“It’s in the bedroom,” Helena answered, making me wince. That was the worst room that could possibly have been disturbed. If it had been one of the other rooms, at least we could have just shut the door and warned Charlotte not to go in until Pat had time to sort things out.
Gripping my hand hard, Helena guided me up the stairs. Despite the fact I was probably more familiar with the house than she was, I didn’t object. Hopefully, it gave her some sense of comfort to know she didn’t have to deal with this by herself.
“There’s glass everywhere,” she informed me, somewhat needlessly. As she opened the door, I could see the extent of the damage. Helena looked pale in the dim light. “I don’t even know where to start. There’s no point trying to dry things out until we can stop the rain from coming in, right?”
“Right.” I nodded, trying to think on my feet. There was no way we were going to get a new window fitted in the middle of the night during a storm. But we could at least deal with some of the damage. “There’s some boards in the back, I can nail this shut. Can you get me the toolbox from the garage?”
Once Helena nodded, we jumped into action. I found the boards, bringing them upstairs. Working with Helena, we got them up against the broken window, careful of the smashed glass. When it was all done, silence seemed to fall around us, the storm still lashing the windows but no longer coming inside.
Looking around the bedroom, I frowned. There was broken glass and water everywhere. The mattress looked soaked. “Fuck,” I sighed. “We need to fix this, right? No one wants a wedding night in a wet bed.”
The work had brought a flush of pink to Helena’s cheeks. As she turned to smile gratefully at me, it struck me that her eyes had never looked more blue. “We do,” she agreed. “I’m sorry, I’m sure this isn’t how you were planning on spending tonight.”
Honestly, before Helena’s phone call, I’d mostly been pacing nervously around my room. My speech was tomorrow. I knew it by heart, but that didn’t make the prospect any less frightening.
Having something to take my mind off it was actually helpful. “Is there a dustpan and brush?” Helena asked. “I can sweep up the glass while you…” She gestured vaguely at the bed.
“While I deal with everything else?” I teased, but did then give the bed a thoughtful look. “We could swap the mattresses with one of the guest rooms? It’s not going to be as grand but they’re all new, so I doubt there will be a huge difference.” And it would be better than sleeping on a wet mattress. While this was a very unfortunate situation, I felt confident that Helena and I could fix it.
Telling her where she could find stuff to clean up, I began to strip the bed. “All the bedding can go in the washing machine and then in the dryer,” I commented when Helena returned. “Not much we can do about the boarded-up window but hopefully they’ll be too distracted by each other.” Pat would probably even find this a bit funny. Tomorrow, after the wedding. Not now.
Helena dropped carefully to the floor, beginning to sweep up the million shards of glass. “If you can do the mattress, I can run things through the washing machine,” she offered. “I once had to carry a mattress up three flights of stairs. You’re definitely better equipped for it than I am.”
Mattresses were surprisingly heavy - and awkward. Helena had a point about that.
“You’re so calm,” she added, a moment later. “I still feel like my heart is racing.”
The comment surprised me but also made me laugh. I hadn’t considered how I felt, but Helena was right. The thing was that nothing felt that hard. We’d fix things and everything would be fine. But her words did make me think back, wonder if when we’d first known each other, I would have reacted differently.
“I suppose I am calm,” I agreed. “Focusing on fixing things is easier for me than stressing about what's broken.” Even if in this case, it very much was something actually broken.
Moving the mattresses was even harder than I had imagined but with a bit of help from Helena, we got the new one on. We were doing well! I showed Helena where the washing machine was. Leaning against the dryer, I watched her load it up.
“Why are you here?” I asked, realizing that I had no idea.
Her cheeks flamed scarlet, her blue eyes cutting towards me with a look I recognized. It was the same look she’d had when I’d caught her planning a surprise for my birthday.
“Um.” She shrugged one shoulder, dark hair tumbling back from her face. “Well, Charlotte said she wanted a romantic wedding night. And when I asked her what that meant for her - and Pat - I figured… I could set a lot of it up.”
