Chapter 29
I’m nota fan of airports at the best of times, even when I’m safely ensconced in a Platinum Card lounge or a restaurant with private booths suitable for retreating from the turmoil of air travel.
But today, as I sit in the tiny waiting room of Sea Breeze’s microscopic regional airport, sipping a heinous martini as a gaggle of women on their way to Las Vegas screech at the other end of the bar/sandwich shop, and a stressed-out toddler wails on the ground near the bathroom, I vow never to step foot in an airport again.
Even if I’m flying private and only have to wait half an hour for the plane to be prepared for takeoff…
Logically, I know it’s the fact that I’m leaving without saying goodbye to Sully or mailing that letter I burned in the cottage fire last night that has me feeling so low, but I refuse to think about that now. I’ll think about that once I’m back in the city, on my therapist’s couch. I have an appointment tomorrow morning, an emergency Sunday slot she opened for me after receiving my message earlier in the week.
We haven’t had regular appointments for over eight years now, and Dr. Everett knows I’m not the kind to reach out for help unless I truly need it. No, I’m the kind to wait until I’m on the verge of losing my damned mind to make an appointment, and she scheduled our session accordingly.
I am losing my mind.
I can feel it in the prickling in my head, in the buzzing in my ears as I watch myself sip my drink as if from a distance. I look as cool and under control as ever, but inside, I’m spiraling. The pain of losing Sully hasn’t gotten easier in the past week. It’s only gotten worse. It feels like someone infected me with flesh-eating bacteria that’s been gnawing away at my internal organs, hollowing me out. Soon, there won’t be anything left inside. I’ll be an empty shell that will scatter like ash in the next strong wind.
And that will probably be for the best.
I can’t live like this, and I don’t want to learn to live without her. I’ve fallen in love the way I’ve done everything else in my life, with an intensity that’s almost frightening. Now, I’m paying the price for that with my sanity.
Sully was right to be afraid of me.
That’s what I decided last night, as I sat on the porch in the cold wind for the sixth night in a row, thinking about how easy it would be to climb over the railing and take a long walk off the cliff a short distance away. She was right. I’m broken and unworthy of her. I’m not the violent person I was as a young man, but I’m not “normal” either, and I likely never will be. This is what my particular combination of DNA and childhood environment produced. I’ve done the best I could with the material I have to work with, but the end result is far from ideal.
Far from being what’s best for a beautiful young woman with a giant heart and her entire life ahead of her…
She’s better off without any further interference from me. That’s why I burned the letter and why I refuse to text or call her before I board the plane, even if I have to drink myself into a mild stupor to dull the longing gnawing away in my chest.
“I’ll have another,” I say to the bartender, a tired-looking man with a hunched spine and hair sprouting from his ears. “Less olive juice this time, please.”
“And I’ll have a root beer because it’s too early to start drinking,” comes a voice from behind me.
A voice I instantly assume I must be hallucinating…
There’s no reason for Sully to be at the airport, and no reason she’d join me at the bar if she did have one.
But when I glance over my shoulder, there she is, looking like a supermodel trying to fly incognito in a pair of gray sweatpants, an oversized navy puffer jacket, and a ballcap over her wavy hair. She isn’t wearing makeup, either, just something glossy on her lips, but she’s still the most stunning woman in the room.
To me, she will always be the most stunning woman in any room.
But for some reason, I can’t find the words to tell her that. I can’t speak at all. I can only watch, mute, as she sets her suitcase beside mine and slides onto the stool beside me.
She meets my gaze, hers softening as she says, “How are you?”
“Terrible,” I rasp out.
She nods. “Me, too. I slept until noon today. These are my pajamas.”
“You’re still beautiful.”
“You, too,” she says, her brows shifting closer together. “I told Gramps about you.”
My eyes widen.
“Yeah,” she says, her breath rushing out. “I didn’t mean to, really. It just kind of happened and he was more okay with it than I thought. He also said some things. About you. About when you were a kid, in particular, that made me think I might have been too quick to judge the other day. What you did is still awful and scary, but?—”
“Agreed,” I say, my tongue finally getting the message that it’s time to speak up. If she’s here to give us another chance, I can’t afford to sit here like a mute and let it pass me by. “But I would never do anything like that again. I swear. I’d cut off my own hands first.”
