Fervent

by Claudia Burgoa

  Rubbing the heel of my palm against my chest, I continue. “But I’m aware that one day you’re going to leave me, or that I’ll leave you.”

  I tap my foot, choosing my words. “Just don’t give up on what we can have because of your superstitious beliefs.”

  “You think it’s that easy, don’t you?” The bravado is back in place, the fire ignited. “Some things can’t be ignored.”

  “How about you live your life hoping to beat the odds?” I ignore her feisty tone. “I wonder if my parents would’ve changed anything if they had known that they would die the way they did.”

  I smile thinking of Mom and what she’d tell Luna. Maybe what she’d say. “Tomorrow is never guaranteed. So, live the best you can today, don’t wait,” I repeat Mom’s words. “Charlotte Everhart always had some lesson to teach us or a quote that would help us through any problem we told her. I miss her.”

  Swallowing the rock inside my throat, I look at Luna. “She loved everyone with all she had. She was messy, wild, and put her heart into everything she did. She helped everyone, and she touched the hearts of everyone she met.”

  “She sounds amazing.”

  “Mom would’ve loved you. She never stopped living. Over the phone she reminded me to keep going, to remember everything she’d taught me and teach it to my brothers.” I twist my mouth. “She lives in this place, in my brothers’ hearts. You can’t just close yourself up because your father thinks it’s better if you stay under his roof.”

  She gasps, closing her eyes briefly. There, it’s out, and I said it. I hate her fucking father. He brainwashed her, and the worst part is that her grandmother agreed with him. And Luna believes them.

  “He fed you fear. And you’ve fought it so hard that you’re a warrior, but you keep pushing everyone out around you.” I sigh. “I bet that if he hadn’t done that, you would have fallen in love a few times. You pretend to have an open heart, but, woman, you keep that thing under lock and key.”

  She taps her temple several times. “My father and grandmother have repeated to me that I have to be careful. That I’ve been given a gift, this life isn’t mine. That I have to care for it because it’s going to end soon. I’ll end up like Mom.”

  She shakes her head, stroking her arms with her hands. “And I was okay with everything until you barged into it and now I don’t want to leave. Not without you.”

  “Come with me.” I head to the terrace, open the door and walk to the wind chimes.

  “Mom was a lot like you.” I change the subject, letting her think about what I just said. “She drove me crazy, but I adored her. There are two things I miss the most, her chocolate chip cookies and her wise lessons. They seemed useless at the time. They’ve helped my brothers and me for years. However, I am more like Dad.”

  “I didn’t have the chance to know my mom.” Luna hugs herself. “I only have her words, her letters.”

  “What’s that?” I angle my head perking my ear as if listening to something. “Mom says that your mother is proud of you. That your father is wrong, and she thinks you have to delete those useless horoscope apps from your phone. That you’ll live many years and you’ll have five children because that’s what Charlotte wants. Unless, you only want to have one, or none. It’s your choice.”

  She chuckles, pressing her lips together.

  “Hey, I’m just telling you what my mother is saying. We have that kind of relationship.” I give her a lopsided smile. “She doesn’t care that she’s in heaven, or that I’m almost forty. She meddles and looks after us, just like your mom does from the sky.”

  “You think so?”

  “Are you calling my mother a liar?”

  She rolls her eyes. “What if we continue this and one day we have a child, and she grows up to be like me because I died?”

  “What if we have a daughter who is as beautiful and smart as you?” I touch the place on my hand that she touched earlier, where she had concluded that I’d have three children. “Or three of them. And we just love them without thinking about what can happen to them, to us. What if you let yourself think beyond what you believe is possible?”

  “It’s scary,” she says, quietly. “Mom’s journal will end and what will I do without knowing what to do next?”

  I’m partially confused by this turn of events. Luna seems like a woman who doesn’t need anything or anyone. She’s independent, appears to know where she’s going and how to accomplish it. But underneath the façade she shows to everyone, there’s a person who still needs her mother at night, and who hasn’t found what makes her heart beat fast. And I wish that as she finds herself, she can see how good we can be together.

  “You live your life the way you think it’s best.”

  Mom, don’t fail me. I need all those lessons you taught me to help this woman.

  “You have to find your purpose and your place in the world.” Exhaling, I confess, “The scariest part is learning how to live once you stop doing what you believed was your purpose. Sometimes, you grow out of people, places, or careers. Staying is easy. Deciding to move on is the hardest, bravest thing to do.”

  “Like a divorce?”

  “Or a change of careers,” I add. “When my parents died, I decided to enlist. I had to kill those motherfuckers because they had hurt my family.”

  “I remember you telling me how you quit when it wasn’t fulfilling, and searched for a new purpose.”

  “Exactly.” I walk around the terrace, hoping to find some inspiration. Mom would’ve had some wise words, but I have shit. “I don’t know why you decided to become an FBI agent. You are good at analyzing data, at finding patterns and at fighting.” I rub my neck, remembering the day we met. “But you’re also good at healing and giving.”

  Her brows furrow.

  “I’ve seen your face while you’re handing those Ziploc bags you carry with you. You spend your money on people who need it more than you. And that bright smile while you’re doing it, fuck, that’s food for my soul. I imagine doing it might be the same for you.”

