Wet (31 page)

“I’m so sorry,” she says softly.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Elle replies.

Dad makes a feeble attempt to pass the rolls again. I can’t help it . . . I’m mad enough that I wish Skye would take one and then choke on it. I’m not as forgiving as Elle is.

Elle stands up. “Dessert, anyone?”

We all chime in and I rise to help Elle gather stuff.

She slides the trifle bowl out of the fridge as I watch. I then step up to her, take the bowl out of her hands, and set it on the counter before pulling her into my arms. I kiss the top of her head and hug her tightly, swaying slightly side to side.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She nods. “I know. Me too.”

“You okay? I’m starting to regret making you come tonight.”

“Don’t say that. I wanted to be here.”

“That stupid stuff Skye was saying made me want to stuff her in the stuffed potatoes.”

“It wasn’t stupid, there’s some truth in what she’s saying.”

“But she hurt you. I could see it on your face.”

“True . . . but she didn’t know about the baby.”

“Still . . .”

“I will say, it’s a little naïve of her to think you can go through life and not be busy and work hard if you are going to support yourself. Life is expensive.”

“Damn right.” I grab a beer out of the fridge and after taking a swig, Elle pulls the bottle out of my hand and takes one before handing it back to me.

She shrugs. “Maybe she’ll end up living in a commune or something, and not need cell phones and internet service. But that will never be me. I want more out of life, not less.”

I realize as she says it that I want more for Elle, too. She deserves it.

“I admire how hard you work,” I say.

She smiles. “Thanks. I feel the same about you.”

“I can’t help but worry about Patrick. I hope Skye doesn’t make him too freaky. It’s like an alien landed in our neighborhood and now she’s trying to abduct one of our own.”

“I think he’s finding himself. Maybe she’s good for him. She can loosen him up and get him to try things he never would have.”

I think about tofu and chanting and shake my head. “The sex better be great.”

“Well, judging from how happy he looks with her, let’s assume it is.”

Realizing we better rejoin the family before they send out a search party, I gesture to the dessert. “Shall we?”

She smiles and peels the foil off the top. I peek over her shoulder.

“Whoa! Is that pudding or something?”

“It’s a little bit of everything good . . . so yummy.”

I gather up the bowls, and follow her back out to the dining room.

Dad seems excited. “Is that trifle, lass?”

Elle nods with a grin.

Dad and Ma share a look. I can only imagine what they’re thinking. With every moment like this I know Elle is settling deeper into their hearts.

She stands above the bowl as she serves it up. She even remembered to bring separate servings of just the fruit for the vegan freaks. I watch her with pride.

Damn, she’s amazing.

When I take my first bite, my eyes roll back in my head as I groan.

“You like it?” Elle asks with a demure smile.

“Hell yes! It’s fit for a prince!”

“King,” Patrick says. “You mean fit for a king. That’s the saying.”

The corner of Elle’s mouth curves up and she winks at me.

I notice Skye studying us and I sense more awkwardness up ahead.

“How long have you two dated?” Skye inquires.

I’m still watching Elle as I answer, “We aren’t dating. We’re just friends.”

Elle smiles at me, and it’s a mysterious smile. I can’t tell what’s behind it. I’m then reminded of the time she yelled at me because of what I said about Melanie’s mysterious smile.

“Wow,” Skye says.

Patrick’s brows knit together. “Wow, what?”

Skye nods toward us. “With the energy sparking between them, I would’ve never guessed they were just friends.”

Damn right
.

Hippy girl finally got something right.

Elle does the dishes, and I dry, while Ma deals with the leftovers.

“I hear you two are going to a wedding a week from Saturday,” Ma says to Elle.

“Yes, my best friend Stella.”

“So when are you going to marry my Paulie?”

Both Elle and I snap our necks in Ma’s direction. Elle laughs. I’m not sure whether to be offended by that or to join her.

“Is he going to ask me?” Elle says. The way her eyes are dancing, she looks amused.

