Until the Devil Weeps

by W E DeVore

  He flashed his easy smile, disarming her fear, before pulling her across the table to kiss her slow and deep and for a moment the world around them vanished. There was no grief. There was no rage. There was only Sanger’s warmth and his hands on hers, his love radiating through her fragmented heart.

  “He’s not here with us,” she whispered. “I promise you; it’s just you and me. You’re the only option for me. I just want to be with you.”

  “Alright then,” he replied, his eyes glowing with affection. “You still want me to take you home and do some exploring?”

  She grinned. “Better eat up, cowboy. It’s going to be a very, very late night.”

  ◆◆◆

  Strong arms cradled her body and she lay back into them breathing in Sunday morning and...

  Ben.

  “Good morning, husband,” she whispered, still half asleep.

  Sanger yawned, his voice drowsy, “Not your husband yet, Clementine. We just had our first date. Slow down, will you?”

  Q opened her eyes and blinked away her dream. “I’m so sorry. It’s Sunday. It was our day together. It was just a reflex. You’ve never slept in our bed before…”

  “It’s ok. It’s a process.”

  He lay on his back and folded his arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. Q sat up, covering herself with the sheet and watching him.

  “I’ve been thinking about something you said last night. I don’t want to be a replacement for Ben,” he said. “Another man that loves you, just to fill the empty side of your bed.”

  Q stroked his face. “You’re not. I know who I’m sharing my bed with.”

  “Do you?” he asked. “You didn’t a minute ago.”

  She tried to find the right words to calm his fears. “I’m sharing my bed with my best friend. Who makes me laugh, even though he doesn’t think he’s funny. Who’s been my family and my partner in crime and who I love very much, just not the way he loves me. Not yet. But I want to. And I will if he’ll just give me the chance. Please don’t leave.”

  He sat up to face her. “I’m not going anywhere, Clementine. I meant what I said last night. We’re doing this on your timetable, not mine.”

  He kissed her slowly and pulled her back to the bed. They lay down on their sides, each one playing with the other’s fingers.

  “Look, Aaron, I am a relationship novice, like seriously,” she explained. “I know I was married and all, but I am not exaggerating when I tell you that there was Ben and that was it for me. I only know how to be in a relationship with him, and he didn’t most of the heavy lifting.”

  “If you ask me, you’re doing alright being in a relationship with me, so far.”

  She propped her head up with her hand to look at him. “I don’t know. So far you’ve called yourself a consolation prize and wondered if I knew who was sharing my bed with me. I’m fucking it up somehow.”

  He moved closer to her and said, “No, my love. That’s on me. I never thought we’d be together like this. I keep thinking it’s too good to be true. That you’ll change your mind and realize this is a mistake.”

  “Well, stop, will you? You’re making me feel bad. This isn’t a mistake. I’ve made lots of those, but this isn’t one of them.” She lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while he traced her collarbone with his fingertips. “Why don’t you ever think you deserve something good?”

  He flinched. “I don’t think that.”

  “Yes, you do. You run from it. You find a dozen different reasons why it won’t work. Why do you do that?”

  “Is that what you think I'm doing now?”

  “Yes.” She turned her head to look at him.

  “Us being friends is making this move much faster than it would have moved if we were strangers,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “If we’d just met and hit it off, we’d barely know each other right now. But I already know everything about you. You already know everything about me. I tell you things I’d never tell a woman after three weeks of dating her; I imagine you’re doing the same. If we were just getting to know each other, it’d be different.”

  “Would you love me yet?”

  “After three weeks, I’d hardly know anything about you. How could I love you?” He hesitated before asking, “How long did it take for you to fall for Ben?”

  “A year. I liked him an awful lot and loved having sex with him,” she said, smirking. “But it was a year before I fell in love with him.”

  “Tell me how it happened. You told me how he fell in love with you, how did you fall in love with him?”

  “It was silly, really. I was stuck in the French Quarter. It was pouring down rain. I called him and he was parked just up the street already waiting for me because he was worried.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I was making arrangements with Urian Galanos to bail my old bass player out of trouble again,” she explained and Sanger gave her an annoyed glare. “Don’t look at me like that. It was years ago.”

  “I don’t like you putting yourself into dangerous situations.”

  “You used to drag me into them,” she reminded him. “You used to love working your cases with me.”

  “That was before you were mine to worry about,” he retorted and she rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway,” she said, continuing her story. “Ben pulls up and runs around the car in the pouring rain to open the passenger door for me and I yank him down to kiss him and… Pow… I was a goner.”

