Harbour (Runaway Home #1)

by Penelope Louleas

  After a few minutes, the show ends and I feel Lincoln release me.

  "Wow! That was amazing . . ." I say as I turn to face him. I'm stopped mid-sentence. The Whitmores are all standing at the edge of the dock about three meters away, but that's not what has stunned me.

  Lincoln is kneeling. In front of me. With a ring.

  My eyes fill with tears and I place my hand on my chest in an attempt to calm my erratically beating heart. He speaks. "Harbour, I don't know what to tell you except that I've loved you since I met you. Forget the past, take my present, and be my future. Marry me."

  I try to stay calm but I just can't help myself. I drop to my knees and hug him while repeating "yes" so many times it’s probably starting to sound a little inappropriate. Everyone applauds but we just hold each other. I pull back slightly, our foreheads connected, and he slips the ring on my finger. He kisses it gently and with huge smiles, we stand up and make our way over to everyone.

  The first thing I notice is that Dianne, Ben and Jackie are holding cell phones. Did they record this? Mitch congratulates us first and then the phones are explained. Dianne gives me hers; my mother is sobbing and my father is consoling her. They're on Skype! I hug Dianne fiercely for doing this. It means so much to me that she included my parents.

  After speaking with them quickly, I move onto Jackie. She has Art on her phone, who is also crying and wishing us well. Finally, I move to Ben, who is engrossed in the small screen. He's chatting about what he does and how he'd "love to meet her." It can only be Melody! I clear my throat and Ben looks over with a cheeky smirk. He hugs me and hands me the phone.

  Pierce and Melody are both there. Pierce looks almost bored. "Thank God! He's a fine man to look at, but if I had to listen to another second of these two flirt like I was invisible I was going to smash the phone. Congratulations, beautiful!"

  "Calm down, Pierce. You're just jealous." Melody defends her actions with a little jab.

  "You may as well have planned for him to meet you in the closet at the impending nuptials."

  "I have more class than that. He can pick me up from the airport. In a big car. With tinted windows. And a driver." Lo pauses to fan herself even standing up and fanning her crotch. Pierce rolls his eyes and asks her to ‘sit the fuck down or leave.’ "Who am I kidding? I'd fuck him in a convertible during a traffic jam!"

  "Jesus, Lo!" I quickly look around, but thankfully the family is engrossed in conversation and missed my foul-mouthed friend’s comment.

  "Anyway, congratulations. I'm happy for you. When the buzz of being proposed to wears off, call me so we can talk about your very single and very yummy future brother-in-law. Kisses!" Melody leaves and Pierce rolls his eyes.

  "What's up, handsome? Why so down?" He rubs his hands over his face. I can’t make it out exactly through the screen on the phone but his eyes look red rimmed and his hair is a mess.

  "Nothing that we need to discuss tonight. I love you and I'm so happy for you. Give Lincoln a big lick from me."

  "You mean kiss?" I giggle. At least he has his sense of humor. Whatever's bugging him can't be too serious.

  "No, no, I mean lick. You know where." He winks and blows me a kiss. "I miss you, baby girl. I'm gonna come up and see you soon. I need to get a way for a bit. I'm thinking September. We're so damn busy at the firm that I can't get any time off before then. I'll let you know, anyway. I love you."

  "Love you more. I'll call you." He nods and disconnects the call. Something's up, but I can't worry about it tonight. Pierce wouldn't let me, anyway.

  I make my way back to everyone and the celebrations begin.

  At three a.m, Lincoln and I are driven to the hotel by a very forgiving chauffeur. What can I say? Diamonds make me horny and tequila makes me brave.

  ****

  The next few weeks fly past. Lincoln and I appeared in a few gossip columns after we returned from the Hamptons, but nothing serious. Somehow, a passerby on the beach snapped a photo of Lincoln proposing. That didn't bother me; it were the "quotes" attached to our images that stung. "Ms. No Name Aussie snaps up New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor" and "Rachael Deveraux promises to get her man back." Lincoln assures me every day, though, that I have nothing to worry about. It's nice to hear, but there's always that irritating bitch in your head that tries to convince you that you are unworthy.

