The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  FLAW #14: YOU GREW UP PRIVILEGED. THIS ISN’T REALLY A FLAW BECAUSE WE DON’T CHOOSE HOW WE GROW UP. BUT I WANTED TO POINT IT OUT BECAUSE, ALTHOUGH YOU WERE GIVEN EVERYTHING, YOU STILL BECAME A WOMAN WHO LOVES THE PEOPLE IN HER LIFE WITH SO MUCH FEROCITY. OUR CHILDHOODS WERE POLAR OPPOSITES, AND MAYBE THAT’S WHY WE’RE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. THEY SAY OPPOSITES ATTRACT, AND THANK GOD THEY DO.

  FLAW #15: YOUR HEART IS ONLY CAPABLE OF LOVING ME. YOU’RE LUCKY I HAVE THE SAME FLAW. I CAN ONLY LOVE YOU.

  I pick up the final bag of gummy candy that sits in front of our bedroom door.

  THE WORD FLAW HAS A NEGATIVE CONNOTATION, BUT I DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. IF WE DIDN’T HAVE FLAWS, WE’D ALL BE THE SAME. OUR IMPERFECTIONS ARE WHAT MAKE US WHO WE ARE. WITHOUT ANY FLAWS, YOUR BASKET WOULD BE EMPTY. THERE’D BE NOTHING FOR ME TO HOLD ON TO, TO LOVE. BUT, AS IT TURNS OUT, MY FLAWED HEART LOVES YOU MORE THAN YOU MIGHT EVER KNOW.

  COME INTO THE BEDROOM. I HAVE A QUESTION TO ASK YOU.

  My lip trembles as I read his last note. I know what’s coming, and still, I’ve never been more nervous. The seconds right before my greatest dream comes true bring a moment of pause, so I can take it all in and be thankful. I pull in a few calming breaths as tears stream down my face.

  And I open the door.

  Loïc is standing in the middle of our bedroom. His beautiful face is lit by the glow of candlelight. I take a few steps until I’m right across from him. I set the basket down next to me as Loïc drops to one knee and holds up a stunning diamond ring.

  I bring my hands to my mouth with a gasp.

  “London, you are the most important person in my life. You know that I’ve been dealt a tough hand in the past, but being with you creates such happiness, a bright light that lights up the darkness until I can’t feel anything but love. You save me every single day. My flawed heart is capable of loving only you. I would love to spend this lifetime creating firsts with you, if you’ll have me. London Wright, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” I scream as I tackle Loïc to the ground before ravishing his mouth with mine. I jerk my lips away from his to say, “I love you so much, Loïc Berkeley. I’m going to love you forever.”

  Our mouths move as one until Loïc pulls away. “Can I put on the ring?” He chuckles.

  “Yes! Of course.” I climb off of him and hold out my hand.

  My heart seems to freeze before I feel it pound forcefully in my chest. Holding my breath, I lean in as he places the ring on my finger. Tears continue to fall, and I smile wide. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.”

  Loïc’s lips part as he breathes in. “Nothing but the best for my girl.”

  “You know I would have married you if you’d proposed with a Froot Loop, right?” I nudge my knee against his.

  “But you’re secretly thrilled with how pretty the ring is.” His eyes shine with amusement.

  “You know me so well.” I throw my arms around him, pressing my lips against his once more.

  Loïc’s lips send me spiraling into a haze of lust and desire.

  “Loïc, will you make love to your fiancée right here on the floor, surrounded by candles and flower petals?”

  A slow, sexy smile forms on his lips as he threads his fingers through my hair. His expression now lusty and primal, he says, “Yes, yes, and yes.”

  Loïc crashes his mouth against mine. My body instantly responds to him. Our tongues move desperately against each other. I just can’t get enough of him. I want him with an unyielding urgency.

  “How do you want it, babe?” Loïc asks even though I know he already knows. He knows me better than anyone.

  “I want it hard, so hard,” I pant.

  In one swift movement, Loïc has me on the ground. With my back pressed against rose petals, he stretches my legs, pushing them against my chest.

