A Taste of Bliss Adrian R.Hale

A Taste of Bliss By

Adrian R. Hale

A Taste of Bliss Copyright © 2015 Adrian R. Hale All rights reserved. Cover design by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover Designs http://www.covertocoverdesigns.com Cover photography by AzulOx Visuals http://www.azulox.com Cover models Jennifer Lynn Larsen and David McKay Edited by Wendy Callahan http://www.wendylcallahan.com Formatted by Polgarus Studio http://www.polgarusstudio.com Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded, or otherwise) without the prior written permission from the above author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

For B, now and always.

Chapter One I hate early mornings. Particularly early Saturday mornings. Unfortunately, they are inevitable in my line of work. Being a hair and makeup artist, I book a lot of weddings that require my services to start early enough to accommodate pre-ceremony photos. I had to get up at the ass-crack of dark o’clock this morning. I’m here to get another group of excited girls ready for what will hopefully be the best day of at least one of their lives. The saving grace for ridiculous early morning jobs is enjoyment of the work you are doing. That, I have in spades. I pull into the parking lot of Villa Sonoma Winery thinking it’s just another pretty vineyard in Sonoma Valley. That is, until I get a chance to really check it out as I lug my huge bag of tricks into the bridal room. The French doors open onto a balcony that overlooks the rolling hills lined with grape vines. The slight mist and the early sunshine cast a dreamy spell over the property, making me fall instantly in love with the place. And these digs. Most bridal rooms are bare-bones, no fuss. Hell, even fancy country clubs have me set up in freaking locker rooms, for crying out loud. This is nicer than

most of the houses I frequent for on-location work. I gasp, rushing over to the long table and mirror set up along the far wall next to the French doors. I love those big round bulbs that frame the mirror. The table is big enough even for me to spread out on. Thank you, whoever designed this place. Villa Sonoma just won me over completely with a professionally lit makeup vanity. It’s a makeup artist’s dream. As I finish setting up my kit, the doors fling open and a gaggle of bridesmaids troop in. “Bliss!” Sheila, my bride, shouts. “Honey, we brought coff-ee,” she singsongs, holding up her travel container. She’s obviously already hit the happy juice if she’s this amped up at eight a.m. “Come and get you some. I need your eyes fully open before you get your hands on this group. I booked the most expensive photographer in the Bay Area, and he assured me you were the best. I don’t doubt your abilities, but I’m padding my chances just to be sure.” She shimmies over to me, the blinged out “bride” on her hoodie flashing in the light. Sheila cracks me up. My best friend, Finch Keaton, is her photographer today. He is truly awesome, and of course he recommends my services to any bride who books him. That’s why I pay him the big bucks. Just kidding, I have no bucks to give. I accept the steaming cup of caffeine from Sheila, filling it halfway with creamer and dumping in four sugars. I want dessert when I drink coffee. Otherwise, I can’t stand the stuff. I take a few tentative sips to appease Sheila and

figure I’m good to go for now. Time to work. In addition to Sheila, there are four bridesmaids and the mothers of both the bride and the groom who want their hair and makeup done. I work for eight hours straight before I am finished. I work fast, but I can’t take breaks because I will mess up the timeline that is created for each wedding. Once Sheila is happy with everything and hugs are given all around, I leave the gorgeous bridal room. I am practically shaking with hunger as I cross the stunning courtyard, now free of mist and shadowed in dappled light from the sun shining through the trees. I head straight to the small cafe and tasting room I spotted when I drove onto the property, figuring I can grab something to eat before I head back to the city. At least over there I won’t be in the way of the wedding preparations that are going on all over the winery grounds. The tasting room and cafe are busy with groups on wine tasting tours or picking up food to take out to the beautiful grounds for a picnic. I look around the small cafe for an open table, but everything is occupied. I head to the tasting counter, tuck my kit under the bar, and hop on a stool. I’ll try my luck. “May I order food here? I’m starving and there’s no room in the rest of the cafe,” I ask the back of the bartender nearby. I swallow when he turns toward me. Can you say “hot bartender?” Because that’s all that’s going through my brain. It must be my lucky day. I feel my cheeks heat when he takes his time to scan me from head to waist, where the

bar cuts off his visual tour. Walking over slowly and with purpose, he props his elbows on the bar, getting within a foot of me. “What can I get you, beautiful?” His smoky voice and the smile on his face could melt my panties right off. Ah, he’s one of those bartenders. I can totally play that game. I play it cool while I check him out right back. I can barely make it past the long lashes that match his short dark hair and rim his unusual eyes. They start out brown around the pupil but fade to a clear blue and finally a navy ring. I want to stare at his eyes for hours to figure out just where the delineation of color starts and ends. How can they be so mesmerizing? A straight nose, full lips, and a strong jaw covered in at least a few days’ worth of stubble completes his perfect face. I want to rub my hand over his cheeks to see if the scruff is softer than it looks. Following the lines of his neck, I take in his broad shoulders that fill out the simple black button down he is wearing. I love that he has the sleeves rolled up to expose toned forearms. They beg to be touched, but I keep my hands to myself. His hands are idly twisting a bar towel as he waits for me to answer.

Uh, yes, I’ll take one of you, please and thank you. “What do you have?” I give him a flirtatious smile and bat my lashes. I can just tell he would be the kind of guy that would bump me into walls as he tore off my clothes in unfettered passion. He could totally be a real life romantic comedy guy. And I don’t even believe in that kind of guy. “How about you look at this menu, and I’ll take your order

when you’re ready.” He slides a menu toward me before patting the bar and heading off to pour wine for a few people doing a tasting. Wait, what? I twist my pink streaked hair around my finger. How did I read that interaction so wrong? I totally thought he was checking me out and flirting by calling me beautiful. He just brushed me off like it was nothing. A cold dose of reality douses my internal inferno of lust. Duh. He’s a freaking bartender. They flirt with everyone to get better tips. Complimenting a girl is standard for him. I smack my forehead and wonder where my brain has taken off to. Clearly, I am running on too little sleep and not enough calories. I take a look at the menu Mr. Schmoozy bartender gave me and figure a sandwich will do a world of good for my brain power. “So beautiful, what will it be?” Oh, he’s back and dishing out the charm again. This time I’m not falling for it. “I’ll have a turkey and goat cheese sandwich and a big glass of water, please.” I’m thankful my voice has lost the breathy flirtatiousness and sounds normal again. I won’t let him get me all riled up for nothing. “That sandwich would go great with one of our whites. The slight sweetness of our Riesling really complements the turkey.” He gives me an easy smile while leaning on the bar. I like him close by. I can smell his clean, earthy scent over the pungent fragrance of wine. “Sure, let me try a glass of that, I guess.” Hopefully he’ll take his super sexy superior wine knowledge and go put

my food order in. “I’ll need to see your ID. You look a little young. I want to make sure this establishment isn’t serving minors.” His smile is smug. I still want to lick him. I laugh at my own thoughts and reach for my wallet so I can show him my ID, which indeed proves I am of drinking age. Barely. “Happy now?” I ask him when he hands my license back after some serious study. “A little. Now I know that your name is Bellissima and you live in San Francisco. And you happen to have a January birthday, like me.” “Bliss.” I stuff my license back in my purse and try not to think he paid extra attention to my information, but was actually doing his job. “Bliss? What do you mean?” He cocks his head in a confused manner that is quite sexy. I kind of want to pet him as much as lick him now. “My name. I go by Bliss, not Bellissima.” “Hmm, Bliss.” The gravelly way he rolls my name around his tongue sounds explicit. He just fucked my name, and it sounded like screaming orgasms. “That’s appropriate. I can just imagine that your name is exactly what it would be like to be with you.” His eyes are focused on my mouth as he speaks. I lick my pink glossed lips and catch his pupils dilating in response. Sucker. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Bliss. I’m Talan.” He extends his hand over the bar for me to shake. I don’t reach out right away, as I am still processing his comment about

my name. I mean, flirty bartenders don’t really say shit like that, do they? So, flirty bartender or interested guy? I finally take his hand and just go with flirty bartender. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Talan. Now, is your name a reflection of you? Are you sharp? Maybe you’re a little dangerous?” I opt to play his game as I tickle his wrist with my fingertips and give him a sly smile. He continues holding my hand as he considers my question. “Sharp mind, certainly. I wouldn’t say dangerous so much as…mysterious, maybe. But I can make whatever you want happen.” He shrugs. “You will just have to get to know me and decide for yourself, Bliss.” He winks at me, playing right along with my fun and games. Small warning bells ring in my brain. This guy is way too smooth. Typical bartender, knowing all the right things to say. I’m willing to keep playing his game. There’s no problem with enjoying his company while I eat. He’s fun, and I love fun. “Show me what you got for the next hour or so and I’ll give you my verdict. But I need that sandwich first, or all bets are off. My brain won’t be of any use running on empty with so little sleep. Remember, I told you I was hungry?” Talan releases my hand and ducks under the bar for a second. When he returns, it’s with a bottle of white wine that he expertly uncorks and pours. “Start with the Riesling while you’re waiting on your food. It’s on the house, to soften your disposition in judging my character.” Talan throws me a cheeky grin before he heads off to the cafe to place my order.

I sip the crisp wine and laugh quietly as the fruity scent tickles my nose. I like this Talan guy as much as I like the wine. Unlike Talan’s dark and sensual vibe, the wine is just barely sweet and crisp. Both are exactly what I like. The wine is easy to drink too much of, making him the kind of guy that I’d take home for one night of hedonistic pleasure. I guess I will just settle for taking a bottle home. Hopefully this brand isn’t too expensive, as I have zero extra cash to waste on wine, no matter how tasty. Apparently, I also have low standards for flirting. A few well-placed “beautifuls” and panty-scorching smiles during a minute of flirting is all it takes to put me in the best mood I’ve been in all week. Today is turning out to be better than expected. It’s way better than yesterday. I had the worst non-date ever last night. Dillon, my occasional hook up, asked me to meet him for dinner, rather than our usual late night booty call, and completely hurt my feelings. He dissed my hair right off the bat, saying it was for teenagers and drop outs. I worked my ass off strategically hand painting the pink into perfect ribbons that start out skinny and wrap to larger sections at the ends. My natural light blonde hair now melts perfectly into pastel pink ends. I was so proud of my handiwork until he scoffed at the color. When we talked about our weekend plans, he laughed when I said I was working a wedding.

“That’s not real work. It’s fucking easy shit girls like to do anyway. You’ve got it made not having to do anything.” I wanted to rip his tongue out of his mouth and slap him with it. We went our separate ways after dinner, when I told him he could go screw himself, because I wouldn’t

anymore. I hate when people belittle my profession because it seems “fun”. I work hard in a physically demanding occupation. I have spent years training and perfecting my craft. I may make it look easy, but there is so much that goes into it. Whether behind the chair in the salon or on location, I am standing for hours on end, constantly moving, having to maintain friendly banter all the while. If you think your hairstylist loves not being able to sit down during a ten-hour day unless it’s to pee, or only managing to eat when they shove something into their mouth while they mix your color, you should try it yourself. You should really just thank us for managing to make you look pretty when you are the fourteenth person to sit in our chair that day and ask for “the same thing you did last time.” In all seriousness, I love my job. I wouldn’t deal with the bullshit if I didn’t. God knows the pay isn’t fantastic. At least not yet. While I wait for my food, I have the perfect place to watch Talan interact with customers. He has an easy-going attitude with most of them. I know better than to think this must be the easiest job in the world for him, but at least it looks like he enjoys it. He smiles freely and seems at home behind the bar, educating the guests on the wines they are drinking. He laughs with the tasting groups, and gives them all individual attention, but he never so much as overtly flirts with any of the ladies. He definitely isn’t checking IDs for any of the customers, young or old.

The more I observe him, the more I get the sneaky suspicion that, despite his first brush off, he really was flirting with me because he wanted to. Maybe he wasn’t just working his bartender needing bigger tips angle. I’m busy watching a tasting group try the three wines in front of them when a plate is slid between my elbows that I have propped on the bar. “How about you take a break from people-watching and enjoy your late lunch.” I jump and laugh in surprise at hearing Talan’s low voice so close to me. He is less than a foot away now, leaning on the bar again. I look at the plate and see that it isn’t what I ordered. Instead of a sandwich, it’s a small cheese plate, with grapes, figs, and a few slices of prosciutto alongside a little pot of honey. I look at him, confused that he would bring me this tiny plate of food when I really want a giant sandwich. My stomach growls loudly, making my point before I even open my mouth to complain. “You got my order wrong, Talan. That’s minus points for the sharp category.” “I happen to think I got your order perfectly right. It’s just enough food to tide you over while I finish this shift, but not enough to fill you up before I take you to dinner.” Oh, that smooth bastard. I can’t even be mad at him for assuming I would go out with him. I totally would. But still. “You see, an hour is just not enough time to really gauge my character, so I figured you would do me the favor of granting me more time to show you just how sharp, maybe dangerous, and mysterious I can be. Are you game, Bliss?”

He throws down his offer like a challenge. I am not one to pass up challenges, and this is one I simply cannot refuse. “You’re on, Talan. Take me to dinner. I’ll give you more time to show me this character of yours. Maybe you’ll learn a few things about me in the process. Is that what you’re hoping for?” “Oh Bliss, you have no idea. There is so much I want to learn about you.” He tips my chin up with a finger, turning my face side to side, appraising me. He slides that finger along my jaw toward my ear, down my neck, and finally releases me from his touch. He walks backward down the bar, watching my reaction with a smile on his self-satisfied face. He knows the effect he has on me. I have chill bumps all along my arms from his touch, but I manage not to shiver visibly. I’m left without anything to say. That’s it. He’s the Jedi master of flirting. This is how he could throw me off so decidedly at first with his “this is not the bartender you are looking for” act. He has mastered that shit like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Chapter Two Talan was right, the cheese plate tides me over while I wait for him to finish his shift. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. Twenty minutes later, another bartender shows up and thanks him profusely for covering his shift. Talan gets kindness points for helping his co-workers. I’m so busy watching the bartenders pour wine, I don't notice that Talan has made his way around behind me until he is brushing the hair off my neck with his big hand. The warmth and weight of it settling against my skin sends my pulse racing, and I jump a little. “You ready to go, or are you afraid I might be too mysterious for your taste?” His words purr across the back of my neck, raising goose bumps and making me think twice about agreeing to go out with him. He is offering more than dinner, but I’m not sure how much I’m willing to take. I breathe slowly to regain my composure, and give my answer some thought. Is it wise to leave with a guy I just met, in a strange place? I blink and chastise myself for over thinking. This is exactly how people meet all of the time, and I shouldn’t be worried. If dinner sucks, I can just head home and never see him again. If it goes well, at least I will have had a nice encounter with a new guy that I don't have

to see again. That seems like a win-win, in my book. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I turn around, causing his hand to slide down my back slowly to rest at my waist. “Walk me to my car so I can put this bag away?” “That’s quite the bag. What’s it for?” He takes the handle of my fifty-pound kit and drags it across the tasting room for me. “That kit holds the tricks of my trade. Inside there are magic wands, potions, and all sorts of pixie dust.” I smile mischievously, thinking of my roommate Willa’s descriptions for the “magic” I work on my clients. I laugh at the confused look on Talan’s face when he stares at the black kit he’s dragging into the parking lot. “Relax, it’s full of makeup and hair products, not eye of newt or gillyweed. I was working the McCarthy-Abbott wedding today. I got Sheila and her bridal party ready. I’m a hair and makeup artist.” “Ahh, the beautiful girl is in the beauty business. Makes sense now. If I were a woman, I would want the prettiest person I could find to make me up, too. I feel like you would have better odds of getting a good look that way.” I laugh, imagining him as a woman, and point him toward my light turquoise Mini Cooper. He easily loads the kit into the back and leans against the hatch once he’s closed it. “Your car is safe to keep here. Ride with me to dinner.” It’s not so much a question as a demand. I look at the car, then around the packed parking lot.

With the wedding tonight, I know there will be people here until at least midnight. It should be fine to go with him for a few hours, but what if things don’t go well? Having a car handy will make my escape easier. “No, I think I will follow you. I can head home from wherever we eat, rather than have to come back here first.” “Smart girl. I can appreciate your thinking, and putting your safety first. But you should know you are going to miss out on the thrill of a motorcycle ride. I was going to put you on the back of my Ducati Devalia and rev the engine until you screamed.” He leaves me at the car to walk a few spaces over to a sleek black motorcycle that must be the Ducati whatever he mentioned. Seriously? This guy just keeps getting better. But if he thinks I would have climbed on the back of a motorcycle in this dress, he’s not as sharp as I had hoped. I shake my head, climb into the Mini, and wait for him to lead me to our destination. I never imagined I would find motorcycles sexy, but following Talan gives me a whole new appreciation for the things. They are still scary as hell, but I could definitely see myself holding on tight while he drove us through mile after mile of the vineyards that dot the Sonoma landscape. I barely have time to admire Talan on the motorcycle, because before we even get to the main drive out of the winery, he is turning down a side road that leads further into the property. Curious, I follow him up a hill and my jaw drops as a giant house appears at the top. It’s a two-story Mediterranean style masterpiece, and absolutely beautiful.

It overlooks the winery, and has a stunning view of the Sonoma Valley with the bright sun casting a magical golden glow over everything. “What is this place?” I ask Talan as I get out of the car and spin around with my arms outstretched. “This is where we are having dinner.” He tucks his helmet under his arm and holds his free hand out in invitation for me to join him. This can’t be his house. How would a bartender even begin to afford this? I cross my arms over my chest and refuse to move toward him. This isn’t what I had in mind. “A bit presumptuous to bring me home instead of taking me to dinner as promised, isn’t it?” “Who said this is my house?” He laughs when I glance at him warily. “I thought you wanted mystery, but I guess I’ll explain. This is part of the winery. We host special events here when the vineyard and wedding banquet areas aren’t what our clients are looking for. It’s more private, and obviously has a stunning view. I happen to know it’s currently stocked with food from an event I worked last night, and I was hoping you would join me for a picnic.” Oh. Well that sounds a lot nicer than what I had imagined was going to happen. How is it every time I start making assumptions about Talan, he finds a way to correct my thinking and usually makes it better than I hoped? I guess my stupid, overactive imagination is running away with me again. I’ve gotten myself into trouble on more than one occasion, thanks to reacting to what I imagined was going on, rather than reality.

I drop my arms and slowly walk to Talan, feeling shy and out of place. I don’t know what to think about him now. I thought I had him pegged, but obviously I have been wrong. I twist a piece of my hair and brush my cheek with the ends, a childhood habit I still can’t kick. “A picnic sounds nice.” I manage to smile through my initial hesitation when I make my way to his side. Talan opens the massive front door for me and flips a switch to light the interior. Intricate shadows from the sun passing through the glass and wrought iron door create an enchanted pathway on the glossy dark floors. The grand entryway opens to a beautiful, sweeping dark wood staircase with more swirly ironwork on the banister. There are rooms off either side of the entry. To the left there is a big room with windows that reach the cathedral ceilings, allowing light to spill through and illuminate the built in bookcases. Buttery soft looking leather couches are grouped in front of a giant stacked stone fireplace with a rustic mantle running the length of it. To the right there is a formal dining room that continues the Mediterranean-meets-rustic vibe. At least ten linen upholstered chairs surround the long farm table under a massive steel orb chandelier. Subtle warm-toned landscapes of vineyards and farms are mounted to the walls with directional lighting making them glow. “Impressive, isn’t it? The winery went all out to make this place a showstopper. Now…” Talan’s low voice is pure honey as he steps behind me to rest his hands on my shoulders. “We can continue on our tour.”

I let him gently push me forward, his fingers lightly massaging my bare skin. We pass through the arch made by the staircase and under the landing above into what has to be the coolest great room I’ve ever seen. The same theme continues in here, but the feel is decidedly less formal and much more inviting. There are more comfy looking leather couches grouped to the right, and a massive flat screen TV mounted to a wall that is covered with stacked stones in warm beiges. Old trunks used as side tables are holding lamps and colorful leather bound books in between the couches. There’s a built in bookcase to my right that holds an impressive selection of board games, books, and pieces of metal art that I’m dying to take a closer look at. Funky art makes me happy. To our left is a huge eat in kitchen that is simply to-diefor, and I don’t even cook. Unless you count ramen and simple sandwiches, which I don’t. A long island separates the kitchen space from the eating area, which has another rustic farm table with benches on either side. A set of French doors and uninterrupted windows that stretch the height of the room adorn the back wall. Outside, there is a large flagstone patio with more seating, and beyond that, a huge landscaped yard that looks out on the vineyard below. I can’t even fathom the kind of money it would take to live in a place like this. My job takes me into nice homes all the time, but this is something else. It’s a resort and the perfect home rolled into a Tuscan-style villa that apparently nobody even lives in. Talan lets go of my shoulders and makes his way into

the kitchen. I feel the loss of his touch and frown, but greedily follow his movements with my eyes. He opens cabinets and drawers to get plates and utensils, then makes his way to the refrigerator. I can see he wasn’t kidding when he said this place was stocked from an event last night. He pulls out dish after dish, setting everything on the island until he is satisfied he has what he needs. I head over to lean on the other side of the island to watch him. He opens the dishes and begins to fill the plates with meats, cheeses, pasta salad, and roasted vegetables. He slices a crusty baguette with practiced ease. He’s so at home here in this kitchen. I wonder if he works events here often, or mainly works in the tasting room. “All of this looking good?” Talan gestures to the spread on the counter before he bends over to look for something in a cabinet under the island. “Um, yeah.” I tilt my head a little to get a better view of his ass, which is on perfect display in dark jeans that strain in his current position. He’s pretty. He straightens, holding a wooden platter big enough to hold our plates, and catches me checking him out. Instead of calling me out, he just smirks and continues with his food preparation. “You can head outside, I’ll follow you in a minute. Grab a blanket from the basket by the doors and pick our picnic spot.” Talan points to the French doors while grabbing a bottle of wine from the cooler beneath the counter. I tap my fingers on the granite and purse my lips. I want to spend more time watching him, but I might as well

explore the yard. I push off and stroll over to the French doors. I grab a large tartan blanket from the basket as I push my way out into the warm late summer air. Large oak trees stretch giant limbs across the patio, intersecting to create a natural arbor that casts dappled shade over the area. This place is pure magic. A crystal clear pool with an infinity edge is perched on the very edge of the hill, and sparkles invitingly in the early evening light. I wind my way through the paths, letting my fingers skate over lavender and sage and rosemary. I step off the path and onto the lawn, kicking off my sandals to enjoy the feel of my bare feet in the warm grass. I spread the blanket open in a spot that has a fantastic view of the sun that has started its descent into the western hills. I lie back and look up at the cloudless sky, warmed by the sun, and wonder how I ended up here. Less than twentyfour hours ago, I was having dinner with a douchey guy I’ve been seeing because he’s comfortable, not because he makes me feel anything special. One on-location job at a perfect vineyard led to a date with a guy I know nothing about, but find more intriguing than Dillon ever was. I don't know what to do with a new guy who is proving to be just a little bit surprising, and a whole lot mysterious after spending six months seeing someone who was harmless and boring. What will tomorrow bring? Thankfully, my introspection is interrupted by Talan setting the wooden platter full of food in the middle of the blanket. He lounges next to me, barefoot as well, with a soft look in his eyes that haven’t left me since he sat down.

“Don’t sit up just yet.” He holds his hand out to stop me as I push up onto my elbows. “You look lovely stretched out like that.” I stay on my elbows and give him a mock frown. “You like girls on their backs, Talan?” I’m not sure why I say it like that, but I know I’ve taken us right back into the flirtation we started at the tasting room. He shrugs. “If that’s what she likes. I actually prefer a woman to do what makes her feel best; on her back, on top, turned around. It all feels good, and better when she’s enjoying herself.” A wolfish smile lights up his face as he plays right along with the flirtation I’ve reintroduced. Our blatant sexual innuendo is heading down a dark and scary path and I can see where it will inevitably end. I sit up all the way and hope my flaming cheeks aren’t too noticeable. Thankfully, Talan doesn’t continue to tease my libido. “I hope you like cold leftovers. I started piling things on the plates before I considered if some of it should be reheated.” He shrugs again and looks at the food. “I figured picnics are intended for cold food, so I just went with it.” I take a plate and a rolled up napkin containing real silverware. If I had planned a picnic, I would have brought plastic utensils and whatever I could pick up at a grocery store. Not gourmet leftovers served on good plates and real silver. I could never afford it, but I would love this to be my life. “How long have you worked here at the winery?” I ask Talan while I pick at my plate. A cherry tomato bursts in my

mouth, the juice spilling down my chin. Smooth. I hastily dab my face with my napkin and hope Talan didn’t notice. Of course he’s staring right at me, a smile stretching his face, when I check. “Juicy.” He licks his lips. I feel my waning blush creep up my neck again. He spares me when he answers my question. “I’ve been with the winery since the beginning of their rebranding from Cotton Creek to Villa Sonoma, so about three years now. The winery was struggling to produce anything decent when I came on, and it’s been great to see the changes happen over the years. I think the winery has really turned around. Adding this villa and the banquet space down at the barn by the tasting room made it a wedding hotspot. Is this the first time you’ve been out here?” “Yeah. I’ve been to a few wineries in the area, but never this one. I think it’s my favorite. I want to live in this place.” I can’t help the wistful note in my voice because, come on, this is a dream. Talan uncorks a bottle of wine and pours two glasses. “I’m glad it’s your favorite. I would be jealous of any other winery that received that designation.” “I guess you say that to every customer you pour for.” I lift my glass for him to clink against. “To new beginnings.” Talan holds his glass out to mine, his eyes softly crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “Cheers.” I take a sip of the chilled wine, my nose creasing from the effervescence. It’s the same sweet and

crisp white he served me at the tasting room earlier. I like it well enough, but wonder if the winery makes other wines worth trying. Talan takes a sip of his wine, his eyes staying on my face the entire time. “You give me so little credit, Bliss. True, I want anyone who comes here to love the winery as much as I do, but that’s not it. You see, when I like something, like this winery, I want the best for it, which means the preferred spot in a beautiful woman’s heart means a lot to me.” I brush my hair into my face as I cover my mouth to keep my laughter at bay. I don’t mean to laugh at him; he’s just too cute. “Talan, you are so passionate about your job. I like that.” Talan lowers his glass of wine after taking a sip, which he holds in his mouth before swallowing. He has a serious look on his face while he considers me. He breaks eye contact after a moment, a smile playing around his lips. “So who do you work for, Bliss? Are you as passionate about what you do?” I swallow my mouthful of wine, the sweet taste sliding away as I think of The Vaughn Group. “I work for a salon in San Francisco. They have an agency that sends me out on location for weddings and events. It’s pretty great to do what I love, but it sucks knowing over half of my service fees are returning to the salon, instead of going to me. I mean, I’m the one out here at the crack of dawn working my ass off to make it happen.” I look down for a moment and feel the need to explain my complaints. “I’ve been dreaming for

the last year of going out on my own as a freelancer. I have actually already set up a website and started booking a few jobs here and there on my own. I’m pretty sure the salon would kill me if they knew, but I want it so bad it’s worth the risk.” The hint of pride in my voice is tempered by the fear I feel about admitting this. It’s scary to say I want to leave my stable salon job and work for myself. Who knows if it will ever happen, but it’s fun to dream about. “It would be awesome if you would refer my services to brides who book this venue.” I laugh, not sure how much sway he could possibly have. “I can see about that, no promises though. Not sure what a bartender can do.” Talan actually laughs, which eases my nerves. He’s got a great laugh, husky and full. It makes me smile for no good reason, and swells my heart a little. “You should really do it.” “What makes you say that?” “I can see your passion. It’s evident how much you love your job. If you can make it work outside of a salon, why wouldn’t you? What’s that phrase? ‘Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life’? Make that happen.” I take a bite of pasta and chew thoughtfully. “It’s intimidating to leave the security of the salon. I’ve been there for three years. The other stylists are like family. I mean, maybe the worst part is that I hate my boss and the commission structure, but who doesn’t? That’s why it’s called work.”

“You have to take big risks to get big rewards. If you do your own thing, you can be your own boss. You wouldn’t have to hate anything. Life’s too short to go through it hating who you work for. Besides, who wouldn’t work less hours for double the pay?” Wow. This guy is something else. He’s incredibly supportive for someone I just met. I like his blind faith in me. I could suck donkey balls for all he knows of my actual work. I decide I have to take the conversation in a different direction before he melts me into a puddle. “You’re sweet, but you’re proving to not be as sharp and dangerous as I had first imagined, even though you are quite mysterious. I have to say I’m a little disappointed. You see, I’ve got this thing for predictable and comfortable. I sort of thought you would shake things up.” “You want unpredictable?” His quiet voice alarms me. I feel the need to backtrack quickly, unsure what he intended with his comment. “No, I like predictable. I thought you weren’t—” Before I can say any more, he’s lifted me off the blanket and tossed me over his shoulder. “Talan, oh my God, you’re totally flashing my underwear to the whole valley. Put me down!” I try desperately to cover my exposed underwear with one hand as I cling to him with the other. It’s not easy as he bounces me along, my stomach squashed against his shoulder and my bare thighs caught by his arm. Did he just run his thumb along the crease under my butt cheek? He keeps walking, taking my upside down and undignified pink clad ass away from the picnic and across

the lawn. “Where are we going?” I ask a moment before I am sailing through the air. The cool water of the pool gushes up my nose as I go under. I kick my legs and sputter as I break the surface. I tread water as I delicately wipe my makeup out of my eyes, knowing I must look like a drowned raccoon thanks to not wearing anything waterproof. And my light pink dress is probably see-through now. Awesome. “I seriously can’t believe you just threw me in the pool. You’re an asshole, Talan. What if I couldn’t swim? It’s going to suck driving back to San Francisco in a wet dress. And oh, my poor car…” I trail off. Talan unbuttons the top of his shirt, grasps the collar, and pulls it off in one fluid motion. He empties his pockets onto a lounge chair and turns toward the pool. I have a second to take in his perfectly sculpted chest and the set of washboard abs he’s revealed before he jumps into the pool. He breaks the surface in front of me, shaking water out of his face. A heated second passes before he pulls me to his chest and crushes his lips against mine. We sink under the surface when it becomes too hard to tread water with our legs entwined. I don’t fight the pull of gravity as I enjoy the suddenness of his kiss. My mouth fills with water as I try to let him in, and my instinct is to breathe in through my nose. I push off of him and gasp for air when my head is once again above water. I cough out the water and swim backwards until I can stand. Talan follows closely, stopping when our chests are inches apart, but not touching me. “Did that scare you, Bliss? Was it unpredictable enough?” Lust softens the serious expression on his face,

his gravelly voice heating me in the cool water. I touch my lips, still struggling to get my breathing under control. Yes, it did scare me. Whether it was being tossed in the pool, his kiss, or feeling like I was going to drown, I can’t tell. I do know that I want him to kiss me again, this time without the fear of drowning. I close the small gap between us, wrapping my arms around his neck as I bring my mouth to his again. His lips open immediately, allowing my tongue entry and caressing it in return. Strong hands cup my ass, picking me up and holding me flush against him as I wrap my legs around his hips. I run my fingers through his hair, pulling his head back sharply as I break our kiss and lick my way to his neck, tasting chlorine and the subtle hint of him. The rumbling groan and the tight grip he has on me are all the encouragement I need. I kiss up his neck and pull his earlobe with my teeth. He turns his face to capture my mouth just as he hits the steps and walks us out of the pool to lay me on a lounge chair. My hair is plastered to my face and my makeup is burning my eyes, but I honestly don’t care at this moment. Who needs functioning vision when this feels so good? Talan hasn’t stopped kissing me, but I can feel his enthusiasm to move on pressed tight against me. I work my hands down his chest, across his taut stomach toward my final destination. Palming him elicits a groan so deep I can feel it in my chest, pressed so tight against his. I squeeze him gently, careful of the wet denim between us. His hands find mine. Raising my arms above my head,

he holds them there with one hand. His lips leave my mouth and move down my neck. I arch my chest against him when he licks the hollow of my collarbone. He palms my breast, massaging till my nipples pebble under the thin, wet material. I let my legs relax around him, feeling him settle perfectly flush against me. A need builds as he continues to kiss my neck and massage my breasts. A whimper escapes my mouth as I grind against him, needing more friction to ease the ache inside of me. His hand leaves my breast to land on my thigh, hitching my leg higher over his hip. This new position allows me to rub against him easier. I take full advantage, grinding hard on him without hesitation. His mouth finds my nipple through wet fabric, causing me to suck in a gasp when he bites and pulls. He nuzzles the top of my dress away from my breast, freeing me to cool air before his hot mouth is on me once more. Through my bleary eyes I can make out the brilliant sunset streaking the sky with rainbow sherbet hues. It’s so beautiful, and he feels so good. I just need a little more to put out the fire that is raging inside me. “More,” I moan, undulating beneath him. I want to pull him closer with my hands that have stayed pinned by his. Talan groans against my chest, licking sweet trails of fire that the evening air cools. He finally releases my hands, which immediately find themselves tangled in his short, wet hair as he makes his way down my body. My dress is already pushed up over my hips, exposing my pink lace and satin panties. I feel him run his fingers along my inner

thighs, working slowly toward the apex of my legs. My muscles tremble in anticipation, my core begging for his touch. He slides a finger under the band of my panties, lifting and moving them to the side, exposing me. “So beautiful. I like this,” he says, looking up at me from between my thighs. He softly strokes my bare skin, leaving me a quivering mass of exposed nerves. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. This hasn’t been the bumbling, awkward first encounter I’m used to. Talan has completely thrown my past experiences out the door when he followed me into the pool for a kiss. That alone would have been enough to make me bold, but I am also made brave by the idea that I never have to see him again. I push his head toward where I would really like him, asking him to go down on me in an audacious move that otherwise wouldn’t have happened on a first date. If that is even what this is. I feel Talan chuckle as he obliges, breathing softly against my folds as he continues to tease me with his finger. “You want my mouth on you, Bliss?” He speaks the words in hot puffs, his lips so close to my skin. “Mmm, yeah.” My breathy response surprises me. I may be feeling braver than normal, but I’m not a talker. I prefer action. Talan kisses my inner thigh, nuzzling his nose closer and closer. I want his mouth so bad I’m shaking. The building anticipation draws my muscles almost painfully taut. The moment his lips and tongue meet my skin, I moan wantonly. Who is this girl, writhing on a lounge chair in the great

outdoors, asking a man to do bad things to her after only having met him hours before? Whoever she is, she’s way more sexually uninhibited than I am. She can stay for tonight. Talan mercilessly toys with me, slowly licking circles and lapping at me when I need it harder. I’m panting but growing frustrated. “I need you, harder. Please,” I add on, unsure how much that will construe the true level of need I am feeling. I hate this part; the having to ask for what you need most in the moment. I always have the hardest time asking for the right thing, and what I’ve said is a mild version of the need I am feeling. I’d really like him to drive into me hard and fast, but I’m a little hesitant to sound that desperate. Telling him harder is all my mind can come up with while focused on what is going on lower in my body. “What do you need, Bliss? Do you want my fingers? My mouth? Tell me what you want.” Damn Talan for playing with me. “All of you, I want all of you,” I manage, rocking my hips toward his mouth that has left my skin to ask me stupid questions. “Oh baby, I’d like to give you all of me,” I hear him murmur before he returns to my slick folds, flicking my clit hard with his tongue and sliding two fingers inside of me quickly. The incessant pressure is finally relieved, my body shattering as he strokes and licks and sucks me to release. Unintelligible words form on my lips, leaving me unsure if I

have spoken aloud or merely gasped. He softly coaxes the final pulses from me as I come down from my high in that place of no substance and all sensation. My body is limp, my legs resting heavily on Talan’s shoulders. My arms lay by my sides, my hands tingling and unable even to grasp the cushion I am on. Above me, the night sky is shining with stars I didn’t realize had come out, and crickets chirp in the grass around us. I shiver as the cool night breeze chills my wet skin. “I think you rather liked that.” I look down my body and catch Talan’s superior grin. He knows he just rocked my world and had me begging for more. God, I’m so easy. He sucks his finger as he slides out from between my legs to crouch at the end of the lounger. If I weren’t so relaxed and in post-orgasm haze, I might have tried to come up with something clever to say in reply. Instead, he gets a tired shake of my head. “Come on princess, I’ll take you inside.” Talan easily scoops me up into his arms, my head falling against his shoulder as he walks along the now lit paths toward the villa. It’s so pretty out here, with the landscaping lights blending with those that twinkle in the valley below. I can just make out the winery where the wedding is in full swing, and smile to myself knowing I helped the bridal party look their best. Once inside, Talan heads upstairs. He enters a large guestroom that has a huge king sized four-poster bed dominating the center. It looks incredibly inviting with the white fluffy duvet and mounds of pillows at the head.

I’m surprised when Talan enters a connected bathroom and sets me on the edge of a big sunken garden tub. He walks back toward the door, causing my heart to constrict when I think he’s leaving, but he only grabs a fluffy robe off a hook in the corner. I smile as he returns to me, letting him pull the straps of my dress down my shoulders. He has me stand and lets the dress fall thickly around my feet. He hooks his thumbs in the band of my underwear, pulling them down my thighs and kneeling in front of me to help me step out. He places a lingering kiss on my hipbone before he stands and wraps me in the robe. I’m a little disappointed to be covered up, when undressing had caused the embers of my desire to flicker to life again. He takes me by the hand and leads me to the big bed, pulling back the covers for me to slide in. He quickly heads back to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a towel wrapped around his hips, his wet jeans gone. He crawls on top of the duvet and spoons me, pulling me close to his body with infuriating layers between us. I try to turn over to complain, but his arm locks down around me. “Shh, just rest.” He kisses away my protest, his lips skimming my cheek and resting above my ear. “There’s plenty of time for more later.” He draws his nose along my jaw and places a kiss on my damp hair before settling behind me. I want to tell him that there is no more time. Tell him this is our one chance to be together. The long day and postorgasm bliss has my lids drooping closed before I say a thing.

Chapter Three Early morning light streams through a huge picture window, settling on my face and pulling me from the sweetest dreams of motorcycle rides, picnics, and cuddling. Rubbing my eyes, I blink and see the nicely appointed room I am in is definitely not mine. I can tell I’m alone in this big, soft bed, but I cautiously turn over to make sure. No Talan anywhere. A note is propped on the pillow next to me in scrawled handwriting.

Hope you slept well. Went to find breakfast. You looked too sweet to wake up. I cringe as I roll out of bed. I don’t normally stay the night when I hook up. I like to make my escape before the light of day illuminates all of the flaws of my decisions. I make my way into the bathroom, shocked at the hot mess that stares back at me from the mirror. How could he think this looked sweet? I look like Medusa and Courtney Love had a baby. My hair is flattened on one side, while sticking up wildly on the other, thanks to falling asleep with it wet. I flinch when I see my eyes ringed with my ruined mascara, causing me to run for the sink to scrub it off quickly. I use my fingers to comb through the snarled mess of my cotton candy hair, raking it into a defiant submission. My dress hangs on the hook my robe came from; now dry thanks to a thoughtful

Talan. I quickly slip it on and head downstairs wondering what I will find. The first floor is silent, and the kitchen empty when I creep through to investigate. Our picnic dishes are washed and dried on a towel next to the sink, and my purse and shoes are on the island waiting for me. I check my phone, dangerously low on battery, and see a few missed calls and texts. My mom has called, and Willa sent a few texts wondering where I was. I see that I replied, letting her know I stayed in Sonoma overnight. Funny, I don’t remember sending her anything. Talan must have heard my phone go off when he put my purse here on the island. It was nice that he assured Willa of my safety, but a little creepy that he felt he could go through my phone. I should really enable my lock screen. It’s barely seven forty-five when I open the big front door and look around. Talan’s Ducati is gone, so I head to the Mini, feeling a little guilty that I’m slipping out without saying goodbye. I left a note for Talan on the kitchen island, thanking him for a wonderful evening. I decided not to leave my number, as in the wake of my sexual neediness last night, I’m feeling just a little embarrassed. I can’t believe I made him go down on me and didn’t even return the favor. God, I must seem so greedy. I slut-shame myself for my loose ways on the hour-long drive back to the city. Doing the actual walk of shame back to my apartment in yesterday’s dress is all I need to know that one-night stands are not my cup of tea. I’ll have to chill out on my sexual awakening. I might have to see if I can work things out with

Douchebag Dillon if I plan to avoid celibacy in the future. I can handle lackluster sex with no commitment, right? Thinking of rekindling a thing with Dillon is depressing. He puts down my appearance and my profession, and doesn’t take me seriously at all. I gave him six months of being at his text and call, ready to drop anything for a late night booty call. One short evening with Talan was enough to know that Dillon just doesn’t do it for me. I can’t settle for lukewarm when I’ve had blazing hot. I know without a doubt that I’ll never be able to make anything with Dillon even remotely comparable to Talan. I’m moping when I get into the apartment. And a little out of breath, having dragged my kit up three flights of stairs. “Well hey, slutcake,” Willa says from her spot lounging on the couch. “Hope you had fun last night and didn’t just crash at a hotel after drinking too much wine at that wedding.” She rolls onto her stomach, but doesn’t stand or pry further. Sunday mornings are usually her time to be as sloth-like as she is productive the rest of the week. I doubt she will make it off that couch more than a few times today when she gets up to use the bathroom or eat. I smile but don’t say anything. I drag my kit into my tiny room, which is really meant to be a den, not a bedroom. I grab yoga pants and a tank top from my stuffed dresser before I head for a shower. I need to get this mess under control. Thirty minutes later, I’m feeling way better and not thinking guiltily of leaving Talan this morning. I flop onto my bed, but having had so much sleep last night, a nap isn’t in order. I braid strands of my hair, watching the pink and

blonde weave together, and think of my evening with Talan. He was spectacular. I wish something with him could ever be in the cards for a girl like me. I still can’t get over how much faith he had in my ability to run my own business as a freelance artist. His encouragement to leave the salon and go out on my own was the latest in a long line of supporters, and exactly what I needed to bolster my courage. I should do it today, before I change my mind. I quickly get up and throw decent clothes on. I do my makeup with precision, and style my hair in my favorite beachy wave. Sometimes getting the exterior looking fierce gives you enough confidence on the inside to tackle any task. Quitting a solid job is a mountain of an obstacle. I slick on my favorite pink lipstick before leaving the apartment. The shimmery silver door of The Vaughn Group Salon acts as both the gateway to my own personal hell, or my salvation, if I can make it back through in one piece. Breathing in and out shallowly, I mentally coach myself through what needs to happen. You will march through that

door, stand tall, and deliver this news with a decisive and calm demeanor. You will not shake, stutter, or falter from the task. You will be strong, brave, and face the dragon that holds the keys to your future. Nodding, I straighten my shirt and smooth my sweaty palms along my burgundy pencil skirt—a defiant departure from The Vaughn Group’s rigid all-black dress code— before entering the salon. It’s quiet, something that only

happens before opening hours, or well after closing. Normally the bright open space is loud with chatter, blow dryers, and music. I march past my usual station, a coveted corner spot near the windows, and feel a twinge of doubt. I have it good here, right? I shake my head at myself, and continue to Louisa’s office, raising my fist to knock on her door. The echo of my knuckles against the smooth wood sounds hollow and ominous. “Enter.” Damn. She sounds pissed already. Not a good start. I have no choice; it’s now or never. Grasping the polished silver door handle, I twist and push my way into the Spartan white office. I take the quick second of walking into the office to compose myself, inhale deeply, and exhale slowly. Louisa tucks a strand of her short, ebony hair behind her ear as she looks up from her laptop. “Bliss? What are you doing here on a Sunday? I thought you had today off. Did you make an appointment that’s not on my calendar?” She gestures toward her computer and leans back in her chair, put off by my intrusion. “Um, no, I just thought I would come by. I wanted to talk to you.” The desire to nervously twist my hair around my fingers is so strong I have to clasp my hands together behind me. Doing so, I nearly crush the paper I’ve been carrying, which would defeat the purpose of printing it out and attempting to keep it crisp all the way over here. Louisa closes her laptop with a sigh, and indicates that I take a seat across from her desk. “By all means, I can spare a moment for my top earner.” Her lips quirk up at the

corners as she nearly smiles, an expression that I’ve learned one must earn, as she seldom gives it freely. She actually likes me. Or at least she likes the income I bring the salon through my work on clients and the bookings through the agency for on-location work. This won’t come easy to her. I sit as instructed and lay the paper face down on Louisa’s desk, my fingers tracing the edge before I push it toward her with purpose. The threat of a headache begins to build behind my eyes from the sickeningly sweet smell of the lilies in a crystal vase on her desk. I have always hated her penchant for keeping lilies in the salon. Just another thing I will never have to endure after today, I note. My heartbeat gallops in my chest, knowing I am making a life-altering decision with this single sheet of paper. I quickly remind myself that this is the first step in achieving my dreams of working as a freelance artist, and swallow back the indecision that creeps along the edges of my mind and thickens in my throat. “Cat got your tongue?” Louisa asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’re unusually quiet today. Normally I can’t get you to shut up. You worry me, and I already have enough on my plate. This better be good.” I swallow and glance around. The ticking of the second hand on her giant silver wall clock sounds like a death march, counting down to my execution. Her disguised taunts and barbed words have always been a source of conflict for me. I hate that she’s so negative and discouraging, when she should be uplifting and supportive

of her stylists. No matter how hard I work, the amount of ten hour days I put in, and the extra on-location work I accept for her, she still can’t say a simple “good job, I appreciate it.” I finally find my courage, thinking of everyone who has encouraged me to take this step, including my sexy onenight stand. I let it burn within me. “Louisa, I’m leaving. I can’t work for The Vaughn Group anymore.” She freezes with her outstretched hand hovering over my resignation letter. Her fingers curl into a fist as her lips twist into a snarl she can’t hide fast enough. A beat goes by before she composes her face into her normal blank mask of boredom and snatches my letter off the desk. She skims it quickly, not taking the time to really read the letter I labored so hard on. I thought it was important to find a decidedly positive twist for my decision to leave The Vaughn Group, that it would somehow make my decision easier. I knew before she even glanced at the letter that my wording would have no bearing on her acceptance. She’s absolutely furious. “What, the actual fuck, are you doing?” She hisses as she lays the page down on her desk. “You have everything working here. How can you possibly want to leave? Your schedule is always full, you make the highest commission every week, you even get top pick of on-location jobs.” She punctuates her words with a finger smashed into her other palm. Her question is rhetorical, but I feel the need to stand up for myself, for once. Working for her sucks. She makes my

life miserable by demeaning my skills and time. When she says I make top commission, she forgets to mention that over fifty-percent of every service fee goes right back to her. I work for less than minimum wage most of the time. “I need to make changes in my life that will make me happy. I want to work for myself, following a different path than what the salon can offer me. It has nothing to do with you or your business, I just need to go out on my own.” I am such a bad liar. It has everything to do with Louisa, and the way she runs her business, but I am determined to end our business relationship amicably and not burn any bridges. “You ungrateful shit.” Her eyes are wild and her olive complexion is now an unbecoming shade of red. I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears. Her anger is scary. “I poured three years of my life into grooming you, teaching you, and making sure you were always booked for jobs. How the hell can you slap me in the face like this, after all I have done for you?” Oh, that bridge is on freaking fire. Napalm and flamethrower status. Maybe an incendiary grenade. She may have mentored me when I started working for her years ago, but that didn’t last. Once I finished the apprentice program, I was on my own without her less-thannurturing tutelage. I carefully bite back all of the retorts that would like to fly from my mouth. I remember that above all else, I must remain professional, and make myself abundantly clear. “Louisa, learning from you has been an amazing experience that I will never take for granted. I can’t possibly

thank you enough for all of the opportunities you have given me, and what I have achieved thanks to The Vaughn Group. I need to move on now, however hard that is for both of us, and find my own way.” With a disgruntled and animalistic scream, Louisa crumples my resignation letter into a ball and throws it at me. I am so stunned I make no move to block the paper as it hits me square in the forehead. I blink rapidly and stand, ready to make my exit before she throws the vase of those god-awful lilies next. “I will arrange with Heidi to have my last paycheck mailed to me. I wish you all the best with the salon and agency, and hope we can regard each other on friendlier terms. Someday,” I tack on as I turn hastily to escape her office. The last thing I see is Louisa grasping her desk and breathing heavily, her eyes filled with malice and her face contorted into the most gruesome snarl I’ve seen from her yet. Before I can make it out the door, she says, “You will regret this until the day you die, Bliss. You will never succeed in San Francisco, I will make sure of that.” With her threat hanging over me, I hastily retreat from her office, into a world I have chosen instead.

