Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Hey, you’re the asshole, “ he says with a grin. He has an American accent and I hate him right away.

  “What? Who the fuck are you?” I shoot back, immediately on the defensive. How does he know who I am? Is he there with Cara? Where the fuck are his clothes?

  “Hey, chill, bro. I’m not sure you should be asking me any questions, because from what I hear, you fucked up. Majorly.” He smirks at me and I want to punch him.

  “So, maybe you need to leave before Cara finds you out here and kicks your ass.” He leans on the door jamb and his grin widens.

  “I’m not your bro, mate, and I’m not going anywhere,” I snap at him.

  “Okay, it’s your funeral,” he smirks and turns to shout up the stairs, “Cara, the asshole is here.”

  “Hey, man, who are you calling an asshole?” I growl at him.

  He puts his hands up, in mock apology, “Sorry, I don’t know your actual name, but Cara has a picture of you up on her wall and she’s throwing darts at it. She just keeps on calling it “You asshole”.

  “Who did you say you were?” I ask him.

  “I didn’t”, he says in a chirpy tone, just as I hear a door slam upstairs. I hear the creak of the stairs as feet hit them and then I see Cara’s feet, legs, thighs and then her whole body come into view.

  “Why the hell are you dressed like that?” these words, such stupid words, leave my mouth before I can even think. She is practically naked. She is wearing a t-shirt that barely brushes the tops of her thighs and nothing else. The red hue and the slight glaze in her eyes tells me that she is stoned.

  “You don’t have any right to ask me questions like that.” She yells at me. Her brown eyes, normally the color of my favorite espresso, are almost black with her rage. I take a step back, and take her in. She looks so beautiful. Her hair is down and mussed all over head. She is flushed and she looks like she does when she just wakes up. My eyes snap to the shirtless guy still hovering in the doorway and then back to her. My eyes narrow.

  “What are you doing here, Louis?” she asks, her tone even more hostile than it was when she came down the stairs.

  “Who is this guy, Cara? Why are you dressed like that? Why haven’t you been to work in two days and why aren’t you responding to my texts?” I shoot these questions at her hard, fast and with the intent to hold her in place.

  “Not that it is any of your damn business, Louis, but if it means you will leave, then I’ll tell you. This is my friend Michael. We went to Juilliard together and he’s stopping in London on his way to Vienna for a performance. He needed a place to crash and of course, he is staying with me.”

  “Of course?” I ask, sneering at Michael. Who is still hovering.

  “Yes, of course. Now will you please go?” she crosses her arms and all that does is make my eyes go straight to her chest.

  “Ahem, my eyes are up here,” she snaps her fingers at me to get my attention. I feel a flush creep up my neck and I bring my eyes up to meet hers. She looks sad. And tired and I hate myself for causing any of that.

  “Listen, Cara. I want to talk to you. I’m sorry I just showed up like this, but I you haven’t been to work …”

  “I took some of my holiday to spend time with Michael and to run some errands I needed to get done for my position with the Paris Ballet.” She cuts me off, impatient, now.

  “Cara, he’s hotter than his picture. If you don’t want him … I’m open to having a little fling while I’m here,” Michael drawls from his perch behind us.

  My gaze snaps to him, part of me feeling relieved that he’s interested in me and not her and the other part of me just wanting him to leave.

  Cara’s hands come up into my chest, grab my lapels and pull me inside.

  Without turning around to look at Michael, she says to him, “Hey, babe, can you go and wait in the kitchen, I want to talk to Louis privately. I’ll only be a minute, okay?”

  Michael laughs, but moves towards the kitchen. “Oh, I doubt you’ll only be a minute, honey. I was hungry anyway, so, go right ahead.”

  Cara looks up at me, the sadness gone and replaced with anger again. “Come upstairs, Louis. Let’s talk.” She turns and stomps up the stairs and I watch her for minute, transfixed by the sway of her ass, the flex of the muscle in her legs. I have to stop myself from reaching up to grab her.

