The contemporary one-level home was visible from the top of a set of darkly stained wooden steps that leveled out to a deck wrapping around the front of the house. I began descending, taking in the incredible view. From where I was standing, I could see the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridges, San Francisco, and Sausalito. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky burning with red and orange fire. The view alone had to be worth a cool million. Quite the rental home.
When I got to the front door, I knocked twice. After a moment, I heard footsteps and a few seconds after that, the door opened to reveal Lily's grandmother. "Hello, Mrs. Corsella," I said. She only looked mildly surprised.
"Ryan."
I waited for a beat. "Is Lily home?"
"No, she's not."
Disappointment hit me. "Oh." I frowned. I hadn't anticipated her not being here. I had tried to call her on the way over and she hadn't answered, but it was dinnertime and I figured she might be busy with that. Or maybe she really was here and her grandmother was lying to me. "Do you know where I can find her?"
"Ryan, please come in." I hesitated. I hardly wanted a lecture right now on why Lily and I shouldn't be together. I'd taken a second day off work and spent it doing just as Lily had asked me to do: thinking about us. I sighed and stepped over the threshold of the door she was now holding open. I followed her to a formal living room to the left, directly off the small front entryway.
She took a seat in an off-white wingback chair, and I sat down on the couch. I waited for her to speak first. "Lily told me this morning that she confided in you about her . . . past. Her situation."
Her situation. "Yes, Lily told me about her life, her illness," I said. "I accept everything about her."
Her grandmother stared at me for several moments, her look assessing, but not cold. "You accept her." She was silent again for a moment. "Do you really even know what that means? Do you understand what it's like to love someone like Lily?"
Someone like Lily. Someone like me. "Yes, it's the best thing that's ever happened to me," I said, putting the conviction into my words that I felt in my heart.
"You think that now, Ryan. You think that now because Lily's doing well, she's here with you in every sense. You haven't felt the heartbreak of watching her just . . . disappear right before your eyes, of seeing her talking to people who aren't there because she's living in a world of her own."
"No, you're right, I haven't. But I'm willing to accept that possibility, even the probability. I'm willing to accept it because to let her go entirely is so unthinkable, that for me, there's no other choice. I choose her willingly, every part of her, even the darkness." Just as she accepted me, even the darkness.
Her grandmother's face seemed to gentle. "You're in love with her."
"Yes. Yes."
She sighed. "Well, that's a start I suppose."
"I like to think it's a really good start."
"And you'll care for her?"
"With my whole heart and soul."
The glimmer of a smile appeared on her grandmother's lips. "She's in love with you, too. She made that quite clear to me this morning. She made it quite clear a year ago, too, though to my mind, there were more dire priorities." She looked down at her hands for a moment. "We talked . . ." Her words faded away, but I didn't speak. It looked as if she was still pondering something. When her eyes met mine, they were filled with sadness. "Lily is the only family I have left, Ryan. And she has no one except me."
It was obvious that she loved her granddaughter very much. I didn't want her to think that with me in Lily's life she would be relegated to the sidelines. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to be alone either.
"Had," I said. "She has me now, too. You both do."
She nodded slowly, her eyes soft. "She has money, you know, from her mother's estate. And I've left Whittington to her. I suppose she can do with it as she sees fit. That seemed right." Whittington belonged to Lily. She paused. "Still, I worry, you know, what happens to Lily when I'm gone." She put her hand over her heart. "My heart is weak, and I worry—"
"You don't have to worry anymore. I want to be here for her."
"And what happens if you become ill again? What then?"
I let out a breath. "I don't know. I don't have all the answers in this situation. But I think—no, I know—that Lily and I belong together, and I have to believe we will find a way to make things work, whatever that might look like, whatever that might mean."
Her grandmother nodded sadly. "So much uncertainty. It's what I've tried to avoid for Lily."
"You can't. I don't know if anyone can, but especially for Lily and me, there will always be uncertainty. It's love that will make it bearable. No matter what, it will always be our one sure thing, our one constant. It will always be the light to lead us from the darkness."
