Chapter 9

NINE

ELLIOT

I woke up alone.

The bed was cold, as was the grip of dread spreading across my chest. She left. I’d seen it coming, but knowing it would hurt and feeling the hurt were two different?—

Oh. There was a note on the pillow.

Have to work early. Had a great time. Totally not bailing. Catch up later?

Maeve bailed. She didn’t work early mornings ever.

But, the fact that she left a note was progress.

She wanted to see me again. After she showed up at my door, she didn’t mention Armstrong. That was progress, too.

I hoped.

It was still possible that she was using me to get back at Armstrong. But, it felt like everything that had happened between us was only for me and Maeve.

No matter Maeve’s motivation, I couldn’t regret last night. Even if it meant nothing to her, it meant everything to me.

I needed to talk to her.

Lately, I’d found Maeve was the first thing I thought about when I woke up every morning. She was the last thing I thought about before bed. She was becoming all I thought about in the hours between.

She’d shown me time and again that she needed distance, though. I wouldn’t push her no matter how much I wanted her. My only option was to be patient.

Patience meant going to work.

After one quick text.

I searched through pictures of queens before landing on Queen’s Freddie Mercury. This was far better than a bee. Queen called back to how we first met. I grabbed a shirtless shot and sent it to Maeve.

I waited for a reply.

And waited.

When no reply came, I made myself get ready for the day and headed out.

A stop by the playground on Moss Street would make the perfect distraction. I’d been meaning to check in on the progress on the removal of the old rusty equipment. It’d be bittersweet seeing the metal slide and swings gone.

I’d spent summer days getting burned on that slide, defying the tetanus odds, and jumping off the swings.

The new equipment would include a rope course and climbing dome. The plastic slides wouldn’t burn anyone. No one would get tetanus. And six-year-old Ronny from the Pinecone Heights building would finally have a playground he could navigate in his wheelchair.

Halfway to my destination, my phone rang.

Most calls were telemarketers or scammers, but I found a safe place to pull over and check.

It was Mrs. Clifton.

After her proclamations about never wanting to see me again, she was the last person I expected to call.

Curious, I answered. “Hi, Mrs. Clifton. What can I do for you?”

“We have a problem.”

We? Did she mean the collective residents of Pinecone Heights? “What kind of problem?”

“That Armstrong fellow is trying to scam us.”

Scam wasn’t the word I would use, but yes, he was trying to lowball the residents, then he’d kick them out, and demolish their building. I’d tried to warn her before. I’d been too gentle about it, which is how he’d screwed both me and the residents of Pinecone Heights over.

“He’s planning to tear down the building,” I said.

“I remembered what you said and I read the paperwork three times. He’s not offering to share ownership like he says with his words. The papers say he’s getting everything.”

A spike of frustration shot through my chest. “You did the right thing reaching out. I can have my lawyer look over the agreement. Since he offered a different agreement verbally than the one you signed?—”

“I didn’t sign.”

“You didn’t sign?”

“No. I threw the papers out the window. He’s out front pacing and yelling. I’d rather not get the police involved or that shrew next door will throw a conniption.”

Mrs. Laramy? Yes, she would. “You did the right thing. I’ll deal with him.”

“Good.”

This was the best news. Was it karma finally coming for Armstrong? Was it something I’d said specifically that had made Mrs. Clifton change her mind about me? “Do you mind if I ask why you’ve decided to trust me?”

“Your bad reviews got flagged as false and taken down.”

Thank you, Maeve. “Thanks, Mrs. Clifton. I’ll be there soon.”

I hung up the phone and got back on the road, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. Pinecone Heights was back in play.

When I arrived, I parked and spotted Armstrong pacing in front of the building while furiously tapping on his phone. He held a stack of papers under his arm. His nostrils flared.

Maybe he was venting to his lawyer. Maybe he was searching for some way to review bomb Mrs. Clifton. Or maybe he’d come across the photo of me and Maeve kissing in front of the Christmas tree downtown.

She’d likely posted the photo this morning. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

Armstrong snapped his head in my direction. “What are you doing here?”

“My job.”

He snorted. “You did this, didn’t you? You turned Mrs. Clifton against me.”

“You did that all on your own.” I shrugged. “Must be your winning personality.”

“Shut up. You’re responsible. Just like you broke into my home.”

I put my hand over my chest and offered my most convincing look of shock and concern. “Someone robbed you?”

“No. No one robbed me.” He waved around the contract, crumpling the papers in his fist. “You know exactly what happened to me because you did it.”

