“You get so different when you talk about Mike,” Steve remarked quietly.
She focused in on him again. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged, a soft smile hinting on his lips. “You're happier is all.”
“He makes me happy.”
“Nah, I don't think that's it,” Steve disagreed, shaking his head once.
She arched an eyebrow. “Really? What do you think it is?” This should be good. Every once in a while, Steve had a moment of extreme cleverness. But it came less frequently than his extreme idiocy.
“I don't think Mike makes you happy. I think your heart finds respite in his, and therefore happiness just happens. Like the moon moving the tide. I imagine a wave feels the same when it breaks along the shoreline. It just knows it's home. The moon doesn't make it happy, the moon exists and the wave responds to its existence.”
Clarke stared at him, trying to come to grips with the fact that Steve had just used “respite” in a sentence. “You are your own person, aren't you, Steve?”
He frowned and cocked his head.
“I don't know if waves can feel emotions but I think I understand your point.”
His lips flattened slightly and the tips of his ears got pink. “I'm just saying that your happiness is your own. He just gets to be a part of it.”
Clarke smiled. “I like that.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “I know. I'm awesome.” He shifted his position on the floor and resumed his bikini sorting. She watched, letting her eyes lose focus on the bright colors and patterns scattered all over the floor. She hoped he had some kind of system going on.
Maybe Steve was right. Then again, maybe Steve was just Steve and she was too tired to over-think his “Steveness.” She sighed and clicked out of the order form, deciding to read his email again.
She doubted very much that anyone else in the world knew the extent of Mike's romantic tendencies. She doubted Mike knew they were there until he'd suddenly begun writing her letters when they were apart.
Dear Slim,
The song writing used to be enough. I used to be able to sit down and write for hours, translating my thoughts and emotions into lyrics and melody that best described what was happening on my insides.
But it's not enough anymore.
I just finished a letter to you this morning and sent it. And I find myself borrowing Zelda's laptop so I can write to you again. I know now it's time to invest in my own. I had thought that if I finally told you all the things I wanted to say to you, this pressure would ease.
But I never stop having things to tell you.
Please be thriving. Be alive. Be living.
Be excited for the day when our time of necessary separation ends and you can accompany me... Isn't that a Bob Seger song? Now I'll have to convince the guys to cover that one of these nights.
I'm never not thinking about you.
I love you.
Mike
Clarke felt that familiar pang of loneliness shoot through her heart at the close of his letter. She always wanted there to be just a little bit more. She hoped that feeling would last forever.
A month was a long time to be away from someone.
She knew she had work to do, but she hit “reply” and typed out a response.
Mike,
I woke up this morning still half dreaming. I thought you were here with me. Maybe it's because you're always so close in my thoughts, I feel you here even when you're not.
Don't be worried about the space or the time between us. I'm not.
Every new day is a gift. Even if that day starts four hours sooner for you than it does for me. I will not regret one single second.
Future days, my love. We have all of the future days.
Love,
Clarke
She hit Send and clicked back over to her order form with a small smile.
“Clarke!” Kip bellowed from downstairs.
Always. There was always a crisis somewhere with something and she was the only one who could ever fix it. She sighed loudly, not in irritation, just in acceptance.
Such was her life.
The boys had moved out of her home and given her the peace she craved, and had almost immediately filled the empty roles in Soaring Bird. She was beginning to wonder if maybe they weren't going anywhere.
Her hand hit the door jamb as she paused before exiting. She pictured briefly what life would look like without Steve, Kip, Bo, Brady, and Adam. Steve made a clucking noise to her left and she slid her eyes that direction. His focus on his task was undisturbed, he probably hadn't realized he made that noise.
Boring.
Without these beach bum weirdos that drove her crazy, her life would be decidedly boring.
The crises didn't seem so burdensome all of a sudden.
Of all the things Paul left behind with his unexpected departure from Earth, his friends had been the most thoughtful.
And with that heart-lightening realization, Clarke smiled a secret smile and went to save Kip from some unknown apocalypse.
***
Mike read Clarke's email again and again.
Damn, he missed her.
But missing her felt good too. Like a reassurance that what they had wasn't just about proximity and location. Their connection was constant, not dependent on the miles or inches between.
Still.
It had been a month. And a month was about as long as he could stand.
“Here you are, sir.”
Mike put his phone down and smiled thankfully at the clerk. He reached for the bag, nodding at her too-eager smile.
“Forgive me for asking,” she said quickly before he turned to go. Mike paused, feeling the weight of her question before she asked it.
He'd been with Clarke for a while now. They weren't public, but they weren't a secret either. They wanted their relationship to be between them and not them and the media. The media, of course, did not agree to this ahead of time and curious eyes and even curiouser questions would jump out at them.
