Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
NICHOLAS
After possibly the busiest week in the history of Blossom, I get up Friday morning exhausted, but determined.
It's time to show Clay exactly how I feel.
He hasn't texted or called. He just disappeared. It's frustrating, but I know I share some of the blame. I've held back my feelings because of ideas about who Clay and I both are and what we each want, but I owe us both the truth.
And the truth is, I love him. And I love who we are together. Easily, I can see us building a life, Clay right here in Allentown where he belongs. Leading a carpentry crew and accomplishing all of his other dreams, but here.
My soul aches—I want that so bad.
I need to tell him how I feel, but anything flashy or public is out. Clay needs to know that I want him exactly the way he is, and that he doesn't need to put on a sunflower costume to make me happy. I want our quiet nights together, our happy oasis in the middle of the bustle of the gayborhood.
I want the life that only we can build together.
And I've decided to show him I care the best way I know. With flowers.
After filling my coffee, I head out, driving south down the lake. It's been long enough that the shooting stars have sent out their second bloom, and I've got the homeowner's permission to gather a second mini-harvest. Back at the woods where I first met Clay, I climb over the ditch and get back to harvesting.
There's a busy day ahead at Blossom. Kavya and Zooey are taking the lead on the flower booth, getting supplies together and planning bouquets, which leaves the rest of the business logistics to me. And I decided to take Clay's advice, so we have the marketing company coming in this afternoon to take photos and launch a social media campaign around the event.
But no matter how busy I am, I'll never be too busy for love. Clay deserves to be treated like a priority, shown that he matters to me, so that's exactly what I'm going to do.
With a basket full of purple flowers, I deftly climb back over the ditch. When I remember our first encounter here, I can't help but laugh to myself.
I'll fall in a million ditches if it means I get my man.
Cruising back to the gayborhood, I rehearse what I need to say. Clay doesn't want the kind of public attention and overwhelming sentiment that I'd typically envision for a grand gesture like this, so I'll make sure to do this all behind closed doors. I'll put on my best suit, fill my apartment with bouquets of shooting stars, and bare my soul, offering him the truth that I've owed him for weeks now.
I don't need an elaborate wedding. I don't need swoony declarations or endless nights dancing together at the gay bar. I just need him.
When I get back to the neighborhood, my mind is racing. I find a parking spot a couple of blocks away and scurry toward Blossom, the basket of flowers on my arm, and dressed in my dirty, ill-fitting work clothes.
After I round the corner, though, everything freezes.
It's Clay.
He stands about fifty feet away from me, dressed in jeans and his button-up white shirt. My heart leaps with joy, and tears fill my eyes. I'm so relieved to see him.
"Nicky," he says, his deep, gravelly voice soothing.
"Clay," I answer as I close the distance between us. "You're back!"
My thoughts spin. He didn't tell me he was returning. Is everything okay?
His eyes turn to the basket of flowers on my arm. "Those are the shooting stars," he says.
"You remember."
We stand for a moment on the street, looking at each other. The neighborhood is coming alive around us, people passing by, but I only see him, and I can tell he only sees me, too.
"I'm really glad to see you," I tell him. "I went to harvest these flowers because I need to talk to you, Clay. I need to tell you something."
"Yeah. I've got something to say, too."
He reaches out and takes my cheek, his hand on my face, and my spirits soar.
"When you left," I say, the words spilling out, "I realized that I hadn't been honest with myself or with you. It sent me reeling because if you were gone, Clay, it meant I might never get to tell you that I'm falling in love with you. And I know you're not looking for love. And I know I'm asking you to turn your whole life upside down just to be with me. But I love you, Clay. I want you to stay here and be my boyfriend. And even if you decide to leave, I need you to know that."
Clay swallows. He stares at me like he doesn't know what to say.
"You went and picked the flowers for me," he says evenly, like he's trying to process. "To show me."
"We can go inside to talk," I tell him. "Away from the street."
But before I can say anything more, Clay swoops forward. He pulls me into his arms and takes me into a deep kiss. His beard scrapes my skin, his tongue swirls against mine, and he clutches me to him like he's never going to let go.
"I love you, Nicky," he murmurs against my mouth.
The tears spill out of the corners of my eyes, falling down my cheeks. "You love me?"
"Yeah, I love you," he says with a soft chuckle. "I'm fucking out of my mind over you. Can't you tell?"
"I hoped that was true."
"You want me to stay here?" Clay asks, still holding me. "Live in Buffalo. Be your boyfriend or whatever."
I smile. "Yeah. I do. More than anything, that's what I want."
"Okay," he says with a nod, determination setting in his eyes.
"Okay?"
"I'll move to Buffalo. It sounds pretty good. Don't you think?"
I grin. "Yeah. It sounds perfect, actually."
Clay takes my hand. "I haven't had a lot of love in my life, and I convinced myself that I wasn't good enough for you." My heart breaks to hear him say it, but he doesn't give me a chance to cut in and say otherwise. "I want you to know I'll do everything I can to make you happy and be the man that you deserve. I'm never going to be a natural romantic, but I'll work hard to show you that I care."
I nod quickly. "You don't need to prove anything to me, and I don't need you to be anyone but yourself. Everything you've done since the moment I met you has been sweetly, perfectly romantic, whether you know it or not."
Clay half-smiles. "I'm glad you think so. I've got something to show you, Nicky."
I arch an eyebrow. "What's that?"
Clay nods down the street. "Come here," he says.
He leads me toward the shop, still holding my hand. The morning sun shines, and light fills me, love pouring between us. It takes me a second until my gaze turns to see his truck, which is absolutely overflowing with gorgeous, lush flowers.
