by Carian Cole
“Like Velcro.”
When she smiles at me like she is right now, it’s like a jumpstart to my heart.
Her cheeks glow with a hint of pink, eyes shimmer and sparkle—it always amazes me how all of it comes from inside with her.
She’s the definition of natural beauty.
Still cupping her cheek, I can’t resist. I lower my face to hers, pausing two inches from her lips, and move my gaze from her mouth to her eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispers.
“You,” I whisper back.
She surprises me by rising up on her tiptoes to touch her lips to mine, and I can’t hold back. Holding her face in my hands, I slowly back her up against the nearest wall. She gasps and tilts her mouth, inviting my tongue to mingle with hers.
I slide my hands over her thin shoulders, skimming them down to her rib cage, then to her waist, pulling her body to fit against mine.
Her breath quickens. So does mine. I don’t want to stop, but I should. Kissing her is a storm of memories, hope, uncertainty, and desire that will only lead to more.
Fuckit.
Kenzi and Tor can wait.
Tightening my grip on her waist, I drag my mouth down to the base of her throat, gently sucking her flesh between my lips. Her hands wrap around my shoulders, pulling me closer. Silky hair falls over my face. Mine and hers. The scent of her perfume trips me up—it’s new and different and not hers.
Not the familiar, favorite scent I’ve kissed and breathed and lost myself in so many times.
It’s a jolt of unexpected new. And I don’t know why it matters, because it shouldn’t, but it does.
For a second, it feels like cheating.
“What’s wrong?” she asks when I slowly pull away.
“Nothing.” I fake a smile and smooth her hair back behind her shoulder. “We should probably go before they come looking for us.”
I hate myself for taking advantage of the fact that she doesn’t know me well enough to tell when I’m not quite telling the truth.
Silently, hand-in-hand, we walk across the street to our daughter’s house—such a simple thing but something I’ve been hoping for since the day I mentioned to Tor and Kenzi that the house was on the market.
They answer the door together, beaming with perfect smiles and hugging us excitedly, and the next thing I know, Ember is literally on the floor.
“Oh my God, I didn’t know he was here.” Kneeling, she throws her arms around their huge, white furry dog, who of course is loving every second of it. “He’s so beautiful.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes as she runs her hands through his thick fur. “He’s like the clouds…I miss the clouds so much. This is an angel dog.”
Tor and Kenzi share a glance. Then their eyes flicker to mine. When I shrug with confusion, he leans closer to her, whispering something in her ear before kissing her cheek.
“His name’s Diogee,” Kenzi says in an upbeat tone. “He loves to be loved on.”
Ember stares at her with a blank expression, then presses her face against the dog’s head. “He might have a message,” she murmurs into his fur.
Kenzi doesn’t waver, and I’m proud of her for how she handles Ember’s random out-of-the-ordinary moments with poise. “Why don’t you come into the living room, and he’ll sit on the couch with you?”
“That’s a great idea.” I hold my hand out to Ember to help her stand.
She blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers as we lead her to the couch. “I think I got confused. I haven’t seen a dog—”
“It’s normal,” Tor assures her, sitting on the love seat across the room. “Everyone has that reaction when they see him. People go nuts over him.”
Ember smiles as she continues to pet the dog. “He’s so special.”
“Tor risked his life to save him from the middle of a busy highway,” Kenzi says proudly. “My heart was in my throat watching. That was the same day as our first kiss.”
“That dog is my good-luck charm,” Tor says, leaning over to kiss Kenzi’s smiling lips.
I put my hand up. “No trips down memory lane when Dad’s in the room, please.”
“He’s not good luck. He’s a guardian angel,” Ember says. “He was there for a reason.”
We all smile at her. Stray dog, good luck, or guardian angel—who knows? Something about the dog has a grip on her. Way more than the usual gorgeous-fluffy-loving dog attention.
Kenzi stands and pulls Tor up with her. “Dinner won’t be ready for about an hour. Why don’t we show you around while the baby’s napping? We finally finished painting and decorating.”
The tour of the house distracts Ember from the dog, even though he follows us. Kenzi’s excitement is palpable as she takes us into each room, telling us fun stories about decorating that specific space. This is exactly why I wanted Kenzi and Tor to have a new house with a fresh start to make their own.
“Your house is beautiful like Asher’s. I like your wall colors better, though,” Ember says when we all go downstairs to the kitchen. “The light colors are pretty.”
Right before the accident, we had a lot of dark accent walls painted in our house, and as much as I dig bold color, lightening everything up might be a nice change.
“We could paint your rooms if you want. We could do it together,” Kenzi offers. “Or, you could hire someone if you’d prefer.”
Ember’s eyes widen with intrigue. “I’d like it if you helped me paint. I’ve been thinking about paintbrushes for some reason. I don’t know why.”
“That’s because you watch HGTV all the time,” I tease, encircling her waist from behind and leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She laughs and leans against me, resting the back of her head on my shoulder. “You might be right. I just keep having this urge to go get a paint brush and paint something.”
Kenzi eyes us with a smile. “You two look cute together. Exactly how I remember you when I was younger.”
“Just older,” Tor teases.
