Tap, Page 23

  Brou puts his hand on top of mine. So romantic. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Lawrence. I jumped at the chance to see her again when I found out Stout was coming for a visit. I completely crashed on his business meeting in Macon.”

  “So Lucas’s visit to Savannah is the real when, where, and how part of the story.” I still love how he walked into my shop and told me I had bewitched him. Best pickup line ever.

  “Oh, I love it. What a great story. What did my son say when you told him?” Mom has no idea how deeply Ollie opposed my relationship with Brou. For her to know that, we’d have to tell her about Brou’s history with women. I don’t think I want to go there.

  “Not super happy at first but he’s coming around.” Still working on that but it’s getting better.

  “Well, we think it’s wonderful. Don’t worry. He will too eventually.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I don’t know if I ever told you this or not but your father and I had a long-distance relationship for two years before we married. I stayed here and went to Georgia. Your dad, being the brilliant man he is, got a full scholarship to Texas A&M.” I knew Dad had graduated from Texas and they married right after finishing school but I never put two and two together.

  “How often did we see each other that year, Lib?”

  “Twice? Maybe three times during the school year?” Good grief.

  “We made it count when we were together,” my dad says. I know the feeling.

  “Twice a month doesn’t seem so bad when you consider that.”

  “It’s easier today with cell phones, Facetiming, email, skyping. We were limited to ten minute calls every few days.”

  “And letters.”

  “Lots of love letters, which have become obsolete in today’s world.” Such a shame.

  “There’s something to be said for checking the mail every day, desperate for a perfume-scented letter from the woman you love.”

  My father cups his hand over my mother’s and I can’t help but think how wonderful it must be to walk through life with someone special by your side. I’ve thought all this time I was fine alone, and I am, but I look at Brou and see a potentially different future. One that includes him holding my hand over breakfast, maybe telling our children about the time we shared a long-distance relationship and made it work.

  * * *

  Lights dim. Soft, seductive music. Warm oils. I’m all set to give Brou the best massage of his life.

  “On my stomach?”

  “No. Lie face up on the bed from side to side.” This rubdown isn’t going to be anything like what he’s expecting. I’m going to hit all his erogenous zones as well as the sexual trigger points.

  “Close your eyes and completely relax.”

  I begin at the top of his head, scratching his scalp with my nails, and he breaks into a smile. “You’re giving me goosebumps.”

  “Good. You’re the one getting them for a change.”

  I gently press the center of his forehead between his eyebrows and temples, the area known as the third eye. I gently hold pressure for a minute and then lightly rotate my fingers on his temples. It’s said this motion relieves tension and allows sexual excitement to flow. Guess we’ll see.

  “Doing okay?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  I pour a generous amount of oil on my hands and rub them together. “Ready for me to move on to something a little more fun.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  I climb onto the bed and kneel beside Brou. My finger circles the rim of his belly button for a moment before I move lower and gently press the Gate of Origin. “This opens sexual energy for when I move on to the erogenous zones.”

  “This feels pretty erogenous to me.”

  “This is just the beginning. I’m not even close to getting you turned on yet.” I place the heel of my hand against the thick tendons in his groin, holding steady pressure. “So much more to come, baby.”

  My phone vibrates on the nightstand, interrupting my concentration and the mood. “Dammit.”

  I want to ignore it so badly. “It’s Wynter. I really need to take this.” She wouldn’t call unless it was something important.

  “Of course.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I’ve got a problem at the store. There’s a woman here who claims to be your mother and is demanding to see you. I can’t close the store because she won’t leave. Do you want me to call the police?”

  Damn Christie. “No. I’ll be right there.”

  I end the call and inhale deeply before yelling at the top of my lungs. “Fuck!”

  Brou sits and rubs his hand down my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  I push my hands into my hair and press my temples. I’m the one who needs a massage. “I can’t believe this. Christie is in my shop demanding to see me.”

  “What the hell is wrong with that woman?”

  “She’s nuts.”

  “You took out the restraining order?”

  “Yeah, but a lot of good it’s done.”

  Brou moves off the bed and grabs his jeans from the floor. “I’m going with you.”

  I pull my shirt over my head and yank on my shorts. “Poor Wynter. I hate for her to be dragged into this mess. And you.”

  Brou wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I’m not being dragged into anything. I’m voluntarily going in headfirst.”

  We enter the store and I find Christie lounging in one of my new patchwork chairs. “That’s for sale. Not for you to wallow all over.”

  “Hello, daughter. So good to see you.”

  Christie’s eyes dart toward Brou. “He’s the reason.”

  “No.”

  “Did you know she’s choosing to have your babies over saving her own mother?” She could have said anything but that.

  She looks back at me. “What kind of daughter chooses to let her mother die?”

  Might as well find out what she wants. “Why are you here?”

  “You won’t take my calls or answer the door when I come to your apartment. I had to do something to get your attention.”

  “You aren’t supposed to come within three hundred yards of me. Yet, here you are again. Do you want me to call the police?”

