“I don’t know anything about that,” Georgie went on. “I’m no good with my hands.”
“What are you good at?”
She got slightly sheepish, which made her even cuter. “Music, I guess. I play a few different instruments.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Guitar. It’s easier to carry around than a piano or a cello.”
“I bet.”
Over half of the crowd had settled down in the folding chairs and the other half looked close to doing the same.
“It looks like things are getting started soon,” I commented.
“Yeah… are you sitting with anyone?”
“No, I came by myself.”
“Oh, well, I’m sitting right over there.” She pointed at a black shawl draped over a chair in one of the middle rows. “Would you like to join Matt and me? That’s my cousin.”
On cue, a guy around her own age settled down in the spot she was pointing at.
I hesitated, though I didn’t know why. Georgie’s invitation was nothing more than an offer to sit next to her. But I got the sense it could easily be more. She was attractive and fun. I could invite her to see the work I’d been doing on the house. Maybe we could hang out some more after that.
It was a terrifying thought… and yet I knew it to be right.
I couldn’t wait around for Claire. Not after the night before. She had her demons to contend with, and I was quickly evolving into one of them. A burden. That’s what I likely was. An annoying pest following her around, professing his love for her when that was the last thing she needed to hear.
With a girl like Georgie, things would be easier. Lighter. Fun.
I was tired of following my heart. All it took me to was places that kicked its ass.
“Sure,” I told Georgie. “That sounds great. Thank you.”
I followed her to the chairs.
“Matt,” she said to her cousin, “This is Owen.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
He nodded. “You too.”
I waited for Georgie to get settled and then took the vacant aisle seat. Almost everyone was seated. Light classical music began, coming from the front where a woman sat plucking a guitar.
No more Claire. Could I really do it?
I knew I could. Not because I wanted to, but because it was best for me and it was best for her. We’d caused each other so much pain, and all because I’d gotten carried away with my emotions.
Next time I had an inkling, a sense that something needed to be a certain way, I would question it. I would stop and think things through. Doing it any other way would only lead to more chaos.
The music continued, and the groom ambled up to the front, looking very serious in a black suit. I sucked in a breath and tried not to clutch the sides of my chair. Any minute and the women would be coming down the aisle. Everyone’s eyes would be on the bride… except for mine.
I would be looking right at Claire. Knowing that it was time to get over her didn’t make any difference. She would still command all of my attention.
But it would be for the last time. Because I was letting her go. I was releasing her so she could find whatever it was she needed to in order to be happy.
I love you, Claire. That’s what I told her.
It was time to show her I meant it.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Claire
I stood back, pressed against the wall, the flurry of activity becoming too much to handle.
“Close your eyes,” the hairstylist told Gwen before giving her updo one last good spray. The thick perfume of the hairspray filled the room, and I coughed.
Mom entered the room, nearly bumping into Kieran, who was busy taking pictures of her and Becca in their lavender bridesmaids’ dresses.
“Everything’s ready downstairs,” Mom announced. “How’s it going up here?”
Gwen let out a little moan.
“Oh, it’s all right, honey.” Mom went to her and reassuringly rubbed her back.
“Is my train too long?” Gwen sighed, looking on the verge of tears.
Mom shook her head. “Oh, Gwen, it’s a little too late to worry about that.”
“It’s perfect,” Becca said.
Kieran chimed in. “Yeah, you look beautiful Gwen.”
I stepped into the upstairs hall to get away from the hairspray that still filled the guest bedroom. My hip bumped into something, and I set my hand down to steady the little side table. My fingertips brushed against something softer than wood though.
It was Peter’s book. I’d put it there the night before. After Owen had left the house, I’d retrieved it from the room I crashed in, thinking I’d read another poem.
In the end, I hadn’t been able to. Despite my effort to ration out the poems, there was only one left. I hadn’t even been able to open to the right page. Instead, I’d walked around the house for a good half hour, feeling the alcohol and pain travel through my system. Eventually, I’d dropped the book on the first surface I came to and gone to bed.
Only to be woken by the man I love.
The hand running up my arm raised goosebumps on my skin, and I nestled back into the warm body pressed against my back. Eyes still closed, I luxuriated in the closeness of hot male flesh. The lips on my throat. The hand lazily trailing across my naked body.
“Good morning, angel,” Peter said to me, his face nuzzling my neck.
I turned in his arms, holding him close. “Are you real?”
“What’s real? Everything or nothing?”
I laughed and nuzzled my face into his throat. “That sounds like the perfect beginning of a poem.” My laugh turned into a sob. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He said nothing, just trailed a hand up my spine until his fingers curled into my hair, pulling my head back until I met his eyes. “I’m always here.”
“But it isn’t enough,” I cried, digging my fingers into his back.
“And it never will be enough, until you let me go.”
I stared up at him, trying to make sense of his words, but could only shake my head.
“You’re holding me earthbound, Claire, and it isn’t fair to me or you. How can either of us be free to move forward if you hold on so tight?”