Chapter Four “Holy shit. Bliss, honey, are you okay?” Willa asks when she gets home. I was wrong in thinking she wouldn’t leave the couch today. She was gone when I got back from The Vaughn Group, which allowed me to crumble into a puddle of anxiety and depression right on the living room carpet. She kneels down on the floor next to where I have been sprawled for two hours counting the cracks in the ceiling and contemplating my life’s choices. I had a good cry not long ago, so my makeup is probably smeared and my eyes are puffy. “Seriously, are you catatonic or something? Do I need to spoon feed you ice cream, or call your mom? What happened?” I can only assume I really look like crap and seem like a crazy person if she’s asking about calling my mom. I continue to ignore her and now start an inventory of the water stains that creep down the wall a little further each time it rains. Damn, I hate living in San Francisco sometimes. Even with three roommates, two of whom make huge salaries and contribute the majority of our skyhigh rent, our four grand a month only gets us a shit-hole in the Inner Richmond district. Just another thing I need to tack

on to the never-ending list of anxieties I have to worry about now that I am self-employed, and no longer have a steady source of income. Good thing I’m not a picky eater and can handle a diet heavy on the sodium and full of ramen noodles. Yeah, that and tap water will be fine. I am sure I can get on Pinterest and find some creative recipes to doctor up a bag of noodles. A loud clap right in my face causes me to jump and blink quickly at Willa. “Seriously, snap out of it Bliss! You’re freaking me out, and I do not want to put up with nutcases at home when I deal with them every day at work.” I roll onto my side in a fetal position, but look up at Willa. “I gave Louisa my resignation today. She crumpled it up into a ball and threw it in my face, literally. I think she left a mark on my forehead.” I point above my left eye. “Took it well then, didn’t she?” Willa smirks at me and rubs my back. “At least you still have all of your limbs. I thought for sure she would have torn off your left arm to keep some talent in her salon. I bet she’s kicking herself now she didn’t get her greedy claws on you before you escaped.” The corners of my mouth quirk upward into the ghost of a smile. I’m thankful for Willa’s attempt to cheer me up. She’s an optimist through and through. It’s helpful to have her around when the world seems to be caving in on you with the weight of your decisions and those yet to be made. “Did I make the wrong choice, Willa? Should I have stayed at The Vaughn Group, working my ass off behind

the chair and taking jobs even though I had to give up over fifty percent of each to Louisa? How the hell am I going to run my own business and compete with her? She’s a mainstay in the San Francisco hair and makeup scene, has her claws in all of the corporate accounts that need artists, and the salon has hall of fame status for so many Best Of Weddings awards for our market. I can’t compete with that.” Saying my fears out loud does not make them any easier to bear. In fact, I would like to go back to counting the defects of our apartment and not thinking that this is the worst thing I have ever done. “Nope. Not going there, Bliss. You know this was the best decision you could have made for yourself, and the timing couldn’t be better. I’m so glad you finally pulled the trigger. Bellissima Beauty is set to do big things this year. You did the heavy lifting months ago, and have solid bookings for the next three months, thanks to a little networking and covert advertising. We have already gone over your numbers, and your expected income should be more than enough if you focus on getting more freelance jobs now that you aren’t in the salon so much. Louisa was holding you down, keeping you from realizing your full potential. She was using fear to control you. You will be working on-location only now, no longer in the salon slaving away for someone else. You can take half as many jobs, and make the same or more because now you get to keep the entire sum, rather than a percentage. “Running the business out of the house, and only being responsible for yourself keeps your costs low. You were

already buying all of your own supplies for your hair and makeup kit, so that’s been factored in. What are you worried about, doll? This is good. Really good.” Willa grasps my hands and I let her pull me to a sitting position against the couch. Sighing heavily, I look up at Willa’s pretty brown eyes that peek out at me from under the front fringe of her shaggy pixie cut. She’s in need of a trim; I should offer to do that tonight. At least it’s a nice distraction from my decisions. “You need a haircut, homie. How can you consider this messy look work appropriate?” I tousle her hair halfheartedly, but give her a real smile. She beams at me with her megawatt grin. “I’ve been waiting for my celebrity hairstylist best friend to finally have some free time to fit me into her schedule. She’s so in demand and constantly booked with weddings and special events that she never has time for me. You would think that being her roommate would make it easier, but I maintain that is just not true.” She makes a mock-serious face and scoffs. “And this is San Francisco. Have you seen the level of hipster douchery that is considered work appropriate? Even at an investment firm, I’m seeing untucked shirts, homeless beards, and skinny pants on guys. It’s deplorable, really.” “Willa, you’re the best, you know that? I swear, psychiatrists should start prescribing you to cure depression. How did you end up in finance when you should obviously be a life-coach or something equally as

uplifting and perfect?” “Gotta pay the bills somehow. And how could I let this perfect brain go to waste?” She taps her head with a manicured finger. “Besides, you’re the only life I want to coach, because you actually take direction and listen to what I have to say. That job would only be rewarding if your clients accepted everything the way you do.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “My life is yours to mold, oh Jedi master.” Willa points her finger in my face and raises an eyebrow at me. “Do not mistake me for being a fangirl of geekery like you. I am not into that Star Wars Trek stuff. Give me Real Housewives of wherever over sci-fi any day. I can coach you on ripping out weaves, talking trash, and flipping tables, but I am no Jedi master.” Willa shakes her head as she flops against the couch next to where I am a puddle of mush. I laugh a little and lean against her. “I’m still bummed.” “Maybe you should call Tech Bro Boyfriend. Good sex can make all the difference about how you are feeling about life. Trust me. I stopped off and saw Mitch the other day after I had messed up one of my boss’s client’s portfolio, and had to grovel and plead to keep my job. I wasn’t thinking about portfolios after that.” “Dillon is not my boyfriend, he was a booty call. And the sex wasn’t even all that great. He could never make me forget about my current crisis. I want something better than Dillon.” I sigh wistfully. “Is that even possible, without a committed relationship?”

I longingly think of Talan. He managed to play my body so expertly on the first try. He pushed me a little, made me ask for the things I wanted instead of living without them. He blew my mind without any real sex. He’s the kind of booty call I would like to have on speed-dial, but he lives an hour away in Sonoma, and there’s no way I’m seeing him again after leaving without so much as a goodbye. It’s a little depressing, but my reality, and why I end up not telling Willa about it. “Dude, I know what I’m supposed to say. Things like you’re twenty-one. You’re so freaking young, and hot, and starting your own business; there’s no need to find ‘the one’ to settle down with forever. Good sex when you want it is just fine.” She rolls her eyes and then levels me with her serious face. “What I really want to get through your head is that maybe you need to find a guy to share life with. A relationship, whether for the long haul or short term, is better than an uninspired friends with benefits situation anyday. Being with a guy who supports you and wants more than a booty call means you can still focus on the important things, like achieving your dreams. Let’s tick those off right now, just to remind you of your goals.” She crosses her arms and looks at me expectantly. I look away but know she won’t let this slide. I wish she were kidding, but she’s absolutely serious. She insists each roommate makes a vision board every December so we can visualize the goals we would like to achieve for the next year. Honestly, I actually like doing it, but I really hate

when she puts me on the spot and makes me confront things head-on like this. I’d rather stick my head in the sand. “Fine, you win. You’re a total asshole for not letting me mope and forcing me to focus on the positive, you know.” Willa laughs and pushes my shoulder playfully, but cocks her head and gives me her most serious look. “I’m waiting.” She motions for me to continue, set on hearing my goals. “Okay, you positive-manifesting-rainbow-pusher.” I scrub my eyes and sigh. “I want to be successful on my own, doing hair and makeup in San Francisco without an agency to hunt down and book jobs for me. I want financial freedom. I want to make a name for myself on my own, not through The Vaughn Group. I want to win awards and have so much business coming to me organically that I don’t really have to advertise, and have to operate more exclusively, or with a waiting list. Happy now?” “For your work goals, absolutely. We can work on the mechanics of how you will achieve these things later. Don't you think you are focused a little too completely on your career, though? Where are the goals for a relationship, even something more casual? I just told you that you needed to give that more thought.” “You’re not letting that go, are you?” I roll my eyes at her. She’s a great friend, but sometimes she’s a little too persistent. “I would think you get enough relationship material from Emme and Milleigh without needing me to define my relationships and hunt down a man. They will talk about their feelings and love all day long. On Facebook and

Instagram and all over this very apartment. They are the relationship ideal, and are quite happy to share.” “Milleigh and Emme are truly adorable, but I want to know what your relationship goals are. Do you want to take things further with Tech Bro Dillon?” The look on her face tells me she hopes I don’t, but asks to be nice and keep the conversation going in this direction. She’s really too sweet for her own good. I know she really doesn’t like Dillon, which is why she usually calls him a Tech Bro, our term for particularly douchey guys who happen to work in the tech sector. “I sort of already called things off with Dillon the other day. Neither of us wanted anything more than casual hook ups, but even that wasn’t doing it for me. I’m not sure I could see anything more with him, anyway. He’s a total man-child. I would feel like I would have to mother him if we were in a relationship.” Now that I am opening up about my flawed arrangement with Dillon, I feel the need to elaborate. “Did you know he squeezes his toothpaste from the middle and refuses to put the cap back on? Or that he eats his cereal out of a coffee mug, and will leave it on the counter instead of rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher? He does laundry only when the clothes on his floor are indistinguishable from clean or dirty. Oh, and he never dresses up, even when I’ve seen him out at events.” I shake my head, both at Dillon, and at myself. I only just now broke it off with him after noticing these things a long time ago. Talan seemed to be the perfect opposite of Dillon, but I screwed that option up. He will have to live

inside my memories and be my “could have been” if only the timing was different. “You want to help me make dinner? I think I can finally eat now that my nerves aren’t twisting my stomach into knots. I’m sure it will just be us tonight, anyway.” We both know Em and Milleigh will probably just eat dinner at some cool new hotspot their foodie friends have mentioned. During the week they usually eat at the office, since their awesome tech company provides free food for the employees. Lucky. “Sure, but how about we explore the reasons why you don’t want to find a suitable guy to date.” And so the evening goes, with Willa forcing me to talk about things I would rather ignore.

Chapter Five “I’m so glad you were available last minute. This shoot popped up unexpectedly, but I couldn’t pass it up. I can’t wait to have more creative shoots with you, it’s been too long. Oh, you are going to love Sheila and Derrick’s wedding photos. I’ve already started editing them and, damn, they look good. That winery was the perfect backdrop for every shot,” Finch says, setting up his lighting for our shoot. It’s been a week since I gave my resignation to Louisa, and I’ve been on a roller coaster that dips and climbs between worry and the joy of freedom. “I’m hoping to not have too much free time. That would mean I’m not working very much,” I explain as I set up my hair and makeup kit. “Are we going for a natural skin tone, or a bronzed super-goddess today?” I hold up my palette of bronzers, inspecting the pots for crumbling powder. Finch is a frenetic blond ball of energy, moving quickly through each activity, often abandoning one before it’s finished in favor of another. He stops moving for a minute to consider my question. He makes unintentional spirit fingers and squeezes his blue eyes shut to access the creative side of his brain where his ideas live. He’s my spirit animal. “Definitely not bronzed goddess. Maybe keep everything pale and matte, with a really dark lip. I want her to look

spectral, but high-fashion.” “We have that pretty blonde girl, Addison Wolfe, right? I like shooting with her, she gives good face. And she’s super nice and not a total flake like some of the models in this city.” “Yeah, Addison. She’s got crazy-flexible joints and can practically contort herself for the perfect pose. She’s with an agency now, too. I’m lucky she’s shot with us before and agreed to collaborate for portfolio work. We only have a small budget for her.” He says the last bit as he strides off to grab sandbags to weigh down his next lighting C-stand. “Good for her. I know agencies are great for models. Maybe not so much for me. I’m finally free from The Vaughn Group,” I admit as I clean makeup brushes. “You pulled the trigger on freelancing for yourself? That’s why you have more free time now? That’s great, Bliss. You’re going to love it. I know Louisa wasn’t the easiest to work for, but you’re so talented. I know you’ll do fine on your own. Now go stand in for lighting checks.” “Twice last week I went to jobs and found someone from The Vaughn Group already there. When I talked to the directors, they told me Louisa had called and offered a lower rate, so they let her send someone. I’m not even sure how she knew what jobs I had booked. I can’t believe she’s sabotaging me like this. I guess I should have expected it though. She’s awful.” I shudder as I head over to the white backdrop and step into the pool of light he has set up. I hate wondering if Louisa will sabotage every job I book in an attempt to kill my business before it even gets momentum.

“Eww, that’s some shitty behavior. Be careful, Bliss. I wouldn’t put it past her to keep doing sneaky stuff like that.” Finch shakes his head and picks up his camera. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I hook my fingers through my front belt loops and give him my best “Blue Steel” face. Finch’s camera clicks and the lights pop, before he pulls the photo up on the LCD screen of his camera to check his levels. He adjusts the settings on one of his lights and hits the test button, making it go off again. When he raises his camera back up I give him kitty claws and make a roaring face. This is our standard operating procedure for setting up shoots, and the only time I step in front of his camera willingly. He’s asked to shoot me a few times, but I prefer to stay behind the scenes. My smile tends to become frozen and my eyes go dead when I seriously try to model. He brings his camera down to view the photo. “Oh hell yes. Bliss, the pink in your hair comes across so perfectly right now. I’m glad you went with that pastel baby pink rather than hot pink or something. It goes perfectly with the light blonde. It’s way classy for an unnatural color. But take that hat off so I can get your face without shadows.” I pull off my black felt hat that I had pushed up on the back of my head and self-consciously touch my hair. I hear Finch start shooting again so I tousle my hair to remove the hat indent and grin when I look up at him again. “Better?” His camera clicks, capturing my teasing smile. “Much. Now give me something to work with. And believe me, I will

put on Britney if you don’t move the way I want.” I groan. His strange love of Britney Spears has made many photo shoots feel a little too like middle school for my taste. I pop a hip like I’ve seen so many models do, and give him a few poses so he will keep the sugary music at bay. Each time the lights pop I see stars. I have never understood how models can do this for hours on end. After a few minutes of changing poses, playing with my hair, and pretending to model, I get the feeling he’s not testing anymore. I stop moving with my hand perched on my hip and stare at him, instead of the camera. “Did you get your lights figured out?” “Oh yeah, honey. I had those dialed in after the first test shot. The rest were just for my pleasure, since I finally had you in front of the camera and taking direction. You’re too pretty to not put you out front sometimes.” Finch laughs as I storm off set and head over to my makeup table. He’s an ass. A funny one, but an ass nonetheless. Addison walks into the studio a few minutes later, her blonde hair piled on her head and a fresh face waiting for me to get my hands on it. “Hi Finch—oh, thank god it’s Bliss,” she says when she sees me. “I always know my photos will look awesome when you’re both involved.” Finch laughs as he strolls over to hug Addison. “Nice seeing you, girl. Glad we can have the dream team together again.” “Hey Addison, give me a hug before you sit down, it’s been a while.” Addison grabs me in a big hug before she

plops into the chair by my table. “Do your magic, Bliss. I know even if we had a dinosaur theme, at least you would make me a sexy triceratops.” She closes her eyes and tips her head back, ready for me to go to work. “Thankfully no dinosaurs. Just ethereal, pale, and bold lips. I’m thinking ice queen with the poison pout. Sound good?” “Always. Are we shooting for anything in particular, Finch?” “Yeah, I have some dresses for you to wear for a new design team here in the city to use for marketing stuff. Not sure exactly what it will be used for. They just sent the dresses over and said go crazy. I’m used to the designer showing up and micro-managing the whole shoot to make sure we get what they are looking for. I’m pretty sure it’s a winter themed wedding look book or something like that. You’ll see when you get into the wardrobe.” Addison claps her hands and bounces before she stills when I squirt sanitizer on my hands. She knows the drill. I go through the steps of transforming an already pretty girl into a stunning model. A full face of makeup that looks like she’s barely wearing any, and a wintry up-do that’s been lightened even further with white hair powder to give us the pale and frosty look we want. When she checks her look in the mirror, she gasps. “Oh, Bliss, this is awesome! I look like I’ve just stepped out of a snowstorm. How did you make my eyelashes look like ice crystals? And that shimmery blue you can barely

see on my eyelids is freaking cool. I didn’t know I could wear a dark burgundy lip like this. It’s truly striking against the paleness of everything else.” She turns her head a little to examine the textured and twisted coil of hair that sits like a crown on her head. “Wow,” she breathes. “I want to wear my hair like this all the time. It’s so pretty.” I can’t help but smile and glow under her praise. This is the part I like most about what I do; the way I can transform a person, and make them feel like their most beautiful self. It makes any of the tough parts worth it. Addison runs off to find where Finch took her dresses, and I start cleaning my brushes so I can pack up. “Nailed it,” Finch yells as he leaves the dressing room and heads my way. He sits down in my chair, but can’t stay still. His hands are all over the place as he bounces back to standing. “Bliss, that’s perfect. Did you see the dresses earlier? You absolutely nailed the look I wanted for them.” He grabs my hand to pull me over to the set as Addison comes out wearing a beautiful white dress that seems to be trimmed in icy silver beading and clear crystals. It’s not overly blingy, but it shimmers and shines as she moves so she looks like a frozen stream with running water just beneath the surface. It’s vaguely art deco, with flowy cap sleeves and a deep V-neck that has a center seam all the way to the floor. The dress is sheath-like, but has enough of an A-line to flatter just about any body type. I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen so in love with a dress before. I’m shocked when I think it’s exactly what I would want my

future wedding dress to look like. I’m guessing those bells I just heard would be my silent-so-far biological clock suddenly hitting wedding status. “Wow…” I sure sound eloquent today. “I know, right? I want to get married in this dress. You should see the others, they are just as stunning, if not more so.” Addison spins, doing a little twirl that nearly stops my heart as I see how brilliantly the skirt swirls around her. “I think I’ll go take a look at them now.” I might as well have just kept quiet, since Finch is already snapping photos of a posing Addison. I stop short when I head into the dressing room. There’s a hanging rack with a dozen dresses as stunning as the frozen stream dress Addison is wearing. Ranging in pale shades that run from crisp white, to the lightest blue, to one that absolutely knocks me out with a gorgeous blush color. I’m not aware of having crossed the room, but suddenly I am reaching for the tulle creation that is studded with the tiniest clear beads and rhinestones at the shoulders and waist. Like the frozen stream dress, this one has a sheath shape with a slight flare from the thighs where the blush tulle really gets put on display. Instead of cap sleeves, it is sleeveless, with thin sheets of tulle gathered by crystals and rhinestones in intricate designs at the top of the shoulder to make straps that lead to a v-neckline that crosses the bodice at the natural waist. I turn it around and actually gasp. The V-shape continues in the back, the tulle spread out to meet below the shoulder blades. There is even a small train on this dress, which has me fantasizing about

walking down an aisle with it trailing behind me. I can’t help it, I hold the dress up to me, eyeballing the size, because I absolutely need to try this beauty on. I bring the dress with me to the dressing room door and peek out at Finch and Addison. “Hey Finch, may I please try on one of these dresses? It’s so pretty, I can’t help myself.” I squeeze my eyes shut and hold the dress to my chest, hoping he says yes. It would break my heart if I couldn’t at least try it on. Finch pauses for a second, lowering his camera and appraising me in the doorway with the frothy blush dress gathered lovingly in my arms. He smiles, and suddenly I feel worried. “Yes, of course you can try it on. But do your hair and touch up your makeup first. If you put that dress on, you have to model it, too.” I don’t even hesitate, the answer is so clear. “Okay.” There is nothing I wouldn’t do to wear this dress. I carefully hang the dress on the back of the door and walk quickly to my table. I know exactly what I want to do. Half an hour later, I am back in the dressing room, helping Addison into her final gown before I get a chance to finally try on the blush dress. I carefully slip it on, feeling the silk underlining slide against my skin and loving the slight rustle of the tulle as it settles around me. I do up the side zipper, and then turn toward the mirror. I am so amazed that this dress fits like a glove. It has to have been created for a fit model, rather than a stick-thin runway model. I sigh at the dreamy sight and for once, I am thankful for my height. At

5’7, the dress is only a tiny bit long in my bare feet. The softly curled, voluminous fronted up-do I worked my shoulder length hair into works perfectly to show off the dramatic back of the dress. I kept my makeup simple, sticking with my signature winged liner and soft colors, but I pulled from the blush color of the dress for my lips. I softly run my hands over the dress where it lays perfectly across my hips and think that this is the prettiest I have ever felt in my life. Marriage someday is now definitely an option if this dress can be involved. “Bliss, you should be changed by now. I want you out here and in front of my camera ASAP,” Finch calls from the studio. I happily oblige, knowing this is my only chance to wear this dress and have it documented. “How do I look?” I ask Finch and Addison as I step out of the dressing room. They both turn to look at me. Addison covers her mouth with her hand as she gasps. I cringe, knowing she is messing up her freshly applied, now light pink lipstick. I knew we had to ditch the burgundy after I looked at the rest of the dresses. They demanded soft and demure, not vivid and dark. “Bellissima Kaufman, I have never seen you look more stunning.” Finch using my given name makes me laugh. Not even my own mother says my full name like that. I make my way over to the set and awkwardly pet my dress. “It’s pretty, right?” “Dude, Bliss, that dress was made for you. I’m so glad I

don’t have to wear it, because now that I have seen you in it, I know I wouldn’t have been able to do it justice,” Addison tells me sweetly, grabbing my hand and leading me into the pool of light. “What do I do now?” I look at Finch and Addison both, wringing my hands together as I work to control my nerves. Suddenly I’m wishing I hadn’t fallen in love with this dress. “You move every time you hear me take a photo. Move your arms, change which way you’re facing, tilt your head— anything to give me different angles for each shot. Think of a ballet dancer and move your arms around fluidly like they would.” Finch demonstrates what he instructs, bringing a smile to my face as he fans out his arms like a dancer. “I’ll do a few things that you can mirror until you get the hang of it, okay?” Addison offers, moving next to where Finch has once again picked up his camera. She turns her whole body sideways, and looks over her shoulder, which I mimic and see she has me facing away, but looking at Finch. I do my best to follow her direction, moving every time the lights pop. I will my body to be graceful and fluid like a dancer. Soon, I’m no longer paying attention to Addison, and just moving freely, working my best model faces, encouraged by the positive words Finch keeps shouting at me. I feel so beautiful, and love this dress so much that it’s not even embarrassing. Finch eventually has Addison step in with me, and we do a few shots together before Finch tells us it’s a wrap. “That was amazing. Now that I know you can model, I want you to do it more often.” Finch scrolls through the

photos on his camera, his broad smile making me more inclined to possibly agree to his demands in the future. But not really. “Oh, no way, Finch. This was a one-time only deal. I will happily stay on the other side of the lights from now on. You should be grateful I even allowed you to take photos of me this one time.” “Admit it, Bliss, that felt good,” Addison chimes in, throwing her arm around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze. “The dress feels great, and I am happy I got a chance to feel beautiful in it, but now I need to take it off and go back to being a beauty professional and leave the modeling to talented girls like you, Addison.” I squeeze her with the arm I have around her waist, then carefully pick my way over the cables and around the lights to get back to the dressing room without damaging my dress. “You will see, Bliss, once these photos are on the computer and I’ve slightly edited them, you’ll want to do it again. I think the design group that sent these over will be incredibly happy with the photos.” Finch is overly optimistic about me changing my mind about modeling, but I really do hope the designer loves the photos. Once Addison and I change back into our everyday clothes, we say goodbye to Finch and head out. I check my phone as I walk to my car, a necessity I had to buy soon after moving to San Francisco. I couldn’t deal with taking MUNI and BART to get across the city for my many jobs that require my heavy kit.

I have a few missed texts, which I read when I’ve packed my kit into the back of the Mini. One text is from Willa asking about my schedule the next few days. Another is from my mom telling me to call her when I get a chance because she misses me. I should really call her soon to catch up; it’s been a while.

Chapter Six My phone battery died before I had a chance to call Mom back, so when I get home, I plug it in. When I have enough juice to turn it on, I see she has called again. I guess it’s time to bite the bullet and see what she wants. I feel bad to not have returned her calls sooner. I take our relationship for granted, knowing she’s just an hour away in San Jose. It’s so easy to go down to see her, but I rarely do it thanks to work or just being lazy. Mom picks up after one ring, obviously having kept her phone close to her waiting on my call. “Bliss, finally,” she breathes when I say hello. “I’m glad you called me back, sweetie. How are you?”

Busy. Good. Feeling guilty for not having returned any of your calls for the last week. “I’m fine, Mom, how are you? What’s going on that you would call so many times and not leave a message?” She takes a moment to answer, which I find annoying as I am impatient and feel like I have a huge to-do list for getting my website even more functional now that I’m on my own. “Bliss, sweetheart, I’m sick. I have cancer.” With those three words, my world is crashing around me. I sit up, horrified that I’ve paid such little attention to her

when she obviously needs me. “What…how…why? Oh my God, when did you find out? Are you feeling okay?” I can’t figure out the right questions to ask, or how to comfort her over the phone. I have the strongest desire to hug her tight and tell her the diagnosis is wrong. She is only forty-five years old, for crying out loud. She’s too young to have cancer. “I’ve been feeling pretty bad the last few months, but just thought I had a cold that I couldn’t shake. I finally went to the doctor a few weeks back, and they referred me to an oncologist. I had a bunch of tests done, and it looks like I have lung cancer. Stage four.” She laughs bitterly, the sound of tears thickening her voice. “I guess you were right all these years, telling me smoking was going to kill me. I wish I had stopped when you asked me to. Now I don’t have a choice.” She breaks down sobbing, but manages to get her tears under control before I do. She is wracked by a wicked cough that causes me to cry harder. She’s always been a smoker, for as long as I can remember. Her gritty cough was as ubiquitous as her laugh. I want to take back everything I ever said about her getting cancer as a threat to get her to stop smoking. I feel somehow responsible, as if I willed her to get sick. “Mom, I’m coming down to see you. I can’t believe this is happening over the phone. I just want to hug you right now. Can I stay over tonight?” I am already throwing a few things into a duffle bag and changing into jeans before she replies. “I’d really like that, Blissy. You don’t have to stay if you

need to be back in San Francisco right away.” “I don't have a job booked tomorrow, I can totally stay.” “Well that makes me feel better. Maybe you can go to the doctor’s with me tomorrow? I really don’t want to go back alone. It’s been hard enough getting all this news by myself.” Oh jeeze. I feel like the worst daughter ever. I’ve been totally ignoring my mom’s calls and letting my life take priority without a second thought to how she was doing. I’m the only family she has. “Of course, Mom, I’ll go with you to as many doctors’ appointments as I can. I’ll be there in about an hour, hang in there. I love you.” I fight back tears as we say our goodbyes and I rush out to the living room. “Where you going so soon? You just got back from your shoot.” Willa sits up from where she was sprawled on the couch and pauses her Sunday Netflix marathon. “My mom is sick. Cancer. I need to go spend some time with her.” I can’t help the distracted manner of my reply to her while I search for the keys I just had. “Oh shit, I’m sorry Bliss. That sucks. Is there anything I can do?” Willa looks as unhappy as I feel. I love her to death for being such a concerned friend. “I don’t know yet, but thanks for offering. I’ll be in touch, I guess.” I look at her, feeling her pity settle heavily on my shoulders. Pity for both me and my mom. I can tell she doesn’t know what to do or say either. I leave hastily, frantic to get to San Jose to see Mom. When you think of cancer, as a healthy person, you imagine

the worst, but in a positive way. You see pink, the only color I think of when someone brings up cancer. You see the victorious stories of survivors in magazines, the cancer research fundraising that is everywhere. You see walks and rallies, and ribbons on cars. You think there might be a chance of ending this disease once and for all, of fighting it and living. When cancer touches your life, you don’t really see how it can get better. It’s all mysterious and confusing, medical jargon and killing treatments. You’re underwater, fighting for breath with people telling you it will be fine, you can do it, when all you think is that you’re dying. And I don’t even have the cancer. I can’t drive fast enough to get to my mom, anxiety riding my heels, ready to devour me. I can’t lose her. I just can’t. I know children are supposed to outlive their parents, but I imagined she would live to a ripe old age and see more of my life. Maybe see me get married, start a family, see more of the world like she’s always wanted. Even I, with my limited knowledge of cancer, know a stage four diagnosis has a very low success rate for treatments. My mom is going to die. Tears blur my vision, making it hard to see. I quickly wipe my eyes and focus on the road, knowing I will have to pull over if I keep crying, and that will take me longer to get to her. Pulling up to my mom’s apartment, I grab my bag and race inside. I nearly knock her over when I barrel through the door and find her waiting for me in the small entryway. “Oh, Mom—” I pull her to me for a crushing hug, holding

on tight as we both dissolve into tears. “I just can’t believe it, Bliss, I just can’t.” Her thick voice moves my hair as she speaks, her arms possessing a strength that cancer hasn’t stolen from her. Yet. Maybe it’s not as bad as we’re thinking. Wouldn’t she be wasting away already, if it was so bad? She pushes away from me so she can take me in. We’re both a sight; our matching clear blue eyes are red and swollen, our oval faces tear-stained. Growing up, people told me so often how much I looked like my mom that I sort of hated to hear it. Right now all I want is to go back and thank each of those people for their compliment, because my mother is beautiful, strong, and amazing. Whenever Mom heard the comparisons, she would always say she made me herself. It seemed plausible when I was little, as I have never met my dad. “You dyed your hair pink. When did you do that? I like it.” I laugh, because it is so like my mom to notice and comment on my hair at a time she should be worried about what’s going on in her life. She’s been a hairstylist for twenty-five years. I grew up coloring in My Little Pony books in the break room of the salon she worked at while she colored hair out front. When I was old enough, I would sweep up hair for her, and then in middle school I started shampooing her clients and assisting her after school. I always knew I wanted to be just like her when I grew up, because making people beautiful made more than a difference on the outside; it also helped to restore them inside. I chose to go through a cosmetology program while

still in high school, spending half of my days for two years learning how to cut and color hair. I continued in my mom’s footsteps after I got my license by working at a salon. Instead of staying in San Jose, I moved up to San Francisco to work at The Vaughn Group salon in an assistant position while taking makeup classes. After a year working my tail off assisting other stylists, I realized I needed something else entirely to fulfill me. I began taking on-location jobs through The Vaughn Group, which gave me a new direction to do what I love—make people pretty—and that’s when I saw that I could do hair and makeup as a living instead of working behind the chair. That little dream grew until a salon that allowed me out only once in a while couldn’t contain it. I wanted the freedom of only working events and weddings that the salon just couldn’t give me. Now, thanks in part to Mom’s lifelong inspiration and dedication to what she loves, I am making my dreams come true. “Just recently. I’m glad you like it.” We head to her couch and sit. Now that I am with her, I have no clue what to say, or how to comfort her. My mom has cancer. She’s going to

die. “Blissy, don’t look so sad. I hate it when you’re sad.” Mom pushes the hair off my face and behind my ear, the corners of her eyes creased and her eyebrows drawn together. “Mom, how can you even think about me? I’m sad because I don't want you to be sick. I wish there was something I could do.”

“You’re doing it. All I want is to spend more time with you, while I have it.” “Oh, jeez, Mom.” I drop my head into my hands, fresh tears coursing down my face. The weight of her diagnosis has my heart in a vice-like grip. She puts her arm around me and pets my hair until I manage to stop my sniffles, wiping the tears away with the back of my hand. I shouldn’t be breaking down like this. I need to be strong for her, and here she is comforting me. “What did the oncologist say? Do you have a prognosis?” “Well, I know its stage four, so it doesn’t look good. I’m meeting with a specialist tomorrow to go over my treatment options, will you come with me?” “Yes, of course I will. I’m yours all day. I just have to get back to the city sometime tomorrow night because I have a job booked Tuesday morning.” “Did you finally quit The Vaughn Group?” She astutely gauges my answer, always one step ahead as she hands me a tissue to wipe my face. Thankfully, I had taken off my makeup before coming down here, so there is nothing to ruin with my tears. “Yeah, about a week ago. It’s kind of scary being on my own.” Mom looks at me with pride, a smile softly stretching her gently lined face. “I am so proud of you, Bliss. You have always been good at doing exactly what you need to. You were so brave to move up to San Francisco to pursue your

dreams, and now to step away from the salon atmosphere to change the course you are on. You outgrew that place ages ago, and you have all the potential in the world to make it on your own just fine. I see big things for you, baby.” Her eyes are all unguarded honesty and love, breaking me inside with her faith in me. I lean my head back on the couch and blink back tears. My mom has always been my biggest champion, seeing big things even when it was just making friends at school or trying out for a sports team. Mom lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. “It’s gonna be alright, Bliss. Like our song.” She begins to hum Songbird by Fleetwood Mac. She has been singing it to me since I was a baby. Her raspy voice always lent a grittier edge to the song, but the words were both soothing and encouraging. Soon, her humming turns into coughing that continues until she is nearly gagging. She reaches for a box of tissue on the coffee table, covering her mouth until her fit subsides. While she tries to hide it, the bloody tissue she crumples up and stuffs next to her does not escape my notice.

Oh, mom… We spend our afternoon on the couch, watching silly 80’s movies on Netflix and talking about our lives. Mom reminisces about growing up in the 70’s and 80’s. She tells me that hair was “real” back then.

The hair was real big, anyway. Mostly we just enjoy each other’s company, a rarity with

our schedules and me being just far enough away to make a quick trip difficult. She has frequent coughing fits that nearly always end with a bloody tissue. I get up to bring her a trash can so she can dispose of the evidence of her sickness. She looks at me sheepishly, but I also see the fear in her eyes. I know the appointment with her specialist will bring a new light to this whole situation. Right now, I am fighting just to feel hopeful. There’s got to be another option, experimental treatments, anything to extend her life. I can’t lose my mom.

Chapter Seven The oncology waiting room is bright and cheery, probably because cancer is a black, horrible disease that eats cheer for breakfast before spitting the bones in your Cocoa Puffs. We have to wait a short while before the nurse calls us back to the doctor’s office. The doctor is a petite lady of indeterminate age, with gorgeous almond shaped eyes that twinkle. Yes, twinkle. She could very well be an elf with a doctorate of medicine. “Hello, Ms. Kaufman, I’m Dr. Ong.” “Please, call me Lisa. This is my daughter, Bliss.” We shake hands and sit down on a low taupe couch as Dr. Ong takes a white chair across from us. I take Mom’s hand, squeezing in reassurance. We’re in this together. She’s

going to be fine. “I’m glad you have someone with you, Lisa. Fighting cancer is rough, but even more so on your own.” Mom nods. “I’m lucky to have Bliss.” “I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass, Lisa, or tell you this will be easy. Stage four lung cancer is a bitch.” I stifle a laugh as the tiny elf lady surprises us with her choice of speech. I guess laughing inappropriately is better than crying. I like her, and I am glad she’s my mother’s doctor.

“We’re going to jump right in and go over your options. Now, this won’t be easy to hear, but I want you to keep an optimistic attitude, as we have some options for dealing with a case like yours. You’ve already had a bronchoscopy and lung biopsies, as well as other tests that determined your diagnosis.” She gets out of her chair to put up a couple of chest X-rays on a light board across from us. “Our tests proved that you have non-small cell lung cancer. I’m going to call it NSCLC to save time. Unfortunately, it has spread throughout both sides of your lungs, as well as into lymph nodes in your chest.” She circles dark spots in both lungs with her finger. “Those are the primary and metastatic tumors in your lungs, but they’re not the only ones.” She points to several other small dark spots. “We don’t know without doing more biopsies, but we can be almost certain that there is distant lymph node metastasis, meaning the cancer has spread to your neck,” she points at the throat section of the x-ray where we see shadowing, “and most likely into your brain, as is common for many cases of stage four NSCLC. You could also have tumors in your liver, bones, and adrenal glands.” I can’t help the tears that are pouring silently down my face. Her body is a raging cancer party, and the tumors are trashing the place. I look quickly at mom, but she is a stoic rock of determination. “Would you like a moment to process this?” Dr. Ong asks kindly. “You can keep going, Dr. Ong. I want to know

everything,” Mom says, while patting my hand. “You can’t fight something without knowing all of its ugly faces.” Dr. Ong smiles at my mom, but there is a look of futility there. Even she doesn’t think Mom will be able to win this fight. “With the widespread nature of your disease, it is very hard to treat. We can operate to remove the tumors from your lungs and brain, taking as many lymph nodes as we can on our way out, but there will be inoperable tumors, like the one near the center of your chest, as well as other sites.” Dr. Ong taps a pen into her palm, her gaze focused inward as she thinks of treatment options. “We could do several rounds of aggressive chemo and radiation, and put you on a few drugs to help control the spread and formation of new tumors. Honestly though, that may only help to prolong your life, and is not to be looked at as a cure. We can do a round of PDT—photodynamic therapy—and place stents to help relieve your symptoms, like constricted airways and the pain associated with the lung tumors. A combination of these options will help make you more comfortable.” “You’re basically telling us that even with all of these options, drugs, and pumping poison into her body, she’s still not expected to make a full recovery or enter remission?” I force the words out slowly, trying desperately to pump the brakes on the rising hysteria that threatens to leave me rocking in the corner. The sympathy in Dr. Ong’s face is more than I can handle. She fucking pities me for my wishful thinking. She has no clue the desperation I am feeling right now, the rage

that is building, clawing my throat raw, and the enveloping sadness that is paralyzing. “Bliss, your mom has stage four cancer. There is very little we can do to treat and remove everything that is attacking her body. I will do anything in my power to help her fight this, and to make her as comfortable as possible. We can start chemo as soon as you want, double it up with drugs to shrink the tumors, and hit her with targeted radiation to the brain and lungs.” “I don't want anything aggressive. No chemo, or radiation, no medication that will knock me out and destroy my body while trying to manage this cancer.” Dr. Ong and I both whip our heads toward Mom. “What? Why would you refuse treatment?” I ask her, horrified by what she is saying. “Bliss, all that will do is weaken me and force me to be miserable for the next few months, right Dr. Ong?” The doctor gives Mom a slight nod of affirmation, but the sad look on her face says she’s not entirely happy about it. “I don’t want to be stuck in a bed, puking my guts out. I don't want to fry my insides with radiation. I don’t want to lose my hair, or hate my life so much from the treatments that I wished for death. I want to live, baby.” Mom looks at me, taking my hands in hers. “I want to see places I’ve never been to. I want to spend time with you. I want to go skydiving or bungee jumping or something equally as crazy. I don’t want treatments to ruin what time I have left, if I have already been given an expiration date.”

“You should still consider medication to relieve your current symptoms. There are options that aren’t as aggressive as chemo or radiation,” Dr. Ong tells us. “We could get you into a clinical trial for new medications that have been showing promising results.” “Mom, you have to at least consider what she’s saying. You can’t just go on like this, coughing up blood, growing short of breath when you walk short distances, and getting dizzy when you stand up too quickly. I know you have tried to hide it, but I can tell this is hurting you. If there is something that can help control all of that, keep you comfortable, you have to do it.” “Sweetie, I’m not saying no. I just want to know exactly what these medicines would do. And how much they cost.” She looks down quickly, before addressing Dr. Ong. “I pay for my insurance out of pocket, and it isn’t very good. I’m afraid it won’t cover the cost of my treatments.” “You will have to check with your insurance company to get those details. I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer upfront for you. There is a promising clinical trial available to you, should you meet the eligibility requirements, and it would be covered by insurance and the research costs, rather than out of pocket. You would continue to need to meet your co-pay for doctor visits, and I am sure you have a deductible that will need to be met during treatment, but we can make this work for us.” Dr. Ong opens a desk drawer and removes a few pamphlets to start a folder with information for us. As Dr. Ong explains different facets of typical and

experimental treatments for NSCLC, I am washed in information overload. I really, truly was hoping this appointment would lead to a prognosis that was scary, but positive. Something along the lines of “you’ve got a shitty hand, but we can play it so you win, and beat this.” Mom refusing aggressive treatments that could improve, but not eradicate her cancer, is disheartening. I would be remiss in saying I don’t understand where she is coming from, because I get it. I just don’t like it. My brain is screaming for her to adopt the strongest plan of action she can. Ride into battle with her chemo sword and radiation shield, slay cancer dragons with experimental drugs like a holy shaman. My heart hurts as much as my head when we finally leave Dr. Ong’s office an hour later. Mom now carries an air of determination and purpose that she was lacking this morning. “Let’s grab lunch in Los Gatos. I want to get a cake from that bakery we love so much to celebrate.” “Mom, please don’t take this the wrong way, but have you lost your damn mind? What could we possibly be celebrating?” “Life, Blissy! We are celebrating the life I have lived, and what I have left. I will not let anything hold me back from chasing happiness now. Not skipping dessert because I think I need to lose a few pounds, not conventional wisdom that says I need to mope and agonize about death, and definitely not worrying about when this life is going to be over. I will get my affairs in order, and then have the best

time I can with what I have left. I am going to eat dessert every chance I get. I will travel, if I can. I will take up scrapbooking so there is something tangible left of my life. I’m going to do life, baby.” I quickly glance over at her as we drive. She looks determined and at peace with her lot. I wish I could have the same confidence, because this anxiety and worry is eating me inside. “Whatever you want, momma. It’s all about you now.” We eat a rich lunch, and buy her the legendary banana cake from Icing on the Cake in Los Gatos before heading back to her apartment. She happily spends the afternoon telling me more stories, some I have heard before, and others that are new to me. She does not tell me anything about the man who got her pregnant. Leaving my mom to head home to San Francisco has never been harder. I won’t get a chance to see her until next week, but she’s already planning things she wants to do. A trip down the Pacific Coast Highway to see the waterfall at Julia Pfeiffer State Park in Big Sur is her latest idea. She has created a bucket list of sorts, and is adding things she would like us to do together, as well as things she plans to accomplish on her own. I hope she can accomplish everything in time. She has less than a ten percent chance of surviving five years. Dr Ong seems to think she most likely has less than a year, probably six months at best. It’s not enough time. Death never gives you enough time. I think it’s worse to have an estimated time of death than it is to walk through

life unaware that your clock is running out. Hit me with a bus, or snuff me out in my sleep, but don’t give me a freaking countdown.

My mom has less than a year to live.

Chapter Eight “Hey Bliss, how did it go with your mom?” Willa greets me with a hug when I return to the apartment. She’s still dressed for work, her black suit so professional compared to our surroundings. The bunny slippers she wears at home are a comical juxtaposition that is so Willa. She’s a grown woman with a childish side. “Anything we can do, honey?” Emme asks as she and Milleigh come in from the kitchen. It’s nice to see them all home at the same time. Having concerned girlfriends around right now is exactly what I need. “Hey guys. Mom is okay.” I shake my head furiously, angry at myself for my automatic answer. “No, actually, she’s not good. She’s dying. And she refuses to go with aggressive treatments, and may not be able to afford the medication she’s agreed to take to control her symptoms. This sucks, so bad. I can’t do anything for her.” The tears are spilling down my face faster than I can wipe them away. I tell the girls about the visit to Dr. Ong, and Mom’s decision to embrace the time she has left. “We could always crowdfund the money she would need to accomplish her bucket list. Taking to the Internet to raise money is nothing new. I can set it up for you, and create a Facebook page and everything. We could call it ‘Lisa’s

Loving Life project’ or something like that,” Milleigh offers. Her interest and offer touch me, as she and Emme have only met my mom a few times in passing, and don’t know her very well. “That would be awesome, thank you so much.” “Our company is big on charitable giving, and often puts together teams walking for specific causes and people. I think I could arrange for our next event to be in support of Lisa. There’s got to be a 5k walk for lung cancer we could all do. I hope your mom doesn’t mind becoming the poster child for our new project. When we do things, we go big.” Emme pulls out her laptop and immediately starts compiling a list of ideas and steps for her group to take in support. “These are great ideas. I wish I had thought of them myself, or at least had something to offer that I could do. I feel so helpless.” “Actually, there is something you could do that is totally your area of expertise.” Willa walks over to the cork board we keep in the kitchen with our schedules and anything we are working on that we want the other roommates to know about. She grabs a flyer for a fashion show I worked recently, and taps on it. “How about you put together a show that raises awareness and funds for your mom’s treatment? You have to know a ton of designers and models who could donate their time or garments for you. I am sure you could even get an event space donated by one of the venues you have worked with over the years.”

“Willa, I could kiss you. You are an absolute genius. That’s such a great idea, I can definitely organize something like that.” My mind is already working, busily organizing exactly what I’ll need to do. It’s a lot of work, but it’s something that will give me purpose instead of letting me float in my helplessness. “Do you think an auction would work with the show? Maybe auction off the dresses, or a date with the models or something?” I laugh, but start thinking more seriously about that idea. “Auctioning off dates with women is pretty old-school, and might be a little degrading if a particular girl doesn’t get as much for her time. The dress idea is promising,” Emme says. “You’re right, that’s weird. I’ll ask the designers if they would be able to donate the dresses for an auction though, and let them be modeled for the show.” I grab my phone to send out some emails and texts to everyone I know who could help. Over the course of the evening, positive replies roll in from all over the city. Finch insists on spearheading the whole thing for me, which is a huge relief. He knows way more people and has even better resources than I do. The fact that he cares so much, along with all of these other people who have readily volunteered their time and help, is amazing. My phone alerts me to a new text, so I open it to check, hoping it’s from a venue I would really like to use.

