True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (18 page)

“I’m sorry,” I tell Daisy as I take the box, “don’t mind us. Since it has my name on it, does that mean I can open it?”

“It sure does, Little Bird.” Ian smiles sweetly.

I open up the box and gasp. Nestled inside are 6 cupcakes. The frosting is Tiffany blue and on every cupcake is a beautiful white sparrow, each one unique.

“They’re perfect! I love them. Thank you!” I look at Ian and lay my head on his shoulder and then look at Daisy. “Did you make these?”

She nods shyly.

“They’re spectacular. Each one.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Which one are you going to eat first?” Ian asks.

“Oh, I can’t eat them. No. I won’t be able to do that.”

Ian lets go of me. “Nuh-uh. I will buy you more, baby. You’re eating these.” He looks up at the menu. “Need a coffee to go with it?”

He might be relationship-delayed, but he sure knows how to do
some
things right.

We take our cupcakes—Ian bought a few for himself, so he wouldn’t be eating all of mine—and we walk over to Bryant Park. We sit close enough to hear the piano player but away from all the people. Our own little cupcake picnic.

Ian takes a cupcake out of my box and gently removes the paper. He leans over and puts it in front of my lips, waiting for me to take a bite. I look at him nervously. It’s gigantic; I don’t know how I’ll ever get it in my mouth. The frosting makes it a MASSIVE cupcake. I realize there is no way to look sexy and get the thing eaten, so I just go for it. I open all the way and…

“Ohhhh. Myyyy. GOD. It’s sooooo goooooood. Mmmm,” I moan and close my eyes.

“Hell, baby, you’re causing problems for me,” he says against my lips. “Moan like that again and I can’t be responsible for what I do.” He licks the frosting off my mouth and then with his finger, he adds more frosting and repeats the process. When his tongue has certainly gotten all the frosting, he lifts the cupcake back up for me to take another bite. His pupils are taking over, like glistening black onyx.

 I take another huge bite. “Mmmmmmm.” I’m not even putting on. It’s seriously the best thing I’ve ever eaten.

He doesn’t just lightly lick the frosting this time. He grips my face tight and plunges his tongue down my mouth. He’s not messing around. I think he wants some of my cupcake for himself. I’m happy to give it to him.

By the time we’ve completely violated one cupcake, we’re both sticky and incredibly turned on.

- 13 -

“So I haven’t even asked yet, what are you doing in town?”

We’re back on my side of town. After getting all hot and bothered with the cupcakes, we decided to drop the rest off at my place and try to behave in the daylight. At least, I think that’s what we’ve decided. I might be tempted to misbehave more if the situation presents itself. For now, we’re walking around the Village.

“I’m playing with Jagged this weekend. They’re coming in tomorrow and have sold-out shows tomorrow night and Saturday night. I came a day early to see you.”

“Good thing I was in town.” I can’t resist throwing that out there.

He nods and looks at me with that hangdog expression that just seems to melt me more. “Yes, it is.”

“I’m going home on Monday, so I really am glad I didn’t miss you.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Me too. I’m sorry I was such a ‘presumptuous’ bastard.”

Forgiven
. “Just don’t let it happen again,” I say firmly.

“Agreed. I will do my best to never assume,” he promises. “The bastard part, I can’t guarantee. Speaking of presumptuous … I sorta surprised you today by just showing up. If you need to be doing something else, I completely understand.”

I stop in front of a used bookstore and rifle through their sale cart. “No, I had a couple errands and laundry on the agenda. Nothing exciting. Just been getting ready to be gone for a few weeks and Tessa’s spending every minute with Jared.” I grin thinking about how cute they are together.

“I do have tickets for you, if you’d like to come. Both nights, if you want. Tessa and Jared too…”

“That sounds fun.” I look up at him and can’t believe we’re here, doing everyday things and feeling more like a real couple than we ever have.

He’s staring at me so intently that I get flustered and pretend to get engrossed in a book. I have no idea what it says. I feel his eyes singeing wherever they touch.

“Wh-where are you staying?” I stutter, determined to get my bearings back.

His voice is a silky rasp, like he’s covering me with velvet in every syllable. “I’m in a swanky place—the Chatwal, ever heard of it? I’m in a suite large enough for, oh … at least 6 people? You should come visit.”

“I’d like to see it,” I admit. I have a thing for hotels. I love them.

I’m so out of sorts with his steady gaze on me not going anywhere, that I move over to the next cart to gain some distance. And trip over seemingly nothing but my own feet. I stump my big toe, since I’m only wearing flip-flops and it hurts. “Dagnabbit!”

Ian is at my side in no time. “Are you okay?”

My toe is bloody and gross. “I’m fine,” I sigh. “I’m such a klutz.”

“Let’s go get that cleaned up. Doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, I do this sort of thing all the time, no big deal.”

“I think we’re close to my hotel—wanna catch a cab over there now? Watch a movie in my room or something?”

“That actually sounds really good.”

We’re in the cab and Ian says, “Um, Sparrow … did I really hear you say
dagnabbit
?”

I whip my head around to face him, my face red, eyes wide. My dorkiness has finally come out.

“Because it sounded like you did … say dagnabbit … and well, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anyone under 70 actually say that word.” His shoulders are shaking now and his eyes are starting to get watery from him trying to hold his laughter in.

I flick his hand and look back out the window, trying to hide my smile.

“I have an issue with cussing.”

“Oh really? What is your issue?”

“Well, other than the fact that I can’t do it, I just can’t
do
it. It doesn’t sound right coming out of my mouth.”

“Try something. Say something naughty.”

“No!”

“Come on, Little Bird, let me hear you say something
bad
.” Now he
is
wiping his eyes. The jerk.

