18. Lemon

eighteen

lemon

Even though I showered in the morning, I take another one when I get home from work. I let my hair air dry and then I spend an hour straightening it, adding product, and then curling it because I'm nervous.

I shouldn't be anxious. My heart shouldn't be pounding like crazy with anticipation of Wade coming over. He's been here once before, albeit he showed up randomly, asking for closure.

Closure . . . is that what I want? Maybe or maybe, I want to find a way to move past all of this and be friends?

Friends . . . I'm not sure I can be friends with Wade. I love him and have been in love with him most of my life. Being his friend almost feels like a slap across my face. Not only for me, but for him as well. Which makes me wonder if I need to move away so both of us can have a healthy relationship with someone else.

Do I want to be with someone else ? No, I don't. I could've started dating many moons ago, but I chose not to. I've had every excuse in the book to avoid dating. Too busy, focused on my career, not enough time in the day . . . the list goes on and on. Yet, each excuse I came up with was never valid or ever truthful. I longed for Wade which is how I ended up back in Magnolia Grove. I could've easily applied for hundreds of other jobs, but I wanted to be here, where he was and where all our memories were.

He said he would come over after Marigold—I mean Goldie—went to bed. When I saw her get hurt, something inside of me changed. While I love all my students, the urge to protect her came out of nowhere. I know it's my duty to keep all the children safe, but it's like a flip had been switched, and Goldie needed me the most.

When she asked me to call her Goldie, I think my knees went weak. I've been determined to keep her at arm's length, the keep the wall up, but she's slowly taking it down. Between her and her father, it's going to crumble fast.

I'm not sure if I'm ready though. There's a niggling voice in the back of my head, telling me to proceed with caution, that not everything is right in the world. Leslie would tell me it's all in my head, that I'm looking for anything to put the kibosh on rekindling a relationship with Wade. She's partly right.

After changing my clothes ten or fifteen times, I finally settle on a pair of sweats and a tank top because I don't want Wade to think I've dressed up for him. He needs to see me uncaring about him coming over. Besides this is what I'd put on when I get home from work, and the hour I spent on my hair is down the drain because I've put it up on a messy bun.

I do, however, open a bottle of wine. I need the liquid courage to calm my nerves. After last night in his truck, my nerves are on overdrive and I'm afraid I'm going to jump him the minute he walks through my door, which would be very unladylike, but very much a Lemon move. The man drives me wild, and he knows it.

I've barely taken a sip of my wine when there's a knock at my door. The glass is poised at my lips for another swallow and while downing the contents seems like a smart thing to do, I don't do it and set the glass down.

With every step I take toward the door, my heart races faster. My entire life could change when I open this door and invite him in.

Am I ready ?

It's a question I ask but have no answer for. I've spent years telling myself I'd never ever give Wade the time of day again, and yet, I jumped his bones the first chance I could. I blame the nostalgia of being in his truck, the rain, and the fact that I haven't had sex with anyone since I stupidly told him I wanted a break.

My hand grips the doorknob. I twist it slowly. My heart and mind do battle on whether this is a good thing or not. I finally open the door and my breathing hitches because fuck me sideways, Wade Jenkins does not disappoint.

He stands there, with his ratty, worn-out ball cap that is somehow ridiculously sexy, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, which fits him just right, highlighting his well-toned pecs and contrasting with his tanned skin. This man likes to mow the lawn shirtless. I know because I've ogled him from my window one too many times to count. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled, stopping above his bulging bicep. He leans against the doorjamb, with his ankles crossed, and the perfect crooked smile on his face.

I swallow hard and push down every naughty thought I have about me ripping his clothes off and screwing him on every surface of my apartment. Hell, I'm not even sure my kitchen table is sturdy enough for what my mind would like to do to Wade.

In his hand, a single red rose. My fingers itch to take it from him, to bring it to my nose and inhale the sweet scent, but I'm frozen.

"Can I come in?"

I shake my head. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"I'll be good. I promise."

He can promise all he wants because I'm not sure he's the problem. I am. He stands, extends his hand with the rose, and I'm afraid he's about to leave so I step back and let him in. Once he's passed the threshold, I close the door and lock it, which is unheard of in Magnolia Grove. However, I wouldn't put it past the town gossips to see his truck in the parking lot and come on up to my apartment to see what's what.

With Wade standing in my living room, my two-bedroom apartment feels much smaller than it is. He's larger than life, always has been, but has never overshadowed me. It's funny how I can remember these amazing details about Wade, and yet have trouble getting over the break I asked for.

"Can I get you something to drink? I have wine, sweet tea, lemonade, or water."

"What are you having?"

"Wine."

"That works for me." He smiles. I smile back and make my way into the kitchen.

Wade follows and puts my rose in the same vase I put the one from the morning and sets my keys down on my table. The smile forms before I can stop it. He remembered. "I meant to thank you earlier for fixing the flat and bringing my car to me. It was a nice surprise this morning."

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't?"

I hand him his glass and pick up mine. "You had no reason to."

Wade chuckles. "You're reason enough, Lemon."

His words . . . they make my knees weak. I take a hearty drink to squash my nerves. He watches me for a minute before taking his own sip, and then walks toward the living room. I follow, watching him. Absorbing him.

"How's the bump on Goldie's head?" I ask, changing the subject. Wade turns away from my faux fireplace, where there are various pictures of me, my parents, Leslie.

"She's fine," he tells me. "There isn't even a bump."

