Everything gets better for those who can wait
18
Though I’d become decidedly hell-bent on charming the pants off Riftan, he was stubbornly not coming around.
It’d been weeks and our relationship had shifted no further than it had on the night he’d confessed his desire to have me all to himself. If anything, things were worse, which I blamed entirely on the sexual tension that now ran rampant between us.
After spending many nights in each other’s arms, there were some things that neither of us had the heart to admit to the other. We were a balloon, its air getting filled past capacity. The more we touched, the more we cuddled, and the less we talked about it, the fuller our balloon got. Eventually, we’d pop, and everything would be out in the open. Unfortunately, I couldn’t predict the outcome of such an event. In fact, the more we stretched our figurative balloon beyond its means, the flightier I felt about the situation. Explosions harm, and I couldn’t stand to think one of us was going to get hurt by this.
The only way to stop it would be to relieve the tension, meaning one of us needed to bring it up and try to talk about it—before it was too late. A sinking feeling told me I was that person, since Riftan was the most obdurate man I’d ever met.
On a typical night in our serene little condo—with the world around us hushed and rain gently pattering against the windows in an unexpected whisper in the spring evening—Riftan had made himself at home behind me at the counter, encircling my waist in a familiar embrace. He loved doing anything that’d make my heart race, and this was undoubtedly one of those things. It was as though he thrived on the stress he created between us, his own heart mimicking mine where it pressed against my back. Adding to the chaos inside my chest, he laid his head on my shoulder and clasped his hands over my stomach to show he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Dropping the knife in my hand onto the counter, I waited for my heart to compose itself, but no such change happened. I couldn’t think with it making a fuss like that, much less focus on chopping up the little bits of dark chocolate on the cutting board in front of me. Fed up with this haywire feeling, I squirmed in Riftan’s arms, wiggling until he let me turn and face him.
Where I usually could have expected to find a chipper, fangy smile on his face, all that stared down at me was an enigmatic downturn of his features. That look clutched the air in my chest, tightening into a heavy ache as though I was mourning his absent smile.
“Riftan…” I wanted to say something—needed to—but when I began, his attentive eyes settled on mine, unwavering and ready to listen to anything I had to say.
As his look diverted my thought process, he waited patiently for me to continue. But I didn’t know where to start, so we stared at each other, the silence amplifying every little gesture between us.
I lost the courage to say anything, the feeling of betrayal to my own convictions a foreign sting. “Never mind.”
My mind raced with possible outcomes to the conversation I needed to have with Riftan, and they all had their own intimidating consequences. But that wasn’t a good enough reason for me to surrender.
The image of us out on the balcony when he’d first given me my necklace came to mind, as if my brain was reminding me exactly why we don’t confess our feelings toward Riftan. Though, admittedly, things were different now. We openly talked about our other feelings, and we shared our lives together. Communication should have been the last thing I feared with him. Yet, my voice had dried up.
Clenching my fists tight, I turned away from Riftan’s roving blue eyes and back to my task on the counter. Of course, that didn’t stop him, only put him back to distracting me with his body pressed against mine.
A chill ran up my spine when he leaned in, breath tickling my ear. “I have a surprise for you.”
My ears perked up. and I threw a look over my shoulder. “You do?”
“Yes. It should be here in…” He stole a fleeting glance at his watch. “Oh, I lost track of time. It’ll be here any minute.”
“Really?” Excitement clouded all other surface emotions. “What is it?”
“Well, I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise.” I pursed my lips, an expression he brushed off, continuing without hesitation, “Do you know what the significance of today is?”
“No?” I didn’t have to think twice to know it wasn’t a holiday.
“Right, well, I didn’t think to celebrate it the last couple of years, but I was more prepared this time around. So, tell me, do you know what happened exactly today, three years ago?”
“I guess this is right about when we started living together… so was that when I was turned into a vampire?”
He graced me with that radiant smile I had so dearly missed, effortlessly gliding to my side against the counter. “Well yes, you could say that. But more specifically, what we are celebrating is the birth of your new life. I told you that we wouldn’t celebrate your birthday, merely because it served no purpose as you’d no longer age. Instead, we can celebrate the day that you became something new. In a way, it is akin to both a birthday and a funeral. You can mourn what has gone but rejoice in the endless opportunities the future holds. One day you might come to hate what I made you…” His gaze faltered, his wandering palms brushing over my bare arm before he returned his eyes to mine. “Until then, we can celebrate it for what it’s worth.”
