by SJ Cavaletti
“It belongs on you,” he replied.
“That jacket has taken me by surprise. Very Avant Garde.”
He pulled at the lapels. “I borrowed as well. It’s Joey’s.”
It was like two high schoolers being at prom again. Borrowing Mom’s best necklace. Dad’s lucky tie.
“It belongs on you,” I winked.
He smiled back, but his eyes were somewhere else by now. Were they sad? Mine felt strained, stung by thoughts of the future.
Drake wandered over with Maeve, his chiseled brown arm around her defiant little white shoulder. They both had grins from ear to ear.
“Can you believe it?” Drake asked El. “It’s been a year since Mitch danced with us.”
Maeve looked to the ground, pushed a tuft of black hair behind her ear, and looked up with a tight-lipped smile. Drake addressed me. “Maeve’s dad lives on this Plain. Got to keep these memories alive, right, babe?”
She bent down and smoothed her hand across the dust, bringing her fingers up, white, chalky. She kissed them, leaving a trace of it on her ruby red lips.
I didn’t understand, but something beautiful had passed here.
Drake turned to El, as did Maeve, and he said, “It’s a sacred spot. Isn’t it Doc?”
El nodded, and some knowledge exchanged in the vacant air between them. It was so thick I could almost see it. What happened last year?
“Guys!” El shouted to the rest of the crew. “One last trip to the temple?”
Everyone assembled around the four of us and eleven of us seemed to await instruction from El. None came, and yet we all wandered over for one last trip inside one of the most awe-inspiring places I’d ever been to.
It was only about twenty feet away from us and I noticed everyone was quiet apart from Simone, who giggled and chatted away to Koa, who listened with his lovely creased eyes that made you want to trust him. The mood shifted, and I wondered if this was part of some tradition they all had every year. To visit the temple together as a group before it burned to the ground, to the sky and all of its parts became part of the infinite connection that only those who are deeply spiritual or physicists seem to understand.
To my surprise, the temple was almost empty of people and yet the evidence of thousands of souls remained. Even more so that my last visit, notes, letters flickered all around us. I didn’t really know how some of them were strewn so high. Perhaps there had been some event here with ladders or clowns or people on stilts. Anything was possible at Uyu. All I knew was that somehow people’s dreams swirled around us like a murmuration.
The singing bowls were gone now. The space empty of its magical sound, I pushed back the returning lump, thinking about how they, too, had gone home. Our group filled a lot of the space and everyone seemed almost perfectly spaced out around the center area, pensive, quiet and yet not individual. Some common thought connected these friends. Some common ritual or… something they all knew that I didn’t.
Koa took Simone’s hand and led her across the circle, like a friend but with the promise of something more. Everyone seemed to hold hands now. Pika and Joey had Jasmine’s, like a little sister between them. Flick’s arm draped over Helena.
My eyes met El’s again. He took both my hands in his and pulled me into the very center of the tent. Though it was almost silent in the temple, he looked ready to speak. Maybe to tell me some chant they were about to sing. To tell me how to fit in to this moment.
But just when I thought he was about to say something, he did something instead. He got down on one knee.
My heart sparked. Again. Then again. Like trying to get a motor to turn over it. Like the potential a sparking motor has for combustion.
“What are you doing?” I asked, and my voice sounded scared. I didn’t want to sound that way because maybe he was just going to tie his shoe.
But he let go of my hands. He never looked down. His eyes captured mine into his gaze the entire time. He rubbed the tops of my fingers with his thumbs.
“Liz, I think you better take me home with you.”
“What?” I said through a subtle laugh. Immediately feeling silly because this, him down on a knee, had felt so similar to something else. And that I actually wondered if it was a proposal. Now I could see was preposterous. Still, it was no small thing he asked.
“You need to take me home with you,” he repeated.
Everyone stared at us now, and it clicked finally. There was no ritual. We were the ritual. Everyone knew El was going to do this apart from me and Simone.
The initial surprise flew out of the room, and my heart enlarged with joy. I wanted to be with El. I truly did. And he had just smashed through the obstacle between us. Offered to give up Seattle and move to be near me. A sacrifice I knew I shouldn’t take lightly and that I’d never say no to. A second chance.
“But Liz, if I come back with you, I’m burning the boats. There is no way off that island. I’m never leaving. It’s me, you, and that’s it. Us…”
He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, much like most of the ones all around us. I took it in my hand and it said: “Will you marry me?”
Holy shit. My hand came up to my mouth. “What? What is this?”
“Liz, I wrote the question on a note because we either take that piece of paper home with us and frame it, put it over the mantlepiece forever, or we hang it in here, burn it and move on the best we can. But before you answer, there one more thing I have to say.”
He crunched my fingers together, hands clammy. I’d never seen him so crazy intense before. Like a man prepared to go to battle armed only with his muscles and an axe. He let out his war cry. “You are not better off without me.”
I already knew that. But fucking hell.
