Loving Tiago

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Loving Tiago Page 17

by Shayne Ford


  My heart flutters in my chest.

  “All you need to do is talk to him and make things right. And never let him know what I just told you.”

  “Isn’t this a contradiction to what you said about being loyal?”

  “Is it?” he asks, grinning mysteriously.

  I ponder for a moment.

  “No. You’re right.”

  “Besides, I’m stepping on my principles here by not telling my wife. The only reason I’m doing this is to protect them. I want Tiago to succeed. I’m not rigging the game for him. If he’s going to crash and burn it would be on him. He has to dust himself off, pull himself up and start all over again. That's life. The only thing I’m not going to make a fuss about is what happened tonight.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  He rises to his feet, signaling that our meeting is over.

  “You have to come up with the best story that would work with him. I trust you on that. Just have something in mind... Whatever you tell him, don’t shatter his trust in himself. It’s the most valuable thing he’s got. And he just got it.”

  16

  EVE

  I walk out of James’ office sunk in thought, the conversation we just had spinning in my head.

  I send Rain a message first.

  Me: Things are okay with James. Now, I have to find Tiago. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

  I wait for a few moments, and just when I lose my hope, a message pops on my screen.

  Rain: Sounds good. I’m happy to hear that.

  Sighing with relief, I text Tiago.

  Me: Where are you?

  I call him the very next moment.

  He doesn’t answer.

  I text him again.

  Me: I need to talk to you.

  No reply.

  I scroll through the messages as I take the elevator down, trying to find the one in which he told me what room he’d be in.

  I can’t find it.

  I call the front desk and ask for his room number.

  With new information in hand, I walk across the venue, enter a corridor, and head to another bank of elevators.

  Minutes later, I find his room and knock on the door. No response. Something prompts me to try the door anyway.

  Unlocked, it opens.

  “Tiago?”

  I spot his suit on the bed and then a couple of garments bags, lying next to it.

  Heat collars my neck.

  “Tiago?”

  The water runs in the bathroom.

  It stops when I knock on the door.

  “Are you in there?” I ask, hoping to hear his voice before I walk in.

  Silence stays with me for a few moments.

  Seconds later, the door opens, and he walks out.

  He wears his suit pants, his belt, his shoes, but no shirt.

  “Are you getting dressed or undressed?”

  “I just changed my clothes.”

  “Why?”

  He points to the shirt.

  “I think I broke that guy’s nose,” he says in a quiet voice, his eyes avoiding mine.

  He picks a clean shirt from a hanger and shrugs it on. For a moment, I watch him as he quietly buttons it up.

  He fixes his shirt and puts his tie on.

  He looks dashing, even without a smile on his face. Even with clouds shadowing his eyes.

  Eventually, he picks up a glass of scotch from a table and brings it to his lips.

  Slowly, he runs the tip of his tongue on his lip before he sets the glass down.

  “I screwed up, Eve,” he says, a hand tucked in his pocket, the other still on his glass as if he debates with himself whether to take another swig or not. “I need to talk to James.”

  Slowly, I slide down, my rear landing on the edge of the bed.

  “What do you mean?”

  He turns to me, his drink in his hand, a bitter smile on his lips.

  “I know exactly what he’s gonna say, so I prepared myself for the worst.”

  I say nothing.

  “I’m ready to resign.”

  His words take me by surprise, stirring emotions in me, feelings I never thought I had.

  As I look at him, I grasp what an honorable man he is, and how right James was to take a chance on him.

  “Resign?”

  “Yes.”

  He nods as if he wants to convince himself that it’s the right thing to do.

  “And do what? Do you want to leave me here?”

  He looks at me for a moment, his stare drilling deep into my eyes, searching every nook and cranny of my soul.

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  This would be a disaster. Losing my job, the opportunity to live here. His chance to have a family. And yet, I’d do it.

  I’d do it for him.

  I wouldn’t be afraid to start all over again with him, in New York, or somewhere else. Even Portugal, perhaps.

  This is crazy. The craziest thing I’ve ever contemplated. And yet, I see myself doing it.

  “I’ll go with you wherever you want me to go,” I say without batting a lash, without faltering, my voice dripping with conviction. “If that’s what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

  He looks at me, reading my expression, searching my eyes, registering the hints that spell out to him that I’m telling the truth. That it’s not only empty words.

  “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He takes me by surprise.

  “What are you going to do then?”

  “I’m ready to step down if I find myself in a battle of principles with my brother. I’m not going to back away from what I did this evening. Him pimping you to those men was wrong, and if he can’t see it the way I do, then I need to go. But I can still live here. Why not? I’ll figure out how to run my business from here. And I’m not going to stay at his place either. I was ready to move out anyway.”

  “You can live with me. You found my place anyway.”