  He enters me in one quick thrust that I can feel all the way in my belly. I cry out in pleasure. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin as Loïc plunges into me, filling me up with immense satisfaction.

  When Loïc takes me this way, hard and fast, it’s incredible. The buildup is quick, and the release is sudden and intense.

  I grab at Loïc’s slick chest, my hands sliding across his hard muscles. I can’t think straight as I moan eagerly.

  Finally, I just close my eyes and allow the mind-blowing sensations to pull me under. My nerves are on fire, and each time Loïc enters me, a wave of heat sends ripples of ecstasy through my body to the very tips of my fingers and toes.

  My release builds, a bold crescendo within me begging to reach its peak. I cry out Loïc’s name over and over as he takes me higher. Rocking back and forth, he thrusts, and the pleasure is enough to curl my toes.

  Shock waves pulse through me as I fall over the edge, my entire body quivering. Loïc growls as his body shudders when he releases inside me.

  He falls atop me, and I wrap my limp arms around his back as we work to calm our breaths.

  “That was amazing,” I say on a sigh.

  He kisses my shoulder. “It was a very good start.” His voice drops an octave, making him sound all husky and sexy.

  “A start?” I giggle.

  “Babe, there’s nowhere else I want to be but inside you tonight. I want to make love to you until we can’t see straight.”

  “That sounds like a fantastic plan.” With my fingertips, I lightly trace circles across his back.

  “Doesn’t it?” he asks, a smile present in his voice.

  His fingers trail up my sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He kisses up my neck until his mouth is on mine once more.

  As I move my tongue against his, images of wishes for my future flicker through my mind. In each one, I’m with Loïc, and in each one, I’m happy.

  Loïc

  “I didn’t have to fly across an ocean to find peace because London found me.”

  —Loïc Berkeley

  Blinking rapidly, I struggle to focus on the number on the door. “Well, it’s thirty, right?” I ask London, biting my lip.

  “Yep, flat thirty. This is it.” London grabs ahold of my hand and runs her free hand up and down my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I lie.

  “Look at me.”

  I close my eyes and turn to face London. I release an audible breath before opening my eyes to find London’s brown-eyed gaze roaming over me, enveloping me. A slow smile forms on her lips, lighting up her eyes, and this simple gesture sheds light into the dark corners of my mind, extinguishing my inferno of nerves.

  Freeing my hand, she wraps her arms around my neck. My mind is full of dueling emotions, both fear and love. Yet, as always, London’s love wins. When our lips meet, a sense of calm permeates, crowding out my panic.

  “Better?” she asks breathlessly as she pulls her lips from mine.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. Right?”

  I nod in agreement.

  Uncertainty reappears as I reach out and knock on the door, but London’s right. I can deal with whatever I find.

  The door remains closed, so I knock again.

  A woman who appears to be in her thirties opens the door. She looks quite exhausted with a toddler on her hip, who is covered in some sort of red sauce. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  I clear my throat. “Hi, I’m looking for my grandparents. They used to live here. Henry and Jane Berkeley?”

  The woman thinks for a moment. “No, I haven’t heard those names. I’ve been here for about five years, and before that, it was a guy named Jay and his husband. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.”

  “That’s okay. Thank you,” I say.

  She nods and closes the door.

  I turn to London. “Well, shit, that was anticlimactic.”

  She laughs. “Yep, kinda was.”

  “I suppose we should drive down and see if they still own the cottage,” I suggest.
/>
  “Sounds like a plan,” London agrees as we head outside to our rental car.

  “Look,” I say to London before we get in the car. “You can see Big Ben from here.”

  It took me a long time to make it here. It’s surreal that I’m finally in London, the place I held on to as a child through all the darkness. It was my dream, my happy place. I thought, when I made it here, I would be safe. I would find joy.

  I breathe in, taking in my surroundings. The landmarks that I’ve seen in photos my whole life—structures that equated to my promised land, my sanctuary—are all around me. Yet, as I turn to my London—my living, breathing beautiful girl—joy expands in my chest, and warmth fills my body, bringing a smile to my face.

