Us. I think it was the first time I’d used the collective noun when talking to someone to describe me, Amanda and Tanner. The weight of the word pressed on me, a wonderful pressure I willingly bore.
Raph nodded. “No worries,” he answered.
Done. Just like that. No more words needed. Maci reached across the table and squeezed my hand. I flipped it over and squeezed hers back.
“Now,” she smiled, “fill us is on the whole story.”
And so I did. From the first time I met Amanda on the ski slopes in Australia, to the day she ended our relationship, to the morning I arrived in LA, to now.
They commented occasionally. Maci said she completely understood Amanda’s reason for ending our relationship. “Remember,” she pointed out, “I know all about the fear of dooming the future of the person I love. It may not make any sense to anyone else, but that fear has a powerful grip on rationality. To an outsider, we look a little unhinged and selfish. To us it’s the most logical thing in the world.” She gave a sheepish shrug, and flicked Raph a wry smile. “Until the person we love smacks us in the face and makes us wake up to ourselves.”
Raph chuckled, brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Took bloody long enough with you.”
She shrugged again. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
I could see Raph didn’t agree at all with Amanda’s reasoning for not letting me know about Tanner’s birth, but as was his way, he kept his opinion to himself. What he did do was agree her father was a dick. It may be infantile, but I felt so much better for that support.
I was filling them in on Robby Aames when a warm hand smoothed over my back.
“Hi,” Amanda’s husky voice sounded at my shoulder a heartbeat before she lowered herself into the empty seat beside me. She smiled, first at me, then at Maci and Raph. “I’m Amanda.”
I watched Maci and Raph suss her out, their silent inspections lasting a fraction of a second but no doubt forming a lasting impression. Did they see what I saw when I looked at her – a beautiful, sensitive young mother fighting to stay sane, to stay calm in the face of real and horrific trauma? Did they see her warmth, her compassion, her strength?
Or did they see a manipulative woman who’d done me wrong? Who now sat at the table uninvited, her hair a mess, her clothes crumpled, looking like an extra in a bad medical drama?
“Hi Amanda,” Maci spoke first and I think I damn near laughed with relief at the friendly warmth in her voice. “I’m Maci. This is Raph. We’re friends of Brendon’s.”
Raph extended his hand across the table. “G’day, Amanda.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows at me before taking his hand and shaking it. “Another Australian?”
Raph chuckled. “Yeah. Don’t hold that against me though.”
Amanda laughed, giving me a sideways grin. “I’ll try not to.”
“Raph and Maci live in Plenty, Ohio,” I said. “They’ve flown here so Raph can be tested to see if he’s a match.”
Amanda’s face flooded with a whole myriad of emotions, from confusion to stunned disbelief, before contorting into the most heartbreaking mix of gratitude and misery I’ve ever seen.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. Tears glistened in her eyes as she locked her stare on Raph. “Oh my God, I don’t . . .” She stopped. A fat tear spilled from her eye and ran down her cheek. She swiped at it with the back of her hand, still staring at Raph. “Thank you.”
“Now . . .” Raph began.
The sharp clattering of Amanda’s chair tumbling to the floor shattered the room, a split second before she ran around the table and enveloped Raph’s head and upper body in a hug.
“Thank you,” she repeated, the words choked with tears.
Raph reached up and rubbed her back. I know Raphael Jones well. He’s not a fan of invasion of his personal space, but he didn’t seem to be fazed at all by Amanda’s abrupt embrace. “It’s all good,” he answered. “I pray I’m a match.”
“God willing,” Parker Waters’ voice sounded on my right.
I turned in time to see him grab a chair from the table next to ours and pull it over. He sat down, straddling it. Today his green-framed glassed were replaced with red-framed ones, and his hair stuck out from his head in a spiky mess. He wore faded gray sweatpants with HARVARD printed down one leg, and an equally faded Hawaiian-print shirt. I noticed the buttons were misaligned. I also noticed the flip flops on his feet were mismatched.
