Page 19 of Something Borrowed
Lawson
Before I open my eyes, I know she is gone.
It is not because her plump ass is not tucked against my lap. Not because her thick hair with its sweet scent isn’t all over me. Or because I am cold in the middle of paradise. Last night, as we came together after our smuttiest lovemaking ever, I saw in her eyes she thought it was the last time.
Reaching across the pillow that still smells of her, I grunt. My fingers hit something hard, and I lift my head.Hell. The book she was reading. About a sailor coming to a small port town and leaving even though he found his person. Their fate was decided by a coin toss—our fate was decided the day I first laid eyes on her.
Sitting up a little, I open the book, shaking it to see if she left a note. Smirking, I flip to the last page. Of course, she put it at the end. Because she truly thought we would end. That is an impossibility, but I will deal with her refusal to accept that in due time. Touching the note written in sloping cursive, I trace the words before I read it. a
Lawson,
I never thought myself a coward. Yet here I am, writing this in the dark with my bags packed as I prepare to run. I am not sure if it is fear or good grasp on reality. This was the best weekend of my life. One of the sweet, short ones as I said before. One with a happy for now, not a happy ever after.
I believe you deserve that. HEAs ought to be simple. Being with me, thinking about starting something with a woman my age, with a woman tied to someone important to you, is toocomplicated. Besides, I can never give you what you deserve: children, an entire lifetime together.
You have a wandering spirit. There is a lot of wandering left for you to do, I think. I am not sure I have that in me at my age. Sitting on my porch in a rocking chair, reading the smut we both love, as I look back on a full life is what I have to look forward to. And I want that.
I want you more than I ever wanted anything besides my children’s happiness. That does not mean I should have you. It does not mean we would ever want the same things from this. What we had here on Heart Harbor, it was magical, beautiful, the best times of my life. Times I won’t ever forget. Please forgive me for being too ashamed to give a proper goodbye.
This is the end of our story, but it was a beautiful one.
Thank you – Lark
Dropping the book where her note is scrawled, I am shaking. I cannot breathe. My chest aches as I sit up, head in hands, tears stinging my eyes. I palm my eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths to calm myself. I can’t. It is not possible. I have known loneliness, heartache, and fear. This is a tangled ball of all of it. It takes me a few minutes before I shoot to my feet.
“I write the stories, love,” I say as I toss the book on the bed. “This one is not happy for now. We will get happy ever after, dammit.”
Dressing in a rush, I make a call to request the concierge to get my room packed. With a special note not to forget that book. Bursting from the room, I pause to see housekeeping clearing her room. Feeling a flicker of panic, I jog down the hall to the elevator.
Climbing on barefoot, in jeans and the tuxedo shirt from last night, I look as wild as I am. Downstairs, they confirm shehas checked out. After finding out the flight times off the island, I arrange for a car to the airport.
“Leaving in a hurry, bud?” Benji’s unmistakable rasp calls.
Bracing myself, I take a deep breath as I turn to face him. He wears a flowered shirt and swim trunks with flip flops. It is the last thing I expect to find the burly town butcher in. Tipping up his dark sunglasses, he smirks at me before he nods, encouraging me to speak.
“Uh...yeah. Yes. Uh, mate, we must talk...there is a lot to tell you. I doubt you want to know all of it. Or need to, really. But...not now. I... have you spoken to your mother?”
Benji’s eyes narrow as he cocks his head. For a breath of a moment, I fear for my wellbeing. Or keeping my face intact. There is something menacing about a man who can butcher entire animals. Before I can speak again, he smirks and shoves me, my bare feet sliding across the marble.
“Knew it. Brother, I knew it. We saw you sneaking off a few times. Figured you met someone. At rehearsals I noticed she distracted you. My mother blushed each time I said your name this weekend.”
“Yes. It’s Lark. Your mother. We met before we got here, by chance. I had no idea until...well, Benji it was too late the minute I saw her. We talked about it. You know when you know and... you must embrace it.”
Watching me for a moment, he seems to go over the pros and cons of me dating his mother. Obviously, it’s a strange situation. Awkward with lots of implications. I have known him for fifteen years, yet never met her. Never saw a photo. I would not have wasted fifteen without her. His face splits in a grin as he claps me on the back, sending me stumbling.
“I could be that guy who threatens you with death or denounce our friendship. Could lament how strange it is. Not that guy, brother. My mother is one of a kind, a woman who gaveher entire life. To anyone who needed it, at the cost of her own happiness. I saw her this weekend. Ma is happier than I’ve ever seen her—and not because I got married either.”
“I could lie to you, say I would take it back if I could, or that I would do it differently had I known she was your mother. I wouldn’t. I saw her and I knew. Or thought I did. Once we talked, laughed together, danced together—oh, we also crashed two weddings together, more about that another time--I was certain. Benji, I love Lark. I think she might love me too. I have to find her so I can convince her we get the story book ending.”
“Oh, definitely she loves you. Ma doesn’t dance, would have never crashed a wedding without you suggesting such shenanigans,” he teases, chuckling at the idea of his English professor mother invading a stranger’s special day. “My mother deserves everything in this world. You do this, you better give her everything. Promise me that. I can’t ask anything else.”
“I swear to you. There is nothing I won’t do if she asks. If she needs it. Even...uh, even giving up the wandering. Not sure I want to wander without her.”
“Well, hell. Ask her, brother, she may want to wander with you.”
On the ride to Harmony Hollow, I recall all we shared from the first moments on the flight to Heart Harbor. I had no clue who she was, but the way I was drawn to Benji is similar to how I was drawn to her. Finding him helped me on the path to finding myself. Finding her is leading me to the path for the rest of my life.
Growing up with parents who never gave a damn about their children made life lonesome. If not for my sister, I might have gone mad or worse. We created stories together. Entire worlds full of our ideas, of our dreams and hopes for ourselves. My sister brought her dreams to life in illustrations while mine came to life in words.