  “I love doing it.”

  “What if I tell you that you can do more?” I offer but don’t say more. “You have a lifetime ahead of you, whether it’s two years or a hundred, you have a day or about ten thousand to find what makes you happy.”

  “My grandmother thinks I will only be good at marrying and having children.”

  Oh, I love that idea. Married to me, we can fuck all day around my apartment. I make a mental note to buy a place in New York. We need privacy over here. Though, when we’re not practicing making children, she can find her place in life.

  “You take it lightly, Harrison, but I can’t imagine leaving the man I love so soon. It would make everything so hard.”

  My heart stops when she says the man she loves. But I don’t say anything because technically she just threw a hypothetical scenario. I throw her a curve ball expecting an answer that might clarify what she just said.

  “Why haven’t you fallen in love, yet?”

  She flinches, shaking her head a couple of times. “I’ve never allowed myself to do that.”

  “That’s impossible,” I scratch my head. “You’re sensitive, passionate, sweet.”

  “Love hurts,” she says, and don’t I know it.

  My heart is grieving after the pounding she just gave us.

  “How could I leave peacefully knowing that I’m leaving someone behind? Dad’s a big example. He’s a zombie.” Her face falls. “I would hate myself if I did that to you.”

  I’m fighting the smile because her face is dead serious, but she’s throwing love crumbs, and I can’t help but pick them up and swallow them as I take them.

  Yes, love me.

  Putting my hands on her face, I bend my head and kiss her as if it was the first time. Slow, deep, searing, like there’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do but have her writhing in my arms as my tongue makes passionate love to hers. This is the prelude, a promise of what is about to happen b
etween us. The fire begins with this kiss, but once she’s blazing, I’ll take her to my room and finally show her the fervent love that’s growing inside me, inside us.

  I’m throwing away Hazel’s advice about how to make her fall for me. This is how it’s done.

  “Hey, we’ve been looking for you two.” Hazel’s voice feels like a bucket of ice and cold water.

  “Fuck, I’m going to kill her,” Luna mumbles.

  I start laughing because she barely uses the f-word and her eyes are filled with lust and rage.

  “You’re not ready!” Hazel accuses us, her eyes wide.

  Ready? I arch a brow, not getting her.

  “It better be important, Beesley,” I warn her, turning to look at her. “We’re busy, and her fuse is too short. You don’t want to see Luna when she’s pissed.”

  “Why are you all dressed up?” I retort, staring at her long gown. “Are we going to the opera? Because if that’s the case, pass.”

  “Dinner at Willow and Hunter’s.” She taps her watch. “Did you forget?”

  I slam a hand against my forehead.

  Fuck.

  “How important is it?” I can’t go, simple.

  “Very important. You should dress up, and expect a ceremony. I think it’s . . .” she looks around and whispers, “. . . a wedding.”

  “How do you know, nosy?”

  “Willow has been avoiding me all week, but kept asking about caterers, flowers, and quartets.” She shows me her phone. “Either she’s organizing a funeral or a wedding. I choose the latter.”

  “You better be right, Beesley.”

  “Luna?” Please say I don’t want to go.

  “I might have a dress or two for the occasion. But I have to go back home.”

  “The car is waiting for us, Luna.” Hazel who has a knack for micromanaging everyone’s life and fix last minute fuck ups is here to save us.

  Checking my watch, I realize that we only have about an hour to get ready. We can’t fool around. I have to be there for my brother. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. We have to finish this . . . conversation.”

  “I’m looking forward to witnessing how you build your case, Harry.” Her voice is sultry, and I’m ready to pin her against the wall and fuck her.

  But I won’t.

  First, we make love.

  Thirty

  Luna

  Hazel guessed right. Willow and Hunter organized a surprise wedding. Their patio is decorated with twinkling lights, volcano color roses, and candles. It’s beautiful, simple and romantic. The atmosphere is peaceful.

  Everyone is ready for Willow to make an appearance. When the string quartet starts playing “Vivaldi’s Spring,” she and her grandfather walk out to the patio and toward the gazebo at the end of the outdoor room. She wears a classy, strapless, white gown.

  Hunter waits for her with a big smile on his face and love in his eyes. He sports a tuxedo; his shirt is unbuttoned on the top. He’s not wearing a tie. Harrison and Scott are by his side as his best men. Hazel is her maid of honor, and I’m a bridesmaid. Because according to them, I’m already part of the family. And although it sounds crazy that they’ve opened the doors to a complete stranger, I love it. Looking at the small bouquet, I wonder if I’ll ever take this step. I never contemplated it, but with Harrison . . .

  When Willow reaches Hunter, she hugs her grandfather and kisses Hunter on the cheek.

  “This is my first time officiating a wedding, so be patient.” Fitz stares at the paper that he’s holding.

  “Hunter, Willow. You two are the perfect couple, and I couldn’t be more thankful that you chose me to be the one performing the ceremony.” He looks to the left, then to the right and smiles.

  He looks at the paper he holds. “You should’ve given me a little more notice, like an hour, or two. First I say that we’re gathered to witness the union of these two people.” He turns his attention to the guests. “I should ask if anyone objects but I will skip that.”

