It’s hard for me to wrap my head around it. I feel like I’ve come five steps forward in the last few months while Brenna’s dropped five steps back.
My phone vibrates and I pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans to find there’s a text from Will. Ethan. It says Ethan but I think Will. I’m ridiculous. Still a little confused, but trying to deal.
I’ll be there in less than five. Probably closer to two minutes.
Smiling, I slip my phone back in my pocket and start for the living room.
“Where are you going?” Brenna calls after me.
“Will is almost here,” I tell her, surprised when I glance over my shoulder to find that she’s following me. I glance out the front window before I turn to face her. “What’s up?”
“So what are we supposed to call this guy, huh? Is it Ethan or Will?” She curls her upper lip and I hate the dread sinking like a stone in my stomach, taking my appetite, my happiness, and replacing it with worry.
“Brenna, please. Can we just . . . can you please approach meeting him with an open mind? I don’t want any trouble tonight. I want us all to get along. And I really think you’ll like him if you just allow yourself to get to know him.” I check the window once more, thankful he hasn’t pulled up yet.
“We’re worried, Katherine. You have to understand that,” Brenna says, her expression sincere, most of the hostility gone from her eyes. “This isn’t easy for us.”
“This isn’t easy for me, either. But please.” I pause, trying to hold back the swell of emotion threatening to overtake me. I don’t want to cry. Not now, in front of Brenna before Will gets here. He’ll know immediately something’s wrong. “Do this for me. He makes me happy.”
Brenna’s quiet and I am, too. I can hear Mom in the kitchen, humming as she preps the table. It’s a familiar sound, one that makes my heart ache for a simpler time, but I push that emotion aside.
I need to focus on the here and now. No more wishing for the past.
It’s over.
“I’ll try my best,” Brenna finally says, her tone reluctant.
Relief hits me so hard I almost sway on my feet. “Thank you.” I hear Will’s car then, pulling in front of my house, and I turn to see it parked in my driveway, Molly’s face peering out the backseat’s window as she barks, though I can’t hear her. I turn back to face Brenna, not able to contain the smile stretching my mouth wide. “That’s all I can ask for.”
I enter Katie’s house warily, arming myself with a bottle of wine, a smile, and Molly tugging on her leash. Brenna scowls at me from where she stands in the corner of the living room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she can ward me off. She’s going to be the hardest one to thaw.
Katie gives me a kiss on the cheek in greeting and takes the wine bottle from me. Katie’s mother approaches me with a tentative smile, kneeling down to pet Molly, speaking to her much like Katie does.
“Aw, such a pretty, pretty dog. Katherine’s told me about you.” She strokes Molly’s head, and Molly settles her chin on Elizabeth Watts’s knee. “Aw, aren’t you sweet?”
“Mom.” Katie clears her throat, shooting me a nervous smile. “I want you two to officially meet.” I hope like hell she’s referring to me and not the dog.
Her mother rises to her full height, smiling warmly at me and holding out her hand. “Elizabeth Watts. But you can call me Liz.”
I take her hand and give it a quick shake. “Nice to meet you.”
She’s still shaking my hand, apprehension suddenly appearing in her gaze. “And um, what shall I call you?”
I glance in Katie’s direction and see she’s a little deer-in-the-headlights herself. I didn’t even think of this. Katie’s been switching between names, though I’ve noticed lately she doesn’t call me anything at all. And that’s because she prefers Will.
Fuck it, I’ll run with it. It goes against everything I stood for only months ago, but I want to make Katie happy. And though it’ll be difficult, once I say it, there’s no going back. At least not with her family. Maybe I need to embrace my former self. Katie doesn’t think he’s bad. I’m the one with the problem.
“You can call me Will,” I tell Liz firmly as she releases my hand, blinking at me like maybe I said the wrong thing.
I really freaking hope I didn’t say the wrong thing.
