by Alyssa Kress
The door. Kelly's body jerked in reaction. Wait! She didn't want him to go. At least that's what her heart was shouting.
She felt herself stiffen into immobility, for she was supposed to doubt her heart, wasn't she?
Before Kelly could decide what she should or shouldn't do, Dean was out the door. He was gone.
"Booted him," Kirk said, and gave a low whistle. "Wish I knew how to do that."
###
Dean rushed down the stairs of Kelly's third-story walk-up and ran right past his rental car parked on the street. He wanted to get away, as far and as fast as possible.
Stupid. He was an idiot. And a coward. The minute he'd seen Kelly — and then his father — every well-rehearsed speech had gone flying out the window. He'd simply been overcome by all he wanted. All he needed. Come home. How more brutish could he have gotten?
Already breathing hard, Dean started to run. He felt a pressure increasing in his chest, choking up his throat. He'd botched it. His one chance and he'd thoroughly botched it. He could still see Kirk smirking at him. And Kelly, her face so...disappointed.
And why shouldn't she have been disappointed? He hadn't told her anything important.
Dean ran until he was out of breath. On a street corner under a giant plastic donut, he bent over, gasping for air and hating himself.
Then he heard her voice. It was way down the sidewalk. "Dean!" She sounded breathless but determined.
At first, still bent over, he didn't believe his senses. It couldn't be Kelly. That would mean she'd come running after him and she wouldn't have done that, not after his terrible performance in her apartment.
"Dean!" somebody shouted again, and this time she was much closer. Skeptical, Dean straightened. Disbelieving, he turned.
Ten feet down the deserted sidewalk from him Kelly stumbled to a stop. She was still in her bathrobe, her hair was wild, and there was a crazy look in her eyes. She was panting.
No, Dean thought. But there she was right in front of him. Beautiful, sweet, and unattainable. He felt his throat work but nothing came out.
She didn't say anything, either, just looked at him. All of Dean's wishes, all his desires, his everything, was standing there in the person of this woman. He thought he was going to explode if somebody didn't say something. "How are you?" he finally managed to croak out.
Kelly looked incredulous. "What?"
"How are you?" Dean took a deep breath. "That's what I really came out here to find out. I know I hurt you two weeks ago. I — I wanted to make sure you were all right."
Kelly's eyes widened.
Dean saw her surprise and a ragged laugh escaped him. "Kind of hard to believe, huh? I — I guess I didn't leave you with the impression I cared." His voice lowered. "But I do."
Kelly continued to stare at him. Her disbelief launched another arrow into Dean's already aching heart. He felt that organ twist with all he'd never told her, all he'd been too afraid to admit, even to himself.
Well, if ever there was a second chance this was it. Dean closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I care, Kelly. I really care. I...love you. That's it. Love. Just — love. That's how I feel." He gave another whispery laugh and opened his eyes.
Kelly was staring at him in a way that made Dean's heart sink. He'd failed, once again.
Then she launched herself at him. It was too fast for Dean to do anything but gasp, clutch her close, and try to keep them both from landing on the pavement.
"Oh, Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean." She rained kisses all over him; eyebrows, nose and both cheeks.
Dean crushed her gently. Her warm, lithe body was actually in his arms. How was this possible?
"You said it." She squeezed him tightly. "You actually said it."
It took Dean a second to understand what she meant. Meanwhile he didn't dare let go. "Oh," he said. "Did you like that?"
Kelly pulled back to stare at him. "Did I like it?!"
Dean felt his face turn warm. "I guess what I mean is, love is a feeling and, well, feelings, they're not very reliable, are they?"
Kelly gazed at him round-eyed. "You think feelings aren't reliable?"
Dean had to look away. "Well, mine are..."
"Dean." She turned his chin so he had to look at her. "My feelings are reliable, too. And I love you. I do."
Dean felt a very strange pressure, deep in his throat. She loved him. He hadn't known how...big it would feel to hear the words. Or how hard it would be to believe them. "But — you left," he tried to disagree.
Kelly's lashes dropped. "I did. Because you couldn't hear that. You weren't believing it."
