“What are you thinking about?” he asked finally, after we’d spent several minutes in the car in silence.
I smiled. “Nothing. Everything.”
He snorted. “Women are difficult.”
We pulled in his driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires of the Civic to announce our arrival even before I could clearly make out his house. This neighborhood seemed uncommonly dark, as though the houses sat in their quiet little rows, depressed that they couldn’t be bigger or more impressive. He raised the garage door and parked in the ridiculously small space, then squeezed himself into the area around the car to let me out.
“You hate it here,” he commented as he popped open my door.
I stared up at him. It would be no use to lie. Instead, I scrunched up my features and gave him a taste of his own medicine. “It’s - impractical. We’re both tall people. This is perhaps the tiniest garage and bungalow I’ve ever seen.”
“You’ve lived in worse,” he reminded me, taking me back to my days of living at the shell of Matthew’s current home, sleeping upon a mattress resting only on the floor, crying my eyes out under Christmas trees that had been salvaged from who knew where.
“True,” I allowed.
He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer into him. We exited the garage, the overhead door closing noisily behind us. Just as I turned to walk the small distance between where we stood and the steps that led up to the back porch, he stopped me.
“Wait,” he implored.
I froze, startled by the urgency of his request.
“Look,” he explained, motioning to the sky with his free hand, “it’s snowing.”
I gazed up into the night sky with him, my eyes focusing in the darkness as the flurries became more evident in my vision.
“The first snow of the season,” he said softly.
“It’s pretty,” I said dismissively, moving slightly so he would get the message that I was ready to go inside.
“One of these days you’ll like Christmas again,” he promised, bending down to brush an errant flake off the tip of my nose.
Oh. So I hadn’t been the only one to notice that the calendar had flipped itself over to December, marking yet another anniversary of the hardest month of my life. The snow brought it home for me, making it that much harder to ignore.
Chris’s fingers moved from my nose to my cheek, trailing down until he raised my chin upwards. “I’ve always loved the snow. It makes everything peaceful. Like it’s a fresh start; everything’s pure and clean.”
“It sucks to drive in.”
He grinned, letting my less than optimistic outlook slide. “It makes you look so beautiful. The way it catches in your hair, the way it falls on your face. You look like an angel.”
He bent down to kiss me, our lips meeting even as tears formed in my eyes. He wiped them away without pause, holding my body into his. We stood silently in the weather, kissing as though we weren’t completely visible to anyone that happened to drive by. The snow continued to fall, picking up a little intensity in the yellow tinged light that shone from the security bulb that hung bare from the garage. Only when I shivered did he realize that we’d been outside for ages. He smiled at me as he broke away.
“Every person should be as lucky as me,” he commented as he led me up the steep concrete stairs to his back door. “I have two angels looking out for me: one here, and the other waiting to meet us.”
I sniffled, fighting back a sob that I knew was just this side of engulfing me.
“It’s okay, Blake. Everything will be okay.”
A sense of calm washed over me as he repeated those words he’d spoken outside my shop the day he’d finally come to see me after learning the truth. Again, I believed him.
“You never have to remember alone again,” he whispered, leading me inside his kitchen. He dropped my bag just inside the door. His grip firm on my hand, he pulled me towards his bedroom. I was just about to protest, to inform him that by leaving my stuff out here, he wouldn’t get to see the latest thing I’d bought for his viewing pleasure. Sensing my hesitation, he turned to me and pressed a finger against my lips.
“We don’t need that tonight,” he said. “We only need each other.”
It was true. We made love much in the same way that we’d done the first night we’d gotten back together. Slow and sensual, with heat and healing combining to remind us that there’d only ever been one end to this story - the one that saw us back together. How naïve we’d both been to consider any other outcome.
He was mine and I was his; despite the fact that we’d both fought against that very thing for much too long, our excuses had ultimately been silenced. We’d needed to find our way back to each other on our own, no help from outside sources allowed. We’d needed to forge our own path, on our own terms. Sure, it had taken us an extraordinarily long amount of time, but I had no doubt that our bond had been enforced because of it. Good things came to those who waited, right?
We laid together, our bodies still entwined, for blissful moments afterwards. He was wrapped protectively around me, his breath warm and comforting on my neck. I closed my eyes and relished the feeling, the heat still evident in my core. I could feel his every move, as he felt mine. And there was nothing more natural in the world.
“Blake,” he said quietly, rousing me from my reverie.
“Hmm?”
“You can still do the splits.”
“So I can,” I smiled dreamily.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The words came without thought, mere reflexes. But their meaning, the ease of them being whispered to one another spoke volumes about where we’d been and where we’d ended up.
I moaned as he pulled out and unwrapped his arms from about me. I wasn’t ready to let go yet, but he had other plans.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To take a shower.” From the sound of his voice, he was already headed out the bedroom door. “Feel free to join me.”
I rolled over, considering his proposition. I knew from experience that his shower was better suited for a midget instead of two people of above average stature. But I still appreciated the invitation.