With an air of innocence, I said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.”

“If no one robbed you, but you say they broke in, did they damage your window…or….”

He clenched his teeth together. “You didn’t break anything but my sanity, you scum-sucking?—”

“No one broke in? I’m confused. You just said they did. Which is it?”

“You tampered with my trophies. No one touches my trophies.”

“How exactly do you think I could have done anything to you? I didn’t break in. I don’t have a key.” Except for the one on my keyring.

He stopped pacing. His eyes bulged. He turned red.

For the first time during our many confrontations, I was concerned he might physically assault me.

“You got to Maeve, didn’t you? Turned her against me,” he snapped. “How’d you do it?”

I shouldn’t have mentioned the word key. Then again, I figured he’d already have an inkling of my knowledge of Maeve. Did that mean he hadn’t seen the photo of us making out? Did that mean she hadn’t posted it?

Did she not post it because she was embarrassed? Or did she not post it because our night meant more to her than she’d let on.

“I knew it.” Armstrong stomped his foot. “It’s always you ruining everything. Well, I won’t let you. She’s too important to me.”

I shouldn’t care that he still loved her. Armstrong’s feelings were irrelevant. Maeve chose what and who she wanted for herself. Still, my stomach churned. “You have a strange way of showing you love her.”

“Love her?” He scoffed. “I said Maeve was important. She’s useful. My life is far less convenient without her.”

Convenient?

A fire ignited in the pit of my gut, spreading until my entire body burned with hatred.

He spent every day working to undo the good I did for Oldbridge. I could handle that. But then, he talked about Maeve like she was nothing. I couldn’t stomach that.

I’d never punched a man before, but I wanted to feel his nose crunch and hear his sobs.

I dug my clenched fists into my thighs. The sharp pressure meant I was holding it together.

“She deserves better,” I said.

“Who cares? Not me. She’s mine, and I’m going to keep it that way.”

“I heard she dumped you.” My body trembled—from fury or the effort required to hold it back, I wasn’t sure.

“Well, you heard wrong. She’ll never leave me. Women are easy. All you have to do is give them something every now and then and suggest you might marry them, breadcrumbs that keep them waiting for more.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you thought you could break me. Well, I’ve changed my locks. There’s nothing you can do?—”

I took a breath, then another, long and slow. “What’s that smell?”

Armstrong lifted his nose to the air.

“Is that…stink bugs?” I asked, knowing it was cilantro.

“My cologne’s gone sour. I can’t believe you can still smell…ugh!” Armstrong twisted on his heel, but then stopped and turned back to me. “You stay away from Maeve. I’m getting her flowers. I’m buying her a new pair of those hideous shoes she loves. You know what? I might even propose.”

His words struck me like a fist to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. I reached for the railing by the stairs to steady myself.

The shock and fear that I felt—it must have been all over my face, because Armstrong grinned with smug confidence. He knew his blow had landed. He knew he’d won, so he flipped me the bird as he turned and left.

And I was left with a sharp sickness twisting through my insides.

Maeve knew exactly what kind of man Armstrong was. She didn’t need me to tell her what to do. But every fiber of my being ached to run to her before he could.

There was no mistaking this feeling.

We’d hardly had a chance to get to know each other, but I didn’t just like Maeve. I liked her a lot, as in I couldn’t stand the thought of her taking back the man who’d hurt her. I couldn’t stand the idea of her being with anyone but me.

The possibility of it physically ached.

I pulled out my phone to text her—a warning, a plea, I didn’t know what.

I’d missed two texts from her.

Maeve: QUEEN! I love it

Maeve: If only Freddie had a unicorn

Seeing her words made my heart lighter. Based on the timestamp, she’d texted while I was in the car. I hoped she was still available now.

Me: That’d be too perfect. I wouldn’t have an excuse to randomly text you anymore

I was pleasantly surprised when the blinking dots appeared on my screen.

Maeve: I guess we’d have to find a new game to play

Maeve: I’ve been thinking about you all morning

Me: All good things I hope

Maeve: Mostly dirty things

Any worries I’d had about losing her evaporated like my exhaled breath in the winter sky.

Me: Tell me more

Maeve: You. Me. Naked Twister

Me: When and where?

Maeve: It better be tonight. My place. I want a repeat of last night

Maeve: No wait, I want…three orgasms instead of two

Me: Done. What else?

Maeve: Call out of work tomorrow and make it four?

Maeve: Is four even possible?

Me: Definitely

Maeve: Are you hard right now?

