Finding Unity

by Ripley Proserpina

  He made short work of her clothes. The air in his room was cold, as if there were a draft somewhere, and he grabbed the blanket off the end of the bed to draw over them before leaning over to his bedside table where he kept condoms.

  She stilled his hand, linking her fingers with him as he studied her face. A slow, understanding smile lit him up, and he eased back.

  The warmth from his body had her arching into him, seeking more. She opened her legs while trailing her hands from his elbows to his shoulders and then back down. Each muscle twitched beneath her fingers and goosebumps lifted along his skin.

  Light from his closet allowed her to see him, to catch every nuance of expression as she reached between them and lined them up.

  “I’ve thought about this all day,” he whispered before he kissed her.

  Chills broke out on her arms, and again she was struck with wonder that she could inspire that sort of feeling in him.

  “I need you.” She kissed him, rocking her body so he slid into her.

  Cai held himself deep inside her and then withdrew, plunging in short shallow thrusts that revved her up so fast she was panting. Digging her fingers into his muscular ass, she urged him to go further, faster, harder.

  But he didn’t. He kept hitting her clit just right until she thought she’d go mad, and just when the first waves of orgasm hit her, he rammed inside her.

  Nora cried out, her entire body clenching as if trying to keep him right where he was, but he pulled out and sank home again.

  Hot jets of warmth filled her as Cai came with a long, low groan.

  She held on to him even tighter, legs wrapped around his lower back, hands splayed out on his shoulders.

  He held himself there and then slowly lowered himself onto her.

  “I love you.” Turning her head, she kissed his jaw, up to his ear, and then sighed. He shivered, rolled, and tucked her against him.

  “Love you, too.”

  He leaked out of her, making the inside of her thighs sticky, but when she tried to move, he just held her closer. “Not yet. Let’s just rest.”

  With an internal shrug, she did just that, and in seconds, was asleep.

  Cai gave her a kiss before he left the next morning, lips lingering on hers. He smelled clean like his body wash, and the wet ends of his hair dripped onto her neck. “I have to leave early.”

  She hummed, running her hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and holding him to her. “Stay.”

  He chuckled. “I wish. Have a good day.”

  She smiled and kissed him again, not bothering to open her eyes but snuggling into the pillow that smelled like him.

  With another chuckle he left, but Nora wasn’t able to fall asleep. She was comfortable, content, but her mind started going and that was the end of sleep.

  Rolling, she opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Over her head, the fan made lazy, hypnotic circles.

  She wondered how Seok was doing, if he’d gotten any sleep or if he had woken up earlier than her and gone downstairs to work in his shop.

  Deciding she’d check it out, she slid into her clothes from the day before, ran to her room for her toiletries and jumped in the shower.

  She loved sleeping all curled up with Cai, but as she stood under the warm stream of water, she realized she hadn’t even brushed her teeth last night. Gross.

  Not that Cai had minded.

  Her skin heated just thinking about the way his hands traveled over her body and the way he filled her up. Closing her eyes and tipping her head back into the spray, she could almost feel them.

  Her hands were his hands, trailing over her shoulders and arms, down her legs and across her stomach. She sighed, turning around to face the spray and knocked a bottle off the shelf. The clatter startled her, and she opened her eyes. Cai had made her spacey. If she didn’t get her head on straight, she’d stand here all day, and she wanted to make sure Seok was all right.

  The thought had her rushing. Not ten minutes later, she was showered, dressed, teeth brushed, and padding downstairs. Sure enough, when she came into the kitchen, she could hear Seok in his workshop.

  Unlike Matisse, her only requirement for coffee was that it be caffeinated, so she made two cups of coffee, poured them, and brought them downstairs.

  Seok was at work on something complicated. Pieces of wood, no more than an inch or so wide and four or five inches long were glued together in a cube-like shape. “What are you doing?”

  He startled, dropping the glue he held in his hand. “Shit.”

  “Sorry.” She slid the cups onto the toolbox. “I thought you heard me.”

  He wore a red kerchief over his hair and safety goggles. After picking up the glue, he set it on the table next to his project and pulled the glasses off. “No, sorry. I totally didn’t.”

  Picking up the mug, she lifted her eyebrows in a silent offer.

  “Thanks.” He took it, blew across the top and took a sip. “This is turning into our thing. Our early morning date.”

  She smiled at that as she took a sip of her own coffee. Yikes. That was strong. Matisse’s coffee-making skills were spoiling her. She needed a bucket of cream and sugar in this to make it palatable. Seok didn’t seem to mind, though, so that was good.

  “What are you making?”

  He sat down on a nearby stool. “It’s a model for a chandelier.”

  She tried to imagine it. “How big will it be?”

  “Ten feet high, ten feet across, give or take. It’s going to hang in the opera house lobby.”

  The wood was a warm amber color. “I can see it.” And it would be beautiful. “Did they ask you to make it?”

  “Yeah.” He dragged his kerchief off his head, flinging it on the table. “It’s a private commission. Some of the patrons over at the farm also donate money to the opera. They recommended me, and I was approached a few weeks ago. I’ve been sketching some ideas, but after considering the layout and everything, I thought this shape would fit.”