As if to affirm what he’d just said, I pulled him tighter to me. Until no breath of air could slip between us, trying to melt my skin into his. His hand cupped my ass, pulling our sexes together.
“One last time, please,” I begged him, pulling his lower lip into my mouth.
“It doesn’t have to be the last,” he told me and joy exploded inside of me, followed closely by complete confusion.
“What you seek in me, you’ve found in another.”
Suddenly, I sensed another presence in the room, and the mattress dipped under the weight of this new body. I felt caresses now from behind, hands on my breasts, stroking, kneading the soft flesh. I closed my eyes. I’ve never been this warm. This loved. This needed.
The mouth behind me found my shoulder, taking small intimate bites of my skin. Fingers traced up my hips, up my waist to move forward and cup my breast.
“See, you’ve searched and you’ve found,” Peter said. “Accept it. Hold onto it. Never let it go. Life isn’t to be wasted, Claire. Love. Live. It’s what I want for you.”
Peter sat up and I pulled him back. “Please don’t go,” I begged, tears spilling down my cheeks, my breath hitching in my throat.
He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed each knuckle with a thoroughness in which he’d done all things in his life.
“I must. It’s time.”
When he released my hand, I cried out from the loss. But not for long. Because Own was there, lifting it to his lips before pressing my palm into his cheek.
I looked back to Peter, who was fading, the most beautiful smile on his face.
“Stay with it, darling Claire. For light is in all things…”
As he disappeared, I understood.
&nb
sp; Turning to Owen, I accepted the lips he pressed to mine, accepted the thumb wiping my tears away.
“You’re my new light,” I whispered against his lips.
His smile became the glue that pieced my heart back together. “And you’re mine.”
Relief flooded through me, an easing of the weight of grief and guilt I’d been carrying for so long.
“I’ll never stop loving him,” I told Owen as his weight pressed me into the bed.
As his body slipped into mine, he said, “I’ll never want you to.”
As we rocked together to love’s gentle rhythm, my arms and legs refusing to let go of this second chance, I smiled. Smiled for all the love I’d been fortunate to have received. Smiled for the past and for the future.
“Claire…”
I jumped as a hand fell onto my shoulder.
“Sweetheart, are you alright?”
Turning, I was still smiling when I looked into the lovely face of my mother. “Yes, I’m good. Just thinking, remembering a dream I had last night.”
She examined my face as only a mother can, then pushed a stray lock behind my ear. “A good dream, I hope?”
I leaned forward and brushed my lips against her cool cheek. “Yes, Mom. One of the best.”
Giving me a last dose of motherly scrutiny, she smiled and turned away, going back into the room with my sister.
I fingered the book’s cover. Its pages were already crinkled, its spine bent, making it look like a well-loved favorite.
Gently, I lifted it up, bringing it so close to my face the title became blurry.
That morning had been the first one I’d woken up without Peter on my mind. The saddest part about it was that it didn’t actually make me sad. Not really. I’d been relieved, grateful to be released of the heavy weight that came with thinking about him all the time.
I’d realized something, perhaps while I’d slept during the night. Releasing the pain and the constant thoughts of him didn’t mean I was letting him go. It meant I was living in the moment, which is what he wanted me to do. I loved Peter. The deepest part of me told me he had loved me — and that, wherever he was now — he still did. That love was what joined us, not loss.
Loss was an afterthought compared to love. In the light of the latter, the former had no chance. It became inconsequential.
My fingers shaking, I opened the book and found the last poem. It was short, taking up less than half of the page.
And now you are a part of me.
Although you must have always been.
For what can be other than everything
Just as it’s meant?
You came into my world and blew me open
Just as you were destined to.
For eons and more, there will be scattered pieces of me (thanks to you)
hanging down from the sky,
watching over the children who came from the children of more of our children,
And though they won’t know it they will feel it
in the love that creeps through the night and into sleeping hearts.
Your presence has changed the future of humanity.
Now you are a part of me.
I closed the book, a strange energy thrumming through my body. My hands shook, but their motion was nothing like it was before.
Peter. He’d written that poem for me. I knew it the second I read the first line.
I inhaled, choking on the fresh breath. He had loved me. He had felt the same way about me as I did about him. I now knew it without a doubt.
And I knew more than that.
I needed to live in the present. I needed to be happy, to go forward in life, love, and do good for others.
Excited giggling floated from the doorway. Mom re-appeared, the other women in the room gathering behind her.
“Are you ready, Claire?”
At a loss for words, I nodded.
“Here are your flowers.” She handed me the bouquet tied with a blue ribbon. I set Peter’s book back down on the table. Right before stepping away, I kissed my fingertips and then pressed them against the book’s cover.
“I’m ready,” I rasped, my voice thick with emotion.
Mom led the way downstairs, where Dad waited to escort Gwen. The groomsmen were there, all standing in their places. Everyone bustled around the bride, straightening her train and checking her makeup.