Me: I’m always hard

Maeve: Hahaha

It didn’t matter what Armstrong said to her, or what he bought for her. This thing between me and Maeve was real and wonderful and everything.

Another text came through.

This one was a picture.

Maeve was standing in a closet, with her lip between her teeth and her shirt lifted. The cups of her bra were pulled down below her perfect little tits.

It was the first time she’d shown them to me—the pink nipples and creamy skin. She was perfect and I wanted to take each one into my mouth. Now.

Me: Forget tonight. Tell me where you are and I’m there right now

Maeve: Tonight. We should go out for dinner first

I typed: how about I eat you instead, then erased it. If she wanted dinner, she should have dinner. I would love to take her on a real date without pretense or Armstrong’s influence hanging over us.

What I’d said about being hard—it was no joke. I had to adjust my pants before heading inside to talk to Mrs. Clifton. And I had to fight spending the entire day staring at that picture and our exchange.

At the gas station, I found a keychain that reminded me of Maeve, so I bought it for her. Then, that night, I went straight to Maeve’s apartment.

I knocked.

“It’s open,” she called.

I stepped in and looked around. The layout was the same as mine. The living room was painted a happy shade of yellow. I suspected she had painted it herself. It looked crisp and new.

Two seats sat low to the floor. They were shaped like legless chairs, and when I poked one, I realized they were filled with foam balls.

I had never seen bean bag chairs like these, and I hadn’t seen any since college.

There was also a little table with a container of snack mix, two coasters, and a video game controller.

“I got caught at the arcade, so I’m running a little later than I expected,” Maeve called from one of the bedrooms. “Plus, I don’t own any dresses, and I haven’t done the whole adult dating thing in…ever.”

If she was twenty-nine, and had dated Armstrong for five years, that meant she’d been twenty-four when she met him. “What about before Armstrong?”

“Nope. I mean, I did the mess-around, short-term kinds of things, but no one stuck. And I never went for anyone I cared to impress or actually wanted to stick. What about you?”

“Similar.”

I debated sitting in the beanbag while I waited, but there was no way to gracefully get up after. Rolling around on the floor alone was not sexy.

“Give me more than that,” she said.

“It’s been a year since I found anyone that interested me at all.”

“Huh, interesting. How old are you, by the way?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Younger than me.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not really.” She popped her head out from one of the rooms. “I have no idea what I’m doing or what to wear.”

Concern creased a small line between her brows.

I reached her in a few long strides and cupped her face between my hands. It had been far too long since I’d touched her. “You’re doing just fine.”

“But if we go out to dinner, and you look like you, and I look like me…”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like the next James Bond, and I’m Milhouse from The Simpsons.”

I should have changed out of my work suit before rushing straight here. I’d been impatient.

“You’re perfect, Maeve. Exactly as you are.” I slid my hand down her shoulder and took her hand. Then I gently guided her out from the doorway.

She was wearing a jean skirt and a Donkey Kong t-shirt. She gave me an awkward smile as I took her in from head to toe. She was wearing her iced tea sneakers. Was Armstrong planning to give her similar shoes? Had he given her this pair?

I swallowed the thought, or at least I tried. It caught in my throat. “I should tell you something. I ran into?—”

She put up a hand. “I know. He’s been leaving tons of messages. I don’t want to talk about Bradford.”

“So tonight’s date isn’t for photos to show him what he’s missing?”

She shook her head. “It’s about what I’ve been missing.”

Elation bubbled in my chest like champagne. This woman was intoxicating.

“Here.” I pulled out the keychain I’d picked up at the gas station—a pufferfish in a pixel art style.

She took it and looked it over. She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way.

“I found it and thought of you. It’s not a big deal, but do you like it?”

“Who doesn’t love a big ball of pixelated spines? It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Then she kissed me.

Exhilaration rippled through my veins. I lifted her up and pressed her to the wall, wishing I could worship her everywhere at once, but starting with her mouth.

She wrapped her legs around my waist. I pinned her in place with my hips and held tight to her lush, bare thighs. Her body was soft, her heart gentle and strong.

She kissed away the worries I’d been holding onto over the past weeks. She kissed me like I was her everything and the world beyond this apartment didn’t exist.

I needed her more than I needed to save Oldbridge. I needed her more than oxygen.

Her fingers raked through my hair, over my shoulders. She stripped me of my jacket, my shirt and tie, and my every defense.

I slid a hand between her thighs and ran a finger up and down her panties.

“Elliot.” It was a plea.