We pull up to the hotel just then and I breathe a sigh of relief. We get out and walk through the beautiful lobby and when we get inside the elevator, he says, “You’re not off the hook.”

“We have a strict clean word policy at my house,” I say primly.

“Okay, fair enough. But you’re not at your house right now.” His smile covers his face, mischief spilling out. “What would you say right now if you could?”

“That’s the thing. It’s like my mouth will physically not let me. I don’t mind it when other people do, it’s just I can’t. I have this weird thing about words. Even normal ones. For example, you will never hear me say M-O-I-S-T.”

We’re getting off the elevator now and Ian stops at his door. “MOIST?” he practically shouts. “What’s wrong with MOIST?”

I cringe with every M-word.

“PLEASE,
don’t
,” I beg. “You can say the F-word even, just please not the M-word.”

He is howling now. Oh please.

“I’m happy I can amuse you,” I snap.

“So you’re really okay if I say
fuck
but not
moist
?”

“ENOUGH WITH THE MOIST!” I gasp and cover my mouth.

His mouth drops and he points at me. “You said it!” he shouts, and then he laughs so hard, I think he’s going to burst a blood vessel. It’s catching, especially when he winds his arm around me and hugs me tight. “You are too cute,” he says, catching his breath. “So … what do you say when you’re really …
angry
?” He laughs at himself again, and I know he had another word on the tip of his tongue.

I smirk at him. “You think you’re so funny,” I say, jabbing him in the stomach. “Welllll, I will tell you how it goes. We don’t say,
Crap
, we say
Crack
. We don’t say,
S-H-I-T
, we say Shoot. We don’t say
Effff
, we say
Fudge.
And on and on.”

Ian tries desperately to get serious and nods. When I get to the
Effff,
he loses it again.

“What?”

“You can’t even SPELL
fuck
, can you?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I admit.

“Aw, baby. That might be the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s stupid is what it is.”

“No, it’s you. It
is
hilarious and I’m not sure I understand why you can say
fudge
when you really MEAN
fuck,
but I can’t question that brain of yours.” He smiles that ornery smile again and I know he’s trying to not lose it again.

“That’s the thing, I really do mean
fudge
. My brain doesn’t go to the other.”

“Wow. See? You are perfect.”

“More like conditioned…”

And then I notice our surroundings. He’s had me so distracted, I didn’t even appreciate the grandeur we’re standing in. “This room is amazing! Or apartment, I should say! I didn’t know they had such large hotel rooms in New York!”

“Apparently Jagged likes to live large.” He smiles. “Let’s clean up your foot and then I’ll show you my favorite part.”

After the blood is washed off my toe and it looks much better, Ian takes my hand and we step out onto the terrace. We’re up on the roof. The private deck is massive, larger than my entire apartment. We can see over 44th Street. There are plush chairs to enjoy the sunshine and view.

“I love it!”

“This is the “Producer Suite.” Ian winks. “I guess Serge, the bass player, will be staying in the other bedroom tomorrow night, but for tonight it’s all mine. I think he could be here now and we’d never know it.”

“So this is what it feels like to be a famous musician,” I tease. “I can see the allure.”

He shrugs. “I’ve also lived in a van before. Not that I don’t appreciate all this, I do. It’s much better than a van, that’s for sure. I just know it can all go away in an instant.”

The mood just shifted and he sounds serious.

I study his eyes that change colors in every setting and wonder where he goes when his eyes cloud like they are right now. I determine to find out. Maybe not now, but soon. I want to know everything about him.

He shifts suddenly and places his hand on my cheek. “Sparrow? I know I’ve really messed up with you. I saw you … that very first day when you were with … Dave.” He pauses and waits to see if I’ll react.

“Michael.”

“Oh yeah. Mike.”

“Michael.”

“Michael, Mike … Dave, whatever.” He gives me an ornery grin, but quickly turns serious again. “I—felt something that day that I haven’t felt, I don’t know, maybe ever. Maybe when I was a little boy and when things were good with my parents. Too long to remember, anyway. But seeing you, being near you, talking to you, hearing your laugh, watching your lips move, all of it. I felt awake. Alive. Crazed, almost. And I haven’t known what to do with it. Seeing you each time, it just intensifies, which never happens for me. With you, I just want more—instead of wanting to run, I want
more
. But you’re here, and I’m all over the place. You’re just getting started, really, and I’m already worn and … old.”

I have been hanging on his every word. His expression is so sincere. It seems too much, too soon still, for all our stops and starts, but when I look at him, I could almost swear I see the love. To diffuse the seriousness of the moment, I make a scoffing sound.
Pfft.

“You’re not old.”

“That’s all you heard of what I just said?” His eyes crinkle and his lips quirk up as he leans down for a kiss.

Kissing him is like the sun breaking through a deep fog. I know
exactly
what he meant.

He leans away and smooths down my hair, tugging on the end of a curl. “I’m a pessimist,” he says.

“I’m an optimist.” I shrug nonchalantly.

He looks at me with a sweet expression. “You’re a complete idealist, is what you are.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Not a thing.” He kisses my hair and my hand and my eyelids.

“I’m not sure you’re right about that. I think I see things how they really are.”

“I want to be who you think I am.”

“I want you to be who you
are
.” I grab his face and look at him, studying his eyes and trying to get inside his brain. I wish I could pop into his head and swirl around in there for days and days. There’s so much behind the surface, I know he’s trying to let me in, but it still feels as if layers and layers flap over a mound of thoughts and feelings. Ian Sterling is one deep puppy.

“This is me, baby. This is the most me I ever get.” He grins and comes in for another kiss. This one knocks me off my feet, truly, because the next thing I know, he’s picked me up and is carrying me back inside. I’ve had my first threshold moment.