by J. Saman
Thankfully, Ryan knows about my deep-seated hatred of surprises and my birthday, and managed to rein Kate in.
So instead of a massive surprise party, I spent an amazing day with Kyle and then I was treated to a dinner of paella, empanadas and mojitos. And now out on the patio, we’re making s’mores and drinking really expensive bourbon.
And as much as I genuinely dislike my birthday for a whole host of reasons, I really cannot imagine a better way to have celebrated it.
Kate is sitting on Ryan’s lap, his hand permanently latched to her beautiful round belly, his fingers splayed out. Every time I look at the two of them, I smile just a little. They really know how to beat the cynic out of me. Same with Luke and Ivy. Ivy’s not on his lap or anything, but their chairs are hugged up against each other and they’re holding hands. And every few minutes, Luke subconsciously brings Ivy’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it.
They’re all so damn cute, I could vomit. In a good way.
My eyes close as I take a sip of the amber liquor in my glass, savoring its smooth velvety texture. I have no idea what a bottle like this costs, but knowing Ryan, it’s a lot.
“I think it’s only fair to make Claire go first,” Kate says with a laugh to her voice. “It is her birthday after all.”
I crack open one eye and look over at her, wondering just what the hell she’s up to now.
“Claire,” Ivy says, a girlish giggle passing her lips immediately after. “Truth or dare?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. Opening both of my eyes, I roll my head against the cushion to take her in. “I think you’ve been hanging around kids too long, Ivy. I haven’t played Truth or Dare since I was in sixth grade and I was dared to kiss Niko Furrick.”
“Niko Furrick?” Kate echoes with a laugh. “Must have been one hell of a kiss if you remember it that clearly.”
“Not really.” I smile at the memory. “He lizard-tongued me.”
Everyone laughs and I can’t help but join them, because that might have been the worst kiss ever.
“Come on now,” Ivy whines. “It’ll be fun. Nothing too over the top and you can always decline to do something.”
“What’s the fun in that?” Luke protests. “The whole point of Truth or Dare is getting forced to either reveal something you’d rather not or do something even worse under the bullshit pretenses of playing a game.”
“He’s right,” Ryan says, taking a sip of his bourbon. “Besides, the only person I’m kissing here is Katie.” He looks over at Luke with a wry grin. “Even though I do find you devastatingly attractive.”
“Fuck you very much,” Luke says with a nod of his head at Ryan’s compliment. “But really, I think Kyle is more my taste.” He looks over at Kyle, who has been pretty quiet tonight, and shoots him a wink. “I don’t really dig beards.”
Kyle raises his middle finger with a smirk.
“I didn’t think this was going to turn into a bloody make-out fest,” Ivy says with a small scowl. “I just thought it would be a fun game to play. You know, to make us do small gag things.”
“Ivy Pivy,” I say. “I’m gonna clue you in on something because you’re far too adorably clueless. Truth or Dare is really just a glorified version of spin the bottle.”
Her eyebrows knit together into a confused expression.
“It’s a kissing game.”
“Oh,” she says with a small laugh. “Well then, how about we just have Claire open her presents instead.”
I groan, throwing my head back against the cushions.
“Now that’s the way to be gracious,” Ryan laughs, moving Kate off his lap so he can get up. “We got you shit. It’s your birthday. Get over it.” He pats my head as he passes me, headed back into his house.
“Claire,” Luke says. “Truth or dare?”
“I thought we already established that we’re not going to play that.”
“Yeah, but I’m fourteen today, so fucking answer the question.”
“Since I know you won’t be puckering up for me anytime soon, I assume a dare is safe?”
“A dare is never safe with me.” He gives me a wicked grin that actually makes him look a little creepy against the light of the crackling fire. “Okay, really I was hoping for truth because I’m not all that creative in the dare department, other than sexual things, and we’re not doing that.”
“Slut wagon, that’s not how you play,” I say taking a sip of my bourbon. “You can’t tell me to take a truth over a dare.”
