Chapter 28: It Starts with Us: Chapter 28

Allysa has the bright idea of just setting them on the floor on a layer of trash bags, so it’ll be an easy cleanup. Emmy and her cousin, Rylee, are both covered in cake now.

Emmy has no idea what’s going on, but she’s enjoying herself. We ended up having a small party for her here at Allysa’s. My mother is here, Ryle’s parents, Marshall, and Allysa.

Ryle is also here, but he’s about to leave. He snaps a couple of photos on his phone before giving both the girls a quick kiss goodbye.

I heard him telling Marshall it’s been a busy day with work, but he made the party. I was happy he made it in time for presents, and he stayed until the cake was mostly demolished. I know it’ll mean something to Emmy someday when she sees the pictures.

We haven’t spoken the entire time he’s been here. We’ve circled around each other, pretending everything is fine in front of everyone, but Ryle is anything but fine. I can feel the tension radiating from him while standing across the room. Being ignored by him is better than being blamed by him, though. I’d take the silent treatment over the alternative any day.

Unfortunately, I don’t get the silent treatment for long.

Ryle is making eye contact with me for the first time today. I made the mistake of standing alone, so he takes this as an opportunity to walk over and stand beside me. I stiffen, not wanting to do this right now. We haven’t spoken since he insulted me while walking out of my flower shop last week. I know we need to have a conversation, but our daughter’s birthday party is not the time or place.

Ryle slips his hands into his pockets. He tucks his chin against his chest and stares at the floor. “What did your lawyer say?”

Anger climbs up my chest. I side-eye him and give my head a shake. “We aren’t having this conversation right now.”

“Then when?”

It’s not really a matter of when, but who with? Because I’m not going to discuss anything while we’re alone ever again. He’s proven to me that I’m not safe when I’m alone with him, so that privilege is over.

“I’ll text you,” I say, and then I walk away, leaving Ryle standing alone. My mother is holding Emmy, wiping cake off her face and hands, so I head in their direction, but Allysa pulls me aside before I reach them.

“Let’s chat,” she says. I follow her to her bedroom, where she sits on her bed.

She only brings me to her bedroom when she wants to confront me about something, and her timing is always impeccably intuitive. I roll my eyes as soon as I walk into her room, and then I sit down on her bed. “What do you want to know?” It’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve caught up alone. There’s a lot she could be wondering about my life. It’s been pretty eventful here lately.

Allysa falls back onto the bed. “Things between you and Ryle feel kind of off today.”

“It’s noticeable?”

“I notice everything. Are you okay?”

I think long and hard about that question. Are you okay? I used to hide from that question because I wasn’t okay. Even months after Emerson’s birth, when someone would ask me that, I would put on a smile while I shriveled up inside.

This is the first time I’m not lying when I say, “Yes. I’m okay.”

Allysa regards me silently. There’s a reassurance in her expression, like she might even believe me this time. She grabs my hand and pulls me until I’m lying on the bed next to her. She locks our arms at the elbows, and we just stare up at the ceiling, enjoying a moment of silence in a house full of people.

I’m glad I still have Allysa. That would have been the most heartbreaking thing of all to have to lose in my divorce. I’m grateful she’s so full of forgiveness and positivity.

I wish I could say the same for her brother. Sometimes I feel like Ryle has a monster inside him that is on a constant search to be offended. His dark side feeds off drama, and if no one gives him any, he makes it up. But I can’t be a player in his game anymore. I know my intentions were pure when I was married to Ryle, no matter how much Ryle wanted his delusions to be true so they could excuse his behavior.

“How are things with Adonis?”

I laugh. “You mean Atlas?”

“I said what I said. Adonis, the beautiful Greek god you’re in love with.”

I laugh again. “Wasn’t Adonis a product of incest?”

Allysa shoves me. “Stop deflecting. How are things going?”

I roll onto my stomach and lift up on my elbow. “Good, if we’d ever get to spend time together. His restaurant doesn’t open until my flower shop closes. We haven’t even spent an entire night with each other yet.”

“What’s Atlas doing right now? Working?”

I nod.

“You should see if he can take off early and I’ll keep Emerson tonight. We don’t have plans tomorrow; you could come get her whenever.”

My eyes widen at her offer. “For real?”

Allysa climbs off the bed. “Rylee loves it when she’s here. Go spend the night with your Adonis.”