“I could never foresee myself hating what I am now.”
A smile cradled his cheeks again, and he leaned in, setting his head on mine. It was impossible to do anything except drop everything and welcome him into my arms. I cherished that embrace like I cherished his smile. Time went by, sharing his warmth, before footsteps echoed up the typically silent stairway out front.
“Your surprise is here,” Riftan said, but it fell on deaf ears.
I was trained on the door, listening to the very distinct click-clack of feet getting closer. Without hesitation, I ran for them, throwing open the door to greet my best friend before he’d made it down the hall. “Jameson!” I squealed, leaping into his arms.
He caught me effortlessly, responding with a joyful laugh as he spun us in circles, and our shared exuberance echoed through the narrow hallway. I hadn’t seen Jameson since his last visit nearly half a year ago, a memory associated with the laughter and late-night conversations that had filled the condo for weeks on end.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
For months, I’d been begging Jameson to visit again. My messages were often met with his apologies about the relentless demands of life. Unlike Riftan, who seemed to drift effortlessly through his days, Jameson was deeply entrenched in the immortal community’s politics, aspiring to join its council—a pursuit as time-consuming as it was prestigious. And that was just a fraction of his world, with his multitude of business ventures demanding equal attention.
“I’m here to see you, of course!” he answered, his words accompanied by his familiar, playful grin. “Besides, I was told we’d be having a celebration of rebirth, and I would never miss an opportunity to celebrate my best friend.”
“Celebration of rebirth?” I repeated. “You actually celebrate that?”
“Well, the more optimistic of us do.” Jameson beamed.
Riftan peeked through the doorway. “What, you didn’t believe it when I said it?”
“I didn’t know you were saying it was actually a customary celebration.”
Jameson hooted, “Of course. What’s not to celebrate? It’s both the death of an old life and the birth of a new one!”
Ushering us inside, Riftan added, “Well, now you know. Come inside and we can all catch up together.”
Jameson nodded, then bent to pick up his grocery bags from the ground—bags I hadn’t noticed he’d dropped in his haste to catch me moments earlier. I snagged one, offering a smile as I led him inside.
Jameson’s presence was a breath of fresh air in the stuffy, tense atmosphere Riftan and I had created. His sudden arrival had me giddy; thrill-filled jitters exited my body through the little hops I made all the way to the counter.
The three of us were quick to catch on like the three musketeers, as we always were. After Jameson started pouring drinks, it was like life had gone back to normal and Riftan was another platonic best friend again. That was a steady vibe for the night. Jameson never ran out of conversation starters and life updates. With his busy schedule, he had lots to tell us about every time he visited. From the sounds of it, this time around, he was struggling with council chores and prerequisites to being appointed.
In my opinion, he worked too hard, and the last thing he should be concerned about was adding more to his workload. But that was how Jameson preferred his life—demanding. Very much unlike Riftan—or at least the Riftan I knew.
Jameson went on, recounting the trials of his ventures with an infectious cheerfulness. “I went above and beyond with some of the acquisitions I made on behalf of the council—way better than anything they’ve done in the last couple of decades. But even with all the efforts, I seem to be going backward. I’ve worked way harder than any of the other members have to get their positions. There’s always one thing holding me back: a little lady with a big grudge.” He waited, twirling his glass of whiskey while Riftan rolled his eyes, as if knowing Jameson’s plight.
“Rosaline is killing me,” Jameson confirmed. “She’s going out of her way to act like the gatekeeper to the council, barring entry with a maze of bureaucratic obstacles nobody’s ever heard of before.”
My interest piqued. “Rosaline? Are you talking about Riftan’s ex-girlfriend?”
Riftan’s brow flinched nominally at the mention.
Jameson paused, huffing a laugh before saying, “Yeah, same one. That bitch—pardon the derogatory term—is awfully bitter. I wasn’t alive during her and Riftan’s little escapade, yet she still holds animosity toward me simply because I share blood with Riftan. I’ve been doing nothing for the past two years except kissing her ass, but she only gets fouler. Making a name for yourself in the underground community is impossible without going through Rosaline first. Unfortunately, the second she catches wind of my name, she makes sure to shut my advances down on the spot—regardless of what it is I’m trying to accomplish.”
“Oof,” was my best response, not envying Jameson’s situation.
