caleb.

She scrolls through the messages while I try to focus on the road. “Yes.” She laughs, so it must be nothing serious. “She said she hadn’t heard from me so she wanted to know where I was and if I was okay, how things went with my mom, what you and I were doing. Oh, and she got our boss to let her stay a few extra days. But then she resorted to shouty capitals because I didn’t respond. So I’m texting her now telling her you just got me off in your car and it was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

I burst out laughing, but am hoping she’s not serious. “You didn’t just type that, did you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she flirts, giving me all sorts of obscene ideas again, like getting her naked and going down on her before fucking her on the cool leather in the back seat of my car.

“No. I didn’t tell her that. That’s our little secret.” She winks at me and I like the fact that we’ve gotten away from talking about the heavy stuff, at least for the time being.

* * *

By the time we make it back to Fran’s room it’s nearly midnight and we’re both pretty wiped out. She slips her sandals off and flops on the bed and I join her. She stretches her arms over her head and cranes her neck from side to side.

“I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I’m so achy,” she says, a full-fledge yawn leaving her mouth.

I lean over her, kneading her shoulders and she groans. “I’m sure I can make it better. I’m quite the masseuse,” I brag, hoping she’ll take me up on my offer.

“Actually.…” She yawns again. “As good as that feels, I need a bath. Care to join me?”

“Race you there,” I joke, the thought of being naked with her in the warm water already has me hard. “Stay right here.” With a chaste kiss, I hop off the bed and head into the bathroom, shedding my t-shirt and jeans in a heap along the way and hearing a whistle from Fran as I do.

I twist the handle to start the warm water flowing in the tub and poke around to find some bubble bath. The bathroom is filled with every luxury you can imagine, from the fluffy robes to any type of lotion, soap, and shower gel you want. Now I just have to find them. After searching through a couple of drawers, I find a selection of bubble bath and randomly pick one before I pour it into the tub. I grab a bottle of shampoo and a sponge and sit them on the side.

When I come back out I find Fran on the bed with her eyes closed, a sudden onset of disappointment causes me to frown. I was looking forward to spending more time with her but I also know how exhausted she is and probably needs her sleep. There’s an extra blanket at the end of the bed and I unfold it to cover her up, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes pop open and my frown turns into a huge smile.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I say, propping a knee on the bed next to her.

She grins and puts a hand on my thigh, drumming gently. “And miss out on a bath with you? I don’t think so.”

“Come on.” I help her off the bed and lace my fingers through hers. Even though we’re only walking to the bathroom, I still feel the need to touch her.

“It’s a great bathtub, isn’t it?” she says, admiring the raised rectangular tub encased in marble. “I have a nice tub in New York but compared to this, it’s subpar. I think I need an upgrade.”

“Yeah, well, people pay big bucks to be able to bathe in a marble tub, I guess.” I spin her around and unzip the back of her dress and she steps out of it, leaving her once again in that killer lace bra and panties. I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and press a kiss to her neck, closing my eyes and inhaling the scent of jasmine. “Are you sure you want to take a bath?” I ask, my voice raspy, my cock pushing into her ass.

She whimpers, rubbing up against me. “I think I’d like to be naked with you in the bath…first.”

“I like that word first very much,” I tell her, reluctantly letting her go and removing my boxers while she rids herself of the tiny scraps of fabric she has left.

She sticks one foot in the tub, then the other, before turning around and reaching for my hand. Her gaze drops to my erection and lingers there.

“I know it’s hard not to look…it’s okay.” I chuckle and grab hold of her hand, falling in when she yanks me into the water.

Moving behind her, I tug her against me and she slides between my legs while I engulf her in my arms. The warm water sloshes around us, a soothing and peaceful calm to the end of our day.

“This feels so good,” she says, arching her head back, her hair a wet canvas against my chest.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, resting my lips near her ear, sucking her lobe into my mouth, and she makes one of her plethora of sexy noises that drive me wild. “So I was thinking about something earlier,” I continue, cupping handfuls of water and dripping them onto her arm, “we’ve gotten to know each other backwards.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, most people learn the basics first, but we learned the deep stuff. So now I want to know some of the basic stuff. Actually, I want to know everything, but we can start with the basics.”

“Okay,” she replies, and there’s a smile in her voice. “Shoot.”

“Favorite Band or singer?” I ask, as my fingers mesh with hers.

“Hmph…that’s a tough one, you know how much I love music. Hmph,” she says again, as if I’ve stumped her. “Okay, favorite band is Parachute. Favorite singer is James Morrison. You?” she questions, and her excited tone tells me she likes this game.

“Coldplay for the band and Tyrone Wells for the singer/songwriter.”

I hook my legs over hers and reach for the sponge with my free hand, dipping it in the tub to soak it with water. “What’s your favorite book?”

“You’re asking some difficult questions.” She laughs, and the happy sound vibrates through my chest. “It’s hard to choose just one because I have so many. But if I have to, I’d say “The Edge of Never” by J.A. Redmerski. What about you?”

“That’s a great name for a book.” I smooth the sponge over her breasts, watching the crests stiffen just above the water and I have a sudden urge to taste them. “I don’t read that many books unless it has to do with architecture, but I do like to read The New York Times.”

“Figures,” she mumbles, and I playfully poke her in the ribs, discovering just how ticklish she is and making a mental note. It could come in handy. She dunks our fingers in the water and lifts them back out. “Okay, favorite food?”

“Pizza with pepperoni and broccoli and chocolate cream pie for dessert.”

“Hey!” she declares. “Pizza’s my favorite, too, but with just pepperoni and I’ll take a box of Devil Dogs for dessert.”

“Devil dogs? Do they still make those chemically infested treats?” I laugh and she pivots to fire a glare my way. “My turn, feisty. Let’s see…favorite place in the whole world?”

“That’s easy,” she replies confidently, “the beach. Yours?”

“That’s easy,” I repeat her sentiment but something catches in my throat and my voice becomes a strangled echo. “Right here, right now.” And then I realize why—I mean every word. Being with her is no less than fucking perfect, and I want to breathe this moment in, mark it like a page in one of her novels so I can go back to it over and over whenever I need it.

She angles her head slightly and I catch her lips, pushing them apart so I can dive in, find her tongue, and drown in her. It doesn’t last long because she pulls back from the kiss and flips around so she’s straddling me.

Her hands come up to cradle my face, her lips sweeping over mine while her tongue forces me open. I love her tongue. It’s sweet and wet, and as she circles it around mine, I groan low and deep. My fingers move to her full breasts and I thumb her nipples in a slow, lazy rhythm as she begins to grind against my cock, moaning heavily, and she stiffens under my touch.

Heavy breaths fall as she pulls away from my mouth. Her eyes finally fix on mine and for a moment, time stands still and words don’t exist, our panting the only sound amidst the silence.

I palm her cheek and she leans into me. “God, you’re so fucking sweet.” I place my other hand over her heart. “So, so sweet.”

“Matt,” she says hoarsely, “I want—”

“Tell me what you want, baby.” My fingers disappear under the water and I find her clit, massaging her over and over again until she lets out a jagged whimper.

“I want you to make…I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to fuck me.”

I spring up from the water and grab Fran under her knees, making waves that splash over the side of the tub. She winds her arms around my neck and I carefully step out, managing to avoid us falling flat on our asses.

“What are you doing?” she yelps and laughs at the same time, and I yank a couple of towels off the rack as I lead us out to the bedroom. “We’re soaking wet!”

“Yup,” I reply, “I like you soaking wet.” I trek over to the bed and keep a hold of Fran with one arm, while I throw the duvet off the bed with the other before dropping the towels on the sheets.

“You’re completely insane,” she says through her giggles, and if I am, it’s because I’ve never felt freer than I do when I’m with her.

I lay her down, all traces of humor gone from my face as I climb over her. Her laughter is gone, too, replaced by anticipation, her heart beating erratically, a flush of desire pinking her cheeks.

With my arms on either side of her, I inch my way up her body, pushing lightly on top of her. I start with her face, smothering it with the press of my lips to her skin, her sweet taste on my tongue making me want more. The arch of her neck calls to me and I inhale that familiar scent of jasmine as I slide my tongue down further until I reach her nipples, warm and wet from the bath. I lick first one nipple then the other until they harden into tight buds, circling my nose around them as she lets out a loud moan and spreads her legs further, drawing me closer.

“Matt, you’re so hard.” She expels a ragged breath as she lifts her hips to mine.

“God, sunshine, that’s how much I want you.”

And now I just can’t wait anymore.

Without breaking our contact, I lean over and pull out a condom from my wallet, and when it’s securely on, I turn back to Fran. “Wrap your legs around me, baby.”

