by T. K. Leigh
“I took a guess at what kind of vodka you’d prefer,” a deep rumble sounds.
Paralyzed, every muscle in my body stiffens, my pulse skyrocketing. I blink repeatedly, praying this isn’t just a dream, a side effect of sitting by a couple of college students smoking pot during my afternoon on the beach.
“But something made me think you were a Belvedere girl.” The heat of his breath closes in on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. Then a finger runs the length of my arm. “Smooth. Layered. Sophisticated. And so fucking stubborn.” He grasps my hand, stepping in front of me.
I stare into Lincoln’s brilliant eyes and part my lips, struggling to say something, anything, but no words come. I don’t know what to make of this, considering the animosity and pure hatred that covered his face the last time we saw each other. But it’s no longer there. In its place is a look of unmatched devotion, complete admiration, and wanton desperation.
“I am so sorry.” His voice is choked with emotion, everything about him exuding the same passion and intensity he has since the first time I felt his body against mine.
“Sorry? What are you—”
“That night I took you to dinner.” His hands go to my face, gripping my cheeks. “Our first official-unofficial date. Do you remember what I promised you?”
I swallow hard. “That you’d always fight for me.”
“No matter the battle. But I broke that promise.”
“I didn’t give you a choice. You just said it yourself.” I laugh slightly. “I’m really stubborn. I’d already decided what I needed to do. No matter what you said, nothing would have made me change my mind. Not after…” I trail off.
“Not after your father saw us together and reminded you of everything I would lose if you didn’t break it off with me.”
I briefly close my eyes. “He told you.”
“Yes, and so did you.”
“Me?” I fling my gaze to his.
His lips curve up. “Your father left an early issue of Time on my desk this morning, along with a note that said if I didn’t get on the first flight to Hawaii, I’m not as smart as he thought and he’d seriously reconsider his decision to hire me.”
“Oh.” I pull away, unsure how to react to Lincoln reading that article. I knew it was a possibility. I figured he wouldn’t care anymore. That my words wouldn’t matter. Judging by the anguish in his eyes, they still do.
He lifts his hand to my nape, not allowing me to escape him. “Every man in your life has disappointed you. It kills me that I’m one of them. So I’m here to make it up to you. To promise that I’ll do my best to never disappoint you again. I can’t promise I won’t, but if you just give me a chance, I’ll do everything in my power not to deliberately piss you off, like slurp my soup or leave my shoes in the middle of the floor so you trip on them. Hell, I’ll even stop stealing your panties.”
I playfully slap him. “Don’t you dare. My panties will always belong to you.”
A peaceful smile crosses his mouth as he closes the distance, his lips so close to mine. “And what about your heart?”
“That will always belong to you, too.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He goes to erase that last bit of space between us, but I put my hand on his chest, preventing him from doing so. He pulls back, an eyebrow raised in question.
“That still doesn’t mean this will work. Just because we want to be together doesn’t mean we should. It still doesn’t fix the fact that I was your student. That you lied for me. Intentionally kept our relationship a secret so no one would find out you violated the code of conduct. Not even the strongest love will fix this. I’m not sure I’m—”
“You’re not sure you’re worth it?” His tone is full of fire and zeal as he finishes my thought.
I simply shrug. I’ve done quite a bit of soul-searching these past few weeks. Have come to terms with my past and know I’m worthy of love. I just don’t know if I’m worthy of Lincoln’s love. Not with what’s at stake.
He shakes his head, looking around, his expression wracked with indecision, as if frantically trying to come up with something…anything to make me reconsider. Then a devilish smile tilts his mouth and he leans toward me, kissing my temple.
“Wait right here.”
Dropping his hold, he rushes from me, leaving me confused and a bit intrigued, which quickly changes to utterly horrified when he walks up to the stage where the small band has been serenading us. During a break in the music, he talks to the singer, who happily welcomes him up on stage, offering him the microphone.
I meet his eyes, vehemently shaking my head, a heat spreading from behind my ears to my face and chest.
“Aloha, friends.” Lincoln’s voice comes over the speakers, to which the audience replies with a polite “aloha”. “I won’t be long, because I’m sure you’d much rather listen to this beautiful island music than me. My name is Lincoln Moore. As you can tell, I’m not from around here.” He gestures at his suit, looking incredibly out of place, especially when surrounded by people in casual island attire. Several patrons chuckle, nodding in agreement. “I work as an associate attorney at a little newspaper called The New York Times.”
My pulse steadily increases as I stare at him, wondering what he’s doing, other than making a complete ass out of himself in front of the crowd, and eventually the entire world once someone decides to upload this to YouTube.
He loosens his tie, sweat forming on his brow, the combination of the June humidity and the lights on the stage beaming down on him. When he shrugs out of his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his crisp shirt, a few women whistle.
“Thank you very much,” he says in his best Elvis impersonation.
I laugh as I’m treated to this side of Lincoln, one I haven’t seen in too long now.
“You see, almost five months ago, I met my boss’ daughter, although I didn’t realize it at the time. And I made the colossal mistake of falling in love with her.”