  I didn’t have to fly across an ocean to find peace because London had found me. She’s the answer to every question. She’s the solution to every problem. With her love, I can do anything.

  She catches me watching her. “What?” she says with a smile, making my heart twist a little.

  “Just you.”

  “Just me?”

  “I just need you.” I hold her gaze with mine.

  The sides of her lips quirk up into a smile. “And I just need you.”

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Ready,” London answers.

  We open the car doors and get in.

  We set the GPS to take us out of London, southwest, toward the Lulworth area of Dorset, where my grandparents’ cottage is—or at least used to be.

  I’m focusing on driving on the opposite side of the road. “It’s weird, driving over here.”

  “It is.” London chuckles, looking up from her phone. “Every time I look out the window, I have a momentary freak-out, thinking we’re on the wrong side.” She returns her attention to her phone. “So, I’m reading about this Lulworth area, and it sounds pretty cool. There’s this gorgeous cove, and according to this map, I think that’s where your grandparents’ cottage is. There’s also this big stone archway that extends into the water; it’s called the Durdle Door. It looks awesome.” She chuckles. “Durdle Door,” she says again quickly. “That sounds like Dumbledore.”

  “What’s Dumbledore?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.

  “Wow, we’ve got to catch you up, my love.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see London shaking her head.

  “Dumbledore is only the greatest wizard of all time.”

  “What are you talking about?” I laugh.

  “You know, Harry Potter, Dumbledore,” she responds with a hint of mirth in her voice.

  “I’ve never watched Harry Potter,” I reply.

  “Well, when I lived with Kate, I started sharing all my favorite TV shows with her, so she made me read all of her favorite books. I mean, it’s not like she made me. I wanted to. So, I read the seven Harry Potter books, and then one weekend, we did a marathon of the eight movies. It was so awesome. You have to read those books,” London says in awe.

  “Eight movies?”

  “They made the last book into two movies.”

  I nod. “I see.”

  “Oh, they have a castle in the Lulworth area, too!” London exclaims excitedly.

  “You know, I think I remember my dad telling me a story about that castle. He always made England seem so magical.”

  “It kind of is, if you think about it. So much history. I wish we had castles.”

  “Our country’s just a baby compared to the countries in Europe,” I say as I accidentally drive around a roundabout twice, not able to figure out which road to get off on.

  London laughs. “That one.” She points toward the correct exit.

  “I knew that.” I give her a wink.

  “I don’t know why we didn’t think of it when we were at your grandparents’ old flat, but we should have knocked on the neighbors’ doors. Some of their neighbors might have remembered them.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Well, depending on what we find here, we can always go back and do that.”

  In three hours’ time, we’re driving down the coast of Lulworth, and then I’m pulling into the drive of the cottage.

  “Oh my gosh, this is it?” London asks, pressing her hand against her chest, her fingers splayed out.

  I lean in toward the windshield to get a better view as I turn off the car. “This is it.”

  “It’s like a fairy-tale cottage. It’s amazing.” London is still as she looks around the property.

  I nod, hardly able to believe we’re here.

  It’s a classic English cottage with stone siding, a tiled roof, and green vines and foliage growing up the walls. The property is surrounded by a stone fence, also adorned in greenery.

  “After all this time, it looks exactly the same. We had a picture in our house of my dad standing in front of this place when he was younger. Someone lives here. It’s well taken care of,” I tell London.

  We exit the car and walk up to the white wooden door. I knock.

  I knock again.

  “No one’s here,” I say on a sigh, stating the obvious.

  “Well, that sucks,” London says, also stating the obvious.

  I scan the house, not sure of what I’m looking for. I just came all this way…

  A birdhouse hanging from a metal hook with a ceramic red bird atop it catches my attention. Squinting, I study it. For some reason, it seems similar.

  “I think I remember…” I say as I grab the bird and pull up.

  Sure enough, it lifts off the house, and beneath it is a key.

  “How’d you know that was there?” London asks.