“I know,” she says. “On the way over here, I kept thinking about the hospital. How you stood there letting Dad hurt you and barely even fought back, even though you had every right to defend yourself. And well, like I told Gramps, if I hadn’t had him in my life to help me heal from all the hard parts of my childhood, I don’t know what kind of person I’d be right now. But I bet I’d be an angry one, maybe even a violent one.” She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as she adds, “Sounds like you didn’t have good people around you to help make up for having things hard at home.”
I shake my head. “No. My brother and I were taught very young that we didn’t speak about things that went on behind closed doors. If we did, we paid the price for it.”
She bites her lip, but doesn’t speak until after the bartender has delivered our drinks, and I’ve told him we’ll take the check. Hunter’s people will be in to fetch me at any moment. It’s best if I’m all paid up and ready to explain to them that I won’t be leaving, after all.
At least, I hope I won’t…
“But a lot of people have rough childhoods, and don’t beat a man the way I did,” I add once the check has been delivered and the bartender has toddled off to refill the drinks of the giggling Las Vegas-bound women. “You’re right. I should have faced consequences for what I did. It wasn’t right.”
“No, but it wasn’t all your fault, either,” she says. “Like you said, the guy wasn’t an innocent bystander. And you never did anything like that again. I should have thought more about that. It takes a lot of strength and commitment to change.” She clears her throat, her lips twisting to one side. “My dad left rehab last night. Someone saw him at the pub, apparently.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to reach for her hand, to pull her into my arms and hold her, but we’re not there yet. But hell, we’re closer than I imagined we’d be, and it’s enough to make my voice shake as I say, “You’ve been let down more than anyone should be, but I would never do that to you, Sully. If you give me the chance, I’ll prove I can be the kind of man you need. I can be a good man.”
“You are a good man,” she says, her throat working. “I’m sorry I doubted that. It was just a horrible weekend and there was so much stress. I wasn’t thinking clearly and…I was scared.” I start to assure her again that I’d die before I’d hurt her, when she adds, “Not of you. I was scared of myself, of how hard I fell for you and how fast.” She chews her bottom lip. “And I think part of me was scared that you’d come to your senses eventually and realize you’re way, way out of my league.”
I reach for her hand, holding it tight, the feel of her skin against mine a reprieve seconds before a death sentence. “You are my person. You’re the reason I’ve never loved anyone like this before. I was waiting for you, for the only person who’s ever felt like home.”
“Me, too,” she whispers. “You feel like home, too.”
“Like a real home,” I clarify, the vice around my ribs loosening as she threads her fingers through mine, “not the one I knew as a child.”
She blinks tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry your childhood was crap.”
“Same,” I say. “And I hate myself for the role I played in the crappy part of yours. Every time I think about you as a little girl, wandering your house, alone and scared because I was stupid enough to go to a bar with a married woman, I want to go back in time and shake some sense into myself.”
“But if that hadn’t happened,” she says, “we might not have happened. And I’m really glad we happened.”
“Me, too,” I say, relief making my entire body feel lighter than it has in days. “I’ll cancel the flight and maybe I can take you to dinner? Since we don’t have to hide anymore?”
Her lips hook up on one side. “Or I could come with you.” She nods toward our bags. “That’s why I brought a suitcase. In case you decided you wanted company.”
Heart soaring, I nod. “Yeah, I’d like some company. I’d love it, actually.”
And I do.
I love her all the way to New York and during the cab ride to my apartment in the East Village. I love her through our takeout meal on my terrace and the tour of my place, and then I love her in my bed, showing her with every kiss, every touch, how much she means to me.
She’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had entrusted into my care and for the next several weeks, I bust my ass to prove it.
By the time we return so Sea Breeze to celebrate Christmas with her family, we’re so close, I can read her mind without her having to say a word.
“Don’t worry,” I say as I park the rental car behind her spot in the garage. “If things get tense, I’ll fake a headache and wait for you in your apartment.”
She shakes her head. “No. No way. If things get tense, we’ll both leave. They don’t get to scare you away. If they want me around, they have to be nice to my boyfriend.”
Her boyfriend…
I plan on being more than her boyfriend before this week is through. The ring is burning a hole in my coat pocket, but it isn’t time for that yet, not until we clear this final hurdle. If we can make it through a holiday celebration with her family—half of whom still think I’m the Antichrist—then we’ll have proven we can make it through anything.
“All right,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Let’s go, Mr. Fancy.”
