He laughs, a sound I haven’t heard since we reunited. There’s a light, carefree element to it that makes me smile as I wipe away my tears.
“No more bakeries, got it. Although, if it helps, I didn’t exactly buy it for you. I bought it to gift it back to the original owner, Dora. She was there for me when I needed advice. You’d like her.” He shrugs. “I have more money than I know what to do with, so I figured I might as well use some of it to help good people. My only condition was her changing the name toDelilah’s… And she really liked the name, so I’m not sure we’ll be able to change it back.”
“I don’t know if I’ll get used to seeing my name up on a sign.”
“You deserve to see your name in the brightest lights, Delilah.” He picks up a nearby apron and puts it over his bare chest, making me giggle. “Now what can I get you?”
His eyes twinkle as he leads me back into the candlelit kitchen. Seeing Jagger half-naked is enough to make my mouth water and forget about all the goodies.
He pulls out a chair then bows like a gentleman from an Austen novel. “Take a seat. I’m at your service.”
For tonight, I’m going to allow myself to be treated like a character from a novel and live in the moment. I only hope I don’t come to regret it later.
TWENTY-NINE
Jagger
Despite the disastrous start to our date, things have taken a positive turn. Sitting across the table from her, watching the way she chews every mouthful with purpose to expertly pick apart the flavors, seeing the way her nose scrunches when she laughs, how her cheeks dimple when she smiles… Fuck, she cracks my chest wide open. This is all I’ve ever wanted.
I ask her a lot of questions. Probably too many, but I’m desperate to know everything about her. I ask how she’s enjoying her studies, laughing along as she talks about her most recent projects. I ask about her family, learning how close they are and feeling a pang of sadness at not being able to relate to that. I listen intently to every word, so immersed that I don’t realize that the hot cocoa I made has gone cold. I could listen to her talk all day. Whenever I have to speak, I almost find myself disappointed to have to take a break from listening to her.
“I do have one question for you now.” She dabs her mouth to wipe off the lemon jam from the delicious tarts we devoured. A new recipe of Dora’s. “What would your dream date be?”
“A dream date…” I lean back in my chair. It’s not something I’ve really thought about before. “I don’t know.”
“Come on.” She rolls her eyes, selecting a macaron to sample from the items stacked on a plate between us. “You must have done loads of cool stuff—skydiving, eating at the best restaurants, swimming with pigs in the Bahamas…” She releases a moan as she sinks her teeth into the pastry, making my cock strain against my jeans before I tune back in to what she’s saying.
“Swimming with pigs on Big Major Cay is amazing.” I laugh at the memory. We went there once to shoot aPack Firemusic video. “But honestly? I just want to experience life how everyone else does. Do normal things. Things like having breakfast in bed.”
Her eyes bulge in disbelief. “You’re the star of the biggest band in the country, and all you want is breakfast in bed?”
I grin. “As long as you’re in the bed with me.”
When she shuffles in her chair, I catch a hint of her perfume hiding underneath the scent blockers. I drop my hand beneath the table to readjust myself. Being this close to her and not touching her is torturous.
“Uh…” The motion makes the fabric of my jeans wrinkle, reminding me of something else I brought along for her. “I brought you one more thing.”
“Is it a Chihuahua? The deed to a house? Plane tickets?” Delilah teases.
“Actually…” I pull out the crumpled bit of torn-off notebook paper that I stuffed into my pocket at the last minute. “It’s something I wrote. A poem. I know it’s not big or lavish, but?—”
She puts down the macaron. “You wrote me a poem?”
My knees jiggle nervously. Songs and poems are basically the same thing, and I’ve written countless lines about our relationship and my feelings for her. My heartbreak has pretty much been my only muse this year, and seeing her again has reignited my inspiration.
“Forget it.” I go to stuff it away, my palms already getting clammy. “It’s stupid.”
“No.” She reaches across the table, gently catching my wrist before I can screw the paper into a ball. “I’d like to hear it.” Maybe I should have just set it on fire. She flutters her eyelashes at me. “Please.”
When she looks at me like that, how can I refuse her?
“It’s not finished yet.” I fumble with the edges of the paper, smoothing it out as she sits back expectantly. “But if you really want?—”
“I do.”
I take a deep breath before beginning to read, keeping my eyes glued to the ink, afraid to see distaste on her face if I look at her.
“Lost inside the crowd, there is only you.
