Chapter 9
Fifteen months later
Breathe.
Carefully, slowly, deliberately, Clara pulls the bow across the strings. Falling into the sound, she switches notes. Inside her head, she counts.
The rhythm feeds her. It feels so natural, so normal. She's got this memorized, so she doesn’t turn the page of sheet music. Clara lets herself be consumed by the music.
Clara’s eyes are focused on her fingers. She shifts her posture, moving with a crescendo. The music pulls out of her, the most natural thing she's ever known.
Time doesn't work the same here. It consumes and eats her alive. Her fingers sting but not much. Practice has changed that. Finally, Clara pulls her bow from the cello and looks over the concert hall.
There are so many faces, looking like separate bobbing pinheads. Applause rings as the sound of her instruments fades out of the arched wood walls. Lips parting, she looks at the sea of people before a volunteer takes her cello from her, allowing her to transfer to her wheelchair and move stage right.
Once in the small side hallway, she lets out a long breath. Her heart beats steadily, thumping in her chest. A volunteer pats her on her shoulder. "You OK, Ms. Summers?"
"Oh," she answers quickly. "Yes. It's just strange."
"What is?" She sees her cello being packed in its case and feels grateful that they're being gentle with it. The volunteer asks again. "Ms. Summers?"
"Just call me Clara." She smiles at him. "It's fine. It's been a long time since I've played in front of this many people.
"It's very brave of you," he says, uttering the cursed words.
Clara resists rolling her eyes and settles for smiling. She reminds herself that not everyone understands why that sort of wording bothers her.
"That's very nice, but it’s not a bravery thing. I didn't stop playing because of my disability." She rolls down the hallway, glad she chose a dress with a shorter skirt so nothing catches in the wheels. "I stopped playing because I was concerned people would call me brave for a skill I learned before I had to use a wheelchair."
She turns a cheeky grin to the man, who looks embarrassed. He starts to apologize, but she waves him off. "Happens all the time." She pauses. "Is there anything left to do backstage or can I go out to the reception?"
"We're having your cello loaded into the car you came here in. Go on out." Another volunteer walks up and speaks to Clara. She gestures toward the door, and Clara doesn't hesitate as she wheels toward it and hits the button to automatically open it with her palm.
The ramp isn't steep, and she takes the winding way down to the main area. It's not the most wheelchair accessible concert hall she's played in, but for this performance, she didn't want to perform anywhere big.
At the base of the stairs, she stops to run her fingers over a poster with her silhouetted photo. Clara Summers' Solo Comeback Concert—$15 general admission, $10 for student and seniors. July 4th, 6–7p.m.
When she rolls her chair into the main room, Clara is swept up in a flurry of activity. Surrounded by audience members, she tries to greet as many as she can and stay friendly. The attention is overwhelming.
Someone squeals and swoops her into a hug. The perfume is familiar. Rosebud. "Hey, Mom.”
Her mom pulls back, squishing her cheeks in her hands. "Honey, you were so wonderful. I am so proud of you." The brunette, whose hair is in a bob cut, smiles gently. "You are so strong. You've pushed through all this with such stride."
"Yeah, the years of schooling were really difficult," Clara says, hiding her irritation beneath a layer of sugar. She smiles. “It’s all about practice.”
Her mom looks distant, and a little...disappointed? "Well, but honey, your legs—”
"I worked hard for this. It's nice to have everyone's support as I start to play again. It’s not about my legs. It’s about me knowing what people think of my disability shouldn’t stop me from playing just because I want my hard work to be recognized."
Clara squeezes her mom's hand, cutting off her tirade. Her peripheral vision searches for the single person she wants to see right now. He’s nowhere in sight.
"Oh, but you're such a talent." The middle-aged woman pinches her cheek. "What next? An orchestra? An album? I'm so proud of you."
Shaking her head, Clara raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure—I guess we'll see. Talent is a fallacy, besides. Thank you for all your support throughout the years. I know I've pushed myself. I'm proud of myself as well."
