by BJ Harvey
I’ve been focused on getting to know each other again, learning how we’ve changed and loving the slow but absolute certain discovery that Faith is still the same person I grew up and fell in love with as a wide-eyed eight-year-old kid. But what I’ve failed to see—and what is so abundantly clear to me now—is that she has come such a long way in the twelve years we were apart. She’s grown, she’s come into herself, and she is so damn ambitious and talented.
I can’t say that she wouldn’t be the amazing woman sitting in front of me today if we’d stayed together, if she’d accepted my proposal at twenty-two, but a big part of me knows now that she needed the space to spread her wings, and in doing so, she was able to fly right back to me. God, I sound like a lovesick fool. Maybe I am, but that’s okay.
We sit in comfortable silence. My mind is a whirl of emotions and memories.
“Do you want to see the new Cotton-Top Tamarin babies? They were born last week.”
I laugh and pull her into my lap, running my fingers through her gorgeous dark hair and holding her close as I brush my lips against hers. I deepen the connection for a deep, slow, languid, and thoroughly satisfying kiss. “Lead the way, babycakes,” I say against her smile. “Monkeys are my favorite.”
She leans back and narrows her gaze. “You’re totally fucking with me, aren’t you?”
I laugh and give her waist a gentle squeeze. “Maybe a little, but as long as I’m with you, and we’re at the zoo, there’s nothing I don’t wanna do.”
“Oh my God, that was horrendous. Cute, but terrible at the same time,” she says, giggling as she moves off my lap and stands in front of me. “Let’s go see the monkeys then, dork.”
I push up off the bench and press my body close to hers. “At least I’m your dork.”
“Always,” she says. As she laces her fingers with mine and leads me back down the path towards the enclosures, one thing is cemented in my brain.
With Faith Cook, forever will never be long enough.
And I intend to make sure she knows that.
22
Faith
We’re now two weeks away from the flip being finished and put up for sale. I’ve spent the afternoon at Jamie and April’s place, discussing the staging of the house with the wives but also putting what I’m now calling Operation Wrecking Ball into action while Jamie, Jax, Bry, Cohen, Ez, Marcy and Rick make a start on the landscaping. I’m full of excitement and still buzzing when I arrive home.
“Hey,” Bry says, meeting me at the front door.
He takes my leather messenger bag off my hands before wrapping an arm around my back and pulling me in for a mind-bending, toe-curling kiss that takes me from buzzed to horny with the flick of his talented tongue.
When we finally break apart, I’m fully leaning into him, my eyes hooded and glazed, my brain and body in agreement that this might be the best welcome home ever.
“Hello,” I breathe, earning a chuckle from Bry. I press my body harder against him. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
He grins. “I’m always happy to see you. I missed you today. Is that cheesy?”
“No. It’s adorable.”
“I was kinda going for hot and sexy.”
“Well, you’re definitely that.”
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, taking a step back and bending down to place my bag carefully against the newly painted wall.
He tangles his fingers with mine and walks me along the hall, away from my preferred destination.
“Um, our bedroom is that way, hubby.”
“I think you’ll much prefer coming with me,” he says promisingly.
“I always do,” I reply. “Unless we’ve got a new mission to christen every room in the house?” I don’t even try to hide the hope in my voice.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he muses, stopping in front of the closed bathroom door. Tugging me into him, he wraps his arm around my back and lowers his lips to mine. “But tonight we’re going to be enjoying each other somewhere else.”
I frown, wondering what could be so special about the bathroom. It was finished mid-week while I was at work. I haven’t looked since it’s been done though because Bry told me I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was painted. It’s not like I haven’t seen the plans already. I picked out the colors, the fittings, and a gorgeous white distressed double vanity weeks ago. As much as I’ve been dying to see the finished product, I’ve—so far—resisted the urge to sneak a look.
“Are you ready?” he asks, moving behind me and pressing his chest to my back.
“Yes,” I say excitedly, bouncing on my toes. He presses his lips to my neck, chuckling against my skin which feels really goddamn nice.
“Close your eyes, babycakes,” he says, placing a hand over them as if not trusting me to keep them shut.
“You really don’t want me to peek?” I ask with a pout.
“You’re so full of shit, Mrs. Cook.”
I push my ass against his hips. “This better be good, Mr. Cook, or else there won’t be any fun to be had tonight or tomorrow.”
He growls and nips my ear. “Oh, it’s worth it. When it comes to you, the wait always will be.”
A shudder courses through me at the undeniable double meaning in his words. I turn my head and press my mouth to his cheek. “Please show me the bathroom, Bry,” I whisper.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, walking me forward, then closing the door behind us and locking it.
“Should I be worried you’re locking us in?”
“I’m locking out anyone who dares to interrupt us.”
Ohhhhh… given our track record of being walked in on or called just as things are getting interesting, that’s a damn good idea. “You’re not just a pretty face.”
