by E. Jamie
She closed her eyes and listened to the sound she had been certain she'd never hear again. She felt his breath coming in short gasps against the top of her head. It was her undoing. “Oh my God!” she cried, her knees buckling. She would've fallen to the floor, but Connor's arms came around her waist and held her up. She buried her face in his chest. “You're alive! Oh my God! Oh my God!"
He lifted her off her feet and held her upright in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck, and she grabbed at his shirt while she trembled with joy. “This is impossible, They said ... This can't be real. I'm dreaming. That's it. I can't ... I'm dreaming.” Sara struggled to form any coherent thoughts. All she felt was Connor, alive, wonderfully alive. Her nails dug into his neck as he held her.
Connor buried his face in her hair and held her tight. “Sara. Fucking Christ, I've missed you,” he whispered in her ear kissing her neck until she pulled him toward her mouth. He pushed her up hard against the wall of the garage and ground his hips against her.
She wrapped her legs eagerly around his waist and rubbed against that glorious length while remembering what it felt like inside her.
"Shit, baby. Fuck,” Connor groaned.
Sara moved her lips over his face before meeting his gaze. Those eyes, those eyes that had haunted her dreams now stared back at her with blatant hungry lust. His fingers pressed into her hips then moved up to the sweetheart neckline of her dress. Oh God, how she remembered what his hands could do to her. They moved inside to cup one of her breasts. Sara arched herself against his hand begging him without words to take her. His mouth closed over a bared breast, and she cried out at the heat, thanking God for giving him back to her. She scratched at his back as she rubbed her soaked core against the rough material of his jeans covering the rock-hard bulge in his pants. Just by rubbing against him, she felt the rush of an orgasm and called out his name.
Connor came after her, hard and thick, dampening his jeans.
They held each other, and their legs buckled, sending them to the floor. He held her to soften her fall. His hand moved to remove her wet panties, and her hand closed over his, reality slamming through her, hard and unforgiving. Guilt swamped her. She stopped him.
His dark eyes clouded with anger, and he gripped the sides of her flushed face. “Why, Sara? Why did you marry him?"
Once her mind finally cleared, his words began to register. “Aaron? How ... how did you know I married him?” Sara asked in confusion.
"I was there,” he replied, his voice raw with pain.
Sara stared up at him, the meaning of his words sending shock and fury ripping through her like a freight train. “What do you mean, ‘you were there'?” she asked, struggling to control the anger threatening to overwhelm her.
"I saw you and Aaron outside the church. How could you?” Connor demanded.
Her eyes widened. She shook with anger along with the force of her orgasm. “Get off of me."
Connor took a deep breath, eased off her, and helped her to her feet.
"That was over eight years ago. Where the fuck have you been since then?"
Connor stared at her, seemingly stunned by her anger. “I was busy getting over the fact that my wife was now fucking my best friend."
Sara drew her hand back and slapped him. “Damn you! Damn you, you son of a bitch!” She screamed at him, pummeling him with her small fists, letting go of years of rage and grief. “How could you do that to me? How could you say you love me and leave me like that?” she wailed.
He struggled to grab her flying fists. “Sara, stop it!"
"I loved you! My God, I died inside when you died. Now you tell me you deliberately stayed away from me because you were pissed off? How could you? Oh my God!"
"What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Connor demanded, shaking her. “Throw rice?” Finally, he got a grip on her fists and pulled her up against him.
Sara's head fell forward on his chest, and her anger was replaced by grief and confusion. She collapsed against him, and Connor held her until she got a hold of herself again. “How ... My father said he bombed the boat. How did you survive?"
Connor eased his grip from her wrists. He gave a bitter laugh. “He told you that?” he asked. “Jesus. What a guy.” He walked away from her to stand by the fallen boxes. “I got on the boat, yeah. But all of a sudden, I recognized this guy who was on the docks. I could swear he had been at your birthday party when we met. I remembered him because he'd tried to get us to give him the leftover liquor from the party, and he got pretty pissed when we said no. I knew something was up when I saw him.
