Be What Love Is

by Malouff, Ellie

  She starts laughing at her notion, but I don’t find it funny in the least. The idea of her being continents away pains me. It’s like I can’t avoid the pain either way.

  Fuck!

  “Don’t you wish my grandfather wouldn’t have come to bail you out of jail?” she asks. “Don’t you wish you wouldn’t have come back here and loved them? That’s the problem, right? All of this love shit complicates things. I’m with you, man.”

  She dramatically pulls beer from the bottle as I understand her game. She wants to hurt me, and I suppose I deserve that. What she doesn’t realize is that I am already hurting, more than she could ever really know. I stare at her, waiting to see what she’ll do or say next.

  “Anyway, I’m really looking forward to getting that big check when this is all done. I think money will suit me just fine. Maybe I’ll take up golf in Australia. Why the fuck not?” She laughs again.

  Yes, she’s pushing my buttons, very intentionally, but my gut tells me that maybe this is more than my request to remain friends. Something happened up in the attic.

  “Are you finished?” I ask, dead serious.

  She shrugs and drinks more beer.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with you and I bet you’re not going to tell me, but I have a feeling it’s more than what’s going on between us.”

  She doesn’t look me in the eye.

  “So if you want to say hurtful things because you’re upset, I can take it. I don’t like it, and I wish you wouldn’t, but I’ll take it. This isn’t who you are. You do care about everything in this house. You do care about the memories here, and you do care about your family.”

  “You don’t know me like you think you do.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Get over yourself, Reid. You don’t know everything,” she shouts. “The only thing you know about is money.”

  That’s it. I close the distance between us and take hold of Cara’s arm. “Stop it!”

  “No,” she says like a petulant child and sets her beer down hard on the counter.

  “I mean it, Cara,” I say and get right in her face.

  “Or what?” she spits out and looks up at me. Her body is radiating thermal energy as the tension between us escalates very fast. I want to answer her question with my body. I want to lift her back onto the countertop and do dirty, dirty things that friends don’t do.

  I lick my lips, and her breathing picks up the pace. I’m ready for her in all the ways that matter. The state of my cock would definitely prove that point. But I can’t. I won’t.

  “Stop,” I tell her. “Don’t say things that aren’t true.”

  “Like what?” she challenges.

  “That you don’t care.”

  I’ve hit a nerve. Cara wiggles out of my grasp and dashes to the other side of the island. The anger on her face is fierce. So are her words. “God, you are the worst with your smug righteousness. I don’t even want to be friends with you!”

  “I don’t want to be friends with you either,” I shout back. “You’re immature, irresponsible, and a total mess.”

  “Good. I guess we finally agree on something. We’re bad news for each other. Perfect!”

  “Perfect,” I hiss and storm out.

  “I’m not done,” she shouts after me, but I don’t turn around. My rage has escalated to a blinding level. There’s a splintering sound back in the kitchen, which I suspect is her finally throwing that dish against the floor. The sound of shattering porcelain complements the wail that comes from her. My instinct is to go to her, but I stop myself. I have to learn to let her go.

  Cara

  4:58.

  I hold my phone and watch the clock.

  4:58.

  I try to plan out what I’ll say if my mom answers. Should I apologize right away? I know I’ll end up apologizing no matter what, but how quickly will I have to do that? Probably right away, otherwise she’ll hang up on me.

  4:59.

  My only hope is that she’s calmed down some since we last spoke.

  4:59.

  If she agrees to talk to me, she will most definitely want to know when I’m leaving. That is still uncertain to me. Fighting with Reid made me incredibly homesick, especially since I’m not sure I need to be here anymore. If she asks, I’ll tell her as soon as possible.

  5:00.

  I take a deep breath and tap her name from my favorites list. It takes a few long seconds to start ringing.

  “Please pick up,” I whisper and bite my thumbnail as it rings and rings and rings.

  “Hi, you’ve reached Laura Montgomery, please leave a message, and I’ll return your call,” she instructs in her mixed SoCal and English accent.

  “Mom, hi, it’s me. I was hoping we could talk and try to work this out. I’m so sorry about our last call. I’m sorry about all of this. Please call me, anytime. I love you,” I finish and end the call.

  5:01.

  The heavy ding-dong of the doorbell startles me to pieces. I slip my phone into my skirt pocket and head toward the door. I look through the peephole and see a familiar face. I open the door and greet her. “Maggie, right?”

  “Yes Miss Montgomery, from C.I.C.”

  “Yes, of course. Come in. And call me Cara,” I say and hold the door open for her. “What brings you all the way out here?”

  “My apologies for stopping by unannounced,” she starts. “I’m here about the silent auction. You won the getaway to Italy.”

  My first reaction is complete and utter excitement. I’ve never won anything, ever. Then I remember that the trip is for Reid. Who knows if he’ll accept it now that we aren’t speaking to each other. My excitement fades fast.

  “Really? That’s incredible,” I say, trying to keep up appearances.

