by T. K. Leigh
He’s reluctant as he reaches for it and takes it in his hand. “I can respect that.”
I clutch his face, the pads of my thumbs swiping his tears. He brings a hand up to mine, exhaling a long breath before pulling away, forcing me to drop my hold on him.
“So what are you going to do now?” I ask, not wanting to leave until I know he’ll be okay.
“You mean after running damage control with my mother?” He chuckles, cutting through the tension.
“Oh god, Wes.” I cringe. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go back in there, try to explain things—”
“It’s okay,” he assures me with a forced smile. “This won’t be any worse than when my sister eloped a week before her wedding.”
“The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, then leave you to clean up the mess.”
He shrugs. “It’ll give me something to do. Who knows? Maybe this is the universe trying to tell me it’s time to head back to Georgia. Run the company from there instead of struggle to do it up here. You were my reason for staying. But now…” He trails off, his words caught in his throat. I try to blink back my own tears, unsuccessfully. Stepping toward me, he brushes his finger against my cheeks, erasing my tears. “Now maybe this is the chance we both need for our new start. My meemaw used to always say, ‘Each day is a new chapter that’s yet to be written so make the most of it.’ No matter how much this hurts, I plan to make the most of this next chapter. I hope you do, too.”
Overwhelmed with how understanding and humble this man is, I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, pressing my lips back to his. “Thank you, Wes.”
This time, he doesn’t kiss me back. Instead, he leans his forehead on mine, inhaling.
“I did love you,” I say, hoping it gives him the small slice of the comfort he needs right now. “I still do.”
“Just not like you need to.”
I slowly shake my head. “No.”
On a shaky inhale, he gradually pulls away. I release my hold on him, my fingers tingling from the lack of warmth. We’re all wrong for each other, but that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t breaking at the thought that this will be the last time I see him, the last time I touch him, the last time I hear his soothing voice.
Wes leans against a long banquet table, running a hand over his face. I take this as my cue to leave and start toward the door.
“I’ve been scared of losing you since the day you agreed to that first date.”
I glance over my shoulder, but remain silent. There’s nothing I can say that will dampen the pain. I’ll only make it worse.
“But you were never mine to lose in the first place.” He pulls his lip between his teeth, the despair covering him almost more than I can bear. Then he meets my eyes. “Live a good life, Brooklyn. And do all the amazing things I know you were put on this earth to do. Just know, no matter what, you will always have a piece of my heart.”
His words unleash the waterworks once more. I want to hug him, assure him it’ll be okay. Instead, I nod and say the only thing that seems meaningful at this moment. “Thank you.”
Without another look back, I walk away from Wes and toward what I hope will be the next chapter in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Drew
Darkness surrounds me as I sit in my home office, a half-empty glass of scotch in my hand. I glance at the grandfather clock to see it’s almost midnight. Tomorrow at this time, Brooklyn will be married and there won’t be anything else I can do about it. There’s nothing more I can do about it now.
Ever since I got back from crashing her rehearsal dinner, I’ve sat in this room, nursing this same glass of scotch, replaying the evening in my mind. Was there a better way I could have approached the situation? Should I have blurted out the truth? Would she have believed me? Would it have changed anything? Did I just lose my best friend?
As I stare at the framed photos spanning the years from childhood to adulthood that adorn the walls, a pair of headlights flash into the room. I squint through the rain to see a car pulling up the long drive to my house. I stand, heading to the window. When the car comes to a stop, I notice the Uber sticker on the windshield. The rear passenger door opens and a familiar silhouette steps onto the walkway, stopping and staring at the house. The car waits for a moment, but eventually drives away, leaving my late-night guest in the elements.
I expect her to hurry to the front porch to avoid the rain, but she doesn’t, allowing the drops to drench her black dress. Her hair is still haphazardly pinned to her head, as if she’s been running and hasn’t had a chance to take it out of the style she had it in earlier this evening. The makeup that had been caked on now runs down her face. I’m unsure if it’s because of the rain or because she’s been crying. By the long expression she wears, I sense it’s due to the latter.
Placing my glass on the desk, I walk out of the office and through the quiet house, anticipation building inside me. When I open the front door, she doesn’t immediately look my way, her focus still glued to a window on the second floor…my window.
“Brooklyn?”
The sound of my voice forces her eyes to mine. The way she’s looking at me seems different. It’s sad, pained, almost mournful. It’s like she’s able to peer into my soul to see my faults and secrets. Like she’s finally seeing me, not the Andrew Brinks she always believed me to be, the one who always let her down, the one who made her feel like she didn’t matter, the one who broke his promise to her.
Realization hits me and I haltingly step toward her. “You know.”
She nods, wiping away the tears on her face, smudging her makeup even more. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you let me believe the worst of you?”
I close the distance between us but don’t touch her, as much as I want to reach out and pull her into my chest to comfort her. She needs to see the truth in my eyes. “I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with your father. I didn’t want to hurt you any more than I already had.”
“You cared about that so much you were willing to let me marry another man?”
“Your dad was all the family you had left. I couldn’t be the reason you hated him.”
