“Lucky for you, you have a girlfriend who lives nearby,” she said. “I’ll even walk you to the dock in the morning.”
“It’ll be early.”
“That’s okay. I want to.” She pecked me on the cheek. “You do know it’s predominantly a gay population over there, don’t you? A gorgeous young stud like you is going to get hit on big time.”
“As long as no one tries to squeeze my peaches, no harm, no foul.”
With a laugh, Claudia put the dishes in the sink and returned to the table with a dark chocolate, layered cake. I was full from our meal, but my mouth watered at the sight.
“Hey, there’s a piece missing. A giant piece.” I pointed out the obvious.
“I gave my father a slice. There’s no way we can eat all of this,” she said.
“I could.” The guy had her there cooking and baking all the time. It was our anniversary cake.
Claudia ignored my childish gripe and brought out some cake plates. As she cut the first piece, violent thumping erupted at the front door. Annoyed by the interruption, I hurried to deal with the offender. I yanked open the door, a few choice words ready to fly, but a whirlwind of perfume and high heels and long black hair blew past me nearly tackling Claudia.
Dario came in wearing a tie and dress shirt, his short black hair glossy with gel. Calmly, we shook hands. I didn’t need to ask. The megawatt smile told me everything.
Dario followed me back where we heard April screeching, her Cuban accent more pronounced with her excitement.
“He proposed! He proposed!” She threw out her left hand, showcasing a luminous diamond engagement ring.
“Oh, April, that’s wonderful!” Claudia hugged her friend. The two shrieked in unison, jumping up and down in a little impromptu happy dance.
I gave Dario a brief man-hug, cuffing his back. “Way to wife the girl. Congratulations, buddy.”
“Got a job and a new car. It was the next thing on the to-do list,” Dario said, ironing a smile.
“He's trying to play it cool now, but there were tears in his eyes when he professed his undying love for me down on bended knee.” April tugged Dario’s arm, kissing him dotingly, before she surged on. “Oh, my God, chica, it was sooo romantic! I still have goosebumps.”
Dario and April dropped into seats at the table while Claudia and I pulled out more cake plates and wine glasses. I cast a sideways glance at Claudia and caught sight of her troubled frown before she could mask it. I pushed a glass of wine into her hand and lifted my own, toasting our newly engaged friends. Claudia smiled and raised her glass, the picture of cheerfulness, but as we ate cake and April took us through the proposal play-by-play, I felt Claudia’s tension as if I were plugged into her.
“We’re planning the wedding for May of next year, and we’d like you both to be in the wedding party.” April leaned into Dario. “Chica, as June is my only sister, she has to be matron-of-honor, but I thought I'd put a personal twist on tradition, and the two of you could be like co-matron/maid-of-honor. You're like a sister to me, and I can't imagine doing any of this without you.”
“Nothing would please me more.” Claudia squeezed April’s hand.
Anxious to spread the word, April and Dario left in the same kind of bubbly blur that they had arrived in. We returned to the kitchen and quietly began cleaning up.
“So what's up?” I slipped next to her, giving her a hand with loading the dishwasher. “You seemed a little distracted by April and Dario's news. You upset by their engagement?”
Her mouth popped open with a soft gasp. “Oh, God. Do you think they noticed?”
“No, they were too ecstatic to notice, but I did.” I stroked the delicate spot near her elbow with my thumb.
She looked out the window over the sink into my postage stamp yard at the last hour of orangey glowing sunlight.
“It's not like I’m wishing bad on April and Dario, but people fall out of love as easily as they fall into it. Having a ring and making a vow doesn't make a person stay.”
“And sometimes a ring and a vow makes a person stay when they shouldn't. Let’s not project our own parents' problems on our friends.”
Her mother left. Mine had stayed. Two failed family stories from opposite spectrums.
“If ever anyone had a shot at making it last, it’s Dario and April,” I said. “Hell, they've been together for, what, six years? They're practically married already.”