“Maybe at my place,” I allowed, “where the utilities are of normal size.”
“Very funny.”
He paused in the threshold, his eyes traveling over my naked body and committing it to memory. I stretched out, positioning myself to offer him a better view. Upon doing that, I realized that I had some cleaning up of my own to do.
“Hey,” I called out to his retreating figure, “don’t you have any underwear or socks or something handy?”
“Yeah,” came the response from the kitchen, “in my nightstand. Top drawer.”
I squeezed my legs together and scooted over to the edge of the bed. I stretched out my arm and pulled open said nightstand drawer blindly, focusing my attention on not ruining his sheets. Being a guy and all, he probably didn’t have a clean pair folded nicely in his linen closet. Hell, I doubted he even had a linen closet.
In the time it took the drawer to slide open, he reappeared in the doorway, a look of terror on his face. As I contemplated what exactly that was for, I stuck my hand in the small opening I’d created, fishing around for whatever piece of cloth I could find. As my fingers brushed against the waistband of a pair of his boxers, my palm came into contact with something small and solid.
Instinctively, I clasped my hand around it. Without looking, I could feel it was a velvet box. The way his eyes grew increasingly wider, threatening to pop out of their sockets, I knew he knew I had found it. And I obviously wasn’t supposed to.
“Shit, Blake,” he said, stumbling over his words. “You weren’t supposed to find out about that.”
“About a box?” I asked, my head spinning.
“About that box,” he clarified.
“I’ll put it back,” I said quickly, “we’ll just forget it happened.
I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to snoop.”
He considered that for a split second, mulling it over in his head like it was a real possibility. Then, he dropped his gaze away from my breasts and onto the floor.
“No,” he said, speaking to the carpet, “it turns out you weren’t the only one keeping secrets. Go ahead. It’s time to come clean.”
“Okay,” I said shakily.
My heart was racing, my vow to keep the cleanliness of his sheets intact forgotten. I sat up on the bed, crossing my legs underneath me. Whatever he was hiding was making him distraught, as if he feared my reaction. He couldn’t even look at me.
I took a deep breath and reached inside the drawer, my action deliberate. Like I’d already gathered, the object in question was a small velvet box. The flocking looked worn, nearly rubbed off in some places. I placed it in my palm, debating what to do. I half expected something evil to spring from inside, the way Chris regarded it. Instead it looked rather innocent. It reminded me of the box that had come with my class ring. I couldn’t remember what I had done with the thing, and I instantly understood why he’d been so upset I’d found it. He’d likely smuggled it from my old room at my parent’s house the morning I’d left, holding it as yet another memento of our previous relationship. He had my old car and now my ring - it would make perfect sense for him to be embarrassed that I’d caught him being sentimental.
“It’s just my class ring,” I laughed, hoping to put him at ease. “I’m not mad. I never really liked it anyway. I think it’s kind of sweet that you kept it for me all of these years.”
He shook his head, words not able to be formed. With much difficulty, he managed: “Open it.”
I did as instructed, coaxing the well worn hinge open. For a moment, I was rendered speechless. It was a ring alright, but not my class ring. Nestled into the cushion was a delicate diamond solitaire, set in a yellow gold band. Small but brilliant nonetheless, its intention was clear. Also transparent was the fact that he’d had it for a very long time. The box was a testament to how often he’d held it in his hands, viewing it with the eyes of someone who’d lost everything they’d ever wanted.
Our eyes locked across the bedroom. However impossible it was in a nine hundred or so square foot house, the expanse between us seemed to grow by leaps and bounds. We were practically an ocean apart. His brown eyes conveyed shame, expecting ridicule to be reflected in mine.
“Oh, Chris,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. He winced, his reaction telling me that he’d heard me loud and clear.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I really know how to make things awkward.”
It was my turn to wince, to remember the off-handed comments I’d made to him about wedding dress shopping with Lauren. The admission that I’d been visualizing our own wedding, that I’d always expected for us to be the ones getting married. Those words that night must have eaten him up inside, knowing just how close to reality they’d been.
In the back of my mind, I also remembered Matthew’s reaction when I’d burst into his house the morning after my brother had proposed to Lauren. About how Lauren had already awarded Gracie the role of maid of honor because it would be too tense to have Chris and me walk down the aisle together. Matthew had practically choked on his own tongue, telling me everything I’d ever needed to know.
All this time, I’d been so worried about Chris giving me a sympathy proposal when he found out I was pregnant. All along, he’d intended to do just that, without even knowing there could have been a baby involved. And he’d enlisted my brother in the plan as well. They’d both hidden this from me; again, to protect instead of deceive. The three of us had created a web of falsehoods and omissions to shield each other from fate’s harsh reality.
Things hadn’t worked out like any of us had planned.
“One question,” I said upon finding my voice.
He shifted his head slightly, in the way that guys do to show they’re acknowledging someone. Normally, I hated that, but I was ready to forgive this time because I completely understood. I wasn’t certain I could utter what I wanted to say, either.