  “Yes, and I would have called you, but you didn’t register for the event, so we didn’t have a way to reach you. I heard you were staying here at Trevor and Anna’s house, so I thought I’d come by.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know to do that. I’m sorry you had to come out here.”

  “No worries at all,” she says and looks around. “I’ve missed this place.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  “Yes, quite often, for the charity. Trevor and Anna were so committed to the cause. We’d often work together on initiatives. They hosted us several times. They were truly kind.”

  “Yes, they were,” I say, even though I didn’t know them like she did. “So, I’m guessing you need me to pay up.” Maggie goes red and speechless. Oh, those English manners. I feel bad for embarrassing her. “Sorry, it was a joke.”

  She laughs nervously. “Of course.”

  “Can you refresh my memory? I forgot how much I bid on it.”

  “Five thousand, five hundred pounds.”

  “That’s right,” I say and look around the foyer as if I have that kind of money laying around somewhere or tucked away in my purse. “Okay, this is really awkward.”

  She perks up, confused.

  “I don’t actually have that money right now. It’s all tied up here,” I say and motion around the house.

  “Oh,” she whispers and looks down at her feet.

  “But hey, I think I could ask my attorney to make that happen. Will that work for you?”

  “Yes, I’m sure that would be just fine. Can I get your contact information and email address so we can send you the details of the holiday?”

  “What holiday?” I hear from behind me. I spin around to find Reid, standing in the hallway.

  Shit. This is not how I wanted this to go down.

  “Oh, hello Mr. Lewis. I didn’t know you were here,” Maggie says.

  “Nice to see you, Maggie,” he replies but keeps his eyes stuck on me. “What holiday?”

  I shake my head and play it off. “It’s nothing, just something I won in the silent auction.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” I reply and turn my attention back to Maggie. “Let me write down my contact info for
you.”

  “Cheers,” she says, and I hope Reid will take off, but he doesn’t. They talk about the weather as I scrawl my phone number and email address as quickly as possible on an old newspaper that’s sitting nearby.

  “Here you go,” I say.

  “Thank you, Miss Montgomery. I hope you enjoy Italy and Scarpa’s architecture.”

  My eyes slam shut like I’ve been punched in the gut. I slowly open one and peek up at Reid. His mouth is agape as he stares at me.

  I collect myself and thank her for everything and politely show her the door. She leaves after a quick goodbye, and I close it quietly, afraid to turn back around and face him.

  “Italy? Scarpa?” he asks, and I finally do what I have to do and face him.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “You did that for you?”

  “No.”

  His face blanches. “You did that for me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t say another word. He only walks away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Give In

  Cara

  Warm breath on my shoulder wakes me from a dreamless sleep. I’m not afraid. I’m not startled. I’m happy. From his body against the back of mine, I know it’s Reid. I keep my eyes shut because I’m afraid that if I open them, I won’t be able to pretend this is a dream.

  And if this isn’t a dream, I should definitely stop him from doing what he’s doing. We have issues that need to be discussed.

  His palm sweeps over my hip and across my belly before he buries his nose into my hair. His lips press against the patch of skin behind my ear, and I let out a heavy moan.

  “Please give me this,” he whispers.

  I push back into him to erase the smallest gap between us. His fingertips hook onto the strap of my nightgown and pull it down off my shoulder. My nipples harden in anticipation before his hand floats across my body and cups my breast. When he slips a nipple between the junction of two fingers and squeezes, I press my head back against his chest. His lips trail down my neck to the tip of my shoulder. I shut my eyes tighter as my nerve endings ignite. Somewhere deep down I know I should stop him. I know that we should seek a resolution that doesn’t come by sex. But there’s no stopping it. Maybe we don’t need to discuss it after all.

  He takes hold of my hand and interlaces our fingers, lifts my arm above my head, and moves in. I turn onto my back, and he’s on top of me with one leg wedged between my thighs, his hardness pressing against my hip. He lets go of my hand and skims down my arm, leaving goosebumps in his path, until he connects with my breast again and squeezes. I’m completely lost in the sensation.

  He gently takes hold of my head in his hand, and it prompts me to open my eyes for the first time. He's there above me, with his lips parted as he stares at me.

  “I don’t want to be friends,” he murmurs.

  “I don’t want to be friends either,” I reply. It’s true. Nothing less than this will ever do. We can’t ever be friends.

  His eyes close tightly while he shakes his head. Is he trying to stop himself? It’s like he’s at war with himself.

  “Reid,” I whisper.

  He opens his eyes and gazes at me. The battle ceases. He takes my mouth with his own. It’s our first kiss since our fight, and I didn’t know how badly I needed him to do that until it happened. Tears spring to my eyes from the relief. With our lips sealed together, hard and unbreakable, he nudges my thighs open with his leg and positions himself between them.

  Together, we lift my nightgown all the way above my breasts and pull my panties off. His throbbing arousal rests against my center while the ridge on his tip rubs against me. I squirm beneath him, but he holds me steady. He takes my hands in one of his and puts them above my head, pinning them to the pillow.

  He breaks our kiss, and our eyes meet as he begs, “Please, Cara. I need you.”