  “Call ’em. They won’t keep me; I’m a sick woman. All they have to do is find out I’m dying, and they’ll turn me loose in under an hour. No jail wants a terminally ill person in it. That means you can’t keep me away with a restraining order.”

  “Please, leave me alone, Christie.”

  “Never. Keep your damn kidney if you want but be prepared to pay dearly for it. I’m going to make your life hell. Just like mine.” Nothing she says makes sense. It’s as though she blames me for her condition but I didn’t cause this.

  I point toward the door. “Get out. Now.”

  “Make me.” Christie’s face takes on an expression I’ve seen a thousand times. Pure evil.

  “Wynter, get the key for the front door.” Brou moves toward Christie and puts her in a bear hug from behind. “When I throw her ass out, you lock the door behind her.”

  “Get your hands off me. I’m sick.”

  I run to the front door as Brou drags her backward. “Yes, you are a very sick individual. And there’s a special place in hell for people like you.”

  Christie slams the back of her head against Brou’s face and blood instantly pours from his nose. He grunts and shakes his head. “Open that door.”

  Christie lifts her legs and kicks a shelf of oils causing them to crash to the floor. “This is assault. I’m filing charges.”

  Brou shoves her out the door and I quickly slam it and turn the deadbolt. “Oh my God. She’s completely lost her mind.”

  Brou wipes his nose and lifts it into the air as he holds pressure. “Damn.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m mostly okay.” His voice is a groan. I know that had to hurt.

  I take Brou’s fre
e hand and lead him to the bathroom. “I’m so sorry.”

  Even in the back of the store, we can hear Christie’s assault against the door. “She’s pretty damn strong for a sick woman.”

  “Should I call the police, Law?” Wynter asks.

  Brou grabs my wrist as I inspect his nose. “You have to; this shit with her can’t slide anymore. That woman is mentally unstable and every incident needs to be documented. She could be capable of worse.”

  I don’t like considering that possibility but he’s right. I’ve overlooked this for too long. “Call ’em, Wynter.”

  Spending one of our few nights together at the police station making a report about Christie isn’t the way I envisioned our evening going. “I’m so sorry we lost hours of precious time dealing with that. But I’m glad you were here.”

  Brou takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m glad, too, so you didn’t have to face her alone.” With Brou, I never feel alone.

  Brou waggles his brows and uses his eyes to gesture toward the handcuffs on the officer’s waist. “We need some of those.”

  I shush him but flash a grin as I lift a brow. “I’d be up for that.”

  He taps the side of his head. “I’m putting that one in the vault. But until then, I can think of ways to improvise.” And that’s exactly what we do.

  * * *

  Another weekend with Brou has come and gone. Now, it’s back to the waiting game. Again.

  I’m so glad he was with me last night when Christie went nuts. Despite being thirty-one, I feel more like the broken, vulnerable child whenever Christie is near. When she went nuts last night, I felt rattled. However, it was undeniable how much calmer I felt having Brou there. And he wasn’t just physically with me. He was there for me emotionally as well. He’s becoming everything to me. My world.

  My days apart from Brou are mostly filled with work. When I’m not at the shop, I busy myself at the animal shelter or work on giving life to reclaimed furniture. It isn’t work to me. I enjoy the process. It’s therapeutic to take something abused and make it new again. Sort of like me.

  I rarely spend evenings alone. I always have dinner with my parents or Ivy and Kelsey. My free time is filled with friends and family. But I feel empty without Brou. I said I didn’t need a man to make me whole. And that’s still true. But I’ll be damned if I don’t feel like he takes a piece of me every time he goes.

  I lean against my front door and cry. Brou is on the other side, maybe still standing in the hallway waiting for the elevator. I didn’t walk with him to wait as I usually do; I felt the tears coming. I didn’t want him to see me cry. Saying goodbye is getting harder each time.

  I can’t stand it. Tears or not, I need one moment more with him.

  I open the door and dash down the hallway to catch him for one last embrace before he enters the elevator. “One more kiss.”

  He drops his bag on the floor and reaches for me, grasping my face in his hands as his mouth lands on mine. He pushes me against the wall and imprisons me in his embrace, as his lips own mine. “I hate leaving you.”

  “I didn’t know it was going to get harder every time.” I’m learning that’s how it goes when you’re in love.

  His lips are still touching mine. “I left something on the bed for you.”

  A big smiles spreads on my face. “What is it?”

  He leans away and wipes the tears that have fallen from my eyes. “You’ll see.”

  He places one last kiss against my lips. “I will see you in eleven days. Be thinking if you want to do Birmingham or meet somewhere in between. Maybe Macon or Atlanta. We can do a concert or show of some sort.”

  “Okay.”

  I blow a kiss to him as the elevator doors close and then dash to my bedroom to see what awaits me. A folded piece of paper.

  Wren,

  I will miss you more this time than ever before. I’m falling hard for you. I hope you’re feeling the same.

  Brou

  I read the two handwritten sentences over and over, smiling a little bigger each time. I don’t feel the same because I’m not just falling for him. I’m falling completely in love with him.

  I go to my desk and find my stationery so I may write my first ever love note.

  Brou,

  I love you.

