Touched by Love (Love in Bloom: The Remingtons) by Melissa Foster
Janie set her braille device aside and whispered, “Boyd?”
His breathing quickened.
She touched his chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat. “Boyd, wake up.”
He bolted upright, gasping. She startled and drew back, unsure if he was awake or not.
“Sorry, baby.” His voice was husky, strained. He cleared his throat and squeezed her hand. “Did I wake you?”
“No. I was reading my notes from last night, but you were saying something that I couldn’t understand. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” He sat up beside her and took a few deep breaths.
She’d shared so much of herself with him; she wanted him to trust her enough to share this part of himself with her, too. But she could hear in his voice that he wasn’t ready to talk about it. At least not yet.
“Did watching the movie help last night?” He sat up beside her. “Did you come away with any helpful notes?”
He was a master at subject changes. He’d done the same thing after his nightmare Wednesday night, but Janie didn’t want to give up as easily this time. She decided to try a different tactic.
“Yes. Tons. You claim not to be good at creative writing, but your descriptions were so vivid, I felt like I was in the movie.”
“That’s because I wasn’t creating the scenes, just telling you what I was seeing.”
Janie was glad he was breathing a little easier now. “I think I can learn from you. I’m not great at describing settings. I think my writing reflects too much from my perspective—textures, scents—and needs more fleshing out of visuals. Can you help me?”
“Help you win the bet, you mean?”
She heard the smile in his voice. “I want to modify the bet. Take the romance festival off the table altogether.”
“I’m listening.” He pulled her in closer.
“I’m really loving this whole process. The writing makes me see things differently and brings us closer together.”
“Sounds like a sales pitch. What’s the hook?”
She playfully smacked his arm. “I’m serious. I need help with descriptions, and I need some ideas for romantic places my characters can go. If you help me, and I finish the story, I’ll still go to Comic-Con with you. Even if you hate my story.”
“I’m liking this so far.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek.
She swallowed hard, readying herself for what she was sure would be a negative reaction. “But in return you have to share your nightmares with me.”
Boyd was quiet for so long she feared he might storm out. She remained still, waiting for him to respond. He shifted beside her, and then his fingers laced with hers and he kissed the back of her hand.
“Honey.”
She heard so many things in that one word. Please don’t make me do this. Why? This is too hard. Even the thought of it hurts. What she didn’t hear was a definitive no, and that was enough to give her hope.
“I think it might help,” she explained. “I know it won’t be easy, but life isn’t easy, Boyd. What you went through was a million times more traumatic than my fall, and you helped me face that right away. I don’t know how long it would have taken if I’d tried to do it on my own, but I know going through it with you helped tremendously.”
He went quiet again, and when he said, “I’ll think about it,” she clung to the hope that he’d eventually come around.
**
“WHERE ARE WE going?” Janie asked as they stepped off the subway later that morning.
“You said you needed help with romantic places for your characters to visit. We’re doing a little romantic research.” Boyd had been even more shaken up by his most recent nightmare than he wanted to admit. This morning the nightmare had roped Janie into the burning house, and that had scared the shit out of him. So much of what Janie had said made sense. He should talk about his nightmares, but the very thought of it brought renewed panic. He needed to get out of his own head for a while.
“Some things in life are better as surprises.” He was glad she could walk without her crutch now. It allowed him to hold her closer, and he wouldn’t worry as much when she took the subway without him next week.
“You were my best surprise yet.”
He took both her hands in his. The sun’s rays reflected in her eyes and took his breath away. Cluing Janie into what was going on around them came naturally now. At the hospital it had been instinct to calm her fears, but ever since, he’d simply wanted her to be a part of everything he experienced.
“The sun is shining down on you, and, Janie, you’re so beautiful. I wish I could show you how sweet and pretty you look right now.”
She pressed her hands to his chest and said, “You just did.”
It was easy to forget how transparent he’d become to her. She rose onto her left toes, favoring her right ankle, and he met her halfway for a kiss.
They made their way inside the museum, and Boyd guided her toward the exhibit. He pushed open the exhibit doors, and as they walked inside, he tried to experience those first few moments through Janie’s eyes, inhaling the pungent earthy scent and listening to the sounds of people talking.
“Boyd? Where are we? It smells like we’re in a greenhouse.”
“The butterfly conservatory at the American Museum of Natural History. Have you been here before?”
Her eyes widened. “No, but now I’m excited.”
“There are gardens on either side of us, with flowers and leafy green plants. Butterflies are everywhere, on the plants, flying up by the lights.”
“One just flew by me,” she said with a laugh. “I felt it by my cheek, right?”
Seeing the excitement in her eyes filled him with joy. “Yes. It was brown with yellow stripes. So pretty.”
“I love this. Tell me more. What colors are they?”
“There are so many. There’s one with amber on the bottom of the wings and black on the tips, and oh, there’s one that’s bigger than the others, with mostly black wings, but there are spots of white on them.”