He hadn't. He wasn't. How could she love him — forever?
Kelly raised her eyes. "You still don't believe me."
Alarm flashed through him, but she suddenly grinned. "All right. I guess you're just going to have to do the experiment and find out."
"The experiment?"
She hugged him gently around the neck. "Take me home and find out if my feelings last. It's a long experiment. Might take forty or fifty years, but eventually you'll get your answer."
Dean knew he was staring at her. He'd let her down, but she was just smiling at him, so beautiful, so generous, so...loving. He tried, and failed, to swallow. "You're...coming home with me?"
She tapped his chin. "How else can I prove my feelings are forever?"
"Kelly — " Then Dean couldn't say any more. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck. He hadn't driven her off? Amazing. On her waist, his hands trembled. "I'll do anything, anything, to make this work," he vowed.
"Oh, Dean." He could feel her stroking his hair. "All you have to do is be yourself. I love you just the way you are."
Dean went very still. The words echoed in his brain. Oh, he could almost...remember them. That's right, standing in the hot desert air, next to a building with a huge wooden yellow sun tacked to it, and Kelly. Oh, Kelly looking up at him with her clear, sincere eyes.
Slowly, Dean drew back from their close embrace. He looked down into her face. She blinked up at him, quizzical. In that moment he understood. Oh, the memory blew away, ethereal as smoke, but the understanding remained. Her words, the sentiment — it was what had driven him to follow Troy's hypnotic suggestion in the first place. It — this — was what he'd wanted. Not wild sex, not an irresponsible alliance, but this: the love of a good woman.
"Oh," Dean said. "Oh." It was so absurdly simple. So...rational. He started to laugh.
"What?" Kelly demanded. "What?"
Dean felt emotions swell up in his chest. Humor, understanding, need. And love. That's what it was all about, wasn't it? Love.
"What?" Kelly asked again.
Dean made a low noise in his throat. "This," he said, and lowered his head. Kelly's lips felt like coming home. Well, a combination of coming home and flying to the moon. Dean drew in a sharp breath and moved in closer, exulting when Kelly pressed back. Oh yes. She, like he, wanted a perfect union.
For a long time they stood there, trying to forge that union with their mouths. Finally, reluctantly, Dean pulled back.
Kelly made a protesting noise, but Dean set her apart, resolute. "I'm not done — My speech," he panted out.
"Your speech?" Kelly looked dazed.
Dean laughed a little. "On the way over I had a few hours to put one together."
"Mm?" Kelly was making a visible effort to clear her brain of the kiss.
Dean brushed a finger down her cheek. "I may actually be able to say it now."
"Hm?" Kelly blinked back to full awareness. "To say what?"
Dean sighed and shifted her in his arms. "Yeah, I may be able to say it, since I'm trusting and taking chances here..." He slipped one hand into his inside jacket pocket. He watched Kelly closely as he pulled forth a red silk handkerchief. "You, uh, left this in my office a couple months ago."
Kelly watched, frowning, as Dean unfolded the handkerchief. In the center was a simple gold band. From the look that the
n crossed Kelly's face Dean was pretty sure she remembered throwing it at him during their first meeting in his office.
He cleared his throat. "You know me, always wanting to cross the t's and dot the i's. I brought it along thinking — " His heart took a long, deep dive. "Well, thinking, Kelly — Will you marry me?"
She looked up from the ring to his face. "Oh, Dean."
The expression on her face nearly blew him away, but Dean managed to remain standing. Feeling both elated and terrified, he shrugged. "I know we already are married, but I still don't remember the ceremony and I'd really like to remember marrying you, Kelly."
"Oh, Dean."
He cleared his throat again. "Is that a 'yes?'"
She threw her arms around his neck. "Yes!" she cried. "Yes, yes, yes!"
Dean struggled not to fall as she jumped onto him. Grinning madly, he decided he could get used to this taking chances business.
###
They had the wedding at the Little Chapel of the Dawn again. This time, however, Kelly invited her friends. Dean had Troy fly out to be his best man. And there was a little family confab beforehand.