"You're welcome, sweetie." Completely missing the point, her mother lights up and clasps her hands together. "Are you looking for Nathanael? I just saw him."
There it is. "You did? Where?"
"Closer than you think." A familiar, deep voice resounds in her ear, and Clara feels arms weave around her front. Nathan drifts his lips over her ear and kisses her temple, making her shudder. "You were so wonderful. Every note was perfect. I don't know how you do it."
"Like I said," Clara responds, quiet and teasing, voice almost a purr. "With hard work."
"I've been telling her," Clara's mother chimes in, gushing, "she's a natural talent and such a hard worker to forge past her disability."
Clara can't see Nathan's expression while he's behind her, but she has no doubt it's guarded. He laughs. "You give her less credit than she deserves, Mrs. Summers. I highly doubt the muscular sclerosis has much to do with it. Right, Clara?"
Relief washes through her. "Right." She smiles, tilting her head and looking up. Nathan looks just as wonderful as always but more put-together now. His black hair is combed out of his eyes, and he is wearing a dress shirt and tie. It's an unusual sight for him.
"You look amazing," she smiles. "So clean and formal."
He opens his mouth to speak, but he's cut off by Clara's mother again. "It is a change, isn't it? I say Nathan's a unique boy either way." She smiles at them both, clasping her hands together. "You two are so cute, I can scarcely believe it. Nathan, I've said this before, but you're simply a charm for being able to hook Clara. She's so dodgy—always has been."
"Well," he jokes, catering to her mom's whims in that clever way he always does, "I had to put up a fight. She’s a real fixer-upper, that one.” Nathan flicks his tongue out at Clara, making her roll her eyes.
By the time they finally manage to extract themselves from the concert hall and get to Clara's car, it's dark. With Clara's cello loaded into the back, Nathan gets into the driver’s seat and the two begin the drive back to Port Murmure.
Clara leans her head against the window, staring at a purple-blue night. Nathan taps on the steering wheel with his pointer finger. She muses out loud. "You're the real fixer-upper in this relationship, you know." Clara turns to him, teasing.
Nathan raises an eyebrow. "Of course, I know that. I'm surprised you didn't bring it up then. Thank you for keeping my pride intact." He laughs.
Clara sighs, smiling. She could fall into that laugh of his, the comfortable one that tells him he's happy. It's like a safe zone—a reminder that things are OK. More than OK.
Nathan reaches over and squeezes her fingers with his right hand, steering with the other. His touch is warm, making her shiver. She leans into it as Nathan runs his thumb back and forth over her hand and knuckles.
The feeling of it lulls into somewhere else, somewhere dreamlike. His touch is soft, even with the rough skin on his hands. He works as an EMT again, now—Port Murmure was hiring to help man the emergency line and ambulance. Clara has never seen him happier, which is good. His happiness is infectious. Nathan's comfort makes her feel like she can tackle anything. She wonders, in the back of her mind, if he feels the same way about her.
While driving into Port Murmure again, she speaks up. "Nathan, how does love feel?"
"In general?"
"No," Clara corrects, "For you."
There's a small pause. He bites his lip, tapping on the steering wheel once more. "Love feels like...a warm bath in the dead of winter." When he pauses, the car feels alive with energy. His voice is so smooth, and Clara hangs onto every word. "You're cold but not freezing to death. You get home and take off your gloves and coat and hang them up." He turns onto the road leading to Clara's house. "Then you put away your boots and your bag. It's not an immediate switch to warmth, but you can feel it coming. You turn on the water and get undressed. When you finally step into the bath, it's everything. The anticipation is half of it. The rest is the feeling. It surrounds you entirely. Every aspect of who and what you are."
"Not like a natural high, right?" Clara raises an eyebrow.
He shakes his head. "No. It's much slower than that." Reaching to his chest, Nathan rubs the spot where his heart would be. "It's a glow from deep within."
"And to think that I'm the one who writes for a career," she teases. It's dark in the car and so she can't see his blush, but Clara is certain it's there.
When they park at the house, Nathan comes around the side and picks her up bridal style in his arms. Clara squeals, heart pounding.
