14. Taran
When Lyra opens her door, I can”t contain my sharp intake of breath. She then steals that breath right back out of me as our eyes meet. She looks incredibly beautiful as she always does. Her curls are shining in the soft light of her foyer, her lips look so kissable it pains me, and her curves in the jeans she is wearing are mouthwatering. There is something more, though. Her entire aura seems lighter, happier, and dare I say, hopeful? Those green eyes are more vivid than I have ever seen them, and she”s glowing from the inside out. She”s holding herself with more confidence.
“Hey you, come on in,” she says with a shy but radiant smile.
“Lyra, you look absolutely beautiful,” I tell her with a little hitch in my breath as she lets me inside. She ducks her head at that, but I can see she”s trying to hide another smile.
“Thank you. You look pretty fantastic yourself,” she says softly.
“Careful there, Firecracker, or that might go to my head,” I tease as she chuckles.
Putting down my bag of food, I pull her into a hug with a chaste kiss to her forehead, and she melts against me. Brody is dancing around us until he decides he”s had enough of us hugging and shoves his nose between us for attention. We break apart, and I squat down to scratch him behind his ears while he chuffs happily. The thought slams into me that instead of coming home to an empty apartment after work, this would be the absolute best way to come home. I can picture it so clearly that my chest constricts: Evenings spent having dinner together and taking Brody for long walks. Cuddling while watching a movie. Wandering the shops or the farmer”s market over the weekend. Making love whenever we want. Going on nice vacations together. I”m in so much fucking trouble.
“The oven is all ready, what do we need to do first?” she asks, completely oblivious to my domestic bliss fantasies as she focuses on the bag of food I brought. Brody is already eyeing it hungrily, too. I clear my throat and pick up the bag.
“Lead the way to the kitchen! We just need to get these babies on a sheet tray and let them warm up for 10-15 minutes. The two toppings don”t need to be heated up,” I tell her. She nods and we head into the kitchen, where she pulls out a baking sheet and lines it with a silicone mat. We line up six of the beauties and get them in to heat up while I chatter on about the toppings, how Alejandra makes them so well, what the filling is, and just generally waxing poetic. She’s practically drooling, her eyes gorgeously lit up while I talk. When they”re done in the oven, she gets out plates and glasses while I set up the toppings. I show her how to spread a thin layer of the red sauce on top of the pupusa, followed by evenly dispersing the curtido on top of the sauce. When she takes her first bite, I”m ecstatic about how her eyes widen, and then it”s all over for me completely when she does a little happy dance in her seat about it.
“This is incredible,” she moans as she takes another bite. “I love how the spicy sauce and briny slaw cuts through the rich meat and cheese. It”s a perfectly balanced bite.” Then she stares at her plate and dramatically exclaims, “where have you been all my life,” complete with a hand over her heart.
I lose it laughing, she is the cutest person I have ever met.
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her, still grinning like the completely lovesick idiot I am. “Alejandra is going to cry the biggest happy tears when I tell her how much you”re raving about it.”
“Please please please make sure you tell her how much I love them and thank her a million times for me.” Her smile is so bright and unrestrained that my heart starts pounding. I need to touch her, so I lace my fingers with hers on the table.
“I definitely will. You”re very passionate about food, aren”t you?”
She nods emphatically. “My entire family was and is excellent in the kitchen, from my grandparents to my oldest nephews and nieces. I grew up with a big appreciation for food.”
“What”s your favorite? You said you love Italian, right?”
“Oh yes, pasta is life for me, and any type of parmigiana. My dad”s mom, my Nonna, made these huge, incredible spreads on Sundays for everyone back in the day. My other Nana was Lebanese, so I love all of that too. She”d make tabbouleh, za”atar chicken, you name it. What about you?”
“My mom”s side is mostly Italian too, I grew up with it just like you. My dad”s side is super Irish, so I also grew up loving bangers and mash, colcannon potatoes, that kind of thing. Your grandmothers sound amazing. I never really got to meet mine, they all passed before I was born or when I was just a baby.”
Her face falls. “I’m so sorry, Taran.”
I shake my head, indicating she shouldn”t worry. “It”s hard to miss what you don”t know, I didn”t mean to bring things down. Tell me more about yours. What about your grandfathers?”
“I never knew my dad”s dad, he passed away when my dad was 17. My Papa was the greatest man I”ve ever known, though. When I was going through everything, he started calling me TK, for Tough Kid. It always made me feel better knowing he thought I was tough. He”d make these decadent milkshakes and fresh squeezed orange juice for us all of the time. He never walked around his house in any way but dressed up in pressed pants, collared shirt, and shined shoes. I never heard him raise his voice in my life, he was so gentle. He and my Nana taught me so much, and he”s the one who got me into Sinatra,” she finishes, indicating the speaker from which Old Blue Eyes is crooning, a wistful smile on her lips.