“He better,” Ma huffs.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Millie, but your son has no interest in marrying me.”

“I have to disagree. Paulie seems quite taken with you.”

What the hell? Thanks, Ma.

“Besides, I’m done with marriage. I think I’m meant to be single. And Paul knows that. He’s still searching for his nice girl who isn’t a handful like me.”

I throw down the dishtowel and pound my fist on the counter.

“Does my presence here count for anything? Why are you two talking like I’m not here?”

Ma continues to ignore me as she replies to Elle, “Well, I’m not giving up hope. Maybe you’ll change your mind in time.”

Elle glances over at me and winks.

What the hell does that that wink mean?

When did she become so mysterious?

“So that was fun,” Elle says when we get in the car to leave.

“Yeah, loads,” I reply with a huff.

“Aww come on.”

“Why is it that I become the butt of everyone’s humor when you’re over?”

“Maybe because you’re so fun to tease.”

“Awesome.”

“Your mom sure got you riled up trying to get you to marry me.”

“And you were no help with that.”

“Why does she want you to marry me so much?”

I roll my eyes with a dramatic flourish. “I have no idea really. It’s especially baffling because you’re so unattractive and unappealing. The grandkids would look like trolls.”

She seems to be fighting back a smile. “Go on.”

“And you don’t get along with anyone thanks to your incredibly sour personality.”

“Yes, I can believe that. I can barely stand to be around myself.”

“See what I mean? Oh, and your desserts suck.”

“Yeah, that explains why you had three helpings.”

I shrug. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You know how emo you get. Let’s not even talk about that.”

She lets out a long dramatic sigh. “Well, it’s just as well that I’m undesirable to you because I would never marry the likes of you anyway.”

I roll down the car window. It’s getting hot as hell in here.

“And why would you never marry me?”

She gazes out the window. “I’m not telling.”

What the hell?
“That’s not playing fair. I told you—why won’t you tell?”

“I don’t think you could take it.”

I pull the car into her driveway and park. We sit in silence for a minute. I tap my fingers on my knee but she’s still not talking.

“Okay, thanks for dinner.” She pops out of the car and walks to her porch before I can figure out what she’s up to.

I move quickly to catch her before she can get her key in the door. Reaching over, I press my palm against the lock so she can’t push her key into it.

“Why?” I say in a low voice as I lean into her, my chest against her back.

“Why, what?” She doesn’t turn, just jingles the keys in her hand.

“Why would you never marry me?”

When she turns around and looks at me, I study her expression to try to figure out what she’s thinking. It doesn’t feel like joking anymore.

“You really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

There’s a long pause as she studies me.

“The thing is, even if I were the type of girl that wanted to get married again, I wouldn’t marry you because I don’t think you’re interested in sex anymore. I know you were once, hell you were obsessed with it, but then something happened to you. I’m not sure what, but what you’re doing just isn’t natural.”

“Really?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest as I step back from her.

She nods. “And I need sex . . . a lot. I need it all the time. I threw myself at you countless times, and despite your low opinion of me, most men think I’m really hot.”

I don’t like where this is going and I squint at her. “Is that so?”

She folds her arms over her chest mimicking me. “Yes, sir, it is. Yet despite that, you didn’t just turn
me
down, but you turned down that goth girl who was begging you for it, as was that Melanie goddess. Any normal man would have screwed all of us just for the easy sex. But you walked away so easily . . . without a second thought.”

“You think you have me so figured out.”

“Well, what other reasonable conclusion can be made?”

I drop my arms and storm across her porch, but instead of marching down to my car, I turn and walk back toward her.

“You have no idea.”

“Well then, explain it to me.”

My fingers tighten into fists as I turn to pace the porch again. How can I explain anything when my feelings of love and lust for her get so tangled up that I can’t see which way is up anymore?

How do I tell her that at dinner tonight there was a point that I was completely lost with want for her?

We had just finished eating and my sister was going on about something when Elle sat up straight and swept up her hair behind her head
.

