Page 120 of Heartsmashed
After he hung up, I started up the next song and looked at Beckett. “See, that’s why I don’t mention Rome on air.”
“Not keen on having any future brothers-in-law soon?”
“Can you imagine? Someone tying Rome down? Yeah, right.”
The hour flew by with calls and music, my stealing a kiss from Beckett between breaks—and then moving his chair closer to mine—and counting down the minutes until we could go home. Well…his place or mine. We hadn’t moved in together yet, but we spent almost every night together, trading off spaces depending on our schedules.
During the final segment, I took one more caller, a woman named Tessa who had been with her boyfriend for six months and was too terrified to say “I love you” first, because what if he didn’t say it back?
I was smiling before I could stop myself, my fingers lacing with Beckett’s where he sat quietly beside me.
“I’m gonna tell you a story, Tessa,” I said. “The first time I told my boyfriend I loved him, it was not planned at all. In my head I’d been thinking there needed to be candles or fireworks, some big romantic gesture. But it happened when he was making coffee in my kitchen wearing sweatpants and reading some basketball report on his phone.”
Beckett squeezed my fingers, and I kept my eyes on him as I continued.
“I looked at him and I realized I was standing there trying to make a joke because the feeling was so overwhelming and the words felt too big and I was scared that if I said them, it would change things. But then I realized that was already true. Everything had already changed for me because I loved him, and saying it just let him know.”
“What did he say?” Tessa asked.
Beckett brought our joined hands up to his mouth and kissed my fingertips.
“He said it back,” I told her.
“Immediately,” Beckett whispered, and I grinned.
“So if you love him,” I said, “and the words are starting to feel like they’re taking up too much room inside you, maybe that’s your answer. Not because you’re guaranteed anything back, but because love deserves the truth too.”
After Tessa hung up, it was time for the wrap-up, and I leaned toward the mic one last time.
“That’s our show for tonight, New York. Remember my wise words: don’t text your ex, don’t try to date my brother through a radio show, and if someone makes you coffee exactly the way you like it, maybe pay attention. Sometimes that’s where the good stuff starts.”
Beckett stood as I cued up the final song, leaving it to Leon and the next host to take over. As I gathered my things, I realized how different the studio felt now than it had months ago. It was the same board, the same mic, the same city buzzing outside these four walls. But I wasn’t the same man sitting behind it. I’d been more than a littleheartsmashed, no getting around that.
But it hadn’t stayed that way. Beckett was proof of that.
I finished off the coffee he’d brought me and tossed it in the trash before taking his hand. “You know you’ve really set the bar high with this coffee thing, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“Just checking, ’cause if you ever brought me the wrong order, I’d assume you’ve stopped loving me.”
His hand came up to cup my neck, and then his mouth brushed over mine. “I’ll never take that risk.”
Before I could sink into his kiss, Leon made a dramatic gagging sound and banged on the glass.
Beckett laughed under his breath, then hooked his fingers through the loop of my bag and took it from me. Not because he thought I couldn’t carry it, but because he understood me wellenough to know I’d forget it on the chair while arguing with Leon about the show, and he wanted to save me the trouble.
That was the thing about being loved by Beckett Calder. It was in the big stuff, sure, but it was in the small stuff too. Extra shots in my coffee, my bag over his shoulder, the way his hand found the small of my back as we walked out of the studio to the elevators.Beckett was a master at the small stuff.
“You really meant what you said?” he asked, hitting the down button.
“About my brother being undatable?”
“About the good stuff starting with coffee.”
I turned to face him, stepping in close. His eyes roved over me, like he was still memorizing my face even after months.
“Yeah. I meant it,” I said. “And for the record, the good stuff started before the coffee.”
