Her jaw hangs and her emerald eyes widen. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised given everything that’s transpired recently.”
“He offered me money, Brie.” I don’t hide the incredulousness in my voice. “I told him to fuck off, that I would never do that to you. I’d never do that to anyone, for that matter.” Exhaling, I go on, “Anyway, you and I started spending time together. And out of loyalty to Grant—and despite the fact that I couldn’t take my eyes off you for two seconds anytime you were around—I kept my hands to myself even when all I wanted to do was kiss you … pull you into my arms as we strolled the sidewalks … spend the fucking night with you. But I always said goodbye at the end of the day. Even if it killed me.”
She tugs on her bottom lip, staring blankly ahead, quiet as a fucking mouse.
“Why’d you let me come over anyway?” I ask, realizing she’s been eerily calm these last several minutes. “Last weekend you accused me of being Grant’s henchman and told me never to talk to you again. Now you’re hearing me out. What changed?”
Her sour-apple gaze rests on mine. I can’t tell if she’s about to get teary-eyed or if she’s overwhelmed with sheer exhaustion.
“It was what you said on the phone earlier,” she finally speaks.
“Elay-fay-por-twah?” I’m probably butchering it.
She blinks, eyes glassy. “Yeah. Where did you hear that?”
I draw in a long breath, praying to God she keeps an open mind this time. “When Grant knocked me out the other night, I passed out. When I started to come to, I heard this voice whispering in my ear. Elay-fay-por-twah, elay-fay-por-twah over and over. At least that’s what it sounded like.”
Maybe I misheard it. I was drunk and I blacked out the second Grant decked me. Because of my accident and previous head injury, the paramedics took me to the hospital to get checked out. If it wasn’t for that, I’d have been home a day ago, but I had to spend hours in the imaging department, hours waiting for a doctor to read the results, and hours in observation before they’d clear me.
Fucking Grant …
Without saying a word, Brie smooths her palms along her leggings, rises from the sofa, and retrieves a small notebook and pen from the kitchen. When she comes back, she scribbles a sentence into the paper and hands it to me.
“Il est fait pour toi,” she reads it to me. “It means he is made for you in French.”
I stare at the words. And then at her. My heart hammers with every passing second.
Brie’s quivering pink lips can’t decide if they want to smile or frown.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s just … this is the strangest thing. My sister. The one who died. We studied abroad in Paris our senior year of high school. When we got back, any time we wanted to have a secret conversation, we’d speak in French because no one else in our family spoke the language. When we went off to college, we’d use it any time we saw a cute guy or whatever and wanted to point it out to each other. It was this silly little thing we did, I guess. But it was our thing.”
“I swear to you, Brie. On my life. I don’t speak French. There’s no way I would’ve known that …” I watch her expression, worried this moment will explode in my face the way the last one did. “Just like the tattoo. I didn’t know what it meant, just that it was in the dream. My sister, Claire—she can vouch for that. I used to scribble it all the time before I met you.”
She lifts her hands, examining them before offering a humble half-smile. “I’m shaking.”
“Are you cold?” I rise and grab a throw off the back of the couch.
Brie shakes her head. “I don’t know what I am. In shock, maybe? All these years, I’ve been wanting a sign from Kari. Something. Anything. What if … what if …”
She doesn’t finish.
I don’t think she’ll allow herself to.
“This entire thing is just as insane to me as it is to you,” I say. “But I refuse to believe all of this happened for nothing—that it means nothing. It has to mean something. You see it too, right? You feel it too?”
Biting her lip, she offers a hesitant nod—all the confirmation I need.
I go to her, breathing in her vanilla-mint shampoo and the lavender fabric softener of her t-shirt, and finally … finally, I cup her square jaw and fix my starved gaze on her mouth.
The mouth that should have always belonged to me.
“When I’m with you,” I keep my voice low, “I feel like I’ve known you a hundred lifetimes before. And I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to do this …”
I slide my hands into her hair and claim her cashmere-soft, half-parted lips with a greedy kiss. Brie melts against me with a surrendering sigh, and I pull her close. I want to feel every inch of her against me. I need to feel the way we fit together like the final missing pieces of a puzzle I’ve been working on far too long.
“I’m crazy about you, Brielle White,” I whisper, our mouths grazing as we come up for air. “And at the risk of sounding even crazier … I’m falling in love with you. And I have been since the moment I saw you.”
I think of a line from The Alchemist: She is a treasure greater than anything else I have won. And in this moment, I am Santiago and she is my Fatima.
Only our journey isn’t finished—it’s just getting started.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned thus far, it’s that love is messy, jagged, sticky, and at times, painful.
But it’s always, always worth it.
47
Brie
For years, I’ve waited for a sign from Kari.
Tonight, she finally came through.
At least I think she did. I want to believe she did. We can never be one-hundred percent sure with these kinds of things. Sometimes all we can do is listen to our heart of hearts and trust that it’s never wrong.
