Just Me

by L. A. Fiore

  The place Bastian wanted to take me was our high school. It was Saturday, so there were no students as we made our way inside.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “It's a secret.”

  We walked along the deserted halls, Bastian had gotten the janitor to let us in, and I couldn't help the flood of emotions. The sight of my locker brought memories of seeing Bastian leaning up against it waiting for me. Memories of the cafeteria where we shared countless lunches and even the art room, where more than one of my dreams came true, filled my thoughts. But we weren't heading to any of those places. Instead we were going right to our English literature class.

  The desks were arranged exactly as they had been when we occupied the room. We walked passed the desk where Bastian had sat that very first day and I couldn't help running my fingers over the top as memories flooded me. He pulled me to my desk and waited for me to sit before he took the desk next to me, and like he had done before, he moved it so we were only inches apart.

  “It all started in this room.” He said.

  “Seeing you that first day of school, I'll never forget what it felt like to just look at you.” The memory of that day was so fresh in my mind.

  “And you, sitting back here trying to be invisible but failing miserably because you were just too damn beautiful to be invisible. But it was the smile, the wicked smile that cracked over your face that sunk me. What was it you were smiling about that first day?”

  I held his tender gaze. “I was thinking how Larkspur Ross sounded really good and how you and I would make beautiful children together.”

  He said nothing, but affection washed over his face and made my heart flutter. He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper. He unfolded them and placed them on the desks. They were the designs for our house.

  “You finished them?”

  “I did and I thought it only fitting that you see them here where it all started.”

  I looked down at the designs as my fingers traced the lines of his sketch. “It's beautiful. Show me all of it.”

  A smile spread over his face before he did just that.

  ***

  I didn't remember a time in my life where I was as nervous as I was the night of my first professional art show. All of my friends and family were there, including Uncle Eddie and the girls.

  In the months that followed Aunt Kim's death, the three of them were picking up the pieces together. As expected, it was hard on the girls, but they had such a strong rock in their dad that I knew they would all get through it.

  “Lark? Are you ready?” My dad asked. He, like me, was dressed in all black and when I looked up into his face, a face that looked so much like my own, it amazed me I hadn't seen it immediately. In my defense he had resembled Bigfoot during the earlier part of our acquaintance. I exhaled, then smiled, “Yes, I think so.”

  My dad and I walked hand in hand out into the spotlight.

  ***

  After the show we all returned to the Wrights' house to await the critics' reviews and I was so nervous I couldn't stand still. The show had been a success and the praise I had received from the guests had been, well, I never expected it, but it was the critics' opinions that could make or break me.

  I was outside. The cool evening air helped to calm me as I looked up at the stars. I felt Bastian before I heard him. He slipped his arms around me and pulled me back against him.

  “You're amazing. How you see things, how you translate that onto the canvas. I don't give a damn what any critic says, you are incredibly talented.”

  Resting my head against his chest, I snuggled more closely to him. “And coming from you, that means the world to me.”

  We stood there pleasantly silent, which was interrupted when Bastian said something that surprised me. “Your dad is a good man. I hope I am half as good a man and father as he is.”

  Turning to him, I saw the seriousness in his expression and knew he was thinking of his own father.

  “He gave you life but that's all he gave you. You will be a wonderful father and if you stumble, I'll be there to help pick you up just as you've been there for me.”

  He lifted my hand to kiss his ring.

  “It's in.” Saffron's voice pulled Bastian and me from our moment. The review of the show from the art critic for the New York Times. My heart started to pound.

  “I'll stand out here with you for as long as you need, Lark.”

  Love swelled in me for this boy as I skimmed my lips over his. “Thanks, but I think I'm ready.”

  He wrapped his strong hand around mine as we walked into the house.

  “Stay at my side.” I whispered.

  “Always.”

  As soon as we entered, Caden and Poppy greeted us at the threshold. Poppy hugged me, “It was an amazing show, regardless of whatever the critics say.”

  Caden leaned over and kissed my cheek and though he didn't say anything, he didn't have to.

  I looked into the room, which was nearly filled to capacity, and teasingly said to Dr. Wright, “I think you may have actually succeeded in filling every one of your rooms.”

  She and Mr. Wright laughed but it was strained and I knew it was because they were almost as nervous as me. My dad was on the sofa with his iPad. I sat down next to him and pulled Bastian down with me. My hold on his hand tightened.

  My dad asked. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  I, like most in the art community, held on with hope to the rumors that have circulated since his disappearance that David Cambre wasn't really dead. When just over five months ago those rumors were proven true, it was a humbling moment having one of the greatest artists of our time, the greatest in my opinion, back from the dead.

  When it was announced that a joint show of Mr. MacGowan's work was to be shown with that of his teenage daughter, it was said by all that the daughter was riding on the coattails of her famous father.