"No one from your family's side was supposed to know we were in Ireland, and all a sudden this guy shows up? At one point the guy disappeared. I had no idea where he went. I went below in the boat, and I heard ticking. There was a bomb in the cabin. I didn't bother to try to track whether the ticking was a bomb or not. After seeing that guy, I knew it had to be. What I didn't know was how much time I had, so I just jumped. I stayed below water for the longest time, swimming under the boardwalk just in case the guy decided to try again if he discovered I didn't bite the dust. I remember knocking my head pretty bad when I jumped. I stayed in the water as long as I could until I saw another boat. I stowed away on it. I must've passed out because the next thing I remembered was that I didn't remember anything."
Sara watched him still amazed that she was actually seeing him; that he was standing here speaking with her.
"I remembered nothing but you. Your face was the only thing that registered. I had no idea who you were for years, but I knew you were someone important, girlfriend or wife. I didn't have a clue."
"What about the boat you sneaked onto?"
"They were old Italian fishermen. Didn't speak a damn word of English, which wouldn't have really mattered. I tried to remember, Sara. I swear to you I tried.” Connor's eyes filled with tears. “It took almost five years until I could even remember your name. When I remembered everything else, I ran back to you, to Florida but you weren't there."
"I sold it,” she said, trembling, rubbing her arms. “I couldn't live there after you ... without you."
Connor nodded in understanding and continued his story. “One of the servants at your parent's house mentioned that you were in Boston ... with Aaron. I didn't want to believe that...” He scowled but continued. “When I got here I read in a newspaper that you and Aaron were getting married.” Connor shuddered wiping away the tears that ran down his cheeks. “I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe that you would do that to me, and then I saw you. Sara, damn it, you looked so fucking happy. I don't think I ever hated anyone the way I hated you in that second. I saw you look up over at where I was hiding."
"I felt you. I didn't know what it was at the time, but dear God, Connor, I felt you there."
"Why, Sara? Explain to me why you married him?"
Sara rubbed her eyes, exhausted. “It was either Aaron or Sodomy."
He stared at her in confusion, and Sara explained what her parents had done. “Would you rather I had married Steven?"
Connor said nothing, but Sara could see him clench his jaw.
"I'm not going to apologize for marrying him, Connor."
"Do you love Aaron?"
"Yes,” she replied honestly, and she cringed at the pain in his eyes. “It's not more or better than how much I love you. It's separate."
He placed his hands on her arms. “Sara, I've spent over eight years without you. I won't spend another second. I want my wife back."
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Chapter Nine
Sara pulled away from him. “Connor, don't, all right? Please. I'm already married."
"I'm alive, Sara. Your marriage to Aaron isn't valid."
Sara glared at him. “It is to me. I...” She looked away then, her cheeks burning at the coming admission. “I divorced you because they wanted me to marry Steven. I was so destroyed that I didn't even care at that point. Aaron saved me before I could do it though."
"Sara—"
"No, don't you dare!” Sara snapped at him. “I made vows to Aaron just like I made vows to you. Are you gonna tell me I should forget the promises I made because of some technicality?"
"Sara! For fuck sakes! You're my wife! Mine! You just had your legs wrapped around my waist rubbing against me like a bitch in heat. I could have thrown you on the floor and fucked your brains out, and you would've loved it,” Connor yelled at her.
Sara closed her eyes, horrified at what would have been an enormous betrayal but couldn't deny the truth in his words. “You're right. I would've, but then I would've felt regret, and you would've felt rejected. Would that make you happy? Aaron was there when you weren't. I won't betray him because of your damn pride. He's had to raise your son as his own. He's loved him while his father was off sulking at his pity party."
Connor grabbed her and dug his fingers in her arms. His eyes went wide with shock. “My son? My son? I have a son?"
Sara's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I didn't mean to tell you like that. I swear."
"Would you have told me?"
