Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy Book 8)

by Marysol James

  “Frankie!” she said, scooping him up in her arms and wiping his fingers before they made contact with her pale green bridesmaid dress. “What did I say about staying away from the funnest place in the room?”

  He scowled at her, looking so much like Dean that she laughed.

  “You remember this part of it all?” Emma asked Cordelia. “The ‘never sitting down’ part?”

  “Vividly.” Cordelia smiled at Frankie, remembering Iris at that age not so long before. “I think that my butt didn’t meet chair or couch for weeks on end.”

  “Sounds about right,” Emma said. “I had no idea that my reaction time was so good, you know? Also, my ability to go from zero to sixty is impressive… I can get across a room in point zero eight seconds, I swear to you. Dean’s better than I am, of course, but I’m catching up.”

  The women laughed again, Liv a bit wistfully. She and Dallas had been trying for almost four months by that point, but so far, no luck at all. He was less worried about it than she was, since he thought that it was just a matter of time… and if something was wrong, they’d cope with it.

  “Together, baby,” he’d murmured to her just that morning as she’d stood there with yet another failed pregnancy test in her hand. “We’ll deal with it as we always have, Olivia. Together.”

  “But what if I can’t get pregnant?” she’d asked in despair. “What if I can’t give you babies?”

  “Then we’ll look at other options,” Dallas had said. “There are many of them, you know. But c’mon, honey… we ain’t there yet. We ain’t even close.”

  So Liv stood there staring at Emma cradling her beautiful son, staring at Cordelia’s gently bulging stomach, and she tried very, very hard to not be jealous. She was happy for her friends – of course she was – and God knows, they deserved their happiness.

  It’s just that she wanted a baby with Dallas. She longed to see that big, strong man cradling their tiny child in his arms, the way that Dean held Frankie. In Olivia’s opinion, there was nothing more touching – or sexier – than a tough, tattooed man brought to his knees by a baby.

  Dear sweet God… nothing.

  “OK,” Jenny said, giving her hair a final swipe with the hairbrush. “T minus five minutes, Beth.”

  “Oh, God,” Beth responded. “Oh, my God.”

  “Uh, is that a good ‘Oh, my God’?” Liv queried. “Because if it’s not, I can pull the getaway car around to the back door.”

  “Ha ha,” Beth said, feeling her breath start to speed up in excitement. “No more running for me, Liv. Those days are long gone.”

  “Damn right,” Emma said. “The only place you’re going to be running is down a church aisle to Jim.”

  “You got it,” Beth said happily.

  Just then, Francine entered the room and smiled at Frankie.

  “OK, mon choux,” she said. “Let’s go, huh? Let maman finish getting ready?”

  “Thanks, Francine,” Emma said, giving Frankie a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I hope he behaves himself.”

  Francine shrugged. “If he doesn’t, Mark and I will take him out for a walk. No problem, Em. Don’t stress.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Emma said, handing her son over to Francine, who rubbed noses with Frankie, which she knew he loved. Sure enough, he giggled, cuddled down in her arms without a murmur of protest. Emma and Dean firmly believed that Frankie wouldn’t even be there if not for Francine’s bravery and sacrifice, and deciding to name him after her had been a no-brainer. There also seemed to be a strong and natural connection between the baby and Francine, and Emma rejoiced to see it, every single time. “Have fun, Frankie.”

  “Oh, we will,” Francine said. “See you ladies out there.”

  “OK!” Nigel bounced into the room. “Let’s go… your hot soldier fiancé is out there looking divine, Beth, so we need to get your ass down the aisle to him before someone else snatches him up.”

  Beth laughed, picked up her bouquet of white lilies. “I’d like to see them try.”

  “It’d be the last thing they ever did,” Jenny remarked. “I think you’d kill them with a look.”

  “Yep,” Beth said, so ready to marry Jim, that she wondered how she was going to survive the next thirty minutes. “That man is mine… he’s always been mine. Even before I knew that he existed.”

