The Light Before Us

by Stephanie Vercier

  I lean my head on Jack’s shoulder.

  “I should have been there—I wanted to be,” he says, his voice shaky. “There were still things I wanted to tell her, wanted to thank her again for everything she’d been to me. I wanted her to know how much our life together meant to me.”

  “She knew,” I tell him instinctively. Of course she knew. With a husband like Jack, she had to know how much he’d loved her.

  We sit together in silence for a while after that while I continue to process what Jack has told me, and I imagine he’s losing himself a little in the memories.

  Marjorie dying both changes and solidifies things for me. I’d always had trouble understanding how a couple who looked as in love as Jack and Marjorie did could have ended up divorced, one or both of them not seeing any way forward as a couple. Now I could see their love hadn’t suffered, that if anything it had been bolstered, that such a thing as true love does exist and that Jack fought for his wife until the very end. They remain the people I’d always imagined them to be.

  But it would be careless of me to not also imagine that I can only ever be a diversion and at best a replacement for Jack’s loss. While there isn’t a living, breathing woman who might someday take Jack away from me, the perfect memory he must have of her is an almost stronger adversary. I could never compete with that, and I’m not sure I’d even want to. Is there room enough in Jack’s heart for both of us?

  “What I feel for you is very real,” Jack tells me, and in his eyes, I think I see adoration, but maybe that’s just what I want to see. “I’d understand if you’re afraid it’s too much of a risk, that I’ve got too much baggage, but I care about you, Natalie, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  I swallow hard. His words don’t offer a definitive, undying sort of love for me, but I imagine it’s too soon for that. But what he does offer feels honest. I’m in deep enough already that I can’t imagine walking away from him, no matter how much it might hurt to stay.

  “You won’t lose me, Jack,” I say truthfully. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  NATALIE

  We’d spent most of yesterday outside sitting on the Adirondacks, Jack answering almost every question I could think to ask him about Marjorie. There were moments of tears and anguish for both of us, but he hadn’t held anything back, hadn’t left any question unanswered.

  “Do you think you could ever love someone the way you loved Marjorie?” I’d asked him, feeling brave with Blue snuggled up in my lap.

  “Yes,” he’d said, not averting his gaze as he said it. “I could… I can. But I can’t imagine not always loving her in my own way either.”

  It was something I could understand. The more I was able to digest Marjorie’s death, the more sure I was Jack wouldn’t ever be able to stop loving her. And why should he stop? He hadn’t asked for her to be taken away from him. He’d had no say in the matter. It was just a cruel twist of fate.

  And I can’t help but to feel that some cruel joke has been played on me as well. I’m falling in love with Jack, and the selfish part of me wants all of him to myself. I’d put up with a man who chose to have sex with other women, a man I could never have been enough for. So, can I really allow myself to continue falling for a guy who will always have part of his heart tethered to someone else?

  My internal questions don’t stop me from being with Jack though. I’d slept in his bed last night, and I wake up to him this morning. Ten minutes of deep thoughts on my own, and then he wakes up too. I can’t help but to smile when he opens his eyes.

  “Good morning.” He’s on his side facing me, and then he kisses me.

  “Good morning,” I repeat after our lips part.

  There is need in his eyes, the same need I’m sure is mirrored in my own. I run my fingers through the hair of his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer to me. We’re kissing again as he moves his body over mine, as I spread my legs for him, as I feel myself getting wet while heat and desire thrums through my body.

  He tenderly presses against my thighs, moving my legs further apart, and then he’s hovering above me, his gorgeous eyes drilling into me when he pushes his hardness against me.

  I am so full of need and want and desire that I can’t imagine how I’d survived before Jack, how little I’d understood about what it meant to have a man take you the way he’s about to take me. And in my yearning, I allow small sounds of want to escape, things I might be embarrassed about later but now let flow freely through my lips.

  His eyes never leave mine as he drives up and into me. Sliding my hands back down to his broad shoulders, I feel his body shiver slightly, a look of yearning all over his face as he fills me.

  With a flutter of my eyelashes, I surrender my body and soul to him, erasing everything bad about the world, my heart growing with more love for him as he fills me. There seems no way to get enough of his touch, the way in which his rougher skin makes mine tingle, how the perfectly scattered hair over his chest can be both wiry and soft, and how I can follow the trail that goes down past his belly button and watch with surprised fascination at the point our bodies connect. Jack Pierce absolutely undoes me, and I orgasm so fast that I can barely believe I’d gotten to the ending before we’d even really begun.

  A satisfied smile spreads over his lips. “Do you want me to come now?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper to him with all honestly. I’d like him to keep going because, even without the promise of another orgasm, he feels so good inside of me that I don’t want him to quit. But I don’t want to hold him back from his own need.

  “I can keep going,” he tells me before he brings his lips to mine, his kisses wet and delicious.

  And I’m so glad he does.

  I could remain under the weight of him all day, one blissful moment spent after another. It’s not long before I build to another orgasm, and, as if sensing it, Jack’s expression tightens. He fills me with more fervor, and I feel thrown to an imaginary edge, jumping off of it together with Jack as he groans, coming hard into me just as my own orgasm explodes, both of us rocketing through pure pleasure together.