“And you’ve already met my sister, Brenna.” Katie breezes right over that, not that I can blame her. She smiles brightly at both her mom and me. “Are you hungry? Dinner is just about ready.”
I follow her into the kitchen, leaving Molly with her mom and sister, and the moment we’re out of sight I pull her into my arms and kiss her. “Did I mess that up?”
“Of course not.” She shakes her head, a little breathless. I kiss her again because I like hearing her sound that way. She pushes at my chest to gain some distance. “It’s going to take a while to win them both over, I guess. Though Mom likes Molly.”
“Who doesn’t like Molly? That would be a crime.” I push a strand of hair behind her ear, unable to stop touching her. “Do you need help with anything?”
Katie shakes her head, disentangling herself from my embrace and going to the oven. She peeks inside and then hits a couple of buttons, turning it off. “Dinner really is almost ready. If you want to get yourself something to drink, that would be great.”
I go to the fridge and grab a water bottle. I’ll save the wine for actual dinner. “You made a pie?”
“My mom did. She’s an amazing baker. I think it’s pumpkin.”
“Thanksgiving a little early, huh?” I take a drink, the water soothing my dry throat.
“Well, I’m pretty thankful that we’re able to have this dinner together in a civil manner,” Katie says, making me laugh.
Unable to hold back, I go to her again, waiting until she sets the baking dish on the stovetop and shuts the oven door before I slip my arms around her waist and hug her from behind. “Don’t worry. This will all work out.”
“If I only had half your confidence,” she says with a sigh, leaning her head against my chest for a too-brief moment before she pulls away and starts her dinner prep in earnest.
I’m faking my confidence. I’m worried this dinner could go down in flames if I don’t watch it. I plan on being on my best behavior tonight, and I have a feeling Katie’s mother will be fine. Polite, though she’ll search for a reason to dislike me. I refuse to give her one.
Brenna we can’t count on. She’s a loose cannon. A really pissed-off one, too, by the expression on her face when I first walked in. I’ll have to be careful around her. I need this to work.
I need them to like me.
“So, Will.” Liz smiles at me and I do my best not to wince at her calling me Will. I’m still not used to it. The only reason I offered up the name was to please Katie. “Tell me exactly what you do for a living.”
We’ve finished our salads and Katie’s brought out the various dishes that make up the main course. She’s on top of her game tonight, playing the perfect hostess and doing a damn good job of it. I had no idea she had it in her. But there are still so many things for me to learn about Katie.
“Well, I’m a Web designer.” I launch into my story, about how my friend was in a band and they wanted a website, but their designer ditched them at the last minute so I stepped in. “I’d been messing around with graphics and design all through high school and took a few courses in community college.” Only the courses that interested me—otherwise, I hated going to college. I had financial aid and could pretty much take any course for free, accompanied by a few minor fees. But ultimately I bailed once my Web design business started to pick up.
“Did you graduate college?” Liz asks as she spoons some rice onto her plate.
I shake my head. “I took a few courses at my local JC, but otherwise, no. Most of what I learned was self-taught.”
“Quite enterprising, aren’t you?” She smiles, her gaze going to Katie as she nods. “She’s taking cour
ses currently. Online, though I wish she would go to an actual campus. It might be good for her, to meet new people, make new friends.”
I can’t quite tell if that’s a dig or her just making conversation. “Katie needs to do whatever she thinks is best for her.”
“Mom, don’t push,” Katie says as she reaches for her wineglass and takes a big swallow.
“And do you believe you’re the one who knows what’s best for Katie?” Brenna pipes up. She’s been mostly quiet, drinking lots of wine and glaring at me from her spot at the other end of the table. “Or is that up to our mother, who’s been watching out for her, oh, you know—her entire life?”
Here it is. Brenna’s hostility is back in action. “She’s a grown woman. I think she can make decisions for herself.”
Brenna snorts and Liz eases right over it, changing the subject and talking about some social ladies’ club she’s a part of, telling stories about how they’re donating their time around town and doing good deeds.