I reach between us to grab hold of my cock and she puts her hand over mine. “Let me do it,” she says on a moan, gripping me, rubbing the tip against her clit, and I hold in a breath when my finger brushes her slit and I feel how drenched she is. She eases me inside, teasing me, pushing me in and pulling me out, until my cock thickens and our bodies are thrumming, a steady stream of whimpers falling from our lips.

When I’m finally all the way inside, I start moving, her legs urging me deeper, her muted sounds of pleasure making me rock into her harder. I cover her lips with mine, kissing her passionately while she grabs my ass and shows me just how much she wants me.

“Jesus, Fran, your pussy feels fucking amazing. I love being inside of you,” I murmur against her lips.

“Matt, oh, God, Matt,” she moans, and her muscles clench tighter around my cock at the same time her nails dig into my biceps, telling me she’s close.

“I want to hear you when you come, Fran. Let me hear you,” I groan, and I lower my head to suck hard on her nipple, biting and licking the stiff peak as I fuck her faster, wanting to drive her to orgasm.

“Matt,” she screams out, “Matt!” And then shudders rack her body as she explodes around me, burying her face in my chest, pulling me in tighter before she collapses back.

I push up on my hands and give her everything I have of myself, a tidal wave of emotion ripping through me as I thrust into her, my neck corded tight, the tension inside me building higher. Sweat glides down my skin as I rock into her one final time and then flood her insides, my whole body trembling with my release, Fran’s name spilling from my lips. I nuzzle my face into her neck, breathing her in, letting her warmth and her calming scent bring me down, slow my heartbeat.

As I come down from this feeling of being drugged, this euphoria unlike anything I’ve ever felt before—how do I even begin to explain to her what I feel right now? That was the best sex I’ve ever had.

Only sex is not the right word. I’m just not sure I know what the right word is.

Chapter Thirty-One – Fran – Say something

We’ve been lying in bed for hours, a tangle of limbs, Matt’s fingertips drawing patterns lightly on my back. Every part of our bodies is connected, my arm draped over his chest, my leg twisted with his, my breast grazing his skin.

I feel like I’m floating on a cloud, like I’m an observer in my own life, looking down on this girl I don’t recognize though she seems oddly familiar. She’s the girl in Kindergarten who wore her faded purple pants and held her head high when all the other little girls were wearing pretty dresses, because she didn’t care what everyone else thought…because she loved the new pants that her mom worked so hard to buy her. That was the girl before: before Daddy started coming into her room, before Kyle died, before her world went dark.

But I’m not the girl after anymore. My world isn’t shielded in blackness and it no longer feels like I’m drowning, fighting to breathe, struggling to live. It’s as if I’ve been awakened from a long sleep, but not a peaceful one, one that was filled with horrific things that little girls should never have to go through…ever.

But all that’s behind me now, because a warm breeze blew in and whispered to me, tapped me on the shoulder, spoke to me silently. “Do you want to live?” the voice said, and in the next instant, it whispered, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” that same voice says now, bringing me back to reality.

A peaceful sigh tumbles from my mouth, landing on Matt’s sculpted chest. “I was just thinking about how happy I am right now.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says softly, kissing my hair while I inhale his masculine scent, making my skin prickle.

“You cold?” he asks, and even though I say no, he still pulls the covers up so he can make sure I’m not.

“So can I ask you something? It may seem like a strange time for me to ask, but….” He hesitates, if only for a second. “What happened to that special person you told me about on the beach?”

“It’s fine,” I tell him, and surprisingly it is. “Kyle and I…we went away to Hawaii for a week and we’d gone swimming.” I pause and take a deep breath. “Most of my memory is hazy from there, but I remember being pulled under and when I woke up on the shore…he was gone. He drowned…they never did find his body.”

“Oh, Fran.” He holds me tighter in his arms. “I don’t think it’s enough, but I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay now.” I curl into his side, pressing my cheek against his warmth. “He didn’t really love the beach, oddly enough, but I did, and I know this is going to sound bizarre, but he’s at peace in my favorite place. It took me a while to get to this point, but now I can finally stand in front of the ocean and smile because I know he’s out there.”

Matt lifts my chin, restraining me with a sincere gaze. “And in the end you know he was happy, because he died loving you.”

My words are gone, as is my breath, the brevity of his words making my heart stutter as I try to decipher the code, the true meaning behind them.

His lips seek out mine and it’s not crazed and frantic, but soft and gentle as if a butterfly landed on my lips. A teardrop cascades down my cheek, mixing the salt with the sweetness of our kiss, my favorite combination.

The kiss fades to a simple brush of our lips and into a smile from Matt, and I smile, too, before my eyelids feel heavy and I drift off into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

“I know we barely got any sleep last night, but I’m planning on taking you to Long Beach today. It’s such an eclectic place and I really want to share it with you.”

“Oh you think so, do you?” I joke, skimming my nose down the curve of his jaw.

“Oh, I know so,” he replies, before flipping me over and pinning me underneath him, his morning arousal awake and ready to start the day.

“Hmmm,” I whimper, “I like the way you say good morning.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he says, before his voice becomes muffled and his lips leave a burning trail over every inch of my skin, until I’m writhing underneath him.

“Matt,” I murmur breathless, clutching his hair, trying to get his attention. “I need you inside me….”

His head lifts with a sexy, lopsided grin, and he lunges for his wallet on the table to pull out another condom. He rolls it on, sliding inside me effortlessly, the only noise a tiny gasp when he enters me. His hands reach for mine and he pushes them above my head, lacing our fingers together as he rocks into me. There are no loud moans, no strained whimpers, and no heavy breaths. Only our eyes are communicating, saying things that our lips and our hearts can’t.

It’s during this one moment, in the stillness, in this intimate bubble we’ve created, that I realize I’ve fallen for Matt. I don’t know what it means from here on out or where we’re going, but one look in his intense blue eyes tells me that wherever we’re going, we’re going together.

“Fran,” he finally groans, thrusting into me at a languid pace, my body climbing higher and higher toward ecstasy, “I’m gonna come.”

He plunges into me a few more times before his lashes drop against his cheeks and his head falls against my breast. He doesn’t stop though, continuing to drive me toward my own release, wanting me to feel the same pleasure, and a minute later, I do.

“Matt,” I breathe out, wrapping my legs around him and clinging to him, never wanting to let go.

With a subtle lift of his head, he scatters kisses across my skin, brushing his lips over my cheeks, my chin, my lashes, and my temple, a contented smile turning up my lips. He pulls out of me, but only to remove and tie the condom, tossing it on the carpet before settling between my legs again. “You tired, baby? We didn’t get a whole lot of sleep.”

I shake my head and grin. “It was worth every second of it.”

“We could just stay in bed all day and have room service deliver all of our meals,” he says, rolling his hips against mine.

I thread my fingers through his hair and bring him in for a kiss. “It’s a tempting offer, Dixon, but I believe you promised to show me Long Beach.”

“Did I? I can’t seem to remember that, I’m experiencing a sudden onset of temporary amnesia.”

His tongue slides down the bend of my neck, the warmth of his lips sending me into a tailspin of pleasure and I squirm beneath him, desire once again exploding between my legs.

“Matt.” I barely manage to speak his name while he continues his descent, reaching my breast, flicking my nipple, sucking hard on the tip.

“Oh no you don’t!” I place my palms flat against his chest and gather some strength to resist his advances, pushing him off of me while he groans in protest. “We’ve got a date and I want to get ready. But I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

His head falls back against the pillow and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to join me?” I ask, folding the sheet around me before getting up from the bed.

“Actually,” he replies, “I’ll go up to my room and take one there since I need to get some fresh clothes. I’ll come down and pick you up when I’m done.”

“Oh.” I manage a smile and try not to act too disappointed, but I’m definitely not winning any awards for my performance. Matt senses it and scoots off the bed, engulfing me in his arms.

“It felt really good being with you like that,” he says, laying a gentle kiss on my forehead and I nod in response. Tears sting my eyes but I fight them off. I’m not even sure why I’m about to cry. Maybe because the sand is running thin.

He gives me a quick kiss before he lets me go. The door closes behind him and I shiver, feeling a sudden chill that I can’t shake, so I head for the shower to warm myself up.

I’ve barely made it out of the shower and bundled myself in a towel when there’s a knock on the door. I wrap a smaller towel around my head and venture over to see who it is. I’m happy to see Peyton’s smiling face when I look through the peephole.

“Hey,” she says brightly when I hold the door open, “long time, no see.”

“I’ve been a little busy,” I tease, sashaying my way back into the bathroom to dry my hair.

She follows behind me and takes a seat on the toilet, a knowing grin painted on her face. “Busy doing what? And with whom?” she asks, tapping a thoughtful finger against her mouth, her chestnut brow rising in the air.

I sigh and sag back against the counter, my lips relaxing into a dreamy smile. “Matt, of course. We were together last night and it was amazing.” I spin around and turn the blow dryer on, essentially muffling Peyton’s next words.