  She enters her room, holds the door open and ushers me inside. When I turn around, she slams the door behind me and turns around to face me.

  “Louis, why are you here? Tell me and you better have a good reason because you being here is the last thing I need,” she says this slowly and quietly and my nerves skitter because Cara doesn’t ever talk slowly and quietly. Not ever.

  “I told you, I’ve been trying to reach you, you haven’t been at work. I was worried,” I respond, hoping my voice doesn’t betray how nervous I am. But I can hear the anxiety and the tinge of accusation as the words come out and Cara does too, because she closes her eyes and purses her lips at my words.

  “Listen, I know last time we saw each other I said some stupid things, but you left before I could get my thoughts together—”

  “You have got to be kidding me, Louis.” Her restraint is gone and her anger flies at me. I take a reflexive step backwards.

  “No, I’m not,” I return.

  “Okay. So, I guess you have your thoughts together?” she quirks an eyebrow at me. “Tell me. What did you want to say that you didn’t say the other night?” She crosses her arms and taps her foot as she waits, impatiently for me to answer

  I take a deep breath and try to steel myself. “Cara, you caught me completely off guard with your news—”

  “Clearly,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “And I didn’t react well. I thought you were going to end things and I just decided to do it for you.” I spit out.

  “Why would you just decide to do anything for me? Do you think I am incapable of doing something like that for myself?” she snaps, her eyes practically shooting sparks at me.

  “No, of course not. That’s not what I meant. I—”

  “Let me guess, you thought that I saw you as a hook up, too, and so you assumed I wouldn’t care if you just dumped me on the day that I got the biggest news of my career?” she interjects.

  “No, Car—” I try to respond, but she is on a roll.

  “That’s not it? What did you think I was going to ask you for some sort of commitment and you decided that you could make sure I knew where you stood before I embarrassed myself?”

  “For fuck’s sake, blondie—” I am angry now, too and determined to stop this tirade she is on.

  “Don’t fucking call me that, Louis. Don’t you dare.” She screams at me, standing on the tips of her toes, getting right in my face. So, I stop talking because this is the closest she has been to me in days and I can fucking smell her. Her mouth is so close to mine; I can almost feel it. I do the only thing my mind, my heart and body all seem to be in agreement on, I kiss the woman who completely changed my life. I put my arms around her, and put my mouth on hers and I kiss the sweetest mouth in the world.

  She stiffens and starts to push me away, and then my tongue swipes across her lips, with a whimper and moan, her mouth opens and she is kissing me back. I put my hands under her incredible ass and lift her up. Her legs wrap around my waist and her arms twine around my neck. And that’s all she wrote.

  CARA

  Louis’ lips hit mine and at first it’s a shock. I can’t believe he is kissing me after he dumped me, but his mouth tastes better than my favorite chocolate and I’ve missed him. Kissing him back is like an instinct and before I know what’s happening, my legs are wrapped around his waist and I can feel him, hard and huge, rubbing me in just the right spot. The friction is delicious as Louis walks us over to my bed. He lays on top of me, never breaking our kiss.

  He drops down to one elbow and his other hand reaches under my shirt, and cups my breast. He’s got massive hands, and my breas
ts are barely bee stings, so it disappears under his caress. He takes one of my already hard and peaked nipples between his thumb and squeezes.

  I break our kiss then, to release a moan that has been pent up for days. The way he touches me, like he knows my every wish, has always astounded me. His lips move down my chin, down my neck and he captures my nipple with his mouth through the thin cotton of my T-shirt. He pulls and licks and nips and soothes and I am nothing but an open bundle of nerves. I feel everything so deeply, and with each touch of the rough texture of his tongue, my pussy contracts.

  “Louis, oh, God. Please …” I gasp. Each word released with a puff of air as I struggle to find a way to tell him what I want.

