Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “I like you exactly the way you are, Lily.”

  “I like you.”

  Our conversation echoed in my head. I had meant what I said, but I hadn’t said everything I was thinking. I did like her exactly the way she was, and I liked how it felt when I was with her. She made me feel free, light.

  It wasn’t only the sex—although that was amazing. It was her. The warm aura she projected. I felt different when I was with her. Relaxed and happy.

  I had wanted to ask her last night to let me be the one in her life, but I had stopped. I had the feeling she wouldn’t listen—she wasn’t ready. I couldn’t believe how ready I was.

  My email pinged, and I brought up the message with the list of charges. I had bought an enormous amount of flowers the past few days.

  This morning I had stopped by, finding her buzzing around her shop. She pointed to a small table when I walked in.

  “I made you two arrangements. That will get you through today, and you’ll have to take notes tomorrow.”

  My heart plummeted. I couldn’t see her later? Or tomorrow?

  “Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “I have two weddings tomorrow and two on Saturday. I’m going to be swamped.”

  “Oh.”

  She moved toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Barb will be here any moment to help me, so you’ll have to take a rain check on your extra service.” She pressed her mouth to mine, and I yanked her tight, kissing her hard. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

  The conversation had bothered me all day. She had been light, sweet, and affectionate, sending me on my way with two arrangements and another lingering kiss. I knew I’d see her in a couple days, but for some reason it felt as though it wasn’t enough. Sex wasn’t enough. I wanted to be there when her long day was over. Draw her a bath, rub her shoulders, make love to her. I didn’t want to have to mess up and buy flowers to see her or touch her.

  I spun around in my chair, staring out the window. Would she, I wondered, want those things, too? Would she be open to a relationship where the other person didn’t want her to change? Who loved her exactly for whom and what she was? A free spirit who had brought something to my life I didn’t know was missing? A lightness that filled me up with the need to be with her every day—and not just sexually. I wanted to hear her talk, to listen to her laugh. I wanted to know her hopes, dreams. Kiss away her fears and hold her when she cried.

  I wanted a life with her.

  I only had to figure out how to get her to want the same thing.

  Saturday evening, I pulled up in front of the store, hesitating. It had been a productive, nerve-wracking day. I had spent it planning, making phone calls, and packing a small bag. All my actions were based on an idea so ludicrous, even my mother would be shocked. But one I wanted more than anything I had ever wanted until today.

  I looked over at the two boxes on the seat next to me, hoping they would be accepted. I patted my pocket, making sure the tiny box was still there. Of all the boxes, it was the one I prayed Lily would accept the most. I grabbed the boxes and went into the shop. No music greeted me, the bell silent, and Jax’s chair vacant. I went around the corner, stopping when I saw Lily. She was sitting at the cutting table, one arm propped on the surface, her head resting in her hand. She wore leggings and a long shirt, her hair tied back. For the first time since she exploded into my life, her brightness was missing. She looked tired, sad.

  I hated it, and I was determined to change it.

  “Lily.”

  Her head snapped up and she stood, wiping away a tear.

  I stepped forward, setting down the boxes I carried, worried. “Lily, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m tired.” She tried to smile, the effort failing. “Even too tired for you, Ethan.”

  “Well, then, it would appear I got here at the right time.”

  “Sorry?”

  I hit the button for the gate.

  “I’m here to take care of you.”

  She blinked at me. “What?”

  I leaned down, kissing her cheek. “I brought dinner. You’re going to relax and let me spoil you tonight.”

  “You don’t have to …”

  “I want to. Lock up, okay?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Okay.”

  Lily was curled up on her sofa, a glass of wine in her hand. I sat beside her holding a huge plate of pasta.

  “I’m starving,” I said with a grin.

  “I’m not sure if I’m more tired or hungry,” she admitted, sipping her wine.

  “We’re going to eat, and I’ll draw you a bath so you can relax.”