“He sounds like the most amazing grandfather.”
“He really was,” she says with an expression that is clearly chock full of fond memories. Then she hesitantly asks, “Do you mind telling me more about your dad? You don”t have to if you don”t want to, obviously. I want to know you, though.” There’s encouragement in her voice, but also a soft pleading to keep breaking down walls.
The grief creeps up on me like a thief in the night, almost closing my throat. I push past it, because she deserves to know about him, and he deserves to always be remembered. I edge closer to her and squeeze her hand.
“I don”t mind talking about him. I want you to know about him. I want you to know me. You’ve allowed yourself to be vulnerable when we’re together, and I’m going to do the same. His name was Lachlan Malloy. He came over here from Dublin for college and didn”t look back once he met my mom at a party there.”
“What did he do?”
“He was an excellent architect with a big firm, that”s what made me want to do it. I loved watching him work. I couldn”t do it once he passed though, and went straight to work,” I tell her, emotion creeping into every word, though I”m able to keep the tears at bay. I don”t talk much about what my past dreams were, and it feels like getting rid of dead weight to confide in her.
She doesn”t give me pity, only sympathetic understanding in her eyes as she nods for me to keep going. So I give her more of myself.
“My mom and I were just talking about how we still can’t even bear to have anyone sit in his seat at the table. It’s like no one else could ever fill it, even after 10 years. I can still hear his soft, deep Irish brogue talking me through homework, friends, girls, anything and everything. He was so larger than life that there was this black hole left when he was gone, always sucking us in and not letting us move forward. Grief is so odd. It’s not always rational, but it’s impossible to stop it.”
“Nothing about grieving a man you loved so much is irrational, you have to process it in whatever way you can handle,” she says with a squeeze of her hand. “I felt the same when I lost my grandparents. They were such amazing, loving people, but it was a little more than that for me. Around them, my parents were always on their best behavior. There wasn’t as much sniping, or fighting. They were a safe space from the worst parts of my parents, especially after their divorce.”
Her face is so soft, open, and stunning when she holds my gaze that I feel myself melting. She looks as though it’s bringing her peace that we’re talking like this. I know it’s bringing me peace that I haven’t felt in 10 years. Words are failing me right now, so I squeeze her hand again as I nod in understanding.
We sit in easy silence while we keep eating, enjoying the music, and each other”s company. There”s idle chatter about our workdays, more about our families. I tell her that my mom is an only child, and my dad has two brothers, but they and their families are still back in Ireland. I hardly see them or talk to them except the occasional birthday or holiday greeting, especially after he passed.
Once we finish eating, I ask her to show me around her house. It”s gorgeous and so perfect for her. The whites, blues, and grays she chose for a color scheme are soothing. I don”t know much about style or decorating, but I can see she is in every detail. It makes me smile to see the framed pictures of her and Gina, and lots of pictures of what have to be her siblings, nieces and nephews. She points them all out and tells me their names, and although I try to make sure I remember them, I really hope she doesn”t quiz me later. There”s a stunning selfie of her and Brody on the beach with a deeply hued sunset in the background, and so many other personal touches. Her home office is full of books, and I take note of what she likes to read so I can read them myself. We then take Brody out back and throw the ball for him until both of our arms start protesting, the pup has serious stamina.
Heading back in, we get Brody situated with food and water before we refill our own glasses. Sinatra is still playing, and when the song changes to “The Way You Look Tonight,” she turns to me with an expression I can”t quite read.
“You”re always asking me to dance, now it”s my turn to ask you,” she says, equal parts shyness and determination in her voice, along with a clear moment of panic that I might say no flashing across her face. Oh, this oblivious woman, thinking I could ever say no to her. I take her hand and pull her in close, resting my cheek on her head while I splay my right hand on her back. My left hand holds her right hand as I lead her in a gentle sway. I croon the words softly into her hair along with Sinatra, and she just sighs as she melts further into me. This is yet another item to add to my domestic bliss fantasies. Slow dancing in the kitchen after a wonderful meal, and playing with the dog in the backyard. It”s so simple, and yet it is making me unspeakably happy right now, without her even really knowing or trying. It”s effortless. I move my lips toward her ear.
“You seem different tonight, Firecracker. Happier, or lighter or something,” I whisper. My lips at the shell of her ear and the warm breath ghosting across it make her shudder deliciously. She looks up at me with those big eyes, a luminous shade of jade today.