Nathan laughs. It has a calming effect, and Clara leans into his body. The shifter smiles. "I've got a surprise."
He locks the car, careful not to drop Clara, before carrying her past the gardens and down a set of steps to the beach. The steps are new and not really steps—they're scaffolding for a ramp. As of right now, that leaves only Nathan beach access with ease. Clara could find a way to get to the beach while walking, but there'd be no way to get back. The ramp will be good.
She leans closer into Nathan's chest. With her ear pressed to his skin, Clara can hear his heartbeat. "You're a hopeless romantic," she comments, eyes darting up to Nathan's.
When he looks down, the shifter seems more intrigued and amused than embarrassed. "Maybe so," he admits. "But I'm the most dangerous type of hopeless romantic."
"And what type would that be?"
Nathan steps onto the sound, a tiny smirk on his face. "The type, Ms. Clara Summers, with a habit of well-planned, terribly cheesy dates.” He snickers, and Clara has no choice but laugh with him.
She looks toward the ocean. Near the tide line but far enough that they won't be getting wet any time soon, there's a blanket laid out with rocks. There's a basket, too, and two wine bottles.
"None of this was here before we left, Nathan." Clara smiles. "Who did this?"
He shakes his head. "I have to have some secrets."
"Luka, then?"
Nathan snorts and sets Clara on the blanket in her formalwear. Fine, you've got me. Took a lot more convincing than it should have, too—he's a prat and a royal pain."
Nathan pours wine. There’s cheese and crackers, too, making Nathan’s statement about this being a cheesy date pretty accurate. It’s late, the moon high in the sky and leaving the beach glowing silver.
They talk. It’s natural. Drinking happens, but not too much. Neither drink in excess anymore, and that’s a good thing.
At some point, exhaustion hits. Not a desire for sleep—just a bodily tiredness that makes Clara lie back, laughing. She stares at the sky.
Nathan falls back next to her and weaves their fingers together. “Sometimes I think the stars are all little eyes, watching us rotate around the sun again and again.”
“Are you afraid of what they’d see?”
Clara shakes her head and smiles. “No. Are you?”
“Not anymore.” He leans over and kisses Clara’s shoulder, lips lingering on the skin and charging the moment with intimacy. “Not these days.”
Nathan sits slowly, leaning on his bent knees. Clara stays lying back. It’s more comfortable like this. Nathan reaches and brushes hair out of her eyes before leaning down and kissing her on the lips.
When he pulls away, the shifter looks distant. Even in the dark, Clara can see that look. She knows it. “There’s something on your mind.”
He nods. Clara raises an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”
Gently, Nathan reaches a hand behind Clara’s back and helps her sit up. He ruffles her hair, leaning in and kissing her neck. Clara’s heart sinks. Is he leaving? Has he has enough of me? Has he had enough of this town? The way he’s acting makes her feel anxious.
Smile dropping, Nathan creases his brow. “Clara, is something wrong?”
“You aren’t…” She trails off. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
His eyes go wide. “No! Absolutely the opposite.”
Nathan smiles at her, and Clara feels drawn into his soft gaze. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulls out a small box. Clara’s heart thumps in her chest, speeding up as he sits in front of her. “If you can’t stand, I suppose kneeling has little purpose,” he murmurs, a dopey smile on his face.
“Oh,” Clara breathes, grasping the situation.
Nathan opens the box, revealing a silver ring with a tiny, inlaid diamond. “I know you like subtle.” He sounds nervous, his voice wavering. Clara’s mouth feels dry as he continues.
“I know I’m eclectic. I know I don’t make sense, and to accept this would be to accept the faults I’m not sure how to get rid of yet, along with ones that will never go away.”
The shifter grabs Clara’s hand, squeezing it. “But if you don’t mind that—if you don’t mind knowing I have claws—” He snorts, and Clara giggles. “If you don’t mind that—Clara Summers, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
Clara’s heart flips in her chest. She shivers, emotionally overwhelmed. Nodding, she smiles and chokes back her tears. “Yes. More than anything, yes.”