I didn’t text Atlas to let him know I was on my way to Corrigan’s. He told me he’d be working there tonight, and I thought it might be fun to surprise him, but when I walk through the doors that lead to the kitchen, I’m amazed at how busy it is. No one even hears me enter, so I look around until I spot him.

Atlas is inspecting each plate as they’re given to him to place on trays, then the waitstaff quickly disappear with the food through the double doors. This place is more upscale than Bib’s, and I thought Bib’s was upscale. All the waiters are dressed in formal attire. Atlas is in a white chef’s coat that matches a couple of the others in the kitchen.

They’ve got such a groove going, I question whether I should have shown up. I feel like I’ll be in the way if I walk over to him, but I suddenly feel very awkward that I just showed up without letting him know.

I recognize Darin as soon as he spots me. He smiles and nods his head, then gets Atlas’s attention. He motions toward me, and when Atlas turns around and sees me in his kitchen, his eyes light up. But only momentarily. The fact that I’m here instantly changes his excitement to concern. He makes a beeline for me, sidestepping around a waiter who is walking back into the kitchen with an empty tray.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Allysa decided to keep Emmy for the night, so I thought I’d stop by.”

Atlas smiles hopefully. “Is she keeping her for the whole night?” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his eyes.

I nod.

“Hot behind!” someone yells from behind me. Hot behind? My eyes widen just as Atlas pulls us out of the way of a waiter carrying a tray of food.

“Kitchen slang,” he says. “Means you’re in the way of hot food.”

“Oh.”

Atlas laughs, and then looks over his shoulder at all the plates he’s falling behind on. “Give me about twenty minutes to get us caught up?”

“Of course. I didn’t come here to ask you to leave early. I thought I could watch you work for a while; it’s kind of fun.”

Atlas points to a metal counter. “Sit there. It’s the best view, and you won’t get knocked over. Gets pretty busy back here. Be done soon.” He lifts my chin and bends to kiss me, then he backs away and returns to what he was doing before I walked in.

I take a seat on the counter and pull up my legs, crossing them so that I’m completely out of the way. I notice a few of the employees stealing glances at me, which makes me somewhat uncomfortable. Out of all the people back here right now, I’ve only met Darin, so I have no idea who any of them are. I do wonder what they’re thinking of the random girl Atlas just kissed who is now watching them work.

I don’t know if Atlas normally brings women around, but I get the feeling he doesn’t. Everyone is looking at me like this is an anomaly.

Darin comes over to greet me as soon as he gets a chance. He gives me a quick hug and says, “Good to see you again, Lily. You still hustling unassuming poker players?”

I laugh. “Not for a while now. Do you guys still have your poker nights?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, we’re too busy now that Atlas has both restaurants. It was difficult finding a night we could all meet up.”

“That’s a shame. Are you working here now?”

“Not officially. Atlas wanted to see how I work with the menu here; he’s thinking of promoting me to head chef.” He leans in and smiles. “He said he wants more time off. I guess now I know why.” Darin tosses a rag over his shoulder. “It was good seeing you. Sounds like you’ll be around more often.” He winks before walking away.

Knowing Atlas is making an effort to spend less time at work makes my stomach swirl with happiness.

I spend the next fifteen minutes silently watching Atlas work. Every now and then he’ll glance at me and give me a warm smile, but the rest of the time, he’s focused on his job. His intensity and confidence are mesmerizing.

No one seems intimidated by him, but everyone appears to want his opinion. He’s constantly being asked questions, and he responds to each one of them with patience. In between those moments of teaching, there’s a lot of yelling. Not the kind of yelling I’d expect to find in a kitchen, but people calling out food orders and cooks yelling their acknowledgments. It’s loud and busy, but the vibe is a rush.

It’s honestly not at all what I expected to find. I thought I’d see a whole new side to Atlas—one where he barked orders with anger and behaved like all the chefs I’ve seen on television. But, thankfully, that’s not at all what is happening in this kitchen.

After a thrilling half an hour goes by, Atlas finally steps away from his station. He washes his hands before walking over to me. I get this knot of excitement in my stomach when he leans forward and presses his mouth to mine, like he doesn’t care that all his staff can see us.

“Sorry that took so long,” he says.

“I enjoyed it. It was different than I expected.”

“How so?”

“I thought all chefs were assholes and screamed at their staff.”

He laughs. “No assholes in this kitchen. Sorry to disappoint.” He uncrosses my legs so he can stand between them. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Josh is staying over at Theo’s tonight.”

I can’t hold back my grin. “What a wonderful coincidence.”

