“…let me make it up to you.”
She gazed down at him, her face a study in remorse.
“Please stop. This isn’t your fault.”
“But it is. I’ve been doing this to you from the start, and it isn’t right.”
“What have you been doing to me?”
“Confusing you with the man I made up.” She smiled, placing her hand on the side of his face. “Granted, he does look an awful lot like you. But he’s not nearly as—”
“Arrogant?”
“That is not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?”
She sobered, her gaze wandering from his eyes to his mouth.
“Not nearly as wonderfully real.”
David had the peculiar sense he was about to be devoured. And then her mouth was on his, her kiss a blunt demand. She shoved at his outerwear, managing to get the bulky material halfway down his biceps, effectively pinning his arms to his sides, before abandoning the task. Cupping his cheeks, she urged his head back, her hips mimicking the thrust and whirl of her tongue. Hands sure and steady, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, managing to get his pants and underwear low enough for her purposes, his breath catching in his throat as her small fingers closed over him.
“Condom,” he growled. “Inside pocket of my suit coat.”
Keeping hold of him with one hand, she managed to retrieve the foil packet from the bulk of wool and silk binding his arms. Her eyes on his, she lifted the square to her mouth, taking a corner between her teeth and slowly tearing it open. Lightheaded, David wondered if the human heart could actually explode.
She whispered, “Sorry,” before rolling the latex over him.
Though it made him shudder, he was grateful for the chilly distraction. Once she’d finished, he tried, again, to twist free.
“Help me, dammit. I want to touch you.”
“Uh-ah.”
His head sank back into the seat cushion with the force of her kiss. She rolled her hips, taking him deep into her body. Inhaling sharply, David admitted defeat, closing his eyes and concentrating on breathing as she began to move. Her excitement scented the small space, a rare perfume of crashing waves and sunbaked earth. Sexual tension gripped her muscles, translating to him at every point of contact and rippling over his skin. He was drowning in her. And, for the life of him, he couldn’t find the will to kick for the surface.
She made a strangled sound, something between a hiccup and a sob, and clutched his head to her chest. David braced himself against the inevitable, looking forward to the doubt and frustration of the previous week being washed away in a frenzy of shaking limbs and garbled proclamations. But instead of the relief of mindless sensation, he was overwhelmed by memories. How he’d longed for her warmth each night, the ache of rediscovering her absence each morning. And in a flash of certainty, he understood it hadn’t been sex he’d been missing. It had been her. Her!
His eyes flew open as crushing pain radiated from the center of his chest. Jerking free of his confines, he took Ephie’s head between his hands, searching her face for some explanation. She stared up at him, her heavy-lidded gaze generous and unassuming. From the very beginning, he’d known getting involved with her presented an enormous risk, but he’d believed her to pose the greatest danger. Never had it occurred to him the liability might be his. But he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. His feelings went far beyond protectiveness. He’d fallen in love with Epiphany Jones.
“David,” she called to him, layering her hands over his heart as if aware of its trauma. “What is it? Are you all right?”
He took a moment to consider her question. The panic had begun to pass. I love you. Instead of pain, the thought cushioned him in a euphoric haze. He smiled. I love you. He kissed her…softly…sweetly, his chest swelling at the sound of her blissful sigh. He knew what he had to do.
David would make love to Ephie. For the first time. For the last time. For all time.
Keeping one hand on her face, he slipped the other beneath the waistband of her skirt, his fingertips settling in the downy enclave at the small of her back. Secured in his embrace, he began to gently rock beneath her. She moaned. Her eyelids fluttering as she wound her arms around his neck.
He studied her expression, watching the play of emotions with new-found fascination as he urged her back toward the edge. Gone was any sign of self-doubt or recrimination, replaced by purpose and greedy desire. He couldn’t help feeling a measure of pride in the part he’d played in her sexual awakening. Ephie knew what she needed. And he hoped she’d never again settle for anything, or anyone, less.
She stared up at him, her brown-eyed gaze unusually bright. Not until her tears overflowed the crease between his thumb and forefinger, tracking a hot trail over the back of his hand, did he realize she was crying.
“What is it?”
“Please…don’t…don’t let it end.”
Her childlike plea made him smile, though his heart twisted with grief. It was the one fantasy he couldn’t fulfill. Ephie deserved happiness and light. Things in short supply at a funeral home. Loving her didn’t change the fact. Any more than it affected his determination. The Briar legacy of grief ended with him.
“Everything ends, fireball.” He shifted beneath her. “Everything.”
“Oh, no. Plea—”
Her appeal was cut short by a gasp, and David closed his eyes. His own powerful release triggered by Ephie’s. From a distance, he listened as his groan of satisfaction became a keen of mourning. The articulation of a long captive animal coming to understand, for him, there was no hope of escape.
