Last Chance to Fall

by Kelsey Kingsley

  “Anyway, back to why I’m up here … He got a job with a law firm in Connecticut, and I moved with him. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever done, considering I wasn’t even happy with him and I was moving so far away from my parents, to a place where I knew virtually nobody, but … It’s kind of what was expected of me, and I didn’t want my parents to worry. I wanted them happy for me, and they wanted me with him, so … I wanted what they wanted.”

  Lindsey turned to me, nudged my shoulder with her hand. “So, tell me something else about yourself.”

  I chuckled, pushing a hand through my moppy hair. “What about me?”

  “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?”

  “Oh, Christ, ah …” I narrowed my eyes, squinting into the past, and shook my head. “I guess it’s been, ehm … Three years? Maybe four? I don’t really know. I’ve only had a few really. There were a couple in college, and only one after. She was my most serious girlfriend, but it wasn’t anything I could see endin’ in marriage. We never lived together or anything like that. It was just, ya know, one of those things I knew was sorta doomed from the beginnin’, but I stuck with it ‘cause—”

  “It was easier than breaking up?” She eyed me with a little knowing smirk, and I caught the glimmer in her eye.

  I laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

  “Did your parents like her?”

  “Well …” I scratched my chin, thinking. “They didn’t hate her, I guess.”

  And then I decided to spill another painful truth: “Ya wanna know somethin’ kind of ridiculous?”

  “Absolutely,” she said with the beginnings of a grin.

  “Ya met Patrick and Kinsey,” I said, and she nodded. “I’ve always looked at them like they were the goal, ya know?”

  “You’re jealous of them?”

  “I don’t want Kinsey, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. But I want what they have.” I bit my lower lip, twisting my mouth around words I couldn’t believe I was saying. “Ya know, the whole thing, but particularly that home feeling.”

  She was amused at that. “The home feeling?” she mocked, eyes crinkling and twinkling with amusement.

  “Yeah! I mean … Okay, so I think home is a place until you meet the person you find it in, and then, no matter where they are, if you’re with them, you’re there—home.”

  “There you go, writing poems again,” she laughed, shoving against my shoulder playfully. “Does anybody know you’re such a fucking romantic?”

  “Nah,” I chuckled, shaking my head.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t hide it,” she said, poking me in the arm. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so single.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I shrugged, feeling horribly rejected. “I just never understood how Paddy could find it at three, and here I am, almost thirty-two feckin’ years old, and I still can’t find it.” That last part was a lie, but there was that fear pricking the back of my skull, telling me not to say it. Telling me it was too soon.

  But, what would you do if you weren’t afraid?

  ❧

  Jules waited outside the formal wear shop, back against the brick, and when my truck pulled into the lot, he straightened up to approach the car as we got out. He hadn’t expected a pretty blonde to be sitting beside me, and he squinted one eye at me. Scrutinizing, digging without words.

  “Yo, whassup, my brother from another mother,” he greeted me with a customary “bro-hug,” as I’ve heard it so affectionately referred to. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine though. They were on Lindsey as she cautiously approached, like a mouse, afraid she was heading straight into a spring-loaded trap.

  “J, let’s not pretend like ya didn’t grow up in the whitest town in America,” I teased. “I should know. I was your only friend, for cryin’ out loud.”

  “And you don’t get much whiter than that,” he agreed with a nod, never taking his eyes off her. “And it appears my only friend made himself a fairer friend.” His voice was smooth jazz and liquid velvet, and I rolled my eyes as he extended a hand, taking hers, and bringing it to his lips. “What’s your name, Rapunzel?”

  “Oh for feck’s sake,” I groaned, clapping a hand over my eyes. “Lindsey, this is Jules, and he turns into an arsehole around pretty girls. He used to think it’d get him laid, but it’s only ever worked once, and that’s why he’s marryin’ her on Saturday.”

  “Once is all it takes,” she said with a shrug. “It’s nice to meet you, Jules.”