“Well, I got some news earlier, but I didn”t want to drop it on you right when you walked in the door.”
“What is it? It must be good news if you look happy.”
She buries her head in my chest for a second, seemingly gathering herself. The suspense is absolutely killing me. Then she looks back up at me, making sure she holds my gaze as she starts talking again.
“I got the notification from my lawyer today. The paperwork is all filed with the clerk. I”m divorced,” she tells me carefully, gauging my reaction as she speaks.
A riot of emotions course through me. There is a lot of worry for her, sadness that she had to go through it, and anxiety about where we will end up now that she”s officially single. Hope and elation manage to worm their way through me too though, as inappropriate as that might be in this moment.
“How are you feeling about it?” I finally manage to get out.
“I’m pretty ok, actually. It wasn”t a super acrimonious divorce like my parents had. Ours was very cut and dry, and easy to navigate. I”ve made peace with the marriage ending. I had a productive teletherapy session at lunch today that really helped get me into a good mental place. Mostly, I feel relieved that the waiting and limbo is over.”
“I can imagine,” I murmur, giving her a squeeze.
We keep swaying as the playlist changes the song to ”Night and Day.” I let my head nuzzle into her neck to breathe her in, and she moves her hand to my neck to toy with my hair at the nape. We”re silent, but the tension vibrating between us is speaking loudly enough for the both of us. The words of the song filter through my brain and perfectly mirror my own thoughts.
Night and day, you are the one
Only you beneath the moon and under the sun. Whether near to me or far
It”s no matter darling where you are
I think of you.
The overwhelming need to kiss her is almost taking me over, but I need to rein it in and go on her terms. How fast or slow we go now that she”s officially single is something I am letting her completely lead after what she”s been through. I”ll stick to leading the dancing. I spin her out and bring her back in to dip her as she lets out a low but delighted laugh, her head completely thrown back. Her pulse is thrumming in her exposed neck. When I bring her back up, those green eyes are on fire with the pupils blown wide.
“Taran,” she whispers
“Yeah, Firecracker?” I breathe shakily as she searches my face. As if she heard my thoughts and knew I was just waiting for her to say the word, she takes my face in her hands.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” she says in a husky voice that goes straight to my cock
“Thank Fuck,” I respond
Then her lips are on mine.
It”s tentative at first, just a firm press of her lips as she moves her hands from my face to wind her arms around my neck. Her lips are every bit as warm and soft as I thought they would be. Then her lips part on a breathy little gasp as she arches into me more, and we”re both gone. Her tongue slides with mine as I run my hands down her back to the glorious ass I”ve dreamed about. It”s heat and comfort and everything else we”ve been feeling these past few weeks coming to the surface. I cup her face and angle her head to kiss her more deeply, groaning as she gives a little nip to my lower lip. She lets out the sweetest little whimper when I nip her plump bottom lip back, and start to graze my lips and teeth down her jawbone and onto her neck.
My hands reach for her waist and hoist her onto the counter before I step in between her legs. She immediately wraps them around my waist, studying my face for a second while she reaches to run her hands through my hair. We”re both practically panting.
“We don”t need to go any further than this,” I assure her. Brody gives a soft bark from where he”s lying in his bed in the corner, as if he understands perfectly and agrees.
She nods. “I’m not sure I can, but I also don”t want to leave you with blue balls,” she says ruefully, with an apology on her face.
I bark out a laugh as I knead her thighs a little. “That”s why I have a right hand, Firecracker, plus some new fantasies to think about, like kissing you.”
She goes a little pink, but laughs and hauls me a little closer. “Then keep making new fantasies with me. My new vibrator may be getting some work later too, thinking about this.”
I crowd into her, the idea of her getting herself off thinking of me making me lose my mind. “Sometime, will you let me watch you do that? I want to see you make yourself come with that shiny new toy.” My breaths are ragged as I ask it, my lips ghosting over hers, my voice complete gravel with lust. This woman will be the death of me. Her eyes become pure fire again, and she just nods, like she can”t believe I”m asking to see something that damn hot. Then she kisses me again. It”s searching and exploratory this time, as if we”re trying to learn every nook of each other”s mouths. Her heels are locked at the small of my back like she has no intention of letting me go anytime soon, and I have zero issues with that. My hands twist around those incredible ringlets as I tilt her head to the side to nibble and kiss down her neck some more. The little sounds she makes turn me into some kind of caveman. It makes the anticipation of what making her scream will be like that much sweeter.
We make out like teenagers and enjoy the hell out of each other, and it”s one of the best nights I can remember in a long, long time. I seem to be having a lot of best nights ever lately, and I can only hope they keep coming.