I tune out, eating my dinner, tossing the occasional small bite of chicken to Molly, who rests at my feet. No one’s paying me any attention and that’s fine with me, because that means I don’t have to make painful conversation or ward off Brenna’s biting commentary. She’s quiet, too, staring into her never-empty wineglass, muttering responses whenever Katie or Liz acknowledges her.
Something’s up with her, and I don’t believe it has to do with just me.
“So, Brenna.” Katie smiles at her sister as she sets her fork down on her mostly empty plate. “What’s new with you?”
Brenna’s shoulders tense and the smile on her face is completely over the top. “Oh, you know, I’ve just turned into a big loser and moved back in with Mom.”
“Brenna,” Liz starts, but Brenna waves a hand and laughs, though there’s no humor in the sound.
“May as well tell her the truth, Mom. She’ll find out eventually.” Her laughter dies. “Mike broke up with me.”
Liz’s mouth drops open. “I thought you broke up with him.”
Brenna shakes her head. “He was tired of dealing with my bullshit—direct quote. Said I have too many hang-ups about sex and marriage.”
I remain quiet while Liz and Katie gasp in unison. Looks like too much wine makes Brenna overshare.
“Though he’s not too off the mark,” Brenna continues. “Our screwed-up family focuses so much on Katherine’s problems, no one has ever given mine a second thought.”
“Brenna, please,” Liz starts, but Brenna barrels right over her.
“I’m in therapy and it’s going surprisingly well. I can see why you keep going, Katherine.” Brenna drains her wineglass and sets it onto the table with a loud thump. “I stuck it out too long with Mike. Our relationship has been dying a slow, boring death. We grew apart. End of story. No dramatic ending; no tragic event happened to split us up. Unfortunately, I don’t have a romantic, star-crossed, forbidden love story like you two.” She points at Katie and me.
We exchange glances. “Romantic, star-crossed, forbidden love story” isn’t what I would call us, but everyone has their own interpretation.
Including Katie’s sister.
The moment my sister and Mom leave the house, Will and I start to clean the kitchen. Me quietly putting things away while Will rinses off the dishes and sets them in the dishwasher.
“Well, that didn’t go quite the way I planned,” I finally say, coming to stand beside him and help rinse out the pot I used for the rice.
He says nothing for a while. Simply sets silverware into the dishwasher, his movements methodical and careful, just as is his silence. He’s trying to figure out what to say, I think.
“Your sister has a lot going on,” he finally says.
“That’s a nice way to put it.” He’s just being polite.
Bracing his hands on the edge of the sink, he turns to face me. “I also think she’s tired of living in your shadow.”
I turn off the water, irritated. Okay, I didn’t think he’d say that. “I never asked for any of this,” I remind him. “If she’s jealous because everyone focused on me over the years, trust me. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat. Not that I’d ever wish what happened to me on my sister—”
“I know. I understand. But she doesn’t. No one really does. All she sees is you got all the attention over the years, and she feels like she didn’t get any.” He dries his hands off with a dish towel, tossing it onto the counter before he pulls me into him, his arms going around me and holding me tight. I snuggle close to his chest and breathe in his warm, masculine, undeniably Will scent. “I didn’t think dinner went too bad, despite your sister’s outburst,” he murmurs into my hair.
I agree with him. Mom was nice. Friendly. She loves Molly, but who wouldn’t? Will loved Mom’s pumpkin pie, having two big slices, which pleased her. Once Brenna got over her minor fit and off the wine, she mellowed out, too. Will tried his best to be friendly, but she really didn’t warm to him. That’ll take time, I’m sure.
He’s always watching out for me and I wish Brenna could see that. He’s my own personal guardian angel. I’ve thought that about him from the very start. My wrist still feels empty considering I never took the bracelet he gave me long ago to a jeweler. It still sits on my dresser in my tiny jewelry box, waiting for me to do something about it. After the bracelet fell off my wrist when we were on the Sky Gliders and he’d been able to find it, I never found the time to take it to get fixed. I needed to make time and do that.