One particular instance involving a photographer at Clarke's place of business had him uncharacteristically distressed. Going so far as to call the rag and make a statement.
Lindy had not been pleased.
Since then, Mike had made it a point to make no further statements and to leave things like that to Lindy. It was his job after all.
It just bothered him. People shouldn't care. What went on between him and Clarke wasn't anybody's business but their own.
Luke had tried talking to him about it, pointing out that he and Lenny dealt with crap like that every day. But Mike disagreed. He'd had enough of being at the media's scrutiny after his many sobriety issues. He knew the only reason they were paying attention was because they were waiting for him to fail. Everyone wanted to be the first one there when he fell off the wagon — not to help him up of course, but to take a picture of it.
And he really didn't want Clarke to be associated with that part of his life.
She was good and clean and right.
She was the best thing that had ever happened in his life, and that included all of the rock star bullcrap. Okay, it wasn't bullcrap... malarkey? Rock star nonsense?
Whatever. She was the best. That was the end of it.
Except it wasn't. It was a constant tango back and forth between being who he was with Clarke and putting on his face for the rest for the world. He was essentially the same person. One was just a little bit more wary than the other.
So when the cute jewelry store clerk stopped him on his way out the door with a very important purchase, it was all he could do to not sigh.
“The ring... that's a unique setting. I don't know if I've ever seen anything like that.” She smiled sweetly, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Mike pressed his lips together and nodded an agreement. “It's an antique.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “I thought it was a custom order by André.”
Mike cleared his throat and ru
bbed the two-day-old scruff on his chin with his fingertips. “Well, yes and no. I had an old ring in my possession. André made it something new.”
She flashed him a smile, showing she understood. “Well, it's a beautiful ring. It must be for someone very important.”
Mike smiled a genuine smile then. “The most important.”
He nodded his thanks, took his small bag, and left.
If he hurried, he could make it to Huntington by sunset.
***
Slim,
The ocean has nothing on your eyes. It wishes it could be that color, but it's forever jealous.
And yet I find myself drawn to the waters just for the façade it will provide me. I look into the water and all I see is the endless waves of promise and hope I see in you.
Do me a favor?
Watch the sunset tonight. Find a place... find a moment to watch the sunset and think of me. Watch the colors change as the sun sinks into the ocean and know that's how you have changed my life. Slowly, beautifully, perfectly.
Love,
Mike
Clarke couldn't stop smiling. Two letters from Mike in one day. He needed to be careful or she was going to start thinking she was an important person.
“You're doing it again.”
Clarke's eyes jumped up to Steve who was standing in her office doorway. “Gah! Steve! Stop spying on me!”
He laughed without apology. “Thinking about Mike again?”
She lifted her chin and straightened some paperwork on her desk. “That is none of your business.”
“Fine. Whatever you say, boss lady.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “The bikinis are done and set up. Kip and I can close up tonight if you wanted to take off early.”
Clarke glanced out the window and then at her watch. “Really?” she asked, looking back up at him. “You're all done?”
He nodded, not even offended by her second-guessing. Steve didn't let things like that bother him. He actually kind of expected it, which made Clarke a little sad. “Huge swells right now, it's been dead. Everyone is out in it. Not us, obviously,” he added with a hurt look.
“Obviously.” She smirked and pushed back from her desk. “If you're sure..?”
“Sure, I'm sure. So sure that I'm bored with the idea and I wish something new would happen right about now.”
Clarke snickered and stood up. “Okay, then. I'll believe you.”
If she hurried, she could make it to her favorite spot for the sunset.
***
Mike slid his hands into his pockets if only to keep himself from breaking into a run when he saw her. The constant conflict within himself was exciting. He reveled in it. The need to be with her immediately and the desire to simply observe her.
Seeing her relaxed and in her element was one of his favorite things. Her hair hung down her back, her golden and sun-kissed skin glowed with the light of the setting sun. Every time he saw her, it felt brand new. He felt brand new.
And then there was the desire to join her and take her attention. Have her shower him with her adoration and love only the way that she could.
He loved both Clarkes. The quiet, introspective, peaceful Clarke that belonged to the water and the sunshine. And then the Clarke that was all his.
And very soon now, hopefully, she would be even more his.
He took several slow, careful steps until he was beside her but still out of sight. The wind blew off of the ocean, creating the perfect moment for a photograph. He tried to memorize it.
“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, his eyes trained on her.
She whirled, her caramel hair whipping over her shoulder, her turquoise eyes wide and excited. She'd hardly seen him before she was on her feet and then she was in his arms. He took a deep breath of everything that was Clarke — sunshine, sea salt, freedom, love.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered near his ear, her arms not ready to let him go. He held her back just as tight, the feel of her warmth seeping into his skin and making him feel whole again.