  “Um …”

  I picked up the fork, speared a fat ravioli, and lifted it to her mouth. “Open up.”

  “I can feed myself.”

  I waited, arching my eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes and parted her lips, letting me slide the pasta in. I handed her the fork. “I’ll feed you if you don’t eat. You’re already tiny. I don’t want you wasting away.”

  She chewed with her eyes on the plate, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

  “I know you’re used to looking after yourself, Lily. But it’s okay to accept a little help every so often.”

  “I’m not used to it.”

  I took back the fork, feeding her another pocket of pasta. “Neither am I. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

  She tugged the fork out of my hand, stabbing more pasta and leaning forward, offering it to me. With a grin, I let her feed me.

  “See? Not so bad.”

  She chuckled softly. “No, not so bad.”

  Her bathroom was vastly different from mine at home. While the rest of the cottage had retained most of its original character, she had clearly upgraded the bath and kitchen. The room was distinctly feminine, with a corner tub, candles scattered throughout, and lots of girly bottles of lotions and bath things around. I had no experience, but I picked a bottle that smelled like her and added some to the tub while it filled. I found some fluffy towels in the cupboard, but when I turned around, I was taken back at the amount of bubbles in the tub. The profusion of white was almost overflowing. I grabbed another towel—it might come in handy.

  Lily was still on the sofa, sipping her wine, looking sleepy. “Hold tight to your glass,” I warned, scooping her up, striding down the hall.

  In the bathroom, she giggled over the massive pile of bubbles.

  “How much did you put in?”

  “About six big squirts. Too much?”

  “A bit.”

  I set her on her feet. “I’ll know better next time. In you get.”

  She hesitated. “Are you joining me?”

  Stepping forward, I ran my fingers down her cheek. “I know you’re exhausted, Lily. I’d like to. I just want to hold you, if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah. More than okay.”

  “Okay.”

  I bunched up her shirt, tugging it over her head. I pressed my mouth to her bare shoulder, tracing her lily tattoo with my lips. “So beautiful.”

  She hummed as she pulled off her leggings, standing in front of me, bare and breathtaking. Lifting her arms, she gathered up her long tresses, using her hair tie to make a messy ponytail on top of her head. The action caused her breasts to lift and sway, and it drew attention to the delicate form of her neck and arms. She was so fragile-looking, but I knew it was a deception. She was anything but fragile—she was silk encasing a core of steel. I held out my hand, helping her over the edge of the tub. Once she was almost hidden in the mountain of foam, I discarded my clothes and slipped in behind her, pulling her back to my chest. She sighed in contentment, letting her body ease into mine. For several moments, there were only the sounds of the slow drip of the tap, our breathing, and the low squeak of bubbles moving and popping.

  Leisurely, I rubbed her shoulders and the back of her neck. “God, baby, you’re so tense.”

  “I had a lot of flower arrangements and bouquets to m
ake. One wedding is a lot—four in two days is huge.”

  I slid my hands over her skin, kneading the knotted muscles. “I’ve got you, gypsy-girl. Relax.”

  She sighed, and after a couple minutes she became loose and supple, her head falling to my shoulder. Unable to resist, I dropped my face to her damp skin, kissing my way up and down her neck. Her hands tightened on my knees, and a breathy whimper escaped her mouth. I swirled my tongue on her skin, nuzzling at the soft spot right behind her ear.

  “Ethan, I’m so …”

  “I know, baby. I don’t want anything.” I trailed my fingers over her breasts, cupping them in my palms. “I just want to make you feel good. Let me do that.”

  She mewled, then sighed.

  I drifted my hands down her torso, caressing the skin, teasing her with my touch. Slowly, I hooked my legs over hers, I tugged her open, sliding my fingers down to where her slick heat beckoned. Keeping my touch light, I caressed her. She moaned, pressing back against me, her toes curling against my legs.

  “That’s it, Lily. Feel, just feel.”

