by Sakwa, Kim
She leaned in and whispered, “When you laugh, it’s like my whole world is right.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why, it just is.”
Overcome, Alex bent to kiss her, then took a long pull of his drink before extending his glass to her.
“Like I drink scotch, Montgomery,” she teased, rolling her eyes and fingering the necklace he’d given her the other night.
Bloody hell, he loved her so much it still hurt. She took the glass and twisted it in her hands before taking a small sip from where he had. Then the lights dimmed, and Amanda made her way to the front of the room to help with the night’s festivities. A short video was shown, and three honorees spoke after Amanda presented them with their awards. They sat around the table afterward for coffee and dessert. The entertainment for the rest of the evening was a twenty-piece band, complete with male and female vocalists, and backup singers. They were very good, and very expensive. When they started in on a duet, guests began moving toward the dance floor.
Alexander watched as Stephen and Sam, sparks almost visibly flying between them, headed out toward the lobby. Then, Amanda excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and when he stood to follow, she shook her head, and said. “I’ve got this. Go grab another drink or check in with the guys.”
He nodded and gave Stan the signal, not that he needed to, since his wife was already being followed by most of the crew. Jesus, he hoped she didn’t turn around.
He hadn’t planned on the night going as well as it had. Before this evening, he’d set his mind on New York and Callie’s birthday, nine days from now. He’d decided that once he’d had Amanda at what would be their east coast compound, memory or not, they would be together. Finally. Biblically. Now he was rethinking his best laid plans. Presently. It was fluid and changing moment by moment.
Everything had gone so smoothly throughout the night so far that when Amanda walked back into the ballroom and motioned with her head toward the dance floor, he found himself mouthing fuck yes. She grinned, eyes sparkling, and waited for him to join her.
“Come on, gorgeous,” he said, lacing their fingers together when he reached her. He looked toward the band, made eye contact, and got a nod in return. Satisfied the plans he’d made with the bandleader earlier in the evening were clear, he led Amanda through a very crowded dance floor. He kept her safely positioned behind him as his large frame parted the moving couples, making sure Amanda didn’t bump into anyone. When he found a suitable spot, he brought her around with a gentle pull of their joined hands, and with a perfect twirl she was flush against him. She got comfortable in the crook of his neck, but a moment later, just as the song was ending, she leaned back and gave him a critical, questioning look.
“Did you request something?” she asked. “Back there…?”
After a quick kiss to her soft lips, he smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. “Wait for it, sweetheart.” And on his cue, it began.
“Oh, Alex,” she whispered at the opening notes, “it’s Paul McCartney.” Yeah, it was. “The Long and Winding Road.” It was one of the first songs she’d played for him back in Abersoch. They'd sat on the piano bench together as she fingered the keys and sang to him about that road that led to his door, and how she hoped it wouldn’t disappear. She’d thought the lyrics poignant then, considering their circumstances. And now, Jesus, they were even more so in light of finding her. He pulled her close, feeling freer than he could ever remember. Ever. Sam and Stephen danced their way over, and he shared a look with his brother. Contentment, joy, validation, vindication. Bloody hell, they did it.
They stayed on the dance floor for a good hour. He’d long ago removed his jacket and tie, and he held Amanda up as she’d taken off her shoes. All the dancing they’d done in the parlor of their Abersoch estate, and his home here in Cali, came to life right here in high def at this gala on this dance floor. It had to be one of the most enjoyable nights he’d ever had. Period. All company included. All the history they carried with them and behind them.
They were catching their collective breaths when Art took the mic and started to thank everyone for such a successful night. “I know we hadn’t planned this in advance, and Montgomery’s next song request is going to have to wait,” he said, laughter sprinkling throughout the room as everyone craned to look at him. “But,” Art continued, “in honor of my beautiful wife, Betty,” he said as he lifted a glass in her direction, “and in celebration of our fiftieth wedding anniversary on Sunday, I’d like to ask a special favor of Jason Wild and Amanda Marceau.”
Alexander turned to Amanda, raising his eyebrow questioningly when he heard her whispered “Oh, jeez.” Blushing with embarrassment over the attention, she quickly filled him in on how five years ago she and Jason had also sung Art and Betty’s favorite song at that year’s gala. When he asked her which song, she’d only grinned her signature wait-for-it grin. Which meant he would know the song. The anticipation was killing him already. When Art said, “Jason, Ammy, will you do us the honors?” Jason, whom Alexander had met briefly earlier that evening, stepped forward with a sheepish smile and extended his hand to Amanda.
“You okay with this, sweetheart?” Alexander asked, before relinquishing her to Jason.
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said before following Jason to join Art in front of the crowd.
“So, a little history with the song,” Art said. “I know it’s considered an oldie in certain circles, but way back when, my wife and I would go out every Saturday night for dinner and dancing with our best friends, Lynne and Jack Marceau. And we always finished the night with this one.”
With that, Alexander knew it was “Whenever I Call You ‘Friend.’” Amanda had sang it for him often, and bloody hell, he couldn’t wait to hear her sing her parents’ favorite song, here, now.