“That’s it!” she shouts over the noise. “I need more than that!”

With a quick flip of the switch, I shut the dryer off and lean back, bracing my hands against the sink. “I’m not going into the size of his cock or how skilled he was…I don’t kiss and tell anymore.”

“Since when?” she asks, bewildered.

“Since now.”

“Well, that stinks. But, lucky for you I’m more than willing to discuss cock size.” She laughs and her hair falls forward into a cloak surrounding her face.

I giggle and throw my hairbrush at her, and she ducks out of its path. “What’s going on with you and Caleb?”

“Well…he said he’s hoping we can keep in touch when I go back to New York, but well, long distance relationships are hard, so I’m not gonna count on it. He’s a great guy, though,” she replies, trying to sound nonchalant, but I think she’s trying a bit too hard.

“Oh! Matt and I went over to see Caleb’s parents last night. The two of them are hilarious! So down to earth and sweet. Just like Caleb.” I run a comb through my hair and turn the blow dryer back on low.

“What were you doing over there?” She comes over to the counter, picks up a file and begins shaping her nails.

“Mrs. Brody needed help moving some bookcases and I guess Caleb was at his brother’s house,” I reply, shutting off the dryer and setting it down. “By the way, any word from your mom?”

“Unfortunately, yes. She rang yesterday to find out when I was coming home. She said we need to have a talk, which is laughable considering I’m twenty-seven years old and she treats me like I’m sixteen.” She rolls her eyes and slaps the file against her hand. “Thank goodness for my dad. At least he keeps her in check for the most part. Anyway, I told her that I wouldn’t be home until Wednesday since I have the extra time off.” She digs through my makeup and pulls out the lip gloss, applying a thin glaze then smacking her lips together. “Did you have a nice visit with your mom?”

I rummage through the bag and find the mascara, layering a light coat on my lashes. “It was great. We had lunch and I took her to get a makeover. We talked a lot though and I felt like I helped her to make amends for some things with my dad. Come on, I’ve got to get dressed. Matt’s taking me to Long Beach today.”

She snags a seat on the chair while I get ready. I show her various outfits before she helps me decide on a teal, knee-length, cap-sleeve dress with white flowers. “I love that one. It makes your eyes look really cool with the blue.”

I pick out a pair of white, strappy sandals and slide them on, all the while feeling Peyton’s gaze on me.

“You seem different,” she says, appraising me with a thoughtful smile, “you seem happy.”

“I am,” I respond confidently, and I really am. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.

“Matt seems to be having a positive effect on you and it really shows.” She crosses her legs and leans her elbow on the arm of the chair, her head propped in her hand. “What are you going to do once you go back to New York? Will you see each other?”

I grimace without realizing it, my mind racing through all the possibilities but having no answer to her question. “I don’t know. I’d like to but he hasn’t said anything.”

“Why are you waiting for him? Why don’t you say something?”

I shrug, feeling uncertain and suddenly very insecure. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, Fran.” She gets up and comes to sit beside me. “You’ve got it bad for him. I can see it in your eyes.”

She puts her arm around me and I lay my head on her shoulder.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So tell him, sweetie,” she whispers, “so tell him.”

Maybe I will. What have I got to lose? And therein lies my greatest fear. I could lose the very thing I now want more than anything.

“I’m off to get a massage. Call me later and let me know how it goes. Let’s hang out tonight when you get back from your trip.” She gives me a hug and prances out the door, stopping just before it closes. “Just tell him, Fran.” She blows me a kiss and then disappears.

* * *

I’m restless as I sit and wait for Matt, standing then sitting down repeatedly like a jack-in-the-box, my hands sweaty, my stomach doing somersaults. I need a distraction. My purse is on the table and I traipse over to it, searching for a piece of gum. When I open up the zippered pocket I see the necklace Mom gave me and smile. Just as I’m about to unclasp it and try it on, there’s a knock on the door and my heart does that funny fluttering thing that happens whenever Matt’s around.

The second I open the door, everything else disappears and the only thing I see is this amazing guy standing before me. With hair damp from a shower, that adorable dimple, and a light blue t-shirt that makes his eyes dance, he is irresistible.

“Hey,” I say, overcome with a sudden bout of shyness like we didn’t just have mind-blowing sex less than an hour ago.

“Hey yourself, beautiful,” he returns, before walking in and embracing me, feathering his lips against mine in a soft brush. “You ready to go?”

“Hmmm,” I reply, already lost, swept away to another planet, his fresh scent tickling my nose, his presence making me forget everything else.

“Let me just grab my purse.” I pluck my bag from the table while Matt reaches down to pick up the necklace I dropped on the carpet.

“Here, you dropped—”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He doesn’t respond, but he’s staring at the necklace, moving it around between his fingers, examining it.

“Matt?”

When he doesn’t reply this time, I walk closer to try to get his attention.

“Matt? What’s wrong?” I ask, and when he looks up at me his eyes are glassy, his skin pale. It looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What is it?”

“Who gave you this?” he asks, and there’s something different, almost accusatory in his tone.

I gaze down at the necklace and it takes me a second to form an answer, but he doesn’t wait.

“Who gave you this?” he says again, but this time more firmly, his lips set in a frown.

“My mother did. It was a gift she had given me for my ninth birthday and when I saw her the other day, she gave it back to me.”

“I…I…have to go,” he says, his voice hoarse, his eyes looking anywhere but at me.

“What? Why?”

Without another word, he drops the necklace on the table before he’s gone, the door banging shut, an unwelcome echo in my ears. My gaze clouds and I rub my forehead in confusion, the need to sit down overpowers me. I reach the bed, grasping the necklace tightly in my hand as if it can provide the answers I need, but realize there’s only one person who can do that, the person who just walked out on me. I start to stand but sit back down quickly, the room beginning to spin, the solid ground I thought I was standing on has shifted, the rug pulled out from underneath me, yet again.

Chapter Thirty-Two – Matt – That’s just crazy

I can’t believe I just walked out on Fran but I didn’t know what the fuck to do or how to handle the thoughts swimming through my brain, the feeling that I was drowning in them. Rounding the corner from her hotel room, I slump down against the wall, my body sliding to the floor. I can’t slow my breathing and there’s an odd prickling under my skin that just won’t go away. I don’t understand, I keep telling myself over and over. I force my eyes closed, the memories flooding my mind, fresh and raw, like a wound that’s now been re-opened.

Brad walked out, his face red, his eyes swollen. He told me Mom wanted to see me next and I steeled myself by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, before I turned the knob and entered her room. She was slumped on the bed and my chest ached at the sight of her sallow skin, her sunken eyes. My mom was still in there and although it didn’t look like her anymore, I could feel her spirit wrap around me, comforting me, even though she was the one who was sick. I took a seat on the chair, pulling it close to the bed so I could be next to her, realizing this could be one of the last moments I might have with her…and I wanted to make it count.

“Mom,” I began, but she silenced me immediately.

“Honey,” she said, her breathing labored, “reach into the top drawer for me and pull out the white box.”

I did as I was told and started to pass it to her, but her thin, frail hand rose to stop me.

“No, Matty, that’s for you. Open it.” She tried to sit up further in the bed but began wheezing and I leaned in to place another pillow behind her head so she could be as comfortable as possible.

I took the top off of the box and inside was a small charm, half of a gold heart.

She squeezed my hand with the little strength she had left, her tired and lifeless eyes meeting my tear-filled ones. “You’re my first-born, Matty. You and I both know that you’ve always had a special place in my heart, a place that’s tucked away, that no one can ever reach. I bought this for you because I want you to remember that. I don’t want you to be tainted and bitter after I’m gone. I don’t want you to be fearful. I want you to be hopeful. I want you to live your life, and someday, even though I won’t be around to see it, you’re going to find a girl who will love you and who you’ll love right back, because you have so much good in you, so much love to give, Matty. Someday you’ll find the other half of your heart.”

A tear slid down my cheek as I pressed her cold hand to my face. “Mom.”

I couldn’t look up at her because I was crying and I wanted to be strong for her, so I moved her hand and held it to my chest, grasping the charm tightly.

“Now,” she whispered, “I don’t expect you to put it on a necklace, I know boys don’t really wear necklaces, but keep it with you as a reminder of your hopeful future.” She hiccupped a breath. “I love you, Matty.”

I climbed onto the bed, snuggling as close as I could to Mom, knowing it was probably for the last time. “I love you, too, Mom.”

And I couldn’t help thinking at that moment that the other half of my heart was dying.

I roughly wipe away the tear escaping down my cheek with the back of my hand and yank the wallet from my pocket. When I open the flap and tip it over, the charm falls into the palm of my hand, the gold heart now dull from time, but the love for my mom stronger than ever.

* * *

With a balled-up fist, I bang on the door to Caleb’s room, pacing the small area in the hallway as I wait.