I loved the feel of her hands on my chest as much as I loved the sound of my name on her lips. I loved her needy whimpers. I loved the way she arched into me and forgot what she was doing as I touched her exactly where she wanted.

She leaned her head against the wall.

“At this rate we’re going to ruin your cute date outfit before we make it out the door.” I kept stroking over her clit through the wet fabric.

“Forget food.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she pointed. “Bed.”

I followed her direction and carried her into her bedroom and laid her down. She scurried to strip completely, as I watched.

“There, Donkey Kong’s safe.” She smiled at me with a blush that bloomed across her chest and her cheeks. “You should be naked, too.”

I obliged and shucked what was left to shuck while devouring every inch of her naked body with my eyes.

“You’re perfect,” I told her.

She laughed, soft and sweet, then grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down with her.

We kissed again, deeper and longer, our bodies coming together.

She tangled her legs in mine. I skated my hands over her back, pulling her closer. No matter how much surface of our bodies was touching, it would never be enough.

Her heart beat hard and fast against mine.

I ached to be inside her, but I needed to take my time, taste every inch of her skin first, so I did.

She writhed as I worshiped her breasts. She giggled as I kissed her belly button. She moaned as I licked her pussy.

Tasting her was a privilege, my new sweet addiction. I pulled her closer, angled her hips to steal my fill. Every swipe of my tongue coaxed her needy breaths and further marked her as mine.

I lapped her up until she gripped the sheets, cried out my name, and pulsed on my tongue. And then I lapped her up some more, as I watched her melt.

Once her body stilled, I climbed up from between her thighs. “That’s one.”

I used my arms to hold myself above her to take in the full effect of her sated expression. Maeve was even more gorgeous like this, her expression soft and relaxed.

“One?” she asked on a breathy whisper.

“I believe you asked for three orgasms.”

She chuckled and blushed. I loved the sound of her amusement and the sight of her shyness. There wasn’t a single thing I didn’t adore about this woman.

“I don’t think I want to go out for dinner. I don’t think I ever want to leave this bed.”

I’d never heard anything more satisfying. “We’ll live here. It’s the perfect plan.”

She looked down between us, to where my throbbing cock still waited to be acknowledged. Then she took me in her palm with another shy smile. “Not quite perfect yet.”

Her hand felt so good wrapped around me I nearly collapsed.

She reached her free hand to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. I kissed her neck as she rolled it over my length.

She wrapped her ankles behind my back, pulling my tip to her entrance. “It’s been so long since…start gentle with me.”

“I promise.” I placed a tender kiss to her lips, and pressed gently inside.

She was warm and snug and more than anything, she felt too good to be true. I couldn’t believe this was happening, that in a city of hundreds of thousands of people, I’d be the one who found her, who she’d choose to trust and connect with like this.

Careful, slow, so slow it hurt, I watched her stretch to accommodate me.

She gasped. “You feel so good.”

“So do you.” Like silk, like joy, like a dream.

She pulled me deeper.

It was so good, I didn’t know how long I could last. I wanted forever.

“Now it’s perfect,” she said.

We moved together, pulling each other closer, never getting enough. No matter how long she wanted me, would it ever be enough?

It couldn’t be.

“Yes.” She flexed her fingers into my back. “More.”

I thrust deeper, harder, giving her everything.

She panted and pulled me tight against her. I loved the feel of her breasts bouncing against my chest. I loved the way she held onto me like I was her lifeline, because she was mine, too.

“Please,” she whimpered.

Stay with me.

She gasped my name, and squeezed. Her mouth fell open as her muscles tightened and pulsed. Our mouths crashed together. I held on as long as I could, needing to see I’d satisfied her before I could find my own release. She pulled me with her, in a climax that surged like a snowstorm through us both.

My arms shook under my weight. My heart thundered her name over and over in my chest. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

And as I watched her come undone for the second time, I realized I’d been wrong before. Like wasn’t big enough a word for what I felt for Maeve.

It was too soon to tell her. But somewhere between the wedding and now, I’d fallen in love with Maeve Katz.

We settled beside each other on the bed, our worlds rocked and the cool air biting our hot, bare skin.

“I’m sure now. I don’t want to go out to dinner,” Maeve said.

“I’m going to need a few minutes before I can give you climax number three.”

She chuckled. “I’m going to need more than a few minutes. Maybe eat pizza and play some Gnarled Auto first. We have all night, right?”

“And tomorrow too.”

Twenty-four hours like this with Maeve wasn’t enough.

No amount of time would be.

I wanted her for keeps.