Shelter

by Stephanie Fournet

  His smile had turned teasing as he spoke, but I heard the note of truth. How could I not? He would resent me if I denied us a chance. Did I really want that?

  “So, what do you think? Do I deserve to be happy? Have I earned the right to ask for you?”

  His questions cornered me. Of course, he deserved every happiness. If I believed nothing else, I held this as sacred. In the face of that belief, the doubts about the future, my worries over what I might suffer suddenly felt as flimsy as tissue.

  I swallowed. “You deserve anything you want.”

  He arched an eyebrow just slightly, his sense of triumph tempered by good manners. “You. I want to be with you.” He tilted his beautiful face and gave me an openly assessing gaze. “What do you want?”

  “You, of course,” I admitted, and it felt damn good. “I’ve always wanted you.”

  I saw the smile break over him just before he moved, and then his mouth was on mine. And the taste of him, the unparalleled realness of him was so powerful, so sweet, all I could do was grab tight and hold on.

  I took his kiss and gave mine back, joy for joy. His lips, tongue, and teeth were almost fierce in their demand for me, just as mine fought for more of him. As much as I could claim.

  Because nothing was guaranteed. Not because I was unsure about how I felt for Cole. And not because I was unsure how he felt for me. But because terrible fates might await us. And wonderful ones as well.

  Cole was right. Whatever lay ahead for me would not be better without him by my side. Even the loss of him. Whether it came in a week. Or in a year. At the end of my life. Or at the end of his. Even if what we shared was doomed to be short-lived, the regret of never having shared it would be greater than the pain of its loss.

  He was worth it, and for the first time in my life, I understood I was too. Not just because of how he felt. But because of how I felt.

  I drew away from him, a little breathless from the kiss, and I looked into his eyes — those eyes that were the homecoming for my own — and the words tumbled from me.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  A burst of laughter left him. It was probably the clumsiest declaration of love anyone had ever heard. I blushed hot and fast.

  Happiness beamed from him. “I do now.” He pulled me to him and nuzzled my neck, the heat of his mouth making my legs turn doughy. “I love you, Elise. I think I’ve loved you since I found you sleeping on my back porch swing.”

  He planted a kiss on my neck and drew back to look down at me. “I’d just lost my first fight to a kid my own age, and I was angry at everything and everyone,” he said, a slight frown marking his brow. “I know I was terrible to you that day, but when I saw you sleeping, the very first thought I had was that someone put you there for me. Just for me.”

  Cole’s frown lifted, and he shook his head. “I don’t think I even remembered that thought the next time I saw you — when we went trick-or-treating that night. Or when you lived in the guest house. In fact…” He raised a hand and grazed it down my cheek. “…I don’t think I recalled it until I saw you at the gallery.”

  A startled laugh escaped me. “Then why did you tell me I stunk?”

  Blushing, Cole gave me a rueful smile. “Because I was eight. And I had a bloody nose.” He shrugged, and for the first time in ages, Cole Whitehurst looked almost boyish. “It was embarrassing.”

  “I forgive you,” I whispered. I couldn’t resist touching him, so I ran my fingers through his short hair, combing his scalp lightly with my fingernails.

  Pressing his head against my right hand, Cole gave a masculine purr. “I love it when you do that.”

  I grinned. “It feels good?”

  He sighed, his eyes closing as I moved my touch until my fingers met at the back of his head. “It feels amazing. It feels like love.”

  My heart gave a little tug. The words bubbled up inside me, but a sudden shyness had me marshalling my courage to share them. “I want…” I swallowed and licked my lips. “…I want everything I do with you to feel like love.”

  His eyes opened, heat replacing the sated daze they’d worn seconds ago. “My Elise,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against mine, “thank you.”

  “For what?” I managed, but just barely. He was looking at me with such love, I knew nothing in my life ahead would ever be the same. But it would be a hell of a lot better.

  “Letting me make things right. Even though it took me eight years.” He held me tighter against him, a wicked smile shaping his perfect mouth. “I promise I’ll make up for lost time.”