  “Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” he said, flashing her that sparkly grin of his, and turned back to me. “This Irish asshole treating you right?”

  “Will ya knock it off?”

  I turned to walk inside, and heard the two of them quietly chatting behind me.

  “So, Rapunzel,” Jules said quietly, using the instant nickname that I wished I had come up with myself, “where’d you meet my boy?”

  “I tried to buy a mattress,” she said with an airy laugh. I felt her eyes on the back of my head.

  “But then he showed you his?”

  My eyes rolled upward as I pushed into the store and I heard her laugh, but she didn’t respond. Too shy. Too nervous. Too respectful toward the strange, rare, and wonderful thing we had found.

  She waited on a tufted chair while Jules and I tried on our suits for the last time before the wedding. The dark grey suit with the dark blue vest made my mundane eyes pop in a way that surprised even me. I smoothed my hair back along my head, ran my hands over the cheeks that used to be kept smooth, and I thought that, hey, maybe I really would grow a bit of a beard. Something different. Something daring.

  And maybe I’d wear three-piece suits every day, because holy hell, I was ready to fuck myself in the dressing room.

  A knock on the door pulled me from a lingering fantasy of having Lindsey’s long, lean legs wrapped around my waist, and Jules walked in uninvited. A slow whistle passed through his lips and he raked his eyes over me.

  “Day-um, Seanie. Let me tell you … If we were gay and I had the opportunity to have my way with you, I’d take that white—”

  “Ya know, I’m just gonna stop ya right there before this gets weird,” I said with a smirk and a pat on his shoulder. “But I look feckin’ good,” I agreed with a laugh.

  “I’m thinking I should’ve gone with this instead of the tux,” he said, straightening his bow tie in the mirror. “Nobody’s gonna even notice the fuckin’ groom when the best man walks out looking like fuckin’ James Dean had a makeover.”

  “Nobody notices the groom anyway,” I pointed out, smoothing my black tie against the white shirt. “They’re all gonna be lookin’ at Naomi, and then … they’ll be lookin’ at me.”

  I glanced up to meet his eye in the mirror. “By the way, I invited Lindsey. Sorry.”

  It wasn’t like me to impose or make last minute decisions without a formal invitation first, and his chocolate eyes twinkled. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “Since Sunday,” I laughed, and Jules nodded slowly.

  “I was gonna say, you never told me about her, so it must be recent.”

  “I don’t tell ya everything,” I spat out.

  “Seanie, man,” Jules said with that knowing glimmer in his eye. “You called me the night you lost your virginity.”

  That was true. I hung my head, unable to fight the grin as I rubbed my hand against my forehead. Her name was Lisa, my first college girlfriend. I shook like a leaf at the sight of her naked, shook even harder when she put her hands on me. She had handled everything, from instructions, to condom, and everything in between, and I shot off two seconds into the whole ordeal. I didn’t have the chance to be embarrassed—I was just thrilled to have handed in my Virginity Card, and afterward, I slipped away to the bathroom and called Jules, like the real Casanova that I was.

  “That was a one-time thing,” I laughed.

  “So you don’t want to tell me about the mind-blowing sex you had last night?”

  “Nope,
” but the grin was impossible to fight and my escalated heart beat was impossible to stop.

  “But you did have mind-blowing sex last night, correct?”

  “Yep,” I divulged, watching in the mirror as the excitement crept up my neck in a crimson color over my cheeks.

  Jules turned, smacked his congratulations against my shoulder on his way out, and said, “Don’t fuck this one up, okay?”

  But I didn’t think I had much choice in that.

  ❧

  “This is where you lived?”

  I looked up in awe at the two-story Tudor-style house. New construction, I assumed, with its more modern take on an old classic. Brick exterior, a few stream-lined angles along the roof. Large windows. A feeling of inadequacy shriveled up my manhood and I had to wonder about this Jack guy. I almost couldn’t blame her for wanting to be with him for the sake of being supported and cared for.

  There was no way I could compete with that.