Lily's grandmother's eyes shimmered with tears as she nodded. "Okay, Ryan." She let out a deep sigh, perhaps resigned, perhaps relieved, perhaps some of both. "I'm sorry I tried to keep you apart. I'm sorry for that. You have my blessing."
My shoulders relaxed, and I gave her a small smile. "Where is she?"
"She went to the planetarium. She should be home any minute if you—" We were interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing.
"Excuse me," I murmured, taking my phone from my pocket. It was Lily. "Lily," I answered. I heard static on the line. "Hello?" I turned slightly away from Lily's grandmother.
"Ryan," Lily said. "Sorry, it's windy. Can you hear me?"
"Yes, where are you?"
"I'm on the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm walking—"
I frowned. "The Golden Gate? What are you doing there?"
She answered, but it was lost in a burst of static. "Lily, I'm coming to get you, okay? Stay there, I'll find you. Hello?" I heard her garbled voice and repeated what I'd said right before the line went dead.
I looked at her grandmother. "Go," she said, giving me a small, concerned smile. "Go get her."
**********
The wind hit my face as I moved quickly through people walking along the bridge. The sky was dark now and the bridge was lit, but the lighting was soft and subdued. To me, the Golden Gate at night never looked as if it was illuminated by electricity, but rather as if it was bathed in starlight. I walked through the strolling crowd, moving swiftly, swiveling my head when I spotted dark hair, disappointment hitting me each time I realized it wasn't Lily. My heart had begun to beat faster. Where was she? I picked up my pace even more, practically jogging now, my breath coming out in short bursts of air. I finally spotted a lone figure with long, dark hair standing near one of the towers, her arms resting on the ledge, staring out over the bay. My heart leapt with joy. It was her. Lily of the Night. My Lily of the Night. I slowed down as I neared. Her head turned right before I got to her as if she had sensed me approaching and the smile that lit her face made my heart jump in my chest. "Hi," I breathed.
"Hi," she said, turning her body to face me.
"What are you doing here?"
"I've never walked across the bridge," she said. "The sunset was so beautiful tonight, and it just called to me, I guess. And now, the moon." She glanced up and I did, too. "Do you see that?" And then I did. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, so intent on finding her. The moon above was full and bright, so brilliant it outshone the stars.
"I do now," I whispered. We looked back at each other and Lily tilted her head, her smile fading, and a slightly nervous look replacing it.
"What are you doing here?"
I took her hands in mine. "You told me I had to understand what I was agreeing to. What being with you means. That sometime in the future you will just . . . go away. And it won't necessarily be because something terrible happens and it won't be because you want to. And it won't be because I could have done anything to prevent it from happening. Or sometimes it will be because something happened that you couldn't handle. It's unpredictable and—”
"Yes," she choked out, sorrow moving across her
face, averting her eyes away from me and then back again. "Yes, Ryan."
"Then I'll come find you."
She laughed on a sniffle. "What?"
I squeezed her hands more tightly. "If you go away, then I'll come find you, even if it means I have to get lost for a while, too."
She shook her head, her smile sweetly puzzled. "How will you be able to do that?"
"Because," I said, moving even closer so our bodies touched and she had to tip her head to look up at me, "I'm not afraid of the darkness. I've been there before. I'll step into it willingly, unhesitatingly, and I'll come find you. No one else could make that promise and mean it, Lily. No one. No one except me."
A tear spilled from her eye and streaked down her cheek, but I continued to hold her hands, neither of us wiping it away. "I don't want to bring you into the darkness," she said.
"I might be the one to go there first. I can't guarantee that I won't. Would you come for me, Lily? Would you?"
"Yes," she said, a sudden intensity in her voice. "A thousand times, yes. But this is why people would say we're all wrong for each other. People would say we're encouraging each other to be sick."
"That's ridiculous. I'm not saying I want you to be sick. I'm not saying I want to be sick. What I'm saying is that if you get lost, I will find you. And I will bring you back. Wherever you are, whoever you are, I will come there, and I will find you. And I hope you'll do the same for me."