  Epilogue

  COLE

  Four Months Later

  I stared at the platinum eternity band and smiled. It was perfection. Ed, Elise’s boss, had done a hell of a job.

  Eleven one-tenth carat, round aquamarines and eleven one-tenth carat, round citrine stones alternated around the band. I’d wanted amber and aquamarine, the color of her eyes and the color of mine, but Ed had talked me into the citrine because the cuts would be uniform, and he hadn’t steered me wrong. The citrine was a perfect match.

  The ring reminded me of a crown of flowers, like a daisy chain of daffodils and forget-me-nots. I hadn’t been sure the stones would go together, but the result was startling. Beautiful. I wanted to see it on her hand for the rest of our lives.

  “I think it came out quite nice.” Ed spoke softly, pulling my head from the stream of my daydream.

  “She’ll love it,” I said, both certain and relieved. I’d toyed with the idea of asking Elise to design the ring herself, but where was the romance in that? “Hey, let’s get married, and oh, by the way, can you take care of your ring?”

  I wanted it to be my gift entirely.

  “Well, now that hers is done, should I get started on his?”

  I looked up to see the older jeweler grinning, seeming rather pleased with himself. I sort of hated to disappoint him. “Nah, I think I’d better leave that up to her.”

  He conceded with a nod. “That’s probably wise. Elise usually has strong opinions on such things.” Then his smile turned impish. “So, when are you going to ask her?”

  In the months we’d been together, Elise had talked often about her boss, the lovable — but nosey — mentor she looked up to like an uncle. He’d given me his word Elise would know nothing about the ring, but I didn’t need to share any other details.

  “Soon,” I said decisively. “What do I owe you?”

  September ninth. My birthday. The night had started with ArtWalk, one of Elise’s favorite events. We’d gone with Alberta and Ross and Louis and Bree, who were visiting for the weekend. As far as Elise knew, they were in town to see family and happened to be free tonight, but both of our best friends were in on my plans.

  We’d woven our way from Gallery 333 all the way to Acadiana Center for the Arts, and I’d taken a glass of wine whenever it was offered, letting the stuff settle the nerves jumping in my stomach.

  Bree, who was now five-months pregnant, started making noise about her feet hurting, right on cue.

  “Oh, is it time to call it a night?” Elise asked, giving my best friend’s wife a concerned frown. We’d visited Bree and Louis in Austin over the summer, and Elise and Bree had struck up a warm friendship.

  Playing her part, Bree wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I think I just need to sit down and have something cold to drink,” she said, dabbing her brow with the inside of her wrist. I had to rein in a smile because even though the late summer night was hot and humid, the air conditioning in the ACA was almost chilly.

  “How about we go to Pamplona and get a bite to eat?” Ross chimed in. The tapas restaurant on Jefferson Street had been the site of our first official date. Yeah, I’d done things a little backward. How many guys were already balls-to-the-wall in love on the first date?

  “Oh, my God. I love their crab croquettes,” Elise swooned. Then she grimaced. “But it’s ArtWalk. Won’t they be packed?”

  Louis reac
hed for his phone. “The manager used to work at the bakery. I’ll see if he can get us a table.” With a wave, Louis moved to the lobby of the ACA. This part hadn’t exactly been scripted, but I appreciated his improv. Elise didn’t need to know yet that I’d made the reservations more than two weeks ago.

  She’d figure something was up when we arrived and Ava and Flora just happened to be there, but I wouldn’t give her very long to speculate. Besides, Ava and Flora were now roommates. After her disappearing act back in May, Ava had stayed with Flora for three weeks until a spot had become available at the treatment center she’d found in Florida. She’d spent sixty days there, and upon her return, she’d officially moved into Flora’s spare room. And Flora had put her to work in the kitchen at the cafe.

  Ava had been clean and sober for four months now.