“You are so stupid, Andrew Brinks. Don’t you see?”
I shake my head, confused. “See what?”
“You are my family.”
Before I have a chance to utter another word, she grasps my face in her hands, pulling my lips to hers. I still, caught off-guard. Is she here to say goodbye, for one last kiss before she marries Wes?
I reach up and wrap my hands around hers, my breath leaving me when there’s no longer a ring on a very important finger like there was just a few hours ago. Groaning, I palm her back, bringing her closer, falling into the kiss, into her, into us.
God, please let there finally be an us.
She digs her hands into my hair, her fingers raking against my scalp, kissing me hard, fast, and desperate. In this moment, I realize I finally have all of Brooklyn. Her past. Her present. Her future. And I want nothing more than to give this woman all those things, too.
Leaving a lingering kiss, I pull back, resting my forehead against hers. “What happened?”
A gentle smile forms on her plump lips. There’s a peacefulness about her, one I haven’t seen on her since the night she gave me her first kiss. “Dad told me the truth. At first, I didn’t think it mattered, that it was years ago. But it does. You’ve always mattered, Drew. It’s time I make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you, but couldn’t.”
All the tension in my body disappears as I hang my head in gratitude, her words like a life vest keeping me afloat. I stare into her blazing eyes, losing myself in her. In the way the rain drips from her hair. The way the porch light shines in her eyes, making them gleam and dance. The way she seems so confident and assured as she gives me her heart. No more secrets. No more lies. No more barriers between us.
“Please, say something,” she begs when I remain silent. She lowers her head,
stepping back and wrapping her arms around her slender body. “I know I’ve made a habit of running from you when things got too real, too scary. I thought it was what I had to do to protect myself.” A small smile builds on her mouth as she meets my gaze. “But I should have been running toward you. You’re the only man who’s ever made me feel safe, who’s ever made me a priority, who’s ever lo—”
I erase the distance and cover her mouth with mine. Our kiss is feverish and heavy as I grip her hips, hoisting her up as if she weighs no more than a feather. Instinct kicks in and her legs circle my waist, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. She tugs on my hair, her soft lips locked on mine, bruising. No matter how deep our kiss, how much passion we put into the exchange, it’s still not enough. There’s so much I want to do, to say, to feel. I don’t know where to begin, my need for her bubbling and overflowing.
My mouth never leaving hers, I carry her up the steps and into my house, our tongues tangling as we greedily take everything the other’s willing to give, the buildup to this moment crashing over us. I never want to let her go, never want to stop tasting her lips, never want to stop basking in this love I have for her…and she me.
When we reach the kitchen, I place her on the island, our kiss becoming less frenzied, less hurried, more sensual, more meaningful. She runs her hands through my coarse, wet hair, moaning into my mouth as we take our time to savor and explore each other in a way I thought we never would again.
With a contented sigh, she pulls away, gazing up at me. I still can’t believe she’s here. Just a few minutes ago, I was drowning my sorrows in a bottle of scotch, resigned to the fact that I’d lost her. That no matter what I did, it would never be enough. That I’d sealed our fate when I got on that plane and left for college, then stayed away. Somehow, the universe thought us worthy of another chance. This time, I’m not messing it up, I’m not letting it go. This is it for me. Brooklyn is it for me.
“You’re wet,” I say finally.
“So are you.”
“But you’re beautiful.” I run a light finger down the outline of her face, her skin silken compared to the roughness of mine.
“So are you,” she murmurs as my thumb traces the line of her bottom lip. She plumps them, her tongue darting out, grazing my skin.
I suck in a breath, my jaw clenching from the contact. A hunger for more fills me and I lean into her, my lips landing on her neck. A chill visibly rolls through her, her legs trembling. I pull back, noticing goosebumps have formed on her skin, her teeth chattering.
“You’re shivering.” I study her a little closer. Her complexion is pale, her lips a shade too close to purple for my liking. “Let’s get you out of this wet dress.”
My sense of urgency seems to be lost on her as she smiles coyly. “Now that, Andrew Brinks…” She trails a finger down my chest, balling my t-shirt in her fist and forcing me close to her, “is one of the best ideas you’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I waggle my eyebrows. Then, in one quick move, I loop an arm around her back and one under her legs, lifting her off the island and against my chest in a cradle hold.
“Drew,” she whisper-shouts, keeping her voice low so she doesn’t wake the girls. “What are you doing?” She playfully swats at me as I head up the stairs, but I only tighten my grip.
“I’ve been imagining this since before I hit puberty and discovered boobs. Then even more when you hit puberty, and I discovered you were a girl with boobs. A girl with fucking incredible boobs, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
I cross the threshold to the master bedroom, heading straight toward the bed. My light expression becoming more serious, I lower her to her feet. She stares at me as I step closer, our chests rising and falling in time with each other.
“I already messed up my first shot with you.” I cup her face in my hands. “And probably my second and third.”
“And fourth and fifth,” she jokes.