  I've met with Dianne and Jackie every week since the proposal, and finally last week they got the answer to the question they have been harassing me with.

  "New Year’s Eve. It's the anniversary of the night we met. Plus, fireworks seem to be prevalent in our relationship’s milestones."

  They are both thrilled with the date and begin planning immediately. We agreed to not bother with an engagement party, as my family wouldn't be able to attend. Everyone is excited to be coming up for Christmas and New Year’s. And in a private jet, no less. My parents were happy to fly economy, but Mitch insisted. I'm sure once they see it, they'll be grateful for the upgrade.

  As happy as I am with everything, something's not right. Lincoln has seemed a little withdrawn lately, and I sometimes have to coax him to speak to me about it. We haven't fought. We never do, but he seems to be in his own little dreamland. I constantly catch him staring into nothingness with a frown etched on his features and his hair mussed up from his hands running through it. I've asked what's wrong and he tells me it's work-related. I've spoken to Mitch, and he can't work out what could be so serious as to be bothering Lincoln.

  Thankfully, by the weekend, Lincoln seems a little more relaxed. We spend Saturday taking a ride around Staten Island. It's so relaxing on the back of the bike: just the pavement, the wind, and my man held close. We stop for lunch, and Lincoln moves away to take a phone call. Normally this wouldn't bug me, but it's become more common since he proposed. I can't work out what could be so serious he doesn't want to share it with me. He asked me to be his wife, we had an amazing weekend, and now I feel like everything's gone to shit since we came home.

  I watch him pacing up and down, practically snarling into the phone. He's wearing a fitted black T-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket is open. I can't see his eyes behind his Aviators but I can see the frown. He runs his hands through his hair again. He's at breaking point. I abandon my lunch and make my way over to him.

  "Give me the phone Lincoln," I demand.

  "Harbour, just give me a minute." He turns to walk away from me but I follow.

  "Lincoln! Don't walk away from me. You're stressed and I want to help. Whoever that is, they’re ruining our day, so please, either hang up or give me the phone. Please."

  My tone is pleading. I’m starting to feel a bit desperate.

  "I'll call you back on Monday," he says curtly into the phone. I hear a scream come out of the phone before he disconnects. A woman's scream.

  "Who was that?" I try to remain as calm as possible. It's really difficult when my mind is plagued with questions. Why is he speaking to a woman? Why is she causing him to stress out, and more importantly, why is she so angry he hung up on her?

  "Harbour, I love you. I need you to trust me. Please, just let this go."

  Lincoln puts his hands on either side of my head and fixes his icy blue eyes on me. Do I trust him enough to deal with this? Do I want him to deal with it alone? Clearly it's really bothering him, and as a couple, shouldn't we be helping each other? Confiding in one another?

  "Lincoln, should I be worried? Don't lie to me."

  He pulls me in for a death grip tight hug. I hear him attempt to steady his breathing.

  "I love you more than anything in this world, Harbour. Never question that. I'm trying to come up with a solution to a . . . situation. I promise to fill you in soon, I just need some time to work some stuff out."

  He continues to hold me tightly to his chest. His heart is beating so hard and fast, I can feel it through his shirt. He's scared. Whatever this situation is, it panics him, and as a supportive and loving fiancée I need to be there for him. I
need to trust that he's working towards a solution that will be best for both of us, no matter what the problem is. As curious as I am, I don't want to push the topic. Clearly it's affecting him. I chose to drop it.

  "I love you, Lincoln. Do what you have to do, but don't forget that I'm here for you. No matter what, I'll always be here supporting you. Please don't take that for granted."

  He drops his arms from my back and drags his hands slowly down mine. He holds me in place with his beautiful blue eyes and then leans in to kiss me passionately. It's a sexy and erotic kiss. There are silent questions spoken with every flick of his tongue. There's pain in this kiss. He's kissing me like it's the last time, and my overactive imagination now has just under an hour to overthink it all thanks to the silence of riding on the back of the Harley. The whole ride is spent with me questioning everything that's been said—every action, every emotion felt. I'm scared, but I trust him. I know that whatever it is, when the time comes we'll discuss it. I have to have some hope that will happen. The other option is not viable.

