“The answer to both questions is no. What Derrick did rocked my world. It killed off something inside of me that—”
“That needs to be brought back to life again. With the proper person, who loves you as you should be loved.” Peter shrugged. “The way I see it, what happened with Derrick might be exactly what you needed.”
She gasped.
“He was the wrong one for you, Lexie. If God hadn’t done some shoving, if He hadn’t watched over you in the midst of that nightmare, imagine what your life would have been like, and where you would have ended up. You’re loyal, and that’s wonderful. But you also have this knack for falling into patterns that you’d never escape from without a good push…even if you weren’t authentically happy. What a waste of a beautiful life that would be. Don’t think about the pain he caused. Be grateful instead.”
She wanted to shove him, and scream. “So, that’s what heartbreak is supposed to teach me? To be grateful for being a blundering, blind idiot where my heart is concerned? Evidently, you see what I went through from an entirely different perspective. I have trouble trusting my instincts. I have no confidence when it comes to my emotions because I get carried away by my feelings and don’t pay attention to details—to things that, for most people, are painfully obvious!”
Peter remained steadfast, and calm. “Alexa, the only thing you’re expected to be grateful for is the opportunity to grow where God puts you…to look at what He’s offering you, not what’s hurt you. Move out of that safe zone. In case you haven’t noticed, it doesn’t fit you anymore.” Silence fell. “Furthermore, can I just say? Even on his best days, Derrick Maddox came nowhere close to deserving you.”
Alexa broke free of his visual grip and stared across the water. She expelled a push of air that ruffled her bangs. Every once in a while people strolled past, but for the most part, they had the bridge to themselves as the sunset darkened to deep blues and purples and clouds piled against the sky. “Platitudes like that are easy to say, Peter, but you weren’t invested. You weren’t involved.”
“That’s completely untrue. I’m very much invested in your happiness.”
The words, their intensity, hit home. She pulled up short all over again. “What are you saying?”
“Want me to spell it out?”
“Yes…I do.”
He nodded. “Gladly. We might’ve messed about when we were together years ago…dancing that fine line between being friends, and being something more—but we were young and just starting out. Well, I’m not playing anymore. Furthermore, I’m coming to the belief that there was a purpose to what you went through with Derrick. Perhaps it was meant to lead you home.” He paused for a significant beat. “Perhaps now it’s our turn.”
A shiver of need came to life, flowing outward from her deepest core. This was precisely the conversation she had prayed for—and had been terrified to consider. “You’re serious? I…I mean…sure, we…we’ve flirted, we’ve played…but all of that was fantasy talk. College idealism. We love each other in our own way, but”— he didn’t move; he didn’t blink—“the kiss, the mistletoe, Trafalgar, that was all in good fun. Wasn’t it?” That lush, internal overflow of lava caused her to tremble. She stammered on. “Peter, you’re adorable, and one of my most wonderful friends, but I’m sure you’re not willing to forsake everything and everyone for a life with me.”
“I see.” He pursed those wide, full lips and seemed to ponder. “You think my intentions aren’t serious.”
Alexa’s nerve endings sang at the way he transformed, at the way easy affection transformed to a live, sparking electrical circuit, a current of desire and purpose that she had never seen from him before. Her heart jumped, racing against her chest.
Peter stepped close enough to envelop them into a world all their own, closed off, removed from reality. In her weak-kneed condition, the gentle push of his fingertips against her midsection sent her straight back to the stone foundation of the bridge lamp.
His eyes, compelling and irresistible, focused on hers. “I think it’s time for me to clarify.”
He didn’t give her time to catch her breath, or brace herself. His head dipped, his mouth closed over hers, and Alexa melted into a boneless submission.
Swept away, she nearly slid down the stone column that formed the base of the bridge lamp. She grabbed for purchase, clutching the cold, coarse stone at her back, but his arms held her strong and true, drawing her into his warmth. She cried out, a soft sound that launched from deep in her chest. Meanwhile, she inhaled the familiar, heady fragrance of his skin, and she wound her arms tight around him.
Pieces of her life clicked into place, but she had no time to look at the picture they created. Not yet. Not when his lips ran warm and satiny against her cheeks. Walls tumbled and the sweetest sense of release swam through her system. She had barricaded her deepest heart from Peter. On one level, she realized the fact, but not until now did the dam burst free. Not until now did love pour through her like anointing oil. The swirl of sensations prompted another pleasured sigh.
Peter was astonishingly reverent in touch and pursuit, continuing a series of velvety kisses that drained the sparkling, increasingly night-cloaked world away. So, this is what she had been missing. This is what her soul had yearned for, unknowingly, for the past three years. The touch of Peter Colby.
At last, but far too soon, he gently moved away. He cupped her face between his hands, and Alexa realized tiny snowflakes had begun to dance through the air. They landed on her lashes, her cheeks and lips. She closed her eyes, overcome as ice warmed into a liquid that touched her skin with magic.
“Lexie-love…give yourself permission to fall.”
The words came to her wrapped in rich tenderness, striking home within her needy heart in such a way that she could only stare, her gaze tethered to his, her shoulders, arms, legs, going weak all over again. Peter sensed it all; she could tell by the way his eyes intensified, sharpening beneath the lamplight.