Unknown: You pulled quite the disappearing act on me last weekend. While I was planning on humbly accepting my defeat, I just can’t stop thinking about you. Meet me

again? I squint as I read the text. It throws me for a loop, having been so focused on dealing with my mom and now this show.

Me: Who is this? Unknown: Ouch. I guess you run off on all sorts of dates. It’s Talan, from Villa Sonoma Winery. You know, sharp and mysterious. Oh my god. It can’t be him. My heart beats quicker, a new feeling of interest bubbling up inside me. I quickly rein in my excitement, not sure yet if it’s good he wants to see me.

Me: How did you get my number? And I still haven’t decided if you are actually sharp or mysterious. Although discovering my number is a little suspect. Talan: You’ll have to go out with me again to get your answer. I have an event in the city tomorrow night. Come with me. Me: Do I have to pour wine? I’m not very good with that. Talan: I’d never make you pour wine. You’ll be my guest. Me: I don’t think I can make it. Nothing to wear & all. Talan: If you happen to find something, meet me at 8PM. Talan texts me the address. He sure is confident that I’ll show up. I laugh at his self-assured nature. It’s a nice change from the tears that have swollen my eyes the last two days.

“What are you smiling at over there?” Willa asks when I put my phone down. “That’s not a smile for booking a venue.” “It’s nothing. Just a guy.” “You evasive slut. That can’t be Tech Bro Dillon, he never makes you smile like that. It has to be someone new. Fess up.” I bury my face in my hands as I laugh nervously. Her face transforms from teasing to shocked as I detail my amazing night with Talan. “This was last week and you didn’t even mention it? How the heck did he get your number? You didn’t give it to him, right? Is he some super stalker?” I mull over her questions for a second, looking for the only answer that seems acceptable. I quickly search my call log and get the answer I was looking for. Sunday morning he called his phone from mine when he sent that text to Willa. It’s the simplest answer, and yet I didn’t see it at first. I show her and explain that it wasn’t me who told her I had stayed in Sonoma overnight. “I’m mortified, Willa. I was totally a selfish lover and snuck out without saying goodbye because I didn’t think I would see him again. Now this, over a week later?” “Sneaky bastard. But I like it. You gave him a taste of Bliss and he can’t get enough.” She laughs loudly at her own joke, snorting before she can control herself. I can’t help but laugh, too. I obviously did something right to get him to continue thinking of me even after I left him without so much as a “Hope to see you again.”

“You might as well just go with it. He’s been thinking about you for a week. He’s even willing to overlook you running out on him after your slut-tacular evening, so that qualifies a keeper in my book.” “Stop calling me a slut. I didn’t even have sex with him.” I narrow my eyes at her until she reluctantly nods. “I might go out with him again, but I really don’t want this to turn into a thing, you know?” “No, I absolutely do not know. Why wouldn’t you want a thing with this guy who explodes your panties?” She makes an x with her hands and bangs her arms toward her crotch. I giggle at her crude gesture. “I think I have a few too many things in my life that take precedence over an all-consuming new relationship. I need to focus on booking jobs so I can pay my bills, and my mom needs all of the spare time I can give her. It would be selfish to start something with Talan when she’s suffering.” Willa regards me for a moment, her hand perched on her hip, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She shakes her head in disagreement. “That’s bullshit, Bliss. I bet if I called your mom right now and asked her if she thought it was a good idea for you to be dating, and making sure she knew it would take up some of your time, she would be supportive of it. You are afraid of finding any sort of happiness because it would mean you have something to look forward to after your mom is gone.” “That’s messed up, Willa.” I keep my eyes focused on my fingers that are picking at the loose threads on the throw pillow I am holding. I can’t look at her.

“No, that’s calling you out on self-sabotage. Stop fighting anything that doesn’t fit your exact plan. Sometimes you have to embrace the good with the bad, and you don't always get to pick how it comes into your life. I’m not saying this Talan guy is going to be anything more than a one date thing, but at least be open to letting it happen. You even gave Tech Bro Dillon more than that. Your mom would never forgive you for halting your life so you could support the end of hers. She’s all about living to the fullest right now. She would be so disappointed if she knew you were doing the opposite.” I don’t like where Willa is going with this. Frustrated tears sting my eyes as I grapple with the implications she has brought up. I’m just trying to do my best to make Mom’s life better right now, and stay afloat financially while working through it. It doesn’t make any sense to let Talan think that I have more time for him than I am willing to give. Willa’s threat that my mom would be disappointed with me hurts the most.

Chapter Nine I arrive early for my corporate job, wondering if I will find someone sent by The Vaughan Group. Thankfully, when I confirm with my contact, they let me know I was the only artist hired. Relieved, I manage to make it through my corporate gig feeling a little better about this freelancing thing. I powder sweaty faces and shiny heads so the VP, CFO, and CEO of the company can get through a company-wide video call. Once the call is over, I prepare them for a few headshots. This isn’t the most fun work I can find, but it pays well. When you are limited on the amount of work you have, everything counts. I am in the financial district around lunch time when I finish. I dread having to drive through the city in midday traffic to get home. However bad traffic may be, the slow drive gives me ample time to consider where I am at with life. My mom is dying. Unlike some people who die from unseen illnesses, she’s outwardly sick. Even if I wanted to, I can’t ignore that she has a live grenade in her chest. My business is slow, but steady, affording me just enough of an income to cover my expenses, but it will have to grow before it makes life comfortable. I have friends who are supportive and helpful. Emme and

Milleigh came through on their promise to set up a Facebook page and start a crowdfunding account for my mom. They have already reached out to a bunch of people, thanks to their extensive networks, and donations have begun to trickle in. I think it’s amazing that perfect strangers would read my mother’s story and want to donate to help make the next six months or so of her life special. People really can have good hearts. I was able to get a hold of most of the vendors I needed for the fashion show, but I am still waiting on a few key players. The venue I had in mind was, by some miracle of divine intervention, available and happy to allow me to use the space as long as I blast their name everywhere. Finch was able to ask a few designers he’s shot with to donate pieces for the auction. He also managed to book all of the models for me. It seems like things might actually fall into place within the next few days to make this a reality. An unexpected phone call from The Vaughn Group startles me while I sit in gridlock. I am hesitant to answer, but think it might be Heidi wanting to confirm my address or some other last minute thing for my final paycheck. “Hello?” I answer cautiously. “Bliss, it’s Louisa.” Dread fills my heart. There’s nothing I want more than to avoid Louisa at all costs, and here she is, calling me. “Hi Louisa, what’s going on?” “I heard through the grapevine that you are organizing some fundraiser fashion show to support lung cancer. As you may know, I lost a cousin to cancer a few years ago,

and as much as I would prefer not to work with you, I would like to extend my help.” This just shows me how involved Louisa is in the industry if she has already heard about my show. Although, it is unlike Louisa to reach out to someone she so clearly hates, if she has lost a loved one to the ugliness of cancer, I could see why she would want to help even me. “Wow, Louisa, thank you for your offer. I guess I could use help raising awareness for the show, and getting people to attend. Could you possibly reach out to your network and encourage attendees?” “Of course, Bliss. Email over all of the details and I will get Heidi right on that. I may have had a bad reaction to you leaving, but I can put our differences aside to help make this happen.” “Thank you again, I really appreciate you reaching out, and for your help. It means so much to me. What do you need from me?” “Why don’t you write something up and I’ll send it out with a few notes. I think that should be adequate. Now best of luck, Bliss. Goodbye.” Wow. I never would have imagined Louisa would come out of the woodwork offering anything other than criticism and challenges. I’m not sure I can trust her, but I will take any help I can get to make this fundraiser successful. Despite the unusual phone call, I am feeling particularly happy with the state of things when I get home. I guess that is why, when I see the package at the mailboxes waiting for me, I’m not surprised.

Talan has sent over a dress for me to wear. Not just any dress, but a beautiful and probably very expensive dress. A bartender shouldn’t be able to afford a dress like this. I have half a mind to show up at this event tonight in ripped jeans and hand this package back to him before I turn around and leave. But it’s so sparkly, and gold. It’s perfectly low in the front while still being modestly cut through the shoulders to not look skanky. Damn it, I love this dress. It seems I have a soft spot for pretty dresses that I can’t afford. This weakness makes me do things I otherwise wouldn’t. The card is the kicker.

A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl. Now all you have to do is show up. -Talan It’s almost infuriatingly smooth.

Chapter Ten I scan the hallway as I leave my room and head for the door. I’m hoping to avoid seeing my roommates, so I cautiously sneak a look back to make sure Willa hasn’t heard me from her room. A wolf whistle from the living room causes me to jump and turn back around. Willa is blocking the way to the door. “Awfully dressed up, Bliss. Where are you off to?” The knowing smile on her face is full of vindication. “Shut up. I just wanted a chance to wear this dress.” “And where did that beauty come from? I know that has got to cost your share of the rent, and you wouldn’t be that irresponsible. Cute bag,” she says, taking my clutch and turning it over in her hands and inspecting the contents as she walks to the bathroom. “Talan sent it.” Impatience strains my voice as I speak through gritted teeth, following her to make sure I get my bag back. “Oh, are you seeing Talan tonight?” “Yes.” “You know, you can be happy about that, Bliss. You don't have to be miserable about seeing a hot guy who happens to have sent you a gorgeous dress.” She closes the door to the bathroom, but I know she’s waiting for my answer. I lean

my back against the wall opposite the door and roll my eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything. I’m just going out.” I kick the wall with the heel of my shoe and hope she gives my clutch back soon. “Mmm hmm. Have fun. Should I expect to hear some bumping and grinding coming from your room tonight? I’ll wear earplugs just in case.” She opens the bathroom door and leans out, looking at me with the biggest grin on her face. My face grows hot with embarrassment. “That happened one time! You can’t hold that over me every time I’m going out with a guy. We had just moved in; I didn’t know the walls were that thin.” I explain once again how I could have made the mistake of bringing a guy home and gotten a little loud. It was one of the most mortifying moments of my life to have all three of my roommates do a slow clap as the guy left the next morning. “Oh, well then, by all means, just make sure you use protection wherever you decide to bump uglies tonight if it won’t be here.” Willa grins wickedly as she stuffs a handful of foil wrapped condoms into my clutch before I can rip it out of her hand and storm out of the apartment. “Don’t be selfish this time, share the love,” she calls after me, laughing hysterically. I don’t know why Willa insists on tormenting me, but if I ever get any fodder to use against her, she better be ready. I arrive at the address Talan sent me a quarter after eight because parking was a pain. I head up the stairs to a

converted warehouse brilliantly lit and full of people. I have no clue what this event is, or what it’s for, but I can see that, thanks to Talan, I am dressed appropriately. Hundreds of well-dressed men and women clad in sparkly dresses mill around. They are sipping wine and moving through the room with ease. Scanning the room, I don’t see Talan, so I unclasp my clutch to grab my phone to text him. “That dress looks better on you than I imagined.” I yelp, jumping involuntarily and drop my clutch thanks to Talan’s sexy voice appearing so close behind me. My clutch spills open, sending my belongings spinning in all directions. Along with the handful of condoms Willa so thoughtfully sent me off with. Mortification is my new name. Flustered, I drop to my knees, hot with humiliation as a few people turn to see what the fuss is about behind them. Their laughter has me fumbling with the condoms, dropping them before I can get them hidden. Talan kneels down next to me, grabbing my phone and a few foil squares to hand back to me as I quickly stuff my keys, a lipstick, and yet more condoms into my tiny bag. I hate Willa right now. “Someone’s prepared.” Talan’s smoky chuckle sends shivers down my spine that war with my humiliation. I feel the hot bite of tears pricking my eyes and swelling my throat as I stand. I spin on my heel and head for the door, intent on escaping with what is left of my dignity. “Hey, Bliss stop. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Talan catches my arm before I can run out the door. He spins me

toward him and holds me in place. I struggle but his grip on my arms is more than I can fight. I sag against him when he pulls me into his chest and hide my red-hot face in the safe alcove of his neck. He softly rubs my back. I raggedly inhale a steadying breath. I hate that he smells amazing. “I didn’t bring them. My stupid roommate put them in my bag as a joke,” I mumble into his shirt collar. “Your stupid roommate is a godsend. I wish she were my friend and I had all of those a few weekends ago.” “What?” I pull away from his neck and look into his face, just inches from mine. He hasn’t become less attractive with time. “Do you really think I would have restrained myself had I had even one condom? No. I would have been so wrapped up in you, you wouldn’t have had a chance to leave without saying goodbye.” “I thought you were being a gentleman.” “Oh Bliss, I’m no gentleman.” Talan tips my chin up to look in my eyes. The predatory heat in his gaze has my humiliation melting into pure lust. He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, eyeing my mouth with desire. “Now, come back inside with me.” Without waiting for my answer, he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me inside. I look around quickly, checking to see if anyone is staring in recognition. It seems the few people who witnessed my foible have forgotten about it. Tension eases out of my neck as I relax my shoulders slightly. I’m still on edge, but it’s better not to be on my hands and knees in the middle of a party picking

up rubbers. “What is this event for?” I gesture around at the mingling crowd, truly not sure why everyone is gathered here. “It’s to celebrate the grand opening of the Villa Sonoma tasting room here in the city. We finally opened this week, and it looks like people are happy about it. The shop is at the front of this building, on street level.” Talan takes a glass of wine off a tray of a passing waiter. “This should be a chardonnay; I think you will like it.” I gratefully take the glass of wine from Talan as a guest arrives to shake his hand. He turns slightly away from me, but keeps his hand on my waist. The party is loud enough that I am not able to hear their conversation, so I gaze around, slowly sipping my wine and people watching. There’s a small band set up in the corner playing instrumental versions of popular music. I like that they have a stand-up bass and a banjo among the instruments they are using, lending a folk influence to their covers. Actually, as I look around, I realize this would make an amazing venue for my fundraiser. The warehouse is rustic and industrial, with modern finishes that provide a sophistication that might encourage donations. There is plenty of room for a floor runway and seating for the fashion show, and enough room around the building for mingling afterward. “Do you happen to know who the manager of this event space is? I’d like to see if they would be willing to donate an evening for a fundraiser I am putting together,” I ask Talan when he finishes his conversation.

“I do, and I could ask for you. What date are you thinking?” I bite my lip and wrinkle my nose up as I smile guiltily. “It’s this Friday. I’ve already lined up models, photographers, designers, and rentals for that day, so it would be key to get the space on that exact date. I mean, if it doesn't work out, I already have a space booked, but this would be so much better.” “That’s pretty quick, but I’ll see what I can do. What’s your fundraiser for?” Talan sips his wine, appraising me with a new interest. “My mom.” I manage to catch my voice as it starts to break and clear my throat. “She has stage four lung cancer. I found out this weekend.” “I’m so sorry, that’s horrible. I’ll make sure you get your space for the fundraiser. I can also get the winery to donate wine if you want it.” “You would do that for me? It’s too much just to get you to find the right people to ask about the space. I don’t want to put too much pressure on you for anything else.” Talan smiles. “It’s not a problem at all, I’m happy to do it. I have my hand in a lot of things. If you need something, chances are I can help you out.” “You’re a really good friend to have made, Talan. I really appreciate your help.” Talan draws his bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth before letting it pop out. “I might have ulterior motives, if you only think of me as a friend.” A lust-filled look crosses his face as he draws his finger along the neckline of my dress.

My lips part as the soft touch stirs my craving for something other than wine. “Now, let me introduce you around a bit. I’m sure there are many curious guests wondering about the hot blonde with me. I wouldn’t want to deny them the pleasure of meeting you.” His ease in exciting me only to delay whatever gratification he has in mind ruffles me. Talan whisks me around the party, and introduces me to all manner of people. He never lets my hand go, and drags his thumb across my skin often. Talan makes it difficult to focus on anything other than his warm grip on my hand or my waist, and the closeness of him. I do my best to try to remember names and occupations, while making a good impression. You never know when that information will come in handy. Networking at its finest. The band moves into a rendition of the Avett Brothers Living of Love, and I can’t help gravitating toward their corner. I close my eyes and enjoy the soft song. Strong hands rest lightly on my hips, but before I can turn, I smell Talan. I lean back against his chest, my wine buzz making me content and finally tension free. This moment is the most relaxed I have been in days. Talan is good at clearing my mind of anything but him. I enjoy the respite, knowing life will surely invade again soon. Talan brushes his lips across my cheek, rocking me side to side softly. “Do you want the band for your fundraiser also?” I open my eyes and turn slightly to see if he is joking. His

open and serious gaze tells me he’s not. “Sure Talan, why don't you just recreate this entire evening for me. It can’t be that hard.” I laugh and shake my head at the notion. There is no way I could get all of this recreated for free. Thousands of dollars were obviously spent on this event, and I have zip to put toward my own. “If I can get all of this for you for this Friday, will you agree to go out with me again?” “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want. You just have to make this entire thing happen again. And bring the rich guests; my mom needs to pay for her treatments and fund her bucket list before she dies.” The humor in my voice extinguishes with the icy reality I have unwittingly poured on it. I clutch my stomach, feeling the physical pain of my heart breaking. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.” I blink back the tears that have sprung to my eyes and threaten to spill over. “I should go. This is me once again embarrassing myself. I seem to be making a habit of it around you.” “Bliss, baby, don’t go yet. The party is winding down, we can leave together in just a bit.” Talan uses the pads of his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from my eyes. I laugh wetly. “You pat, not wipe.” He pauses his action and looks at me in confusion. “To keep makeup in place when you cry. You dab and pat tears off, not wipe, which messes up your makeup. It’s a handy trick I tell my bridal clients after they get their makeup done.” Talan nods and once again places his thumbs on my cheeks, but this time he lightly dabs my eyes for me. I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me with how serious he takes this task.

“I think I saved your makeup, and you stopped crying, so I win. I need to be rewarded or I might forget that trick.” “What do you wa—” Talan cuts my question off when he leans in and steals a sensual kiss that leaves me breathless. I blink at him stupidly when he pulls away, his eyes still riveted on my lips. “I want more of that. Now, and later on.” He looks around quickly, but returns his gaze to my face. “Fuck the party, we are leaving right now.” He takes my hand and begins to lead me toward the door. He’s a freight train on a mission as he plows his way through the lingering crowd of people. I follow along without complaint, not sure I want to stop it even if I knew how. Before we make it to the door, a guest steps in front of him. A petite and curvy brunette in a tight, black leather dress is effectively cutting off our escape like a brick wall. She’s pretty much my exact opposite visually. I immediately dislike her for no reason other than the proprietary look she gives Talan and how it instantly makes me feel jealous. “Talan, you are needed to help with something out back. It is business related.” Her voice lilts lightly with a MiddleEastern accent as she eyes his grip on my hand. I want to shrink into the floor as her gaze rakes over me from my pink tipped hair to my not even close to designer sandals. The only thing I have going for me next to her is the beautiful dress Talan sent me. And the fact that he’s holding my hand. “I’m busy, Nassim. Can you get Peyton to take care of whatever it is?” He looks to either side of Nassim, his

answer strained and clipped. “No, I can’t. You are needed,” she states simply. She stares icicles at us, and waits for him to follow her wherever it is she would like him to go. I get the feeling this is more personal than businessrelated, but who am I to stop Talan from working. Before Talan can dismiss me, I take action. “Go, I’ll be fine. I should be getting home anyway. Long day ahead.” I make up any excuse to sound like I’m okay with being brushed off for a business matter. The break in our escape gave me the time that I needed to think clearly. It’s better if I don’t leave with him, anyway. Nothing good would come of it. Other than what I would assume would be some pretty mind-blowing sex. Talan turns to me and places his hands on my cheeks. “I am so sorry. We will finish this later. I wish I didn’t have to go, but I have a feeling this will take awhile. Get home safely.” He kisses me softly before he lets me go to follow Nassim. I catch her smug look before she turns away, and they’re swallowed up by the crowd. I find I really hate her, even if she did unwittingly help me think things through.

Chapter Eleven I’m cagey and full of nervous energy when I wake up the next day. I venture out for a run through Golden Gate Park, and while it takes the edge off, I feel like I’m missing a piece of the puzzle surrounding Talan. There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on about him. How could a bartender send me that beautiful dress? Why did Nassim need him last night, if he wasn’t working the event? He hasn’t shared much personal information with me, or I haven’t asked. All I have to go on are my assumptions and hunches, which are not promising for revealing who a person truly is. My run doesn’t illuminate any new theories for what I am missing about Talan, but it gives me time to plan for my mom’s fundraiser. I get home and make short work of some details that had been in need of decisions, and then I check in with Mom. “There’s my favorite daughter. It’s early. Did you have a job this morning?” My mom’s familiar greeting when I call is a welcoming balm to my raw nerves. “I better be your favorite daughter, I’m the only one you have.” I pretend mock outrage while I smile. “No job today. I don’t have anything scheduled until the weekend. I was just up early.” “My Bliss, up early without a reason to be? This is new.

You have never been an early riser; forever my night owl with fear of missing out. What’s wrong, baby?” Mother’s intuition is a double-edged sword sometimes. You can’t hide when you really want to. “It’s nothing. I want to know how you are.” “Don’t bullshit your mother, Bliss. I hear it in your voice. I can practically feel it. Tell me what’s bothering you.” I sigh softly and know there is no way around it. I tell her the very PG version of meeting Talan in Sonoma, and how I finally saw him again last night. Mom is quiet for a minute. “Why don’t you want to like this man, Bliss?” Oh, hell. She can’t just focus on another aspect of the story, she has to hone in on the root of my problem so astutely. “I don’t have time for a guy like Talan. He is an allconsuming force. When I’m around him, he’s all I can think about. Even when he isn’t around, I’ve had trouble focusing on anything else. I don’t need that kind of distraction in my life right now. I need to focus.” “What is so important that you can’t give in to a little romance? Love makes the world go round, Blissy. It makes life worth living.” “I need to focus on booking more jobs so I can pay my rent on time. When I’m not working, I need to make it down to see you more often. Those are my highest priorities right now. Nothing should get in the way of making them happen, including distracting guys who smell really good.” Mom laughs raspily, which ends in her coughing for an extended time. I cringe and know she’s wiping blood from

her mouth. “Sorry about that, love. Now, this Talan man smells good? That’s a good sign. Did you know everyone has pheromones that smell particularly good when they are a good genetic match?” “That can’t be true, where did you hear that?” “Oh, I read it somewhere maybe. Your dad was like that for me, though. He smelled so dang good, even when he wasn’t wearing any cologne. I used to rub my nose along his neck, sniffing greedily, trying to memorize that smell. I’m sure I could pick him out of a lineup blindfolded based on that smell memory alone.” I hold my breath, hoping she will continue telling me more about my father. This is the most freely she has spoken about him, ever. When I was little and realized that other little girls had dads, I asked her where mine was. She would always tell me she made me herself, which was good enough when I was three, but quickly needed a more substantial answer, which she always danced around somehow. When she grows silent, I hedge my bets and figure now is as good a time as ever to ask her more. “What else do you remember about him?” “Oh, this and that,” she replies evasively, and I fear she’s about to clam up again, but the surprises continue. “He was tall, that’s where you got your little bit of height from, because it didn’t come from me.” We both laugh, because it’s true. She’s only five foot three, where as I was five foot seven in middle school. “He was blond, too, so it’s no surprise you ended up with that soft mane of pale sunshine.

All the while I was pregnant with you, I prayed and prayed for a blue-eyed, blonde-haired baby girl who would be easy to raise. I was only twenty-three when I had you. I knew I would be raising you on my own, so I was scared I would have this rambunctious and terrible child who would run me ragged. Instead, I got my perfect, beautiful baby girl I wanted so badly.” Mom’s voice has taken on a soft quality as she reminisces. “You were so easy, Bliss. I know I have told you before, but it was so nice having a good kid who listened and entertained herself. I can’t believe how much time you quietly sat at the salon while I worked, never complaining or needing me to entertain you. And this was before iPads and video games that parents are sticking in their kid’s hands as soon as they can hold the things, just to shut them up.” “It was normal for me, Mom. All that time in the salon just felt like a second home. I had at least six other moms always checking on me, making sure I was fed and happy if you were busy. Those ladies helped raise me as much as you did, and I’m thankful for my childhood, even if it was unconventional. I wouldn’t change a thing about it, and I love you so much for all of the sacrifices you had to make for me.” “Oh Blissy, I’m so lucky to have you.” She grows quiet for a moment. “Now, let’s talk more about why you think you can’t fit any romance into your busy schedule. Life is about balance; you need to work hard, play hard, and most importantly, love hard. You are one of the lucky ones who

gets to set your own schedule for work. Being busy every weekend and a few midweek jobs a month is all you need to get by just fine. You have the talent, now let the business come to you.” “That’s part of your ‘work smarter, not harder’ philosophy, isn’t it?” “Always. So you have the business in place, now you have to play and love hard. And I don’t just mean devote your time to visiting your sick momma. Though I appreciate it, I have a life too and I don’t want you down here every damn day getting in the way of it. I would rather I barely see you because you are living your life so fully. So go live, Bliss. Live for you, and live for me.” I cry silently when my mom disconnects. I hate that she is dying and these phone calls will someday come to an end. Despite my mother’s insistence, I am determined more than ever to spend as much time with her as possible. I need it.

Chapter Twelve I’m deep in my one-woman pity party when my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Even though I want to, I can’t deny the soaring hope that fills me when I see it’s from Talan.

Talan: You’re all set for your fundraiser. Space. Band. Wine. People. Anything else you need? Me: What? How did you make that happen so quickly? Talan: I pulled a few strings, called in some favors. Everything is donated to help your mom. I guess you owe me some favors now. Me: Yes, anything! I can’t thank you enough. This means so much to me. Talan: Calling in my first favor. You owe me a date. I’m coming to get you right now. Be ready in 10. I look down at my yoga pants and touch my hair still damp from my earlier shower. Shit.

Me: What are we doing? Do you need my address? I wait for his reply, but after a minute of not hearing back, I scramble for my room, throwing on jeans and slicking on my winged liner. Even if I put on nothing else, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick can make a face. I’ve just pulled on a loose tank top and booties when the downstairs buzzer

sounds. I stop myself from running for the door, slowing to a walk so I don’t sound out of breath or too eager when I hit the intercom. “Yes?” I hope my voice sounds uninterested, when my mad dash to get ready proved I am anything but. “You owe me a favor, Bliss. I think you should come down here and pay up.” Damn, he’s sexy even over a grainy intercom system. I hit the door buzzer and grab my purse off the messy table in the hall before I hit the door. I head down the stairs, rounding the last corner and finally see him. He’s leaning casually against the doorjamb of the main entrance to my building, wearing dark jeans and a gray fitted tee that hugs his chest, while dark sunglasses hide his eyes. “Hey.” My tremulous voice gives away my excitement. Seeing his easy perfection causes me to grow shy. I look down at the worn carpet as I walk closer, not sure why he effects my normal confidence so much. Talan lifts my chin so I look into his face, his sunglasses removed so I can see his captivating eyes, so stoic in their multi-colored beauty. His lashes are seriously every girl’s dream, all thick and black and wasted on a man who has no appreciation for their beauty. I appreciate them fully. “I love the way you look at me, Bliss.” He rubs my cheek softly and places a light kiss on my mouth. I wonder what he sees when I’m looking at him. Just being in his presence a moment makes me want to curl up on his lap like a cat and beg for more. “Now let’s go.” I blink myself out of my Talan haze. “Where exactly are

we going?” “You’ll see. You’ll need this for now.” He hands me a helmet when we get to his black Ducati. “Oh, and this.” He pulls a black leather jacket from the seat. It has beautiful pale pink shoulders and piping along the seams, but otherwise looks just like the one he’s shrugging on. “You brought me a jacket to wear?” I slip my arms inside the crisp leather that instantly molds to my frame. The leather wraps me up in a cocoon of protection, filling my head with the intoxicating scent. This is my first time ever wearing real leather. I could never afford it otherwise. “Safety first, baby. It’s yours. I thought the pink was the perfect touch for you, with your pretty hair.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my jaw for a moment. He likes my hair? Be still my heart. He just won me over with that alone. “Are you for real?” I ask, petting the luxuriously practical jacket. “It’s too much.” I reach for the hair Talan just pushed off my face, twisting it around two fingers. “You need a jacket since you’re going to be riding with me a whole lot. Now put that helmet on.” His air of finality keeps me from arguing. He wants me riding with him. A lot. This guy is just too good to be true. A thread of doubt enters my brain, forcing me to consider if I want to put more into something with Talan. He makes comments that prove he’s already more invested than I am. I’m still not sure, but, for now, just being with him wins over my indecision, because nothing else seems to

matter in the moment. My hands shake as I fit the helmet over my head. He already has his on, with the visor pushed up when he turns to me. His eyes are smiling at me, though he must read the panic in my own. He probably thinks I am just scared to ride with him. If he only knew. “It doesn’t seem safe. There’s only a tiny seat on the back. What if I fall off?” “Just hold on tight, okay? You can put your hands on the tank in front of me when we brake, and lean with me when we turn. You’ll be fine.” The helmet muffles his voice as he adjusts the strap under my chin. “It’s a long drive, but we’ll make good time since it’s early and we’re on the bike.” He closes my visor with a snap, following with his own. He climbs on first, holding his hand out for me to join him. The bike rumbles when he starts it, the vibrations instantly running through my body. I scoot as close to him as I can get, my thighs gripping his hips and my arms wrapped tightly around his waist. There is no way this is safe. I can’t tell if the bike is causing my tremors, or if I am just shaking in fear as he pulls away from the curb. It takes me a few minutes to pull my head away from Talan’s back, where I am glued with my eyes shut tightly. I cautiously open my eyes and watch cars whip by as he expertly navigates through traffic. When he makes it to the Golden Gate Bridge, he finally has the room he needs to take the engine to full throttle. The bike whines as he weaves through lanes, making short work crossing the beautiful San Francisco Bay toward Marin County. Miles

roll out behind us as he heads north, I assume toward Sonoma. I manage to lose some of my fear, and begin to see the perks of traveling in this manner. I’m pressed as close as I can be to Talan’s muscled back, soaring over the road with the wind whipping past us. When Talan pulls into the Sonoma Infineon Raceway, driving out onto the track, curiosity fills me. I’m pretty sure they don't just let anyone do this, so he must know someone. Sure enough, before he can even kill the engine, a car comes driving toward us. It’s low to the ground, shiny black, with large graphics printed on all sides. Talan sets the kickstand and helps me off the bike before he dismounts. When I’ve unbuckled and pulled off my helmet, I see a super hot guy get out of the car and walk toward us with a big smile. I fluff my flattened hair with my fingers, and hope I don’t have lines on my cheeks from being smushed in the helmet for so long. “Bliss, this is Griffin McGregor.” “It’s very nice to meet you, Bliss,” Griffin says, holding out his hand. I take his hand, looking to Talan quickly when he holds it excessively long and rubs circles on the back with his thumb. “How did your nerdy self score this hot piece of ass? She’s too pretty for your ugly mug.” “Don’t be a fucker, Griffin. Let her hand go.” It almost pains me to admit to myself how much I like hearing the possessive note in Talan’s irritated voice. I’m not the kind of girl who gets off on being the property of alpha dickheads, but I can take a little protectiveness every now and then.

Griffin chuckles and drops my hand. “Always worried I’ll steal your girl, yeah bro?” Griffin looks toward me conspiratorially. “You would think he would get over that already. I mean, it was elementary school for crying out loud. But no, my brother is not a forgiving guy, and he certainly doesn’t forget.” “You’re brothers?” I ask, smiling at Talan. Now I can really see the resemblance in their faces and coloring. “Yeah, and I wouldn’t have put you anywhere near him if I didn’t have to. He’s a sneaky asshole, but my only way onto the track during race prep days.” “So what are we doing here, anyway? There probably isn’t much to watch if there’s not an official race going on.” “Sweet Bliss, we’re not watching anything. We’re driving,” Griffin says, rubbing his hands together in glee. “Now get over here. I want to put you in my car and make you scream.” “Hah. That sounds a lot like something Talan said to me the first day I met him, too. You really are brothers.” I slide my hand over Talan’s forearm, petting his ego as much as him. Talan pulls me against him tightly. “Just know you got the better brother right here. He’s a cocky douchebag who is always traveling around the country for races. And I’m better looking.” He teases my mouth with the hint of a kiss and I can’t help reaching my lips toward him for more. He evades me, smiling. “I’m holding onto those kisses until you come back from your ride.” He spins me around, smacking my ass as he sends me unsteadily toward Griffin, who is

leaning against his car casually. “Now Bliss, this beautiful girl over here is Saffira, the twin turbo Toyota Supra. She’s my favorite, and a beast of a drift car.” He rubs the side of the car affectionately. “At 800 horsepower, she’s tuned to drift, but capable of well over a thousand with a few tweaks and on race gas. That’s a fresh set of tires on all four corners, and she has a clean bill of health from the doc to go tear shit up. You ready for this?” I look curiously at Griffin, not sure what anything he just said meant. “Why would I need to be ready to ride in a car? I mean, I just rode on the back of a motorcycle for an hour, this should be a piece of cake.” Griffin tips his head back and laughs loudly. “You hear that, Talan? Now she’s really gonna get it, I’m pulling out all the stops on this one.” “Just be good to my girl, Griff, or I’ll kill you.” I’m busy processing Talan’s comment and only a little nervous as Griffin straps me into the passenger seat with a funny harness that goes over both my shoulders and between my legs. I’m effectively flattened to the seat and incapable of movement when he is done. He grins at me as he revs the engine. He holds his foot on the brake, keeping the car in place while the engine whines higher, smoke billowing around us. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when he peels away from where Talan leans against the Ducati. I grab the chest straps of the harness and hold on tight as Griffin throws the car into a screaming donut that has the wheels smoking again. He rights the car and heads back

toward Talan, clearing the cloud of smoke he made before he starts to circle with the back of the Supra careening around so my window stays close to Talan. I can’t believe Talan is standing there calmly with this insane car making tight circles around him. He manages to blow me a kiss and grin. I mouth “Help me.” Griffin throws his hand out the window in a peace sign before he whips the car back around and heads onto the track itself, marked by orange cones. I quickly learn what the term “drift” means as Griffin hits every. Single. Corner on that track sideways, flinging the car back and forth with a practiced precision. The smoke that billows out the back of the Supra with each turn, while the car stays in his complete control, is a testament to his skills. Griffin pulls the emergency brake and drifts into a sideways slide before stopping with my door mere feet from Talan. Smoke engulfs the car, coating me in the smell of burnt rubber that at once makes me choke and leads to a euphoric sense of happiness that I made it through the ride alive. I’m shaking as my hands fumble to disengage the harness. I’m so relieved when Talan reaches into the open window and quickly unstraps me. He opens my door and helps me step out of the car onto unsteady feet. I practically fall into his arms, incapable of standing on my own, let alone speaking. I bury my face in his chest, my hands fisted in his t-shirt, gulping in the scent of him along with fresh air. I have never in my life been more scared for my physical safety. Cars

are not meant to move sideways like that. “Wh-why’d you make me do that?” I ask, barely lifting my face out of his chest. “You didn’t like it?” Talan asks innocently, instead of answering. I narrow my eyes and study him. My pounding heart and the cold sweat all over my body tells me I’m scared and full of adrenaline, but I have to admit, it was kind of cool to experience. I stick my tongue out at him instead of admitting it was fun. Talan laughs loudly, much like Griffin did when I told him I wasn’t worried about riding with him. These guys. “I thought you liked dangerous and wanted the unexpected, Bliss.” He surprises me when he leans in and presses a hot kiss to my mouth, his tongue slipping greedily between my lips and sliding across mine. He probes my mouth, leaving me breathless and hot all over as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull us closer. I can’t get enough of his mouth, the solid body pressed against mine, his hands that cruise through my hair and down my back. “Get a room, you perverts, this is a public space,” Griffin says loudly from a few feet away. I break away quickly, embarrassed to be called out on my gross PDA. Talan leans in and plants a lingering kiss on my lips, effectively telling me he doesn’t think it’s gross, or care who sees it. Once he’s done reassuring me with his kisses, he wraps me up in his big arms and returns his attention to Griffin.

“Griff, go get the Nissan. I want to drive too.” “Go get it yourself, I’m not your fucking slave,” Griffin responds petulantly. “Seriously, dude.” Talan points at his chest, and then at Griffin. “I can’t just waltz into the bays and take a car out. You can. Now go.” Griffin flips Talan off, but turns and heads toward the service bays near the track, mumbling about Talan always bossing him around. “You guys are too cute. Are you older?” “Yeah, but only by two years. Griff is twenty-four.” Well, now I know Talan is twenty-six. Which reminds me that I know very little about him to begin with. “Have you always lived in Sonoma?” I probably should have asked him about himself before I let us get physical at our picnic. No use worrying about the past now. It’s better to just move on and correct my mistakes. “No, I grew up in Orinda, a small suburb of Berkeley in the East Bay. I got a place in Sonoma when I started at the winery a few years ago.” I nod, happy to finally be peeling the layers back on the mystery that surrounds Talan. “Did you go to college?” I’m always curious about people’s college experiences, as I skipped that completely in favor of working. “Yeah, I went to Cal Berkeley. I got my degrees in engineering and business.” My head recoils as I appraise him. “Why would you work as a bartender if you have multiple degrees from Berkeley? That’s crazy.” Talan looks a little uncomfortable, and I wonder if I

shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it. A lot of people don’t use their degrees. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come off that way.” “No, it’s just…” Talan rubs the back of his neck and avoids eye contact. “I only bartend once in a while, when I’m needed if someone calls in sick or the tasting room needs coverage.” My pulse speeds and an icy cold hand squeezes my stomach. “What do you do when you’re not needed in the tasting room?” I ask slowly. “Bliss, I run the winery. I own Villa Sonoma,” he says. His eyes watch my face intently, waiting for my reaction. I bristle in fury and step away from him. “Why would you let me believe you were just a bartender? You never once said anything to tell me otherwise.” I’m not so much angry that he kept this information from me, but that he let me go on thinking he was just a bartender. I hate being misinformed. He rubs his face with his hand, looking down before answering. “I thought it was nice to have a beautiful woman interested in me without knowing the full scope of what I do. You’re refreshing, Bliss.” “What the heck does that mean?” The anger is ebbing away as slight embarrassment and confusion jockey for control of my emotions. “Most women just want to use me for my connections, or see me for the money I could pour into a relationship with them. Some are just winos looking for a free wine membership.” He chuckles a little and rubs his hand along

the back of his neck slowly. I feel a little sick thinking about asking him for his help with my fundraiser. I used him, even though I didn’t know where he stood with Villa Sonoma. “You wanted me as just a bartender, not the guy in charge.” Talan pulls me back into his arms. “Do you still want me, Bliss?” “But I’m just like everyone else. I asked you for favors.” My voice is weak and sad, a confirmation that I look down on myself as much as he does the other women he referred to. “No, you asked Talan the bartender if he could look into getting you help. That’s different. You weren’t trying to use me at all. And I’m happy to help.” Talan kisses my forehead and nuzzles my cheek with his nose. “I still want you. Very much.” His low voice and warm breath against my skin eases my apprehension and coaxes my forgiveness. Before I can answer, Griffin screeches to a halt next to us in an electric blue car covered in decals like the Supra. “Hey motherfucker, I brought you a car. Now let that pretty little girl go and get your ass in here so I can spank you all the way around this track.” Griffin’s taunts are loud as he steps out of the idling car and holds his hands out to his sides in competitive invitation. “You want to ride with me this time, or sit it out while we work out a little sibling rivalry?” Talan asks, massaging my shoulders with his big hands. I twist a strand of my hair, looking at the pink mix with the blonde. “I think I’ll just sit this one out. I don’t need a heart

attack today. Go. Be crazy boys.” I push Talan’s chest with my index finger and smile. He catches my hand and plants a kiss on the back of it before he jogs over and slides into the Nissan. Once he is strapped in, he flips Griffin off and floors the engine, gaining a head start toward the track. Griffin quickly catches him. I watch as they battle around each turn, throwing the cars sideways and whipping back around with what looks like only inches between them. The clouds of smoke from the burning tires are way larger than I imagined while inside the car. It lends a feeling of illegality to their not-so-friendly race. At least it’s a closed track, and not some neighborhood street. Talan is barely ahead as they slide into the last corner, but Griffin sneaks the inside corner and ends up ahead by a nose as they straighten out. He takes full advantage of his lead and sprints for the Ducati and me. I freeze in fear of one or both of the cars hitting me as they barrel along. I’m about to cover my face and brace for impact when tires screech and Griffin sails around me in a donut with Talan right behind him. I drop my hands and watch as their coordinated display of aggressive automotive perfection is executed. They both bump to a stop and cut the engines. Griffin leaps from his car whooping. “I schooled you, pussy! If you hadn’t hit the brake like a bitch at that last corner, you might have had a pube hair of a chance at it. Who is the king, the drift king?” “I’m rusty, it’s been a while,” Talan hollers back as he gets out of the car. “Besides, drifting isn’t about who

finishes first—it’s about style, and you’ve got a lot to learn, little brother. But this excessive display of sore winning is why you went into professional racing, and I went to school.” Talan shakes his head at Griffin, still peacocking around his car, slinging insults and proclaiming himself the king. “Sorry, he gets a little worked up when he races,” Talan says to me. “He’ll simmer down here soon. Until then, would you like to drive? It’s way more fun than riding along.” “Oh, no way in hell. I would wreck those cars. I also can’t drive stick very well. I would probably break it.” “Suit yourself. You won’t have very many chances to get on a professional racecourse in a professional drift car. That 350Z is just as badass as the Supra, even though Griffin is partial to his baby.” “Are these his cars?” “Sort of. Griffin drives for a team that has a few cars, but yes, he owns this car and started the build years ago, even if the team pays for it now. They tour the country competing in drift races and contests. He used to race in other circuits like rallycross when he’s wasn’t drifting, but now that he has his Pro license, he has to focus more on the American Drift League.” This is a whole new world for me. I thought there was just NASCAR racing, and here I see there’s way more. “You’re not too bad of a driver yourself. How did you both learn to drift and start racing like that?” “Our dad owned a shop, so cars are in our blood. He built super cars and tuned for max performance. Griff and I both started racing when we were sixteen, but Griffin was

better. Just don’t tell him I said that.” Talan places his finger in front of his lips as he looks toward Griffin. “I prefer motorcycles anyway, but it’s not like I want to race them. I didn’t want to just be a grease monkey in my dad’s shop or a gearhead out on a racecourse, so I headed to college. I actually first considered becoming an engineer because I wanted to help him develop better electrical systems and work on tuning the cars he built. Later, I saw how much more I could do with the degrees, and the desire to work in the shop dwindled.” Talan brushes his short hair off his forehead, gazing over at the bays where Griffin has just parked the Supra. “Is your dad still running the shop, or does he help Griffin with his races?” I hope he’ll continue opening up about himself. I love learning more about him. I should have done this sooner, but my brain seems to take a vacation and my body takes control whenever he’s around. Talan looks over at me, his eyes full of a newly revealed sadness. I don’t like the way it makes me feel to see this raw emotion on him. The thought that I would move mountains to remove it tells me I’m in deeper with him than I am admitting to myself. “My dad died seven years ago, when I was nineteen. My family lost the shop to his business partner because I didn’t want to drop out of school, and Griffin was too young to take over the shop in his place.” My heart pangs for his loss. “Was he in a car accident?” I'm not sure why my brain immediately comes up with this demise. Maybe because of his affiliation with cars.

“No, he had a heart attack. It was sudden and quite unexpected. He had been in decent health. You just never know when you will lose someone.” “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Words. They are stupid words that can’t possibly tell him exactly how sad this makes me for him. I reach out and squeeze Talan’s hand in comfort. He returns the gesture, spinning me under his arm and against his chest so we are both watching Griffin walk toward us from the bays. I think about my own mom, wasting away with cancer eating her lungs. At least she knows what’s coming and is at peace with it. I realize now that there are worse things than counting down the days until you die. A sudden death doesn’t give you the time to appreciate your loved ones and make sure you have no regrets before they depart. I never thought I would find something to appreciate about my mom’s cancer diagnosis. Talan allows my introspection, kissing my cheek softly and resting his head against mine. I sigh and snuggle back into him, loving how his arms instantly tighten around me in response. “It’s kind of nice being held by you.” I shut my eyes tightly, cringing when the unguarded honesty of my words have registered with my brain. That’s not really what I want to be saying to encourage Talan. “Kind of nice? You flatter me,” he deadpans, making me smile in relief. “I’m glad you don’t seem to mind right now. You know, you are kind of hard to read.” “How so?” I look back at him over my shoulder, curious where this is coming from.

