Chapter 47 #2
I melt into a puddle right here beside him, not sure I’ll ever recover from his charm. The last guy ordered me a salad. Harbor wants to feed me carbs. I made the right decision. He gets a pot of water boiling and turns on the TV. “The Yankees game is starting. Do you mind the background noise?”
He knows the way to my heart. “Do I mind the best sport ever played being on? That would be a no.” I bump up against his side. “Since when did you become a Yankees fan?”
“I’m a big fan of yours, if you haven’t noticed, and since you love the Yankees, I can make the sacrifice and cheer them on.”
He’s doing everything right, so right to make me swoon.
I want to give in to him, to drop all walls and start fresh.
I can see that he’s changed physically with the five years that have passed, but internally, he’s lived a lifetime.
I’m so drawn to him, attracted to him body and soul, but we need to get the issues on the table to deal with first.
During the bottom of the second inning, I’ve been put in charge of chopping tomatoes and onions.
He toasts garlic and pine nuts, and we add the onions into the pan while the water boils.
Lemon slices are added in, then a layer of white wine.
While the pan simmers, we stand in the living room, my shoes long discarded, watching the game, telling stories from the years the other missed, and laughing.
It’s light with him. Fun. So much feels good that I’m afraid to ruin it.
Still sipping the drink, I finish it and then head to the terrace on a commercial break with him for refills. While he fills the glasses, I ask, “What did you do instead of going to medical school?”
The question doesn’t seem to faze him. “You know about LA and Italy. I created a business plan and partnered with Italian luxury carmakers and brands to make custom sports cars.”
“Cars?” I grin. “You always loved your Maserati.”
He hands back my glass, and says, “I found a niche market for those who love cars more than I do. I’ve been here in the city for the past two years, growing the company.”
Looking around, I add, “It seems you have found success with it.” I grip the top of the chair nearby and tilt my head. “I had no doubt you’d find success in anything you tried.”
“Thanks. I could say the same for you. Look at what you’ve achieved. Everything you dreamed.”
“Not everything, but one of the biggest.”
“What else do you dream about, Lark?” The sun hasn’t even set, but I’m feeling a little tipsy.
I have a feeling it’s more the company than the whiskey. “Sharing my life with someone special. How about you?”
He exhales, the warmth of his eyes coating me. “Do you still believe in destiny?”
My breathing deepens, and I take a sip to distract myself from how he affects me. “I still believe.”
“I met my soul mate at twenty-two,” he says, his eyes searching mine. “If I were to ever share my life again, it will only be with you.”
I’ve become acquainted with the racing of my heart around him, but this time, it halts entirely.
He closes the distance between us, setting his drink on the table, coming so near when he dips his head toward my ear.
Sliding his arm around my waist, he whispers, “No apartment, city, or place could ever replace the home I found in you.” Then he adds, “Breathe, baby.”
I suck in a breath just as he leans back. Our bodies are still pressed together, his arm still holding me tight. We tilt our heads enough to see each other’s eyes. I’m breathing, but barely as he steals it all over again. I whisper, “What do we do about that?”
He smirks and gives me a wink. “Fuck fate and make our own rules from now on.”
I kiss him before he has the chance to kiss me. Wrapping my arms around his neck like a life preserver, I hold on to him like anger once held on to me. Unrelenting. I kiss him until our bodies mold together and our tongues touch, and then begin a slow and seductive tango.
The stove is turned off, and clothes fall to the floor as we pass the TV during the third inning and work our way into the bedroom. We kiss in a frenzy of hands and knees, legs and arms—feeling, connecting, admiring—falling to the bed and back into each other.
We make love with the shades wide open and no covers to hide any part of us.
He stares into my eyes the first time he pushes in and dips his head when fully seated.
A pause as if he can’t catch his breath extends, and then he lifts, pushing my hair back from my face. “I never stopped loving you, Lark.”
His words sink into my heart, and I feel their raw honesty.
It’s then that I also realize that no matter how much I thought I hated him, I only felt that strongly because I loved him so much.
I still do. So much. “I love you,” I reply, not worried about saying it first or too soon.
I tell him how I feel, refusing to waste any more time on grudges and missed opportunities.
I won’t give air to the pains of the past and mistakes we both made.
I caress his face and kiss him. “I love you, Harbor. I always will.”
Happiness is written all over Harbor’s face.
A grin so genuine that it makes my heart ache in the best of ways.
His eyes are bright and wide on the game, but he’s stealing glimpses of me like he can’t believe I’m here.
And his hand has kept a constant connection with me since we sat down on the couch.
Cozy in a pair of his boxer shorts and an old Beacon U T-shirt, my legs are cuddled under the blanket as I take the last bite of pasta. “That recipe will get you laid,” I say, only partly teasing.
He chuckles, rubbing my leg. “Good to know.”
We’ve spent years apart, but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel twenty-one with him again, our whole lives still ahead of us. I’m grateful we rediscovered our love when we did.
When a commercial comes on, I finally tackle the issue on the tip of my tongue all night. “Did you pay for my medical school?”
“What?” His brows pinch, and he does a double take. “Who told you that?”
“Why do you think someone told me that? Does it matter? Is it true?” His eyes shift away from me, but this time, I crawl across the couch and plant myself on his lap.
With my arms around him, I kiss him once again, and then say, “Your parents paid, but I know you made it happen. Safe Haven Trust . . .” I watch his reaction as guilt settles into his eyes. “Harbor. Very clever, by the way.”
His hand slides over my hip, holding me as if we spend every night like this, like time had no hold on us at all. He whispers, “How long have you known?”
“A few days.” I glance at his lips, a sudden wave of comfort washing over me, and the urge to kiss him growing again. “I don’t know how you pulled that off, Harbor, but for my own peace of mind, will you tell me how you did it?”
The game comes on again, but he mutes it. Rubbing circles over my hip, he says, “I asked my parents to give you the money they had set aside for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of you not achieving your dream.”
“But you traded your future for mine. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“That’s why I left.” He slides his hand up my arm and over my shoulder, coming to rest on the side of my neck. “You would have never let me.”
As I see the pain in his eyes as he tells me the truth, mine begin to water. “Not if I had a say.”
“I know. When my parents agreed, I made sure all the pieces were in place—”
His words come back again, and I say, “It was the perfect plan, and it worked.” Silence seeps in as we look into each other’s eyes. “Was the pain worth it to be here now?”
“Yes,” he answers with no doubt in his eyes. “Your happiness means more than anything else to me. If I can play a part in it, I’ll do it all over again.”
“I want to be with you, but . . .” I kiss him and then rest my head on his shoulder. “I need you to promise me you’ll never leave me again, Harbor.”
Grazing his hand over my cheek, he says, “I’m never leaving you again, baby.”