There aren’t numbers or mathematical equations that can explain any of this.
There are no formulas that exist to illuminate the inner workings of fate or destiny.
The concept of soulmates is only real to those who believe.
I don’t need complicated statistical calculations to rationalize that every ounce of the fullness expanding through my body as Cainan’s fingers lace through my hair … is real.
Is happening …
Is every bit as delicious and toe-curling as I dreamed it would be …
I’ve wanted this since the night of his party, when we were standing on the sidewalk exchanging secrets, my lungs flooded with the crisp night air, my body hyperaware of his presence. I didn’t let myself feel it though. Not fully. But it was there. That pull. That undercurrent of something.
His mouth is hot against mine, our bodies fused together as our tongues caress. I gather in his intoxicating woodsy scent and lift my arms around his broad shoulders, hungry for more.
I’m on fire for this man.
Desire thick in my veins.
His hands leave my hair, trail down my arms, and rest at my hips before he scoops me up. I wrap my legs around him, clinging with unapologetic greed.
My lips forage his as he carries me to the bedroom and lays me gently in the middle of the mattress, his fingers tugging at the waistband of my leggings as I pull my shirt over my head. His mouth burns against my stomach, which caves in delight as he peppers teasing kisses lower … lower still …
Sliding my panties down, he kisses trails along my inner thighs before settling at the apex. His tongue is hot along my seam as he tastes me. Every inch of me is fire and ice, melting against the covers, unable to stop writhing with impatience. But Cainan takes his time. He devours me. His fingers stroke me with gentle intention, and at times he stops to explore his hands along the rest of my body. His fingertips trail along every curve and valley as if he’s mapping my body, trying to memorize it.
Something is missing, though …
The faint tinge of eager unrest I normally feel when I’m about to sleep with someone for the first time—isn’t there. Instead, I’m
washed in comfortable warmth, a familiar safety colored with the excitement of novelty.
Sitting up, I unfasten his jeans, tug his zipper, and take his hardness in my hands, pumping the length in my hands before swirling my tongue against the tip. He groans, head falling back and fingers tangling in my hair.
I swallow his girth until he fists my hair and tugs it down, forcing our eyes to meet.
“I can’t take this anymore,” he breathes. Before I have a chance to respond, he climbs over me, spreading my thighs, pinning me beneath him. “I want more of you, Brie … I want all of you.”
The heat of his engorged cock against my swollen clit is torturous.
I think of the first night we met—how I so badly wanted to be the girl who would let a sexy stranger touch her every crevasse and tease her into orgasm with his tongue all night before a round of marathon sex.
But I like this. I like the slow and sweet and worth-the-wait situation we’ve got going on here. We’re not a couple of strangers filling themselves with meaningless sex. We’re two souls who have finally found a way to be together after everything …
“Then take me.” I hook my hands behind his neck and close the distance between our mouths. My arousal is sweet on his lips, and his hips thrust against mine, though he’s yet to push himself inside me. “I’m on the pill …”
Without an ounce of hesitation, he reaches between us, grips his cock and guides it inside of me slowly, generous inch by generous inch.
My body tightens until he’s all the way inside, and then I let go.
I melt below him, sinking with each insertion, though my soul is in the clouds every time our eyes lock.
I’ve never believed in soulmates. But after this? After him? After everything the universe put us through to be together?
How can I not?
He was made for me.
48
Cainan
“What are you doing?” Brie stands in her doorway early Monday morning, body wrapped in a bedsheet and hair reminiscent of last night. “It’s still dark out. My God. How early do you go into the office?”
“One sec.” I lean against the kitchen counter, phone pressed to my ear as I wait for Paloma’s voicemail greeting to finish. After the tone, I tell her to clear my day because I’m not coming in.
“Is everything all right?” She shuffles toward me, the sheet falling down around her breasts, though she’s too out of it to notice. “You feeling all okay?”
Neither of us slept last night.
Too busy making up for lost time.
I’m exuberantly exhausted. Deliciously sore. And one-hundred-percent positive Brie feels the same.
“Can you call in today?” I ask.
Her brows furrow. “Yeah. I can. Why?”
“We’re getting out of the city.”
Her pretty face tilts to one side. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere. We’re just going to drive …”
I haven’t gotten behind the wheel of a car since my accident, but today has a different air to it, and I’m in the mood to get lost for a while.
Rounding the island, I make my way to Brie, scoop her into my arms, and carry her back to bed.
“I’m going to order a car. Probably won’t be delivered for another couple of hours,” I say, kissing the top of her head and working my way down her satin cheeks until I find her mouth in the dark. “Get some rest.”
I’m almost to her door when she calls my name.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Did you mean what you said last night.” Her words are slow, sleepy, and she rubs her eyes. “When you said you were falling for me.”
“When I said I was falling in love with you?”
