Beyond Bliss
Page 24
A finger firmly slipped under her chin, lifting her up again. When they made eye contact, his eyes gleamed in amusement. “Baby, do you think there is one detail that I don’t know about you?”
She felt her lips screw up into a scowl.
At least she thought she was scowling at him, until he said, “Sweetheart, if you think that angry pout is going to get you anything but another session flat on your back, I must have really screwed your brains out.”
So she drew her eyebrows together to frown at him, until Liz’s voice nagged in her head about frowns, wrinkles, and the cost of botox.
He threw his head back and laughed, and her face relaxed as she soaked in the sight of Lucas.
Her Lucas.
Happy and laughing and holding her in his arms.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Babe, there isn’t any birthday dinner. You being here right now is the result of a hopeful ploy between several guardian angels.”
Okay, now she was really confused.
“What?”
“Liz and Carter were in on it. Your mom and Harry too.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How the hell did that happen? At least three of the four people you just named would happily circulate a petition to have you castrated.”
He winced. “Ouch.”
It was mean of her, she knew it, but she allowed herself to take a brief moment of pleasure in his expression and then regarded him expectantly.
“Okay, I probably deserved that. But please, no more talk about sharp implements and my manhood if you have future hopes of screaming like you did earlier.”
This, she ignored. Impatiently, she tapped his shoulder with her finger. “Explain.”
“Liz caught me outside your apartment. Several times, in fact,” he admitted sheepishly.
“You were stalking me?”
“Well, it’s not really stalking,” he defended. “I didn’t have any nefarious intentions nor was I planning to do anything—I didn’t think you would even speak to me. I was content to just watch you—get my daily dose of Sophie.”
She blinked at him owlishly.
He continued. “The first time, she saw me, she walked straight past me and pretended she didn’t see me. The second time, she gave me look that would have me twelve feet under if looks could kill. And then I lost track of the other times…” he trailed off.
“I had no idea,” she whispered.
He smiled grimly. “Oh, I was positive you’d catch me. A few times, she started yelling at me—loudly. I didn’t know girls could curse like that.” At her disgusted huff, he quickly corrected, “Not that girls should curse differently than boys. I’m just saying, I’d never heard one actually do it before. Then, there was the time she dumped a large iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts on my head. It was freezing outside, and she caught me by surprise so that time, I shouted. It was fucking freezing outside. She just laughed at me, told me I was an asshat and walked off. By the way, why is she drinking coffee when she’s pregnant?”
“It’s decaf,” she said absently, entranced and intrigued both by his persistence and her best friend’s protective antics. “Stop distracting me. Keep going!”
He turned her in bed, so that they each lay on their sides, facing each other. One finger trailed over the smooth hair of her brow before wandering its way to her lips.
“And then after about the twentieth time she saw me, she stopped by the car and yanked at the handle. I rolled down the window and she told me to unlock the door and move over so she could fit herself inside. I didn’t know she was carrying twins.”
“Lucas!”
“Okay, okay. So anyway, she tells me I’m a disgusting piece of shit before asking me what I’m doing there. And I told her the truth. That I love you. That I’ve loved you even before I knew who you were. That the way we connected was elemental, that you were a part of my very being—the best part.”
The words fell from his lips to her ears, and she felt her heart quicken.
“That letter you wrote me…those things you said….”
He raised a brow at her. “You think it’s easy trying to be Keats?”
She was about to say something, but he interrupted her. “I have to be honest, the letter was Liz’s idea. She told me about the letters your dad left for you, and I knew if I had a shot in hell of getting what I needed to say to you across, it was in a letter. Once you had it in your hands, I was hoping you’d read the whole thing…if only for curiosity’s sake. If I tried to talk to you, I was sure you’d tell me to go to hell. But baby—Sophie, I sat down to write that letter and every single word flowed like the blood in my veins. It’s easy to say the things you mean when you truly mean them.”
She was starting to get lost in his eyes again, when he continued his narrative. “And then she told me to stop being a big fucking baby. Then she cursed at me for making her curse while she was pregnant.” This time his brow wrinkled in confusion, clearly unaware as to why that was a bad thing. “Then she remembered cursing at me the first time and swung her bag at me, but eventually she calmed down. And then I told her the truth about Monica.”
She closed her eyes when she heard the other woman’s name.
A woman who had had his ring on her finger.
A woman who’d never liked her, but who was the sister of the first man who’d broken her heart.
“Sophie, I never loved her. I was just doing what I thought was right. Please look at me baby, you need to hear this.”
It took her a few moments, but eventually she gave him what she wanted.
“Baby, you are it for me. Anyone that looks at me when I’m watching you can tell. My sister, Sean, your mother, Carter…Liz. You hold my heart and the key to my chance at happy in the palm of your little hand.”
“You lied to me.”
This time he shut his eyes, and he when he opened them, the look in his eyes was heartbreaking.
