The perfect outside weather for an inside toast.
I make my way to the side of the big dining table. Most of the people who had been sitting there have moved on, either packing up their children and heading home or mingling together, trying to get a leg up with their superiors at the company. My father and his senior guys still sit at the head of the table, still talk about basically nothing that has to do with the stated purpose of this party—namely, my engagement to Aimee. Jason Simons, after all, might one day turn this company over to me, but certainly not soon. And so he has more important things to discuss than his heir’s paltry future.
That’s okay. Because I have nothing more important to talk about than my future with Aimee. Even if that future is just a fantasy.
I pick up an abandoned wine glass, still half-full of red, and a mostly-clean butterknife, and tap the glass. I do this because I’ve seen it in movies, but never actually in real life, and I wonder if it will really work. To my surprise, the high ting ting ting of silverware against crystal has exactly the effect I saw in The Wedding Singer. The buzz of conversation immediately dies down and faces turn toward me. Even Jason and his minions stop talking and look up, their eyes curious. If only I knew some sappy eighties tunes.
Aimee freezes where she is, stops mid-sentence talking to one of the foreman’s wives with her wine glass halfway to her mouth. She is wearing a beige sweater and a yellow dress and she looks like the sun. If I were to go blind with this image burned into my mind I would be content to never see another thing.
She lowers the glass to her side and closes her mouth as she turns fully toward me. Her face is perfectly still, perfectly beautiful.
Still hunkered in his corner, Eli turns slowly to look, as well. His face is inscrutable.
I raise my voice to make sure everyone in the dining room and adjoining formal room can hear me. “Good evening. Thank all of you for coming. I had sort of expected that my future best man would offer up some sort of toast for this event—” I hold up the glass of second-hand wine and tip it toward Eric. He tips his beer bottle in my direction. Cheers. “—But it looks as if I’m on my own on that score.” I feel myself smile. “No biggie. It’s not like I’ve ever had a problem calling attention to myself.”
There is a collective chuckle. I pause, and then go on. “We here in the Simons household aren’t too big on toasts or formal announcements, or even on talking about much of anything besides business,” I nod to my father with a half smile. He frowns in return. “We’re very business-y folks here. Some of us, anyway. But those of you who know me know that I’m a bit less business and a bit more party.” More chuckles at that. Aimee rolls her eyes. “And since this is a party, I might be expected to devote myself to the business of getting drunk and generally making a nuisance of myself all night. It is, after all, my way.” Outright laughter and some knowing nods. My mother purses her lips.
“But it’s not really my way any more. Some things have changed. For those of you who didn’t know—because it hasn’t actually been discussed much—” I cast another sidelong look at my scowling father, “this is my engagement party.” I look at Aimee, lock eyes with her. “Our engagement party.” I point to her. “That beautiful girl over there—Aimee, hold up your hand—has showed me that there is another way of living. A better way of living. A more lovely way.” Aimee’s face is starting to get red.
Behind her Holly, Eli’s girlfriend, hurries into the living room from wherever she’s been. She kneels beside Eli and whispers to him. As she speaks, the anger on his face relaxes. His eyebrows raise briefly in a look that only says, “Seriously?” She nods and he smiles. I carry on.
“Some of you might know that I’ve known Aimee Strauss since the second grade. What I know none of you know—not even Aimee herself knows this.” I smile at her. I know what I’m going to say, and almost expect to feel some internal resistance to the words. But to my surprise, baring myself in front of Aimee—and everybody else—is effortless. “Not even Aimee knows that for all that time I’ve known her, since I first saw her on the playground at West Bartlesville Elementary, I’ve loved her with every fiber of my being.” A lady in the back of the room goes, “Awwww.” Aimee’s eyes widen and her lips part.
“Aimee, I have never, not once, said the right thing. In any situation, really. I perpetually live with my foot lodged in my over-privileged mouth. But right now, just this one time, I want to say the right thing.” Suddenly it is as if we are the only people in the room. Just Aimee and I and all the things I have always wanted to say to her but never knew how, or was too chickenshit to say. Well, what better time than in a big gathering of people I barely know. “I’ve wanted to marry you since we were seven years old.”
Aimee’s eyes are wide and she’s looking at me now with an expression that is completely unreadable.
“You are, and always have been, the bright light that shows me the path I should walk.” I clear my throat. “I, uh, may not always walk it, but at least I know where it is. I always know where I am as long as I’m with you.”
I can tell she’s not sure whether to believe this, or to think of it as part of the charade.
“And when I’m not with you I can’t tell up from down. You can ask Eric. When you’re gone I’m a fuckin’ mess.” The men laugh at this, and some of the women suck in disapproving breaths at my language.
Eric nods. “Even more of a mess than usual,” he calls.
I walk toward her. Aimee doesn’t move. Her dark eyes are pools that draw me to her. “All I want is you,” I tell her, speaking only to her now. “All this,” I motion vaguely around us. “The money, the house, the company, all of it. It doesn’t mean anything to me. There’s only you, Aimee.” I’m standing close to her now. Her hands are warm in mine and she’s looking up at me. Her lips are slightly parted and I want so badly to kiss her. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I’m all yours. I always have been.” And now I do kiss her, softly, as if for the first time. Her lips are cool and she tastes slightly of wine and chocolate. I fall into her. Every ounce of me wants to deepen the kiss, to make it something more passionate, more erotic. But that’s for another moment.