Even in the dark and from the other side of the room, I catch her smiling. “Yeah.”
“Yes, I meant it,” I say. “Why?”
“Je t’aime aussi,” she whispers. “I love you too.”
49
Brie
We’ve been driving for hours now. I’m pretty sure we’re somewhere in Connecticut, soaring along sleepy highways, one seaside town after another, all of them blending together with their picturesque main streets, changing leaves, and deep blue ocean backdrops accented with foamy whitecaps.
I could do this forever … just drive … with him.
Cainan takes my hand in his. The radio plays softly, some artist I’ve never heard of but one that sets the perfect mood for the kind of day that winds on and on and lets you get lost in your thoughts for a while.
“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to live in a place like this,” I say when we pass a beautiful Cape Cod style house with cedar siding and white flower boxes on every window. And then I laugh under my breath before adding, “Wonder if anyone here ever wonders what it’d be like to live in the desert.”
Doubtful.
“Seriously though. Can you imagine being here in the summertime? Waking up and having breakfast on the patio or swinging in your porch swing as you read a book, the beach in the background? You could literally open your window at night and fall asleep to the sound of the ocean,” I say.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
I lift a shoulder. “Just thinking out loud.”
Cainan lifts my hand to his mouth, depositing a kiss as if he’s depositing a silent promise. Up ahead a green sign points the way to a public beach, and just before the turnoff is a little cliff above the sea with a metal guardrail and a handful of parking spots. He pulls off, kills the engine, and climbs out of the car.
A moment later, he gets the passenger door and extends his hand. Leading me to the trunk, he lifts me before leaning against the car and settling between my legs.
Cupping my face in his hand, he guides our mouths together.
“What’s this?” I ask, smiling against his lip.
“Been driving for hours,” he says with a sigh. “I just wanted to kiss you.”
I kiss him again. Harder. And I slip my fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way his musky scent mixes with the salt water air.
“We’re going to have a little house by the sea someday,” he tells me.
“Oh, yeah?” I lift a brow and chuckle. “You sound really sure about that. How do you know?”
“Trust me,” he says. “I know these things.”
50
Cainan
“Hey.” I rap my knuckles against Paloma’s desktop Tuesday afternoon. She’s done a superior job of pretending like she hasn’t noticed my black eye. Wish I could say the same for Deb in accounting and two of the junior partners in the east hall. “I’m taking the afternoon. You’re welcome to as well.”
“Wait … what?” Her face is twisted, as if she’s trying to comprehend a foreign language.
“My two o’clock cancelled. See if you can reschedule my three. If not, Renato will take her. I’ve got a few things I want to take care of outside the office.”
“Oh … okay.” Her expression is laced in confusion but her tone is upbeat, happy to oblige.
I lock up my office and head out, stopping by a flower stand on the way to grab a bouquet of burgundy daisies wrapped in saffron tissue paper, and when I’m done, I text Brie and tell her to come over for dinner at six.
I can’t remember the last time I cooked a proper meal in my kitchen, but I’m feeling … domestic.
And I’m craving steak au poivre and a quiet night in with my girl—amongst other things.
I’m about to duck into the corner market and grab a few things when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen on the off-chance it’s Brie—but it isn’t.
My thumb hovers over the ignore button … but since when have I been one to back down like a fucking coward? I don’t know what he wants, but I’m happy to take this opportunity to tell him exactly where we stand.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Hey.” His tone is chipper. Mistake number one. If he thinks he can act like nothing happened, he�
��s sorely mistaken. “I, uh, just wanted to apologize for last weekend. Things got a little heated. A little out of hand. We, uh, took things too far.”
“We?” I chuff.
“Going to be in town for work later this week. Thought maybe we could grab drinks? Put this past us?”
Idiot.
“I’m going to have to pass, but I appreciate the apology.”
“Oh, yeah? You have plans or something?” His voice is casual, as if he’s playing dumb. But I know damn well he’s fishing for information.
“Hanging out with Brie.”
It’s quiet on the other end. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the silence.
“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks.
“That’s exactly how it’s going to be.”
I end the call and head into the grocery. By the time I’m checking out, Brie texts back to let me know she’ll be there and she can’t wait.
Strolling home, I’m sure I’m grinning like a lovestruck idiot, but I couldn’t care less. Brie put this smile on my face, and God willing, it’ll remain until my dying day.
51
One Year Later …
Brie
“When do you think he’ll pop the question?” Carly asks. We’re peeling potatoes for Thanksgiving dinner, elbow to elbow over our mother’s kitchen sink.
My thighs are sore from christening our hotel room the second we landed last night—and then re-christening it this morning before heading over. The mere thought of having to be on our best behavior and having to practice restraint in front of my entire family for eight hours was enough to drive us both wild. At home, we’re unencumbered and we can’t keep our hands off one another for more than five second intervals. Today’s going to be a challenge, but we can do this.
The Best Man Page 19