“Look who’s talkin’,” I reply.
“I hope I inherited your genes,” Kenzi says to Ember. “You seriously still look like you’re in your twenties. Aunt Katherine looks amazing too.”
“You’re beautiful,” Ember says. “You were such a gorgeous baby. I’ve been looking at the pictures. I think Tia looks a lot like you as a baby.”
“I thought so too,” Tor says.
“I read in my diary that you bought Kenzi her first pet when she was little. A bunny?”
Toren nods. “Yup. You yelled at me.”
Ember and I laugh together. “I did. I was afraid I’d get stuck cleaning a bunny cage every weekend.”
I wonder if she remembers, or if she read that in the diary. I resist asking her. She’s in such a great mood tonight, I don’t want to make her analyze her thoughts.
Dinner goes better than I expected. Kenzi’s lasagna is delicious. Ember falls into conversation easily with Kenzi and Tor. The four of us laughing and smiling together sets my hopes into overdrive. It feels like old times.
This is what I’ve been hoping for. My wife by my side—happy, enjoying her life again.
Despite the hiccup about the perfume, our kiss earlier was searing with chemistry.
We still got it. Eff you, amnesia.
She catches me watching her, and a shy smile spreads across her face. Winking at her, I reach under the table to discretely touch her hand. My heart jumps when she catches mine first and pulls it toward her to rest against the denim of her thigh, our fingers still laced together.
After dinner, Ember and I clean up the kitchen and dining room while Tor and Kenzi go upstairs to take care of the baby. They join us in the living room a few minutes later, with Tia cradled in Kenzi’s arms.
“Somebody wanted to say hi to their poppa.” Kenzi gently lays the baby in my arms.
Tia is like a magical little fairy. A halo of downy soft hair, huge, emotive eyes, and a smile like she’s just heard the fu
nniest joke in the world.
“Poppa?” I repeat, swooning as the baby grabs on to my finger. “She’s gotta call me something cooler than that. I’m not old enough to be Poppa.”
“How’s Gramps?” Kenzi says, laughing with Ember.
I shake my head. “No.”
“How about G-Dad?” Tor suggests.
“That makes me sound like a rapper. You want to confuse your kid?”
He laughs. “So you need a rock star grandfather name?”
“You’re lucky I’m holding this baby,” I joke.
“There’s nothing wrong with her thinking of you as her poppa,” Kenzi says. “It’s a name, not an indication of your age, Dad.”
The baby wiggles in my arms, and I melt when she smiles up at me. “You’re right. She can call me whatever she wants when she starts talking.”
Ember leans into my side to get a closer look at Tia. “She really is gorgeous,” she says softly. “She’s such a perfect little blend of both of you.”
“I think she looks more like Kenzi,” Tor says. “She has her eyes and little nose.”
“She has your smile, though.”
“Do you want to hold her?” I ask Ember.
“Maybe next time.” She smiles and touches Tia’s tiny, pink-socked foot. “I really like watching you with her. You look so natural holding a baby. How come we never had another one?”
Her question is innocent—playful even—but that doesn’t lessen the blow of the memory it dredges up for me.
I struggle to keep my voice even. “We talked about it.”
I’d do anything to go back to the day of the accident—to say fuck it about the hiker and make love to her there like I wanted to. Maybe keeping her there with me would’ve prevented what happened.
I wish I had kept her away from the edge of the cliff.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
Ember’s eyes are dancing on me, waiting for me to elaborate about another baby, but what can I say?
Just then, Diogee lays his big head on her lap for pets, hijacking her attention away from me.
Holding my granddaughter against my chest, I gently kiss the top of her head. She reminds me of Kenzi when she was this age, and it tugs my heart into a place I’ve avoided.
I’ve always wanted the second baby we never got to have. I had no doubt we’d have a boy. I’ve pictured him in my head over the years—even named him.
Mostly, I grieved him—the baby forever lost somewhere in the abyss with Ember’s memories.
But maybe, he’s just like me—still there, waiting for the sands of time to make things right.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dear Diary,
Kenzi Allyster Valentine came into our lives a few days ago. She’s five pounds, five ounces and she’s so beautiful and adorable. I’m in love with her and petrified of her. I wasn’t expecting her to be so tiny. We sit and stare at her so much in awe of how adorable and perfect she is. Everything she does is like watching a little miracle.
When she smiles or laughs or makes an expression we’re just like ahhhhhhh! I was in labor for ten hours. Asher’s entire family came and took over the waiting room. His mother stayed in the delivery room with us and calmed us both down. I thought I was gonna die and then Ash thought I was gonna die and we were both like scared idiots. Not exactly how we wanted to start out as parents, but hopefully we’ll get better.
My parents didn’t come or even call, but Katherine came. She’s going to be the baby’s godmother, and Toren is going to be the godfather. I think Asher’s brother, Storm, is upset about that. The baby is a LOT of work. It’s nonstop and nothing like the bag of sugar they made us carry around for a week in school as part of a parenting project. I’m exhausted. I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to focus at school or sing or practice guitar or spend time with Asher or even sleep.
