The Truest of Words Read online

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. While things were complicated on campus, once we were alone, it would be the two of us and our love, plain and simple.

  “How about after work, you go to residence and pack an overnight bag. I’ll pick you up from Union Station at one thirty.”

  “Perfect.” In the mirror, I noticed two red spots already forming on my cheeks at the thought of being in his bed—in his arms again. “I can’t wait.”

  “I know exactly how you feel.” He laughed, and then he lowered his voice. “Maybe that’s the problem. I do know exactly how you feel and I can’t fucking wait to feel you again.”

  During my first three-hour shift, Elaine Armstrong reduced me to little more than a cleaning lady and coffee gopher. After my chat with Daniel, she deigned to allow me to empty the mailbag, watching me sort the mail from inside her office while I quietly seethed. She gave new meaning to the term micro-manager.

  I hated women who seemed intent on proving they had virtual testicles. Surely it was possible to be strong and decisive without being a bitch? Well, I’d simply have to grit my teeth and soldier on. It aggravated Elaine to no end when I smiled in the face of her frostiness. I’d continue doing that. Like Shakespeare had said, I’d kill her with kindness.

  Coming to this decision put an extra bounce in my step as I made my way to Union Station to meet Daniel. On the subway, I remembered the envelope he’d delivered earlier and dug it out of my bag. Was it a love note disguised as a letter of reference? As I started to read, I quickly realized it wasn’t love letter, but it was awesome all the same.

  Performance Appraisal

  Date: Monday May 4th

  Employee: Aubrey L. Price

  Employer: Daniel G. Grant

  Employment commencing Saturday, May 2nd

  Anecdotal observations conducted during completion of assigned jobs

  Saturday, May 2nd through Sunday, May 3rd

  LEADERSHIP: Miss Price demonstrates excellent leadership qualities, often taking the initiative in stressful or hard situations.

  SENSE OF URGENCY: When required, Miss Price seems prepared to put forth whatever effort is needed in order to ensure the swift conclusion of a mutually satisfying end to each and every job.

  TEAMWORK: Miss Price is extremely flexible and cooperative, prepared to bend over backward—or forward—if doing so will lead to favorable results. Within moments of being hired, she was responsive to my needs and very supportive when I required extra encouragement to meet my…goals.

  DEPENDABILITY: Miss Price eagerly takes on her share of the workload, assuming tasks that I’d previously had to complete myself. I look forward to her taking these jobs out of my hands (my right hand in particular) for good!

  ORAL COMMUNICATION SKILLS: While oral skills are outstanding, oral communication skills could be refined. Elocution classes are recommended, particularly where the use of certain…diction is required.

  INFLUENCE WITHOUT POSITIONAL AUTHORITY: Though positional authority is often frowned upon, I noted that Miss Price uses certain positions to great advantage. I am not averse to her use of authority to achieve her own personal goals, and to assist me as I strive to meet mine, for that matter.

  RESPONSIBILITY: Miss Price obviously takes great pride in her work. It is a supreme pleasure to have her under me under my employ. I would recommend her unfailingly as an exemplar employee. However, you’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands because, in short, she is simply unnghh.

  Signed: Daniel G. Grant

  When Daniel pulled up in front of Union Station, my stomach flip-flopped. Would he kiss me right away, or would he make me wait until we were at the condo? Hoping for option A, I crossed to the car and climbed in.

  “Finally.” He pulled me close and kissed me, his tongue cool and sweet against mine.

  Option A. Thank God.

  We settled into our seats, but before Daniel could start the car, I took his hand. “Just a sec. I swung by a bookstore on the way here and got you something.”

  “You got me something?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I retrieved the journal I’d bought myself before passing him the bookstore bag.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, but he was grinning like a kid who’d just been given a Happy Meal with the best toy ever inside.

  “You said you weren’t familiar with Rabindranath Tagore’s work. I wanted to share it with you.”

  “The Gardener,” he said, opening the cover, flipping through the first few pages and scanning the poems. “Thank you. This is very thoughtful.” He kissed my cheek. “And that, sweetheart, is how you graciously accept a gift from someone you love.”

  “Okay.” I rolled my eyes. “Point made.”

  He gestured to the book on my lap. “What’s that?”

  “A notebook. I was thinking about what you said about me bottling things up. Now that I’ve finished school, I’ll have time to write for enjoyment. I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “Great idea. You can record all my foibles and fuck-ups.” He laughed.

  “That’s not what I meant. But you write about me. Can’t I unburden my heart, too?”

  “Sure. Just don’t forget to tell me how you’re feeling, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I assured him. “Like, right now I’d love to exert some positional authority. Can we go?”

  He laughed. “You read the performance appraisal?”

  “Yes, you cheeky bastard.”

  “Come on, it was funny.”

  “It was.” I squeezed his hand. “When did you do that?”

  “When I got up this morning.”

  “Such creativity at such an ungodly hour.”

  He gave a faux-modest toss of his head. “It’s a gift.”

  As he pulled out of his parking spot, he threaded his fingers through mine. A few moments later, we turned onto the Don Valley Parkway.

  “Wait, where are we going?” I asked.

