Be What Love Is

by Malouff, Ellie

  “Yeah, that was like over the top. I don’t remember ever having a meal like that before. Hey, speaking of the gala, did they by chance announce the silent auction winners while I was outside?” she asks and lifts an eyebrow.

  She’s got me very curious. I saw her lingering in the back last night. “No, it must have happened after we left. Why?”

  “No reason,” she says and glances away.

  “Cara.”

  She doesn’t respond but opts to drink her latte instead.

  “What did you bid on?”

  She flashes a sly smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

  The curiosity might actually kill me. “So that’s how we’re going to play this?” I ask and take the latte out of her hand and set it on the nightstand.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She retreats under the covers and laughs.

  My God, this woman. I scoot closer to her and pull the covers down. “It’s amazing the things you don’t know.”

  “There’s plenty I don’t know,” she says and nibbles on her lip to hold in a laugh.

  “Mmm,” I agree and release the top button of her shirt with a resounding pop. “Like you don’t know how much I like you.”

  She shakes her head to play along while I release the next button. I slowly open the shirt to expose her breasts and take a sharp breath, her nipples have tightened into hard buds. My mouth goes wet, as I remember what they feel like between my teeth.

  “Or how much I want you,” I murmur and release the next button at her belly button. The pulse in her neck is visible. I plan on gliding my tongue over it later when I’m inside her.

  “Or how you drive me absolutely mad,” I finish and skim my nose down her belly. God, she’s beautiful. Her skin is velvet soft, and her scent makes me wild. I can’t hold back, I need her too much, so I remove the shirt completely and end up groaning into her skin. Her hands dive into my hair as I start kissing her belly and the top of her thighs.

  “I don’t know,” she repeats, her voice hoarse and breath ragged.

  Victoria recommended that I try to get Cara out of my system, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be tired of having her like this.

  I nip her skin with my teeth, then reward her with my tongue while using the stubble on my chin to stimulate her. It must be effective because she’s mewling and writhing around desperately.

  I have to taste her, so I push her legs apart. “I’m going to show you just how much.”

  Cara lifts her head to watch the tip of my tongue slides across her flesh. When her head falls back on the pillow, I know I’ve landed directly on the perfect spot. She lets out a needy whimper, so I listen to what her body has to say. She responds back to me about my little game. Each moan shows me how much she likes me. And the way she opens herself wider shows me how much she wants me. And as I pleasure her to a body-splitting orgasm, her cries of ecstasy and expletives shows me just how mad I drive her. Little does she know, it’s not nearly half as mad as she drives me.

  Cara

  The piping hot water of the shower is especially welcome after such a long night. It’s hard to believe that so much has changed in twenty-four hours.

  When I’m done, I wipe off the mirror and stare at myself. I look tired and a little older too. It’s no wonder. I’ve lived more since I’ve been in England than I have in the past year. I take a comb to my hair and work out all the tangles while humming Never Going to Be Another You.

  Reid isn’t in my room when I get back, so I close the door and rest on my bed for a little while, staring up at my ballerina painting. That’s something I’m definitely going to take home with me. My grandfather would want that to happen. How would my mom react to it in my home? I check my phone apprehensively. I’m not sure if I want my mom to call me or not. There are no missed calls, so I check my email, and there’s nothing from her either.

  My phone is about to die so I look around for my phone charger, but it’s not on my nightstand. I check the drawer, between the sheets, and then under the bed. Bingo. It’s beside a dusty shoebox that interests me. Honestly, every box like this intrigues me. Who knows if I’ll find more letters, and or better yet clues. So, I pull it out and open it up without a second thought.

  It turns out to be a bunch of old photos. They’re all of my mom as a teenager, before I was born, most with her friends from school. I wonder if the woman who ratted me out is in one of these girls. There’s a group photo where my mom is off to one side. She’s happier than I have ever seen her. It makes me smile. The Hooligans is scrawled across the back in my mom’s handwriting.

