“More like a godfather,” Tacker replies.
“Really?” I exclaim, my eyes going wide. “That’s a huge responsibility. I’m here to tell you that I’m ready for it.”
Tacker mutters something like, “Shut the fuck up,” but I’m distracted by the buzz of my phone. Ever since Clarke gave me the brush-off five days ago, I’ve been hawking my messages in the vain hope she’ll reach out.
So far, I’ve been disappointed each time.
My notification is for an email. When I tap on the icon, I’m jolted with a surprise I sort of expected, but it’s still slightly shocking when I see it.
An email from Tripp Horschen.
His message is short and simple, but it gives me exactly what I asked for.
Attached is a copy of my bank statement and the receipt from the literacy charity showing my donation.
Now fuck off.
Chuckling, I tap on the JPG images, feeling some of the weight slide off my shoulders at the clear evidence this asshole is $200,000 poorer while a good charity’s coffers have risen.
Turning my phone toward Tacker and Nora, I tell them, “Tripp came through. Donation has been made.”
Tacker taps his beer bottle against mine, and we all take a moment to soak in the fact I successfully blackmailed that asshole as a means of punishment to salve my anger. I’m probably going to hell for this, and yet… I don’t feel bad in the slightest.
I start to tuck my phone back in my pocket when it buzzes again.
This time, I have a text and as I glance at it, a bolt of what feels like lightning rockets through my body as I realize it’s from Clarke.
Two simple words. I’m sorry.
She could have given me a million words—I would have accepted any—yet she offered the two that made everything right in my world in one fell swoop. Here I had been convinced we were irrevocably over with, yet she has opened the door to a future with that apology.
Still, I can’t help but play a little hard to get. For what?
Before she can reply, I give Tacker and Nora an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back.”
Moving through the crowd, I make my way from the living room, through the kitchen, and into a mudroom that is thankfully quiet and without people. I lean against the wall, waiting for her reply.
It doesn’t come soon enough, but when it does, it has me laughing.
For being stupid.
God, she’s adorable. And while I really want to ask if she’s at her house so I can rush over to see her, I continue the little game.
How so?
Her reply is simple, but manages to boil down to simplest terms everything that went wrong.
For blaming you for something you had no control over.
If she were here right now, I’d take her in my arms and say I understand her fears and I’m just glad she’s talking to me again. As long as we’re talking, we can fix anything.
But I want just a little more from her. She put me through hell these last few days, and I want to know if she really has moved past her hang-ups.
So I press her for more revelations by texting back.
And…
There’s no immediate response. I wonder if I pushed a little too hard to get her to continue talking out her feelings. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Clarke, it’s that she sometimes needs to take things in baby steps.
I startle when there’s a tap on my shoulder. Turning in irritation to see who would be bothering me when I’m in the middle of something so important, I freeze when I’m met by my very own beautiful but frustrating girl staring from behind her glasses. She shrugs, giving me a sheepish grin, and answers my last text. “For waiting this long to apologize. I should have driven after you the night you left my house.”
I shove my phone in my pocket, take her by the shoulders, and jerk her to me. Dipping down, I rub my nose along her cheek and murmur. “I’m just glad you came to your senses.”
Clarke throws her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. “I’m really sorry, Aaron. I was awful to blame you, especially because you are the most amazing person I’ve ever known, and I know, deep in my soul, you’d never do anything to hurt me.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, burying my face in her neck.
“I love you,” she says, her words clear and true. My head pops up so I can see her face, and there’s nothing but conviction in her expression. We’ve never talked about the depth of past relationships, but I can tell this is the first time she’s ever said those words to a man.
Just as this is the first time I’ll give them to a woman. “I love you, too, Clarke. So much.”
There’s a kiss that follows our proclamation. As usual, we both get lost in it. I find myself sinking into it, willing to stay gone in this moment forever, but Clarke apparently has other things that still need to be discussed.
She pulls her mouth from mine, giving me a slight push backward. “Now… want to tell me why you were in Los Angeles?”
I hesitate way too long before I drawl, “Um… not really.”
Clarke merely cocks a beautifully arched auburn brow, and I know I’ll never be able to keep this secret from her.
With a sigh, I admit, “I went to see Tripp Horschen.”
She doesn’t even react, which tells me she’d already pretty much guessed. “And is he alive?”
“He might have a sore gut,” I admit, this time not able to hide the satisfied smirk that comes to my face. “And his bank account might be lighter.”
“You stole money from him?” Clarke gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
I roll my eyes. “Of course not. I merely convinced him to donate to your favorite literacy charity in the amount of $200,000, which is the amount he was paid to be on that stupid fucking show.”
Clarke’s eyes narrow slightly, but I can’t tell if I’ve offended her or not. On one hand, I know she would rather just let all this die down and never think about it again. On the other, I was merely seeking justice, which, it has to be said, is a noble endeavor.
It appears she’s impressed and touched by my efforts since she throws herself into my arms, hugging me tightly as she proclaims, “You’re my hero.”
Fuck… that makes me feel as good as hearing she loves me.
You think we’d stay in that moment forever, relishing the fact we’ve come back together and we’ve acknowledged there’s real love between us and we have a future filled with so much promise.
But no…. women have to go and ruin everything.
“Clarke? I didn’t know you were here.”
I recognize Blue’s voice behind us. Clarke pulls away from me, and I want to snatch her back. Before I can even glare at Blue or snarl with propriety, Pepper appears and literally yanks Clarke out of the mudroom. “I’m so glad you’re here. We’re getting the group together for a picture with the Cup.”
I look past Pepper to see Brooke, Regan, Willow, and Nora.
“Come on,” Pepper says, tugging Clarke by the hand away from me. I start to follow, but a hand comes out, tagging me in the chest and pushing me back.
It’s Tacker.
He merely shakes his head with a wry smile, “It’s a women’s picture, dude. Us men aren’t invited.”