The door opens and I walk in without a word to find Caleb shirtless in a pair of jeans, his hair wet from a recent shower.

“What’s up, man?” he asks, as he slides a polo shirt over his head. “Hey, by the way, thanks for helping my parents out yesterday. Mom rang me this morning and she really appreciated you coming by…and you’re not even listening to a word I’m saying,” he mumbles when he sees me standing in front of the window in a daze.

I don’t hear his footsteps, only feel the hand that lands on my shoulder a minute later.

“You okay?” he asks sincerely, dragging me from the inner turmoil, my stomach a chaotic mess.

“Not really,” I reply, raking a tense hand through my hair. “Not at all.”

“Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” He takes a firm hold of my arm and pulls me down to the sofa, waiting patiently for me to say something.

I’m not sure where to begin, my brain so muddled with rampant thoughts that there’s no way for my mouth to catch up.

As if Caleb senses my unease, he once again places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Start from the beginning.”

I unclench my sweaty palm, holding up the charm so he can see it. “Remember this?” I ask quietly, shaking my head from side to side, still in disbelief.

“Of course. I remember the day your mom gave it to you.” He picks up the charm, wiping it on his shirt as if to shine it up for me.

I huff out a blast of air. “Fran has the same one.”

He turns his head to me, his brow narrowing. “What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” I reply, scrubbing a hand over my face. “My head is so fucked up right now I don’t know which end is up.”

He sits quietly, letting me gather my thoughts together, as if that’s even possible.

I exhale another hard breath. “Fran and I were together last night and it was fucking amazing,” I murmur, and he cocks his head to the side with a smile. “I went to her room this morning because I was planning on taking her to Long Beach for the day. We were getting ready to leave and I spotted a necklace on the ground.” I squeeze my temples with my fingers to soothe the impending headache. “She has the same one, Caleb, except hers is on a chain. She told me her mom gave it to her for her ninth birthday.”

“Seriously?” he asks, not waiting for me to reply. “That’s fucking crazy and wild all at once.”

Resting my elbows on my knees, I drop my head in my hands. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“You don’t know what to make of it?” He lightly knocks me in the head forcing me to look at him. “I know what to make of it. It’s called fate, meant to be, and all that shit.”

I stare back at him with a pained expression, my chest sore as my heart breaks apart.

“Oh shit, man.” Caleb’s eyebrows pull together in sympathy and shock. “You’re in love with her.” And there’s no question in his tone.

I scrub a hand over my face again while rubbing the back of my neck. “Who said anything about love? That’s not possible. It’s been one fucking week.”

“Really, and who told you that? The love fairy?” He chuckles before he continues, “Dude, there’s no time limit on that shit. My parents got engaged in a month and married four months later, and look at them, they’ve been married more than thirty-five years. You see how they are with one another.” He grins. “I mean, remember Greg Riley and Jill Stevens in high school. They dated for five years before they got married, and guess what? They were married for seven years and then got divorced. I thought I had that with Allison, too, until she ripped my heart out of my chest. She just didn’t feel the same way about me. But when you find it, man, you have to grab it and hold onto it. I see the way Fran looks at you, and I’d stake money on it that she feels the same way. She’s just scared. Peyton told me she’s been through a lot of shit.”

“Yeah, she has.”

“What the hell are you doing sitting with me? Go find her and tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” I tell him, and it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself more than him, I’m not sure.

“Bullshit. I think you know exactly how you feel. I think she threw you for a loop and now you don’t know which end is up. And,” he says, lifting his hands in the air to emphasize his point, “now the heart thing.”

I push myself up off the couch, stuffing the charm in my pocket. “I’ve gotta go.”

“I hope you’re going to see Fran,” he says, his lips pinched together in frustration.

“I can’t right now. I need time to think.” I head for the door but look over my shoulder. “Thanks, man. You know after twenty-five years, you’re it for me,” I attempt a joke and he laughs, even though right now I can’t laugh with him.

“Get out of here and go get your girl. At least one of us can get the girl and walk off into the sunset.”

I only wish it were that easy.

Chapter Thirty-Three – Fran – The list

It’s been four hours and I haven’t heard a word from Matt since he walked out on me. I’ve left him three voicemails and sent four text messages and he hasn’t responded to any of them. And where am I? In the same place he left me four hours ago. I haven’t moved and I’ve barely breathed. I’m sitting here with this stupid shell clasped tightly in my hand as if it has special powers, as if it can bring him back to me.

I yank his t-shirt from the drawer and slide it on before curling into a ball under the covers, and that’s when the tears finally come, and they don’t stop. I’ve been waiting for them and wondering what took them so long.

It feels like someone is twisting a knife in my gut. Without a word, without a touch or even a glance, and with no explanation, he simply left. The look on his face was one of pure terror. Maybe he finally realized how broken I am and how perfect he is and that the two don’t go together. You wouldn’t mix up the original Mona Lisa with the replica. One is beautiful and perfect while the other has a faint crack just behind her eyes and if you look closely enough you can see she’s imperfect, flawed, not good enough.

The tears are dropping off my cheeks, soaking the pillow and Matt’s shirt, while the hole in my heart has resurfaced, the one I actually thought was finally repaired. I was better off before, trying to forget with meaningless sex. Instead, I created something meaningful and now I just want to fucking forget it.

I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head trying to block out the hurt that I’ve developed an intimate relationship with over the years. But I’m a glutton for punishment because my cell phone is glued to my side. I’m still hoping to get the call I so desperately long for.

* * *

When my eyes open again, the sun is setting over the horizon and I realize I’ve been asleep for several hours. As soon as I get my bearings, I scramble for my cell phone under the covers only to find there are no missed calls, no voicemail messages, only a single text from Peyton.

Are you back from Long Beach yet?

I never left.

That’s all I type back before my head hits the pillow again.

For a second, I start to worry that maybe something happened to Matt, but deep down I know he’s okay. He just doesn’t want to see me. Tears that I’ve cried burn my eyes and now new ones are falling, the realization setting in that whatever we had is over…if we ever had anything to begin with. Maybe it was all a figment of my imagination because I wanted so desperately for it to be real.

It’s amazing how your life can do a complete 180 in seven days. A laugh bubbles up in my throat, but it tastes bitter. Almost a week ago I was terrified to step onto the plane and now I can’t wait to get back on that same plane and get out of here. This was all some made up dream that I manufactured for myself, and I’ll admit it was perfect. Well, up until the end.

It didn’t make any sense before, but now it’s all falling into place. Why he didn’t want to talk about what we were doing, what we were? Because we were nothing to him…except seven days of fun, with the promise of sex. I don’t know how I could have misjudged him, although Peyton warned me before I left that this is what people do at these things and I ignored her. But it doesn’t matter, I dreamt it all and I’m wide awake now and whatever we had is done and gone. He was just a tiny blip on the screen that is my life. I’ll never make the same mistake again.

When the tears finally subside, the hurt turns ugly and anger sets in. I feel used, manipulated, and like I’m a really poor judge of character because I truly thought Matt was different. I guess when it comes down to it, it’s not really his fault. I mean, what did I expect? That we’d ride off into the sunset together? Maybe I did.

My phone dings and my heart soars right along with it. With a shaky hand I pick it up and nearly drop it, closing my eyes and making a silent wish. When the letters on the text don’t spell out Matt’s name, my heart breaks all over again.

It takes me a second to figure out who it is because I clearly can’t distinguish my head from my ass right now.

I’m on my way back to the hotel. Are you up for getting together tonight? Ryan

Ryan. That’s the last thing I need right now. But then I feel the festering anger wrestling with the hurt inside my chest, overpowering it by a landslide. So, I text Ryan back.

Sure. I’ll meet you at 8 in the bar.

Fuck it. Matt is now just one more thing on my list of things to forget.

Chapter Thirty-Four – Matt - Thunderstorms

I’ve been driving around aimlessly for hours with no direction in sight and it feels oddly reminiscent of my life. I think back to this morning, the look on Fran’s face just before I walked out the door and I don’t even know who I was walking away from—her or myself.

I’m such an asshole. She’s been calling and texting me all day and I haven’t responded, not once, mostly because I don’t know what to say.

My mind is filled with images raining down on me like a thunderstorm, complete with lightning. Fran is that little spark of lightning. A bolt, a spontaneous flash that stormed into my life and shook me to the core…and now I’m drenched in her. That dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that tiny crease in her forehead when she’s confused, the way the green in her eyes reminds me of a summer’s day, her curves that I can now map with my eyes closed.

But most of all, her spirit, filled with hope and beauty, and light.

My sunshine.

Even now my heart squeezes tight just thinking about her, needing to see her, touch her, taste her, breathe her in. Is that love? I’m embarrassed to say that I’m thirty-three years old and I don’t have a fucking answer. I’ve been with plenty of women, but no one has come close to what Fran makes me feel.