As she bundled the drenched sheets into the washing machine, she waved her free hand towards the kitchen. “I brought food, in case they’re too excited to eat at the reception. And candles and flowers.”
That was very sweet and definitely not something that I would have thought of. It made me glad that Pat had Helena in his life. Yes, it was through Charlotte rather than through me, but that didn’t make me any less happy about it. They’d always gotten on. In a way, I thought that Pat viewed Helena as a big sister. Perhaps that was a little odd now that he was marrying someone her age.
“You’re a good friend, Helena,” I told her truthfully. “Pat’s lucky to have you. And Charlotte, too. Do you need me to help you with anything? I mean, other than fixing a window, swapping a mattress and stripping a bed,” I joked, before my stomach gave a low grumble.
Shooting Helena an apologetic look, I shrugged. “It’s because you mentioned food. And I thought there would be more food at the rehearsal dinner.”
Straightening, Helena poured in the laundry powder and gently closed the door. “I can make you something,” she offered. “It’s the least I can do, after you drove all the way out here and handled everything so well.”
Her praise brought a heat to my cheeks, but I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t pleasant to still have Helena compliment me. “Besides,” she added. “We have to wait until the sheets are washed and dried before we can remake the bed.”
Living by myself, I knew it wasn’t necessary to have two people make a double bed. But it definitely did help.
“What do you want?” Helena asked. “Omelette? Grilled cheese?”
“Grilled cheese sounds amazing,” I admitted. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” Helena was right that we’d have to hang around, but I could just wait. On the other hand, if grilled cheese was on the menu, how could I turn that down? It wasn’t like we could order food; no one would be coming out in this storm.
With the laundry set to wash, we walked through to the kitchen. “The tiles look great,” I commented, waving my hand at them. “You chose well,” I praised. “And, kudos where they’re due, I spent a whole day putting them up,” I added teasingly.
It felt weird to take a seat at the kitchen counter, watching as Helena sliced the bread and heated up the pan. I was used to cooking by myself, unless the Pumas had a barbeque or a party. This felt… oddly domestic.
“You did a wonderful job,” Helena praised. “I hope Pat’s grateful for all the help you’ve given him.” Glancing up at where the bedroom was situated over our heads, she laughed. “And even more when you tell him in a few days about how you had to come in the night before his wedding and swap his mattress.”
Tilting my head slightly, I gave Helena a look. “You’d think he might notice the boarded up window in his bedroom,” I teased. I was planning to tell Pat once he was married but before he and Charlotte actually came home. It wouldn’t be the most pleasant of surprises otherwise.
“Oh.” Helena sucked her lower lip between her teeth, blushing prettily. God, the ten years since we’d seen each other had been so good to her! The thought had occurred to me before, of course, but it struck me with even more force now.
Maybe it was because we were alone together, far away from either of our normal lives. Whatever it was, I was finding it hard to focus on anything else.
“Yeah, I guess we can’t pretend it d
idn’t happen,” she agreed. “I hope they won’t feel too disappointed.”
“They won’t,” I promised. “Pat and Charlotte are getting married tomorrow! I think they’ll be pretty distracted with all the being married excitement.” And what was one broken window, really, in comparison to all that?
I watched as Helena found plates and then, as a loud peal of thunder made her drop one. I was up before it even had a chance to shatter and watched as the plate... didn’t. “Well,” I laughed. “I guess we’re at least in for some luck,” I commented.
Both of us leaned down to pick it up at the same time and suddenly, Helena was closer to me than she had been in a decade, her breath hot against my lips.
That, and the scent of her shampoo, filled my whole awareness. Her blue eyes briefly widened, then fluttered gently closed. The moment was so achingly familiar, and yet at the same time, everything about it was different.
Helena leaned forward, her lips brushing against my lightly-stubbled cheek. “Oh!” I heard the breath catch in her throat as she pulled back.