  I attended the showing this evening, a star-studded event at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with standing room only. I walked through the exhibits and discovered that Mr. MacGowan still has the touch to create something positively magnificent. In this case, it isn't a painting or a sculpture but his daughter, nineteen-year-old Larkspur O'Bannion.

  This young artist does not need to ride her father's coattails. Her paintings and charcoal sketches, in particular, have a depth of character that is rare in one so young. The emotions of the young artist completely translate into every piece she creates which not only brings her art to life, but allows the viewer a glimpse into her mind and her imagination making the experience a personal one.

  Larkspur O'Bannion is not just exceedingly gifted, but I do believe that given time Miss O'Bannion will even surpass her father in talent.

  Thank you, Mr. MacGowan, for introducing us to your daughter. She is, in my humble opinion,your finest work.

  ***

  Later that night, Bastian and I whispered like school kids breaking curfew as we left our room and headed down the hall to the kitchen. We had planned to grab some blankets to sneak outside, but it was just too cold and so we moved onto our backup plan—warm milk and a movie. I didn't even really like warm milk, but I loved the meaning behind it.

  I settled on a stool just as Bastian pressed a kiss to my temple before he made his way to the refrigerator. My gaze trailed over the ink on his arms and the tail of the dragon. He looked at me from over his shoulder, caught me ogling, and closed the refrigerator before he walked back to stand opposite me across the island, his hip leaning up against it.

  “If I remember correctly there was another time you were ogling me like that.” He said.

  “Who me? Never.”

  He leaned over to rest his elbows on the granite. “I believe it was the third day of school and as I sat in the front of class, I felt a warmth burning down my spine. Truth be told, it was so hot it damn near sizzled my nerve endings and when I turned my head, you were lo
oking, staring is a more accurate description. In fact, I think it would be safe to say you were undressing me with your eyes right there in English class.” His grin was wicked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I've no idea what you're talking about.”

  “Um, I'm sure. Well, I have a confession.” He declared.

  “Really?” I dropped my elbows on the counter as I leaned into him. “Do tell.”

  “Weren't you ever curious why I didn't talk to you in the beginning?”

  “Yes.”

  “You rendered me mute; those eyes and that face, but it was more the feeling that swept through me whenever you were near.”

  Anticipation for his answer had me leaning closer to him. “What feeling?”

  “Belonging.”

  I understood the sentiment because I had felt similarly around him. Reaching across the counter, I ran my finger over his arm, over his siren, before I lifted my gaze to his. “Imagine if you hadn't switched schools?”

  “Won't even go there.”

  “I have a confession too.”

  He raised his eyebrow in reply.

  “I saw you before English class.”

  “When?”

  “When you drove into the parking lot that morning, I actually stopped and stared. I saw your arms first and I thought your tattoos were beautiful, but I was intrigued more by the story they told about you. You then parked right in the front, to the dismay of the “populars”, and I thought I could really like that boy.”

  Hs leaned over, stretching across the counter, so his lips could meet mine. His tongue licked my lips and tangled with my own. “You were spectacular tonight.”

  “It was amazing.”

  “The greatest moment in your life, I imagine.”

  I smiled as I linked our fingers.

  “No, not the greatest, it was great, fantastic even, but not the greatest.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I have a few really great moments that rank higher than tonight.”

  “Like?”

  “Finding my dad, that was a really great moment. And seeing you for the first time is definitely one.”

  His fingers tightened on mine. “What else?”

  “Our first near kiss in the art room and definitely our first kiss by the river.”

  “Both of those are way up on my list. And?”

  “There are several others but the top two are when you asked me to marry you and the day you took me to the future site of our home. You were so excited and seeing how sure you were, how ready you were for us to start our lives together, that was the greatest moment of my life.”

  He walked around the counter to pull me into his arms for a kiss which left me tingling from head to toe. There was such intensity and love looking back at me that it had my heart doing a long, slow roll.

  “My greatest moment was the day you kissed my palm in English class.”

  “Really? Why?” I asked.

  “Because I knew then that you were totally into me.” He teased.

  “Clown.” I muttered.

  He chuckled as he pulled me closer. “Seriously, it was the day of the state art show and seeing your sketch of me. I already knew how you felt about me and there it was in black and white for everyone else to see.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over my ear. “I think you like me.”

  “There's no think about it.”

  His tongue ran along the curve of my ear. “I know.”

  He saw me back to my stool before he continued on with making our milk. I knew that in fifty years the sight of him doing something as simple as heating milk was still going to warm my heart and put a smile on my face.

  I sighed, happily, as I listened to the silence because everyone that I loved was under this roof, including my dad.

  Bastian handed me my milk and as we made our way back to our room he wrapped his hand firmly around mine. I pressed myself against his side and smiled because it wasn't just me anymore.