  The next photo catches my eye. It’s a self-portrait with her and some guy. Their heads are touching as he holds the camera above them. Her smile is wide, as is his. I flip the photo over and read Gavin steals the camera.

  “Gavin?” I say out loud and try to figure out why that’s so familiar to me. I study the photo again before digging out my copy of A Tale of Two Cities. I stashed the news clippings I took from my grandfather’s nightstand on the inside front cover. I find the one I’m looking for. Turning a Hobby Into a Business. Gavin Melville.

  I compare the two photos, and there is little doubt that it’s the same man.

  “Shit,” I say out loud and wrap my mind around this discovery. I’ve been wondering why my grandfather kept the article about Gavin’s bike shop. There’s a connection to my mother. Maybe there’s a connection to me. Is he my dad?

  I study the photos again and look for similarities between us. There are some. We have the same curl in our hair, and the bone structure around the eyes is similar. But I know that isn’t the same as a paternity test.

  “Shit,” I repeat. With fresh eyes and a new perspective, I read through the article again. The story is about how he used to be a defense barrister and had a really stressful career. He always enjoyed cycling and would use whatever free time he had to be on a bike. The stress of his profession was wearing on him, and he was riddled with ulcers. His doctor advised him to take a step back. It was then he decided to give it all up and open a bike shop in Bath. Now he gets to spend more time with his kids. Siblings? And do what he loves most.

  After two more readings to make sure he doesn’t mention my long lost daughter in California, I put on a pair of jeans and the first clean top I find. My mind is reeling from the possibility that I may have found my father.

  Next door, Reid is toweling off from the shower. My breath hitches as I take in the sight of his naked form. He’s sculpted in such a way that the word powerful pops into my head.

  “See something you like, Miss Montgomery?”

  He wraps the towel around his waist, walks over to me, and gives me such an eager kiss it makes my knees weak.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” I dreamily reply. I’ve totally forgotten my purpose for coming to his room.

  “What do you have there?” he asks and lifts my hand up.

  Oh, that’s right.

  “I found something. Something crazy.”

  I’m smiling. A lot.

  “You’re excited. What is it?”

  “Here.” I pull him over to the bed and climb up on it. He takes a seat beside me, one muscular leg slipping through the modest towel. I take a deep breath and hand over the photo first.

  “Who is this?”

  “That’s my mom and her friend.”

  “Okay,” he says and waits for the punch line.

  “His name is Gavin,” I reveal.

  “Okay.” He clearly has no recollection of why that name matters. I hand him the article and his eyes grow wide as he remembers. “What do you think this means?” he asks, getting right to the point.

  I don’t want to say it out loud, so I just shake my head.

  “Do you think he might be your father?”

  “Maybe.” I bite down on my lip.

  His mouth falls open a bit as he scrutinizes the photos. “It’s definitely the same man.”

  “Yeah, for sure.”
>
  He quickly reads the article just as I did and looks at me. “What do you think?”

  “It would make a lot of sense.”

  He nods. “It would.” He leaves me on the bed and goes to his wardrobe to pull out a shirt and jeans.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Getting dressed. I think it’s a good day for a bike ride, don’t you?”

  My stomach flips. “What about the house?”

  “The house can wait.”

  I blink a few times. Am I hearing him right? We’re going to go to Gavin’s bike shop? Today? I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

  He drops his towel, and I look away out of instinct. He chuckles a little as the drawer opens and closes. I peek over at him as he slips on his underwear and his tattoo of the angular lion breathing fire catches my eye. I still don’t know what the letters KLG mean.

  “What were your parents’ names?” I ask.

  He glances over his tattooed shoulder at me and answers. “Kate and Gary.”

  I walk over to him just as he pulls his jeans up. He freezes in place while I trace the letters with my finger. “It’s their monogram?”

  Reid looks down at my hand and then back up at me with somber eyes. “Yes.”

