“She wants to be.”
I feel Luke’s hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him. I’m clutching my purse to my stomach to keep from throwing up.
“What about you?” he says.
“I…I…” I stop, giving him what I hope is a beseeching look.
But he shakes his head. “You want me to put words in your mouth, fuggedaboutit. I’m done playin’ the safety net. So you got something to say, you just spit it out.”
“Okay, fine. Well, see, it’s like this. I mean, I guess, what’s happened is, um, I haven’t been totally honest with you.”
Something flickers in his eyes. I decide to take that as encouragement.
“And, well, I thought there were good reasons why I had to keep some things to myself, like, oh, you being married to my best friend, and then you and Tina split so that wasn’t an issue except it is still an issue, in a way, because the timing still seems all screwy, you know? Like it’s too early or whatever, and then I thought, what if you’re on the rebound or something and, well, here I am, convenient and all, and do I really want to be second choice? Then you said all that stuff about confusing friendship with love and how you’d never make the same mistake again, so what’s the point of my even saying this…”
He’s standing there, stony-faced, not giving me a clue. But there’s no turning back now, is there?
“Dammit, Luke—I love you. I’ve always loved you. And not in a best friend or like-a-brother kind of way, either, just so you can’t possibly misinterpret what I’m saying. And if you can’t handle that, I totally understand, so please don’t feel bad for me or anything, but I just had to let you know—”
That’s as far as I get before Luke takes my face in his hands and smushes his mouth on top of mine. And all I can say is, a millions little yeses have just burst from my heart and taken off like a bunch of hatching baby moths.
Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly the most romantic image in the world. Deal with it. Wordplay isn’t exactly a top priority at the moment. But damn, it’s nice to finally get kissed by the right guy.
We break apart, panting slightly and looking at each other as if not quite sure what’s next. Which is probably because we’re not quite sure what’s next.
Luke’s hands are still framing my face, however, and his eyes are still holding mine captive. So far, so good.
“You’re not second best,” he says softly. “You never were.”
“What?” I bring my hands up to smack his away from me. “Then why the hell didn’t you say something, you idiot?”
Hands fly out, brows crash together. “I don’t know! Why didn’t you?”
“Because, birdbrain, I didn’t think you were interested in me that way!”
“Well, guess what, lady? You were wrong.”
We stare at each other for about half a second, then he yanks me into his arms. Where we kinda cling to each other. Like we’ll fall over if either of us lets go. And this might sound really whacked, but I swear I can see Tina giving me a thumbs-up. Finally I mutter, “Is this scary?” into Luke’s chest.
“That would be my take on it, yeah.”
“But we shouldn’t rush into anything, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I was thinkin’ we should take it slow, too. You know, get to know each other first and all that shit.”
Then he kisses me again. And I sorta blank out there for a second. When I open my eyes, he’s grinning down at me. Wickedly. Somehow, I get the definite feeling he was lying about the taking-it-slow thing. I also get the definite feeling I don’t have a huge problem with that. Except for the one currently pressing into my stomach.
“You remember our one time?” he says. “You know…in the shower?”
“Vaguely.”
“See, that’s my problem. I’m not real clear on what happened, either.” He slips his hands underneath the hem of my shirt, teasing my skin. Everything that can get tight and tingly and wet, does. Oh, yeah—taking it slow just got crossed right off the list. “Was it as awful as I remember?”
“Worse.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” Then he says, “I can do better.”
Of course, faced with the reality of what’s about to happen, my old buddy Caution butts in with, “It’s too soon…. How do you know this isn’t just about sex?…. What if you do this and realize this is nothing more than a fantasy you’ve built up in your mind…?”
Yeah, well, what if the world imploded tomorrow and I never got to feel this man inside me, ever again?
Shaddup, I say to Caution, even as I say, “Prove it,” to Luke. Whilst unbuckling his belt buckle.
So he did.
Three times.
And if the world does implode tomorrow? I’m gonna go with a big old grin on my face.
