Out of Focus (Love in LA #3)

We’ve just driven out of their neighborhood when Rafael turns to me. “Hey, do you want to practice driving? The roads are super calm here. No pressure, though.” He sets a reassuring hand on my knee.

“Yeah, all right.” My immediate answer surprises me because we didn’t plan this, and I like plans. A lot. But I know that if I’m uncomfortable, he won’t push me. I know I’ll be able to stop and he’ll take over without a fuss.

“Nice,” he says happily. “Let’s gooooo!” He jostles my leg, and as much as I want to roll my eyes, I simply laugh at his silliness.

When he pulls over, he’s careful to adjust my seat, buckle me in, and make sure all of my mirrors are where I want them. Then he pecks me on the lips, as if it’s the most natural thing, and jogs to the passenger side. “Whenever you’re ready, pumpkin.”

I pull onto the road, checking the mirrors and telling myself over and over to stay on the right side. It’s not as difficult as I expected, but Raf’s silence makes me slightly anxious. “Can you please say something?” I chance a look at him, and of course, he’s as cool as a cucumber. “Just talk to me.”

“How do you think we did today at Maeve and Owen’s?” It’s a casual enough question, but there’s apprehension in his voice.

“Great. I told the girls we’ve been making an effort to be friendlier, and they were well chuffed.”

His chuckle is low and rumbly and I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from having a very physical reaction to it.

“Well chuffed,” he repeats. “God, you’re adorable.” He reaches over to touch my hair, and I feel my cheeks heat in a brand-new way. Adorable feels new. It feels warm and bubbly in my limbs. It feels affectionate. Personal.

I continue driving as he talks about something that happened at lunch, but I’m not listening. I feel a little guilty, but I can’t focus on his words right now, though I’m also thankful he’s not silent.

“Sorry, is it okay if I stop now? It looks like traffic is picking up.”

“Yeah, of course.” He directs me where to pull over, and within five minutes, the car is stopped again. He jogs over to my side and opens my door before I get to it. I turn my body to exit the car, but Raf wraps his arms around my waist and holds me in place, standing between my legs.

Steadying hands run up my back, rubbing my shoulders. How does he know exactly where I’m tense? I drop my head forward on a moan and rest my forehead on his. Our breaths mingle, and when he moves his hands down, I tilt my head, unthinkingly seeking out his lips. We kiss without hurry, without needing the kiss to lead to anything else. It’s kissing simply for the sake of it.

When we finally break away, he kisses my jaw, my cheeks, my temples. He kisses as many spots as possible before he lingers on my lips for another few seconds. “You did so great. I’m proud of you.”

“Why?” There’s more bite to my question than intended, but he’s unshaken, proven by the smile on his handsome face.

“Because you did something you had been nervous about. You did something hard today. So, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for showing up for your sister, too. I’m just proud of you for how amazing you are, even though I had nothing to do with it. I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.” He kisses me one more time and steps back.

He’s proud of me.

When was the last time anyone told me that? My heart squeezes, and the ache left behind is wildly uncomfortable. It’s an ache that fuels my guilt. An ache that tells me I need to talk to him about the books, about the CFO position that’s waiting for me in London, about all of the details about Robert—that he wants to marry me and why I agreed to that once upon a time. We promised honesty, and here I am withholding information. It’s not right.

With that knowledge, I allow the remainder of the drive to be a quiet one, and when Rafael drops me off at home, I kiss him goodbye. I kiss him, knowing that wanting to kiss him this much isn’t part of fulfilling my list or practice for being in a relationship, but caring less and less about those facts.

Later at night, as I’m about to doze off, my phone vibrates. With thoughts of Rafael fresh in my mind, I pick it up, hoping it’s him. It’s not. And the four words on the screen bother me a lot less than they would have a few weeks ago.

ROBERT:

Stop ignoring me, Charlotte.

39/

i will do unspeakable things.

charlie

The three soft knocks at my door have the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like crazy.

We didn’t see one another on Sunday or Monday, but now, Rafael’s here to pick me up so we can go to Siesta. It’s much earlier than last time, but I didn’t bother questioning it. I’m glad to see him sooner.

I open the door and don’t even get the chance to say hi before his arms are wrapped around me and he’s pushing his way inside. I hear the door shut, but nothing else registers. Nothing but his lips on mine, the urgency of his touches, the desperation of his kisses down my neck. “I missed you, carrot cake. I missed you so fucking much. How the hell do you do that?” He tugs at the collar of my buttoned shirt, sucking on the soft flesh of my breast. “How do you make me miss you this much after only two days?”

I don’t know. I don’t know because whatever it is, he’s doing it, too. I missed him.

Missed his laugh and his smell.