by L. A. Witt
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. She and Paul both thought I was an idiot.” He caressed my cheek. “They were right.”
I took his hand and kissed it gently. “You weren’t being an idiot.”
“I’m sorry, though.” He smoothed my hair. “I guess I freaked out.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m going to worry about it. Trust me.” Travis sighed. “It’s par for the course with me, I’m afraid.”
“I can live with that.” I draped my arm over him. “We’re both package deals, you know? And we both happen to come with a lot of preexisting shit. And none of it is going away. But if you can be patient with mine, I can be patient with yours, and I think we can make this work.”
Travis searched my eyes. Then, slowly, he relaxed, and a smile came to life. “I can definitely be patient with yours.”
“Me too.”
His expression turned more serious. “I’m not going to pretend that it’s going to be easy.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we’re both going to have moments where we wonder what the hell we got ourselves into. But don’t think for a second that’s enough to make me want to leave.” He cupped my face and added a barely whispered, “It won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Absolutely.” I kissed him gently, letting it linger for a moment, then touched my forehead to his. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The relief of being here with him, naked and satisfied and together, nearly drove me to tears. I didn’t care if the future wouldn’t be easy. I’d had a taste of being without him, and I didn’t like it.
This was what I wanted, and somehow, it was what I had.
The Following Spring
Sean and Paul’s wedding couldn’t have happened on a nicer day. Being the Pacific Northwest, there’d been plenty of rain lately—in fact, the sand was still damp from yesterday’s downpour—but today was gorgeous. It was quite warm, actually, even with the cool breeze off the ocean, so thank God Paul and Sean had requested no uniforms. It didn’t matter that Paul was one of my oldest and closest friends. I wasn’t baking in a dress uniform just because he was tying the knot. I had my goddamned limits.
I had no idea what kinds of battles had ensued, but Sean and his mother had finally come to an agreement of some sort. The wedding was still happening out on the beach. With about sixty guests in folding chairs, it was probably small by her standards and huge by his, but he was smiling and relaxed, so he must’ve been okay with it.
Maybe it was the recent haircut, but I swore Paul was grayer than he’d been a few months ago. Which didn’t surprise me, really—I’d planned a wedding before. No one made it through that particular gauntlet without a few gray hairs. Sean probably had a few too, but the black and cobalt-blue dye hid them.
While the grooms hurried around, making sure everything was running smoothly, Clint and I found seats in the rows of white folding chairs set up on the beach. The ceremony would be starting soon, so everyone was slowly making their way over here.
Beyond the white archway, Kimber and her boyfriend had strolled down toward the water. He was carrying her shoes in one hand, holding her hand with the other.
“They’re pretty cute together, aren’t they?” Clint asked.
I beamed. “Yeah, they are.”
They’d been dating for a month or so, and I was still edgy about him, but that had less to do with him and more to do with the guys who’d rattled her in the past. He seemed nice. He was polite and respectful, and she was comfortable enough to be alone with him, which said a lot. As a nice switch from her previous boyfriend, he didn’t get bitchy when she had to work long hours or focus on her classes, and he was almost as excited as she was about her graduation next week.
So, since he wasn’t an asshole and she was happy with him, I was happy for them.
But if you break her heart, kid, I will break you in half.
Clint put his arm across the back of my chair and kissed my cheek. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah.” My back was still as fucked up as ever, and the TENS hadn’t even been helping all that much lately, but I’d loaded up on Motrin and taken it easy the last few days. So I felt as good as could be expected. I’d take it.
I turned to him. “What about you? How are you holding up?”
He nodded, smiling tightly. “I’m good.”
I didn’t press. I knew exactly where his mind was—on his kids.
It had been a long road, but his ex-wife had finally agreed to start taking steps toward an amended custody agreement that would allow unsupervised visits. There was even talk of letting them come stay with us for an entire summer. If not this year, definitely next year.
She’d dug her heels in at first, especially since she and I hadn’t met face-to-face, but then Clint had persuaded her to fly up here for a weekend.
So, in a couple of weeks, she’d be here.