“Slut wagon?” Ivy laughs. “Wow, I’m going to have to tell Soph about that one. Can I ask her the question?” she ask Luke with a smile that I assume gets her whatever she wants from him.
“Sure, darlin’, but my question was really good, just so you know.”
“I highly doubt that,” Ivy smarts before turning on me with the most serious expression in the history of serious expressions. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
I bust out laughing so hard I have tears running down my cheeks. So does Kate. She’s holding her side like laughing this hard will make the babies pop out.
“Ivy, I think you’re missing the point of these questions,” Luke says through his laughter.
“I really haven’t. I’m simply killing time until Ryan returns with her present so Claire doesn’t have to suffer through your grand inquisition.”
“And here I am, so nicely done,” Ryan says, dropping a narrow, white rectangular box into my lap.
“Wow. This isn’t a puppy,” I giggle, lifting the very lightweight box.
“Stop being a brat and open it,” Ryan says, kissing Kate’s cheek and lifting her back into his lap.
I can’t stop my small smile as I rip the red ribbon off, and open it up. And then I pause because it’s just a series of folded papers. I open the first one, and find a confirmation for a limo service to Portland, Oregon. I open the second one, and find hotel reservations at The Nine’s hotel. Underneath all of that are two tickets to a Death Cab for Cutie concert.
“No motherfucking way,” I laugh out, staring at the concert tickets. I spot Ryan and Luke high-fiving out of the corner of my eye. “Are you kidding me?”
“Obviously not,” Luke deadpans, answering my rhetorical question. “It’s from the four of us and you can clearly invite someone else.”
“Holy sweet baby Jesus in the manger, this is amazing.” And it is. Probably the best birthday gift ever. I look up at the four of them, piled into three chairs and smiling at me like they’re just as excited as I am. “Thank you.” Wow, I’m actually choked up. “You guys rock my world and all that good stuff.”
“Happy birthday, Claire Bear,” Ryan says and despite the fact that he used that horrid nickname, I’m smiling so big my cheeks hurt. I jump out of my chair and hug each one of them, kissing their cheeks, and Kate’s belly, leaving some nice sloppy wetness for them to wipe away with a laugh.
“Happy twenty-fifth,” Kyle says and everyone holds up their glasses in unison, repeating the sentiment.
It’s in this moment that I truly understand just how lucky I am. I have these people, and they’re so much better than any biologically related family could ever be. They love me. They have my back. They go above and beyond to make me happy. My father didn’t even call me today. It’s like if I don’t submit to his dominance over my life, I don’t exist. Asshole.
“I have something for you too,” Kyle says quietly, leaning over into my chair so I can hear him better. “It’s at my place, though. Do you mind if when we leave later, we make a detour there first?”
I look at him, soaking in the way the fire dances against his dark-blond hair, the way it sparkles against his hazel eyes. “Of course.” I grin, reaching out to touch his cheek before I can even think about what I’m doing. “Thanks, Kyle. You really didn’t have to get me anything. I already had the best weekend with you.”
“Who are you taking with you to Portland?” he asks, taking a sip of his water. Kyle has only had one beer and tha
t was with his dinner. He really takes the whole designated driver thing seriously. It’s adorable.
“I don’t know,” I say leaning back in my seat and sipping my bourbon that is filling me a delicious tingly warmth. “You interested? If not, I guess I can ask Maren, but she’s not a huge fan. I know for a fact that those four over there won’t want to come with.”
“Not even Kate?”
“Nah,” I say looking over at her quickly and then back to Kyle. “She won’t travel now that she’s so far along with the twins. Ivy will never be able to get the time off. Ryan, as you know, doesn’t go anywhere without Kate, and I really can’t picture going alone with Luke,” I laugh just thinking about how that would go. He’s my close friend and we love each other in a purely platonic sibling like way, but still, it would be weird.