A few ooh’s sound from the crowd. I have no idea what game Lincoln’s playing here, what he hopes to get out of telling our story, but I can’t take my eyes off him. Either can anyone else.
“That’s not even the worst of it. You see, in addition to being an attorney for the Times, I teach First Amendment Law in the journalism program of a local university. And my boss’ daughter?”
Gasps echo from the crowd, and he points to the group of women who appear to be celebrating a bachelorette party.
“They guessed it. She walked into my class that first day as a student. Now, I know what you’re thinking. How did I not know that not only was she my boss’ daughter, but also set to be a student of mine when the semester began?” A devilish glint flashes in his eyes. “Suffice it to say, the early days in our relationship weren’t exactly filled with philosophical questions about the meaning of life.”
The entire audience erupts in cheers and whistles. It takes a lot to make me blush, but as his gaze catches mine and he winks, causing nearly everyone to turn in my direction, my cheeks heat even more. But it’s one of the most fulfilling and satisfying feelings I’ve ever experienced.
“That’s her, ladies and gentlemen.” He jumps off the stage, heading toward me. “The woman I am madly in love with. I’d have to be if I’m telling a group of complete strangers about the fact that I’ve been sleeping with one of my students, which is a very big no-no. The truth is, I loved her before she was one of my students.” His voice becomes sincere as he approaches, his eyes trained on mine. He smiles a small smile before addressing the crowd once more.
“But the problem is, she doesn’t think this will ever work. In some respects, she’s absolutely right. Our love was doomed from the beginning. Like Heathcliff and Catherine. Romeo and Juliet, except for the suicide part.”
“Jack and Rose!” an enthusiastic young woman adds.
Lincoln turns around, finding her in the crowd. “We all know there was room on that plank, so that wasn’t a doomed relationship
. It was murder. Or, at the very least, negligent homicide.”
The crowd’s roar of laughter echoes against the still night air. When Lincoln turns back to me, his voice grows sincere. “Like Orpheus and Eurydice.”
A small breath escapes my mouth.
“Do you remember what Orpheus’ problem was?” he asks softly.
I nod, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth to stop my chin from quivering. “He looked back,” I barely manage to say.
“He looked back,” he repeats. “Something I refuse to do. Not where you’re concerned. I only want to look forward. Nothing that happened before this moment matters.”
“But—”
“But what? You still don’t believe you’re worth the risk?” He steps back, spreading an arm and turning in a slow circle. “What do you think I’m trying to prove to you? That you are worth the risk. Do you think I care about my job as much as I care about you?”
I wish I could give him the answer he wants to hear, but it’s not that easy. Despite this incredible gesture — getting on a plane, flying halfway around the world, making a scene in front of all these people — it’s hard for me to trust blindly, to put all my faith in someone’s words. Nearly thirty years of experience has taught me otherwise.
He brings a hand to my face, and I melt into his touch. “What do you need me to do to prove it to you? That you’re all that matters. That no matter what happens, my life will be full as long as you’re by my side.” He swipes a tear from my cheek. “I know what life’s like without you. And I mean really know what it’s like. I can survive without my job, without my apartment. Hell, I’d even give up my season tickets to the Mets.”
“You can’t do that,” I sniffle. “You’d probably have to pay someone to take them off your hands instead of the other way around. It’s a terrible business decision.”
The crowd breaks out in laughter, and I join them, my emotions a wild pendulum. One minute I’m crying. The next I’m laughing through my tears.
“See, Chloe? We’re still good together. We still make sense. That hasn’t changed. What do I have to do to prove that you deserve that fairy tale? I’ve already declared my love in a way that would put any cheesy romantic comedy to shame. What more can I do?”
At that instant, the band begins playing the opening chords of “Hawaiian Wedding Song”, apparently thinking this moment required background music.
“Please, Chloe,” Lincoln murmurs over the opening verse of the classic Elvis song. “If I have to sing to get you to be mine, I will.”
My eyes widen, horror crossing my expression. “You wouldn’t.”
“For you, I certainly would.”
Before I can stop him, he takes over the vocals, his hand wrapping around mine. The crowd erupts in applause and cheers that would probably rival if the real Elvis had come back from the dead and were here singing to me. I’m surprised he even knows the lyrics to this song. It’s not exactly one you hear on a daily basis, unless you watch Blue Hawaii on repeat.
I cover my mouth with my free hand, laughing, crying, then laughing again. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens in the real world, is it? At least not in my world. I was never the type of girl who necessitated a call from a guy the next day. And here is this amazing, incredible, sophisticated man, singing horribly out of tune in front of dozens of people, passersby on the beach stopping to listen and watch the scene with interest.
“Just kiss him already!” a woman shouts over the melody.
“If you don’t, I will,” another voice calls out. I shift my eyes, shaking my head at the man toasting me with his mai tai.
Lincoln gives me a questioning look, but when I don’t do anything, he only sings louder. While Lincoln Moore has many talents, singing certainly is not one of them. But that doesn’t stop him.
As I listen to him sing the lyrics, begging me to promise to be his forever, my heart is on the brink of bursting. All I’ve ever wanted was to feel like I had value, had worth.
Maybe I do deserve the over-the-top romantic comedy ending.