  **

  Griff stood outside the church, scanning the parking lot. He looked up and down the quiet mountain road. He paced back and forth, hands in his pockets. He gazed at the sky, and he prayed for a miracle.

  “No sign of her, huh?”

  Griff turned to see Luke standing there, watching him quietly. Griff hunched his shoulders.

  “No,” he said. “It was a long shot, though. I knew that, man.”

  “Sure you did.” Luke crossed the gravel, looking at Griff closely, really searching his strained face. “But you still let yourself hope, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. Fucking stupid, in the end.”

  “You think it’s the end?” Luke said. “You’re giving up, after hanging on for all this time? Weeks and weeks of hoping, Griff, months of keeping the faith… and you’re calling it a day now?”

  “She hates me, Luke, and I can’t even blame her. Look what I did to her.”

  “I ain’t arguing that you fucked up big-time, that’s for sure. But I also know that you two made a real, strong connection, and life doesn’t give us too many of those. If she felt it too, then she’ll come around. Just maybe not on your timetable. Maybe not today.”

  Griff stared at the road one more time, hoping so hard for Claire to appear, that it actually hurt. But no go: the dirt road stayed vacant and silent. Empty.

  As empty as he felt inside.

  The men stood there for another minute, silent and watchful, and then they heard the music start up inside the church. Griff sighed.

  “OK, well… we’d better get in there.”

  “Yeah.” Luke felt desperately sorry for his friend; as a man who had fucked up pretty royally with his own woman, and who had spent weeks thinking that he’d lost her, Luke could totally relate to what Griff was feeling. Luke well remembered that combination of helplessness and hope, of desperation and determination. And when Selena had come back to him, when she’d forgiven him, Luke had suddenly understood that he had never, ever known the true meaning of grace before that moment. He wanted Griff to also know the gift of forgiveness, the sense of a deserved second chance.

  Except that it didn’t look like he’d know it today. Maybe he never would. Maybe Claire was never going to extend that gift, maybe she’d never offer a second chance.

  Maybe it really was over.

  Griff looked up at the blue sky one last time, wishing that he could just go back and do it all differently. But wishes like this were just hazy, hollow regrets… and the bigger and stronger the wish, the more howling the regret. And man, was this regret ever shrieking inside him.

  “Let’s go, Griff,” Luke said quietly.

  “Yeah.” Griff gave the road one last look, then gave up his hope once and for all. “Time to go.”

  **

  Jim Alden was a hard man, a man who didn’t say much, a man who pretended to not feel much. He’d perfected the art of self-defence through pushing down on the softer emotions, and he’d gritted his teeth and gotten through the aftermath of Afghanistan by denying anything and everything that he’d seen and done there.

  It had worked like a goddamn charm. Sort of. It had also kept everyone away from him.

  Until Beth, that is. She was the one woman, the only woman, that he’d been unable to stay away from, and in return, she’d healed him in ways that he’d never thought possible for him. She’d taught him self-forgiveness, and she’d taught him the courage and beauty of never really moving past a thing that had happened. Because of Beth’s struggle to live with what had happened to her, Jim now understood instead of fighting to forget a bad thing, he needed to let it become a part of him… a stronger, more c
ompassionate part.

  He’d learned that from all the women, actually. Emma, Liv, Jenny, Cordelia, Selena, Francine… every one of them had been dragged through hell in their own way – and they’d not only survived their individual experience, they’d allowed it to wash over them, and in the end, they’d triumphed over it in ways that still left Jim in awe.

  When he and Beth placed their wedding rings on each other’s fingers, Jim felt a deep calm settle over him. It was like his life suddenly made sense, and he’d finally made peace with that one, last thing that he’d been fighting. He lay a demon to rest; he let a ghost fade away at last.

  He looked down at his ring, and he knew that the thick platinum band with the thin stripes of gold was beautiful for more than one reason: it was beautiful for what it hid, not what it showed.