“Sorry mate,” Riftan groaned, a lopsided smile gracing his face. “I’d help you if I could, but I can’t quite undo anything that’s already happened, and anything less would only make matters worse, I’m sure.”
Teetering on the edge of tipsiness, where words were flowing more freely, I found myself blurting out a thought that, in any other circumstance, I might have deliberated twice on. “Could she really be so bad? I mean, nobody is as bad as you guys make Rosaline out to be.”
Riftan’s lips parted to respond, but Jameson beat him to the chase, leaning in and bracing against the table as he protested, “She is all that bad and more. Knowing Rosaline is a torture I suggest you not experience for yourself. Actually,” his eyes widened, his stature straightening, “for you, it could be deadly.” He combed a hand over his clean-shaven chin. “Given your and Riftan’s questionable relationship and how it may look to others,” he pointed between us and Riftan glared in response, “I think it’s best if you stay away from her for as long as possible. If there’s anything more potent than her grudges, it’s her jealousy. You are, after all, the only living female with Riftan’s blood, on top of the way the two of you already look to the few who know you in the community; I don’t want to think about what Rosaline would do to you if she ever got you alone. There’s no guaranteeing she wouldn’t try to kill you on the spot.”
“Seriously?” It was hard to believe anyone would be so illogical, but I felt my eyes widening regardless of its likelihood.
“Don’t scare her like that,” Riftan hissed at Jameson before patting his hand over mine. “Yes, it would probably be advisable that you don’t go out of your way to come face to face with Rosaline, but I don’t want you to think she’ll be coming after you either. She may be powerful in the underground, but that also makes her a busy woman. She has plenty of other things to keep her above and beyond occupied. The last thing on her mind would be seeking you out.”
Jameson added, “Right. Obviously. And I’ll be keeping her occupied as well. I’ve still got a place on that council with my name on it, and I’ll be damned if I let her debar my efforts. I’m not giving up. I can play her game of chicken for another millennium if that’s what she wishes.” His fangs tucked over his lips in a smile brimming with pride. That familiar sentiment was so uniquely Jameson; it filled my heart with nostalgic bliss. He went on, sharing with us exactly all the ways he planned to succeed.
Basking in the glow of his enthusiasm, I nodded along, savoring the rich, full feeling I got from listening to his aspirations unfold layer by layer. He looked to me for gratification and advice, which made me feel significant even with such little life experience compared to him.
By the time the cards were out and Jameson was threatening a poker game, I’d forgotten completely about the tense, stuffy feeling that’d clouded my thoughts the last couple of days. The usually dizzying image of Riftan’s lips so close to mine nights before had become a distant dream. After all, Jameson was the king of poker and beating him would take all of my brain power.
Luckily, I’d been practicing for this moment. Riftan, however, was not as thrilled since he hated forever losing to Jameson, and now, he’d be losing to me as well. He knew that better than anyone since he’d been my practice dummy this past year.
“If you’re getting out the cards, then we need more drinks,” Riftan grumbled, leaving the table to scrounge through the cabinetry for something stronger than what we’d been drinking—which was a strange mixture of blood, vodka, and grapefruit Jameson had thrown together. “We have bourbon, a couple different kinds of tequila, sake, and a little of the vodka Jameson brought. Lee, what do you want?”
“Hmm,” I hummed, thinking over my options. Finally, I answered, more to Jameson than Riftan. “I kind of want an extra dry, kind of dirty, martini. Is that weird?”
Jameson lit up. “Oo, with extra bitters. That does sound good.”
Riftan’s tone was curt as he rained on our parade. “We don’t have any of that. Not gin, vermouth, or bitters.”
“Awe,” I complained. “But now I really want it.”
Jameson nudged my elbow and then hinted with his eyebrows as he nodded in Riftan’s direction and whispered an incomprehensible jumble of words.
“Huh?”
“Ask him to go get us the stuff.” This time, he said it clearer, but covered it up with a cough like that’d make it a secret between the two of us.
I turned my attention to Riftan, who frowned behind the kitchen counter. “Would you go pick us up the stuff to make martinis?”
“No. I don’t want to do that,” he responded flatly, looking between Jameson and me with a scowl that said we were scheming against him.
Jameson tapped me again. “Bat your eyelashes at him,” he demanded, hardly holding back a giggle.
I wouldn’t do that. Instead, I looked at Riftan and gave my best submissive smile. “Please?”
Riftan looked at Jameson, who’d engrossed himself in pretending to shuffle the deck. “Fine. But not because you made Leanne ask me like that.”
