Only Love

by Melanie Harlow

  “That means no shutting down on me, no bottling up, no flipping that switch when things get tough. You have to talk to me.”

  “I promise,” I whispered. “I should have been honest with you about my friend’s suicide from the start. But I was terrified because the grief was so raw, and I couldn’t shut it off. I found myself spiraling into all this self-loathing, all this regret over so many things in the past. And I panicked. I wanted to go numb, and you wouldn’t let me do that.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I won’t. Going numb never makes it better, Ryan. You’ve got to work through it.”

  “I will do everything in my power to be that kind of man.”

  “You already are that man.” Her voice was soft but her tone was firm. “Don’t you see? Those feelings reveal your true self at the barest, deepest level. All I’m asking is that you own them, and when you need to, share them with me. I want to know the real you.”

  “The real me is sometimes a real asshole.” I needed to be completely honest with her. “But I’m going to work on that. I can be better.”

  “Can you?”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s not that. I feel in my heart you’re telling the truth. It’s just …” She took a breath. “I felt that before, and I got hurt. How do I know you won’t get scared and walk away again?”

  “You don’t.” I squeezed her hand. “But you said in your letter that trusting someone takes bravery.”

  She smiled slightly. “That’s true.”

  “Be brave for me, Stella. Please?”

  Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “It might take me some time to work through things. I’ve … got a lot of baggage.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “We all have baggage. You just happen to have a heavier load than most. But I’m here for you, Ryan. And I’m a good listener.”

  “You’re more than that.” Overcome with emotion, I let go of her hand and cradled her head in my palms. “You’re beautiful and brilliant. You’re sweet and funny. And you’re so damn strong. I love that about you. I love everything about you.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have to, you know. Love everything about me.”

  “If I ever discover something about you I don’t love, I’ll let you know.” I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t want to ruin her lipstick. Instead, I rested my forehead on hers. “Stella. Say it’s not too late. Say you’ll give me another chance.” I swallowed the last of my nerves and said what I felt. “Say you’re still in love with me, because I’m still in love with you.”

  She smiled, and I felt her breath against my lips as she laughed softly. “I’m even more in love with you now than I was before.”

  I pressed my lips to hers. Fuck the lipstick.

  The kitchen door swung open. “Stella? Oh!”

  Over Stella’s shoulder I saw Skylar in the doorway, her hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry! But the ceremony is about to start and we need Stella upstairs.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, brushing my thumb over Stella’s lips. “Although I think I smudged her.”

  “Lipstick can be touched up,” Skylar said confidently. “Not a problem.”

  Stella grinned at me. “You’re staying, right?”

  “Of course I am. I’m Grams’s date.”

  She burst out laughing. “That little minx orchestrated this whole thing, didn’t she?”

  “From start to finish,” I said as we left the kitchen and moved down the hall.

  “What finish?” she said, elbowing me. “This is only the beginning, we can’t talk about the end!”

  At the foot of the stairs, I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to me for another kiss. “There’s not going to be an end.”

  The look she gave me before running up the steps made the room spin and my chest cave and my stomach perform a series of aerobatic loops that only love could inspire.

  As she blew me a kiss from the top of the stairs and disappeared around the corner, I said something to myself that I never imagined I’d say.

  I’m the luckiest fucking guy on earth.

  And it was all because of her.

  Forty

  Stella

  I burst into the Bride’s Room, breathless and ecstatic, and leaned back against the door

  “Where were you?” Emme asked. “We were frantic!”

  “I was in the kitchen.”

  “With who? There is no way Grams put that look in your eye,” Maren said. She was holding two bouquets in her hands.

  “What look?” But I started laughing uncontrollably.

  “Oh my God, are you drunk?” demanded Emme, marching over to me with her dress bunched up in her hands. “Look at your lipstick! What did you do?”

  “Relax,” I said, going over to the table where I’d set my evening bag. “I’ll fix it.”

  “But answer the question,” Maren said impatiently, following me to the mirror and peering over my shoulder as I wiped my mouth off with a tissue and reapplied the glossy rose color.

  I left them hanging until I recapped the tube. “I was with Ryan.”

  “Ryan!” they shouted in unison.

  “He’s here?” The shock in Emme’s tone told me she hadn’t known about Grams’s plan.

  “Yes. Evidently Grams cooked up this reunion. He’s her date.”

  Maren laughed. “Only Grams.”

  “I’m so flustered,” Emme said, shaking her head. “Where is he going to sit at dinner?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I told her.

  “He can have Stella’s seat and she’ll sit in his lap,” Maren offered with a giggle.

  “Ready, everyone?” Skylar poked her head in the room.

  “Yes,” Emme said, taking a deep breath. “We are. Stella, can you hand me my flowers?”

  I grabbed her bouquet off the table and gave it to her. Maren would carry mine so I could help Emme get down the stairs without getting tangled up in her gown.

  “Okay.” Before we left the room, Emme looked at us. “This is it.”

  “This is it,” I said, tearing up again.

  Maren’s eyes were wet too. “This is it.”