  Engraved inside, pressed against his warm skin, was the date of a young boy’s death written in Arabic, and a palm holding a flame. ‘Tahir’ meant ‘pure, virtuous’, and in Jim’s mind, that was Tahir. He’d never forget the boy’s attempts to alert Jim to his mother’s plans, he’d never forget that the boy had been blown up in his mother’s suicide bombing of the American Embassy, he’d never forget that Tahir had died because Jim had failed him.

  But as he stood there, watching Beth slide the ring on to his finger, he accepted that it had all happened, and it was OK to carry Tahir with him, against him, inside him. It was also OK to let his guilt and self-hatred go… and so at last, he did.

  He looked at Beth smiling down at her own ring, and he knew that she was also feeling that same freeing of the spirit. Hidden inside her ring was the date of her unborn daughter’s death, and a lily. When Jim had asked about the meaning of the flower, Beth had smiled at him through her tears.

  “Because that was what I was going to name my baby, if it had been a girl. I was going to name her Lily Jane.”

  “Aw, honey,” he’d muttered and held her close as she’d wept over the loss of her baby. “I’m so sorry.”

  And now here Beth stood, so gorgeous in her dress and with her hair pulled back off her exquisite face, her green eyes sparkling with happiness – and like him, she carried a child against her body and in her heart. Like him, she both embraced that child, and let them go.

  Like him, she finally healed.

  It was the best damn day of their lives… for many, many reasons.

  **

  Griff watched Jim and Beth dancing together, and he tried hard to not be jealous of the happiness and love just radiating off them. Yeah, his heart was broken and he was alone again – some more – but there was no need to begrudge other people their good fortune.

  Even if he really, really wanted to.

  Reminding himself to stop being an asshole, he sighed, drank some more beer, looked around the packed reception hall, idly wondering if it was too early to go and wish the happy couple well, and then slink on home to feel sorry for himself in private.

  That was when his life changed.

  That was when the door opened.

  That was when she walked in. So fucking beautiful in a blue dress the exact color of her eyes, and with her blonde hair swept up to reveal that delicate, kissable neck.

  Stunned to the point of almost passing out, Griff leaned back against the wall, watched dumbly as she walked over to Jim and Beth. They gave cries of greeting, of joy, and she embraced them. They held out their hands to show her their rings, and everyone hugged again, talking a mile a minute, just acting like her showing up here was a normal, ‘no-big-deal’ thing.

  But hell if it was. It was a fucking miracle, is what it actually was, and Griff was stupefied that he was the only person to notice that.

  He watched as she went over to the bar and got a glass of champagne, then she stood there drinking it, all alone. She looked around now, just scanned the room with that bright blue gaze – and she saw him.

  For a few seconds, they just stood and stared at each other across the crowded dance floor, and it was like time stood still. There was nothing and nobody in this room, in this city, in this country, in this goddamn universe. There was him and there was her, and that was all there was.

  When she moved towards him, Griff’s heart stopped in his chest, then started hammering double-time, triple-time. With everything that he had, he wanted to walk forward to greet her, but his legs felt like concrete, and his back seemed to be fused to the wall.

  So instead, he just watched her move to him, his eyes just drinking her in. God, she was everything that he’d ever wanted and needed, and the fact that he’d touched this woman, made love to this woman, remained one of the most profound mysteries of his life.

  And there she stood now, right in front of him, so calm and warm, and his chest cracked open with emotion.

  Whatever it takes, man, that is what you do. You get her back.

  “Hi, John,” Claire said, her voice as sweet and musical as he heard it in his dreams every single night. “Can we talk?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Griff ushered Claire into his house, regretting that it wasn’t more… something. Colorful? Warm? Cluttered? He’d never really thought about it before this exact moment, but as she looked around, taking in the Spartan decor and the lack of artwork and the predominance of minimalist black and white and sleek, cool metal, he realized that his home was lacking in so much. It was linear and flat and boring.

  Like his life was without her in it. Like his life had been for a long, long time.

