Beneath the Shine

by Lisa Sorbe

  “But all you need to know right now,” I say, rising up onto my toes, “is that I’m very, very single.” I move closer, cupping my hand behind his head and guiding his mouth down to mine, so close we’re only a breath away. He still smells salty and sweet, like ocean and pine, and I take a moment to breathe him in, his familiar scent filling me, coursing through my system like an aphrodisiac. “And I very much,” I whisper against his lips, “want you.”

  If he was holding back before, he’s not now. Adair is anything but restrained as he crushes his lips to mine, his hands digging into my hips so hard I welcome the sting. Because this thing between us? It’s passion. Its love and its lust and its hunger, all wrapped up in this one kiss, and it all feels so real, so much more real than anything I’ve ever felt before.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he says, his voice husky against my swollen lips. “I regretted leaving you behind every single goddamned day. I was already going crazy without you, and I… I was scared that if I actually heard your voice, I’d lose it altogether. My whole goddamned head.”

  I press my lips back against his, press my entire body against his.

  “I love you,” I admit, shutting my eyes with the confession. “So much. And I know I probably should have told you before you left, but you had so much going on, and…” I pause, and he brushes a kiss against my temple. “I didn’t want to give you any more to worry about. You needed to leave, I—I know that. But it was so hard watching you go.”

  Adair sighs, like he’s releasing not only the weight of the past seven months, but the weight of the past seven years. When he smiles, I can feel it against my cheek. “Do you know,” he breathes, “how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that? For a while there, I thought I might never hear it.” He pulls back a bit, slides the pad of his thumb against my cheek. “I’m back here for you. I came all the way back here because I couldn’t stand being apart from my best friend anymore. So, if you haven’t guessed it, I love you, too. My bonnie lass,” he whispers.

  I just hug him harder. And when I pull my leg up and wrap it around his waist, he moans. “Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” He slides his hand beneath my other knee, jerking my leg up and hitching it around his waist. I clasp my ankles together, clutching him even tighter as he carries me past the kitchen and down the hall to my bedroom.

  “Wait,” I say, pulling my lips from his neck. “What about the pizza? It’s taco,” I add, as if that makes a difference.

  He touches his forehead to mine, closes his eyes, and groans. “Really, love? Is that really what you’re thinking about right now? Eating that godforsaken pie?” He shifts me in his arms, all of his hard edges pressing into my soft ones.

  “No,” I whisper. Then, teasing, “You can just buy me another one later, after we’re done.”

  Adair slides his mouth along my cheek, the stubble of his beard leaving a scorching trail along my skin. “But that’s the thing,” he says gruffly, “I’ll never be done with you.”

  “I can’t believe you’re moving.”

  George slides her sunglasses to the top of her head and turns, her cheek pressing into the cushion of the chaise lounge. Her lips turn down at the edges as she blinks away the sun. Her bikini is stars and stripes, a festive nod toward the holiday.

  I’m in a swimming suit for the first time in sixteen years, and it feels amazing.

  It’s the Fourth of July and, on this day of all days, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

  Under my own sunglasses, large and cat-eyed, I roll my eyes. “Adair still has to come back every few months to check on Rusty Bucket, so you probably won’t even notice we’re gone.” But my mouth works its way into a smile, the thought of the new adventure sending a thrill through me. “I still have a few weddings to shoot this summer and then Jen and Miles’s in October. Plus,” I add, ticking the items off on my fingers, “there’s a waiting period between Gabe’s vaccinations and when he can fly, so I have to wait for that clearance. Fall is long way away.”

  Too long, I add to myself. Adair has to head back to Scotland in a few days, and I’m going to miss him like crazy until I see him in October for Jen and Miles’s wedding. Luckily, my photography business has been booming, and it’ll keep me busy until Gabe and I pack up and officially move in November. I’m crossing my fingers that I can do as well in Glasgow as I’m starting to do here, but with it being Scotland’s largest city, I’m hoping it’ll have room for one more photographer. And after seeing some of the photos Adair has shown me from the area, I can’t wait to start creating against that beautiful backdrop.

  Plus, it’s all really about attitude and, more often than not, just believing you can do something makes a world of difference.

  And yeah, I believe I can.

  I nudge George. “You know, if you and Ian decide to elope, you could come to Scotland. Stay with us, Adair can show you around… And, “I add, “we could shoot your wedding photos in the highlands. The whole area is gorgeous. It’s like a scene right out of a fairy tale or something.”

  George, who has been indecisive about her upcoming nuptials, going back and forth between a destination wedding versus a more traditional one, immediately warms to the idea. “Hmmm… That sounds amazing, actually. Really amazing! Let me ask Ian and see what he thinks.” She scoots up in her chair, her face brightening, and searches the party for her fiancé, as if the decision needs to be made right now.

  I laugh as the excitement starts to build. “George, that man would follow you to the moon if you asked him to. And probably straight into Hell. I’m sure he’ll be fine with the idea.”

