by Serena Grey
“I’m okay. You?”
She shrugs.
“Sweetheart.” Fiona wraps her arms around me, and I sniff. “It’s going to be all right.”
I nod and try to smile. Aidan is talking to Natalia and Fiona smiles in his direction before turning back to me. “It’s going to be all right,” she says again.
There are about thirty people at the service. Some are there for me, but the majority are there for my father, the people he was close to, people who worked with him. A woman I vaguely recognize from pictures as my father’s cousin is crying into a handkerchief. They hadn’t seen each other in decades, she tells me later, ever since they were children. They’d made plans to have a family reunion but kept on postponing.
“That’ll never happen now,” she sniffs.
“At least you’re here,” I tell her.
The service is short and beautiful and after, we go to the cemetery. I watch the pallbearers lower the coffin into the ground and I have to fight the feeling that the earth is going to swallow me up too.
The chaplain is talking but I can’t hear a word he says. Past the graves, outside the wrought-iron fence, I can hear the commotion of waiting photographers in the distance.
Panic seizes me. I want to go somewhere quiet and cry. I look around, searching for a way to escape, but Aidan takes my hand, and the feel of his warm palm enveloping mine promises me safety. The solid mass of his body invites me to lean on him, to draw on his strength.
But I can’t, not now. Not after he has rejected me for so long.
I swallow hard and start to pull my hand from his.
“Please,” he whispers. “Let me.”
I feel his words like a warm blanket on a cold day. I close my eyes, letting him hold me, knowing somehow that he will be here, as long as I need his comfort.
After the funeral, we return to my dad’s apartment. Gertie has worked her miracles and there are light refreshments awaiting the guests. People come to talk to me, to offer me their condolences. I accept them.
Tomorrow, we’ll do this all over again. There’ll be more people, stories, speeches about my dad.
It will be goodbye.
After a while, people start leaving, first stopping to wish me all the best. When I can’t bear their compassion anymore, I escape to the guest room.
Natalia is in there, wiping her eyes. Her relationship with my dad was a complicated one, but I have no doubt they loved each other deeply.
“He was one of a kind, you know.” She shakes her head. “I always knew I’d never find another man like him.”
“I always wondered why you both never—” I stop talking, not sure if the funeral is the right time to ask.
“Why we never went public with our relationship, or made a commitment to each other?”
I nod and she sighs.
“He was always going to be in love with your mother, Liz. He was my once in a lifetime love, but she was his. There are just some kinds of love that when people lose, they never recover. Like your parents.’”
She pats my hand and leaves me alone.
A once in a lifetime love.
Like mine, for Aidan.
By the time I return to the living room, Gertie is clearing the dishes with Aidan’s help.
“Why don’t you get some rest,” I tell her. “You must be tired. We can take care of this.”
She hesitates but does as I say. She’s grieving as much as I am.
Aidan and I work in silence, clearing and cleaning. When we finish, he follows me to the study, coming to sit beside me on the sofa. Still silent, he takes my hand in his own.
I close my eyes, drawing comfort even from that small touch.
“Everything fell apart when I left,” I mutter. “I hurt you, disappointed my dad…” I shake my head. “Did you hear the questions today? That’s what people care about. When I’ll make them a movie. Sometimes I feel like going to L.A. was the worst decision I ever made.”
“You can’t think that,” Aidan’s fingers tighten around mine. “You’ve done some excellent movies and brought a lot of joy to your audience.”
“But not to myself. Everyone I love has been hurt by that decision. Seven years ago, I had him, I had you. Now…” I stop and give him a helpless look. “He was sick for a while before he told me, Aidan, because I’d become such a stranger to him, he had to consider what his sickness would mean for my brand.”
Aidan’s arms circle my shoulders. “He cared about you. He was proud of you. You made him happy. He was prouder of you than anything he ever accomplished in his life, which is saying a lot.”
“I keep thinking I didn’t deserve that pride.”
“You followed your dreams and succeeded where many others failed. That’s what he wanted for you.”
I close my eyes, wondering what it cost Aidan to say that. Pursuing those dreams broke us apart. I hold back a sob, but he notices and draws me into his warmth. “You were here for him at the end.”
“Yes, whatever that’s worth.”
Aidan smooths my hair. “Liz, I’m certain it was worth a lot.”
I rise to my feet and walk over to the shelf, because it’s torture to remain in his arms, so close to him. “He was still here when I got to the hospital. He talked about my mother. He never stopped loving her, I think in the end he was certain he would see her again.”
“Maybe he will,” Aidan smiles ruefully. “I always hoped there was a place where my parents could be happy again.”
“Oh Aidan.” The reminder of his parents’ tragedy makes everything seem so much more painful. I go back to the sofa and take his hand, burrowing into his arms. We remain there, quiet companions in our shared grief but somehow, feeling better because we’re together.
Later, in the living room, I open a bottle of wine and put on one of my father’s favorite classical records. On the couch, I rest my head on Aidan’s shoulder.