  He moved his hand to her hip and drew her closer. “I don’t care if I have to wait a year or longer. You take as long as you need. I'm not in any rush.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I’m a grown man and I know what I’m getting myself into here. It’s worth the risk to me. Every minute I can hold you like this is a minute longer than I ever thought I’d get…”

  She interrupted him. “See? You’re doing it again. You deserve to be happy. Start taking up some space for yourself.”

  “Stop worrying about me.”

  “Too late, cowboy. You’re my best friend and the last thing I’m going to do is let some bitch use you to get over her dead husband. Even if that bitch is me.” She reached out and touched his face.

  “Don’t call my girlfriend a bitch, Clementine.” He grinned at her.

  She laughed. “I do not know what you see in that woman, Sanger. You’re like a broken woman magnet.”

  “She not broken. A little cracked in the head, maybe, but not broken.”

  Q slapped his chest and lay back into the bed, watching the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. “You just called me your girlfriend.”

  He took her earlobe between his lips and flicked his tongue over it. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, not at all. I was wondering why you hadn’t said it before now.”

  “I’ve said it, just not to you, yet.” Sanger continued to kiss her neck, exploring new territory, finding new ways to make her moan.

  “Who have you told?” she sighed.

  “Just some woman at Picorelli’s. She asked me out for drinks a few days ago, I told her I had a girlfriend.”

  A surge of unfamiliar jealous indignation blacked over Q’s eyes. “What woman? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Sanger chuckled under his breath, brushing his lips along her jaw. “Are you jealous?”

  “No, of course not,” she said.

  “No? Well, you’re doing a pretty good impression.” He sat up to look at her, an amazed expression on his face.

  Q pulled herself up onto her elbows. “Just answer the fucking question, Sanger.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, amused by her reaction. “Some brunette, kind of looked like you, except for the eyes, of course - I’ve never met someone with eyes like yours. Picorelli’s was packed. She sat next to me at the counter. We got to talking. She took care of you after you were moved from the ICU, she recognized me from the
hospital,” he answered. “I didn’t remember her but she remembered me.”

  “Yeah, I bet she did.”

  He reached out and stroked her face. “For the record, I said, thank you anyway, but I have a girlfriend. Then, she tried to give me her number and I told her that as far as I was concerned, I was permanently off the market.” He flashed his easy smile. Q didn’t let it work.

  “Then what happened?”

  “You’re asking the wrong question, my love.” He moved closer and kissed her neck, tracing his tongue down between her breasts. “I would have thought you’d want to know why I’m permanently off the market.”

  He looked up at her and winked. She started to laugh and fell back onto the bed. “Alright, I’ll bite. Why is that?”

  “Because I’m yours and only yours for as long as you want me.”

  “Good answer, cowboy.” She sighed as Sanger covered her torso with kisses. “I have to go furniture shopping after Sunday dinner. You want to come with me?”

  He continued to explore her skin with his lips. “To what? The furniture store or the Bordelons?”

  She exhaled slowly and said tentatively, “Both. Either.”

  “Yes to both. But some other day. Today, we are not leaving this bed.”

  As he approached her mouth, she placed her fingers over his lips to stop him. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Yvie’s going to be here soon. She’s still making me go with her to that yoga class before Sunday dinner. Then there’s Sunday dinner and there’s no getting out of that.”

  “Sure there is. Skip it,” he said. “Tell them you’re spending the day in bed with your boyfriend.”

  “That’ll go over great,” she said sarcastically. “Do you want Grace and Danny to both have a grief aneurysm? I have to go. If you come with me, it may be World War Three, but at least everyone’s cards will be on the table. I’m ripping off the Band-Aid. I’m sick of this shit.”

  Sanger’s expression suddenly turned very serious. “I don’t think I'm up for World War Three, at least not today. I’ve spent the last nineteen days tracking down a man who broke into a single mother’s apartment and killed her and her two kids for a fucking television and barely enough cash to fill a gas tank. Then there’s this thing with Ben…” His voice trailed off and he exhaled, pinching the dampness from his eyes with his fingertips. “I can’t. I’m sorry but Grace Bordelon’s propriety doesn’t rate with me right now. I won’t be kind. I’ll make things worse if I go with you and I don’t want to be alone today. Not if I can have you with me. Please don’t go. I just need to hold you all day and remind myself that the world isn’t shit. I need you.”

  Q inwardly kicked herself. She’d grown so accustomed to leaning on Sanger that she’d never considered he might need someone to bear some of his weight as well.

  “Ok, cowboy,” she replied, caressing his face. “You. Me. This bed. All day. I’ll call Yvie right now.”

  She reached for her phone and realized it was on the charging station downstairs.

  “Be right back,” she said and got out of bed.

  The sheet that had been covering them followed her off the bed and fell to the floor. She caught her breath, just like she did every time she saw Sanger completely nude and the totality of his well-defined muscles blocked out all rational thought.

