Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(23)

She smiled, then bit her lip. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, then lifted to my eyes. “Oh? And what’s the next step above puppy therapy?”

I leaned forward, giving her a hard kiss.

Hannah moaned.

The kiss wasn’t an answer in and of itself, but I needed the contact.

I pulled back and sucked on her lower lip before releasing it. “I’m thinking the next step above puppy therapy is kitchen-island-condiment therapy.” When I’d first teased her about it, I’d imagined her on her kitchen island. And had told her so.

Her body shuddered. Had she pictured herself naked, exactly as I’d described? I hoped so. I imagined her shivering for my touch, waiting for me to cover her with various condiments before slowly licking her body clean.

I sucked in a breath, the fantasy affecting me.

A seductive smile curved her lips. “And if that doesn’t work?”

I barked out a laugh. “If I can’t make you forget the chaos in the middle of it, then I’m ditching the rest of the world, kidnapping your sexy ass, and we’re doing private-island therapy.”

“Mmm…” She nestled close, pressing her lips into my neck. “Love that idea. Let’s go now.”

I chuckled. “So tempting.”

She wanted to chuck the rest of the world and have life as we knew it be about only her and me. I did too. But not yet.

I wasn’t about to fly off to a private island on our first vacation because either of us needed therapy. We had events to plan, businesses to run, in spite of a potential nuisance. Then we would make time for play.

***

Later that night, after I’d dropped Hannah off at her place, I stretched out in bed listening to “Hurricane” by Thirty Seconds to Mars. Sure as f*ck felt appropriate. Chaos. Emotion.

I sighed heavily, staring at my ceiling. I never expected life to be easy. But Hannah and I were due for some kind of an easy stretch after the struggles we’d had. Hers. Mine. Ours.

My phone vibrated, and my heart jumped. I smiled, thinking Hannah wanted to wish me a good night. Would the text have three naughty little dots? Our secret code always made me smile.

Fuck.

Not Hannah. Madison.

“Really?” I grumbled into the darkness as the song ended, leaving me in silence. “Is all this shit some kind of test? Because I didn’t sign on for this.”

I wanted to be with Hannah. Only Hannah. Yet all this garbage threatened to taint our new relationship.

Frustrated, I clicked into my phone to read the text.



Hey, Cade. Sorry about today. You were angry. I should have told you.



Fuck yeah, you should have. I slammed the phone back down on my nightstand. For a moment, I considered not replying. But when all I did was get more pissed, I grabbed the damned thing and fired off a reply.



You’re right. You said you’ve changed. Prove it with actions. No more surprises.



I hit {SEND} and was about to put the phone down when a reply came through.



Could we meet for coffee again?



I sighed, struggling with my thoughts. I’d grown up with Madison. In hindsight, she burned through guy after guy as we grew up. Then she turned to me to figure out what went wrong. Once we’d crossed the friend line in college and our relationship grew into long term, I felt lucky being the guy she chose—at least I’d thought I was. I had planned on spending my life with her. There was good in her. Back then, I’d fallen in love with that part of her.

But what I didn’t know then was that need can change a person from the inside out—addiction can be a bitch.

Convinced clear boundaries were needed, I replied.



No. I have a girlfriend. Meeting privately is off the table.



Wide awake, I waited. No way I’d be able to sleep until I knew she understood. Her reply came through.



Coffee isn’t meeting privately. It’s public. Drinks and talking. But I understand. We need to meet for business soon anyway. It will have to do. I’ll email details.



Did she understand? With all the mixed signals between vulnerable Madison and business Madison, I sure as hell didn’t.





10


Battle Preparations


Another week later, we all sat at Kristen’s dining room table, planning for Invitation Only. I pinched my nose, grumpy as hell. Thank f*ck, other than one business email, I hadn’t heard from Madison again. I also hadn’t seen much of Hannah either. With my covering for vacationing bartenders at Loading Zone, and Hannah’s bakery exploding with orders, we’d had to cancel all of our nightly dinners, and we’d only been able to get together once.

Then tonight, after an hour had been wasted at Kristen’s, we hadn’t gotten shit done. I needed to get the calendar straight. In a week, we had the one-year anniversary of Loading Zone, the following weekend was Mom and Dad’s Fourth of July party at their country estate, and the weekend after, the double bar mitzvah.

“Focus, people.” I glared at Hannah and my sisters, who chattered away about nonessential things. “Kiki, you said invitations went out for Loading Zone’s party?”

She nodded while she stirred her root beer float. “Three weeks ago. But you said you wanted to fill the place to capacity. We were two hundred RSVPs short with Loading Zone’s contacts and your filtered country club member list, so I went to your website and installed a banner to advertise.”