Be What Love Is

by Malouff, Ellie

  And there are physical side effects of his company. On multiple occasions, I get hit with that delicious rush of sensation through my veins. It happens so easily, and it can be sparked from the way he smiles at me, or the way his eyes pin me in place from across the room. If we make any form of physical contact? Well, that’s just a guarantee for another sweet hit of it.

  My sleep has been out of whack too. I lay awake and stare at our shared wall, replaying our day, moment by moment. Which always leads to feeling guilty about Victoria. Then I spend a whole bunch of time willing myself to stop being such an idiot and to stop flirting with a man that’s taken. I’m not a home wrecker. I’m not like Anna.

  On the day of the gala, I’m a ball of nervous energy about the whole thing. I’m excited to go to a fancy fundraiser and wear my gorgeous dress, but I am super anxious to be around some of Reid’s crowd, especially Victoria.

  After getting dressed and doing my hair and makeup, I sneak over to Reid’s room to check myself out in his oval full-length mirror.

  He’s not around, so I stand in front of it and admire my perfectly altered red dress. It will look even better once it’s zipped up. I tease my hair a little bit with my fingertips. It’s in a half up-do, with an abundant amount of wavy locks floating over my back. I lift the dress for the seventh time to check out the matching Prada pumps. They have gold stems that gleam to my delight. I’m a touch giddy about the whole thing.

  “Cara?” Reid says from behind me.

  Oops. I didn’t intend to stay in here that long. I catch him in the mirror gazing softly at me. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. He’s in his tuxedo pants and a crisp white dress shirt. His collar is open, and his black bow tie is undone.

  “Sorry, I needed your mirror,” I explain.

  Without another word, he strides across the room and stands close behind me. Once again, we find ourselves staring at each other in the mirror and once again I can’t find my breath.

  “It appears you require my services again,” he says as he looks down at my exposed back. The feel of his eyes on me elicits the same spark as his touch. Here we go again.

  I blink rapidly as he takes hold of the zipper and glides it smoothly up my back. His eyes follow his fingers, and I hold my breath. When he gets to the top, he fastens the button, and our eyes meet in the mirror again.

  “Breathe, Cara,” he says to my surprise. I exhale and blush from embarrassment.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he continues. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Ah, he thinks I’m nervous about the gala, which I am, but that’s not what caused me to lose my breath. “I know,” I whisper.

  He takes a step closer. The fabric of his pants rubs against my behind. My heart beats triple time.

  His hooded eyes grow dark while my mouth goes dry. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs.

  “Thank you,” I respond softly and our moment continues. I’m suspended in it, powerless to break free.

  Fortunately for me, he doesn’t have the same problem and takes a couple of steps back and starts on his bow tie with practiced ease. I step aside to give him better access to the mirror, but it’s clear he doesn’t need a visual aid. He moves over to the valet. In one swift motion, he lifts his tuxedo jacket off and slips it on to his body. This is a man who knows how to dress himself.

  He selects a pair of cufflinks from a box on the dresser and walks back over to me. “Would you mind?”

  “Oh, um, sure.”

  I pick them out of his hand. They’re gold with a red face that matches my dress. A goofy grin takes over my face. Did he pick those on purpose? Probably a coincidence. Since I’m a cufflink virgin, I fumble with the first one.

  “Have you ever done this before?” he asks, seeing right through me.

  “That obvious?”

  “A little,” he jests and lets out a content sigh.

  I keep at the task and decide to explain. “I’ve never had the opportunity. I don’t have a lot of men in my life.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks as I finish the first one.

  “Well, there was my grandfather when I was young, and then it was my mom and me. She didn’t ever get serious with anyone, and so we were pretty much on our own. In college, I lived with girlfriends and now just Julie.”

  He pauses for a moment to digest that. “Boyfriends?”

  I shake my head and answer. “Not really.” There have been guys here and there, but it’s hard for me to consider them as boyfriends in this context. At the end of the day, I’ve never had a meaningful connection with anyone. I only slept with one of them, but being with him lacked passion. He never lit a fire in me.

