Chapter 24

(Aaron) 

Quinn saying that makes me laugh because that is the same sentiment I had after I left London. Charlie became a good friend to me in just a week. It was like we just clicked, like Quinn and I did. I liked knowing that I could have that friendship with a woman and that it would not be sexual in any way. 

“She is. I helped her get away from her husband, which seems to be a growing trend with me lately.” 

Quinn gets up from his seat after he finishes his lunch, and I follow him into the kitchen. “How is Rylan handling her sister living with her? They were never close, if I recall.” 

“It is new. Rosalie has only been there for a few days, so I guess time will tell. Given everything they are both dealing with, I think they need each other. Their mother is a piece of work.”

I tell him everything she said to Rylan as I walk Quinn to the front door. His fist clenched in anger, much like mine did while I was there. I knew he would have the same reaction I did; he is just as I am. Well, maybe not as protective as I am.

She is my girlfriend now, after all.

“Rylan is my girlfriend, Q. Holy shit, it feels amazing saying that out loud.” 

He looks at me with a grin on his face. “I am happy for you, Aaron. Take care of her; she is more fragile than she looks. I would say take it slow, but it is a little late for that.” 

I laugh at that because he isn’t wrong. “I plan to take it a bit slower once she gets settled into a routine again with her work and new roommate.” 

“Good. Oh, as for those monthly dinners, I will talk to Annie and Vivien about them later tonight. They sound like a good idea, and knowing mom, she will want to do something like that, anyway.” 

Exactly. 

“She will. Okay, get back to work.” 

“Call me when mom and dad get back up here, and I will come help them get unloaded.” 

I nod my head, then watch as he walks to his car. After wolfing down the rest of my sandwich, I walk to my garage. I have two cars in various states of repair, so I can spend some of my time working on them. I am not sure what I will do with either of them when I am done. 

One is a 1969 Chevy Camaro that I picked up at an auction a few years ago. It was in an atrocious state when I got it, and I haven’t really done much to it since then. There is a long list of parts that I need to buy for it. So, I can start there. 

The second car is a 1969 Chevelle; it looks similar to the Camaro, but the body is slightly different. I got them both at the same time. This one is in much better shape than the Camaro, and I have already been working on it in stages. I will probably finish it before I move on to the other one. 

I grab the list of parts I need, then head to my office to start ordering them from the same online parts shop I always do. This one specializes in cars made before 1990. Classic old cars, which are a particular favorite of mine. 

After ordering the parts on my list, I check the time. It is almost time for my meeting with my decorator, so I go into the foyer to grab my keys, but I decide that since it is a short distance, I will just walk. This will help me gauge the time it will take my mother to walk to my place and back. 

I know my mother well; she will be here as often as I allow her to be. Another thing to put on my list is a small car for her since my parents only own one. Having two cars while they’re here in California will be more convenient for them.

The walk to the house I bought for them only takes me less than ten minutes. There is a cherry-red Audi in the driveway when I walk up. I smile when I see Javier Fuentes, the interior designer. 

“Ah, there he is, one of my favorite clients,” Javier says in a thick Puerto Rican accent. 

He is a big, burly man in his late fifties. Most people assume that he is a homosexual because of his choice of profession, which I think is bullshit to stereotype people like that, but he is happily married to his wife, Carmen. They have been married for thirty-five years and have six children. 

Two of which are part of his business. They did such a good job with our offices that Quinn and I both hired them for our homes. Now I will use them to design my parents’ home here. I trust Javier and his crew explicitly. 

“How have things been with you and your family?” I ask as I walk up the front walkway.

We spend the next thirty minutes catching up on each other’s lives, well, with as much as I am willing to share, then we move the conversation into the house as we walk inside.

The house is only five years old, as is every house in this subdivision. That makes redecoration easy since there has only ever been one occupant. The house has been empty for about a month now.

My mother will love the kitchen, and backyard with the raised garden beds. The three-car garage will appeal to my father for woodworking projects. There are three bedrooms and two baths, which is a bit much for them, but I am sure mom will find uses for the two spare rooms.

“Color schemes, let’s start with the living room,” Javier states as he leads me into the room with his notepad. 

“Pale colors, nothing dark. My mother thinks dark colors are depressing. She hates most of my house decor.” 

“No dark colors, noted. Any colors she dislikes?” 

“Pinks in any shade. I have never asked why,” I tell him as we walk around the living room. 

He takes measurements as I talk about things I know my mother will want or not want in the house. Sometimes I feel odd that I know so much about my mother’s likes and dislikes. Yet, here I am helping to decorate a home I purchased for her. 

I watch as Javier moves through the room, taking notes, and then we move on to the next. We do this for the next several hours, going from room to room, picking out colors for walls, carpet, curtains, and furniture. I gave Javier pictures of my parents’ house to give him an idea of how to decorate after that.

I have a pounding headache by the time I decide to call it a day. The walk back to my house feels longer than it really was, but I blame that on brain fog. Halfway home, I call Rylan to check in, only to get her voicemail. After leaving a message to call me back, I continued my walk home.

Once home, I grab some Advil, then head to the garage. I spend a good thirty minutes sorting through my tool cabinets, making a list of tools I will need but don’t have yet. Then I grab my keys and head to the local hardware store. 

Like my father, hardware stores are a peaceful place for me. I spent over an hour just wandering the aisles, remembering all the times I did just that with my father when I was a kid. He would talk to me about all the home improvement projects that he wanted to work on when he had the time.

