I Can Love You

by Mackenzie Joy

  “At least this year, you had Aaron. So . . . tell me, what happened?”

  Tara recalled the morning until her son left. “I watched some old movies and worked on a crossword puzzle. It was relaxing but too quiet. So how is Japan treating you?”

  “It was hard knowing Christmas was happening on the other side of the world and not having someone here to share it with.”

  “You have your engineer.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said half-heartedly. “All these years, it didn’t matter if I was home or on the road during the holidays. But now my family is growing, and my priorities seem to change. I feel like I’m missing out on something.”

  “You know what that means? You’re ready to settle down. When are you going to find the right girl and make some little Q’s?” she teased.

  “I have some stuff to take care of before I do that.”

  “Then do it. What’s stopping you?” Tara asked, clutching her pillow to her chest. “I spent ten years putting off happiness. Just imagine what my life would be like if I had faced all of this sooner.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m working on it. There are just a few obstacles in the way.”

  “Like what? They can’t be as wild as the ones I’m going through.”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “How are you working out with the song?”

  “I need you here to help me,” she said, pretending to whine. “When are you coming back?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready to dig deep into your soul?”

  “Quinton, I’m starting to feel something. I don’t know what it is, but it’s worth writing about,” she sleepily replied.

  “Baby, you sound tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Tara stifled a yawn. “Quinton, I miss you. Come home to me, sweetie,” she said, stretching.

  “Now I know you’re delirious. You couldn’t care less if I’m over here or right in front of you,” he replied, testing her.

  “Quin, you are closer to me than my family. You’ve been there for me through good and bad. That’s not delirium, that’s real. I told you the other day that I consider you to be my best friend. Quinton, I meant that.”

  “Are you still having your shindig on New Year’s Eve?”

  “Yes,” she said, perking up slightly.

  “I promise I’ll try to be back by then.”

  “Thanks, Quinton,” she said. “Sorry, but I need to go before I fall asleep on you.”

  “Go to sleep, Blue. Goodnight.”

  “Night, Quin.”

  * * *

  Quinton dialed an extension and summoned a studio assistant. When she appeared, he said, “I need you to make arrangements for my return to Los Angeles tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ellis, I’ll get started right away.”

  He thanked her and returned to the control board, ready to wrap up his work in Japan.

  It was time he made it clear to Tara that she was the woman he needed.

  Chapter 16

  The mild scent of a fir tree mingled with the aroma of vanilla-scented candles. Tara wanted her home to project a feeling of warmth and family, and the results she achieved pleased her.

  The Christmas tree lit with sparkling white lights and several gifts for employees and friends that she expected that evening casually placed underneath. After inspecting the caterer’s arrangements on the tables lining a wall in the great room and adjusting the music volume, Tara ducked into her bedroom to finish dressing.

  An hour later, the door chime announced Tara’s first guest of the evening.

  “Good evening, Marcus,” she said, welcoming him into her home. “Where’s Aaron?”

  Kissing her on the cheek, he said, “He’s coming with Hillary and Sydney. They took him to a museum earlier today. They should arrive shortly,” he said, looking down at her outfit. “You look beautiful, but aren’t you a little . . . umm . . . exposed for an evening with children present?”

  She glanced down at the hand-beaded dress with a plunging neckline and thigh-baring side split but refused to let his comment bother her. She still felt as sexy and beautiful as she did the moment she put the sparkling emerald number on and secured her cleavage with double-stick tape. She swirled, letting the fabric wrap around her seductively. “I felt a little flirty tonight.”

  Tara smiled and took his arm into hers and led him into the living room. “You look very handsome yourself. Isn’t it unusually warm for this time of year? What’s going on with the weather?” she asked, making light conversation.

  “I was wondering the same thing,” he responded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Nope,” she said, taking a quick once-over of the kitchen areas. “All I have to do is wait for the guests.”

  Hearing the door chime, Tara excused herself to greet the new arrivals, calling back to Marcus to help make himself comfortable.

  “Jordan!” she exclaimed joyously. “It’s so good to see you. How did you get away?”

  Jordan was in front of a small group that included Tara’s old friend Stephanie and her date for the evening. “Surprise! I did what I had to do. Anything to bring in the new year with family.” Mia was out of the country with friends.

  Within the hour, nearly all the invitees had arrived— fifty altogether, with about twenty being friends of Aaron’s. The children had a separate age-appropriate party downstairs.

  At one point, Tara excused herself to check on Aaron’s affair. Pulling him aside, she said, “Hey, sweetheart, enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes! This is so cool. I didn’t know you got us a deejay! Kids will talk about this for weeks.”

  “I’m glad you all are having fun. Listen, can I borrow you for a minute? I want to introduce you to someone.” She took him to the kitchen where she found her sister sampling the food. Tara smiled, knowingly. Jordan was trying to figure out the recipes for the many dishes before her, hoping to recreate the ones she liked.

  Standing proudly behind her son, Tara smiled warmly at her sister. “Aaron, honey, I would like you to meet someone special to me. This is my sister Jordan.”

