Heart Stronger
Page 16
“I want closure, like you. That’s all. Please.” His blue eyes continued to plead with me.
“Did she tell you she’s coming to dinner tomorrow?”
He nodded and pulled my hip toward his.
“I hope it’s not going to be weird. I’m really trying to understand what’s going on here, but it’s very easy to misconstrue her actions. Abbie’s.”
“I promise you, Richards, there’s nothing to misconstrue. You’re it for me. It.”
I shoved any misgivings to the back of my mind. I wanted to believe Aiken, so I did.
In a short period of time, I’d gone from not ever seeing myself happy again to thinking there might be a happy ending for me. And I knew better than anyone what hope did to people—made them put on blinders when it came to red flags.
I didn’t even need a PhD to know that.
On Thanksgiving morning, I woke to stillness. It had been a while since I’d been completely alone. Running my hand over the cold, empty pillow next to me, I wished I hadn’t told Aiken to give me some space the night before. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to be. He should’ve been bringing me coffee in bed. We could’ve gone for a run and come home and made a pie—then made love while it was in the oven.
How did someone go from relishing isolation to not being able to handle one night alone?
I mentally scolded myself for my desperate nature, got out of bed, tossing on my robe and slippers, and followed Smitty downstairs. I went to open the back door, but was stopped by the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and the sight of an Adonis leaning against my island.
“Morning,” he said, moving to get the door to let the dog out.
“Aiken?”
“I couldn’t stay away. I know you told me to, but I couldn’t sleep worth shit knowing you were mad.”
He trekked over to the coffee maker, poured me a cup, adding milk and sugar, and held it out to me with a shaky hand. “Peace offering?”
Cupping the warm mug in my hands, I nodded. “I missed you, but…” I took a sip of the coffee, looking for liquid courage in the form of caffeine. “But you have to understand, I’ve been through all the motions, dating, cheating, getting married. I don’t enjoy feeling like a jealous college girl. It’s not a pretty look for me.”
While I gulped another huge slug of coffee, Aiken let Smitty back in the house. He stood like a venerable soldier at our feet, waiting to be fed.
“Claire.” Aiken took my mug and set it down, gathering me in his arms. “You’re not a college girl. You are a woman. A beautiful, thoughtful, deep, smart, strong woman, who I love. You have nothing to be jealous over. I want to find my mom, and by some cosmic reason, your student and her bestie…”
“Bestie?” I busted out laughing.
“Perfect, I made you laugh and smile.” His lips took mine in a chaste kiss.
“Abbie with an ie and her bestie somehow were dropped on my doorstep to help. I have to let them.”
I nodded into his chest, my robe loosening, his hand sifting inside, smoothing over my side, his rough hands catching on my silk nightshirt.
He went to kiss me again, his mouth hovering close to mine.
“I didn’t brush my teeth.”
“Who gives a shit?” And his lips met mine. It was a closemouthed kiss, but full of promise…
We didn’t end up running, but we got our cardio in before and after making pies. It was that kind of morning with my Energizer Bunny boyfriend.
Which was why I walked into Mary’s house with a pie in each hand and a big smile on my face. Patrick busied himself with handing out drinks and taking coats before sitting his ass in front of football on TV. Aiken joined him, but didn’t look happy. It wasn’t the football—that, he liked. It was acting like a selfish pig—that may have been Pat, but it wasn’t Aiken.
Mary dashed to-and-fro in black patent pumps, an apron around her red slinky dress, a glass of wine perched on the kitchen counter.
“You’re sexy and glowing! And I don’t mean your outfit, which is hot, by the way. I mean your whole freaking face.” She sipped her wine and ran her gaze down my bright orange silk blouse, black skinny pants, and leopard-print ankle boots.
“Shhh, where are your kids?”
“Basement. Thank God. We got them a new gaming system, and they’re like three zombies in front of that thing.”
“Should I go say hi?”
“No…stay and drink. When’s your star student coming?”
“Oh, I’m sure soon. She’s got some kind of clandestine friendship with my ‘hottie’—her word, not mine.”
“Oh, I’m sure she does. Now I see why you’re so gussied up.”
“Mary, I’m not competing with Abbie.”
“Never. You’re one of a kind, Claire Bear…about time you realized it.” She pinched my cheek before yanking open the oven and uncovering a green bean casserole.
The doorbell rang, and Abbie showed up, flowers in one hand, her cell phone in the other.
“Welcome, Abbie,” Mary declared, pulling her in for a hug. “I’d never want a student to be alone on the holiday. But you have to remember: What happens at Thanksgiving, stays at Thanksgiving.”
This got an eye roll from me.
“Okay, Dr. M. Hi, Professor Richards. Thanks for having me.”
“Anytime,” Mary added.
“Where’s your hottie?” Abbie whispered to me, looking around the house, taking in its vaulted ceiling.
“See?” I mouthed to Mary.
“Come on, Abbie. Let me show you the kitchen.” Mary took the lead.
Which was what she did all night, deflecting weird comments from Patrick and making sure Abbie didn’t get too cozy with my hottie.
