Um. A six-year-old SUV? Some tools? A Best Uncle Ever magnet?
The list was embarrassingly paltry.
But I did my best to ignore those voices and bury the worry they produced because Claire made me feel better than anyone ever had. I didn’t have to be anybody else when I was with her, and she didn’t care who I wasn’t. She didn’t care who I’d been in the past. She was happy with me—it was so fucking crazy. I made her happy.
I was starting to think I’d finally bested my demons, finally broken the MacLeod curse, finally reached a time and place in my life I never wanted to leave.
Thirty-One
Claire
* * *
Margot was the calmest bride I’d ever seen.
And the most beautiful.
“How many minutes?” she asked, standing in front of a three-way mirror in the bride’s room at the church. She was the epitome of elegance in an off-the-shoulder ballgown with three-quarter sleeves. Her long blond hair was coiled at her nape into a classic bun from which not one strand escaped. A cathedral-length veil flowed from the top of her bun to beyond the train of her dress, and the diamonds at her ears twinkled in the lights. Jaime and I, her only female attendants, wore long, navy strapless mermaid gowns, diamond earrings (a gift from Margot), and carried white roses.
“About five,” said the coordinator from the doorway. “The grandparents are being seated now.”
“OK. Thank you.” She beamed at her reflection, her perfect white teeth sparkling. “I’m ready.”
I caught her eyes in the mirror. “You look so beautiful, Margot. I should stop looking at you because I keep crying, but I can’t look away.”
She laughed. “No crying. I’m the bride. If I don’t cry, you don’t.” She turned around and looked at me. “But you have the hankie I gave you just in case, right?”
I nodded, showing her where I had it tucked into my palm, hiding by the thick stems of my bouquet. It had been one of her gifts to Jaime and me, delicate lace-trimmed white handkerchiefs monogrammed with our initials. “Got it.”
“Even I might cry,” admitted Jaime. “I’ve held off so far, but I’m a little nervous about the ceremony.”
“No tears,” Margot insisted.
“No promises,” Jaime replied. “God, Margot. I can’t believe this is really it.”
“Me neither.” She shook her head gently, closing her eyes. “OK, I might have spoken too soon about not crying.” Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she took a few deep, calming breaths.
“You OK?” I asked sympathetically.
“Yes. Just emotional. I never thought we’d get here.” She reached for our hands, and Jaime and I each took one. “I love you guys. You’re the best friends I could ever ask for. Thank you for everything you’ve done, and for always being there for me.”
“Oh, God,” Jaime moaned, blinking frantically. “That’s it. My mascara is doomed.”
Margot smiled. “Sorry. I’m almost done being sappy. I just wanted to take a moment and tell you both how happy I am to share today with you.”
“We love you.” I squeezed her hand. “And I could not be happier today if I were the bride.”
“Me either.” Jaime sniffed, composing herself. “You and Jack are perfect together. I’m so happy for you both.”
“OK, ladies. Let’s make our way down.” The coordinator and an assistant helped Margot with her long train, and Jaime and I led the way out of the room, down the stairs, and quietly snuck into the back of the church. It was packed with guests, mostly on Margot’s side, but a fair amount on Jack’s side too. The organ music echoed throughout the beautiful old cathedral, and the pews and altar were decked in flowers.
Margot stayed hidden at the bottom of the stairs. Muffy came over and gave her two air kisses before smiling at Jaime and me. I couldn’t believe how calm she was—my mother would have been a mess—but I supposed that’s where Margot inherited her composure. Senator Lewiston appeared, bestowing a kiss on the bride’s cheek before offering her his arm.
The coordinator lined everyone up. Jack’s mother would be seated first, escorted by a family friend; then Margot’s mother, escorted by Margot’s brother, Buck. Once they were seated, Jack and his two brothers appeared at the front of the church, and Jaime and I immediately grabbed hands. They were all handsome, but Jack was breathtaking in his black custom suit. Margot’s perfect match.
I was next.
When I got the nod, I took a deep breath and walked slowly down the aisle, smiling at people I recognized and struggling not to cry. I saw Theo sitting with my parents and my grin got wider. He looked gorgeous in his suit and tie—the same ones he’d worn the night of Elyse’s wedding. I hadn’t seen it since then, and I almost laughed out loud at the memory of it strewn all over my living room.
We’d come a long way since then.
When I reached the end of the aisle, I met Jack’s eyes and gave him a smile. He looked nervous, way more nervous than Margot had seemed.
Jaime joined me at the front of the church, and we held hands as we watched the flower girl, Jack’s niece, come up the aisle, followed by his adorable little curly-haired nephew, serving as ring bearer. When Jack saw the kids, he lit up, but it was nothing compared to the way his face changed when Margot appeared at the foot of the aisle on the arm of her father.
He was transformed, watching his radiant bride come toward him. And when she met his eyes, even Margot’s composure seemed to slip, her bottom lip trembling. Jaime and I lost it, both of us frantically trying to save our eye makeup with our hankies as tears leaked from our eyes.
