WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  Danielle blushed and let go of my arm to hug mum. “Thank you, Helen. You look absolutely beautiful as well.”

  She did. Mum was a classic beauty — dark hair and Snow White skin. After Dad died when I was five years old, and despite her remarrying Pete four years later and then divorcing him shortly after we moved house when I was fifteen, men had been trying to court her.

  “Why hello there, little brother,” Laura said, as she wrapped her arms around me. “Nice of you to tell me you’d become newly engaged, and to Danielle of all people.”

  Her tone of voice spelled trouble. It spelled that she was on to us; that she knew we were hiding something, and that she was going to figure it out.

  Over my dead body.

  I hugged her back. Tightly. “Congratulations, big sis! I’m so proud of you.”

  “Don’t avoid the question,” she whispered into my ear.

  “You never asked one,” I whispered back.

  “Elliot, what is going on?”

  I pulled back and held her at an arm’s length then let go and pulled Danielle to my side. “Danielle, you remember my sister, Laura, right?”

  “Yes.” She extended her hand. “Hi, it’s been a while. Congratulations on your award this evening.”

  Laura smirked and pulled Danielle into a hug, firing me a smartarse glare over her shoulder. “Yes, and thank you. But it seems congratulations are in order for you and Elliot as well.”

  Danielle chuckled, nervously, so I butted in. “They sure are. Surprise!”

  “Surprise in deed.” Laura pulled back and plastered on a fake smile for Danielle.

  I didn’t like it.

  “Shall we take a seat?” I suggested, pulling out a chair for Danielle to sit on.

  Danielle smiled, unease in her eyes as they silently spoke to me. “Thanks, but I need the ladies room.”

  “Good timing, honey, I need the men’s.” Linking my arm with hers, I excused us. “We’ll be right back.”

  Mum smiled and took a seat while Laura narrowed her gaze. “Don’t be long. It’s about to start,” she warned.

  “We won’t.” I led Danielle through the room, weaving in and out of large round tables covered in white damask cloth — very typical of a gala type event.

  “Elliot, slow down. If you yank me any harder my dress will rip.”

  I was temped to yank as hard as I fucking could.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I get it. Your sister is on to us. She knows. She’s going to expose us,” she said in a panic, as we rounded the corner. “We can’t let her. Your mum will be devastated and mine will be so disappointed. It will ruin the garden rebuild. It will wreck everything. We can’t wreck everything. We need to fix the garden. We need to—”

  “Hey, calm down.” I placed my hands on either side of her face and coaxed her to look me in the eyes. “She won’t find out because we won’t tell her. She can assume all she wants. If we stick to our guns, she can’t prove anything.”

  Danielle blinked. “I … I guess so.”

  “Not guess, know. Just take my lead, okay?”

  As I was about to let her go, I noticed Laura standing at the cuff of the foyer, watching us.

  I needed to send her a clear message and I knew just how to do it.

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  “What?” Danielle went to step back, but I pulled her to me.

  “Laura is to our left, watching, so I’m going to kiss you. Are you ready?”

  She stiffened, her eyes wide.

  “This is me asking for permission, okay?” I gave her a cheeky smile, but this time I rubbed my thumb over her lip.

  She opened her mouth just slightly, and I was so fucking tempted to glide my thumb in and out of it, to have her lips wrapped around me. Just the thought hardened my cock, so I pressed my lips to hers, softly, the tip of my tongue unrushed as it enticed her mouth open wider.

  The sweetest of sighs escaped her mouth, and she draped her arms over my shoulders, her fingers threading through my hair. Her touch was heaven, her taste bliss, and when we were together, it was paradise, a place and time I never wanted to leave. She was it for me; she always had been.

  The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled me from my nirvana. I looked up, annoyed, to find Laura standing roughly three feet away, her fingers impatiently tapping her arms. “If you’re going to actually pee, you might want to do it now. The presentation is about to start.”

  Danielle stepped out of my embrace. “Yes. Good point. Your brother is always stealing kisses,” she said, playfully, and whacked me on the arse as she headed toward the toilet.