“Sometimes you seem to really want me, like when I’m touching you.” He runs his palm along my side, tracing my curves and lightly palming my breast until I push back into his hand. “While other times you are reserved and pull away like you hate the idea of liking me.” He releases me from his grasp and I float unsteadily in the loss of his touch. “I don't admit it often, but you have sort of thrown me off my game here, Bliss.” I laugh. “You’re running game on me Talan? Maybe I’m not responding how you hoped because I was unaware of this. I thought, just maybe, you were actually interested in me.” “I’m more than interested, Bliss. Can’t you feel my interest?” He grinds his interest into my ass. I arch my back and press harder against him in automatic response. Damn it. He elicits such a physical response from my body, even when I would rather keep it in check. Talan groans in my ear. “Careful, baby, I have no problem taking you up on that invitation.” My breath hitches as my desire blooms, heat pulsing low in my body. Looks like I would more than like him to make good on that. “I thought I told you two to get a room,” Griffin says, stopping in front of us with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. “Bliss, honey, if this guy ever does you wrong, you know the hotter brother is always here to take care of you.” Griffin winks at me as he flips Talan off. We all laugh easily, but Talan holds me tighter. It seems he is not a fan of his brother hitting on me. I wonder if that’s

a reaction he would give to any guy, or just Griffin? Hearing my phone vibrating in my purse nearby distracts me. I walk over to the Ducati and pull it out to see I have five missed calls and three voicemails from phone numbers I don’t know. Wondering what could be the issue, I look over my shoulder and make sure Talan and Griffin are in a conversation before I listen to my voicemails. Fear ices my veins, shutting out the warm sun with the cold front that moves in as I listen to the urgent messages. My hands shake as I end the playback and drop my phone into my bag. “Talan—” Before I can finish calling him, he is in front of me, taking my hands in his. “What is it Bliss? You’re shaking and white as a ghost.” “It’s my mom, she was admitted to the hospital a few minutes ago after an ambulance brought her in. I’m her emergency contact, so they have been trying to get a hold of me to give them the go ahead for emergency surgery. I have to go to the hospital, right now.” “Yes of course you do. I’ll take you.” The assured quality of his voice is laced with a fear that matches my own. “Thank you so much for the ride, Griffin. It was scary as hell, but really incredible. I hope you do well at your race this weekend, and I’m sorry to run off like this.” “It was great meeting you Bliss, and I’m sorry about your mom. I hope things are okay. You can get pit passes to the race if you want them. Just ask Talan and I’ll make sure they are available for you. Anyone who can manage not to make a peep while I do my damnedest to get a reaction in the car

is a badass chick in my book. Respect, little girl.” He holds his fist out for me to pound. I meet his outstretched fist with my own, giving him a little jazz hand explosion after. “She’s cool, bro. Don't fuck this up.” The warning in his voice is incredibly serious, but I have other things to worry about than some backstory I’m probably missing. I grab my phone and dial the hospital as Talan lets me go long enough to engage in a man-hug with Griffin and say his goodbyes. While waiting to get through, I realize that despite having a friendly rivalry, they seem to get along well enough. It’s times like these I wonder what having a sibling would have been like. There would have been someone to share the burden of my mom’s cancer with on days like this when I feel like I’m drowning. I would have one other person who knew what it was like, exactly, to struggle with her impending death that I could talk to without pity lacing their every condolence. When the hospital answers, I tell them about my voicemails and they transfer me to the proper extension. I give my okay for surgery, but have no clue what they have said was wrong. Worse case scenarios and visions of funerals fill my head. My mom is dying. I follow Talan to the Ducati, strapping my helmet back on and climbing up behind him. This trip, I manage to look around at my surroundings easily, but I can’t enjoy the rushing of the warm wind and the feel of the very solid midsection I have wrapped in my arms. I’m too preoccupied with my thoughts and worrying about my mom.

Talan chalks up an impressive number of potential moving violations as he aggressively disobeys posted speed limits to get me to my mom quicker. Even if he is being reckless, I love him for making this a priority and wanting to help. I’m very much in trouble when it comes to Talan. I can tell there’s no stopping the attraction I feel, and it doesn’t seem like he would let me very easily. For now, I simply cling to his warm strength. I hope he can help keep my head above water as this tidal wave of futility and sadness overwhelms me.

Chapter Thirteen The hospital is a frustrating labyrinth of corridors and people who can’t seem to help me. Once I finally figure out what wing and floor my mom is on, Talan and I rush to find her. The small waiting area of the surgery department is empty when I tell the nurse at a desk why I am there. “Oh sweetie, I’m glad you could get here,” the older woman tells me. “Just wait right here while I grab the doctor.” I wait anxiously at the desk while Talan stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He provides a needed steadying presence that keeps me from dissolving into hysterical tears from all of the unknowns. Is my mom in a lot of pain? Will this hospital stay turn into her final home? The nurse returns with a female doctor in her mid to late forties a short time later. “Hi, I’m Dr. Avery. I’m handling your mom’s case until Dr. Ong can make it to the hospital.” She flips through files on the desk until she finds my mother’s. Opening it, she purses her lips. “It looks like your mom was having trouble breathing, and may have passed out. She called an ambulance and was brought in for a CT scan and chest x-ray that showed a malignant pleural effusion.”

“I got that much off my phone call, but I don't know what it means.” I pick at the ends of my hair, twisting and making knots. Medical terms go right over my head. She seems to understand and looks at me gently. “Your mom has fluid buildup in her chest cavity. She had to have the fluid drained, but there’s too much to keep using a needle, so she is having a tube inserted in her chest to allow the fluid to drain. We’ll observe her overnight to make sure it doesn’t get worse.” “Is this common? What if there is more fluid? Will she have to stay in the hospital forever?” I feel so stupid¸ not having taken the time to really research my mom’s lung cancer. I might have known to expect something like this if I had. Maybe if I had focused more on understanding her cancer and what she really needed, this might not have happened. Instead, I was getting swept up in Talan. “We will see if the fluid returns tomorrow and determine what needs to be done next. She may need to have a catheter inserted into the pleural cavity to manage the fluid temporarily so she can leave the hospital. It is quite common with metastatic cancers like your mom’s, but you never know when or if it will hit.” “Okay, thank you. Will you let me know when I can see her, please?” “Absolutely. Hang in there, Bliss. We’re doing our best to take care of this and make her comfortable. Without chemotherapy to shrink her tumors, there’s not much we can do to prevent the effusions.” I nod sadly and settle heavily into a chair to wait. My

heart thuds painfully in my chest as my brain berates me for having fun while my mom struggled to breathe, drowning from the inside out. It’s not fair that she is in so much pain and having her life come to an end as mine is barely beginning. I wanted to share with her all of the milestones I still have to hit. I wanted to make her a grandma someday. She loves babies so much and is the most nurturing person I’ve ever met. Now I know that if I ever have babies, they will miss out on knowing the person who would have loved them the most. I can’t help the tears that blur my vision and the sobs that suck the air from my lungs. Talan’s strong hands grab me as I slump to the ground, placing me on his lap and holding my head against his chest. My tears and snot soak his tshirt and I can’t even find it in me to be embarrassed. He gently rocks me and rubs comforting circles on my back. Once I’ve managed to calm down and control my tears, I push away from his chest and sit up. “You don’t have to stay with me. This is so depressing and such a waste of time for you. I’ll be fine, really.” “What makes you think this is a waste of time? I just wanted to spend more time with you, and I don’t care how I get it. Besides, what kind of man would I be to leave a woman in tears alone at the hospital?” “You would be a sensible man. I’m a mess, and it’s not your responsibility to clean up. You should really just go.” I crawl off his lap and into my own chair. I’m finding my sorrow replaced by an anger I can’t quite place. I’m mad at Talan for being so nice. I’m mad at myself for letting him.

I’m mad at cancer for trying to take my mom away faster than I had already come to terms with. “Did I do something wrong, Bliss?” There is a hint of anger lacing his normally calm voice. “I’m just trying my best to be here for you. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and I know you’re going through a lot right now. Let me help you.” “You have no fucking clue what I’m going through.” I startle myself with the ferocity in my voice. Now that I’ve uncorked this anger, it wants nothing more than to consume me and spew venom on everything around me. “My mom is the only family I have. I don't have another parent, or a brother, or anyone else to hold on to. I have to sit here and feel powerless to change any of this shit. I’m fucking helpless, and there is nothing you, or the doctors, or even my mom can do about it. She’s dying a horrible, painful death and I just have to watch it happen.” I hiccup as sobs wrack my body once again. I clutch my stomach as I collapse onto myself, unable to stop the torrent of tears and the soul-crushing weight of this burden. Talan sits tense and silent next to me. He doesn’t offer his reassuring back rubs or encouraging words to make me feel better. He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, toeing off his boots and getting comfortable. I eye him in frustrated amazement. “What are you doing? I asked you to leave. Put your shoes back on.” “No.” “What do you mean, no? You can’t just stay when

someone asks you to go. Leave.” I push against his chest roughly, my voice hoarse and splintered. Talan absorbs my futile shoves and relaxes further into his chair. “Actually, I can stay. And I will. You see Bliss, people have this thing called free will, which means they can do what they want. I choose to stay and be with you, as long as you may need me to. Even if you don’t want me here.” “You stubborn asshole.” I wipe my eyes in exasperation. “I’m not worth it, Talan. I’m angry and pathetic and I definitely don’t need you here.” “That’s where you’re wrong. I may be a stubborn asshole, but you are worth it and you are not pathetic. You’re grieving.” “My mom is still alive, how can I possibly be grieving?” I blow out a hot breath and avoid looking at him. He’s a ridiculous conundrum of frustrating support and persistence. I notice my tears have slowed their freefall down my face and I can breathe normally again, however labored it may be from my anger. “I may not have lost my dad to cancer, but I know grief. I’m willing to bet good money you are in the anger and bargaining stages right now. You might even be facing a weird mix of all the stages because of your unique position of having a living parent who is dying, rather than coping with a death that has already happened.” “Did you get your psych degree while at Berkeley, too?” I roll my eyes as I turn away from Talan to stare straight ahead at the vacant nurse’s station. It’s hard to look at him

when I’m angry. My emotions ebb in his favor when I stare too long. He runs his hand through his hair, pulling in frustration and catching my attention again. “No, I just recognize a lot of what I went through when I look at you. I was angry. I said awful things and pushed everyone away, too. It took a long time to rebuild the bridges I burned while I was grieving my dad. I even hated myself, thinking that I may have had some hand in his heart attack, and definitely blamed myself for the family losing his shop because I didn’t want to quit school.” Talan leans forward, resting his head in his hands. He turns toward me, his beautiful eyes full of hope even though his face is lined in sadness. “I don’t want you to feel like you are alone in this. So say whatever you want to me. Call me names, tell me I don’t understand. Fuck, you can even beat on me if you think that will help. I’ll tell you from experience that it doesn’t. No matter how many faces I bloodied, the ache was still there.” Before I can come up with a reply, Dr. Avery is back. “Bliss, you can see your mom now. She’s stabilized and has her chest tube in, so she’s much more comfortable.” I stand and follow Dr. Avery through the waiting room, pausing at the doorway to look back at Talan. He gives me an encouraging smile and waves. He settles back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest in a contented manner. He’s in it for the long haul. I don’t know if that means just for tonight, or forever.

Chapter Fourteen My mom looks so fragile and small lying in the hospital bed, lines and tubes connecting her to various machines and bags. The oxygen cannula in her nose whispers softly against her pale skin. When she sees me in the doorway, she opens her arms for me. I cross the room and fall carefully next to her on the bed, wrapping my arm across her chest that is full of cancer and fluid. “Thanks for coming, Blissy. I’m sorry if I scared you.” Her voice is raspy and deep, while her breaths are shallow. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner. I was in Sonoma when I got the calls.” I close my eyes tightly, guilt hitting a home run in my heart that positively slays me. “Don’t be sad, my love. You were out there living. That’s all I want for you. Please tell me you were seeing that yummy bartender you met up there.” Her voice takes on a playful note, like we are just two friends confiding in each other at a sleepover. If only it was that simple and sweet. I roll onto my back and slap my hand over my face. “I was. Actually, he brought me to the hospital and is in the waiting room. I asked him to leave. I practically accosted him and called him names to get him to go, but he refused.” “Sounds strong willed, and determined. I like that. You need someone with a very strong character to put up with

you. No offense baby, but you are as independent and hard headed as they come. No man with a weak spirit is gonna be able to put up with that. You would walk all over anyone who gave you the slightest room to.” “I don’t even want him to stand up to me. I just want him to leave me alone.” I rub my eyes, unhappy to be discussing my life when I want to focus on hers. “Back to not wanting to like him, are we? I told you sweetie, give the guy a chance, a real one. I have half a mind to go out to that waiting room and tell him not to let you push him away.” “No need; he seems to have stubbornly taken that exact stance.” “Well?” “Well what?” “Go get him. If he’s here and doesn’t plan on leaving, I might as well meet him.” “Are you serious? You want to meet Talan right now? I barely know him, it’s not even like we are dating or anything.” “Oh, you wouldn’t call hooking up, attending an event, and spending the day in Sonoma dating? Because that’s sort of my definition of the term.” She smirks behind her cannula. “Now, be a good girl and go get him. Don’t make me pull the dying mother card, because that’s one of the best perks of this cancer. I’ve used it all over the place already.” “You are shameless.” I stare at her in bemused horror. I can’t believe she would use her cancer against me. She

purses her lips and tilts her head, waiting for my answer. “Fine. I’ll go get him.” I roll off the bed and head back to the waiting area slowly. Letting him meet my mom feels like a very “couple” thing to do. It scares me more than I’d like to admit, but also sends a thrill through me that I don’t understand. I lean against the doorframe and spend a moment looking at Talan. He’s kicked back in the chair I left him in, one ankle perched on the other knee as he scrolls through his phone. He glances up and notices me in the doorway. “Hey, how did it go? Your mom okay?” He stands and walks in his socks toward me, carefully leaving a small distance between us. “Yeah, she’s doing better than earlier, but it’s hard to see her hooked up to machines like this.” I swallow back the lump in my throat, and meet his eyes from under my lashes. “She wants to meet you.” “Really? Okay, let me just grab my shoes. That would be some first impression if I met her just in my socks.” “Somehow I think she would overlook that faux pas.” I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile that raises my lips. Talan and Mom are a matched pair that make them both forces to be reckoned with. Neither lets me get away with the slightest bit of bullshit. I guess I can respect Talan for that, since it makes him more like my amazing mother. I shake my head slowly as he wrestles his feet back into his boots. I would think most guys would hate being put on the spot, meeting a girl’s parents when they first start dating. “I really hope she doesn’t embarrass me with stupid

stories from when I was a kid. I’m sure she’s been saving some extra special ones just to torment me with.” Talan grins widely. “I’ll pump her for those ones, now that I know they exist.” I pretend shock. “You wouldn’t. That’s taking advantage of a woman with nothing else to lose. She wants to share all of her cards now that the game is ending.” I take a deep, steadying breath before I walk Talan to my mom’s room. “Momma, this is…Talan.” I’m not sure what to call him. I settle on simply using his name, rather than defining what he may be to me. “Talan, this is my mom, Lisa.” I am suddenly filled with the need for her to approve of him. Not that I see a huge thing with him in the future, but because he is here, now. “Lisa, it is so nice to meet you. I haven’t heard too much, but Bliss thinks the world of you, and that tells me all I need to know.” Talan smoothly takes the hand Mom holds out for him before sitting in the chair by her bed. I walk over and crawl onto the end of her bed, crossing my legs under me and leaning on my elbows. I exhale a shaky breath and hope for the best. “I have actually heard quite a bit about you, Talan, and I’m thrilled to meet you in person.” Mom waggles her eyebrows at him. I want to die from embarrassment already. “Now I’m curious about what Bliss has been saying, since she seems to change her mind about how she feels about me every time I see her,” he says with a smile. “Oh, does she now? Well, she’s just mentioned that

you’re quite the persistent man. And she likes the way you smell, which I think is a good thing.” I bury my face in my hands with a groan. “Seriously? I will never tell you anything in confidence again if I know you are just going to use it against me.” Talan and Mom both laugh. “So Talan, how long have you been bartending at that winery in Sonoma?” Mom settles back against her pillows and looks at him expectantly. Talan’s eyes cut to me quickly, apologizing with a look. He turns back to Mom with a smile. “I guess Bliss didn’t have a chance to tell you, but I’m not really a bartender. I own Villa Sonoma. She just happened to meet me while I was covering a shift for one of my bartenders, and I didn’t have the heart to correct her. She just found out today also.” “Sneaky, sneaky,” Mom chastises playfully. “It’s good to hook ‘em and make sure they like you for who you are, rather than what you do. This guy is good, Bliss.” She raises her eyebrow at me. I frown at her, hoping she’ll stop encouraging Talan. “More that I took advantage of the opportunity, but yes, it’s been nice to have Bliss think I was nothing more than a bartender. Now that she knows though, I’m sure she’ll keep trying to push me away. Between you and me, I think she’s afraid,” he stage whispers to Mom. “She is, but you should keep working on her. I think you have a good start. Don’t let her get too caught up in her work or taking care of me that she forgets to have fun.” “I’m right here you jerks. Stop talking about me like I’m not.” I sulk at the end of the bed, unhappy with the direction

the conversation has taken. “You have my word, Lisa. I will make sure she has some fun.” Talan looks over at me with a smile that is sweet sunshine, not the usual panty-melting sexiness I’m used to from him. He looks back at Mom. “I hear you have a bucket list. Care to share what some of those items are?” Mom brightens visibly, happy to talk about the things she has planned. “I want to travel a little bit. I haven’t been many places, and always said I would get time to travel eventually. Well I don’t really have an eventually now, so I really want to go to Paris and have lunch under the Eiffel Tower. That’s more wishful thinking than reality, but I put it on there anyway. I want a spa day where I get completely pampered, maybe have a mud bath or something because that sounds like so much fun.” “You’ve always been so good at taking care of other people, you never made time for yourself,” I add softly. Talan looks up at me, studying the bittersweet emotions playing across my face. He finally breaks eye contact, returning his gaze to Mom. “What else is on your list, Lisa?” “I want to see the sun rise from the top of a mountain, and set over the ocean. Maybe in the same day. I want to go skydiving. I want to see a Broadway show, or one of my favorite bands in concert. I want to feel the wind blow my hair back as I ride in a fast car.” She pauses and looks wistfully at me, reaching for my hand. “I wish I could see you get married and have my grandbabies, but I don’t have hope of living that long.” Her voice breaks and tears pool in

her eyes. “Instead, I want to see you find whatever happiness you can, in whatever capacity that may be. I want to know you won’t be left alone in this world, that you will have someone, anyone to lean on and help you get through losing me.” The tears she is trying so hard to keep at bay slip through her lashes, tracing transparent tracks down her fair skin. She sniffles, brushing the tears away. “And lastly, I want to die peacefully, with as much of my dignity as I can manage.” She takes a deep breath and coughs shake her slight frame. I reach for the box of tissues and hand her one. She covers her mouth, her coughs wheezing to a bloody end. I stroke Mom’s hand, letting the tears fall quietly. She’s so beautiful. So strong. So hopeful. She’s everything I hope to be, and more than I could ever manage. I smile through my tears and wipe my eyes quickly, swallowing back the sadness so I can be happy for her. “The fundraiser is set for this Friday. With that and the crowdfunding, we should be able to do a few really cool things while paying your medical bills.” I swallow the lump in my throat when I say that, hoping like hell it’s true. Mom doesn’t have enough to cover ambulance rides and hospital stays, let alone the kind of end-of-life care she’s going to need. I’m really hoping we can raise enough money. “Do you think you will feel up to attending the fundraiser? You totally don’t have to, though.” “Of course Blissy, I wouldn’t miss it. You’re so wonderful

to put this all together for me. I’ve been telling all my clients and friends about it. Hopefully you get a good group to show up.” “I think it will have quite the turnout,” Talan offers with a smile. I tilt my head at him, realizing that he will have a huge hand in helping us out. “Mom, Talan is donating all of the wine for the event, and arranged the space to be used and even got a band to play. I know it’s going to come together amazing because I’ve already been to a similar event there this week. He’s incredibly generous and helped so much.” Talan lowers his head, shaking off the praise. “Oh, is that the event you had to go home alone from because he got called away at the last minute?” Mom asks innocently. My eyes grow wide as the feeling of discomfort settles over me. “Um, yeah, but it’s no big deal. He had work stuff.” I wave off her attention to avoid discussing this in front of Talan. “Trust me, she wouldn’t have been alone if I could have helped it,” Talan cuts in quickly. “My business partner, the actual winemaker for Villa Sonoma, has been having some difficulties.” He shakes his head, but continues. “It’s probably no surprise to you that a vintner would have alcoholic tendencies he hasn’t addressed. Al was embarrassing himself, and the company, so I had to corral and calm him down. That can take a while or requires removing him from the problem.” Talan leans toward me, searching my eyes. “Bliss, I’m so sorry you had to go home

by yourself. I wanted nothing more than to leave with you, but duty called.” I blush as he states his desire for me right in front of Mom. He’s so easily able to alleviate my fears and explain away my doubts. Still, he keeps me wondering about what he hasn’t addressed yet, like the proprietary looks Nassim was giving him and her cold treatment of me. She ruffled my feathers and left me with a bad taste in my mouth. “And the woman who came to get you?” I can’t help it, I have to ask. If that makes me a jealous bitch, then so be it. Despite the confidence I manage to unearth to ask, shame settles over me like a familiar blanket. I hate this part of me —untrusting and imaginative to a fault, I make my own conclusions that terrorize my thoughts. “Nassim? She’s Al’s daughter. Did she bother you?” I feel my cheeks heat. I twist my hair around my finger to avoid looking at him. “No, I was just wondering. She didn’t seem…to like me very much,” I offer as an excuse to ask about her. Talan nods in understanding. He can see my jealousy and fears like I’m wearing them as clothes. “It’s all rather boring when it comes to Nassim, actually. The fact that I am aware of her father’s condition brings a lot of shame to their very private and proud family. Nassim also worries about the winery, and has mistrusted me since I bought it from the family a few years ago when they weren’t doing so well. Even though I kept the Shirazi family on to continue their winemaking tradition, she can’t let go of her mistrust of outsiders. I have helped turn Villa Sonoma around, made it

into a wedding hotspot, and started selling more bottles than they ever dreamed. She still thinks I’ll let something derail the success and have the whole thing come crashing down. The winery is her dream. She wants to take over for her father someday, but has her eye on my position as well. I would say I have more to worry about from her than you ever will, Bliss.” “See sweetie, everything has an explanation.” Mom pats my hand. She looks back to Talan with a serious expression. “Just so you know, Talan, this girl has a very vivid imagination. She’s always been able to create her own stories for anything that happens without an explanation. You would be wise to be very upfront with her about everything, or you might find yourself on her bad side because she imagined the worst for something with a simple explanation.” “Mom. Seriously, stop.” I rub my temples in defeat. Talan laughs, but nods in acceptance. “Duly noted, Lisa. Thanks for that bit of advice.” “She hates surprises, too. Don’t ever tell her you have a surprise for her, because the anticipation kills her. You have to just spring something on her without warning to get a surprise over on her. Even that can backfire because she prefers predictability.” “That’s it, you’re cut off. No more pow-wow for you two. Too many secrets and insights into my personality have already been exchanged.” Talan and Mom both laugh. “Lisa, may I steal Bliss to go grab dinner? We’ll give you a break to rest and make sure to come back after. She’s

had a long day and I haven’t fed her.” “Oh, that sounds nice, Talan. You kids have fun. I have a plan to hit this pain med button a few times and see how that turns out for me.” She taps the button of a cord lying on the bed next to her and a machine beeps behind her, administering her dosage. “I love you so much, Mom, I’ll be back soon.” I kiss Mom’s cheek and accept her hug before Talan and I leave her room. I pause at her doorway, turning to look back at her still, small form in the bed. It breaks my heart to know this is probably how her life will end, just much sicker.

Chapter Fifteen I direct Talan to the town of Campbell, a small suburb of San Jose, and offer to pick up the tab at Aqui, a Cal-Mex restaurant in the downtown area. He shakes his head, but drives us there on the Ducati. We grab menus at Aqui and browse our selections before ordering at the counter. When I grab my wallet, he stops me. “Bliss, let me get it. I wanted this to be a date, remember? Our original plan being sidetracked does not mean you’re allowed to change the intentions I had for today. We’re working off the many favors you owe me, after all.” “Okay, fine,” I agree in discomfort, putting away my wallet. He hands over his credit card to pay, then walks me to a table. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he cradles my face. “Thank you for introducing me to your mom. She’s wonderful.” I feel the ice around my heart thaw a bit with his kind words. I nod my head. “She really is amazing. It’s going to be so hard to not have her in my life.” I bite my trembling lip, hoping to still my emotions before I lose it in a public place. “You don't have to look at her death like that. She will always be with you, at least in spirit. You will find yourself

using her words or mannerisms, looking at a problem the same way, or just remembering good times you had and she will be with you.” Talan takes my hand in his over the top of the table, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles slowly. “Something I learned after my dad died was that you carry a piece of your family in you forever. They will always influence your choices, your actions, and how you live life.” I consider his words carefully. I feel the weight of truth in them, and know I can at least look forward to having that much when she’s gone. It doesn't help me feel any better about her death, though. Our pager buzzes, so I get up to grab our food to avoid talking about death. Returning to the table, Talan is tapping out a text on his phone. I try to control my curiosity, as it’s not my business who he is talking to. I sip my watermelon agua fresca and wait for him to be finished before I begin eating. His thick, dark brows are knit together in concentration, his beautiful eyes intent on the screen. He’s so good looking it hurts. Maybe if I were less attracted to him I wouldn’t have such a hard time staying away from him. Talan looks up from his phone, catching my intent stare. I blink quickly and look down at the food I haven’t touched. “Sorry about that—work stuff. You didn’t have to wait for me.” I pick up a slice of my quesadilla and nibble the edge. The first taste of gooey cheese unlocks the gate my hunger was hidden behind, and suddenly I'm ravenous. I wolf down half my food before I manage to curb the need for calories. Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I look at Talan. “What?” I

ask when I catch him staring. “I just feel bad I hadn’t thought to feed you earlier. You’re obviously starving.” “Oh jeez, I’m not starving, I just require food every few hours or you risk my hanger.” “Hanger? Is that like hungry anger?” “Exactly. I think you got off easy today because I was distracted. Normally I have a meltdown and say mean things.” I think about my day. “Correction, I did those things. I apologize for what I said to you in hanger.” Talan laughs. “Well if all I need to do is keep you fed, then I can totally manage your meltdowns. Between you and your mom giving me these insider tips, I’ll be able to manage your complicated feelings just fine.” I crumple my napkin in my hands and find I can’t meet his eyes. “Complicated feelings? What are you talking about?” “You keep pushing me away, finding ways to put off the inevitable.” “What exactly do you think is inevitable?” I tap the table with my fingertips, wondering where this is going. Talan sets his fork down, propping his elbows on the table between us. “Us. You want me, Bliss, and I'm happy to give you anything you want.” “Hah. That’s a little self-indulgent, don’t you think? I don’t believe there’s anything inevitable here.” I gesture between us, but can’t meet his eyes again. I’ve always been a terrible liar. It’s so much harder to lie to myself when the object of my desire is sitting across from me. “There’s chemistry between us, something that is hard to

avoid, even though you are doing a damn good job trying. You’re receptive enough to the attraction, but find ways to talk yourself out of wanting it. It’s pretty remarkable how you can switch it off, actually.” I bristle, but realize I have no argument against what he’s said. He’s right. I do want him and find him attractive. Which is exactly the problem. “You’re persistent and annoyingly good at ignoring what I ask,” I counter feebly. I bite my quesadilla with finality, hoping he won’t continue this conversation. Talan just laughs and shakes his head, returning to his own food. We return to the hospital with a small box of cupcakes from Frost Cupcake Factory in Campbell for Mom. I had to squish the box into my purse to transport the sugary goodness on the Ducati, but it will be tasty even smashed. I remove my helmet and hand it to Talan, but make no move toward the hospital doors. “I’m going to stay here with my mom tonight. Thank you so much for today. It was fun to get out and try something new. I can’t thank you enough for driving me all the way down here from Sonoma. I really appreciate it.” “Are you sure you want to stay in the hospital? I can get a room at a hotel nearby so you have a real bed to sleep in.” “No. Thank you for the offer, but I can’t possibly accept it. I want to stay with my mom. I would hate for her to be here alone all night. You probably need to get back to work, anyway. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.” Bathed in the red glow from the emergency sign, Talan

reaches for me, pulling me by my belt loops toward him. His hands snake behind me to rest on my lower back. The weight of his hands on me, and the closeness of his body is a hard pull to resist. I close my eyes and just enjoy it for a minute. “Bliss,” he whispers. “I can make time for something I really want. I wouldn’t have brought you here or stayed if I didn’t want to.” His lips skim across my forehead, down to my temple and onto my cheek. I find myself turning slightly so he’ll find my lips. He hovers with his lips so close to mine, his breath teases them apart. “I want you to want me as much as I want you. To say hell yes, or give me a no.” He lightly presses his lips to mine. I deepen the kiss, rising onto my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. He yields to me, opening his mouth and letting me gain access. I kiss him hungrily, wanting to be filled by him, to fill him with myself. His hands twist in my hair and smooth across my ass. After a moment of passion, he takes a handful of my hair and pulls me away from him. “You’re going to have to make up your mind. I don’t want to be used, even by someone as beautiful,” he places a kiss on my lips, “and captivating as you.” He bites my bottom lip before he releases me completely. Turning away, he straps my helmet to the back of the Ducati before pulling his own on. He straddles the bike and turns the engine so the Ducati idles. He looks at me one last time, tracing my figure with his eyes before he closes the visor and pulls away. I am left panting, needy, and empty. I am left with a

choice to make.

Chapter Sixteen Mom is doing much better and is released from the hospital the following afternoon. Her pain meds may have knocked her out, but I slept horribly on the fold out chair in her room. I dutifully consider it punishment for leading Talan along, taking his affection when it suited me, and pushing him away when it started to consume me. He is so right. I can’t keep stringing him along like this. I need to make up my own mind. Do I want Talan and everything he offers, even if it means stealing my focus, or is it too much and I need to let him go? It’s selfish to want to have it all. I settle Mom in her apartment, showing my ‘aunt’ Amy how to change the catheter bag she came home with. Amy has worked with Mom for years, and feels more like family than a friend. I’m happy she’s willing to stay with Mom when I am in San Francisco. I know she will keep me updated if anything happens. It’s a huge relief for me, and makes going back to the city a little easier. Before we left the hospital, Dr. Ong finally showed up. She said the catheter would be temporary, but is the easiest way to let Mom continue to live at home with the side effects of her cancer. She warned us that the pleural effusion could come back when we remove the catheter,

that it could be worse the next time because Mom’s tumors continue to grow. Her latest x-ray showed measurable growth of her main tumor, which is scary due to only having had her original x-rays taken a few weeks before. Dr. Ong revised her original statement and informed us that it looks like Mom’s cancer is not only extremely aggressive, but moving faster than she thought. Instead of having six months left to live, she will be lucky to have three. Mom bore the news stoically. She did not dissolve into tears like I did. She accepted her new, shortened fate with grace. “Blissy, it’s not the end, it just means I better get to living for the small time that remains,” she told me as I mopped my eyes with a tissue. It is hard to leave her when I have to go home. I cling to her like a scared kid, which I guess I am. Even though Mom is suffering and dying, she still holds all the comfort and calm I need. Now I barely pretend to be in control of the emotions that swirl and froth just under the surface of my calm demeanor. Amy drops me at the CalTrain station so I can get back to San Francisco. I have the long train ride home to make plans for the future. I decide that focusing on Mom for these next few months is more important than pursuing a relationship. My heart hurts when this occurs to me, giving me reason to reconsider, but I steel my resolve. Talan will only distract me and steal my focus from Mom. I can’t let that happen when I have such a short time left with her.

My mom has three months to live.

The CalTrain is filled with evening commuters returning to the city from their tech jobs in Silicon Valley. A few girls who look about my age get on when the train reaches the Stanford station in Palo Alto. They sit near me and chat loudly enough for me to perk up and start eavesdropping when they mention the bands they are going to see in concert at Slim’s tonight. I pretend to read on my phone while I listen to them, jealous of their excitement and lack of worries. When the girls begin talking about their dating woes, I really pay attention. They may not have a dying parent, but they probably would understand the dilemma I’ve been wrestling with. Maybe I can gain some insight from them. I quickly figure out that they are worried about their own guys who are hot and cold, much like I have been with Talan. One of the girls, Miranda, spears me in the gut as she talks about how she feels about the guy, David, she’s been seeing. “I mean, he’s attentive and interested when we’re together, but I can’t get anything from him when we’re apart. It’s like he’s only interested when I’m right in front of him, my boobs on display or my girly parts available. I basically don’t exist the rest of the time,” she tells her friend Cami. “I might as well be a blowup doll. I want someone who thinks about me constantly, calls and texts and tells me he wants me for more than a casual hookup when he’s horny. I feel like I'm wasting my time waiting for him to really see me, and value a relationship with me. But I can’t just give up on him, either.” “Miri, you can’t let him disrespect you like that. You’re

worth more than a casual hookup. You should have a guy falling at your feet, begging you for your affection. Fuck that douchebag, anyway. David is such a tool whenever anyone else is around. Whatever happened to Blake? He was hot and super into you,” Cami replies. “Oh,” Miranda says sadly. “He wanted to start something serious when I wasn’t ready. I haven’t talked to him in months, but I found out last week he’s seeing this chick Victoria now. I stalked his Facebook and there are all sorts of pictures of them being fucking adorable. I totally let a good one get away, and now I’m paying for it with Douchebag David because at least he wants me some of the time.” I tune out Miranda and Cami’s conversation, feeling sick. If I truly let Talan go, there is no way he will wait around until I’m finally ready. He will find someone who is ready now, who can reciprocate his attention and they will be adorable together. I will miss out on everything he is offering me right now. Can I live with myself if I make that choice? If I do the selfless thing and let him go, I will have the freedom to follow my aspirations of freelancing successfully, and be able to make sure the last few months of my mom’s life are the best they can be. But I won’t have Talan. I'm even more confused and torn over my choices when I finally make it home. “Hey stranger, have you been boning for a day straight? You look like shit, by the way. I'm so not used to seeing you without your eyeliner looking fierce,” Willa says when I walk inside the apartment. She’s in sweaty workout clothes, so

she’s probably only been home for a little while. “I was at the hospital overnight with my mom.” I leave out any mention of Talan. My heart hurts when I think about him. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. What happened now?” I spend a few minutes updating her on Mom’s condition, and her new expiration date. “Damn, that’s rough.” Willa hugs me tightly. “Ugh. You stink. Go shower,” I tell her as I push her away and laugh. “You know you love my manly sweatiness. It makes you hot.” Willa flexes her biceps and walks off toward the bathroom. “I really liked it better when I thought you were out with your new man-candy Talan,” she calls over her shoulder.

Yeah, me too. I collapse on the couch, pulling my phone out to check emails. I have an email from Finch, confirming ten models to walk in the fashion show, and my stomach drops. My fundraiser is tomorrow night. Holy hell, it snuck up on me. I spend the next two hours confirming vendors and checking on RSVPs for some of the guests that have not confirmed via our Facebook event page. The turnout looks like it will be good. The designers have even offered to donate some of the proceeds from any sales of their clothes outside of the auction to Mom’s crowdfunding account. Now I just have to hope it all goes according to plan. With so much to do and worry about, I’m almost surprised that Talan still haunts my thoughts. I work my hardest not to think about him. But thoughts of his lips on

my skin, his hands groping and twisting, and his mouth on mine invade as the evening rolls on. I shut my eyes and will away the images, trying not to get caught up in my memories and ignore the heat that’s building low in my body. My brain has made the decision to ignore him, but my body with its carnal desire and my saddened heart are rebelling. Groaning, I roll off the couch and head to the kitchen, hoping food will distract me. I soon realize that even with a full stomach, Talan continues to dominate my thoughts. I have nothing left to do for the fundraiser other than hope it goes as planned. My distractions are limited. My body has been teased, kissed, and touched so much this week that I need more than food to control this hunger.

Damn it, Talan. I go to bed unsatisfied and wanting something I shouldn’t have. I toss and turn and when I finally fall asleep, I have horrible nightmares all night. In some, Mom is an emaciated shell of herself, yelling at me to live for us both while she coughs up blood. In others, my heart breaks as I watch Talan with his arms around Nassim, kissing her neck as she spots me over his shoulder and smiles evilly. You lose, she says to me as he picks her up and pins her to the wall, his hands pulling at her dress. I wake unrested and agitated, in a foul mood even though I have so much to be excited about.

Chapter Seventeen My day is a flurry of activity. I take the morning to double check that plans are all in place while I soak in a bubble bath hoping for relaxation. It evades me, even as the fragrance of my peony plum bath salts sink into my skin. Once I’ve given up on finding any relaxation, I load up the Mini with my kit and a dress to change into, and head to the converted warehouse Talan so graciously secured for me. I am a bubbling cauldron of conflicting desires. The rational part of my brain really hopes he doesn’t show up today, because I need my mind on my plan of action. Yet there is still a part of me that wants nothing more than to sink into his protective and all-consuming arms, so I don't have to think about anything else. I push past my own confusion and find Finch, already at the warehouse waiting for me. “You don't look very good. Have you slept at all since I saw you last week?” “Yes and no. I’ve been back and forth to San Jose all week dealing with my mom’s diagnosis and worsening condition.” I rub my puffy eyes in point. “Is that all, Bliss? I know your mom is sick, but you seem far more preoccupied than I expected.” Damn having best friends who know you too well. “No,

there’s more. I met a guy a few weeks back who is messing with my head. It’s ridiculous Finch. I wish he had shown up at some other time in my life, when I could actually dedicate time to building a relationship with him, because he’s a great guy. Instead, I feel so torn that I’m attracted to him and want to see where things go, but feel like I need that attention to devote to my mom instead, because she needs me so much more right now. You would think life would be a little better about planning when to throw things at you. There shouldn’t be something good that comes at the same time as something bad; it’s like oil and water. You can’t appreciate the good because the bad sucks so much and keeps floating to the surface, overshadowing the good.” “It’s sort of hard to follow your explanation, because I will gladly take whatever good comes my way, even if there is bad stuff happening at the same time. I feel like the small bits of good help you overcome and get through the bad,” he says gently. “But what if the good stuff overshadows things you really need to take care of?” I ask desperately. “Are you talking about your mom, or the guy? I'm confused.” “So am I, honestly.” I sink onto a folding chair, tired of the back and forth game my brain is having in dealing with this. “Get back to me once you figure out your actual problem and I’ll try to help you,” he offers kindly. “Now, let’s decide what we want to put these models in tonight.” I nod, grateful for the diversion from my complicated feelings. Finch and I sort through the various dresses and

outfits the designers sent over, pulling some we really like and figuring out what to do with the rest. I slide the garments onto hanging racks sorted by model as he reads off their measurements and shows me photos. An hour later, we have it all set, knowing exactly who will wear what and in what order. It’s not my inclination to mess with the clothes at these things, since I usually just provide the hair and makeup, but it’s fun to work with Finch. “Fucking hell,” Finch says with his phone in hand. “What?” I ask, hoping it has nothing to do with our event. “Bliss, sit down. I have bad news.” A nervous sweat breaks out on my upper lip as I grab a chair quickly. “All but one of our models have been booked on a paying job tonight. Someone has set up a shoot to run the same time as our fundraiser. These models are hungry; they need the money when it’s offered more than the experience of a free show.” He returns his attention to his phone, his fingers flying on the screen. “This is pretty bad.” My stomach clenches in the fist of a frosty giant as I fight back the tears that want to fall in frustration. “This is awful. Finch what are we going to do? It’s so last minute; I’m not sure who we could get to replace them.” Panic swirls in my head, forcing me to look for any way out I can find. It doesn’t look good. “Don’t worry, I’m already texting a few girls who may be available. You should see if you can get some friends to do it or something. Better to have a girl that has never modeled than not enough.” “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, I’ll call a few people and get

back to you.” I eye the racks of clothes and think who I can ask. I pull out my phone and dial. “Please tell me you are feeling particularly brave and want to help me out tonight,” I say when Willa picks up her phone. “Um, sure, I guess. Can you tell me what I’m agreeing to now?” “My models are no longer available. Someone booked them on a paying shoot today. We need nine girls to walk in the show for us. I need you.” “Oh, hold up. I don’t model. That’s some scary, bodyimage issue shit right there.” I can practically hear her shaking her head no. “You have to help me. I will owe you big time, but I really need you to do this for me,” I beg. “Damn it Bliss, I hate when you get all desperate and offer me a way to get you to do my bidding. You get roommate chores for a month for this. And my dishes, you have to wash them, too.” “Yes, absolutely, you got it. Now, I need you to help me find a few more people that would fit sample size clothing. We have pieces up to size six. Even though that’s still freaking little, it gives us some wiggle room. A little height is definitely appreciated, as most of the hemlines will be too long for anyone under five-five.” “I don’t know if I can convince anyone to do this,” Willa says. “Just look at it like your very own way to turn the phrase ‘misery loves company’ into a real act. If you have to walk in

this show, so do they. Use that as your motivation.” “You got it, boss. I’ll check in with you soon. I’m off to find minions.” I sigh in relief when Willa hangs up. At least that’s one other model. I make a dozen calls and manage to convince two other girls to walk in the show for me without having to offer to clean their homes. Thankfully I have a contact list full of willing models; I just have to find the ones who are available last minute. “Hey B, I managed to get four more girls. How did you do?” Finch asks, meeting me by the racks of pretty dresses. “I convinced my roommate Willa, and two more actual models, so three total. We need two more people to fill our lineup.” Finch looks at me, waiting, and I know what he wants from me. I eye the racks of clothes and touch the blush dress I fell in love with on our photo shoot. If it comes down to it, I will have to walk the runway. My stomach twists as I shake slightly at the thought of being on display like that. I definitely prefer to be behind the scenes at events like this for a reason. “You’ll do it, right?” Finch asks, running his hand along his head. I sigh. “Yes, I’ll do it. For my mom,” I answer. “I’m just hoping I don’t have to, and Willa can find a few more people.” “I really hate that we are forced to call in a second-string

set of models because of the shitty situation someone put us in.” Finch scrolls through his phone, checking for texts. We share a look. “Does this feel personal to you?” I ask. “A little. It feels like someone went after all of our models, specifically. This is a city full of people who want to get exposure. Why book our girls?” “Louisa.” “You think she would do this? How would she even know?” “Last week I was booked for a job, but showed up to see she had sent someone over from the agency, and the director went with them. She called me earlier this week and offered her help. She asked me to send all of the information over so she could invite her clients and network. I thought she just wanted to help.” “She does know this is a fundraiser for your mom, who is dying, right?” “Yeah, or at least I think so. She offered some story about how her cousin or someone died from cancer being the reason she wanted to help me. Whether or not that is true, she still went out of her way to hurt something I am working on.” “That conniving bitch. Don’t worry, we can get back at her. I’ll tell everyone I know in the industry about this. Shady game playing is not encouraged. As big as the city is, it’s very small town when it comes to knowing everyone in your industry’s business.” “I can’t believe she wanted to affect my business like this. If all of my models hadn’t shown up when I advertised

this as a fashion show, it would look like I couldn’t put together a very good event. Why would anyone hire me to work for them when I seem flaky or unreliable?” I twist my hair in my fingers. It tangles, forcing me to rip my fingers through the delicate strands. I cringe and leave my hair alone. “Some people just can’t accept any other way but their own. I think Louisa took it personally when you quit The Vaughn Group to go out on your own. She sees you as competition. You scare her.” “She told me I would regret quitting, and that she couldn’t believe she had wasted so much time on ‘shaping’ me. It was scary how angry she got when I quit. Which is why I was surprised when she offered to help.” “It’s sad that we can’t take people at face value. Well, if nothing else, now you know for sure never to trust her.” “Lesson learned the hard way. Hopefully this goes well.” With that we go back to work. I’m desperately hoping Willa can come through with more models. My afternoon stretches out, filled with busy work until the models show up. I’ve set up in a back room of the warehouse, my hair and makeup kit spilled out onto a table for easier access. I’ve borrowed one of Finch’s lights to make sure I’m not messing with the fading natural sunshine or the fluorescent overhead lighting. The models who show up are our B-list, but still amazing. I get to work correcting skin and providing a cohesive look that will make the clothes pop on the runway. Bold eyeliner and muted colors draw the focus up to the voluminous, curled hair I have

pinned half-up. It’s a simple look that will work with any of the pieces in our collection. “Hey Bliss, sorry it took me a while. I had to stay late at work.” Willa appears next to my table and bumps my hip with hers. “I’m just glad you could make it. Were you able to get anyone to come along?” I ask, looking around the room. “Yeah, I brought Shelby, that girl over there talking to Finch. I know her from college. She fit your requirements and was actually available last minute.” Willa points toward a pretty girl with honey blonde hair who is talking animatedly to Finch. He seems taken by her energy. Without seeing anything else, I know she’s perfect. “You’re amazing Willa, thank you so much.” I tick off the models who have shown up on my fingers. Nine. It looks like I’ll have to walk after all. Trying not to think about it too much, I sit Willa in my chair and quickly transform her hair and makeup. Shelby, whom I like instantly, follows her. Not only is she easy to talk to, she’s funny and unafraid of trying new things. “I told Willa that I had never modeled, so I might as well try now, right?” I nod along with her story as I tease her hair. “I mean, it’s not something I would get to do on a daily basis because I run my family’s car shop. None of the customers want to see me strut my stuff in the garage.” She laughs at the thought. I’m intrigued by her story, but have no time to really get to know her right now. “Shelby, I really like you. I wish I could spend hours getting to know you, but unfortunately, I have to

bust my ass to get everyone looking wonderful. We’ll have to get together after all of this is over and just hang out. Now, I need you to go over to Finch and get into one of those beautiful dresses while I finish my own hair and makeup. Here’s my card. Make sure you get in touch so we can hang out, okay?” I hand her my business card and hope she’ll actually keep in touch. “You’re really cool too, Bliss. I’ll definitely be in touch. I’m really sorry about your mom. I know how that goes. I lost mine to breast cancer when I was little. It really sucks to not have your mom around when you need her. What you’re doing with this fundraiser is really special. I hope you’re getting as much of her as you can right now. If you ever want to talk about what you are going through, let me know.” I wrap Shelby in a hug, my words choked up by the tears of gratitude that are fighting to be released. She hugs me back without hesitation. I sniff and clear my throat. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that. Thank you.” I send her off to Finch and wipe my tears, ready to get down to business. I quickly adjust my makeup to match the rest of the models. I started wearing waterproof everything once I ruined a few faces of makeup. Tonight is no exception. I tease my already curled hair so I can pin it back, and check the time on my phone. Mom should be arriving any minute now. I head out front and see there are already people arriving, enjoying the wine that Talan provided, poured by the waiters he also arranged. Just one more thing I need to add to his list of amazing attributes. Scratch that—I need to

not think about what makes him amazing. Focus on some less-than-desirable qualities. Like the secrets he has no problem keeping from me, only to surprise me with at the worst times. I still wonder if he will show up tonight. I scan the room quickly, but don’t see him anywhere. I expect to feel relief, but disappointment fills me. I roll my eyes at myself. It was my choice to brush him off when he asked me to make up my mind. I’m still vacillating between embracing him and all he offers, or writing him off completely. Both choices have their own set of problems, making my decision something that wavers moment to moment. I hate this indecision; it’s exhausting. I’m getting pretty fed up with myself, too. I check my phone and see I have a text from Amy, letting me know she and Mom have parked and are on their way up. I head to the door and meet them with hugs. Amy walks off to grab a glass of wine and leaves Mom and me to talk. “Oh Bliss, you look beautiful, as always,” Mom says, pulling back from her hug to look me over. “Are you wearing that tonight? Seems a little underdressed, right?” I brush off her comment and grin. “Just you wait, Mom. This is what I have been wearing all day. Later I get to wear the coolest dress.” I quickly fill her in on our models no longer being available, and the rush to find replacements that led to me being needed. “Oh sweetie, I can’t wait to see that. Now, where is my favorite new guy? I expected him to be here hanging on your arm already. Did you put him to work somewhere? That is so like you.” Mom looks around for Talan, and I bite

my lip knowing I have to disappoint her. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he dropped me back at the hospital. I’m not even sure if he’ll show up tonight. I was kind of a bitch to him, and he asked me to make up my mind whether or not I wanted anything to happen with us.” Mom looks at me sternly. “Bliss, why are you still pushing that man away?” “I haven’t answered him. I’m still trying to figure out what is the better answer.” “How is there even a question involved? By not answering him, you are making yourself loud and clear. You like him, so see where it goes.” Her exasperation causes her to cough, her shoulders shaking as she reached for a tissue in her purse. I pat her back and usher her over to a chair to sit her down while I wait for the coughing to subside. “Mom, it’s not that simple for me. I see him as a choice. I either devote my time to keeping my head above water with bills and taking care of you when I can, or being consumed by whatever it is I feel when I am with Talan. Being in his presence doesn’t leave me room to consider anything but him in the moment.” I shake my head as I try to form the right words to explain it. “It’s like my brain goes fuzzy and my thoughts all tune to him. It’s a fun escape for a minute, but then I get a reprieve and realize there is more than some guy that I need to focus on. I don’t like that I lose myself in him.” “This again? Listen, Bliss, great guys don’t come around all that often, trust me. They also don’t want to wait around

for you to get on board. The only thing you can do is seize each opportunity you can, whether it be a business venture, a romance, or a chance at happiness in whatever form it takes. Don’t be afraid, baby. I know that you will spend all the time you can with me. Even if it’s less than you had hoped, it will still be enough for me. You are always enough. And I know you. You can make it all work together because that’s just how you do things. You will fit each piece into your life perfectly, and if something needs to be adjusted to accommodate another, you can do it. Stop being afraid.” “Don’t make me cry, Mom. I just did my makeup.” I swipe at my eyes, determined not to ruin my freshly applied makeup. Amy returns with a glass of wine for Mom, allowing me to break away and do a quick round to make sure things are going as planned. I run into Milleigh and Emme, who agree to look after the front of the house while I go back to the models. My dress is the only one left on the rack when I return. I look around and see these beautiful dresses worn proudly by our models, both professional and otherwise. Willa walks over carefully in sky-high heels wearing a beautiful fitted navy mini dress with long sleeves. It’s embellished with dark beads and crystals, which sparkle when she moves. The color sets off her olive coloring and looks great with her short dark hair. “Look at you! If I didn’t know any better, I would think you are a professional model,” I tell her as I strip down and carefully slide into my dress.

