The Offer (30 page)

The whole
interview takes about five minutes and the reporter – Chelsea
Chain, such a fake-arse name – says they’ll probably whittle it
down into a quick soundbite for the section they are doing. Doesn’t
matter to me. I finally feel like I’m behind something that could
have legs.

“That was
fucking hot,” Nicola whispers to me once the reporter moves on to
someone else.

I glance down
at her while she slides her dainty hands underneath the lapels of
my tuxedo. “Was it now?”

“Oh yeah,” she
says, looking hungry and not for food but for cock, the best kind
of hungry.

I know it’s
probably a risk in asking her this, lest it conjure up some bad
memories, but I say to her, “How about we go back into the past and
finish what we started?”

Hesitation
washes over her brow for just a second, her glossy lips held in a
pout, then a sly smile tugs them apart. “Sure.”

I grab her
hand and lead her through the crowd, remembering the path that took
us around the building and to the garden.

Sure enough,
there is no one back here and the sounds of the gala are muffled,
sounding far away. Fucking brilliant, the stone bench is still here
too.

“Make yourself
comfortable,” I tell her, sitting her down on the bench. “And by
comfortable, I mean scootch over to the end here and get on all
fours.”

“Wait,” she
says, lifting a finger. “Did you screw that blonde chick here?”

“No,” I tell
her, knowing she’d ask that. “It was in the bushes over there. And
it wasn’t very fun to be honest. No one wants a thorn up their
backside. At least, I don’t.” I pause, giving her a delicious grin.
“But perhaps you’re game for something a lot bigger than a thorn.”
I wiggle my thumb at her.

She rolls her
eyes and I know she probably won’t graduate beyond my thumb for a
long time.

She’s still
not moving though, so I tell her again and she finally gets on all
fours and backs up till she’s at the end of the bench. I stand
behind her and flip up her dress so it’s gathered around her waist.
Her arse looks so fucking amazing, I can’t help but cup her cheeks
in my hands, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. My need is
wanton, elicit, and real. I squeeze and kneed them for a bit before
my dick starts to ache in my pants, begging for attention. Then I
unzip myself free and bring out a condom from my jacket pocket.

“Always
prepared,” she comments and wriggles that decadent arse in front of
me.

“Stop teasing
me,” I warn her, smacking her lightly on the cheek. “I’d rather not
come all over your dress.” I see her shake her head slightly.
“Okay, I would totally love to shoot my cum all over that expensive
piece of fabric you’re wearing and cover you in it from head to
toe. But I won’t.”

“Because
you’re a gentleman.”

“Oh that’s
right.” I smack her other cheek. “The best kind.”

So I have her
right there on that stone bench, the way I should have had her last
year at the wedding. I take her rough and hard and wild and we
don’t care who the hell hears us because we can’t be filtered.

But the truth
is, I’m glad that it didn’t happen that way, that we didn’t have
sex at the wedding. I would have never gotten to know her and
knowing me, she would have just been another shag. Sure, I would
have seen something challenging in her, maybe I would have been
compelled to let that wild child out. But it was her resistance to
me, her devotion and dedication to her child, to everything but
herself, that made me obsessed with her to begin with. It may have
taken time for our paths to cross again, but I’m eternally glad
they did.

“Everything in
due time,” I say after we’ve both come and we’re catching our
breath. I zip up my pants and dispose of the condom in the nearest
trash can.

“What?” she
asks, her voice dreamy as she straightens out her dress. She looks
so unbelievably beautiful after sex that I often have to pinch
myself. Or herself. And then pinching just leads to more sex and
the circle continues.

I grin at her.
“That’s my motto. I told you last time we were here that I didn’t
have one, and well, now I do. Everything in due time.” I pause.
“And yours is live with no regrets.”

She nods and
walks toward me. “What do you mean, everything in due time?”
There’s hope in her eyes, something that wasn’t there earlier.