She sighed, her attention turning back to me. “You’re right. They are so much alike.”
“See, admitting I’m right feels good, doesn’t it? Do you good to keep that in mind.” I patted her butt and dropped a kiss on her nose.
“How do you feel about getting married?” She sloshed soapy water over a dish.
I nudged her playfully, though, I would’ve been lying if I’d said her question didn’t send a quake of fear through my body. “Are you proposing?”
She let out an exasperated laugh. “No, I just want to know what you think about marriage.”
I focused on the dishes. “I don't. Think about it, I mean. Do you?”
“Since I can remember, my father has always referenced my future by milestones, marriage being the most dominant one. He makes it sound so important, a colossal event that will define my entire life. I don’t know if I can live up to the vision he has for me. It’s like being offered a misshapen hand-me-down sweater. It doesn’t fit who I feel I’ve become.”
“I think, like many of your father's thoughts, marriage is archaic and pointless.” I learned early on her dad was unapologetically starch in his viewpoints. “You don’t have to get married. You can do whatever you want.”
“I know, but despite my reservations about it, I don’t want April and Dario to ever break up. I would love to see them get married and raise a family. Is it silly to want a happily-ever-after for them, but not believe in it for myself?”
“You’ll have a happily-ever-after, Claude. You’ll just have it on your own terms.” I yanked the dishtowel from her and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s go for a ride. I want to show you something.”
“Where we going?” Claudia asked once we’d left Sayville, and I kept driving.
“I want to show you the house my company's renovating.” I drove northwest and passed under the Long Island Expressway. “It's in Head of the Harbor on the edge of Nissequogue. It's amazing.”
On the North Shore of Long Island, the area became hilly and dense with trees, the houses larger and more impressive. I coasted along Three Sisters Road, making our stomachs drop and fly with each dip and peak of the rolling asphalt. I turned down a winding narrow path, the road more country-like and lined with tall, thick-limbed trees. I pulled to a stop in front of a sprawling manor.
“Wow,” Claudia exclaimed, her gaze sweeping over the stately house before us. “Gorgeous.”
“Just an ordinary, six-bedroom cottage.” I hunted through a mass of crumpled notes, lunch bags, and paper coffee cups jammed in my center console.
“You need to clean your car,” she said, watching me dig around.
“It's not that bad,” I mumbled. My fingers hit upon the metal ring that held my work keys. I held them up. “Bingo. Come on, I want to show you inside.”
“We won’t be breaking any laws?”
“We're good. Buyers haven't closed on it yet.”
In truth, taking her inside could get me in hot water with my bosses, but she didn’t need to know that. She stayed close by as I unlocked the door and entered a code in the alarm keypad. I flipped a switch in the foyer, illuminating the expansive hallway and a grand staircase that curled around to the left.
Claudia absorbed the opulence. “I think my house could fit in the foyer alone.”
At least two of mine could.
The smell of new construction lingered in the air as I gave her a brief tour. Leaning back against a doorframe, I watched as she walked through the nearly completed kitchen into the family room running her fingers over the detailed
edges of the fireplace mantel that I'd sanded smooth the day before.
“You did this?” She caressed the soft wood.
“Yeah, crazy considering math was my worst subject in school, and figuring out and mitering angles just right, so they marry together, smooth and symmetrical like this, well, the first one I worked on about drove me mental. Each time, though, the process becomes easier. All said and done, I think I did a pretty stellar job.” I smiled knowing I’d rocked it. My bosses, Sal and Joe, had taken a chance on me. They’d been tickled fucking silly by the results.
“You did. It’s truly beautiful.” She beamed at me.
“Wait till you see the balcony in the master bedroom.” I captured her hand and led her up the staircase.
The bedroom was empty, ready for an interior decorator. It was huge: walk-in closets, a cathedral ceiling with double French doors that opened onto a railed balcony overlooking the pristine, landscaped property.
