Simply Irresistible: A Totally Sweet Love Story Page 10

  Tyler offered a wicked grin. “Just wait until you taste it, Spice.”

  I shivered from the desire in his eyes. I’d gotten home from Paris late yesterday evening and promptly crashed, then I had to take care of some things at the office today, so Tyler and I didn’t see each other until lunch. He brought me my favorite gazpacho soup from the Spanish deli down the street, and I ate it at my desk while I busily returned emails and sent personal notes to some of the connections I’d made in Paris. After work, I was exhausted. He called us a car to take us to Hannah’s so we could enjoy dinner together and some alone time.

  Dinner had been amazing. It was one grilled course after another. We had a grilled vegetable salad, grilled caprese pizza with tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella cheese, and then he perfectly prepared two swordfish fillets and grilled some tiny potatoes and more veggies for sides. Everything was delicious, and he even prepared some of it on an indoor grill. He was so talented, and I hoped that one day he would be able to put that talent to good use.

  “Mmm,” I moaned some more as I tasted the chocolate covered bananas. The chocolate sauce had a hint of amaretto that was set off by the crushed almonds. “You are a grill god.”

  He laughed. “That’s a new one.”

  “It won’t be the last time you hear it, I promise.” He winked, then cleared some of the extra plates out of the way as I continued to stuff my face with the chocolate deliciousness. “Are you trying some new recipes or something?” I wondered.

  He rinsed off a plate before sticking it in the dishwasher, then turned off the sink and looked at me. “I started writing some draft columns.”

  My grin went from ear to ear. “Really? That’s fantastic!” I jumped off my stool and ran around the counter to hug him. I was so happy he was finally doing it. “What are you writing about? How do you feel? Can I read them?”

  Tyler laughed and kissed the top of my head. “Calm down, Spice. I’ve only written a couple pieces so far. I’m just trying some different things out to see if I can find my groove, so-to-speak. I’d love for you to read them, just not yet. I want to do at least one more read through of each one first.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” I whispered, my head still against his chest. “I love that you’re doing this...that you’re going after what you want. It’s so cool, Ty.”

  “Thanks, baby.”

  ***

  “Paris at night was so beautiful. The little shops and cafes and the streetlights and old architecture. It’s so hard to describe.” I snuggled deeper into his side, my head laying on his bare chest. We were back at my apartment, in my bed. He’d wake early in the morning to go back to his place to change before work. I’d have him leave things here, but there truly was no room. Same with his place. We may need to rectify that one day.

  “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to go with you when you show your designs during fashion week and see what there is to see in Paris.”

  I loved that he said it so matter-of-factly, like there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that I would be showing my designs in fashion week one day. He believed in me so thoroughly, just as I believed in him. I was so happy he was starting to explore his writing. There was definitely something there and once he found it, he was going to thrive.

  “Did you meet any cool people?” he asked.

  “Tons! I met so many designers and a lot of them were very down to earth. I was afraid they’d be pretentious or too overwhelmed to talk, but they were really great. One designer was brand new and so nervous, but her designs were beautiful. She used such vibrant colors, and the outfits were things normal people would wear. It gave me hope, you know?”

  “Yeah, that’s great. I’m glad you got to see that.”

  “Me too. I was kind of afraid, you know? I mean I’ve worked in the field long enough to know that there are tons of different designs because there are a lot of different tastes to appeal to, but I’d always hoped I’d land myself with a runway show like what’s at the fashion weeks, but I wasn’t sure if my normal stuff would make it there. But this gave me hope.”

  “You’re gonna do big things Melanie Athena Katsaros. Big things.” He kissed my forehead again, and I closed my eyes.

  “You’ll do big things, too, Tyler Scott.” I sat up, holding the sheet to my chest. “Wait a second. How do I not know your middle name?”

  Tyler laughed. “Because I never told you.” He pulled me back down beside him and tucked me into the Melanie-sized nook by his side.

  “Why not?” I asked, totally offended because he knew my middle name. I wasn’t even sure how he found out. Probably at the barbeque at my parents’ house. They were always using first and middle names. Sigh.

  “Because it’s lame.”

  “And Athena isn’t lame?”

  “I think Athena is a pretty great name, actually.”

  “My parents aren't here. You don’t have to butt-kiss.”

  He laughed again. “I’m not trying to kiss anyone’s ass. I really do like the name Athena.”

  “What’s your middle name?” I tried again.

  Tyler sighed. “Can’t we just go to bed?”

  “No,” I insisted. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

  “Winston.”

  “Ha!” I barked out, then I contained myself. “Is it a family name?” I asked, knowing if it was, it could be a sensitive thing for him.

  He groaned. “No, it’s not a family name.”

  “Oh...well, it’s nice. Very rich sounding. Winston,” I tried it out. “Tyler Winston Scott. Not bad. You kind of sound important.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Now can we go to bed?”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No.”

  “Tyler.”

  “There’s not.”

  “Should I call Hannah?”