I turn a corner, find a Starbucks and an empty space. I jerk the car into park and reach in my pocket, pulling out the charm and gripping it tightly in my hand, hoping that if I squeeze hard enough, I can feel Mom. I really need her right now. And that’s when it occurs to me. I know what I have to do.

* * *

I’m standing on the doorstep of this familiar house, wondering if, no, hoping she’s home. I ring the doorbell while twirling my keys non-stop, unable to look away from the happy clown staring back at me. The one that makes me think of Fran and smile, my heart doing a steady gallop in my chest.

After a few minutes, I’ve given up on the fact that anyone is home and start walking to my car when the front door opens. Mrs. Brody wears her usual warm smile but she’s covered in dust from head to toe, a broom in her hand, a sheen of white powder stuck to her barley-colored hair.

“Hi, sweetie. I’m so glad I caught you before you took off. I was cleaning out the basement, as you can see from the lovely display of dust balls. I’d hug you, but well”—she waves her hand over her body in a sweeping motion—“wouldn’t want to get you all dusty. Come on in.”

She sets the broom down and brushes herself off on the mat in back of the door. “I’m so happy to see you, and two days in a row,” she says, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “I’ve got pie.”

“I don’t think pie’s gonna do it for me today, Ma,” I reply, and her lips pull down into a deep frown before she takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she commands gently, pointing to a chair, and she opens the fridge and snags the pie. She slices me a piece and fills a glass with ice water before coming to sit back down. “Just in case.” She pats my hand and smiles. “So tell me what’s going on? Because if you’re not interested in my pie, that’s problematic.”

Once again, I dig into my pocket to retrieve the charm and place it on the table in front of her. “Remember when my mom gave me this?”

She picks it up and flips it with her fingers, admiring it. “Of course I do, honey.”

“Well….” I swallow and gather the courage to continue. “This morning I discovered that Fran has the same one.”

Her eyes widen, her forehead wrinkling in surprise. “What do you mean? The same one?”

“She has a necklace with half a heart on it. Apparently her mother gave it to her for her ninth birthday. I don’t know much about it because I left right after I saw it.”

She taps a finger against her mouth, her eyes sailing upward for a minute. “Hmph, well, that’s quite a coincidence, dare I say more than a coincidence.” She meets my gaze again. “But, what’s really bothering you?”

“I’m overwhelmed. I have…feelings for her and I can’t figure them out. She’s gonna go back to New York. Caleb thinks I’m in love with her-—”

“Are you?” she interrupts, her chair scraping against the floor as she pulls it closer to the table.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before so I don’t know what it feels like. But…I’ve only known her for a week so that’s just not possible.”

“Who told you that?” She drags a book from across the table and pretends to randomly flip through the pages. “Is there some rule book somewhere that says that? No, there isn’t, because there are no rules when it comes to the heart, Matt. If there were, sweetie, no one would ever fall in love.”

“But,” I add, “how do I know what this feeling is if I’ve never felt it before?” As I hear myself say the words, I realize I sound like a teenage boy and not a grown man. Maybe I’m still that boy. The one who watched his mother slip away. Maybe I’m incapable of love. Maybe that part of me died when she did.

She leans in and rests her hand over mine, the warmth of it calming and I let out a deep sigh. “Sit in the quiet, sweetie, and listen to your heart. Just the simple fact that you can’t recognize it and you’ve never felt it before should be telling you that it’s something special.”

I lift up the fork and flick the piecrust around, picking at it. “I just can’t make sense out of any of this.”

“Love doesn’t make sense, Matt. It’s messy and crazy, lovely and wonderful, and sometimes, it’s maddening.” She winks and swipes some whipped cream from the pie. “There’s something else, though. Something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

And that’s why I love her. She knows me, just as if she’d given birth to me, and that simple fact brings an appreciative smile to my face, makes me feel loved.

I pick up the charm, running my finger over the smooth surface of the heart. “I’m scared. The people I’ve loved most in my life, I’ve lost. I’m afraid I’m going to lose her, too.”

“Oh honey.” She cups my face in her palms. “You have to allow yourself to find her first.”

Chapter Thirty-Five – Fran – A temporary fix

The makeup I’m attempting to put on isn’t doing the trick. It’s not covering the dark circles under my eyes and it certainly isn’t doing what I need it to do the most—conceal my broken heart.

I do the best I can to make myself presentable. Luckily the bar is dark and Ryan probably won’t even notice, not that I care anyway. I’ve decided to fly back to New York tomorrow so I can forget LA and everyone associated with it.

My limbs feel lethargic, weighted down by fatigue and sadness as I walk out to the bedroom. I’m trying to stay angry so I can get through tonight, but it’s impossible. As it is, I have to resist the urge to crawl back into bed and disappear until tomorrow. But I won’t hide. I’m done hiding and I’m going to prove it tonight. I’m going to show Ryan the real Fran.

The black dress will work. It’s revealing where I need it to be, but not too revealing where I’ll look like I’m trying too hard. After sliding it on, I pile my hair up into a messy ponytail, leaving a couple of strands dangling around my face. I slip on my black Loubotins and take one last look at myself in the full-length mirror before I stagger to the elevators.

When the car doors open, I don’t even notice Peyton in the elevator. Somehow my brain is sending a message to my feet to walk but that’s just about all I can manage at this point.

“Hey, I was just coming to find you,” she says when I step inside, attempting to avoid her gaze and the impending questions I’m not in the mood to answer. “How come you didn’t go away today? Did Matt have to go in and work on that project again?”

“No,” I say, focusing on the wall, refusing to meet her eyes. “I saw him this morning but then he left and I haven’t heard from him since.”

“What happened?” she asks, moving closer to me and working hard to get my attention.

I look up finally, my tone void of any emotion. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Peyton.”

She backs off, surprisingly, and I must be dishing out some pretty strong vibes for her to do so. “So where are you going dressed like that?”

“I’m going down to the bar to meet Ryan,” I state flatly.

“Ryan?” She tilts her head to the side with a questioning look.

“Yes, remember the guy I introduced you to at that club we went to?” I say, brushing off an invisible piece of lint from my dress.

She casts me a disapproving look just as the doors to the elevator open but I walk out quickly, sensing her heavy footsteps behind me. Her hand reaches out to seize my wrist and I stop, breathing out a rush of air. “Don’t do something you’re going to regret, Fran.”

“The only thing I regret walked away from me this morning.”

“You don’t mean that,” she says, her eyes brimming with sympathy, her grip loosening on my wrist.

“Oh yes, I do, and now I’m going back to my old ways, because that’s what works for me.”

“Fran,” she scolds, like I’m about to dip my hand in the cookie jar again.

“It’s okay, Peyton. I’m tough and I’ll be okay.”

After all, what’s one more lie in a sea of painful truths?

* * *

I smooth my dress down and attempt a deep, calming breath before I enter the bar. Ryan is already there, sitting on a stool with his arm casually draped over the counter, a drink sloshing around in his hand, his other hand sifting through his dark brown hair. He’s still gorgeous but he does nothing for me, as much as I wish the opposite were true.

Once again, I almost have to laugh at the irony. When I first saw him on the plane, I would have fucked him senseless in that tiny stall they call a bathroom. But right here, right now, he’s the last person I want and this is the last place I want to be. As that final thought hits me and I realize this is a mistake, I pivot to leave, when I hear my name.

“Fran!”

My nerves are frayed at the edges, my eyes tired and unfocused, but I steel myself with another deep breath and make my way toward him. “Hey, Ryan.”

“Wow,” he says, appraising me like I’m on display, “you look fantastic.”

“Thanks,” I reply with little enthusiasm, as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His lips look soft but when they touch my skin they feel rough like sandpaper…because they’re the wrong lips.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, and I say yes because I need something so take the ache in my chest away…and I need something strong.

“I’ll have a vodka and cranberry, heavy on the vodka.”

He eyes me curiously before flagging the bartender so he can order my drink. While he’s distracted, I sneak a glance at my cell phone just in case I have any missed calls and when there aren’t any, the reality I’ve been struggling to face all day comes crashing down on me.

“Here you go.” Ryan hands me my drink and I immediately gulp half of it down, a welcome burn hitting the back of my throat.

“Whoa. Take it easy there, darlin’,” he says, but I ignore him and drain the rest of the glass.

“Can you get me one more, please?” I ask, smiling and batting my eyelashes. It’s always worked for me in the past and I need it to work now more than ever.

“Sure, Fran. But I think you need to slow down. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be face down in no time.”

Exactly.

Ryan finds us a table by the terrace, and of course, he has to pick the same table Matt and I were sitting at that first night in the bar, which calls for another rather large sip of my drink.

“So what did you think of the conference?” he asks, and I hear the words come out of his mouth yet they sound fuzzy. There’s warmth brewing in my belly as the alcohol kicks in and everything starts to look a little brighter. It’s a temporary fix but I’ll take it.