  It took me by surprise, but I liked it. “And my gorgeous fiancé is always stealing the chance to touch my arse,” I called out.

  She turned and walked backwards a couple of steps, pushing the door open with her butt, a cheeky grin lifting the corners of her mouth. “And what a nice arse it is.”

  Yep. I fucking loved this fake-engagement game.

  “I don’t know what you two are playing at, but if Mum finds out you’re pulling our legs, she’ll be devastated, and then I’ll really be mad.”

  I snapped my head toward my sister, my huge arsed smile morphing into a deathstare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I? So you expect me to believe you’re engaged to your childhood best friend when you haven’t even been dating?”

  “Who says we haven’t been dating?”

  “Me.”

  “Back off. I deal with Magistrates every day. I don’t need you acting like one where my love-life is concerned.”

  “Don’t tell me to back off, because I won’t. I don’t want our mother getting hurt, and I certainly don’t want you getting hurt.” She touched my arm. “El, have you forgotten that I was the one who witnessed what losing Danielle did to you, and that I knew you were in love with her and always would be?”

  I shrugged off her grip. “So what’s your problem? Why aren’t you happy for us?”

  “Because I don’t believe this is genuine,” she said, waving her hand between me and the toilet door Danielle had disappeared behind. “At least not from her side.”

  I sighed. My sister meant well, but she also meant to stick her nose where it wasn’t wanted or needed. “Look, thanks for your concern, but it’s not warranted. Danielle and I are happily navigating our new relationship. Our relationship. Meaning her and I. Not you, or mum. So, please, keep out of it.”

  The toilet door swung open and Danielle breezed through like a warm, Spring morning, her dress flowing with her confident steps, her eyes sparkling just as bright as the sporadic crystals dotting her lace.

  “Ready to head back?” she asked, once again linking her arm with mine.

  “Sure am.” I offered my other arm to my sister, but she just huffed and rolled her eyes before turning on her heel and heading back to the table.

  “Everything okay?” Danielle whispered into my ear as we followed behind.

  “Yeah. Just Laura being Laura.”

  “She hasn’t changed much at all.”

  “Nope.”

  “Poor you.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. It’s like what I always told you when you were sad about being an only child.”

  “Siblings are overrated. Just ask a killer whale,” she said before giving me the chance to say it.

  This time I laughed. “You remember.”

  “Of course. Mind you, I always thought you meant that the whales killed their siblings and that’s why they didn’t have any.”

  “No. They have siblings. They just fuck off when they are born.”

  Danielle snort-laughed, loud, and I swear my heart skipped a beat. She’d done it a lot when we were kids and was always so embarrassed by it.

  I placed my hand over hers. “That always was and always will be one of my most favourite sounds in the world.”

  “Oh, shut up.” She smiled sheepishly, as we stopped at the table.

/>   I winked and pulled her chair out.

  “Just in time,” Mum said, excited. “It’s starting.” She rubbed Laura’s arm. “Here we go, sweetheart.”

  The chandeliers above dimmed, and the MC introduced himself, explaining to the patrons in the room what the program for the evening would consist of. Laura’s presentation was third on the list, right after dinner was to be served.

  We listened to the first presentation, and I casually leaned back and draped my arm over Danielle’s chair, my fingers lightly tracing circles on her shoulder. She fidgeted at first, even kicked me under the table, but her skin was so soft; I couldn’t help myself.

  “So,” Laura said, before forking some quail into her mouth, “How’d you and Danielle get back in contact after all these years?”

  “Facebook.” My answer was short, sharp and quick.

  “Of course.” Laura nodded, smiled at Danielle, and took in another mouthful.

  I glared. If she thought she could successfully cross-examine the cross-examination king, she was sadly mistaken.

  “So how long had you been seeing each other before you got engaged?” she continued to probe.

  “About six or seven months.” Again, I didn’t lie; that was the approximate time it had taken before I proposed to her with the Cheezel.

  “Huh,” Laura said, poking her fork back into her entrée.

