by Lena Fox
He blinked up at me and smiled, and my heart was even more his with every second.
“Morning.” His fingers stroked my throat and jaw and I shivered, needing his touch all over my body.
We were interrupted by a knock at the door. Blake grumbled. “I thought I’d ordered breakfast for ten in the morning.” He glanced at the clock. “Oh, right.”
He got up to answer the door, looking the very definition of ‘just rolled out of bed’, and it was the single sexiest thing I had ever seen.
A housekeeper with a French accent spoke with Blake at the door, then he took the tray from her and brought it in. He placed it on the bedside table, and the sweet smells of vanilla coffee and strawberry jam made me sit up in bed, alert with hunger.
We shared the steaming carafe of coffee, basket of croissants, crusty bread, and fruit-filled pastries. I didn’t care about crumbs in the bed or how much butter and jam I slathered over each bite. I savored every mouthful.
“You’ve got something on your chin,” Blake said.
My heart stopped. Lurched painfully. Tears burned in my eyes.
Black slugs churned inside me.
No. No. No.
He reached over, and with a thumb, wiped away a spot of strawberry jam.
I could only stare at it, confused.
“Wait, there’s still a bit more.”
I sat there, frozen, waiting for my body to be torn apart by darkness.
Blake took my coffee out of my hands and put it down, then crawled on top of me, kissing the jam softly off my chin.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he looked down at me, supporting himself with his arms.
I blinked a few times, bringing myself back to reality and dispelling the tears before they could fully form.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” I’m okay.
“Just okay?”
I giggled at Blake’s exaggerated puppy face. “More than okay. Perfect. Deliriously content.”
“Then why do you still have these damned clothes on?” he growled.
Blake stripped away my clothes. I responded by relieving him of his clothing too. Shirts and underwear were flung all over the room, landing on leadlight lamps and velvet armchairs. When we were skin against skin, Blake threw the sheet over us. Sunlight shone through the white fabric, making our private world for two glow.
He lay his body gently onto mine from toes to chest, and brought his hands up into my short hair. He lifted my face to his, and his tongue touched mine then delved into a kiss so deep and heady that everything else spun away.
I ached with delight at every touch, and arched my back against the mattress, enjoying the hardness of his arousal pressed between us. He reached out of the sheets, fumbled with his wallet on the bedside table, and returned with a condom. I took it from him, carefully rolling it down over his long shaft, enjoying how he watched me touch him.
We shifted and rolled together between the sheets, and he pressed into me. My mouth opened in a cry he silenced with a kiss. My breath and his mingled, growing faster, as each leisurely thrust added to the slow burn of ecstasy building inside.
I lay there, rocking against him, wrapped in his warmth and his scent, in the sweet glow of joy that had crept over me. In that moment, we could have been in Paris, or back in my own bed, or on the moon. I could have imagined us anywhere, and at the same time it didn’t matter where in the world we were. I only needed Blake. I could stay in one room, one bed, in his arms forever. He was all I needed.
Then we weren’t in bed anymore. Blake lifted me out, carrying me by my thighs, my legs knotted around his waist as I moved up and down on him, refusing to break that connection, my arms around his shoulders and my kisses on his neck.
We moved like that into the bathroom, and he reached away to run the shower. My fingers toyed with the muscles of his chest as he turned back to me, lust smoldering in his eyes.
Once the water was steaming, he pulled us both under.
I gasped at his lips, drawing him closer as though I could consume him whole. The stream of the shower ran down between our mouths, hot water spilling around our tongues.
I fell back against the shower wall and he pressed me there, his chest to mine, his hands gripping tight under my thighs. The air was cool, making my nipples pucker and my skin rise into goosebumps, confused and excited by the contrasting splashes of hot water. Tremors ran through my body.
He thrust into me, driving me against that wall harder and harder, breaking me apart and making me whole again. Our cries sounded out over the gurgle and rush of the water. We both came within the very same moment, and I let tears of happiness and awe run down my cheeks, unseen under the fall of water surrounding us.
It was afternoon by the time Blake and I stepped out of our room. I could hear the low rumble of the falls, and they drew me to them, calling to a primal, wild part of my soul.
It was windy and a little cold, but we were only a couple of blocks away and we wandered down the streets, our hands linked, and smiles on our faces.
The viewing platforms were crowded with tourists, but in my eyes, only Blake, myself, and the falls existed. I stared out over them with my mouth open, the soft spray raining down onto us. The immensity of the falls, the sheer power and beauty, staggered my imagination. They were huge, bigger than I’d ever pictured based on photos I’d seen. My heart pounded with life and my blood sang a matching tune to the roar of water. I kept looking over at Blake, wondering if he was bored or if he thought I was being silly, but he wore the same smile as me.
We stayed there until it became dark and the falls were lit up with brightly colored lights like something from a fantasy world. It was intensely magical, and it gave me an amazing gift—inspiration for my art. There were ideas I had never considered before flying around my head. Shapes of passionate bodies and passionate water, fusing, merging in splashes of color. I was desperate to get back to our room and the sketchbook I had there.