Chapter 20
IN a daze, Ephie watched the clouds of frozen vapor from her and David’s breath dissolve and reappear in slowing succession. Never, not in her wildest dreams, had she imagined him capable of such intimacy. He’d opened his soul to her, revealed everything, his fear and longing, the depth of his loneliness. Surely the cost would be dear.
Hands moved over her, fingers curling her upper arms, but it didn’t register. Not until she felt herself being eased away from him did she react, grabbing onto him and squeezing her eyes shut.
“No!”
He let go, smoothing his hand over her hair.
“Ephie.”
“We have three more weeks,” she murmured, pushing against his chest until she faced him. “I want those weeks.”
“I know. I wanted them too.”
Wanted. The past-tense confirmed her suspicion.
“Then don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry.” Gently, he shifted her off his lap, holding her by the shoulders as he looked down into her face. “It’s done.”
She twisted out of his grasp, tugging her skirt beneath her as she retreated to the corner. Gazing out the window into the night, resentment welled inside her. Their relationship had carried an expiration date from the start. She’d accepted it. But he wanted to end it early, and his high-handed treatment left her feeling like a petulant child, denied the sweets she’d been promised.
Turning to face him, she peered through the darkness. His clothing had been returned to its usual perfection. His wool coat smooth over his shoulders, as if it hadn’t been crumpled down his arms. The crease in his pants pinched sharp, as if it hadn’t been bunched beneath his thighs. He appeared unruffled, as if she’d never touched him. Resentment turned to anger.
“Ephie, please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“But I want to, David. I want to make it impossible.”
His profile grim, he nodded.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She recognized his tone. He’d used it during the consultation for Gram’s funeral—calm, judgment-free, definitive—the perfect tenor for grief-stricken clients and crestfallen lovers alike. Then Ephie heard the quiet click of the door latch.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
She grabbed for him, but fo
und only empty space, her hand falling to the leather seat still warm from his heat. She looked up to see him standing outside the car. His hand on the door frame, he turned and bent low, meeting her gaze.
“It’s time for class.”
“David, please.”
He closed his eyes, and she experienced a breathless moment of hope. But then he looked at her, and she saw he’d retreated behind the walls he’d so carefully built around himself.
“Goodbye, Ephie.”
She tipped her chin, hoping he saw it as a last act of defiance, instead of a desperate attempt to stave off the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes.
Her throat tight, she managed a husky, “Goodbye, David.”
He straightened and then closed the door. Biting her lip against the sobs which threatened to escape her, Ephie watched through a sorrowful blur as David faded into the night.
Chapter 21
THE brightly-colored, flowered upholstery of the couch had been dulled more by neglect than abuse. My grandmother sat ramrod straight on its stained and grimy cushions, her patent leather purse perched on her knees. I made faces at its polished surface, giggling at my distorted reflection.
“You’re not being fair to her, Julia.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’ve made it my business…by leaving her with me. I love the girl. And I won’t let you ruin her like you’ve ruined yourself.”
I turned to look when my mother laughed. It was a sound I didn’t hear often.
“And what do you think you’re going to do?”
“I’m going to take Epiphany with me.”
I returned Gram’s broad smile.
“Get out!”
My mother’s screech demanded both of our attention. A frizzy blonde halo pulsed around Momma’s head as she pointed and screamed.
“Get out! Get out and never come back! Get out! Get out!”
My heart began to pound as my grandmother rose to her feet, frantic she intended to leave me alone with the frightening creature my mother had become. But my gray-haired Gram simply drew herself up to her full height, all five feet of it, and stepped close to Momma. And then—purse dangling off the crook of an elbow—raised her hand and slapped my mother, hard, across the face.
Afterward, the silence hurt my ears.
“Sit down, Julia.”
Momma did as she’d been told, her lips pressed in a thin line as she settled into the same spot where her mother had been just moments ago. My hand found its way into Gram’s as we watched.
“I’ve let this go on too long already. I won’t have it anymore. You tried, Julia. I know you did, but it’s getting worse. The last time you were gone for three weeks. I can’t do anymore for you. Please, let me help Epiphany.”
Gram gave my hand a little squeeze and then let go. She opened her purse with a metallic click. After a couple of seconds of rummaging, she lifted out a pen and a tri-folded packet of papers. My mother’s blue eyes grew huge in her haggard face as she stared at the ordinary items.
“Please, Ma. She’s my baby.”
My mother’s heartbroken whisper made me want to cry. But when I looked up and saw Gram’s patient determination, I knew Momma’s sadness was something I would have to bear. I stood as straight as I could, clamping my teeth together tight so none of the feelings could get out.
“Then be strong for her, Julia, love. Sign these. You did a beautiful job staying clean and keeping her safe in the beginning, but the time has come. You need to let me take care of her. She’ll have everything she needs…go to school…make friends…have a normal life.”
“I had that life.”
Gram’s eyes went soft and sad, like they did whenever I’d visit her at the tiny house in the woods and beg her to look through the albums tucked into a shelf of the built-in bookcase beside the fireplace.