“So I’m going to ask again, properly now, because you’re the kind of woman that deserves a million proposals. So including the note, this is now your third. Liz, will you marry me?”
Tears tingled my nose and my eyes grew heavy behind, but I didn’t want to cry. I looked over at Simone. She was already doing it for me. I wanted to answer, but my brain just made a stupid remark instead. “You don’t have a ring.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Where is it?” My voice had that nasal quality of someone who was about to or had been crying.
“It’s in Seattle.”
“You kept my ring all this time?”
“Do you want it back?”
I let go of his hands and grabbed his forearms instead, urging him closer. I hadn’t expected this. A fat, juicy tear ran down my hot cheek. Why couldn’t I say something clever? Or even just yes?
They say if your relationship doesn’t scare you, you’re with the wrong person. I wasn’t scared at all the first time El proposed. But this time, every nerve inside me sizzled. I wanted to cry like a child going to their first day at school. Like I needed my mommy.
El was close. He leaned into my lap. “Liz, I’d say you can think about it, but the Fireguardians will be here soon. And frankly I’ve already proved my patience. Like years of patience. You know the answer in your heart. Do you want your ring back?”
I nodded. Fast, hard. “I do.”
He crawled further up my lap and kissed me. Everyone around us whooped. Whistled. I got it now. Witnesses. Like Tom and Enrique. El said the best moments in life should always be shared.
And in an instant, my fear washed away. Like skydiving, the terrifying thing is waiting to jump. Now, we were in flight and our single focus was to find the ground. To build a foundation. Together.
I pulled El in closer for a kiss. It was a kiss that was passionate but closed mouth, pushing hard against the other person with intention. After a moment, he pulled back to look at me again. He made a ring shape with his index finger and thumb and slid the o-shape around my ring finger.
“In it to win it,” he said.
I nodded, probably with the stupidest, toothy grin I’d ever had. “In it to win it.”
&nbs
p; 32
Elias
Six Months Later
Uyu
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I moved in with Liz at her Coconut Grove apartment. I still remember the moment I walked through the door. All I thought was ‘she’s been doing well for herself.’ It was a sumptuous apartment, very spacious with ocean views. I hadn’t minded Seattle. Liked the “I don’t give a fuck” vibe and no fuss people. But something about seeing the ocean over breakfast every day made it feel you were on vacation even when you weren’t.
One thing Liz and I had in common was minimalism. Apart from one peacock's feather pillow on the couch, I could have chosen the decor all myself. I was completely at ease from day one.
I only had to give one month’s notice at my gig in Seattle, and in that time, Miami General took me back. ER physicians being one of the most in-demand positions, and the same old administration at MG causing people to leave regularly, meant they took me in for an immediate start. I did about six more shifts in Seattle before they let me go and I closed the door on what was a great work chapter. Most of the nurses cried, and I had a frog in my throat for most of my going away party. They’d been good to me.
One of the craziest moments in the whirlwind of the past six months was packing up my apartment in Seattle. Or really it was the lack of packing up. I remembered boxing up my kitchen and realizing that I only had two of everything. Two plates. Two bowls. Two mugs. How had I gotten by like that? I’d never invited anyone for dinner? Never expected any company? I might as well have gotten one set.
But maybe the second was where I had held on to hope. So even packing up my sad existence suddenly seemed like a journey I had to take to get where I was today.
Even though I’d lived there for five years, most of my stuff I took in suitcases on the plane. I took a few boxes to Goodwill. Gave away my TV and useful electronics to younger hospital staff I knew. Liz already had most of the necessities.
There was one box only that I packed with complete care. The one with the paintings my Mom had given me. The ones that were all hers, apart from that Gustav Klimt. Freya’s Tears. Said box had arrived in Florida today. Liz signed for it at the door, and I rushed over to grab it from the delivery person.
I took it immediately to the kitchen table. I had to admit, I’d been nervous about this one arriving. My Mom’s art was precious, irreplaceable. I opened the box and pulled the art out one by one. Thankfully, every bubble wrapping came off and inside, glass, canvas and paper were all in safe and sound.
Liz watched me and as I unwrapped the Klimt, she pointed to it. “That must be Freya’s Tears?”
I nodded.
“Who’s Freya though?” She asked.
“I don’t know, actually. Never looked it up.”
“That’s not like you.”
“Whatever. I was depressed.”
I stood and grabbed my cell from the counter and Googled it. I could see Liz watching out of the corner of my eye, waiting for me to summarize.
My God. This was good.
“So?” She asked.
“Shit.” I scrolled. “You’re going to love this. Okay, so Freya was the Norse goddess of love, fertility, battle and death.”
“Helluva combo.”
“Yeah,” I chuckled, “But get this, she actually rode… wait for it… a chariot. Pulled by cats.”
“No! Love her more with every word you read.”
“And pigs were afraid of her.”
“Ha. That would explain you being the only man who could brave my presence.”
“Yup. I concur the rest are pigs.”