“I am not doing that again. I’m doing this right.” My voice turns husky and deep as my lips hover close to hers. She seeks them out, but I remain just out of reach. “I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, ever desired, ever craved.” I nuzzle into the crook of her neck, inhaling a long breath. “Make you feel things you didn’t think possible,” I murmur against her, then pull back. “After tonight, you’ll never think of another man. Because for years, you’ve been the only woman I’ve thought of. For years, I’ve thought of the promise I made you.”
A blush blooms on her cheeks and she turns her head downward.
“Don’t.” The harshness of my tone forces her eyes back up. With a smile, I lower my voice. “Don’t look away. Don’t hide from me. Not anymore. Not ever again.”
Her lips part as her gaze rakes over my face, as if searching for the truth, whether these are just another bunch of lies she’s being fed, more promises I’ll never fulfill.
“I promised I’d be your first.”
She swallows hard, a lone tear trickling down her cheek, staining her skin. I swipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“I broke that promise to you. I should have fought harder for you. I have to live with that mistake. But I’ll make a new promise, one I will spend the rest of my life fulfilling.”
“What’s that?”
“To be your last. To do everything in my power to make you forget about every single man who came before me, who didn’t treat you with the respect you deserve, who hurt you, who broke your heart…including me.” I keep my eyes trained on her, needing this connection. “I will spend the rest of my life earning your love. I’m not sure I deserve it. I’m not sure anyone deserves it, but I will do everything in my power to prove myself worthy, to show you that you’ve made the right decision in choosing me.”
“It wasn’t a choice.” She drapes her arms over my shoulders, her breath dancing on my skin making me come alive. “It never was. I’ve loved you since I learned what love was. I’ve just been fighting it for all these years. No more.”
“No more.” I run my tongue along her bottom lip, begging for permission to enter. When she opens, I envelope her into my embrace, exploring her mouth as if it’s the first time. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve kissed this woman. Every kiss, every breath, every moan feels new and exhilarating.
Her grip on me tightens as she arches her body into mine, our exchange turning from soft and meaningful to greedy, lustful, desperate. This moment has been a lifetime in the making, one I didn’t think I’d experience just a few hours ago. I don’t want to rush this, but damn if I’m not anxious for a taste of everything she has to offer.
I tear my lips from hers, staring at her with a sinful gaze as I reach for the bottom of her dress. She nods, not so much as even a hint of hesitation or reluctance in her expression. My eyes remaining glued to hers, I deliberately lift it over her head, then drop it to the floor, the wet material landing with a thud. Her black bra is soaked through, the chill enveloping her even more noticeable from her alert nipples. I run a finger down the line of her face and her teeth chatter.
“We need to warm you up.” I step back, ripping my t-shirt over my head. I unbutton my jeans and shove them down my legs before stepping out of them, leaving me standing in just my boxer briefs. Brooklyn’s pupils dilate, her cheeks reddening.
With calm steps, I approach her again, barely a breath between us.
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” She lifts her eyes.
Palming her back, I dig my other hand into her hair, my grip tight. I can feel her heart thumping against my chest, fast and firm. “We don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I—”
She cuts me off, covering my mouth with hers. Groaning, I lose myself in her. The feel of her lips on mine, her tongue moving so delicately against mine drives me wild with desperation to have more of her, to taste every inch of her, to know her in a way no man ever will again.
I
tug her harder into me, crushing her frame to mine. When she gasps, I quickly loosen my hold. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” I survey her body, looking for signs of distress, unsure if she’s still experiencing any pain from her attack.
With a sly grin, she steps back. Coyly biting her bottom lip, she kicks off her heels, then unclasps her bra, her motions slow and deliberate. With every drawn-out movement that reveals more of her skin, all the composure I’ve struggled to maintain evaporates. I want to make this last, but don’t know how much longer I can wait to experience something I’ve dreamed about for years.
As she drops the material to the floor, standing before me in just her panties, I lose the last bit of control I’ve clung to. Fast and fevered, I rush to her, devouring her mouth as I push her toward the bed. Once her legs hit the mattress, I lower her onto it, then crawl on top, my lips never leaving hers, my hands never straying from her body.
Her fingers trail down my back, causing a shiver to roll through me. When she digs her nails into my skin, I arch into her. I’ve been with my fair share of women in my thirty-five years. Before I had kids, I lived by the motto “Work hard and play even harder.” And I played very hard. With success came a revolving door of women. I was only too happy to indulge in the fruits of my newfound celebrity status. But no woman ever had the electricity Brooklyn’s touch does. I felt it all those years ago. And I feel it again now. I want to kick the younger, more selfish version of myself for being an idiot, for not fighting harder for her, then trying to do everything to forget her.
Then again, maybe everything we went through happened for a reason. Maybe I kept my distance because it wasn’t the right time. Maybe I can’t remember that one night we shared seven years ago because the universe knew Charlotte needed me. Regardless of the reason, I’m grateful the planets have finally aligned for us.
I stare into her green eyes, overwhelmed. “I love you, Brooklyn.”
The most radiant smile I’ve ever seen crosses her lips. “And I love you.”