She whistles as I turn so she can help me with the side zipper. “That’s one fancy dress. You look like a bride.” “I know, right? I tried this dress on last week and fell in love. It’s probably my favorite thing I’ve ever worn, and it doesn’t even belong to me. I’m hoping that by walking down a runway in this dress, I can sort of fulfill Mom’s dream of seeing me in a wedding dress, since she won’t be seeing me get married.” I fluff my hair and turn to Willa. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I hate that she’s sick and you have to resort to throwing big fundraisers for her, and that she won’t be present for so much of your life.” Willa fans her eyes, keeping her tears at bay. “I know. It sucks. It’s why I’m trying my hardest to make her a priority, give her all of my attention.” “I totally get it, Bliss. I know it’s hard for you to balance so much going on in your life. You put your whole heart into everything you do. It probably doesn’t feel authentic if you put less than your whole heart and soul into anything. Like you’re not doing enough.” “Yes, that’s exactly it. Thank you for giving me the words to explain what I’m dealing with.” I look around and see Finch calling us over. “Looks like it’s time to make our debut as models.” I smile at Willa, hoping to give us both some confidence. “Really beautiful, girls. Now, I know this is new for a lot of you, but you should just have fun. Don’t worry about trying to look like a model, or walk a certain way. Just enjoy it.” Finch

changes the music from his phone that is connected to the sound system so our runway playlist comes through the speakers. “Remember, we want to sell dresses and raise some money.” The smile freezes on my face. I completely forgot about the auction aspect of this fundraiser. Not only do I have to manage to walk down a runway without falling on my face, I also have to stand and be auctioned off to the highest bidder once the show is over. Well, the dress will be, but suddenly the idea feels a little too personal. This was a terrible idea. “Snap out of it Bliss. We’re going next,” Willa says, clapping in my face to get my attention. I nervously rub my sweaty hands together, careful not to wipe them on my dress. I get in line behind Willa and watch as she leaves the safety of our backstage room. I breathe deeply and hunt for calm. Strangely, I find it when I imagine myself on the back of Talan’s motorcycle, unable to hear anything but the roar of the bike and rush of the wind with his strong body pressed tight against me. I didn’t have to think; I just held on for dear life and knew he would keep me safe. I capture this image and play it on loop as I step out into the crowd. There is not an actual catwalk for me to walk down. Instead we opted to create a floor-level route through the set up chairs that creates a zigzag shape. This way, the crowd would have ample time to study the dresses from all angles. As I walk through the crowd, I’m not worried about falling, or appearing to know what I’m doing. I remember

the calm of riding with Talan, and know that what I am doing is to help my mom. It’s all the inspiration I need to make it through. I even manage to smile.

Chapter Eighteen I make it backstage and muffle my scream of excitement. The euphoria of doing something that scared me is all too real. The blood rushing in my ears eases and my smile grows larger as I find Willa in much the same state. “Dude. That was pretty cool. We didn’t fall or anything.” She jumps up and down in excitement. She is forced to stop when her foot slides out of her shoe and makes her stumble. “Okay, totally fell, but at least it was here and not out front.” I can’t help but laugh at her, and this whole situation. It’s surreal to be walking in a fashion show I put together for a worthy cause, and to have liked it. “Hey ladies, don’t go too far. The chairs are being rearranged so we can start the auction. I’ll bring you out in the same order you walked, so stay nearby and pay attention.” Finch is perfectly executing the role of organizer extraordinaire. I’m so glad I have him on board with this. He peeks out the door and then comes back. “Okay, you—” he points at a model named Jasmine, “let’s do this. Be cute, sell the dress, and raise money.” They walk out together. I head to the door and stick my head out. The side of the warehouse is now serving as our auction stage, with Finch on a microphone speaking to the crowd. It’s a big crowd.

Bigger than I realized while I was focused on walking through the catwalk. Fresh nerves have my hands sweating and shaking, and my mouth dry. I swallow and make fists, forcing a calm I don’t actually feel. Finch has started the auction and, much to my delight, there are actually people bidding. We decided to start every dress at one hundred dollars, knowing we would like to make at least a thousand to help mom. Watching women, and even some men, raising their hands bidding higher each time for the beautiful dress has me elated. The bidding finally stalls at five hundred, and Jasmine returns to the room, telling the next model in line to go out front. I highfive her and tell her good job. I busy myself by cleaning up my station, cleaning brushes and putting everything away so I don’t have to do it later. Before I know it, Willa is grabbing my shoulder. “Hey lady, I got seven hundred, can you believe it? There’s not even much of a dress here. Your turn—go make money for your mom.” She pushes me to the door and I am walking in a daze toward Finch who is joking with the last auction winner. He sends her off to Milleigh who will take payment and arrange for the dress to be sent to her. “Now, ladies and gentleman, this beautiful dress is worn by Bliss Kaufman, the fabulous lady who put together this entire event. Her mom, Lisa, is our beneficiary tonight, so it would mean a lot to all of us if you could continue to be so charitable and give us a good purchase price for this frothy pink creation by Azalia Designs. We will start our bidding at one hundred, who can give me a hundred?” Finch motions

at a woman off to the left who has raised her hand. “We have a hundred, who bids one-fifty?” “One thousand,” a man says from the back of the crowd, causing gasps to ripple through the sea of people. I look out but can’t see who made the bid. I smile and fan myself, playing to the high bid and getting some comic relief that causes people to laugh. “Wow, that’s quite the bid, thank you kind sir. We have a thousand. Does anyone want to bid more?” Finch is giddy, a huge smile on his face knowing we could have just auctioned off this one dress to raise the money we were hoping for. “Two thousand,” I hear offered by another man in back. Again, the crowd gasps at the even higher bid. “Looks like we have a high-priced bidding war, folks. Would you care to come closer to the stage, both of you gentleman who would like this dress? I bet it would look lovely on either of you,” Finch jokes, easing the excited tension that fills the air. The crowd parts slightly, allowing a tall middle-aged man with light hair to make his way forward. Right behind him is Talan. Of course. I look for my mom in the crowd, and finally find her sitting with Amy off to the side. Her hand is over her mouth, a look of shock on her face. She looks to me quickly and catches me watching her. She shakes her head softly, obviously unsure what is happening. She returns her attention to the men that have stepped forward. I follow her gaze and find

Talan staring at me with rapt attention. His heavy gaze sends butterflies crashing through my rib cage, fighting to make their way out. I fight the urge to cross my arms across my chest, because the look he’s giving me leaves me completely stripped. I look at the other man, and don’t know who he is. He looks maybe vaguely familiar, but I have no clue where I would have seen or met him. “Now gentlemen, I do hope you are bidding on this beautiful dress, and not on the lovely lady wearing it.” Finch gets a laugh from the crowd and causes Talan to smile devilishly at me. He’s bidding on me. He wants to make a statement, show me he doesn’t care what it takes. He could practically fund Mom’s bucket list if he wants to. “So, the gentleman in the blue suit, do you want to counter the two thousand bid?” The unknown man nods his head. “Three.” “Four,” Talan quickly throws in, appraising his competition. Instead of an immediate counter, the gentleman leans toward Talan and whispers something to him. I watch Talan for any sign of what the man may be saying. His face transforms from competitive and intent to win, to astonished, and finally to grim acceptance. Whatever the man has said has resonated with him. “Five thousand,” the older man says gently, patting Talan on the back as he nods at Finch. Talan shakes his head at Finch, conceding the bidding war to the older man. He brings his eyes up to meet mine, which I am sure are the size of dinner plates as I imagine

what the man has said to him. He pleads with me silently, begging me to understand. I frown, unsure why that would be the look he would give me. “Thank you gentlemen. Now, this will be the final call for more bids. Five thousand going once, twice, and sold to the man in the blue suit.” Finch finishes the auction with a bemused smile. “Can you believe it, ladies and gentlemen? This pink dress by Azalia Designs just sold to that generous fellow for five thousand dollars. I bet you are all wondering just where he plans to wear it, aren’t you?” The crowd laughs. I make my way backstage in a daze and allow the final model to take her turn on the stage. I feel a little bad for her, having to follow that gross display of competition, even if it was for a good cause. I’m reeling with disbelief when Willa grabs my shoulders. “Holy freaking cow. Did this dress really just sell for five grand to some old dude out there?” I shake off my haze, and look at her, now changed into her own dress. “Yeah, he and Talan were trying to outbid each other,” I reply. “Wait, that other guy was The Talan? The bartender turned winery owner who sets fire to your panties but you somehow want to avoid?” She asks me in incredulity. “He’s hot. And probably loaded if he was bidding thousands of dollars on a dress just because you were in it.” “Yeah, that Talan. The older guy said something to him after his last bid. Whatever it was, Talan was willing to let him win. I need to get out of this dress and figure out what

the hell is going on. Mom looked freaked out over the whole thing.” I fumble with the zipper, in a rush to get this dress off and get out front to see if she’s okay. Willa bats my hands away and unzips me, helping me out of the dress and hanging it up while I throw on the short black dress I had planned to wear tonight. It’s not nearly as stunning as the blush dress I just took off, but it’s mine. I rush out to the front as the last model is making her way backstage, grinning happily. “Six hundred,” she tells me as I pass. “Way to go,” I reply, hoping she doesn't mind my distraction. Every bit counts. I wind my way through the guests, looking for my mom. Talan finds me first, stepping in my path and forcing me to look around him. “Bliss, wait,” he tells me, holding his hands out in a pleading gesture. “Not now, Talan, I have to find my mom. I think something is wrong.” I try to brush past him, but his hands grab and steady me, forcing me to struggle against him. “Hey, what are you doing? Later, okay?” “Hold on a second. Your mom and Andy are talking. I think they need a minute.” I stop and stare at him, patiently holding me and waiting for me to calm down. “Who is Andy?” I ask him slowly, not sure I want the answer. “Bliss, he’s your dad.”

Chapter Nineteen “My dad?” I repeat, blankly looking at Talan for confirmation. He nods, slowly releasing my arms and resting his hands lightly on my waist. “I don’t have a dad. My mom made me by herself.” I repeat the first excuse my mother ever gave me for not having a father. It slips out so naturally, I must believe it. “Well, he said he’s your dad, and wanted to win that auction to find a way to make up for not knowing about you all this time. He and Lisa are talking now, see?” Talan turns me slightly and points toward where my mom and this guy —Andy—are sitting and talking. Mom has tears sliding down her face as he softly rubs her back. They don’t look unhappy, but I wish I could be there and figure out what is happening. “How…what is he doing here?” I ask. Talan shakes his head, unsure of the answer himself. “Come with me. I’ll get you something to drink while they talk.” He leads me to a table set up with glasses and a server who dutifully pours the wine Talan points to. “Why do you keep giving me white wine?” I ask. “Don’t you think I should try something else?” My brain is focusing on anything other than my life being turned upside down with the appearance of this so-called father of mine.

“You’re young, probably new to wine. Reds are typically something you grow into. Whites are easier to drink. That Blanc du Bois has a low residual sugar count, making it dry, but still sweet. I just figured something easy would be nice for you,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “Oh,” I say, unable to think of anything more appropriate. I quickly gulp the wine down, letting the alcohol burn down my throat without tasting it. The warmth in my stomach is a departure from the cold that had settled there as soon as I found out about my father.

Whoa, I have a father. I hold my glass out to be refilled. Talan places his hand over the glass and returns it to the table. “Easy, tiger. I think you may want to have your wits about you when you speak to your mom. Another glass of wine, or three, isn’t going to help.” “Seriously? You want to cut me off now? I think I need an entire bottle, followed by a few shots of tequila to properly process the turn this evening has taken.” I sound childish and sullen, but turn away from the wine, knowing he’s right. “Time’s up. I want to go over there.” Talan follows me over to my mom, who is no longer crying, but is still deep in conversation with this Andy guy. I stop in front of them and wait until she looks up. “Bliss…” She trails off, obviously not sure what to say next. “I hear you’re my long lost daddy. Nice to meet you. I’m the kid you never knew you had. How does that feel?” I direct my venom toward Andy, unsure where it is coming

from. “It would have been so nice to have met you when I was little and really needed a father, or even as I got older and I saw just how tough it was for my mom to raise a child by herself. But this is as good a time as any, now that Mom is dying and I have been supporting myself for years. Good timing, I’d say.” Twenty-one years of unacknowledged bitterness has bubbled up and spilled out, finally having a face to splash with acid. I am breathing heavily and working on my next onslaught when Mom cuts me off. “Bliss, I left him. I never told him about you. It’s my fault, not Andy’s. Sweetie, don’t do this,” Mom pleads with me, taking my hands and drawing me down into the chair next to her. My anger dissolves when I see her tears and know I caused them. “What’s going on, Mom?” I ask, searching her eyes and praying to any god I can think of to take away her cancer so I can have her with me longer. “Honey, this is hard to say, and I hope you don’t think badly of me for it. I was young, naive. In love. I had an affair with Andy. He had a family, a wife and kids. When I found out about his marriage, I knew I couldn’t ask him to leave his wife, but I’m ashamed to admit there was a part of me that wanted him to. When I got pregnant, I finally realized just how destructive I was acting, and how much hurt I could cause with my selfishness. I decided to keep you as my one piece of him, and chose not to destroy his family. I couldn’t do that to his wife. I couldn’t do it to his beautiful girls, when I was suddenly thinking of my own baby that I wanted to protect from anything like this. I told him I couldn’t

do it anymore and left. I changed my number, moved, and did everything I could so he wouldn’t be able to find me again. I selfishly kept you to myself, not wanting to share when I had unknowingly been sharing him for months. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, because I loved him so much, but I thought it was the best thing to do.” Mom begins to cough, her shoulders shaking as she rushes to bring a tissue to her mouth to catch the blood that stains her lips. Andy holds her gently, bringing a pack of tissue out of his suit pocket and offering a new one to her when her cough subsides. I finally get a chance to really look at him. I examine his face, so rapt with attention for my mother. I realize with a start that I have his nose. I trace my finger along the length of my nose absently. It’s the one thing that never made sense when I looked at my face and Mom’s. Actually, we have the same wide forehead, too. It’s incredible to see pieces of you reflected on a stranger. “Bliss…man, that’s a pretty name,” Andy says, looking up at me. “I know this has got to be tough for you. I’m sorry to just show up like this and throw you through a loop.” “You’re right, it’s rather unexpected. I would have liked to have known even a tiny bit of this a long time ago,” I reply, my voice nearly washed clean of the hurtful venom I was so intent to spew. “Bliss, that was my fault. I thought I was protecting you. I just wanted to keep you all to myself, and I didn’t want you to get hurt when you understood that what I had done was wrong, even though you are everything that is right.” Mom

can’t meet my eyes, her hands shredding her tissue onto her lap. “Mom, how…why did he show up here, tonight?” “I sent him a letter when I found out about the cancer. I told him why I had left, and all about my beautiful baby girl who is now a wonderful woman.” She squeezes my hand and fights the tears that are pooling on her lashes. “But why? We have existed perfectly fine without him all this time. There was no reason to involve him in our lives. No offense,” I say to Andy, who just nods in understanding. “I wanted to make my amends, absolve myself of the things that are still weighing heavily on me. I need to die with a free conscious, knowing I did everything I could to make things right.” “Mom—” my voice breaks, thick tears threatening to spill over my lashes. I sniff heavily, swallowing back the salty tears as she cups my cheek. “It should have been my burden to bear with you, Lisa,” Andy says to Mom, taking her hand in his. “I am the only one who should be blamed for having an affair. It was my choice, and you were just an innocent bystander to the pain I was inflicting on my own family because I wasn’t happy. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. It broke my heart when you left me, but it made me really evaluate what I was doing to everyone around me. It wasn’t fair to my family, and it certainly wasn’t fair to you.” He turns to me, his eyes sad. “My wife and I divorced later that year. She wasn’t happy either, it turns out. We just never talked about it; we let it push us apart. I thought I would find Lisa again, but I never

did. Not until I got a letter from her, telling me she was dying.” His eyes fill with tears that he brushes away quickly. “To think, we could have spent the last twenty years together, and I messed it up with my bad timing and selfishness,” he says sadly, his voice thick with unshed tears. “This is crazy. I think my head is going to explode,” I say to no one in particular. It’s then I remember Talan is witnessing this little spectacle, and look up to find him leaning casually against the wall near Andy, his hands in his pockets and his keen eyes trained on me. “I guess I can leave you two to get reacquainted. I think I just need some time to process this,” I tell Mom and Andy. “Baby, I know this is hard. Please don’t hate me for doing what I did.” Mom squeezes my hand. “Just—I just need some time. Please excuse me.” Funny thing about time is you never have enough of it. It’s also the one thing my mom can’t give me more of. “Get me out of here?” I ask Talan. He nods, standing from the wall and pulling me to my feet. “Wonderful to see you, Lisa. Nice to meet you Andy,” he says before whisking me by the hand across the warehouse and out the door to his Ducati. “Wait a second.” I pull my hand from Talan’s when we stop at the motorcycle, digging my phone out of my purse to text Willa.

Me: Can you please cover for me? I have to leave. Just met my dad… Willa: Saw you rush out the door with man-candy.

Damn, babe, quite the night. You owe me the story. Go, I got this. Me: TY! You’re the best and I owe you more than the story, and dishes. I zip my phone in my purse and pull on the helmet Talan holds out to me before climbing on the bike behind him.

Chapter Twenty I expect Talan to head for Sonoma, but instead he drives to the South Beach area. My neck cranes upward as he pulls into the garage of a high-rise building near the Bay Bridge. He helps me off the motorcycle and stores my helmet in a metal storage locker in front of a marked space he’s parked in. “What is this place?” I look around the garage as he leads me to an elevator. “The Watermark,” he replies, pressing the button for the eighteenth floor. “I live here.” “Wait, you don’t live in Sonoma?” I grasp the handrail in the elevator as it rocks slightly and begins its ascent. “I have a place there also, but this is where I call home.” He scratches his head and squints his eyes at me. “I see what your mom meant about you filling in the gaps on your own instead of asking for clarification. You’d learn a lot just by asking.” He laughs as my jaw drops open. “Or you could just be straight with me and say ‘Hey Bliss, I live in San Francisco and just crash in Sonoma sometimes. Thought you should know’,” I say in my best version of his deep and sexy timbre. He laughs again, grabbing my hand and leading me out into a corridor when the elevator stops. He uses an

electronic key fob to unlock the last door all the way down at the end of the hall. He pushes the door open and motions for me to enter the sleek entryway of his condo. It’s all modern and manly, floor-to-ceiling windows and concrete countertops, sparse furnishings and industrial style. It’s so beautiful and perfect, I couldn’t have imagined anything better for Talan if I tried. I let my bag and heels drop at the door under a framed poster of a vintage racecar. I pad barefoot across the cool slate tile floor further into the condo. The kitchen is to the left of the entry, with an island dominating the open space. The dining room and living room have beautiful panoramic views of the Bay Bridge, lit up and beckoning through the wall of windows that take up two sides of the condo. A patio opens off the living room, with accordion doors that reveal a space that probably functions well both indoors and out. I revolve on the spot slowly, taking in the space in its entirety. Talan is leaning against the wall, watching me with his arms crossed. I hold my arms out, indicating the condo. “Are you freaking kidding me?” Talan laughs at my outburst. “You like it?” “This place.” I shake my head and gesture around. “It’s incredible.” “I’m looking at incredible.” Talan’s voice is all sex and awe, sending a thrill through my body as he crosses the room to stand in front of me. I close the small distance, looking at him from under my lashes and sliding my hands up his chest slowly. His breathing quickens, the rise and fall of his ribcage pressing

into me while his lips part in anticipation. “Make me forget, just for a night, that my life sucks.” Talan lifts me quickly, hands firm on my ass as my legs easily close around his hips. He forces a gasp from my throat as he pushes me against the cool glass of the nearest window. His lips crash against mine, stealing my breath with his passion. I breathe in shallow pants, tilting my head back to allow his mouth to slide over my skin, marking me with tongue and lips and teeth. I fist his hair, pulling him closer, and arch my back to grind against him. A moan escapes me when he bites my neck, licking the pain away as it registers. His mouth finds mine, his tongue teasing until my lips open and delving inside to caress, suck, and breathe me into nothingness. The cool of the glass fades from my skin as he leaves the main space. A soft bed cushions our landing as we fall backwards, still tangled in arms and legs and breath. I am dying to touch more of him. I work his jacket off, unsatisfied by the layers separating me from his skin. Talan breaks away, shedding his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head in one swift movement. I drag my nails down his sculpted chest, making him hiss through his teeth before I pop his belt open and fumble with his pants. His hands replace mine, making short work of my arduous task. He leaves the bed for a moment, stepping out of his pants and returning to his home between my legs in only his underwear. He hooks his fingers under the straps of my dress, sliding them down my shoulders roughly, freeing my chest of restricting fabric. I lift my hips and let him pull the dress down my legs,

shivering as he follows the material with his lips. I suck in a breath as he bites my inner thigh, inching his way toward the apex of my legs. I fall open for him, wanting nothing more than to be completely consumed. My back jerks off the bed when his lips find me through the wet silk of my panties, nibbling and pulling at the material. His hands slide beneath my ass, gathering my panties and drawing them down my legs with a jerk. I am completely naked below him. The thought makes me writhe in the tortured absence of his hands on me. He puts me out of my misery, lifting my legs over his shoulders and burying his face in my hot, wet core, his tongue sliding along my folds, hungrily lapping at my clit. I clutch the duvet beneath me, gathering and twisting as he works me higher toward that place where nothing exists but pure feeling. It’s where worlds explode and fires consume. A place you can be burned clean of the dross, at least for the night. I pant, barely able to gulp the air my lungs scream for as the pressure builds. He slides two fingers inside me, beckoning me home. For a moment my body goes rigid before my hips start to buck wildly. A cry bursts from my lips as he throws me over the cliff of release where I spin, helpless and hungry and exploding like the stars that paint my eyelids. Light kisses along my hip bones bring me back to the soft bed and the hard man who just gave me a new reason to live. “Feel good?” he asks from his spot between my legs, now splayed with liquid bones beside him.

“Mmmhmm,” I manage, throwing an arm over my face and smiling. Talan slides away, rummaging in the low nightstand beside the bed. “Want to feel even better?” “Oh, yes, definitely,” I say, lifting myself gingerly onto my elbows to watch him. His smile is sexy and filled with manly pride. The last of his clothes are now gone. I finally get to see him in fullfrontal goodness, standing straight and proud and getting the latex condom treatment as I watch. I lick my lips and pull myself further onto the bed, allowing him space to crawl over me. “Do you know what I want to do to you, Bliss?” he asks, his stubbly chin caressing my chest as he nuzzles my boobs. “I hope it includes fucking me senseless.” “Dirty girl. Is that what you want?” He sucks my nipple into his warm mouth, swirling his tongue around the pebbled skin until it points sharply. He bites the flesh he’s mounded with his hand, teasing and licking me into a frenzy of desire once again. “You didn’t answer me. Do you want me, baby?” I have a feeling he’s asking for more than permission to have sex with me. “Yes. Oh my god, yes,” I reply, knowing full well the dual questions I’m answering. I want everything Talan is offering me, in the moment and beyond. I‘m choosing him. Talan skims his hand down my body, finding my thigh and hitching my leg over his hip as he slides slowly inside.

He manages to stretch and fill and make me feel like home. I rock my hips to meet him, finally satisfied when he’s fully inside me. I let out the sweetest sigh of contentment, knowing this is what I’ve been waiting for. What I’ve been missing and wanting and needing. “Damn, baby, you feel so fucking good,” Talan grits out, holding himself steady above me, his eyes shut tightly. I pull his face down to mine, drowning in his kiss as he begins to move within me. Slow at first, he finds a rhythm that has me humming and gasping quickly. I desperately need every wild ounce he’ll give me. I meet his thrusts with my own, holding onto his shoulders as he once again drives me to the abyss where I exist in nothingness. Sweet. Salty. And so close. I sit on the edge, perched for a high-dive into a drop of water. He changes his position slightly, running himself over and through me and, oh god, there it is. My release buckles me, twists me, and turns me inside out. He has exposed my very being to light and air and explosions that leave me breathless. He is water to my parched soul. His release quickly follows mine, a few hard thrusts with my tight heat milking him forces a groan from his mouth. We both collapse, shaking and spent, gasping for breath. I run trembling fingers lightly along Talan’s back as he breathes heavily with his head resting on my chest. “Incredible.” “Mmhmm,” he replies, nuzzling my breast with his nose, placing a kiss on my skin. He rolls to his back, sitting up and glancing at me. “Be right back.” He heads to the

attached bathroom, but returns quickly. He lies down next to me, holding his arm out in invitation for me to crawl up next to him. I slide under his arm, resting my head on his chest and tentatively reach my arm over his stomach. He closes his arms around me, trapping me in a post-coital cuddle that feels fantastic and eases any trepidation I might have had about what would happen next. He’s intent on keeping me around for the evening. I close my eyes and lose myself in this place that exists outside of my world’s problems. Here, my mom is not sick and my father has not turned my life inside out.

Chapter Twenty-One “Hey baby, I think it’s time to wake up now.” I keep my eyes shut and roll away from the offending words, hell-bent on not acknowledging what they ask. Soft fingers trace along my spine, making their way into the nape of my neck and running through my hair. I relax instantly. If this is how he plans to wake me up, he’s going to be disappointed. He chuckles. “Sweet girl, your phone has been buzzing for the last hour. I think you’re wanted.” That snaps my eyes open and makes me sit up, pulling the soft white duvet with me. I look around and see sunlight softly diffused by light gray pull-down blinds, which is why I have been able to sleep as late as I imagine even though there’s an entire wall made of windows. “Here.” Talan hands me my phone, lit up with notifications and texts. I rub my eyes and imagine I’m quite the sight—hair mussed up from sex and sleep, last night’s makeup still on. I scroll through my messages, seeing updates from Willa letting me know the fundraiser was far more successful than we imagined. We brought in thousands of dollars more than we hoped, and that they had closed down when the party ended.

I click on another text, this one from Mom. She’s apologizing for Andy showing up, asking that I give him a chance and understand she would like him in her life while she can. I snort ungracefully, wanting to give life the middle finger for how their lives turned out. I get it though, and tap a reply letting her know I love her and want her to have whatever happiness she can. I may not be as thrilled to have him around as she is, but I can respect this much. Maybe I’ll like him more after I get to know him. I finally check the time and see it’s barely nine o’clock. That’s not nearly as late as I thought it would be. Talan totally could have let me sleep later, as this was the first night in a week I have managed to feel rested after sleeping. Must be the fantastic sex and mighty orgasms. I imagine how much better life would be if that happened every day, and set a goal to find out. I lay my phone on the bed, wrapping my arms around my bent legs, and rest my head on my knees as I look at Talan. He’s wearing loose pajama bottoms and looking like sin as he lounges on the bed beside me. “I liked waking up with you in my bed, even if you’re not much of a morning person,” he says with a grin. “I bet I could turn you into one with a few well-placed kisses to wake you up.” “You could definitely try, but this is a life-long struggle. Mornings and I don’t get along well. If I had my way, they would start at ten a.m. and no earlier.” My voice is husky from sleep. “Challenge accepted.” The devilish grin on Talan’s face

sends my pulse racing as he pulls my blankets over his head and parts my legs. He gives me a good morning like I’ve never experienced. I think he’s right. I could definitely learn to like mornings if they started out like this every day. Talan finally lets me out of bed once I am satisfied, and gives me a t-shirt to wear as we walk barefoot to the kitchen in search of food. He seems to enjoy the taste of me, but my stomach growls in need of something a little more solid. I let him cook eggs—“just whites, as dry as you can get them”—and toast—“with peanut butter, if you have it”—for me while I sit at the island and watch him. His kitchen is modern and sleek like the rest of the condo. The concrete countertops are cool under my arms, but he makes me warm just watching him move around the kitchen with ease. I nibble the toast when he sets a plate in front of me and eye his own, heaped with scrambled eggs and buttered bread. “What are your plans today?” he asks, forking eggs into his mouth. “I have a job later in Pac Heights. A socialite wants hair and makeup for an event.” I wipe peanut butter from the corner of my mouth with my thumb. “Pacific Heights is close to the Villa Sonoma tasting room. Want to meet up for dinner after?” “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get tired of me if you see me so much?” I tease to mask my underlying apprehension. “Not at all.” Talan looks down at his plate, his grin fading. “I’m more afraid you will change your mind about me and disappear. I plan to spend as much time with you as I can to

try to avoid that.” “Aren’t you revealing your cards too soon? Don’t guys like to keep an air of mystery about them when they start seeing a girl? You know, that ‘wait three days to call her back so she doesn’t think you are too interested’ thing?” “I waited an entire week to text you, remember?” He shakes his head at me, turning to look down at the countertop with the hint of a smile. “I actually find that with you, things feel different. I don't want to play stupid games that waste my time or yours. I want you to know my intentions. Besides, I don’t want you jumping to conclusions and running away.” He laughs at the look of mock disdain I give him. “I was serious, Talan. Hell yes, okay? I made my choice, and I’m sticking to it. I want you.” His face softens with understanding. “I don't want to waste another minute being afraid that I will drown in you if I give in. Even if I do drown, I know you’re going to be there with me, helping me breathe underwater.” “Why would you drown, baby?” I scrub my face with my hands, not sure how exactly to explain to this beautiful man the battles I have been fighting. I go for simple honesty. “I’ve been so worried that I won’t be able to give my mom all the time and attention she deserves while she lives out what time she has left. I thought I wouldn’t be able to balance working enough jobs to pay my bills if I made one more addition to my life in the form of a relationship.” I look down at my hands, fiddling with my fork and breathe deeply,

ready to reveal all of my fears and doubts. “You suck me in when I’m with you. I can’t seem to see what’s around me, because you’re so bright and shiny.” He smiles at me, but stays quiet, expecting I have more to offer. I do. “I don’t want to live in the rest of my crappy life when you’re so much better. But that makes me feel selfish and ungrateful because I would rather be in your orbit where things are awesome and rosy than dealing with my mother dying. I think my biggest fear and what holds me back the most is not knowing how I would cover all of her expenses now that she can’t work. She may only have three months left to live, but that’s a lot to take on when I’m barely making enough to cover my own bills. The fundraiser was super successful, but I don't know if it will be enough to cover life, as well as her bucket list items that I want so badly for her to experience. And who knows what will happen at the very end, when I will just want to be by her side every moment I can in case it’s her last.” I peek at Talan from under the weight of my shame and insecurities. I hope he doesn’t see me revealing my financial burdens as a cry for him to fix everything for me with his money. “Do you want my help?” he asks without hesitation. “Not in the financial sense, I couldn’t ask that of you. I will need your help with balance, and figuring out creative ways to spend time with you in the process. If you can respect my need to give as much of myself and my time to my mom right now, and not resent me for it, it would be the best kind

of help you could offer.” “Of course, Bliss, that’s not even a question. I want to be here for you, and your mom. I can definitely respect what you are willing to give to me. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll do whatever it takes to support you and make sure you get what you need, as much as you find ways to support your mom. We all need someone watching our backs.” I regard Talan with a new respect, the hope I feel for something with him growing in my heart with his easy acceptance. “How can you be so perfect? You’re hot, you explode my panties with amazing orgasms, and you are incredibly kind.” Talan grins wickedly. “Baby, this has only just begun. If you think the orgasms are good now, just wait.” I shake my head at him and roll my eyes. “But seriously. Thank you for understanding. And being perfect. Although, I don't think I can live up to this precedent you have set. I’m a hot mess most of the time, crying my eyes out, worrying about things, not sure what direction I’m supposed to be going.” “As long as this hot mess ends up in my direction, I’ll take the bad with the good.” He pulls me off my stool to stand between his legs. “I promise to give you all the orgasms if you stay with me.” I laugh at him and kiss him sweetly. “I think I can agree to that offer.”

Chapter Twenty-Two Talan dropped me off at the warehouse so I could drive the Mini back to my apartment. When I get home, Willa pounces on me, literally knocking me to the floor where she straddles my hips and shakes my shoulders. “Tell me everything! I want to know about your new daddy. I want to know what went down with your man-candy. I need all of the details.” She is yelling in my face out of excitement and anticipation. “Get off me, you hag,” I tell her playfully. I’m feeling generous after multiple amazing orgasms in the last twentyfour hours. “Did you have too much coffee today? You know that drinking more than one cup makes you crap like crazy. You better hope you don’t have to leave the house or you’ll probably shit yourself.” Willa smacks my arm lightly, but climbs off me and helps me to my feet. “I didn’t have any coffee, actually. I’m just dying to know what is going on with you. There is way too much I missed, and no one else is able to tell me a thing.” I follow Willa to the sectional couch, each of us grabbing throw pillows and getting comfy. “Okay, this is going to take a while, and might explode your brain. You ready for this?” When she nods, I launch into

my explanation of the events. I tell her how Andy came to be my dad, and about Talan rocking my world, and how I am finally okay with dating him. “Jesus freaking Christ, Bliss. You think you could just simmer down on the crazy life already. You quit your job and you’re trying to make it work on your own now. Mom gets terminal cancer. Daddy shows up and you find out you're the product of an affair. New man turns out to be afreaking-mazing in bed and super kind to boot. That’s enough to send three people into therapy, and here you are managing to smile. Oh wait, that’s the bow chica bow-wow you now have unlimited access to. I’m freaking jealous. Just of your hot new boyfriend though, the rest of that shit can suck it.” “It came at a price, and you know it.” “True, but come on. He’s gorgeous and incredible in bed and nice to top it off. Do not let this one go, you hear me?” “Yes, ma’am. Now, let’s talk about the fundraiser. How did we actually do? I’ve been dying to know since last night. Will I have to bust my ass to make sure her last few months are comfortable and she gets to do a few cool things?” Willa grabs her laptop from the coffee table, opening it and pulling up a spreadsheet. At times like these I am so thankful for her business mind and talent with math. “So, the crowdfunding page has managed to bring in two grand this week alone, and is expected to keep generating donations until you end the campaign. Emme and Milleigh have a walk planned for later this month that they are raising money for. Their goal is three thousand

between the team. That’s a cool five grand right there. Now, the auction last night was obviously a crazy success. Just your dress alone brought in five thousand dollars. The rest of the dresses combined brought in another five thousand. That’s fifteen thousand dollars, before the additional donations that were collected during the event last night, which brings our total up to eighteen thousand dollars. In one week. Your mom is going to have a very comfortable last few months.” My eyes are as big as the moon and filling rapidly with tears of relief. “Willa, this is amazing.” Mom’s rent and bills will be paid for, along with what insurance won’t cover of her medical bills. I’m thinking we will still have some left over for her bucket list and end of life care. I have found out through a little research that it’s expensive to die at home in peace. “I know. It’s so exciting when people come together in support of someone who is faced with an awful situation. Gives me the warm fuzzies for my fellow humans.” “I have to figure out what we can do to make her bucket list happen now. I don’t know how we could possibly get her to Paris for lunch under the Eiffel Tower. We didn’t raise nearly enough, and I’m not sure the travel would be good for her.” Willa purses her lips in consideration. “You know, you don't have to go all the way to France to get Paris and the Eiffel Tower.” I give her my best “you’re crazy” face. “What are you talking about? I’m pretty sure you do.”

“Not when Las Vegas has the Paris Hotel and a replica of the Eiffel Tower just an hour plane ride away.” She sits back with a satisfied smile. “Vegas is way less expensive than the real deal, but just as magical. You could go in as high rollers and still not touch the amount it would cost to get to France.” I lunge for Willa, crushing her arms to her sides in a hug and kiss her a half dozen times on the top of her head. “You are the absolute best. Thank you for coming up with that idea, it’s perfect.” “Okay you spaz, enough with the molesting. Let’s look at the flights and figure out when we can make this work. Grab your calendar and give me a few clear days to make this happen.” Willa wiggles her fingers over her keyboard, waiting on me to pull my phone out and look up my bookings. Scrolling through my calendar with all of my bookings, I find that this next week I actually have three days without any jobs. “If you can get us on a flight Wednesday, and bring us back Friday sometime, this week would be awesome. Is that too last minute?” Willa types away, her eyes zooming through airfare and hotel deals, looking for the best option. “I think it just may be your lucky day. Flights on Virgin America out of SFO are pretty decent because it’s midweek, even if you want to go last minute. The Paris has good rates and I can stack a coupon code to get you a percentage off. Bliss, this is totally going to work.” I lay back on the couch, pumping my arms and kicking

my legs in joyous celebration. This is the first time the timing has worked out for something regarding Mom’s cancer. It gives me hope that I can fit a lifetime of experiences into these last few months, making them meaningful and special. Willa books the flights and hotel for me while I search for a few things to make the trip even better. “Dude, I kind of want to tag along and have fun with you guys. Too bad you have to go during the week when I have to work. I think I need to change careers and do freelance hair and makeup like you.” “I could always use a partner in crime as well as in business. You’ve got a job anytime you want to go to cosmetology school and make this happen.” “Um, no. That sounds like a lot of work and you know I can’t do that stuff to save my life. It’s why I have my hair cut so short and wear no makeup.” “And you manage to be as beautiful as any model I ever work on.” I give her a genuine and heartfelt smile that she returns. “Aww, you’re the sweetest.” She hugs me quickly before getting back to business. “Now let’s pull out all the stops and make this trip the best one you could ever imagine for a dying woman.” Willa and I scheme together, planning a trip that will blow Mom’s socks off. I leave her in charge of the special bookings when I head off to my evening job. Pacific Heights is a beautiful neighborhood known for some killer real estate prices that nearly make me choke

when I see them in print. Jeremiah and Rozalyn Doughtry are some of my favorite people to work for, and always treat me well when I come in to do Roz’s hair and makeup for an event. “Bliss! There’s my favorite beauty guru,” Roz says, pulling me into a crushing hug when she opens the door for me. “Come with me to the dressing room, I want to show you the gorgeous gown I have picked out for the opera and dinner tonight. You. Will. Die.” Roz leads me through her luxuriously appointed home, along marble floors and past antique filled rooms. This home is all about glitz and glam, much like Roz. “Oh Roz, that’s stunning,” I tell her when she pulls out the emerald green dress with Swarovski crystals scattered around the bodice. “I bet it turns your red hair into a flaming picture of perfection when you put it on. This will be so much fun to work with.” Roz puts the dress back in her closet, returning across the white shag rug on the floor of her dressing room to the table I am setting up on. “So I was thinking of doing something like this.” Roz pulls up some photos on her phone of side-swept hair that has big curls loosely braided over one shoulder. The makeup pictures she shows me are typical of her. Heavy eyes and light lips, playing with gold and a hint of emerald to make her brown eyes pop as much as her hair. “You make my job so easy. I love having beautiful clients who have a clear vision. Now sit down and relax, I can’t wait to make this happen.” I spend an hour perfecting her makeup and getting her

hair into a cascading braided confection that works with the single shouldered dress. I place an antique emerald brooch into her hair as a final touch, and have her turn to the mirror. “Bliss,” she breathes, turning to admire her look from all sides. “You have simply outdone yourself this time. The eyes are even better than the photos I showed you, and this can’t all be my hair, can it?” She pats her hair gently. “It’s all you, Roz. Every gorgeous part is you.” “I haven’t looked this good since my wedding day, and that was all your handiwork, too. Thank you for always making me feel and look so beautiful.” Roz hugs me, carefully keeping her chin lifted to not rub off her freshly applied makeup onto my shoulder. “Now go get dressed. I need to see this all come together before I leave,” I say, cleaning up my kit as she heads into her closet to change. When she returns, she is wearing the green floor-length dress that sparkles as she moves. “I think Jeremiah will love this. He likes my hair off my neck, at least a little.” “I know he will. Have so much fun tonight. Enjoy the opera and that fancy dinner.” “Oh, I need more of your business cards. I ran out since the last time I saw you. Anytime someone compliments my hair or makeup, I hand them your card. Hopefully you will see more business from it soon. But remember that I get first pick of dates and I have to look the best. I might get my feelings hurt if those biddies start stealing you when I need your services, or outshining me,” Roz tells me with a wink.

I hunt through my bag, pulling out several cards for her. “You have my word. I will always make sure you are the prettiest. Thank you so much for the referrals, they mean so much.” Roz walks me to the door and hugs me goodbye. “I really hope things all turn out okay with your mom. I got the invite to the crowdfunding page and made a donation to help. It’s terrible that someone so young is going through this. And I can’t even imagine how you manage to keep a smile on your face. Hang in there, Bliss. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” “You are the sweetest, Roz, thank you. Hiring me for your events is more than enough, so just keep doing that and I will be fine.” I leave Roz’s house and check my phone in the car. I have a text from Talan.

Talan: Everything smells like you. It’s driving me crazy and making me need to see you. When are you free? I tap out a quick reply.

Me: Mmm, I wish I could smell you. Just finished my job—where do you want to meet? Talan: My bed, preferably. But I can meet you out somewhere if you want. Chiarello in North Beach? Me: I haven’t had enough garlic lately, sounds good. You ready for those smells? ;) Talan: Mmm garlic and Bliss. Yup, totally cool with that. Now hurry so I can eat you up. Me: See you soon

I quickly call my mom to check in with her before I head to dinner. “Hey baby girl,” Mom says, sounding a little out of breath. “Hey Mom, you doing okay?” I twist my hair and hope she’s not suffering. “Oh yeah, just had to get the phone from the kitchen. I need to keep it in my pocket or right next to me from now on,” she explains with a laugh. “This is all new to me, even though it’s steadily progressed to get to this point. I think the chest catheter makes it seem more real. As much as it sucks, I’m happy to have it because it allows me to be at home.” “Me too, Mom. But you won’t be at home much this week.” I can’t help the smile that stretches my face. “And why is that?” “Because we will be checking things off your bucket list. I have plans for you. Can I come down tomorrow and fill you in?” “Of course, honey. Now I’m excited. I have had girls from the salon and clients stopping by to check on me, but I always love when you visit.” “Do you miss working? You’ve worked five long days a week at the salon for the last twenty-five years or so. I bet it feels way different to not have to go in anymore.” “Oh, I do. I miss the people, the excitement, how it kept me busy. It gave me a purpose. But it’s been getting harder and harder to manage those long days, and I’m glad that I was able to find all of my clients new stylists to take care of them. It would have been too much for me with how bad this

has gotten. I don't think coughing up blood during a blowdry would go over so well.” The sobering reality of my mother’s worsening condition inspires me more than ever to make this trip even better for her. We say our goodbyes and I head to dinner with a renewed purpose.

Chapter Twenty-Three Chiarello is a California take on Italian food. With a light hand on sauces and oils, it’s said to be a delicious blend of old world and new. I’ve only read about it online or heard about it from clients, but I have always hoped to one day make it in to see for myself. Talan seems to be unintentionally making sure my dreams become reality. Talan is a beautiful contrast leaning against the red brick of the building in his black leather jacket and jeans. Butterflies smash around inside my ribcage. I walk faster to meet him, ready to be in his embrace again. He pushes off the wall and captures me in his arms, his hands finding their way into my hair and around my waist as he kisses me. He buries his face in my neck, breathing me in deeply. I love that he’s taller than me, probably close to 6’2. He makes me feel small even when I’m in heels, like today. “That right there,” he says, tickling my neck with his breath, “is the best scent I’ve ever had the pleasure to smell. It’s even better in person than it was on my sheets.” “Mmm.” I draw my nose along the scruff on his jaw. “You’re not so bad yourself.” “You sure you don’t just want to go home? I can make you spaghetti there. After I have my way with you.” I laugh and press his face away with my palm when he

nibbles on my neck. “I get hangry, remember? Your best bet to have me happy and pliant is to feed me first. Your wicked ways can wait.” “Damn baby, you know how to tease.” He smiles at me and takes my hand, leading me into the restaurant. We are seated quickly, and order a delicious dinner that makes me incredibly happy. Talan listens thoughtfully to the plans Willa and I came up with today to tick items off Mom’s bucket list. “Do I have to put a ring on your finger to get you to behave in Vegas this week?” He asks, a devilish glint reflecting in his eyes. I raise my eyebrow at him. “Too soon.” I drag a rigatoni noodle through vodka cream sauce, popping it in my mouth and chewing thoughtfully. It’s a little surprising that he would mention rings of any kind after knowing me for a few weeks. Thankfully, my brain doesn’t explode and my heart manages to keep its regular rhythm in the wake of his unexpected proclamation. “You know I’ll be on my best behavior with my mom there, right? I don't think she will be up for Chippendales or clubbing until two a.m..” I pout my lips at him playfully. He laughs loudly. “I can just imagine Lisa tearing it up with the best club rats and throwing dollar bills into a stripper’s man-thong.” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “I don’t doubt your ability to have a good time and still be safe. I just hate to think of all the douchebag assholes that go to Vegas looking to score.” He flexes his fingers and makes fists.