  ****

  We arrive back at the apartment and as soon as I'm off the bike and my helmet is removed, Lincoln pounces. He kisses me hard, to the point of breathlessness. He lifts me and I straddle his waist with my legs. All previous thoughts are banished to the back of my mind as his tongue enters my mouth widly. We stumble into our apartment and he lowers me only long enough for us to undress each other. We leave a trail of clothing from the entryway to the bedroom. He gently places me on the bed and climbs up in between my thighs.

  There are no words spoken, but they are not needed anyway. His look tells me that he loves me and I take strength from it. He cups my face and kisses me. His lips trail from my mouth, to my cheeks, to my chin and then to my neck. He bites my collarbone to the point of pain. I'm sure he's left a mark.

  He continues his downward trail towards my already wet pussy and stops a moment to admire it. With a cheeky grin, he lunges and completely devours my core. I try to watch him, but my eyes close as pleasure erupts and I come with undeniable ferocity. I grab his hair and pull hard. He knows what I want. I don't need to ask.

  He climbs over me, and without a second thought, he plunges inside me. He stills, his nose touching mine.

  "I love you, Harbour." He kisses me gently and begins to thrust in and out, harder with every movement. We come together, but after what feels like only mere minutes, we begin to make love again. Making love. That's what we're doing. It's slow and passionate, as if we're savoring the moment.

  We fall into a blissful sleep only to wake for a late dinner and a repeat performance.

  Several, in fact.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After an exhausting night, Lincoln and I spend the morning lounging around the apartment. We've agreed to move family dinner to tonight as I've volunteered to cook for everyone here. Thanks to the stealthy housekeeper, the apartment is immaculately clean, and even the dining table has been set. She offered to buy the groceries I needed for dinner, but I prefer to go and get them myself.

  We take a cab to the nearest market and attack my rather large shopping list. Tonight is a big deal for me. Cooking for the Whitmores feels like a way to prove that I'm "wife" material. Yeah, I know, so fifties!

  The shopping takes a little longer than expected, probably because my brain is working in slow motion. The lack of sleep is a contributing factor.

  After everything is bought, we head back to the apartment to begin cooking. Lincoln surprises me in the kitchen; he moves around like an expert.

  "Your mum raised you right, Mr. Whitmore. Sexy, polite, and you can cook? You're like the complete package." I wink at him and he gives me a half-smile.

  "What's with the face?" I know I said I'd trust him and wait, but I can't help but be curious about his mood swings.

  "Harbour, we need to talk."

  Oh. Shit. I put down the grater I was using with shaky hands and with a nervous laugh I say, "That’s never good."

  "I don't know how to bring this up. I've been trying to think of the best way to tell you, I just . . . there's no good way. I just have to say it. Just remember that I love you."

  I swallow hard. He's breaking up with me. He loves me but he's not “in love” with me. I feel sick. Really sick.

  "Just a sec." I run to the bathroom and throw up my lunch until there's nothing left. This can't be happening. He can't be doing this just before his family arrives for dinner.

  Lincoln stands behind me, holding my hair back, and I try to push him away.

  I stand up when I finally think I'm done and wash my face. I look at his beautiful reflection in the mirror. His head is down, and there's worry etched on his striking features.

  "Just . . ." The doorbell interrupts my sentence. "Don't get that! I need to know if you're breaking up with me. I will not sit and have dinner with your family knowing that it will be the last time I see everyone. Just say it."

  He looks up in shock. "You think that's what this is? Have I not told you that I love you? Have I not made it clear that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?"

  He grabs my upper arms and looks into my eyes. I start to cry. I'm not sure if it's from the relief of hearing him prove my wayward thoughts wrong, or from the stress of what it could actually be.

  "Go let your family in. I'll just be a few minutes." I turn back to the mirror and try to control my emotions as he leaves the room. What could it be? What has him so worked up? I shake my head and give myself a pep talk. It's nothing. He loves you. End of story. As I reapply some mascara, I hear yelling coming from the family room. As I head out there, I catch the end of a conversation. "You wouldn't answer your phone. What if I was in labor?"