“I have to tell you,” Art went on, looking at Amanda, “there’s not a day that goes by that we don’t miss them. You were the light of your daddy’s eye, Amanda Abigail, and so was your mother. He never got over losing her. Ever.” Jesus, Art was choking on the words. Alexander teared up along with him and Amanda. Art wiped his eyes, and shook it off with a “Whew…so, Jason, you be Kenny and Ammy, you take on Stevie, and I’m going to dance with my gal.”
Everyone clapped, and Amanda and Jason each grabbed a mic while Art led his wife to the center of the dance floor. Then, as the music began and back-up singers harmonized, his barefoot beauty swayed back and forth, smiled right at him, and joined Jason. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Neither could the crew who’d all gathered around him, Stephen and Sam too. She was so good, and her direct eye contact with him as she sang that she’d come to understand that everywhere they were they were meant to be let Alexander know she was singing right to him. She and Jason received a standing ovation, after which they thanked everyone profusely. He’d had a waiter bring a Diet Coke for her and she drank half the glass.
“You were amazing,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“What’s next, Montgomery?” she asked.
“Our whole lives, sweetheart,” he said, though he knew she was referring to the song request. Amanda had told him during one of their dance sessions that the song he’d cued up for next was all the rage on the party circuit now, and considering the lyrics, they should add it to the list of “their” songs. The band was waiting, and together he and the crew each lifted a hand high in the air, in the universal display of one. And the band played “One Call Away” by Charlie Puth. Yeah, it was cheesy, but she melted right in front of him, loving it. Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him rock her back and forth as he whispered the lyrics to her, that he’d be there and save the day, that Superman had nothing on him because he was only a call away. And when the song was over, he couldn’t wait another moment.
“Come with me?”
Out of breath from dancing and singing with Jason, Amanda froze at Alex’s pointed words, stu
nned and wondering if she’d heard him correctly. Her heart skipped a beat, then filled and all but flowed over. She clutched his shirt, got right in his face, and said, “Anywhere.”
When he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the doors, she almost squealed from the rush she felt inside. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes, her insides were churning more than on any teacup carnival ride. He made a hand signal to Stephen, and said to all listening, “Mama and papa bear—out. Hold down the forts. All of them.” She could only imagine the cacophony from his earpiece by the grin on his face. They got stopped three times on the way out, and were both so anxious to get—well, she didn’t know where they were getting, but when they had to make pleasantries, they practically bounced from foot to foot and squeezed each other’s hands so tightly it became a game. Finally, the front door was in sight, but when she started toward it, he pulled her back flush against him and whispered in her ear, “We have a suite.”
She turned and grabbed his shirt again. “Oh, my god. You’re a genius.”
Then he was pulling her again, and as if by magic the elevator doors opened. She was familiar with this hotel, so she knew that they were headed up in one of the private key-access-only elevators to a penthouse suite. Without taking his eyes from hers, Alexander lifted the fob to the control panel inside the elevator. As the doors closed behind him, his eyes pinned her to the wall, his nostrils flared, and this time she squealed for real. He came right at her, pressed his body fully against her, and kissed her so passionately, it was almost devastating in nature. She felt it, him, deeply. There was something so different about this kiss. Or maybe it was that they were both fully, like really fully engaged, and knew where this was going. They couldn’t get close enough, be close enough, bodies rubbing, hands all over each other, and…and the most ridiculously loud sounds… Amanda broke away for just a second. “Is that us?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick in accent and desire. He demonstrated again, using his mouth in expert precision to extract those same loud noises from her, and answered each in kind. Loud smacking sounds came next, and they both snorted and laughed.
“That is ridiculous!” Amanda said.
“Tell me about it.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve been waiting a long bloody time for this, Amanda.”
“Please don’t wait any longer,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. And I don’t. Want to.”
He kissed her again, pulling her head back just where he wanted her, and went in so deep she felt it all the way to her center. She’d just wrapped her leg around his waist, thanks to the slit in her dress, and Alex’s large, warm hand spread across her back, when the doors opened, and she froze in horror.
“Nooo,” she cried out and Alex swore.
“Sorry, concierge floor,” he muttered, but they didn’t move. Instead he gave her another scorching look and kissed her senseless. When he stepped away to press the “close door” button, she started slipping to the floor like a rag doll, but he grabbed her just in time. “Three minutes tops, sweetheart,” he said, anchoring her to his side. “Ready?”
Amanda half laughed, half groaned, and grabbed his shirt. “Bloody hell, Montgomery, why’d you have to push the button?”
He gave her a lopsided grin and pulled her close again, leaning back against the closed doors. She shivered as his teeth grazed the hollow of her shoulder, and then he was kissing her again, his hand wrapped around her leg. They missed the ping, so when the doors opened, they fell out onto their correct floor this time.
“Left side,” Alexander said, his voice hoarse. “2602.”
Amanda looked at the plaque and corrected him. “Right.”
They kissed their way down the hallway. “Passed it,” she said, giggling. He turned them and pressed her against the door while he fumbled with the key card. “Alex!”
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
They laughed as the door swung open and they went in with it. He turned around looking for the way to the bedroom. “Bloody hell, we should have gotten a smaller room.”
