Truly Madly Deeply: Chapter 62

“Friday I’m in Love”—The Cure

I was a little worried when Zeta commanded me to stay with Row while she headed upstairs to the maternity ward with Dylan. But I’d also been dying to get some alone time with him ever since I saw him collapse on the sidewalk in a puddle of his own blood earlier today.

He wanted me to stay. And I had a feeling he wasn’t just referring to the hospital room. We were holding hands; his breathing was shallow and flat, making my own pulse thump out of rhythm with anxiety.

“You dodged a bullet with that stab wound.” The doctor chuckled at his own joke. “No puns intended, yeah?”

Row offered him an expressionless glare.

The doctor continued, “It was half an inch away from puncturing your intestines. Could you imagine?”

“I’d rather not,” Row deadpanned, unimpressed with his caretaker’s bedside manner.

“You could’ve died a slow, painful death,” Dr. Gorga said cheerfully. “But you didn’t. You’re going to be just fine.”

“You’re also going to be heard.” I flipped my phone screen, angling it in Row’s direction. “Taylor just texted. Sheriff Menchin should be here in the next hour. Seems like he is taking the threats against you seriously this time.”

“And to think all he needed was an assassination attempt to wake up,” Row drawled out.

I rubbed his bicep, not letting his grumpiness rub off on my sunshine. “Better late than never.”

“Not hanging my hopes and dreams on this clown.” He brought the jug of ice water to his lips. “So. Dot. What have you been up to while I was out?”

“Oh. You know. This and that.” By this and that I meant freaking out about the possibility of losing him and chasing whatever leads I had to figure out who had done this to him.

Row’s injury devastated me more than I cared to admit. In fact, it cemented that my worst fear had come true—I had strong, all-consuming feelings for Ambrose Casablancas. The kind that put my heart at risk. The kind that didn’t go hand-in-hand with my promise to myself not to let anyone in.

“Articulate it to me.” He fought a smile. “Using lots of words and analogies. I want the whole Cal flare.”

Swiping my tongue over my lips, I considered how much to tell him. “Well, you were lying here, looking very pretty but also very boring, so I sang you some songs, mostly The Cure’s stuff, because I think that’s about the only band we have in common. A nurse brought over your dinner, and it had trail mix, and I remember you hated raisins, so I removed them from the mix. I also readjusted your pillows. And filed your nails. And…fine, painted them black. Because it is so your color. Is that creepy? It sounds creepy now that I’m saying it out loud. I swear it wasn’t. I thought it’d bring a smile to your lips when you woke up.”

Now he did laugh, then groaned and clutched his side, where he’d been stabbed.

This was the part where I’d usually feel weird and awkward. Foreign in my own skin. But all I felt was…seen. It made me feel invincible. His gaze alone made me feel like the person I’d always wanted to be.

“Know what it sounds like?” He ignored the doctor and nurse who exchanged notes on a clipboard in the room.

“Unhinged?” I offered with a scrunch of my nose.

“Romantic as fuck.”

“Oh, it really wasn’t.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then busied my hands by scrubbing my phone screen clean with my sleeve. “Trust me. Dylan was here the entire time, complaining about her heartburn. At some point we discussed that time you broke your arm at six when you fell off a tree and were so scared you peed your pants.”

His smile remained calm and praising. “The statute of limitations has passed on that particular case. Besides, I bet you peed yourself too, that very same day.”

“Row, I was still in diapers.”

“That’s pure semantics.”

“I see you have a lot to catch up on.” The doctor looked between us. “Any more questions, Mr. Casablancas?”

“Yes, where did you get your degree—the School of Hard Knocks?”

“Thanks so much, Doctor!” I interjected, balming Row’s rawness.

Dr. Gorga nodded swiftly. “I’ll leave you to it.” The nurse and doctor slipped out of the room, and now we were truly alone.

“Wanna know something?” I brushed a lock of onyx hair from his eye. It was exceptionally unfair that he looked like carnal sin even in a hospital gown.

“If it’s coming from you? Sure.”

