All I Know

by Tamara Lush

  He leans in a little more, and I bite his shoulder through his T-shirt, trying not to be too loud as I come with a choking scream that echoes in the small room. Probably the people outside at the party can hear me, but I don’t care.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fuck yeah. I’ve got you, Kate. Let go.”

  I wrap my arms around him, panting, meeting his hard and raw thrusts with my hips, my orgasm still rolling through me with bone-quaking intensity.

  And that’s when he growls low and deep, and I feel his cock pumping against my swollen walls.

  “Kate,” he whispers hoarsely. “Kate, take this. Take all of me. Fuck.”

  While he catches his breath, I’m clinging to him and begin to giggle.

  “How am I going to go out to the party, all messy like this?”

  He sighs, a contented noise, his eyes fluttering half shut. “I’ll help clean you up.”

  “I want a kiss first.”

  “You got it.”

  He cups my face. As rough and quick as our sex was, the kiss he gives me is filled with tenderness and love.

  Post-orgasm shimmers of bliss flutter through me then abruptly stop when I remember one detail.

  Because of everything that’s going on—the wedding plans, my moms appointment with her doctor earlier in the day, my best friend Laurens imminent arrival—I’ve forgotten something.

  I haven’t taken my birth control pill all week, and Damien just finished inside of me.

  Without a condom.

  My phone pings, and Damien picks up my purse and hands it to me while he turns to the sink and the paper towel rack. I rummage around and find my cell.

  I take a deep breath when I see the message. Time is moving at warp speed.

  “You ready to meet my best friend?”

  Twenty-Two

  Kate

  Damien slides his arm around my shoulders.

  “They seem to be getting along well.” He tips his beer bottle in the direction of his brother Max and my best friend Lauren.

  I smile. “They certainly do. Wouldn’t that be funny if…” My voice trails off.

  Damien lets out a chuckle, the flickering light of the beach bonfire dancing over his cheekbones. We’re two of about twenty people gathered around this massive nighttime fire. Everyone’s full from the pig roast we’d had earlier and also most are fairly tipsy.

  Everyone but me, because I realized after my unprotected sex with Damien that if there’s even a tiny chance I’m pregnant, I shouldn’t drink.

  Even so, I’m in a melancholic mood.

  Everything’s so…perfect. From the full moon casting the silvery glow over the Gulf to Remy, playing love songs on the guitar near the fire. That Lauren is here—and that she didn’t judge me harshly when I told her the truth about Damien and me—makes it even sweeter.

  I lean into Damien. “I told Lauren about us.”

  He gives me a quick glance. “You did? When? Is that why she’s giving me funny looks?”

  “Maybe. We went into the resort bar for a while. That’s when I told her. You were playing volleyball.”

  He chews on his cheek.

  “She called it romantic and said you’re pretty damned wonderful for wanting to take care of me this way.”

  In the light of the fire, Damien looks into my eyes, as if he’s staring into my very soul. My breath catches in my throat as I stare back at him, wondering if we’re going to finally tell each other how we feel.

  “Damien! Hey, dude! I think the groom should play a song,” Remy calls out.

  The spell between us is broken. Damien grumbles good-naturedly, but swallows the last of his beer and stands up. He walks about ten feet to Remy and takes the guitar out of his brother’s hands.

  Remy comes next to me and plops in the beach chair where Damien was sitting.

  “I didn’t know he played,” I murmur to Remy.

  “My twin brother is a man of mystery. You have a lot to learn.”

  If he’ll let me. If he comes back from Syria.

  Damien begins to strum, and he’s even better than his brother. And his voice. Lord. Where did that come from? It’s pure and clear, sweet and soulful.

  The first few lines of “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White Ts soar over the crackling of the fire. Tears jump to my eyes because Damien sounds so honest, and I have to stare into the flames instead of at him.

  After a few seconds I get my emotions in check, and I glance at him.

  He’s looking straight at me as he sings and strums.