Atlas’s eyes sweep over me, and then he leans his head against mine, pressing his lips lightly against my ear. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours. I want to be in a bed that smells like you.”

He nips at my ear, sending chills down my neck. Then he takes my hands and helps me down from the counter. He gives his attention to someone passing by. “Hey, can you take over the pass?”

The guy says, “You bet.”

Atlas looks back at me and says, “Meet you at my house.”

I stopped by my apartment before going to his restaurant to pack a bag just in case this was a possibility, so I get to his place before he does. While I wait for Atlas, I use the time in my car to check in with Allysa.

Did she fall asleep okay?

Just fine. How’s your night going?

Just fine. 😉

Have fun. I expect a full report.

Atlas’s headlights shine through my car as he pulls into his driveway. I’m still gathering my things when he opens my car door. As soon as I climb out of the car, Atlas dips an impatient hand into my hair and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that screams I’ve missed kissing you.

When he pulls back, he studies my face with a gentle smile. “I liked you watching me in the kitchen tonight.”

A shiver passes over me. “I like watching you.” I can’t say it without grinning. I grab my bag from the passenger seat, and Atlas takes it from me and hoists it over his shoulder. I follow him through the garage. He still has moving boxes piled up along one wall. There’s a weight bench in pieces on the floor next to the unpacked boxes. There are two full baskets of laundry sitting in front of a washer and dryer.

Seeing a little bit of disarray in his garage is comforting. I was beginning to think he was too good to be true, but Atlas Corrigan is behind on life and behind on laundry like the rest of us.

He unlocks his house and holds the door open for me. It’s smaller than his last one, but it’s more him. And it’s not a cut-and-paste brick building in a subdivision of similar-looking homes. The houses in this neighborhood have character. Each one is vastly different, from the pink two-story house on the corner to the modern boxy glass one at the other end of the street.

Atlas’s house is a bungalow-style home nestled in between two larger homes. When I was here last time, I noted that he somehow got the biggest backyard of the three. Plenty of room for a garden someday…

Atlas enters his security code into his keypad. “It’s nine five nine five,” he says. “If you ever need in.”

“Nine five nine five,” I repeat, noting it’s the same number combination as his phone. He’s a man of commitment. I like it.

His security code isn’t a key to his house, but it feels almost as significant. He places my bag on his couch and then flips on the living room light. My back is to the wall, and I’m standing out of the way, watching him. It’s a good thing he informed me that he liked it when I was watching him at work, because watching Atlas is my favorite pastime. I could live my life as a fly on his wall and be content. “What’s your routine when you get home at night?”

Atlas tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

I gesture at the room. “What do you do when you get home at night? Pretend I’m not here.”

He regards me silently. Then he walks toward me, pausing right in front of me. He presses a hand onto the wall beside my head and leans in. “Well,” he whispers. “First, I take off my shoes.”

I hear one of his shoes being kicked off, then the other. He’s suddenly an inch lower and even closer to my mouth. He feathers his lips lightly across mine, sending fireworks popping beneath my skin. “Then…” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I take a shower.” He pushes off the wall and backs away, his eyes locked on mine in a dare.

He disappears into his bedroom.

I’m inhaling a steadying breath when I hear his shower start running. I slip off my shoes and leave them next to his, then I follow the path he took down the hallway. I gently push open the half-closed door and take in his bedroom in person for the first time. I’ve seen it in our video chats, but I didn’t come in here when I came to his house the first time. I recognize his black headboard and the denim-blue accent wall behind it, but the rest of his bedroom is new to me. I pass over everything in search of the bathroom door.

He left it open. His shirt is on the floor by the doorway.

I don’t know why my heart is pounding like it’ll be my first time seeing Atlas without clothes. It’s not like I’m brand-new to this, or him, or even to showering with him. But every time I’m with him, it’s like my heart gets amnesia.

I make it to the doorway of his bathroom, disappointed to see that his shower is hidden behind half of a stone wall. I can hear the breaks and splashes in the shower stream, and I feel a tightening in every curve of my body.

I don’t leave my clothes with his. I stay dressed and slowly make my way over to the shower. I press my back flush against the long wall of his bathroom, and I inch closer to the shower opening, leaning my head in just enough to get a peek at him.

Atlas is standing under the stream of water, his eyes closed, the water coming down directly on his face as he runs his fingers through his hair. I stay quiet and still and continue leaning against the wall while I watch him.

