Peter and I spent almost every Saturday together that fall, sometimes playing tennis but doing other things as well: cycling and hiking along the Boise River Greenbelt, picnicking in Julia Davis Park, exploring downtown Boise, and—best of all—cheering for the Boise State Broncos at every home game in Bronco Stadium.
Peter truly was a big football fan. Between him and my father, who usually came with us, I soon learned the names of every player and every play (well, almost). We cheered until we were hoarse as I happily watched Daddy enjoying a part of life again. CJ and Stacey and their boys came with us to watch Boise State defeat San Diego State on November 17th. CJ’s boys played football on their middle school team and planned to follow their dad and Uncle Quinn into the NFL. I didn’t doubt it.
Between work and weekend activities, I found time to prepare and submit my law school application materials to the University of Idaho’s College of Law, hoping to enter the following August. I was almost certain of acceptance this time; surely the MacAllisters were not major donors to this college. Best of all, I could complete all three years in Boise instead of moving to Moscow’s campus. I did not want to leave my father alone.
Peter and I became good friends and enjoyed spending time together at work and play, but as Christmas approached, we had not crossed the line between friendship and something more. My memories of the rape just one year ago made me wary of getting involved with a man I didn’t really know. I remembered how Ben had been at first: fun, exciting and generous. But intimacy revealed his darker side and became a weapon he used to control me. Peter didn’t seem like Ben in most ways, but intimacy frightened me even as I craved it.
And then there was Trey, who was so much a part of me that he didn’t frighten me at all. I longed to share myself with Trey in every way. I felt incomplete without him. But I couldn’t forget the “cousin thing.” And I was fairly certain he hadn’t broken up with Kelly.
Chapter 13
D addy and I decided to close the office during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. The entire staff was looking forward to the break, but on the last day of work I realized I knew nothing of Peter’s plans for Christmas, so I asked him.
“Plans?” he shrugged. “What’s to plan? I’ll sleep late, relax and watch Quinn’s football game on TV. Maybe cook a steak. Doesn’t require much planning.”
I was dismayed. “What about your parents? Don’t you spend Christmas with them?”
“The last I heard, my mother is in France with her new boyfriend. Dad and his latest wife are skiing in Vail. My grandparents are dead or in nursing homes. There’s no one else.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be alone. Why don’t you come with us to my grandma’s house? You’ll love it, Peter! Her Swedish Christmases are so special, with wonderful food and decorations and so much fun. The whole Larson clan will be there, except for Quinn, of course. I know they’ll be happy to meet you, and you can watch Quinn’s game with us. Please say you’ll come.”
He hesitated. “I don’t know, Elise.”
I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Grandma always hangs mistletoe.”
He grinned. “Mistletoe, huh? You’re sure?”
“Yes. Quite sure.”
He caved. “All right. Christmas with the Larson clan. Thanks. It sounds like fun.”
It was fun, at least up to a point. And that point was Trey. My family welcomed Peter and pretty much succeeded at making Christmas enjoyable despite my mother’s absence. Grandma and Johnny outdid themselves in the kitchen while CJ, Stacey and their boys finished wrapping and decorating under Granddad Quinn’s supervision. The house was filled with delicious aromas, lights, music, laughter and love (and mistletoe).
By the time we gathered around the table for the traditional Swedish Christmas feast, Peter was relaxed and enjoying the whole experience. But Trey clearly was not. He said very little to me and didn’t need to. His silent communication said a great deal more.
Trey sat apart from me when we opened gifts, and he did not walk with the family to the traditional Christmas Eve candlelight service. (Thankfully, he was not around when Peter kissed me under the mistletoe.) But as we were getting ready to leave, I went downstairs to the family room, where he was watching TV.
“Are you avoiding me?” I asked.
“I feel like a third wheel,” he replied. “You and your new boyfriend don’t need me around.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a coworker and a friend. That’s all.”
He snorted. “Friends don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.”
“Trey . . .”
“We need to talk, Elise.”
“Where? When?”
“Hell, I don’t care. I’ll be around all week. You pick a place.”
“All right. My house at ten a.m. on Wednesday.”
“Will Uncle Jim be there?”
“No. He’s going skiing with CJ and Stacey and the boys. I’ll tell them I have other plans. They won’t question it. We’ll be alone.
“Good. I’ll be there.”
Trey was right on time on Wednesday morning, looking good in jeans, a black leather jacket and the blue Henley I’d given him for Christmas—the blue that matched his eyes and mine. Making no move to touch me, he walked straight to the family room and sat on the sofa.
“I could take your coat,” I offered. “Or get you something to drink?”
He shook his head. “I just want to talk. I need to know what’s going on.”
I sat on a chair across from him. “Regarding what?”
“Regarding us. Regarding your friend Peter.”
“There’s nothing ‘going on’ with Peter. I told you.”