“What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t left?” I ask softly.
He thinks for a few moments. “Who knows,” he says finally, his voice oddly unemotional.
I already know the pain of dwelling on opportunities lost, but somehow, I need to experience it again, with him.
“We’d be married,” I murmur, “With a child, maybe two.”
I feel his chest move. “I’d work less,” he says. “I’d take care of the kids when you go on location.”
Tears threaten my eyes. “My dad would have had grandchildren.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “We’re just dreaming Liz. Don’t torture yourself over dreams.”
“I thought we’d try to make it work, and the trying would destroy us, but it wouldn’t have.”
“No. I would have done everything possible to make us work.”
“I believe you.”
He doesn’t reply.
“You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Aidan Court. The best.”
He kisses the top of my head. We don’t say much after that, and soon I fall asleep in his arms.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Aidan
I let myself drift off, but after about an hour, I carry Liz to one of the bedrooms in the apartment. She doesn’t wake up when I take off her shoes and lay her on the bed. When I place the covers over her and arrange her head on the pillows, I hear her murmur something. My name.
I place a kiss on her cheek, the urge to take her in my arms and spend the rest of my life making sure she has no reason to cry causes a tightening in my chest.
I never stopped loving you either.
She stirs, and murmurs my name again, so I get up and leave her in the room, letting myself out of the apartment.
What now?
I have no idea, but I know I’m ready to stop lying to myself. I’m ready to admit that I don’t want to let her go, not again.
The next day at the memorial, the tiny church is packed, and everybody has a story to share about Dennis McKay.
Liz is seated in front, and she’s quiet th
roughout the ceremony, through the clapping and the muted laughter that follows the funny anecdotes from people who knew her father.
I should have gone to sit with her. This is not a time for her to be alone. She still needs…
Needs what Aidan…You?
I close my eyes. Why not? I’ve fought it for weeks, but I know I can’t fight my feelings forever. I know I’ve been lying to myself, telling her I want her to leave, because if things don’t change between us and she leaves again, I won’t be able to bear it.
After the ceremony, Liz thanks everyone and people walk to the front to pay their respects. I join them.
She smiles when she sees me. “Hello, Aidan.”
I take her hands. “You okay?”
She nods and squeezes my hands. “Thank you for yesterday.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
Her eyes hold mine, luminous with unshed tears. “Aidan…” she starts. There’s a pain in her voice that I suspect has more to do with us than with her father.
My heart freezes. “What?”
She looks behind me at the person waiting to talk to her. “We’ll talk later.”
I feel dismissed. I consider waiting to talk to her but decide to go home instead. We’ll have many opportunities to talk whenever she returns to work.
If she returns to work.
I’ve seen the headlines, already speculating about unknown reports that she’s returning to her movie. I’d dismissed them because…she wouldn’t.
Would she?
She wouldn’t return to L.A. so soon after losing her dad.
She wouldn’t leave the play.
She wouldn’t rip my heart open like that again.
Let’s talk later.
About what?
At home, I try to stop focusing on the chaotic thoughts and suspicions.
She’s torn the earth from beneath my feet before. Why would she hesitate to do it again?
I fall asleep and wake up to the sound of knocking.
When I open the door, I’m not surprised to find Liz on the other side. She’s changed from earlier and is now wearing a light sheath dress and walking shoes. Her face is hidden by a big pair of dark glasses.
“Can I come in?”
I step back to let her inside. She pulls off the glasses and watches silently as I close the door.
I want to ask her about my suspicions, but now they’re the farthest thing from my mind.
I take a step toward her and she falls into my arms, naturally, as if she belongs there.
Because she does belongs there.
She is mine. She has always been mine. The same way I’m hers, body and soul.
“Aidan,” she moans, burrowing into my chest.
My arms tighten around her. I kiss her forehead, then smooth her hair.
“I need you,” she whispers. Her voice is shaky, heavy with a mixture of sadness and surrender.
“You have me,” I murmur in her ear.
She releases a choking breath, then lifts her face toward mine. Our lips meet and I forget everything else.
Just her.
And me.
As it should be.
Her lips are sweet and soft. Her mouth tastes like peaches. Her skin is soft and smells like fresh flowers. She takes over all my senses, and I don’t care. It’s exactly what I want.
She moans against my lips and I lift her up, carrying her the short distance to my bedroom, laying her on the bed and covering her body with mine. She puts her arms around me and clings to me like she will never let go.
I kiss her again, trailing my lips from her mouth to her neck. Her body arches and her fingers twine in my hair.
“Take off your clothes.” Her voice is soft. “I want to look at you.”
I chuckle. “Anything you want, ma’am.”
Her eyes follow my movements as I rise to my knees and pull my shirt over my head. I slide off the bed and remove my pants, and she gets on her knees, running one hand over my chest, her fingers sliding over my stomach before coming to rest on the ridge in my briefs. Her touch is like a catalyst to my cock, and it hardens even more, pushing against her hand.
