by Sara Rider
Eli stood on the other side, but she barely recognized him. His eyes were rimmed with red and body so tense, she gasped. “What’s wrong?”
His hands were coiled into fists as he stepped inside. “I need you.”
Her pulse thundered in her veins. “What?”
“I know I’m not supposed to be here. I know I’ve got no right to ask anything of you, and if you tell me to leave, I swear I will. But I need you.”
His voice was so raw and anguished, she could feel every rough, unvarnished edge of pain inside him. She knew why he was here. The remembrance ceremony was tomorrow, and he didn’t want to be alone. “Okay.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but no words came out.
She reached for his hand. “Eli, it’s okay.”
The physical contact unleashed something in him. He met her eyes with a look that would have scared her if she didn’t know him as well as she did. He kissed her, deep and hungry, pressing his lips to hers like he was trying to erase the weeks since they’d last done this. It was almost frantic in its urgency. And what could she do but kiss him back? His pain was so big, it filled the entire room. She didn’t want to think about the reasons this was wrong. She just wanted to soothe him.
He walked her backwards to her bedroom, hands clutching her robe, pressing his lips to hers. When the back of her knees bumped into her bed, he pulled the robe off her shoulders and feasted on her neck like he was addicted to the taste of her skin, filling her with a sensation that made her knees weak with desire.
Her breath came so rapidly just from his kisses that she could barely make her fingers work as she reached for his T-shirt. He reached back and tugged it over his head before sealing his lips on hers. They struggled to get rid of the rest of their clothes, buttons and straps tangling and disobedient beneath their hands. She barely noticed the sound of her nightgown ripping as he yanked it off her shoulders before they fell against the mattress.
She reached blindly for her bedside drawer, accidentally knocking her paperback onto the floor. For once, she didn’t even care if her bookmark fell out or the pages were bent. All she felt was relief when Eli leaned over her and found the condom she’d been looking for. But the grunt of pain when he tried to open the little plastic package did make her worry.
“What’s wrong?” As she spoke, she finally noticed the thick bandage across his palm.
He handed the condom to her. “Took out my anger on a coffee mug.”
She paused to stroke his cheek before tearing the little package open and rolling the condom on. He kissed her in return, like she was his last breath. She’d never had someone need her like this. Never felt the kind of passion that made her thoughts succumb to pure instinct. He lowered her to the bed and settled between her legs, where she ached for him. He pressed against her entrance, then sucked in a breath.
“Are you…” Another stilted breath. “Is this…okay?” He struggled for the words, but she knew what he was asking. No matter how much anger or pain he felt, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Not this way, at least.
“I need this, too,” she answered softly.
He exhaled and slid into her, filling her so deeply and perfectly she couldn’t understand how she’d denied this for so long. He laced his fingers with hers and slid them over her head. There was nothing gentle about the way he thrust into her or kissed her or held her hands. Their movements were desperate and greedy. She was lost in his scent, his sounds. In him.
“I need you,” he whispered between hungry kisses. “I need you.”
He repeated those words, driving into her harder and faster until she couldn’t focus on anything but the rough, pleading sound of his voice and the feel of their sweat-slicked bodies sliding against each other. She could feel how close he was, and nothing in this moment mattered more than bringing him over the edge. She rocked her hips, reveling in the wild grunt that escaped his lips.
With no warning, he let go of her hands and flipped her legs over his shoulders, driving into her at an angle that sent her careening. She screamed as the strongest orgasm of her life tore through her. He came seconds later, repeating her name and burying his hands in her hair like she was the only thing anchoring him to this earth.
He collapsed on top of her, then rolled off a few seconds later to clean himself up. In those stark, quiet seconds apart, a small thread of panic was able to creep back in to her mind. She had no idea what just happened or what it meant.
When he came back a few minutes later and crawled beneath the covers, the vise around her heart finally loosened enough to breathe.
His hand slid against her hip, fingers pressing deeply into her skin, and his body curled up against hers.
“Eli?”
“Not tonight, okay? Tomorrow we can talk all you want.”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. She didn’t need words tonight. She just needed him.
Eli didn’t want to open his eyes when he woke up the next morning. Fat, heavy raindrops splattered against the window in a rhythmic lullaby. He’d finally had the kind of sleep he didn’t want to wake up from. The kind where he wasn’t tormented by dreams or nightmares. The kind where he finally felt a little more human when he woke up instead of twice as tired as when he first went to bed.
When he did finally open his eyes, the gray skies made it look like it was still early morning, but the clock on the bedside table clearly stated it was already nine-thirty. Nora wasn’t in bed, which was a disappointment but not a surprise. She was probably already on the road to her conference. They needed to talk, but he was grateful for the excuse to postpone that eventuality a little longer. He was in no rush to hear her tell him that last night was a one-off that didn’t change anything. Right now, he needed to deal with the day ahead of him.
He got dressed quickly and headed to the bathroom. She’d left out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a box of bandages for his hand on the sink counter. The gash was ugly, but not too deep. He cleaned it up and went to her kitchen, hoping she remembered to leave him a key to lock up with, but instead he found Nora.