  Our eyes lock for the entire song, and it’s as if my heart grows so full it could almost burst.

  I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything.

  And he’s leaving in three days. The weight of that—and the magnitude of where he’s going—slams into me full-force.

  He finishes the song, and everyone applauds. Because I’m sitting in a beach chair, I scramble to my feet, my emotions lodged firmly in my throat. I want to wrap my arms around Damien and never let go.

  But by the time I take a step, I notice that he’s chatting with someone. Holding back, I pretend to warm my hands on the fire while sneaking glances.

  He’s talking to a woman from our high school. Someone who’d been nasty those final months of our senior year. I can barely remember her name. Amy? Yes, that’s it. I do recall her face, and all the old hurts replace the blissful feeling in my chest.

  Now, I know Damien doesn’t want anything to do with Amy. He doesn’t look interested, but he’s a polite Southern gentleman. But something about the fact that she’s here—I hadn’t noticed her before; there’d been so many people. She’s probably here with one of his high school friends—makes me fold into myself.

  She’s taking precious moments away from us, when we have so few moments left.

  He’ll be gone in less than a week. It’s not enough. We’ve run out of time. What the hell have we been doing these past three months?

  “Kate, you okay?” Remy’s voice slices through my thoughts.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  With a sniffle, my hands fly to my cheeks. Dammit, they’re wet. Have I been standing here next to the fire for the last few minutes crying and alone?

  “No reason. Uh, just happy. I guess.” I lick my lips. “Hey, I’m going to take a walk down the beach to the jetty. Let Damien know, okay?”

  Barefoot, I walk quickly away from the bonfire then break into a slow jog down the beach. What is wrong with me? Why am I so emotional? By the time I get to the rock jetty I’m sobbing.

  It’s as if all the challenges of these past few months are roaring through my brain right at this second. Mom’s cancer. My nonexistent career. A proposal from a man who is willing to marry me for health insurance.

  The fact that I had unprotected sex and screwed up on my birth control, a decision that could change my life and Damien’s forever.

  My inability to say three little words to the person I adore.

  I. Am. A. Loser. Maybe I should call this whole thing off. I’m clearly not mature enough for any of this.

  As I begin to step on the jetty, I hear footsteps pounding the sand behind me.

  “Girlie, what’s wrong?”

  I stop and turn. It’s Damien. He looks genuinely baffled.

  “Nothing. I’m okay. I need to talk to Lauren.” That’s it. I need time with my best friend. I need her advice. She’s the smartest, savviest person I know. That’s all. I need a friend, one I’m not having sex with. Probably I’m acting like a child, but if this is my moment to be a bridezilla, so be it. “Can you go find her? Please?”

  “You can talk to me, you know.” I’m close enough to Damien that I can see the muscles in his jaw bunch. It’s the first time I’ve almost seen him annoyed, even angry, with me.

  “No, I need Lauren,” I respond firmly, then make my way down the rocks. “Don’t come after me, please. I really need my best friend right
now. Can you go find Lauren?”

  Lauren, God bless her, sets me straight in no time. We sit on the rocks side by side for ten minutes, our feet dipping into the warm, dark water.

  “Thanks for listening. Sometimes I need my best friend, you know? I love him so much and I don’t know how he feels.”

  “I think Damien feels the same way about you. When I got here, he looked like a man who was pretty damned lost without you.”

  I glance at Lauren and inside, my heart soars. This has been the best talk, out here on the jetty with her.

  “Tell Damien how you feel, immediately. Don’t wait another second.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. He’s worried. When I walked up, he was sweating even. Had the most adorable little scowl on his face.”

  “Awww,” I say. “Okay. Thank you for talking me literally off a ledge.”

  “Jesus, if you weren’t nervous, anxious, and half-crazy after everything you’ve gone through these past four months, I’d have some serious concerns, lady.” Lauren’s mouth quirks up at the corners. “You’re going to be fine. It’s a hell of a way to start a marriage, but that’s okay.”