“Are you looking to lock this jelly down?” I pull a Vanna White wave from head to waist. “Maybe,” he says, pushing his tortellini into a pile on his plate. “Does that freak you out?” I give him a soft smile of understanding. “It might have, even just last week. I didn’t want anything serious. It’s funny how you find exactly what you need when you aren’t even looking for it.” I shake my head at him. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just not scary to consider myself yours.” Talan grins. “I couldn’t agree more. My Bliss. I like the sound of that.” We finish dinner quickly, skipping dessert in a hurry to get back to his condo. I follow him in the Mini, and park behind his bike in the garage. He pulls me along into the elevator, kissing me as soon as the doors slide closed. He tastes like garlic and butter and Talan. It’s a heady, rich combination if there ever was one. Stepping into his condo doesn’t feel foreign this time around, but the view of the Bay Bridge continues to amaze me. I don’t have much time to appreciate it before Talan is pulling me into his arms. He claims my mouth with his searing kiss and walks me to his bedroom. Instead of letting him push me down on the bed, I manage to surprise him. I slip to the side and push him backwards so he is reclining. His hungry eyes continue watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I slide the zipper of my dress down, allowing the straps to fall off my shoulders and the material to pool at my feet. I’m standing in my best, though not very expensive, lingerie, a lace demi bra and

panty set, with thigh high stockings attached to a garter belt. His eyes widen, lips parting as he takes me in. “This. Oh man. This is the best dessert I could have imagined.” He reaches for me, but I bat his hands away. “Nuh uh. It’s time I had a taste of dessert.” Talan lets his hands drop immediately, leaning back and putting himself at my disposal. I step in between his legs, bending to undo his belt and pants. He helps me pull the jeans and boxers down his legs, kicking off his boots so he can shuck them off. I raise his t-shirt over his head and stand back up, holding the soft fabric. I bundle it in my hands and press my face into the material, closing my eyes and inhaling him deeply. “Mmm, I like the way this smells.” “Fuck, Bliss,” Talan groans. I look over and see his eyes dark with lust, his cock jutting away from his body, ready for me. “Can you get any sexier?” I nod and let the shirt fall from my hands, dropping to my knees in between his legs. I run my hands up his thighs, my nails softly scraping along his warm skin. I smile innocently, thinking of the naughty things I am going to do. “Damn baby, keep looking at me like that and I won’t be able to—” he stops talking when I wrap my hand around the base of his erection. His eyes close as I begin to stroke and twist, enjoying the new power I have over him. I lick up his shaft, flicking my tongue at the head. Talan grits his teeth together and gathers the duvet in his hands when I take him into my mouth. His salty taste invades my tongue as I lick and suck the tip, my lips forming a seal

under the soft ridge. Slowly I take more of him into my mouth, my hand still caressing the velvety hardness of his shaft until my lips meet my fingers. Saliva collects in my mouth from him filling me so completely. Backing up a bit, I swallow and his hips buck toward my mouth. I smile around his dick, letting my mouth pop off the top. “Enjoying my dessert?” I ask, returning my mouth to him. “Best. Dessert. Ever,” he manages. His hands find my hair, stroking tentatively, silently asking for permission. I still and wait. He holds my head softly in his hands, but directs me firmly. He pushes my head up and down while I twist his shaft and suck. The steady bobbing leads to his hips bucking erratically and turns his breath to pants. He’s close. I use my other hand to cup his balls to send him over the edge. “Oh fuck,” he grits out, coming hotly in my mouth with a jerk. I pull back slowly, swallowing what I can, but a mess remains on my hands and chin. I use a finger to swipe at his salty taste that lingers on my lips, and lick my palm. “Jesus, Bliss,” Talan groans, pulling me off my knees. I straddle his hips, still in my lingerie and heels. It’s not the most comfortable, but it makes me feel incredibly confident and sexy. That confidence keeps these brandnew encounters with Talan from being awkward and weird like many of my past experiences. “You look so fucking good, just like this. I almost wish I could take a picture of you, right now.” Talan kneads my thighs framing his hips, his eyes filling with more than lust.

He’s making me feel the slightest bit vulnerable, while very much wanted. I touch my lips, swollen and well used, and smile behind my hand. Just when I think I have all the confidence in the world, he finds a way to strip me bare and make me feel shy. “Will you miss me when I’m away this week?” I ask, rocking my hips. “Hell yes. I better get my fill of you now.” He is growing hard again under me as I gently move above him. Good. I want that as much as he does. I’m an addict for the orgasms he tears from me. Talan reaches up, slowly sliding the straps of my bra over my shoulders. He raises goose bumps on my skin as his fingers softly brush my arms. Reaching around behind me, he undoes the clasp, allowing my bra to slide down my arms. I toss it away, waiting to see what he will do next. His fingers follow the curve of my waist and trace the small swell of my breasts until his big hands cup and press them together. I arch my back, pressing into him as my hips rock faster. His hands move to my shoulder and my hip, holding me as he flips me onto my back. His mouth is on mine, his body settling between my legs, pressing on my aching need through the last barrier of my panties. “How do I get these off?” he asks, pulling on the lace, trapped beneath my garter belt. I laugh. I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I dressed for him. “Here, I’ll help.” I undo the garters so he can slide my panties down, and choose if he wants to keep my stockings

on or not. He keeps them. He grabs a condom from the nightstand, holding it up for me to see. “It may look like all the others, but I stole this bad boy from you, when your purse decided to explode rubbers and make me want to take you in the middle of a party.” His eager grin as he rolls it on is all I need to laugh off the reminder of my mortifying moment. I stretch luxuriously as he watches me with his cock in hand, stroking the base slowly. I feel wanton and beautiful, and even though I’m naked and being stared at, I don’t let it detract from this feeling. He gives me all of the power in just a look. His kiss is deep and hungry when he lies down next to me. We become hands and teeth and recycled breath, our legs twining, our nails scratching. There is neediness in both of our grips. The kneading and licking and biting slowly fills the chasm of desire. Talan rolls me on top of him, directing himself to my entrance and letting me slide down onto him slowly. My head tips back as we come together. “Oh, god,” I moan, the exquisite fullness sending shivers along my spine. If being with him feels like a religious experience, he can take me to church anytime. His hands grip my hips, pulling me forward and easing me back, allowing me the position of control, but fully taking it in his capable hands. I let him, because it feels incredible. This is my new favorite position, filled to the brim astride him. Even with the delicious dragging and rocking, I find myself greedy, needing more from him. “Touch me,” I direct. In the short time we’ve been

together, he’s insisted that I shouldn’t be ashamed in the least to ask for what I want. He obeys instantly, his hands leaving my hips to brush my stomach, squeeze my breasts, trace my collarbone, and pinch my nipples. I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes open to watch this perfect man below me, the pleasure building and my lips uttering both curses as well as praises. When Talan joins my movements, thrusting his hips into mine, I find my place that exists beyond all reasoning. Where planets collide and the sun shines in blackness with no form. I rake his chest as heat blooms and expands. The colors swirling and sucking back into the vortex of pleasure. Crumpling over, my head meets his chest, our breaths creating a staccato beat of sound and air. Hands skate my back, bringing me down from the astral field I long for as soon as it slips from my grasp. He gently rolls me to my side, hitching my leg over his hip. He moves within me slowly, careful of the easing sensitivity. His lips find mine. Sweet kisses turn to hot breaths and licks that feed my hunger. I’m gluttonous for him, never satisfied. He plays my body against me, holding me steady or moving me the way he wants, stoking the fire that burns within but keeping my release just out of reach. He draws my leg up to his shoulder, my back pressed firmly into the bed by the weight of him. He catches my lip between his teeth and the perfect angle ignites me. The fuse burns quick, the sparks of release sizzling and scalding, my breath laboring to fill my lungs. I cry out to Jesus, but Talan answers, his voice joining mine in release.

Chapter Twenty-Four “Do you have to go so early?” I ask, my voice groggy. I pull Talan back into the warm nest of sheets, wrapping him up in my legs and holding him tight. His alarm woke us, and unlike me, he didn’t need to snooze it three times before he got out of bed. Now that he’s back from a shower, I don't want him to leave me again. We spent all of Sunday wrapped in his sheets, exploring each other’s bodies like mapmakers discovering uncharted territory. I can’t get enough of him. Thankfully, he’s happy to indulge my every whim. Talan groans as I press my naked body against him. “I wish I didn’t have to.” He kisses my head, tucked tight against his chest. “We’ve got a ton going on with the grape harvest for the crush season.” He rubs his smooth face with his hand, making me miss the papery sounds of the stubble I like so well. “It’s our busy time at the winery. I usually spend more time at my place in Sonoma than the city, but you’re a really good motivator to stay here.” He palms my breast, kneading the flesh and making me writhe. “Mmm do that again, and stay here with me. Grapes can wait, this can’t.” I run my foot up his shin. “Baby, you’re unstoppable. How the fuck am I supposed to say no to you?” To my relief, he opens the nightstand and

has his way with me as I hoped he would. I wear Talan’s shirt, wrapped in the scent of him and sex. When Talan left, he insisted I stay as long as I want. I chew an apple I found in the kitchen as I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his living room. I stare out over the foggy bay and enjoy the quiet of another early day. The Bay Bridge wears the summer morning mist like a scarf, but I know it will be another warm day. I kept Talan too long in bed to receive a proper breakfast, but I kind of like the tradeoff. It’s not even eight a.m. on a Monday and I have been up for long enough to get thoroughly fucked and say an unwelcome goodbye. I walk back to the bedroom and find my clothes neatly folded in the bathroom. I consider showering, but the thought of putting my dirty-girl lingerie back on once I’m clean deters me. I keep Talan’s shirt as payment for him leaving, but put my dress back on and say my goodbye to this beautiful place. I leave my panties in Talan’s nightstand. I consider it a naughty little Easter egg of sorts. Driving back to my apartment across the city and doing another morning-after walk in the same clothes is getting old. I’ll have to remember to pack something else to wear the next time I plan to see Talan. I pout as I unlock the door. Not knowing when that will be puts me in a sour mood. The roommates are nowhere to be found, all at their regular nine-to-five jobs. There is, however, a package waiting for me on the table in the entryway. Curious, I take it to my room, sitting on my bed to rip the box open. I gasp as

I pull back the bubble wrap to unveil a framed print. It’s of me, in the blush dress from the first day I wore it at the photo shoot with Finch. My eyes are closed and my chin tipped up toward the light as I stand in profile. My neck looks elegantly long, my body lithe and graceful as one arm rests against my head, my wrist tilted up. Finch edited the photo to have a matte, but dreamy feel, and I can’t stop staring at it. I wasn’t expecting this, at all. I lift the print out of the box and see a note. I carefully set down the print and lift the cream colored paper out of the box.

Love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that, and when I saw this photo, I knew it was true. Thank you for being my creative bestie, for sharing my visions and making them reality. For being my partner in photo shoot magic, and even my unwilling muse. May you find the beauty in life, and recognize it within yourself. Beauty is all around us. It is in pain, in struggle, and in overcoming adversity as much as it is in that which flaunts it. Embrace it, Bliss. -Finch I blink back tears that well in my eyes as my heart fills with warmth and gratitude. I have the most caring and gracious friends. I tuck the note into the edge of the mirror

in my room, reverently touching my fingers to the paper before I rewrap the print for Mom. She’ll love it even more than I do. I shower and get some things together for Mom’s, not finding the joy in the task I would have imagined even with my beautiful surprise print from Finch. I’m in a Talan hangover, an addict in the depressive downward slide from a high. I mentally shake myself. I didn’t even want to start anything with him a few days ago, and now I can’t imagine anything without him.

Chapter Twenty-Five The drive from San Francisco to San Jose leaves the foggy August morning on the peninsula behind for the sun kissed day in the valley ahead. Mom is waiting in the living room when I get to her apartment. “Hey, Momma,” I say, settling myself next to her on the couch. “Hey my love, how was the drive?” “The same as usual, but nice because it means I get to spend some time with you. I have something special for you, from Finch.” I hand her the framed print and watch as her eyes take it in. “Oh, Blissy, this is beautiful!” She runs her fingers along the glass, before she gets up and places the photo on a shelf across the room. “My beautiful baby girl, all grown up.” She spends a moment staring at it before returning to the couch with a smile lighting her face. I take her hand and notice the blue veins seem particularly pronounced. “I’m really sorry about leaving you at the fundraiser. I should have stayed and acted like an adult for once, rather than running away from my problems.” “Oh sweetie, it’s okay. I understand. It was quite the shock to see Andy again, even for me. I can only imagine how overwhelming the whole thing must have been for you. I

am so sorry for never telling you about him. Maybe if you had known more, you would want to get to know him now.” “I think it was just too much all at once. I do want to get to know him, but maybe slowly. I have spent my whole life wondering about him. I just never realized how it would feel to actually meet him. Will you tell me more about him, now? I want to know everything before I see him again so I’m more prepared.” Mom settles back into the couch, her eyes taking on a dreamy look. “I met Andy when I was twenty-two. It was Valentine’s Day and he was in San Jose on business from Austin. This was in the early nineties, when the Dot Com age was huge here in Silicon Valley. I was feeling particularly sad and heartbroken over another failed relationship. But I was determined to not let a recent breakup ruin one of my favorite holidays.” I’m completely engrossed in my mother’s tale, so eager to hear how she fell in love with a married man and my life came to be. “I went to a fancy restaurant to have dinner by myself. Andy was there, too, and we were going to have to wait over an hour each to get a table. I looked over at this handsome, slightly older man all by himself, and thought ‘Why not?’. So I asked him if he would like to share a table and have better odds of being seated before midnight. He seemed surprised that I would be asking him anything, and I would later learn that he thought I was too young and beautiful to be interested in someone like him. He was only thirty, but felt that he was too old for me. Our conversation

flowed so readily, we had so much in common, and it was just so easy with him. He made me laugh, seemed genuinely interested in my life, and was incredibly nice to me. I found myself becoming infatuated with him, when all I wanted was a dinner date.” Mom smiles at the memory, clearly loving the chance to tell me all of this. I smile with her, thinking of how I first met Talan. I now know how sweet it can be when you connect with someone like that. “I was brave, and maybe a little drunk off good wine, when I asked him to come home with me. I wasn’t stupid. I saw the tanline from his missing wedding band. I knew he was probably married, and yet I still asked. For whatever reason, he said yes. Bliss, you may not want to hear this, but that man made love to me like he was worshipping my body.” Mom hides her face behind her hand as she shares this last bit, embarrassed, but insistent on telling me everything. My heart sinks a little as she weaves her tale of their illicit tryst. I don’t want to think about my mom getting busy, or Andy worshipping her. I make a carry on motion with my hand and try to purge the images from my brain. “We spent every day of his trip together, and then saw each other every time he was in town. I felt alive when I was with him. I missed him like crazy when he was back in Texas, but our relationship picked up right where it left off when he was with me. It was so easy, Bliss. I had never been happier than when I was with him. I tried not to fantasize about him moving to California to be with me, but

that’s exactly what my heart wanted. I knew in my heart he was married, even if we never discussed it. It all came crashing down on me after seeing him for two months.” The look on Mom’s face as she remembers twists a knife right through my heart. I feel for her obvious devastation. “I had just found out the day before that I was pregnant. I was worried about telling him, but excited to have this little piece of him growing in me. I knew we would make it work, whether I had to move to Texas, or he finally moved to California. My life was shattered when Faith, his wife, called the hotel while he was in the shower. I picked up, thinking it was the front desk. I quickly realized who she was and pretended to be a housekeeper. I took down a note for him from her, feeling sick to my stomach because here was the woman he had married telling me one of his daughters had a fever. I confronted him, and he didn’t deny anything. He looked as sick as I felt. I told him I couldn’t be with him, and he should never have put me in this position. I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. Even if I had, how could I possibly make him pick me over his family? I thought it would be better to raise you by myself than deal with a lying cheater, because even though I loved him with all my heart, that’s what he was. I stayed with a friend until I knew he had gone back to Texas, then found a new place to live and changed my number. I was broken hearted and pregnant, but I knew I had made the right decision for myself. I’m not sure it was the right choice for you, but I tried.” I look at my mother with a newfound respect. She’s

always been my hero, but now I can’t imagine anyone stronger or braver. Seeing the outcome of their affair twenty-two years later sheds light on so many problems. I grew up without a father. Mom never married or found someone to love the way she did Andy. Andy himself divorced, breaking up his family and probably bringing all sorts of complications from that. It’s not fair, to anyone. It seems like affairs just hurt, no matter what your hormones say in the moment. I imagine myself in her position. What would I have done had I met Talan, if I later found out he had a hypothetical unknown family? The last few days have proven I probably would have done exactly what Mom did, because the attraction is so strong. “Do you hate me for being the other woman in an affair?” she asks, her eyes full of guilt and remorse. “No Mom, I don’t hate you for being the other woman. I actually understand. I can see how hard it was for you to make the choices you did. I can’t believe how brave and selfless you were to cut off ties with Andy, instead of making him choose between his family and you.” Mom looks down at our joined hands, wiping tears from her eyes. Her voice is thick when she speaks. “How did I get so lucky to have such a mature and understanding daughter? You always amaze me, but this is true grace you are showing now. Thank you, my sweet girl.” “Thank you for telling me all of that. I know you’ve been carrying that burden a long time.” I tip my head back against the couch. I could spend all

day processing, but I have better things to talk about. “I’ve got something that will hopefully make you smile. We were able to raise enough money to cover your living costs, take care of your medical bills, and fund at least some of your bucket list. Want to know what we’re doing this week?” “I’m so excited for whatever you have planned, please tell me all about it,” Mom says. “We’re going somewhere special. Is that enough, or do you want the whole surprise?” “I suddenly understand your dislike of surprises. Just tell me everything. I can’t deal with the suspense.” She waves her hands around to encourage more. “I hope it’s not a disappointment that going to Paris is sort of off the table due to your worsening condition and not having quite enough to cover the trip. So instead, we’re going to Las Vegas. We will be staying at the Paris Hotel, and have reservations at Mon Ami Gabi, the restaurant under the Eiffel Tower,” I tell her, excitedly. My hands illustrate my words, showing just how much alike our mannerisms are. Mom’s blue eyes fill with tears, but her huge grin says they’re of happiness. “Sweetie, that is a brilliant idea. You’re so clever to have come up with that improvisation.” “Actually, Willa deserves all of the credit, because she came up with it. I have a few other surprises for the trip but you will just have to wait to find out. We leave in two days.” “So soon? Oh that doesn’t even matter, I’m excited.” We talk a little more about our Vegas trip until one of Mom’s

clients stops by to visit her. I head out to the patio to give them some time to chat. Flipping my phone over in my hand, I check for new texts or emails under the pretense that it’s for work. Nothing new, and nothing from Talan. Tapping the phone on my leg, I decide to just text him myself.

Me: Thinking about you. Hope work isn’t too crazy. I wait a few minutes to get a response, and in that small amount of time I imagine a dozen possible things he could be doing to keep him from me. Including Nassim. Between her evil catty-girl act, and my nightmares she had a starring role in, she’s persona non grata in my mind. My phone buzzes, making me fumble the new lock screen to see what he’s said.

Talan: Miss you like crazy. What are you doing? Me: Just hanging with Mom. She’s visiting with a friend right now. Talan: I thought of something I can help with. Of course he did. I can’t possibly accept anything more from him. He’s been beyond generous.

Me: You’ve done enough already, no need for anything else. Talan: It’s for Lisa’s bucket list. She wants to drive in a fast car, right? Griffin finished his races, and doesn’t leave town until Wednesday. Want to bring her up tomorrow and get her on the track? Me: That’s a great idea. I think she would love that. We send a few texts back and forth to work out the

details. I spend the evening with Mom, enjoying the precious time she has left. I hope I have enough planned to make her time memorable. I seem to need it as much as she does.

My mom has less than six months to live.

Chapter Twenty-Six “Hey sleepy head, wake up,” I whisper into Mom’s ear in the pre-dawn dark. She rolls over, fumbling for the lamp by her bedside. “Bliss? What’s wrong honey? It’s still dark out,” she says wiping sleep from her eyes. “I know. We need it to still be dark if we plan to see the sunrise this morning,” I tell her, pulling away her cozy cocoon. She quickly realizes that this is not a joke, and I do indeed have plans. Thirty minutes later we are out the door, piled into my Mini and driving toward our destination. I head East, and wind up a narrow mountain road headed for the Lick Observatory. The giant white domed building sits at the top of Mt. Hamilton, situated in the Diablo Range at the furthest reaches of East San Jose. The sky began lightening faintly as we climb to the top of the four thousand two hundred foot summit. I grew a little worried we would miss when the sun actually crested over the distant horizon. Mom quietly rode next to me, and slowly gets out of the Mini to walk with me around the building to take in what will ultimately be a breathtaking view. Settling against the safety railing, I put my arm around Mom’s shoulder and think of my life with her. She leans her

head against me, focused on the rays of the sun as they break the horizon and play across her face. A face that is as familiar to me as my own. This little woman made sure I was always taken care of. I was provided for. Loved. I wanted for nothing. She made sacrifices to ensure I had everything I needed. She often worked longer and harder than seemed humanly possible, and set aside her own wants in the process. How often did I have new clothes, when she wore the same wardrobe for years? How many times did I have spending money for trips and outings when she barely had enough to pay her bills on time? My heart swells with love and thankfulness. Pride and respect.

You never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. Screw that, I'm appreciating my mother now. Again, I find something about her cancer that allows me to be thankful. Soon the sun is up for the day, bathing the valley below in beautiful light that promises a warm day. We grab breakfast at a small cafe before I get us back on the road to carry out more bucket list items. “Where are we going now?” Mom asks from the passenger seat as I turn onto the freeway. “More bucket list items to check off. This is a big week for us.” I glance over at her before returning my eyes to the road. She’s quiet for a minute before hesitantly clearing her throat. “Are you afraid I’m going to die before I get through the list?” Guilt crushes me into my seat more effectively than any

seat belt. I am afraid. So afraid that her life will end without having accomplished everything she wants to, or allowing her to live as much as she can while she has the time.

Time. That limitless entity that can be stolen from you in the blink of an eye. Often it seems like you have all the time in the world when, in reality, from the moment you are born you are already on a heading toward the end. I know that very soon, she will be bedridden, unable to breathe easily, suffocating within her body because her lungs can’t hold out with the weight of the tumors crowding her chest. She will be so sick from her own body fighting itself, losing the battle to the mutated cancer cells that somehow have taken over her petite frame. I know that the simplest of tasks will soon be insurmountable. Debilitating. As difficult as bench pressing her own weight. So yes, I am fucking terrified she won’t be able to do all of the things she has singled out for her list. She doesn’t get the rest of a long life to live out these things. She’s had to pick the few that seemed achievable and most important. No one should have to make that choice—find the few things they want to have happen when they should be able to have it all. I sigh. I’m feeling less hopeful and optimistic about the plans I have for this week. “I just want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted. You have always made that a reality for me. Now it’s my turn to repay a lifetime of debts.” “Bliss, sweetie, you don’t owe me anything. I’ve only done what any proud mom would.” She strokes my hair

lovingly. “I know this bucket list seems really important to you, but I just made it as a way to help me cope. To find a way to narrow down what I think would be fun to do before I die.” Her voice chokes up a bit, but she clears it and continues. “You don’t have to bend over backwards to make everything happen. It won’t be the end of the world to me if I don’t accomplish everything.” I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. It’s about time we move this sad talk elsewhere. “You should know me better than that. I want you to have it all, even if you weren’t serious. Now get happy, we’re doing fun things today.” “This is why I love you. You’re my little ray of sunshine. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Blissy.” Mom leans over and kisses my cheek, making me smile.

Chapter Twenty-Seven “Ahhhhhh! Oh. My. God!” Mom screams as the Supra swings past us once again. She’s been screaming almost nonstop since Griffin peeled out onto the track at Infineon Raceway in Sonoma. I can’t believe I can hear her over the screeching tires. Griffin has given her an even better ride than the one I received last week. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard at her obvious delight. “Thank you for this. You have made her so happy.” I turn my head slightly to where Talan is standing behind me. “I’m really glad you could take a few hours away from work. I know it’s busy right now.” “Anything for you.” He pulls me into his arms, moving my hair out of the way to kiss my neck. His breath sends a shiver through my body, his lips heating me instantly. “I seem to have a weakness for giving you anything you want.” He runs his teeth along my skin, nipping my earlobe. “This was easy enough. I just had to make Griffin do something he loves. No real work involved.” His lips skate back down my neck, sending my pulse racing. “Keeping you supplied with orgasms as promised seems to be a little harder to fulfill. Too bad stupid things like work and distance get in the way.” He rests his chin on my shoulder,

his day-old scruff rubbing delightfully across my neck when he speaks. “I wish you could stay up here with me tonight.” It feels ridiculously good to be in his arms again. There’s no way to stop my physical reaction to him. He can play me so well, knowing exactly what will get me hot and bothered. “As much as I’d like that, you know I can’t. I have to get Mom back to San Francisco tonight. We leave for Vegas tomorrow.” I can feel Talan pout against my neck, his arms pulling me tighter against him. “I’m a little jealous you get to go have fun in Sin City, while I’m stuck here working. I’ll only allow it because I know it’s for your mom, so you have to. But I don’t have to like it.” “Why wouldn’t you like it?” I ask, rubbing my face against his cheek while I watch Griffin spin the car around in circles. “I fucking missed having you next to me in bed last night. I don’t want you to go away for another couple of nights,” Talan bites out. It sounds like he almost doesn’t want to admit it. I laugh, rolling my head back against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the cuddly, cohabiting type.” “Neither did I, until I woke up next to you a few times and realized I liked it better than waking up by myself.” “I think you will be just fine without me for a few days. I promise you can have me as soon as I get back. It will give you something to look forward to. Like really extended foreplay.” I raise my hand to run my fingers through his hair. Talan groans, burying his face in my neck as Griffin slides to a stop in front of us. “You’re the worst, but I think I’ll

keep you.” He kisses my cheek and lets me go to help Mom release the complicated harness. He jokes with Mom while helping her out of the car. I’m not sure how I lucked out finding a decent guy. I guess I’ll keep him. “I want you ladies to come to the winery for lunch. I can show you around, give you some of the good wines. You know, perks of owning the place,” Talan says as I walk over and meet him and Mom at the car. “Sounds good to me. Hopefully that works for you, Mom?” “Oh sure, honey. As long as I get a chance to sit and rest for a bit when we get there. All that screaming took it out of me,” she says, holding a tissue that she probably had to use while in the car. “Griffin that was amazing. Thank you.” “Sure thing Lisa. Hopefully it wasn’t too much for you. Unlike your stone-cold daughter, you gave me a fun reaction. Makes my job cooler that way,” Griffin says, wrapping Mom in a side hug and sticking his tongue out at me. “I hope you have a very good day. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got to take this beautiful beast in and get everything loaded up so we can head out for the next race.” I walk over and hug Griffin tightly. I’m so grateful for his part in helping me make Mom’s bucket list shorter. “Griffin, you’re awesome. Thank you for this. Let me know if you ever need anything, I owe you.” “Well now, if you’re just handing out favors, I’m going to have to take one, Bliss. Here I thought I was just doing a good deed,” Griffin replies, a big smile lighting his face.

“Now get out of here. You have better things to do than hang out on a smelly racetrack with a gearhead.” “That was so much fun, thank you. Good luck on your race next week, wherever it is.” Mom waves before heading back to the car with me. “Talan is full of nice surprises.” Mom’s comment sounds innocent enough, but I can see right through her. “Wanting to help, you mean?” I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as we follow Talan on his Ducati. She’ll get around to whatever it is she wants to say soon enough. “It seems like there’s a lot going on with him that you don't see on the surface,” She replies. “What are you getting at, Mom? You have more you want to say.” “Well, you thought he was just going to be a fun fling you didn’t have to see again. Now you’re seeing him exclusively. And you seem to really like him. You thought he was a bartender when you met him, but he turned out to own the whole winery. What other layers do you still have to reveal?” I roll my lip with my teeth in thought. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but Mom is right. Talan likes to surprise me. I hate surprises.

Chapter Twenty-Eight We pull into the parking lot at Villa Sonoma with the weight of the unknown still hanging over my head. We follow Talan around the winery, touring the banquet area, the rustic barn that is a huge draw for weddings, and walk through the closest vines learning about the varieties of grapes grown on the property. We finally end up in the cafe and tasting room. “How you doing, Lisa?” Talan asks, pouring us a Sonoma County Viognier I find myself quite fond of. I sip my wine and wonder the same thing. She’s looking a little pale, and definitely tired. Thankfully her coughing has been at a minimum today. “I could definitely use a break. I’ll sit here and sip some of this delicious wine, and let you kids have a little fun for a bit. I’m sure there’s more of the winery to see, but this works just fine for me.” Mom happily sips her wine and gets cozy on her stool. I shrug my shoulders at Talan, knowing Mom is allowing us to have a little one-on-one time. She’s precious. And so transparent. “Come on Bliss, I’ll show you the barrel room.” Talan leads me by the hand out of the tasting room and to a warehouse sized building next door. We enter the cool,

dark space and walk through row after row of barrels stacked up to the ceiling. The low lights and temperature controlled setting feels so good after traipsing around the property in the hot sun. “You guys have a ton of wine barrels in here. When does this get bottled? “Anywhere from six months to three years, depending on the variety of wine being made. Come check this out—we have our reserve collection in this room.” He leads me out of the main barrel room, down some steps and into a stone cellar with a much smaller number of barrels. “These are our best wines, the ones we keep on reserve, and don’t give out for tastings to the public.” “Who gets these once they are bottled?” “We make these wines available to our wine club members only. The club is full of collectors and enthusiasts, mostly, so we like to offer them a little something extra special for joining,” he explains. He takes me into his arms as I stare around at the oak barrels and stainless steel vats. He kisses my neck, diverting my attention back to him. “This is all very fascinating, Talan,” I manage as he nibbles at my ear. “But did you bring me down here for a wine education, or to make out?” “Baby, I don’t even care if you like wine right now. I just miss your sweet body against mine. I’ve missed the taste of your skin, how soft you are, how good you smell,” he replies between kisses. A smooth finger slides the strap of my tank top off my shoulder, following it with his lips. My head rolls back against his shoulder as his hands

wander, squeezing my breasts and rubbing the heat at my center through my jeans. He spins me in his arms, capturing my lips with his, teasing and tasting them apart. His warm tongue invades my mouth, filling me with his taste and igniting my hunger for him. We’re all hands and lips as he pulls my top over my head, throwing it behind us. I work his shirt out of his pants and let him pull it off while I work on his button. His warm skin against mine sends shivers of longing racing through me, desire dampening my panties in anticipation. “Wait, baby I don't have a condom,” Talan groans into my neck, where his head is resting as he stills my hands and breathes heavily. “Fuck. I didn’t think this through.” “It’s okay, I have an IUD. It’s constant birth control, and I’m clean,” I tell him, raising my arms to his hair, gripping and pulling his face back to mine for more kisses. He holds back, infuriating inches from my mouth, his hands splayed out against my back. “You sure about this? It’s kind of new still. I don’t want you uncomfortable with anything later, just because we’re in the moment now. I can wait.” He’s actually more of a gentleman than he claims, but I want him to be a little less right now and just take me. “No, I’m sure. I want this,” I reply, my hands dipping into his waistband and fisting his erection. His answering groan reverberates through my throat, tickling and exciting me more. His hands are back on me, pulling my jeans and underwear down my legs. He helps me out of my pants, staying on his knees to kiss and lick

me where the heat from my desire has gathered and leaves me on shaking legs. His mouth feels so good, but leaves me wanting as he stands, bending me over the nearest barrel. His pants are pushed down and he’s behind me, slowly forcing his way inside my slickness, filling me completely in a way no one has before. Having no barrier between us lends an intimacy to the urgency. It makes me feel closer to him even as we are driven by lust. I look over my shoulder at him, buried to his balls inside me, and feel my insides tighten. He stills and rubs my lower back gently. “This feels so fucking good. I don't think I’ll be able to last long with you gripping me like that. I’m sorry, baby,” he says, his voice strained as he works to hold still within my slick, tight heat. “I don't need anything but you fucking me, Talan,” I reply, arching my back and driving my hips against him. I hold the edges of the barrel as he slides out almost all the way, leaving me with an emptiness only he can fill. He grabs my hips tight as he slams back into me, forcing a cry from my mouth before he starts a punishing rhythm that leaves me breathless and hits me just right. I feel the pressure building as he slides over my spot again and again with delicious friction and heat. My grip slips slightly, forcing my chest down onto the barrel. He has a new angle which sends me right to the edge, moaning his name and seeing stars. Fireworks fizzle behind my eyes, clenched shut tight as I am rocked by my orgasm and his continued thrusts that have taken on an irregular rhythm. “Oh fuck, Bliss.”

With his hips pressed as tightly to my ass as he can get, his release is hot and wet inside me. The pulses of his climax keep me coming, the sensations building and releasing long after they should. I am left panting, clutching the oak below me as the sensitivity sets in and leaves my muscles jerking when he pulls out. His come slides down my inner thighs, marking me as his in the most primal way. I oddly want to savor the feeling, parade it around for all to see. I am Talan’s. I have his essence all over me. “Fuck,” Talan says again, resting his head against my stomach from his position on his knees in front of me. “You’ve ruined me, Bliss. I need that, all of the time now,” he says. He steadies me by the hip and uses my panties to wipe my trembling legs. He kisses my thigh and helps me back into my jeans, now commando as he stuffs the soiled scrap of fabric into his pocket. Setting me against the barrel, he stands to place my tank top over my head. I pull my arms through as he does up his own shirt buttons. Once he is fully dressed, he pulls me back into his arms, softly caressing my hair as he kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, and finally he lightly presses his lips to mine. “Thank you,” I tell him simply. My hands cover his where they rest against my cheeks, full with my smile and flushed from exertion. “Baby, I haven’t had that much fun at this winery, ever. You have made this my new favorite room in the whole place. If your mom wasn’t waiting on us, I’d do it again.”

I laugh at his comment, fully believing him. “You should name a wine after me,” I joke, gesturing around at the barrels. He smiles widely. “That’s a great idea.” He points me toward the barrel I was just draped over. “That moscato is sweet, has delicate floral aromas with lively citrus notes. I think it fits you perfectly.” He tips my face up so he can kiss me again. “I was kidding, Talan. You don't have to name anything after me. Now let’s go find Mom. I’m sure she’s starting to wonder what kind of trouble we’re up to.” I lace my fingers with his and lead him back up the stairs and through the barrel room into the hot sunshine outside. I shade my eyes with my hand as I adjust to the change in light. A nagging doubt enters my mind as we walk, our shoulders pressed together. “Do you…” I falter, not sure how to ask, but can’t stop the question from burning right through my mental barricade. “Do you, you know…do that with a lot of girls here?” Talan stops walking, pulling me to face him. “Never. I don’t mix business with pleasure.” He shakes his head. “Until you came along, I guess. You do something to me; make me want you everywhere, at any time. Please don’t think I’m treating you like I would any other girl. You are so much more than that to me.” He draws my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. My insecure, jealous side satisfied, I nod and let him lead me back to the tasting room. Mom is hanging out at a table in the cafe, an empty plate in front of her and her glass

half full of a white wine. She’s chatting happily with another patron, a brunette woman about her age, dressed casually in crisp black shorts and a sleeveless white shirt. She waves us over when she sees us enter. “Oh, there she is, my daughter. Bliss, come meet Coralee. She lives in Los Gatos, can you believe that? Such a small world.” Talan and I shake Coralee’s hand and sit near them at a table. “Bliss, it’s so nice to meet you. My daughter Amelia is getting married here at Villa Sonoma, this fall. I was up here picking the wines for the reception and Lisa has told me so much about your work. I want to hire you to do the hair and makeup for the wedding party.” Coralee gives me the date of the wedding so I can check my availability. Thankfully, the day is still open, so I can agree to work with them. “Bliss is actually the winery’s preferred hair and makeup artist, so you are making a wise choice,” Talan says, running his hand along my thigh unseen under the table. “Since when?” I stop his hand between my thighs when he gets dangerously close to making my eyes roll back while I’m trying to be professional. “Since the owner met you and decided he only wanted you to be working events here.” He stares at me, a crooked grin splitting his face as he wiggles his fingers, still within the vice grip of my thighs. “Well that settles it, then. I know Amelia will be so happy to have this taken care of. She really can’t be bothered with the details of the wedding planning.” Coralee waves her

hands dismissively, shaking her head in distaste. “She would have preferred to not even have a big wedding, but has graciously allowed me to turn it into something other than what she had in mind. A courthouse ceremony and backyard reception just wouldn’t please the family.” She chuckles and waves the idea away with her hand. “Her fiancé works for Apple, some sort of engineering position. They have a lot of friends and family that would have been disappointed to not be a part of this wedding. After all, they have dated for ten years.” “What’s her fiancé’s name?” Talan asks, his curiosity piqued. “Alan Rothman. I believe he’s in development or something. Do you know him?” Talan laughs. “Actually, I do. He and I worked together at Stratus.” “What’s Stratus?” I ask, leaning away to study him. He looks a bit guilty. I feel another surprise coming. It sets my teeth on edge. “It was a start-up company I put together while in college. We started out with cloud-based apps. We developed a low-power fingerprint scanner that a few companies adopted for their cell phone interfaces. That finally put us on the map.” “Oh, I knew about the scanner because Alan worked on them, but I didn’t know about the apps. Did you just make fingerprint scanners after that?” Coralee asks, resting her chin in her palm as she stares at Talan in dreamy interest. I wonder if I look at him like that.

Probably. But not right now. “Stratus changed a lot in the few years I was working on it. We brought in fresh talent all the time that took the company all over the map, both in engineering and the end result of our products. We made a few other things that sold well, like chips, but most notably a rechargeable battery that was smaller, more flexible, and far more powerful than anything on the market. I sold Stratus to another company a few years ago.” “Well that’s quite wonderful for you, young man. I do remember when Alan was working at Stratus. He seemed to like it quite well. I don’t think I quite knew the scope of the products he was working on back then.” My jaw is hanging open unattractively, my mind completely blown over this new revelation. How could he have not said anything about this to me? It absolutely explains how he had the money to buy a freaking winery at twenty-three. And the beautiful condo in South Beach. Hell, it explains a whole lot, but not why he kept this from me. I smack Talan’s shoulder a little harder than would be considered playful. “Are you kidding me?” I ask, keeping my voice lower than my incredulity would warrant. Talan tries to hide his sheepish smile. “I was going to tell you…eventually.” Coralee and Mom laugh. “It’s a new relationship for them. She still has a lot to learn about Talan,” Mom says to Coralee in explanation.

“Oh, new relationships are the best.” Coralee clasps her hands together and smiles sweetly. “Enjoy it, you two. The newness wears off too quickly, and you will find yourselves comfortable and in a routine very soon.” I highly doubt Talan will allow us to fall into a comfortable routine, if he plans to keep dropping new information on me like this. Surprises seriously throw me for a loop. I hate them. “Don’t look so unhappy, Bliss. Here, have some of this moscato, you’ll love it.” Mom holds out her glass of wine to me. I clamp my hand to my mouth as laughter sputters through my fingers. I look at Talan, his own tight smile just barely containing the laughter that’s shining in his eyes. “I was stuffed on that moscato earlier.” I barely manage to suppress the laughter that wants to break free. “But yes, I actually love it, and the barrels it’s fermented in.” I wave off her offer while thinking of our very recent moscato experience. Oh my god, that poor barrel. I snicker as I think that at least now it will be made with love. Mom looks at me curiously while returning the glass to her table. Thankfully, she doesn’t pry into my poorly hidden innuendo. Instead, she engages Coralee in more talk of the wedding planning. Mom can make friends anywhere. It’s the gift of a hair stylist, being able to engage a person, to get them comfortable as soon as they sit in your chair. Half an hour later, we say our goodbyes to Coralee. She is quite excited

to have me on board for the wedding, and I’m happy to have another booking. “I guess it’s about time for us to leave, too.” I pout my lips, sliding my fingers through Talan’s. He keeps our hands clasped as he draws his arm over and around me, pulling me back to his chest as we walk out to the parking lot. “I’m going to turn the car on and let the AC get cool. You two take your time.” Mom takes the keys from my hand and walks to the Mini. “Bye Talan and thank you. You are a sweetheart for everything you arranged today,” Mom says over her shoulder. “Bye Lisa, have so much fun this week.” She just waves over her shoulder, giving us privacy. Mom is truly a classy, understanding lady. Talan turns me around in his arms, his hands resting on my hips. “Now.” He brings his gaze to my face, his eyes tracing my lips. “I hope you can remember what you have waiting for you at home while you’re off having fun in Vegas.” His hands follow the curves of my waist, his thumbs brushing across my breasts. My nipples instantly rise to his touch. He rubs circles around them, my entire body tightening in response as a breathy sigh escapes my lips. My eyes flutter closed as his hands slide down my back, coming to rest on my ass as his lips meet mine. My arms lift under his, grasping his shoulders as I rise onto my toes to deepen our kiss. I want him to be the last thing I taste at the winery. There’s an urgency to our tongues. Our lips bruise in the punishing pressure we both apply. All too soon, it’s over

and he’s walking me to the car. “I’ll miss you.” I look up at him, back-lit by the sun, a blazing halo of light around him. I trace the outline of his face, softly blurred by the brightness behind him. He gently kisses my lips, his thumbs running laps along my jaw. “I’ll be here. Come back to me in one piece, still the girl I’m crazy about.” “What do you actually think I’m going to do in Vegas? Nail mob bosses and take enough drugs to addle my brain?” The smile dies on my lips when I see his face take on a strained expression. “Talan, seriously. I’m going with my sick mother. We’re going to eat a lot of delicious food and see some shows. There is no room for boozing and banging on this trip. Besides, you give me all the screwing I can handle. I’m not the kind of girl who would mess around on my boyfriend.” I kiss him again and hope my reassurances are enough to put his mind at ease. As much as I don’t like it, I completely understand where his brain is right now. My own is quite familiar with that dark place. This is a hard spot to be in so early in a relationship. We don’t know each other well enough to know if we have anything to actually worry about. All we can do is insist that we are committed, and do our best to back that up with actions. Talan rubs his face with his hand. “I’m not the jealous type, Bliss, but I would break some fucking skulls if anyone touched you. It’s probably best I’m not going. I can’t control what douchebags do when they’re on vacation, even though I know you will be your perfect self.”

I give him a Boy Scout salute. “I will be on my best behavior and thinking about you when I touch myself.” “Holy shit, Bliss.” Talan looks stunned, which is better than worried. “Baby, you better get out of here before I take you back to that barrel room.” He smiles and kisses me goodbye, pushing me in the direction of the Mini. I get in and sigh, looking over at Mom who is studiously ignoring my rather public exchange with Talan. She covers her smile with her hand and looks out the window. “What?” I ask, driving away from the winery and Talan. “It just makes me really happy to see you falling in love.” “Mom, seriously, it’s too early to be in love. I like Talan, a lot, but we’re nowhere near that yet. I barely know him.” “Mmmhmm,” Mom says, clearly not believing a word I say. “Just enjoy it, sweetheart. Whatever it is.” My mom is crazy. I’m not falling in love.

Am I? “Look Mom, the sun is setting,” I say as we cross the Golden Gate Bridge back into San Francisco. I drive to the beach instead of straight home, miraculously finding parking within an easy walking distance to the cold sand. For August, the sky is relatively clear of the San Francisco summer haze that settles on the city and makes it feel colder than it should be. The few clouds that dot the sky are wispy and lend a perfect canvas for the sunset to paint its sherbet colored hues across the sky. We take a seat on the low stone wall that separates the constantly migrating sand from the street and watch the glowing orange ball sink into the Pacific Ocean.

“It seems you perfectly orchestrated the day to be able to begin with a stunning sunrise on a mountain top and end with this beautiful sunset at the beach.” “I didn’t plan it that way, but I’m really glad it happened to work out. It totally fulfills one of your bucket list items.” “My perfect baby girl created the perfect day. Thank you sweetie, this has been wonderful.” I wrap my arm around Mom’s shoulders and rest my head against hers as the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon.

Chapter Twenty-Nine “Wow, check out that view,” Mom says as we enter our room at The Paris. The floor-to-ceiling windows look out directly on the Eiffel Tower and the lake at The Bellagio across the street. “It will be awesome to watch the fountain show from here tonight. It was nice of Willa to request this view for us.” I roll our suitcases into a corner and wander into the bathroom. My shoes echo across the marble floors as I check out the fancy digs. This is my first trip to Las Vegas, and so far it’s been hot, crowded and smoky. The last was something I hadn’t factored in. I started worrying immediately about Mom’s lungs, and if the temptation would be too much. Mom quit as soon as she was diagnosed with cancer, but as a smoker of 30 years, I know it must be hard for her to not smoke when she’s around it like this. Just walking through the casino, and on the street outside the hotel, we went through so many clouds of smoke that choked me and made her cough. “How does it feel to be in the presence of an Eiffel Tower, in Paris? I know it’s not the Eiffel Tower, and we’re not in the real Paris, but this is pretty sweet, right?” I walk over to where Mom is standing by the window.

“It’s great, Bliss. I know we’ll have so much fun.” And we do. We have a late lunch at Mon Ami Gabi, eating crepes and drinking French wine like we’re really in France. A nap is in order after our day of travel and rich food. That evening we have dinner in the Eiffel Tower restaurant, watching the Bellagio water show from our coveted window seats. Another thank you is in order for Willa’s perfect planning. When Mom makes to head back to our room, I tell her we have more planned. We head across the street to watch “O”, the Cirque Du Soleil show at the Bellagio. We’re both amazed by the acrobats and wildly impressed by the whole spectacle. That night, when we have both crawled back into bed, bellies full and faces sore from smiling, I know I did the right thing to bring Mom here. As long as we manage to avoid the toxic clouds of smoke in the casinos and don’t attempt to walk far in the heat, Mom does really well. Even her coughing is staying to a minimum. The next morning is another story. Mom wakes up early, coughing so hard I think her lungs will fall out. She’s used tissue after tissue and still they come away stained red. I grab a bottle of water and her medicines, and after a few minutes, she finally manages to control the coughing fit. She may have her coughing under control, but she’s physically exhausted, curling up on her side, barely able to lift her head off the pillow. It’s so hard to see her in this much pain. It’s a small glimpse into what life will be like for her shortly, and it breaks my heart into a million pieces. I lay next to her quietly so she can rest.

