by T. K. Leigh
“Oh.” I shift nervously on the wooden bench.
“The first time,” he adds, although it’s unnecessary. The timbre of his voice makes it apparent which time he’s referring to.
“I’m not sure now’s the right time to discuss this.” I jump up, collecting our trash, avoiding his eyes as I busy myself. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You were better off not knowing.”
“Why do you think that?” He gets to his feet, helping me clear the area.
“I told you.” I keep my head lowered, hoping he’ll drop the conversation.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I couldn’t remember and you wanted to forget. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed that one for years.” He brings his hand to my chin. I stop, losing myself in his familiar, soulful eyes. He leans into me, his mouth less than an inch from mine. “What’s the real reason?”
“That is the real reason,” I insist weakly, swallowing hard, my gaze focused on his lips. My heart pounds in my chest, the electricity running through me strong enough to light New York City.
“Talk to me, Brooklyn.” His voice placid, he scrunches his eyebrows together as he pleads with me like a desperate man begging for clemency.
I shake my head, chewing on my lip. “You’ll never understand.”
“I think I will. More than you realize. Please… Just help me wrap my head around it. Then we never have to talk about it again. I promise.”
I draw in a deep breath, trying to calm my overwrought emotions. I’m so tired of hiding the truth, of pretending we can be friends when that ship sailed long ago.
“Because if I had told you the truth, you’d be faced with a decision.” Our eyes lock. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you choosing her over me, which I knew would happen. So I decided for you.”
“But it wasn’t your decision to make.” His neck is strained, the veins in his forehead throbbing.
“Maybe not. But after everything we’ve been through, everything you put me through, I figured it was my best shot at protecting my heart.” Stepping back, I cross my arms in front of my chest, warming myself against a sudden chill, despite the pleasant temperatures. “Or at least I thought it was.”
“But it wasn’t?”
The hope in his voice is overpowering, enthralling, consuming. God, I want to tell him I moved on, that I no longer think about our past. About the way his lips taste. About the way his kisses breathe life into me. About the way his touch jumpstarts my heart. But I do. Constantly.
“We both know I’m powerless to control how my heart feels about you.”
His lips part, his eyes wide as my confession hangs in the air. A confession I never should have made.
Embarrassed, I whirl around, grab my shoes, and hurry toward the fire escape. “I should get going. Wes is probably wondering why I haven’t returned any of his calls.”
“Of course,” Drew scoffs as I’m about to climb down. “Just keep running away, Brooklyn!”
The tone of his voice gives me pause and I stop in my tracks, slowly facing him. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“No. Please, go.” He gestures to the fire escape, frazzled. “You’ve made an art form out of running from the truth. Don’t stop now. Go. See the man you’re marrying.”
“Don’t be jealous, Drew,” I sneer, masking my truth with anger. “It doesn’t look good on you.” I turn to climb down, but he storms toward me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to stare into his fiery gaze.
“Jealous?” he bellows through the wind. “You think I’m jealous?”
The intensity in his tone renders me speechless. The seconds seem to stretch into minutes, into hours, into an eternity as I wait to see what he’s going to say next.
“Okay! You got me!” He releases his hold on me, digging his hands into his hair. “I’m jealous!”
I exhale a small breath at his admission, both excited and scared at the same time.
“I’m jealous of the rain that hits your skin because I wish I could be the one to know what that feels like.”
“Drew…,” I caution, but it does nothing to stop him. He’s obsessed, a man desperate to finally put it all out there.
“I’m jealous of the sheets on your bed that get to keep you warm at night because I wish it were my arms doing that.” His eyes glued to mine, he closes the distance between us. I’m frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to walk away. “I’m jealous of the wind that gets to blow through your hair because I wish it were my fingers.”
He pauses, studying me, a subtle quiver in his chin as he struggles to say the next words. “Most of all, I’m jealous of how happy Wes makes you.”
I push out a laugh, my reaction involuntary. “You really think Wes makes me happy?”
He opens his mouth, my words catching him off-guard. The silence stretches, my heart pounding like a caged beast begging to be set free.
“If he doesn’t, why are you marrying him?”
“You’re so stupid, Drew.” I briefly lower my eyes as I swipe at my tears. “There’s only one person who’s ever made me happy.” I return my gaze to his.
“Who?” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he waits intently for my response.
I shake my head, wanting to lie, but I can’t. I don’t understand what I’m doing, why I’m admitting this. A force more powerful than any I’ve experienced is at play, turning me into a puppet.
My lips lift into a smile. “You.”
Every muscle in Drew’s body relaxes the instant that word falls from my mouth. He goes to close the distance, but I hold up my hand, stepping back.
“That summer before my junior year was the happiest I could remember. Then you broke your promise and, in doing so, my heart.” My throat is tight as I struggle to say the words I’ve wanted to utter for too long now, tears spilling over my eyelids, cascading down my cheeks. “For years, I wondered if I imagined it all, imagined the feel of your lips, the warmth of your arms, the way my body fit into yours so perfectly. How could it have been real when you did everything to pretend I didn’t exist?”
