Chapter 25
Bear
Present Time
It's only been a few days since our wedding.
We're in an old church in England, of all places.
It's attached to an old college, which according to my assistant, made it easier to schedule.
On the other hand, it made the organist's trip and booking harder to coordinate, but that's okay.
Pen seems to be loving every second of it.
So much so, a few happy tears make it down her face.
Awe expands in my chest. A sense of pride that, if there were prizes for planning a honeymoon, I would at least get to stand in the winner’s circle.
A private pipe organ concert was one of the hardest items on her bucket list to coordinate, but I'm glad to be making it happen.
And I'm thankful. If we get to enjoy it this much today, it's because we were able to return to being ourselves, after those moments— all the ways I struggled— during our wedding night.
Even now, at my first big surprise, I revel in the fact that she's right back to living life fully with me by her side.
The feeling in my chest swells, just like the music making the building sing.
The sound gets more intense somehow. The walls and the stones at our feet vibrate, and the air itself seems to buzz around us.
Pen's hand holds on to the pew in front of us until her knuckles are white, and suddenly I can't take it.
I pull from her arm until she gives me her hand. "Take it out on me instead."
It's a wonder that she heard me, but she must have, because she squeezes my hand. I run a thumb side to side on her skin. With my free hand, I reach and dry her tears.
She watches me with teary eyes. "Can't believe you pulled this off."
I smirk and kiss her temple. She closes her eyes again, taking in every note. Like a whole orchestra is here, but it's only one huge instrument, playing just for us.
This. Simple moments where it's just us, no one to watch us and wonder, or question if it's true we're not in love. It's how our friendship took roots over the years, until everything it is today.
I promised her I'd help her cross off the items on her bucket list. I'm a man of my word. That means turning this honeymoon into a dream trip. It also involves keeping myself in check in moments like this, and giving a hard look at all the ways in which I'm showing her affection.
A caress? Good.
Kissing her cheek? Risky, these days, but not with a lack of precedent.
Kissing on the lips? Forbidden.
Yet I have the impulse. Right now.
Ugh. It's been two years since I've craved kisses that lead to more. The feeling has been there, of course, but never this badly. I could just jerk off and deal with it, waiting for the right person to show up.
An amazing kiss, a tormented evening, and an unexpected morning after, and things have changed.
Now I can barely silence the voice reminding me I've had dreams that start just like this.
Where simple kisses on a special day lead to touch, to getting lost in someone else's body, to forgetting oneself into pleasure. But this isn't my reality.
I need to find a way to deal with all of this.
Eventually, our private, one-hour concert ends.
Pen never lets go of my hand and pulls me with her to thank the organist. I watch her squee and fangirl with an amused— tender— slant to my mouth.
It's Pen's favorite organ player, after all.
The blonde prodigy smiles just as much as Pen, and soon they're holding hands and fawning over each other in a delighted high pitch.
I take their picture, record a short little video to send back to Pen's parents, and say goodbye to the organist ten times.
It will make the Duartes happy to see Pen ecstatic. That will help balance the stress of all the testing and waiting they're going through right now. Just like I planned.
"A million out of ten, Bear. A million!" Pen exclaims over and over as we walk out of the church.
"Another bucket list item completed."
Another dangerous moment averted.
I should start a counter. Days since I was last tempted to kiss Pen again for no reason whatsoever? Zero.
Damn. It's zero.
"You're the best man in the galaxy," she adds. "This is the best honeymoon in the history of humanity."
I chuckle. "Glad you enjoyed it."
I don't know if she'd still think that way, if she knew how our kisses haunt me.
That I wake up still feeling her lips on mine, and with blue balls so epic they may need medical attention.
At this point, a pulsing, deep bass of a need has taken hold of the space behind my breastbone.
Six days after we got married, I can't shake it loose.
Pen and I kissed again, yes. It was an Earth-shattering moment. But she and I reached an understanding. We got swept up in the fantasy. If her kiss reminded my body I enjoy sex, and it got all mixed up inside of me, well, that's a problem.