  Epilogue

  The ink had only just dried on our Columbia diplomas, two weeks since Bastian and I graduated, and it was our wedding day. We'd been staying with my dad and Saffron at the lighthouse. The wedding was going to take place on the plot of land that would become our home and later, after the festivities, Broderick was going to pull in his nice double-wide that we were setting up near the river bank to live in while the house was being built.

  Broderick and Bastian officially drew up the contracts for their partnership and as a nice added surprise, a partnership too for Caden, after studying architectural engineering at NYU.

  Bastian was at Broderick's as I got dressed at the lighthouse. My dad was giving me away, Poppy was my maid of honor, Sophia my bridesmaid, Hunter the ring bearer, Dylan the flower girl and Caden and Dom were both Bastian's best men.

  My dress, the simple lace sheath, was beautiful. My up-swept hair finished with a simple fingertip veil, the earrings from the Wrights and bare feet completed my wedding ensemble.

  Bastian and the men were wearing black suits with white shirts unbuttoned at the collar for the casual and simple wedding we both wanted.

  A knock at my door had me calling for my dad to enter. He stopped just in the threshold and looked at me from head to toe and back again.

  “You look beautiful. To think there could have been a chance of this day happening with you looking so happy and me missing it.”

  “Well, let's not think of it, since not only are you here for this day, but from here on out we'll only ever be just down the road from each other.”

  He pulled me to him. “You have no idea how much I love it that you and Bastian are making your home here.”

  “Home is where the heart is, right?”

  “Absolutely.” He took a step back and reached for my hand. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, very.”

  We arrived and Logan helped both Saffron and me from the car before taking charge of Hunter and Dylan. Dante had arrived earlier to collect my younger siblings, the two-year-old twins: Brie and Caleb.

  “I'll get Dylan and Hunter into position,” he said as he leaned over and brushed a kiss on my cheek before he joined our friends and family who awaited by the river's edge.

  “I thought maybe you would like something borrowed and blue.” Saffron said as she tipped over a little silk pouch causing silver and topaz hair coils to spill out into her hand.

  “I wore these on a magical date with your dad. I thought maybe you'd like to wear them today.”

  “Please, I would love that. Could you help me?”

  “I'd be delighted.” She said tearfully. When she was done, she took my hands into hers. “I know I'm not your mother but I'm always here for you.”

  “I love you, Saffron.”

  She pulled me in for a hug and I heard the hitch in her breathing. “I love you too.” She pressed my bouquet of pink hydrangeas into my hand. “Savor the day, because it's over before you know it.”

  Once everyone was seated, and the music started, the procession began as Hunter, Dylan, Sophia and Poppy moved down the aisle. My dad tucked my hand through his arm, then we were moving too. I smiled at the Wrights, at my uncle and cousins, at Broderick and Dante and my grandparents, at Ms. Whitney and Bastian’s old employer Cal and his wife before my eyes found Bastian's. We were surrounded by friends and family, but once our eyes met everyone else just faded from view.

  My dad handed me to Bastian, who took my hand and linked our fingers. “You look exquisite, my beautiful bride.” Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear. “This is the ultimate payback—in just a few minutes you're going to be stuck with me forever.”

  “Well, as it happens, Bastian Ross, I want to be stuck with you forever.”

  A grin cracked over his face and he pressed a kiss in my palm. “Let's do this.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  And together we turned as one and walked into our very real, but wildly happy ever after.

  Acknowledgments

  Lark
and Bastian's story is a favorite of mine. They are true soul mates, both coming from places where love is not given freely and yet they each have the capacity to love deeply. Having met and married my own soul mate, I can totally relate to these two.

  To my kids, when I zone out or hold entire conversations with myself out loud, I am working. I love you both and thanks for understanding when I disappear into my office for weeks at a time.

  Audrey, you're the best. Thanks for always listening, for reading and re-reading and for just being as supportive as you are. It means more than I can say.

  Krista, my editor, I really enjoy working with you and I love how this book turned out.

  Trish Bacher, Editor in Heels, my copyeditor, I am so happy to be working with you. Your attention to detail is amazing. Thank you for adding your expertise to Lark’s and Bastian’s story.

  Michelle and Sali for beta reading, thank you.

  Murphy Rae of Indie Solutions, thank you for the fantastic cover design.

  Karen Smutz, of Karen Smutz Photography, thank you for the cover photo that so perfectly fits the story.

  To Jazmyne Rodriguez, the beautiful model, thanks for working with Karen and the countless poses until we got the one.

  About the Author

  L.A. Fiore is the author of several books including, Beautifully Damaged, Waiting for the One and A Glimpse of the Dream. She loves writing and creating characters that are flawed but beautiful. She enjoys hearing from readers and can be reached through Facebook or her website.

  www.facebook.com/l.a.fiore.publishing

  www.lafiorepublishing.com