“It was…interesting at times, but I was a bit bored if I’m honest.” I smile, a happy alcohol-induced smile, and he grins back at me. He really does have a nice smile and I bet those lips could help me forget all about dimples, clowns, and tight-asses, both in the literal and figurative sense.

The music gets louder and Ryan rounds the table. “Let’s dance, beautiful.”

If I hear that word one more fucking time, I might scream.

“Oh…sure,” I reply, and as I stand up, the heel of my sandal catches on a loop in the carpet and I land in Ryan’s arms. “Sorry.” I’m trying to be serious but instead I start laughing.

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” he says, brushing a piece of hair away from my face. “Let’s go.”

He puts his arms around my waist and I barely manage to reach around his neck because of our height difference. I end up with my head on his chest, breathing in the scent of heavy cologne that’s overpowering my senses. My eyes drift closed and I pretend that he’s who I desperately want him to be—my favorite combination of tight-ass and kind-hearted soul…and that he loves me.

Chapter Thirty-Six – Matt – Tick, tock

I had one stop to make before I headed back to the hotel. There’s something I needed to do to show Fran how serious I am about her and how much she means to me.

I’m driving like a freaking lunatic and I’ll be lucky if I make it back to the hotel in one piece. It’s been twelve hours since I’ve seen my sunshine, and yes, I’ve been counting every damn one of them.

There’s so much I need to say to her. First, I need to apologize for walking out, but I’m hopeful that once she hears what I have to say, once she knows how I feel, she’ll forgive me and realize I’m not an asshole of epic proportions. I’m scared to death of what comes next, after the words leave my mouth, but I’m willing to take the risk…because she’s worth it.

I’ve never been a big believer in fate or things that are meant to be. That kind of shit gets stripped from you when you watch the people you cherish most in the world die so young and the only question you can ask is, “Why?” But I’ll admit now that everything I knew to be true, all my theories about life have been tested, jammed in my face so I have no choice but to look. Even as I think about it, I have to shake my head at the craziness of it all. Brad finding Gabby, Fran being Gabby’s best friend, Fran having the necklace.

But whatever the reason, whatever brought us together, I’m thankful and I’m not going to waste another minute wondering why or how because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is what I do next.

* * *

By the time I finally do reach the hotel, my nerves are shot and I break out into a full-blown sweat. The back of my neck is drenched and I use my palm to wipe the moisture away as I stumble onto the elevator and press the button for Fran’s floor. My mind is running through various scenarios of how this could all play out—and there I go again, analyzing every detail, trying to determine the end result. But this isn’t a building site I’m evaluating, nor is it a blueprint that I can finely tune…this is the real deal. This involves people and feelings and things that are completely out of my control—and that terrifies me.

The car jolts to a stop when it reaches the twenty-third floor and the accompanying ding sounds loudly in my ears. I exhale a breath, trying to steady myself as I walk out toward the door to Fran’s hotel room. After flexing my fingers a couple of times and letting out one more breath, I rap on the door. When there’s no answer on the first try, I knock again and wait. After five minutes I figure she’s not in there unless she’s sleeping, and I doubt she’s sleeping at nine o’clock. I race through all the possibilities of where she might be, and given she doesn’t have a vehicle, assume she’s either in the restaurant or the bar.

The bar is packed but I spot Caleb and Peyton at a table in the front corner and figure Peyton will know where to find Fran. I’m on my way over when I’m stopped dead in my tracks. I blink a couple of times to make sure I’m not seeing things. Fran is dancing with what looks like that guy from the club, her head snuggled into his shirt, his arms wrapped around her waist. My teeth grind together and anger burns my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Without thinking, I march over to them, trying to control the rage warring inside of me.

“Fran?”

She turns her head and when I notice the flush on her cheeks and the giddy smile on her lips, I practically lose my shit.

“What the fuck, Fran?”

“Hey, what’s the problem?” the guy says, and I can’t even remember his fucking name.

I shoot him a warning glare. “Stay out of this, man.” I turn back to Fran. “I want to talk to you.” I grab her arm in an attempt to pull her away but he clamps his hand around her waist, and when I see Fran’s smile disappear, I’ve had enough.

“Take your fucking hands off of her,” I bite out, not letting go of her arm.

“Who the fuck are you?” he spits, and while I haven’t punched anyone since I was in sixth grade, he’s making me want to take a swing at him and relive my childhood.

“If you don’t take your fucking hands off of her, you’re going to find out,” I bark, and that’s when I hear Caleb’s voice behind me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He lays a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to get me to back off, but I’m not going anywhere without Fran. I try a different tactic.

“Fran, I just want to talk to you. Can you give me a few minutes?”

She puts her hand on Ryan’s arm and a flash of red clouds my vision. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Sure, Fran,” he complies, lucky for him because I had the sudden urge to pretend I was in middle school again.

With a quick glance back to Caleb and a thank you for backing me up, I pull Fran behind me but she bats my hand away, serving to irritate me further.

“I can walk,” she says stubbornly, and when we reach the hall, I turn around to find she’s no longer following me. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, a scowl lining her pretty mouth.

“What do you want, Matt?” Her speech is slurred while her posture is rigid, but I can see right through her. I notice the slight widening of her eyes, the pursing of her lips. She’s hurt and I don’t blame her. I walked out on her without as much as a word after we made love…because that’s what we did.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re an asshole,” she sneers, refusing to move which only infuriates me more.

“Fran. You’ve got two choices. You can either come with me to my room, or I’m going to pick you up and carry you out of here. You choose.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She glares at me, and I cock a brow, my lips twitching at her words.

“Oh, Fran,” I say, shaking my head, “haven’t you learned anything by now?” I stalk over to her and lift her up under her knees, throwing her over my shoulder.

“Put me the hell down!” she shouts, pounding hard on my back, making me grip her more firmly. “Put me down, Matt!”

After a few minutes, she finally stops protesting and I half wonder if she’s fallen asleep so I gently tug on her hair.

“Ow,” she snaps in response and it makes me chuckle.

“Don’t go to sleep on me. We have some things to talk about.” I say, determination filling every vein in my body.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she replies with a feisty, high-pitched voice.

“Good, then you can listen, smartass.”

I don’t let her down until I’ve got her tucked away in my room, but she stays close to the door as if it’s some sort of safety net.

“Hurry up.” She folds her arms over her chest and taps her foot on the carpet, staring at her watch. “I need to get back to Ryan.”

I flinch at the sound of his name, taking a hard swallow so I can continue. “Ryan…I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing with him.”

“What do you care?” she hisses, making me take a couple of steps toward her, while still giving her space.

“I want to show you something. Let’s go sit down.” I offer her my hand but she waves me off, so I nod toward the sofa by the window.

“I’m fine standing and you’ve got ten minutes before I’m going back downstairs.” She leans against the door and all I can think about is how damn sexy she is when she’s stubborn.

“Fran, stow your feisty side for a second and come sit down with me, please.” I beg her with my eyes, hoping they’ll be more convincing than my words.

She throws her hands up in the air and I smile. “Fine, but the clock’s ticking.”

After she sits down, I turn to face her while she fights to avoid my gaze. “Listen, I’m sorry I left this morning. I know I acted like a jerk but I kind of freaked out and I didn’t know how to handle it.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the charm and hold it up, my heart thrashing loudly against my chest as I wait for her reaction.

It’s almost as if I can read her now, the pained look in her green eyes, the way she’s biting her lower lip, the cute little wrinkle in her forehead. I see the internal struggle playing out, the longing mixed with anger, and I’m just praying anger loses the tug of war.

She inches closer and squints to get a better look before she plucks it out of my hand. “Where did you get this?”

“My mom gave it to me…just before she died, and, when I saw you had one, too…well, I lost it.” I pause, wanting to get this right. “She told me that someday I’d find the other half of my heart, and I have found it, Fran, I’ve found you.”

My words seem to have little effect on her, the look on her face giving nothing away as she stares at it before thrusting it back at me. “So what, it still doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t mean anything? The hell it doesn’t.” I stand up and begin pacing the floor, struggling to find the right words. “It means something to me. You mean something to me. Jesus Christ, Fran, don’t you get it? I want to give you the fucking fairytale!” I scrape a hand through my hair, my feet wearing down the carpet. “My life, it’s never been a fairytale either, Fran, my mother and sister dying, my father walking out. But you, you blew into my life, like a strong gust of wind—actually, more like a fucking tornado—and now I don’t want to go back to the way I was before. I want who I am when I’m with you, who I became the day I met you!” My voice softens, the anger melting away. “You make me want, Fran. You brought me hope…but most of all…you brought me back to life.”