Aria keeps telling me it’ll just all work out and everything will be perfect. I hope she’s right. We’re taking it one day at a time and doing our best. Oh, God, I just re-read this and I sound like such a whiner. I love the baby, I don’t regret her at all. I’m just tired. Asher totally LOVES Kenzi. I’m almost a little jealous. Just kidding! He helps feed her and change her and bathe her. He’s a great daddy. Seeing him hold her, and sleeping with her on his chest, is one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen. I hope that’s not weird to say. I actually feel like the baby has made us fall in love even more.
Ash and I take care of each other, we take turns taking care of the baby and we make sure we each get to sleep and his mom and gram insist that we let them take care of the baby a few nights a week so Asher and I have time alone. Kenzi has made everything a new level of REAL. Like this tiny little human is a part of us, an extension of us and our love. It’s too powerful for words. I love them both so much. I have my own little family now.
Wow. We really did it—we had a baby while we were in high school. It’s crazy to even think about, but after seeing Kenzi and Tor with their baby earlier today, I can understand the bond and the love a baby can create.
Watching Asher with the baby brewed up a whole bunch of new feelings inside me I didn’t think I’d ever have. Like maybe wanting a baby someday. And thinking how attractive he looked—all hunky and badass cradling a tiny infant in a little pink onesie. I wonder if I felt that way when we were young? Did I feel all tingly watching him with baby Kenzi? I’m sure I did.
It’s still totally bizarre for me to think that Kenzi is my daughter, and Tia is my granddaughter. I don’t feel old enough for one thing, but I also don’t feel any kind of real familial bond to them. I wish I did. I want to be normal and belong and be part of a family like everyone else. Even though technically I am part of the family, I still feel like a strange outsider most of the time. Tonight definitely was the best time I’ve had with them, so hopefully that’s a good sign.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. You want to play a game with me after? I need to redeem myself after you kicked my ass in Scrabble the other night.”
He’s come upstairs from the workout room and is taking up the doorway of my bedroom, shirtless, wearing a pair of black sweat shorts.
I blink at him, unable to speak for no reason other than I’ve never seen him shirtless before, and he’s visually overwhelming. Wavy hair clings to his sweaty, muscular shoulders. Shades of black and gray imagery cover almost every inch of his arms, hands, neck, legs, and torso. There’s no doubt his entire back is also covered in ink.
The image of a decayed skull spanning his lower chest and abs stares back at me—its black, sunken eye sockets and rotten teeth eerily realistic.
“Em?”
I shake my head. “Sorry…I was distracted by the face of death in the middle of your body.”
And that chiseled six-pack it lives on.
He laughs and leans against the doorframe. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s a bit scary. It looks 3D.”
“That’s called talent. This one alone took hours for my guy to do.”
I have a few small tattoos that I found on my legs the first time I showered. Which, of course, I don’t remember getting.
“Didn’t that hurt?” I ask.
“Physical pain doesn’t really bother me.”
Nodding, I lock the journal and put it and the key back on my nightstand.
“It’s not a representation of death, by the way. For me, it’s symbolic of everything inside me screaming to get out. How I felt like my soul was dying.”
Remorse lowers his tone and throws a shade of somber darkness over his eyes.
“I don’t think you deserve to feel that way.”
“Most people don’t deserve the demons they live with. It’s life, unfortunately.”
He rakes his hand through his hair, still stringy and damp with sweat from lifting weights. He works out every day—sometimes twice—and I wonder if he’s driven by the need to be stronger, to be able to save me, if by some horrific chance he was faced wi
th that tragedy again.
I hope not.
“I’m gonna go shower. You want to meet me in the bedroom in twenty?”
We always play board games sitting on the floor of the master bedroom, in front of the electric fireplace. I think it’s his subtle way of getting me used to being in that room with him, but I don’t mind. Game nights are my favorite because we always end up laughing and teasing each other, especially when he tries to make up silly words for Scrabble. I love his goofy side, and I wish he’d let it out more.
“Ash?” I say, stopping him before he disappears out the door. “What would make all the screaming inside you stop?”
His eyes flash with surprise at my question, and he steps farther into the room, stopping next to the bed where I’m sitting. The muscles of his jaw twitch as he bites the inside of his cheek.
“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asks. “ ’Cause I can only answer that with brutal honesty.”
Intense, coppery eyes bore into mine. Waiting for my answer. Waiting to tell me his answer.
“Yes,” I reply. “I want to know.”
“I want my life back. I want you to have your life back. I want you to look at me like you remember me. I want you to love me. I want you back in our bed. I want to be able to kiss the hell out of you and rip your clothes off without feeling like I’m cheating on my wife. I want my kid to have her mother. I want you to stop talking about yourself like you’re not you. I want to stop hating myself for letting you slip off that cliff. I want to stop hating myself for feeling all the things I just said, because none of it is your fault.”
His broad chest expands with a deep breath, the skull seeming to take on life as it moves with his flesh. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I miss you—your love and your touch. And I hate missing you when you’re Right. Fucking. Here. It’s destroying me.”
His voice is thick with torment. Every one of his words makes me cringe inside, not only because they hurt to hear, but also because I know how much it hurt him to have said them.
I gulp over the lump in my throat. “Can I respond?”