Mike was always going to be an addict. It was just a truth he lived with, his band lived with, his woman lived with. It was something he had to constantly be aware of, never knowing what was around the next corner.
So the craving he had for Clarke wasn't unusual. What was unusual was his lack of fear from it.
She was clean.
He craved the cleanliness that she exuded. Needed it in his lungs. In his life.
“I needed you,” he answered honestly. “A month is just too long.”
She pulled back to look into his eyes and he soaked in the love shining out of her gaze. “I agree. A month is way too long.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth. She didn't wait for him to decide to kiss her, she pushed up on her toes and took what she wanted.
Thoroughly, achingly, slow and perfect. Hands exploring — remembering, fingers tangling, mouths sighing, tongues teasing. Kissing Clarke was the highest of highs. The intensity of the beauty was enough to bring him to his knees.
Which was where he ended up.
***
Clarke wasn't exactly done kissing Mike when he slowly pulled away and dropped to his knees at her feet. He took both of her hands in his and stared up at her, something new shining in his eyes.
She tilted her head in question and he smiled that half-smile that was all Mike and everything she loved about him.
“How about forever, Slim?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “I sort of thought that had been implied.”
His smile grew a little and then he reached into his pocket. She didn't take her eyes from his as he slid a cool metal band on a very important finger. Swallowing, she tried to maintain her objectivity. Mike wasn't one for convention. Everything about their relationship, while romantic, had been far from normal. So she looked to his face for the answers she needed, and not on the ring burning a circle onto her finger.
His pale blue eyes searched hers with teasing anticipation.
“Look at me, at your feet,” he murmured.
Burning began in the back of her eyes and nose and she took a deep breath.
His eyes roamed her face, her arms, her hands. He placed a kiss on her palms, one at a time. “I'm forever just at your feet.”
She closed her eyes and joined him, both knees hitting the soft sand at the same time. No one in the world had ever made Clarke feel so... cherished. Her heart beat solidly, a rhythm that matched his. And again, she was so thankful they had found one another. Among the chaos of their lives, and the brokenness that surrounded their hearts, they'd managed to find each other.
“Now you know how I feel,” she whispered, smiling at him through the blurriness in her eyes.
His jaw jumped under the skin and she reached up to touch it, the ring on her finger catching in the light of the setting sun. Her sharp intake of air caused him to smile. He took her hand and held it between them.
“This ring isn't just any ring,” he said, touching it with his thumb and turning it in the light. “I found this in a shop in Boston. It didn't have a diamond in it, but the setting reminded me of you.”
White gold curved and swirled along the band and was inset with tiny little diamond flecks and pieces of blue topaz sprinkled in, highlighting the large round stone in the center. It was classic, it was unique, it was breathtaking.
“I commissioned a friend to fix it up, add a diamond. So that I could give it to you.”
Clarke swallowed again and took a deep breath before lifting her gaze to Mike, who was watching her carefully.
“It's incredibly beautiful, Mike.”
“Is it something you might wanna wear for the rest of your life?” he asked roughly.
She touched his jaw, letting her fingers linger greedily on his skin. “I'd a wear a piece of twine tied around my little toe if it meant being with you for the rest of my life. You should know that by now.”
He grinned as relief clearly shone through his
eyes and she wondered if he actually doubted what her answer would be.
“Kiss me. Make it real.” His demand was accompanied by a hand squeeze.
“Mike,” she said instead. “No more doubts. Not with me. This is us.” Her thumb stroked over the jump in his jaw. “Me. And you.”
He smiled sheepishly as the breeze tossed his overgrown hair on his forehead. “I know.”
“Then kiss me like you believe it,” she said, turning it around on him.
His tongue came out to wet his lower lip as his face sobered. He nodded once. “Perfect for me,” he murmured.
Then he did kiss her. Just like he believed it.
Like he believed in them.
“I'm Your Fool”
Harrison and Zelda
Note from the Author: Dear Reader, this scene takes place right after the ending of Brand New Sky, three months after Harrison and Zelda get married.
“I am totally cool. I am totally calm.”
Zelda took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She opened her eyes and loosened the death-grip she had around the back of the dining room chair when she saw the sun hit the tops of the buildings out her front window.
“I can do this. I am awesome.”
She took one more slow breath before snatching up her phone from the table next to where she stood and typing out a fast (but super professional) reply.
Then she squealed, dropped her phone on the table with a clatter, and dashed on her stockinged feet into the bedroom. She slid in sideways on the polished dark wood floors a la Risky Business, but Harrison missed it because he was laying on his stomach, still sleeping.
Zelda fought for control of her momentum on her feet, arms waving haphazardly by her sides, and lunged at the bed. An “oof” escaped the fluffy pile of covers when her weight hit it. She crawled over the top of Harrison and straddled him, her arms braced next to his head.
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