  “You don’t have her number.”

  “Actually, I do.” I sat up and reached to retrieve my cell phone.

  “I was named after the city where I was conceived.”

  “Winston?”

  “Winston-Salem. My parents spared me the embarrassment by removing the Salem.”

  “What’s Hannah’s middle name?”

  “Madison.”

  “Wisconsin?”

  “Our parents traveled a lot.”

  “Random places…” I said, staring up at the dark ceiling.

  “Yeah. Could’ve been worse, I suppose.”

  “How?”

  “Could have been conceived here in New York.”

  “Ahh,” I could see why that would be weird. “But maybe then you guys would have had other middle names. Like maybe they would have thought, ‘We can’t name the kids ‘Tyler New York City’ or ‘Hannah Bronx,’ and went with something like Anne and Robert.”

  “Tyler Robert Scott,” he tried it out.

  “I think I like Winston better.”

  “Me too,” he agreed.

  “What were your parents’ names?”

  “Tyler Manhattan and Hannah Bronx…we were named after them.”

  I laughed out loud and shoved his arm. “That’s not even funny.”

  “Charles Randolph Scott and Annalise Edith Murray Scott.”

  “Annalise is pretty. Is Edith a family name?”

  “Yeah…her grandmother.”

  “It is rather grandmotherly.”

  Tyler laughed. “Yeah, it is. What about your parents?”

  “Katarina Melody Castellanos-”

  “I knew a Castellanos. His name was Ed.”

  “I don’t have a cousin Ed.”

  Tyler shrugged. “What about your dad?”

  “Gregory Adrian Katsaros.”

  “That doesn’t sound very Greek.”

  “Don’t tell him that.”

  He chuckled. “We came from good stock, huh?

  “I think so.”

  “Night, Spice.”

  “Good night, Ty.”

  24

  Tyler

  “You rea
lly like the desserts?” I asked Melanie. I was thinking about drafting a dessert only column as part of the series, but I wanted to make sure I had enough grilled dessert recipes to share.

  “Yeah, they were great. You can probably even do a dessert pizza, right?”

  “Ah, I love the way you think!” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. We were sitting on my bed. She was sketching some designs on her iPad and I was writing up some dessert recipes on my laptop. She looked so cute in her little dark-framed glasses.

  I groaned. Planning this column was driving me crazy.

  “What’s the matter?” Mel asked, not moving her eyes away from her tablet.

  “I just don’t know if I should present it as a series or an ongoing column.”

  She set her tablet aside and gave me her full attention. “Well, if you present it to the magazine—any magazine—you’re going to want it to be an ongoing opportunity, right? I mean you aren’t going to want them to buy a series off of you for X amount of dollars and leave it at that? You’re going to want some steady income.”

  “Yeah, I’d rather it not be a one and done thing.”

  “Then present it as an ongoing column. Each month you feature a new technique or course or recipe or whatever. Or you can feature different courses that all include the same technique? You can present the same recipe cooked across several grill types.”

  “That’s a lot to think about.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Just take your time and decide what works best for you and what makes the most sense for the long term. You’ll want an idea that will stay fresh and stretch across time. Don’t give away all your secrets at once.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  “Of course,” she smiled, then picked up her iPad and continued working.

  Ever since she returned from Paris, we spent our nights together. Either she stayed at my place or I stayed at her place. Neither apartment was large enough for two people, and we really needed to have a conversation about that. I was ready to take that next step with Mel. I loved spending time with her and sharing our small spaces, but I wanted us to have something better. With what we were each spending on our tiny rooms, we could probably afford a studio or a one bedroom. A bedroom with a door, I mused, what was that even like?

  “Do you want to move in together?”

  Melanie froze.

  I froze.

  I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. I mean, I meant what I asked, but I didn’t mean to ask it. Not right at that moment at least. I didn’t regret it though. It was what I wanted. I hoped it was what she wanted, too.

  “Yes,” she finally said. The word cutting through the silent space.

  “What?” I asked, my eyes darting to her. “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Really?”

  She laughed. “Yes, really. Did you think I’d say no?”

  I laughed, relieved that my little mistake hadn’t blown up in my face. “I hoped you’d say yes. I was just thinking about it, and the question popped out. I hadn’t meant to ask you right this moment, but I meant the question.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I love being with you. And we’re together all the time anyway.”

  “Right.”

  “It just makes sense.”

  “It does.”

  “This is so romantic.”

  “We’ll have some cake and champagne later. I’ll even buy you flowers,” I told her as I moved our electronic devices off the bed.

  “Oooh, daisies?”

  “Whatever you’d like,” I said, rolling on top of her. “We’re moving in together.”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. “We sure are.”

  “This is going to be so much fun.”

  ***

  Melanie and I went to one of our favorite breakfast spots the following morning on our way to work. We’d begun taking overnight bags to each other’s place instead of one of us rushing home to get ready in the morning before work. It sucked that we didn’t have the space to store things at each other’s apartments but planning ahead and taking an overnight bag worked just as well.