He made his way to the door in a fizz of smoke and Jameson called after him as he gathered his coat and glasses from the rack. “Don’t forget the bitters!”
“Whatever,” was his only response before sliding out the door.
I should have pinched myself because I could hardly believe that’d worked.
Jameson read my mind. “I know he’s an idiot for you, but damn, I didn’t actually expect that to succeed. That charm of yours is as effective as hypnotism.” He laughed, throwing a pointed finger in my direction.
The idea of Riftan being “an idiot for me” kindled my heart. If it were true, then it made no sense why he’d keep the distance he did between us, even if it was as thin as it was.
“Well, since it’s just the two of us, you want to play something simple until he gets back?” Jameson asked before offering, “Go fish?”
I laughed. “Sure thing. Go-fish it is.”
After silently dealing out the cards, Jameson stared at his hand with an introspective look casting a shadow over his usually sparkling smile. It persisted through several go fishes later, darkening as his hand of cards consumed his interest. Finally, he set down his hand and sighed. “Truthfully, I wanted to ask you something while Riftan wasn’t around. That was the idea behind having him leave.”
The timid version of him, devoid of his usual boisterous nature, sent blood rushing behind my ears. Seeing my shaken appearance, he mustered a feigned laugh, as if that’d help lighten the heavy air between us. He asked, “Would you consider leaving Riftan and coming home to New Orleans with me?”
“What?” The question came so out of the blue that I barely understood it.
“Only to get you on your feet and starting your own life. Somewhere you can do so without Riftan in the picture.”
My heart dropped. “What do you mean? Why would I?”
“Well, the two of you have been together for so long. You’ve only ever lived your immortal life with him. Have you considered what you’ll do when you part ways? When Riftan is done teaching you how to live among immortals?”
“I…” Truthfully, I told him, “I don’t like to think about it. Where is this coming from?”
Jameson’s voice carried defeat as it reflected off the wooden table. “There’s a lot of life out there for you to experience on your own without Riftan’s influence. I think you should consider leaving. I think it’ll be… better for you if you leave before he has to ask you to. You’ll feel better about it, anyway.”
It was so absurd to hear those words coming out of his mouth. Jameson was the one rooting for Riftan and me to be together. He was always pushing me practically into Riftan’s lap, begging us to dance together, goading Riftan into complementing me, and telling me that he saw a future where the two of us were exactly what I wanted us to be. He had always been my wingman. This wasn’t like him.
Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I asked, “Did Riftan put you up to this?”
Jameson’s dark eyes shot up, his acknowledgment enough to confirm what I feared.
I demanded, “Tell me exactly what he said to you.”
Jameson shook his head, defeat storming his downcast eyes. I knew he couldn’t hide this from me; he never could. His penchant for sharing every little secret with me, always so open, so unguarded, had never changed.
“It’s not a big deal. His exact words were, ‘feel her out.’ He wants to know if you’re truly happy like this. I know he won’t admit it, but he’s scared he won’t be doing right by you if he keeps you here with him. Not to mention, he’s obviously uncomfortable with how close the two of you have gotten.” He followed the statement with a grimace and a shrug. “I don’t think he’d ever try and hurt you, but sometimes it scares me that he won’t know what hurts you the most.”
I nodded. My heart ached at the idea of leaving Riftan. Not mentally, but a physical constriction that clutched my chest and forced the air from my lungs. The pain was obstinate until it was wrenching tears from my eyelids, forcing me to hide my face on the table to avoid a flush of embarrassment at my own over-emotion trailing down my cheeks.
“Oh no, Leanne.” Jameson rushed to my side, pulling me into an embrace meant to soothe away the aching of my heart. “Please don’t cry. I hate tears more than anything on the planet.”
“I’m sorry.” I took several deep breaths to fight the tightness in my lungs, but that didn’t stop the waterworks. Frustration rushed in my veins, heating my cheeks on top of the embarrassment of my outburst. Leanne Cowitz doesn’t cry—least of all, about men—and it killed me to feel how far I’d fallen. That helpless emotion came out through clenched teeth. “I thought Riftan was over this. He said we were exclusive. Doesn’t that mean something? We both promised to be each other’s…”
“Don’t apologize—wait, did you say he said you were exclusive? Like, you can’t see other people romantically or…?” Jameson’s tone piqued, turning into something akin to a schoolgirl’s curiosity. “And you’re saying that he said that verbally? Not, like, implied?”