  “Most of it was paid for with his daddy’s money,” she assured me, but dammit if my dick didn’t feel just the slightest bit smaller at the sight of that house.

  A big, black SUV sat in the driveway and Lindsey eyed it with trepidation.

  “That him?” I asked, and she nodded.

  She exhaled, inhaled, and opened the car door.

  “Stay here, okay? I won’t be too long,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” There was caution in her voice, telling me I better not move, and I thought, hey, maybe that was for the better. This wasn’t my business to handle, she was a big girl, and … Well, I hardly knew her anyway, did I?

  But two steps toward the big wooden door, and she stopped. She turned around and hurried back. Hands planted against my car door, I opened the window.

  “I changed my mind,” she said, pleading me with her deep brown eyes. “Please come with me,” she begged, opening the door and grabbing my hand. “You don’t have to say anything, or do anything, but please, I don’t want to go in there alone. I’ll feel … I’ll feel so much better if you’re there.”

  “Of course,” I said, nodding, my heart rejoicing at the thought of being needed. Needed to feel better. To feel safe.

  Safe—my brain replayed that word on a loop as I got out of the car. She walked a step ahead of me, fumbled at the lock, and pushed the heavy door open into a cavernous foyer. Our footsteps echoed on the stone, and I wondered if I had ever stepped foot in a house that big and beautiful before. And empty, so feckin’ empty, as though nobody lived there at all.

  “Lindsey?” A deep baritone voice traveled from somewhere further in the house, bouncing off of walls and ticking at my nerves. “Linds, is that you?”

  Her hands cupped over her mouth and I listened to the audible intake of breath. She squeezed her eyes shut for two beats of my heart, and then opened them to look up at me. I saw her dread, saw her fear. Saw the woman she had described herself as being but I had yet to see in the days we had spent living together and not being afraid.

  Footsteps resounded, echoing toward us, until a dark-haired man of around my height walked through an open doorway. I immediately took him in and sized him up. Noted that, although he might be tall, he was thin and lanky, while my muscles were just a little more worked. A little more pronounced.

  I could take him.

  I didn’t want to take him, and I hoped to Christ I wouldn’t have to, but growing up with two brothers, I learned a thing or two about defending myself. And I knew I could take him, and that I would.

  For her.

  “Linds, what is this?” He was drying his hands with a dishrag, and he wouldn’t look at me.

  “I’m here to get my stuff, Jack,” she replied, her voice ragged and weak. She wouldn’t look at him. Her eyes were fixed on her feet.

  I watched his every move.

  He stepped forward into the foyer, still working his hands into the cloth. “I told you, you can stay here until the weekend. Then I’m coming home, and Tiffany is coming with me.”

  I coughed around an uncontrollable guffaw, and the sound echoed up to the vaulted ceiling. I pressed my fist to my mouth, suddenly feeling like the elephant in the room. Jack took that moment to look at me with that towel still working, working, working around his hands—how the hell wet were his feckin’ hands?

  “Something funny, pal?” He turned to Lindsey. “Who the hell is this guy anyway Linds?”

  Lindsey pressed her hand into my arm. “Don’t answer—”

  “Ehm, not particularly. I was just thinkin’ that Tiffany is a pretty typical name for a secretary-turned-mistress. Fittin’ for that stereotype.” I surprised myself with my willingness to defend her, to use my voice in an intimidating situation.

  “Excuse me?” Jack took a step forward. If he hadn’t been comparing us before, he certainly was now and made a show of it. Eyeballing me slowly with a look of heated disgust. His eyes flickered over to Lindsey, then back to me. “Is he fuckin’ you?” Anger brought out a subtle Southern drawl in his voice, and the side of my mouth curled upward confidently.

  He felt threatened.

  “Oh God Jack, knock it off,” Lindsey demanded.

  “Are you fuckin’ her?” he asked me, assuming he’d get a more sufficient answer elsewhere.

  “You forfeited your right to know, when you decided to fuck someone else,” I said in a controlled voice, and taking my eyes off of him, I looked at her. “Go get your stuff.”