Dean and Kelly gathered all involved parties in her apartment the night before the wedding. Even Felicia Thurgood attended, though her presence was a surprise, given that she'd always been the arch-enemy of the man who'd brought her along, Dean's cousin, Troy. But that evening Felicia and Troy, arm in arm, were beaming in the way that only a couple in the beginning stages of a love affair can beam.
Dean took a look at the two of them, his expression somewhere between astonishment and comprehension. "I knew something more was behind that check," he muttered, and gave Troy a slap on the back that made him stagger.
"Thought you did," Troy grumbled, and looked about to slap Dean back — amiably, of course — until Kelly stepped between the two of them.
"It's so good to see you two actually talking to each other..."
"As opposed to throwing punches," Felicia finished, with a pointed look toward Dean's colorful jaw.
Dean massaged his jaw with a sheepish expression while Troy coughed into his fist, just as sheepishly.
"Anyway," Kelly went on, linking an arm through Troy's. "We're glad you could come — both of you."
"Uh, that's right," Dean agreed, though he gave Felicia one more baffled look.
Kelly mentally shook her head, thinking Dean should be the last one to question a long-shot romance.
Eventually, everyone who'd come to the meeting found places in Kelly's apartment to sit. Dean seated himself last, settling on the edge of Kelly's Lazy-Boy. He planted his elbows on the chair arms, steepled his fingers, and looked straight at his father. "I want responsibility for Robby," he announced.
Kirk, who'd been lounging on Kelly's sofa with his arms along the top of it, shot up his eyebrows. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"It means we're going to formalize what I already should have been doing. Robby is going to live with me. Permanently. And I'll be the one to make decisions concerning him." Dean paused. "Including when you can whisk him off to Greece with you."
Kirk's eyes got narrow. Robby, meanwhile, looked stunned. "Why?" Kirk asked.
Dean gave his father a direct stare. "Because, face it, you're not much of a parent."
Kirk snorted. Dean ignored him and went on. "Unfortunately, I've been following your example, refusing to take full responsibility. Well, I'm through being like you, or even thinking I'm like you. I'm going to do what I want now." His gaze went up to Kelly, standing by his side. She smiled back down at him. Their fingers met and laced.
Kirk's brows drew down. "And you want to take care of Robby?"
Dean turned to Robby. White-faced, Robby stared back at him. To one side, Troy raised his eyebrows.
"Yes," Dean said.
Kirk tapped his fingers on top of the sofa. "Well, I don't know."
"No more telegrams demanding you come home." Dean's attention switched back to Kirk. "You can do whatever you want."
Kirk's eyes got even narrower. "Happens I like the telegrams."
Dean blinked. Unhampered by surprise, Kelly stepped in. "Fine. We'll continue with the obnoxious telegrams, sent at random intervals. We won't forget you."
Kirk looked at Dean questioningly. Dean frowned, obviously confused, but he nodded. "Yes," he told Kirk carefully. "We'll stay in touch."
Troy, nudged by Felicia, cleared his throat and offered, "Yes, Uncle Kirk. We'll keep in touch."
Kirk's gaze shot to Troy, then back to Dean. After a long moment he lifted his arms from the sofa and stood. "You want Robby? Fine. You got him."
There was a beat of silence, then Robby whooped, and ran to throw his arms around Dean's neck. Dean's eyes went wide, but he hugged Robby back.
Kirk, looking distant, shrugged. "Well, I'm off. Who knows? I may even catch up with Marisa."
The next morning at the quaint little chapel with the big yellow sun tacked onto its side, the wedding ceremony proceeded without a hitch. Completely done with his sulks, Robby was the ring bearer. Troy and Felicia, trading meaningful glances, played the part of the attendants. Both bride and groom looked suitably besotted.
Upon being pronounced husband and wife, the groom kissed the bride with a warmth and passion that convinced everyone present how deeply in love he was. As Dean led his new bride down the aisle and toward the front door, however, a peculiar expression crossed his face.
"What?" Kelly asked.
Dean frowned and started to shake his head. Then he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Kelly immediately turned a bright shade of red. "You remember!" she accused.