“Sure. You told me. So if it’s not Peter, then who or what has created this barrier between us? Why are you so damn impersonal on the phone? Why are you sitting over there, a good ten feet away, offering me something to drink like I’m a guest in this house? Have your feelings changed that much? And if they have, I want to know why.”
“My feelings haven’t changed,” I said. “But things got so complicated after that weekend we shared. My mother died. My father needed me, both here and at the office. Peter was a big help at work and we became friends. Just friends, Trey! He helped me to cope with the pain and grief of losing my mother. I’m very grateful for that. And I don’t think you have a right to be upset about Peter when you and Kelly . . .”
“What about Kelly?”
“I assume you’re still together. When she got back in September . . .”
“When she got back in September, I broke up with her.”
I stared at him. “You did? Why?”
“Why?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Because I actually thought that weekend we shared meant something. I thought it was the start of something good and real and permanent between us. How could I take Kelly to my bed when all I wanted was you?”
“I’m sorry. Sorry I’ve made such a mess of things. Sorry I’ve hurt you. I didn’t mean to. Because I meant it when I said my feelings haven’t changed. I love you, Trey. Only you. Always you.”
“You really mean that?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then come to me and prove it. Show me how much you love me.”
I crossed the ten feet that separated us, sat on his lap and kissed him with all the pent-up longing of our six-month separation. He returned the kiss with equal hunger, plunging and withdrawing over and over until the craving ignited, spreading lower in that familiar demand for satisfaction. I turned my head to disengage his mouth and we gasped for breath.
“Where?” he asked. “Right here?”
“My room. Now.”
He was right behind me on the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom, a very feminine room that had never seen a man in my bed. Until now.
Trey shucked off his jacket and pulled the Henley over his head while I untied his shoes, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, leaving his but
t-huggers to confine the hard ridge of his penis. He kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his jeans and looked down at his briefs with a questioning grin.
“Forgetting something?” he asked.
“Not at all. I’ll deal with that later. Now, who gets to undress me?”
He did, wasting no time. He freed my hair from its ponytail and quickly removed my sweater, bra, shoes and jeans. I looked down at my lace panties.
“Forgetting something?” I asked.
“Oops. Sorry.” He knelt and pulled them down with exquisite slowness, his tongue following each gradual inch past my navel, down my belly, across my mound and down the inside of my thighs, back and forth to my knees (which were quite unsteady by then) until he finally kissed my toes and I was naked. He stood up.
“Okay,” he said, looking down at his briefs where his captive member strained against the material. “Fair is fair. Strip me all the way.”
I sank to my knees and mimicked what he’d done to me, following the waistband of his briefs with my tongue until I met the stiff resistance of his penis, which required some manipulation before it was freed from its confinement, springing to attention in my hands. I couldn’t resist the temptation to lick its entire length from tip to root as I cupped his heavy scrotum. He hissed.
“Elise . . .”
“Hush. I know what I’m doing.”
I pushed his briefs down his legs and off before I took him in my mouth, slowly and gently, just teasing and tormenting as his hands clenched my hair and he started to thrust.
“Elise, for God’s sake!”
Knowing he was about to come, I withdrew and looked up at him. “Take me with you,” I said. “Take me now.”
He took me to my bed and our need was too great for more foreplay. It had been so long . . . too long . . . and he entered and filled me with his sex and his passion and I cried out his name in my release, over and over as my contractions triggered his climax.
He didn’t pull out, just braced himself on his arms and looked at me as he stayed deep inside, still hard and hungry for more.
“Trey . . .”
“Hush. I know what I’m doing.”
And he did. He kissed my eyelids, my nose and my lips. His tongue slowly swirled around my ears and the hollow of my throat before he took my nipples in his mouth, first one and then the other, licking and sucking for blissful minutes until the craving reignited with a force that took my breath away.
I started to move, pulling him down to me with my hands on his shoulders and bringing him deeper inside with my legs wrapped around his waist as he grew larger and harder and joined my rhythm until we crested and shattered together, soaring beyond the confines of that feminine room into raw and primal sensuality. We were together as one. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.
I held him close for long minutes afterwards, feeling the commingled beating of our hearts. I ran my fingers through his hair and down his smoothly muscled back, needing to touch him, to feel him through my skin. I was sexually replete but my senses still craved the essence of him, everything that made him who he was.
He finally rose up, looked at me and grinned. “Ready for more?”
“Are you serious?”
“No. Not right away, but maybe in a little while.” He rolled off and lay on his side, looking at me but saying nothing.
I turned my head to meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?”
He lifted a long lock of my hair and kissed it. “I’m thinking about you and me. How perfect we are together, not just in bed but in every way. I’m thinking about how much I love you, and how the possibility of losing you to another man tears me up inside.”
“You won’t lose me, Trey. You won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“Do you love me, Elise? Truly love me?”
“Yes. I truly love you.”
“Then here’s what I think we should do.”
“What should we do?”