My lips parted hesitantly, preparing themselves. We both held our breath.
“One question,” I repeated, shocked that I could create anything resembling sound, “does the offer still stand?”
Epilogue
“Fuck,” Gracie moaned, throwing her arm across her face and trying fruitlessly to ignore the ringing of her cell phone. She hated the melody that played to announce an incoming call, but just quite hadn’t gotten around to changing it. It was especially annoying so early in the morning, chirping at her incessantly from parts unknown.
Or maybe that was just the beers talking. And the shots, too. The combination of all three caused her head to pound and seek out the source of the annoyance she could control, rather than to bury her head under the pillow and hide.
Unfortunately, sudden movements weren’t her forte at the moment. Instead of rolling out of bed with any semblance of coordination, she collapsed on the floor in a heap. The good thing was that by becoming one with the carpet she found the phone, just on this side of having slid under the bed. A lucky break. She latched onto it and swiped the touchscreen to answer.
“Yeah?” she said quietly.
“Gracie?” Blake’s voice came over loud and clear, causing her to pull the device slightly away from her ear.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Why are you being so quiet?”
“Because it’s early. What time is it even?” She hadn’t thought to check the display prior to answering. That would have involved clear-headedness, of which she currently had none.
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“Fuck.”
Gracie went to the window, jamming her fingers between two slats in the aluminum mini blinds to confirm. Sure enough, early morning sunshine greeted her from the other side of the pane of glass. She’d take Blake’s word for it.
She also knew that it meant she was sufficiently screwed. Her schedule at the bank had her in bright and early at eight. That wasn’t about to happen. Her mind wandered as she tried to remember how many vacation hours she had left. Hopefully it would be enough to pay for this round of calling in.
“I know,” Blake sympathized. “I’m sorry I called so early, but I wanted to get a hold of you before you went into work.”
That sobered Gracie up slightly. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Blake laughed, even though nothing she’d said was funny. And Gracie had been under the impression that Blake wasn’t an early riser, either. She certainly was damn chipper at this hour.
“No, nothing like that. In fact, it’s good news.”
“Yeah?” Gracie continued to stare out the window at the unfamiliar landscape outside, wanting Blake to get on with whatever she was calling for. There were so many things to do - things like finding her clothes and getting reamed out by her boss. Neither one of those sounded like too much fun.
“Yeah. Chris and I are getting married.”
The mini blinds slipped from Gracie’s fingers, snapping shut loudly. She placed her fingers over her lips in an effort to shush them.
“That was fast,” she whispered into the phone, self-conscious about how much noise she’d already made. “Congratulations. But I really didn’t need a wake up call with the announcement.”
“There’s more.”
“Okay.”
“I wanted to see if you could call into work today.”
Gracie spun around, looking for the hidden camera in the room. How in the hell would Blake know where she was and what was next on her agenda for the day? “I suppose that could be arranged. But why?”
“Because we’re going to the courthouse in a few hours to take care of it. Look, I know you were just in Fort Wayne yesterday and it’s a huge drive back for you, but I’d kind of like you to be there. I’ll pay for your gas money if it’s an issue.”
“No, it’s no big deal.” Especi
ally since she wasn’t anywhere near Indianapolis. In fact, she’d wager that she was closer to the courthouse than Blake. “But why the rush?”
She could almost hear Blake shrug over the phone. “We’ve wasted so much time. It seems silly to draw it out even longer. And Matthew and Lauren haven’t gone back to work yet, so it’s good timing for them. Chris is busy calling them right now; I told him I’d take care of asking you.”
“Well, I’m flattered to be invited.”
“My guest list is pretty sparse, no offense.”
“None taken.”
“So, we’re planning on meeting up around one in the afternoon or so. I figure that will give you enough time to drive up here. Besides, Chris and I still have to go find wedding bands. It’s really a spur of the moment thing.”
Gracie ran her fingers through her black hair, trying to force herself to resemble something human. She certainly understood spur of the moment; she’d need a couple of hours to do damage control of her own unpredictable behavior.
“So courthouse at one?” she pressed, needing to get started.
“Yeah. Need directions?”
“Nah. I’ll just use GPS. I hate to be abrupt, but I’m supposed to be at work in less than an hour. I need to call my manager ASAP. See you.”
“Okay, bye.”
With a sigh of relief, Gracie disconnected the call and worked to compose herself. She needed to think quickly. Based on what Blake had told her, she had maybe a couple of minutes before the silence of the bedroom was pierced yet again by the sound of a ringtone. Only this time, it wouldn’t belong to her phone. And she needed to make sure she got her story straight.
Modesty be damned, she climbed back onto the bed completely naked. It wasn’t like it mattered anymore; he’d already seen everything anyway. Somehow, some way, he’d managed to sleep through all the commotion. She reached out until she made contact with bare skin, shaking him by the shoulder.
“Will,” she said urgently, “you need to get up. Looks like we’re going to another wedding.”
Acknowledgements
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