“I’ll go with you,” Kyle says, a small smiling pulling up the corner of his lips. “How could I ever turn down a weekend in Portland with you?”
He says it lightly, like it’s meant to be teasing, but the look in his eyes is anything but. God, the way this man looks at me sometimes. It’s like he has secret access to some magical switch inside of me. It’s amazing how much I’ve fallen for him. How I couldn’t fight it off.
“I’d love that.” And then I yell at myself to shut up. I yell at myself because I never should have invited him with me in the first place. I yell at myself for being the biggest, cold-hearted, selfish bitch in the world.
“What’s wrong,” he asks, sensing the stir in me. “I don’t have to come with you, Claire.”
“No.” I give him my brightest smile, hoping he doesn’t see how forced it is. “I want you to come with me. I just . . .” I just what? I just suck at life? I can never be with you despite how badly I want it? “I’d love to go with you, Kyle. You’re one of my best friends.”
His expression doesn’t alter, but his eyes shift and I can’t quite determine what that means.
“Right. Best friends is awesome. Wouldn’t want it any other way.” Is that sarcasm? That might be some good sarcasm layered under a genuine smile.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, there is nothing else except us. Maybe the fire, too, because that sort of seems to be playing up this moment. But those other four? Yeah, not even on my radar.
It’s just Kyle and those magnetic eyes pulling me.
Making me lean forward.
Making me lick my lips and stare at his to see if they’re just as interested as mine are. God, are they ever. Kyle draws in the smallest fraction of an inch. He’s testing me. Testing my resistance and restraint. Right now, I really don’t have much left.
I’m buzzed. I know I am. I’m two mojitos and about two fingers of bourbon deep.
So, this warm tingly sensation I’m feeling right now, I’m sure has everything to do with that and nothing to do with Kyle. Kyle who’s inching closer. Kyle who’s staring deeply into my eyes as he moves. Kyle who I’d trade the children I’ll never have for a kiss.
“Kyle?” Luke calls out, and even though Kyle’s eyes slam shut with regret, I’m breathing out the biggest sigh of relief.
Thank you, Luke. Thank you for saving me from myself. No sarcasm included this time.
“What’s up?” Kyle calls back, his eyes still shut before he rights his body and looks around me at Luke completely unaffected.
The two of them start talking about a million different things. About statute of limitations on restraining orders for Ivy’s ex. About protecting the rights to some code that Ryan and Luke have been working on for the new software they’re developing. About a contract with a company based in Taiwan.
I get up, needing a few quiet moments to think, to collect myself.
The kitchen is empty, because everyone is still outside, so I do something really stupid. Something that in my current state of borderline drunk, feels smart. I close my eyes and imagine I can have it all.
Imagine that Kyle Grant can be mine.
Chapter 20
Kyle
“We don’t have to do this now,” I tell Claire, who is leaning up against the passenger door of my car, her eyes closed. “I can just take you home.”
She shakes her head, a small closed mouth grin on her lips. “Nope. I want to see my present.”
Claire is buzzed. At least, I think she is. It’s sort of hard to tell, if I’m being honest. She’s not slurring her words. She didn’t stumble or stagger when we walked out to my car. It’s more of a vibe she’s letting off.
It’s late now. Well past one in the morning. I really should take her home.
But I really don’t want to.
I nearly kissed Claire for what feels like the millionth time. Only tonight, I was about to do it in front of everyone. I didn’t care. I wanted her. I still want her. I want her every minute of every day, and sometimes in between. But it’s the longing that’s starting to get to me. It’s the desire for her to be mine that’s wearing me down.
That’s making me careless and reckless when it comes to our perfect friendship.
And isn’t this that old cliché? Men and women cannot ever truly be friends.
At least not when they’re both single and attracted to the other. Then it becomes a game. A battle of wills to see who will fall first. Who will cave in and be the one to breach that chasm.
