by Emma Lyon
He took a breath, about to say more, but I cut him off. “Do you want to get out of here?”
His eyes met mine, hopeful but a little uncertain what I meant, so I made it unequivocal by stepping forward and taking his hand. His fingers convulsed over mine like I was a lifeline.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. My father’s tense anger filled the room, but I ignored it and turned to my mother. “We’re going to leave. I’ll call and explain everything later.”
She simply nodded, mute, and then I was opening the front door, Zach’s hand still in mine, walking out into the lamplit summer night.
We were at the end of the walkway where it intersected the sidewalk when Zach tugged me to a halt. “Holy shit, Lane.”
I laughed unsteadily, reaction hitting me all at once. “Holy shit, you. I can’t believe you just came to my parents’ house and said that.”
He turned to face me and took both my hands in his. “You’re shaking.”
“I know.” I gazed up into his concerned green-brown eyes. “I can’t seem to stop.”
Then he kissed me, and everything felt sane again—because this, here, was exactly where we should be and what we should be doing. Nothing had ever felt so right. My trembling stopped, and all I could think was that kissing Zach was like coming home. More than the home I’d just left.
When we pulled away reluctantly, Zach put his hands on my hips. “I’m so sorry for embarrassing you in there.”
“You didn’t,” I said truthfully. I wasn’t embarrassed by anything Zach had said, or who had been there to hear it. No one had ever done anything like that for me before.
“And I’m sorry for being a clueless ass.”
“I forgive you,” I said, because I did. “I love you, too, you know.”
Zach released a breath and leaned in to press our foreheads together. “Do you mind saying that again? Because I think my head just exploded.”
“I love you. Now let’s get out of here.”
We ended up going back to Zach’s place, and our mouths found each other’s as soon as Zach closed the front door. It had only been a few days since we’d sort of broken up, but it felt like I’d been deprived of him for years.
“You taste amazing,” Zach said against my mouth. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“I think you’re drunk on adrenaline,” I teased him. “I can’t remember anyone calling my father out like that before.”
He buried his face in my neck. “Oh God, he’s going to hate me forever.”
“I don’t care,” I said honestly. I didn’t. My father would come around or he wouldn’t, but either way it didn’t change how I felt about Zach.
I kissed him again, then reached down to squeeze his ass. “What do you say we stop talking about my father and take this into the bedroom?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I realized on the way to Zach’s bedroom that I’d never been in his apartment before. It was small but tidy, and his bed, when we tumbled onto it, smelled enticingly like him. I straddled him and looked down at his eyes gazing up at me with open desire. It was a heady feeling, seeing my own want reflected back at me.
“I love you,” Zach said. “I realized that I only said it to your father, not you.”
My heart flipped in my chest. How crazy was it that I’d found him? How easily we might never have met. The thought of that was unbearable.
“I love you,” I said again. I’d say it a thousand times, as many times as he would hear it. I loved his kind wit, his charm, and his heart, and I couldn’t believe that he was here with me.
He pulled me down to him and rolled us to our sides. “My parents are going to lend me the money for school. So I don’t have to move back to New York.”
I’d been so caught up in him that I’d completely forgotten about that. “Move in with me,” I said. He looked confused, so I rushed on. “I know you don’t need to save money anymore, but that was what I should have asked when you told me about moving back to New York. It was what I wanted. Still want.”
“Are you sure?” he said doubtfully.
“I mean, we’d probably have to live here, because my apartment belongs to my parents and now my father’s probably going to disown me….” I stopped as Zach’s face fell. “I’m kidding,” I said, kissing him until his expression smoothed out again. I was kidding, at least as far as getting disowned—my mother wouldn’t let that happen even if my father was still angry with me—but as far the apartment was concerned, I realized I didn’t want to live there anymore, anyway. “I mean, not about living together. I wasn’t kidding about that.”
I trailed off, because I realized I was rambling, and that it wasn’t really my place to invite myself to move into Zach’s place with him.
“Lane?” Zach said solemnly, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Would you move in with me?”
“Are you sure?”
He laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. I mean, I don’t have a view of the city like your fancy place, or a trendy industrial kitchen—”
“Ass,” I said, shutting him up with a kiss. “I would love to live here in your hovel with you.”
“I don’t remember saying hovel,” he said, but then we were kissing again as if we couldn’t stay away from each other.
After a while, breathless from the taste of him, I rubbed my thumb along his chin and stared at his kissed-red lips. “I want to feel you inside me. Can we do that?”
“Yes,” he said huskily.
We shed clothing in between kisses. At some point Zach found a condom and some lube. He stretched me out slowly while I held on to his shoulder and tried not to come.
“We can get tested if you want,” Zach said, scissoring his fingers inside me. “To forego the condom, I mean.”
“I’m clean,” I said, a bit unsteadily from the sensation of his fingers inside me. “I mean, I got tested after Bryce….”
He leaned forward to kiss me. “I haven’t been with anyone but you since my last test,” he murmured.