  Reid lets out a breath he’s been holding in. Is he happy that I’m single? I sure would be pleased if he were.

  I finish fastening the second one and look up at him. He gazes at me, and once again our proximity ignites my blood. He blinks a few times and takes a step closer. For being in such a large house on such a large property, we have all the space in the world, and yet we choose to place our bodies mere inches apart.

  My body wants to take that last step closer to him, but my conscience won’t allow it. I take a few steps back and almost trip on my gown. Thankfully, he catches me before I fall on my ass. My hands lock onto his arms while he supports my back as if we’ve dipped while dancing. We’re nose-to-nose, mouth-to-mouth.

  “All right?” he asks, nearly out of breath.

  “Yes,” I barely manage to say.

  Here we are again, our lips so close, begging to connect. One thing I know for sure, it would be good, so good, if we gave into it. But I also know that it would get us nowhere. I don’t want the pain or the shame, so I quickly blurt out, “When will the car be here?”

  He swallows hard and slowly stands me up.

  “Now,” he answers, sober and serious and I’m massively regretting that I extinguished the fire. He walks back over to the oval mirror and pulls at his jacket and straightens his tie.

  “Well, I’m ready,” I tell him.

  “Not quite,” he disagrees. He goes over to the dresser and picks up a jewelry box that I recognize from Anna’s collection, then presents it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s for you, to wear tonight, and any night after that. Open it.”

  I lift the top to find the lumpy dewdrop red stone pendant that I fell in love with. I take it out and hold it up. My eyes widen as fresh tears form. “Reid.”

  “I saw the way you looked at it, Cara. The necklace had to be yours.”

  “But this could be auctioned for charity.”

  “Yes, I know, and so I’m increasing my donation tonight to make up for it.”

  I’m practically speechless. “Thank you,” I whisper and hold back tears. It’s an overwhelming gesture, least of which because it’s the first time anyone, besides my mom, has ever given me jewelry.

  He takes the necklace from my grasp and positions himself behind me. I carefully hold my hair up as he places the piece around my neck and fastens it. His fingertips graze across my skin tenderly, and an electric charge surges through me, leaving me breathless once again. He steps back while I let my hair down. We take another long look in the mirror, and I notice that side-by-side we are smashing together. If only.

  “Shall we?” he asks, breaking the moment, and I nod as I start to follow him.

  As we step outside and approach the car my phone rings in the clutch purse I borrowed from Anna’s closet.

  Mom. Shit.

  I send the call to voicemail. I’m still not ready to talk to her, and it is definitely not the right time. I slip it back into Anna’s purse quickly.

  “All right?” Reid asks with a furrowed brow.

  “Yes,” I reply with a smile and reach up to touch the red pendant that Anna so masterfully crafted. My mother is going to have to wait.

  Reid

  Cara and I make polite chatter on the drive into Bath. The hired driv
er is professional and quiet, but deep down I wish I would have driven so we could be free to talk about whatever we want. His nearly invisible presence doesn’t hold Cara back from near hysterics after I tell her a story about a private concert I attended by a famous violinist.

  “What’s so funny?” I ask, totally caught off guard by her outburst.

  She struggles to find the words at first. “It’s all a little much. I can’t believe I’m here, in this expensive dress, in the back of this…what kind of car is this?

  A smile twitches on my lips. “Rolls Royce.”

  “Christ!” she exclaims and starts laughing again.

  I don’t find it funny and when she notices that, she calms herself. “I’m a long way from home. This life, this wealth, it’s plain silly. I’m out of my element.”

  I turn in toward her. “Are you? This is where you’re from Cara, this is the life that you were meant to live,” I say with absolute conviction.

  “But it’s not the life I lived. At all. After we moved to the States, I shared a bed with my mom in a studio apartment for five years. I wore shoes from Payless, not Prada.”

  “It didn’t have to be that way, Cara. Not from my understanding of what transpired.”

  “But it was, Reid, and it can’t be undone. I’m not ashamed of it. I love my life back home. I love how I’ve turned out.”

