Love Is Louder

by Antoinette Candela

  “Babe.”

  Pulled away from my thoughts, I turn to my husband’s curious look as he hands me a vodka and cranberry.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

  I take a deep breath, exhale, and smile at him before taking the drink from his hand.

  “Yes.” I sip my drink as I peer across the crowded restaurant toward the front door, watching as couples walk inside.

  I’m immediately drawn to the tall, familiar silhouette standing behind the hostess’ booth, staring across the dimly lit dining area. There he is, but with no tool belt, no T-shirt or jeans, but a nice pair of gray slacks and a black button-down shirt with a beautiful raven haired woman on his arm who is dressed in a strapless red dress. I float my eyes to his and notice he’s watching me. He doesn’t remove his lock on me. He merely smiles before the hostess diverts his attention away from me. I swallow and gaze up at James who happens to be looking in the same direction. He swiftly downs his drink and turns to the bar and quickly orders another.

  He must have had a rough week. Working long hours at the office has happened more often than not lately. The photo studio has been very busy the past couple of months for me as well with engagements, graduations, and newborn photo shoots, so this evening out is long overdue.

  “Well, we have to stop meeting like this, James.” I glance away from James to follow the smooth voice, knowing full well who owns it. I hold in my breath. Why? I don’t know. Nothing happened that afternoon in my house, only the corrupt thoughts in my head, and when my eyes connect with Mason’s, I sense that possibly he felt the same way.

  Is that guilt, too?

  The memory of our first encounter quivers in my belly.

  “How are things?” James replies firmly as he sips his drink. He brings his gaze to Mason, and a look passes between them that I can’t quite describe. Could that be animosity? A challenge?

  “Couldn’t be better.”

  Mason flashes a smile when he looks over at me.

  “Brie, so nice to see you again.”

  He takes my hand and leans in to kiss it, causing the same intense rush of electricity I felt when we first met. “I hope the washer is working okay.” I inhale a delicious blend of spice and manly scent. His hair is styled as if he ran his fingers through it and gave up on it, giving it an unruly appearance. His defined jaw is covered in a few days’ stubble, but the pants and dress shirt do nothing to hide the body that I had the pleasure of admiring from his visit.

  “Yes. Thank you for coming out and fixing it.” I slip my hand away from his and smile at him and his date.

  “That’s what I do best. Fix broken things.” The tone of his voice is softer, and I notice the tiniest downturn to his smile as his eyes touch mine.

  “Dana, this is James and Brie Fleming. James is the DA, and Brie is his wife.”

  “I know Mason from high school. We graduated in the same class,” James adds impatiently.

  So that explains the look.

  “Yeah, we crossed paths at the Bull and Bear last week. It was great. Right, James?” He slaps him on the shoulder. “Like the good old days?”

  James throws back his drink and glares at Mason.

  Must be some old high school rivalry.

  “Mr. Fleming, your table is ready.”

  “Thank you,” he acknowledges the hostess as he sets his drink onto the bar. He clenches his one hand to his sides and slowly takes my hand in the other. “Nice seeing you again, Mason.” James stares at him with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Mason chuckles as he steps closer to the bar and wraps his arm around his date.

  I peek over my shoulder and connect eyes with him, and there is no smile, just his eyes that emit no light but lock with mine with intensity. I’m desperate to look away, gather my wits, but his eyes penetrate right through me.

  Is that sadness or frustration?

  I blink and manage to turn away, gripping James’ hand tighter as we leave. The tension between Mason and James was combustible. Whatever went on between them hasn’t been resolved, and I don’t understand why. It must be about a girl.

  Isn’t it always about a girl?

  “Who is she, James?” I breathe out shakily.

  “What are you talking about?” he whispers as he lightly brushes my cheek with his thumb. I blink, admiring my fiancé and cupping his cheek. This is not happening. He wouldn’t do this to me. We’re getting married in less than a month.