I picked up the foil-wrapped condom where Zach had put it on the bed and tossed it over the side. “That settles that.”
He laughed, but the expression on his face showed a new hunger that echoed mine.
When he finally slid inside me, it felt so right to be connected to him like this. Nothing between us, skin against skin. It was almost too much to feel in the moment, but I didn’t want to give up feeling any of it.
Afterward, lying in the circle of his arms, I wondered when, exactly, I’d fallen for him. It felt like a series of moments. Zach bringing us beers at the barbeque place, sweat dampening his hair, looking so damn sexy in his suit. Kissing me hello at the donor dinner. The tap of his pen on his bottom lip, asking me questions from that stupid quiz in the car. The feel of him inside me, making me complete.
Whenever it was, there was no going back from this. Not that I wanted to. I had no idea what the future would bring, but all I wanted was to face it together.
30
Zach
August
It wasn’t unusual for me to be up before Lane, but instead of going for a run or getting the coffee started, I took the opportunity to prop myself on my elbow and gaze down at him. His blond hair was messy on the pillow and the sheets had slipped down to expose skin I would have liked to have licked all over, except that today was the first day of my internship, and I really couldn’t afford the late start that would result from me spending as much time tasting him as I’d want to.
His eyes blinked open while I was watching him, and a smile spread over his face that made my heart warm. “Good morning.”
“Morning. I thought I’d stare at you while you were sleeping like a creep.”
He rolled into me and tugged my hips forward. “I was sleeping like a creep?”
I nuzzled his lips. “Yep. Embarrassing, really. Luckily I was here to watch it.”
“Mm, thank you.” He sighed and burrowed into me. “What time is it?”
“Not early enough,”
I said regretfully, already thinking about extricating myself from his warm limbs and how much I really didn’t want to.
But Lane had already come full awake and pulled away, propping himself up to face me, his eyes searching my face. “That’s right, it’s your internship today.”
“Yep,” I said, nerves fluttering in my stomach that would hopefully go away with coffee.
He smiled. “You’re going to blow them away.”
“I’d settle on not doing anything horrifically embarrassing.” I forced myself out of bed and reached for a shirt and shorts to throw on. In the kitchen, I put the coffee on and leaned against the counter to wait for it to brew.
It had been a few weeks since I’d shown up at Lane’s parents’ house, and Lane had moved most of his stuff into my place. I knew he was still talking and texting with his mom—I couldn’t help but see his unhappy looks or the stress lines forming on his forehead—and he’d continued helping out on the campaign, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t talked to his father since the dinner.
Lane emerged from the bedroom in a t-shirt and boxers, and slid onto one of the stools in front of the kitchen’s small peninsula bar. I put a mug of coffee in front of him. This was fast becoming my favorite part of the day, when we could just be with each other before the craziness of the day began.
“Are you going into headquarters today?”
“Cass and I are going to Annapolis to help scout for an event coming up.” I’d met Cassie a week ago over tapas and sangria, and I’d heard from Lane later that she’d given me her seal of approval. “What time do you have to leave?”
I glanced at the clock. “I have a few minutes before I have to jump in the shower.”
He hesitated. “My, uh, father wants to have dinner. With both of us.”
I pulled up short. “Really?”
He nodded. “According to my mom, anyway. I’m still not taking his calls.”
I searched his face. “Do you want to go?”
“I don’t know.” He played with the handle of his mug. “How do you feel about it? You can’t be eager to see him again.”
I shrugged. I’d be fine never seeing William Garrett again, but I knew Lane wouldn’t be. He was still his father. “I’m good with whatever you decide.” I hesitated, not wanting to influence Lane, but maybe not giving my opinion was still influencing him. “I think we should.”
“You do?” He looked surprised.
“Yeah. If he wants to reconcile, then you should give him a chance. He’s your dad. If he helped raised you, he can’t be all bad.”
I knew what his father had done had hurt Lane as much as me—not that he’d ever seemed to put his father on a pedestal, exactly, but it couldn’t be easy coming face to face with how fallible your parent really was.
“Whatever you want I’m good with.” I leaned across the bar to peck him on the lips. “Now I’m going to jump in the shower.”
On the metro on my way into the law firm office, I kept checking for a text from Lane on whatever he’d decided, but my phone was silent. Maybe he was going to give it the day to think about it.
All thought of it vanished once I stepped into the office and was directed to the lead partner’s office. The executive assistant outside his office door smiled at me when I approached. “Mr. Quinn just finished up on a call. You can go right in.”
I opened the door, trying to settle the nerves in my stomach. The man who swiveled on his office chair to face me looked so put together I immediately felt the sweat trickling down my back. Early thirties, good looking despite the unreadable mask of his face, in a tailored suit and crisp white shirt that made me feel like a rumpled mess, even though I’d picked out my suit and tie with care and had been happy enough with the effect when I’d left this morning.