And maybe I still didn’t say it all right, but I know from the way her lips momentarily melt against mine for the first time in months that I got close.
Around us, people start clapping. The sound brings me back to reality and I open eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed. Aimee just leaves hers closed a moment, breathing through her mouth. Someone slaps me on the back and I turn.
It’s Eli. No longer grimacing, his smile is wide and—dare I say it?—friendly. Holly stands just behind his right shoulder, not looking at anything in particular. “Nice speech, bro,” he says, and winks.
I’m not sure how to respond. Really, I just want to take Aimee out of this room to have her to myself. Or at least to be able to talk to her alone. To let her know that the speech was for her, and not for anybody else. “Thanks, Eli. That means a lot.” I’m still holding Aimee’s hands, and I turn back to her.
Eli says, “I’m sure you two have a…very bright…future ahead of you.” It’s the kind of thing I would expect him to say with bitterness, but surprisingly there is none. I turn back to say something else, but he and Holly are walking away, heads together, muttering. Everyone else seems to have the same idea. They’ve moved away from me and Aimee, giving us our space.
Aimee’s voice is low, somewhat husky. “That was…unexpected,” she says.
I’m troubled by Eli’s sudden absence of fury. “I know. I didn’t think he’d have anything to say to me.”
Aimee smacks me on the shoulder. It’s a playful move, the kind she hasn’t done in months. “Not him, weirdo. You. Your speech.”
I put my hands on her waist, my fingers light on the fabric of her dress, barely feeling her warmth underneath. “I meant every word of that.”
“But—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Later,” I promise. “I want
to tell you so many things. But not here.”
She nods, her eyes shining.
Practically Naked
Aimee
I want to text Marie, ask her where she is, but I can’t.
“I can’t find my phone,” I tell Cam. Who responds with that stupid, predictable question everyone asks.
“Where do you remember having it last?” He grins, knowing that question infuriates me.
I wave to the other side of the room. I had been sitting on the couch, talking to Chloe, Cam’s aunt. “Somewhere over there.”
Cam walks that way. “I’ve checked over there,” I call after him.
“I know.” He turns back and winks. “But I’m feeling confident tonight.”
You sure are.
Cam’s speech has shaken me to my core. It’s not that I wasn’t aware that he still had feelings for me. I just had never comprehended their depth. And for once in the last six months he had managed to string together a series of words that weren’t the entirely wrong combination, and now I’m just not sure at all how to feel. Warm? Excited? Somewhat open to the possibility of a life that included him? Maybe all those things. And…
Good. I feel good.
“Got it!” he calls, holding up my phone.
Bastard.
“It was between the couch cushions.” He walks over and puts it in my hand.
“I checked between the couch cushions.”
He shrugs. “They’re pretty big cushions. Easy to miss.”
I check my texts. Two from Marie, who should have showed up a long time ago.
The first, from twenty-three minutes ago, says, “I’m coming up the driveway now!”
The second, from nineteen minutes ago, says, “You didn’t tell me that asshole would be here.”
Uh oh.
I text: “What are you doing?”
Her reply is immediate. “Sitting in my car in the driveway and thinking about leaving.”
I groan. “What is it?” Cam says.
Maybe bringing her and Eric to the same function wasn’t the best idea.
“What is the furthest guest room in this house away from the one that Eric is staying in?”
He shrugs. “It can be pretty far away. It’s a big house.”
“Like, is there maybe a wing of the house on the other side of town?”
He laughs, and even though I hate the situation I like the sound. “It’s big enough. We can take care of it.”
When I get outside I see her immediately. Just sitting there in her little Hyundai, both hands gripping her steering wheel. The car is just stopped in the middle of the driveway. It would be blocking people from leaving if it weren’t so small (or if the driveway weren’t so freaking huge). She rolls down the window when I get to it. Cam stays a bit behind me, less out of respect, probably, than out of fear of the tongue lashing Marie might give him.
“Hey there, baby-cakes,” I lean over. My breath frosts in the chilly air.
She doesn’t look at me. “I feel somewhat betrayed,” she says. “Are you playing matchmaker?”
“What? No.” I reach in and squeeze her shoulder. “I just didn’t think. I was nervous about this, and so I just invited people I trust to be with me. In case things went south.”
She turns to me, her blond curls swaying. “And…how are things going?” It’s amazing how fast she can shift gears sometimes.
I look over my shoulder at Cam, who studiously avoids looking at Marie. “Things are going…much better than I expected.”
She starts to smile. “That’s good. I had—” then she stops, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. You guys are getting back together, aren’t you?”
Maybe. “No. Of course not. That would be crazy.” Even as I say it, Marie’s face mirrors the lack of belief that I have for my own words. She opens the car door and swings out short legs. As she steps out I see that she’s wearing a black skirt cut to mid-thigh and a white blouse that is unbuttoned a bit lower than one might expect at a society dinner party. She’ll be freezing in no time.