  We made our way down the stairs and into the winery, which was connected to the house by a long hallway. The ceremony would take place in the tasting room, and the reception would be held in a huge tent on the back lawn. We heard the string quartet playing as we snuck into a vestibule at the back.

  “Okay, stay in here,” Skylar said, her tone hushed as she shepherded us out of sight. “I’ll be right back.”

  A few minutes later, she returned with our parents, their plus ones, Grams, and Ryan. His smile sent my heart skipping like a stone across the bay. I smiled back, and felt Maren poke my shoulder from behind.

  “Is that him?” she whispered. “He’s hot as fuck. And my God, he’s huge.”

  Laughing, I looked at her over my shoulder. “It is him. And I know.”

  There wasn’t any time to make introductions, but I did blow him a kiss and stick my tongue out at Grams as they walked by. She winked back.

  Skylar lined everyone up, starting with Ryan and Grams, then Nate’s mom, who was being escorted by Roberto, who’d volunteered to fill in since Nate’s father had passed away years earlier. My mom and her boyfriend Phil were next, and then the wedding party—first Maren, then me, and finally Emme and our dad.

  Watching Ryan move up the aisle, his shoulders broad and strong, with tiny, scheming Grams on his arm put a lump in my throat. I couldn’t wait to hear the story of how she lured him here. A funeral? Good God, the woman had no shame, but I guess there’s not much point in it at ninety-two.

  When the parents were seated, I saw Nate and his two groomsmen move to the front of the room and stand by the fireplace, where the officiant waited. I couldn’t resist glancing back at Emme, who looked nervous but happy on our dad’s arm. I smiled at her. “Love you,” I whispered.

  “Love you too,” she wh
ispered back, her eyes shining. “Thanks for everything.”

  Then it was my turn.

  I walked slowly but with purpose, and when I got near the front of the room, my eyes found Ryan’s immediately. I was so happy for so many reasons, I barely felt my feet on the ground.

  I reached the fireplace and gave Nate a grin before taking my place next to Maren. The music changed, and the guests all rose. Maren grabbed my hand.

  Emme drifted down the aisle like Bridal Barbie, and the crowd murmured in awe. I didn’t blame them one bit. Nate met them at the end of the aisle, shook my father’s hand, and took Emme’s. Maren squeezed mine.

  “Soon it’ll be your turn,” I whispered.

  She looked at me over her shoulder. “And then yours.”

  I smiled. “Maybe someday.”

  But as I listened to my sister and Nate exchange their vows and promise to love, honor, and cherish one another for the rest of their lives, I caught Ryan’s eye and saw him touch his heart.

  And I knew that my someday would come.

  As soon as I could after the ceremony, I found Ryan in the reception tent and dragged him back into the house. Pulling him into the first empty room I came to, I shut the door and threw my arms around him, sealing my mouth to his.

  He groaned and wrapped me in his powerful embrace, lifting me right off the floor. We kissed until we were hot and breathless and starting to get frustrated with clothing.

  “We better stop,” he said, “or I’m going to tear you apart before dinner.”

  “Save it for later?” I asked, my body desperate to feel his again.

  “Definitely. You have no idea how much I missed you.”

  I smiled and kissed him again. “I bet I do.”

  At Emme’s insistence, we squeezed an extra chair in at the head table for Ryan. Sitting with us were the bride and groom, whom we tortured endlessly by banging our silverware on our glasses, Maren and Dallas, Nate’s two groomsmen and their wives.

  I introduced Ryan to everyone and although he was quiet throughout most of dinner, he did chat with Dallas about tattoos and motorcycles for a while—apparently Dallas was in the market for a bike and Ryan was considering more ink. He also conversed with one of Nate’s friends about urban farming in Detroit. For a moment, I froze, praying I wouldn’t hear the words colony collapse disorder. Thankfully, the guy was more into vegetables than bees, and I experienced a secret thrill when I heard him ask Ryan how often he got to Detroit and the answer was, “Not too often in the past, but hopefully more in the future.”

  Later, the band played Sinatra and I dragged him out on the dance floor, despite his protestations that he was not a dancer.

  “I’m not either,” I said, “I just like this song.”

  “I have no rhythm.” But he put an arm around my back and took my hand.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said. “You have demonstrated excellent rhythm to me several times in the past.”

  “That’s different.”

  “It’s not. I don’t need fancy footwork. Just hold me really close and sway. I’ll be happy.”

  He sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

  A minute later, Grams and Roberto danced by. “Well, hello darlings!” she said. “Don’t you two look cozy.”

  Roberto, an excellent dancer, turned Grams under his arm toward us. Before spinning back toward him, she leaned over and said, “You’re welcome.”

  Then they were off again, leaving us to sway in place, a little awkwardly, a little out of time to the beat, but I didn’t care.

  We had our own rhythm, and it was perfect.

  Later, my mother and Phil drove Grams home so Ryan could stay and enjoy the reception with me. But it wasn’t long afterward that I began to get tired of being in a crowd. I loved the way people looked at us, with a mix of envy and curiosity, but I knew that being on display was not Ryan’s thing. After cake and coffee spiked with a little whiskey, I leaned over to him. “Want to get out of here?”