Becoming aware of the plate in my hands, I loosened my grip, straightening up even as Helena ran her hands over her hair. “Sorry.” Her giggle was slightly strained, ringing unnaturally off all the tiled surfaces.
I know that what I should have said was that it was no problem. Maybe even laughed it off. But instead, my eyes were fixed on Helena’s mouth. Memories of what we had rushed forward. But stronger than those were the feelings of right now. Of meeting Helena again and how all of that had felt.
Before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us. The plate ended up on the kitchen counter as I pulled Helena in closer. My lips met hers quicker than I had time to think. It wasn’t ten years of longing and rather the here and the now.
Helena kissed back in a familiar and unfamiliar way all at the same time.
Her hands braced against my chest, so small and yet so strong at the same time. She tasted new and exciting as I licked my way past her lips. Her body melded into mine, making me lose track of everything except how good she felt.
We could have kissed for hours. Neither of us seemed willing to pull away. And yet neither of us moved things further. My hands settled on Helena’s hips, content to keep her close without exploring any of those enticing womanly curves.
Finally, I had to pull back. My heart thundered against my ribs, my breath as labored as if I’d been speed skating for days.
Helena blinked up at me, apparently lost for words.
Thankfully, we were saved by the grilled cheese. The light smell of burning distracted Helena enough to quickly jump into action. I, too, went to help her, holding the plates so she could dish the sandwiches out. Once the pan was safely off the heat and the grilled cheese sitting comfortably on the counter, we looked at each other again.
My tongue licked over my lips almost without me thinking about it. “I’m... sorry?” I said, sounding unsure about that even to myself. Probably because I wasn’t sorry. I had wanted to kiss Helena. Fuck. I still wanted to kiss Helena.
But my stomach rumbled, reminding me of how amazing that grilled cheese smelled.
“No,” Helena said, so softly I almost didn’t hear her. “No, don’t be sorry. It was… lovely.” That wasn’t the word I would have used, but telling Helena how much I wanted her in that moment seemed unlikely to be much use.
We still had the sheets to dry and change, not to mention a wedding to get through tomorrow! Pat wasn’t going to thank me for getting distracted by his bride’s best friend.
“How’s your speech?” Helena asked, as if she could read my mind.
For a moment, I wondered if I should insist that we talk more about the kiss! But... maybe it would be good for both of us to have some time to reflect on what had just happened. Helena was giving me an easy out. And more than that, I wanted to talk to her about my nerves, about how I still worried, even though I had practiced the speech to death by now.
“It’s as ready as it will ever be, I suppose,” I told her, waking to take a seat at the table and reaching out for the plate with grilled cheese, pulling it closer. “It’s been a lot of help to have you read it,” I told her. “I’ve made a few changes but nothing significant.”
Finally, to satisfy my stomach, I took a bite of the grilled cheese. “Oh, fuck, this is good!” I groaned around the sandwich.
Helena’s smile was so brilliant it would have knocked me off my feet, had I not already been sitting down. “I do make a good grilled cheese,” she confirmed, nodding. “The secret is buttering both sides of the bread.”
As simple as the food was, it felt good just to sit there and eat it. Helena took a bite of her own sandwich, trying to cover it with a hand when the melted cheese stretched between her mouth and the bread. It reminded me strongly of the two of us eating pizza together all those years ago.
“It’s a good speech,” she promised. “And this is a much more friendly audience than all those reporters you have to deal with!”
Her assurances made me smile. The thing was, while of course, Helena would say that because it was a nice thing to say, I also believed her. Helena had never been dishonest with me. All she had ever been was supportive. A thought that made my heart ache for her. I could still taste her on my lips, butterflies twisting in my stomach at the memory.
But there were so many reasons we couldn’t do this. The things that had torn us apart were still true, were still real. While all these new feelings felt good, they didn’t get rid of the old worries. I owed it to Helena to do what was best for her, what she had wanted in the first place.
So we didn’t talk more about the kiss.