“Bullshit,” she says, smoothing her skirt. She eyes Cameron with mingled skepticism and appraisal. “You two are practically naked already.”
Cam steps forward as my mouth drops open.
“Marie!” I say as Cameron says, “Practically.”
Is this something that should make me mad? It feels as if it should be. I consider this while an awkward silence descends between the three of us.
And then Marie says, “Well then get me inside so I can grab a drink and you two can go have long-lost make-up sex.”
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim. Cameron says, “Allow me to show you to the bar. You’ll find it’s fully stocked, and the staff bartender can make any kind of drink your fabulous heart desires.” He sweeps a hand toward the front door and leads the way, casting a glance back at me, one eyebrow arched. His grin is absolutely wicked, and it sparks a familiar tremor in my belly.
Cam guides us through the front door, going left down the hall instead of to the right into the crowded living room and dining area. At the end of the hall a heavy oak door opens onto a large rec room. In one corner is a TV that is twin the the monstrosity in the living room, only this one is fitted with what seems like a dozen video game consoles. A pool table dominates the center of the room, with a fooseball table near the far wall and shuffleboard and darts along the near wall. The carpet is burgundy and so plush it feels as if you’re floating. A full wet bar is set up on the wall to the left. Cameron steps behind it, props his elbow on the bar. “What’ll the lady have?” he asks Marie.
“Thought you have a staff bartender.”
Cam winks at her. “You’re looking at him.” He makes a show of pulling a rag from beneath the bar and ostentatiously polishing the cherry surface.
“A Manhattan, then.”
He stops wiping the bar. “Ah. Yeah. I don’t know how to make that.”
The door squeaks behind Marie and me.
“Two ounces of bourbon, one ounce vermouth, two dashes of bitters, and a cherry,” Eric says. Marie freezes in place and I turn toward him. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, looking uncomfortable. Almost forlorn. My heart immediately goes out to him at the same time that I wish that he would have stayed out of this room. “Add ice,” he finishes.
Cam nods, pursing his lips. “I figured it had to be something like that.” He goes back to polishing the bar.
“You don’t know what bitters are, do you?” Eric says.
Marie still hasn’t moved.
“Ah…” Cameron says.
Eric moves behind the bar and pulls a couple bottles off the shelf. Marie turns away stiffly and goes to sit on the huge leather sectional that faces the TV, her back to all of us. Cameron looks at me, half a smile on his lips and his eyebrows raised as if to say, “Now look what you’ve done.”
He pulls two Peretti’s from beneath the bar like a magician and pops the tops. He comes around the end of the bar and hands one to me. Leaning into me, his lips warm right by my ear, he says, “Maybe we should just leave them alone.”
Ice clinks in a glass tumbler. I look at Cameron as if he’s insane. “Absolutely not.” I can’t imagine the idea of leaving the two of them here in this uncomfortable situation. Especially since—and I hate admitting that Cam is right—this is my doing.
He grins, “Well, then maybe they should leave us alone.” His lips quirk into a tentative smile that he can’t suppress, and that smile widens into the boyish grin that has made me love him since before we were teenagers. I try very hard to stay serious, but I suddenly want very badly to kiss him, and I feel myself smiling back at him.
Without turning, Marie says, “Jesus, you two, go somewhere and do something to take care of the sexual tension, would you please? I’ve been here five minutes and you’ve already got me on the edge of my seat.”
Eric approaches the couches, two identical drinks in his hands. He steps carefully, almost diffidently.
C
am is looking into my eyes, his hand snaking around my waist, not quite drawing me to him. To Marie he says, “I don’t know that the sexual tension you detect has anything to do with us.”
My jaw drops open. He did not just say that to her.
She turns now, sees Eric walking toward her. Her blue eyes are cold, but I see something shift behind them. Her mouth opens partway and I think she might speak to him for the first time. Then she says, “No sexual tension here, thank you very much. Just tension.”
Eric’s shoulders sag, and he hands her drink to her without saying anything. Then he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room. As soon as his back is turned her face takes on that same lost-in-the-wilderness expression I just saw on Eric’s. Her eyes follow him as he leaves the room, and then seem to continue to gaze at him through the wall, following him down the hallway.
Cameron leans back against the bar and takes a drink of his beer. He purses his lips and his eyes look into the distance.
My drink and I walk over to stand behind the couch Marie is sitting on. She has half-turned toward the door, her shoulder to me. I put my hand on it.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
She blinks, then shakes her head as if she is waking up from an unexpected doze. She glances down at the drink in her hand, then up at me. Her eyes are shining, but she smiles brightly and lies. “I’m right as rain,” she says, fake cheer in her voice. She raises the tumbler to her lips, then seems to reconsider. She leans over and places it on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Cameron says, “If you give me your keys I’ll go get your bags.”
She looks over at him as if only just realizing he’s still here. “You know, don’t worry about that.”
He looks a question at her. “Of course you’re welcome to use the house towels and bedding, and there’s probably a robe around here for you somewhere, but you’ll probably want your own clothes.”
All Yours: A Second Chance Romance Page 12