  I was grateful — unbelievably grateful — for Flora’s commitment to my sister. And I was grateful for every day of Ava’s sobriety. I didn’t take it for granted, but I also didn’t obsess about her losing it either. Those days were over.

  Louis stepped back into the gallery wearing a smug grin. “I pulled some strings and got us a table,” he said, preening. “It’ll be ready when we get there.”

  I turned to Elise and offered her my hand. She took it, wearing a smile that was just for me. She looked so beautiful. Splashed with scarlet poppies, her sleeveless white dress skimmed her figure. The dress’s open back had ensnared me the moment I saw it. She’d been standing on the landing of her apartment stairs, locking her door when I’d gone to pick her up, and the sight of her had stopped me in my tracks.

  For the last few hours, I’d caught myself craning my neck to watch her as she floated from frame to frame at each of the galleries we’d visited. As far as I was concerned, she was the work of art. The only one I cared to stare at.

  Louis led our group out to Vermilion Street, telling a story about the last Catalan meal he and Bree had shared in Barcelona two years ago. How they’d smoked a bowl in their hotel room before strolling down La Rambla to the little restaurant where they’d eaten an entire pan of paella and four xuixos, a pastry he described as being “like a deep-fried Twinkie filled with custard.”

  As we stood at the crosswalk on Jefferson Street, Elise’s laughter tickled my ear, and I turned to gaze at her. She’d put her hair up — no doubt to tease me with her exposed back. Two thin side braids swept the hair back from her face, and the rest was gathered into alluring twists I longed to toy with. But a few seductive tendrils framed her face with artful disarray, and as we waited to cross the street, the evening breeze sent one fluttering over her lips.

  Spellbound, I caught the rogue lock with the tip my pinkie and traced it back, hooking it over the silken shell of her ear. Her eyes locked with mine, and the love I saw in them — as it always did — struck me like a gong.

  I was so damn lucky to have her.

  The last few months had been a siege of happiness. I’d never known anything like it. I’d never known life could be so good. So easy. I’d given her the key to my house a few weeks after we’d claimed each other, and the first time I came home from work to find her sketching on my living room couch, I thought my heart would rupture in my chest it was so full.

  Getting my Lafayette office off the ground had busted my ass, and I’d had to put in some pretty late nights. Whether we stayed at my place or hers, if I got home after she was already in bed, she’d stir when I’d slip in with her, and she’d ask me about my day. And every time, she’d guide my head down to her chest, stroke her fingers through my hair, and massage the base of my skull. She’d listen to me rehash the day’s ups and downs until my muscles and bones turned to jelly. Some nights, I’d take advantage of the lucky proximity of my mouth to her breasts, start worshipping her then and there, work my way down. And all the way back up again. Until the only thought in my mind was how much I loved this woman. The other nights, I’d just hold her, tucked tight against me, drifting off to sleep thinking the exact same thing.

  She’d completely reordered my world.

  For years, I’d taken lunch at my desk or with a client. Now, Bette knew my lunch hours belonged to Elise. We’d meet at Hub City Diner near my office or at Sakura by hers, or we’d pack sandwiches and take them to Moncus Park near the jewelry store.

  And with Elise, for the first time in my life, I had a reason to make plans. The future belonged to us and no one else. She wanted to see Italy. We could go for our honeymoon. I pictured her standing on the Amalfi coast wearing a beach sarong and not much more. We’d spend three weeks touring from Milan to Palermo. And as soon as we got home, I’d buy her a dog. Elise had always wanted a dog. I couldn’t stop imagining her lounging by the pool with a King Charles Spaniel at her feet.

  I’d make it happen. I’d give her everything she wanted.

  I only hoped she’d say yes.

  As we closed in on the restaurant, my heart bounced off the walls in my chest. My plan had been to wait until we were all seated — with our glasses filled — and then make a speech. Drop to one knee.

  But two thoughts occurred to me as we approached the restaurant’s dark wooden door:

  Any speech I made would have Elise blushing crimson.

  I didn’t know if I could wait that long. I didn’t know if I could wait even a minute longer.