  I’m truly hoping to put a smile on his face with my light voice.

  And it works. But I’m right.

  He insisted on finding something that we’d both like.

  He said that was the end game anyway. So we shifted our focus from studios and lofts to two-bedroom apartments, and then a few houses.

  I never thought that I’d end up in a house, yet it looks so homey, so much like a love nest, and he loved it so much so he argued we should try to live like normal people.

  I don’t know what he meant by that. Sure thing, he convinced me.

  “I’ll move my stuff tomorrow morning,” he says. “But first, I need to talk to James,” he adds, setting the glass down for good.

  “Before you do that,” I say hastily as he puts his suit jacket on.

  He swings his gaze to me.

  “I didn’t know what you were about to do...” I start softly. “So I went to him and talked to him already. I told Rain about us too.”

  He turns to stone.

  “What did they say?”

  “She’s disappointed and hurt, although I did my best to explain to her. And James...”

  He stares at me, waiting.

  “He had a moment of reflection, and, um... He didn’t have much animosity toward you as much as he seemed to be accepting who you are...”

  He looks at me suspiciously.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “He admitted he made a mistake.”

  Surprise washes over his face.

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. In fact, he said that you were right to react the way you did. The two men have a reputation, and you put them in their place.”

  He gazes at me, skeptically.

  “He said he would’ve done the exact same thing. And not once had he mentioned anything about your club. If anything, he praised you, and said that you are well on your way to get whatever he promised you.”

  A smile threads through his gaze.

  “James Sexton sa
id that?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what he said. You can have the conversation with him anytime you want, but in essence, the issue is moot.”

  “What about us? What did he say about our secret story?”

  “It was never about us... And you know that. It was all about his perception of you, but I think you’ve proved him more than once that you are an honorable man and know how to defend a woman’s honor as well.”

  He looks at me, mystified.

  “Whatever you did, it worked.”

  His eyes stay on me for a few long moments.

  “Nothing’s lost, baby,” I say softly. “Everything is exactly where you wanted it to be. We just need to learn how to walk out of the shadows and show the world that we are not afraid to live our story.”

  “Let’s do it now,” he says.

  Without the slightest hesitation, he takes my hand and walks me out of his hotel room.

  In silence, we take down the elevator, walk across the lobby, take a turn, and follow a long corridor before we enter the event room.

  Rain and James sit at the table along with the other guests. Ray and Kyle are nowhere in sight.

  James locks my eyes for a moment before he shifts his gaze to his brother and then, does the most unexpected thing.

  He pushes out of his chair and rises to his feet.

  The two men look at each other for a moment before James opens his arms and gives his brother a hug.

  “Are you okay, man?” James asks, smiling.

  “Yes. You?”

  “Never been better,” he says, motioning us to sit with them at the table.

  With that, he buries the secret that now belongs to him and me and wholeheartedly welcomes Tiago in his life.

  17

  EVE

  Three months later

  Cascais, Portugal

  “Look how beautiful it is,” I say, shielding my eyes and taking in the shore, the blue sky, the white clouds peppered here and there, and the azure water.

  The light vibrates with life, tumbling across the water, sweeping the sand, threading through the patches of vegetation.

  We dismount our bicycles, prop them against the handrail, and walk down a narrow path that takes us to the beach.

  His skin has the sheen of chocolate and caramel, the bright sunlight grazing his shoulders.

  He fashions red shorts and flip flops and looks astonishing with his dark hair and green eyes, his smoldering gaze filtered through his lashes.

  He glances at me over his shoulder as I linger behind.

  “Are you coming or not?”

  “Yes, I am,” I say, catching up with him.

  “I haven’t had so much fun in a very long time,” I mutter as he starts unbuttoning my short summer dress.

  “What are you doing? It’s a public beach.”

  “No one is looking.”

  In all fairness, I can’t see people nearby. The only beachgoers I spot trail along the shore in the distance.

  He runs his hands onto my shoulders and slides my dress off. Appreciative eyes go down my body as he takes in my tanned skin and coral swimsuit.

  “I like this color,” he says, his eyes spending a moment on my bronzed thighs, the small triangle of fabric covering my crotch, and the matching pieces of cloth concealing the tips of my mounds.

  Without the slightest hesitation, he cups a breast and teases my nipple with his thumb.

  I open my mouth to mutter a protest, but I can’t even utter a word when he locks my lips and gives me a kiss.

  His skin smells like the ocean.

  A moment later, he straightens his back and breaks away from me. For a second, his gaze lingers on me, and then he takes my hand and my dress and walks me to the water.

  We find a drift of sand where we set his backpack, my dress, and a towel and standing, we gaze at the ocean.

  “Look at this...” I murmur as I let my eyes rove over the superb view in front of me.