Here was a man who either had rushed to get dressed before leaving home . . . or didn’t give a toss about his appearance. From my experience with Parker, it could be either option.
“So?” He folded his arms over the back of the chair and peered at Maci and Raph over the top of his glasses. “I’ve been told one of you has Parkinson’s. Who is it?”
My gut dropped at the blunt question. Raph’s nostrils flared, and Amanda gasped.
Maci however, raised her hand and let out a wry grunt. “That would be me.”
Parker dipped his head in a single nod. “You know, of course, you’re ineligible.”
She returned his nod with one of her own. “I do.”
Parker turned his attention to Raph. “And before you go into over-protective mode and punch me for being callous, I want you to understand, my primary focus is your friend’s son. Right now, we don’t have time for PC tip-toeing. Understand?”
Raph drew in a slow breath.
“He understands,” Maci answered, smoothing her hand up Raph’s arm.
Raph released his breath in a sigh. “Yeah, I do.”
Parker nodded again. “Excellent. Now that’s out of the road, you must be Raphael Jones?”
“I am.” Raph extended his hand. “What do you need me to do?”
Parker shook his hand. “A simple blood test. If it looks like you’re a possible match, we’ll move onto tissue matching, okay?”
“Okay.”
With a slap of his hands on the back of the chair, Parker rose to his feet. “Right, let’s punch it, wookie.” He turned to me. “Are you okay to stay here with these lovely ladies, big guy?”
“If one of them buys me another coffee, sure.”
Parker turned to Raph. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
As they walked away, I heard Parker ask, “So, named after the painter or the turtle?”
I’m pretty certain I heard Raph reply, “Turtle.”
When I turned back to Amanda and Maci, it dawned on me I was sitting at a table with the only two girls I’d ever loved. It was surreal. I would have made a joke out of it, but this wasn’t the right time. Not under these circumstances.
As it was, before I could open my mouth to break the silence, Maci did, in typical Maci Rowling fashion – quickly and to the point.
“Just to get the awkward out of the way,” she said to Amanda, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, her right hand firmly clasped around her left to contain its trembles, “I’m going to be up front. I didn’t like the way you broke his heart” – she tossed a sideways nod in my direction – “or left him in the cold about your son.”
I saw Amanda stiffen. And Maci frown. My gut clenched.
“On the other hand,” Maci went on, her eyes fixed on Amanda’s, “I’ve been in the position of not wanting to tell anyone about my own illness, so I get it. And it sucks. It sucks a lot. So we will do anything we can to help you.” She gave me a warm smile. “Both of you, and your son.” Settling back in her seat, she let out a short breath and turned her smile to Amanda. “There, that covers it, right?”
Amanda let out her own breath, hers far more wry. “Breaking Brendon’s heart was never the plan. Nor was any of this, trust me. I’ve just been trying to survive one wave at a time. It wasn’t until Bren arrived that I realized I can survive whatever the world throws at me, even . . . even what’s happening to Tanner, when I’m with him.”
“So you lov
e him? He’s not just here because you hoped his bone marrow would match? Or that you needed his sizeable shoulders to lean on?”
Amanda met Maci’s intent gaze. “I don’t think there’s words to describe how much I love him. I never stopped loving him. Ever.”
Suffice to say, my heart tried to thump its way out of my chest at that. And damn, I had a hard time not leaning over to kiss her senseless.
Maci’s smile grew warmer. She stood, walked around the table to where Amanda sat, crouched down beside her and without a word, slipped her arms around her waist and hugged her.
I’m not going to lie. I had to blink a lot to clear my eyes.
“Gonna get us coffee,” I muttered, rising to my feet.
Ten minutes later, the three of us sat drinking the poor excuse of a beverage the Americans call coffee, while Amanda and Maci talked about Parkinson’s disease, Australia, Tanner, and any other topic that crossed their minds.