  He moves down my body kissing my torso, licking my ribs, biting my hips and sucking at the base of my belly. He pulls my panties down and covers me with his mouth, his lips forming a hot, wet suction at my clit. His hand comes up to my stomach to hold me down as I buck off the bed. And then he takes both hands, wraps them around the tops of my thighs while he devours me. His face is buried in me and his hair creates a dark blond veil over my thighs. I grip his head and hold him to me. He slows down, his licks and sucks more tantalizing and each one slowly propelling me towards heaven.

  He puts two of his thick, blunt nailed fingers inside of me and before he begins to move them, I start to come.

  I hold his head in place as I grind my pussy into his mouth. He makes sounds of agreement as he continues to suck me and finger fuck me.

  When I can’t take the assault on my sensitive clit anymore, I release his head and try to pull myself away from his insistent mouth.

  “No, Cara. Don’t take this away from me,” he growls and puts his mouth back on me. More gently this time, but with just as much intent as the first time. My first orgasm barely abates before my second one is upon me.

  A few minutes later, Louis, crawls from between my legs and flops down next to me. He’s breathing hard and sweating and I look over at him. I feel as limp as a wet dishrag and I’m too tired to move.

  “Hey …” I prod him with my foot. He glances at me, smiles when our eyes meet and then his eyes close.

  “Cara, I’m sorry. I got scared. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I tried to pre-empt my own pain and ended up passing it on to you. Can you forgive me?” He says all this with his eye tightly shut, and he reminds me of a kid who is closing his eyes to avoid a scary scene in a movie.

  My heart aches, I hate that we are even having this conversation, I hate that we’ve both been hurting for the last few days, but I’m not sure that I can trust Louis with my heart. At the first sign of trouble, he folded. The next few months are going to be hard enough, I can’t deal with indecision and insecurity from him.

  I roll onto my side and prop my head up by my elbow. I stare at him for a few seconds, marveling at his rugged, handsome face. He’s got this huge body, he is covered in tattoos and when he opens his mouth, his accent screams “posh”, but he is such a softie.

  “Louis, I accept your apology.” His eyes pop open and he stares at me, a hesitant hope in his eyes. That dies as he watches my expression and doesn’t see a smile reflected in my eyes.

  “Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?” he mumbles and pulls himself up to sitting, breaking our eye contact and leaving me staring at his broad back. It’s so beautiful, well-muscled and smooth and I start to reach my hand up to touch, but I pull it back.

  “Are you sure that you’re sorry you said what you did, Louis? Because I’m not sure that we want the same things and if you are going to convince me, after what happened the other day, then it will take more than an apology and sex.” I say to him, unable to find any levity in this moment.

  He reaches for my hand and pulls me up so we are looking at each other again.

  “Cara, I am sorry I ever insinuated that this was just sex. I know that I fucked up last time I saw you. I know I don’t have the right to ask you for it, but I want a second chance,” he says, pulling me closer to him, dropping his cheek onto the top of my head.

  “You haven’t even asked me what I want.” I say, as my arms wrap around him.

  “I don’t have to. I already know. It’s what we were building, naturally, without even having to talk about it, before I essentially took a machete to it. I lied the other day, blondie, I am falling for you,” he whispers into my hair, his arms encircling me and holding me to him.

  My heart catches. My breathing trips. How badly I wanted to hear those words the other day. They are music to my ears now, but I don’t know if it’s just the fear of losing me that is driving him to say it or if this is how he genuinely feels.

  “ Don’t say things like that because once you do, I’ll hold you to them,” I warn, even though my arms tighten around his middle.

  “I hope you’ll hold me to them, I mean them. I want to show you how much,” he says, as he pulls himself away from me so he can look me in the eye. His eyes are shining and happy and his smile is wide and oh, so intimate.

  “Come home with me this weekend, blondie. I want to introduce you to my family, show you where I grew up and get out of London for a few days.”