She doesn’t say anything. I can tell she’s trying to be resolute, but her eyes are filling with tears. I cover my head with my hands and try to rein in my emotions…and then I make a decision. I stalk toward her and lift her to her feet, crashing my lips to hers in desperation, removing the air between us, leaving her with no choice…but to hopefully accept me.

In the absence of words, the slide of her tongue, the way her hand slips to the back of my neck and holds me there, and the soft noises coming from her throat give me a sliver of hope.

I lace my fingers through her hair before I break the kiss, staying close to her lips, but far enough so she can see my eyes. “I didn’t even know what this feeling was until now…until you. Jesus, I think about you all the time. During the day I can’t concentrate because you invade my mind, and at night I can’t sleep because when I close my eyes, you’re all I see. Every little detail. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking, that tiny freckle you have on the bridge of your nose, the way your eyes glimmer with that little spark and make me feel alive. Hearing your laugh and seeing you smile lights me up inside, fills me with a happiness I never even knew was possible. I love you, Fran. And even though it scares the shit out of me, and the thought that maybe I could lose you terrifies me, I can’t let you go without telling you how I feel.”

Her tears are falling heavily now, and my heart stops beating as I wait patiently for anything she might say, just as long as she doesn’t walk away from me. She cradles my face, tracing the angle of my jaw with her thumb. “I love you, too,” she whispers through her tears.

“Baby, thank God.” I sigh with relief, holding her tight because now that she’s told me how she feels, I’ll never let her go. I need her like I need air to breathe.

Her lips part and I hear a subtle intake of breath before I slide my tongue inside her mouth and she wraps around me, our sensual dance causing me to shiver and goose bumps to break out across the nape of her neck. I love the feel of her mouth, the softness of her lips. I want nothing more than to make ridiculous amounts of love to her all night long. But I have something I need to share with her first.

I take her hand and lead her over to the bed. “I want to show you something,” I tell her, and her eyebrows lift with her smile and I know what she’s thinking. My dirty girl. “Yes, I want to show you that, too, but not yet.” I chuckle, feathering my hand across her cheek. Pulling her onto my lap, I roll up the sleeve of my shirt to reveal a white bandage that I instantly peel back. Her mouth falls open and hangs there, staring at the tattoo sprawled around my bicep, the word “Sunshine” in black script.

Her eyes flare with tears as her mouth opens and closes and I watch her grapple for words…but sometimes there are no words. So I kiss her, and it’s a kiss that says all the things I now know we both feel. It’s a kiss filled with longing and need, and love, so much damn love my heart feels like it might burst.

She pulls away and I smudge the tears now staining her cheeks. “So you decided to finally shed your tight-ass image once and for all by getting a tattoo?”

“No. I wanted a reminder of you, sunshine, every day.”

“You’re insane…you’ve known me for seven days,” she says, and even though she’s protesting, the smile she’s trying to hide says she loves it.

“Yes.” I stare at the other half of my heart, my second chance. “But I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”

Epilogue – One Year Later – Fran

The sun pours through the pale blue curtains of my bedroom window as I crack open my sleepy eyes. I wake up smiling now, and I have every day since Matt told me he loved me. Turning my head to the side, I stare at the picture of us we had taken two months ago at the beach in Malibu. We’ve been seeing each other every weekend for the past year. Either he comes to New York or I fly out to Los Angeles. It’s amazing how flying doesn’t bother me anymore, especially when I know he’s waiting for me at the other end.

I started seeing a therapist again eleven months ago and I feel stronger than ever. She’s helped me to get to know who I am now, the strong person I’ve become, the strong person I never realized I was, that I’m so much more than just the sum of my scars and my broken past. I’ve finally come to understand that love is a choice for me, not something I need to feel better about myself. The only person who holds that power is me. It makes me smile because it makes me think of Matt. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, I chose him and he’s the best choice I’ve ever made.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text and I already know who it is before I reach for it. Matt sends me a text every morning with a countdown and a cute message. Today is Tuesday and he’ll be here Friday night, and even without his notes, my own internal clock tells me what day it is.

I won’t deny it’s been difficult. The long-distance relationship thing is draining, mostly because I love seeing him on Friday, but when Sunday comes, it’s really hard to say goodbye. There’s nothing better than falling asleep in his arms and waking up curled into his side, but when Monday rolls around and the other side of my bed is empty my heart aches with longing.

With my back propped against the pillow, I grab my phone and get comfortable so I can soak up his words.

Morning, sunshine! 3 more days until we can have mad, passionate sex. Until then, my hand and your picture are getting quite a workout. Miss you and love you. xo M

“Oh my God!” I snort, laughing so hard that Peyton pokes her head inside the door.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, but then she smiles. “Let me guess. Loverboy?”

I make a popping sound with my lips and grin. “Three more days.”

“You guys are very cute. Nauseating, but cute,” she says, plopping down on the bed, shoveling a piece of a bagel in her mouth.

“So have you talked to Caleb?” I ask, arching a brow and plucking the rest of the bagel from her hand.

“Yeah, we talked about a month ago.” She shrugs. “He said he might be in Manhattan in a few weeks on business.”

“Oh?” I reply nonchalantly, taking a bite of the bagel. “Well, I was talking to Matt last night and he mentioned that Caleb still isn’t seeing anyone…just in case you were interested in that information.”

“Is that so?” Her lips tip up into a wide grin and she sprawls out on the bed with a satisfied stretch of her arms. “Just so happens I’m not seeing anyone, either.”

We burst out into a fit of laughter that makes my stomach hurt. It feels good to laugh. This is what happy feels like and I love every minute of it.

“So do you want to come with me to get coffee? I’m meeting Gabby at The Brew House.” I smile. “You know, Matt’s brother’s coffee shop.”

“Yeah, I know the place,” she retorts, “I can’t this morning, though. I have to meet with the vice president about a new client. Let’s have lunch today, instead. I want to try that new Italian place that opened up near Lexington.”

“Sure, sounds good. All right, I’m hitting the shower. I’ll see you at the office.” I breeze out the door, grabbing the other half of bagel left on the kitchen counter and a quick glass of juice before heading into the shower.

* * *

The Brew House is crowded when I arrive, the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls making my stomach grumble the moment I step foot inside. Brad spots me, giving me his trademark dimpled smile and a wave, instantly making me think of Matt. Emotion climbs up and clogs my throat but I clear it a few times and barrel through the crowd to find Gabby, already waiting for me at a table.

“Hey, you hot, engaged woman!” I say excitedly, and her face beams with happiness as she lifts her hand up to admire her ring. “When the hell is Brad going to make an honest woman out of you? It’s been like…umm…two years!” I drag out the last word for effect.

“We’re getting closer. It’s almost time to shop for your Maid of Honor’s dress.” She takes a bite of her chocolate chip muffin. “Should be tons of fun.” She winks, handing me the coffee she so thoughtfully ordered for me.

“Yes, well, as long as it shows good cleavage and knocks Matt’s socks off, that’s all that matters.” I peel a corner of her muffin off and toss it in my mouth. “Hmmm…that’s good.”

“Speaking of Matt, how is he?” she asks, leaning back in her chair and tapping a finger against her lightly-glossed lips.

“He’s great.” I sigh. “Except, I miss him terribly. But, he’ll be here on Friday so I’m just counting down the hours. And,” I say with a wide smile, “it looks like he’ll be moving here at the end of the year. He’s going to open up an office in New York City.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that from Brad. So since he’ll be here this weekend, maybe we can all go out on Saturday night or something?” she asks with a strange grin on her face and a speckle of mischief in her brown eyes.

“Is that a joke? Because Matt and I won’t be leaving my room all weekend.” I take a sip of coffee and eye her speculatively over the rim of it. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, attempting to look serious but failing miserably.

“What are you up to?” I narrow my gaze, my mind buzzing with possibilities.

“I’m not up to anything.” She chews on her muffin, but she’s hiding behind her cup. “I just thought it would be fun if we could all hang out.”

“Hmph, how long have we known each other? You’re up to something. I can see the gears churning, the plot thickening inside your brain.”

She laughs, spitting out a piece of muffin across the table. “You’re delusional.”

I’m about to come back with a sarcastic retort when something catches my attention, my ears perking up and my mouth lifting in a smile.

“What is it?” Gabby asks, tilting her head, a question in her eyes.

“It’s silly. I thought I heard something that reminded me of Matt. Never mind,” I say, brushing it off…until I hear it again. “What is that?”

“What’s what?” she asks. “I don’t hear anything.”

I look over my shoulder and see a crowd gathering on the sidewalk. “What’s going on out there?”

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out,” she suggests, setting her coffee down and following me outside.