"Good God, Connor. Did you ever love me?” Sara asked, shaking her head at him. “How could you even ask me that?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know what to say.” He looked like someone had just bulldozed into him. “Where is he? I want to see him. Does he know about me?"
"No.” Sara shook her had. “He thinks Aaron is his daddy.” Connor glared at her. “He was too young to be told, Connor. Please, you have to understand."
"Will you tell him now?"
"Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. Good God, she had no idea how on earth she was going to explain to an eight-year-old something she didn't understand herself.
"Good,” he said, nodding his head. “Good.” Connor's eyes filled with tears, and he grabbed her into his arms. “Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've ... Oh, I'm sorry."
"I know,” Sara said stroking his hair, feeling him tremble in her arms. “I know. You're here now. Oh thank you, God.” She sighed.
His sobs subsided, and he straightened. “What is his name?” Connor asked, wiping his eyes.
Sara gave him a soft smile. “Nathaniel Nolan. Now Nathaniel Nolan Dawson. Aaron officially adopted him."
"Nathaniel. Like we talked about,” he said. Both were silent as they remembered what that particular conversation had lead to, making love in the rain. Connor took a deep, ragged breath. “Thank you for giving him my name."
"Of course I would. You're his father.” Sara stroked his damp cheek.
"I hate that Aaron was there when my son was born,” he said, closing his eyes.
"I know,” Sara said. There was no point in telling him it was his own fault he hadn't been there. Connor already knew that.
"What's he like?"
Sara felt her face warm with joy. “Oh, he's just perfect. He's smart, Connor. He's so smart. He's got a wonderful sense of humor. He laughs at everything. He asks about everything. He's a beautiful little boy. He's the spitting image of you, too. He's kind and gentle. He feels things very deeply. If anyone around him is crying, he starts crying, too. Oh, Connor, you'd be so proud of him."
"I want to see him,” Connor stated, walking toward the house.
Sara grabbed his arm holding him back. “Wait, hang on. He's not here. He's spending the weekend at Jessica and Jimmy's."
"Well, okay, let's go get him,” Connor said, determined.
"No, Connor. He's been looking forward to this weekend for days. I won't spoil it for him,” Sara informed him.
"Sara, I'm his father."
"He doesn't know that, Connor. Please, let's give him these two days of fun before we screw up his poor mind."
"Fine,” he conceded, though Sara could tell he was far from happy about it.
"You want to come inside? Aaron will be home in a few hours. I can make you something to eat."
He nodded and walked out with her into the sunshine toward the house. Sara's stomach knotted at the uncomfortable thought of what would happen when Aaron got home.
Sara led Connor into her home. “Would you like a drink while I get something on the stove?” Sara tried to steady the trembling in her voice. “We've got brandy or beer."
"I could use a stiff shot of whiskey right about now,” Connor said following her into the kitchen.
She turned and gave him a sad smile. “You and me both."
"A brandy will be fine."
Sara bent to get the brandy snifter from one of the cupboards below. She handed him his glass, and her gaze followed where his concentration was between his legs. She let out a soft giggle. “I think you'd better let me wash those for you."
"What'll I wear in the meantime?” Connor pointed out.
He wore a T-shirt that Sara could tell wouldn't cover much. Remembering what the fabric hid she flushed. “You can ... wear ... uh, something of Aaron's,” she said, bringing her focus back to the present.
"I doubt his pants will fit me."
Sara burst out laughing at the image. Aaron was five-eight. Connor was six-two. Connor's waist and hips were also wider than Aaron's.
"Good point. A towel? It'll have to do at least until your pants are dry."
"Fine.” He began unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down.
Sara blushed and immediately turned around. “Connor!"
"I'll go change in the bathroom,” he said, curtly.
Sara closed her eyes against the anger she heard in his voice. He may still want to act like they were married, but she couldn't. She'd made that commitment to someone else now.
A few minutes after he should've already been back in the kitchen, Sara went to see what was keeping him.