"I don't know if that's possible, Ryan," she said tenderly, moving a piece of hair off my forehead, "and even if it is . . . the world certainly isn't set up for that kind of thing. Unless you're Willy Wonka and you own your own chocolate factory."
I gave her a slight smile. "Then we'll make our own world. No one can know what's possible until they've been inside minds like ours. And I believe we'll figure it out. Somehow . . . Do you believe, too?"
She finally smiled again, her lips trembling. "You make me believe."
"Good, because it's true."
She breathed out a small laugh and looked down, tilting her eyes up, looking so beautiful it made my heart ache. And deep inside, I felt something stir to life, as if my soul itself was just beginning to wake. Finally. "I love you, Boy Scout," she whispered.
"I love you, Lily of the Night. I love you so much." I let go of her hands and reached up to hold her face, her beautiful face. I brought my lips to hers and kissed her. "I'm going to love you forever," I murmured between kisses. "Forever. In the darkness, or in the light." She smiled against my lips as the world moved on around us. And for just that moment, we had found our very own world, and we lived in it joyfully.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lily
Ryan unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed it open. I laughed out a startled sound of happy surprise when he lifted me in his arms and carried me over the threshold. "I think this is reserved for brides," I said, laughing.
He grinned. "It sort of feels like today is our unofficial wedding day," he said. "I'll do it again when it's official." He headed down a hall where he entered his bedroom and kissed me as my feet touched the floor. At the mere thought of someday being his wife, happiness filled my heart. I smiled against his mouth and pulled free, looking around his room. It was as tidy as the rest of the apartment, with simple, masculine furniture and a red and blue quilt on the bed. He had neat piles of books everywhere. A bookworm. And he still read paperbacks. My eyes lit on a shelf filled with models of all types—old-fashioned cars, ships, trains, airplanes, helicopters. I leaned in more closely, looking at the details of them. Everything was so tiny, so precise, so perfectly placed. I took a moment studying them. "You have the heart of an artist," I murmured.
Ryan came to stand next to me. "Nah, they're just models. They come with instructions. You can't really mess them up." I tilted my head, looking at the details of a helicopter, the way he'd drawn a bird on the side of one, its wings spread in flight, the wind streaming through its feathers. Another one had the 49ers logo on it. Most of them had tiny people drawn at the windows, drivers, passengers, all so beautifully done, their expressions different, some happy, some pensive, some bored. Everything was so tiny. How had he done that? I blinked, a sense of déjà vu overcoming me as if I'd seen something similar before . . . on a windowsill once upon a time, the light streaming in as I’d passed by an open door. As quickly as it came, the feeling passed. I stood up straight and turned to him.
"No, they might be just models for others, but you've made them into art. They're amazing." He gave me a crooked half smile, looking like a little boy who'd just been given a compliment and wasn't sure how to respond. "My friend says that those with the hearts of artists are more sensitive than others. They can be more easily broken."
Ryan brought my hair behind my shoulder and leaned in and kissed my neck, smiling against my skin. "I feel anything but broken right now," he whispered. I laughed softly, tilting my head to give him better access. Right now I didn't feel broken either. Right now I felt alive and filled with a joy so startling, I almost felt giddy. My eyes fell on something small and shiny on the top of his dresser and I reached over and picked it up, smiling as Ryan continued to nuzzle my neck. Holding it up, I sucked in a small breath. "You found it," I said, gazing at the arrowhead. Ryan lifted his head.
"Yes, I found it in my pocket." He closed my fingers around it. "You keep it. We'll take it back to the forest. Maybe we'll go skiing in Colorado this winter." I grinned, thinking about the future that lay ahead of us, suddenly filled not just with uncertainty but also with possibility. It was a heady thought, unfamiliar. The tunic top I was wearing had a small pocket over my breast and I dropped the arrowhead in it, focusing again on the wonderful feel of Ryan's mouth as it slid down my throat and came to rest over the dip right at the base. He rubbed his lips there, causing me to shiver and my core to clench. I bit my lip as he stepped back and pulled his shirt off. My eyes slid down his body. He was a work of art. So beautifully male, so perfectly proportioned. I felt my face flush with longing. Hot sparks ignited between my legs.