  For now, at least. Soon we’d be moving in together.

  In the light of day, I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I’d be. I was excited about starting this new chapter with Mel. We’d need to work some things out, like when our lease terms ended and what we could afford with our salaries. But for now, we got to ride the high of deciding to take this monumental relationship step.

  “Look,” Melanie said, slapping an apartment magazine down on the table in front of me.

  “They had those in the bathroom?” I asked, picking it up and flipping through.

  “No,” she said and pointed to the rack by the counter. “Over there. I know we haven’t decided on anything, but I thought it might be fun to take a look at what’s out there. See what our options might be.”

  I nodded. “Good idea.” I looked at the index and flipped to the first page of the Manhattan listings. I knew that city real estate prices were going to be ridiculous in comparison to the other burroughs, but I couldn’t imagine moving out of the city and I was pretty sure Melanie felt the same way. That was something we’d definitely need to talk about if the rent in Manhattan was too steep.

  We spent breakfast flipping through the listings, pointing out the apartment features we liked and ones we didn’t like. We talked about all the things we needed to talk about, like where we would choose to live if we couldn’t afford to stay in the city. We shared our favorite neighborhoods, and the areas we wanted to steer clear of. It turned out that Melanie’s lease was up in four months and mine was up in three, so we were both within the required time frame of letting our respective landlords know we’d be vacating.

  In the end, we’d highlighted several properties we were interested in looking at in person and all but one of them were in the city.

  Everything was going so well for us, and I couldn’t help but look forward to what the future held.

  25

  Melanie

  Tyler stabbed at the grilled chicken on his plate, not actually trying to lift it with his fork. I learned that about seven stabs ago; he would have accomplished that by now had it been his goal. Something was on his mind. Something he didn’t want to talk to me about, but I had an idea of what it was. His boss, Roger, was publicly reprimanded by Preston for not producing anything innovative for the magazine. I was sure Roger was taking his frustrations out on Ty.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You just did,” he mumbled, seeming to come out of his haze a little bit. He looked at the shredded chicken with an odd expression, as though he didn’t know how it got to be shredded when the rest was perfectly cubed.

  “Ha-ha,” I said, not amused with the semantics of the English language. “You’ve got some columns written now...why are you still staying at a job that you hate?”

  He sighed. “It’s not that simple, Mel.”

  Yeah. If his handy work with the chicken wasn’t already an indication of his off mood, him calling me by a variation of my actual name was. He almost always called me Spice. I just wish he’d talk about it, instead of letting it fester.

  “It can be that simple,” I pushed. “Why not present your idea to a cooking magazine, or even a lifestyle magazine? You could try for a column in one of the newspapers, too. There are possibilities out there, Tyler.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “You don’t act like it.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to understand, but you won’t talk to me about it.”

  He sighed again. If he kept that up, he’d end up blowing everything off the table.

  I looked at my watch. There wasn’t enough time to have a deep discussion. We each had about fifteen minutes left of our lunch hour, and Tyler would be packing up and hauling ass in about five minutes. We might only be a couple mi
nutes from our office building, but Tyler never returned to work late from lunch. He refused to give Roger fuel, whether he was in the office or not.

  Case in point why Tyler needed to find a new job.

  I piled my silverware on my plate and fished out a few bills to pay our tab. Tyler glared at me as he took out his own wallet, and I tucked my money away. No use in poking the bear today.

  As we walked back to the office, weaving through the crowded sidewalk, I couldn’t help but ask again. It concerned me that he was so unhappy at his job and that Roger treated him so terribly. Tyler’s brother-in-law owned the magazine, for crying out loud. What was happening was unacceptable, and the only person who had the power to do anything about it was Tyler.

  “I don’t understand why you at least won’t tell Preston. Obviously, he’s concerned with Roger’s performance. Now would actually be the perfect time-”

  “I’m not telling Preston anything,” Tyler snapped. “You don’t get it, Melanie.” At least he was speaking softly when he called me by my first name again. “You grew up in the suburbs with a normal, really great family. You’re lucky.”

  I laughed. “There’s no such thing as a normal family.”

  He grinned a little, and I was pleased to see that little bit of Tyler spark. “I’m just saying that you had a normal family dynamic. I didn’t have that. My sister and her husband were essentially my parents, and as much as they loved having me around—and still do—I always felt like an outsider. I wasn’t their kid. I was way too old to be their kid, and they were way too young to be my parents. But they took me in, and I appreciate that. This job...it’s not the ideal situation, but it’s stable for now. I got it on my own merits, and I’m taking care of myself. If I were to quit my job, Hannah would worry.”

  “You don’t have to quit without another prospect, Ty.”

  “I know...but I’m just not sure what exactly I want to do with these columns and until I do, I don’t want to make any rash decisions. Plus, if I left the magazine, Preston would want to know why. Then he’d probably be pissed at me for not telling him about Roger sooner, and I’m not sure I want to deal with that either.”