“I want you so much,” she whispers.
I take her face in my hands. “I will never stop wanting you.” My hunger for her is an insistent, never-ending flame, the undying inferno at the center of the earth. Reaching behind her, I unzip her dress and pull it over her head, exposing her slender body in a lacy bra and panties.
Her eyes meet mine, waiting and expectant.
I curl my fingers in one cup of her bra and nudge it down until her nipple peeks out, then I lower my head and draw the hard, pink nub into my mouth.
She says my name on a shaky breath, and the sound is intoxicating.
Grabbing my free hand, she guides it between her legs. Her panties are soaked. Unable to wait, I push the flimsy material aside and my fingers find her. Hot and wet. Silky and eager for my touch.
She moves her hips in a rolling motion, inviting my fingers to explore deep inside her. I join her on the bed, on my knees facing her, still teasing her nipple with my lips and tongue, still stroking her most intimate places with my fingers, drunk on the sound of my name from her lips.
With one hand on her back, I keep her upright as her body reacts to my touch. She’s already trembling when I roll the pad of my thumb around her clit, spreading my fingers inside her at the same time. Her body jerks and stiffens, and she falls apart, clutching my shoulders as tremors shake through her.
When her body finally stills, she meets my eyes and smiles softly. “Magic fingers.”
“And tongue.” I return her smile and push her gently, so she falls back on the bed. “Want to test that one out?”
She shakes her head, pulling me down on top of her then rolling, so she’s straddling me.
“I have something else in mind,” she tells me, holding my gaze as she trails her hands down my body.
I lock my fingers behind my head. “Why don’t you show me, Ms. McKay?”
She chuckles and lowers her lips to my chest, licking one nipple then the other, then she trails a long kiss down to the edge of my briefs.
My cock strains inside the restriction of the fabric as she strokes me, her hands firm. With a quick flick of her wrists, she frees me, making a soft sound in the back of her throat before wrapping one hand around me, and stroking up and down along my length with a glaze in her eyes that’s almost dreamlike.
Her hands are heaven. My body strains and my eyes close. Just when I think I can’t possibly bear any more, she takes the tip of my cock inside her mouth.
A curse rips from my lips. She tightens her mouth around me and sucks me deep until I’m touching the back of her throat, then she releases me, trailing her lips and tongue back to the head of my cock and flicking her tongue around me like she has never tasted anything better.
I release a string of curses. My hips flex as she moves her head up and down, each sucking motion of her mouth driving me crazier than the one before.
“Liz…” I warn.
Holding my gaze, she licks the head of my cock in several quick flicks. I let out a groan, unable to bear anymore. Reaching for her, I pull her up to my chest and roll so I’m on top of her.
She laughs softly, placing a quick, playful kiss on the corner of my lips. “You can’t stand not being in control?”
“Oh, I can, but right now I just want to be inside you.”
She licks her lips, silent as I reach behind her and unhook her bra, freeing her breasts. I tug her panties down and toss them away. A moan escapes her when I spread her legs and position myself between them, meeting her eyes and holding her gaze as I enter her.
She surrounds me like bliss, hot bliss. She feels so good. So good, I know I’m going to lose my mind.
“Fuck, Liz!”
Her response is a soft groan. Her body strains, her chest rising and her breasts rolling as she moves in time with me, meeting me thrust for thrust.
I lower my head to her breast, catching one nipple between my teeth. Her fingers twine in my hair.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads.
As if I ever would.
As if I ever could.
Her body tightens around me, straining, pulsing and throbbing, drawing me in. I lose the capacity to think as pleasure takes over and my hips are thrusting of their own accord. My groans mingle with the sounds of her moans in a perfect carnal symphony.
She clutches my shoulders and screams my name, her body seizing as her climax rips through her. As soon as the tremors subside, I pull out of her, then turn her to her side before entering her from behind. She whimpers softly, still trembling with pleasure. I lock one arm around her leg and lift it high, holding it there while I thrust into her.
So hot.
She moans my name over and over, urging me on, shuddering as she nears another climax. Her muscles tighten around me and she cries out. This time, I go with her, my climax powering through me like a crazed beast as my pleasure explodes inside her.
We’re both panting. My arms snake around her and I pull her close to my chest.
“Don’t even fucking think of leaving ever again,” I growl in her ear.
She doesn’t reply, but she snuggles closer to me, her perfect ass curved against my groin. My heart is thudding, and I can feel hers too.
“I love you,” she whispers.
The declaration washes over me and my arms tighten around her.
I love you too. My response is silent, inside my head. I never fucking stopped.
She slips out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning after we spend the whole night making love, untiringly rediscovering each other’s bodies until we are both totally spent.
“I’ll see you at work,” she tells me at the door, placing a kiss on my lips.
I reach for her hand, stroking her satiny skin. “You don’t have to come in. Take a few days off.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to be around other people. I need to work.”