  “I saw you talking to her in front of the coffee shop when we visited your family for Memorial Day weekend.” I stare at him. My chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, and my arms are hugging the pillow.

  I witnessed the intimacy, the contact when she touched his arm, and how he smiled at her like she was the only one in the world that mattered to him at that moment. I didn’t know if I should have been angry, jealous, or just let it go. I’ve seen him talk and carry on with plenty of women through college and even now at the law firm. Women have always gravitated to him, just like I did. A moth to a flame.

  “B, not this again.” He sighs as he lies back onto the pillow. “She’s nobody. Just an old friend. She means nothing.” He takes a deep breath and leans on his elbow, looking down at me.

  Closing my eyes, I’m desperate to believe him. I’ve never been the jealous type. I saw him with her during the holidays, right before Christmas. She was stunning. I watched him hug her as I stood behind the Christmas tree where Santa was asking kids what they wanted for Christmas. I wanted James, and I got him. I was engaged to him two days later on Christmas Eve under the falling snow next to the lake. It was beautiful, but all I remember is him hugging her. It killed me inside, even though I knew he loved me, and he proved it to me.

  So, why am I lying here in bed next to him acting insecure?

  We’re going back for our wedding in less than two weeks. Closer to her. I nibble on my inner cheek as I allow my thoughts to run wild. Will he get in touch with her? Will she get in touch with him?

  They always seem to find each other. Like two lost ships, but are they really, if the current is pulling them in the same direction?

  I push him, my palms flat on his chest, but James clings to me, kissing my neck. His body is hot and hard against mine. Looking at him, I see the man whom I love, and here I am acting like an envious teenager, questioning him about a girl he knew before me.

  What kind of woman am I?

  I’m twenty-six years old, a college graduate with a career and a successful fiancé who just graduated from Harvard Law School. He is mine. He is here with me and not with her. My chest is tightening as if someone is reaching inside and gripping my fragile heart in their fist, halting its constant rhythm. I close my eyes.

  Breathe. Slow. Deep breaths.

  “Brie, listen to me,” he urges.” Look at me.”

  I crack open my eyes and look at his. The blue eyes I love with everything in me. The blue eyes I’ve stared into for the past two years. The only eyes I want to see when I wake up every morning.

  Our fingers lace together, and he tugs me close. My chest is crushed to his, and his face brushes my cheek. His hot breath caresses my ear as his lips travel down to my collarbone. He feels so good, that warmth radiates down my legs and hardens my nipples to painful peaks.

  “I want you.” His features relax, and then he leans in closer. “I do.” He moistens his lips and plants a soft kiss on the corner of my lips. “I will prove it to you in two weeks, Brie. I need you. I want only you.” He takes my hand and holds it up so that the diamond sparkles in the morning sunlight. “I slipped this onto your finger for a reason. I don’t want anybody else.”

  Jesus Christ. Mason Marks is popping up everywhere. I anticipated running into some old faces from the past when I moved back to town, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about running into him. Honestly, I wouldn’t feel this way if he didn’t know I was married to Brie and then caught me at his bar getting a little coz
y with Lisa, but it’s not what it looks like. We work closely together. The long hours, the cases—it’s all taking a toll—and that night at the bar was a way to wind down.

  What are the chances he would be the guy fixing that piece of shit washing machine, meet my wife, and then catch me out with another woman? I haven’t seen him in years, and here is he giving me shit. I didn’t need to justify my actions to him, but I do need to be smarter with whom I’m seen in public and avoid touching other women apart from my wife.

  Lisa has a thing for me, and lately she has been more aggressive with her advances. I can’t avoid her or quit my job over this. She’s the damn deputy district attorney. She’s stunning, smart, and very single, but I’m not. She’s literally sitting on my lap everyday going over old and new cases and attending all the same meetings and functions at my side. Nothing has happened, but it is getting dangerously close. I’ve always liked to dance with the devil and play on the edge like this.

  Restraint. I need to play it cool, but I’m strung so tight with work I’m about to snap. I’m slipping like a loose knot. Just a little tug and I’m going to unravel.