  I teased her. Gentle passes of my fingers, small circles against her center, harder nudges of my thumb, until she was crying out in need. I bent over her, sliding in two fingers, keeping my thumb on her clit and pumping into her. I pulled her head close, kissing her as I drove her to her release. She stiffened, muscles clutching at my fingers as she came. She whispered my name, riding out her orgasm, until her limbs sagged and she splayed out in the water.

  I dropped another kiss to her mouth. “All better?”

  “Hmmm,” she hummed.

  I leaned back, pulling her close. “Good.”

  “What about—”

  “No. Tonight is about you.”

  “Will you stay?”

  “Yes,” I breathed out, relieved. I wanted to stay, but I hadn’t been sure if she would want me to.

  “I only have a double bed.”

  “I guess we’ll have to snuggle, then.”

  She lifted her face, her smile sweet, her eyes serene.

  “I guess so.”

  I woke up cramped and alone. Her bed was much too small for my long frame; although, I had enjoyed having Lily curled up next to me all night long. I stretched carefully and rolled out of bed, squinting at the clock. It was only past eight, later than I normally woke, but I had been up a few times in the night, nervous and needing to move around. When I would slide back into bed, Lily would nestle back against me, fitting tight to my chest as if that were where she belonged.

  And she did.

  Grabbing my boxers, I looked around—my pants were folded over the top of a chair, but I was unable to locate my shirt. I padded down the hall, stopping at the doorway and smirking when I found my shirt.

  Lily was wearing it. She was sitting at her small kitchen table, reading. A mug of coffee sat in front of her, the steam rising in the air. Perched on her nose was a pair of heavy-rimmed reading glasses. I cleared my throat, making her look up. With her messy curls cascading down her shoulders, my too-big shirt wrapped around her, and the addition of the sexy glasses, she was adorable.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up with a wide smile. “Hey yourself. Coffee?”

  I crossed the room, dropping a long kiss on her sweet mouth. “Yes.”

  Usually I spent Sunday mornings organizing. I’d do some shopping, pick up dry cleaning, make sure my condo was tidy, then spend the afternoon reading, maybe watching a game on TV. I often had dinner with my parents and/or Reagan. It was the one day of the week I didn’t work; although my head would still be mulling over things, planning, reviewing my schedule.

  But this morning, I found myself in a sunny kitchen, sipping coffee and grinning at the antics of a pretty girl, teasing and playing with her cats, while my mind spun with what was about to happen—or what I hoped would happen.

  Lily sat up, draining her coffee, winking at me. “I suppose some breakfast would be good.”

  The back of my neck prickled in anticipation. “That would be nice.” I grinned. “I have built up an appetite.”

  A soft pink spread across her cheeks, making me snicker. As bold and brazen as she was, at times, my words caught her off guard, and she blushed. It was one of the things I adored about her. The more I got to know her, the longer the list became.

  Standing, I picked up the box I had left by the door and set it in front of her.

  “What’s this?”

  “I bought it for you.” I nudged it closer. “Open it.”

  She studied the box for a moment, then unwrapped it. She was one of those people who took their time, peeling back the tape, carefully pulling at the seams of the paper. After she removed the paper revealing the surprise, I grinned.

  “Ta-da!”

  A strange look crossed her face. She glanced up, the look in her eyes confusing me.

  “It’s a toaster oven,” I offered, my excitement waning.

  “I see that.”

  I tapped the top of the box. “Convection.”

  “Right.”

  “I figured things worked slow in your floral world, and I didn’t want you eating dry toast anymore.”

  She nodded, not saying anything. Her head was bowed as she stared at the box, not meeting my gaze. She swallowed a couple times, her neck working fast, then she cleared her throat. “It’s great, thanks.”

  That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected. I’d thought for sure she would laugh and tease me, and maybe we’d even have sex on the table before she made me toast in her new appliance.