Something about the way her arms were lifted drew my focus to the curve of her neck and the way her breasts looked so perfect—they were calling out to me to be fondled. I immediately pictured her in this pose again, but under me in bed and naked . . . her hair making waves over the pillow.

As I watched, she let her hair fall back down over her shoulders and reached for her glass—I don’t even think she knew I was looking at her and that just turned me on more. I started to fantasize crazy thoughts of slipping from my chair to under the table, and passing by the sea of legs until I got to hers. I would press my lips to her bare knee and slowly pull her legs apart so I could trail kisses up her inner thighs.

Shaking my head of the memory, I try to focus back on what I’m going to say to Elle to explain myself. I keep pacing.

On my third stride across the porch she sighs and sits down on the bench. I can’t read the worried look in her eyes. Does she regret that she turned my teasing of her into something so personal for me . . . something I’m not sure I understand enough to explain?

Most of the time she thinks I’m a good man but she has no idea how
not good
I was back when I spent every free hour hunting for sex. I was such an asshole and I’m scared that fucker is still buried inside of me just waiting for the trigger to inflate my dirty lust again, expanding like a hot air balloon, pushing out all the good that has filled me.

Elle doesn’t understand that she’s the motivation that makes me want to be good; she’s transformed me. Yet I still don’t trust if we get intimate that the darkness won’t prevail.

I run my fingers through my hair and make fists of it, tugging hard. I’m protective of her so it weighs on me that I was an asshole when I played the field. The quest for that surge of euphoria as I got off, ruled me.

Tonight when that idiot Skye started babbling that inner soul crap about burying empty feelings and I looked over to see Elle’s expression, I was angry. As Elle blinked back tears I could feel in my bones how she was suffering the loss of her baby all over again, just when things had started to get better.

In that moment I wanted to go sweep her out of her chair, and pull her tight in my arms. With her pressed against my chest, I’d carry her away to a quiet place where we could find our peace again.

I glance over at her patiently waiting on the bench for me and I want to yell in frustration for all the words I can’t say. Does she really mean it when she says she’s done with relationships? I’ve never even come close to having crazy intense feelings like this about anyone . . . what else could it be but love?

Does a love like this break you, or put you back together again?

I finally stop pacing and approach her. She looks up at me with wide eyes.

“Elle, I’m sorry.”

The corners of her lips turn down. “Why?”

“I can’t talk about this right now. I need some time to figure stuff out.”

She tips her head as she looks at me. “Can I help you? I’d do anything to help you.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Thank you. I think I just need some time to get my head on straight.”

“Alone time?” Her brows knit together.

“Yeah, that would be best.”

She casts her eyes down at the ground and I notice her hands tighten on edge of the bench. “Does this mean you won’t come to Stella’s wedding with me?”

I slip my fingers under her chin and lift up so she’s looking at me.

“I’m taking you to the wedding. I promise.”

Her eyes have a gray tint, like the blue color has faded along with her spirit. “Thank you.”

I sit down on the bench next to her. “Look, you’ve got a crazy week ahead with all the wedding stuff. Just focus on that and a week from Saturday I’ll pick you up and I promise we’ll have a great time.”

Standing up, I reach for her hand. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

She joins me and takes a step toward the door but then turns and puts her arms around me. I hug her back, and from that gesture she sinks into me and runs her hand down my neck until it rests on my chest.

“I’m so sorry if what I said hurt you. You’re the last person in the world that I would want to hurt,” she whispers.

“It hurt. But you’ve got to be honest with me.”

She presses her eyes shut tight at my words. “I’m selfish. It’s just sometimes I lie in bed and imagine us together. I remember how turned on I was when we kissed that one night and how perfect it was when you held my breasts in your hands. And then I fantasize about how it would feel with you inside of me . . .”

My heart is thumping.
Why is she doing this to me?

“Elle,” I gasp.

“I don’t even read my erotic books anymore, I just think about you.”