“The flowers, tell me about them.”
Boyd told her about the pink and white flowers beside them, and as they made their way through the exhibit, he tried his hardest to explain everything without leaving out a single detail.
A butterfly landed on Janie’s arm, and she held her breath.
“Don’t move. It’s a beauty, with dark brown at the tips of its wings. The color gradually gets lighter as it gets closer to its body. If you move slowly, you might be able to lift your arm without it flying away and feel the wings on your cheeks.”
As she lifted her arm, Boyd cupped his hands around the butterfly to keep it from flying off. She held it beside her cheek, and when he moved his hands the butterfly remained, as if it wanted Janie to share in the magical moment, too.
Seconds later the butterfly flitted away.
“Did you see that?” She reached for Boyd. “Thank you for this. I might never have come here.”
“This might sound hokey, but butterflies are kind of symbolic for both of us. We’re both in a place of change in our lives. You’re evolving with your writing, getting to the heart of who you are, revisiting your dreams, and I’m”—thinking about dealing with my past—“thinking about med school.”
“That’s not hokey at all. It’s incredibly romantic.” She wound her arms around his neck. “Looks like I chose the best research partner around.”
As they walked through the exhibit, Boyd continued describing the plants and flowers and Janie touched each one. But his mind kept drifting to his interview. He had to fly out tomorrow, and every hour that passed felt like a ticking time bomb. It was hard to believe that two weeks ago he’d been able to keep his distance from Janie, and now the thought of going away for two days made him ache inside.
“Stand here.” Janie stopped besid
“Okay, baby. My eyes are closed.”
“If you listen carefully, you can hear them flapping their wings. When I was little my father and I watched a show on butterflies, and I learned that some species chirped in defense, which I didn’t know. The more interesting thing was that when they flapped their wings, their bodies made a noise, or maybe it was the actual movement that made the noise. I’m not sure what it was, but tell me what you hear.”
Boyd tried to tune out the voices of the other people in the room. He wondered if having seen the butterflies and knowing there was a family a few feet away and an older couple standing by the entrance talking affected his ability to separate the sounds. He was surprised at how much effort it took for him to really tune those noises out and focus on only the butterflies.
He thought he’d be able to name the sounds quickly, but as he listened, he found himself searching for words and coming up empty for what seemed like several minutes. Finally, he said, “It almost sounds like rain, or shifting papers.”
“Rain,” she repeated. “I wasn’t thinking that, but I can totally hear that now. But shifting papers?” She laughed, and Boyd brought her into his arms.
“Okay, butterfly expert, what does it sound like to you?”
He fought the urge to open his eyes, even though he wanted to see her face as she concentrated on what she heard. Experiencing the world from Janie’s point of view was becoming even more important to him. He wanted to hear what she heard, feel what she felt, sense what she sensed, so he could figure out how to make every experience even better.
“It sounds enchanting, like a breeze rustling through autumn leaves after they’ve fallen to the ground.”
“That’s so much more romantic than shifting papers. No wonder you’re the romance writer and I’m the dirty talker.”
After they left the museum they went for a walk through Central Park. Boyd had been trying to figure out how to talk to Janie about his nightmares, but every time he thought he could do it, the words wouldn’t come. He held Janie’s hand as they crossed Bow Bridge, feeling so lucky to be with her. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her—over school, over his past, over anything.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. I know it can’t be easy being with me when I have nightmares and then being shut out of that part of my life, and I’m sorry, Janie.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. “It’s not okay, although I appreciate your patience. You deserve someone who will share everything with you, and I’m trying. What happened to my family, and the nightmares I have, aren’t easy for me to talk about, but I want to be able to talk about them with you. I just don’t know how yet.”
“I know, and I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want to do.”
“I appreciate that, too, but what you need to know is that I’ve never even considered sharing these parts of myself before. Until you.”
Chapter Nineteen
“HOW MANY TIMES are you going to push that button?” Kiki asked as she applied dye to Janie’s dark roots.
Without answering, Janie pushed the button on the talking digital frame Boyd had given her earlier Sunday afternoon before leaving for the airport. His voice came to life, describing the pictures, telling her he was crazy about her and that she was beautiful, among other sweet things that made her dizzy with delight.
“That was sweet of him, and those pictures are cute. Even the one with you sticking out your tongue.”
“That’s only because he’s in the picture. With those dark roots you keep telling me about, I must look awful.”
Kiki yanked her hair. “It’s because you’re cute no matter what, goof. You know, when I left town last Friday morning, you were happily working toward your promotion, writing newsletters that were drier than dirt, and spending evenings either out with me or curled up on the couch reading smut. And now you’re writing smut and working toward what exactly?”
Janie sipped her margarita. “At the moment I’m working on finishing this deliciousness.” She’d spent all afternoon writing, and even though she knew she’d probably want to rewrite the story a bunch of times to get it just right, it was finally coming together.