I put my phone down, pulled her hair back, and bent over to give her a big smack on the lips. I picked up the framed painting and went into the open plan living area, contemplating where on the wall it might fit. I pressed it up against a space and Liz considered behind me. Was Liz my Freya? She was my love. My biggest battle and had felt like the death of me.
“El?”
I turned, painting still in hand. Liz didn’t smile with her lips but one came from somewhere. “I was thinking. Freya’s going on our wall now and I’m just...” She bit her lip. Paused. “Just amazing how much she really represents us. The tears of vulnerability, the death, battle. The love. Only one thing missing…”
I knew what she was thinking when her cheeks bloomed a bright shade of pink.
She continued, “I mean, just the fertility bit. If we’re still thinking of three, maybe we should get cracking? We don’t want to be mistaken for the grandparents.”
Babies. She still wanted to have babies. I hadn’t pushed. I hadn’t pried… yet. It was something I still wanted so madly, but knew that Liz’s body was hers to control. It was my dream but one that, maybe like the innovation stuff for Liz, I could deal without.
But now? This bad ass goddess, this woman of superhuman strength? She wanted to make babies with me. Now I could have cried tears of gold.
Since meeting Liz, I’d had so many of the best days of my life. But this one, it was the beginning of one of my three wishes actually coming true. And it wasn’t a genie in a bottle that would grant this request. Because most of the dreams we dream and wishes we want start with us. We have everything we need right here, right now, to get our greatest happiness.
If you don’t believe me, I know a remarkable, motivational speaker and a Ted Talk you should see.
Hi Reader Who I Appreciate So Very Much! Two important things!
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1. If you enjoyed this novel it would mean a lot to me to see your review! It lets other readers know this book is worth buying. This means I can keep writing! I’d so appreciate it; writing means the world to me. Just click here to give me your opinion.
* * *
2.. Wonder what pained Jasmine so much that first year she met El? What made her strong and fearless? Maybe who’s name SHE wrote on her prayer? Find out in my enemies-to-lovers sports romance, also in the Take Me Home Series.
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Only Jasmine
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Here’s the blurb!
One thing stands between me and my destiny. Jack Harlowe.
They say people who hurt others don’t love themselves. Jack must be the one exception.
He loves his power. His billion dollar kingdom. His icy blue eyes and luscious, wavy locks. Love stares him back from the mirror every day.
The Harlowes have been long time sponsors of local surfer girls, often preferring thin and blonde to winners. We need each other. They have money. I have talent. It should be the perfect match.
But Jack is hellbent on keeping me off the Team. Not only that, he won’t let me step foot anywhere his father owns, making the public beach my only option.
What Jack doesn’t know, is that once you’ve dropped into a fifty foot wave, nothing scares you. If he wants to be my one and only enemy, good luck to him. I always ride to win.
I swear I’m not cruel but I’ll let her believe it.
I usually get my way with no more than a nudge. People are naturally worried about what I can do to them. My Dad owns this town and almost every job in it.
Not Jasmine.
She isn’t scared of anything. Though I’d never let her know it; that’s my kryptonite. Her single track mind and body, fearless even in the face of death. She’s impossibly sexy. Which is why I keep her away from anything and everything that’s mine.
Thing is, my forceful determination to keep her away actually reserves space for her inside me. Because she lives there now, it's almost like she owns it.
Only Jasmine. She’s the only one that has the power to ruin everything. To ruin me. My Family. Not that she knows it.
But this woman might just kill me from the inside out.
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ONLY jasmine is available on amazon in September. Only Jasmine
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ALSO AVAILABLE in this series is Maeve and Drake’s story.
Burn With Me books2read.com/u/3LRarJ
Here’s the bl
urb:
Maeve
When I meet six foot something Drake, dripping in black leather, sex appeal and with skin like the smoothest suede, falling in love is the last thing on my mind.
I’m in the desert for one reason only, to honor my Dad’s wishes. I should stay away from Drake and protect my heart from completely disintegrating.
But I don’t.
I tell myself sleeping with him is just a bandage, but his perfection makes me believe in more.
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Drake
Every other woman but Maeve, I’d have them at hello.
But this one is a tiny, smart spitfire of black lace and red lipstick. She doesn’t give a shit about me, or so she pretends, but I know I can break through those defenses.
And when I’m on the inside, I’ll fix every last drop of her.
Even that broken heart of hers.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my awesome beta readers, major hats off to Marianne Hull. I wasn’t able to incorporate every piece of you wise advice in this manuscript but I sure as hell have learned a thing or two that I will bring forward. You’re a saint giving me that turnaround time!
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To those who gave me sensitivity reads. Those from the Burning Man Facebook group have been indispensable as you get where I was coming from more than almost anyone!
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And to my husband and kids. You are the best friends a girl could have. We have fun on TikTok, you listen to me talk about my characters as if they are friends you’ll actually meet. You are the critic that loves me most. You may be my greatest distractions but you are also my greatest reasons. Thanks for keeping my secret safe on the playground.