“I can't,” she whispered. “I can’t let you get to me like this. I can't let you in. I leave in a few days. It’s cruel. It’s like a glimpse of every wish I ever had, but it just can’t happen. This isn’t what I was looking for when I came here. I didn’t mean to throw myself into a romance, and—”
She stopped talking, out of breath and overwhelmed by the impact of the past five to ten seconds. While she ranted and fought against herself, Peter held her close. The brushstroke of his lips was as light and tantalizing as the snowflakes that spun and twirled from the sky. His mouth caressed her cheek. Every touch of cool, melting snow became countermanded by silky heat.
“You’re not alone in this, Lexie, and this is what’s found you. Think about that.”
She wanted to fling herself into an embrace with Peter that would have no end. But she didn’t. Instead, she tried to step away. He didn’t allow the distance; he held her secure and shook his head.
“Don’t turn away just because it’s the easy thing to do. Don’t turn away out of fear of leaving behind everything that’s familiar. What you’ll gain in return might make everything else seem insignificant.”
“My family isn’t insignificant. My work in America isn’t insignificant. My homeland isn’t insignificant. I can’t turn my back on all of that.”
“It’s not turning your back, it’s moving on to something new.”
“But Peter, I’m confused—about everything!” She took a moment to gather herself.
“Are you confused about me? Do you have any doubts about what I feel for you?”
“No, not in the least. And, obviously, I feel the same way.”
“Then consider what we’ve found together and look at it through the eyes of faith. Christ’s truth is an important part of what we share. What about the trust you’ve always placed in Him to direct the longings of your heart, and the pattern of your life? What about all of that, Lexie? Doesn’t trust count for anything? What is your faith telling you right now?” He peered intentl
y into her eyes, unwavering.
She felt warm tear tracks travel the length of her wind-chilled cheeks. He eased back, yet she remained lost to him, wishing she could somehow capture this moment and suspend it in time forever. He kept an arm tight around her waist.
“Don’t just listen here.” Peter traced his fingertips lightly against her forehead. “Listen here.” His hand came to rest just above her heart.
Even through her wool coat, the warmth of his flattened palm seeped through. “It’s not that easy.”
He didn’t move back. He was resolute. “Yes, it is—if it’s what you want.”
“Leave America?”
“Why not?” She opened her mouth, drew up a hand with a finger already pointed in exclamation. He took hold of her wrist and drew her hand down, even as he tugged her just a bit closer, maintaining their connection. “No, no, no. Not so fast. Think about that question for a moment. What’s holding you to the States besides—?”
“Citizenship.” She cut in promptly.
“Ex-patriots are beautiful people.” He was equally adamant. “Next?”
Prickles of want ignited against her skin while she considered all the excuses she had built up to avoid him, and the potential for being hurt.
“Next?” He prodded relentlessly.
“My job.”
The words crossed her lips and she thought of the Bank of England. She nearly blanched at her lie.
Once again, he fired back. “Jobs abound in London, especially in finance. We’re constantly sorting through all kinds of fascinating monetary issues. Next?”
He was absolutely right. Employment was nothing more than another avoidance tactic. She had a job waiting for her right here in London—all she had to do was say yes. She knew she needed to open up to Peter about that development, but the idea of telling him about the position stirred a firestorm of fears, and vulnerability.
“What about getting on my feet and living in a whole new country, with a new culture, and—”
“Vanessa and I love having you here. You’re welcome any time for as long as you’d ever need. Anyhow, you’re such a tiny thing you barely even take up any room. Next?”
His voice gentled. The moment stretched, allowing her heart to push through. She could no longer cobble together excuses.
“What about Sarah, and women like her?” She stepped backward, disengaging physically—except for the way their eyes held in an electric charged atmosphere. “You stand there very self-assured because you’ve been able to refute every argument I have against leaving—but those are questions and answers I’ve already figured out on my own. Derrick was playful, and fun, and affectionate. He thought he loved me—until someone better came along. That makes me feel small, and demeaned—scared that it could happen again.”
“Not with me. Never. Nothing could be better than you, Alexa.”
The words filtered through her restraints. Silence stretched. Her eyes filled, but she blinked the tears away.
“And now we’re getting down to it.” He covered the space between them. “So let me make my point clear. I’m not a faithless louse who falls in and out of love with women. While I’ve enjoyed feminine companionship, no woman has ever held my heart. No one does but you.” He didn’t give her time to react to that admission. “We’re not supposed to stay the way we are. Seeds aren’t planted to remain dormant or hidden. They grow. They evolve. God expects the same of us. In fact, at times I think He even forces the issue.”
“Like he did with Derrick?”
“No, Lexie-love, like He’s doing right now, with you and me. You’re worried about being half the world away from me, but in terms of the heart, you’ve always been as close as my next breath. Explain that.”
“I can’t.”
“I can. It’s called love.”
8
Days later, seated at a stool in the kitchen, Peter braced against a draft of cold air when Vanessa swept into the apartment, peeling out of a trench coat she hung neatly in the closet. He watched as she glanced his way and asked, “Where’s our Lexie?”