  We remain connected as our bodies eventually calm and our breathing returns to a normal rate. He lays soft kisses on me that I return. There is something close to love in his eyes, and I take all of it in, never wanting to let him go. And when he finally pulls out of me, we don’t really disconnect. On my side now, my shoulders press to his chest, my lower back to his stomach. He’s holding me, his warm breath against my skin.

  “That was amazing.” He kisses my shoulder and then my neck. “Thank you, Natalie.”

  “It was pretty good for me too,” I say with some lightness in my voice. “You’re really not half bad.”

  “No? Well, that’s good to hear. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You know…” I start to say something, something important. I need to tell him that I’m not on any kind of birth control, that the semen he’s been shooting into me has the very real possibility of getting me pregnant. For all I know, he already has.

  “You know what?” he asks, lightly biting my ear.

  For a moment, I plan on telling him just what I’d meant to, but in the end, I decide against it. All I say is, “Nothing.”

  The idea of having Jack’s baby doesn’t scare me. If anything, it excites me. It’s probably the post-coital bliss I’m feeling that’s making me think that way, the evolutionary coding to make us want to reproduce. Or maybe it’s what I think I need to truly break from my parents. And Michael sure as hell wouldn’t want me back if I was carrying another man’s child.

  He might think I’m on the pill or gotten an implant in preparation for my honeymoon with Michael. That was probably Michael’s expectation too, but, because of the number of women he’d been with, I never planned on allowing he and I to have sex without a condom. But Jack can’t be sure I’m on anything, and unless he’s sterile or has had a vasectomy,
then he knows there’s a high likelihood us continuing to act in this way could lead to a child.

  Maybe that’s what he wants.

  “You don’t have to be to work for a while, do you?”

  “No,” I say, wiggling around until I’m facing him.

  He looks so cute, almost boyish, a huge grin on his face tempered by something I can’t quite put my finger on… humility maybe? He’s not at all like I’d imagine Michael would be, taking before asking.

  “We can do it again, you know,” I tell him, cupping his bristly cheeks in my hands. “Actually, I really want to.”

  His smile widens, and I welcome him.

  If I didn’t have to work, I could have stayed in bed with Jack the entire day. This morning had been a nice change from the heaviness of the day before, from the shock and sadness of finding out about Marjorie. And I wondered if Jack was trying to forget too or maybe just fooling himself into thinking he could. All I know for sure is that there will be difficult days to come.

  After a long kiss goodbye, it’s actually nice to be on my own, heading to the diner before I go and see Barbara. Melissa had asked me to stop by, and, as always, I don’t want to pass up a free breakfast, especially since Melissa is the one who goes back to the kitchen and cooks it herself.

  I get an odd feeling when I pull up to Al’s though, getting out of my car and sensing something being off. It’s nothing major, just one of those weird sixth senses you get that something isn’t quite right. When I open the door, I’m pretty sure I know the cause.

  Will.

  The mechanic I’d gone on that date with is perched at the counter, Camille leaning over him, her cleavage nearly spilling out as they talk with familiarity. I think about just turning around in an attempt to avoid any awkward conversation, but before I can, Melissa spots me and directs me to the booth I usually end up sitting in while she refills a few coffees.

  “I’ve already got your breakfast all made and warming in the back,” she tells me as she rushes past me.

  “I could grab it myself,” I get out, but she’s already disappeared into the kitchen.

  I take a deep breath, pull my phone out and hope that Will won’t notice me. But of course, before Melissa can get back with my food, I note a shadow looming over the table and look up to see him in his white embroidered shirt and work pants.

  “Can I sit?” he asks, looking like he’s about to regardless of what I say.

  “Sure.” I try to sound friendly, but not too friendly. “How are you?” I tag on as he moves into the booth.

  He shrugs. “Not terrible.”

  “Well… that’s better than terrible I guess.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “Umm, so everything at the shop’s going good?”

  He lets out a half laugh. “Good as can be expected. Your engine light come on again?”

  “Nope, I think the gas cap thing was the culprit. You totally fixed it.”

  “Sorry about that,” Melissa says as she brings out a warm plate of hash browns, a veggie scramble, a bowl of fresh fruit and a glass of orange juice, setting it all on the table before her eyes go to Will as though she’s just noticing him. “Oh, I see you’ve switched seats.”

  “I like the company,” he says to her with a smirk.

  “I bet you do.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “You want coffee this morning?”

  “No, I’m fine. This is perfect.” I actually wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, but it feels weird having Melissa serve me—it always does, almost like I’m back home with Cynthia tending to my every whim. I wish Melissa would just let me get up and grab what I need, but she insists it’s her pleasure to wait on me.

  “Okay. Then in that case, I’ve got a food order to do in the back. This guy isn’t bothering you, is he?” Melissa quirks an eyebrow and gives Will a sarcastic look, the kind you give someone who is basically harmless but can edge toward dangerous under the right circumstances.

  Will laughs. “Come on, Melissa, you know me better than that.”