Nathan's room. He stood in the middle of it holding Nathan's pillow to his nose, probably trying to know what his son smelled like. He stood over at a long shelf Aaron had put in on the opposite side of the bed that was filled with pictures of Nathan from his birth to just last month.
"Jesus Christ, Sara,” Connor said, tears choking him. “He's beautiful. He looks so happy too.” He picked up a picture of Aaron holding Nathan on his shoulders taken when he was three. “I should be here in this picture, not Aaron,” he said through clenched teeth.
"Aaron's been a good father. He adores Nathan."
"And you, Sara. What about you?"
"Aaron loves me. I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's the truth. I love him, and he loves me.” She looked up at him. His mouth parted. She could feel his breath on her face.
"Is it like it was with us?” he demanded. He was moving his mouth toward her, and his eyes held her so strongly that it felt like his arms had an iron grip on her.
"No,” she whispered. His lips stopped a mere breath away from hers. Oh God, how she wanted to feel his mouth on hers again. Her heart pounded, and her body ached for his lips. “It's not the same. Nothing will ever be the same as what I felt—"
"Feel,” he said, correcting her.
"Feel,” she conceded, “for you.” She spotted the row of little boats Aaron had painted on the wall. She'd tried to help him but only succeeded in making a big mess that led to them making love in the shower. “It's different. Not better. Just different. Can you understand?"
"I understand it, but I don't accept it. You are my wife, and I won't give up until you're back in my bed where you belong. Do you understand that?” Without giving her a chance to react to his statement, Connor lowered his mouth over hers and captured her lips with his teeth.
Sara gave a low moan as if in pain yet she still pressed herself against him. She could feel him hard beneath the towel he wore around his waist. Her fingers dug into his hair, and she gave him total possession of her mouth if not her heart. He was shaking in her arms, and she knew it wasn't easy for him to hold back. If he had no conscience, he'd have her on the floor on her back right now. Even though she knew he hated it, Sara also knew he understood.
"Sara, baby, you home?"
Aaron's voi
ce was like a bucket of ice water on the two of them. They darted apart.
"God,” Sara covered her mouth with her hand. Her lips still tasted of Connor. “Oh shit. Please, Connor. Stay up here until I tell him. I'm begging you. Don't come down until I come get you, okay?” she begged, panicking.
"Fine, fine. Go. But hurry up,” Connor ordered, panting.
She ran out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She took a moment to calm her racing heart and gather herself to get ready to tell Aaron that Connor was alive.
Aaron grabbed Sara before she even hit the last step. He twirled her around the room. “I've got amazing news,” Aaron said dipping her and planting a big kiss on her mouth.
"Uh ... yeah, me, too,” she said weakly.
"Let me go first. You remember that book Connor wrote, the one we found when we were helping Jane clean out his belongings? Well, a little while ago, I went ahead and submitted it without telling you. I didn't want to get your hopes up in case nothing happened, but I just got a call from the publisher in New York, and they want to publish it posthumously,” Aaron said, smiling.
"What?” Sara asked, trying to concentrate on what her husband was saying and not on the man upstairs.
"They're going to publish his novel. I thought we could put a nice dedication to him inside, a nice tribute or something.” When Aaron finally set her on her feet, she saw by the concern on his face that he must have seen her face go pale. “What's wrong? You're shaking,” he asked, rubbing her trembling arms.
"Uh, you might want to hold off on any tributes to Connor,” Sara said trying to force down the lump in her throat.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?” Aaron asked, concerned.
"No, that's not it,” she said biting her lip. Good Lord, how on earth am I supposed to get the words out when I have no idea what words to choose?
"Then what? Did something happen? Nathan?” Aaron asked, gripping her arms.
"No, no! Nathan's fine. I just ... Aaron, come, sit down.” Sara led him to the couch and pushed him down onto it while she sat next to him, tucking her legs up beneath her.
"Okay, I'm sitting. What?” he asked staring at her.