27. Culmination
TWENTY-SEVEN
CULMINATION
Trish
Bang bang bang. Ding-ding ding-dong.
Ian stirs in bed, his arms around me tightening. He mumbles about nosy neighbors.
Bang bang bang. Ding-ding ding-dong.
“Fucking Veronica.” He kisses the top of my head and slides his arm out from under me.
I whimper.
“Sorry, babe.” He kisses me once more. “I’ll tell her to get lost, and I’ll be right back.”
Cursing Veronica in my head, I begin to drift off until a loud shout startles me.
A man’s loud shout. And it isn’t Ian’s.
Struggling out of bed, I pull the comforter off and wrap it around me, Ian’s scent and heat still trapped inside. My eye catches on a piece of paper lying on the dresser.
My letter.
One of the girls must have given him the letter I wrote.
The one where I said goodbye. My heart physically hurts when I think of Ian reading my Dear John letter after everything he did.
Facing my past when I could not. Loving me when I couldn’t love myself.
All while overcoming his fears in the process.
And then he reads a letter saying that even after all of that, I’m leaving him.
Another shout from downstairs. Tiptoeing, I make my way down the hall to the upstairs landing.
“I don’t get why you’re so upset.” Ian’s tone sounds bored.
“You don’t, do you?” Senator Kincaid’s angry voice freezes me in place.
Peeking around the corner, all the leftover warmth from the blanket fades when I see Ian’s father, red-faced and pacing in the foyer.
Ian leans against the banister, crossing one ankle over the other. “Is there any reason I should be grateful to you?”
The senator pulls up short. “Seeing as how you used my name in Georgia and Texas the past few days to get your trailer-trash girlfriend out of trouble, I’d say yes.”
“Well.” Ian stands tall. “ Seeing as using your name these past two days is the only useful thing you’ve ever done for me as my father, I disagree.”
“Unbelievable.” Senator Kincaid steps closer to his son, eyes narrowed. “I woke up to reporters asking me about the connection between myself and a felon. And this just a week before the election!”
“Ah.” Ian nods, looking unconcerned over his father’s tantrum. “You’re worried about you again.”
Senator Kincaid continues to glare. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to go on record saying I never met the girl. That this is all fake news drummed up by my opponent as a last-ditch effort to win the election.”
Ian’s bored expression doesn’t change.
“Then you ” — he jabs a finger at Ian—“are going to go to the polls with your mother and me next week, along with Brenda fucking McGowan on your arm, and you’re going to smile like an obedient son.”
Slowly, calmly, Ian pushes his father’s finger out of his space with the back of his hand. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that is fucking so.” His anger is as hot as ever, but he doesn’t point at Ian again. “’Cause if you don’t, my next call is to NASA’s deputy director and we’ll have a nice chat about your upcoming promotion.”
Ian’s left eyebrow arches, making the senator smile.
“Gonna start falling inline now , huh?” The older man pulls his shoulders back, looking quite pleased with himself. “And while we’re at it, you will never see that criminal woman again.”
My breath hitches, my heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. I won’t blame him if he agrees. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, prepare for the hurt to come. I’ve caused Ian quite enough trouble, so I get?—
“Yeah, that’s going to be a no.” Ian’s voice is steady, his words hard and sure.
I blink back the next round of tears that threaten to spill over.
“Excuse me?” The senator’s voice goes low. “You want to test me, boy?” He pulls out his phone from his suit jacket pocket. “I’ll make the call. Right now if I have to.”
Ian shrugs. “Go ahead.”
Silence follows, the senator frowning at the unexpected response.
“Because then I’ll make the call to the same reporters hounding you so I can tell them all about your long-time side piece slash campaign manager.
” Ian tsks. “I wonder what your constituents would think about you openly fucking your mistress in the house that Mom’s money paid for, all while running on a campaign of family values. ”
The hand holding the phone shakes. “You wouldn’t.” Ian’s father’s head moves slowly back and forth, as if to emphasize his disbelief. “You’d never do that to your mother.”
Ian straightens off the banister, hands in his pockets. “I love Mom. That’s true.” He tilts his head to one side. “But let’s face it, you and Mom stopped being parents years ago. And I’m done being strung along for your own purpose.”
“I—”
“And yes, I love my job.” He shrugs. “But it’s just a job. I’m a smart man. And thanks to Mom’s family, I’m a rich man. I don’t need to work at NASA.” He brushes past his father and opens the front door. “I don’t need you.”
The senator’s heavy breathing reaches me on the second floor landing, and for a minute, I think he might hyperventilate. “Fine,” he manages through gritted teeth, not moving toward the door. “But at least you’re wise enough not to see that woman again, right? Even you can’t be that stupid.”
Ian squares up to this father, the latter flinching. “If it was up to me, I’d see that woman every day for the rest of my life.” He pauses and steps back, his shoulders visibly sinking. “Unfortunately, it isn’t up to me.”
Senator Kincaid, a second ago intimidated, takes in his son’s dejected stance and laughs. “She dumped you, didn’t she? After everything you did?” He laughs harder.
My fists clench the comforter wrapped around my shoulders. Anger at Ian’s father taking pleasure in his son’s pain rushes through my blood. Anger at myself for causing that pain pinches my chest.
I step onto the top stair. “Actually”—both men jerk their gaze up in my direction—“my plans have changed.” I start sweating. For years I avoided the spotlight. Avoided confrontation. I’m not used to drawing attention.
But for Ian, I can do anything.
“Oh?” Though his posture remains relaxed, the hope in Ian’s voice isn’t lost on me.
“Is that so?” The senator sneers. “What? You wake up in a nice house that can fit about fifty of your trailers inside and think it might be beneficial to hang around?”
Immediately, Ian steps into his dad’s space. “That’s?—"
“No, actually.” I walk down a few steps, the blanket trailing behind me like some sort of royal cape.
I probably look ridiculous with my jail-bedhead, no makeup, and wearing Ian’s T-shirt and a pair of his boxers rolled at the waist. But this is my Gone with the Wind curtain outfit moment, and I’m determined to own it.
“I’ve simply come to realize that as wonderful as your son is, as accomplished, as smart, and yes, as rich as he is, that I still deserve him.
” I glance down, biting my lip, worried I’ve gone too far. “That is, um, if he’ll have me?”
In three bounds, Ian reaches the step below me, catching my eyes and grinning wide. “You bet your sweet Georgia ass I will.” Sliding his hands under my blanket cape, he pulls me to him.
I lift my lips to his.
His morning beard is rough, our breaths are not the sweetest, and we have a hostile audience, and still, it’s the perfect kiss. Better than anything I’ve ever written.
It’s full of acceptance and hope and love. So much love.
It’s everything.
The front door slams, causing us to jerk apart.
I guess the senator doesn’t share my feelings on the kiss. I couldn’t care less.
Lifting up on my tiptoes, I brush my lips against Ian’s once more. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He dips his fingertips under the back waistband of my boxers, unrolling them until they slip off my hips to the floor. “And you’re not leaving?” There’s a flash of uncertainty in his eyes as he palms my rear end.
“No.” I kiss him again. “I’m not leaving.”
He nods, though the uncertainty doesn’t quite leave.
“You don’t believe me?”
He smiles his Captain America smile at me and lifts me in his arms. “Maybe you should convince me.”
I laugh, dropping the blanket, wrapping my arms and legs around him. “Okay, sugar.” I nip and kiss his neck. “I can do that.”
And I do.