Blake had made all of this happen for me. He’d worked so hard for this, and for me, and I had no idea what would be next, what else he’d have to do for me from that childhood list. He’d told me we had a booking for dinner, and I wondered if that was from the list, or just something we were going to do. I had become confused as to where free will ended and the list started. And, in my darkest thoughts, I still wondered if Blake really wanted to do these things or if he felt somehow obligated.
By the time I turned away from the sight of the falls, my bubble had completely burst. On our way to dinner, the realistic part of me thought it was time I reminded myself I had the results of a cancer test waiting for me. I’d almost forgotten. I almost felt like I was living a life free of that. I couldn’t forget though that getting that result was going to be painful.
And I wasn’t sure I could survive the pain that would come from a fall as high as the one I was about to crash-land from.
Chapter Twenty-Two
BLAKE
The restaurant looked like nothing from the front. It sat between a newsagent and a greengrocer in a small strip of shops by a highway. Old men sat in groups out the front, making themselves at home like they were regulars. The plain dirty white interior was filled with plastic tables and chairs, each with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and a simple white vase holding a freshly cut rose bud. It was a recommendation from James, and at first sight I was disappointed. This was meant to be a special night, and this place didn’t look special.
Then the smell of garlic, spices, and slow-cooking meat drifted out to us, exquisitely delicious. I followed it, and Georgina, inside. We found a quiet table in the back of the restaurant, in a small courtyard framed by rose bushes. This is more like it.
Nerves left me quiet, unable to say what I needed to. Georgina had become pale and drawn since we left the falls. Something raw and vulnerable stirred inside her. Looking at the shadows under her eyes, I wondered how long she’d been living with the thought that she was dying.
We all die. I kne
w that. It was the price we paid to get on the ride in the first place. But for most of us it was distant, easy to forget. But to believe it was imminent, just on the horizon—I couldn’t imagine how that would feel. Would I manage to keep my head up, and keep going like Georgina did? Would I even be able to make it through a day without breaking down and crying my eyes out?
I could only hope the results gave us good news: that the lump was benign. And if it was bad news, if it was … cancer. The word hurt my heart. It was such an ugly sound. Cancer. Even the syllables sounded insidious, nasty, and evil. I could picture a blackness spreading through her body, and it hurt so bad.
Maybe that was why Georgina hadn’t told anyone for so long. I wasn’t sure I would want people looking at me and seeing only death.
Looking at Georgina now, I saw life. I saw love. I didn’t give a shit if she was sick, if she was dying. If I only had her for a little while, I would take that. I knew it wouldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows and pithy wisdom bestowed upon me like in the movies. She would be tired; she would be sick. She would be angry and sad and so would I, and we would suffer. I knew that. I understood it. I wanted to be with her anyway.
Stars twinkled above the open courtyard and the waitress brought some bread and took our order. Everything on the menu was overtly French, and Georgina smiled at my cringing when she ordered snails. She giggled, and for a second she looked about twelve years old. I wished I had known her then, before she got sick, before she became so afraid that people, life, and her own body would hurt her.
We sat, barely talking as we enjoyed each other’s company and the delicious meal, the heartiness of the rich dishes and red wine keeping us warm. Georgina dipped torn pieces of sourdough bread into the garlic butter left behind under the snail shells, and popped them into her mouth. She ate like a cat, picking delicately and lapping up every morsel. The little pink triangle of her tongue came out and licked at her lower lip, like a tiny blooming flower. She had an unselfconscious delight about everything she did that turned me on.
I had to say something to her. But my voice kept catching. Fear held me back, and I wished I was as brave as her.
We finished, and after paying I caught up with Georgina out the front. She was leaning against the wall, looking deep in thought and far too sexy from behind.
I put my arms around her. She turned in my embrace, and I kissed her three times lightly across her lips. We walked down the street, and although plenty of cabs passed by, we wandered together slowly, arms wrapped around each other, no real destination in mind.
Until Georgina said, “I want to see the falls again.”
We returned to the highest lookout just as fireworks exploded in the sky above us. The sky turned purple to match, the color reflecting in the low clouds and mist surrounding the falls. Streaks of coral orange and bright pink burst in shimmering stars. Up on the lookout, it felt as though we were in the sky amongst them.
Rainbows sparkled from everywhere. Little drops of spray stuck in Georgina’s dark hair, glittering like diamonds, and she was smiling in awe, pointing at the fireworks as they whizzed past us. I could see only her. Her head was back and her long creamy neck was exposed above the scarf she wore. The skirt of her dress swirled around her legs, and she looked like a painting come to life. I had never seen anything as alive and beautiful as she was.
I reached for her and she came into my arms, nestled against my chest, and rested her forehead against my chin. She fit so perfectly into my body, into the curve of my own skin and bone. The world around us glittered like magic, and I knew it was the right time.
I breathed my fear out of me and it turned to crystals on the cold air.