"Little kids," I start and pause. "They exaggerate sometimes. It's important to always believe them though. Make sure they're seen and understood."

Wade chuckles. "Don't get me wrong, Goldie can be dramatic at times. She is, after all, seven. But for the most part, she's honest when something hurts or bothers her."

"That's good to know."

I sit down in one of the corners of my three-seat sofa, and pull my leg under me. I'm trying to act as casually as possible, but it's hard. I feel like I need to scream, dance around, or pounce on him. None of those options seem practical though and the anxiety or anxiousness I feel is all too consuming.

When Wade sits, I tell myself to relax. We've been this close and definitely closer many times over, and I'm not even counting last night. I take another sip, needing the liquid courage to relax.

"Do you want to talk about last night?"

"Nope," I say, leaning forward to set my glass on my coffee table. "Sometimes things happen.

"Yes, but you've been hell-bent on ignoring me, so you'll have to excuse me if my mind is running rampant with thoughts."

"Can we chalk it up to a moment of weakness?"

Wade looks at me, truly looks into my eyes. They're searching for the truth and I'm afraid if he looks to deeply, he might find it.

"No," he finally says without breaking eye contact. "You're beholden to the notion that I've done something wrong. And yet, when I come across you stranded on the side of the road, you throw caution to the wind and . . ." He pauses and shakes his head.

Is he searching for the right term to use? I'm not even sure I know the proper way to describe what I did. Yes, we had sex. I initiated it without preempt from him. It was me who kissed him, who straddled him, who unbuttoned his jeans. Right then, I didn't care because after going from missing him for so many years, to being kissed by him again, my desire for him became too much to control.

I reach for my wine and take another sip, and then sit back and rest my arm on the back cushion between us. I'm proud of what I did and hold my head high when I look at him. "What happened last night, happened for a reason." I hold my hand up before he asks. "What the reason is, I don't know. What I do know is I'm tired of fighting what I feel for you."

"What changed?"

"You," I tell him. "Seeing you every day . . . I don't know, it's like Goldie needed to be here to show me what I'm missing."

Wade links his fingers with mine. "I can't be with someone who doesn't like my daughter, Lemon. I would never put her in that situation. Today, what I saw in your office leads me to believe what you told me, how you're jealous of her, isn't true."

I glance away and fight an errant wave of emotions. I'm so mad at myself for being jealous of a little girl. It's not fair to her. She's the only innocent party in all of this drama.

"Not my proudest moment, Wade. I've never claimed to be perfect."

"I'm not expecting you to be or even asking that of you. I feel like we could be on the path to something, and I want to explore this. But I can't if you can't accept my daughter."

"I can, Wade. I'm not proud of how I feel. It's something I have to work through, but I promise I won't ever let her, or you see that side of me. I'd never do anything to hurt Goldie."

Wade sets his glass onto the table and swiftly pulls onto his lap.

"Whoa," I say, laughing.

"I like you here," he says as his hands rub up and down my back, until his fingers grip the waistband of my sweats. Wade slouches a bit, pushing himself into me. "I really liked you here last night."

"It was my moment of weakness."

He nods and while the motion means he's agreeing with me, his eyes tell a whole other story. He brings me a bit closer and kisses me over my fabric covered chest, moving up my neck to my ear and down my jawline.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay." My word comes out breathlessly as I turn my head for more. "Maybe we should go into my bedroom."

In one swoop, Wade is standing and carrying me to my bedroom. My hand cups his face. I look into his eyes and instantly my mind wants to say those three words that will change everything between us. I don't get how I can love this man after everything.

Or how he can love me.

I tell him where to go and reach for the doorknob when we get to my closed door. He kicks it the rest of the way open and sets me on my bed gently. He steps back and takes his ball cap off and runs his fingers through his hair, and then he takes his shirt off.

"We don't have to do anything," he says as he comes toward me. "I brought condoms though."

I laugh loudly and press my hand to his rock-hard abs, halting him from coming forward. Instead of leaning back, I slowly undo his pants. Wade's a smart guy and picks up on my hint pretty quickly and tugs my tank over my head. I lean back, letting him see me. His hands grip my sweats, he pulls quickly, and they go flying. The quick inhale from him doesn't go unnoticed.

"My memory hasn't done me justice," he says as he takes off his shoes and jeans. "God, I have fucking missed you."

"I've missed you too." I move toward the middle of my bed while Wade crawls toward me with a hungry look in his eyes.

"It's a good thing tomorrow's Saturday."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm about to make love to you all night, Lemon. We have years to make up for and last night was practice." He kisses the inside of my thigh, nipping at my skin lightly. "I'm going to need another practice round."

"Practice?"

He looks at me and nods. "It's been a damn long time, baby. There's no way you're leaving this room until you're satisfied. The best part is, we don't have to worry about your roommate or mine walking in. We can take our time, go as slow as we want, and walk around naked." Wade moves to my other thigh, nips at my skin, and then kisses me through my lacy underwear.

I try to come up with something to say, but all words are lost when Wade pulls my panties aside and tastes me. My back arches off my bed and my hand goes right to his hair.

"Shit."

Wade chuckles. "I prefer you call me Wade."

"I'll call you whatever you want if you fuck me right now. Leave the foreplay for the next round. I want to feel you."

I've never seen someone move as fast as he does right now. He's off the bed, digging through his pants pocket for a condom while simultaneously removing his briefs. I shimmy out of my panties and toss them on the floor, in time to welcome him into my arms.

Wade hovers above me, his fingers caressing the side of my face. "I love you, Lemon."