  “It reminds me of the artist who draws optical illusions, I can’t remember his name, but he had the staircases that went in all different directions…”

  Seok smiled widely. “M.C. Escher. And yes, this is sort of tribute to M.C. Escher. They just won something in auction at Sotheby’s, so I thought…”

  “You gave them better than M.C. Escher. You gave them a Seok Jheon. A priceless original.”

  “It’s not exactly original.” He chuckled.

  “Bullshit. I had to clean the museum at Brownington for a week when one of the people I worked with went on vacation. One of the pieces they had for an exhibit was a pile of different Play-Doh. Literally. Just—” She mashed her hands together like she was making a meatball and then dropped it on a table. “There. An art.”

  Seok had taken a sip of coffee and spun quickly, spitting it on the floor.

  She smiled, proud of herself for making the normally serious man do a spit-take. “I’d pay exactly zero dollars for used Playdoh, but I’d pay a million for this.”

  He put his coffee down and rounded on her. His hand went to her neck, holding her steady, and then he kissed her, tongue sweeping past her lips into her mouth. He was still smiling. She could taste his happiness along with the coffee. “You fucking kill me, nae sereang. An art.” He snorted and pulled away, leaving her a little love drunk and wobbling on the stool she’d sat herself on.

  “I thought I could work on the door while you do your work,” she said, when she remembered how to speak again.

  “I’d love to, and you’re welcome to it, but I have to go into the office for a while today. Which reminds me.” He turned to the toolbox. His phone sat on top and he pulled it off. “I got a message from Frank, he was letting me know one of my comics came in, and also asked if you’d be interested in starting back at the store.”

  “Really?” Poor Frank. She felt like the biggest asshole where he was concerned. He was the only one in this town who would hire her after the high schoo
l shooting, and then she went on vacation, got in an accident, and had to quit. “Why would he want to hire me again?”

  “Do you remember when you quit, he told you to let him know when you were feeling better?”

  She stared at him. “I have no memory of that at all.” Panic built in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “Did I call him? Go down to see him?”

  He cupped her shoulders. “Breathe.” He kissed the top of her head. “Your brain was still healing and this is a tiny detail—your focus was on other things. You called him. Actually, I think I called him, but you talked to him after.”

  She didn’t like that one bit, having a hole in her memory that—no matter the reason—shouldn’t be there.

  “Do you remember what you had for lunch last Wednesday?” Seok asked.

  His question surprised her out of her mini panic attack. “Huh? No.”

  “Then stop beating yourself up for not remembering a fifteen second conversation from three months ago. You remembered that you resigned, that’s the big stuff.”

  Yeah. But the details mattered, too. No matter what Seok said. She dug deep for that logical part of herself that could let this go. “Right.” Taking a deep breath, she studied the man across from her. He waited patiently while she got her shit together. Slowly, the anxiety eased and her breath came easy.

  “Better?”

  It was. She took a step forward until she could rest her head on his chest. “Yes.”

  “So what do you think?” His voice sounded all gruff and rumbly and a shiver ran down her back.

  “About working? I’ll call him. I’d like to go back.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Good. How about when I get back from work, I drive you down?”

  “Actually…” The guys had lots of things to do. Apollo had school. Ryan was studying—even though school hadn’t officially started for him—and Cai had work, too. Matisse was still sleeping—she thought—but he hadn’t mentioned he had plans. Maybe he’d like to take a walk. And if not, she could be independent. “I can go later today. When it opens.”

  “By yourself?”

  Fair enough. She hadn’t done much by herself since the accident. Her walks were usually accompanied by one of them, and she found herself reading near them as they went about their day. Except for volunteering with Cai, she didn’t do much.

  But it had felt like a lot for most of the winter. She napped a ton, and those daily walks down the block, or on the treadmill at Apollo’s gym, had done her in.

  Maybe it was the sunshine, but recently, she hadn’t fallen into bed and slept like the dead. And when she woke up, she had energy to do different things like clean or go grocery shopping with the guys.

  This would be different. This would be her—on her own—getting back to the independent person she liked being.

  “Yes.”

  Seok stepped away, picked his kerchief up and stuffed it into his back pocket. “I don’t know if you should be out alone right now. After the show came out… It’s not like Dr. Murray’s sitting in a jail cell somewhere. He’s going about his life in Brownington.”

  What was he going to do to her? Drive by and stuff her into a van? The worst thing he could do was yell at her or embarrass her. Frank, if he were asking about her returning to work, wasn’t worried her presence would cause a riot.

  “And then there are other reporters, or people who just have opinions and want to tell you about them. Or yell at you. People are crazy. After my brother died, I couldn’t walk down the street for six months. I went from my house to the car to work and then back. That was it.”

  Another mention of his brother. Some of the information, but not all of it. She opened her mouth to ask for more, but his phone chimed. “I have to go. Will you consider waiting for me?”

  “I could also ask Tisse.”

  He started upstairs. “Good. Ask him and if he can’t, I’ll go with you when I get home. It won’t be late.” With one hand on the railing and a frown, he waited.