As I get closer to the door, the music gets louder and my heart beats a little bit faster because I recognize the song. It’s the beginning of “This Love” by Tyrone Wells. The same song that Matt and I first danced to at the hotel. My stomach is hit with the oddest sensation as if a million butterflies are tickling my belly, telling me something in a whisper. I push the door open and my hand flies to my mouth but not before a gasp manages to escape. Peyton and Caleb are hovering together on the sidewalk and Matt is standing on the roof of Brad’s car. I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my entire life. The song is blaring from the speakers, and Matt’s smiling down on me like I’m the only person he sees.

Tears blur my eyes as they lock with his, my knees threatening to collapse underneath me at the sheer sight of him. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing on top of Brad’s car, but I don’t really care. He’s here and that’s all that matters.

His smile is larger than life and draws so much of my attention that I almost don’t notice he has something in his hands. He’s holding a stack of large, white note cards with bold, black letters on them. As the tears stream down my face, he holds up the first card.

Once upon a time there was a boy named Matt

Then the next card…

Who met a girl named Fran

And the next…

She was beautiful

And FEISTY

And she had a heart of gold

She barreled into his life

And into his heart

With her spirit

And her smartass mouth

The boy thought he had everything in order

In his perfect little life

Except he didn’t realize how far from perfect it really was

Until this amazing girl came crashing in

And now he’s happy

Because she’s by his side

So hey there, little spark

I hope you like fairytales with happy endings…

Matt jumps down from the car and when his eyes land on mine, I realize that everything in my life has led to this, to him, and this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

He drops down on one knee just in time for the song to fade out, my heart hammering against my chest, my eyes wide open to this moment. Tears are continuing to slide down my cheeks through my smile, and my throat is thick with so much emotion that I can barely breathe. A sheen of sweat builds on his forehead, glistening as the sun hits it.

“You’re sweating,” I say with a shaky voice, heavy with tears.

“I’m nervous,” he tells me, the sweat trickling down his skin, and I lift a finger to wipe it away. “I’ve never done this before.”

“I certainly hope not,” I tease, arching a brow and grinning, and his lips soften into a relaxed smile.

He takes my hand and places a kiss to the inside of my palm before pressing it to his cheek. “I didn’t rehearse some big speech because I wanted this to be spontaneous. I didn’t know much about that word before I met you. Before you, everything in my life was controlled, planned, well-thought out…boring. But then you appeared and you turned everything upside down. You flipped me on my ass, Fran. You showed me there was another way to live. You showed me how to love and God, I love you so much, Fran. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. You’re all I breathe….”

He blows out a breath, his voice cracking. “I want to build sandcastles with you. I want to hold your hand when you’re scared and I want you to draw strength from my smile when yours is faltering. I want to make you laugh and I want to be the one to make you cry joyful tears when I’ve done something that stirs your heart, the way you’ve stirred mine. You’re the last person I want to see when night falls and you’re the first one I want to see when my eyes open to a new day. I want to be the one you entrust your heart, you mind, and your body to every day for the rest of our lives.

Ride off into the sunset with me, Fran….

Marry me.”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I push wisps of hair away from his face and see the same happiness in his eyes that I feel, seeing the man that I love, the man that I choose. “Y-yes…I-I want to marry you, Matt…more than anything.”

His smile blinds me into silence as he reaches into his pocket and slides a shockingly beautiful princess-cut diamond ring on my finger, the sparkles dancing in the sunlight. With my mouth still hanging open, he lifts me off my feet and swings me around before gently placing me back on the ground.

He draws me in, taking my face between the warmth of his hands. “You see the effect you have on me. I’ve become a rebel. I ink my skin and stand on top of cars now.”

I press my lips to the corner of his mouth. “You’re a crazy delinquent.”

“No, just crazy for you, sunshine,” he says, his bright blue eyes smiling down on me. He lowers a hand, digging in his pocket again, and just as I start to wonder what he’s doing, he pulls out the heart charm. With a shy smile that melts my insides, he holds it out in front of me. “I think this belongs to you.” He drapes my hair over my shoulder with gentle hands and then reaches around to unclasp my necklace with the other half, the one I wear every day. Taking the charm, he threads it onto the chain, slides it next to mine, and places it around my neck. He cups my face, his thumbs doing a slow caress of my cheeks. “Now my heart is where it belongs—and I’m where I belong—with you.”

Tears cloud my eyes again and he wipes them away. “You sure do say the sweetest things, Matt Dixon.”

His answering smile is so dazzling that it takes my breath away. “So…isn’t this the part of the fairytale where I get to kiss you?”

“God, I hope so.”

MATT

“You don’t actually think you’re getting the last word in, do you?” I tease, and she grins, her lips eagerly brushing mine.

“Shut up and kiss me, Dixon.”

Then my lips find hers, the roar of the crowd fades, it’s just her and I….

And I’ve finally come home.

Acknowledgements

To Richard, Isabella, and Richie, the three loves of my life, for being incredibly patient, supportive, and understanding while I sat endlessly at my computer writing this story. I love the three of you more than anything in the world and could not do this without you.

To my soul sister Nikki; for your friendship, your wisdom, your honesty, your telepathic abilities, and for always knowing just the right thing to say. You are a treasure and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, for your suggestions, your enthusiasm, and your support. I love you to the moon and back.

To Cheryl, for your inspiration, your friendship, your encouragement, your suggestions that were absolutely invaluable, your support, your excitement about my novel, and for writing one of my favorite books of all time. Thank you for making time for me always, even when I know you had a million other things to do!

To Sunniva, thank you for your friendship, for taking the time to read my story, for your amazing comments, and all your positive thoughts and encouragement! I feel very blessed to know you!

To Chris, Monica, Devon, A.J., Heidi, Vi, and L.M., thank you for the gift of your friendship and for making me laugh and smile, for sharing stories and supporting me, and even sometimes holding my hand along this crazy, amazing journey! To Natalie and Mary, thank you for making me laugh out loud on more than one occasion, for your friendship, your kindness, your support, and for helping to organize me and my book tours, I appreciate you both so much.

To all my friends in the indie author community and outside, thank you for your advice, your thoughtfulness, your willingness to share and selflessly promote, and for inspiring me every day.

A special thank you to all of the bloggers who take time out of their very hectic lives to read, review, promote, and share. I know blogging isn’t easy when you have so many balls you’re juggling in the air, so I thank you. I appreciate it very much and there’s no way I could get word out about my book without you.

To Regina Wamba for designing an absolutely gorgeous cover, and making the thoughts in my head become a beautiful reality.

To Lea, what can I say? Thank you for your wisdom, your advice, your suggestions, for the countless hours you spent helping me polish my baby to perfection, and for understanding my crazy ways because I wanted it to be the best it could be – and for feeling the same way.

Thank you to Julie for taking the time and effort to proofread my novel.

Thank you to Angela at Fictional Formats for always transforming my novel and making it look so beautiful, and for having the patience of a saint.

Finally, thank you so much to all of my readers. Even though I write, I find it hard to put into words what it means to me to have you read and enjoy my stories. Thank you for your never-ending support and kind words. There’s no better feeling in the world…except maybe love. ☺

Many thanks and much love!

Content

Scarred Beautiful
by
Beth Michele

Prologue – Fran - 7 years old

Chapter One – Fran - Expressive Dramatic

Chapter Two – Matt – Roses, anyone?

Chapter Three – Fran – Leaving on a jet plane

Chapter Four – Matt – One condition

Chapter Five – Fran – Goodbye girl

Chapter Six – Matt – A crazy coincidence

Chapter Seven – Fran – The stick

Chapter Eight – Matt – Dirty thoughts

Chapter Nine – Fran - Scars

Chapter Ten – Matt – Gotta love aggravation

Chapter Eleven – Fran – Verbal sparring

Chapter Twelve – Matt – Little Spark

Chapter Thirteen – Fran – I dare you

Chapter Fourteen – Matt – Castles in the sand

Chapter Fifteen – Fran – Smile, Smile, Smile

Chapter Sixteen – Matt – Scary clowns

Chapter Seventeen – Fran – Let loose

Chapter Eighteen – Matt - Sunshine

Chapter Nineteen – Fran – Decent company

Chapter Twenty – Matt – Alphabetizing

Chapter Twenty-One – Fran – Note slinger

Chapter Twenty-Two – Matt - Consumed

Chapter Twenty-Three – Fran - Theories

Chapter Twenty-Four – Matt – Daydreams

Chapter Twenty-Five – Fran – Knock, knock

Chapter Twenty-Six – Matt – All good things…

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Fran – Half a heart

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Matt – Giving chase

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Fran – Who needs reality?

Chapter Thirty – Matt – Tumbleweeds

Chapter Thirty-One – Fran – Say something

Chapter Thirty-Two – Matt – That’s just crazy

Chapter Thirty-Three – Fran – The list

Chapter Thirty-Four – Matt - Thunderstorms

Chapter Thirty-Five – Fran – A temporary fix

Chapter Thirty-Six – Matt – Tick, tock

Epilogue – One Year Later – Fran

Acknowledgements