“We should get married in June, right after I graduate. We can get married in California, where cousin marriages are legal, and come back here for a reception if the family wants to have one and . . .”
He went on, but I didn’t hear the rest. Married? In June? I sat up in bed and stared at him, which stopped his rambling.
“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve discussed this before,” I reminded him. “Marriage between first cousins is illegal in Oregon and Idaho.”
He sat up, propping a pillow behind his back. “That’s why we’ll get married in California. Once it’s done, Idaho won’t make us undo it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
“And what about children? The risk of birth defects?”
“The risk is very slight, as I’ve told you before. But if you’re that concerned, we can undergo genetic testing to make sure we don’t both carry the same defective gene—like the one that causes cystic fibrosis. Will that ease your mind?”
“I guess. But what about our family?”
He took my hand and kissed it. “Our family will be happy for us. I’m certain of it.”
He was making sense, but I still had some doubts. “Could we do the genetic testing first, before we tell the family? I just want to be sure.”
“All right. Fine. Whatever you want.”
But he was not happy about my hesitation and lack of enthusiasm concerning our marriage. He got out of bed and starting pulling on his clothes while I regretted spoiling the mood of our lovemaking.
“I can fix something for lunch,” I offered as I got dressed. “Or we could go out somewhere if you’d rather.”
He stopped me with a kiss. “I’d rather spend the entire day—hell, the whole week—in bed with you, but Uncle Jim might be a bit surprised to find us in the sack. So let’s have lunch and catch a movie. We can make out in the dark like a couple of teenagers.”
And that’s exactly what we did.
Trey and I spent the rest of Christmas week doing fun things together in Boise and Ontario, but we had no opportunity for sex because our grandmother was always at her house and my father stayed at home, working in his office. Finally, out of sheer frustration on the day before Trey had to leave, we told Daddy we were going up to McCall to look around and have dinner.
It wasn’t a lie (for the most part). We took the gondola ride up Brundage Mountain and admired the views from the top. We had dinner at The Cutwater beside Payette Lake. But in between, we spent four glorious hours making love in a room at the Scandia Inn. We were blissfully happy on our last day together.
After Trey left for Eugene, I declined Peter’s New Year’s Eve invitation and spent the evening at home with my father, feeling guilty about leaving him alone for most of the week. I sat beside him on the sofa in the family room to watch the usual televised celebrations from Times Square.
“I’m sorry I left you alone so much this week,” I told him.
“That’s okay, honey,” he replied. “It gave me a chance to catch up on things in my office. Besides, you deserve to have fun after the long hours you’ve put in at work. You and Trey always have a good time together.”
I smiled to myself. “Yes. We do.”
“But now that he’s gone, you’ll be spending time with Peter again.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
“You seem quite fond of Peter, and I know he’s attracted to you. That kiss under the mistletoe was more than friendly.”
“You saw that?”
“Yes. He’s a good man with a promising future, Elise. You could do worse, you know.”
Or better, I thought. “Are you matchmaking, Daddy? Is that why you asked Peter to help me at the office?”
“No. I had no ulterior motive for that assignment. But I won’t be displeased if something serious develops between you two.”
“Can we change the subject?” I asked, not wanting to talk about Peter.
“Sure. Let’s
talk about you and Trey.”
I stared at him, astonished. How could he possibly know? “What about me and Trey?”
“The two of you are very close.”
“We’ve always been close. We practically grew up together. And he helped me so much in Eugene, after what Ben did to me.”
“I know, and I’m grateful for his help and caring. But Trey is family, honey. He’s your cousin. Please keep your relationship on that level. Don’t encourage anything more.”
Encourage? I thought. I’ve done a lot more than encourage. But my father didn’t need to know about that. Not yet, anyway.
“Don’t worry about it, Daddy. You have enough worries already. I’m going to make some popcorn so we can sit back and enjoy the celebrations. This New Year will be a happy one for all of us. Just wait and see.”
Chapter 14
I was brimming with positive thoughts as the New Year began. I was in love and looking forward to Trey’s graduation, our marriage, law school, and eventually starting a family. Trey had convinced me that the risk of birth defects was very slight. Our future babies would be perfect, just like our life together.
To be absolutely certain, however, Trey and I agreed to undergo genetic testing in January. I went to St. Luke’s Clinic in Boise; Trey chose a clinic in Eugene. Then we waited, assuring each other there would be no problems. We’d have the results in four weeks.
I returned to Daddy’s office and resumed my friendly relationship with Peter. He was clearly puzzled when I rejected his offers to spend Saturdays together as we’d done in the fall, but I didn’t want to encourage him when my heart was with Trey.
Trey and I talked every day—often more than once—to share our thoughts and feelings and our longing for each other. He was on track to complete his dissertation in April, prior to his oral defense in May. He’d applied for a position as an Assistant Professor of English at Boise State and was hoping for a positive response. I was certain of it. Nothing could go wrong for us now.
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