“My love…do you know when the first time I said that was?”
“In my letter.”
“No—it was after you fell asleep in my arms the night Grace went crazy on Sean. You’d snuggled in against me, and I think you must have been half-asleep, but you mumbled that you loved me. All I could feel was this crazy fucking high. I had so much to tell you, but I didn’t know when was right. After that night, I decided I was going to tell you everything, but I was scared shitless, so I kept putting it off. And then, I kept going over everything in my head. I didn’t want you to think that I was a creepy fucking stalker. How could I tell you how we were connected? How I’d seen a picture of a gorgeous girl with a beautiful soul you could see in her eyes? How I couldn’t get her out of my mind, but I’d been engaged to the sister of the brother of the man she was engaged to?”
Okay, that did sound daunting. But…
“I would have understood,” she said quietly. “Besides, you did stalk me.”
“I observed. I wasn’t making notes or using binoculars or taping you.”
She hmmphed at that, but he continued. “You have this amazing way of connecting with everyone. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you want me if I was tied to bad history?”
“Is there anything else that I don’t know that you need to tell me?”
“You want my social security number, bank account information, the names of every woman I’ve ever been with, my college transcript, you got it baby.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t know if I want the names of your harem.”
“The reason we we’re at the bar tonight, the reason we’re in this very same room where we first came together—it’s because I want us to have a fresh beginning. I want to do everything right. I don’t have a harem, baby, I have a past,” he said, pausing for a moment before he looked at her earnestly.
“But you’re my future.”
She blinked furiously, certain that if her heart swelled any further with happiness, it would explode.
“No more Lucas. I forgave you the minute I
looked into your eyes at the bar.”
Epilogue
It was a small wedding.
The bride wore a sedate, cream suit.
The groom looked handsome in navy.
Sophie sighed with pleasure. Everything about this day was perfect. It had been a struggle to get here, after dealing with some natural anxiety, but everything was as it was meant to be from the abundance of white and pink peonies to the sparkle in the groom’s eyes when he saw his bride for the first time.
It had only gotten brighter as she walked down the aisle.
Even the ring-bearer was cute.
Liz still didn’t look happy at the choice, and Sophie was positive she’d caught several death stares aimed in his direction. Since her Liam hadn’t been selected, especially since she felt like she was instrumental in the couple coming together, she’d been put out.
But she’d cracked a smile when Lucas crouched down at the altar, something in his hands luring the ring-bearer all the way down the aisle.
He only barked once.
Sophie had laughed at her mother’s choice of ring-bearer, but Jeannie had been insistent. Teddy, a rescue, was a Morkie. A cross between a Maltese and a Yorkie who looked like his genes couldn’t decide which breed it was, so he was a fluffy mess of a dog.
But he was a cute one, and he’d been one of Harry’s first (and many) gifts to her mother.
As she escorted her mother down the aisle, the words from her father’s latest letter came rushing back to her.
Envelope number ?
Code: I don’t know what to put – Carter will deliver if/when necessary
Dear Sophie,
This moment was inevitable. It pains me to think of this moment, but it pains me even more to think of the love of my life living without love.
That’s how you know, you know.
When the person you love means more to you than your selfish desires that you would relinquish them to someone else just so that they’re happy.
If this is the letter you’re reading, then I know your mom found love. (I had another one written Carter was to give you in case she found it, and you hadn’t. Because, my beautiful, darling girl, I know you will. It’s just a matter of time.)
I don’t want you to be angry with her.
She deserves to be happy, just as you do.
It doesn’t make my memory or me any less important.
All it means is that she will be cared for.
That’s what I want you to remember, my sweet girl…and that’s what matters to me.
We’ve never told you about how we first met because it embarrassed Mom, but if you keep it a secret just between you and me, I’ll tell you.
Who am I kidding?
I’m leaving this earth and I want and need to tell you everything…
She was crying, no—hysterical outside of a bar Carter and I frequented. He’d given me a look—the look that silently communicated that bawling females in the vicinity of alcohol meant nothing but trouble.
I asked her if she was okay, and she kept her head bent, muffling out between sobs that she was fine.
And I told her that she wasn’t and she needed to stop being a martyr.
Then she looked at me, and the expression was a mix of sorrow and anger.
She was angry at me for interrupting her good, long cry after she found out her boyfriend was gay.
She thought she’d turned him, you see.
So who was I to intrude on her tragic moment?
But the moment I looked into her eyes, big, brown, and shiny with tears, I knew that she was it for me.
Somehow, I knew that I would die and hers would be the last pair of eyes I looked into.
I even wished it.
So it will be the last pair I see, because I’ll be looking at either one of you when I go. And you baby girl, you have the eyes of the woman I love. The woman I was destined to spend my short life with.
Okay, never mind the splotchy ink. I’m getting weaker, and I’m too fucking lazy to take the time to re-write this for the fourth time.
That should give you an idea of how many splotches have ruined this letter.