  I press my lips to his tattoo and close my eyes. He doesn’t move, so I reach around his neck and pull him into a hug. He’s very stiff at first but then wraps his arms around my waist and brings me in close.

  “The house can wait,” I whisper and rest my head against his. It’s downright foolish for me to wait about Gavin. If he’s my father, I need to know that right away. We may have already wasted so much time, and I’m guessing no one understands that kind of regret better than Reid.

  Reid

  Melville Cyclery has a charming shop front that’s tucked away near the River Avon. There are rainbow colored pinwheels outside, spinning in the wind. A battered old bike pump sits outside the door near a little wooden sign that says Free Air.

  I know all this because Cara and I have been staring at it for ten minutes from the car.

  “We don’t have to do this, if you’re not ready,” I tell her, possibly for the third time. I mean it, though, because this is big and scary and there’s something primal in me that wants to protect her. When I suggested that we go today, I didn’t consider how potentially painful this might be. That was foolish of me. “There’s no shame in taking more time to sort it out. You’ve waited this long in your life.”

  Cara releases her thumbnail from her teeth. “That’s exactly why I should. Why wait any longer? I just need to find a little courage.”

  “I’ll be by your side the whole time, and if you decide at the last minute that you can’t go through with it, we’ll go for a bike ride instead.”

  She smiles for the first time since we left Wells. “Really?”

  “Yes.” I pull her hands into mine and kiss them. Now that I’m free to touch her, I’m not quite able to stop.

  She closes her eyes and breathes in deep through her nose. “Okay, yes. Let’s go in.”

  We cross the street, hand-in-hand, and enter the shop. A little bell jingles to announce us. There’s a noise in the back and Cara squeezes my hand extra tight.

  “Hiyya,” a teenage girl says as she comes around the corner.

  “Hello,” I reply and gently pull Cara along.

  “Fancy a ride today or looking around?”

  “Well,” I start and look over at Cara. She’s frozen in place, so I stall a moment more. “We were—”

  “Wondering if Gavin is here,” Cara chimes in and I squeeze her hand a couple of times because I know that was tough.

  “Sorry, he’s out for a ride,” she says and glances at the time on her phone. “He should be back anytime now.”

  “Ah,” Cara replies and nods a little too much. The courage is draining from her.

  “Do you know my dad?” the girl asks.

  Cara’s eyes go wide, and to my surprise, takes a step closer. She’s thinking what I’m thinking. This could be her sister.

  Before Cara answers, the doorbell jingles and a man pushing a bike, wearing a bright orange spandex jersey and shorts, comes through the door.

  “Here he is now,” the girl says. “Oi, dad, you have visitors.”

  Gavin unstraps his helmet and wheels toward us. “Hi, what can I do for ya?”

  Cara doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak, she just stares. If she’d give me any kind of sign, I’d know what to do. It’s getting painfully awkward that we’re not saying anything. Finally, with a small shake of her head, I know that she wants Option B.

  “We’d like to go for a ride this afternoon,” I blurt out.

  Gavin’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he plasters on a happy face. “Grand, Louisa can help you out with that. You’ll have a jolly good ride. The weather is gorgeous. Mind the bike path a few kilometers in, there’s some nasty bumps.”

  “Cheers,” I reply. We stand by as he heads into the back room.

  His daughter, Louisa, looks up from her phone, a little confused like her father. “Right, two cruisers then?”

  “Two cruisers,” I repeat and take out my wallet.

  * * *

  The trail along the River Avon is perfect for cycling, and I enjoy the idea that this experience is just as new to me as it is to Cara. She looks lovely on her bike, a real natural. Me, I’m a little rusty, but I hide it pretty well as we cruise along taking in the sights and enjoying each other’s company.

  We stop at a park and get some sandwiches and smoothies from a nearby cafe for an impromptu picnic. The cafe even loans blankets for this exact kind of thing.

