A Boy Worth Choosing (The Worthy Series Book 2) (2 page)

Our plane takes off flawlessly and even though I try really hard to rest on the way home, my insides toss and turn as we get closer and closer to the real world. Trying to find something to focus on, I start going over my schedule and realize that tomorrow is Saturday.

I’ll probably be at my apartment long enough to clean out my suitcase and repack it to head to my dad’s, but this only makes my heart start skipping beats as the potential to run into Stephen increases. My brain starts to war with my heart over whether or not three weeks is long enough for a dating sabbatical. 

Maybe you should just take everything one step at a time and let whatever happens, happen.
As I wrap my head around this thought, my body starts to relax and I finally feel myself drift off.

***

I dream of gentle kisses and strong arms in a sun filled field before I’m awakened by a not-so-gentle shake from Daphne. I stretch my arms and legs as much as I can as the flight attendants are going about preparing for landing. Just as I’m getting my wits about me, the plane touches the ground and we’re back in Kansas City.

“You know, I’m really proud of you,” Daphne says quietly from her seat.

“Oh?” I ask, not quite sure where this is going.

“Well the last break up you went through resulted in a night of partying and drunkenness, and consequently, flowers from a megalomaniac who you decided to date.” Her voice is laced with enough seriousness that tells me she was concerned I would go off and do something stupid after the showdown with Caleb.

I don’t blame her for being nervous. Caleb said some pretty harsh things. Things that stung for several days.

“Well, I learned a few very valuable lessons from my rocky relationship from him. First, partying, which was one of your hair-brained ideas mind you, does absolutely nothing to take the sting out of any hurt feelings. Second, drunkenness does not set a good foundation for a new relationship.”

“So you are considering a new relationship then?” Daphne asks, with a knowing look on her face.

“I think it’s inevitable, don’t you.” I smile sleepily at her, remembering my dream.

“Why yes, darlin’. I sure do.”

Chapter Two

~Stephen~

I pound on the door again, starting to worry about her. Jessie just got back from Mexico last night, she could be ill. What do they call it? Montezuma’s Revenge? Or did she get too much sun? I know she’s here; her car is back in the parking lot and Daphne’s text said that she was going straight home to sleep. Surely she couldn’t have gone anywhere this early in the morning. Would she go for a run so early on her first day back from vacation?

I start to make my way back toward the parking lot to wait for her return when I hear the click of her deadbolt unlocking. I about-face and try to stand patiently in front of her door. She opens it just a crack and her sleepy face lights my world up.

She’s stunning, more beautiful than I remember. Her hair is perfect in her bed-head messy bun, with loose tendrils framing her face. Her skin has a golden glow to it, from plenty of hours in the sun, no doubt. She looks a little thinner too. I frown at that; she’s small as she is, and she doesn’t need to lose any more weight. She pulls her robe tight around her with one hand while rubbing an eye with the other.

“Stephen? What are you doing here? What time is it?” her raspy voice rings through my ears, and for the first time in almost three weeks I feel like I can start to relax.

“Good morning to you too. Here,” I hand her her favorite white chocolate mocha, watching the smile spread across her face as she inhales the aroma. That smile….Wow.

“I’m sorry, come in,” she steps back and lets me in. “I’ll be right back.” She sets her coffee on the counter, and I can’t take my eyes off her as she retreats back to her bedroom.

I am too anxious to sit, so I walk around her living room, looking at the pictures I already know are there. Most are of her and her father, a few of her mother, but there are several of her with friends. Her and Daphne at a Mizzou game, her and the girls from the youth group we sometimes assist with at a school play, and my favorite, the one of her and me. It was the day that I got the news I passed the bar; she kept telling me how proud of me she was. I had just cracked a joke about my being able to get her out of jail the next time she and Daphne got into some trouble. She had burst out laughing and Mom snapped this picture, perfectly capturing her radiant smile.

I stare at the picture, thinking it’s been too long since I’ve heard her laugh. Waiting for her has turned out to be much more problematic than I thought it would be. I thought I had lost her twice now, once to my high school best friend, and then to that douchebag, Caleb.

I waited a long time, too long, to tell her how I felt. So when she asked for me to wait a little while longer, I thought I could handle it. But she up and disappeared, not returning my calls, barely responding to my texts and email, and ran off to Mexico “to think”. I think I might combust if she doesn’t tell me what she’s needed to “think” about.