“You’re not a terrible boss, despite your crankiness. I mean, Taylor actually likes you. You should’ve seen him in action today. He even called his dad to ask some medical questions.”

“That’s a full circle right there.” Row smiled tiredly.

“How so?”

“I saved him from going into premed. He fucking hated the idea.”

“Taylor wanted to be a doctor?” I tilted my head. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything that wasn’t making delicious, highbrow food.

“Was expected to,” Row corrected. “He walked into my restaurant to get drunk and forget about his finals. Flashed me a fake ID even though he was clearly underage. I was working the bar that evening to teach a new temp the job. I whipped him up somethin’ to eat and he commented that the chicken could use some ras el hanout. I hired him as an intern on the spot.”

“God. You’re nice, aren’t you? That’s your worst-kept secret.” I grinned.

“Best kept.” He reached to press his finger to my lips. “Don’t tell anyone. Everyone thinks I’m an ass.”

“I don’t think you’re an ass,” I pointed out.

“That’s because I tap yours,” he responded wryly. He scanned my face for a beat, then let out a sigh. “Listen, we need to talk.”

My hackles rose in an instant. “We do?”

“About me selling Descartes.”

I knew he was going to remind me that he was leaving, that this was all temporary, that we had tough decisions to make. My heart couldn’t take it. So I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. He groaned, his body hardening into stone.

“Nice distraction, but I need more water.” His lips floated over mine. I immediately pulled away, curling my fingers around the handle of his jug of water before realizing it was empty.

“I think you’re out. I’ll go get some, unless you want my Gatorade?”

“Fucking hate Gatorade.”

“Okay, Sour Ass Kid.” I rose to my feet before he stopped me.

“Big fan of your germs, though. Give it here.” He brushed his knuckles over my cheek. I grabbed the half-finished bottle and lowered the straw to touch his mouth. He clasped his lips around it and sucked before releasing the straw. A blue drop lingered on his lower lip. I dipped my head and swept it away with my tongue. It tasted better off his lips.

I was about to straighten up, but he caught my wrist, tugging me closer. His tongue traced the outline of my mouth, the tip of it sliding down my chin and neck, until it disappeared in my cleavage, where he sucked one of my tits into his mouth through my bra. Tantalizing pleasure cascaded through me.

“Lock the door, Dot.”

“You’re inju—”

“It’s just a little scratch. Need you now.”

“It’s a stab wound.”

“Let me assure you, sweetheart, my blue balls hurt more.”

I stood up on wobbly legs, like a baby zebra taking its first step, and stumbled to the door, rolling the lock with a soft click.

“Come ride my dick, Dot.”

I drew the line at bursting his stitches open. “We’re not having full-blown sex.”

“Why?”

“Because as much as you annoy me, I don’t want to kill you.”

“Fine. Let me eat you out.” We stared each other down, but my inhibitions were falling apart quicker than a Shein outfit. He raised his eyebrows innocently. “I’m in the hospital, Cal. I’m not gonna have anything tasty or substantial for days.”

There was something seriously wrong with our generation—and yes, I blamed everyone my age collectively—considering what I did next. I climbed atop his hospital bed with my back to Row, peeled down his blanket, and raised his hospital robe. His dick sprung up straight as an arrow, a pearl of precum crowning the tip.

Making sure I hovered far away from his stomach, I grabbed the root of his cock, lowering my head and licking along the shaft, a happy noise escaping from the back of my throat. He tasted earthy and sweet, just right.

“Heaven is not a place, it is a person, and it is you.” He arched his back, chasing my small mouth. “Fuck, Dot, how am I going to let you go?”

Keep me. My chest tightened, and I tried to push the thought to the back of my head. What was I thinking? I couldn’t give my heart to a man. Couldn’t risk the emotional bloodbath Franco had left behind. I had loved him. I truly did. He was my first taste of a relationship, and he taught me that love is doomed, and that men would use and abuse you if you let them.

Row began working the button and zipper of my jeans, going for a sixty-nine. I kicked my jeans off eagerly, my heel colliding with his cheekbone in the process. “Oops!”