I didn’t have to worry about Abbie getting close to Aiken. It was clear at dinner that there was something else at play. Every so often, I’d catch Aiken giving her a strange look, as if she were a computer code with a virus. I’d seen that same look when I’d watched him trying to fix a corrupt website. His mouth was straight, not turned up in its usual sexy smirk. His eyes narrowed, straining. His forehead scrunched in thought.
After my third glass of wine, I chalked it up to the run-in with Allison.
My mind wandered despite my heart remaining firm in its affection for Aiken.
I’m sure it was her making him meet Allison alone.
“Abbie, what dorm are you in?” Mary distracted me from my runaway thoughts.
“Pollock.”
“That’s the best location.”
“Yep. I think because I’m a local, I got some preferential treatment.”
“Could be.”
“That’s one thing I’m glad I skipped,” Aiken added. “Dorm life. After living on a farm, I could never stick myself in a small cubicle.”
“It’s amazing what college kids will do for a little slice of freedom,” I noted.
Abbie laughed.
Peter asked, “What do you mean?” and Mary quickly changed the subject.
The rest of the evening went smoothly with more wine and pie.
By the time we got home, I’d forgotten any harsh feelings toward Aiken or ill will toward Abbie. My belly was full and my heart warm. I didn’t care anymore about stupid semantics. I’d ached for so long, yearned for a family to call my own, that I couldn’t help but believe tonight was as good as it got.
Claire
“Hello? Anyone here?” I heard Aiken echo through my house. He might as well have moved in. He was here all the time.
But who was I kidding? He didn’t want to live among all my memories.
At the sound of his voice, Smitty immediately stood like the house was on fire and rushed to the back door.
“In here, grading papers,” I called back from my chair in the front room.
“Hey, Smit. Wanna help me with something?” I heard Aiken talking to my dog, which used to be my job.
It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. We’d survived the awkward evening at Mary’s bef
ore holing up most of Friday and Saturday nights, watching movies and eating popcorn. Aiken had left early this morning to run and do a little work.
Presumably.
“One sec,” he called back to me. “Don’t get up. I have a surprise.”
No wonder he was back so early.
“Wasn’t expecting you until dinner-ish, and you know I don’t like surprises.”
My butt itched to jump out of my chair, but I was comfortable, my legs tucked underneath me, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
I heard a rustling sound come from the back door. Smitty barked once, and Aiken told him to quiet.
“Ho ho ho!”
“What the what?”
Trailing behind Aiken, wrapped tight in netting, was an enormous tree.
“I figured we’d decorate.”
“Aiken, what is this?”
“A tree. Mary said—”
“I’m going to kill her. This time, I’m not kidding.”
“Nah, she said you’ve been putting up a fake tree since…well, you know. So I got a live tree this year for us to do together. We can make it??? a tradition. Oh, and this.” He pulled a swag of mistletoe out of his back pocket. With a wide grin, socked feet, and a white T-shirt under a heavy flannel shirt, he looked his age. Young, with his whole future ahead of him.
“I thought we were going to go see your dad for Christmas?”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t decorate, Richards. Lay down some traditions of our own.”
“That’s crazy. We’re making a mess for nothing.” I finally stood up from my chair, setting my papers on the table, and moved to help Aiken shift the tree in front of the window. He had a tree stand tucked under his arm, which he was conveniently placing under the tree.
“I hope you didn’t buy stuff to trim that monstrosity with…I have tons.”
“Heard that too, Richards.”
I gave him the stink eye while making sure the enormous evergreen wasn’t going to tip over.
“Hey, come here, you look cute.” He gathered me close like a tiny doll.
“What is this?” He ran a finger down my shirt.
“Um, an old T-shirt.”
“I like it. You look comfy.”
“I am. That’s what leggings are for. Comfy days.”
“Are you wearing underwear?”
“Really? That’s what you want to know?”
“I can’t help it. I don’t see any evidence of any, and curiosity killed the cat.”
I wanted to lie, but he’d find out sooner rather than later. “As a matter of fact, I’m not.”
“We’ll have to trim this tree later,” he said, right before his mouth came down on mine.
His hand came around the nape of my neck, his tongue swiped against mine as my legs wrapped around his middle. “Oh,” I whispered. It did feel good, whatever was creating friction.
“Atta girl.”
“Hush, farm boy,” I warned him. “You’re going to spoil the moment.”
He carried us upstairs. “That couch of yours is too damn dainty. You need to replace it.”
“Why? So you can have your way with me in front of the window?”
“You know it.”
Inside my bedroom, he laid me down on the bed and took his time pulling my pants down each leg, placing kisses along each calf, running his hands back over my quads. He stripped with no shame and bent down, pulling off my T-shirt.
Spread out next to me, his hand wandered everywhere, leaving no skin untouched. His mouth found its way to my bra, pulling down the cups with his teeth before paying attention to my nipples, one after the other.
“Aiken,” I interrupted. He lifted his head, and I used that to my advantage, tipping him onto his back, my own mouth traveling the length of his body. My tongue flirted with his belly button, making its own path lower, before taking all of him in my mouth. At first, I teased, and then judging by his moans that he couldn’t take it much longer, I took him deeper.
“Christ,” he let out. “You’re fucking it for me, Richards.”