“Right, and…”
“I’m still waiting to hear about the promotion, spicing up the newsletter a little, and—”
“A little?” Kiki laughed and painted more dye on Janie’s roots. “I don’t think ‘Manual Manipulation’ is spicing it up a little. The guys in the office will be walking around with hard-ons from the title alone.”
In the most professional voice Janie could manage, she said, “I believe there’s a place in everyone’s life for double entendres.”
“I guess so, but what does Tara have to say about it?”
Janie shrugged. “I haven’t turned it in to her yet. I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, I can’t help it. All this sexy writing I’m doing has made me think differently. When I’m on the subway I sit there hoping to hear something that inspires a scene.”
“And when you’re with Boyd you’re memorizing every touch.”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I start that way, thinking I’ll use it somehow, but then my brain just turns off and fails to think past how much I want him, how much I love the things he says, or how good it feels to be in his arms.”
Kiki turned on the timer and sat across from Janie. “And now he’s interviewing in Colorado and you’re here pretending like you’re not waiting for him to call or text.”
“Pretty much.” She held up the margarita. “This helps.”
“Janie, have you guys talked about what’s going to happen when he gets accepted to med school? Will you go with him?”
“We talked a little, but it’s too early to think about that. We haven’t been dating that long.” The statement was true, but her heart didn’t seem to care how long they were dating. It already belonged to him.
“Anyone can see how serious you two are. Boyd changed his work schedule for you. He’s here every night, and when you said goodbye earlier, you had tears in your eyes, and don’t try to tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay, so I miss him. Is that a crime?” She set her drink on the table and sighed. “I don’t know how to feel, Kiki. I’ve never liked anyone this much before. I wish I could see him, and not because he’s hot. I dream about seeing his eyes, seeing the emotions I feel from him when we’re together. You know I’ve never dreamed about that before.”
Kiki sighed. “Wow.”
“Knocked me for a loop.”
“Do you love him?”
Janie had been wondering that herself lately, because the feelings she had were so strong. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s too soon for that, isn’t it?”
“Does he know that?” Kiki asked. “Because the way he looks at you…Janie, if a guy looked at me like that…”
Why do you think I want to see his eyes? “Let’s talk about something else, because you’re making me miss him more.”
Like a true friend, Kiki circled back to Janie’s writing, and after they’d finished with Janie’s hair, they decided to spice up her story. Janie had been reading the handbook Boyd had given her, and one of the key elements she’d learned was the need for diversity in her sex scenes. They sat on the couch with their drinks and Janie’s laptop and braille device and typed interesting sexual positions into the Google search bar.
Kiki read the headlines. “‘Ten WTF Positions You’ve Never Heard Of.’ Like there are any I haven’t heard of?” She scoffed as Janie navigated to the next article. “‘Top Forty Sexual Positions.’ Perfect.”
Janie’s hands flew over the pins, reading the copy beneath the pictures.
“Speed bump?” Janie laughed. “That sounds funky, but it’s just missionary with a pillow under your butt.”
“Really?” Janie made a mental note to try it with Boyd. “What’s this? ‘The Waterfall’? Straddle the guy and lean back so your head hangs toward the floor? Who would do that? I’d get dizzy.”
Kiki laughed. “I’d probably throw up. How about this one? ‘Lust and Thrust.’ Do it on the stairs!”
“The neighbors would love that.”
They surfed the site, laughing about the names and the awkwardness of the positions—Sultry Straddle, Edge of Heaven, Corridor Canoodling, and the Good Spread. Janie took copious notes to share with her hunky research partner.
Chapter Twenty
COLORADO WAS GORGEOUS. The air was crisp and fresh, and the campus had an incredible view of the mountains in the distance. As Boyd toured the campus, pride settled around him. This was what he’d worked so hard for, to one day be exactly where he was: interviewing for medical school. In his mind’s eye he had only childhood visions of his parents, and many of his memories were too fuzzy to form detailed pictures of them. But photographs kept visions of his parents’ forever-thirtysomething smiling faces alive. It saddened him that his parents had already missed so much of his and his siblings’ lives: high school and college graduations, the birth of their grandson, all of their children’s accomplishments, big and small. He imagined his father’s rugged face, his dark, serious eyes, and his mother’s bright blue eyes, which he saw every time he looked at Haylie, filled with the same pride he felt, commending him for his hard work and dedication.
Hard work and dedication.
He’d definitely worked his ass off to get there, and yes, he was damned proud. But he couldn’t deny the difference in the way he felt today as he toured the facilities compared to when he’d interviewed and toured the campus in Washington State before getting together with Janie. Then he had prayed to get accepted to any school. He didn’t care if he had to go halfway around the world to attend medical school. He’d have done whatever it took to make it happen. But today his excitement was tempered by the woman he’d left back in New York. Being here brought new awareness and, with it, mixed feelings about going away to school at all, much less this far from Janie.