I halt, blinking as I take it in.
The cover is on the back, and all the windows are vented, allowing air to the freshly cut irises, sky-blue delphiniums, and creamy hydrangeas, all carefully arranged. Even the front is filled, countless peonies spilling from the passenger seat.
I look to Clay. "What? How? Huh?"
He laughs. "They're for you. And I can get more every two weeks."
"What?" I yelp.
Clay pops the back of the truck open, giving me a better look. "That one guy my grandpa fell in love with? Allen? I went and met him. His husbands grow flowers. Kind of excessively. They practically begged me to take them, so I worked something out."
I look at him, impressed that he went to Allen's. It's a big deal for Clay to trust anyone, but he wasn't just running. He was out there looking for answers, turning to other people.
My man.
"If you're getting a truckload of flowers every other week, I'm going to reimburse them," I say, my eyes dancing over the major payload.
"I told them you'd say that." He gestures toward the flowers. "I know we're supposed to get these inside. Can't let them sit in the truck too long."
I take Clay's hand again. "That's true," I say as I pull him back toward the shop. "Best to get flowers inside to the air conditioning as soon as possible."
He looks helplessly over his shoulder at the truck as I lead him into Blossom. "Then where are we going?"
I shut the door behind him and lock it before depositing my basket of shooting stars on a table.
"To get the cart," I say and pull him into a kiss.
Clay groans with surprise as I press my body to his, knocking him back against the door. He strokes my side and kisses me back, his grip on me light but firm.
"To get the cart," he says with a low growl.
I walk to the window, yanking the cord to lower the blinds. After I pull down the side window shade, too, I yank my shirt off.
"I can't not touch you right now," I say as I throw myself back against Clay.
He catches me easily. "All those flowers made you horny."
I laugh as I taste his lips, tugging at his shirt. "You brought me a truckload of beautiful flowers, Clay."
He drags his hands down my hips. "You picked the shooting stars for me," he says.
"Yes," I say with a broad smile. "For you."
Clay pulls his shirt off. "Ever get fucked in your shop, Nicky?" he asks.
I laugh. "Absolutely never."
He takes me in another kiss, pulling me against his body, letting me feel his erection against my hip. "Good. I'm going to bend you over that booth and bury my dick in your ass, and you're going to try your best not to moan too loud while I'm doing it."
"We've already got a reputation. Maybe I should just let loose," I tease, and when Clay looks alarmed, I laugh and kiss him. "Just kidding." I stroke his face, feeling his scraggly beard. "I love you, Clay," I tell him.
"I love you," Nicky.
He kisses me again, harder this time, and walks me to the booth.
"Now every time you look at this booth, you're going to know I fucked you here."
I turn and lean back against it. "But Clay," I say, teasing, "you own the building. The shop is supposed to be open this morning. What will people say?"
He grins, feeling up between my legs. "They'll say sweet, friendly Nicholas is getting his ass plowed by that carpenter with the big dick."
I laugh, but it turns into a gasp when he squeezes my ass hard. "Clay," I murmur, keeping my voice down. "You know you're my dream boyfriend, right? Exactly the way you are."
He grumbles under his breath, pleased. "That right?"
"Not because of the truck full of flowers. Or the big dick." He laughs and reaches around, stroking my erection through my pants, but I pull it together. "Because of you."
He turns me, swooping me into a deep kiss. "I love you, Nicky. I love you so goddamn much."
The scent of flowers is heavy in the air, and the gayborhood is just coming to life outside the shop.
I feel alive. I feel full of love and possibility and joy. Clay's come back, and he loves me, too.
After days of uncertainty, it's pure relief to touch him again. Feel the scrape of his hand against my skin. Inhale his scent, and put my mouth wherever I want to put it on him.
With his arm snaking around my chest, Clay fucks me hard, just like he promised. It feels fun, like we're getting away with something first thing in the morning, still able to have secrets.
And when we gather ourselves back together, everything falls into place. After we clean up, we finally find the cart and roll it out to the street. We talk and joke around as we unload the flowers, and people passing by stop and chat.
When Clay takes me in a kiss right there on the street, Harry cheers from down the block. "Now that's what I call a good morning, Nicholas!" he hollers out, friendly.
Clay presses his forehead to mine with a chuckle. "This is my life now, isn't it?"
"Afraid so."
He half-smiles, eyeing me hard. "I'll take it." Rocking back on his heel, Clay turns his eyes up toward the second floor of the building. "Want to move in with me?"
I scoff as I pull the last box of flowers out. "Move in? We've only been dating two months."
Clay frowns, and I snicker to myself as I walk back into the shop.
"Fuck. Are you kidding me? I haven't done this boyfriend shit before, but don't you move in with me now?" He pulls the door open for me. "Cost of rent alone."
I laugh as Clay takes the box, carrying it the rest of the way himself.
"I'm madly in love with you," I tell him, "and thrilled to be your boyfriend. And that is why you are going to be my boyfriend at least a year before I move in with you." I wave a finger at him. "No skipping ahead!"
Clay furrows his brow at me. "A year."
I grin. "I'll still be all yours. Don't worry."
"What do I have to do, sweep you off your feet and carry you across the threshold?"
"That's marriage," I say with a laugh. "Do you want to get married now?"
"If it would mean you'd have to live with me? Then yes. I've decided I'm all about marriage."
I kiss him, enjoying the rough scrape of his beard. "One year. It will be fun."
"You're the love expert," he agrees. "And assuming I can find a graceful way out of the deal with Jacob, it gives me another year to renovate upstairs."
"Oh yeah?"
He puts his arm around me. "I've got big plans for this building. It's going to be the home I share with the man I love."