Hearing those words did outlandish things to me. I was primed and ready, but I wanted to satisfy Aiken with my mouth. So I did.
Then he flipped us over, and payback was really a bitch.
Not really.
Aiken
I slowed my pace in front of Claire’s house, catching a glimpse of the tree we’d decorated in the window. It couldn’t help but put a smile on my face. After we’d put up the tree and decorated it, we’d fucked like rabbits, again—crude, I know, but the truth.
She’s not old (her word, not mine) in the sheets.
After all the holiday joy, we booked tickets to go see my pops, which was the main reason behind the guilt eating away at my gut.
Feeling guilty as fuck as I walked back inside my house, sweaty and spent, I tried to shove the feelings aside. It was the Wednesday after Thanksgiving: The tree had been up for three days, our plans to go home solidified for the same amount of time, and here I was sneaking off to meet Abbie and Allison.
“Shit,” I grumbled, stripping out of my cold-weather running gear and getting into a steaming shower. For a moment, I almost jacked off, needing to calm the hell down. I was strung tight, and if I didn’t get that under control, Claire would know something was up. She was a trained clinician—she already questioned my relationship with Abbie as it was.
Dressed, I grabbed my keys, popped next door, and let Smitty out. He didn’t need it—he’d survived before me—but I liked doing it. Running five minutes late already, I jumped into my truck and gunned it toward the off-campus coffee shop.
I had to make sure Abbie wasn’t playing me. She’d said some pretty unbelievable things to me before Thanksgiving. Some shit and mumbo jumbo I couldn’t hardly believe, but I had to listen for the sake of finding my mom.
Today, Abbie wanted to bring Allison to confer. It was bullshit. This wasn’t happening. Not now. Not when shit was finally going well for me.
My sour mood worsened by the time I made it to the coffee joint. I knew Claire was teaching her graduate symposium, which only heightened my guilt. All this fucking sneaking around, and it was either for nothing, or was going to bite me in the fucking ass.
“Hey,” I greeted the two young women sitting at a corner table, tossing back lattes.
“Hey,” Allison said. Abbie only nodded.
I folded into the chair opposite them and asked, “What’s up?”
Allison conferred with Abbie in whispers before confirming the cockamamie BS Abbie had told me before Thanksgiving.
If I’d thought I wanted to find my mother, I’d been sorely wrong.
“You two need to keep this to yourselves. I’m still not sure I believe this whole thing you’ve concocted. With the Internet, it’s easy enough to find out details. Either way, keep your traps shut until I figure some shit out.”
“We’re not lying,” Abbie insisted.
“Keep your trap shut.” I stood to leave. “And don’t you dare breathe a fucking word of this to your beloved Professor Richards. She’s mine to protect.”
After filling the truck with gas, I went into town for a second black coffee and a vanilla-flavored thing for Claire. It’d been a rough day, and I predicted it would be an equally rough night. I’d bit off too much for one day, but I was a man. I told myself to act like one.
For some reason, I felt like talking to my dad, so I dialed him while I waited for Claire’s drink, taking a long pull of my own.
“Hey, Son,” he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Pops, how ya doing?”
“I sure like the idea of you being here for Christmas. Quiet now. How’s that lady of yours? She looking forward to coming?”
“Claire’s doing okay. We’re going to pack up Abby’s room tonight. That was going to be her New Year’s resolution, but we’re tackling it early.”
“Sounds like it’s not going to be a fun one.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So, remember I told you about the two girls who’d gotten themselves involved with looking for Mom?”
I tucked the phone in my neck while opening the door and shoved the coffees in the center console of my truck.
“Yeah. Honestly, I thought you’d give that all up by now. You finally found yourself some happiness, not traditional, but go with it.”
“Dad, listen…”
“Listen to me. I told you, I knew your mom was a wild one after she left. I heard plenty after she was gone. That’s not the way she was when I met her, but I guess…she was that way before me…and didn’t like my quiet way of life. I feel bad you never met your grandparents. I’m sure they would’ve liked you. But your mama is gone. I don’t know where she is. No one does, except those two young’uns who think they’re on some America’s Most Wanted show.”
I didn’t know how to break it to him, so I blurted it out. “I think Mama had another family. After she left you, Pops, she didn’t get remarried, but she apparently moved on. Didn’t stick around long for that life either.”
“Oh, Aiken. Stop with all this. You’re dredging up shit you shouldn’t care about. Let it go. I told you. Go help your lady, and for God’s sake, let her have tonight for her pain. You don’t need to bring this shit up.”
He hung up on me. I didn’t even have a chance to explain or say goodbye. The line went dead, and that was that.
Putting the car in reverse, I stared at myself in the rearview. Maybe Pops was right? Maybe I should let it go?
How the heck should I know?
“I’m here with liquid gold,” I called out, walking into Claire’s place.
“In the front,” she called.
“Hey, whatcha doing?” She was still wrapped in her coat, staring at the tree, her hair long down her back, knee-length boots covering her legging-covered calves. Even from behind, she was a beauty.
She turned, face wet, nose red.
“Come here,” I told her, setting the drinks on the coffee table.