  Who the fuck is that? I open the door to see Lincoln's stunned family in the entryway. I follow their line of sight, and that's when I see her. A heavily pregnant Rachael Deveraux. And she's yelling at Lincoln.

  "Oh, here she is! The home-wrecker. Do you know what you've put me through in the last few months?" She turns her hateful glare on me.

  Lincoln faces me. I'm completely confused. "What is she talking about?"

  "You lying fucking whore! That baby is not Lincoln's. I guarantee it." Jackie is mad. Really mad. And just like everyone else in the room, I'm stunned silent. His baby?

  "Lincoln?" My voice is barely a whisper.

  "Apparently, it's mine. The dates add up, Harbour. I'm so sorry."

  I begin to shake and nearly collapse, but Ben and Dianne come over and hold me up. This can't be happening. Everything Lincoln has said to me suddenly replays in my mind. "You need to trust me." "I'm trying to come up with a solution to a situation. " "I love you more than anything." My stomach knots and I feel lightheaded.

  "When?"

  Lincoln looks pained and his Baby Mamma looks smug. It makes me a little happy to see that pregnancy hasn't been good to her. She's put on weight and her face and hair are greasy. She has slight acne on her forehead, and her ankles and feet look like strapped up hams in the sandals she's wearing.

  "Just before I met you. The baby is due in two weeks."

  My heart rate increases and I want to throw up again. What can I say? It's probably not even yours? Let her raise what may or may not be your baby on her own? I can't. Lincoln wouldn't do that. That's not the man I fell in love with.

  "Do a DNA test, Lincoln. Don't be a fool. She cheated on you; you know this. There's a big chance this baby isn't yours." Ben is now sharing his opinion.

  Oh, God. I had unprotected sex with this man. He swore he had never done it before.

  "You liar. You lied to me." Again, what I wanted to be said assertively came out in barely audible words.

  "I never lied to you, Harbour. Never," he defends himself.

  "You said you had never had unprotected sex with anyone but me. God, I'm such an idiot!" Lincoln walks over to me. He doesn't attempt to touch me. He knows I'll go crazy if he does.

  "We never did. The condom broke."

  "
Oh. My. God. Can you hear yourself right now? Are you really that fucking stupid, Lincoln? Your whore of an ex comes to you pregnant after admitting she cheated on you and tells you the condom must've broken? Really!? You would’ve noticed!" Jackie’s rage has hit that uncomfortable level of sarcasm mixed with a calm but furious tone. She clearly isn't a fan of Rachael's.

  "Shut up, Jacqueline. Nobody asked for your opinion. This is Lincoln's baby. If he wants, he can do the damn test later, but it will tell him that I'm not lying." Rachael turns to Lincoln and practically snarls. "If you want anything to do with your son, you will leave with me right now. I can't be surrounded by all of this negativity and hatred. It's really not good for the baby."

  She can't be serious.

  "Lincoln, you don't have to go. We can have a lawyer meet with us tomorrow and organize a custody arrangement." Mitch is standing next to Dianne who is stuck frozen like a statue. He walks over to Lincoln, "Son, don't do this. I know you want to be the man we raised you to be, the one who takes care of his responsibilities, but until you know for sure this is one of them, you don't have to go." Mitch places his hands on Lincoln's shoulders to drive the point home. "There are other options."

  Lincoln doesn't take his eyes off mine. I know that the pain I see in his are reflected in my own. My heart is breaking. If he walks out that door with her, it will be shattered beyond repair.

  He moves forward and grabs me in a tight hug—a goodbye hug. "I love you. Know that. I love you more than anything. I just can't let my son be born without me there."

  I begin to sob, heavy, hiccupping sobs. He pulls away and I see that he's crying too, which only upsets me more. I know he doesn't want to do this, but he's been left with no choice.

  I glance over at Rachael, expecting a shameless look of victory, but instead, her expression falters. She quickly changes it when Lincoln turns to walk towards her.