  Wren

  Three simple words.

  That’s all I need to say.

  * * *

  “Sorry I’m late, guys.” I hate being late but it was with good reason. I had a rough time parting ways with Brou.

  “It’s okay. Your twenty-minute tardiness overshadows my ten-minute tardiness.” Ivy ain’t lying. I’m usually the one sitting at lunch waiting on her and Kelsey.

  I see they’ve gone with tea but I’m in the mood for something else. I think a Prosecco will do nicely. It’s my go-to for celebrating.

  Kelsey lifts her brows when I place my order. “Alcohol at noon? Someone either has really good or really bad news to tell us. But since you went with Prosecco I’m guessing it’s good.”

  “It’s really good.” Or at least I think it is.

  “I’m guessing it has something to do with a hot Cajun.” Indeed.

  “He left a note for me to find after he was gone.” Thinking about it gives me butterflies.

  “A love note,” Ivy squeals. “And it says?”

  I take the folded paper from my bag and hold it out for them. Kelsey snatches it first and sticks her tongue out at Ivy. “Wren, I will miss you more this time than ever before. I’m falling hard for you. I hope you’re feeling the same. Brou.” Kelsey looks up. “At least that’s what I think it says. His handwriting is shit.”

  Ivy’s mouth drops. “Lawry. That’s as good as saying he loves you.”

  I think so too but I’m afraid of jumping the gun. “Are you sure?”

  “Com-fucking-pletely. You haven’t seen the way he looks at Lawry. It’s so . . . intense.”

  Ivy shakes her head. “I miss every damn thing because of my job.”

  “You love your nursing job.” Helping deliver babies must be so rewarding. I think I’d love that.

  “I love patient care. It’s all the other bullshit going along with it that I hate. And always missing out on stuff. You’ve been with Lucas for a while, and I still haven’t met him. You’re one of my best friends. We should have been introduced by now.”

  “Well, I’ve met him. And he’s hotter than a damn firecracker lit on both ends.”

  “Shut up.” Ivy gives Kelsey the finger. “Lawry, you just moved up from being one of my best friends to my only best friend since she’s being a dingleberry.”

  Ivy snatches the note from Kelsey’s hand. “Damn, she’s right. His penmanship looks horrible but these words are full of some serious sweetness.”

  “I wrote him back.” I take the sealed notecard from my bag and hold it up. “I was thinking I wouldn’t mention anything about his note and maybe drop this in the mail today so it’d be a surprise when it arrives.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Three words.”

  “More oral please?” Kelsey grins as though she’s so proud of her wittiness.

  Ivy punches Kelsey in the arm. “Stop being such a twat. This is important to Lawry.”

  Kelsey punches Ivy in return. They’re acting like three-year-olds. “I’m kidding. Lawry knows that. You do know that, right?”

  “Yeah, but I need advice. Do I send this or not?” I love you. You don’t trifle with words like those.

  “I say you do.” I knew Ivy would say yes. She lives for the white knight. The fairy tale. The happily ever after.

  Kelsey not so much.

  “You wrote those three words to him, which I assume are I love you, because you love him?”

  “I do.”

  “I see it like this. Love is like a wall you can’t climb or penetrate. The only way in is a swinging door. Sometimes you’re lucky enough it opens to let you in. But if you wait too long, it
’s going to slam like a motherfucker in your face. You wouldn’t look great with a flat face so I say go for it.”

  “That was almost beautiful.”

  Kelsey bows her head and holds her hands out, palm side up. She calls it her sitting curtsy. “I do my best.”

  Kelsey’s words may not be scholarly but she makes a good point. “I’m going for it.”

  ’Cause sometimes being strong is about following your heart. Taking chances. Stepping forward when the door swings open, before it slams and flattens your face. Because that would suck.

  Lucas Broussard

  It’s been two days since I left Wren. And the note on her bed. She hasn’t mentioned a single word about it. I must admit I expected some kind of prompt response—and a happy one. Hell, I thought I’d get a call before I made it out of Savannah. Guess I misjudged the fuck out of where we are in our relationship.

  It was way too soon for talk of love. I shouldn’t have brought up falling for her. She wasn’t ready. And now I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything with her.

  “You have mail, boss. And it smells like a woman,” Molly says as she tosses an envelope on my desk.

  My heart pounds when I see the return address. My sweet Wren. I don’t know if I should be happy or scared shitless.

  “Only one way to find out.” I slide my envelope opener through the fold and sniff the inside before removing the note. Lavender and vanilla. Smells just like my Wren.

  My heart pounds as I slide the piece of paper out and unfold it to read her words.

  I love you.

  There it is in black and white. Those three simple little words I was desperate to hear. Or in this case, see.

  Lawrence Thorn loves me. And it scares the hell out me. But makes me the happiest man in the world.

  I close my office door and dial her number. “Hello, Brou. To what do I owe this call in the middle of the day?”

  “I wanted to tell you I just got your note.”

  “And?”

  “I love you, Wren.” There. I’ve said it. And it’s a fucking relief. I like the way it sounds so much I think I’ll say it again. “I. Love. You.”