  “I’m not ashamed of this either,” I tell her and motion to my tuxedo, her dress, the car. “Your grandfather and I worked very hard for all of this.”

  She holds her tongue, which surprises me. I expect to get an earful about inherited wealth and privilege, which I know is justified. Instead, she says, “You shouldn’t be ashamed. I’m just having this crazy out-of-body moment where I have to shake my head because this is a little unreal for me. I’m not sure I fit the part at all.”

  I take her hand and squeeze it. “You fit the part spectacularly. It’s more natural on you than you think it is. You’re clever, witty, and lovely. There is no one at this gala that can outshine you in any way.”

  She looks a little skeptical but mutters, “Thank you.” She glances at our hands clasped together and smiles, setting off a warm sensation through my chest.

  The car hits a bump causing the slit of her dress to fall open and expose her leg, all the way up to her hip. Instinctively, I squeeze her hand harder as my eyes travel up the length of her thigh.

  “Cara,” I murmur, not even sure what I’m going to say.

  “Reid,” she replies, nearly out of breath. That’s been happening a lot lately.

  Before I can say anything further, the driver turns onto a jam-packed road, right into the heart of Bath. Cars like ours line the street in front of the Guildhall. Cara turns her gaze away from me and stares out the window mesmerized. Much to my disappointment, she slips her hand out of my grasp, fixes her dress, and sits up straighter.

  “Where am I supposed to meet Evan?”

  Her question stabs me directly in the heart.

  “Inside,” I reluctantly answer.

  Cara

  When Reid and I enter the great hall, my mouth falls open. Oh my goodness. I’m not sure what I was expecting, this is a black-tie affair after all, but it is utterly lavish. The ceilings are as high as the heavens. Ornate crystal chandeliers float over round tables and chairs covered with matching gold and champagne leaf patterned fabrics. The table settings look downright royal with delicate antique china and gleaming silver cutlery. Each table has an opulent centerpiece of flowers and is illuminated by an array of flickering votives and tea lights.

  A small stage is set up at one end, with a five-piece band, all in tuxedos, performing a familiar old song, something by Nat King Cole. There are already a lot of people at their seats, and servers holding trays of drinks glide around the crowd as flawlessly as Olympic ice skaters.

  I look around for Evan or Victoria for that matter. This plus-one situation with Evan is feeling a little minus-one at the moment.

  We’re assigned to table eight, and when Reid and I get there, we find two other couples, already sitting down. There are four more open seats, pairs across the table from each other. Both couples stand up to greet Reid. Of course, they know him. The guy knows everyone in Somerset.

  “I’d like to introduce Miss Cara Montgomery, Trevor’s granddaughter. This is Mr. Rakesh and Dr. Riya Amin. And this is Mr. Stephen and Mrs. Eleanor Barkley.”

  We exchange pleasantries while Reid pulls out a chair for me next to Dr. Amin, then he takes his own seat across the table. The doctor turns toward me. “You’re not here together?”

  “No, I’m here tonight with Evan Dunning,” I say, hoping that I got his last name right.

  “We know Evan. He helped us with our home in London.”

  “He’s selling my grandfather’s country house,” I reply, not really knowing what else to say since I don’t know much else about him. I take a quick look at Reid across the table and catch him eavesdropping.

  “There he is now,” she says and looks over my shoulder.

  I turn to see Evan, with Victoria in tow, heading our way. Evan looks as good as I expect him to, still all square-jawed Superman face.

  I quickly look past Evan to Victoria. She’s the one I’m most curious about. Her long blond hair is sleek and straight. She’s wearing a slinky silver gown that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Her makeup is flawless, her scowl is ever present. Everyone at our table stands up to greet them.

  After they make the rounds with everyone, Reid and Victoria briefly embrace and kiss cheeks. There’s an undeniable familiarity between them that disappoints me, but I don’t have long to dwell on it. Evan takes my hand into his, squeezes very tightly and coos, “Miss Montgomery, you’re radiant.”

  He swiftly kisses my hand and makes the gooiest eye contact with me as he does it.

