“Later. In my bed. I’ll let you bite me.”
She snorts. “No you won’t. You’ll make me fight for it.”
I smile. “Damn straight I will. And you’ll love it.”
With a loud theatrical sigh, she smacks my arm, then squirms until she can sink her teeth into it.
“You’re a pest.”
“But you love me,” she says.
I can do nothing but agree, although love seems like such a tepid word for the way my insides are being annihilated by all thesefeelings.
That’s it, isn’t it? I get it now. The messed-up, wonderful, unavoidable truth: You’ve got to raze yourself to the ground before building back up again.
And the pain? The pain’s the thing that tells you it was all worthwhile.
* * *
Twyla
I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter than I am right now. Soaked and chilly, but warm inside with a glow that’s got nothing to do with Zion’s body heat and everything to do with his heart. He’s given it to me and it’s the most precious gift I’ve ever had.
I sigh happily as he carries me, caveman style, through a gate, up a slick set of paving stones edged with old boxwoods, then up a few steps, onto a porch. Inside, the house is lit up, but out here it’s dark and sheltered from the rain and it feels like a private little world only the two of us inhabit.
In the soft glow of the window, with the rain pelting the porch roof, our bodies steaming in the night, he slowly drops me and, without thinking, I strain up for another drugging kiss. Just one more out here before heading in and bursting this perfect bubble.
The overhead light comes on, the door flies open. Cringing, I turn, and startle at a silhouette that definitely should not be here.
“Gigi?”
“Surprise!” yells my best friend with an apologetic grimace. “I, um. Wow. Whoa. Stop the presses. Look at you.” She blinks down at the shirt that felt like more than enough coverage when we left the shack. Right now, it’s like a window pane into my new debauched existence.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, too destabilized by her presence to act anything but shocked. “How’d you get here?”
“Aaaaaan airplane.” She looks up at Zion and puts out a hand. “Hey! Sexiest Man Alive. We met at the wedding, but I’m not sure if you—”
“Gigi,” he says, sounding calm and collected, which is totally unfair. “Good to see you again.”
“Oh, my god.” Gigi grins, wide, as she takes us both in. Zion, naked from the waist up, his hair clinging to his skull in a way that only highlights those cheekbones of his, those lips. God, those lips. I’m sure I look like a drowned rat. “You two… This is so much better than anything I could have imagined. Hold on. I need a picture, just for—”
“No pictures. Come inside.” Liev’s voice cuts through, from behind Gigi. “Let’s get you a shower.” He looks us up and down, his face somehow conveying humor or happiness without actually cracking a smile. “And some clothes.”
“Is it them?” Lamé calls from farther inside the house. “If it’s them, make them wait! I want to catch the post-coital glow before it fades into sad domesticity. Move. Move, I want to see the hedonistic mess of their…” Their voice trails off the minute they pop around the doorframe, joined a second later by Grace.
“Here we are!” I say, wishing they’d all disappear and give us a few more hours alone.
“Shoulda stayed at the shack,” mutters Zion out the side of his mouth.
They all grin. Every last one of them. And, yes, it’s all kind of funny in a way, but it’s also really freezing and this has been a big, big night for the two of us. I’d really rather be—
“Wait a second.” I look at Gigi, my brain coming back online. “What’s going on? Seriously. Why are you here?”
She hesitates, which is so unlike her, a sense of foreboding takes me over.
“Tell me. What is it? My parents? Are they okay? They’re on the cruise, right? I told them I’d be off-line and out of—”
“No. No, they’re fine. I talked to Esme and she’s…” Gigi gives a tight little smile with a wink and a shimmy, the whole move so very much my mother that I huff out a laugh, despite the tension that’s taken everything over. “She’s great. They’re great. Happy as larks, dancing their way through retirement like a pair of rabid teenagers.”
