Natalie’s grin said she already knew.
“It’s my fault,” Porter called from the refrigerator. “We walked down to the wharf for dinner.”
“He didn’t make me,” I threw in.
“Of course he didn’t, but tomorrow you better stay off this foot.”
I nodded.
Porter returned with the ice pack and handed it to Natalie.
She rested the pack on my swollen ankle. “I think we have some Epsom salt around here. I’ll find it and you can add it to your bath tomorrow. That should help with the swelling.”
I would tell her not to go to the trouble, but I knew she would anyway. “I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“You are very welcome.” Such warmth lived in her eyes. “We will see you in the morning.” She shifted her focus to Mr. Clairborne who stood in the kitchen acting as if he didn’t know what he should do. “We should leave these two alone.”
He nodded but didn’t move. He looked between Porter and me, running his hand over his rough cheeks. He was a distinguished gentleman. Porter had good things to look forward to, judging by how well his dad had aged.
“I want to apologize for this morning.” His voice was strangled. “I didn’t mean to embarrass either one of you or imply you lack character.” His eyes shifted upward toward the ceiling. “If you are sleeping together, that’s your business.”
Oh, it was so nice for a moment. It only got worse.
“Just don’t let sex get in the way. You haven’t seen each other in a long time and emotions are running high. I would hate for either one of you to do something you might regret. But again, you are old enough to make your own choices. Just lock the door next time.”
Natalie cleared her throat loudly. “Beau, love, I think we should get to bed.”
I couldn’t look at Mr. Clairborne, or anyone for that matter. The floor looked nice and clean.
Natalie kissed the top of my head. “Good night, honey.”
“Good night.” I still refused to make eye contact. I didn’t look up until Natalie embraced Porter and held him like I imagined she did when he was five, or at least with the same emotion. He was quite a bit taller than her now.
“Te quiero, hijo mío. Estoy muy orgulloso de ti.” I love you, my son. I’m so proud of you.
I was glad I took four years of Spanish in high school.
He hugged his mom with the same emotion. “I love you, too.”
Natalie didn’t let go, but her sniffles could be heard. I could only imagine how happy those words made her. How healing they must have been to her heart. I dared a glance at Mr. Clairborne. The longing in his eyes said he wanted such a moment with his son, yet he didn’t attempt it. I couldn’t understand why. He was obviously a man that knew how to love deeply. To show it, even. The chasm between the two was understandable but I couldn’t understand his reluctance to bridge the fissure. Or maybe I didn’t see the entire picture because my vision was clouded by my feelings for Porter. It was so clouded I almost told Mr. Clairborne not to waste another moment and tell his son he loved him. I knew that wouldn’t solve all their problems, but it was a good place to start.
Once Natalie did let go, she gave her husband an expectant look. It mirrored my thoughts. She was begging him with her eyes to take the first step. He did step forward, but all he said was, “Good night, you two.”
He brushed past Natalie and Porter as if he was ashamed that he couldn’t or wouldn’t. Porter went to say something, but it never got articulated. He lowered his head and sighed.
Natalie and I must have been on the same wavelength. She caught my attention and her expression said I guess it’s up to us. The question was, how? I knew little of relationships and had been avoiding them for years. How could we help heal father and son?
Natalie placed her hand over her son’s heart. “We love you, mijo.” With that sentiment, she strode off, no doubt to find her husband and give him a piece of her mind.
Porter acted as if nothing happened. He removed the ice pack and placed it on the counter before swooping me up into his arms. “Now, where were we?” He didn’t do a good job of hiding the pain in his voice.
“Porter.”
He didn’t give me a chance to ask him if he wanted to talk about his dad. Instead, he poured all his emotions into my lips. His came crashing into mine, parting them from the moment they touched. At first his kiss was deep and hungry, consuming to the point that he left me breathless. Once we both took a breath, I took in how soft his lips were and how good he smelled. Not to mention how delicious he tasted, like sweet ricotta and strawberries. Each one of my senses was drawn to him. It was almost as if I could hear my body on a molecular level analyzing him and feeding me intel. The conclusion was yet to be seen, but I liked the data so far. Porter occupied me, body and soul.
The kiss slowed, but the heat simmered. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of temperatures close to volcanic eruption level, twelve hundred degrees Celsius.
Then Porter whispered, “Tú eres mi vida, mi alma.” Why did that sound so much more beautiful in Spanish? Did Porter realize how much he was like the man he desperately sought approval from? If only they could both see how alike they were.
That’s when genius struck. Or perhaps madness. “Porter.”
“Yes, darlin’.” His breathing was labored. He spoke between kisses.
“I have an . . . idea.” I too was having a hard time speaking.
He nuzzled my neck. “Please tell me . . .,” he continued to consume my skin and senses, “it involves you and me doing this for the rest of our lives.”
“I think it might help.”
His head popped up, his eyes were filled with passion and wonder. “Whatever it is, I love this idea.”
I wasn’t sure about that. I ran my hand across his cheek. He had the glow of someone who, well, someone who had just had an intimate encounter. The dopamine had done its job. I saw myself reflected in his eyes. I took great pleasure and comfort in it.
