Authors: J. Sterling
“Tell me how it happened,” she said. “Please let me live vicariously through you. This job exhausts me. They’re lucky I’m so damn good at it.”
“He was actually leaving. I mean, I had walked him to the door and told him good night, when I admitted that I was tempted to ask him to stay instead.”
“Cammie Angela Carmichael! I’m so impressed with you!”
I looked away from her beaming face, feeling myself blush. “I didn’t want him to go. It’s not too fast, right? You don’t think I’m a slut?” Not that I really felt like one, but I wanted the reassurance.
“Oh, hell no. It’s Dalton Thomas. You guys have history. A past. But even if it wasn’t some guy you’ve known forever, you still wouldn’t be a slut for wanting to have sex with him. I honestly figured you two wouldn’t wait very long once you saw each other.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Because of your history. Because of your past. And because of whatever the hell it is that exists between the two of you now. Even I can sense it when I’m near you guys.”
I yawned and smiled at the same time, making my ears pop and my jaw cramp awkwardly. “Well, you were right, Miss Smartypants.”
“I’m always right. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Her eyebrows raised as she shook her head.
Kristy stayed for another hour, indulging me in watching a TV show that I loved and she hated before heading home. She worked all hours of the day and night, depending on what her role was on the case she was assigned, and she loved it. It wasn’t required of her to do the additional work, but Kristy was a go-getter and she wanted to be the best.
The sun had yet to set when I passed out exactly where she left me. Sometime later, my cell phone vibrated against the coffee table, startling me awake.
I glanced down to see Dalton’s name taunting me, and I grabbed it quickly as a shudder of excitement raced through me. “Hi,” I breathed into the phone.
“Hi, yourself,” he said back. “What are you doing?”
“Just sitting here.” Literally.
“Are you tired? Shit, did I wake you?” He sounded concerned, and I wanted to lie to him but couldn’t.
“It’s okay. I like talking to you.”
“Just talking?” he teased.
“Yep. I’m only using you for your incredible phone conversation ability.”
“Figures. Usually girls use me for my huge—”
“Hey!” I cut him off, not wanting to hear what I thought he was going to say.
“I was going to say personality. They use me for my huge personality.” He laughed. “I miss you.”
My heart leaped into my throat and decided to live there forever as something in my stomach did handsprings over and over again. “I miss you too. Thank you for the roses. And for making my bed. But not for eating all my cookies.”
“You can punish me later. And you’re welcome.”
I stretched on the couch, reaching my arm above my head and pulling the muscles in my back. “I’m so tired, but I really want to see you,” I admitted as my boss’s warning played in the back of my mind.
“You want me to come over? I don’t have to stay long. But if you want to just talk on the phone, we can do that too.”
“Really? You’d just stay on the phone with me?”
“For hours.”
“Get over here.” I laughed. “But I’m warning you. I’m changing into my pajamas and I’m getting ready for bed.”
“Already trying to lure me into the sack for round two,” he said, clucking disapprovingly into my ear.
“I’ll lock the door and not answer,” I said with a playful warning in my voice.
“No, you won’t. Have you eaten?”
“Kristy brought me a sandwich. I only ate half, but you probably need more food than half a sandwich for dinner, huh?”
He grunted. “Yeah. I’ll just eat on the way.”
“I’d offer to cook, but I’m in desperate need of a trip to the store.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you soon.”
“’Bye.”
After ending the call, I ran around the house, making sure it was still clean and that I looked presentable. I got ready for bed, but I didn’t wash my makeup off. Even though I was pretty sure that Dalton would still adore me makeup-free, I wasn’t ready to take that step with him yet. A girl with no makeup on always felt a little vulnerable; it was a universal truth. They didn’t call it war paint for no reason.
Dalton walked right in without knocking, clearly making himself comfortable already, not that I minded. “Hi!” he shouted as he opened the front door.
“In the living room.”
“Please tell me you made me more cookies.” He peered into the kitchen and sniffed the air.
I had. Because I’m a complete sucker for him already. Again.
“You’re the best,” he said as he grabbed one off the cooling tray and bit into it. “I seriously love you—” His eyes grew as wide as mine at his words. “Your
baking
. I love your baking skills,” he said in an awkward attempt to backtrack.
“You can thank my mom. She taught me how to bake, and it’s her recipe.” I smiled at him but my heart was racing, still trying to process what he’d almost said.
“Speaking of, how’s your mom doing?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested. He moved onto the couch next to me, threw his arm around me, and pulled me close.
I smiled as I thought of her. “She’s doing really well, thanks for asking.” I nuzzled against his chest, reveling in the fact that it was comfortable instead of hard like a rock.
Death had a weird way of bringing people together. When my dad first died, neighbors brought us meals, stopped by at all hours, and checked on us every single day to see if we needed anything. But it was during those first few weeks, months even, that my mom and I could barely see past our own grief to truly appreciate what they were trying to do.
So many meals got tossed in the trash before we could eat them. It wasn’t that we were ungrateful, it was simply that we were unable to navigate through the fog of sorrow that had settled over us to do simple tasks like feed ourselves. Everyone gathered around us when we weren’t ready for it, crowding us at a point that we needed to be left alone. Meaning well, they tried to lift us up when all we wanted was to stay on our knees.
By the time the fog started to lift and I realized that I needed the help and support of others, it was too late. Everyone had moved on. Daily visits had turned into weekly ones, which eventually turned into none. It was just the way life went. Everyone else had moved past our grief because they didn’t have to live in it. Our tragedy was no longer their front page news.