He taught me how to read a tape measure, about the differences in tool sizes, and so much more. It was through him that I found my love of mechanics. From all the hours we spent under his old beat-up Ford truck that mom finally convinced him to sell last year, It hadn’t run for over twenty years, not because he couldn’t fix it but because he didn’t want to be done with the work.

It was a project he wanted to finish with me. What neither of them knows is that I bought it back from the man he sold it to. It is in storage in Quinn’s garage. I store it there so my dad won’t see it when he visits me. 

Now that they will be moving to California, it seems like a good time to finish what we started years ago. I will have the time, and he will be much closer. It will also give us something to do together again. 

Rylan calls me back as I am leaving the hardware store, asking me to come by her place to help with some manual labor and dinner as payment. I swing by the store for some wine and flowers on my way. At the flower shop, I flounder over what to get her. 

I have never bought flowers for a woman before. 

“What can I help you with, sir?” A staff member asks me as my eyes wander over all the selections. 

“I want to buy my girlfriend flowers, but I am not sure what she will like.” 

“New relationship?” 

“In a way, yes. I have known her for years, but we moved past the friend zone recently.” I tell her with a sheepish smile. 

“Daffodils are a good one for new beginnings or orchids for romance.” 

“Can we do a little of each?” 

“I can make that happen. Give me twenty minutes, and I will be right back.” 

I watch her disappear into the back, then walk around the store some more. A small display of chrysanthemums in a pale purple color. I grab them for Rosalie, then walk to the front counter to wait for the clerk. 

Twenty minutes later, the clerk comes back with an artfully arranged display of purple orchids with yellow daffodils and a smattering of baby’s breaths in a large glass vase. I smile as she walks to the front of the store with it. I have a feeling that Rylan will love them.

“Those are beautiful.” 

“I hope your lady likes them,” she says, then looks at the chrysanthemums on the counter. “Are these for her, too?” 

“Her sister. She just left her abusive husband and is now living with my girl.” 

“Aww, that is sweet of you.” 

I nod my head, then hand her my credit card. Once I paid for the flowers, I grabbed each vase and headed to my car. Stowing them safely was a challenge, but I managed to get them both in without damaging the flowers. 

Twenty minutes later, I am pulling up into Rylan’s driveway. The U-Haul truck and Rylan’s car are gone, which means that all Rosalie’s stuff has been unpacked into the house. Is there any manual labor remaining to be done? The lights are on in the house, so I wonder if one of the ladies left for a bit. 

After grabbing the flowers from the back seat, I walk up to the front door and knock. 

“It’s open,” Rylan calls from inside. 

Opening the door, I step inside, only to be greeted by utter chaos in the living room. There are boxes and oddball pieces of furniture along the walls and in the middle of the room. I guess the U-Haul driver just unloaded and left without doing anything more.

“Wow, this is a mess. I guess I should have paid them to help unpack in more detail.” 

Rylan’s head snaps in my direction. There is annoyance in her blue eyes at first, but they soften when she sees the flowers in my hand. Her eyes light up, and a smile spreads across her face, just like I wanted. I would say the flowers were a good idea. 

“Are those all for me?” She asks as she sets a box down on the sofa, then walks over to me. 

I hand her the orchids and daffodils, then sit the other flowers on the small hall table she has near the door.

“These are for you. The clerk said both are for new love and beginnings.” 

She looks at the other flowers on the table, then looks back at me with love swimming in her eyes. “You bought my sister flowers too, huh?” 

“I figured they would cheer her up. Where is she, anyway? I noticed your car was gone when I pulled up.” 

“She went to the home decor store before it closed, claiming she needed a few things that she forgot to pack. I told her we could go do that tomorrow, but she insisted on going tonight.” 

Rylan takes the flowers into the kitchen with me, right on her heels. The second she puts them on the counter, I spin her around, then wrap my arms around her. I tilt her face up to mine, then crash my lips against hers. 

I just can’t get enough of this woman. I yearn for her touch, kisses, the sound of her voice, and that soft look in her eyes when she looks at me. I feel that love from her, even if we haven’t said the words yet. 

The kiss spins out of control quickly. Hunger for each other drives us to deepen the kiss. My hands reach up to fist in her hair as she grips the back of my shirt. Passion flares between us, hot and all-consuming. 

I fucking love it.

Grabbing her by the backs of her thighs, I hoist her up onto the island counter. Rylan wraps her legs around my waist, and her hands disappear between our bodies to cup my erection. I groan into her mouth as she strokes me. 

The sound of the front door opening makes her growl into my mouth. I pull back with a smirk on my face. “It looks like we were not fast enough.” 

“Roommates are such cockblocks,” she grumbles. 

I laugh, then step back so she can hop off the counter. “We have plenty of time, baby. I am not going anywhere.” 

“Ry?” Rosalie calls out from the living room. “I got what I wanted, but can we go back …” she breaks off as she steps into the kitchen, “.. tomorrow. Hi, Aaron.” 

I nod my head at her as Rylan hops off the counter. There is no doubt that she knows what we were doing by the slight blush on her cheeks. I turn around to hide my now-deflating erection, busing myself with grabbing wineglasses out of the cabinet. 

Oh, I forgot about the wine in the car.

“Be right back; I forgot the wine I bought out in the car.”

I make a hasty exit, which is followed by the sound of soft feminine laughter.