“Since the first day I came to work here, I've been wanting to bring you back and show you this.” I opened the glass doors to let the cooling night air sweep into the room. The moon hung low, having overtaken the sun, and bathed the room in its soft, pearlescent light.
She came up next to me and leaned over the railing at the edge of the doorway, looking out over the grass-carpeted yard. “Did you want to show me this house because you're going to own one like it someday?”
“Something like that.” I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
“What's the price tag on a place like this?”
“Oh, only about a cool two million.”
“Ha,” she snorted. “Unless you have a rich grandparent secreted away in your family tree, I wouldn't get your hopes up.”
I had exactly two family members left: Aunt Joan, my mother’s elderly sister, a widow who lived on a fixed monthly income of Social Security and a pension; and my older brother Al, a lifer in an upstate prison. Neither would be helpful in improving my financial situation.
“You’re not dating some trophy guy who only looks good on your arm, you know. I have plans,” I boasted and pointed out into the yard. “Can’t you picture us working out in the garden together?”
“Yes,” she said, playing along. “And over there, we’ll put a play set for the kids.”
I scratched the back of my head and continued cautiously. “If we’re tossing out your father’s stuffy idea of marriage, maybe our future doesn’t include kids either.”
She wound her arms around my neck and tipped her head to look up at me. The evening light illuminated her features. “You don’t want at least one? When Felicia brought Dylan to visit that time, you were completely enamored with him.”
The mention of my two-year old nephew created a flat, heavy sensation under my ribs. The poor kid had the unlucky fortune of inheriting the Faye surname. Not that Al's girlfriend Felicia was a testament to motherhood, but with my brother in jail unable to participate in parenting, maybe, just maybe, that meant the kid would be immunized against the undesirable traits inherent of my family’s bloodline.
“Yeah, I love that little guy, but Faye men and kids are a recipe for a miserable childhood. I don't have enough patience for kids.”
“I don't believe that for a moment. You're fun and energetic. You'd be a great dad,” she said, her usual encouraging self. “Your counseling with Dr. McCauley must've given you anger-coping skills. You've been calm and cool as a cucumber since I've been home.”
When Claudia had worked with my mother, Julia had shared some of my family’s past with her—the history of abuse that started with my father and continued with my brother. I had scars to validate the stories. Anger had become my outlet for it. Counseling had helped, but I still battled with keeping a lid on it. My last visit with Dylan a few months ago hadn’t gone well. While watching him, he pushed my buttons, and I’d lost it with him.
Anger, it seemed, would always be my first reaction.
“Still, I’d rather have a dog,” I said. “I always wanted one.”
“A dog? Instead of children?” She eyed me doubtfully.
“Rich professionals bought this house. They don’t have kids. Maybe they have the right idea. Kids are messy little energy sappers,” I said, encircling her waist and drawing her tight to me. “We choose the life we want. Leave the kids to April and Dario. We’ll be the best aunt and uncle ever because we’ll have the energy and money to spoil them.”
“Sounds like you’ve done some serious thinking about our future,” she said.
I nodded. “I have. I hope that’s okay.”
Her answering smile lifted me higher than any drug.
I wanted to kiss her and knew she probably expected it, too, but I twirled her across the balcony, dancing with her instead.
“Dinner and dancing? If you’re trying to impress me, you’ve succeeded,” she said.
My intention was to show her my patience. The no-sex clause seemed an unnecessary and almost painful denial of mutually enjoyable pleasure, but I had agreed to it and would see it through.
I lifted her hair to get to her neck, desperate to taste her sun-kissed skin. She was soft and warm under my lips, and I stilled, taking a moment to think about what I was doing and who I was doing it to. Touching her in places I had typically ignored in the past was like suddenly noticing the rollercoaster wasn't the only exciting ride at the amusement park.
I’d waited for this opportunity with Claudia for a long time—ever since elementary school when I tried to impress her on the monkey bars and woo her with my crayon drawings.
But I couldn’t have been with her any sooner.
