Chapter 71
Chapter Seventy-One
Renthrow
All the details that Cordelia’s been holding back about her life and her relationship with Gwen come pouring out during our dates.
One night, I take her back to the fancy restaurant where she tipped the waiter a hundred dollars.
Over incredibly over-priced salmon, she tells me about how desperately she’d wanted Brennon’s attention and that her feelings were not just a crush but a competition to see if she could “win” him away from her twin sister.
A few nights later, I’m making her much better salmon at home and she recounts how humiliated she was when Brennon rejected her and how it had stung extra hard because, even though she’d given him her love, he still chose the newly married Gwendolyn.
A couple evenings later, Gordie goes on a playdate and I make dinner at Cordelia’s place.
She tells me about Gwen’s pregnancy. My heart aches for her when she admits that her sister came over, excited to tell her the news, not realizing it was the very same night that she’d been rejected by Brennon.
“I told her that I wished I was just me. That I wished I wasn’t a twin,” Cordelia admits, her chin tucked to her chest as I hold her on her small, old couch. “I told her that I wish we never shared a womb. I practically wished for her death.”
I’m shaking my head in disagreement, but I don’t stop her from talking.
To my relief, Cordelia adjusts her language. “Or at least that’s what I thought.”
I hold her hand and listen keenly as she talks about Ray banning her from attending the funeral and the harassment that came after.
She never actually showed me the texts, so I ask to see them and immediately regret it. My teeth grind together when she shows me the evidence of Ray hounding her day and night and blaming her for her sister’s unfortunate passing.
That night, Cordelia lets it all out—quitting the company and “running away” from her mother without a word. The joy she found in auto mechanics and the quiet penance she felt she was paying by not letting anyone close.
I get teary-eyed when she talks about feeling like a “curse” to children and being afraid to touch them or interact with them because of her guilt over her sister’s passing in childbirth. And I feel a swell of pride when she admits that Gordie helped disprove that theory.
I watch the smile grow on her face as she talks about Gwen’s video, and then she shows it to me, and I understand why it means so much.
By the time she stops talking, shadows are creeping along her living room floor, and the streetlamps are blinking to life outside.
Cordelia claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. “I can’t believe I’ve been talking for hours. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Listening to you is like heaven to me,” I tell her honestly.
She giggles.
“What?”
“You are…”
“Amazing? Brilliant? Sexy?”
“Not normal.” She laughs. “But I like that.”
I weave our fingers together. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart. I don’t take that trust lightly.”
“Thank you for trusting me with Gordie. I don’t take it lightly either.”
My heart thumps to a rhythm that only she can create, and I bring her hand to my lips to kiss her fingers.
The contentment I feel being in Cordelia’s presence is hard to explain. It’s like everything in my world shifts into place. Like I’m right where I belong.
Every minute of every day, my mind is constantly moving.
I’m frantically thinking about all the details I might have missed getting Gordie ready for a playdate or for school.
I’m worrying about whether Mom is getting tired of sticking on dry land when she loves being on her cruise line.
I’m bemoaning our fragmented hockey team that may be forever broken.
But with Cordelia, I’m…at ease.
“So”—she bats her eyelashes at me—“I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
I notice her mischievous expression and brace myself.
“I believe you owe me something.”
“If you’re hungry, I can cook—”
She tugs my hand when I move to get up. “Not food.”
“Then what?”
“Some necking.”
I groan and laugh at the same time. “That’s not how you say it.”
“A necking? You owe me a necking?” She grins prettily. “The necking. A round of necking? Two hours of necking?”
I bracket her face in my hands. “That last one sounds the best to me.”
Our lips connect, and then I move my kisses down her jawline, sweeping my mouth over her sweet skin. But before I can give her a proper necking, my phone rings.
I freeze, my lips plastered to the pulse point just under Cordelia’s jaw. Her hand slips possessively down my jeans, and she plucks my phone out of my back pocket.
I grip her hand to keep her still. Voice raspy, I move over her. “Gordie’s at Vinnie’s, and my mom is with her cruise ship friends. It’s probably a text from the team.”
“Or not. Let me check.”
I groan but allow her to sit up and unlock my phone. I watch while she deftly navigates to my messages. She looks stunning with her cheeks rosy from all the kissing and her hair tousled from my fingers.
It’s hard to believe someone so strong, vulnerable, kind, and beautiful is mine. How did I get so lucky?
Cordelia rakes her hand through those raven strands as she announces, “It’s Vinnie’s mom. Gordie’s getting sleepy and she’s ready to come home.”
“Seems like our night’s going to be cut short,” I say, my chest ballooning with a sigh.
“Not exactly.” She stands and offers her hand to me.
I take it and laugh when she tries to pull me out of the sofa and I don’t budge an inch.
Slanting me a dark look, Cordelia abandons her attempt and sashays to her bedroom. She emerges with my sweatshirt and plucks her keys from a table near the door.
“I’ll come with you. I want to see Gordie too.”
I smile when she locks her apartment and take her hand as we walk down the stairs together.
“What are you so happy about?” she asks, noticing my grin.
“Nothing.” I push the door open and allow her to walk out first.
“Tell me,” she insists.
I point to the sweatshirt with my name on the back. “You’re wearing my clothes.”
“You’re not getting it back,” she says, locking her arms over her chest.
“I don’t want to. I like seeing my name on you.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like mine.”
“That was kind of the point.” She tosses her hair and sashays past me to the electric bike that I rode over in.
I smirk at her, and then I hop on. Cordelia gets settled behind me. It takes me a minute to start the e-bike as I fumble around, trying to figure out where the on switch is. I’m still not used to this thing.
“I think it’s this one,” Cordelia says, flicking a button that’s right under my nose.
“Ah,” I say, fighting back my embarrassment.
She plants her feet on the bars sticking out of the back wheel while I turn the handle gears and wait for the bike to sprint forward. Instead, it makes a clanging noise, and the gears shriek in protest.
Gravity pushes us sideways, and I shoot my legs down to stop our descent. Cordelia jumps off the bike.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I mumble.
“Was it making this noise when you rode it from the store?” Cordelia asks.
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “I got it from the New To You store. The guy said it was in pristine condition. And it wasn’t acting like this the last time I rode it.”
She continues her inspection, her lips pursed in concentration. Finally, Cordelia stands and dusts her hands. “This bike needs some serious TLC.”
“Well, it’s a good thing my girlfriend is a mechanic,” I mumble, bringing down the kickstand and letting the bike balance on itself.
Cordelia laughs and pulls her motorcycle keys out of her pocket. “Come on. I’ll drop you off at your place, and we can take your truck to pick up Gordie.”
“I’m not getting on that thing.” I eye her monstrous Harley.
“Baby steps, right?” She wiggles her keys and grins.
Cordelia gets on the bike first, and I climb on the back of it. The motorcycle is much lower to the ground than it looks, and my knees are practically bunched around my eyes as I sit. I can’t find a comfortable position.
The engine starts with a rumble that I feel deep in my bones. “Cordelia…”
“Yeees?” she says, swinging around to look at me.
The helmet she gave me to wear has a tinted visor, casting my view into darkness, but I can clearly see each of her pearly white teeth flashing at me. I’m glad she finds this amusing.
“Sweetheart…”
“Darling?”
“This is my first time. Be gentle.”
“I will. Just relax. Breathe.”
The motorcycle slides forward, and I grab her torso.
“Cordelia…”
“Whooo!”
“Go…slooooooww!” My words crash into the wind like a puck striking the net as my girlfriend speeds off on the open road.