“Yes. He said that he gets jealous of other men and he doesn’t want me flirting with anybody else but him. And vice versa.”
Jameson’s jaw was slow to drop to the floor. It took him several moments to pick it back up and respond, “Well, that makes the conversation he had with me a little bit more unwieldy. What a foolish idiot.”
The faintest smile tugged on my lips, curiously lightening the grip on my heart. “Finally, a sentiment I can agree with.”
The smile that spread over Jameson’s face was almost enough to dry my tears. “You know,” he started, mood eased, “no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. We will always share blood—even if it is Riftan’s. And beyond that, I’ll always be your best friend. I’ll always come rushing if you need me. Besides, no matter how wishy-washy he may be, I know Riftan loves you to pieces, even if the way he does so is confusing. Everything will work out in the end, and I will bet you money on that. Be patient with what life throws at you.”
I laughed some more, squeaking out the remainder of my tears. “How much money will you bet?”
“I’d bet you more than you could ever get at one time. That’s how certain I am that everything gets better for those who can wait out the turmoil. And you know I’m always right on this kind of thing.”
I nodded, letting him wipe away my tears with tender fingertips.
The pummeling of Riftan’s footsteps up the stairs had both Jameson and I flinching a glance at the door.
Tears dotted my eyelids. I was so not ready to face Riftan. Sensing the same, Jameson clapped me on the shoulder. “Go to your room and get a hold of yourself. I’ll stall him for a bit.”
Nodding, I jumped up, fading into my darkened room at the other end of the condo. Riftan barged through the front door moments later and Jameson attempted nobly to distract him. No matter his excuse for my absence, Riftan was more insistent on checking on me the longer I hid in my room.
With very few arguments left, Jameson squabbled his last-ditch effort to hold Riftan off. “She’s fine. She said she’d be right back. Can’t the woman have five minutes to herself?”
Ignoring him, Riftan pushed open the door to my room and slinked his way inside.
Listening to Riftan and Jameson bicker had helped to distract my teary emotions, but that didn’t make my current place sitting alone in the dark of my room look any more natural. Attempting to rectify the scene, I grabbed my phone charger off the nightstand and met Riftan at the foot of the bed, feigning as much normalcy as I could without looking him in the eyes.
He looped his hand under my arm as I tried to walk by, bringing me to a stop. “Is everything okay?” Such genuine concern laced his voice that it stuck to my heart like a knife.
“Yeah,” I snapped. “Just needed my phone charger.” I pulled against his grip.
His fingers tightened, tugging my arm until I faced him. His sapphire eyes roved over me, the dim light shadowing his features and carving them into a more perfect visage than in the light of day. The fingers from his free hand caressed the heated apples of my cheeks where I must have been red from the leftover tears. He whispered to me in that same achingly tender concern. “Promise you’ll tell me what’s wrong later, okay? You don’t have to do it now if you don’t want to.”
Wrapping my fingers in his shirt, I clung to him, silently begging for his eyes to not waver from mine. If I could wade through their ocean a little longer, the aching from Jameson’s and my conversation might drown in those waters.
Denying it, Riftan dropped his nose to my forehead, hot breath lingering over my skin when he whispered again. “Come now. You need to beat Jameson at least once before the night is over.”
That was true, and I nodded in agreement.
After that, I couldn’t shake Riftan from my side. His attention, gaze, and touch were all concentrated on me. He was the first to lose every game of poker we played, and hardly conversed with Jameson, his closest friend, who sat right next to him. He was too busy watching what I was doing and caressing circles over my jean-clad leg where he’d perched his hand. After we’d shuffled to the bar, and I was no longer in arm’s reach, he used his long legs to make contact, tapping his toes over mine and playing footsy with me like we were a couple of school kids.
Finally, after four games of poker, I did beat Jameson once. That was my sign to stop while I was ahead—or as ahead as I’d ever get against Jameson.
The last thing I wanted was for Jameson to leave and forsake Riftan and me to our bursting stress bubble, but I knew I couldn’t keep him forever. He had businesses and council duties to get back to. This had merely been a last-minute vacation he’d taken to join in our celebration of rebirth.
Though I dreaded the silence that would weigh heavy in his absence, I knew it was necessary to see Jameson out. He had brought up a conversation Riftan and I needed to have in private, and it was due time we hung the subject out to dry—along with the laundry list of things that had gone unsaid for too long between us.