  “We should’ve hired someone,” Hunter protests. “Why can’t you do this simple? You don’t have to do much.”

  “Exchange the vows.” He looks around, ignoring Hunter and smiling at the guests. “It’s my first time, be patient.”

  “You’re doing great, Fitz.” Willow touches his arm.

  She straightens her back and clears her throat. “Hunter, you’re my everything. My air, my sun, my love. You’re that happy beat I need when my heart is about to stop. You’re poetry to my soul. You’re the one person who discovered my flaws and loved me more because of them. Your love takes away my insecurities and leaves me with a blanket of warmth that keeps me safe when it’s hard for me to breathe on my own. I hope that I’m enough to fill your heart with love and strong enough to be your rock when you’re down. But most of all, I promise to love you for eternity.”

  He leans in, kissing her teary eyes. “I love you.” He takes a breath and continues. “Willow, I never believed in love at first sight. But I feel that my soul has been in love with yours since the beginning of time. The day we met you felt familiar. As I got to know you, it felt as if I began to remember who you are. My soul mate, my companion, and the woman I hope to spend the next eternity with. I’ve loved you since always. I’ll love you for always. I just hope that you’ll share with me your darkest days and your brightest nights.”

  Her words are beautiful, but his words and the emotion he adds pull my heartstrings. I’ve never seen two people more in love. That’s what I want, for someone to just love me as I am. My heart skips a beat when I find Harrison’s eyes, and he blows me a kiss.

  “Stop.” Fitz breaks the silent conversation I was about to have with Harrison.

  Fitz shows his paper. “Rings first. According to Wikipedia, the kiss isn’t happening, yet.”

  The room bursts into laughter.

  “First time, people,” he reminds us. “My first times are always messy and—”

  “TMI,” Hazel whispers, patting dry her cheeks with the handkerchief that Scott handed her.

  “We hired a minister and a clown.”

  Fitz glares at Harrison. “You didn’t hire me and who has the rings?”

  The rest of the ceremony doesn’t take more than two minutes. When Hunter leans in for a kiss, everyone cheers, and claps. At that moment, waiters holding trays with champagne flutes begin to waltz around the patio.

  “Thank you, everyone, for joining us tonight.” Hunter raises his glass. “We wanted to do something simple, just with family and friends. My bride and I are leaving for our honeymoon, but please enjoy the small buffet and again, thank you for sharing this moment with us.”

  Now I understood why they suggested that pictures were done before the ceremony. I walk close to them, hugging Hunter then Willow and wishing them the best. I’ve yet to get to know them better, but I hope that I stick around a little longer, with Harrison.

  “Dude, what happened to the embarrassing toast from the groomsmen?” Harrison complains. “I’m ready to talk about the time—”

  “That’s one of the million reasons why this wedding is so small and fast. You,”—Fitz pats Harrison’s chest taking the second flute—“no one wants to hear you giving poor little Hunter shit.”

  “I love you, but you’re annoying, Fitz.” Hunter shakes his head. “Thank you for coming, Harrison. You can save the big toast for Scott’s wedding. Or Fitz’s.”

  The four brothers talk over one another, and they seem to understand what’s happening, but I choose to walk away, toward the food. I’m starving. That hamburger we ate in Baltimore at eleven wasn’t enough to satisfy my appetite.

  “Here,” Willow says, handing me her bouquet.

  “Umm.” I stare at it. “I’ll save it for later?

  “No, it’s yours.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not tossing it. I’m handing it.”

  “Like tag, you’re it?” I push it back to her. “I’m not playing, but thank you.”

  Wha
t happened to tradition? Those old times when the bridesmaids would rush forward, struggling to find the best spot and become the chosen one. They pull each other’s hair, disarray their gowns and all because they want to be the one to snatch the bouquet and find their prince charming.

  “Harrison asked me to give it to you.” She winks at me, tilting her head toward the Everhart men.

  I turn around, finding him, walking toward us. “Congratulations, Willow. I wish you nothing but happiness, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you.” She kisses him on the cheek.

  “You and I are leaving too.” He gives me a playful smile.

  “We are?” I play coy, untying his tie.

  His lips touch my ear, and he murmurs, “Yes, and I got us a reservation at the Four Seasons.”

  I press my legs together, squeezing my eyes as I savor his words.

  Finally.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me.” He sighs. “What did I do to deserve this kind of fucking torture?”

  “Everhart, distance,” Tiago orders.

  “What are you doing here?” I protest.

  Thirty-One

  Harrison

  “Do you have your passport?” Tiago asks.

  “Always,” I respond, turning to look at Luna. I don’t want to leave her.

  “Where are we going?” I ask resigned, and ready to die a virgin. At least it feels like it’s been a hundred years since I’ve had sex, and at this pace, I’m never going to have it again.

  Ever.

  Tiago hands me over his phone. “Yeah?”

  I angle my head, grab Luna’s hand and we walk toward the library.

  “We need you,” Bradley is on the other line.

  “I take it there’s no choice.” I sigh, putting him on speaker. “Where to?”