Jumping off my barstool as he fumbles through the Hawaiian words, I clutch his cheeks, bringing his face toward mine. “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”
His lips kicking up in the corners, he allows the microphone to fall to the table. “With pleasure.”
He yanks my body hard and firm against his as his mouth slams against mine. Thunderous applause erupts around us, but that only makes him kiss me deeper. He curves into me, dipping me slightly, his hand running along the contours of my frame as our bodies mold together. His tongue swipes against mine, exploring my mouth like it’s the first time. And that’s what this is. Our new beginning, one we both deserve.
When he slowly pulls back, I’m met with his breathtaking smile. “Did you kiss me just so I’d stop singing? Or because you want to give us another chance?”
Running my fingers through his hair, I relish in the sensation of his coarse locks, something I’ve craved so much over these past few weeks. “I never had a chance with you.”
“And I never had a chance with you.” He brings his lips back to mine.
“And I did want you to stop singing,” I add with a smile. “I think I heard a few dogs howl on the other side of the island.”
His deep chuckle echoes in the air, filling me with warmth. Before I know what’s happening, his arms snake around me and he lifts me into a cradle hold.
“Lincoln!” I playfully swat at him as he makes his way through the lounge, people clapping and cheering as the band transitions into a Hawaiian version of “Over the Rainbow”. “Put me down! I’m meeting Nora, Jeremy, and—”
“A best man who can’t keep his dick in his pants?” He arches a single brow.
I gasp, putting the pieces together. “That was you?”
“What can I say?” He stops walking as his feet hit the sand of the beach, and he slowly lowers me, yet keeps a firm hold on me. “I figured if I was going to give you the cheesy happily ever after you claim you don’t deserve, I needed backup. I was worried you wouldn’t hear me out if I just showed up, especially with the way I treated you the last time I saw you.”
“So you had my friend lie to me?” I give him a playful look of disapproval.
“It was Izzy’s idea. Anyway, I’d like to consider it more like an alternate version of the truth.” He circles his hips. “I do have trouble keeping my dick in my pants. At least when you’re around.”
I lift myself onto my toes, feathering my lips against his. “You lawyers. Always getting off on a technicality,” I murmur.
“I haven’t heard you complain.” With a wink, he pulls back. “Now, let’s go. I have plans for you.” He grips my hand and tugs me along the beach.
“And what plans are those?”
A mischievous smile builds on his mouth as his eyes darken. “To finish what we started a few weeks ago before you stood me up. Don’t think you can get off that easily.”
I come to a stop, forcing him to face me. Then I hook my arms around his neck and touch my lips to his. “With you, it’s all easy.”
He breathes into the kiss, then meets my eyes. “I love you, Chloe Davenport.”
“And I love you, Lincoln Moore.”
“Say it again.”
My lips curve as peace washes over me. “I love you.”
“God, it’s even better than I imagined it would be.”
Then he kisses me…fully, completely, madly.
The best kiss in the history of kisses. Because finally, after everything, I know I’m worth this man’s love. And there’s no better feeling in the world.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Izzy asks, scanning my apartment, the last of my items officially boxed up. This place has been home for years now, has served as a meeting spot for our little circle of friends. It’ll be a bit of a readjustment to not come home to this every day, but I now have a new place to call home.
“We’ve had some grea
t memories in this shithole,” I agree.
Izzy laughs, squeezing my arm. “We sure have. But now you’ll make new memories. Happier memories. In an even better shithole, although I’m not so sure I’d consider Lincoln’s apartment a shithole. I’ve seen that place. It’s incredible.”
I beam, considering the road ahead. For the longest time, I never thought much about the future. Now I look forward to every day I spend with Lincoln. So much so that when the lease on my apartment was up for renewal, I didn’t hesitate when he suggested I move in with him, considering I spend every night at his place anyway.
“Well…” Izzy pulls away, her voice brightening. “I should get going.”
“Do you want to order Chinese and eat on the floor like we did when I first moved in? One last memory?”
“I wish I could, but I have plans.”
“Plans?” I tilt my head. “What kind of plans? You never have plans that don’t involve us or work.”
“I do have a life, Chloe,” she retorts, avoiding my eyes.
“No, you don’t. You’ve admitted you don’t on a regular basis.” I narrow my eyes, leaning into her. “Do you have a date?”
“Most certainly not,” she answers quickly. Too quickly, which only serves to increase my suspicions.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I waggle my brows. “How did you meet? Is he a doctor at the hospital? Better yet, a patient whose life you saved who wants to…repay the favor? Or is it one of the guys I saw flirting with you at Evie and Julian’s wedding?”
“Chloe!” She playfully punches me. “None of the above. First of all, I don’t hook up at weddings. Second, most of the doctors I work with are married. Third, and most disturbing, I work in pediatric oncology. All my patients are minors.”
“Then you’d better tell me who you’re going out with or I’ll keep making up ridiculous scenarios. You can’t drop a bomb like that and expect me to leave it alone.” I place my hand on my hip, tapping my foot in mock irritation. “You know how I can be. Soon, Evie will call you to ask why you’ve been dating a crowned prince and never told her.”