  “Lily,” I asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

  She lifted her eyes to mine. I was shocked to see the glimmer of tears swimming in the forest of her gaze. “Are we done? Was last night and this morning just a goodbye?”

  “What?” I gasped, standing. “No! Why would you think that?”

  “Why are you giving me a toaster oven? If you don’t want to buy any more flowers, that’s fine, but I’d like to see you again.”

  “Fuck,” I groaned, reaching out, tugging her into my arms. “I did this all wrong.”

  She burrowed into me, tucked against my chest. She felt so small and slight in my arms, so different from the strong, vibrant woman she showed to the world. I brushed a kiss across her brow, then slid my fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. I wiped away the tear that trembled on the edge of her eye, hating the fact I had caused it.

  “Can I try this again?”

  She nodded.

  “I bought the toaster oven as a sort of joke. I thought it would make you smile. I don’t want to stop seeing you, Lily. In fact, I want to see more of you. Lots more. And not only when I mess up and need flowers.”

  “Yeah?”

  I kissed her, a soft press of my mouth on hers. “Yes.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath and smile. “Okay.”

  “I have one final bouquet for your list. It will be the greatest one of them all, and I need it for Tuesday.”

  “That’s the day you have dinner with your mom.”

  “Yep. Dad will be home this week, I think. He’s gonna love it when he finds out what the bouquet is for. I’ll be the one in trouble this time, not him.”

  “What’s it called?”

  I hesitated, then lifted her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “It’s an I-want-you-to-meet-Lily-who-I-met-last-week-and-married-on-the-weekend sort of arrangement.”

  She blinked. Then blinked again. “What?”

  I held up a ring, sliding it on her finger. “Marry me, Lily.”

  She stared at the ring. Then me. Then the ring.

  I saw it as I walked past a jewelry store on Friday. It caught my eye, and I stood staring at it, telling myself to walk away even as my heart screamed it was perfect for Lily. White gold with a good-sized diamond in the center, which was set into bands made of leaves and flowers. All the leaves contained tiny diamonds that caught the light, and it glittered in the window like a beacon. I wanted to see it on
Lily’s finger. A permanent mark for the whole world to see. To know she was mine. I wanted to wear the matching band that sat beside it. A simple, heavy white-gold band with the same braiding that wove around the woman’s ring.

  Lily’s ring.

  I had gone in and bought it, adding another charge to my American Express that hadn’t seen that much action the entire time I had carried the card. I’d left the store, my mind already busy with plans.

  Plans that included this moment.

  “Why would you want to marry me?” she whispered, searching my eyes. “We just met.”

  I ran my hand over her arm, up her neck, cupping her sweet face. “You carry such light in your soul, Lily. I want that light in my life. I want you in my life. For the first time ever, I want more than my career. I want to be part of something. I want to take care of someone. I want to take care of you.”

  “But marry me? Don’t you want to date or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t.”

  “You don’t even know my last name!”

  “I don’t care what your last name is today. All I care about is that when we wake up tomorrow, your name is Lily Thomas.”

  “Ethan …”

  I shook my head. “Do you know how many women I have drawn a bath for?”

  “No.”

  “How many women I’ve brought dinner to, fed, and held while they fell asleep, just so I could be close to them?”

  She shook her head.

  “How many women I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on flowers that aren’t even for them just so I could see them again—touch them?”

  Her mouth curled into a smile, and she bit her lip. “Not many, I suppose.”

  “None. Ever. I have never felt this connection with another person. I never will again, Lily. I can feel that. You are it for me. I know it with a certainty I can’t shake.”

  “What if your parents don’t like me?”

  “They will. Mom’s going to freak over this, because I am not normally impulsive, but she’ll love you.”

  “Do we have to have babies right away—you know, to make her happy?”

  My breath caught. “No. Unless you want to.”

  “Maybe we could wait a few months, until you’re sure you like me, and I know what your favorite color is—things like that.”