“I mean,” I
say as she wraps her arms around me. I gaze down at her, lost in
her charm, in her very soul, “that if we had shagged back then, we
wouldn’t be where we are now. That in some way, we were meant to be
together. That we were meant to part and then come together again.
Maybe we both had to change in the smallest of ways in order for
this work.”

“Well, I got
fired. I wouldn’t say that change was in my hands,” she says. Her
tone is joking but there’s this depth to her stare, a wistfulness
over her brow.

“In due time,
it all works out,” I tell her. “This is working out, isn’t it?”

For one wee
second I’m deathly afraid that she might tell me it’s not working
out. My heart seems to rattle in my chest.

But then she
smiles, so softly, and places her hands around my neck. She licks
her lips, nervous. “It’s more than working out, Bram,” she
whispers. She swallows and traces my face with her delicate
fingertips. I close my eyes to her touch, to her, to everything she
makes me feel.

“Bram,” she
says, sounding hushed. “I’m in love with you.”

She’s in love
with me.

In love.

With me.

My chest
bloody aches. It’s not what she’s said. What she’s said makes my
soul want to sing, maybe scream a little. Tell the whole world that
for some fucking reason, Nicola Price is in love with me.

It’s so much,
so heavy, so…bloody undeserved.

But my chest
aches and my gut feels heavy, weighted, because I know I can’t say
the words back. Because I’m just not there yet. I’m almost there,
but I won’t lie to her. I wouldn’t lie about something so rare and
complicated as love.

In due time, I
want to say again, I will feel the same.

But I can’t
say that either. Things are far, far too complex than she even
knows and if she knew the things I’m keeping from her, the things
I’ve kept from everyone, she’d probably take it all back.

“Bram?” she
asks, studying my face. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

I clear my
throat gently. “Do you believe it?”

She blinks,
shocked. “Of course I believe it. I…I love you.”

I shake my
head once. “Then you didn’t say the wrong thing. I’m just
surprised, that’s all. Surprised but grateful. It’s an honor for
you to say those words to me.”

“An honor?”
she repeats, letting go of my neck. “Why are you talking like you
need a sword and a horse?”

I shrug,
trying to be playful but I can tell she’s hurt, rejected like
nothing else.

“Listen,” I
tell her, trying to bring her to me but she wriggles out of my
grasp and walks a few steps away. I follow her, putting a strong
grip on her arm and holding her in place. “Don’t walk away. This is
nothing to get upset about.”

“I just told
you I love you!” she cries out, her expression pained. “And you
didn’t say anything in return.”

“Nicola,
please.” I smooth her hair behind her ears and hold her face in my
hands. “I adore you. I want to spend every minute with you. I want
to spend my future with you. But I’m a man of a past I have yet to
shake, even though I’m working on it. You’re bringing me out of the
past and into the future, where I belong.”

I try to kiss
her but she moves her face out of the way. “It’s that woman,
Taylor,” she whispers and I try not to freeze at the mention of her
name. “It’s her, isn’t it? The one you fucked everything up
with.”

“
Not
really,” I tell her and I’m being honest here. “No. It’s not like
that. Honestly, I’m not in love with her, I swear to you, and that
was many,
many
years
ago.”

The can of
worms is tipping. I should just come clean now. Come clean and
explain and if she loves me, if she really loves me, she’ll
understand. It’s nothing we can’t overcome, not at all. If
anything, she might relate to me even more.

But I don’t
say anything because I am more of a coward than I’d like to admit.
I’m too damn proud and too bloody afraid to mess this up any
further, even though it feels like I already have.

“Nicola,” I
say to her again, my voice hard, “please believe me when I say I’m
not in love with anyone but I swear to you it will be you and soon.
I just need time to come around and when I do, it’s going to be
magic.”

“Magic,” she
repeats.

“Please,” I
say, “you can’t fault me for being honest with you. I always have
been and I won’t stop now. I am honored beyond belief that you
actually love me, me the perpetual fuck-up, and I’m going to hold
onto your love like it’s gold.” I kiss her softly, sweetly, and to
my utmost relief, she kisses me back. “I’m never letting go of you
either. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart. Forever.”