She stops in her tracks. "You don't get it, Leon. You're the best friend anyone could ask for."
She's dead serious as she says this.
We stop outside the church in a cute garden at dusk. The skies are pink and purple, and stone pathways lay at our feet. Some students go past us to places we'll never know, but it's like Pen and I are alone in our own little corner of the world.
Yes. Friends. I'm her friend, above all. That's what she trusts me to be.
We're holding hands, but I come closer. I put a hand on her face. "What is the point of everything I have, if it's not to do these things for you?"
She shakes her head. "I'm serious. Do you feel I've done enough? Am I giving enough back?"
"What do you mean?" I frown.
It's a genuine question.
"You put all these gifts at my feet and, what do I do to make this fair?"
"Where is this coming from? Of course you do, Pen."
"No, be concrete. What do I do? You marry me, and I… what?"
"If you want a list, then sure." I raise an eyebrow.
"Over and over again, you invited me into your life.
Twenty years, we've known each other. Now you choose me.
You make time for me. You entertain my shows, even my fanfic sometimes, despite how little interest you actually have in them.
But you've gone as far as reading them to me when my hands are busy, and don't forget the little collectibles you've gifted me for every birthday in the past few years. "
She gives me a small smile. "I'm so proud of finding that episode-worn hat, and that poster signed by the two leads."
I nod. She put the detective hat from that eighties show and the signed poster on a shadowbox, and now they're prominently displayed in my office.
"And not only that," I say. "You're there for me in my career. You made friends with my friends. But I don't think about us in terms of what we do for each other."
She doesn't ask, but she looks at me with clear, wide eyes. It works the same.
I let a small smile take over my mouth. "Friendship isn't about checks and balances— or I don't think that's what matters the most. I'm not friends with you for what you do for me.
Friendship is like any other bond between two people.
It's about having a history together that makes you care, makes you rely on the other person, and makes you want to be someone they can rely on. "
She sighs and closes her eyes, listening to my every word.
I'm listening too. These words need to be recorded and enclosed in an envelope with a red wax seal. Those old ones where you kept royal decrees and new laws. I hope my heart is paying attention, because it's crucial I remember all of this, too.
My thumb makes arches on her face. "We bonded over games and silly conversations in your backyard.
We laughed together and argued about many things.
We relied on each other as we became teenagers and went off to college.
When we struggled in our careers. When we succeeded.
I want your happiness like I want my own.
I know you do, too. Isn't that enough? Because to me, it's perfect. Our friendship is perfect, Pen."
Everything else will get jailed within my ribcage. Or the king shall send the cavalry and trample over the threat at the edge of town.
Pen sighs and gives me a small smile.
"I want your happiness like I want my own," she whispers. "Okay. Yeah. I can go with that."
That's enough. That's everything. At least, this I do believe.
I smirk. "So let's go find a pub with a sit down dinner. I may need to get you a little drunk before I try to convince you to skip the next bucket list item I planned."
"You know me too well to think you'll succeed at that." She hooks her arm with mine, and we take the path leading out of the property.
I smile. "It doesn't mean I'm not going to try…"
The pub we're in fits every cliché you might see in a movie.
A small plaque in the front said this place has been here for a couple of centuries, and it looks like it.
Some stone work, some plaster work, and all the wood shines like it has been touched and polished a million times.
Old newspaper clippings hang framed on the walls, and a few trophies I have to assume are for local sporting events.
It's packed, the smell of beer is all over, and that's all it took Pen to convince me to order fish and chips, too.
"How about this," I say.
Pen munches on a fry. "Sure. Let's see. What are you going to offer me this time?"
Twenty minutes ago, I told her we're going to a different town in the morning. We'll make it in time for lunch, then we have time to relax, before we go to a very old aqueduct bridge.
She'll have the dubious pleasure of bungee jumping from it.
I can barely hide the chills it gives me to think of it.
"Rollercoaster." I offer the word like it's a brilliant solution.