  “Thank you. You look dashing,” I reciprocate, barely holding back laughter at his over the top antics.

  He lets go of my hand, and we take our seats.

  I glance over at Reid and Victoria again. She’s going off on him, and he’s nodding in agreement at everything she says. She pauses for a moment and glances over at me, her face is sulky. I take a deep breath and look down at my hands.

  Guilt washes over me as I remember my inappropriate action with Reid on the couch. Does she know about that? Maybe he confessed. My imagination goes wild as I picture Victoria slapping me in some dramatic soap opera kind of way. Thankfully, Evan snaps me out of my spiraling concern. “What would you like to drink, darling?”

  I clear my throat before answering. “White wine, like a Pinot Grigio or Albariño.”

  “The lady will have your best glass of Pinot Grigio,” he tells the waiter.

  I smile to myself a little bit. Since when did I have a wine preference? Reid’s rubbed off on me. Maybe when he was rubbing against me on the couch. My mind goes back there so quickly, and once again, I’m sure the wrath of Victoria is inevitable.

  The band is on its fourth Nat King Cole song when they suddenly fade out. An older woman walks across the stage and up to the microphone. “May I have your attention,” she requests, and the room quiets down. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for attending the Annual Children's Immunization Charity Gala. My name is Anjanette Forsyth, the President of C.I.C. and tonight’s M.C. I’m joined tonight by many special guests, including Dr. Riya Amin of the World Health Organization.”

  The crowd applauds, and I turn toward the esteemed guest sitting right next to me. I smile from the surprise, and she nods at me and waves to the room.

  Anjanette continues. “We are all heartbroken over the tragic loss of two of our most special C.I.C. family, Trevor and Anna Montgomery. They both made a significant impact to ensure vital vaccinations were delivered and administered to the world’s most vulnerable children. Today there are children all over the world who are alive and well because of their work. We are incredibly honored and grateful that C.I.C. was named as a beneficiary in their w
ill. Their charity will live on for years to come. Tonight, to honor their memory, we have two special guests with us, Anna’s nephew Mr. Reid Lewis and Trevor’s granddaughter Miss Cara Montgomery.”

  Anjanette motions to us and leads the rest of the room in applauding us. I follow Reid’s lead and wave to the crowd. To my surprise, Evan leans over and kisses my cheek in front of everyone. My eyes flare open. I glance over at Reid. He’s scowling at us big time. Meanwhile, Victoria is staring at Evan and me with a tight smile.

  “We are honoring Trevor and Anna tonight, from the menu to the music. Trevor and Anna were fans of Nat King Cole, so we’re fortunate to have The Smooth Stylers with us tonight to play his songs for us.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. I was wondering why they were playing so many Nat King Cole songs.

  “One final note, please peruse the silent auction items in your program. This year, our generous donors have truly outdone themselves. We hope these fabulous opportunities will spark your generosity. The silent auction sheets are toward the rear entrance. That’s all for now, please enjoy the gala,” she finishes, and the band starts back up with Almost Like Being In Love.

  I open my program and flip toward the silent auction section. I’m astonished. Everything is beyond extravagant, like private chefs, safaris, and notable works of art. In fact, it makes Anna’s jewelry look like a Hillshire Farm gift basket. The descriptions of her pieces are flattering. They even estimated the value in the high hundreds and low thousands, which I’m guessing they’ll get for sentimental reasons.

  Toward the back of the program, I stumble upon an item that catches my attention. It’s for a one-week jaunt in the Veneto region of Italy to tour the designs of architect Carlo Scarpa. The package includes accommodations, as well as a tour of the various Scarpa sites with a renowned scholar.

  It describes Scarpa as being one of the few twentieth-century architects to make a mark on the historic cities of the region, and a master that has a cult following among architects around the world. I look over at Reid, who’s in the midst of a conversation with Dr. Amin’s husband. I wonder if he studied Scarpa when he was at Cambridge. The trip seems perfect for him. Winning the trip for Reid could be my way of paying him back for our recent shopping spree.