I shouldn’t have brought her here. I should have foreseen how badly the smoky atmosphere and the heat would get to her. This is my fault. I’ve made Mom’s sickness worse. When she wakes up an hour later, she smiles at me and pets my hair, fanned out on the pillow where I have kept vigil over her sleeping form. I even held my finger under her nose a few times to make sure she was breathing. “Do you want to go home today? I can get us on the next plane out. There’s one leaving in two hours; I checked.” “Oh, no sweetie, I just had a bad coughing spell. It happens every few days. I’m feeling better now. We can leave tomorrow like we planned. Isn’t there something you wanted to do today?” “Mom, I just want you comfortable and happy. Anything here is totally unnecessary if you’re not feeling well.” “No Bliss, I’d like to stay. I know you have something nice planned for today, and I’m feeling well enough to have some more fun with you. Let me just go shower and we can do anything you want.” I watch Mom get out of bed, her movements only hinting at her pain. She’s such a warrior, putting on a brave face because she thinks I need it. I just need my mom. I order a movie and room service while Mom showers and make her spend the afternoon relaxing in the room. There’s nothing important enough to make me take her out of here and into a bad environment. I can tell she’s getting stir-crazy around dinner, and have no choice but to leave the safety of our non-smoking room. It’s just down the strip from our hotel, but I get us a cab to

the Venetian so we can have a gondola ride before dinner. Mom seems to have fun, and we both love that our gondolier sings incredibly. His voice is an operatic odyssey, while he pushes our boat through the man-made canals around the hotel. Our reservation for dinner is at Bouchon, A Thomas Keller restaurant at the Venetian. Mom looks a little confused, but smiles when we arrive. “Another French restaurant? Vegas has everything imaginable. I thought you would have picked something different.” “You were the one to put France on your bucket list. I’m just doing everything to make it sort of happen.” I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head apologetically. I can make other arrangements if she pushes the issue. It turns out to not be an issue at all. Later, she apologizes for even questioning my choice of restaurant. We both love it, and declare French food to be our new favorite food ever. “How are you feeling now?” I ask Mom after our plates have been cleared and we are sipping small cups of espresso. “Really good, honey. Don’t worry about me so much, I’m fine.” Her brave smile is a good front, but I know the truth. “If you feel up for it, there’s a concert I want to take you to tonight.” “Absolutely, let’s go.” When we arrive at the arena and the marquee tells us who is playing, Mom turns to me with an unbelieving expression on her face.

“Fleetwood Mac? Bliss, seriously, how did you make this happen?” I laugh. “Mom, I promise I didn’t book them or anything. It was just our luck that they happened to have a show here this week. It was meant to be.” “This is…it’s just amazing, honey.” The tears in Mom’s eyes and her utter disbelief makes me feel a little better about exposing her to health hazards on this trip. We find our seats and wait excitedly for the band to take the stage. All throughout the show, Mom keeps looking over at me, a happy smile on her face. We stand to dance in the crowded space between the seats. We sing along to our favorite songs. We jump and hold hands like the sappy fans we are when Stevie Nicks moves toward our side of the stage. It’s an incredible experience to see the band that has been sort of a bonding experience for us. Their music was the only thing that could get me to sleep as a child with fear of missing out. Something about the blend of voices, the lyrics, the music, that connects with me. Mom says I’m an old soul, and it’s no wonder I like a band like this. I think I adopted her love of the band because I wanted to be just like her. Soon I realized their music meant more to me than just as a connection to my mother. When Christine McVie sits down at the piano and begins to play Songbird, Mom and I cling to each other happily. Mom’s voice warbles in my ear as she sings me the words that are so familiar. The last line she sings with a voice thick with tears. “And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.”

I commit this moment to memory, savoring the feel of her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her off-key voice rasping in my ear. I love her so much I could burst with it. Her love for me is a balm that could always soothe my soul, as well as any physical pains I ever had. I would be so lucky to find a man that could love me even half as unfailing and selflessly as she has. There’s something untouched about a mother’s love. This is why the English language should have more variations of the word that properly convey the intricacies of the emotion. The very feeling of love. It’s too big to be contained by four letters. Too abstract to have one allencompassing word to hold it.

Chapter Thirty Mom and I make it back home Friday just in time for the appointment with Dr. Ong I scheduled while Mom was sleeping. I was lucky to get an appointment so quick. I pressed the receptionist with the needs of a dying woman, and she managed to squeeze us in. I’m worried about Mom. The coughing continued, especially bad at night, or when aggravated by the Las Vegas atmosphere. I can’t help beating myself up over and over for my choice to put her in a bad environment. She insisted it wasn’t my fault, however I couldn’t get past my bad decision. My hands find no rest, fidgeting and twisting and tearing magazines while we wait on Dr. Ong. I’m a freaking mess, unwashed and bleary, but determined to be here directly off the plane. My mind won’t stop running, my eyes jumping from one piece of art to the TV to the clock on the wall that ticks menacingly. I hate clocks that tick; the sound is unnerving, not pleasant in the least. I rub my eyes and yawn, my body no match for my incessant brain. I am physically exhausted from a whirlwind few days and not getting any sleep. I shift uneasily in my chair, finding no comfort in the hard yellow plastic. “Bliss, stop it. I know what you’re doing, and you can take those thoughts and shred them like the magazines

you’re destroying.” Mom’s voice is stern with her reproof. I twist my hair guiltily, avoiding eye contact. “I’m just worried, okay? I needed to have you checked out after spending a few days in less than desirable circumstances.” “Whatever she says, it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter if I drop dead next week or next year; I’m dying.” My heart clenches in my chest, the beat pausing and restarting out of sync as her words hit me. Tears spring to my eyes, held back by the mightiest force of my lashes with a few rapid blinks. “I had the best time with you these past few days, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. The trade-off for being healthier had we not taken the trip is in no way even close to what I was able to take away from it. My time with you, experiencing life and making memories, is better than any medicine or treatment I could get here at the hospital.” “What if I made you worse? What if I—”I break off, not sure how to voice the guilt and fear. “What if I just took time off what’s left of your life with my selfish decision to take you to Las Vegas?” “Honey, what if I didn’t go, and still got worse? What if I decided to go through chemo and radiation, only to have it not work? There are a million what if’s you could ask, and still never get any answers. You have to be satisfied with not knowing; with living your life as if you had no other options. If you make decisions that you love, how can you doubt that it was anything but the right choice?” As I grapple with my mother’s wise words, Dr. Ong calls us into her office. She still very much reminds me of a

cancer-fighting elf. She gets right down to business once we are seated in her office. “How are we doing today, Lisa?” Mom looks over at me before returning her attention to Dr. Ong. “Never better, living the dream.” I sputter in disbelief, unsure how she can crack jokes when this is her life we are talking about. Dr. Ong smiles, her almond eyes twinkling. “I appreciate your humor, it’s very important for cancer patients to keep their spirits up. Depression is a very real factor in this stage of things. But really, how are you doing?” Mom sighs, dropping the funny pretense and getting down to the nitty-gritty. “Not so good. I’ve been coughing harder and more frequently. I feel the weight settling in my lungs again, like when I had the pleural effusion. I thought the catheter would keep the fluid from building up again?” “Lisa, that weight would be the tumors in your lungs, not fluid. They’re growing extremely quickly. They take up room in your lungs so you can’t draw a full breath, and they have weight to them, which you are feeling now that they’re bigger.” Dr. Ong goes on to explain the course the cancer has taken, and where it will go from here. She recommends we begin to use hospice care, since Mom needs more care than I can possibly provide on my own. It hurts to hear that I am not sufficient; that my love and determination alone are not enough. She prescribes even more medications to control the side effects of the cancer, to make Mom more comfortable as the pain begins to increase in severity. She

suggests ways for us both to manage the stress, and gives me support groups for caregivers I can utilize when I find myself struggling. Dr. Ong prepares us both for Mom’s imminent death. She gives us a new timeline. No longer do I have a lifetime to spend with my mom. No longer do I have even six months to process that she is dying. Now I will be lucky if I have my mom for six more weeks.

Chapter Thirty-one I settle Mom at home with Amy, begging her to let me know if they need anything, no matter the time, and head back to San Francisco. I wanted to stay with Mom, but I have a wedding at the Fairmont booked tomorrow. I’m desperate to be held, comforted, told I’ll be alright. I’m desperate for what Talan can give me; his own special brand of temporary memory eraser that keeps me from focusing on anything by what he is doing to me in the moment. I haven’t heard from him since Monday. He didn’t call or text me once while I was in Vegas. It would be weird, except I didn’t call or text him, either. This is the busiest time of the year for his winery. He’s probably been swamped with work and too tired to call. I get it. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and rake my fingers through my hair after parking on the street near Talan’s condo at the Watermark. I could use a shower and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe I can convince him to shower with me. I have no hopes for the uninterrupted sleep. I’m half a block away when I am stopped dead in my tracks. My happiness and excitement to see Talan drain in the wake of the cold chill that descends my body. The gum

in my mouth turns sour, bile rising in my throat with the onset of nausea. Hot and cold simultaneously war for control of my body temperature. I shiver as a hot, prickly sweat pops out all over my skin. Talan is holding the door to the building open, leaning casually against the jamb as he smiles and nods at a petite brunette. She’s standing too close, right in front of him. Her hand reaches out and grasps his forearm, lingering there in familiarity. She rises up on her tiptoes, too short to meet him without his help, which he provides as he meets her face for a quick kiss. Her hand finally leaves his arm, but instead of relinquishing him, she runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and across his cheek. My own hands shake, my stomach a violent sea of churning acid and revulsion. They hug, and she turns. I know who it is before I even see her face. She’s haunted my nightmares. Now they have finally come true. Nassim leaves Talan’s building, heading in the opposite direction I am coming from. Talan watches her for a moment, then lets the door close and is hidden from my view. I lean against the wall of the closest building as hot tears scald my cheeks. I feel betrayed. Broken. My heart is cast into the air, bloody glitter raining from the pieces that were so carefully constructed just minutes before. My breath is coming in gasps, the very air too thick to provide any relief. I turn and run back to my car, unable to convince myself that what I just saw was anything innocent. I

should never have trusted him; never given him the chance to prove my insecure thoughts right. His betrayal is heavy, slicing, final. I manage to make it back to my apartment without running over any pedestrians or rear-ending any cars. My preoccupation is dangerous, my depression debilitating. I am thankful none of my roommates are around when I arrive home. The dark apartment is exactly the cave I would like to crawl inside and never leave. I dump my suitcase in my room, and head to the bathroom where I sit in the bathtub, crying until the shower runs cold. I scrub every inch of my skin and still feel the shame of having given so much of myself to him. I wish I had never let him bareback me in the barrel room. What if he had some STI from banging other chicks behind my back? I am so stupid. I dry heave into the drain, my stomach offering nothing to purge to make me feel better. I dry myself off and crawl into my bed, exhaustion finally ending my tears and providing the only relief I can find for the pain that digs and tears at me with a muffled numbness. Despite my exhaustion, I am restless, unable to sleep as thoughts invade my brain and force me into deep contemplation. My thoughts mostly flit between Talan and my Mom like a hummingbird to the most brightly colored flowers. The trip with Mom had been fun, restorative, a bonding experience I won’t forget. It was a high even though she ended up worse for wear. Coming home to find that Talan has completely misled me, and took Nassim into his arms the minute I was gone stings like the lashes of a whip.

I am bewildered that I am struggling with the part of me that still needs and wants Talan to feel complete. Apparently, it didn’t get the message that we aren’t wanted, needed enough to hold out for three days. Despite, or maybe because of, everything else I have going on, Talan seemed to fill a hole that was previously wanting. Now that hole is blown wide open, exposing my heart and soul to the world, showing me broken and bleeding. I had previously come to the conclusion that a heart could be divided up into separate but equal portions that can hold more longing and love and lust than you ever imagined. When you think your heart is full of one person and your feelings for them, someone comes along to show you there is room for more. That’s the lesson I learned when I let Talan in, because I found room for him even though I was full with Mom, life, and work. Different compartments, dimensions even, allow the complex feelings to exist on the same plane without stealing space from anyone else. But how can a small muscle, an organ that is susceptible to disease and failure, hold so much feeling? I’m realizing that maybe it’s the soul instead that captures and holds those feelings that the heart generates. A soul is all encompassing, without limit, and doesn’t break like a heart can. A soul is as elastic as a rubber band, stretching to fit your feelings. That same soul is able to compress, wrapping you in armor to keep you together when your heart is broken. My soul is shrink-wrapped around me now, intent to hold me together as the pieces are determined to float away.

I manage to fall asleep, tears soaking my pillow and my head a mess of tangled emotions, deceived and still wanting this man I was on my way to giving my heart to. Maybe I already had.

Chapter Thirty-Two I look like shit when I wake up the next morning. My eyes are puffy and bloodshot, my hair a tangled mess, and my skin a sallow shade that would frighten my clients. I have to talk myself into putting makeup on and doing my hair, but once the work is done, I do feel better. On a bad day, there is always lipstick. I put my big girl panties on and look at the job ahead for what it is—my sole source of income—and manage to get my ass to the Fairmont on time. I even plaster on my fakest smile, and pull out the easiest conversation starters to use with the bridal party as I only pretend to pay attention to everything. I manage to fake interest when it’s only their hair and makeup I care about. Eight hours later, the entire bridal party looks picture-perfect, their airbrushed skin, painted lips, and softly curled hair worthy of a magazine. I give air kisses and hugs all around before I pull my kit and myself out of the suite and out of the beautiful hotel. I normally love working jobs here, but my heart just isn’t in it today. I pay my ungodly expensive garage parking bill and drive back to my apartment, not looking forward to facing Willa who will be demanding an account of the trip. I almost think I have made it in undetected, having just opened my door to dump my bag, when Willa ambushes

me in the hallway. “How was the trip? Did you have fun in Vegas? Why won’t you answer my texts? Where have you been?” Her questions come in quick succession, my brain barely registering one before the next has assaulted me. I wave my hands between our faces, unable to deal with this level of demand. “Later, please. I’m really tired, I just need to go lay down.” I turn back to my door again, intent on escaping. Willa snatches my arm and turns me all the way around, taking in the puffy bags under my eyes and the overall tone of misery I’m wearing like perfume. “What happened?” Instead of letting me answer, she steers me to the kitchen, depositing me in a chair at our tiny table and reaching into the pantry for a sleeve of Oreos. She fills a glass with milk and plunks both in front of me before returning to the fridge. “Eat those. I know you had a job today and probably didn’t get a chance to eat. I’m making you a grilled cheese. And whatever else I can find.” My fingers manage to take control, opening the plastic wrapping on the Oreos and dunking one in the glass, sopping up milk before I put the whole thing in my mouth, sucking milk from my fingers. The sugar hits my taste buds, hunger roaring through my numbness. I proceed to eat a whole row of Oreos before Willa hands me the steaming sandwich and removes the rest of the cookies from my gnarled grasp. I blow while chewing, burning my tongue on hot cheese

and buttered bread, too hungry to care. When I’ve devoured half the sandwich and finished off the dregs of my cookies and cream milk, Willa returns to her questioning. “Is your mom okay?” I wipe my mouth and hands on a napkin, swallowing the bite I had just taken. “She’s worse. I didn’t think about how the cigarette smoke would affect her while in Vegas. Dr. Ong has reduced her sentence to maybe six weeks. We called in hospice, and she now has an oxygen tank that she will use all of the time.” My response is robotic, the facts spilling out of my mouth without emotion. Willa grips my hands, her face a mask of determined encouragement. “Sweetie, it’s going to be okay. We will be here for you, support you with anything you need. We love your mom and want to make sure you both are taken care of.” “Thank you.” I return to my sandwich, unable to tolerate the pity and sympathy she’s dousing me in. I don’t want it right now, thank you very much. “That’s it? You don’t want to talk about it anymore? You just thank me? What else is going on, Bliss?” She bends her torso over the table to look me in the eyes. I throw down the crust of my sandwich, done with food and questions. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just leave me alone for a bit.” “Oh, hell no. I’m your best friend. We talk about everything. If you are just bummed about your mom, I totally get it, but it’s not healthy to hold that in. If it’s something else, you better tell me right now.”

“Ugh, fine.” I push my plate away and slump back in my chair. “It’s Talan. He’s a dirty rat bastard who fucks other girls when I’m gone.” The tears that sting my eyes frustrate me even more than having to tell Willa. I don’t want to cry over him anymore. Willa draws back as if I’ve slapped her. Emotions run across her face before she settles on anger to match mine. “That asshole! What happened? How did you find out?” I rub my tired eyes and hate that I have to relive this. Willa won’t settle for anything but the entire story, so I do my best to steel myself to tell her. “I went straight to his condo yesterday after I dropped Mom at home. I was walking to his building when I saw him in the doorway with this girl he works with. She’s a catty bitch who gave me ‘he’s mine’ eyes the one time I’ve met her, at the tasting room party. She was touching him, and he kissed her goodbye before going back into the building. He was obviously seeing her off after screwing her brains out.” Willa looks furious, which I appreciate. “How the hell can he do that to you? He’s been pursuing you this whole time, wanting you to give him the time of day. What, now that he’s got it, he’s moved on? That’s shitty and he’s a douchebag asshole.” “Pretty much my sentiments. He’s probably been blowing up my phone, but I turned it off earlier. I’m afraid to turn it back on, but I need to check on Mom.” “Give it to me, I’ll check for you.” I fish in my purse and find my phone, powering it on and entering my passcode to unlock the screen. Before I hand it

over, I check and see no calls or texts from Mom, so I shoot her one asking for an update. As predicted, I have six messages from Talan, along with two phone calls. I hand the phone to Willa without reading the messages. She scrolls through for me, her face blank. “He wanted to make sure you made it home safe. Asked you to dinner tonight. Said he was worried. Blah blah blah.” She types out a quick reply before she shuts the screen off. “Hey, what did you write?” I yank my phone out of her hands, opening the screen back up and hunting for her message.

Me: Screw off, asshat. I know what you did. “Willa, why did you send that?” I wave the phone in her face. “I was just going to ignore him completely.” I roll my eyes, setting my phone on the table and place my face in my hands. “He deserves to know that he messed up and you caught him. Dicks like that get off on the power and game playing. If you take the power back and call them out, it takes them down a peg.” My phone vibrates on the table, making me jump and snatch it up before Willa can get her hands on it.

Talan: Bliss? What’s wrong? What the fuck did I do? I close the screen immediately and place the phone in my lap. Willa looks at me expectantly. “Well?” “Nothing. Now can I go to sleep?” “Hell no. We’re going out. You can sleep tomorrow.” Somehow, Willa manages to get me out of the house

against my will. I am surly and mean, snapping at her and anyone who talks to me at the bar she’s taken me to. Three chocolate martinis later and I find it in me to be nicer, at least to her. Willa ordered the drinks because she knows vodka is my panty-dropper. It hits me the hardest of any liquor and makes me a joy to be around before I’m too drunk to stand. Somehow Willa has my phone again, asking me for my passcode, which I tell her just to get her to leave me alone. She gives me another martini and asks the bartender to give us a couple of lemon drop shots. Lemon and chocolate sounds like a horrible combination, but I don't even taste the difference when I pour the shot back. I am feeling pleasantly numb now, which is good because nothing hurts. As I set the glass down on the bar, I tip to the side and think I’m about to become acquainted with the dirty floor. Hands are steadying my shoulders as I lean precariously far off my stool, but I don’t end up falling. I look around to see who stopped the inevitable and am faced with a t-shirt with “Life would be so much easier if I had the source code” written on it. I look up to find glasses and floppy hair peering at me. Dillon is awkwardly steadying me. Wait, when did Dillon get here? He sets me up on the stool, but my muscles aren’t really cooperating, so I start to slide again. He ends up standing behind me, bracketing me in with his arms on the bar as Willa laughs. I slump against his chest, unable to hold myself upright.

“You did this, you dirty whore.” I point at what I think is Willa’s face, but it moved so I don’t really know. “Hey, whore rhymes with floor. I almost fell on the floor and you’re a whore.” I clap happily at my astute observations. I am really handling this liquor. Dillon laughs, reminding me he’s still here, practically becoming a Bliss high chair. “Hey, it’s Dillon. You’re here? How did you get here? Did this whore make you come?” I snort and throw my hand over my mouth as I laugh. “Oh, that’s dirty.” Dillon laughs and my back vibrates with the sound. I didn’t realize his voice was so deep. I don’t think I ever really paid attention to how his laugh sounded when I was pressed against him. He usually irritated me whenever he opened his mouth, so I didn’t encourage it. Maybe I should give Dillon another chance. What’s-his-name is a total asshole and doesn’t deserve me. “I drove here Bliss, you know, in a car? Parking sucked, by the way. If I get a ticket, you’re paying for it.” He looks over my shoulder and nods. Oh yeah, Willa’s here too. When I look over, she looks up from a phone with a big smile on her face. Is that my phone? I don’t remember if I took it back or not. “You’ll be fine, Tech—um, Dillon. Buy Bliss another drink. She likes chocolate martinis and lemon drops tonight.” “Eww, gross,” Dillon says under his breath, but flags down a bartender and orders one of each anyway, along with a beer. “Eww, beer,” I mock, swirling the stem of my empty glass on the bar until Dillon grabs it from me as it tilts dangerously

close to the edge. “How much has she had to drink?” he asks Willa, who shrugs her shoulders and smiles. I think she’s had as much as I have, but I didn’t pay attention. “You girls are wasted. Thanks for dragging me into a fucking mess, Willa.” Willa sticks her tongue out at him. “You didn’t have to come running unless you wanted to. It was your choice. Besides, we needed you. You get to hold Bliss up.” “Are you here to keep me from falling down? When did your arms get toned?” I ask, distractedly poking at Dillon’s forearm, still holding me against the bar. My drinks arrive, and I down the lemon drop but don’t touch the martini. It doesn't sound good anymore. Willa takes the martini and sips. It’s so nice of her to help me with my drinks. Dillon swigs his beer and places the bottle back on the bar, his arms returning to their place on either side of me. Dillon releases a breath against my head. “I guess I am. Willa thought it would be a good idea for me to come see you.” He flexes his forearms by squeezing the bar. “I do work out, you know. Maybe I’m not like that ripped dude who just walked in, but I manage.” I follow Dillon’s gaze to see who he is talking about. “Oh, that’s Talan. He has a really nice body, but we don’t like him right now. He likes petite brunettes,” I reply, waving my hand in his direction. My brain squirms in its alcohol soaked state, making me think I should care a little more that Talan is here. Nope, I just know I don’t like him very much, even though part of me still thinks I should stand right up and walk into his arms.

They do look strong. I bet he would hold me upright if I started to fall. “What the fuck, Bliss?” “Hey, man, back off. She didn’t do anything to you,” Dillon says, his arms leaving my sides as he steps further between me and Talan. Talan stands by Willa, trying to see around Dillon to get my attention. I look down at my empty shot glass, wiping sugar from the rim with my fingertip. I want no part of this buzzkill. “I think you need to back the fuck off my girlfriend, asshole, before I break your face.” I can’t really see Talan with Dillon in the way, but a chill runs along my spine. He called me his girlfriend. But I’m not. I can’t be, if he’s screwing other girls behind my back. “Dude, chill out. Bliss, do you even want him talking to you?” I want to say both no and yes. My head responds for me, doing a crazy wobble that doesn’t quite fit either answer. A shuffle happens behind me, and I’m rotated on my stool until I face those mesmerizing eyes that are not quite blue or brown but something in between. “Bliss, baby, what’s going on? Who is this shithead touching you? Why won’t you answer my calls or texts? What did I do?” Talan is holding my arms, forcing me to look him in the face. His face is so pretty. The scruff of his beard is back to the length I like the best. I’d love to rub my face along his. He shakes me a little, which gets my attention. “Don’t touch me,” I spit. The horror of his cheating hands

on me, filthy with deceit, makes me back up into the bar, pulling my arms from his grasp. “Fucking hell.” He raises his hands in front of him in surrender. He drags his hands through his hair and blows out a breath. “What happened? I just want to know why you came back from Vegas and the only texts I get from you are telling me to leave you alone, and that you’re having fun here at this bar without me.” He makes air quotes around having fun while his face becomes a snarl as he looks at Dillon. “Don’t worry Dillon, you didn’t do anything wrong. He won’t hurt you.” I look over Talan’s shoulder to where Dillon is standing, looking confused. I catch sight of Willa looking quite unhappy next to him. This is all her fault. “I will hurt him, if he touches you again,” Talan snarls in my face. “You have no right to say that.” Tears well up in my eyes as I remember him leaning down to kiss Nassim. “I obviously don’t mean that much to you. Now get out of my way, I want to go home.” I brush at the tears as I slide off my stool and push on Talan’s chest. I think he lets me move him aside, because I don’t remember it being that easy. Willa is at my side, putting her arm around my shoulders and leading me out of the bar and away from Talan. He doesn’t even apologize for his unfaithfulness or make the slightest move to prove otherwise. Willa manages to get us a cab so we can get home. While she gives the driver directions, I look out the window and see Talan at the door of the bar, watching me. His face

is a slurry of anger and confusion, but he still doesn’t come after me. Sobs wrack my body as I stare right back at him, an ugly cry contorting my face in silent agony. I don’t know if I’m more upset that he betrayed me, or that he doesn’t think I’m worth fighting for now. Our cab pulls away from the curb, and Talan is lost from sight. I slide down in the seat, hugging my body as the tears continue to course down my face.

Chapter Thirty-Three Morning is an ugly bitch even my considerable skills and extensive kit can do nothing to fix. Consciousness arrives with a shrill voice, her shriveled hands banging on an anvil that is lodged in my skull. I pull my pillow over my head, blocking out as much light as I can, and hope this hangover goes away. Unfortunately, wishing for something doesn’t make it happen. You actually have to put the work in. I gingerly roll out of bed and pick my way to the bathroom for some Advil and a glass of water. As soon as the pills go down and the glass of water is empty, it comes back up in a burning display of sickness. I am doubled over the toilet, holding the porcelain as my body contorts and my throat burns. I curse chocolate martinis and lemon drops. I curse Willa for thinking it was a good idea to take advantage of my sad state and ply me with alcohol. I curse myself for drinking. When the vomiting has stopped, I lay on the cool tile floor, my head pressed against the bathtub and moan pitifully. I am so stupid. How could I get swept up in all of this? Not just the binge drinking, but with a guy I know so little about. I shouldn’t have trusted him. I was right to be hesitant to let Talan in. Fuck. Just thinking his name is enough to put me in more pain than I already am, my chest squeezing with

it like my hung-over brain. I am disgusted with him. I’m disgusted with myself. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt me if I hadn’t let him. I make it back to my room when my stomach seems settled and fall into my bed. I eye my phone, sitting innocently on my nightstand. I hate not having my phone on, if only for security in case Mom needs to get a hold of me. I can’t fight the urge. I reach for it, turning it on and letting it power up on the pillow next to me. No new calls or texts from Mom. And nothing from Talan, either. Why that bothers me when I’m so mad at him, I have no idea. I’m sure if I dug deep enough, there would be an explanation, but I don't want to acknowledge anything. I try sipping more water for a bit as I lay in bed, and send negative vibes to Willa’s room. I hope she’s suffering right along with me this morning. More sleep is futile, and laying around thinking isn’t good for me, so I get dressed. I’m determined to make it to San Jose in one piece to spend time with Mom. I run into Willa in the hallway, looking as shitty as I feel. I turn away instead of talking. I don’t want to be this mad at her, but she kind of hurt more than she helped. “Bliss, please talk to me. I was just trying to help,” she calls to my retreating back. I pause, but don’t turn around. Sighing, I rub my aching temples. “You totally suck at helping things, Willa.” I feel her come up behind me, resting her forehead against my back. “I’m so sorry. Don’t be mad at me, please.”

I drop my head forward before turning around. “Willa, you made things so much worse. By sending those messages, you complicated things way more than they needed to be. I didn’t need Dillon there, and I didn’t want Talan to show up, either.” She winces. “I know. I feel so stupid now. I was acting out of anger on your behalf. You totally don’t owe me any roommate chores anymore, and I’m taking care of my own dishes, too.” Willa smiles, trying to win me over. I roll my eyes. “You better believe you’re doing your own chores after that. Now, if you can figure out how to rewind time so this whole mess didn’t happen, that would be awesome.” Willa grimaces at me, clearly not sure how to accept defeat for my latest unrealistic challenge. “I’m going to check on Mom. I’ll probably be back tomorrow.” Willa nods and I head out the door. Driving to San Jose, my cell rings and I automatically pick it up. “Hello, this is Bliss.” I use my professional greeting, in case it’s a potential client. “Bliss.” Talan’s voice is both a soothing balm and gritty as sandpaper, caressing my name while roughing up my already exposed nerves. “Where are you?” “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m on my way to see my mom,” I answer, unable to put much anger behind my words. I want to hate him so much. He betrayed me. He broke my trust, and my heart. But hearing his voice has my soul purring in recognition. “I’m not going to pretend I know why the fuck you’re mad

at me, and unless you tell me I can’t even apologize for whatever it is you think I did. I need to see you. When are you coming back to the city?” There’s an edge of need to his voice that tempers the anger and frustration. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea to see you, anyway.” I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, trying my hardest to remember why I don’t want to see him. A film of him kissing Nassim flows through my brain, and I feel vindicated, but sick. He doesn’t deserve my time or attention for that indiscretion alone, never mind whatever had happened before I caught them. Talan growls in frustration, clearly not happy with my answer. “This is fucked up, Bliss. I just need to talk to you. You owe me that. Don’t I deserve that much?” “You don’t deserve a fucking thing from me, and I certainly don’t owe you anything. Leave me alone, asshole.” I end the call with shaking fingers, my breaths coming in ragged pants. I turn my ringer off and place my phone in my purse, determined not to pick up any more calls from him. How can he not know what he did? He must at least have an idea I might know he cheated on me. Why he’s still playing innocent is a major indication of the games he likes to run on girls.

Chapter Thirty-Four I finally make it to Mom’s apartment without further interruption. I still have my mind on Talan, but at least I didn’t have to fight with him on the phone. I walk in, calling as I do. “Hey Mom, how are you doing today?” “Oh, Bliss, I didn’t know you were coming down today,” Mom replies from the couch, where she’s laying with her head in Andy’s lap. Oh. I stop short in the hallway, unsure of how to handle this new situation. My mom and my dad are sitting together. Sounds normal enough, yet it’s something incredibly foreign for us. I smack my face, immediately regretting the touch as my head fires a new volley of pain at me. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to call. I can leave if you want.” I thumb toward the door I just came through, not knowing exactly what I should do. “No. No, honey, please stay.” Mom raises up into a seated position and adjusts her oxygen cannula. “It’s nice to see you again, Bliss,” Andy says, smiling as he half rises off the couch to extend his hand for me to shake awkwardly. I can’t help but stare at him out of curiosity and unease as I return his weird handshake. I always thought I looked just like Mom, and yet I see so much of myself in Andy. His

eyes are a shade darker blue than Mom’s and mine, but the shape is more almond, exactly like mine. He has small ears with connected earlobes, like mine. My nail beds are long and narrow, just like his. “I didn’t realize you were still in town. I would have made sure to call to see if it was a good time to visit.” I twist my hair into a tight rope, letting the middle curl around itself as I go. “Bliss honey…” Mom looks guilty, wringing her hands before she continues. “Andy lives in Palo Alto. He moved to California after his divorce, twenty years ago.” Mom’s voice is laced with sadness and regret. It hits me just how different my life could have been had a few small things changed before I was even born. I am sure they both wish things had turned out differently. “You can’t be serious. You mean he’s been here this whole time and you never got a chance to reconnect and find out what really happened?” I look in disbelief between Andy and Mom. “How did you even get a letter to him if he lived here?” Life has awful timing that can’t even begin to be explained sometimes. This is so unfair for Mom to have missed out on spending the last twenty years with the love of her life because of the shitty circumstances of how they met, and not communicating with him. I bite my lip when the similarities hit too close to home. I am washed with my own guilt at not wanting to have anything to do with Talan. No. My situation is different. He doesn’t have a wife, but he cheated on me anyway.

“I sent the letter to Austin, to the last address I had for him. His ex-wife forwarded it to him. I didn’t expect him to show up to the fundraiser, but he found the crowdfunding page and got the information himself. Honey, I’m so sorry.” Mom’s eyes fill with remorseful tears, clearly believing she is at fault for something. “Why are you sorry Mom?” I kneel in front of her and take her cold hands in mine. “You grew up without a dad because of my mistakes. I robbed you of knowing what an amazing guy Andy is. I’m not saying our relationship was perfect—it obviously had its problems in how we came to be together—but we could have made it work, somehow.” Mom looks wistful and so sad she’s making my heart hurt as badly as my head. “Oh, Mom.” I bend my head and kiss the papery skin on the back of her hands. “You loved me enough for two parents. I never felt like I was missing out on anything because you were so perfect. You had to be stronger, take on more responsibility, work harder, but you always found a way to make sure I was happy and cared for. I’ve always had everything I could have wanted.” “Bliss, I am so sorry I didn’t get to know you as a child. You are quite the amazing woman now,” Andy says, a look of admiration lighting his blue eyes, the corners crinkling up as he smiles. “I have to give Lisa the credit for a job well done.” I lean back onto my heels as he puts his arm around Mom and pulls her against him, kissing her forehead. Her eyes close and the smile on her face brings tears to my

eyes. She’s so happy. She could have had this all along, but she made a decision to protect us and left him. I don’t even know what that kind of selflessness would require. “Oh, Bliss, I have something for you.” Andy releases mom and gets up from the couch to disappear into Mom’s room. Confused, I watch his retreating back and wonder what on earth he could have for me. He returns a moment later carrying a large white box. “I don’t actually have any use for this, but I know it’s perfect for you. I want you to have it.” I take the box hesitantly, setting it on the coffee table to open the top. I push aside layers of white tissue paper and discover blush tulle. It’s the dress I wore in the fashion show. The dress I fell in love with weeks ago while it hung on a rack of clothes in Finch’s studio. I drop my head down to my chest and suck in a deep breath, not sure how to control the tears that run on the heels of this beautiful gift and choke me. “This is—” I swallow the lump in my throat and breathe deeply to control the emotion. “This is too much, Andy. You could easily turn around and sell this for what you paid to get your money back. You don’t have to give it to me.” I manage to meet his eyes, the blue depths showing confusion at my reaction. “You looked so beautiful in this dress, and it obviously means so much to you. I want you to have it. It’s kind of fancy, but maybe you could find a place to wear it someday. It could even be a wedding dress, if you still like it enough

when that time comes.” “I do love it.” I pet the soft tulle that peeks out of the box and remember my manners. “Thank you. This is a very unexpected gift, and I’m grateful for it.” I dry my eyes and close the box as I master my emotions. He’s…thoughtful. And generous. He’s been kind and supportive. I think I may like my dad after all. I spend a few hours getting to know Andy, and find that he’s quite likable in general. I have two half-sisters, Stella and Elodie, who are twenty-three and twenty-five. They live in Texas, but visit Andy every once in a while. He says he’d like to introduce us the next time they are out here. I wonder how he plans on explaining my appearance, but I guess gentle honesty is the best policy. He actually seems like a decent guy, and he’s here now, supporting Mom when he could have stayed invisible and avoided the trouble and pain of watching her die. That alone makes him worthy of my respect. I stay the night with Mom, and meet the hospice team when they visit the following day. We are given the rundown for the palliative care she will receive in the last few months of her life. Dr. Givens, the therapist who will counsel us on the dying process and how to cope as the living family member, explains the pain medications that will ease Mom’s symptoms. We meet Andrea, an oncology nurse who will visit Mom several times a week until she needs round-the-clock care. Laurie, a social worker, helps us create an advanced directive, or living will, that will guide the team in treatment and plans for when Mom passes. The

day is full of information and planning. It’s a little hard to take in all at once, but our team assures us they will be around to meet our needs and make this process as easy as a horrible, impending death can be. I spend the next few weeks splitting time between Mom’s apartment in San Jose, and mine in San Francisco when I have jobs booked. The commute is a pain, but I need to pay my bills regardless of the personal troubles I am facing. Finch and I have found a way to deal with Louisa’s sabotage. He actually has a very big mouth, and was happy to explain her underhanded ways to his community of photographers and models. I have been getting loads of business that otherwise would have funneled her way, each new job explaining that they had “heard through the grapevine” that The Vaughn Group had been doing some shady things. I’m happy to take the business as it comes, even if it means I have to spend more time in San Francisco away from Mom. I have even won my very first award for Bellissima Beauty. Roz nominated me for the San Francisco Chronicle’s Best of the Bay awards, and I won the makeup artist category, thanks to her rallying behind me in the charity circuit. It’s amazing to have clients who believe in my brand, love my business, and want to share it with others. It was a proud moment for me to get the email telling me I had won. I hate that my first instinct was to call Talan to thank him for being that last push I needed to leave The Vaughn

Group and go out on my own. I actually hovered over his contact in my excitement until my happiness slid away into sadness as I realized I couldn’t do that. I thought I was doing a good job of sewing myself back together after his betrayal, but a fresh tear in my heart opened up at that moment of realizing I didn’t have him to celebrate with. I try not to think about Talan. He hasn’t called me since that Sunday after I saw him out at the bar. I know time will make it easier, but it still hurts to think of how easily he threw away what we had because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for a few days. I guess it’s better to have found out about his game playing, cheating ways early on in our relationship, than to have given him years, my heart, and my love to find out later. It makes me sick to realize my body and my heart still miss him, despite his betrayal. There’s no making sense of how that could be. I work daily on ridding myself of the need for him, but find he’s like my pink hair dye; slowly fading, but hard to completely remove. Willa suggests I find a new guy. I don’t even argue with her, but I can’t bring myself to do anything. I don’t have the time or energy to look for anyone to help replace Talan in my heart. I can’t commit the time to getting to know a person when I want all of my free time to be spent with Mom. And really, how can I expect any guy to want to be getting to know me right now, when I am holding my Mom’s hand as she slowly shuffles toward her death? I am a hot emotional mess of neediness and desperation. That’s quite the baggage to unload on anyone. When it comes down to

it, I don’t have much time left with Mom, anyway. It’s sad to admit, but I will have the rest of my life to find a new guy to love. My mother only has weeks to live.

Chapter Thirty-Five I’ve been dreading this day for over a month. Amelia and Alan are getting married at Villa Sonoma today. Coralee hired me to make the bridal party beautiful, and they are paying me a pretty penny to make it happen. I still wish I could call in sick instead of show up. I’m a coward. I feel like a freaking convict on the run as I drag my kit from the parking lot to the bridal room, wearing sunglasses and avoiding any windows to the tasting room. I’m hiding from Talan. I have no clue if he will even be here on a Saturday, but I’m taking every precaution I can. What I think will happen if I do see him is a mystery. I just know I don’t want to chance it. I make it into the beautiful bridal room and set up without any sightings, so I feel a little more at ease as I start my day. I had met Amelia a few weeks back for her trial, and really like her. She’s laid back and easygoing, and much to her mother’s dismay, she couldn’t care less about the wedding. “You’re my bridechilla,” I tell her when she finally sits down for her turn to be airbrushed and curled. “You’re cool as a cucumber and happy to be getting married, rather than stressed about all of the details.”

“Mom took care of the details, why would I worry about them?” Amelia asks, clearly not understanding how unusual she is. The entire room laughs at her oblivion, and we carry on with the preparations. I leave the bridal room hours later, well compensated and happy to have spent such a relaxing day of work with a great group of girls. They made my job easy, which is a relief. I’m checking my phone for texts from Mom as I pull my kit to my car, which is why I don't see him until it’s too late. “Bliss.” Talan’s voice is at once familiar and foreign, catching as if he didn’t expect to see me either. I nearly jump out of my skin, stopping short and looking around wildly. I had rehearsed possible meetings with Talan, and how I could make it out without having to talk to him, or at least come off as unscathed. My energy was in vain. I am left with my mouth hanging open and come up with nothing to say. My heart squeezes at the sight of him, the feelings I have pushed down springing back at once. He is so beautiful standing in the sunshine, the golden hills lined with grapevines behind him. He’s wearing his usual jeans and a button down with his sleeves rolled up, showing off those toned and tanned forearms I like so much. Scratch that— liked. I lost my ability to see him for more than the cheater he is a month ago. “Talan,” I force out, my words shaking. I swallow down the fear. I’m not afraid of him so much as I am afraid of what I will do. My body still very much belongs to him, as

evidenced by the pooling heat in my groin as I remember how he mastered my body. Even my brain is having a hard time being in his presence and not hating him. “Can we talk, please?” he asks, still standing between the Mini and me. “Just give me a few minutes of your time, some answers, and then I’ll let you go and never bother you again.” I wrap my arm around my stomach, not sure how I can refuse. I should be beyond this already, but I never got my closure. He’s here now, asking for it. I nod my head, keeping my eyes on the ground. He moves slowly toward me, taking the handle of my bag and begins to pull it toward the car. His scent assaults my senses. Manly cologne mixed with sunshine warmed earth and him. That scent lingered on my clothes and body each time I left him, and trapped memories in my brain that escape their carefully padlocked cells now. They parade through my mind. Throwing me in the pool. Between my legs at the beautiful villa. The view of the Bay Bridge as he pressed me against the window before taking me back to his room. The exhilarating feel of holding on to him as he drove me all over the Bay Area on the Ducati. Him, taking me from behind over a barrel the last time I was here. It’s too much. My cheeks are flushed crimson, my breath coming in pants. My heart is breaking all over again as I remember seeing him with Nassim. “Why…?” My voice sounds thin and helpless, broken and bitter. “Why would you do that to me?” Talan stops walking and turns to me, his face an

inscrutable mask of incredulity. “What is it you think I did, Bliss? Because I still don’t have a fucking clue. You’re breaking my damn heart and I don’t know how to fix it.” “I saw you. The day I got back from Vegas, I stopped at your condo. You were in the entryway of the building. With her.” Talan thinks for a second, and a light clicks on, the answers finally dawning on him. “You saw me with Nassim? That’s why you pushed me away?” he asks slowly, his fingers raking through his short hair. I nod, the hot tears pricking my eyes and rendering my voice useless as I become choked up. I clear my throat in vain, knowing I will still sound as weak as I feel. “You kissed her. She was touching you. How could you do that to me, Talan?” I clutch my chest as the feelings are renewed, the disappointment and regret colliding with hurt as a solitary tear slides down my cheek. I vow to let it be the only one he sees from me today. I blink wildly, mustering all of my strength for whatever he has to say in his defense. “Whatever it is you think happened, I want you to know I didn’t sleep with her.” I gawk at him. How can that be true? “But she was at your condo. You kissed her. You let her touch you in a way that was…too familiar.” “Can we talk about this somewhere else, please? I’d rather not do this in the parking lot.” He rubs his face and scans the area quickly. “Come with me to the villa.” He’s avoiding the subject. He wants to get me away from the prying eyes of his winery staff. I guess making a

girl cry in the parking lot is bad for his rep. I don’t really want any more witnesses to my shame, so I agree. “I’ll follow you.” “Can you drive me? I don’t have my bike over here and would rather not take more time than necessary.” I look around also and don’t see the Ducati anywhere. It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. If I want my closure, I have to compromise. I nod and pop the unlock button for the car. Talan loads my kit in the back and climbs into the passenger seat. I have never hated my tiny car as much as I do when I sit behind the wheel and close us in a space that barely contains his body, let alone his energy. He’s barely bridled, a feral quality permeating his every action that was not there in the past. I chance a quick look at him as I drive up the hill to the villa. His teeth are set and he’s fidgeting, his fingers running over his thighs in a staccato beat. As soon as the car stops, he’s out the door and striding toward the villa. I get out slowly and follow him. I barely have time to take in the beauty of the entryway as I cross the threshold before his hands are on my face, his mouth claiming mine in punishing passion as he slams me into the wall. I gasp around the intrusion of his tongue. My hands clamp around his, intent to pull them away, but I can’t bring myself to disengage our kiss. His tongue runs over mine like he’s taking his last meal. His lips part and allow my tongue entrance when I reciprocate. We spend what feels like an infinity together in a moment of ecstasy before I can bring

myself to push him away. I shake my head as I cover my mouth, unsure how I could let that happen. “Did you see me do that to Nassim?” Talan asks, his chest rising and falling as he works to catch his breath. “No, you fucking didn’t. I let Nassim give me a friendly kiss here,” he points to the corner of my mouth where it meets my cheek. “Then she told me I needed to shave and get a haircut, which is why she touched my hair and face.” He runs his fingers through the hair at my nape and across my jaw, forcing my eyes closed at the innocent, yet intimate contact. I shake my head again. His explanation matches up with what I saw, but bends my own assumptions so far, what he is saying can’t possibly be true. “What was she doing at your condo?” My mouth gives an unsure voice to questions he hasn’t answered yet. Talan pulls at his hair and sighs. I’m either exasperating or he’s feeling guilty. “She had to stop at the tasting room on business, and needed to drop off some paperwork for me. I had been at the winery all week and had left in a rush to finally come home so I could see you.” Talan’s hand lifts toward mine, but drops back to his side. “I forgot about a distribution contract I needed to sign to send out that day. It couldn’t wait, so she brought it to me at home.” “Why would she kiss you? You said she doesn’t even like you.” I want all of the answers now that they are finally available. My own hands itch to run over his skin, but I manage to keep them to myself. I’m not ready for that, even if my body is.

“She kissed me because that’s a Persian custom. She was grateful I have been helping Al battle his alcoholism. Until recently, it had been a close-kept family secret. She finally realized I want the winery to succeed as much as she does. I’m committed to every part of it, including her father. She was welcoming me to their family. She looks at me like a brother now, someone who has earned her family’s trust and respect.” His face is open, begging me to believe him. The weight of his truth settles on my shoulders, nearly crippling me with my own wrongness. “Oh my god.” I stagger to the wall to keep myself from falling. Talan has his arms around me at once, lifting me easily and carrying me into the great room where he sets me on one of the soft leather couches. He goes into the kitchen and brings back a glass of water that he sets in front of me. Sitting next to me, he watches as I collect myself. How could I be so stupid?