She was in the kitchen with her back to him, cell phone tucked against her ear while she cracked an egg with one hand into a bowl. She must have showered while he was asleep because her hair was damp and pulled into a low ponytail, and she had an adorable red apron with white lace edges that reminded him of a French maid.
He wanted to go to her. Hold her. Kiss the skin below her ear. Instead, he stayed in the doorway, waiting for her to notice him.
“I found a dentist who takes emergency Saturday appointments,” she said into the phone, sounding like a frustrated kindergarten teacher. “I’ve already booked you an appointment for noon today. You need to go.”
She dropped her head backward, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Please, Dad? Okay. Thank you. I’ll call you later.” She ended the call and set her phone on a clean stretch of counter, then turned her attention to a large, hardcover cookbook perched in one of those metal rack thingies that held the pages open.
He cleared his throat and said, “You need a recipe for scrambled eggs?”
She straightened with a small gasp of surprise.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, heading to the sink to wash her hands. She wiped her hands dry with a paper towel and turned around. “And for the record, I don’t need a recipe, I just prefer to use one.”
He smiled, grateful they were finally on neutral ground. He wasn’t sure how to act after his outburst of emotion last night. He’d been worried he’d hurt her. That she’d be angry with him. “It’s impossible to get scrambled eggs wrong.”
Her lips quirked upward in a half-smile. “Sure, but it’s not as easy to make the world’s best scrambled eggs without Chef Brassard’s ultimate scrambled eggs with brie and fresh chives recipe.”
“Hard to agree since I’ve never tasted them before.”
“Lucky for you I’m making extra.”
She grabbed a huge knife from her rack and sliced the chives in that rapid-fire way he’d only seen from the chefs on TV.
“Thanks, but don’t you need to be getting on your way to your conference?”
She turned again and leaned her hip against the counter, looking at him curiously. “I’m not going until this afternoon. The ceremony, however, is in two hours so you should probably start the coffee if we’re going to get there on time.”
He took a cautious step forward into the kitchen. “You’re coming to the ceremony?”
She offered a smile that seemed somehow sad. “I was always going to be there.”
It seemed so dumb, in retrospect, to doubt her. She was kind and considerate and always put others first. But he also knew how much this conference meant to her. “But aren’t you going to miss the conference?”
“My talk’s not until tomorrow morning. It’s not the end of the world if I miss a few sessions.” She shrugged, but he could tell from her tight smile that it did bother her. “It’s more important for me to be here for you and Julia.”
You and Julia. It was the reminder that no matter what happened last night, nothing had really changed. She still didn’t see a future where they were anything but friends. Barely a step above neighbors.
He opened her cabinet and grabbed two plates to distract himself from the frustration coursing through his body at that moment. He reminded himself that this was a good thing. He wasn’t ready for the kind of talk they needed to have right now. Not until after the ceremony.
He set the table and made coffee while she finished cooking, as easy and comfortable as if they’d been doing this for fifty years. She slid the eggs onto their plates, adding a couple slices of toast. The smell alone was enough to make his stomach weep with joy. He took his first bite and moaned.
She grinned while carefully unfolding a napkin onto her lap. “The secret is to melt a pad of butter into the eggs. It gives them a creamy texture.”
“If I’d known your eggs were this good, I’d have been over for breakfast from the moment you moved in.”
A crimson flush swept over her cheeks. “How’s your hand?”
“Not as bad as my ego. Julia’s going to kill me when she notices.”
“Are you nervous about the ceremony?”
He scooped up another rich bite and took his time swallowing. “Is it wrong if I say I’m not?”
She shook her head. “Why would it be?”
“I’m not nervous. I’m…” He flexed his fists, causing a searing jolt of pain in his injured hand, as he took his time searching for the right word. He hadn’t allowed himself to admit what he was feeling until now. But Nora’s brown eyes seemed to penetrate his thoughts, pulling the truth out of him. “I’m angry. Nothing about this ceremony has anything to do with me. I don’t know what kind of flowers Mom liked, or what color she would prefer, or how she would feel about being immortalized in a stupid bench. I’m not doing anything but following Julia’s orders, and I hate it. I hate that after ten years, I still have no idea how I’m supposed to think or feel or act. I’m just angry all the time.”
She sipped her coffee, then added another spoonful of sugar. She tapped the spoon against the edge of the mug before setting it on the saucer. Eli hadn’t known anyone who actually used saucers before her. “Do you want advice or do you want me to just listen?”
He ran his hand through his hair, regretting his answer before he even gave it. “Advice.”
She reached her hand across the table and set it on his. He flinched, not ready for this kind of tenderness from her with so much still left unsaid, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away either. “There’s no right or wrong way to feel. I didn’t know your mom, but I know the children she raised, and I know she would be incredibly proud of who you are.”
Every muscle in his body tensed, from his neck right through to his wrists and feet.