She walks back in, changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt. She has combed her hair out and pulled it back into a ponytail, looking a little more refreshed, yet not quite awake. Man, she’s beautiful first thing in the morning.

I set the picture back down and prop myself up against the back of her couch, still not able to calm down enough to sit.

“How was Mexico?” I ask.

“Mmm. It was good. Warm. Sunny. Perfect weather,” she says picking up her coffee and settling against the breakfast bar. She takes a sip and closes her eyes as if she’s enjoying it.

“You look great. Mexico really seemed to agree with you.” She blushes at my compliment.

“Thank you. It’s good to see you.”

She gives me a timid smile and I have to grip the edge of the couch to maintain my self-control. We sit in silence for a few minutes, not sure what to say to each other. I can’t take my eyes off her and she’s having a hard time looking away from her cup of coffee. Everything about her, those eyes, nose, lips, they are all better than I remember and I’m not sure if it’s because she knows my feelings for her now or if the glow the Mexican sun left on her has amplified their beauty. It takes everything within me not to charge the five feet between us and sweep her up into my arms. She asked for time, asked me to wait. So wait I shall.

“I’m getting promoted,” I finally tell her, trying to break the silence. The surprise of my news finally causes her to look up at me. Dear Lord, those eyes.

“Stephen, that’s….really great. Congratulations,” she says genuinely.

I can't take it anymore. I stand up and take a step toward her. She doesn't back down or break eye contact, and I take that as a good sign to continue. As I take a second step toward her, I hear her breath catch and my willpower implodes. I cross the remaining distance between us in one final step and take her face in my hands. Our lips collide and I feel all the anxiety that has been building up for the last three weeks sweep away. So much for waiting.

She wraps her arms around my neck and I'm lost in her touch, everything within me awakening. I tighten my grip on her, pulling her as close to me as I can get her. She responds, but after a few moments, pulls back, breathless and smiling. She takes up my hand and pulls me over to the couch.

I sit down and pull her so close, she’s practically sitting in my lap, but I don't let her go. I have this nagging feeling that if I do, she'll slip away again and I don't think I can let another three weeks go by without talking to or seeing her.

“I really missed you,” I tell her quietly as we just stare at one another.

“I really missed you too.”

“You did?” I can't help the surprise in my voice. She nods and I can't stop the words before they come out, sounding more hurt than I would have liked.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

She hesitates, and I'm not sure if it’s because she's taken aback or if because she's feeling guilty.

“I needed to make sure that I’ve given myself enough time,” she says, finally breaking eye contact to focus on her hands.

“So you're afraid of being with me because you don't think you're over Caleb?” Unavoidable anger rises within and spilling out in my words. I don’t think it’s any big secret to her that I never liked the guy.

“Absolutely not! He really wasn't worth my time, and I really, really wish I had figured that out so much sooner. No, I just needed to be sure I wanted to be with you because of my feelings for you and not because I feel like I need to be in a relationship period. It's been a long time since I've been on my own.”

That makes sense to me, but the uber-selfish part of me says this isn't even important. I want to be with her, she wants to be with me. That should be all that matters. But she's right to be ensuring this for both of us. I care too much about her to ask her to start something with me because I don't think I want to wait anymore.

I place two fingers under her chin and lift gently to make her look up at me.

“And what did you decide?” I try to ask without sounding too pleading.

“I decided it has nothing to do with needing to be in a relationship. It's about not wanting to hurt you. You’re an amazing man and deserve the best, but I can’t not have you in my life. It just doesn’t work for me,” she says quietly.

Her words hit me like a freight train.

“So you can't live without me, and you think I’m amazing.” The goofy grin that grows on my face is totally involuntary. “So where does that leave us?”

“Can we take things slow?” she asks timidly. My chest constricts and I realize I've been holding my breath. “We can go out, like a date, and see where things go from there.”

I let that breath out slowly. She's saying yes. It’s not a let's-run-off-to-Vegas-and-elope kind of yes. But it's a yes I will take.

I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose, and lean back to find a genuinely happy look on her face.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Good. Um, are you hungry?” she asks. She gets up and I fight the urge to pull her back down.

“I could eat.” I get up and follow her to the kitchen, taking up a post at the end of her kitchen island.