  “Say the word,” he said quietly. “I can’t wait to be alone with you.”

  “Let’s do it.” We said goodnight to my family, and Emme gave me an extra long, hard hug.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. “I have such a good feeling about you guys.”

  “Me too. Have fun tonight.”

  She let go of me and gave me a sly grin. “You too.” Then she turned to Ryan and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Grams told him she needed an escort to a funeral,” I told them. “Can you believe that?”

  “I’d say no, but I’ve met her.” Nate shook his head and glanced down at Emme. “It’s always the little ones you have to look out for.”

  Emme gave him a dirty look and soft punch to the stomach. “Watch it, husband.”

  Nate caught her in his arms from behind, locking her in his grasp. “Seriously, you’re a good man to agree to that,” he said to Ryan. “Any other guy I know would have found some reason to say no.”

  I took Ryan’s hand. “He is a good man.”

  Finally, we were alone in the guest cabin I had to myself for the weekend.

  Ryan loosened his tie, but I’d stopped him there.

  “Let me,” I whispered.

  It was heady business, slipping a tie from around a man’s neck. A jacket from his shoulders. A belt from his pants. I unbuttoned his cuffs. His collar. The row down the front of his shirt. I lifted the hem of his undershirt and watched as he yanked it over his head from the back of his neck and tossed it aside.

  At the sight of his bare chest, my stomach quivered, and I felt my core muscles clench. I ran my hands all over his skin. My lips. My tongue. I walked him backward toward the foot of the bed and attempted to push him onto it.

  It was like trying to move a tank.

  He laughed and wrapped me up in his arms. “My turn,” he said, his breath warm on my lips.

  No one had ever done this before, undressed me so patiently and seductively. He turned me away from him and unzipped my dress, sliding the pull tab down slowly from the middle of my shoulder blades to my lower back. Brushing my hair aside, he put his lips at the nape of my neck and kissed his way down my spine, following the path of the dress’s opening. I shivered in anticipation.

  Carefully, he guided the dress to my ankles and I stepped out. He draped the gown over a chair and faced me again. Naked except for my beige (of course) panties and nude (some things never change … at least they were designer) heels, I started to feel a little self-conscious.

  He put me at ease immediately. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said, sweeping his hands down my arms.

  I smiled. “You can’t even see me. It’s pitch dark in here.”

  “I can see you. And you’ve never looked as beautiful to me as you do right now.” He moved closer, slipping his arms around my waist and pressing his warm, bare chest against my breasts. “Because you’re mine.”

  I lifted my hands to his neck. “Yes, I am.”

  He kissed me deeply, a kiss full of love and gratitude and possession and fire. “You changed my life,” he said, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to the bed. “But you did it by letting me be who I already was.”

  “You changed mine the same way,” I whispered as I watched him remove the rest of his clothes. As long as I lived, I would never grow tired of seeing him naked.

  He pulled off my shoes and slid my underwear down my legs before stretching out above me. “I don’t know where we go from here, Stella Devine, but I know I don’t want to be without you.”

  “You don’t have to be.” I hooked my legs over the backs of his thighs and took his face in my hands. “Ever again.”

  Pressing my lips to his, I silently vowed to do everything in my power to be worthy of him. To be patient. Kind. Forgiving. To remember everything he’d gone through because he believed in honor. To know that no one held hi
m to a higher standard than he held himself. To love him for exactly who he was and make him grateful that he could feel it.

  Now and forever.

  Forty-One

  Epilogue

  STELLA

  “Can I peek yet?” I asked.

  “No,” came Ryan’s firm reply. “You leave that blindfold where it is or else.”

  I giggled. “But we’ve been driving forever. I’m dying to know where you’re taking me.”

  “Tough.”

  “Can I guess?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “Corktown?” I ventured, naming one of our favorite Detroit neighborhoods for restaurants and bars.

  “Nope.”

  “SheWolf?” Ryan loved the grilled lamb ribs there and I adored the tagliatelle with lobster.

  “Nope.”

  “Greektown?” I guessed, picturing Monroe Avenue all lit up at night.

  “Nope.”

  I felt the truck accelerate, as if we were getting on the expressway. “You’re not going to drive clear up to Grams’s house, are you?”

  He laughed. “Not a chance. I don’t miss that drive one bit.”

  “Me neither.”

  Ryan and I had kept things going long-distance for about five months, but the four-hour-drive had grown tedious every weekend. We’d taken turns making it, but since Ryan often had to be on hand for weddings at Cloverleigh, it was me making the drive most of the time. Finally, Ryan felt so bad that he offered to quit his job and move to Detroit to be closer to me. By then, he’d finished the work on his house, and his friend Mack was going to buy it. He needed more space since his three daughters were going to live with him full time. Grams, as you can imagine, was absolutely thrilled to have kids next door (not to mention a potentially single Marine to fix up, but she’d promised me she’d wait until he was officially divorced before she started matchmaking again).

  I’d invited Ryan to stay with me while he looked for a job and a place to rent, and even though he found work managing the grounds at a country club right away and we looked at dozens of cool apartments in the city, we found we enjoyed living together in my house so much, I asked him not to leave.