She nods but I
can still spot that heart-breaking rejection in her eyes. I’ve seen
it before and on a much larger scale.

We walk back
into the party and I don’t let go of her for a second, even when
she tries to leave. I keep holding on because I feel I’m so close
to losing her and I can’t let that happen.

I can’t.

I won’t.

But I also
can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen, all in due time.

“
Nicola,
can I see you for a moment in my office?” It’s Thursday night and
though the expected crowd isn’t quite here yet, I’m still surprised
that James is calling me away from the bar. I have to admit, I
don’t like this one bit, and as I follow him into the back rooms
where his office is, my hands are clammy. Last time I was called
into a place like this, I was fired.

I wouldn’t be
surprised if that happens. It’s been a weird week so far. First, I
told Bram that I loved him and he didn’t respond in kind, which,
although I appreciate his honesty, I’d be lying if I said that it
didn’t absolutely ruin me. It’s all I’ve been able to think about,
even though he’s being extra attentive with me now. And he was
hella attentive before.

Also, his
interview he did at the gala was featured on the news and now the
whole world knows about his little project, well at least
California since it was apparently turned into a story about the
lack affordable housing in the entire state. The minute it went
live, Steph called me up, then Linden called Bram and a few days
later, his parents called, having heard about it from friends of
theirs.

And just as
Bram predicted, no one in his family is taking him seriously, at
least that’s how Bram tells it. But I’d gone out for lunch with
Steph and Kayla the other day and I can see their image of Bram has
changed dramatically, and in the best way.

Of course, I
had to tell them about my epic rejection and from the way they
flinched, it’s like they felt it too. No one asks for unrequited
love.

No one
asks to be fired in the same week, either. I sit down across from
James, my eyes flitting to the walls behind his desk where he used
to have a Faith No More concert poster at The Warfield from 1995,
but now he just has a motivational speaking type one. You know,
with the schmaltzy sunsets. He’s going to start turning into Murray
from
Flight
of the Conchords
if he’s
not careful.

“Just get it
over with,” I say to James, putting my face in my hands. “Like a
Band-Aid, right off!”

“What?” he
asks. “No. Nicola. I’m not firing you.”

I peek at him
through my fingers. “No?”

He shakes his
head and gives me a placating smile. “No. I’m promoting you.”

“What?” Now
I’ve really snapped to attention. “Why?” I’ve seriously done
nothing but spill drinks this whole week.

“Because
you’ve proven to be reliable,” he says, “more reliable than a lot
of people here. I think I can trust you and you’re good at what you
do.”

James has
never been so nice to me before. You know, other than giving me the
job to begin with.

“Seriously?” I
ask, just to make sure this isn’t some joke.

“Totally
serious.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “We’re coming into
the summer season soon. June is next week, and this place is just
going to get busier, all while more of my people will be wanting
days off. Aside from that Disneyland trip, you never ask for days
off. And even then, it wasn’t you asking. It was your charity
man.”

“So, I guess
you saw the news too?”

He nods. “I
have to admit, Linden’s brother is the last person I would have
expected to have a heart of gold but apparently he does. But, I
guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

I manage a
small smile, even though it reminds me that I’m still living
rent-free.

“And with a
promotion, you’ll be able to pay your own way now,” he adds, as if
he can read my mind. “That is, if you want it. I’m not going to
lie, being an assistant manager isn’t a walk in the park.”

“Assistant
manager?”

He nods. “It’s
longer hours and more responsibility. You won’t just be serving
drinks anymore. Though I think you’ll get the hang of it pretty
quickly.”

I’m probably a
terrible person for thinking this, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to
take this job. I’d gotten used to spending my time with Ava during
the days and when she’s down for a nap, I get to work on the sewing
machine. Hell, I’m even wearing a top I sewed up the other day.
It’s not perfect but I’m getting my groove back and – more
importantly – my passion back. Having that in my life reminds me
that there’s more to it all than just having a paycheck.