“It went well,” I say, smiling up at him. My smile fades when I see the intent in his gaze, the way his head lowers, and then his mouth is on mine. Gently. Then not so gently, with that hint of fire lying just beneath the surface, the hint that tells me he wants more. He’ll take this further.
And I’ll let him. I always let him.
We kiss like we haven’t seen each other in months, standing in front of the sink in the middle of my kitchen, our arms wrapped around each other, mouths fused. My lips part the slightest bit and his tongue is there, touching just the tip of mine. A tease, a promise of what’s to come, and I open my mouth wider, welcoming the invasion. Needing his kiss, his touch, to take me away and help me forget.
Everything.
The tension from dinner eases slowly from my muscles, leaving me a boneless heap in his arms. Still he kisses me, his hand moving up to cup the side of my face, his fingers streaking across my cheek, down my neck, pressing against the spot where my pulse flutters like a wild thing.
I feel a little wild with the way he’s kissing me. Consuming me. Yet his mouth and hands are also like anchors, grounding me, reminding me that I’m a woman and it’s okay for me to have this yearning, all-encompassing need building and growing inside of me. This need is all for him. Only him. He makes me feel alive. Like every light is extra bright, each sound is higher, louder, and his every touch is more intense, more urgent, more now, now, now and mine, mine, mine.
That’s what it feels like, to be with this man. To have his focus centralized only on me. It’s a delicious, heady experience, even while we stand in the kitchen, the dishwasher open, my still-damp hands clinging to the back of his shirt. We can take the ordinary and turn it into something amazing with only a few kisses, a smattering of stolen words, a whispered sign and a muffled moan.
One big hand with splayed fingers slides over my backside, staying there. Reminding me that I belong to him. And I want to belong to him. The more time I spend with Will, the more I know that this was the right choice. That he was the right choice.
We belong together. And no one can ever change that.
“Come on,” he whispers against my lips and I frown, about to ask him what he means when he’s suddenly lifting me up, into his arms. My legs automatically circle his hips and he’s carrying me as if I weigh nothing, Molly padding after us. I point a finger at her, my other arm wrapped around Will’s neck as I cling to him.
“Stay,” I command her, making Will chuckle. Making Mol
ly halt in her tracks in the middle of the hallway.
At least she listens to me.
He pushes open the bedroom door, walking inside, and then I’m sliding down his body, feeling every hard inch of him press into me. I land softly on my feet, my hands at his flannel shirt as I hurriedly undo the buttons. He doesn’t stop me, just watches me with those dark, heated eyes, his chest moving faster and faster as his breathing accelerates.
All for me, I think. His reaction is all mine.
My breaths match his, my trembling fingers fumbling over the last buttons, and he bats my hands away, taking over the job. He shrugs out of his flannel, tears off the white T-shirt he wore underneath, and then there’s just acres of firm, masculine skin on display. Just for me.
I touch him. Press my hands against his pecs, then slide them down, palms flat, brushing against his hot, hard flesh. He’s lean, I can feel his ribs, and I run my fingers over the tattoo, the tattoo I never asked about but now understand.
The angel wings, the words Only us. It’s me. It’s him. It’s us, together.
“Did you get this for me?” I press a kiss to the wings, letting my lips linger, tasting his skin.
“Yeah.” He cups my nape and I gaze up at him. “Took the drawing you gave me into the tattoo shop and the artist re-created it with more detail. You said ‘only us’ in your first letter to me and the words stuck with me.”
I frown up at him. “I did?” I don’t remember, and that makes me feel bad.
He nods. “You said that no one else understood what happened. Only us.”
Only us. The words stuck with him all this time. Permanently. That he would etch those words and the wings I drew him onto his skin forever . . . makes my heart feel like it grew wings and is desperate to take flight.