If she only knew how I take in every moment with her, she wouldn’t have to even question this. So when I see her nodding and letting out a sigh, almost in relief at my words, I take her face in my hands and kiss her. Slow. Because time doesn’t matter to me with her. I don’t even move; I just rest my lips on hers. It’s only when she slips out a giggle that I pull back, and with a smirk, ask, “What?”
“Can we get off your bathroom floor now?” she says with a smile, and I have to laugh at her, happy to see that she’s feeling better about this situation. At least I hope she is.
“Let’s get out of here,” I suggest and stand to help her up off the floor.
“Where are we going?”
“Let’s go hang out at Zoca’s and get some coffee.”
“Perfect.”
24
Yesterday, after Candace got upset about seeing the photos, I took her to a local coffee shop where we ran into Gavin. I was nervous having Candace meet him, someone who knows way too much of my past, after she had just gotten a glimpse of it. Oddly, he wasn’t as brash as he normally is, and the two of them seemed to get along for what small talk they wound up having, which wasn’t much.
I’ve definitely put space between us, but I’ve known him for nearly ten years, and it’s strange not having him be more of a presence. He stops by the bar on occasion to listen to bands and grab a drink, but it’s not like it used to be.
I turn around from my desk, sliding the credenza open to take out a few files that I need to run up to the bar, when I see the mattes that I had thrown in here last night. I hate that Candace had to see those. I didn’t consider her reaction then, but now, I regret ever showing her. I don’t blame her for being so upset, having to see images of women from my past, knowing that I had slept with them. It’s something we haven’t done with each other, haven’t even come close, and I tossed those images out there for her without thinking about how hard it would be for her to see.
I don’t even want to think about her kissing another guy, touching another guy, but to see images like that . . . I know I would have lost my shit, so I can’t hold her reaction against her. She has every right.
These photos are my past, a past where I never considered meeting a girl like Candace. A past full of masks, trying to hide from the person I was scared to be. A person that I am now realizing I might be able to be—because of her. Because she is the one I want to take care of—protect. No girl has ever made me feel that way, but she does, and wanting to love her is so much more powerful than my fear of loving her.
Grabbing the mattes, I head downstairs to my garage and don’t give it a second thought when I toss them in the trash. They have no meaning to me, and she doesn’t need reminders of my past lying around my home. I don’t need the reminders either.
When I go back upstairs, I grab the files and my keys and head over to the bar. When I get there, I run into Max out in the parking lot, and he follows me up to my office.
“How’s everything with Traci?” I ask as he shuts the door, and I sit down at my desk.
“I’m freaking the hell out, man,” he says, running his hand over his head.
I chuckle under my breath. I’ve never seen him this tense. “You’ve gotta relax.”
“Relax? Dude, we’re talking about a fuckin’ baby.”
“You asked her to move in with you. You were all ready to have her there to share your life with, so what the hell?”
“Yeah, we shared all of, what, five months?” he says.
“But you guys have been together longer than that.”
“Yeah, but I never really considered the whole kid thing,” he says and pauses before adding, “We went to a doctor’s appointment this morning.”
“How’d that go?” I ask as I watch him lean back into the chair, fully stressed.
“She’s fourteen weeks pregnant.”
“I don’t know what the hell that means.”
“Don’t you have like twenty nieces and nephews?” he overstates, and I laugh at this guy’s jest.
“Dude, that doesn’t mean I know shit about pregnancy.”
He sits up and rests his elbows on his knees when he states, “Baby will be here in June.”
“It’s so weird to think about,” I say. “You with a baby. You spend your days barking and intimidating people.” We both laugh, and I know he sees the same image I see in my head.
“Ugh,” he groans. “Can we talk about something else, like you and your very unpregnant girlfriend?”
I shake my head when he continues, and asks, “When am I ever gonna meet this chick? You should bring her up here.”
“I tried.”
“What does that mean, ‘I tried’?”
I’ve always been honest with Max about Candace, but I also know how private she is, so I just tell him what she’s told me, which isn’t much. “She has a thing with crowds. They make her uncomfortable. She tried coming, but it was too much for her.”
“What’s up with the crowds?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I admit, “I don’t know. She doesn’t say anything beyond the fact that she doesn’t like them.”
“Have you asked?”
“I don’t feel like I can.”
“I don’t get it,” he says, but I feel like I’m saying too much at this point, so I cut it off.
“She’s doesn’t like crowds; it’s probably as simple as that.”
He catches my intent and backs off, not saying anything else about it.
Hey! You home?
On way now. Leaving gym.
Mind if I stop by?
Not at all. Be there in 10.
See ya!
After I left work the other night, Candace came over and she spent yesterday here as well. I didn’t want her to leave my bed this morning, but she had to go into work since one of the guys quit unexpectedly, so I decided to hit the gym with Jase and Mark to kill some time.
I leave the door unlocked when I get home and run upstairs to grab a quick shower. After throwing on some clothes, I leave my hair wet when I think I hear Candace downstairs.
“Hey, babe,” I say while I walk down the stairs and see her riffling through the drawer in one of the end tables in the living room.
“Hey.”
Walking over to her, I cradle her face and give her a kiss before asking, “What are you scrounging around for?”
“Your mattes. I can’t find them.”
“That’s because they’re not here,” I tell her and then claim her mouth with mine again, taking my time and not backing away, but that doesn’t stop her from mumbling over my lips.
“Where are they?”
“I tossed them.”
She pulls back and breaks the kiss when she questions surprisingly, “What?! Why?”
“Because they made you uncomfortable.”
“But I was looking for the photo of the woman’s back so I could submit it to the gallery.”
She looks disappointed when she says this, and I tell her, “I don’t have it. I threw them all away.”
She’s frustrated when she falls back into the large chair. I move to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and lean forward, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I was just excited to submit that photo.” She leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling, saying, “Maybe it was a stupid idea.”
“Is it that important to you?”
“I just thought if you saw one of your pieces in a showing, that you would see the art in it.”
Thinking about how I could just photograph her, I smile when I say, “It wasn’t difficult to capture or enhance. I can recreate it if you want.”
“We don’t have time for you to find someone to pose. It needs to be submitted tomorrow by the end of the day.”