  With a quick nod and an emotional look of gratitude I watched her bound up the stairs, as I stood guard. Jack didn’t say another word, but he did continue to stand there. Watching me. Taunting me. But I didn’t take the bait.

  Fifteen long minutes later, she called my name from the top of the stairs. “Sean?”

  “Yeah?” I called back, continuing to watch Jack, who had taken to leaning against the wall.

  “Can you help me with this stuff?”

  Protective, and apparently needed for strength, I walked up the stairs, appreciating momentarily just how vast and gorgeous the house really was from the second floor. A catwalk overlooked the foyer and living room. A huge stained-glass window shone hazy, multi-colored rays and threw them across the floor and staircase. Art, undoubtedly expensive, decorated the hallways.

  It was gorgeous, and yet I hated it. Because this place wasn’t a home.

  It was a feckin’ museum.

  I found her standing at the top of the stairs with four suitcases and a duffle bag. She smiled apologetically and said in a hushed voice, “I don’t know where this is all going to fit in your apartment, but I can keep some of it in my car, and … I mean, at least it’s temporary, right? Just a few days.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, my heart hammering. “Right.”

  She stepped forward, pressed her hands to either side of my face, and touched my lips with hers. It was the briefest of kisses—almost a goodbye—and she stepped away, chewing at her lip. “Thank you. For everything.”

  I had nothing to say, and so I only nodded as I grabbed two of the four suitcases. I told her to leave the other two bags, and that I would come back in to get them. She left the house with me, not looking back at Jack, and she silently climbed into my car. After loading the suitcases into the trunk, I went in to get the others.

  Jack was standing at the bottom of the stairs, blocking my way.

  “I can tell you’re fucking her,” he said casually. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in his voice, and I stopped abruptly, coming toe-to-toe with him. “I don’t care. Honestly … I don’t. She and I were over months before we were really over. So, how she knows you, or whatever you’re doing to her, I really don’t care.”

  “Good to know,” I muttered, and took another step to get around him, but he held up his hand, halting me. He didn’t deserve my respect, or my listening ears, but I was in the mood to avoid conflict.

  Wasn’t I always?

  “Just one thing,” he said. “She might not think it, or realize it, but I
really did care for her—”

  “Funny way of showin’ it,” I said dryly.

  To my surprise, he nodded. “I know. I could have gone about this shit in a much better, much more civil way. I get that. I mean, I’m a lawyer for fuck’s sake. I see this shit happen all the time, and you always think there was a way it could’ve stopped before it started, until you’re in the situation. And man, sometimes you realize what’s happening after its already started, you know?”

  “Couldn’t say,” I replied dryly.

  He sighed heavily and scratched at the back of his neck, all at once looking as though he desperately needed a nap. “Maybe you’re a better man than me. You know, I hope that you are, for her sake. I hope you help her find a way to climb out of her fucking shell. Being with her was like being with a scared little girl all the goddamned time. I kept hoping she’d be better, but she never did, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m sorry, I just … couldn’t.”

  With that, he walked away, back to the kitchen. Shoulders slumped. Limp rag hanging from his hand.

  As I climbed the stairs for the rest of her bags, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t the least bit stunned. In truth, what he had said had gotten under my skin. I wish he had pissed me off, or thrown a punch at my face, but instead, he had confided in me. He had given me his feckin’ blessing. But most of all, he had mentioned this shell that she had never yet been in with me, and what the hell was that supposed to mean?

  My mind whispered, home.

  CHAPTER NINE |

  Fairytales & Reality

  Wednesday

  With naked thighs on either side of my hips, she woke me with peppered kisses over my chest, and over my neck. I smiled when she reached my lips, and when she took the liberty of slipping my glasses on. The very sight of her, shrouded in the morning sunshine, took my breath away. Glistening golden hair, cascading over her naked breasts, trailing toward that perfect navel. A flower in full bloom, like those swaying sprigs of Goats-beard in that field of Irish wildflowers all those summers ago.