We managed to sniffle only once or twice during the vows, but fell apart again when everyone was asked to rise and the officiant presented us with “Mr. and Mrs. Jack Valentini!”
It’s real, I thought as the entire church burst into applause and cheers. Love is real and it’s powerful enough to conquer any odds. I caught Theo’s eye one last time, as I walked back down the aisle on Jack’s brother Brad’s arm. He winked and smiled as he applauded, and my heart threatened to burst wide open.
I love him, I thought, tearing up all over again. I love him and I’m going to say the words. Why should I hold back? What was there to be afraid of? Embracing Margot and Jack at the back of the church, I felt even more certain. Love was a beautiful thing, and today was all about celebrating it. I wouldn’t care if he didn’t say it back. I loved him, and I wanted him to know it.
Tonight.
Thirty-Two
Theo
* * *
“Have you been OK?” Claire looked up at me, concern in her eyes. She’d been busy all day and most of the night with bridesmaid duties, but I finally had her to myself on the dance floor, wrapped in my arms as we swayed to an old standard.
“I’ve been fine,” I promised her. “Your dad and I have been discussing the Super Bowl.”
“Still?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Yes. For football fans, it’s kind of a big deal. But I’m much happier now that I have you to talk to.”
She smiled radiantly, stars in her eyes. “Me too.”
I wasn’t much for public affection, but I couldn’t resist dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “I love when you wear the red lipstick. It reminds me of the first night.”
Her scarlet smile widened. “Oh yeah. God, that night seems so long ago, doesn’t it? I was thinking earlier when I saw you were wearing that suit, we’ve come a long way.”
“We have,” I agreed. The memory of wanting to be with her and telling myself I couldn’t was sharp.
“Are you happy?”
“Of course I am.”
“Good. Because I am too.” Her cheeks were pink, and her voice went a little breathless. “I’ve never been this happy. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
God, she was so beautiful. I was so lucky. Pulling her in a little tighter to my chest, I pressed my lips to her temple.
“I’m in love with you,” she said softly. “I know we hav
en’t been together that long, and maybe it’s crazy, but it’s what I feel.”
I’d stopped moving, and she leaned back at the waist to look at me. “Are you OK? Was it too soon to say that?”
“No,” I managed. My body had gone completely still, like a rabbit under the shadow of a hawk. But I wasn’t scared. I didn’t know what I was. I felt strange in my skin.
“Then what is it?”
“No one’s ever said that to me before.” I don’t know if I’d even realized it. “I’m just feeling a little…off balance.”
“But not upset?” She looked worried, as if she might have insulted me with her love.
“No. No,” I repeated, my feet suddenly remembering to move. I kissed her trembling lips. “I promise you, I’m not upset. Maybe a little surprised, but not upset.”
“Whew. OK good,” she breathed, tucking herself against me, laying her head on my shoulder. “I wanted you to know how I felt.”
We stayed on the dance floor for another song, but I wasn’t listening to the music. I don’t even know how I managed to keep a rhythm. I felt like two different people—someone who loved hearing those words and wanted to hear them again, and someone who was trying not to panic that the words came with certain expectations and I was in over my head.
In a way it was like tasting something unfamiliar, something you’d never even seen before, that turns out to be delicious. You take a bite, let the flavor and texture roll around on your tongue, chew it up, swallow, and your body sends a message to your brain—we like this! Give us more! But the brain might caution restraint—hold on there, we don’t even know what this is yet, it could be poisonous.
My body was happy, flushed with heat and tingling. My heart was beating quickly, and I even felt a little out of breath. I like this feeling. I like that she loves me. Tell me again, Claire. Let me hear the words again.
But some stubborn part of my brain couldn’t let go and enjoy it. Couldn’t quite believe it was true. Couldn’t say the words back.
Why? Didn’t I love her? Didn’t she make me happier than anyone ever had? Didn’t I hate the thought of losing her?
Questions started to worm their way inside my brain, and I did my best to keep them out and stay in the moment, focus on the physical—my hand on her back, the scent of her perfume, the whisper of her breath on my neck.
But concentrating on the physical aspects of Claire had consequences, and I started to get hard. Yes, I thought. Sex was something I understood. Something I was good at. Something I could offer her. My body could succeed where my words would fail.
I spoke low in her ear. “I’m dying to taste you. Think anyone will notice if I put my head up your dress?”
She laughed. “It is a long dress, but yes.”
“Then when can I get you alone so I can bury my face in your thighs?”
“Mmm, that’s tempting.”
“I’m so hard right now.”
She gasped. “Are you?”
“Of course I am. I can’t think about my tongue in your pussy and not get hard.”
“Oh, God.”
“That’s what I want to hear—over and over again. I wonder how many times I can make you come tonight. Is three realistic? I like to aim high—I’ll go for four.”
“Theo.” She’d stopped moving.
“Yes?”
“I’m ready to go.”
We didn’t even wait for the song to finish, just grabbed our coats, said goodnight, and raced for the door.
* * *
I didn’t even wait until we got home.
“Pull up your dress,” I told her, my eyes on the highway, my hand on her leg.