  From left to right, all I see is the azure water, the shimmering sand, and here and there the patches of vegetation, and rocky cliffs. A few people too, but very far from us.

  As I turn my eyes away from the water and look over my shoulder, I get a glimpse of the sleepy streets that paint the background with their quiet terraces and shops.

  There’s almost no one out there, people soaking up the sun like us or taking a nap or sipping coffee in the shadows of their homes.

  There’s no frantic pace of life. No rush to get anywhere.

  He looks at me while I swivel my head, staring at the view, lodging in the mesmerizing details of this amazing summer day.

  “I love this town,” I say. “I had no idea that this place is so beautiful.”

  As I drag my gaze around, I take in more than an image. I also learn the story of his childhood.

  “Were you happy here?”

  “Yes, I was. I spent all my summers here. That was, um... until my parents split.”

  I shift my gaze to him.

  “I didn’t want to come back after that,” he says. “But now, it’s different.”

  I study his face for a second before his phone starts to ring. He fishes it out of his backpack and answers his phone.

  “Hey... Yes. Okay.”

  He looks at me.

  “Sounds good,” he continues, not breaking our stare.

  He finally ends the call and slides his phone back into the backpack before he spins to me.

  “Dinner at seven.”

  “Who was that? Theresa?”

  He smiles.

  “James.”

  My eyes linger on him.

  “What is it?” he asks, his smile broadening.

  “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

  He laughs.

  “Why wouldn’t I be happy? We’re here. The weather is great. It’s summer.”

  “It’s not only that.”

  He closes the space between us.

  “What is it?” he asks in a soft voice, closing his hand around my neck and slowly brushing my cheek with his thumb.

  “James is lucky to have a brother like you,” I murmur.

  “I’d say, I’m lucky to be his brother,” he says, grinning.

  “I’m happy things worked out between the two of you.”

  “Me too,” he says before he kisses my lips. “Let’s get into the water before the sun goes down.”

  The sun doesn’t go down as he said it would, and we have enough time to swim and kiss and make out and then play and laugh. All the things that come with a lovely summer and a good life and a story of love.

  For the next few hours, we live in the moment, relishing every second of it, our skin locking in the sun and lodging in the smell of salty water.

  Late afternoon, we leave the small town behind and drive back to Lisbon where we are about to join James, Rain, and Theresa for dinner.

  Rain and James are still in town when we arrive while Theresa is busy setting the dinner table on the terrace. We offer to help her, yet she sends us to our room to change our clothes.

  We take a shower and dress up for dinner.

  Tiago sports a dressy, dark pair of pants and a silver-blue shirt while I slip on a white chiffon dress.

  My hair is freshly washed and blown dry, yet it still carries the aroma of the beach and salty water.

  A whiff of perfume snakes around my wrists and kisses my neck, while the necklace he had given me sparkles between my breasts.

  He studies me for a moment, his gaze drifting from my heels to my neck and my lips, and then to my eyes.

  Smiling secretly, he moves his gaze away.

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  He gets busy with his phone.

  I pivot in front of him.

  “Tiago?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why were you looking at me that way?”

  “No reason.”

  He slips his phone into his pocket.

  My hand lands on his forearm.


  “Tell me.”

  He tips his dark-green gaze to me.

  “Tell me,” I say again.

  He studies me for a few moments.

  “I know that it’s too early...” he begins.

  My heart does a pirouette before it starts skipping beats.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice beaming with concern while his smile withers away.

  “It’s nothing bad, baby.”

  He grins again.

  “Why can’t you tell me then?”

  “I can tell you, but I know that it’s too early, and I know that you may say no...”

  My breath catches in my throat.

  “Say no to what?”

  “When I bought you this necklace,” he says, gently touching the piece of jewelry gracing my neck, I also bought something else,” he says, retrieving a small jewelry box from his pocket.

  “Tiago,” I murmur, chocking on surprise.

  I lift my gaze to him, speechless.

  “I didn’t want you to think that I have no idea what I’m doing. That I rush into things or I’m acting on impulse. To me, it makes sense to say what I’m about to tell you right now. I want to spend many, many years with you. You may argue that I have no idea what I’m talking about, that I don’t know much about life, that things could change for me in the future, that I may change my mind. I can tell you right now, that I rarely if ever change my mind. I don’t want to let time to tell me what I already know. What I knew the first time when I saw you on that ice rink in Central Park. I like you. I liked you from the very beginning, and once I met you, I didn’t bother to have other women in my life. And I like myself more now that I’m with you than I liked myself before. And I know that we can live together, and take it day by day, but I want to do this the right way. And if you want me to wait for you I will, but I want you to know that while I’m doing that, you should have this...” he says, pulling a beautiful diamond ring out of the jewelry box.

  I look at him, perplexed, emptied of words.

 

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