“Promise me you will think about it before you make a decision.”
His eyes narrowed; now he didn’t look too sure.
“I was thinking how lovely it would be if the first couple you used for the Clairborne’s new campaign was your parents.” If anyone had a beautiful love story it was them.
Crestfallen described the look on his face to a T.
“I think if you had the opportunity to understand and know their story better, you would see how important you are to it,” I added.
And maybe if that happened, he and his dad could start bridging the divide. And maybe, just maybe, Porter would stay. I could tell on the beach earlier today he would if circumstances were different. If he stayed, it could be like turning back the clock. We would get the chance we missed out on so long ago to grow our relationship outside the constraints that were once placed upon us. We could control the variables this time and come to the right conclusion, whatever that was.
“Holland.” His voice begged me to tell him I wasn’t serious.
I had never been more serious, and that was saying something. It was me this time who put my finger to his lips. “Think about it. Please.”
He took my finger and kissed it. “I give you my word.”
I knew he meant that. The question was, what would he decide?
Chapter Thirty-One
Living like this was going to spoil me. I looked out over the Clairborne’s pool, then down to my lap where I held in my hand Porter’s thoughtfulness. He had ordered a book about epigenetics and had it overnighted. It’s the study of changes in gene expression versus changes to the underlying DNA sequence. Truly fascinating, unlike the cheesy romance novel. What was more fascinating than knowing what I ate today could affect my grandchildren? Assuming I ever had any. I had a feeling the woman next to me was hoping I would bear her some.
I looked to my right where Natalie the Spanish goddess was basking in the sun without a drop of sunscreen o
n her in a black bikini, no less. I, on the other hand, had been drenched in sunscreen, and I was in cutoffs and a tank top. Porter had done the honor of slathering me in SPF 50 before heading into the house for another set of conference calls with the Bristol. He was also making some calls to businesses and organizations in the southeastern area in hopes of convincing them to hold events and retreats at the Clairborne. In between he was working on graphics. I wanted to help, but it was woefully out of my capabilities. If he wanted a PowerPoint presentation I was his girl, but I knew minimal HTML and I couldn’t design myself out of a box.
Not that I didn’t plan to get involved. I was only making sure Porter was preoccupied before I spoke to Natalie.
Natalie grinned over at me once Porter was well inside. “You two are getting cozy.”
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “Not as cozy as you think.”
She laughed out into the beautiful sunny day. “Ignore my husband. I know you two aren’t sleeping together.”
“How?”
“Because, honey, you are too smart. You know better than to share yourself in that way until the other pieces fall into place. Until you’re sure exactly where your and Porter’s hearts lie. Too many people think that sex is the glue that holds a relationship together. Sex isn’t the glue, it’s a piece of the relationship, and the more secure the other pieces are, the better the sex, not vice versa. If you are expecting sex to fix or make all the other pieces come together, your relationship will eventually crumble.”
I nodded, agreeing with her. I had seen too many roommates do exactly that. It caused a lot of heartache, even depression. I may not know a lot about love and relationships, but even from a biological standpoint I knew the power of sex. I always felt a force so strong should be wielded carefully. But I didn’t want to talk about sex with Natalie.
I leaned toward her in a conspiratorial fashion. “I have an idea.”
I swore I could see her eyes light up through her sunglasses. “Do tell.”
“Remember how I told you about Porter’s Fall in Love at the Clairborne campaign?”
“I absolutely love it.”
“Well, there’s a little more to it.”
She arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
“Porter is hoping by next week he can send an email out to previous guests and those who were married here to submit their Clairborne love stories. He has this whole campaign mapped out. Everything from video montages on all the Clairborne social media sites, including the new website he’s working on. And he wants to do weekly email campaigns featuring the couples he chooses.”
Natalie put her hands to her mouth. “He’s brilliant. Did he say what Beau thought about it?”
I hated to dash the hope in her voice. “The thing is,” my eyes squinted, and not because of the sun, “Mr. Clairborne is a bit reluctant, but he did agree on who should be the first couple that’s featured.”
She was trying to bite back a retort against her husband. “I thought you said Porter hadn’t sent out an email yet.”
“He hasn’t. He wants him and me to be the first couple.”
Natalie popped up. “Yes! Like I said, brilliant.”
I wasn’t going to disagree with her there. “I think it’s a sweet idea, except I do worry about how our story will play out, and I’m not all that fond of having parts of our dates filmed. And the excessive number of pictures he likes to take.”
She reached out and took my hand. “You are a beautiful woman and together you make a stunning couple.”
“I don’t even know if we are a couple.”
She lowered her shades, revealing her knowing brown eyes. “You don’t think so?”
“That brings me to my idea. I want Porter and me to have the opportunity to see where this goes. I think our best chance would be if he still lived here. Not that we couldn’t have a long-distance relationship, but it does make things more difficult. And we’ve been apart for so long already.”
“Believe me honey, no one wants him home more than me. Tell me your idea.”
I pressed my lips together. “I was thinking you and Mr. Clairborne should be the first couple featured.”