You can’t expect someone to love a shadow.
My father killed himself when I was twelve. The rest of us: my mother, Al, and I, all shifted, flattening, rolling, and bumping along, trying to figure out how to fill the empty space he left behind. Julia fell out of step with the day-to-day stuff. My brother, four years older than me, should’ve been the one to step it up, but he didn’t. So I did. My mother’s withdrawal required that I learn how to shop, cook, and do laundry. Al got it in his head that I’d squashed his chances at becoming the favored child, and we couldn’t be in the same room for more than a few minutes before we crossed swords.
Al was bigger and stronger, and to keep up my strength to do battle with him, saving energy was imperative. I had no time or use for the schoolyard crushes and handholding my peers were into. I wanted things fast and with as little effort as possible. I became skilled at an early age at finding ways to get what I needed without much of a challenge. That included schoolwork, alcohol, drugs, and girls. I became a master at shifting tracks and finding ways around any blockade even at the expense of a setback. In middle school, my innocent elementary school crush on Claudia devolved into a dark lust—fantasies of feeling her maturing body under my hands, getting between her legs, and imagining what it would feel like to sink into her slick warmth. When Claudia was placed in advanced classes, my interactions with her were limited to brief glimpses in the hallway. My fantasy became akin to a little kid holding the string of a helium balloon. The meager string slipped from my clumsy grasp, and the balloon floated away, forever lost among the clouds.
I held Claudia tight to me, kissing her, remembering how much I had wanted her back then. I kissed her hard, felt her delicate bone structure under my hands. In my arms, she was like a fragile little bird that I could easily crush if I wasn’t careful. I’d been waiting to have this opportunity with her for almost my whole life, but we couldn’t have been together before now. I was still working out the details, perfecting my game, but after all the years and space between us, the time finally felt right.
Any sooner and I would’ve taken greedily—aware of only what I wanted and needed—and given nothing in return.
Our mouths moved together gently, but she arched into me, softly moaning. A sweet, wanting ache rode her breath and down low, an unrelenting pulse of awareness was rerouting my thoughts and challeng
ing my promises. I massaged the exposed skin of her shoulder with my fingers and hands, alternating the pressure of my caresses from light to heavy, aware of every movement, both hers and mine. She sighed, tensing under the swirl of my tongue. Her stilted, breathy moan sent chills through my body.
Her hands moved greedily under my shirt, her palms tracing the contours of my stomach and chest. A response rumbled in my throat. My patience narrowed, and tempted, I slid my hands up her torso to cup the swell of her breasts.
“Christ, you feel so good,” I whispered and pulled back. “But if you’re serious about this going slow, we need to stop.”
She'd given me a second chance, and I was fully aware what a gift it was—for a beautiful, smart girl like her to give a nobody like me an opportunity for redemption. If she wanted patience from me, she would get it.
Groaning, she curled into me, resting her forehead against my chest. “You hate this, don't you? Me making us take this so slow, making you wait and forcing us into this sexless purgatory.”
Her words allowed the fog in my head to lessen, and I relaxed my hold on her. “It's not what I would've chosen.”
“Don't you think we would miss out on something, an important step, if we have sex right away?”
“Are you trying to convince me or you?” I asked, and she half laughed, half sighed, into my neck. “Taking our relationship one step at a time is important to you. I want you to be happy and sure. What's important to you is important to me, too.” I squared off, aligning the full length of her body to mine. “Don’t get me wrong, with Carlsbad so fresh in my head, it's hard to not want more.”
That steamy night in California, celebrating her birthday played in my mind like a highlights clip. She'd surrendered to the attraction between us, and I’d given her one helluva memorable birthday gift.
That’d been three months ago.
I pressed her closer and drew tiny circles on her back with my fingers. A purr of pleasure vibrated in her a throat.
“Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I hadn't lived such a cloistered life and just had sex when I was in high school,” she said. “Like practically everybody else I know.”
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 5