“Mr. Pearson.” He consulted a file on his desk. He hadn’t invited me to sit down. “You’re replacing Mr. Boyd, I believe, who decided he’d rather spend his remaining time in Bali than be a lawyer.”
I gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“And do you, too, intend to abandon your commitment before it’s finished?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Georgia will show you where the interns sit. Find an empty desk and laptop.” He dismissed me with a wave, his attention already on his computer screen.
I backpedaled out of his office.
At least Georgia—the assistant outside—was friendly enough, and pointed me in the direction of the offices crammed full with desks for the interns. I found an open one and put my stuff down.
The woman at the desk next to mine eyed me curiously, then leaned over. “By the shellshocked look on your face, I’m guessing you just met Quinn.”
“Is he always that fucking scary?”
She laughed. “Yes. Get ready for him to point every tiny mistake you make. It would be annoying if he wasn’t so perfect himself.” She held out her hand. “Mia Gomez.”
“Zach Pearson.” I shook her hand. “Do you have any idea what I’m supposed to do now?”
She showed me how to access the computer and get into my email. I already had a handful of messages along with some attached contract documents to review. They clearly didn’t believe in taking time for orientation, but this was what I signed on for. It was what I wanted, and having the chance to actually do some lawyering instead of just study it had my heart pumping in a good way.
I didn’t hear from Lane until lunchtime. I waved Mia on ahead with a promise to meet her at the sandwich place in the lobby and opened Lane’s text. I said yes. Is that okay?
More than okay, I typed back. When?
This Saturday.
Sounds good. I love you.
I smiled down at the words when they appeared, thinking for the thousandth time how lucky I was to have found him. I love you, too.
31
Lane
I tugged at my shirt tucked into my pants and wondered if it was a mistake agreeing to meet with my father. Next to me at the hostess stand, waiting for her to locate the reservation my mother had made, Zach looked as calm and collected as I wasn’t. He should be furious with my father still, but when I’d asked him about it, he just shrugged. “This is about your relationship with him. I’ll support whatever you want that to look like.”
God, I loved him so much.
The hostess located the table and had a server direct us there. My parents were already seated, but my father stood when we approached.
To my shock, he held out his hand to Zach, who shook it after an equally surprised moment. “Zach, Lane.” He waited for us to be seated before sitting himself. “I’m glad you could make it.”
He looked nervous. I couldn’t recall my father ever looking nervous before. Next to him, my mother kept folding and refolding her napkin. I knew how unhappy she was that my father and I weren’t speaking, but she’d made it clear she didn’t feel the same way he did about Zach, even when it all came out that we’d been lying about being together that weekend. As she put it, “It’s not a lie now, and I don’t think it was then. You just didn’t know it yet.”
I couldn’t disagree with her.
At our silence, my father cleared his throat. “Should we order starters, or—”
“I’d like to start with why we’re here,” I said firmly.
“All right.” My father put down his menu. “I wanted to apologize to you for how I acted and the things I said.”
He was looking at me, so I said, “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”
“You’re right.” He turned to Zach and to my utter shock, said, “I’m sorry for misjudging you. I was wrong and jumped to conclusions. I hope you can forgive me.”
My father wasn’t one of those people who refused to apologize for anything, but it wasn’t something I’d seen him have to do in a while.
Zach just looked faintly embarrassed. “Of course. I know you were just looking out for Lane.”
“I was.” My father glanced back at me. “You understand tha
t, right?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t as willing as Zach to forgive him so easily. “While I appreciate that you care about me, there are boundaries you need to respect. I’m not an extension of you. No more pushing jobs my way or telling what I should be doing with my life instead.”
“Fair enough,” my father said, adding to the series of shocks he’d delivered tonight. I hadn’t expected him to concede that so easily. “Agreed.”
An awkward silence fell, that my mother broke with a bright, “Shall we order?”
My father and I were quiet most of the dinner, while my mother asked Zach about his internship and the two of them carried the bulk of the conversation. When we parted outside the restaurant, my father took my hand briefly and squeezed. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“Zach thought we should,” I said.
“Then I’m indebted to him,” he said graciously, and we said our goodnights.
Back home in the apartment, Zach folded me into his arms and just held me a moment. “That must have been really hard for him.”
I snorted. “Hard for his ego, you mean.” Apparently I wasn’t as forgiving as Zach. Not yet.
“Hey,” Zach said softly. “He loves you. So maybe he can be a bit of a controlling asshole at times.”
I laughed and held him tighter. “Either my mother gave him one hell of a dressing down, or he finally realized how badly he behaved.”
“I’m guessing a bit of both,” Zach said. He nuzzled my cheek. “What if we don’t talk about your father anymore?”
“Yes, let’s not,” I agreed, and found his lips with mine.
I knew who my family was, and yes, it was my mother and father and Ethan, but now it was Zach, too. I was pretty sure he felt the same.
Standing there in his arms, everything was exactly how it should be. And nothing had ever felt so real.
Epilogue
Zach