Music danced across the yard and through the cracked back door, luring us outside.
“All right,” Mom loudly whispered. “Everyone get in the line.”
We shuffled to get in our spots, just like we’d rehearsed. My feet knew their path, but my mind was only half there.
Owen. I’d turned him down, though I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been afraid of hurting both of us. I’d been terrified that opening up to him meant letting go of Peter. And now I’d probably pushed him away for good.
Had he even come to the wedding? Or was he by now so done with me that he’d stayed home, choosing to never put himself in a position where we’d have to be face to face again?
Good night, Claire. That’s what he’d said to me when I asked him about the vineyard. He hadn’t wanted to give me an answer.
Perhaps he was gone already, halfway to California on his private jet.
Panic rose in my throat.
“Hey,” someone said.
“Huh?” I looked to where Michael, Jason’s friend from New York and best man, waited.
“Oh,” I muttered. “Hi.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep the anxiety at bay. It was Gwen’s day. My one and only sister’s wedding. I needed to be present, to focus on doing my part as maid of honor.
Once my duties were out of the way, I could flip out or do whatever was going to happen.
If he’d left, I’d get on a plane tomorrow morning and fly to California.
I didn’t even know exactly where the vineyard was, but I would find it.
And if he hadn’t left… my stomach knotted. If he hadn’t left, then I would have to deal with things much sooner. I wouldn’t have a coast to coast plane ride to enjoy while I took hours to piece together what I needed to say.
I love you. Wasn’t that all? And, I want to take the jump. I want to go for it.
Mom opened the door, and Michael led me forward, through the sun room. A third of the back yard was filled with chairs, and each of those chairs held a face turned in our direction. Michael and I continued to take small steps forward, heading down the line with the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. As surreptitiously as possible, I searched the crowd for Owen. Nearly every face there was a recognizable one, but he was nowhere to be found.
I forced myself to stay calm. All right. So he hadn’t come after all. But whether or not he was in town, I would find him. Now that I saw how desperately I needed to move forward in life, there could be no going back.
We took our places near the arch, Jason shooting me a smile. I grinned back at him and clutched onto my bouquet. The guitar began playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D, and the guests stood as Gwen came down the grassy aisle on Dad’s arm. Her face glowed, the hair of the dog I’d forced down her throat that morning having done her some good, and the giant dress floated around her like a cloud.
With each step she took towards her future husband, my heart swelled more and more. Unexpectedly, tears filled my eyes. Never before had I even come close to crying at a wedding. Maybe it was the combination of everything: my happiness for my sister and my own experiences over the last year. I blinked back the tears, determined to not let them fall.
She took her place next to me, handing me her bouquet, and the ceremony began. The reverend’s words all slurred together, no definition between the syllables and consonants. All I could understand was what was happening inside of my heart. It was glowing with a warmth it had never known. It was swelling, about to burst.
Vows were made. Rings were exchanged. There was a kiss with a romantic dip that made everyone clap.
And
then everyone was moving at once, hugging and congratulating. I wrapped Gwen up in my arms and pressed our cheeks together. She clung onto me tight, her own tears mixing with the ones I could no longer hold back.
Over her shoulder, something black moved. A person near the house.
I pulled back slightly from Gwen.
“What?” she asked me. Jason stood a few feet away, caught in a conversation with Aunt Edna and some cousin of his, but Gwen had spoken low enough that no one else could hear her.
“I, uh…”
She turned to see where I was looking. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” I dropped my eyes to the hem of her gown.
“Go talk to him.”
I shook my head. “It’s your day. We have to…”
“It’s fine. We have time. Go.”
“Okay.” I nodded, trying to gather courage. “I’m going.”
By the time I’d started walking, though, Owen had disappeared. I swiveled around to inspect the yard, seeing if he’d gone to schmooze or get a drink, but he was nowhere in sight.
Had he left the wedding? Booked it once he’d seen me glancing his way?
Luckily, the last week had been dry, which meant my heels didn’t sink into the grass as I ran alongside the house. My knee length dress bounced against my legs with each step. Surely I looked ridiculous, like a runaway bridesmaid, but I didn’t care. I had to find Owen.
By the time I hit the end of the driveway, he was halfway down the block.
“Owen!”
He halted and turned, then just stood there and looked at me, not saying anything and not moving any closer.
I swallowed hard, suddenly terrified beyond all belief. I’d come that far, though, and there was no turning back.
Owen had said he loved me. I felt the same way. Everything would be all right.
I felt like I was floating towards him, the chilly air brushing my shoulders. The dress came with a shawl, but it was somewhere upstairs in the mess of the room all the bridesmaids had gotten ready in.
“Hi,” I said when I was only a yard or so away.
He gently bit his bottom lip. “Hi. Nice bouquets.”
I looked down at my hands, at my own bouquet plus Gwen’s. Feeling oddly awkward about holding the flowers, I set them on the top of the neighbor’s fence we stood next to.
Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 24