  “I’m not sure exactly. I recall bits and pieces of a story my dad told me. I can’t remember the details exactly. But something told me to pick up that bird.”

  “So, should we go in?” London looks at me, and a slow smile forms on her lips, lighting up her eyes.

  I shrug with a laugh. “Might as well.”

  “I mean, we have the key. It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key.”

  I put the key in the lock and turn. “Exactly.”

  Once inside, there’s no question that my grandparents still own the cottage. The evidence is staring back at me through every framed photograph that decorates the walls and surfaces.

  “Is this you?” London grabs a frame from an end table with a picture of a five-year-old version of myself smiling.

  “Yeah, it is.” I take the photo from her and stare at the little boy smiling back.

  He’s showing the person behind the camera a Star Wars Lego ship that he built. He’s so proud and happy. I remember getting that ship for Christmas.

  An ache for the little boy resonates from deep within my chest. If he only knew what two years’ time would bring…

  I mourn his smile, the one he’s so freely giving now, the one that will soon all but disappear because he won’t have anything worth smiling about. I want to reach inside the frame and warn him of everything to come, to urge him to lock every happy moment of the next two years in his mind so that he’ll have those memories later.

  But I can’t because I’ve already lived it.

  “You were so cute.” London wraps her arm around my back, leans her head against my arm, and stares at the photo in my hands. “So happy and so loved.”

  I was loved, I think to myself as I look at the photo again.

  I place the framed photo back where it was.

  “I know you were adopted, but it’s crazy how much you look like him,” London says as she stares at a picture of my parents hanging on the wall.

  “I remember Nan telling me that I was meant to be adopted by my parents because I resembled my dad when he was little, and God knew that she wanted another blue-eyed boy to squeeze.”

  “Well, you definitely resemble him. It’s surreal.” She hands me the photo.

  My parents are facing each other. Mom’s arms are wrapped around Dad’s neck. They look like they’re dancing. My mom’s head is thrown back in laughter. My dad’s eyes glea
m with mirth as he faces the camera. It’s odd, seeing my mom so happy. In all my memories, she was sad, heartbroken for the babies her body couldn’t carry. I want to remember her like this—young and joyously in love.

  London and I make our way around the room, taking in each picture, speculating about the event that went along with the happy moment in my family’s life. Each photo represents a time that was special enough that my grandparents wanted to remember it—to capture it, frame it, and give it a presence within their home.

  It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to actually see my parents’ faces again. All these years, I’ve tried so hard to remember the details of their faces. But time dulls memories, and as each year went by, the details blurred into each other until they were mere shadows in my mind.

  “Do you remember this one?” London asks, handing me a photo containing everything that was good with my childhood.

  I’m sitting on my dad’s lap. My mom is next to us on the couch. Her arm is around my father as she leans her head against his shoulder. My grandparents are wrapping their arms around us all, leaning in from behind the couch. All five of us are wearing giant smiles full of genuine joy and love.

  Closing my eyes, I breathe out of my nose, long and heavy. Dueling emotions battle within me. Seeing all their faces causes a surge of grief to consume me, but at the same time, I can’t stop the smile that comes to my face as the memory returns.

  I open my eyes to look at London. “Yeah, I remember it. This was the last Christmas that we were all together. My dad had set up the automatic timer on the camera. He had it stacked on top of many books and boxes to get it at the right level for the photo. My granddad was obsessed with wasps, and he knocked over the tower of stuff holding the camera in an attempt to kill them.” Elation expands in my chest at the memory. “I remember my dad running to the camera to make sure it wasn’t broken, and Nan almost fell over a chair while trying to get to Granddad before he broke anything else.”

  “Wasps?” London smiles in question.

  I shake my head. “I can’t remember what that was all about. I don’t remember any bugs in the house. I just recall laughing at my granddad and his silly antics. I don’t think Nan thought Granddad was as funny as I did though. It’s crazy…” I stare at the photo again. “You would never know by looking at this picture that the moments leading up to it were filled with so much chaos. We just look like the perfect happy family.”