  “I need you too.”

  “Are you protected? I’m safe.”

  “Yes, I’m protected. I’m safe too,” I reply quickly. He presses into me at once. My hands are still pinned above my head as he takes over. It’s raw and real and desperate. For the first time all day I feel good. So good that I begin to worry that the only way I can ever feel good is when he’s inside me.

  There are two things I’m sure about. First, this is not a dream. My old bed creaking and banging against the wall in chorus with our moans and grunts and sloppy kissing might wake all the old ghosts that live in this house. It is most definitely real.

  Second, I’m going to have the most explosive orgasm of my life. From his onslaught of thrusting to the way he’s pinned me in place, it’s a given. The climax comes from the deepest part of my belly, and it grows exponentially, sending overwhelming sensation to every end of me. I push hard against him until he frees my hands. My head comes off the pillow while my arms wrap around him. We hold onto each other as if letting go will end us.

  It’s only a moment more before he releases inside me, grunting loudly in my ear, and then dropping all of his weight on to me. We sink into the bed together as if we’re being engulfed in dark, warm water. And it’s at this moment that I believe everything will be all right between us, somehow, someway.

  But when he pulls us out of the abyss and looks down at my face, his eyes reveal a different story. Everything is not all right, not even close. He rolls off me. The separation of our bodies makes me physically ache. I sit up on my elbows to watch him slip his pajama bottoms back on. I’m stunned at what we’ve done and even more stunned that he’s upset.

  He turns toward me and asks, “Why did you bid on that trip?”

  “That’s what you want to talk about? Not what just happened between us?”

  “Why did you bid on that trip?” he asks again, annoyance seeping around the edges.

  “Does it really matter now?”

  “It matters. Why did you do it?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because I wanted to make you happy, Reid. Okay? Is that what you want to know. I care about you and saw that trip. I wanted to make you happy.”

  He drops his head into his hands as if I told him he has six months to live.

  “Don’t even worry about it, okay? You don’t have to accept it. It’s for a good cause. I thought you could use a break and that you might like Scarpa, and that you could reconnect with your passion for architecture.”

  “I do like Scarpa,” he mumbles between his hands. “Very much.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then,” I say.

  “How do you do this to me?” he asks so softly, so sadly.

  “Do what?”

  “You make me feel things that I don’t want to feel. You make me want to give in.”

  “Give in,” I plead.

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. He doesn’t look me in the eye as he backs out of my room and leaves.

  Everything is twisted and skewed. My nightgown, the blankets, my heart. I ease myself back down onto my back and stare at the shared wall between us. Is he feeling as empty and lost as I do now? I don’t want to feel sorry for myself or believe that he was just using me, but I can’t stop myself. Wetness drips down from my eyes to my ears.

  Why couldn’t this have been a dream?

  Reid

  Running isn’t my preferred form of exercise. In fact, I rather hate it. Yet here I am, running down the road away from the house. I’m pushing myself really hard, pounding the pavement and letting sweat drip into my eyes. It’s miserable, but it’s my only option, serving to get me out of the house and relieve this stress I’m feeling.

  Last night was a mistake, I know that. But what I didn’t know, and quite frankly can’t get over, is how weak I am to resist her. It’s like she has the power to sweep me into an undertow with a single look and I’m not a strong enough swimmer to break free.

  This is not the man I am, not the man I’ve becom
e since Australia. My former self was reckless and uncontrolled. Trevor brought me back. He made me who I am. I can’t bear to imagine what he would think about my behavior since his passing. And all because I fell for a woman.

  I press forward, harder and faster, pushing my heart rate up higher and higher. Cars pass by closely, nearly nudging me on this narrow road. I should switch over to the other side because the bend ahead is blind, and as I know all too well, dangerous. I should turn around and go home, but I don’t. I keep running, not letting up for even a moment. As I turn the corner, I dig deep within me and push myself further and faster, closing my eyes for only a fraction of a second, but long enough to not see the car. It takes the turn too wide, crossing over the faded yellow line and barrels toward me.

  Cara.

  It’s a fast, not so simple thought, but it’s enough to make me run off the road just in time to dodge the car. Physics doesn’t allow me to stop right there on the spot. My legs carry me through thick and jagged foliage, right up to a tree. And while my hands do their best to cushion the collision, it still rattles my bones and pops my body back a few feet.

  “Bloody hell,” I bellow, as I come back to my senses and drop my hands down to my knees. I have no control over my breath, and if I thought my heart rate was fast while I was running, it’s nothing like now.

  When I look back up at the tree, I notice the ribbons first and the decaying flowers second. This is not just any tree. This is their tree. The one that took Trevor and Anna’s life. This fucking tree.

  Before I know it, I’m ripping down the ribbons. I’m ripping down the flowers. My fingertips tear open from the harsh bark, and that just makes me even angrier. It starts with a single kick and then another and then I’m full on attacking this goddamn tree, that has done nothing other than exist in this exact spot for all these years. I thrash at it. I scrape at it. I scream at it. I do whatever I can to decimate the tree that has brought me so much pain.