With each word I speak, my tears become more numerous, but I can’t stop. I’ve kept this in for years, not wanting Drew to see the power he’s held over me. No more. He needs to understand why I’m doing what I am, why I need to move on.
“No one ever made me feel more invisible than you did. I swore to myself I would afford you the same compassion you did me...none.” I swipe at my tears, summoning the strength to continue with this exercise in torture. “Then you had a baby of your own and I saw a glimpse of the old Drew...my Drew.” I point to myself, my voice strained. “Little by little, you came back to me, so much so that when I saw you that night Carla asked for a divorce… I don’t know. I thought things would be different. But they weren’t. You were still the same Drew you always were, the one who tossed me aside the instant something better came along. You never noticed me, never paid any attention to me…until I told you I was engaged to another man. So whatever this is, whatever you think you feel for me, I know it’s not real. You’re just scared of being alone and are out of options.”
I turn around again, my hands shaking as I reach for the ledge.
“You think I never noticed you?” his voice thunders from behind. It’s so cutting and deep, I almost feel the ground tremble below me.
I glance over my shoulder, the passion in his expression reaching my soul. “I—”
“I’ve always noticed you, Brooklyn,” he interrupts, stalking toward me. “Always. Even when you didn’t think I was looking. I noticed you used to put half-and-half in your Americanos every morning, but recently switched to whole milk instead.”
I part my lips, about to tell him that kind of thing is insignificant, but no words come. It doesn’t matter how small the detail. This is something even Wes has never noticed, as evidenced by the fact he still stocks half-and-half in his refrigerator.
“I noticed you get this adorable look on your face when you’re real excited about
something. Your eyes have this gleam, and I wish I could be the reason for that excitement.” His tone softening, he closes the distance between us, a slight smile building on his lips. “And I noticed you were always the one my heart wanted. Always. For the longest time, I refused to believe it because I knew I’d never recover if you didn’t feel the same way about me. The truth is, Brooklyn Rose Tanner, you’ve had my heart since the first time I pushed you on the swing on the oak tree in your front yard and you asked me to make you go higher so you could fly.”
My lower lip quivers as I listen to his heartfelt plea. Wes has never spoken to me with so much emotion, so much longing, even when he proposed. His words were sweet, but not full of meaning. Not like Drew’s.
“Just being near you has always made me feel like I’m flying. Because of you, I’m the man I am. I’m the father I am. Because of you, I want to be a better person.” He stares at me, swallowing hard, his chest heaving, his breathing labored. “So you’re wrong, Brooklyn. I’ve always noticed you.”
His confession rings out in the air, leaving me stunned mute, frozen in place. When I make no move to retreat, as I’ve been prone to do, he steps closer. The tension between us is no longer strained. It’s something else entirely…something much more electrifying.
“Brooklyn, tell me something.” There’s heat in his eyes as he stares at me, licking his lips. “What exactly did we do that night?” His voice is husky, wanton. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a delicious shiver rolling down my spine.
“Just what I said to Molly.” I swallow hard. “We stopped just short—”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard all that.” He inches even closer still, only a whisper between us.
I want nothing more than to erase that last breath separating us, but I want this more. This heat. This need. This anticipation. I haven’t felt this alive in years. Almost seven years to be exact.
Lowering his mouth, his breath intermingles with mine. “What. Did. We. Do?”
My eyes zero in on those lips I remember being pressed against mine so fully, so firmly, so perfectly. “We kissed.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” I breathe in a throaty voice. “It was the best kiss of my life.” He doesn’t need to know that, but I can’t stop myself, a slave to this man and the way he makes me feel.
He smirks flirtatiously, a whisper between our mouths. I brace myself for his kiss, my lips tingling in anticipation. As much as I should, I won’t stop him. I’ve been fighting this for years. It’s time I wave the white flag and surrender to what my heart craves.
I wait, and wait, and wait, but his kiss never comes.
“Did I kiss you on any other parts of your body?”
I dart my tongue out, nearly skimming against his lips as I moisten my own. “My neck.”
He brings his mouth close to my throat. Instinctively, I crane my head toward one side, giving him better access. But he still doesn’t touch me. He remains just out of reach, not a single part of his body on mine. I grow even more unhinged as his breath caresses my skin. I have no idea what he’s trying to do, but whatever it is has turned me into a ball of putty in his very capable hands. This is better than any foreplay I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want the moment to end.
He inhales. “Mmm. Lavender.” He shivers, as if overwhelmed with sensation, before returning his fiery eyes to mine. This is a new look for him, his gaze harsh, punishing, saturated with need. “Where else?” His words come out like a growl.
“My stomach.”
He lifts his hands toward me, stopping just shy of clutching my hips. “Did I circle your belly button, dragging my tongue along your hip bone?”
I gasp. “You remember?”
He slowly shakes his head. “No. I always imagined doing that. Did I kiss you anywhere else, Brooklyn?”
My heart pounds as I contemplate my next answer. This entire scenario seems incredibly surreal. I’ve never spoken so boldly about these kinds of things before, not even to Wes. I certainly shouldn’t be talking this way to Drew, but I’m glued to the spot, glued to him, reliving the past.