  A winter breeze kicks up, and I stand, eager to get back to Damien and apologize for my brief drama. Lauren also deserves an apology, since she was apparently about to hook up with my soon-to-be brother-in-law.

  “Apologies for interrupting you and Max,” I call out.

  The thought makes me grin, and I practically skip over the rocks back to shore. Once my feet hit the sand, I launch myself into Damien’s arms. His brothers are standing a few feet away, but I don’t care if they hear what I’m about to say.

  “I’m sorry for all that. Just had a whole lot of emotions come up. It’s been quite a week.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I know. Was worried about you. Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m one thousand percent okay.” I look up, into his beautiful brown eyes. “Damien, I need to tell you something. I—”

  Right as I’m about to utter the three most important words in the world, I hear Lauren scream.

  By the time I whirl around, my best friend’s already in the water, thrashing and splashing and crying out like she’s in the most intense pain of her life.

  Many hours later, after a visit to the island’s emergency room, X-rays of Lauren’s leg, and the awkwardness of watching Remy flirt with a gorgeous doctor ten years older than him, I shut the door of Lauren’s bedroom in her suite.

  “She didn’t wake, did she?” Max asks.

  For a man who’s only known Lauren for a single day, he seems exceptionally concerned about her well-being. Normally, I’d say something about how adorable this is, but exhaustion has seeped into my bones. The emotional rollercoaster, the wedding planning, the ordeal of seeing Lauren in so much pain—it’s left me physically spent.

  I shake my head. “She’s out cold.”

  Max runs a hand through his hair. I go over to Damien, who’s sitting on the sofa. He pulls me onto his lap, and I curl into his body. Right now I don’t want to think about what Lauren’s broken ankle means for the wedding. Or for her future—it’s not like she can romp around the world as a glamorous social media influencer with crutches. Since her Instagram account has taken off, Lauren’s super self-conscious about her image, and I worry how this will affect her.

  We’ll deal with it tomorrow.

  Max glances at us and sighs. “Hey, what’s Lauren’s phone number? I’ll check in tomorrow morning.”

  I wearily recite it from memory. “She’s up early.”

  “Good deal. So am I—I’m in the suite next door if you need anything. ‘Night, you two lovebirds.”

  Damien and I mumble our goodbyes, and within minutes of the suite’s door shutting, we both look at each other wearily.

  “Why is your brother in a suite and not with your parents?”

  Damien shrugs. “Something about wanting to be here at the resort and close to the renovations. He’s a control freak. I also think he wants his privacy.”

  I mash my face into his neck and inhale his addictive scent.

  “I’d better stay here with her tonight, in case she needs anything. She’s not able to move hardly at all with that cast-boot thing on her leg.”

  “Gotcha. Lemme pull out the bed, girlie. C’mon, stand up for a few seconds.” I stand and he gently swats my butt.

  I squeak in sleepy protest.

  “I can go sleep with Lauren, it’s a big enough bed,” I mumble. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Damien, who’s now standing, takes my chin between his finger and thumb, then tilts my head. His eyes are drooping from exhaustion, too, but he manages a little foxy smile.

  “I do have to pull out the bed because I’m staying here, and you’re sleeping next to me.”

  Twenty-Three

  Damien

  Somehow, the hours between the welcome dinner and now have gone by in a blur.

  I’ve barely seen Kate, between her dress fittings and my brothers’ insistence on taking me on an overnight fishing trip for the bachelor party and my parents’ endless bar-b-cues for visiting family. She’s also been busy with Lauren, and also her high school friend Sadie, who’s returned to the island in time for the wedding.

  “So everyone can mingle, dear,” Ma keeps saying while ruffling my hair.

  All I want is to lie on a bed with Kate. Naked. Feel the cool breeze against my skin. Skim my hand over her curves. Press my nose into her hair and try to imprint her scent into my brain so it stays with me over the next year.