She hesitated, glancing out the passenger window at the other cars on the highway. But she did as I asked.
“Good girl,” I said, sliding my hand up her inner thigh. “Now open your legs for me.”
Less than five minutes later, she was writhing in her seat, one palm flattened against the window, the other on the ceiling. I kept my eyes on the road and tried not to come in my pants.
“One,” I said when she was quiet again. Then I touched my fingertip to my tongue and pressed harder on the accelerator.
I gave her the second orgasm on the stairs going up to her bedroom. Her dress around her waist. Her legs slung over my shoulders. Her pussy squeezing my fingers while her clit throbbed under my tongue.
“Two,” I said, loosening the knot in my tie.
Then I unzipped my pants and delivered number three before she could even catch her breath.
I gave us both a little break before number four, just enough time for us to take off our clothes and get ready for bed. While she was still in the bathroom, I went up to the bedroom, got in bed, leaned back against the headboard, and took my cock in my fist. I watched her come up the stairs, hair down, makeup off, and nothing but a t-shirt on, which she whipped over her head and tossed aside as she moved toward me.
“I love when you do that in front of me,” she said, crawling up the bed, feline and seductive, her hair brushing my legs. “It makes me so hot. Can I watch?”
“Not tonight.” When she was straddling my hips, I positioned my cock between her legs. “Tonight I want to be inside you.”
With her hands on my shoulders, she lowered herself until I was buried deep. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes closing, head dropping back.
Ten minutes later, I was nearly out of my mind with the need to come, but I was three quarters of the way to my goal. I couldn’t stop now. I tipped her onto her back and slipped my hands beneath her ass, tilting her hips up.
“Oh, God,” she gasped against my shoulder. “I can’t, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” I knew the best chance of getting that final victory lay in keeping her aroused and not letting up. “And you will.” Fighting off my own orgasm, I thought only of hers, fucking her deep and tight to her body, grinding against her. I needed her to know how I felt about her, how much I cherished her, how nothing in my life had ever been this good.
I love her.
“Fuck,” I said, feeling control slip through my fingers. “It’s too good. I can’t stop.”
I love her.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come again,” she said frantically, like she was afraid of it. Her nails dug into my ass and her teeth sank into my shoulder.
I love her.
Silvery lights exploded in front of my eyes, all the tension inside me releasing in white hot bursts as my body emptied itself inside her and hers contracted around me in simultaneous ecstasy. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt—and it wasn’t just giving her four orgasms or coming inside her without a condom or the wordless language our bodies had taught each other.
It was acceptance. It was trust. It was love.
I felt it.
But I still couldn’t say it.
* * *
Over the next several days, Claire told me she loved me at least once a day, usually at night as she was falling asleep. Every single time, it made my heart beat a little faster, my breath feel short—an adrenaline rush. I always held her a little tighter after she said it, but even though I wanted to say the words back, they refused to budge from my heart to my lips.
It bothered me. Why couldn’t I tell her how I felt? I knew it would make her happy, I knew it was the truth, and I knew that I should. I’d promised her I’d let her in. People in relationships trusted each other with their deepest feelings.
But I just couldn’t get there.
I started to think my head knew something my heart didn’t. I started to feel like maybe I was giving my heart too much sway and I needed to take a step back. The same words that had made me feel so good the night of the wedding started to eat away at me just five days later. Questions nagged me.
What did it mean to love someone? What kind of power did that give someone over you? What kinds of ways could loving someone come back to haunt you? What kinds of ways could the beloved hurt you? By confessing your love, weren’t you e
ssentially telling someone I need you? I don’t want to lose you? I’m vulnerable to you? It was like laying down all your weapons and asking for them to be used against you, wasn’t it?
I started to wonder.
Thirty-Three
Claire
* * *
On the Wednesday night after Margot’s wedding, I met Jaime for weekly GNO. I hadn’t seen or talked to her since the wedding, so we spent the first half hour looking at pictures on our phones and talking about how beautiful Margot had looked, how perfect everything had gone, and how happy we were for her.
“You disappeared awfully quickly after the cake was cut.” Jaime raised her eyebrows and picked up her drink.
“I said goodbye, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you were already halfway out the door.” She smiled knowingly. “How was the rest of your night?”
“Good.” My breath caught at the memory of that night—the drive home, the stairs, my bedroom.
And what I’d said.
He hadn’t said it back yet, and I was OK with that. I understood it would probably take some time for him to be comfortable with the words, especially since I was the first person to say them to him. I knew I had to be patient. But something had felt a little off with him ever since that night. It was nothing I could put my finger on—he just felt a little distant. Maybe Jaime would have some advice.
“I told Theo I loved him that night.”
Her eyes widened. “You did?”
I nodded, focusing on the wine in my glass. “But I’m thinking it may have been a mistake.”
“Why? He didn’t say it back?”
“No. He didn’t. But it’s not that so much. I sort of knew he might not be ready to say it back. I was prepared for that.”
“Did he say anything?”
If You Were Mine Page 20