He knows I’m here, but he ignores my presence and allows me to soak up the sight of him. I want to run my hands over the rise and fall of muscles across his shoulders, and I want to kiss the dimples in his lower back. He is absolutely beautiful.

Once he rinses all the soap out of his hair and off his face, he looks toward me. His eyes catch mine, and they narrow. Darken. Then he faces me, my gaze falling, falling…

“Lily.”

My eyes move back up to his, and he’s smirking. Then, so quickly, he strides across the wet tile and yanks me away from the wall until I’m wrapped in his arms. He pulls me into the shower with him, and I gasp from the rush of it all.

He catches my gasp in his mouth as he grips my thighs, pulling my wet-blue-jean-covered legs around him. My back meets the shower wall, taking some of my weight off Atlas so that he can free up a hand.

He uses that free hand to unbutton my shirt.

I use both of mine to help him. We stop kissing long enough for him to lower me to my feet so that he can slip the shirt down my arms. The shirt plops against the shower floor with a small splash just as Atlas’s fingers meet the button on my jeans.

His mouth is hungry and back on mine as he slides his hands between my hips and my panties, tugging my clothes down one difficult inch at a time.

He grips the waistband on the sides of my jeans and lowers himself down my body as he works to slide them off me. Once they’re around my ankles, I help him by kicking them off, then he places his hands on the backs of my calves and slowly works his way back up me.

When he’s fully standing again, his fingers gather behind my back at the clasp of my bra. My stomach clenches as he begins to unfasten it. His mouth finds mine again, but this kiss is gentle and slow, like the removal of this last piece of clothing deserves to be savored.

I feel his hands slide to my shoulders, and then he tucks his fingers beneath the straps and slips them down my arms. My bra begins to fall away from me, and Atlas pulls away from my mouth long enough to admire me. His hand curves over my hip, and then slides over my ass, squeezing me.

I wrap my arms around his neck and slide my lips across his jaw, settling my mouth over his ear. “Then what?”

I watch as chills break out over his arms. He groans, and then lifts me higher up the wall until we’re aligned at the waist. I roll my hips into him, wanting to feel him hard against me, and he meets my movement with a quick thrust, forcing me to gasp. It’s obvious we both want this, but he still looks at me for permission before he takes me right here in the shower. We’ve had the proper conversations about my being on birth control, and both of us having been tested, so I just nod and whisper a desperate “Yes.”

I grip his shoulders tighter in an attempt to take more weight off his arms so that he can position himself to push into me. He uses his left arm to hold me up and his right hand to grip himself, and then he rolls his hips forward and up until I feel the pressure of him inside of me.

He sighs into my neck at the same time I release all the breath in my chest. It comes out like a moan, and that sound encourages Atlas to get that noise out of me again.

My legs are tight around his waist, but he thrusts against me hard enough for them to unlock at the ankles. I start to slip down him, but he hoists me back up and repositions himself until I’m filled with him all over again.

I release another moan, and he rolls into me a second time, and a third time, and it may not be as graceful against a water-soaked shower wall as it is in a bed, but I can’t get enough of the unruly side of him.

He gives me that unruly side of him for several minutes before we’re both too weak and breathless to continue this without the support of a bed. He doesn’t say anything after he pulls out of me and lowers me to my feet. He just turns off the water and then grabs a towel. He starts at my hair, squeezing water out of it with both his hands, and then he slowly works his way down my body with the towel until I’m dry enough. He does a quick swipe of himself with the towel before grabbing my hand and walking me out of the bathroom.

I don’t know how something as simple as him holding my hand on our way to the bedroom can make my heart expand.

Atlas lifts the blanket and motions for me to climb into his bed. It’s so comfortable, it feels like I’m nestling into a cloud. He scoots in next to me, stopping only when he can’t come even a centimeter closer to me. He’s on his side, but he rolls me so that I’m flat on my back, tucked against him.

I like this position. I like the way he’s holding himself up on his elbow, hovering over me. I like the slight grin in his eyes, as if I’m a reward he’s earned.

Atlas lowers himself and we’re no longer easing into these kisses. It’s an immediate deep and hungry kiss that starts with the dive of his tongue and ends with him impressively reaching for a condom and putting it on without interrupting the strength of his kiss. Atlas grips the inside of my thigh and pushes my leg aside to make room for himself.

Then he’s above me, pushing into me, and he moves against me until I find myself in the middle of a beautiful falling apart.