“I pale in comparison to you,” he rasps, pressing his lips to my temple and stepping back. I miss his heat immediately. “Don’t open them yet. Just tell me what you can smell.”
I breathe in through my nose. “Jasmine and orange,” I say quietly.
“You always could smell anything from a mile away.”
“Especially you,” I say. “When I was in Australia, I’d go to the department store just to spray your cologne on a card so I could hide it in my room. It helped me sleep in those first few months.”
“Christ,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re killing me.”
“Now I know I’ll never have to do that again because I’ll just roll over and you’ll be there.”
He presses his body to mine from behind.
“What do you feel?” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath sending a delicious shiver straight down between my legs.
I drop my head back against his shoulder. “I feel you and your body hard against me.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“It makes me want to strip naked and jump in the new shower with you,” I say, my breathy tone making my arousal more than obvious.
“Keep those eyes closed until I say, all right?”
I nod my agreement.
“Because I have a better idea,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
His hands pop the button on my jeans before he pulls down the zip. Dipping his fingers beneath the waistband on either side of my hips, he slowly slides the denim and my underwear down my legs, tapping my ankles one at a time to remove the offending garments.
He glides back up against me, skin on skin—when did he get naked? His hands delve under my top, making quick work of my bra, then it vanishes along with my T-shirt to a destination unknown since my eyes are still shut, just like I was told.
I bite my lip as his hands roam my skin, slow and soft kneads of my shoulders. He runs his palms down my arms and over my hips, then works his way back up my stomach and cups my breasts. When he rolls my nipples between his fingers in a dual attack, a moan escapes my lips, and my thighs clench tightly together.
“You can open them now, baby,” he hums in my ear. I slowly lift my eyelids. My breat
h catches at the huge claw-foot tub filled with steaming-hot water. The room is bathed in soft flickering amber light coming from at least a dozen lit candles scattered around the room.
Turning my head, I see a huge frameless glass shower in the opposite corner of the room. The large his-and-hers basins and vanity take up the wall beside us, azure blue and white hexagon tiles framing them, a feature in contrast to the white subway tiles that line the rest of the wet area.
I cover my mouth with my hands, happy tears stinging my eyes. Turning around in Bry’s arms, I lift my chin to look at him. “It’s gorgeous.”
His gaze softens. “It is,” he says, tilting his head and brushing his lips against mine. “Now that you’ve seen it, I want to test out the tub with my beautiful wife.”
“Test it?” I ask, waggling my brows.
He chuckles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “All in good time, baby. But first, let’s see if it’s big enough for two.” He drops his arms from around my back, links his fingers with mine, and leads us to the edge of the bath.
“Are you trying to woo me, Bry? Because I’ll let you in on a little secret,” I say, leaning in close. “I’m a sure thing.”
“Maybe I’m not,” he says, quirking a brow. I burst out laughing, loving how soft and relaxed his features are. There’s no stress or tension to be seen anywhere on his face. I wonder what’s happened to cause that, but I’m certainly not complaining.
“Liar,” I whisper.
He chuckles and touches his mouth to mine again before stepping back and giving me a gentle push.
After lifting one leg and then the other over the side of the bath, he slowly drops his arms onto the edge and lowers himself down with a satisfied groan that echoes off the walls.
I watch his body disappear under the steaming water. I stand above him as he leans his head back against the curved cast-iron lip, his eyes shut in a picture-perfect expression of relaxation.
“Are you gonna stand there and perv, or are you going to get in and join me?” he asks, his voice dropping seductively low.
“That depends if you were planning on putting on a show for me.”
A salacious smile curves his lips, his face turning my way and his brown eyes opening to lock on mine. “Come and join me, baby. We’ve got important things to talk about.”
My brows lift. “And these important things need to be talked about while we’re naked and wet?”
“I’ve heard it’s the only way to discuss such things.” He lazily takes in my body—pausing at the interesting parts—before reaching my face and holding his hand out for me.
Not looking away, I slide my palm in his and step into the water, easing my body down on top of his until my forearms are propped up on his chest and we’re face to face. His arms wrap around my back, his hands coming to rest on the crest of my ass.
“So, this is a nice surprise to come home to,” I say.
He runs his hand along my back then slowly down again. “I found this bath leaning up against the back of the garage. Jamie and I got quotes to restore it and then decided it would be a great addition.” He lifts his head and kisses the tip of my nose before resting it on the bath’s edge again. “And knowing I’d get to surprise you was just the icing on the cake.”
My lips curve. “You definitely succeeded, on all counts.”
“Good,” he says with a warm smile. I push my toes against the end of the bath, bringing my face close to his.
“I appreciate the added touch with the candles.” I dip my chin and trail kisses down his throat. “And the planning to have the bath poured for when I got home…” I scrape my teeth against the sensitive skin below his ear, coaxing a guttural growl out of him.