  “We have to make a vital pit stop before going home.”

  “Oh, come on,” I groaned. “It’s nap time…”

  He shook his head. “You’ll be glad when you see where we’re going.”

  And as aggravating as it was, because I really wanted to get naked and remind him of my sense of urgency and practice my oral communication skills, when we reached our destination and I realized what this vital pit stop was all about, I was very glad indeed.

  Chapter 2

  Happy Hours

  …Now stand you on the top of happy hours…

  (Sonnet 16)

  DANIEL BRUSHED HIS LIPS across my cheek, his dimpled smile making my heart thrum.

  “This is kind of risqué.” I dropped the bag of bolster cushions and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “First we go shopping for linens a mere thirty-five-minute drive off campus, and now we’re canoodling in your condo’s elevator…”

  He coiled his free arm around me.

  “And how does this risqué canoodling make you feel?” he asked, kissing my neck in that new-whiskery way that made me tingle.

  “Naughty.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  His lips skimmed across mine, and his tongue slid along my lower lip. I pressed my body against his.

  “Mr. Grant, is that a bolster in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” I giggled.

  “Call it what you like, Miss Price, but I’m definitely happy to see you. I’ll be even happier to see you completely naked, preferably in bed.”

  The elevator chimed, and he picked up the bags I’d dropped.

  “I can take those,” I said.

  “No, you have to open the door. You have your key, right?” he asked.

  I reached into my backpack and pulled out the Swarovski heart. Daniel smiled as I wiggled the key into the lock. The click of the bolt echoed down the empty hallway, and he motioned for me to walk through ahead of him. He kicked the door closed and to
ssed the bags of sheets and pillows onto the floor before scooping me up. I held onto his shoulders as he spun me around.

  “Finally!” he said, rubbing my nose lightly with his. “Permission to be incredibly cheesy?”

  “Permission granted.”

  “Welcome home, my lovely.”

  “Lord, that is cheesy.”

  “Mock me. I don’t care. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  He retrieved the sheets and tore open the packages. In the kitchen, he opened a set of louvered doors.

  “Laundry room,” he said, reaching for the detergent. “If you ever need to do laundry, help yourself.” He stuffed the sheets into the machine and turned to me, his eyes sparkling. “Nothing like christening a new set of clean sheets.”

  “I think we should have made them worthy of washing first.”

  “Are you kidding?” He shuddered. “Imagine how many people touched them during manufacturing.”

  “So, we have to wait for these to finish in the washer and the dryer before we can nap?”

  “Speed wash and then thirty minutes in the dryer. Think you can make it?”

  “I am really tired,” I said with a sigh.

  He smirked as he closed the laundry room doors. Sleeping was the last thing on my mind, but we seemed to be developing our own secret language where napping was code for getting it on in the afternoon.

  “It’ll be worth the wait. For now, come with me.”

  He led me to the bedroom. The bed was bare. I didn’t ask what he’d done with the linens his ex, Sabrina, had given him as a housewarming gift. Everything was gone, and that was good enough for me. In the walk-in closet, he pointed to a row of hangers.

  “You can hang your things here. I emptied the top drawer of my dresser too.”

  I smiled. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself, sailor? I brought an overnight bag, and you’ve already got me putting away clothes and doing laundry.”

  His face fell. “Too much?”

  “I love that you’re excited to have me here, and I appreciate that you want to make me feel welcome, but can we slow down a bit?”

  “I’m sorry. I am excited. I guess I’m getting carried away.”

  “I don’t want to rain on your parade, it’s just…”

  “It’s all right, poppet. I understand.”

  I inspected Daniel’s closet. “So, on top of alphabetizing, you’re also a fan of color-coding, huh?” I ran my hand along a row of shirts arranged by color and hue. The word organized didn’t do it justice.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Remember when you were here in March, and you said you thought I was OCD? Were you serious?”

  “My first impression was that you’re very organized. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

  “Some of my eccentricities must seem odd,” he said. “I should probably explain.”

  We returned to the living room and curled up on the couch together.

  “You don’t have to, Daniel. This is how you like your home.”

  “No, I don’t want to be like this. Not that I’d rather be a slob, but the excessive attention to detail—the extreme orderliness—it’s just a coping mechanism that’s become habit.” He took my hand. “After Nicola blew my life out of the water last year and the anxiety started, the strangest things would set me off. I’d try to work on my thesis, and if my desk was a mess, my skin would crawl. I couldn’t focus until I’d tidied everything up. Or I’d search for something in my closet, and if I couldn’t find it, I’d get so exasperated…It’s hard to explain unless it’s happened to you…”

  “I see what you mean. Go on,” I said.

  “I was living with my parents when I came back to Canada, and they noticed I was overly focused on things being just so. It was like I needed to impose order on inconsequential things to compensate for the parts of my life that had spun out of control. My mom said it wasn’t bad to have coping strategies as long as I didn’t allow them to become compulsions. I was taken aback when you started tossing around terms like OCD when you were here in March. I’ve done a lot of reading about this stuff. It scares the shit out of me, you know?”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I was kind of flippant.”