  Claire had brought warmth and color to his staid, safe, settled life, and he needed it back. He needed it like he needed water and air… and right now, his greatest fear was that she was going to walk away again, and leave him in the cold and the dark.

  Not this time. This time, I keep her.

  “Uh,” he said into the silence. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? Beer? Water?”

  “No, thanks,” she said, still looking around. “I’m fine.”

  “Sit down, then,” he said, gesturing at the white sofa. “Get comfortable.”

  She nodded, walked over to the sofa, sat down on it gingerly. It was slippery Italian leather, and it had cost a bomb, but right now, Griff would trade it for the lumpy sofa that she’d had in her trailer, and he’d do so in the blink of an eye.

  “So.” He cleared his throat, sat down opposite her in a sleek black leather chair. “How have you been?”

  “You don’t know?” she asked archly.

  “Uh, no. How would I know?”

  “You haven’t been keeping an eye on me?”

  “No.” Griff was horrified. “Baby, no. I promised to back off and leave you alone, and I’ve done that. I ain’t been keeping tabs on you at all. I swear it. Your life in Canada is yours, and yours alone, and you’re living it on your own terms. It’s safe.”

  She regarded him silently, her head cocked to one side, the light catching her dangling diamond earrings. Real diamonds, he thought, though he was the first to admit that he wasn’t an expert in jewels. No, that was Claire’s world, in all its sparkling, shimmering beauty, and he realized now that he’d missed the tiny glimpses that she’d given him into it.

  God, he’d missed so much when she’d gone. When he’d driven her away.

  “I don’t have a life in Canada,” she said suddenly. “Not anymore.”

  “What?” he said, alarmed, sure that she’d fled Nova Scotia after his lighting strike visit four months earlier. He was horrified that she’d been uprooted again, her life scattered to the wind again, and all because of him. “Claire, I promise, I haven’t –”

  “Oh, it wasn’t because of you,” she interrupted him. “I left because of me.”

  Confused, he peered at her and waited for an explanation, if she wanted to provide one. Thankfully, she did, because he’d have gone crazy trying to figure out what the hell was going on with her.

  “I thought about what you said,” she told him. “About how I can’t keep running from my life every time something comes in that
I don’t like. But it was more than that, actually… it was also about letting other people dictate my life choices, to the point that I was reacting to other people’s actions, instead of setting a course and then sticking to it. First Wilbur made all the decisions for me and my entire life, and I let him, without a murmur. Then I ran to Denver, and it was because I was getting away from him and his control over my life, so in a way, he was the impetus for that decision too. Then I left Denver because of you, because I couldn’t stand the thought of maybe running into you on the street one day. Then I seriously considered leaving Mahone Bay, all because you’d shown up there, and that was when I realized… that was just enough. You know? Enough letting men influence my decisions so much, enough reacting to everything without a thought or plan.”

  She sighed, ran her finger absently over the sofa cushion, then she carried on.

  “I finally understood that I had to choose a life, really choose it, and then I had to be strong enough to stay in it, to stick with it, even when it got hard or uncomfortable or painful. I had to believe in it enough to see that all the discomfort and pain was worth keeping it – more than worth it. I had to love it so much, that I’d stand by it through the pain and hurt… that I’d fight like hell to hang on to it, and at the end of the day, it’d be all the sweeter and more fulfilling for having ridden out the storm.”

  Griff nodded. He understood this; God, did he ever. This was why he was willing to fight so hard to have Claire in his life, after all. Why he had stayed hopeful and hung tough… it was because he’d chosen a life with her in it, whatever that meant. Anything from an e-mail a month, to a visit once in a while, to having her in his arms and bed every night. And because he’d chosen this life, because he’d fallen in love with this life, he was willing to take the hurt of waiting and wondering – because if she came back, even just a bit, it would have been worth it. It would have all been worth it.

  “So I asked myself: where was I happiest?” Claire said. “Where had I been living the life that I could stand by, and fight for, and love with everything that I had? And I realized… it was here.”