  But first, the ceremony. We’ve gotta make this legit, and then she’ll be mine for real. We’re in one of the resort’s rooms. It’s us guys—my brothers and me and Dad. Ma’s gone to help Kate get ready, so we five guys are knocking back a pre-ceremony drink together.

  “You clean up real nice,” Max says, clapping me on the back. “I didn’t think you’d shave, but shit, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Tate is a Scotch aficionado, and he’s brought an expensive bottle.

  “To Damien,” Tate says, raising his glass. “I’d always figured Max would be the first to get married, but it kinda makes sense that Damien’s the most romantic of the bunch. Still waters run deep. Good on you, bro. And good luck. You and Kate are going to be great together.”

  We clink glasses and all take a gulp from our glasses.

  “Now get your ass back here from Syria,” Max says.

  “C’mon. You didn’t think I’d be the first to get married?” Remy snorts. He knows to divert conversation away from my upcoming assignment. The subject makes Max nervous, probably because he can’t monitor where I am at all times. It’s a big brother thing, I think.

  “Please.” Max rolls his eyes. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Multiple times,” Remy says. “On many different nights with many different women.”

  Tate chuckles. He and Remy are so much alike in that department.

  “And hey, what’s up with you and the maid of honor, Max? Did I detect a hint of attraction there? Or am I wrong?” Tate says with a wicked grin. I know he’s trying to take the piss out of our oldest brother. “If I’m wrong, I wouldn’t mind—”

  “Shut the hell up,” Max says, taking a second swill of his scotch.

  “Ooh. Touchy, touchy.” Tate holds up his hands. “Guess someone’s claimed the maid of honor. I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  “Boys.” Dad’s deep voice rumbles through the room. All of us instantly shut up, because when Dad speaks, we all listen. “I’d like to have a word with Damien alone. And it’s probably time the rest of you clowns walk down the aisle, right?”

  My brothers finish their drinks. Both Max and Tate shoot me meaningful looks.

  “See you outside, bro. You ready?” Tate asks.

  I nod. Ready for this to be over with, because I long for the peace that being next to Kate brings to my brain.

  “You don’t have to go through
with this if you don’t want to,” Max mutters. “Not too late to stop this train.”

  “I want to, and that’s final. I’m not a kid anymore, bro. And sometimes life doesn’t operate on a strict timetable.” My voice is a little too harsh.

  “Just looking out for you,” Max says softly. “But you know what? You’re right. You’re a man. And I’m proud to stand next to you today.” He squeezes my shoulder and walks out, trailed by a visibly alarmed Tate.

  Remy stands next to me with a goofy look on his face.

  “You’re being oddly sentimental,” I grumble.

  With a giant grin on his face, he folds me into a huge hug. “I’m happy for you, dude. Kate’s a great woman. I’m a hundred percent in favor of this, even if some others in the family aren’t. Screw ‘em. You’ll show them.”

  “Thanks.” Of all the people in my family, my twin’s the only one who would never question my motives. For that, I’m grateful.

  Remy claps me on the back, gives me a tight-lipped smile, and walks out of the suite.

  That leaves me and Angus. Dad. I only call him Angus in my mind.

  He stares into his scotch, as if looking for the right words. Then he looks up.

  “Son, did I ever tell you how long I knew your mother before we got married?”

  I scowl. “Dunno. A year?”

  “We met on an airplane. You know that.”

  “Right, and the plane was going from Miami to New York, but there was an emergency landing in Tampa. And once you landed, your flight couldn’t take off because of a huge snowstorm in New York.” He and Mom have told this story a thousand times; it was back in the 80s. Dad was a singer in a punk rock band and Mom had gone against her parents’ wishes and had traveled around India. Alone.

  Dad nods. “Your mom and I spent a week together here on Paradise Beach. Then we both went back to New York and decided we couldn’t live without each other. We got married on the beach down the street not far from here. Three months after we met.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know it was so soon.”