  Aaron shook Jordan’s hand as Tara watched her oldest sister become lost in her newly discovered nephew’s big brown eyes. “My, aren’t you the handsome one. So you’re the young man who stole my sister’s heart. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aaron.”

  Aaron spent several minutes telling Jordan about his Christmas holiday and then asked Tara to be excused to go back to his party. When the sisters were alone, Jordan grasped Tara’s hand.

  “Sis, he’s incredible. I’m so happy you found him.”

  Tara hugged Jordan, saying, “Thank you. Isn’t he the cutest thing?”

  The two then returned to Tara’s guests, who were all over the place—living and dining rooms, the deck, and the tent outside. The scene was exactly what she had aimed for—relaxed, informal, comfortable, with her guests freely mingling and unabashedly enjoying the food and music.

  * * *

  Standing outside, Quinton heard the music through the solid wood door.

  The door swung open the vision before him dazzled him. He always saw Tara as being intriguing, a trendsetter who looked good wherever she went, whether to an industry must-attend or for a simple walk outside. Tonight she was drop-dead gorgeous in the romantic, flirtatious gown.

  “Quinton!” Tara shrieked, covering her face with her hands before jumping into his arms. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

  Quinton reluctantly let her go. “I was invited, wasn’t I?”

  “Of course. Where are my manners? Come in.” She opened the door wider and continuing to smile, spun around for him. “You like?”

  He grinned nervously. “Uh . . . Yeah. . . you know you’re beautiful, Blue.”

  She hugged him again, but, excited by her touch, and he pulled away. “Look at you,” she said, inspecting him in his black cashmere sweater that accentuated his body and black wool-blend pants. The all-dark attire brightened by his key p
ieces of jewelry, his signature necklace, and diamond studs. He’d kept the beard and it was freshly shaped up along with his sponge twisted hair. “You’re so handsome.”

  “This was last minute.”

  “I love when you claim to just throw something together,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

  He stepped inside, and his father came forward. Quinton had almost forgotten he had a visitor with him. “Tara, I have a surprise for you. I would like you to meet my father, Jonathan Ellis.”

  “Please, call me John,” the elder Ellis said. “My my my. My son said you were beautiful, but he was holding back.”

  Tara and John engaged in light conversation as she walked them into the house.

  Quinton noticed a guy who favored Aaron stepping in front of them with his eyes on Tara and Quinton’s locked arms. So, this must be Marcus.

  Tara released his arm. “Marcus, this is Quinton Ellis and his father, Mr. Jonathan Ellis.”

  Marcus shook their hands before saying to Quinton, “We talked on the telephone once. Aaron values your friendship.”

  “It’s a pleasure to know such a great kid. You’ve done a wonderful job,” Quinton responded.

  Tara tucked her hair behind her ear and asked the men to sit down, gesturing to vacant chairs in her living room. Marcus rested his hand on the small of her back and led the way for her.

  All conversation ceased the moment Quinton entered the room. Looking at Tara, he flashed a smile and winked. “Why do I feel like I have spinach in my teeth?” he asked.

  * * *

  As the evening progressed, Quinton noted the interaction between Marcus and Tara. They were reasonably at ease with each other but appeared more comfortable apart.

  When Tara left the room, Quinton excused himself to follow.

  “You will save a dance for me,” Quinton declared coolly when he met up with her in the kitchen. “I didn’t come all the way down here, start physical therapy, and pass on every invitation to the hottest parties tonight to not have a dance with you. I even turned down Pamela’s bash, and you know about her parties. Unless you and your ex are back on…”

  “Me and Marcus? Not at all. Did you enjoy Japan?” she asked, deftly sidestepping his declared intention.

  “It was nice, but you were missing,” he replied, pulling a drive from his pocket. “I squeezed in some time to come up with this. I hope you like it.”

  “Tracks?” she asked, accepting the small device. Their hands touched during the exchange. “When did you find time to work on my stuff?”

  “I booked two rooms while I was there to do some tracking. I know how important this is, and I wanted to make sure you get it done on time. You made me promise three new ones.”

  She clutched the drive in her palm and reached to wrap her arms around his waist. “Thank you. I have something for you, too. I’ve been holding your present since Christmas. Let me run up to my bedroom and get it.”

  “It’s nearly midnight. We can go get it later.”

  “It’ll just take a minute. Be right back.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Tara was still in the middle of her closet, looking for the gift. She knew she had put it away someplace safe after wrapping it. Tara tried to backtrack to where she could have possibly put it, wondering if she took it downstairs with the other presents by mistake.

  A sudden voice behind her startled her, but when she felt the familiar hand on her shoulder, she laughed. “Quin, you scared me.”

  “I never want to do that,” Quinton said, handing her a glass of champagne. “They’re starting the countdown. Shouldn’t you be out there?”

  Looking into his eyes, she stopped moving. Her feet rooted, and everything around her stopped and faded to black. In the distance, she could hear the loud cheers as the countdown progressed. In front of her was the reason for the butterflies she felt stirring inside. Butterflies that went missing after the last time she and Quinton kissed.

  Now aware nothing else caused her to feel this way or that she even felt this way at all, the walls she built to protect herself started to crumble.