Ever since they’d made the travel arrangements, he’d been distracted almost constantly. If things went well while she was here, then she’d come back in July with the kids. He wanted so badly for the visit to go well. For her to like me. He was so stressed about it now, I suspected he’d sleep for a solid week after she left. He was guardedly optimistic, though, and seemed to be feeling better about it as time went on.
I was optimistic things would go well too. She and I had talked on Skype a few times, and we’d gotten along, but she wanted to come to Anchor Point by herself before she let the kids come up. That way she could see our house, see the town, and meet me in person.
Clint was frustrated, but he also understood. And his frustration had eased a bit because he’d gotten to spend some time with the kids this year. Since January, he’d been to see them four times, burning a hell of a lot of leave by driving to Vegas each time, not to mention worrying me when he had to go over the snowy passes. I would have been happy to go with him, but there was no way I could cope with the road trip. And really, the kids needed to see him a few times before they had to adapt to my existence.
He’d come out to them in February, and they’d all taken it well. Better than he or their mother had expected. It probably hadn’t hurt that he’d done it while he was sitting with them and their counselor, who skillfully guided them all through questions and feelings.
When he’d told them he had a boyfriend, though, the walls had come up. With some time and patience, though, and with the counselor’s help so the kids could vent and ask questions, everyone had gotten used to the idea. I hadn’t talked to them yet—his ex-wife wanted to wait until she’d vetted me in person first—but they seemed excited to meet me.
I put my hand on his leg. “Stressing about everything?”
“Am I that transparent?”
“You think?” I kissed him softly. “It’ll be fine. And I promise I’ll behave.”
Clint laughed, wrapping his arm around me. “I know. And things have been going really well, so I think it’ll be great. I’m just nervous.”
“I know you are.”
And no amount of encouragement from me would change that, but I hoped he could at least relax enough to enjoy the wedding.
As the rest of the guests started filling up the chairs, and the grooms and chaplain headed toward the archway, I caught myself wondering if that would be Clint and me someday. More and more, it was seeming like a possibility. Hell, he’d moved in with me and Kimber a few weeks ago. He’d been there most nights anyway, so it made sense to only pay for one place instead of two.
It was so weird—a year ago, Kimber and I had both been single, all but swearing off dating after enough bad experiences. Now, my boyfriend was living with us, and hers was over at least once or twice a week to watch a movie or indulge in whatever Clint was cooking that evening.
The wedding started. In their tuxes—and probably sweating like crazy—Paul and Sean joined hands at the front. As the chaplain went into the ceremony, Clint took my hand
. I glanced at him, and we both smiled.
We’d dipped our toes into the subject of marriage a time or two, but neither of us had pushed for anything more than vague suggestions and “maybe someday.” I was fine with that. If the time came, I could absolutely picture myself standing up there with him like Paul and Sean. Or maybe we’d just take off and elope. Have a quick ceremony with the base chaplain. Something easy and stress-free with a couple of rings and some witnesses.
Or, as I watched the two of them smiling at each other with the ocean in the background, I wondered if we could pull off something like this.
Whatever we ultimately did, it didn’t have to happen right away. As it was, Clint’s mind was mostly on reconciling with his kids. Once this hurdle was behind him, and once we’d seen how we all got along as a family when his kids were in town, then maybe we could talk about rings and signatures.
It wouldn’t be a fast process. Probably wouldn’t be an easy one. But I had a funny feeling that we’d get there.
In the meantime, we were together.
And that was all I needed.
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Thank you to J., who let me pick his brain for hours about flying drones.
Anchor Point series
Just Drive
Kinky Sprinkles
Rain Shadow (a Bluewater Bay story)
Starstruck (a Bluewater Bay story)
Running With Scissors
Roped In, with Marie Sexton
Finding Master Right
Static
Hiatus
If the Seas Catch Fire
Writing as Lauren Gallagher
Stuck Landing (a Bluewater Bay story)
Razor Wire
Writing as Ann Gallagher
Lead Me Not
All the Wrong Places (a Bluewater Bay story)
Writing as Lori A. Witt
The Tide of War
See L.A. Witt’s full booklist at: gallagherwitt.com
L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn't lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don't tell Lauren. And definitely don't tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut...
Website: www.gallagherwitt.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Twitter: @GallagherWitt
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