“Baby, you can stomp all over my face and I’ll say thank you.”

I giggled into his dick, licking it eagerly like a lollipop.

“Now put your cunt on my face before I die.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“It’s a fucking plea.”

I scooted backward, shoved my panties to one side, and sank into his hot mouth, his tongue erect and ready, disappearing inside my pussy.

Row smacked the back of his hospital bed, writhing with pleasure. “Shit.”

“Problem?” I sank my knees deeper into the thin mattress, mindful of his injured torso, taking his dick back into my mouth and giving it a good suck while pumping the base with my fist.

“A big one.” He arched his back, gripping my waist and rubbing his straight teeth along my vagina. “You’ve just ruined sex with anyone else for me. Might have to keep you after all.”

There was something incredibly hot about hearing his blissed-out grunts of pleasure without seeing his face as I sucked him off, as he pleasured me with his mouth and fingers, going down on me.

“Hmm.” I threw my head back, bracing my hands against his knees to support my balance. “You wouldn’t like that. I’m messy.”

“Orderliness is overrated.”

My tits were bouncing up and down joyfully as I rode his fingers and tongue like they were his cock. My thigh muscles cried, but the rest of my body hummed with pleasure. I pumped his dick harder and faster as he jerked in my fist. “I’m too eccentric.”

“You’re just the right amount of chaos for me.”

Were we really having this conversation now? While the walls of my pussy were squeezing against his fingers?

“I would bore you,” I choked out, his fingertip hitting my G-spot again and again, the orgasm clawing up my spine like ivy.

“You’re a lot of fucking things, Cal Litvin, but boring has never been one of them.” He penetrated me deeper.

“Row?” I gasped desperately, falling down on my elbows as I jerked him off faster, my triceps burning, watching his sleek, huge dick dripping down my fist like an erupting volcano. I knew he got a good look at my ass crack from his position, and somehow, I felt entirely comfortable baring my all to him. “I’m coming.”

Crashing down on his face again, I moaned when shocks of electricity zipped through me. Row grunted, and I leaned down and put his cock in my mouth, letting him come inside it.

After we both came, I pulled my pants up and covered him gingerly. I went to unlock the door, then returned to stand by his bed, suddenly unsure what to do next.

Row looked flushed and extra gorgeous and—might I add—in perfect health. He patted the space next to him on the bed. “Hop on.”

“Someone could walk in,” I pointed out, before slapping a hand over my mouth. “Holy shit, what if there are cameras in the room?”

“Then they’re welcome for the performance of their lives.” Row’s voice was devoid of emotion. “This is what I call a million-dollar cum shot.”

I swatted his chest, feeling contemplative all of a sudden. Things he found funny weren’t funny to me. The idea that someone had seen us made me want to vomit.

“Hey.” He squeezed my hand. “You look pale.”

“I’m okay,” I lied. I wasn’t. I was never going to be a person who was down with having sex in exotic places. Especially since some internet sites still had pictures of my tits.

“Look at me, Dot. I was just kidding. I was out of line. I didn’t think…I forgot…” He raked his hair, shaking his head. “I’m not Franco. I would never put your safety and boundaries in jeopardy. I promise you that, okay?”

“Okay.” I hated how small and uncertain my voice sounded. How I was falling down the rabbit hole of my trauma.

“Have you eaten anything?” Row tried to change the subject.

“Not since you were taken to the hospital,” I admitted. And that was hours ago.

“There should be an Oh Henry! in my messenger bag. They brought it here, right?”

“I think so.” I stood up, walking over to a small counter overlooking the window and flipping his bag open. Sure enough, there were two in there.

“Want one?” I unwrapped the bar and took a bite, groaning in satisfaction.

Row snorted. “No thanks. I’d rather chew on my own foo—” He stopped abruptly when he realized what he was admitting.

I ripped another bite of chocolate, studying him intently. “You don’t like these bars, do you?” I walked over to him.

“Sure I do. Sometimes.” He was quiet for a second. “No. I don’t. Fuck, Cal, they’re awful. How could you like them?”