Postscript
Thanks to Tina, I already knew that Luke falls asleep after sex.
And snores.
What I didn’t know was that he’s a cuddler. Which is nice, because I don’t think most men are, and I am. So this alone makes him a prize. Of course, I may go deaf with the snoring in my ear, but all I really need is one good ear, right?
Do we have any idea where we go from here? Of course not. I’d like to think we’ll get it right this time, but I’m a grownup now. More or less. I know there are no guarantees.
I also know—now—that shoving the truth into some deep, dark hole in order not to hurt people rarely works. Because the truth, like a piece of glass, always manages to work itself to the surface. Still, human nature being what it is, people will always screw up, and hence always try to cover their asses by shoving the truth into a deep, dark hole. But…does that automatically make someone a bad person? Especially if the motives were, at least in the beginning, good ones? For instance, are the qualities I loved and admired about my grandfather totally erased because of choices he made long before I was born? I don’t think so. Is what Luke and I have already doomed because of our past mistakes? I hope not.
Out of the roughly six billion people in the world, probably less than a dozen of them are perfect. And God knows, none of them live in Queens. So I guess all any of us can do is weigh a person’s good qualities with their bad and see which ones tip the scale. And then remember that, at any given moment, somebody’s doing exactly the same thing with us.
I know there will be those who will wonder why I chose Luke over Alan. (Who I fully intend to stay in touch with, by the way—I see no reason why Starr shouldn’t get to know her uncle.) Or why I’m (God help me) starting up a clothing business in Queens instead of Manhattan. If at all. Frankly, I’m not sure, either. Except…this is what I want. This is what’s right for me. It doesn’t have to make sense to anybody else. And thank God (or whoever) that I think (hope?) I’m past needing to shove the truth—my truth—into that deep, dark hole.
A hand, firm and warm and gentle, starts stroking my ribs, inching toward my breast. A mouth, soft and hot and tickly, starts nibbling at my neck.
“You’re awake,” I say, giggling.
“And hungry.”
“Chinese?”
Luke kisses me on the mouth, then on the forehead, before pushing himself out of bed. Ohmigod, you should see this butt. Then again, maybe not. I’m not in much of a sharing mood right now.
“I’m thinking,” he says, zipping up his jeans, “we should go back and get the Twink. And your sister, if she wants to come along.”
I melt. “You really mean that?”
I laugh as he lunges across the bed, pinning me between his arms. Hmm. I’m guessing wrestling will never be the same.
“Why not?” he says. “Unless you think we got something to hide?”
“Nope, not me.”
Then his face goes all serious. “What do you want to tell the kid? About the test results?”
I don’t even hesitate. “The truth.”
He touches my cheek. “You sure?”
“Very.”
“Scared?”
“Yeah,�
�� I say on a sigh.
“Hey. She gives you any lip, you tell her to take it up with me. ’Cause I’ve got no trouble telling her that her father was a rat bastard.”
“And let you have all the fun? No way.”
That gets a chuckle (nice), and another kiss (nicer), then he snatches my clothes off the floor and flings them at me. “So get dressed. Because I seriously need food.”
“And I seriously need a shower first.”
“Ah, hell—”
“Deal with it, bud,” I say, doing the sheet-wrapping thing around me as I shuffle to his bathroom. Where I laugh out loud at the beard-burned, glowing, pudgy little chick grinning back at me from the medicine chest mirror.
The chick who’s finally figured out the only truly unforgivable lies are the ones we tell ourselves.
Hey. No comments from the peanut gallery. After all, finally’s a damn sight better than never, right?
You bet your ass it is.
HANGING BY A THREAD
A Red Dress Ink novel
ISBN: 978-1-4592-4626-3
Copyright © 2004 by Karen Templeton.
All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission. For permission please contact Red Dress Ink, Editorial Office, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents and places are the products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. While the author was inspired in part by actual events, none of the characters in the book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional.
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