I sat silent in my chair, letting their soft voices flow over me, watching them, but not really watching them. I was being. Just being. Not meditating, but existing, drawing comfort from Maci’s company, drawing strength from Amanda’s love.
My mind – like their conversation – flittered about, jumping from one subject to another, never lingering on one for long. Tanner, Raph’s blood test, living in America, American financial systems, my mum and dad’s tests, Charles Sinclair, Robby Aames, working in the States, living here . . . My mind touched on all of it.
I wasn’t searching for answers. I was just . . . existing. Decompressing.
I was still doing so when Raph returned. Or maybe I was dozing? I didn’t hear him arrive that’s for certain, nor did I hear he and Maci tell Amanda they were going to check into a hotel, but apparently that’s what happened.
Or so Amanda told me, a soft chuckle in her voice after she gently nudged me back to the here and now.
“C’mon, my Wonder from Down Under,” she murmured, tugging me to my feet. “It’s almost three-thirty. We won’t get the results for Raphael’s test for another two hours. Parker told us to go home and get some proper sleep. We’ll be back by the time Tanner wakes.”
Home. The word played with me. Going home with Amanda.
I tightened my fingers around her hand, stopping her as she began to walk away from the table.
She turned, a confused frown pulling at her eyebrows as she looked up at me. “What’s up?”
I drew her close and lowered my head to hers. “I love you, Mandy,” I whispered. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
She looked up at me. Stared into my eyes. And then smoothed her palms up my chest and smile. “Yes,” she whispered back.
I kissed her there in the cafeteria. I knew there were other people around us, not many, but a few. I knew, given why they were at the hospital in the first place, the last thing they probably wanted to see was someone else’s raw happiness, but I had to kiss her. I didn’t have any other choice. I loved her. And she loved me. And when you realize something as profound as that, when it really really hits you, you have no other choice but to surrender to your heart.
Lifting my head from hers, our breaths mingling, I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip and nudged her forehead with mine. “Home?”
“Home.”
We drove back to her apartment in relative silence. There was nothing strained or uncomfortable about it. I sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, my hand resting on her thigh.
Mrs. Garcia, I was almost surprised to see, wasn’t perched in her usual spot at her window when we arrived. Hand in hand, we walked into Amanda’s building, up the stairs to her floor. I wanted to scoop her up and carry her over the threshold when she opened her door, but honestly, I don’t think I had the strength. Exhaustion had finally claimed me. I was beyond drained.
I followed Amanda into her apartment, a slow smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I saw she’d returned Tanner’s toys, his high chair, from their earlier hiding places. When had she done that? When I’d stormed out, angry at her and her non-relationship with Robby and his Rolex?
A warmth spread through me as my tired gaze fell on a collection of Transformers toys in a basket next to the sofa, sitting there waiting for Tanner to play with them again. I could hear his giggles as he waved them about. I could see his grin.
“Oppimus da,” he crowed in my head, waving the robot at me. “Tuck tuck!”
Warm fingers found mine and I lifted my gaze to find Amanda leading me through the living room. I think I was asleep before I made it into her bedroom. I don’t remember lying down. Nor do I remember undressing.
But when I woke, almost two hours later, and found Amanda stretched naked beside me, the pre-dawn sky painting her body in delicate purple shadows, I remembered our kiss in the cafeteria. I remembered my question.
I remembered her answer.
And every molecule in my body – from the base organ between my thighs, to the thumping organ in my chest – reacted to that answer, and the future it meant. Rolling onto my side, my pulse fast, my breath shallow, I skimmed my hand up over her bare leg, over her hip, her belly. My fingers found the tiny stretch marks in her flesh, and traced them. She moaned in her sleep, the softest of sounds, and shifted on the bed, moving into my touch.
I drew closer to her, my fingers exploring the incredible swell of her breasts, the puckered tip of her nipples. My pulse quickened more as I noticed the way the dark points grew harder, the way her body responded to mine. Returning my hand to her hip, I traced the silky lines there as I leaned toward her and took one of her nipples in my mouth.