  “So when’s the last time you rode a bike?” Cara asks and takes a long drink of her smoothie.

  “University. You?”

  Her face falls as she remembers. “The day I found out about Trevor and Anna’s passing. I rode home from work and got the call from Mr. Leeds.”

  And there it is, that hollow feeling in my stomach returns. It’s been a couple of days since I really noticed it. It’s a painful memory for both of us. I brush some hair away from her face and plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

  “How did you find out?” she asks.

  “I got a call from Mr. McHenry the next morning. He waited to tell me and let me sleep that night. Just like the McHenrys to do that,” I say and smile a little. She smiles a little as well. “I was already up and just about to leave for the office. Trevor and I had a big meeting scheduled with this important potential client, the Collins Group. I kept it together as much as possible for my presentation.”

  “You could have canceled.”

  “Not that presentation,” I argue while I pick at some blades of grass.

  Her voice raises. “You deserved to grieve.”

  “Someone had to take care of the business,” I tell her. “Trevor had worked so hard to get this investor to even talk to us, it would have been disgraceful not to see it through. So I went in and broke the news to them. Thankfully we had progressed far enough in the deal that they didn’t back out because of Trevor’s death, but it’s still not finished. I’m honestly a little worried about it.”

  “Why are you worried?”

  “Trevor was the finest in his field. They had a lot of faith in us because of him.”

  She’s thoughtful for a moment. “If my grandfather was your mentor that should be good enough for anybody. I can see it in you, you’re great at what you do.”

  “Thank you.” I flash her a half-cocked grin. I hope she’s right.

  “I’m worried that I’m keeping you from work with all of this personal stuff.”

  “I’ll handle it,” I tell her and start eating one of the sandwiches.

  “Well if you need time to work, just say the word, and I’ll let you be.”

  I swallow slowly, and our eyes meet. “That’s very kind, but, to be honest, I’m not sure I want you to let me be.”

  Her cheeks get pinker as she fiddles with her sandw
ich.

  When we’re done, I collect the rubbish and dispose of it in a nearby bin. I return to find Cara lying on her side, propped up on her elbow. My breath hitches as I take it in. She is so beautiful. The way her caramel hair cascades over her shoulder and curves around her breast drives me wild. It’s wavy and curly and somehow a little straight at the same time. It feels really nice between my fingers.

  “You look nice and cozy,” I say.

  “Join me,” she requests.

  I get down on the blanket and face her. She lowers her head on to her folded up arm and closes her eyes.

  “Tired?” I ask.

  “Somebody kept me up most of the night.”

  “Somebody plans on keeping you up most of tonight as well,” I say, and she opens her eyes wide. “Too forward?”

  “No. Well, maybe a little,” Cara teases and turns over on her back as if trying to soak up as much sun as possible.

  I drape my arm across her torso and pull us closer together. “You’re lovely.”

  “You are too,” she says with a gorgeous smile.

  I bend down to kiss her lips. Her quiet moan in response stirs my blood. My hand moves slowly up her torso along the edge of her breast and to her face where I caress her cheek. Our kiss deepens making me forget where we are. That’s the power she has over me. I lose all my sense when we’re together.

  So, I’m not sure if I’m grateful or not that two barking dogs snap us out of our spell. I gently pull away and sit both of us up.

  My mind is still foggy from our moment, but I clear my throat and think enough to ask, “So what do you want to do when we return the bikes?”

  “I’m not sure. Is it okay if I just wait to see what my gut says? I think having a plan might make me even more nervous.”

  “Of course, you can do whatever you want,” I tell her, knowing now in my heart that I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want to open myself up to the disappointment or the pain that may come down the road.

  “Do you think he’s my dad?” she asks. The concern on her face pains me.

  I rub my chin and contemplate an answer. “I’m not sure. There are definitely some physical similarities, but that’s not compelling enough, nor is finding the photo and article. I think you’ll have to dig deeper to get a better idea.”