“Both of you,” Nora added before he could argue. “I mean that. Even if I didn’t know her, I would bet everything that your mom wanted to see you grow up to be a man who cares so deeply. A man who is fiercely loyal to his friends and successful in his field. No parent ever sees eye-to-eye with their kids on what path they’re supposed to take to be happy in life, but I guarantee you she would be proud of who you are and what you’ve accomplished. And there’s no rule that says this ceremony has to be your way of remembering her. You can do your own thing to remember her by.”
“Like what?”
She smiled and tightened the grip on his hand. “Like forgiving yourself, for starters. It’ll be a lot easier to come up with something meaningful if you’re not focused on punishing yourself.”
He’d never known someone who could cut through the swirling mess in his head like a hot knife and understand exactly what he’d been failing to figure out for months. He needed to do something that came from him. Something different from Julia’s plans. His own thing. But what?
“You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Forgiveness takes time.”
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about forgiving himself or her, but it was a visceral reminder that last night hadn’t solved their problems. “Maybe too much time.”
“I believe in you.”
“Do you?” He hadn’t meant to be sound so accusing. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want revenge. But he needed to know.
She withdrew her hand and fidgeted with her mug. “What I said at the fundraiser—what you overheard… It isn’t what you think.”
“You said I would destroy you. Pretty hard to misinterpret that.”
“We. Not you. We.” She tugged at the ends of her ponytail. “I never told you about my parents. They separated at the same time Gavin and I divorced. Thirty-five years together thrown down the drain.”
“What happened?”
“They never belonged together. They’re both academics, but they couldn’t be more different. Mom’s always been this free spirit with big dreams of travelling and adventure. Dad…well, his idea of adventure is using real cream instead of coffee creamer. He was married to his job more than his wife. They tried to make it work, but I guess they just couldn’t keep sacrificing their dreams for each other anymore. And now they’re both so miserable, they can barely function, much less enjoy their freedom.”
“Just because your parents split up doesn’t mean everyone else is doomed to fail.”
“Maybe not, but after Gavin and I divorced, I lost everything. I’d given up my dream job in Toronto to follow him to Boston because I thought love was worth sacrificing for. But in the end, I lost everything. I had no friends. No house. No job. Nothing. I can’t do that again. I can’t start my life over anymore. I can’t face that kind of regret again.”
He clenched his hands into fists on the table, letting the pain fuel his anger once more. He hated the man who had taken away her ability to trust. “I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”
She shook her head. “I know. But I’m still me. The person who throws too much of herself into relationships. And the thing is, the way I feel about you is so much stronger than I ever felt about Gavin. Stronger than anything I’ve felt in my life.”
She looked at him with eyes so wide and pleading, it felt like they were trying to communicate a secret message in those shimmering flecks of gold. She was falling for him, too, and it didn’t just scare her. It terrified her. And he finally understood why.
He ran his hand through his hair and stood up. “I should go.”
She didn’t answer, so he collected the empty dishes and set them inside her dishwasher. She followed him silently to the door, watching as he slipped his shoes on and stepped outside into the gray drizzle.
“Eli,” she called when he reached the bottom step.
He turned to look at her, drops of rain hitting his eyelashes.
She pressed her lips together nervously. “The thing is, I thought I was afraid of what could happen if things between us didn’t work out, but after these wee
ks apart, I realize that I’m just as afraid of what will happen if we don’t even try.”
He bounded back up the steps and took her face between his hands. He placed a whisper of a kiss on her lips—the kind that finished without ending and held all the promises he couldn’t articulate in words. He dropped his forehead to hers when it was over.
“We’re gonna talk later. Okay?”
“Okay.”
16
The rain didn’t let up at all by the time the small crowd had gathered at the Holy Grale’s back courtyard. If anything, it had grown stronger. Raindrops came down from the gray clouds in an urgent rhythm, splattering everything and making the air feel even chillier than it was. This kind of weather was inevitable in early November in the Pacific Northwest, but Eli still felt bad knowing Julia had been hoping for a sunny miracle.
Instead of herding everyone inside the brewpub, Julia enlisted Eli and Jake to quickly erect a white tent she’d had the foresight to keep on hand in case of rain. The floral archway wasn’t holding up as well, but the white flowers—whatever kind they were—brought a nice bright contrast to the gray skies. He had to admit his sister had done a fantastic job to bring this event together.
Somehow it seemed fitting that he was stuck holding an umbrella over Julia while rain drenched his hair and clothes. He was soaking wet. The damn rain had even gotten into his underwear. But he refused to complain or draw attention to himself. It was Julia’s turn to speak.
His sister held her notes in shaking hands and stepped up to the dais with Eli beside her, keeping her dry. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here today to celebrate a woman who was kind and smart and loving. Ruth Hardin wasn’t just the best mom on the planet, she was also an amazing dancer—at least when it came to the chicken dance. She was also an incredible storyteller. When I was little, I used to beg her to make up bedtime stories for me. I was scared of the dark and she invented a different story every night about Julia the Superhero Princess vanquishing her enemies and darkness throughout the land, while always wearing the prettiest dresses. That was the thing about Mom. Even though we didn’t have a lot of money growing up, she always found a way to give us what we needed, whether it was a jacket from the consignment shop that she bedazzled to look new, or a story about a superhero princess to take away my fear of the dark.