I sat back next to him, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck. “They remind me of a really great moment in my childhood.”

“What moment?” He side-eyed me.

“Well, it was kind of…the first chocolate I ever had.” I blinked five times in a row. “My parents were anal retentive about my teeth and wouldn’t let me have anything sweet. Fast forward to age four, and I’m in my babushka’s room—she lived with us before she passed away. So there I was, being my usual nosy self. You know, snooping and minding everyone else’s business.”

“Shocking,” he commented wittily.

“I open her bedside drawer and see an Oh Henry! I immediately decide to eat it.”

Row grinned. “Was it everything you’ve ever wanted and more?”

“It was…” I fought my gag reflex. “From 1992.”

Row tipped his head back, plastering a hand over his face, emitting a dark chuckle. “Classic Cal.”

“I remember thinking chocolate was so overrated. It was dry and brittle and tasted like sour grapes. I spent that entire weekend hugging the toilet like it was a freshly returned lover who came back from a warzone. Apparently, when my babushka got off the plane from the former Soviet Union as a refugee, Good Samaritans waited for them on the tarmac with baskets of food and blankets and whatnot. One of them handed out chocolate bars. She remembered the moment so fondly, she decided to save the Oh Henry! as a keepsake.”

“You ate her most fundamental memory?” He crossed his arms in a hot-guy way. “I’ve never heard something so you.”

“Even though it tasted horrible, it was technically my first chocolate. So I’m still fond of it, vomit bouts be damned. Now, for the last time, where do you get the Oh Henry! from, Row?”

“Fuck.” His smile collapsed.

I watched in fascination, my breath caged inside my throat.

He trained his gaze on the wall behind my head, avoiding eye contact. “I make them.”

“Hmm, come again?” Ideally on my tits. But honestly anywhere else would do too, I was tempted to add.

“I. Make. Them.” His nostrils flared. “They’re no longer in circulation. I knew you liked them. So I found a list of the ingredients online, tested the quantities a few times, and started making them for you. The wrappers were easy to print and apply,” he mumbled as an afterthought. “I saw a manual on YouTube. I did this because I…” He stopped, rubbing his face with his palm in frustration.

“Because what?” I choked back my tears.

“You’ve always been a picky eater and I didn’t want you to faint. I’d…” His jaw squared. “I’d have nightmares about it.”

Lacing my fingers through his, I said, “I’m sorry. I wish I were in your dreams, not nightmares.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you star in both.” He pushed a hand into his hair. “My dreams. My nightmares. My fantasies. The only place you weren’t in was the place I wanted you to be most.”

“And where was that?”

“My reality.”

Our eyes met. I knew I was blinking like crazy. My heart begged me to open up, to take a chance, to dive into the deep end and try to swim, but my brain reminded me my one and only “relationship” had ended in emotional carnage I still hadn’t recovered from.

“But now?” His pupils burned with darkness and determination. “Now I know what it’s like to have you. And I never want to fall asleep because, as it turns out, my reality is better than anything a dream could ever conjure. Who are we kidding with this casual bullshit?” Row asked, brushing his knuckles along my temple softly. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, Dot. Loving you from up close is so much crueler than loving you from afar. It reminds me of all the things I’ll miss out on. All the shit that can’t be mine. Because the thing is…” He wet his lips. “You feel mine.”

“Am I your girl?”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’re my everything.”

Everything. The word was so final.

Panic skated through me. Not because I didn’t feel the same way, but because I did. I wanted to be with him too, consequences be damned. But if Franco had managed to break me so thoroughly with something that was puppy love at the time…what kind of wreckage would Row leave in his wake?

“We still have time to discuss this.” I tried to sound chirpy and bright, patting his thigh awkwardly. “Why don’t we—”

“Don’t do this,” he cut me off.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t run away from us. I’m telling you something important. I’m in love with you.”

My stomach dipped like I had fallen off a cliff. And then I just kept on falling because the implications of that statement were going to be my ruin. “Again?”