Peter stiffened, returning to reading the newspaper. “Packing.”
Vanessa offered no immediate comment, but perched on the stool next to his. She leaned on an elbow. “You look miserable.”
“Thank you.” He turned away slightly, trying hard to read the Times. A futile attempt, all in all.
“Peter, has it occurred to you that you need to fight for her? If you do, it’ll be worth it in the end. She’s raw, but she’s coming around. I can tell.”
Her tone was gentle, but Peter growled beneath his breath, detesting the way his twin could all but read his mind. “Vannie, do something useful.”
“OK.” She flicked the newspaper. Repeatedly. When Peter folded down a corner of the paper and scowled, Vanessa just grinned. He flipped the page back into place and tried to read.
“I notice you can’t keep clear of her anymore. Whenever she’s around, you’re drawn to her like a magnet.” In typical fashion, Vanessa was relentless.
“Don’t know what you’re on about.” He buried himself once again in a story about the latest world ruckus. Vanessa wasn’t slighted. Instead, she flicked at the pages all over again. Wench.
“Oh, it’s casual stuff—lovely, really.”
Peter heard Vanessa stand. Next came a waft of motion as she waltzed around his stool.
“Remember the pub?”
Did he ever.
“There was that oh-so-subtle brush of your fingertips against her earring, and I saw the way you played with that fabulous little charm bracelet of hers, then there were the long looks when she wasn’t aware.” To emphasize her points, she mimicked each gesture—tickling his earlobe and wrist, giving his shoulder a shove. When he turned to glower at her, she simply fluttered her lashes.
Ignoring Vanessa was as likely as pushing back high tide. “Someday the tables will turn, brat, and I can’t wait.”
She ignored him. “Then, there was that interlude at Trafalgar, and the snarling reaction you failed to hide when she stepped out of your embrace to take a phone call from another man. Tell me, do you do jealous much?”
“I'm not jealous,” he barked. “I'm protective. Her heart’s been sliced.”
“Oh, Peter, try again. This is me you're talking to, and I won't be fooled. When she left you at the caroling ceremony to take that call from Ray, you were furious. Admit it.”
“Yes, OK? I admit it. The whole situation with Lexie left me gobsmacked.”
He threw down the paper and she reared back, seeming stunned by his vehemence. But she wasn’t dissuaded. She punched an index finger into his chest. “Then I say again—stop kidding yourself. Don't try to convince me that you didn't realize you have feelings for her.”
He spun away and prowled to the kitchen sink where he dumped his empty tea mug. “OK. Fine, but neither of us was ready back then, and now I have no idea what to expect of her. She's with me one minute seeming happy, and then she's going on about her life in the States, taking phone calls from some random bloke she met on a plane. I’ve been trying to win her heart and attempt to court her a little, but matters are confused. Nothing I do or say seems to get through, so I’m at a loss.”
“You’re impossible. This time, don’t be stupid! This time, don’t let her go, no matter how hard she fights. You’ve grown up since college, and so has she, but are you finished mucking about? Are you ready for a woman like Lexie? A woman who deserves nothing less than the entirety of your heart? If so, then go get her!” He watched, puzzled when Vanessa’s grin spread slow and sure. “Besides, it seems I know something you don't.”
“Which is?”
“She wasn't just chatting with some random bloke she met on a plane. Turns out her dinner engagement with Ray—not date—was all about business, and a job opportunity, not romance. By the way? That job opportunity would land her right here in London.”
Peter gasped, staring at his sister. Vanessa nodded, fisting h
er hands on her hips. She glared at him. “Are you ready for me to scrape your chin off the floor now, brother dear?”
****
Peter wasted no time.
He stalked to the stairwell and stopped at the closed bedroom door where he knew Alexa was preparing to leave the following morning. He rapped sharply and received a summons that sent him bursting across the threshold.
“Interesting news I just received from my sister. You got a job offer? Here? In London?”
“Yes.” Alexa kept her back to him. She rolled socks, tossing them into her suitcase.
Peter took hold of her arm to stop her. “When was I to find out? Once you returned home? Once you logged onto the social networks and spilled details about your jolly little holiday to England? What’s wrong with you, not sharing that with me?”
Alexa wrenched free of his touch and continued packing. Violently. “What would be the point, Peter? More pressure? I don’t need it! Please…I’ve been through enough!”
He ignored her protest, gut-punch though it was. “So, then. This is it? You’re off and running instead of thinking things through? Brilliant. See also typical.”
Alexa rounded on him. “What's that cutting piece of insight supposed to mean? I’m not running; I’m trying to be smart. Back in college we followed a prudent path to growing up and becoming established. Leaving right now kills me, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“How is it right? If leaving were the right thing to do, we’d simply have a farewell dinner, share friendly conversation about the good times we’ve had and call it a visit. It’d be comfortable and easy, but that’s not what this parting is at all, so don’t kid yourself. Your heart led you right back here, and you melted in my arms when we kissed. You keep returning, Alexa. Take the hint.”
Finding Home Page 7