“I know, darling, but you’re weak. Your father, God rest his soul, he tried to tell me, but I refused to accept it. I see it, now. Just like I see how strong Epiphany is. Please, give her this chance.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’m still taking her with me, but I’ll activate the restraining order I submitted earlier today at the police station and I’ll begin proceedings to have your rights severed. I will cut you off entirely. Please, don’t make me do that. Sign it. Let her go. And maybe, someday, you’ll find your way back to us.”
My mother smoothed the pages over the thighs of her unwashed and well-worn jeans. Her head jerked from side to side, but I doubted she saw anything through the tears glazing her eyes. With a shaking hand, she signed each page, and then handed everything back to Gram.
“I hate you.”
“Yes,” Gram slipped the paperwork into her purse, snapping her bag shut with a quiet click. “Hold on to that, my love. Maybe it will give you the strength you need. Lord knows nothing else has worked.”
She took my hand and we headed toward the door. Just before we left, I turned. I carry the image with me, still. My mother huddled in the middle of the pathetic, faded couch, her head in her hands. She looked so small, a child herself.
Gram led me out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind us.
Bending, she whispered in my ear, “Now, no more looking back.”
* * * *
“I’m just not happy with the beginning, you know? I mean, it’s accurate. He did tell me he’d left with our whore of a housekeeper in a text message, but I’m just not sure. As horrible as it was, I don’t think it grabs the attention. And the way you write, you actually make architecture and history interesting. I’d love to get your opinion. Maybe tonight? I know a place nearby where we could get a drink. I mean, if you’re free.”
David leaned forward to open the door for Melanie. She preceded him, but took only a few steps before stopping to face him, her expression expectant. He didn’t doubt for a moment she knew exactly how free he was. She’d obviously picked up on the chill between him and Ephie and decided to take full advantage, throwing him heated glances every time he happened to look in her direction. When he’d bolted from the room at the end of class, she’d hurried to catch up to him in the hall, shamelessly stroking his ego as they made their way out of the building.
Given little choice, David joined her. He couldn’t deny he was tempted. She was what he knew, after all. Uncomplicated and harmless, everything his ill-conceived relationship with Ephie had turned out not to be. But, to his consternation, he found Melanie no longer held any attraction for him.
“David?”
“Melanie. I…”
From the corner of his eye, he caught Ephie coming out of the building and tripping to a halt. Her attention shifted from him to Melanie. He knew what she’d assume, seeing them standing close in the shadows. Without sparing him a second glance, she started forward.
“Ephie!”
Of the three, he doubted any one was more shocked than he was to hear him call her name.
She turned, looking him square in the eyes as she made her way toward them. David felt pride in her courage even as he hated himself for forcing her to use it.
“Hello, Melanie.”
“Ephie.”
“David? Was there something you needed?”
“No, I…I just wanted to tell you I…your reading…I enjoyed it.”
“Oh, yes,” Melanie chimed in. “It was so…ah…descriptive.”
Melanie nodded in support of her own critique, as if it were the most insightful commentary to have ever been uttered. David resisted the urge to slap his palm to his forehead. They sounded like a couple of idiots.
“Thank you.” Ephie looked at each of them, in turn, before focusing on him. “Why didn’t you say anything in class?”
“I didn’t want to make things…uncomfortable.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Melanie shifting her narrowed gaze from one to the other
as they spoke.
“Well, then,” she asserted, “I’m sure he’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Ephie turned to her. “I hope he will.” The air crackled between the two women, but then Ephie shrugged in concession. “I should let you get back to your conversation.” Her gaze lit on him briefly before returning to Melanie. “Enjoy your evening.”
She turned to go.
“Wait.”
Both women looked at him, Ephie with mild interest and Melanie with scowling suspicion. Seeing them together, David was struck by how different they were. Melanie…coordinating nail polish and dress color, long hair, and red lipstick, the strange but sadly prevalent combination of privilege and self-doubt he’d convinced himself he was safer pursuing. Ephie, in her tailored dress and sensible coat, her hands in her pockets, short curls tumbled by the biting winter wind. Her bristling confidence infinitely more attractive for knowing the sweet submission it sheltered. The choice had never been clearer. He’d been so focused on the Melanies of the world, he been unable to even conceive of an Epiphany. And he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things the way they were between them.
“Melanie, I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he explained, never taking his eyes off Ephie, half afraid she might disappear if he did. “Let me walk you to your car.”
He held his arm out to Ephie, leaving no doubt to whom he’d made the offer. His heart broke a little at the cautious slip of her gaze. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d betrayed it by walking out on her without an honest explanation. So when she curved her fingers over the crook of his elbow, he felt a humbling gratitude. Not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind, he turned and headed toward her usual parking spot.
Melanie gave a huff of disgust behind them.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve burned that bridge,” Ephie muttered as soon as they’d gotten out of earshot.
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