  “That long?” Mum exclaimed. “Why didn’t either of you say anything?”

  “Because we didn’t want to.”

  I smiled at Danielle, the kind that told her I could handle this, that she was safe and to trust me.

  She smiled back and picked up her glass of wine. “We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for the time being. That’s all.”

  “That’s fair enough, dear. We all need our privacy.”

  “So where’s your ring?” Laura mumbled, nodding toward Danielle’s hand.

  Danielle looked at her ring finger, twiddled her fingers, and giggled. “I ate it.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, she did. I’ve been meaning to buy her an inedible one ever since.”

  “I like the edible ones. They’re tasty.”

  “What on earth are you two talking about?” Mum asked.

  Danielle shuffled in her seat and dropped her hand to my lap. It surprised me. I never expected her to play along as convincingly as I would.

  “He proposed with a Cheezel,” she said.

  “Elliot Elijah Parker! Please tell your mother that you proposed with a proper ring.”

  “Whaaat? A Cheezel is a proper ring.”

  Mum dropped her head to her hands and then peeked through her fingers. “Is he serious?” She looked to Laura for an explanation.

  “I’m not sure,” my sister replied. “Elliot has a very good poker face.”

  I did.

  And she’d be wise not to forget it.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’d been a bowl of emotional soup when I’d turned up at Elliot’s earlier in the evening. Nervous. Regretful. Determined. Excited. After having the revelation that I desperately wanted my best friend back and would stop at nothing to make that happen, I’d soon after near fled like Cinderella when noticing how lust-soaked his eyes had been when they devoured me shortly after he’d opened his apartment door. They’d stirred my anxiety, and my fear that, I, too, wouldn’t be able to resist him. But I’d pushed all of that aside. I’d mentally blocked out the deliciousness dressed in a tuxedo because, had I not, my eyes would’ve been just as lust-soaked as his. And now, at dinner, sitting opposite his pesky, persistent sister, I felt protective. She was a canon, firing one ball after another at him, hoping she’d tear a big enough hole to expose our lie. I didn’t like it. I wanted her to point her relentless barrel elsewhere.

  “Elliot! You need to buy Danielle a proper ring, ASAP!” Helen barked, almost loud enough for the people sitting at the tables surrounding to hear.

  Elliot’s fingers stopped tracing circles on my shoulder. “I will, Mum! Bloody hell!”

  I shuffled closer to him in the hope he’d continue the delicious finger-spiralling, and in the hope it would calm him down. I don’t know, maybe the wine was aiding the emotional soup, but all I wanted to do was help defend the family attack.

  “Honestly, Schnookums,” I said, candidly, successfully keeping a straighter face than the last time I’d said the stupid word. “I don’t want a ring. I’m happy with my Cheezels.”

  Elliot nearly choked on his beer.

  “Schnookums?” Laura asked, one side of her face lifting distastefully.

  I nodded enthusiastically at her. “Yes! He loves it. He’s my cuppycake, schnookums. My pumpy-umpy-umpkin, aren’t you?”

  This time, Elliot did choke, so I rubbed his back like the good fake fiancé that I was before playfully grabbing his chin. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love my nicknames,” I added, my voice baby-like. Condescending.

  He tried to bite my fingers, his pearly white teeth gleaming. “I love them just as much as you love yours, honeybunch, gumdrop, pookie-ookie cookie-pie.”

  Pookie-ookie what the fuck?

  I bit my lip, my nostrils flaring, my cheeks stretching into an uncontrollable smile.

  His eyes lit up. “You’re going to snort-laugh, aren’t you?

  I shook my head.

  “Yes, you are. Do it,” he coaxed. “You know you can’t fight it.”

  I bloody well could. The last thing I wanted to do was snort-laugh in front of Jeanette and Laura.

  “Come on, let it out, pookie-ookie—”

  “Stop!” I snorted. “Stop!”

  Burying my face into his chest, I hid my embarrassment as I continued to honk and giggle quietly, each breath I inhaled delivering the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. He smelled good, oh so good. Fresh and musky. Clean and manly.