“What?” She waved her hand as if she was batting away the idea. “We’re too old for that sort of thing.”
She needed to look in the mirror. Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne were probably the most gorgeous couple I’d ever seen.
“No, you’re not. And don’t you see how perfect it would be? Not only do you and Mr. Clairborne have a beautiful love story that began here, but Porter is intertwined in your story. And if he could remember that and see that he still is, maybe he would stay.”
She removed her glasses and wiped away the tears trickling down her flawless cheeks. “Forget what I said about Porter being brilliant. You, love, are a mastermind and the best thing that’s happened to our family in a long, long time.”
“I don’t know about that, but the feeling is mutual. This past week has made me realize what’s been missing in my life, and I don’t want to miss any more than I have to.”
“Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to let that happen. We’re going to knock some sense into these men whether they like it or not.” She stood up. “You ready to get to work?”
I was ready for my life to be more than just about my work.
~*~
Natalie and I came up with a plan that included trips down memory lane, a boating trip Sunday after church Easter services, family game night, and anything else we could think of to throw Mr. Clairborne and Porter together.
We were starting with the trip down memory lane. I spent the day with Natalie going through old pictures and photo albums when Porter was younger and when Mr. and Mrs. Clairborne got married. Porter graced almost every photo and, more often than not, his little hand was always in Natalie’s. Natalie’s eyes watered a lot through the day.
We had to play it cool since Natalie wasn’t supposed to know Porter was helping the resort. So Natalie by “happenstance” asked me to help her make some scrapbooks, though that meant dismantling some that were already made. I hated seeing her undo her work, but these Clairborne men were stubborn. They were about to find out the women in their lives were more so.
Our scrapbooking endeavor “conveniently” took up the entirety of their kitchen table. And we were so involved in our project, making dinner happened to slip Natalie’s mind.
Porter, who had been in his room most of the day and only came out for lunch before the table was covered with his past, looked a little worn when he strolled into the kitchen. His tired eyes widened, then narrowed at the sight before him.
I tried to behave nonchalantly and not draw attention to what we were doing. “Hey, are you done for the day?”
Natalie flashed me a secret smile saying nice job.
Porter approached and stole a kiss, ignoring my inquiry. “What are you up to?” He scanned the piles of photos, pattern paper, and a myriad of craft supplies I had no name for. This wasn’t really my thing.
Natalie answered for me. “Holland is such a doll; she offered to help me with the project I’ve been meaning to get to for ages.”
Ooh she was good.
I gave Porter an innocent smile. “You were the cutest little boy.”
“Uh-huh.” Porter didn’t seem to be buying it.
“Yes, he was.” Natalie stood up and pinched his cheek. “He still is. Can I get you some sweet tea, mijo?”
“I’m good, thank you.” He was gazing between Natalie and me suspiciously. “Do you want me to make dinner? I would hate to interrupt scrapbook club.” Porter smirked at me.
“You’re sweet, but I asked your dad to bring home something from work. He should be home any minute now. Charlotte’s hanging out with Jax, so she’ll be home later.”
Jax was Charlotte’s prom date. They were shopping for a suit together because, not surprisingly, Charlotte was picky about how they were going to look as a couple.
“You can take my seat
next to Holland.” Natalie directed her son before she headed into the kitchen.
Porter dropped into the seat next to me. That smirk was still playing on his face. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re playing at,” he whispered.
“I’m not playing.” And I wasn’t.
His smirk was replaced with a look of understanding. He tugged on a strand of my hair. “I did not forget the promise I made to you last night.”
“I know. I’m just helping you along in the process.”
“I see you recruited help.”
I leaned into him so I could speak low in his ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was a happy coincidence.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “You are a terrible liar, Holland Reeves.”
“Are you questioning my integrity?”
He kissed my nose. “I’m thanking my lucky stars that you’re a fighter.”
I wanted to experiment with him right then and there, but his dad walked in bearing bags of delicious smelling food from Kouzína Anatolia’s. If I kept eating like this, I might actually fill out my clothes.
Once Mr. Clairborne set the bags of food on the counter in the midst of all the flowers, he took his wife up in his arms and greeted her with a kiss. “I missed you today.”
I almost whispered to Porter, See how much they are still in love? You have to tell their story. Instead, I watched him watch his parents. I didn’t have to tell him a thing.
Natalie barely reciprocated his greeting. She took him by the hand and led him to the table. “Come and see what Holland and I are working on. She’s helping me organize and update some of our old photo albums.”
She picked up a photo from the table. It was no accident which photo she chose. She was hoping to get maximum effect from the start. A catalyst, you might say. Like lighting a match when hydrogen gas and oxygen gas were present causing an explosion. We were both hoping to create an emotional explosion.
Natalie was smart and didn’t make any eye contact with me when she handed her husband the photo of five-year-old Porter.
I watched with bated breath as he took it and carefully looked it over. His mouth twitched in an upward direction. His blue eyes were mesmerized. He held the photo up and examined it closer. A wistful gaze filled his features. “You loved that book and bear. You took them everywhere with you.” He lowered the picture and handed the picture to his son. “Do you remember?”
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