We’re barely out of the car before the door flies open and her grandfather appears, silhouetted against the glowing lights inside. “Get in here, you two! Before you freeze your asses off. It’s bitter out there.”
“And we have hot toddies,” a cheerful voice bubbles from behind him in the kitchen.
As we step inside, I see that it’s Mia, his former nurse, dressed in a red sweater with a reindeer on the front and a matching pair of jingle bell antlers on her head. I arch a brow Sully’s way and she gives a little shake of her head as she smiles. Apparently, she had no idea Gramps and Mia were family-Christmas-party level friends, either.
“Hey there, Weaver, welcome,” Gramps says, giving my hand a firm shake as he closes the door behind us. “Let me take your coats and you two grab a drink. We’re about to start the trivia.”
“I’m going to win,” Cathy calls from the living room, where half a dozen Sullivans are gathered around the fire. “I always win, so don’t feel bad, Weaver. I’ve got a brain for facts.”
“You’ve got a brain for nonsense,” an older man I’m guessing is her husband says from beside her, laughing when she smacks him on the leg.
“Bring me a beer before you start and say hi, will ya, Gert?” calls a feminine voice from upstairs. “I’m still wrapping the kids’ presents. I’ve got to keep going or there’s no way I’ll be done before Blake drops them off for dinner. We’re doing our presents tonight and Santa at my mom’s tomorrow.”
Sully casts a glance my way, ensuring I’m okay to go it alone while she delivers the drink. When I nod, she calls back. “Okay, what do you want Henna? A lager or a pale ale?”
“Pale ale,” Henna shouts. “And a peppermint cookie please.”
Sully pulls a face, whispering, “Beer and peppermint? Gross,” before snatching the beer from the ice bucket on the kitchen island and pressing a kiss to her grandfather’s cheek. “Be good, Gramps. This is the man I love.”
“I know, I know,” he says, chuckling as she goes. When she disappears up the stairs he turns back to me, adding in a softer voice, “She doesn’t need to worry. You’ve done good since you two left, kid. She’s happy and so excited about that show you helped her land at the gallery. We’re all taking the train down in February to see it.”
“She landed it all on her own,” I say. “I just made the introduction. She’s the one with the talent.”
Gramps beams. “She does have talent. I think she got it from me. I wasn’t a bad artist when I was young. I always drew the girls my air force buddies had tattooed on their biceps while we were deployed.”
“You’re a family with a lot of gifts,” Mia says, pressing a kiss to his other cheek, the one Sully missed. To me, she says, “Thank you for hiring me for this job, Weaver. I’m pretty into this guy right here.”
“And I’m pretty into you, sweet cheeks,” he says, making her blush as he grabs her ass.
Fighting a laugh, I nod. “My pleasure.”
“What’s your pleasure?” Sully asks, appearing again at my side, slightly breathless, making me think she must have run down the stairs to avoid leaving me alone for too long.
“Nothing,” I say, with a smile as I draw her close. “Just feeling the love in the room, is all. Mia and your grandpa are dating.”
She glances their way, taking in the canoodling with a dropped jaw. “No way! Why didn’t you tell me, Gramps? I thought you were keeping me up on all the gossip.”
“Some things are too special to share on Zoom,” Gramps says, cuddling Mia closer. “Things like…engagement rings.”
Mia holds out her hand, revealing a small, but lovely diamond, and Sully cries out in excitement. She hugs Mia, then Gramps, then Mia again, before turning to me and exclaiming, “Oh my God! You did this. You’re a matchmaker extraordinaire. Your first try, and they’re engaged in less than two months.”
“I’ll send the firm my resignation tomorrow,” I say in my best deadpan voice. “And hang out my matchmaking shingle as soon as we get back to the city.”
They all laugh and Sully squeezes my arm with an affection I can feel through the heavy sweater she bought me for an early present. It’s cream colored and old-fashioned looking and she told me it makes me look like the brooding hero of a gothic romance novel.
I may never take it off.
I like being her hero—brooding or otherwise.
Drinks in hand, we adjourn to the living room to play trivia while the turkey finishes roasting. Cathy does, in fact, win, and Sully’s cousin, Steven, comes in second place. I’m down at the bottom, thanks to knowing very little about holiday traditions and being distracted by Sully sitting on my lap.
Even with only part of the family here, there aren’t enough chairs to go around.