“My breasts,” I answer finally, my voice barely audible.
“Fuck.” He bites his lower lip with such force, I expect to see blood. Nostrils flaring, he clenches and unclenches his fists before slowly bringing his hands toward me. My breathing increases, my chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale and exhale. The nearness of his hands unhinges me, turning me into a tightly wound ball of need as I succumb to the moment...succumb to Drew
His mouth hovers over mine and I close my eyes, mentally returning to that night, to the incredible sensations I experienced, ones I’ve gone back to time and again just to feel something.
“Did I touch you anywhere else?”
I subtly nod.
“Where?”
His gruff voice causes goosebumps to prickle my skin. “You know where.”
He readjusts his stance, brushing his waist against me. If I weren’t overly sensitive and hyperaware of everything, I probably never would have noticed it. But his erection skimming me flames my lust, an insatiable desire sparking to life. I whimper, my body trembling from the nearness of him.
“Tell me, Brooklyn.” The heat of his words skates across me. “Did I make you come?”
“You know the answer,” I pant. “You overheard what I told Molly.”
“That’s true. But I want to hear you tell me.” He licks his lips. “Did I make you come?”
I no longer hear the busy sounds of the Boston streets below us, no longer feel the wind on my face, no longer smell the city air. I’m in another world, in the erotic dream I’ve fantasized about for years now. For a moment, it’s just us. No Carla. No Wes. No past. Like I always imagined it would be.
“Yes.”
His jaw clenches, every muscle in his body tightening as my response lingers between us. He inches closer, leaving absolutely no room for the Holy Ghost, as Aunt Gigi would say. His mouth scrapes mine and I plump out my lower lip. I feel like an addict whose next fix is right in front of her, but she can’t have it yet.
“With what?”
“Your fingers...”
He moans, harsh and volatile.
“And your tongue.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. I can tell he’s barely keeping it together. And I don’t want him to. I want him to lose control. And I want to lose control with him. “Did you enjoy it?”
“It was the best orgasm of my life. I’d never experienced anything like it before. And I haven’t since.”
A groan falls from Drew’s throat as we remain locked in place, our bodies almost touching, his lips hovering over mine. Abruptly, he steps back, running a shaky hand through his hair and turning from me. It leaves me bewildered, confused, uncertain.
“You should go,” he says firmly. He glances over his shoulder. “As much as I want you, you’re not mine to have.”
His words are like ice water thrown over me, the heat coursing through me just minutes ago sizzling out. The reality of what I almost did hits me hard. What if Drew weren’t so concerned? Would I have been careless and allowed him to kiss me? Would I have kissed him back? I know the answers to those questions. I hang my head in shame.
“How will you get home? Your bike is—”
“I’ll borrow Gigi’s car,” he snaps. “I just... I can’t do this with you.”
I nod, my heart heavy. It’s not just Wes I’m hurting. I’m hurting Drew, too. I can’t string them both along. I love Wes. We’re a good match. But it’s nothing compared to the way my heart pounds an erratic rhythm when I’m with Drew. Is that enough to sustain a relationship, though? How can I reconcile this Drew with the one who broke his promise to me, then pretended like it never happened?
“I’m sorry.” I’m about to head down the fire escape when he speaks again.
“This wedding’s a mistake, Brooklyn.”
I lift my eyes to his. There’s so much emotion. More tha
n I’ve ever seen from Wes.
“I see it. Everyone around you sees it. What’s it going to take for you to finally see it, too?”
I part my lips, then give him the only answer I can, the only answer that would make this decision easy. “Forgetting the past.”
Chapter 5
Drew
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Gigi says when I step through the doors of the café after watching Brooklyn drive off. Part of me hoped she’d come back, tell me she was willing to forget all the past hurt I caused her and leave Wes. But she didn’t.
It took every ounce of restraint I possessed not to kiss her, not to crush her body against me and lather her with promises to make her mine in every way possible. But I won’t do that to Wes. I won’t be the other man. If I’m the one she chooses, she needs to give me every part of her. Until she’s willing to do that, I won’t touch her, not the way I know she wants me to. And the way I want to.
“Hey, Gigi.” I go to the bar and kiss her cheek, then pour myself a cup of coffee. The place isn’t crowded, not like it is in the morning. The tables are only half-filled with people having lunch or a few drinks.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” a familiar voice chimes in. I sweep my gaze to a table in the corner where Molly’s furiously typing on her laptop, journals filled with notes sprawled on the surface beside her.
“I took a personal day.”
“Why?” Molly stops what she’s doing and studies me. With one glance, she can sense something’s wrong. I suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent over thirty years together. She shuts her laptop, her brows furrowing in concern. “What’s going on? Did something happen with Brooklyn?”
“No. Not Brooklyn.” I sit across the table from her. “But something did happen.”
I swallow hard, worrying my bottom lip as I stare at the dark liquid in my mug. I hate having to inform everyone about what Carla’s doing. It forces me to relive the moment I first read her motion this morning, the moment I learned Charlotte may not be my daughter. That’s the worst part of this. Repeating the story over and over, each re-telling making me kick myself a little harder at how blind I was to the truth.