I ran a finger down the muscles of his stomach and he tensed, a whoosh of air escaping his lips. He reached forward and pulled the bottom of my shirt up and I raised my arms so he could pull it over my head. He laid it on top of his dresser as I kicked off my shoes and stepped out of my jeans. Ryan's eyes ran down my body—my bra was simple white cotton as was my underwear. I hadn't exactly expected to be standing in front of him like this when I'd left the house earlier. But he didn't seem to mind. His eyes burned my skin from my breasts to my feet and back up again, pausing for several moments on my breasts, causing my nipples to harden. Ryan stepped forward and pressed his hard body against mine, gripping my butt so he could pull me even closer. And there was nothing more delicious than feeling his hot skin against my own. He held me as his mouth stroked mine. I gripped his shoulders, my hands sliding down the muscles of his upper arms. And somehow—from somewhere—came the sharp scent of pine as if we were back in the forest, in our own world, just the two of us. I smiled against his mouth, feeling as if I was falling though I remained on my feet.
I used my thumbs to bring my underwear down and then shimmied out of it. Before I even realized what was happening, Ryan walked me toward his bed and when I felt it against the backs of my knees, I sat down and scooted back until I could lie down. Ryan crawled over me, the expression on his face intense and filled with want, with love. My breath faltered. I loved him. I loved him with every part of me.
He touched my cheek gently, so lovingly, and a tear broke and ran down my cheek. Ryan wiped it away with his thumb.
"Why does this make you cry, sweet Lily of the Night?"
"Because I never imagined someone would consider my love anything but a curse."
"Your love is a gift, never a curse." He traced my cheekbone with one finger, down to my lips, where he traced those as well.
I stared into his eyes for several heartbeats, finally leaning up and kissing him. There didn't s
eem to be a better response than that. He groaned softly. He loved me back. Unconditionally. I'd never dared to consider such a thing. Something seemed to break wide open inside me, some kind of wonder. He knew everything about me—all the ways in which I was damaged—and still thought my love was a gift. The world seemed to brighten all around me.
He unhooked the front clasp of my bra and worked it down my arms until it fell away. His hand brushed up my ribs to my breast, his thumb circling my hardened nipple. I gasped, lightning arcing from my breast to between my thighs. His mouth came down and sucked gently at the budded peaks until I was writhing beneath him, waves pulsating between my nipples and my core. My hands came to his hair, and I wove my fingers into it.
When I felt his hand come up the side of my leg to grasp the back of my knee, my core clenched in a way that made me gasp. He lifted my leg so I was open to him, and I noticed that his hand was trembling just a bit. When he pressed himself inside me, our eyes met, the moment seeming to pause and then resume in a bright flash of pleasure. "Ryan," I groaned, "Ryan, Ryan."
He spoke words into the side of my neck as he began to rock slowly, words I couldn't make out, but knew all the same. Words of love, of happiness, of pleasure. I grasped on to his buttocks, loving the way they flexed each time he thrust into me. When my climax seized me, I gasped, my back bowing slightly, my head pressed back into the mattress. My orgasm seemed to bring on Ryan's because just as I was drifting back to earth, he shuddered and groaned, circling his hips as he breathed harshly against my skin.
We lay together quietly for several moments as I stroked his back and his breathing slowed. "She walks in beauty, like the night," he whispered. My fingers slowed and I smiled. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright." We were still for another moment, the beauty of the words uttered in his love-filled voice repeating in my head. He pulled out of me but continued to lie there. Under my fingers I felt the familiar divots and leaned up slightly to look more closely. His back was a roadmap of scars, some small, round, and purplish, the divots I could feel with my fingertips—cigarette burns perhaps—and others thin and white. Oh God. "Who did this to you?" I asked, my voice hoarse with sympathy.