"I do," Dean admitted, looking rather pink in the face himself. "That much, anyway, and only just this minute. But that's beside the point. What do you say? Could we?"
Kelly gave a quick glance to the side to make sure no one could hear them. "Fur-lined handcuffs? What else do you remember?"
Dean got very close to her ear. "That we never got around to using them. But we will this time, darling, we surely will."
Kelly could tell by his smile, confident now — maybe a wee bit too confident — that, indeed, they would get around to using them 'this time.' She raised her brows, then smiled and snuggled closer to his side. Dean might surprise her now and then, but he was never going to be a stranger again. She knew just who he was now: the man who loved her, really loved her.
Kelly's smile turned smug as they walked out onto the sun-filled sidewalk. Fur-lined handcuffs, hm? She couldn't wait to see what else he might remember.
The End
About the Author
Alyssa Kress completed her first novel at age six, an unlikely romance between a lion and a jackal. Despite earning two degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and spending nearly a decade in the construction industry, she's yet to see her feet stay firmly on the ground. She now lives in Southern California, together with her husband and two children.
You can learn more about Alyssa Kress and her other novels at https://www.alyssakress.com.
Other books by Alyssa Kress
The Heart Heist
The Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way
Asking For It
Love and the Millionairess
Preview of The Heart Heist
Wind whipped ice across Matt's face as he rappelled down the sheer wall of cliff. Even though his heart raced, he slowed his speed since a blast of that wind could knock him into the cliff like a paper toy. At the same time he couldn't afford to be too careful. Five minutes was all he had. Five minutes before the explosive set by the Holiday bomber would go off.
Sweat beaded his forehead as he dangled hundreds of feet above the ground, searching the cold granite face of rock. Four minutes now. If Matt didn't find the hurt climbers soon they'd all be blown into pieces the size of confetti.
He was about to give up hope when he caught a glimpse of color, deep in a crevasse. Matt swung toward that color, counting down the seco
nds in his head, expertly adjusting his fit teenage muscles. Only three minutes now. His arms reached out to take hold of — what? Helpless woman, terrified child, wounded youth? He couldn't see —
The sound of his bedroom door opening swept Matt abruptly from the edge of the cliff.
"Matt, aren't you coming to dinner? I called you five minutes ago."
Quickly composing his face, Matt turned from the bedroom window. "Five minutes, already?" A rush of adrenaline still pulsed through him as he swiveled his wheelchair to face his sister. The expression on her face was quizzical.
Gee, it would be nice if people around here knocked before opening other people's bedroom doors. Matt sighed, wheeling toward her. He was sixteen years old, after all. Didn't he deserve a little privacy?
"Are you all right?" Kerrin put a hand to his forehead. "You look all flushed."
"I'm fine." Drawing his head out from under her palm, Matt flushed even more, hardly wanting her to guess what he'd been doing right before she'd horned in on him. If his older sister got an inkling of Matt's secret fantasies she'd be all over him to go back to physical therapy. Kerrin was a decade older than he was, but full of naïve delusions. She'd get a gooey look in her eyes and spout a lot of nonsense about how Matt could recover the use of his legs. She'd probably tell him he could become an Olympic star. Kerrin was completely crazy.
"I made spaghetti and meatballs," his sister now informed Matt, leading the way down the hall.
Matt stifled a groan. "You made dinner?"
Kerrin turned around with a hurt expression. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Matt was too smart to answer. "What happened to Mom? She go into town?"
"Mom and Dad drove to Bishop. They've got one of their outer space meetings."
Brother and sister exchanged a look. Matt grinned. "One has to admit, we've got the most interesting parents in town."
"Out of this world," Kerrin agreed. "Oh dear, I think that's my garlic bread I smell burning."
Still grinning, Matt watched her race down the hall, her tawny curls flying. All right, so she was completely hopeless in the kitchen, but she managed it with a certain screwball charm. There was no reason on earth Kerrin should be adding 'town spinster' to the list of other town titles she'd begun to collect, he thought, as he wheeled down the redwood panelled hall.