  “Yeah, I do,” she says, shaking her head. “Let me know if you need anything, hon,” she tells me before heading back into the kitchen.

  “You know Melissa?”

  “It’s more Camille I know,” he tells me, his hands folded on the table between us. “We went to high school together. Found out she was working here again, so I’ve been popping in.”

  I nod, looking at the plate of crispy hash browns in front of me and really wanting to dig in but too conscious of Will sitting here watching me.

  “Aren’t you eating?” I look over to the counter, hoping he’ll return to his own food.

  “I ate most of it,” he says, then smiles at me lopsided before adding, “like a good boy.”

  He’s trying to be playful with me, even flirtatious. I thought it was clear after our date that things weren’t going to work out romantically between us, but I don’t especially want to be tasked with reminding him of that.

  Before I can think of something politely innocuous to say to him, he pulls his phone out and checks the screen. “Gotta go. Time for another day at work.”

  Well, that was easy.

  He slides out of the seat across from me, stands and looks like he’s about to leave without saying another word. But then he stops, turns back to me and asks, “Would you give me another chance… for a date?”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Will—”

  “Don’t say it.” He puts his hands up and shakes his head. “Forget I asked, but you know where I work if you change your mind.”

  Then he’s walking out, Camille holding a coffee pot and watching while he does. I swear that it takes her less than a few seconds to get over to my booth, just when I was hoping I’d finally be left in peace.

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” she says conspiratorially, sliding into the seat Will just vacated.

  “How so?” Playing dumb isn’t my strongest suit, but I’m giving it a try.

  Her sharp expression tells me I haven’t succeeded. “Oh, come on. You know.”

  “Will and I went out once. That’s all.” End of story.

  Camille rolls her eyes and laughs softly. “I’m not talking about Will.” She waves her hand like even the thought is ridiculous. “I can see that’s going nowhere, but he mentioned some guy came by when you were having that date a few weeks back, an older guy, tall, dark hair, well built?” Then Camille laughs. “See, even Will had to admit he was decent looking.”

  I press my lips together and widen my eyes at her, wanting to give playing dumb one more try.

  She leans in and eyes me like I’m dense. “The guy he described is basically the same guy who comes in here… Jack.”

  “He’s a family friend,” I blurt out, having known girls like Camille in private school, the type that loved gossip and drama so much that they’d latch on to any little thing and keep on digging at it like a dog unable to keep from biting at a festering wound.

  “Oh?” She sits back in her seat, appraising me, as if trying to decide if I’m being truthful. “Will didn’t seem to think there was much about friendship in the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to fuck you on all fours like a dog.” She laughs again. “Will’s words, not mine.”

  My stomach churns at the idea that Will and Camille had been talking about me behind my back, talking about Jack and making what he and I have together sound dirty and animalistic.

  “I don’t think I can finish this.” The thought of eating anything now is revolting, and Camille is again responsible for the loss of my appetite.

  “You’re living with him, aren’t you?” Camille grabs onto my wrist before I can move out of the booth. “What is it, some kind of forbidden love nest you’re sharing? He your uncle or…” She bites her lower lip and gets a thrilled look in her eyes. “He your dad’s best friend maybe?”

  “What business is it of yours?” My voice is shaky as I stare her down, not understanding how this bitch could possibly come from someone like Melissa.

  �
�Ah, I’m right, on both counts I think,” she says, looking mighty pleased with herself. “He mentioned he lived with someone one morning. I asked him if it was a man because a guy who looks that good? Well, he just acted like he hadn’t even heard me, finished his coffee, left some money on the table and walked out.”

  “I don’t know what your problem is with me.” I shake my wrist loose of her grip. “I haven’t done anything to—”

  “Except for kissing my mom’s ass and being my grandmother’s savior!” She sneers at me like a wild animal, like a woman deranged, and it seems so over the top that I can barely believe it. “I don’t like being made to look like a fool,” she says, pushing out of the booth, both of us standing at once. “I can make you look dirty too,” she says, her face reddening. “See how you like being called the town slut like I’ve been all these—”

  “You need to get a hold of yourself,” I tell her, grabbing my purse and standing firm against her. “If people think you’re a slut, then maybe you are.”

  Her mouth opens, and I take the chance to leave, not looking for Melissa and not bothering to see if any of the diner’s patrons have overheard us. It’s not until I’m out of the diner and into my car that I let out a breath. My heart is beating like that of a racehorse as I attempt to understand what just happened in there. While I’ve never taken much of a liking to Camille, I hadn’t imagined her having so much venomous hatred for me.

  And basically calling me a slut?

  That has to be her baggage, nothing to do with me. Slut shaming her back didn’t feel good—I’d never once done something like that to any of the women Michael had slept with—but I didn’t feel like I had a choice with Camille coming after me like that. I couldn’t allow her to see me weak, to make her think she could go around talking about Jack and me, threatening to expose us. And it’s not as if I’m ashamed of being with Jack—it’s the fear that someone like her with a big mouth could somehow lead to my parents or Michael finding me. People with grudges have a way of figuring things out, and no doubt some digging on Camille’s part would lead to who I am and the life I’ve left behind.