  “Danielle,” he whispered. “I’m not crack. Stop snorting and sniffing me.”

  I should’ve stopped. I should’ve let go of his crisp, white shirt and distanced my nostrils from him. I just … didn’t want to. I was happily warm. Snug. I was in manly aroma heaven.

  “Do I have to?” I murmured, inebriated by his fumes.

  Elliot lowered his head, his lips brushing the tip of my nose. “No. I’m happy for you to stay right where you are, indefinitely.”

  The warmth of his breathy words and the heat from his body were all the fuel and ignition needed to set me alight from within, a raging inferno of desire blazing to the surface of my skin, scorching my cheeks and parching my mouth. I shouldn’t be feeling this. I. Should. Not. Be. Feeling. This.

  Slowly pushing back from his chest and sitting upright again, I gave him a shy smile, my hand dropping to safely rest on his thigh.

  He glanced down at my fidgeting fingers for a moment then covered my hand with his, as if it was how our hands were supposed to be, and what was even stranger was that, in that moment, it felt as if they were.

  * * *

  After Laura’s presentation, we didn’t hesitate to make a hasty exit by delivering an Oscar worthy performance that portrayed Elliot as a workaholic and married to a high profile case, and me as the super supportive fiancé that encouraged his dedication. It was perfectly executed and unchallenged by its audience. Well, everyone except Laura, who had insisted we stay for dessert.

  We didn’t.

  “Seriously, your sister is one determined peacock,” I said, glancing out of the Uber’s window.

  “A Peahen,” Elliot corrected.

  I turned my head to my right, my nose bunching. “What?”

  “She’s a peahen. Peacocks are male.”

  “Do you religiously watch David Attenborough in your spare time?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know all this factual bullshit?”

  He casually rested his elbow on top of the door trim. “Facts aren’t bullshit.”

  Rolling my eyes, I whacked him on the arm. “ELLIOT! Just answer the bloody question.”

  “Fin
e. I like facts,” he said with a shrug. “Always have.”

  “Is that why you became a solicitor?”

  “Yep. Fact.”

  I smiled. “I always thought you were incredibly smart.”

  “I am.”

  “And obnoxious,” I added.

  He scoffed. “You’re lying again.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head with confidence. “Not this time.”

  “Yeah, you are. You never thought I was obnoxious, because I wasn’t. You think it now, though, because I am … now.”

  What. The. Actual. Fuck? “What I think is that you easily give me a headache.”

  Light from a passing streetlamp flickered across his wide-open and excited, ice blue eyes. “I know just the cure.” He leaned forward in his seat to speak to the driver. “Can you pull over at the next corner, please? We’ll get out there.”

  Noticing we weren’t back at his apartment, I was curious as to what he was up to. “Where are we going?”

  “To cure your headache … and get dessert.”

  “Oh!” I smiled. Dessert made me very happy. I loved dessert, all kinds of dessert. “Yeah. I was kinda bummed about missing it at the gala.”

  “I know. And I’m guessing even more so because cheesecake was on the menu.”

  The driver pulled to a stop, and I grabbed the door handle, opening it to get out. “Oh my God! Seriously, Lots, your memory is faultless.”

  “Oh, it’s definitely faulty.” He scooted out after me. “And anyway, how could I forget … you had cheesecake as your birthday cake every year that we were friends.”

  I shrugged as I stepped onto the pavement. “True. So … where are we going for sweets? The Cheesecake Shop?” I couldn’t contain my excitement and bounced on my toes.

  “No.”

  My bouncing stopped. “Aw.”

  “Stop pouting. It’s better than that.”

  “It better be,” I said, resuming my bouncing. “Because you got me all excited.”

  Stepping up beside me and threading is fingers through mine, he raised a smug eyebrow. “Don’t speak in past tense just yet.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, and again, just like at the gala, I should’ve stepped back, created some distance, and reminded him that we no longer needed to pretend as our audience was absent, but … I didn’t, because his hand in mine felt harmless. Nice. Supposed to be.