Pulling the ring box out of my jacket pocket, I stepped back a little. The concrete was soaked, and the water went right through the fabric of my jeans as my knee went to the ground. Georgina paused, her eyes opening wider and her pretty mouth rounding into a tiny circle.
“Georgie, will you marry me?” I popped open the box.
The ring was a plain silver band with a modest diamond set within a pretty art deco design. From the small selection at the pawn shop that night, it had caught my eye, and I knew it was the right one. It was gorgeously unpretentious, and it was the perfect ring for Georgina.
Her mouth fell open. She stood there for what felt like eternity. Tourists up and down the lookout stopped and stared at us.
Georgina took a slow step back. I noticed the desolation in her eyes.
I should have known by now exactly what her response would be.
She ran.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Georgina
Mist from the falls splattered in my eyes as I ran, merging with the tears and making it hard to see, hard to know where I was going. I didn’t care where I went. Fear and grief drove my feet hard against the wet concrete to take me away from Blake. The roar of the falls couldn’t cover the sound of sobs breaking through my chest.
Why would he do that?
Was this just another thing to tick off my childhood list? It had to be. What was it? Receive a proposal? Get married? Have a family?
Of course I would have included something like that. Why hadn’t I seen this coming? I should never have agreed to this. He’d done all these outrageous and impossible and insane things, for me, for my lists, would he do this too? Never, never would someone like Blake want to marry someone as broken as me otherwise.
I don’t even know how he’d forgiven me for what I’d done to him.
Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe this was something much worse.
Was this revenge? Getting me back for making him go through my sexy bucket list, for using him and then abandoning him? Was he proposing, just for some list, so he could laugh and take it back and say it meant nothing?
I had trouble believing Blake could be so cruel.
But I could believe that I deserved that cruelty. And that I never deserved him.
I was down the stairs from the upper lookout and rounding the lower level viewing area when Blake overtook me and blocked my path.
“Please, just stop,” he said, panting. He reached for my arms and I backed away. The few other tourists braving the cold night watched with concern, and I backed off farther, ducking into the shadow of the staircase.
“Why did you ask me that? Was it on my list?”
Blake looked confused for a moment, and then laughed, almost relieved. “Your list? No, of course not.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, only because I couldn’t accept the alternative.
Blake reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out his wallet. From it came a piece of purple paper, folded up small.
“Your list is finished. We’ve done everything. Niagara Falls was the last thing.” He handed me the list. “I want to marry you because I want to marry you.”
I took the list from him with shaking fingers and stared at my handwriting, hearing my own voice from when I was fifteen.
I could hardly whisper, “You’ve done everything. You did everything for me.”
“I’ve done a lot of crazy things for you, for love, or because I was told to.” He held out the closed ring box between us. “But this is all me. This is my choice. I want this, and I want you.”
I stared at the paper again, confused and awed. “What was the wafflewich about?”
“Just something I wanted to try.” Blake chuckled. “Hey, I get to try things too.”
Don’t smile at me, please. I’m with him now, but there’s a huge difference between dating and forever. Especially when my forever has an expiration date—one that might come too soon. “Please leave me and live your life better without me.”
“Georgina …”
“I watched my mom die.” I wiped at my eyes with my damp scarf. “It was awful, but what was worse was seeing my dad watch her die. I don’t want you to go through that.”
The mist had soaked through Blake’s hair and his eyelashes clung together, star-like, flashes
of fireworks reflected on them. “It’s my right to decide what I want to do, and what I can handle. I love you—why can’t you get that through your head? I know you’ve been trying to push me away because you think you should, but have you ever wanted to push me away? Has that ever been what you really wanted?”
My answer came out as a sob. “Never.”
“Then be with me, love me, and let me love you, and we’ll get through anything together.” Blake gathered me into his arms again, and I felt his lips move against my soaked hair.
I thought back to the lists we’d completed, lists of items I would have once thought impossible. With Blake by my side, I could do anything.
“We will,” I said, and I think for the first time, I believed it.
Blake planted a series of kisses along my hairline. “Now, do you have any other lies or lists or dark secrets to tell me?”
A giggle of pure relief rattled from my lips. “No.”
Blake dropped down to one knee and held out the ring again. He gave me his biggest grin. “Georgina Stone, you’re the strongest and most amazing woman I’ve ever known, and I want to be with you for every moment of our lives, no matter what. Will you marry me?”
I could barely speak. I just smiled, and sobbed, and laughed, and nodded as I stared at the man I loved. He swept me up into a tight hug. A few bystanders who’d noticed the second proposal happening were applauding. Fireworks crackled and boomed in the sky behind us.
I kissed Blake, hard and long and deep, and more cheers came from the crowd. “I love you. I’ve loved you in a way that feels like it’s always been a part of me, and always will be. It feels like forever.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
GEORGINA
“I’m ready to go home. I’m ready to face my results.”
They were my first words to Blake the next morning when he woke up to me running my fingers through his golden hair. He simply nodded, and we packed and were on a plane home by lunchtime.