  And then Flora and Ava rounded the corner of the building, and my decision was made.

  Clutching Elise’s hand, I dropped to one knee right there on the Jefferson Street sidewalk. I heard a series of gasps, and as I fished the velvet box out of my coat pocket, I knew one of the gasps had been Elise’s because she was staring down at me, her amber eyes as wide as quarters and her lips just parted.

  She looked truly startled, so I squeezed her hand and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but honest to God, I was nervous as hell. I felt almost certain she’d say yes. Of course she’d say yes…

  But what if she said no?

  Could I really blame her? It had only been four months.

  Well, eight years and four months. But who was counting?

  Aware of the silence that had fallen around us — even the crowd-heavy street seemed silent; we must have stopped traffic — I cleared my throat.

  “Elise,” I said, her name grounding me, reaffirming my purpose, and giving me the courage I needed. “You’ve known me for most of my life, and despite my mistakes, you thought the best of me… at least since high school.”

  While I spoke, her slack mouth shaped into a shy smile, and color rose to her cheeks.

  “You’ve always been my safe haven. My shelter. When I could trust no one else, I trusted you.” I thought of the times she’d cleaned me up, hid me in her room, or stayed in the kitchen of our old house when she thought one of us might have been in danger. Just her quiet, witnessing presence was sometimes enough to make my rage-addled father slink upstairs or retreat to his office.

  When I thought of that now, it amazed me how much courage she’d possessed. How much courage she’d always possessed. As long as I had known her, Elise had been willing to do damn near anything for those she loved. Stare down child predators. Protect us from my father. Help us escape. Even give me up when she thought that was best for me.

  Of course, she’d been wrong about that. And I was about to make sure she never doubted it.

  “The last few months with you have taught me what it means to be loved. I never want to go without that. I want to make a life with you. Make a family with you,” I said, grinning at the vision that had started taking shape just months ago.

  Elise could make me a dad. And even though the thought scared the hell out of me, I knew I’d never become my father. Any babies I made with Elise would have me wrapped around their little fingers. Elise would have to be the strict one.

  Until they got old enough to mouth off to their mother. Then they’d better watch out.

  I opened the black velvet box, and all gazes fell on the ring that matched both our eyes. “I’m
not just asking you to marry me, Elise,” I said shamelessly. “I’m begging you. Please say you’ll share your life with me.”

  By now, a small group of onlookers had gathered around us. A few of them were recording us on their phones — as was Alberta — but I wasn’t worried. The butterflies in my stomach had settled their wings because Elise’s eyes shimmered with bright tears.

  “Of course, I will!” Tears slipped down each cheek as she tugged at my hand. “Get up here and kiss me.”

  I rose, but before I claimed her mouth, I plucked the ring from its box and brought it to her finger. It slipped on with a perfect fit, as I knew it would. And I watched Elise’s smile grow as she realized what it meant. Fire and ice. Fall and spring. Sunsets and starlight. Her and me.

  Her gaze rose to mine. “It’s us.”

  I nodded, relishing the rush of pride this gave me. She loved it. No doubt about it.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, blinking against fresh tears.

  I kissed her then, the sound of applause from our friends, our families, and the strangers who’d crowded around us falling on our ears. The hand that now wore my ring clutched at my lapel while her other gripped me behind my neck, pulling me tighter against her. She didn’t have to work so hard. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not ever.

  Sometime later, I heard Louis make a forceful throat-clearing noise, and Elise pulled away from me, turning pink.

  “We’re getting married!” she cheered, flashing her left hand at Flora, Alberta, and Ava. Our small crowd laughed, and then both of us were mobbed with hugs and congratulations. A few strangers even slapped me on the back.

  I shook hands and gave half answers when our friends peppered me with questions about my sudden change of plans.

  “I just couldn’t wait,” I muttered, shrugging. My eyes found Elise who was hugging Flora a second time. As I watched, Ava wrapped her arms around both of them. I didn’t think I’d ever seen those three women happier.