  Then there’s Brie, who without a doubt is the most patient and understanding woman I know. Yet, here I am fucking it all up by shutting her out, and in the end, I know I’ll shatter her delicate character. This job is important to me. It’s the reason I took the position and moved back a year ago. I busted my ass in law school to get here. Dedicated my life to this. The lengthy hours are part of the job, but she didn’t anticipate this shit, and honestly, neither did I. It’s wearing on our marriage, but it has to get better and easier soon. There’s the honeymoon period, and then fucking real life takes over. This is the shit that really tests a marriage, and I’m failing at it.

  Moving, I lean my elbows onto my desk and press my thumb and forefinger against my eyes. I witnessed Mason’s reaction to Brie.

  He can’t have her.

  Challenge was crystal clear in his eyes, and rage curled in my bones. Jealousy is not an emotion I enjoy wrestling with, especially when it comes to another man wanting my gorgeous wife. Mason is a different animal altogether.

  We have a history. He’s despised me ever since his sister Meadow had a thing for me in high school. I couldn’t act on it since he knew my habits, but I tried hard to no avail. He was a fucking pit bull when it came to his sister. I didn’t blame him one bit. I’d do the same thing if I had a sister as gorgeous as Meadow.

  I’m pretty sure Brie sensed the tension bristling between us the other night. I was so fucking close to punching the smug look off his face, but I couldn’t with her beside me. She’d ask questions. But, one more confrontation like that is going to push me over the edge.

  She’s mine no matter how fucked up I am right now and the fact our marriage is dangling precariously because of me. I didn’t make time for her before, but now I need to make time. This urge to work on my marriage was all triggered by my encounter with Mason. His reaction to Brie and her reaction to him made me sit back and see what I have right in front of me. Admitting the fact it took another man coveting my wife to change my neglectful ways is fucking shameful. Everyone has obligations and priorities. I need to get my shit together.

  I lean back in my chair, struggling to hold back the thousand thoughts that flood my psyche. Silence hangs in the air, filled with questions and the sense of letting go of the past that haunts me, too. Brie deserves better than this. Better than me. I know she loves me because she stands by me. She bends to me every time, and it empowers me. Instead of loving her like she should be loved, I take advantage of her. I have to stop acting entitled, but my instincts keep repeating the same pattern.

  She can’t live without me.

  Can I live without her?

  I don’t know. I don’t fucking know anymore. The last thing I want is for everything I’ve worked for to go down in flames. Rubbing the back of my neck, I try to chase away the tension that has gathered there, to shake off the unease that hangs like decay. I can prove to her how much I love her.

  Fix this.

  “James.” A voice floats from behind my office doors, interrupting my internal berating of my appalling actions and decisions.

  “Come in,” I say, clearing the tightness that sits in my throat as I push back from my desk.

  Lisa opens the door and steps into my office, letting the door latch behind her with a soft click. She smiles, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. Everything about her is flawless. I can’t deny that. I momentarily glance at my wedding picture standing on my desk, blow out a breath, and return my attention to Lisa.

  She saunters across the room and bends over the desk, giving me an uninterrupted view of her ass as she sets some more files upon my desk. Her ivory suit hugs every fabulous curve of her body; her lips are full and pouty—perfect for sucking my cock. The fact the deputy DA happens to look like a Playboy centerfold doesn’t make my predicament easier. The sexual energy rolls off this woman in tidal waves.

  “We have that meeting with the staff in fifteen minutes. Do you want to go over the items on the agenda to get up to speed?”

  Her tone is light as I make my way around my desk to grab my suit coat. Turning to face me, she reaches out a hand to straighten the collar of my white button-up shirt, adjusts my tie, and strokes away a few pieces of lint before I have a chance to pull away. Brie hasn’t done that for me in a long time. She hasn’t been to the office in months since she’s so busy at the studio.

  Mainly because you’re out the door before she even gets downstairs, asshole.

