“Well, uh, thank you,” she says, pulling her hand away.
“And I wasn’t his dealer,” Jack says. “Although, whoever was is probably filthy rich by now, so I sort of wish I was. But no, I help keep the jackass sober, which really is a thankless job.”
“I thank you all the time,” Jonathan says.
Jack waves him off. “Whatever, dude.”
“So, you’re a sober coach,” Meghan says.
“More like an intern,” he tells her. “I don’t get paid for it. Should, though. I mean, have you ever had to deal with the guy?”
Jonathan laughs. “You know I’m right here, right?”
“Impossible not to see you,” Jack says. “What, with you dressed like it’s Comic-Con.”
Meghan laughs, like she finds that hilarious. “Well, this has been a blast, but I should get going. Maddie, my cinnamon-strudel banana-bread, you were brilliant. Thanks for inviting me. I’ll see you guys later.” She turns, looking at Jack. “It was a pleasure. Hopefully, I’ll see you around.”
“You can count on it,” Jack says as she starts to walk away. He watches for a moment before turning to Jonathan, raising an eyebrow as he nods toward Meghan. “Might that be my reward?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Jonathan says.
“Not gonna think about it,” Jack says, hopping off the hood of the car. “I’m just gonna go for it.”
“Good luck,” I say, while Jonathan grumbles, glaring at Jack as he jogs to catch up to Meghan.
“What’s he doing?” Maddie asks, glancing at me.
“I think he’s going to ask your Aunt Meghan out.”
Her eyes widen. “Like on a date?”
“Yep,” I say.
“Oh, tell her she’s pretty!” Maddie yells, jumping around. “And bring flowers! Right, Daddy?”
“Right,” Jonathan says, although he doesn’t look as excited about the idea as Maddie does.
“Why don’t we leave them to it and head home?” I suggest.
“Home,” Jonathan says. “Sounds nice.”
The fresh blue notebook lays on the coffee table, the gel pen on top of it, the ink almost depleted because I’ve used it so much.
Jonathan pauses in front of it in the living room. “I see you got my gift.”
“Of course,” I say, slipping my arms around him from behind, resting my head against his back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, pulling me around into a hug.
He holds me, and I feel like I’m melting in his arms, the warmth swallowing me up. I could get used to it.
Get used to having him around.
“How long are you here for?” I ask, dreading his possible answer that being here is temporary. He brought nothing with him—no clothes, not even his phone. For all I know, he’s just passing through.
“I told you before I left,” he says. “I’m here for as long as I’m wanted.”
“That’s not a real answer, Jonathan.”
“Why isn’t it?”
“Because I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen years old. Saying that is like promising forever. I need a real answer.”
He’s quiet for a moment, resting his head on top of mine before he asks, “What’s wrong with forever?”
“Nothing,” I say, “as long as you mean it.”
“Would you believe me if I promised it?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “That’s why I need you not to.”
He sighs, loosening his hold a bit to look at me. His eyes scan my face as a slight smile touches his lips. “I might’ve destroyed my career today.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“It’s a long story,” he says, “but I just can’t keep doing it.”
“But that’s your dream.”
“Dreams change,” he says. “The way I was living... I was miserable. I want my life back, and I’m taking it back, because I’ve wasted too much time. I’ll never give up on acting. It’s who I am. But it’s not all I am. I’m a father, and I want to be the man you thought I’d be. I’d be so much happier doing community theater, if it came to that, as long as I got to come home to you, than I ever was being Johnny Cunning without you. So if you want forever, goddamn it, I’ll be there.”
My heart, it hammers hard in my chest, viciously battering my ribcage. I want to say so much, but I don’t even know where to start. Guilt. Fear. Excitement. A whole swarm of butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Forever.”
He nods, whispering, “I promise.”
“Ta-da!” Maddie’s excited yell shatters the moment as she runs into the room, dressed in her Breezeo costume. We’ve been home ten minutes and she’s already abandoned the snowflake getup. “Look, Daddy! We’re the same!”
Jonathan laughs. “We are.”
“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand and tugging on it, yanking him away from me. “We can play, ‘cuz you’re home now!”
Jonathan shoots me a conflicted look.
“Go on.” I wave him away. “Go have your fun without me.”
He manages to sneak a quick kiss before Maddie drags him to her bedroom. They play for hours, stopping only to grab sandwiches for dinner.
Darkness has fallen by the time Jonathan resurfaces, cornering me in the kitchen. He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck. I hum as tingles flow down my spine. “You done playing Breezeo now?”
“I’m just getting started,” he says, turning me around so I’m facing him. “Maddie’s asleep, so I think it’s your turn to have a little fun. I remember promising once that I’d do whatever I could for you to someday see me in this costume.”
My face grows warm. “You remember that?”
“Of course,” he says. “It’s the whole reason I auditioned.”
“You told me your manager talked you out of that.”
“He did, but I said fuck it. He told me I had no shot in hell, but you believed in me, so I went for it, and look at me now.”
I can hardly bring myself to look at him. It’s impossible to wrap my mind around. It’s like my wildest fantasy is converging with reality and my brain can’t handle it. How is this real? I run my hands along his broad chest, feeling the slick material. “Do you get to keep this?”
“Not supposed to,” he says. “They might even call the police because I took it.”
“Hmm, then we probably ought to make good use of it while we can, huh?”
“Probably ought to,” he agrees.
I squeal when he grabs ahold of me, lifting me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I cling to him as he staggers to the bedroom. He almost drops me twice, the material so slick I nearly lose my hold, and I laugh when we fall onto the bed, him landing right on top of me.
He kisses me, mouth eagerly exploring as he strips me out of my clothes, hands touching and caressing every inch of my body. His fingers, they explore, making me a writhing mess with just a few strokes.
“You’re going to have to unzip the suit,” he says. “I can’t do it myself.”
“Hmm, so what you’re saying is if I refuse, you’ll have no choice but to keep it on?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“So why would I help you?”
“Because I can’t fuck you with the suit on,” he says, “and I’ve got a funny feeling you really want to be fucked right now.”
Those words set my body on fire, tingles engulfing every inch of my skin. I reach behind him, tugging on the zipper, pulling it down as far as I can get it.
He strips out of it, and I watch him, trying not to laugh. It takes him damn near ten minutes of struggling before he climbs back into bed.
“Kind of killed the mood, huh?” he asks with a laugh. “Destroyed over a decade’s worth of fantasies in just a few minutes.”
“That takes some skill,” I say. “But maybe, if you’re good to me, I’ll forgive you.”