I so wish I could stay with her. I wish I could stay with you.
But I can’t, and because I adore her with every cell of my being, I’m letting her go.
So be happy for her, Sophie.
I know you, and I know you love as intensely as I do, and as much as the thought pains you, you would want the man in your life to be happy once more.
I know he is worthy of you because I know when you really, truly fall—like me, you will fall forever.
Baby girl, I’m getting tired, and I should stop. I still have so much more to tell you…
Don’t be too hard on your new step-dad.
And tell your man, whoever he is, that he’s a lucky fucking bastard to get my girl.
Always yours, forever and for eternity,
Dad
Tears, both happy and sad seeped out of her eyes as she walked her mother down the aisle.
Lucas had found her that morning, clutching a cup of coffee while tears dripped into it.
He’d picked her up, cradled her in his arms, and brought her back to their bed. He’d held her while she cried, whispering words of comfort.
He’d held tissues to her nose and forced her to blow repeatedly. When her shuddering sobs had subsided into hiccups and her tears had dried, he’d traced the drying streaks on her face.
“I know how he felt. If I had to leave you, for whatever reason, I love you so much, I’d want for you to be happy. And if that was with someone else other than me, I’d still look down on you and smile. That’s just how much I love you, Sophie Harlow.”
And his words had started another round of sobs, but it had ended with them both naked, panting, and in each other’s arms as he kissed her tears away and made love to her all the while whispering words of worship.
Afterwards, he’d reached over and turned on the iPhone radio dock.
Early nineties adult contemporary streamed out of the speakers. Michael Bolton?
She gave him a confused look, but inwardly thrilled because she loved this song.
I said I loved You…But I Lied.
When she’d been younger, her dad played it for her mom, and the words never made sense to her. The song sounded and felt romantic, but he lied about loving her and he was wrong about it?
And then one day, after her dad died, she found herself listening and really paying attention to the lyrics.
Out of my dreams, and into my life…
You are the one…you are the one…
I said I loved you…but I lied….
Because this is more than love I feel inside
I said I loved you, but I was wrong
Because love could never ever feel this strong
The lyrics washed over her, and she was distracted by words and memories, not to mention how much she adored the man beside her, she almost didn’t notice when he left their bed.
He returned and reached over, placing his fingers on the volume button. She was about to protest, but he only pushed it down a few levels, so the song still hummed in the background. He kept his arm on his side of the bed, and used it to pull her closer to him.
“So how does it work with your mom marrying my chauffeur?”
She giggled, her heart finally lifting into light. “I don’t know. Harry still calls me Miss Harlow, no matter how many times Mom and I have told him to call me Sophie.”
“How do you feel about your name?” he asked casually.
“Huh?” Maybe it was the hangover from her crying jag or maybe she was just drunk off pheromones and sex, but she didn’t understand his question.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re fucking adorable when you scrunch your face up like that, you know.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before he handed her an envelope.
“Huh?” she repeated dumbly, barely paying attention to the lette
r in her hands. She knew she didn’t have all of them. Carter had surprised her with a few additional ones that were saved for special occasions, similar to the one she shared with Lucas in their brownstone. “I already got a letter, Lucas, I swear I can’t handle another letter.”
“I’m pretty sure this one is a happy one,” he said confidently, but his eyes belied a sense of anxiety. “Just open it.”
She gave him a look, but pulled the flap open, muttering under her breath when the envelope glue proved difficult.
Something fell out onto the sheet that covered her, and she picked it up.
A business card?
She looked at the card, and slowly turned to face Lucas.
“Why am I holding the card for a city clerk?”
“Keep going. Look at the rest,” he instructed, his normally deep voice pitching high at the end.
She pulled out papers that looked like they were printed from the internet, but they were folded in thirds, so she had to unfold and then focus on the words on the page before reacting.
“Lucas,” she whispered. “Why am I holding instructions on how to apply for a marriage license?”
“Because you walked out of my dreams and into my life,” he said, face straight, quoting the song that played quietly in the background. “Because what I feel for you is more than love…how do you feel about being Sophie Sinclair instead of Sophie Harlow?” He moved out of the bed, moved around the end until he was at her side.
Then, he knelt before pulling something out of the nightstand drawer.
“Sophie Harlow, hopefully –soon-to-be-Sinclair, you make me so fucking happy. You make me want to be a better person, a better man. You make me need to be worthy of you. I feel corny as shit quoting Michael-fucking-Bolton, but you literally stepped out of my dreams and into my life. Sophie, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it for the rest of my life. You are my everything.”
A sound escaped her throat as she looked at his earnest expression. She didn’t even pay attention to the crazy diamond he held in one hand.
“I want to see your body change and know that it’s because we created someone who will be a part of both of us. I want to wake up with you every single morning and close my eyes next to you when I fall asleep. I don’t care if it’s me pushing your wheelchair or you pushing mine—I want that with you.”