  It was a little thing to give him after all the things he’d done for her. “Okay.”

  He smiled, relief immediate and obvious. “Thank you.” He turned his back and hurried upstairs, leaving her alone and at a loss.

  Lucky for her she had absolutely nothing to do, so she could spend the rest of the day obsessing about what she didn’t know.

  Great.

  Chapter 22

  Seok: Twenty Years Old

  Seok stood next to his father at the huge glass conference table, waiting for their Canadian business partners to sit.

  It was strange to be back in Vancouver. Everything looked the same, but now instead of Saint Martin’s, he stayed at one of the finest hotels downtown. He went to business dinners. Wore suits. And looked—at least to himself when he glanced in the mirror—years older than he was.

  He was the clean-shaven, dark-haired, obedient son that Father expected.

  And he was dying inside.

  Was this why Baek had acted out? Was this why when he’d let go, he’d done it to such an extreme?

  Seok was like a rock in mud, sinking each time his father stepped on him on his way down the path he’d chosen for his son.

  It was getting harder and harder to not to suffocate.

  Their partners sat, then Father, then Seok. Right away, the partners—experts in timber and exports—launched into a discussion about projections and taxes and other things that made his brain shut down.

  But he couldn’t let it. He had to stay present because, later on, Father would want to discuss everything they’d heard.

  “Have you considered opening a branch of Jheon Imports here in Canada?” one of the men asked. It was hard to tell them apart. Like Seok, they wore dark suits. Drones, each one of them.

  Father lifted his gaze to the man and then back at the neat pile of papers in front of him. He didn’t answer, but Seok knew the idea had never crossed his mind. He would cross an ocean, but he’d never leave Seoul.

  Father cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, I had. My son, Seok, who you all know, will be heading the Canadian branch of Jheon Imports.”

  It took all of Seok’s strength not to react. So not only was his career laid out, but so was his home. Seoul wouldn’t do. So he’d be moving to Canada.

  “Given the recent complications with our Quebec suppliers, I am basing the office out of Montreal.”

  The drones thought it was a fantastic idea. Couldn’t have come up with a better plan themselves. This would ease so many bureaucratic issues they’d had, moving their timber across provinces.

  Montreal.

  Seok didn’t know anyone there. He hadn’t spoken French in two years. Now he was supposed to uproot himself and go? Just because Father had decided it?

  Anger boiled in his guts, seeping into his veins like poison.

  It wasn’t until he was seated at dinner in the restaurant of their fancy hotel that Seok was able to bring up his father’s announcement. “You should have told me about the Montreal office before the meeting today.”

  His father paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. Placing it carefully on the table next to his plate, he sniffed. “Why?”

  Why? Because he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of their partners. Because what if Seok didn’t want to go? Because maybe it would show a measure of respect.

  The last idea wouldn’t matter to Father at all, but it was the biggest insult to him. His father never respected him. Seok was merely an extension of his father, a figurehead who wielded no power beyond a phone call. He might have ideas or opinions, but none of them mattered. He was the twenty-year old son of a respected businessman with no college education. Such a thing hadn’t hindered his father or grandfather, but the world had changed, and connections were made in places like prep schools and universities.

  His father’s question signaled the end of conversation. They finished their meals, took the elevator together, and went into their separate rooms.

&nb
sp; Seok went right into the bathroom to take a shower. He had to wash this day off. As he stood there, staring into his eyes as the mirror steamed up, the near future appeared to him as clear as day. He’d have a fancy apartment in Montreal. Every day would be about work. Every breakfast, lunch, and dinner would be a meeting with potential clients or old clients. Every second of every day would be work and eventually, he’d disappear completely.

  And what was he supposed to do about that? It wasn’t like he could afford to be on his own. He couldn’t get into university back in Seoul without his father’s help, and he couldn’t stay in Canada without a visa.

  Until he found a way to be free of his father and stand on his own two feet, Seok was stuck.

  But distance was distance, and any of it appealed to him. Not knowing people might be a good thing. All it took was one second of thinking back to the craziness of the media in Seoul and he was sold.

  The news outlets hadn’t been satisfied with his apology, and they’d been tailing him nonstop. He’d seen his face plastered over too many channels and websites, all of them with similar headlines: Waiting for the Prince to Fall. Nepotism and Seoul’s Business Elites.

  He could do without the attention.

  No one would know him in Montreal. He would just be one face among millions. But what about the work?

  Yeah. The work would suck. He had to think of ways to get around it. At Saint Martin’s, he’d been in the top of his class. He wasn’t an idiot. If he could just think…

  Stepping into the shower, he stood under the hot stream. Montreal, like Vancouver, wasn’t too far from the American border. What if he…

  He shook his head and reached for the shampoo. Squeezing a dollop into his hand, he dismissed the idea of making a break for it. Wasn’t like he could claim asylum. And he was pretty certain that leaving a multimillion-dollar company because he didn’t want to work for his dad wouldn't get him what he wanted.

  Freedom.

  Fuck. He wanted it so badly. When Baek had died, he was surprised at how angry he was—horrified, actually—that his first emotion was being pissed off and not sad.