  “I missed you,” she admitted, letting her eyes close softly at her confession. “I mean, I really missed you.”

  He just nodded and reached for her hands. They stood with their hands intertwined, and he squeezed hers before stepping toward her.

  “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . .” Her guests’ voices echoed in the distance.

  “Tara,” he said breathed, ignoring the mounting excitement around them. His lips softly covering hers followed his one-word utterance. “I love you. Happy New Year,” he murmured against her lips. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, brushing it against hers, waking Tara’s senses, and she opened up for him, eager for more.

  He deepened their kiss at the urgency of her love-starved response. She didn’t know if it was need or greed, but the way he claimed her in such an urgent, carnal way Tara didn’t want it to end.

  Quinton released her lips and traced the outline of her mouth with his finger adding to the ache of missing his touch. As her eyelids slowly dropped, he leaned down and kissed her again, gently this time.

  When Tara opened her eyes, she was alone in the closet. Quinton had left her as swiftly as he had come. Before returning to the party, she tried to pull herself together, intent on recovering from the claim Quinton had made on her lips. The one he undoubtedly made on her. And his words.

  He loved her.

  Glasses were still clinking when Tara still unsteady, returned to the living room.

  Marcus came over and gave her a glass of champagne. She forgot the one Quinton had given her in her bedroom, unable to recall what she had done with it. The kiss was all she could remember. That kiss differed from any other they shared.

  It was the first kiss of something new.

  “There you are,” Marcus said. “Happy New Year.”

  “Same to you.”

  Marcus leaned down to kiss her but stopped before their mouths touched. They then did an awkward dance of the faces before she turned her face, allowing for a quick peck on the cheek.

  Even with her back to Quinton, she knew he was watching the interplay from his seat at the piano. When she looked his way, the smirk on his face proved her suspicions were correct.

  Two hours after the ball dropped in Times Square, Tara said goodbye to the last of her guests, who were also the most intriguing ones of the night. Jonathan and Quinton accepted the hugs she gave with no one in the trio wanting what turned into an engaging conversation to end.

  Standing with his father in her doorway, Quinton turned to Jonathan and said, “I’ll meet you in the car. I’m going to say goodnight to Tara.” His father walked away, while Tara fidgeted with the door handle. “Thank you for having us. My father enjoyed himself,” he said.

  “Thank you both for coming,” she responded. “Quinton, about that kiss . . . ”

  He held up a hand to stop her, moving closer and kissing her once again. “Are you going to be home tomorrow?”

  “Well, uh, well . . . I-I promised Aaron I would stop by in the morning for brunch,” Tara stammered. “I should be home in the afternoon.”

  “My father is returning to L.A. tomorrow. I’ll come over after I see him off. There is something I want to talk to you about.” He turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

  * * *

  Tara stepped out of the bath and drained the remaining sudsy water in anticipation of Quinton’s arrival. She’d text him her security code before escaping to her master bathroom to watch an evening storm outside while soaking in bubbles.

  She lit the fireplaces, and all lighting inside was dim. After the party the evening before, she welcomed the stillness surrounding her.

  She heard her piano being played and put on a robe to go downstairs. As she neared the living room, the notes became recognizable, a beautiful rendition of a classic hit. A love song that was big well before their time. She
sat beside Quinton on the bench, watching his long fingers move gracefully over the keys. She had heard him play many times before, but never like this. “Quinton, you need to stop hiding this talent and share more music like this.”

  “My grandmother used to make me practice every day. She forced me to take piano lessons when I was five, claiming it was to keep me out of trouble. I guess the lessons and going to church was how she saw fit to raise us. The moment we were out of her house after she died, I decided I would never take another lesson. I know that would hurt her to know, but I guess I was getting even with her for dying. But I couldn’t stay mad at her for long,” he said.

  He continued playing but avoided eye contact with her. “All KeKe and I had was each other, and it was up to me to provide for us. Tara, I failed, but I now know that some things were beyond my control. I get that it wasn’t my fault that Quiana fell into drugs, but seeing my father again just brought all that back.”

  Quinton’s playing slowly turned into another ballad. Tara’s hand settled on his leg, and he quietly exhaled to finish telling her about his sister’s painful bouts with prescription drugs. Her off-and-on addiction ended after her second admission into a drug rehabilitation program, and Quinton never wanted to see his sister face anything like that again. He had promised her he would protect her, but he realistically couldn’t always be there throughout their youth.

  “Quinton, you did the best you could. You were just a child yourself,” Tara said, visibly moved. She dabbed at her eyes but didn’t hide the tears she quietly cried.

  “I thought I was over that until Quiana told me our dad wanted to work things out. I don’t know if I ever would have given him a chance if it weren’t for you having the courage to face your past.” Quinton looked at Tara when she stopped him from playing by taking his hand in hers. “You showed me forgiveness and healing was possible. I know it can’t be easy facing the problems with your family head-on, but you did. You’re also opening yourself up to more love, and it is drawing me closer to you.”

  Quinton stood and walked to the window. The rain was relentlessly beating against the glass, blurring the view. But Quinton was looking without seeing. Tara came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.