I will happily be the one to forfeit if it means she’s mine, but I don’t think that’s how our game ends. Which is why I have yet to fall on my sword and admit defeat. Because I simply cannot picture my life without her in it. She’s a part of me on a very deep and fundamental level, and though I’d crawl through the fiery depths of hell and back for one night with her, it’s the after that scares me. It’s the what happens next that gives me pause.
Do I lose her then?
Can I accept that?
No.
I love her too much for that.
I think there is a cliché in there somewhere too. We step into the elevator from the parking garage, her head rests on my arm as we ascend.
“I had a really good birthday,” she says quietly. “I think this might be the best one ever.” She rolls her head until she’s looking up at me through her long dark lashes. “I hate my birthday,” she tells me again. “I’ve always hated it. But I realized something tonight.”
“What’s that?” I ask, running my fingers across her cheek under the pretense of moving hair out of her face.
“The manufactured family I have in all of you is infinitely better than anything else. You guys make me feel loved, and that’s not something I got a whole lot of growing up.”
“We do love you,” I tell her, looking deeply into her eyes. “I love you.” Then I pause.
Waiting.
Watching.
Because she could take those three words in so many different ways. And all of them are true.
Claire gives me a devastatingly sad smile. The sort that could drop a man to his knees instantly. The kind that rocks you to your core. The elevator dings, and then the doors open and she exits without even waiting on me.
That didn’t go so well.
“Where’s this—” Claire starts and then stops mid-sentence when she notices her birthday gift prominently displayed in the far corner of my great room. “No way,” she whispers, walking slowly in that direction like she’s afraid the large black baby grand piano is an apparition. A figment of that wild imagination of hers.
“Do you like it?” I ask, standing a few feet back and watching as she addresses it, running her fingers gracefully across the smooth painted wood.
“Like it?” she snorts like that’s the most ridiculous thing ever. “God Kyle,” she shakes her head, “I am in love.”
Claire swivels her head to me, her eyes positively alive, her lips spread into an all-encompassing smile that shows every single one of her white teeth. “I cannot believe you did this. It’s too much.” Another head shake. “And it’s not like I can move it to my apartment. So, it’s going to be stuck here, which means yo
u’re stuck with me coming here to play it.” She says this like a warning. Like I hadn’t thought all of that through. Like it wasn’t all part of my master plan to get her and keep her here.
“Good,” I say simply.
An excited bubble of a giggle bursts forth from her mouth and then she jumps up and down before launching herself at me. Her arms wrap around my neck and her legs wrap around my waist. She’s hugging me with everything she has.
“Kyle Grant,” she laughs, “where the hell have you been all my life? You might just be the greatest thing in the world,” she pulls back to look at me, “other than my piano, of course.” I get a wink and then she hops out of my arms. “Can I play it?”
“Go for it,” I say taking her hand and leading her to the bench. “I was informed that my apartment is soundproof and the floor is double insulated. Play your heart out, baby.”
That earns me a squeal as she lowers herself down, lovingly running her fingers over the black and white keys like she’s introducing herself to them. Getting acquainted with her new instrument.
And then she starts to play. I really don’t know much about classical music. In fact, it’s something I never listen to, so I couldn’t tell you what she’s playing. I couldn’t tell you if she’s improvising a song or drawing from her memory of a particular piece. But it’s hauntingly beautiful. Her fingers fly across the keys as her feet press the pedals, her body rocking and swaying with her effort.
It’s erotic. Sensual. Seductive.
And I’m utterly hypnotized.
“Come sit with me.”
“You play beautifully,” I tell her as I take her up on her offer. Our thighs and hips touch as I crouch in on her. The bench is small, after all.
“A lot of lessons, my friend. A lot of lessons. But I loved them, so they weren’t exactly a hardship.”
“How come you didn’t want to be a musician?”
Claire throws me a dubious look. “Um, probably because I don’t rock starving artist all that well. I also love what I do and I make an absurd amount of money for it. And I get to play for fun without all of the pressure and other bullshit that comes with trying to make a living at it.”