“Still,” he said bitterly. “Forever and always. I never stopped, and I’m tired of trying to hate you. To look for flaws instead of enjoying all the good parts. You bewitched me, and if I can’t have all of you, I don’t want scraps. I’m not half-assing what we are.” He took a quick breath. “My heart has two rooms, and you occupy both.”

I just stared at him, tucked under his big arm. What could I say to that?

He was…Row. Gorgeous and successful and grumpy and perfect. I was a novelty. He liked that I made him laugh. That he had my legs and mouth on speed dial. But the fascination with me would wear off as soon as we’d get serious.

If I could even get serious with a man without screwing it up.

Even if Row did love me, my trust issues would never let me be happy with him. After being chased to my almost-death by schoolmates, with nearly two decades of being heavily bullied under my belt, I wasn’t so hot on the human race. Yes, Row was a part of the very narrow exception, but could I put my entire trust and hope in someone?

Bet all my chips on this one person?

Putting my heart on the line terrified me, and even though there was a part of me that was elated, there was another bigger part that told me to run for the hills.

“What are you asking?” I raked my fingers through my hair, realizing they were shaking.

“I’m asking you to fall in love with me.” His eyes didn’t drop from mine, clinging to my face, searching, pleading. “Please.”

I almost smiled. I knew how hard it was for him to use this word. “What if you don’t catch me?” I worried my lip.

“I will.”

“How do you know?”

“My arms have been wide-open and waiting for years.” He stretched his muscular arms, with the needles poking out of the veins, for emphasis.

I dropped my elbows to my knees and held my face in my hands, trying to breathe through what was fast becoming a panic attack.

“This is the part where you say something.” Row gave me a blank stare. “No pressure or anything.”

There were so many things running through my head.

I want you, but I’m scared to death.

This is too soon, too fast.

But I had to say something, so I said, “I need more time.”

He inclined his head. “I’m afraid this chef is out of that particular ingredient. Your answer determines whether I shit all over my Blackthorn deal and piss off the man who is holding the purse strings to my new restaurant, or if I push through and sign this contract.”

“You’re thinking of staying?” My eyes widened.

He nodded solemnly.

“But, Row…you hate this town.”

“Yes, but I love you.” He licked his lips. “Plus, I can always open something in New York. Probably not immediately, since I’ll be fucking radioactive to investors and don’t have that kind of capital on hand…” He sucked his teeth.

The thought of Row dropping everything, staying behind, here, in Staindrop, made my skin crawl. I would never forgive myself if I knew I’d held him back. But I also wasn’t crazy about the idea of him putting me in this situation. He knew I always aimed to please. Having the opportunity to appease the entire town I grew up in was definitely temptation. But maybe I had grown a spine after all. Because no matter how happy I knew it would make other people, I couldn’t do this to Row and myself.

“Youshouldn’tchangeyourplansforme,” I said in one breath, the words ripping from my mouth like a Band-Aid. I untangled from him, landing on the floor with an awkward thump. “Don’t. Don’t give up on everything worthwhile for me. I’ll only disappoint you.” I stood up in a rush, panicking, blinking, ready to bolt. “Please go. Live your life. The pressure of disappointing you will eat at me, and I’ll end up messing it up. I’m not ready.” Pause. “We can’t be together, Row.”

Our eyes met. I forced myself to stay. To look the damage I’d caused in the eye. I had to stand there and see the disappointment on his face. The expression of a man ripped to shreds.

It was in this moment that Sheriff Menchin decided to saunter into the room, accompanied by another cop. “Casablancas.” He tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Village idiot,” Row drawled, ripping his gaze from my face. “Long time no see.”

Menchin tipped his head down. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Had a fucking blast. In fact, feel free to screw right off.”

Menchin brushed his hand over his gun without realizing what he was doing. These two were going to kill each other if given the chance.

“I can…stick around.” I cleared my throat.

Row’s voice was stone-cold as he continued staring at Menchin. “Thanks, I’ve got it.”

I swallowed hard. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“I’ll go check on Dylan, then.”

Nobody noticed when I slipped out of the room to the hallway, pressed my head against the wall, and began bawling my eyes out.