  “Wow,” she said. “Like. Wow.”

  She spied his discarded undershirt beside him and she reached over him to retrieve it. “Why do you ever wear clothes?”

  Sanger grinned and pulled her back down to the bed, rolling her over to hold her against him. He kissed her slowly, entwining his right hand through hers, holding his shirt hostage with his left hand.

  “What do you think you’re doing, cowboy?” she asked.

  “You want me to stop?”

  “Not hardly.” She closed her eyes and relaxed into the bed, arching her neck to guide Sanger’s tongue down to her collarbone. She sighed against his touch. He bent down to kiss her stomach, trailing his tongue up her ribcage until he reached her breast. He kissed the soft flesh and her head swam with arousal. She drifted in and out of reality as her body was inundated with pleasure.

  Q heard the lock turn on the front door and the alarm beep as the passcode was entered.

  “Not now, Yvie,” she whined. She moved to get up, but Sanger held her fast, taking an entire breast in her mouth and making her moan.

  Yvie’s voice yelled, “Come on, Q. Let’s get our downward dog on. You will not believe the position Josh got me into last night. I can barely walk.”

  Sanger continued to make his way from one breast to the other and Q stifled another moan, unable to explain to her body that it needed to stop what it was doing.

  Gratefully eying the closed bedroom door, she called out, “Hey, Yvie. Don’t come up. I’ll be right down.”

  “Where’s Aaron?” Yvie asked, her voice coming up the stairs. “I saw his truck outside. Why aren’t you ready? What are you two doing up there? Hurry up, will you? The parade’s about to roll and traffic is getting backed up.”

  “Jesus, Yvie! I’ll be down in a minute! Just look through those boxes and see if you want anything.”

  “Fucking yenta,” Sanger muttered before covering her mouth with his and sliding his fingers inside of her.

  Q gasped and moved against his hand, instinctively opening herself for him. As her legs directed his body toward her, she thought better of it.

  “No time for that, cowboy,” she said, breathlessly. “Let me go get rid of her. Five minutes, then I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

  He slowly shook his head. “She’ll wait. I won’t.”

  He pushed all the way inside her and she cried out, moving against him, biting his shoulder to muffle her moan. Her brain tried to remind her that Yvonne Bordelon was not well-known for her patience, but her body was too close to climax to put up much of a fight.

  “Sure. Sure. She’ll wait,” she whispered, losing herself to Sanger’s body.

  He moved slowly against her, whispering into her ear. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him more deeply within her. She knew that now was not the best time for lazy Sunday morning sex, but she didn’t care. Clasping his hands, she arched her back, slowing him further, losing track of everything but his body inside of hers.

  As Sanger groaned and pushed harder against her, she began to shudder as an orgasm took over her body, crying out as he covered her mouth with his fingers to muffle the sound.

  The trembling had barely stopped when the door to the bedroom flung open and Yvie strode into the room looking at her phone.

  “What’s taking so long, Q? Y’all need some help?”

  Sanger rolled off Q and quickly grabbed a pillow to cover himself.

  “Damn it, Yvie. What the fuck?” he exclaimed. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  Q yanked his abandoned undershirt over her head and pulled the sheet up off the floor to give Sanger something more to cover himself with.

  “I told you to wait downstairs, Yvie. What is wrong with you?” she scolded.

  Yvie’s mouth was open and she stared aghast at the two of them, frozen in astonishment, looking from Q to Sanger and back to Q. “He…You…y’all are… But you said… At Christmas…. He said… And now you’re…When did this happen?”

  “Yvie,” Q admonished. “Get out.”

  Yvie folded her arms and gave Q a stern look, coming up out of her stupor to say proudly, “Oh no, young lady. I am staying put. Clementine Toledano, there is a naked policeman in your bed. I demand an explanation.”

  Sanger bent beside the bed to retrieve his boxers, clutching the sheet around his waist.

  Yvie waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, relax, Aaron, I’ve seen all that before, remember? It’s good to see you’re still working out, though.”

  He scowled at her and went into the bathroom, saying, “You really have to start knocking, Yvie.”

  “I can see that,” she called after him. “Looks like I wasn’t the only
one doing naughty things last night. And just what are your intentions with my little sister, young man.”

  “Same as they always were,” he yelled through the closed door.

  Yvie said quietly, “Good man.” She turned to Q. “Does this mean I am downward dogging it without you this morning?”

  “Yes, it does,” Q said. She pointed to the door. “Get out, Yvonne.”

  When she didn’t leave, Q covered her face to cool her embarrassment and walked to the closet to pull on some jeans. “Come on, sissie, I’m walking you out.”