Instead, we finished the food, cleaned up after ourselves. We talked while the sheets were in the dryer. Not about us but about everything else. It felt so good to be able to talk to Helena again. About anything and everything. Talking to Helena had always been one of my favorite things; that hadn’t changed with time or distance.
When all was finally done, I drove back behind Helena, made sure she got home safe before returning to my parents’ house. It was impossible not to think about how amazing Helena’s lips had felt against mine, but the reminder that this wasn’t something we could pursue kept repeating, telling me not to be foolish.
The problem was: I really wanted to be foolish.
Chapter Fourteen
Helena
All my plans to get an early night so I’d be well rested before Charlotte’s wedding flew out that broken window in her new house. The moment my lips landed against Sam’s, it became impossible for me to think about anything else. He’d always been a good kisser, but feeling his mouth on mine now was like all my memories rushing back at once - and magnified by a hundred!
Butterflies chased themselves in circles around my stomach, wings whipping up a tumult of emotions. Kissing Sam had felt so right! But we’d broken up for good reasons. Reasons which hadn’t diminished in the ten years since we’d seen each other.
I lay awake half the night, staring at my phone. Part of me wanted to reach out and call him. There was no doubt in my mind that he, too, would be kept awake by memories of what we’d done.
But I was a grown woman. The teenage girl with limited self-control was a thing of the past. I had to be mature. Resolutely, I powered my phone down completely. Whatever my feelings were about Sam, they would wait until tomorrow. And preferably until the day after tomorrow. Charlotte’s wedding was not all about me!
Eventually, the tossing and turning must have tired me out. My blaring alarm woke me out of a deep sleep. Remnants of dream hung around me, the phantom feeling of arms around my waist and deep green eyes staring down from a familiar face.
I pushed it all aside. Shimmying into a pair of jeans and a shirt, I raced my way to Charlotte’s. We were getting ready at hers - and by the time I arrived, everything seemed to be in chaos!
Charlotte’s mom was fixing us breakfast, her dad was rushing around fulfilling whatever errands the
women of the house called out to him, and there were dresses and shoes and flowers everywhere.
“Well, good morning, Ms. Martin,” I greeted, leaning in to brush a kiss against Charlotte’s cheek. “Can you believe that by the time you go to sleep tonight you’ll be a Mrs.?”
“I really can’t.” Charlotte shook her head, only to be told off by the hairstylist doing her hair. Charlotte made a face at me, but didn’t attempt to shake her head again. “There’s so much still to do, Helena! Everything feels overwhelming,” she admitted with a soft sigh.
Reaching out, Charlotte gripped my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ll make sure everything goes smoothly, right?” she asked. How could I say anything but yes? I would walk through fire if it meant that Charlotte got her perfect day!
“Everything will go smoothly,” I promised, fervently hoping that nothing out of control was yet to happen. The bad luck of the broken window last night had to be the worst we were going to get. Charlotte’s karma was too good for there to be any further unexpected calamities.
In the bustle of Charlotte’s house, there didn’t seem much they needed me to do. At Charlotte’s request, I checked that shoes were where she’d left them, that her dress was pristine, added an extra handkerchief to my purse ‘in case of emergencies’ and then checked the dress again to make sure it hadn’t developed any creases since I’d last looked.
“You should eat something,” I advised, as Charlotte’s mom brought up bowls of yogurt and fruit. “You don’t want to be distracted from your wedding because you’re hungry!”
For a moment, I thought that I’d have to insist. Then Charlotte reached out to take the yogurt from me. “I feel too nervous to eat,” she admitted, but at least she was willing to push herself to try. “I mean, I know that Pat will marry me, you know? He’s going to be so perfect.” She smiled.
Spooning the yogurt up, Charlotte gave a thoughtful hum. “Maybe you’re just meant to be nervous? Everyone’s eyes on me! It’s a lot of attention.” That made me think of Sam and how nervous he had been about his speech. How nervous he no doubt was now about his speech. It almost made me want to find him, to tell him he would do excellently.
Home Matched (Salt Lake Pumas Book 4) Page 12