25. Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Henry
A t the end of the night, both Mark and Libby pulled Juliet into a tight embrace. I didn’t miss the sheen of tears brightening her eyes, nor the way she clung to them both in return. What a contrast to her obvious uncertainty upon our arrival.
I could get used to this, this little circle of friendship.
They’d taken to Juliet as quickly as I had—or at least, after our first few meetings. Both of them hugged me as well before Libby released us with an invitation for a cookout the following weekend. With Juliet’s hand tucked in the crook of my elbow, we strolled back toward my house just as twilight fell over the neighborhood.
“So,” I prompted softly, “what did you think of them?”
“They’re amazing. They both love you so much, I could feel it. You were right when you said you’re all just friends. I don’t know how you three pulled that off, but clearly, you did.”
The soft, happy sigh that slipped from her lips filled me with joy. When she glanced up at me, I thought I caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes again, but a radiant smile lit her face. Something warm curled through my chest as I gently brushed a fingertip along her cheek.
“I love them, too,” I said. “I know it might be weird, the three of us staying so close through all of this, but Libby and I realized pretty damn quickly that loving someone doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in love with them. They’re part of my family, both of them. I just wish we'd realized sooner that Mark was the one destined to be with Libby. Maybe it would've saved us all some heartache.”
Her hand squeezed my arm and she leaned her head against my shoulder as we headed up the path to my front porch.
“They’re both lucky to have you.”
I stopped, turned her to face me, and kissed her. It was a gentle meeting of lips, but imbued with all the emotion I could pour into it. It was clear Juliet felt it, drank it in, as she clung to me until we came up for breath.
“I feel like the lucky one,” I whispered, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”
It was odd, the fact that this seemed like a precipice, a milestone. I'd already slept at the cottage, if one could call our night spent together sleeping . Having her beside me made everything better, brighter somehow.
She nodded, then a mischievous smile tugged at her lips and she said, “I didn’t bring any pajamas, though.”
I laughed, kissing her again before I unlocked the door. Blue greeted us joyously, practically dancing all the way to the back door so I could let her into the fenced yard. Though I was less unsettled after talking to Mark about the situation, I still flipped on the outside lights and lingered near the door where I could watch the dog as she inspected the yard. Even after a visit from Mark or Libby, Blue would trail intently through the area to sniff out their paths, but tonight she simply trotted to her favorite patch of grass.
I took that as a sign that no one had been poking around in my yard, at least. Juliet followed closely behind me, her attention on the kitchen I’d renovated the year before.
“I’m starting to feel a little slighted by all these amazing appliances,” she grumbled.
“You’re welcome to stay over whenever you want. I’m sure we can work out some kind of mutually beneficial . . . arrangement,” I offered, then lifted a teasing brow.
Before she could respond, I twined my arm around her waist and buried my face in her neck. Juliet shrieked with laughter when I blew a raspberry against her skin as I tickled her ribs. Those blue eyes twinkled up at me when I finally lifted my head.
“Why, Ms. Morrison, I do believe you’re ticklish,” I said, grinning.
“Extremely,” she agreed readily, “and prone toward violent responses, so you might want to watch it. The last guy who tickled me got kneed in the balls so hard he cried.”
As she probably intended, the comment made me flinch. I nodded solemnly. “Right, no tickling. That’s fine, there are plenty of better things I can do with my hands.”
Juliet snorted, but before she could reply, Blue came bounding back across the deck to the door. Once she was inside, I turned off the lights, locked the door, and pulled Juliet into my arms. Though I didn’t remember quite how it happened, we ended up in the hallway upstairs, flushed and breathless, fumbling with one another’s buttons. I nudged open the door to my bedroom and Juliet peeked around me, taking in the decor.
“Was this your parents’ room?” she asked.
I could tell she was trying not to sound weirded out by the idea, but she’d told me that part of the reason she decided to sell her childhood home instead of moving in permanently was the way she felt her mother’s presence every time she passed through a room, suffocated by the memories of a lifetime spent there together.
It had been difficult to imagine being comfortable bringing a lover into the master bedroom here at first, but my parents weren’t dead, just traveling. One of the first things I did upon taking ownership was to make this room my own.
“Yes, but I remodeled it completely so that I’d have no qualms about seducing the hot redheads I hoped to bring home,” I informed her, finishing my own buttons so I could toss the shirt aside.
“Seducing, huh?”
Her expression turned sultry and I wanted to tear that damn silk blouse right off her body—except the color looked so good on her, I couldn’t bear to ruin it. Her fingers toyed with the next button as I stalked toward her.
“Oh, yes,” I breathed, pressing her back against the wall.
My mouth covered hers, savoring the taste of her, tinged with the sweetness of Mark’s fruit tart. I finally managed to unbutton her blouse so I could peel the blue silk away, revealing even softer flesh beneath it.
When my hands began a slow, thorough exploration of her skin, Juliet sighed against my lips.
“You were right,” she said huskily, dropping her head back against the wall.
“About what?”
I lifted my head and stared at her blankly. With a captivating twinkle in her eye, she tangled her fingers in my hair and kissed me, hard and deep. Once I lost track of whatever we’d been saying, she drew back, her words whispering across my lips.
“There are plenty of better things you can do with your hands.”