“I would have been happy with the elevator.”
Alexander growled and went back in. He got them to the bedroom and to the bed. Then Amanda started tugging at his jacket. He helped her help him out of it. Clothes started flying after that. Shoes, shirt, and slacks. And thanks to Amanda’s backless dress, once it was off, she was already down to a thong.
“Bloody hell, Amanda. You are so beautiful,” Alexander said, his voice a low growl. He traced his hands over her watching as she arched her back and her eyes went wide. He did it again, just to see her reaction, this time skimming the delicate lace covering her.
“Alex!” she cried.
“Shh.” He was enjoying himself immensely, and traced her body again, using his palm to apply pressure as he rubbed his hand against her. She arched into him, and he gave her what she wanted. Bloody hell, he almost came when his fingers slid against her. Hot, wet, his. He gave a gentle push against her chest with his hand and she fell to the bed and the mountain of pillows. He followed her down and lay next to her, moving the tiny strip of cloth to the side and slid his fingers down her center again. He almost chuckled at her bloody hell, then pulled her in tight, pleasuring her until she arched against him. Jesus, he was so close to losing himself, he didn’t know if he would make it until he was inside her. Frantic hands, hers and his, removed her thong. Then she motioned with her hands for him to come to her.
“Please,” she whimpered.
He was trying to be gentle, but Amanda was tugging on his shoulders and pulling at him. He moved her just where he needed to and was finally able to thrust himself completely inside. Jesus. Home. He waited for her body to uncoil, looking at her the entire time. Then she grinned and nodded.
“More, Alex. Make love to me, please.”
He did, and luckily it was still early. They made love lazily throughout the night, lightly dozing in between. They took two long showers together and after their last bout of lovemaking, Amanda cried mercy and asked him to soak with her in the clawfoot tub, which he did gladly, even trying his hand at modern-day multitasking by picking up the hotel phone while his wife lay against him to order champagne, Amanda’s favorite.
She sighed with satisfaction and tapped his chest to get his attention, suggesting it might taste better with a club sandwich and house-made chips. She was correct.
As he lay in bed shortly after dawn, holding Amanda snugly at his side, he realized that nothing else mattered than what they had now. Where they were now. They were safe, and alive, and together, their children were healthy, happy, and well-adjusted considering. What did it matter, actually, if Amanda ever remembered those brief—though exhilarating—months together? Isn’t it better to live in the moment, whenever the moment is—eighteenth century or twenty-first—and not dwell on what no longer is?
To hell with the past—all of it.
Amanda laughed, stepping under Stephen’s arm as he held the door open to the bakery. It was just before closing, but Amanda knew that Lizzy, the bakery’s owner, would stay open for her. She and Alexander were trying to wrap things up before leaving for New York, and so they’d decided to divide and conquer after dinner and Amanda was on birthday cake duty. Alexander had gone with the crew to the offsite compound they’d been frequenting lately. Art had built it years ago, and they all loved going there to play war games or whatever they did. Amanda knew the guys were going to miss the easy, or at least easier access to it while they summered on the east coast. Stephen, the saint, had made the supreme sacrifice to accompany her to the bakery, and given that it was his brother, Alex had even relinquished their tail for the night, though it had taken some cajoling. Seriously, they were just going to a bakery.
Lizzy had called shortly after lunch to say she was swamped and asked if Amanda could come
on the later side. Lizzy said the last thing she wanted to do was rush the design of Callie’s very specific birthday cake. Besides her baked goods being the best, Lizzy’s freehand cake decorating was off the chart, and well worth the wait. Unfortunately, her store was way north, tucked away in the quaint little town of Baron’s Cove. The drive always reminded Amanda of that On Star commercial where the woman swerves to avoid hitting a deer and ends up lost in a vast expanse of foliage. Though, on this drive, only one side of the road sported that lush oasis, the other was a rocky drop to the sea.
“I’m telling you, Amanda, he doesn’t like chocolate.” It was the third time Stephen had said it, and she still couldn’t figure out how she’d missed that detail about him. She was a chocolate fiend, so it’s not like it wasn’t around.
“Are you sure?” she asked one more time. Stephen rolled his eyes, herding her toward the counter. She and Alex had decided—among a lot of other decisions they’d made lying in bed the morning after the gala—to celebrate Callie’s birthday in California before they left for New York. It would be a tight schedule, but they could manage. That way Callie could invite friends from school over and have dinner with the circus. They’d decided to have the party on Saturday, right before leaving on Sunday, which was the day before Callie’s actual birthdate.
The cake, it turned out, was well worth the wait and late evening trip. Lizzy had outdone herself; the detail was amazing and it couldn’t have been easy. But kudos to her favorite cake-maker aside, what kid wanted an Amelia Bedelia cake? Amanda chuckled. Her kid. Not that the series wasn’t adorable, endearing, and exceptional—it was—Amanda just couldn’t figure out Callie’s fascination with it. As she looked at the replication of Amelia on top of the cake, with her rosy cheeks and bonnet, Amanda supposed it was because Amelia looked just like Janey. Seriously, they could have called the series Janey Wainey or something of the sor—