The rest of the clan apparently elected to spend their Christmas Eve playing bingo somewhere else. Not all the Sullivans are as accepting of our relationship, but that’s okay. All the relatives who mean the most to Sully are here and she seems happy. For me, that’s all that matters.
She and her father haven’t spoken since he left rehab, but apparently, he’s at the other gathering, fully aware that Sully has no interest in a relationship with him until he gets sober. Considering he found another relative willing to pay his rent when Gramps withdrew his support, I don’t see that happening any time soon, but who knows.
People surprise you sometimes.
I surprise myself every day. I never thought I’d be good at loving someone, never thought I could make a woman want to stay. But every day with my girl is better than the last, and she shows no sign of leaving. We’re actually packing up the rest of her things while we’re here to send them back to New York.
She’s making the move permanent and starting her job as a second shooter to a well-known wedding photographer in January. She may go back to school, eventually, too, but for now, she’s excited about moving straight into a career in photography. Within just months of arriving in the city, she’ll have her first show and be on track to earn far more than she ever made lobstering.
Not that we need the money, but I know it makes her feel good, to be succeeding when she’s doubted her talent for so long.
She shouldn’t doubt it.
As far as I can tell, she’s amazing at everything she does, a fact she proves by carving the turkey like a professional chef. We settle down to eat at the long table in the dining room and it’s by far the best holiday meal I’ve ever had, filled with laughter and toasts and a generosity of spirit that proves the Sullivans are more than agents of chaos.
They’re also people who love and care about each other and want what’s best for the people who matter most.
“She’s shining,” Cathy whispers to me over dessert, while Sully’s in the bathroom. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. She’s never looked more beautiful.”
“She’s happy, that’s what it is,” Steven says, shooting me a tight grin from the other side of the table. “Looks like you are, too.”
“Very,” I assure him.
He nods and points his fork my way. “Good. Don’t take it for granted. Show up every day. That’s what makes a marriage work.”
“That’s right,” Henna says from the opposite end of the table, where she’s busy wiping whipped cream off one of her kids. “Show up and choose each other every single day.”
I can’t help noticing that her husband decided not to come in for dinner. Sully warned that he might not be part of the celebration. He and Henna are apparently having problems.
I feel for them. I’ve only been separated from Sully for a week during the course of our relationship, but that was enough misery to make me positive I never want a repeat of the experience.
With that in mind, I wait until New Year’s Eve, when we’re dancing with her friends at a party at the cat café, to drop down on one knee.
“Gertrude Sullivan, you are?—”
Before I can get to any of the romantic things I’d planned to say, Sully tackles me to the carpet, screaming, “Yes! Oh my God, yes!” over the music as we roll across the floor. Laughing, she kisses me and I kiss her back, until Elaina drops a cat on top of us and demands to see the rock.
We ring in the New Year with congratulations from Sully’s friends and birthday cake made for Gideon and Sydney’s combined birthdays.
As I lick icing off Sully’s nipples later, in the privacy of her apartment, she agrees that getting an extra slice of cake to go was a brilliant idea.
“I’m a brilliant man,” I say, sliding her sequined skirt up her thighs to reveal stockings and a garter belt that make my already hard cock sit up and take extra notice. “A brilliant man who would like to fuck you with these stockings on, you sexy little minx.”
“Wait until you see the best part.” She grins as she rolls over on the bed, showing me the back of the ensemble, a thong that leaves her gorgeous ass bare.
I try to take it slow, I really do, but in just a few minutes, that thong is jerked to one side and I’m buried in my fiancée, making her moan and claw at the bedsheets and call my name as she comes.
As I join her a few strokes later, I send out a silent thank you to all the stars that had to align to make her mine.
“Mine,” I murmur into her hair as she’s resting on my chest afterwards.
She wiggles a finger into my ribs. “Mine.”
“No, mine,” I insist, grinning at the ceiling.
“No, mine.” She pokes me harder.
“Should we wrestle to see who stakes claim on who?”
She exhales a happy sigh. “Yes, please. Hold me down hard, but let me win at the end.”
“Always,” I say, all too happy to oblige her.
When she wins, I win, and vice versa. As far as I can tell, that’s what love’s all about.
And orgasms.
And magic.
And getting to spend every day with your favorite person, the sweet, sexy, precious one who feels like home.
It’s about all those things, too.
THE END