“Oh yes, Bren,” she murmured, her voice husky with arousal. Her hand fisted in my hair, holding my mouth to her flesh.
I drew harder on the peak, sliding my hand to the curls of her pubic hair, and lower.
“Yes . . .” She rasped, arching as my fingers parted her folds and sought out the very center of her sex. “Yes . . .”
I worshipped her breasts, her sex, with my mouth and my hand. When I lifted my mouth from her breast, when I moved it to her mouth, when I took possession of her lips with my own, she moaned into the kiss and closed her fingers around my wrist. She guided my hand until I felt her inner muscles begin to tighten around my fingers.
“Oh Bren,” she groaned against my lips, squeezing my wrist and holding my hand still between her legs. “I don’t want to come that way . . . I want you inside me. Please . . . be inside me.”
“No worries,” I murmured against her lips, teasing the tiny button of her clit with my thumb before withdrawing my hand and moving above her. I supported my weight with my hands and knees as I kissed her over and over, as I feasted on her breasts and lost myself to her flesh.
I explored her beautiful body. I kissed her belly, traced her stretch marks with my tongue. I parted her pussy lips with my fingers and licked at her clit, teasing it. And then, as she moaned again and pleaded with me to be inside her, I moved up over her again, aligning our bodies, our hearts. Hips together, thighs tangled, I rested my weight on one elbow and caught her wrist with my other hand. I raised her palm to my lips and kissed it center.
Holding her gaze, I whispered I love you, and then entered her. Filled her. Made love to her. Gave myself to her forever.
And when her phone and mine chirped beside the bed, when Parker’s name flashed up on our screens, for a selfish moment I wanted nothing more than to pretend it hadn’t. For one split-second, selfish moment that vanished again just as quickly.
Because our forever – whatever it may be – was waiting for us at the hospital, and I didn’t begrudge that at all, even as I feared it and hoped to God it was the future we wanted.
Fourteen
And Aunty Chase Was Awesome
Remember how earlier I’d mentioned my thoughts on the concept of hope? As I sat in Parker’s office, Amanda’s fingers squeezing mine so hard it hurt, I knew there was a reason for my dismissal of it. Hope had royally fucked me over.
/> Raph wasn’t a match.
I don’t know at what point I’d believed one hundred percent that he was going to be. But at some stage in the last three hours, between when he’d hugged me in the hospital foyer to when he’d left with Parker to have the tests, my stupid optimism had taken charge of my commonsense and I’d convinced myself my old rival and friend was going to save my son’s life by being the perfect bone-marrow match. Maybe because he was a born chick-flick-hero kind of guy. Maybe because he’d saved Maci’s life by loving her. For whatever reason, I was convinced he was going to be a match and save my son.
He wasn’t. He didn’t know that yet. Neither did Maci. It was only Amanda and me and Parker in his office, the 5:30 am dawn sun streaming through the window, its promise of a new day mocking us with cruel light.
My heart pounding in my ears like a canon, I stared at Amanda sitting beside me, her stricken profile. Inside I was . . . empty.
“No.” She shook her head at Parker.
Parker’s sigh filled the office. He’d come back to the hospital dressed in gray suit pants, a white shirt and a purple and green polka-dot bowtie. The frames of his glasses were lime green. A purple handkerchief poked out of his breast pocket. I knew the colorful display was for the children, but I wanted to take that handkerchief and tear it to shreds.
Fate, life – hell, maybe even God if he really did exist – had fucked us over again.
I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to scream at something. I wanted to rage. And cry. Jesus, I wanted to cry.
But for Amanda’s sake, I wouldn’t. She needed my strength. Not bitter tears and futile anger.
“We’ll put out another call to the donor bank,” Parker said, his voice calm and gentle. And yet, I could hear defeat in it.
A critical stage. They were the words he’d used last night, talking to me about Tanner’s condition. How critical must it now be for that tone to taint his normal confidence?
Unforgettable (Always Book 2) Page 20