  “Is everything okay?” She narrows her gaze a bit and smiles, and that’s when the scent of her perfume, something lightly spicy and expensive, infiltrates my heightened senses.

  I shrug and start to back away, even though I can’t help staring at her lips. I’m aware my sense of control is directly proportionate to the distance between us. I pride myself on my self-control, my tenacity, and my ability to get the job done, but when it comes to a beautiful woman like the one standing in front of me, my control is nearly nonexistent.

  “Yes.” I cringe a little, thinking about the amount of cases that has piled on my desk in the past few weeks. One in particular.

  “I realize we have a ton of cases. Don’t think I don’t feel it too, James. We’re a team, remember?” She gives my forearm a little squeeze.

  Irrationally, I want nothing more for her hands to squeeze another part of my body, which would do wonders in relieving some of the tension building in my neck and shoulders. I squirm a little, praying she hasn’t read my expression or my mind.

  “Some of these cases are becoming tedious.” I scowl and focus on my framed Harvard degree hanging on my wall and not her and the way my body and my mind seem to go fucking haywire at her simple touch and smell. “A waste of time.”

  “I’m here for you if you need anything.” I still for a moment. Her appeasing voice makes my body coil in anticipation. “As a friend,” she murmurs seductively with a hint of a smile.

  I scratch the side of my jaw to mask my unease and tension that have gathered in my chest from the blind sexual energy she gives off. I glance away at the files to get my mind back on track.

  “Thanks.”

  Having trouble doesn’t begin to describe what I’m dealing with. Hell no. I need to be more careful. Otherwise, I could lose everything I’ve worked for all these years. The last thing I want is the Fleming name involved in some scandal. This isn’t an option. It never was and never will be. Damage control. Mother made sure of that when I was a kid, so now, I hate to say it, but I may need to rip a page out of Mother’s book.

  An hour later after the meeting wraps up, I decide to leave the office an hour early. I have to get away from Lisa before I actually shove her into my office, rip every piece of damn expensive fabric off her sinful body, and slam her against the wall. She’s making things too easy and excruciatingly complicated simultaneously.

  My hands are sweating as I gr
ip the steering wheel, and my heart thrums in my chest thinking about all the things Lisa would allow me to do to her. She won’t say no to me. That is more than crystal clear.

  Out of frustration, I slam the breaks at the red light, grab my cell from my jacket, and slowly dial my mother’s number, deciding at the last minute to pay her a visit. I can’t go home to Brie like this. I listen to the phone ring, committing myself to the fact I’m running away and acting like a coward, but I won’t change a damn thing about how I handle things. I do have moments where I hate the person I’ve become, like right now.

  Mother answers on the first ring. I let her know I’ll be over in ten minutes. I press the gas on the Range Rover when the light turns green, listening as she asks if Brie is coming along. Dissatisfaction drips like acid from her every word, burning a hole in my heart. I reply with a no and hang up, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat.

  Is this how it’s always going to be? Will my mother ever stop trying to meddle in my life and just be happy for me?

  The way my mother approaches the women that have come and gone in my life is one aspect of her personality I despise. Perhaps she doesn’t want me to end up with someone like her, whose entire existence hinges on my father and what he’s accomplished and created. She doesn’t have goals or interests of her own, so she’s focused her attention on my life and career, as well as my father’s career at Fleming Financial.

  Behind all the façade of opulence and privilege, I see someone vulnerable. I worry about her more than I should, and I think that’s my main reason for this visit. I will always love my mother, even if I don’t agree with her on a lot of things.

  Ten minutes later, I turn onto the large street I grew up on in the more affluent part of Massapequa Park. I tamp down the emotions when the brick pretense of my childhood home comes into view, bringing back so many memories.

  I pull up the endless cobblestone driveway and stare up at what used to be my bedroom window where I spent many nights studying and many nights sneaking out. I laugh at the memories. Being a teenager has been the best part of my life thus far. If I could have chosen, I would have postponed that time for a little while longer.