His hands come around me to frame my jaw, his thumbs pressing up, forcing my eyes back to his. “While I love your intention, can we hit pause just for a second so we can talk? I haven’t been overly forthcoming with my thoughts and feelings of late, and I’d like to change that…”
My lips part and his softening gaze tells me he doesn’t miss the hitch of my breath. “I—”
“You’re too astute to miss anything, so don’t say you didn’t sense me holding back ’cause I’d never believe you,” He narrows his eyes.
“Okay. I won’t.” I smirk. My heart hammers away against his, my nerves reaching fever point in anticipation as to what he may—or may not—say. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, but you’re owed a long-overdue confession from your husband who has been scared to give himself completely to you until now.”
My chest seizes. This is everything I’ve been waiting for. I didn’t know when—or if—I’d ever get it freely, or whether I’d need to force it out of him.
“So…” he says, his hand smoothing my hair back, “when you first left, I was hurt.” I nod and sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “I went from never questioning that we’d be together to wondering whether I’d misread everything. From knowing I’d been lucky enough to meet my soul mate at eight years old to asking myself whether I’d read you—us—and everything we’d talked about and planned for completely wrong.”
“Bry…”
“I never wanted or even contemplated holding you back from doing anything. I proposed that night content in the knowledge that if you got the internship in Australia, I would’ve let you go to follow your dreams. But I would’ve always been waiting here—ready for us to continue our life together—when you came back.” He takes a deep breath but doesn’t break eye contact. “When you said no, I was heartbroken. When you didn’t take my calls or return my messages, I was angry. And when I came back home after graduating, I realized I was completely lost without you. Even the idea of you never coming back—of there never being an us again—scared me more than I ever cared to admit.”
My chest hurts at his words.
“I made a promise to myself that when—or if—you came back, I’d be ready for you. Whether that was to give it another shot or to find a way for us to move on as friends, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to stop living my life, but I would be ready for whatever happened when I saw you again.” His eyes drift over my shoulder, but I want—no, need—him to continue. I have to hear this from him because this has been a long twelve years.
I reach up and touch my hand to his cheek, bringing him back to me.
His hands resume their slow glides up and down my back. “When Jamie told me you’d accepted their wedding invitation, I knew it was now or never. So I set about putting my long-standing plan in place. I applied to take a sabbatical. I talked to Jamie about what our next plans were for the business and found this house, and then decided that I would ask you the same question I asked you the night you left, knowing your answer would be a make-or-break moment for both of us.”
“Did you expect me to say no?” I ask.
His eyes turn cautious. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what you’d say. I just knew that I would never be able to move on without having tried.”
“Bry…”
“And then you said you’d do it and I was shocked, and I was a bit of an asshole because you deserve better than a City Hall ceremony where you had to get your own way there. I didn’t even bring you home with me on our wedding night because I thought we needed our own space to process the enormity of what we’d done,” he says, regret written all over his face. “I didn’t even share a room with you straight away.”
“You soon changed that though.”
“Yeah, but there’s been a part of me that still didn’t trust what my heart and gut were telling me. I didn’t listen to what I knew the moment you said ‘I do’ and I owe you an apology for that.”
Tears fill my eyes because my instincts were right. But now he’s holding me close and telling me everything I’ve wanted to hear—no wrecking ball required.
“Baby, don’t cry,” he says gruffly. “I’m sorry. I truly never meant to hurt you.”
I drop my head to his chest, sucking in a breath as I tr
y to get myself under control. For almost three months, I’ve worked so hard to show I came back for him and only him, and now he’s telling me—of his own volition—that I succeeded in doing that. My tears are not from pain or hurt feelings—they’re from happiness and overwhelming relief that everything I thought I’d screwed up is mine again. And this time, it’s forever.
I lift up to touch my forehead to his. “These are happy tears, I promise,” I say. “I never stopped loving you, and when I quit my job and bought that plane ticket home, my only wish was that I’d get the chance to try and win you back.”
“You didn’t have to try. I’ve always been yours.”
“And I’ve always been yours too,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his and leaving them there. “I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with me.”
He brings his hands between us to tip my head up, his own glistening eyes locking with mine. “I’ll never hold you back, Faith. I want you to be happy, and fulfilled, and for you to have anything and everything you’ve ever wanted because that’s all I have ever wanted too.”
“I love you so damn much,” I rasp, my heart so full it’s ready to burst.
“I love you too. I want to build a life with you, a home, a family. I want it all… with you.” He kisses me this time, a soft and slow touch as if he’s proving every single thing he’s just told me to be true.
By the time we pull apart, taking in some much-needed air, there’s not a doubt left in my mind. “Is this why you haven’t talked about what we’re going to do once the house sells?”
“Yeah.”
“And now?” I ask.
“Now, I think we could move back to the duplex, get some money behind us, and search for our forever home to buy together—one we can renovate just for us. Maybe one like this—an ugly duckling that we can transform into a beautiful swan,” he says.