I never blamed anyone for it, I simply wished it had been different. People surrounded us when we couldn’t see them and left us alone when we needed them most. And that was when the true loneliness crept in, reminding me that my grief was mine alone to bear and work through. Although for the most part, I tucked it away and tried to be strong while my mom fell apart.
My grief saddled me, though, and I wore that heavy burden like an oversized cloak I couldn’t shed. Until Dalton came along, that is, and I allowed him to peel back the layers.
“Did she ever get remarried?” he asked.
I winced a little. “No. She has a boyfriend that she’s been seeing for a couple years, but I don’t think she ever wants to get married again. She seems really happy, and that’s all I want for her, you know?”
He nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I would want too.” His smile looked sad as I vaguely remembered his parents.
“How are your parents? I bet your mom’s glad you’re back in California instead of New York, huh?”
“She is. She’s good. She actually got remarried and had another kid, if you can believe that.”
I swallowed, remembering that the topic of parents was a sensitive subject for him. Hell, it was a sensitive topic for us both. “Do you like her new husband?”
He leaned to one side and his neck cracked. “I do, actually. He’s nice. They seem to really like each other, and that’s not something I’m used to seeing.”
“What about your dad?”
“I saw him last week. I don’t know what happened with him. He was fucking miserable when he and my mom were together, but he seems even more miserable now that they’re apart.”
“It’s been years, though, right? Like since we were in high school?”
Dalton nodded. “Yeah. He’s just bitter. All the time. It’s too hard to be around that, so I don’t see him very often. I feel like a selfish prick, but whenever I leave his place, I just feel drained.”
Placing my hand on his knee, I rubbed my thumb along the side of it. “I get that. People who aren’t happy tend to suck all the good emotion out of you.”
“That’s exactly what it feels like. Like I’ve been sucked dry,” he said sadly, and his eyes had a faraway look to them.
“Didn’t your mom start working at our school?” I searched the recesses of my mind, wondering where that tidbit of information came from.
“She did. She’s the librarian there, and she loves it. That’s how I found out about the reunion in the first place. They told her they couldn’t find any contact information for me, and asked her to reach out on their behalf.”
I laughed. “Yeah. About that. My God, Dalton. Who has no information about them available online? Like, at all? You have any idea how infuriating that is?”
He rubbed the stubble along his jawline as a wicked smile appeared. “You tried to find me? Like a stalker?”
I smacked his shoulder. “I tried to find you, yes. Like a stalker . . . kinda,” I admitted with a shrug.
“No social media is the safest option for me when it comes to my job. I’d rather not be easy to find, so I stayed off of it completely.”
I gave him a mock serious look. “Well, you were the cause of many nights of angst and drowning my sorrows in wine over the last ten years.”
“I might have done the same thing if I couldn’t find you, either. But then again, I’m a cop. I would have found some way to look you up.”
“So you stalked me too? Is that what you’re saying?”
He smacked a hand on top of his leg. “Hell yes, I stalked you. I might not have an online profile, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t out sniffing around yours.”
I frowned at him, wondering how he could have stayed away so easily. It certainly wasn’t easy for me. “You could have sent an e-mail or something. Did you have to go completely silent for so long?”
Dalton shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I was dating Jill for a while there. And I didn’t know what to say to you. I didn’t know where to start, so I just didn’t.” His jaw tensed. “I just didn’t start at all.”
“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure we’re past all that now. I mean, look at us.” I tilted my head to look up at him and he leaned down, his lips pressing against mine. The taste of chocolate chip cookie on his tongue made me giggle, and he pulled away. “What are you laughing at? You think my kisses are funny?”
“No. But the fact that you taste like a cookie kinda is.” I giggled again before covering my mouth as a yawn escaped.
“You’re exhausted. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
“Not yet. Let’s just watch the rest of this show.” I motioned toward the television and repositioned my head against his chest.
Later I woke up and glanced at the clock on my bedroom nightstand. It was a little after one in the morning, and I had no idea how I’d gotten in bed. Dalton lay sleeping next to me on his back, his exposed upper body practically begging me to lie on it. Moving closer, I pressed my head against the warmth of his chest, and his arm immediately wrapped around my shoulder.
He held me close and I relaxed, listening to the sound of his heart beating against my ear, until my alarm blared at three thirty, waking me from a sound sleep.
• • •
The next few days flew by, and even though I wanted to see Dalton every second I wasn’t at work, I desperately needed some decent sleep. Alone. He tried to convince me otherwise, but I stood firm in my request, even though I didn’t always want to. It helped that the case Dalton was working on seemed to be heating up, so he was busier than normal, working hours that were even more demanding than mine.
It was ridiculous, feeling so much for him again so quickly, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the feelings with open arms and an open heart. When we couldn’t see each other, we talked every night about old times, memories, and new feelings until I fell asleep on the phone with him. Dalton claimed he thought it was cute. But I was convinced he thought anything I did was cute at this stage in our newly reunited state. He didn’t disagree, and I didn’t care.
After a ridiculous amount of begging, Dalton finally convinced me to have dinner with him at Graziano’s on Friday, making the reservations early enough to accommodate my end-of-the-week exhaustion level. I actually looked forward to having a delicious Italian dinner that I didn’t have to cook or clean up after. My mother had given me a few Italian recipes that I tended to make often. And while I loved the heck out of them, I hated the mess I created in my kitchen as I cooked.
Aside from the food, I also couldn’t wait to see my man again. The days seemed to last forever, and the phone calls were honestly no replacement for the real thing, even though we tried. I planned to tell him as much tonight. He had been right, and I should have listened. I didn’t care how tired I was from work, or how late he got done working his case, I wanted to see him anytime it was possible.