She opens the fridge to find a bottle of mustard, half a bottle of wine, a half-empty container of leftover spaghetti, and some coffee creamer. A lifetime of Sunday lunches tell me she’s a good cook, but unless she’s David Copperfield and can make some ingredients magically appear, we’re going to have to go out for groceries anyway.

“You know, I know a great little diner just a few blocks away.” I chuckle at her. She gives me a guilty smile.

“Good idea. Let me go put some jeans on and we’ll go.” 

***

We get back to her apartment and I’m not ready to let go of her hand. I’ve had ahold of it every possible moment since we left for the diner, still trying to ground myself from the Cloud Nine I’ve been on since we kissed this morning. I’ve waited so long to be with the girl of my dreams and she finally is choosing me. I’m one happy man.

“When are you headed home?” I ask her as we reach her building.

“I will probably head down just as soon as I finish putting everything away and can repack for the night. You?”

“I promised Grady and a couple guys from the gym a game tonight, so I will be down first thing in the morning.”

We stop as we reach her door. I really don’t want to leave, but I know her dad is anxious to see her so I need to let her get on her way. I pull her in and inhale her sweet scent one last time. She reaches up on her tiptoes to kiss me and I instinctively squeeze her tighter.

“Speaking of going home, do you think we should tell our parents?” she asks breathlessly when she steps back down.

“
What
do you want to tell our parents?” I raise an eyebrow, curious as to how she is going to phrase this. I honestly don’t care what we tell them, but I’m going to have to tell them something. I’m not sure I can keep the stupid grin off my face through the church services, let alone a “family” dinner.

She matches my ear to ear grin before answering, “That we’re dating.”

“Okay…. As in plural, multiple dates...” The blush on her face gives her away. “Okay, yes, I do think we should tell them that we’re dating. But I would like to talk to your dad before we say anything officially. You know, to make sure that we have his blessing,” I say timidly.

Not that her father strikes fear in me or anything, although I have hunted with the man and he’s an expert marksman so I do not in any way want to cross him, but I respect him as a man and as our pastor. And if he says that he doesn’t think this is a good idea, then…well we’ll cross that bridge should we come to it.

Her grin grows into a full megawatt smile. She’s happy, and I’m elated that I can say or do something to bring that out in her. I lean down to kiss her this time but make it quick, because otherwise if I don’t, I’ll never leave.

***

I can’t sit still for the two and half hour drive to my parents’ house. I’d like to blame it on the two cups of coffee that I’ve downed already this morning, but I know it’s because I just can’t wait to see her again. And because I’m so anxious, the drive that normally takes me two and a half hours only takes me an hour and forty five minutes.

I slow my Audi down, thankful I managed to arrive without getting pulled over at all, and I turn onto the old farm road that leads home. I see her silver Outback sitting in her father’s driveway, and it takes quite a bit of effort to keep on track to my house. I manage, however, by telling myself that we have to be at the church within the hour so I won’t have to wait too much longer anyway.

I pull into my parents’ driveway and park out of the way so that my dad won’t run his massive farm truck over my Audi RS 5. I love this car, but ever since Jess finally said we could try us out, my long term plan making has been on overdrive. If I have my way, we’ll be married by Christmas. And of course she wants kids, so the idea of a bigger, more family friendly vehicle has me checking out larger cars. I haven’t found anything as sexy as my Audi yet, and I know it’s a little presumptuous but I’ve got some time.

I walk in the back door and smell my mom’s infamous chicken roasting. Her light brown hair is clipped up in wide pink curlers piled top of her head, and she’s already dressed in a pretty salmon colored dress, covered by her apron so she won’t splash anything on herself. She’s still in her soft white house slippers though, no doubt waiting until the last minute to step into the heels she loves the look of but hates to wear. She peers over her shoulder to smile at me.

“You’re early. Did you have a good trip this morning?” she asks, turning back to some delicious smelling boiling substance on the stove. I wrap my arms around her and give a proper greeting by way of a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I did.” I smile at her.  She cocks an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“Something’s different. You’re in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood.” I say a bit defensively.

“Morning son. Coffee?” Dad asks, refilling his favorite mug and opening the cabinet to pull one out for me.

“He’s in a good mood, Mark. Something’s up.” My mother spills the beans.

“Oh, no! A good mood, you say?” my father mocks surprised concern. “To what do we owe the honor?” He turns to me and hands me a steamy cup of black coffee, a playful smile on his face.