  We talk more about the wedding, and the day unfolds in the lazy way holidays do, with laughter and music and good food and drinks. Dogs are underfoot everywhere, and it looks like Gabe has found a sort of camaraderie with Humphrey and Elise’s three dogs. I’ve never seen him so lively, and as I watch him run around the large yard in a good-natured game of chase, I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment.

  Bad things happen to good people. They do. And we can either allow those memories to have power over our lives, forever holding us down, or we can release the energy that keeps us bound to our past, our fears, and just… let it go.

  I once heard an amazing intuitive say that energy is food. From my experience, I couldn’t agree with her more. So, when I’m ready to tell Adair what happened to me in that cold bedroom on that hot July night all those years ago, I’ll feed my demons one last time…and that will be it.

  I’m letting this weight go.

  It’s a beautiful Midwestern day, sunny and hot and humid, the sun baking the earth, the breeze stirring the sweet scent of prairie grass from the surrounding fields. The Malones live on a large piece of land, and while I don’t know how many acres it is exactly, there’s only one other house in sight.

  I tilt my head back and let my eyes blur as I take in the cornflower blue sky, the wispy clouds burning into nothing as the sun reaches her highest point, and vow to soak up as many of her life-giving rays as I can before I leave. Adair assures me that the sun still shines in Scotland, but I doubt it will be the same.

  This is home, and it always will be. But it’s possible to find home in more than one place, family in more than just the people who raised you. My friends have become more family to me than the people who share my blood, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe, for some of us, the family we grew up with is not the same one we grow old with.

  The heat and music and drinks have me feeling mushy and, before long, George’s voice starts to fade as my minds drifts. I’m caught in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, every muscle in my body limp, my breaths slow and even, and the short dream that permeates my little catnap is filled with the things and people and hopes that are all waiting for me, right here, when I wake up.

  A spray of cold water pulls me from sleep, the droplets tickling my cheeks, running in rivulets down my chest, and I squint up to find Adair standing above me, sopping wet
from the pool. He smells like chlorine, but through that acrid scent I also smell him, and my stomach doesn’t quake in the slightest. He bends down and slides his hand up my leg, his touch so cold on my hot skin that my breath catches.

  “Arsehole!” I joke, slapping his hand away.

  He just grins and sits on the edge of the lounge chair.

  I study him. “You’re getting red. Do you need the sunblock?”

  “Nah. We’re about to nip inside for a bit, get a game of cards on. But,” he says, “Elise asked if you were still planning to do the picture, and I figured now would be a good time before everyone gets, you know, too pished.”

  I push myself into a sitting position and swipe my towel over my sweaty face. “Yeah, good idea. Feel like gathering everyone up for me?” I ask, pulling on a pair of jean shorts over my bikini bottoms. He nods, and I smack a kiss against his red cheek—the poor man is going to be hurting tomorrow—and head inside for my camera. When I come back out, Adair has everyone—twelve adults, three kids, and six dogs—lined up in the backyard, right where I instructed him. Jen’s daughter Emilia, along with a little boy named Casper, have somehow managed to corral the dogs into a semi-circle around the group.

  The sunlight is starting to dip in the western sky, and the light, while not perfect, is good enough for what we need it for. I prop the camera on the tripod, mess with the settings and, holding my breath, race for the group, the grass slippery and sticking to my bare feet as I tear across the yard. Adair catches me in his arms, and bellows for everyone to look at the camera and smile.

  As usual, the timer takes longer to go off than I anticipated, and the end result is a chaotic mix of people laughing, smiling, talking, dogs jumping-sitting-running away. It’s not perfect—a sun flare here, eyes closed there, the blur of a dog’s butt somewhere in the lower right corner—but it’s us, all of us, shines and all… and really, that’s what matters.

  Besides, what’s so fun about perfect, anyway?

  I’m not going to write about myself in third person. That’s just weird.

  I grew up in Iowa, where the plains stretch as far as the eye can see and rolling fields of corn lay blanketed beneath eggshell blue skies dotted with clouds as fluffy and thick as pillows. My family was the traditional Midwest breed – we ate sweetcorn by the buckets during summer and spent way too much time shoveling our driveway in the winter. I learned how to swim before I could walk, spent my grade school years building forts and playing kickball with the boys on my street, and annoyed my mother to no end by spending more time reading than I did caring about my hair, clothes, boys, etc. I’ve wanted to be an author since I was four years old and now, after thirty odd years, am finally honoring that little girl’s dream. I currently live in the Pacific Northwest – a beautiful and rugged corner of the world – but spend most of my days dreaming of a move back to Iowa. My first job really was in an auto parts store, and I thank all of my co-workers for instilling in me a love of raunchy humor and a sarcastic wit that knows no measure. I have one husband and one dog who is beyond spoiled. (The dog, not the spouse.) I believe aliens built the pyramids or, at the very least, showed someone how to do it. I mean, really people… Look at the evidence.

  It’s my firm belief that people can be anything they want to be. And it’s my hope that, as the years pass, we see more of our fellow humans stepping out of their comfort zones and living the life of their dreams.