  “You didn’t know. It must seem strange to a casual observer. My blue shirts don’t need to be together. I don’t have to wash my car every other day. The world won’t come to a halt if my books aren’t in alpha order…” He expelled a gusty breath and squeezed my hand. “I’m trying to give up control of trivial things.”

  “I’ll help however I can,” I said.

  He looked down at our joined hands. “It’s funny, in February, when my mother suggested I try not to draw attention to myself by being too concerned with my appearance, I dreaded the thought of walking into Martin’s classroom without ironing my shirt or shaving. I’ve always tried to make a good impression. But, oddly enough, I enjoyed throwing myself together in the morning. It made me feel like I was beating something.” He shook his head and frowned. “Fuck, I sound certifiable.”

  “No you don’t,” I reassured him.

  “You don’t think I’m a freak?”

  “I didn’t say that…” I laughed gently and snuggled into his side. “Thanks for telling me. I’d hate to do something careless while I’m here without realizing it might upset you.”

  “Please don’t worry. One of my favorite things about you is how relaxed you are…how much you embrace having fun. You have no idea how much it’s helping me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I kissed him instead.

  “Have I mentioned today how much I love you?” he whispered.

  As he began to kiss his way down my neck, the washing machine buzzed. I dropped my head back, encouraging him to continue.

  “Screw the sheets, Daniel. I think we should take a nap on the rug…”

  He squeezed my knee and gave me a quick peck. “Just for today, humor me, okay?”

  While he tossed the sheets into the dryer, I reclined and crossed my hands behind my head. Humor him? Yeah, I could humor him because, honestly, watching Daniel doing laundry? That was foreplay.

  “I would have been happy christening the rug, you know,” I said, tucking the last corner of the sheet under the mattress, trying to emulate Daniel’s “hospital corner” fold. He dragged the duvet across the bed, a look of mock horror on his face.

  “Have you any idea how long it’s been since I vacuumed out there?” he asked, joining me at the end of the bed.

  “Three days?” I guessed.

  “Uh-uh,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Longer.”

  “Four?”

  “Longer.”

  He kissed me softly and unbuttoned my blouse.

  “Five?”

  “Nope.”

  He slid the blouse off my shoulders, letting it drop on the floor behind me. I shivered as he ran his fingertips down my arms.

  “Surely not six.”

  “Bingo.” He drew my hands up around his neck and kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping across mine as he unclasped my bra. I was already feeling wobbly from our half hour make-out session on the couch. Now he was simply turning me into goo.

  “Six days?” I murmured. “I’m shocked and appalled.”

  “Tough call, right?” he said between kisses. “I had to ask myself, ‘Do I make love to my delicious girlfriend on the Egyptian cotton sheets, or roll her around in the dust mites and bread crumbs?’ See my dilemma?”

  He slipped my bra off and tossed it onto the dresser. As he circled my nipples with his thumbs, I closed my eyes and held onto his shoulders, afraid my knees might give out any second.

  “Yes…” I managed to say.

  He slowly unzipped my skirt and inched the fabric down my hips.

  “Stop talking and kiss me, Aubrey.”

  Happy to do as I was told, I offered my lips, and he walked me backward until I sat on the edge of the mattress. I l
ay down, expecting him to join me, but he didn’t. He stood there, looking down at me, his gaze traveling up my legs and then onward, pausing momentarily at my breasts before moving up to my face.

  “I knew seeing you naked in my bed would make me perfectly happy,” he said. “No, wait.” He slipped my panties down my legs and tossed them over his shoulder. “There. Now that’s perfect.”

  I reached for his hand, pulling him onto the bed with me. He lay on his side and kissed me, his fingertips lightly skimming across my tummy. I tugged at his T-shirt.

  “How did this happen again? The only thing you’ve taken off is your socks, and I’m completely naked,” I said.

  “I don’t know, Miss Price. I may have to take a look at that performance appraisal and make some revisions. Your initiative seems to be lagging. Would you care to rectify the situation?” He drew my hand down to his zipper.

  “How about you rectify it for me?”

  “You want me to strip for you?” He smiled.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but hell yes.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “And I’d like some music, too.”

  He went to turn on his iPod. Was he seriously going to do this?

  “Requests?” he asked.

  “That Style Council song? You know, the sexy one?”

  “‘Paris Match’?”

  I nodded, and soon the sultry music started. He looked over his shoulder at me and wiggled his eyebrows. I couldn’t help laughing. I didn’t know how he straddled the line between adorable and sexy so perfectly, but he had it down to a frigging art.

  He pulled off his T-shirt and swung it around his head a couple of times before tossing it at me. I giggled and threw it over the edge of the bed as he lowered his zipper, slowly pushing his jeans and boxers over his hips. They fell to the floor where they were kicked aside. I whistled and hooted, and he smiled, joining me on the bed again, his body warm against mine.

  “Nicely done, though next time you might want to spice it up, work in some props—there’s plenty of room for a pole over there.” I pointed to his reading nook.

  “Don’t push your luck,” he said, pressing himself against my thigh. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” His hands roamed all over my body, lips following, his tongue darting out to tease me, making me shiver and squirm.