Atlas is on his back on the bed, and I’m curled into him, my leg draped over his thigh. These are the moments I look forward to sharing with him the most. The quiet minutes we get to steal from the chaos of our lives, where it’s just the two of us, satiated, content. My head is resting on his chest, his fingers are trailing back and forth over my arm.

He kisses the top of my head and says, “How long has it been since we ran into each other on the street?”

“Forty days,” I say. I’ve been counting.

He makes a huh sound, like that surprises him.

“Why? Does it feel longer?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you’ve been counting like I have.”

I laugh and press my lips against his skin, right over his heart.

“How were things at the party today?” he asks me. I know what he’s asking without him having to say it. He wants to know how Ryle treated me.

“The party was good. I spoke to Ryle for maybe five seconds.”

“Was he unkind?”

“No. We just stayed out of each other’s way, mostly.”

Atlas runs his fingers through my hair, pulling them through the strands and letting them fall over my back. He takes another handful and repeats the movement. “That’s progress. Hopefully it’ll just get easier from here.”

“Hopefully.” I do hope things between Ryle and I continue to get easier, but I’m no longer letting his reactions control my happiness. I’m all-in with Atlas, and I want to be present in that part of my life. If that makes Ryle upset or uncomfortable, Ryle is going to have to bear the burden of those feelings. “I might ask Allysa to have a sit-down with me and Ryle this week. I want to discuss what happened, and what to do going forward, but I don’t want to discuss it with him alone.”

“That’s smart.”

Ryle and I may never get to a point where we can be more than merely civil. But I’d be okay with civil. What I’m not okay with are the insults, the threatening texts, the outbursts. He’s got a lot of work to do, and I’m finally willing to hold him to task.

I probably should have been firmer earlier on, but I’ve been trying to make it work in the least dramatic way possible. But I’m done bending my own life for Ryle’s sake.

My loyalty is to the people who bring positivity into my life. My loyalty is to the people who want to build me up and see me happy. Those are the people I’m going to make decisions about my life for.

I’m going to continue doing the best I can, and that’s all I can do. I may not have made all the right decisions in the right time frames, but the fact that I found the courage to make those decisions at all is what I’m going to keep focusing on.

Atlas slips a finger beneath my chin, tilting my head back so that I’m looking at him. He’s got this look on his face like he’s right where he wants to be. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this,” he says. He pulls me closer, sliding me up his chest so that I’m eye to eye with him. He caresses the side of my head. “I wish I could have you in my bed like this every night. I want to shower with you and cook with you and watch TV with you and go grocery shopping with you. I want everything with you. I hate that we have to pretend like we don’t already know we’re spending the rest of our lives together.”

It’s incredible how fast a heart rate can double. I slide my fingers over his lips. “We aren’t pretending. We are going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“How long do we have to wait until we start?”

“From the looks of it, we’ve already started,” I say.

“How long do I have to wait before I ask you to move in with me?”

Heat swirls in my stomach. “Six months, at least.”

He nods as if he’s taking mental notes. “And how long before I’m allowed to propose?”

A thickness forms in my throat, making it hard to swallow. “A year. Year and a half.”

“A year from when we move in together or a year from now?”

“From now.”

He grins, pulling me flat against him. “Good to know.”

I can’t help but laugh into his neck. “That was a surprising conversation.”

“Yeah, my therapist is going to kill me when I tell him about it.”

I’m smiling as I roll off him and lay on my side. I snuggle into the crook of his arm and run my fingers over Atlas’s chest, and then trail them over the ridges of his stomach. His muscles clench and twitch beneath my fingernails. “Do you work out?”

“When I can.”

“It shows.”

Atlas laughs lightheartedly. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Lily?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t need compliments. You’re naked and in my bed. Not much else you need to do; you won me over years ago.”

I lift my head and smirk, like that’s a challenge. “You don’t think so?”

He shakes his head, smiling lazily. He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Pretty sure I am filled to capacity. I think I may have even reached enlightenment tonight.”

I keep my eyes locked with his, but I readjust myself, and then I slowly start to slide down his body. “I think I can still impress you,” I whisper. He releases a deep exhale when I press a kiss to his stomach. My gaze is still on his face, and I love that his expression begins to tighten while he watches me.

He swallows when I start to move the sheet aside, until he’s no longer covered below the waist. His eyes darken. “Fuck, Lily.”

He allows his head to fall back against his pillow as soon as my tongue slides up the length of him.

He groans when I take him in my mouth, and then I prove him very wrong.