Everything has an explanation. Mom’s voices rings in my head like a bell. I let assumptions and uneducated guesses steer me away from Talan. I jumped to conclusions without finding out for myself from the source what really happened. I didn’t even give him a chance. I just pushed him away, thinking the worst. I was set to repeat Mom’s mistakes, giving up the one I love because I didn’t have all of the facts. “I am so sorry.” I am finally able to speak over the ramifications of what could have been had he not sought me out and forced me to listen. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

Tears pool in my eyes, hoping against all hope that he will be able to forgive me, to move on and maybe give me another chance. I could only hope to get so lucky. “Baby, I’m sorry I didn’t make you tell me this sooner. I let a month go by without knowing why you had pushed me away. I let you do it, even though I promised Lisa I wouldn’t. I’m an idiot. I wasted so much time I could have spent with you.” He pulls me into his chest, his arms trapping me there in the warmth of his embrace. My head is pressed against his heart, the whoosh whoosh thump a familiar sound that welcomes me home. I fist his shirt and squeeze my eyes shut. “Can you forgive me? I understand if you don’t want to be with me again, but I need your forgiveness.” Talan pulls away to look at me incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you? You’re all I fucking think about, night and day. I’m a sick fuck that’s been sleeping with your panties under my pillow. I’ve been an asshole to everyone I work with since you left me.” He smiles and shakes his head before he takes my hands in his. “Of course I forgive you. How can I not? You make me whole, Bliss. I didn’t even know I was missing anything until I met you. When you were gone, I felt like I had lost a part of myself, the part that made me live.” “Jeez, make me cry already.” I laugh as I swipe at a tear that wants to slide down my cheek. He laughs with me, the tension finally gone from his shoulders. “Pat, don’t rub, you’re going to ruin your makeup,” he

says, the smile on his face something I store away in my heart this very instant. I love that smile. “You remembered,” I say with a soft smile. “I started wearing waterproof makeup ages ago, so I wouldn’t have that problem. I think you deserve positive reinforcement for that little gem, though.” I grab his shoulders and pull myself up to straddle his lap. I hold his face in my hands for a moment, memorizing every inch. It feels so freaking good to have him in front of me, his eyes devouring me in return. I take in his beautiful eyes that pierce me right through to my heart. My very soul seems to sigh in recognition, having my own missing piece back. I press my lips to his tenderly, enjoying the supple softness. His hands find my thighs, gently massaging at first, but soon gripping me as I deepen the kiss, parting his lips and sucking his tongue into my mouth. Talan groans, turning and laying me down on the couch. He kisses along my neck, his hands exploring my body and setting my skin on fire. My legs part as he settles on top of me, his weight pressing me further into the soft cushions. Damn, I’ve missed this man and what he does to me. “Is this what you want, Bliss?” Talan asks leaning to the side, sliding his fingers over my collarbone and down further between my breasts until he lays his palm flat on my stomach. His fingertips just barely inch over the waistband of my skirt, giving me a tiny taste of where they could go. “Do you want me to touch you?” He kisses my neck. “Make you feel good?” His tongue licks down to my collarbone. “Fuck you?” His voice is low and gritty, the brazen words

caressing me as his fingers do the same. I raise my hips up, pressing myself into his palm. “God, yes.” “No.” He pulls his hand away and sits up, leaving me flustered and panicked. I scramble to a sitting position, wrapping my arms around myself as I grapple with his sudden change. My face flushes in embarrassment while my core pulses in need, my heart begging for explanation. “Why are you doing this?” “So you can experience what it feels like to want something so bad, but not have it. You killed me, Bliss. You kicked my ass without laying a fucking beautiful little finger on me. I want something more from you before you get what you want.” “What do you want, Talan?” I ask, the shame of my mistakes covering me like a shroud. I deserve to be played with for jumping to conclusions and running from him. Doing penance for my sins against him is worth whatever punishment he wants to sentence me with. “I want all of you, Bliss. Body. Heart. Soul. I don’t want to be the guy you fuck when you need an escape from reality. I want to be the guy you come to because this feels like home.” He gestures between us, his eyes full of passion and need. “I don’t want to be someone you can ignore, ever. I want you sick with need for me, the way I have been for you. Tell me you won’t run again. Tell me I’m the only man that gets to hold you, even when you’re mad at me, because that’s all I want to do. I want you to come to me first when you have a problem, when you’re confused, when

you need answers. I want you to trust me and know I will only be honest with you. I want to know that you feel this connection the same way I do. I’m not willing to accept anything but a hell fucking yes, because I deserve more than just wavering interest.” Talan finishes, looking at me in determination. There’s an unmistakable air of fear chilling the heated words. He’s drawn a line in the sand, firmly standing on his side without knowing if I will join him, or walk away. He’s the bravest man I’ve ever met to demand what he wants and know he deserves it. The respect I have for him is so deep it reaches down and completely unlocks my heart. I want to agree to all of his demands, fall at his feet and beg him to have mercy on my weak soul. “I have already said yes to this once before, but how do I show you now that I mean it? How do I prove that I want you so bad it hurts? How do I explain that I’m weak and jealous and insecure because I think you’re too good for me? I don’t know how to change twenty-one years of an independent spirit that wants to do everything my way, which means I fuck up a lot. I’m never going to be able to completely grasp that I mean as much to you as you do to me. How can I when you’ve been nothing but perfection that is hard to live up to? I’m never going to be perfect.” Talan takes my hands and places his forehead against mine, looking down into my eyes. “You don’t have to be perfect, baby. I fell in love with you just the way you are.” I pull my head back and stare into his bluish-brown eyes. He’s serious. He loves me. “How can you love me? I’ve

been terrible to you.” “Maybe I like your brand of terrible better than anyone else’s perfection.” I can’t help but laugh. He knows exactly the right thing to say. “You really are perfect for me, Talan. You can make me smile and laugh when I feel like crying. You take my mind off the bad because you’re so good. You make me feel so loved with a word and a look. How can I possibly love you back as well? How can I meet you at your level?” “I’ll meet you anywhere, Bliss. It’s not about being perfect or right; it’s about making choices. I’ve realized that real love isn't just a spontaneous feeling; it's a deliberate choice. I’m willing to make that commitment; are you?” I stare at Talan and wonder how he can be so sure, so unwavering. In my short life I have come to realize that there are no absolutes, no reassurances or guarantees that anything can be perfect forever. It’s all faith and trust and belief that rests solely in that person you make your deliberate promises to. Life offers us plenty of spontaneity: rejection, job loss, heartache, disappointment, despair, illness. It’s about time we take responsibility by choosing who we love. If he’s willing to risk having his heart broken to love me, how can I not? My heart is light and my smile huge. “Yes. Hell fucking yes.”

Epilogue Talan “You can let go now, Mom. We love you,” Bliss says, choked by the tears running down her cheeks. Lisa is so tiny in the bed, the thin blankets outlining her wasted shape. She’s barely hanging on, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open. “Lisa, honey, we know you are ready. We are too.” Andy is on the other side of the bed, holding her hand tightly. There may be tubes and wires hooked up to beeping machines nearby, but we managed to keep her home and comfortable, the way she wanted. Bliss put a great deal of effort into making sure her mom’s advanced directive was met. I am so glad we were able to make this happen. I know Bliss couldn’t imagine trying to say goodbye to her in a clinical setting, without any personalization or good memories. Fuck, it broke my heart to think of any other option, and I haven’t had a lifetime with the sweet lady. At least here there are memories of good times. We are surrounded with photos and trinkets and everything that makes this home. I keep my arm around Bliss, trying to provide the support and love she needs for her mom’s final moments. It’s all I

can do to not touch her anytime she’s near me, and especially when she’s hurting so bad. Poor Bliss just wanted more time with her mom. If I could buy more time, it would have been the best purchase I ever made. Where Bliss is concerned, there is no amount I wouldn’t pay for her happiness. And whoever said money can’t buy happiness can just fuck off. Money can make life a whole lot easier, which can lead to happiness. It’s been hell for me to not be able to make this better for Bliss. Her happiness is my only thought, always. Andrea, Lisa’s hospice nurse, comes back into the room to check the monitors. She has been here taking care of Lisa for weeks. She’s been our rock when things headed south, providing the medical help as well as the support we needed. She administers another dose of morphine to ease Lisa’s pain, the liquid snaking through the clear IV line and into her wasted body. Lisa has been holding on, despite her condition becoming steadily worse with each passing day. I think I know what she is waiting for, even though Bliss has no clue. My girl has just been happy that Lisa has long passed the six week mark Dr. Ong had last predicted. It’s now Christmas Eve, four months since that time span was suggested. No matter how aggressive the cancer was, or how quickly the tumors grew, Lisa fought to hold on. She’s deteriorated though, unable to eat or drink, and has been slipping in and out of consciousness the last few days. Dr. Givens, our therapist, suggested we let her know that she

can pass on now, that we will carry on even though our lives will be empty without her. She hasn’t woken up in two days, but today her vitals became even worse. This may be our last chance to say goodbye. Andy, Bliss, and I have said our formal goodbyes, but there is one last thing Lisa needs that only I can give her. I breathe in Bliss’s floral scent and gather strength. I kiss her soft blonde hair before I let her go so I can kneel beside the bed. I place my hand gently on Lisa’s tiny shoulder, feeling the frailty that cancer brought to her once strong body. “Hey Lisa, it’s Talan.” I smile softly even though this is the saddest thing I’ve ever had to do. Sometimes it’s all you can do to smile. I brush the hair out of her face, looking for my words. “You’re a brave little lady; maybe the strongest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. I am so glad that Bliss takes after you in that regard.” I stop before the tears choke me up. Dipping my head down, I rest it lightly on the bed next to her arm while I gather myself. I manage to control my voice, the tears barely holding back as I look up and continue. “I love her, Lisa, so much. It breaks my heart to see her sad right now, but I know she’s a tough girl and will make it through this. She got that from you, too. I want you to know that she will be my number one priority. I will take care of her for the rest of my life. She’s never going to want for anything, because I have your selfless example to follow. You taught me exactly what she needs, and have shown me how to take care of her. I’ll never let her push me away

again. She’s stuck with me now.” I chuckle thickly, clearing my throat so I can continue. I can’t look at Bliss. I’ll lose my shit if I do, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. I can hear her soft sobs behind me, and take comfort in the weight of her hand on my shoulder. “I may not be able to love her the way you do as her mother, but I’m going to do my best to try to meet the standard you have set. She’s my everything. I’m going to marry her someday. I’ll fill her with your grandbabies whenever she is ready, because I know that’s what you would want. It’s exactly what I want, too.” I finally look up, catching Bliss wipe the tears from her eyes, her hand over her sweet mouth. She silently nods for me to continue. My girl knows I have more to say. “She’s our girl now, Lisa. You will always be a part of our lives, woven into every aspect of our relationship. I want to make you proud by loving her right. She will never be alone, and I will make sure she’s as happy as I can possibly make her.” I finish, skimming my hand down Lisa’s arm to squeeze her thin hand. I will her to have heard me, hoping like hell I managed to convey my feelings. Fuck. Dealing with emotions is hard. Making forever promises to dying mothers is not something I take lightly, but it’s tough to get the words right. I let Lisa’s hand go to stand by her beautiful daughter; the love of my life and the source of my happiness. I take Bliss back into my arms where she snuggles into her spot with her cheek against my heart. She fits just right. She makes me whole. I got over

feeling like an emotional sissy and started embracing those thoughts a long time ago. I’d rather be a pussy-whipped crybaby than miss out on knowing how good I have it. Lisa’s heart monitor slows further, an alarm beeping to let us know this pace is now dangerously low. Andrea looks at us sadly as she turns the alarm off. Lisa was adamant about not wanting any drastic measures taken to keep her living. If her heart stops, we are not to resuscitate her. It would only be prolonging the inevitable, and possibly hurting her in the process. I am so thankful for the extra time we have had with her. Especially for Bliss, who needed it more than anyone. My hopes were never high that she would stick around much longer than expected, but I have cherished the extra moments I have been given to get to know the woman who raised the girl I love. I know Bliss feels closer to her mom now than ever before. Her death will tear a ragged hole in all of our hearts, but we have had time to come to terms with it, even before it happens. Losing my dad suddenly was a devastating situation for my own family. I tried my best to help Bliss see that, and help her through these stages of grief to ease the pain. But Bliss has been amazing. She’s been by her mom’s side as much as possible, and found at least a tiny bit of peace in these last few days knowing Lisa’s suffering was finally coming to an end. Today Bliss helped Andrea bathe Lisa, and gently dried her wispy blonde hair. They put Lisa in her favorite dress; the one Andy bought her when they were married shortly

after he returned to her life. She looked so beautiful at the courthouse that day in light pink silk with sheer sleeves. Their love made them both glow. It seemed like no time had passed for them, even though it had been over twenty years. I have grown fond of Andy, respecting him for being here for Lisa, and Bliss, during this time. He’s never tried to force me to like him, or make Bliss see him as her father, but their relationship is gaining traction. I respect the hell out of him for choosing the less than desirable path of marrying a dying woman and caring for her in her last few months. He really cares about Lisa, and is struggling like the rest of us now. I know Lisa has been happier and more comfortable having him by her side as she slowly got worse. You would think she still looked like the twenty-two year old woman he met on Valentine’s Day by the way he looks at her now, still in awe. I hope Bliss and I look at each other like that in twenty years. I return from my introspection when Bliss jumps as Lisa takes a gurgling breath that can hardly qualify as bringing in air. The slow, rattling wheeze that follows causes Bliss to sag in my arms, shattering me. I check the monitor and see the flat line of her heart stopping before returning my gaze to Lisa’s pale, peaceful face. I think she has the barest hint of a smile playing on her lips, but it could just be my imagination. I let Bliss go as she crumbles beside the bed, tears falling down her face. Her trembling fingers intertwine with

Lisa’s. My own hands ball into fists. She will never again feel her mother squeeze her hand in reassurance. Lisa will never again tell Bliss she’s proud of her, or that she sees big things for her. I make a vow to whatever force can hear it that I will be the one to make that happen. Bliss deserves it. Lisa would expect it. I am absolutely crushed. Words fail me now. I don’t know who to comfort, or how to cope. We’ve said our goodbyes. I helped Bliss find as much peace as I could in these last few months. I’ve spent every minute I could with her and Lisa, soaking up her wisdom and enjoying her company. My heart still explodes as I realize she is gone from Bliss’s life, forever. Bliss’s tear stained face is a grimace of pain and heartache. I vowed never to see that expression on her again. I watched her drive away in that much agony once before, and it ruined me. I gently pick her up off the floor, holding her to my chest as she continues to sob. She clutches me desperately, needing whatever strength I can muster for her to make it through this moment. I barely have enough to get through this myself, but I’ll give her everything. “She needed to hear what you said. She wanted to make sure I would be loved and taken care of if she were gone,” she manages, the tears pouring hotly down her cheeks and gumming up her words. “Thank you. Thank you for helping her find her peace.” My girl is beautiful in her sadness. I will heal her heart, help her find ways to honor Lisa’s memory even in death. Now, she needs to be away from this room. I lead Bliss out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Andy has stayed behind to have his final moments with Lisa after we did. Andrea will stick around to make all of the necessary arrangements for us, but she is discreetly staying out of the way for now. I sit on the couch and pull Bliss onto my lap, cradling her as she curls up within my arms. I love moments like this with Bliss, when she lets me be her strength. She’s incredibly independent and stubborn enough to not give me many moments like this. I run my hands softly through her hair and along her back, soothing her in a way I know she loves. I don’t try to console her otherwise. She needs this time to grieve as hard as she wants to. In a few days Bliss will have to make the calls and update Lisa’s friends. For now, we will let the news wait. Christmas day is no time to hear a loved one has lost their fight with cancer. I’m thankful for the time to let Bliss process this herself. It’s surreal to lose a parent. I have faced the prospect of this day for almost five months, knowing Bliss would be left without her mother. It still doesn’t seem like it could have actually happened. Bliss’s mother is dead. Bliss cries harder in my arms, as if she heard my thoughts. I hold her tighter, maybe the only thing that is holding her together at all. “I am so sorry baby. I love you, Bliss.” I will never get tired of saying those words to my girl. She looks up, seeing my own tear-streaked face. I hope I hold all the strength and devotion her mom always had for her. I will never be a substitute for Lisa; I just hope I can be something else entirely that she loves just as much.

“I love you back.” A ghost of a smile lifts her lips. I love when she says that. “Do you want to go home, or stay here tonight?” She looks around the familiar apartment. We both feel the loss of Lisa hanging heavily in the air. There is a thick layer of sorrow coating every surface. She shakes her head. “I can’t stay here, not now.” I nod, shifting her slightly so she is reclining on the couch, letting me get up to head into the bedroom. Andy is kneeling next to the bed, gently caressing Lisa’s lifeless hand. I squeeze his shoulder, getting his attention. “I’m taking Bliss home. Let me know if you need anything. We will be around in a few days. I know things are all good and ready to go, but you have my number if something comes up.” “Thank you, Talan. You have been amazing for that little girl. Well, woman, really. Now go, we’ve got this here. Take care of her.” I return to the living room and help Bliss off the couch. I can see the suffocating grief hanging on her in the slump of her shoulders and the slowness of her movements. At least she has managed to stop the free-flowing tears. I’m determined to be her strength right now, no matter how I happen to feel. Which is pretty shitty, but I can handle it. I buckle her into the Mini and drive her to San Francisco in a sad silence. She can get pretty introspective sometimes, but I don’t feel the need to break into her thoughts. I only do that when I see the wheels turning; her

brain creating stories that vary from the actual truth. Then I make sure she knows exactly what’s going on. An hour later, we walk into our condo at the Watermark, now tastefully decorated by Bliss for Christmas. The eightfoot tree glows warmly in the living room, piles of wrapped gifts underneath. Man I love spoiling this girl. Her eyes light up and I can practically read the “For me?” that crosses her mind every time I give her some token of my love. Even little things, like remembering her favorite yogurt that she accidentally leaves off the grocery list makes her so happy. There are a few special presents under the tree for Bliss, but the rest of the gifts will be taken to the local children’s hospital tomorrow and given to kids with terminal cancer. Bliss found a way to repay all of the thoughtful people who donated to Lisa’s crowdfunding account, providing her with a comfortable living for her last few months. The leftover funds are all being used to pay it forward in the donors’ names, which is why we will spend part of our day at the hospital tomorrow. I love that Bliss cares about other people outside her immediate circle. When she mentioned donating the rest of the money, I was floored. No girl I’ve ever dated had thought about anyone but themselves. The condo feels like home to me more than any other place I have lived. I think it’s because I now share it with Bliss, who is my heart’s home. She’s put her mark on the place, and even though I like things tidy and minimal, I don’t mind her shoes by the door, or her bag on the island in the kitchen. It just shows me she’s made herself at home in my

life, and that’s the way I want it to stay. I take Bliss into the bedroom, which now features bits and pieces of her girlish charm to offset the masculine decor. A black and white picture of her mom rests on the nightstand beside a photo of Bliss and me at the winery. She has a book lying open on the pink velvet chaise lounge with the fuzzy blanket she curls in like a cat. I surprised her with the chair after she told him she wished she could read while looking out the window at the Bay Bridge. I want her to have anything she wants, but man she killed me with the look of disbelief when I had that girly thing delivered. I felt like Superman with how she threw herself into my arms and broke out into happy squeals. I don’t want to just let her go to sleep with the antiseptic smell of a deathbed clinging to her, so I take her into the bathroom for a shower. I love showering with her. She usually takes pleasure in soaping me up, but tonight, I want to take care of her. I crank the water on before I undress her carefully. My clothes are shucked quickly so she doesn’t have to stand around in the cold. I pull open the door and allow steam to billow out around us before I adjust the water and bring her inside with me. I back her into the spray and hold her to my chest. Bliss’s tears have stopped their incessant flow, but she remains unresponsive and sluggish. I was hoping the hot water rushing down her back and over her shoulders would help. I let her go and grab her purple bottle of shampoo. I wash her hair, now free of any pink. I loved the color; it’s one of the first things that I noticed,

and something I always enjoyed. When I asked her if she would keep it up, she said she felt like she’s entered a new stage of life that it doesn’t quite fit in. She could shave her head and I would still think she was the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. I massage conditioner through her hair, knowing she likes it when I do that. Any excuse to touch Bliss is a good one, but if I can be productive as well? Count me in. I would never let anyone know it, but I like brushing her hair for her, too. Not a very manly admission to make, but whatever— she rocks my fucking world. I place my hands on her cheeks, bringing her haunted and bloodshot eyes to mine. God, she’s beautiful, even when she’s sad. I kiss her slowly, letting her supple lips take their time to respond. I like our sweet moments as much as our hardcore fucking. Everything has a place and time. Right now, she needs soft and delicate, just like her. As I kiss her, her body begins to respond. Her little pink nipples are hard as rocks against my chest, and her hands have made their way around my neck to twine in my hair. I wait for Bliss to let me know when she’s ready for more, which comes in the form of her knee lifting to my hip. She wants this as much as I do. We need the closeness and intimacy of sex to help rid us of the sadness. With a small adjustment, I pick her up and sandwich her to the wall, pushing into her tight, wet heat slowly. I want to fill not only her body, but also her heart with pieces of myself. Her soft sounds of pleasure and the tight grip she has on me are enough, but I’m a greedy fucker and I want her

coming like a freight train on my cock. I once promised her all the orgasms, and damn if I won’t make good on it. Besides, her O face is so fucking hot; all mouth open and eyes shut tight as she moans. I could come just thinking about it. Instead, I have to think about anything other than her bouncing tits and the way she licks her lips right before she braces for the impact of her release. Fuck. Now that’s exactly what I’m thinking. Okay, la la la, school buses and lunch meat and shark week. Better. She kisses my face, licks my neck, and returns to my lips again as I move in and out of her slick pussy. “Oh god, Talan, fuck me,” she asks, already headed for her release. I lift her knees over my arms, dropping her ass down a bit and fuck her like it’s my job. Bliss’s fingers pulse at my neck, gripping me in time with her clenching core. She’s close. Her eyes screw up tight as her mouth opens in a breathless pant. There it is, baby, let it take you. I keep my eyes open to watch her fall apart, loving how she gasps my name and tumbles into ecstasy. Watching her get off is all I need to let go with her. Her silky, clenching pussy milks me, forcing my own muffled moans to match hers and echo through the steamy shower. My head rests against the wall beside hers, our breaths loud and our grip on each other fierce. I set her on her feet and hold her steady, kissing the side of her face in reverence. The awesome feeling of losing myself in Bliss never gets old.

This time, we are coping with our loss the best way we know how—loving each other as well physically as we do emotionally. After our shower, I toss one of my t-shirts over Bliss’s head, loving the sexy way it hits her mid-thigh and gives me a peek at her goodies when she climbs into our bed. She rolls to her side and stares at the picture of her mom, taken in profile as she laughed. I had snapped it when she wasn’t looking, capturing a moment of her joy and happiness for Bliss. Tonight the photo is equal parts happiness and sorrow. Bliss turns over into my arms. Her damp hair spread on her pillow will be a hassle for her to tame tomorrow, but is the furthest concern for her now. She’s sleepy, her eyes showing her exhaustion and her relaxation from our shower. “My Bliss,” I sigh, watching her light colored lashes lower. “Yes, yours, and you are mine,” she tells me softly, snuggling tightly into the space between my neck and shoulder, where she fits so perfectly. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as I breathe in her clean, warm scent. Even in her sadness, I hope this is exactly where she needs to be. I want to be her home and her shot at happiness. She is for me. She’s my very own bliss. The end.

TO MY READERS Thank you so much for reading A Taste of Bliss. I would love to hear what you thought of my debut novel and hope you’ll consider leaving a review where you purchased this novel and on Goodreads. If you enjoyed A Taste of Bliss, look for Griffin’s story, coming summer 2015! I’ve included a sneak peek just for you. Keep flipping!

Drift Heat When the modeling gig she’s been waiting for presents itself on a silver platter, Shelby Jensen doesn’t hesitate, she goes for it. Putting herself at odds with her overprotective father and abandoning her job with the family car shop seems like a small price to pay for such a rare opportunity. She sees the potential Smoke and Mirrors has to make it big in the American Drift League and knows that her face, as well a lifetime of car experience, will serve them well. It’s also her first chance to make a name for herself without being in the shadow of her famous racer father. Everything seems set to be an easy and advantageous partnership with the race team. Until she meets him. Griffin McGregor is the bad-boy star driver for Smoke and Mirrors and dead set on being the face of the team. He’s not about to let some blonde bimbo with no race experience force him out of the limelight. He’s already on thin ice with the team, as his past behavior on and off the track is a huge problem when it comes to gaining muchneeded sponsorships. Within days, Shelby is seen as the team’s salvation, much to Griffin's irritation. Yet even with their bitter rivalry, he just can’t fight his attraction to her. Griffin and Shelby come to blows over every publicity

event and promo video they work on. They can barely play nice for the sake of the team while sparks of another nature are flying whenever they get too close. The tension is fierce, and it’s forcing them together in unexpected ways. One night acting on their simmering passion leads to an explosive connection that neither can deny. The lines begin to blur between their tense professional relationship, and the one that is budding behind closed doors. Can they make their professional lives work to hold the team together, or will their passion spill over, burning and tearing the team apart for good? As the California Circuit comes to a close, opportunities are presented that seem too good to pass up. Will Shelby choose the team that has given her a place where her opinion counts as much as her pretty face, or once again leave for something that seems better? Will Griffin finally fight for the one thing that means even more to him than drifting, or let her go for good? Drift Heat is a stand-alone novel. This New Adult romance is recommended for readers 18+ due to mature content.

Excerpt of Drift Heat by Adrian R. Hale This excerpt will be edited and may change before publication. Chapter One “Arch your back more, and put your hand on your ass. Now put your heel up on the tire.” I awkwardly shuffle my position to do as the photographer is asking. I balance my foot in a five inch stiletto on the tire, hoping my barely there bikini bottoms stay in place so I don’t flash my goodies to the small crew gathered around. He better make me look awesome because this crap is hard to do. When he puts his camera back up to his face, I assume I hit the mark he wanted and give him some faces and angles to work with. He snaps a few shots before directing me to a new position. “Okay, now lay back on the hood of the car, let’s see how that looks.” This guy is so not Finch Keaton, my favorite photographer. Finch is a way better director, and the main reason I have found modeling so enjoyable. This guy, Ollie Cathers, is a totally different experience. He’s not difficult, just a little spastic and unable to articulate the poses he

would like to capture. We have been working on this shoot for three hours, and he’s still not satisfied. I’m told he is much better with the action shots of the team drivers drifting on the track. There’s a clear difference between promo photography and that of catching a car in a slide around a turn on a race track. Still, this is what I am being paid for, so I stifle my irritation and do as he directs. I drop my foot from the tire and scoot my ass up onto the hood from where I was leaning against the beautiful Toyota Supra. Once I have my weight balanced, I carefully lean back, fluffing my hair out past me and pick my feet up to gingerly rest along the edge of the hood. The last thing I want to do is scratch the paint or dent anything. I love cars, so hurting one would be sacrilege. I arch my back and stretch my arms up above my head to rest on the cool carbon fiber. I make a mental note that the sun has started to set, so we don’t have much time left to shoot with natural light. Ollie has a bunch of lights set up, but he will have to change the settings if it goes completely dark. Good, maybe this can be over soon. I will myself to give him what he’s looking for so this can wrap. It’s early April, and even in Southern California, it’s a bit cold out. Or nipply, as it is with me in a tight cut up t-shirt with the Smoke and Mirrors logo stretched across my chest and tied under my boobs. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and smile with my eyes, or smize, as hard as I can. “Yeah, just like that. Now really push your rib cage up and rotate your shoulders toward me.” I strain my chest forward, feeling as if my spine will snap,

and angle my shoulders. This better be right. Ollie starts shooting, so I guess it’s close. I move my arms around, pulling my hair down my face and running my fingers across my lips, thinking sexy thoughts. Because this shoot is all about sex. And cars. And being sexy on cars. I stretch my legs up above me, getting a crazy core workout as I balance on my tailbone and shoulders while still trying to look sultry. All in the name of promo modeling. “Okay, great, that’s awesome. Now roll over onto your knees.”

I will kill you, Ollie, if you just want to see my ass in the air. Sighing, I do as instructed, careful of the paint and decals as I turn over. I arch my back and stretch my arms and legs out to look like I’m crawling across the car. Poor thing, I know it’s not awesome to put so much weight on the hood like this. I let my feelings of anger and frustration show in my face, giving Ollie something fierce to work with, even if it’s directed at him and his stupid requests. “Yeah Shelby, that’s exactly what I want to see,” he calls out excitedly as his camera clicks and the lights flash. Well hell, if that’s what he wanted all along I would have given him my resting bitch face at the beginning of the shoot and saved us all some time. I stretch out onto my stomach, propping my head in my hand and think of long, lean lines while giving him my best sexy death stare. It’s not to be confused with my fuck off death stare. This one is more come hither and less get lost. “Get that bitch the fuck off my car!” A loud voice booms just off set.

I startle, my mouth opening in surprise as a very angry dude comes bursting out of the garage and strides toward our makeshift photo shoot set up in the back parking lot of the Smoke and Mirrors race shop. Ollie turns, his hands out in a placating manner as Paul joins him for backup. They both head off to meet the guy who is on a mission to drag me forcibly from his car. He barrels past them without hesitation, headed straight toward me. Dear baby Jesus. He’s a menacing wall of muscle and full of scathing disdain, but hot as all-mighty fuck. I scoot to the edge of the car and hop down, meeting his intense and murderous gaze. No way in hell is anyone going to get pissed at me for taking Ollie’s directions. “What’s your fucking problem? You have no respect for cars, you stupid twat. There are thousands of dollars worth of parts under that hood and you could have fucked them up by laying your fat ass on them.” He stops just short of me, our eyes nearly even as I stand just short of six feet in my five inch heels. A fire blazes in his blue-eyed stare, rage hunching his shoulders and making him seem to dwarf me with his considerable size. I push against his chest to give myself some breathing room. It’s solid and unyielding, but he gives me the barest inch of space. His energy is crazy scary, but also incredibly attractive, if he weren’t intent on pissing me off. And what the hell, I do not have a fat ass. It’s round and perky from hundreds of squats. “Excuse you, asshole, but I was just doing what I was told. This is a fucking photo shoot, for this team, and the

cars involved. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Paul and Ollie, who were letting it happen without a care. But first, you can apologize for being a dipshit and calling me names.” My chest is heaving with my anger and his unjust treatment. His eyes dip to my boobs, and I cross my arms to hide my hardened nipples. His eyes return to my face, but there’s still anger there, along with lust. Oh, hell fucking no. This caveman is not going to think about sex while he yells in my face. I narrow my eyes at him and dare him to try to start shit with me now. He will be on his knees begging me to release his sack from an iron grip if he continues to get in my face with the name-calling. “I don’t owe any disrespectful bitch anything, you got that? This is my car, and I don’t want you anywhere near it.” He points to the car next to us, his arm decorated with brightly colored tattoos that at once capture my interest and then ground me in reality. He’s a fucking asshole who paints his body with permanent ink. I’m not above body art, especially good tattoos, but it makes me think he’s just another poseur with a taste for bright colors. “That’s your problem, douchebag.” I poke him in the chest again, probably because I want to touch him, even if I worry he’ll bite my finger off in the process. “You can take it up with Paul, the owner of this race team, and the guy calling the shots today.” I shoulder past him and march toward Ollie and Paul, who looks a little scared. Before I can get far, I am brought up short, my eyes widening as he hauls me back toward him by my arm. My breath shoots out

of me as he turns me around, and hell if I don’t find his strength and the tight grip of his hand on my arm a turn on.

What the hell, Shelby? “You will pay if there is any damage to the paint job or the engine, you hear me?” His voice is a gravelly baritone that rumbles in the microscopic space between us. We are chest to chest, his size once again meant to intimidate me. I will pay? I was being careful, and it wasn’t even my choice to do that pose to begin with. Well, fuck that shit. I grew up with an older brother and around plenty of guys to let this asshole mess with me now. Rage gives me an untapped strength as I yank my arm out of his grasp and sweep my leg behind his, pushing hard against his chest. As I expected, he wasn’t prepared to have his legs taken out from under him, and he goes down hard on the asphalt. I place my stiletto heel to his crotch and push for emphasis. He stays down, shock waring with the anger that contorts his handsome features. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again, you got it?” His eyes are full of surprise and less of the murderous rage he was showing just moments before I knocked him down a peg. I grind my heel a little for emphasis. He grimaces but doesn’t move. He nods tightly, his head barely moving in agreement as his full lips press into a thin line. Satisfied I’ve gotten my point across, I lift my heel and stalk to Paul, the owner of Smoke and Mirrors. He’s about to get kneed in the balls for not standing up to this asshat when he came barreling into the shoot and tried to accost me. “Paul,” my voice is full of warning, my hair wildly whipping

around my head in the breeze that has kicked up. Judging by his wide eyes and the fear that is pulsing off of him, I must look like an avenging angel come to collect his soul. “This photo shoot is over. Ollie, you better have gotten what you wanted. If not, that fuckwad is to blame.” I thumb over my shoulder to the ferocious mountain of a man I just cut down to size. “Shelby, I am so sorry. Just hold up and hang out a few minutes. I’ll deal with this.” Paul moves toward me, his hands out like he wants to hug me, but he thinks better of it as his eyes dip back to the car where I knocked that dude on his ass. Paul is scared of me. I hope he also found a new respect for me after seeing how I can handle things, or at least knows I am not willing to tolerate even the smallest hint of disrespect, no matter my job title. “Yeah, you have to deal with this, and you better promise me I don’t have to work with that Neanderthal ever again,” I huff, my hands shaking as the adrenaline dumps in my system. I grab my robe off a chair and take the water bottle handed to me by one of Ollie’s staff. I tie my robe tight, finally covering the oiled skin I’ve been showing to the whole set for hours. I try not to pay attention, but my eyes are drawn back to the asshole who just prematurely ended this shoot—not that I wanted it to carry on longer, just that he sort of put a stop to things with his nasty attitude. He’s standing by the car, inspecting under the raised hood for any damage I may have caused. His back muscles coil and flex under his tight t-shirt as he reaches further into the engine bay. He is powerfully built, something

you don’t see often in the drifting scene, because being built—or not—has no bearing on your ability to drive well. His methodical appraisal and protectiveness of the car are incredibly appealing. I love cars and love the men who love them just as much. Guilt stabs me as I think of the expensive parts I was just lying on, and my mind drifts to my own project car back at home. I would never lay on the hood, but I did as I was told by the stupid photographer without a second thought. I can’t let my desire to please affect my common sense. “Griffin, my man, what are you doing here?” Paul calls as he carefully moves toward the asshole. “I thought you weren’t coming by the shop until tomorrow.” “And that makes it okay to put stupid girls on Saffira?” At least he didn’t call me a bitch again. But Saffira? He named the hot Supra I was laying on? Oh, come on. “Be reasonable here, Griffin. We use the team cars for promo all the time. Shelby is our new brand ambassador; we need her in the promo material for the season. The Supra is our main car, which means we needed it for the shoot. I know you brought this car up and started the build, but I financed all of those new parts, and you know I will replace anything if it’s needed.” The asshole now known as Griffin pulls the hood down hard and turns toward Paul. “There’s no need to put a girl on the promo. You’ve got me and Wyatt, the drivers, for that. We’re the ones the fans want to interact with. We’re the ones winning titles and races and making a name for this team.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sets his

feet apart, standing his ground physically while he verbally spars with Paul. “We talked about this Griffin. We need more sponsors, money, and attention. You didn’t exactly win us any of that last year with how you acted at each competition. We decided to bring Shelby on as our brand ambassador. She will be the face of the organization to lead interviews, get some more interest in the team, and let you do what you do best; drive. The decision has already been made, and we’re not changing it now. You’re going to have to deal with having someone else share the spotlight.” Oh, thank god. It’s about time Paul grew a spine. I was sitting here thinking I made a huge mistake by agreeing to work for a man who did not have my back. I seriously burned my bridges back home to take this job, it would have sucked to realize I had made a mistake. Now I think I may not completely regret my decision. My stomach sours as I process what Paul said. Griffin is the main driver. That complicates things a bit. I will definitely be working with him a lot on promo and at events, because he’s right, fans want to interact with the drivers. I roll my eyes and sigh in concession. I better figure out a way to cope with a caveman, because I don’t have a choice. Griffin draws his hand through his short dark brown hair in frustration, the pieces standing up in haphazard angles. It’s too bad he’s a complete asshole; he’s hot in the “don’t touch or you’ll get burned” way. I sure hope he can drive better than he can make a first impression. That was weak. “I’m not working with her,” he says, pointing in my

direction. Seriously? Give me a break. This is so not what I signed up for. What I did sign was a two-month contract to be the face of this race team while they compete in the American Drift League’s California Championship circuit. I had straight jumped at the opportunity, even though it put me at odds with my overprotective father who was dead-set on me not modeling. I went against his wishes, and probably tanked our relationship by walking out on my job running the family car shop for him. Even my brother Henry couldn’t talk sense into Dad, who has refused to speak to me since I took the job. But I couldn’t pass this up. It’s just the kind of gig I’ve been dying for since I was thrust into the world of modeling by walking in a fashion show for my friend Bliss. She was the one who had offered me this job a few days ago when the other model they had hired suddenly dropped out. I roll my eyes and stand up, ready to kick Griffin in the nuts this time around. Paul looks back and sees me ready to march over. He holds out his hand, keeping me in place. “You don’t have a choice. You will drive and she will be the face of the team. If you don’t like it, we’ll find another driver. You’re on your last chance here, Griff. We need to make this team profitable, or at least cover the race expenses.” Paul’s voice is low but still carries so I can hear his ultimatum. Wow. I can’t believe he’s ready to kick one of his drivers off the team because he doesn’t want to work with me. I guess he really does have my back. Paul has made my list

of highly respected individuals, even though it’s crazy to pick me over a driver. But this has gone far enough. I don’t want Griffin to quit or get fired and leave Paul and the team down a driver. “Hey, Paul,” I call, slowly moving toward him and Griffin. I keep my eyes on Paul and refuse to meet the stare I know Griffin is leveling my way. I come to a stop a few feet from them and place my hands on my hips, my legs spread in a power stance. I read somewhere that by using these sorts of poses, you can look and feel more powerful. I need it right now. “We can figure something out to make working together less hostile…I think. There’s no need to find another driver. Just make sure he can control himself around me, and I won’t sit on the cars again, okay?” I finally chance a look at Griffin and see him appraising me, his lips are set in a thin line, but there is calculation burning up his blue stare. He wants to call bullshit, but he values his place on the team more. Good. “Keep your ass off the cars and stay out of my way, got it Goldilocks?” “Oh, please,” I scoff. “Come up with something more original next time you call me a name, dipshit.” I roll my eyes and turn away from them. “Adolf Titler,” he mumbles to my back. I turn back around and narrow my eyes. “Weaponsgrade douchebag.” “Thundercunt,” he says, stepping around Paul and moving toward me. Paul throws his hands up in exasperation and moves away from us.

“Cock-jockey.” I meet him toe-to-toe again, ready to throw down the worst insults I’ve picked up being around rude and aggressive guys my whole life. You don’t grow up in a car shop and not know a few insults that will sting a man’s confidence. “Twatwaffle.” My lips twitch, amusement gaining on my anger. This reminds me of a game Henry and I used to play as kids where we would compete to come up with the most creative insult. “Asshat.” “Seriously, asshat? That’s not even original,” Griffin grumbles, his hands on his hips as he stares at me in confusion. I can’t help it, I laugh in his face. This whole situation is truly comical. Once you get past the tension, the yelling, and the alpha-douche lord, that is. I turn away from Griffin. “Like you were at all creative.” I shake my head and walk back to my chair, grabbing my bottle of water and chugging it down. When I look back to Griffin, it’s with a practiced look of indifference on my face. You can’t hurt me if I don’t care, I practically ooze. He stands where I left him, confusion marring his beautiful features. Wait, what? Stop thinking he’s attractive, Shelby.

This guy just insulted you, multiple times. You can’t think he’s hot. Thankfully, he turns back to Paul, who is looking just as perplexed by this whole situation. That’s right, boys, there’s more to me than the face and body. I’ve got sass and enough fearless attitude to swagger my way through any

situation. I grab my bag and head into the shop to change. I would feel so much more righteous and awesome if I weren’t in barely there clothes and a silky robe. Sort of the weakest outfit a girl can find to sling insults in. When I return in jeans, Toms, and a hoodie, Griffin is nowhere to be found. Good. I am not sure if I could manage to not stare at him if he was just hanging around and not yelling at me. Paul, however, is waiting for me. “Shelby, I am profoundly sorry about…that,” he says, his arms windmilling toward the Supra and the lights that are now being packed away. “Griffin is…well, he’s a really great driver, but he can be a hothead sometimes. He’s… protective of the team and the cars.” No shit, Sherlock. “Just keep him on a better leash when we have to work together, and we’ll be fine. If he touches me again, you can believe he will be down a hand, and I am pretty sure he needs both to race successfully.” “Ah, yes, I believe we can do that. I’ll talk to him some more, and make sure he understands. We really need you here, please don’t leave.” “Oh no, Paul, you’re stuck with me. I signed a contract and I want to get my end of the bargain. But freaking warn me if there are any other crazies I have to work with, okay? I don’t need raging psychos attacking me for sitting on the cars when I’m told to.” I smile and let Paul know I’m not mad. The relief that washes over his face is comical. He was truly worried that I would go home and leave this opportunity on my first day. There’s no way I would pack up and head home with my

tail between my legs after one unpleasant encounter. I’ve got a tougher exterior than that. Besides, I gave up so much to be here. I don’t want to prove Dad right by running home after my first day. He still hasn’t come to terms with me taking this modeling job. “Don’t expect to have a job or place to stay when you get back” was the only thing he said to me when I was leaving. Henry assured me that he didn’t mean it, but now I have to figure out what to do with myself when my gig with Smoke and Mirrors is up in two months. I’m struck with an idea that I have to act on before the confidence escapes me. “Hey Paul,” I say, causing him to look up from the phone he was texting on. “I want to be more involved with the team between races when I’m not actually needed for promo. I think I can put together a video series of the shop, the team, and our progress during the California Championship series. I’m here already, so I can be of more use than just as your promo model on competition days.” I don’t want to sound desperate, but I need him to see the value in keeping me around and making this work for both of us. I don’t want to have to grovel and beg my dad for my job back at the end of this two-month run. If Paul decides to keep me on for the summer series, it wouldn’t come down to me returning to San Jose to face the music, after all. Paul scratches his head and looks at me. “You want to actually work? I guess we could find something. How are you with social media?”

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Many thanks are due to so many people; without their support and encouragement, Bliss would never have made an appearance in my brain. First and foremost, to my incredible husband whose faith in me has never wavered. You gave me my coveted quiet time and space where I was able to be more engaged in the writing on the screen than anything in real life. Thank you for never griping when I forgot all about necessary domesticity. For allowing me the late nights where I woke you up coming to bed far too late (and for indulging me when I wrote something a little too hot and needed to cool down). For understanding. For encouraging me to pursue writing and publishing my crazy stories, and for loving me so well through it all. You’re my best friend, now and always. I have so much appreciation for Danielle Burkhart, who started as a bridal client, but soon became a great friend. She was the first author I ever met and showed me that you can turn the funny voices in your head into stories. Thank you for never doubting that I had it in me all along, for reading and critiquing my work, and letting me brain dump ideas, frustrations, and celebrations on you. Big squishy hugs to you, D! To my biggest cheerleader, Casey Alford. You read

Bliss as I wrote it and demanded more. You were as in love with my characters and their story as I was, and never let me get too down on myself when my doubts warred with my fragile writing alter-ego. I needed your insight and opinions while writing more than you could know. Thanks for being my fiery-haired soul sister! Now, time to finish writing your own book. To the betas who jumped at the chance to read my story and give me much needed feedback. Mia (the first stranger to ever read my work), Jennifer, Casey, Jamie, Kate and more. You ladies rock my socks off. To my amazing author friends who allowed my incessant questions, provided much-needed guidance and gave me the inside scoop for indie publishing. Rachel Robinson, first a fellow blogger, now a fantastic friend and phenomenal author who still always makes time for me; you don't know how much I admire and respect you! Heidi Joy Tretheway, a wonderful storyteller who has held my hand and helped to get me through this complicated and foreign process. Lex Martin, who let me fangirl all over her, and even gave me much-needed publishing answers with a nice dose of humor. I would have stumbled far too often without all of the steady advice and fun humor they provided. These authors are the shit. Pick up their books as soon as you put this one down. To the NAAU and RAU groups—I may lurk more than I participate, but I have developed great friendships and gleaned so much information and knowledge from you all! Love you people! To NaNoWriMo 2014. I wrote the entirety

of the story within the month of November, cheered on by the NaNo community and the Austin NaNo group. I needed that boost of motivation more than anything, and can’t wait for next year. Many thanks are due to Wendy Callahan, my incredible editor-extraordinaire. You put the smack down on my overuse of commas, figured out exactly what I was trying to say, and gave me such wonderful critiques while allowing my voice and story to remain true to me. Much luck and success with your own writing projects! I give huge, mad props to Josh Baker of AzulOx Visuals, my very own frenetic blond ball of energy who shares my creative brain. You are not only a badass photographer, but also someone I love calling a friend. You made magic happen by turning my characters and story into real life by shooting my cover and promo images for me. Let’s keep creating art and beauty together. To my grandma Lois, who may never read my work and would probably gasp in shock if she did. She gave me romance novels to read in the fourth grade trying to force me out of boredom, but managed to create in me a voracious appetite for reading, and sparked my love of romance at a tender age. I fully credit her with my vivid imagination that allows me to dive head-first into my more explicit scenes. Thanks, Grams! Of course, to my amazing mother Brenda. The incredible love and bond between Bliss and Lisa is my own little love letter to my fantastic mom. She loved me enough for two parents, always provided for me, and has been my biggest

fan in everything I do. She has always given me unwavering and steadfast support that I can count on. Thanks for letting me call you up crying and sad while I wrote the Lisa scenes and for giving me a good dose of mother’s love. I loved how often you would say something just like my fictional mom would, and it would make me feel better about my work. I love you! Last but far from least, I must say thank YOU for taking a chance on an unknown author and reading this far. I am forever grateful you chose me when there are so many other options out there. You are helping me live my passion and dreams, and for that, there is no amount of thanks to perfectly sum up my shiny, happy feelings.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Adrian R. Hale loves sugar and spice and everything nice-so of course she loves a good happy ending, in fiction and otherwise. When she’s not writing, she is making people beautiful as a hair and makeup artist, or trying to run off her overconsumption of sugar. A born and raised California girl, she now resides in Austin, TX with her husband and fur babies. Playing with her imaginary friends is as common to her now as it was when she was a child; the only difference is now she lets other people know about them through her writing. She would love to hear from you at [email protected] or www.Facebook.com/adrianrhaleauthor. FOR MORE INFORMATION AND UPDATES Visit Adrian R. Hale on her website or facebook page. Feel free to stalk her on Goodreads, Twitter and Instagram as well.

COPYRIGHT A Taste of Bliss Copyright © 2015 by Adrian R. Hale. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters and all incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Credits: Editor: Wendy Callahan Cover design: Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs Cover photos: AzulOx Visuals Cover models: Jennifer Lynn Larsen and David McKay Author photo: Karonec Chreng

Table of Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-one Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Epilogue Blurb for Drift It Excerpt of Drift It by Adrian R. Hale ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR