48. Brent
48
Brent
I spin her around, demanding to know why she’s running out, but the sight of the deep anguish on her face stops me cold. She’s doing her best to blink back tears, and it’s killing me to see them, not knowing how I caused them or what I can do to make them dry up. In that moment I’d do anything in the world to make her happy. I never want to see her hurt again for as long as I live, and I’ll kill anyone who ever makes her shed a single tear. She’s had enough misery in her life, with her father—
Fuck me! Her father. Of course. I feel like I’ve been hit by two linemen at once when I realize what a bastard I am and how much I’ve hurt her with my thoughtless words.
“Fucking Christ, I’m an asshole!” I pull Joey to me and hold on tight when she struggles to break away. “Come on, sweetheart. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” I lean back to see her face and plead in earnest. “Please tell me you know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Holding her face in both hands, I rain kisses over her, on her mouth, the dimple on her chin, her cheeks, her forehead. I pull her close again and kiss the top of her head, then rest my cheek there. I rock her, trying to comfort her, to infuse her with my apology, my…love.
God, I love her. I’ve been such a fool not to have acknowledged it before. I could have saved both of us the pain of the last couple of weeks.
“Please, baby. Believe me. My head’s been spinning, between you leaving, and Caitlyn, and now with Charlie…All the stress reminded me how it was when Dad and RJ died.”
I can tell Joey is listening to me intently by the way she stops struggling against me.
“I was a mess back then. One minute I had a father and an older brother and I was living a carefree life. And the next…I was the man of the house. It was something Dad said to me and RJ all the time, trying to instill responsibility and chivalry into us. We’d be the man of our own house one day, and it was up to us to take care of our family, especially the women. My parents were a little old-fashioned, and they were raising us to be that way. So, when Dad and RJ were gone, I knew it was up to me to step up, but I didn’t know how I was going to do that. When Bobbie was born, I felt even more helpless and scared.”
I stare blindly out the windows as I recall how powerless I felt. I bring my gaze back to Joey when she sighs and puts her hand on my jaw tenderly.
“And hell, Josie,” I continue, “I grew up in a houseful of females, surrounded by pink glittery shit and bras and tampons and hormones…I love my mother and sisters to death, but fuck! The PMS-ing alone was enough to drive a guy crazy!”
I shudder, remembering the aggravation of being the only male in the house with five females. But when a corner of Joey’s mouth trembles with humor, I remember instead that Super Bowl–winning feeling I had when I made her smile while dancing to my playlist. I feel utter relief that the tears have stopped.
I kiss each wet cheek. “You were right. A part of me is terrified of leaving a family behind if something ever happened to me. And in this game, that’s a real possibility.”
Joey puts both hands on my cheeks and looks at me. “It’s a possibility for anyone. Before every game, I pray to the powers that be that you stay safe, but if anything ever…” She shudders at the possibility. “Well, I’m sure you’d have everything in place because you’ve learned from your own experience. Your father probably thought he had, too, but he couldn’t have known that RJ would be gone at the same time, or about Bobbie and her health issues, or your mother’s stroke. I think the trauma of your father’s and brother’s sudden deaths twisted the lesson he taught you. He would never have wanted you to shoulder the burden the way you did. You must know that.”
I reluctantly concede. “Maybe.”
Joey moves her hands to my chest and takes a breath before asking, “And what do you have against girls?”
I laugh ruefully. “Nothing, if they’re like you, I swear. And I would never put a daughter of mine through what your father did to you,” I continue. “I meant it when I said it was his loss not to have known you for the amazing and accomplished woman you’ve become. And the perfect little girl you were.”
“What if they’re like Georgie?” she asks. “All girlie and glitter and everything pink? I might have been like that if it wasn’t for my father.”
I kiss her chin. “I believe I caught a glimpse of that last night and hope to witness more of it. And I hope you have the chance to do all that with your own little girl.” Pausing, I add, “ Our little girl.” When hope and joy flicker to life in her eyes, I caution her. “I want to give you the family you never had, sweetheart, but I’m going to need some time to get used to the idea, and I’m going to need you with me every step of the way. I won’t be able to do it without you.”
I cup her face in my palms, my thumb going to the dimple in her chin to stroke over it, and look into her eyes. They shimmer with tears again. “One day,” I tell her, “I hope to have daughters with your big brown eyes”—I pepper her face with light kisses between each attribute—“your dimpled chin, your intelligence and wit, your beautiful smile and strong spirit. But if they’re built like you,” I tease, “I’m going to keep them locked up until they’re thirty.”
I’m rambling, trying to reassure her that there is nothing wrong with having daughters, nothing wrong with her. How could I have said something so unbelievably hurtful to her? I let my own hang-ups blind me to what was right in front of me…the most precious, most important person in my life. One I don’t want to live without. One I can’t risk losing again.
Thank God she has stopped crying. But her eyelashes are spiky and wet with tears, and my insides twist for being the cause of them. I never want to be the reason for her tears ever again.
“Josefina Desai, you mean the world to me. I don’t know how it happened, or when, but I’m so fucking grateful. I’m sorry for the pain you went through as a child and all the insecurities that resulted. You deserve to have someone tell you every day what a gift you are, that you’re perfect exactly the way you are. Let me be the one to tell you that now, every day, for the rest of our lives, because you are a gift, one that I don’t deserve. But I’m so fucking thankful you decided to drink too much one night and proposition me.”
Joey starts crying again, with happy tears this time, and her laugh is a cross between a snuffle and a snort. I continue to talk as she looks up at me, love shining in her eyes, for me.
“I worked so hard for my freedom, because that’s what I thought I needed. Freedom from responsibilities and commitment, from the burden of having others rely on me. But what I didn’t realize was freedom from all that means nothing if I’m alone. Being with you these last few months made me realize I enjoyed sharing responsibilities and being committed to each another. Seeing you in my space, in my bed every night, in the kitchen when I get home…”
I pause to clarify. “Not that I expect you there every night. The kitchen, that is. But you damned well better be in my bed every night.” I give her a quick, hard kiss. “All I’m saying is that I’m not freaking out having my life and home invaded permanently by another person, as long as that person is you.”
Shifting so I can hold her hands and look at the long, slender fingers, I rub my thumb over the ring finger of her left hand. I place a kiss there, where I can imagine a big-ass glittering rock would be soon. “I take back what I said about no rings and no promises. I have no ring at the moment, but I’d like to make a promise to you, my sweet Josie. I promise you I will do everything in my power to never hurt you again, to appreciate you for the beautiful, strong woman you are, to give you anything you want that is within my power to give—including baby girls, though I would like you to myself for a little while.”
Joey stares up at me, her eyes big and wide with glittering tears and nervousness and hope. “What exactly are you saying, Brent?”
“I’m saying you’ve held me captive since the first night you passed out in my bed. No, since you looked at me with your beautiful eyes in the moonlight when you were sixteen years old. I’m saying that you’ve become my best friend. And I’m saying that I love you, my sweet Josie.”
She gasps, her eyes wide, her curved lips trembling.
I can’t believe how easy, how right it feels to say the words to her. There’s more and I need to say the rest of them now. There’s no need to wait. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, baby, if you think you can put up with me. Josie, will you marry me?”
She throws her arms around me and kisses me, her tongue demanding I open my mouth. I happily comply, and we kiss with passion and love. I push her back against the door, placing my hand under her knee to hook her leg over my hip to make room for my growing erection against her heat.
My eyes are finally open to see Joey as the precious gift she is. She shows me that love is not a burden or a cage. It’s freeing and all-encompassing. It’s family and true friendship and sharing lives and all the good and bad that come with it.
I break the kiss, and she moans at the loss. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I say.
“What?” The word is no more than a breath as her eyes open slowly, her long lashes fluttering. She gazes at me with so much love and desire, it takes my breath away. She tries to connect with my mouth again, but I cup her jaw and hold her away. My dick is screaming at me for stopping, but I need her answer.
“Say yes, Josie. Say you’ll marry me.”
“No—” She reaches for my mouth again.
I pull back in disbelief. “What the fuck do you mean, no?” I glare at her.
Joey smiles at me and gives me a tender kiss, then leans back to look at me. “I mean no, I’m not going to give you an answer right now. You’ve been on an emotional roller coaster since last night, maybe the last few weeks. Let’s see if you still feel the same tomorrow or next week. We’re going to take our time so there are no doubts, ever.”
“I think we’ve taken enough time. This has been almost ten years in the making. And I have no doubts. Do you—?”
She cuts me off with a kiss. “Not for a second. I love you. I only want you to have the time to be sure this is what you truly want. We’ll still be together, just no rings yet. And I’m good with that, as long as I have you and your love.”
She reaches for my mouth again, but I continue to hold her back, my grip firm on her shoulders, as I attempt to read her thoughts. I don’t agree with her, needing to bind her to me as of this moment, but I can tell it’s she who needs this, to know that I have no doubts.
My heart aches at the thought of causing her to feel that way. If agreeing to her condition, though she thinks it’s for me, would eliminate any misgivings she has, then I’ll allow it, with a condition of my own.
“Okay, but you’re moving back in with me, for real, and there’s no negotiating on that.”
“Okay, babe.”
This time I allow her to bridge the distance between our lips, and we become lost in our kiss, tongues tangling, breath mingling, souls touching.