  I jerk back in surprise. I was not expecting that. I’m not sure if I’m ready for it. He’s been home since we started dating but he’s never invited me to join him. He has an older brother and sister and I know they both live on the same estate as his parents. Yes. Estate. His father is an Earl, a not too distant cousin of the Queen and his mother is a Countess. They live Northwest of London in their family seat near Coventry. I get the feeling that taking me home to meet his family is a slightly different experience than going home to meet your average mum and dad.

  He senses my hesitation, and persists, “You can have your own room. It will just be for the weekend and my family is really easy going. Please.” He finishes with a plea I can’t say no to.

  “Okay, but I want my own room and I want time to think, Louis. And I want you to have time to think, too.”

  He starts to speak over me, but I still him with my hand to his chest.

  “Louis, I am going to move to Paris and you will have to make a decision about what you’ll do then. I want to see where this goes. I have real feelings for you and I don’t want to start my job with a heart that is broken. So, if you’re not really in this, then you should just leave and let me get on with my life.”

  He closes his eyes and stands up, my heart rises to my throat as he starts toward my door without saying a word.

  I hang my head as he grabs the door knob.

  “Okay. I’ll be here on Friday by 4pm. Be packed and ready to hit the road. We should make it to my parent’s place by 7pm.”

  I look up at him, my head whipping up at his words. He’s standing in the doorway, grinning at me. He nods his head in the direction of my makeshift dart board. It’s a picture of him from our theater’s website that I’ve pinned to my cork board and it’s covered with holes from the darts I’ve been throwing at it. I flush, feeling bad that he’s seeing it. His grin grows even wider and he winks as he steps through the doorway and says, “And, Cara … I’ve already decided.”

  Coventry, England

  LOUIS

  It’s late Friday night when we pull up to the gate that separates my parent’s house from the rest of the estate, and Cara is asleep. The rest of the week after my visit to her house was torture. She kept me at arm’s length while we were at the theatre and went home alone afterwards. But when I texted her last night to make sure we were still on for this weekend, she wrote back quickly, “Can’t wait! Xoxo”, so I showed up at her house at 4pm. She greeted me with a platonic kiss on the cheek and a hug before we got in the car.

  We stopped for dinner an hour into the trip and things seemed okay. She told me about her friend, Michael. He is an opera singer and one her best friends from Juilliard. He’s also got a long term boyfriend and has no interest in me other than making me squirm for upsetting Cara. She asked me about the estate my parents own.
I explained that today, it’s a working estate, one that my parents have turned into a very successful farm. It supplies the village and has a store in the local market. They own a lot of the real estate in the area and also run a very successful horse breeding business. It’s a full time enterprise that my father, and my older brother Harry manage the day to day running of. My parents no longer live in the ancestral seat, Croome Court. While my family still own it, they have an arrangement with the Historical Society and they run tours of the home seven days a week. With the popularity of shows like Downton Abbey, that’s also become a busy part of the estate and my mother often gives the tours herself.

  My older sister, Freya, lives in one of the two dozen converted cottages on the estate with her husband and three young children. Harry also lives in one of them and they eat at my parent’s house, the old Dowager Countess’ house, every night. I love coming home. It always recharges me after a long week in London. I’ve been home less often since I started seeing Cara. I’m excited to show her my childhood home and for her to meet my family. I hope that after this weekend, she will understand the level of my commitment to her. I know she is wary of me, but she won’t be when we leave here on Sunday afternoon. And I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make sure that I don’t lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  I roll my window down and punch the code to the gate into the keypad. As the gate starts to open, the noise wakes Cara up. Her eyes snap open and she sits up quickly, looking around in confusion that turns to understanding. She peers at me through the dark.

  “Are we here, already?”

  “Well, we’ve been driving for two hours, so I don’t know if that qualifies as already,” I tease.

  She yawns, a huge gaping yawn, before she says, “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I haven’t slept well in days.”

  “Well, the country air will do you good. You’ll be sleeping like a baby while you’re here. Especially after my mother stuffs you full of food,” I tell her as I drive us through the gate and up the long drive that leads to the house.