Nathan’s lips twitch as he pulls the ring out and slips it onto her finger. It takes a few tries with how shaky his hands are from excitement. Once it’s on, Clara takes his hands in her. “There’s very little you could have done wrong to ever make me say no.”
“I love you,” Nathan chokes out, emotional and teary-eyed.
“I love you too, Nathanael Walker.”
Unable to hold back any longer, Clara kisses him. It’s not a powerful kiss or one driven by passion. It’s a gentle kiss—they mold into each other as part of a whole. She called him a hopeless romantic, but it’d be a blatant lie to say she’s not one, too.
And that’s why they work. Weird people connect like magnets.
Nathan runs his thumb over her cheek as he kisses her. When he pulls away, it’s only enough to get a good breath. Their lips are still almost touching. Clara leans their foreheads together and rubs the side of her face against his. “What’s your next plan?”
“I think that was most of it,” he laughs, “I didn’t plan this far.”
Clara laughs, pulling away a bit. “Did you think I would say no?”
“No, just didn’t plan,” the shifter admits, standing and stretching. He looks out to the sea. “I just knew I wanted to do it here, since there aren’t good ways to get yourself to the beach.”
He turns to Clara before ducking down and placing the empty glasses and bottles in a basket. He tucks away the blanket as well.
When he lifts Clara, she holds the basket. Clara feels like it’s all a dream. She almost pinches herself, but the heartbeat in Nathan’s chest as he carries her is far too real.
Once inside, Nathan puts her down on the couch and sets the basket on the counter. After putting away anything perishable in the fridge, he leans against the table and looks at Clara.
“You know I didn’t have a continuation to this plan,” he teases, making her heart leap. “What about you, Clara? Now that you’ve agreed to marry me, what’s your next step?”
She stares at him, eyes wide while she thinks. Clara bites at her lip, flicking her tongue over her teeth. “I think I’d like my fancy new fiancé to spoil me.”
He laughs, running fingers through his dark locks. It was combed back neatly at the concert hall, but now it’s messy. Clara doesn’t mind at all—the way the strands of hair fall into his eyes make him look rougher—more like him.
Stepping forward, Nathan leans over the back of the couch so his face is close to Clara’s. “I think I could manage that. Bedroom sound good to you?”
“Yes, please,” Clara says.
He carries her to the bedroom, setting her gently on the bed. Nathan presses his hands next to Clara’s torso and starts to kiss her neck, but she pushes him away.
An amused smile spreads across her face. “Strip for me.”
Nathan laughs. His face blossoms, red and he turns away, running fingers through his hair to shake it out. He undoes the tie, setting it on the dresser. In the mirror by the closet, he makes eye contact with Clara.
She bites her lip, a smile teasing her lips. Nathan unbuttons the top half of the buttons of his shirt. It slides down his neck to the edges of his shoulders, making the tucked-in shirt bunch around his waist and the rolled-up sleeves above his elbow.
Staring at his hands, he undoes the rest of the buttons before slipping the garment off his body. God, his body. If Clara’s not used to it when they’ve been together over a year, she’ll probably never be used to it. Nathan folds the garment and sets it on the dresser before turning back to Clara.
“Your pants?” She raises an eyebrow.
Nathan shakes his head. “I’d like to take turns, love.”
With a slow and deliberate tenderness that makes Clara shiver, he kisses up Clara’s legs to the top of her stockings. She wonders how long it took him to realize they were thigh-highs and not normal nylons. Reading her mind, Nathan answers the question.
“I guessed you were wearing these,” he purrs. “But It’s a wonderful discovery to find that I was right.”
Gently gripping the top of one of the thigh highs, he pulls it down her leg and removes the dress shoe before taking her sock off, then the next one. All the way down, Nathan leaves teasing kisses with dragging teeth.
Clara breathes deeply, slowly, trying to keep herself from getting too excited too fast. It’s no use—no matter what she tries not to feel, Nathan’s tenderness will drag it out of her.
Straddling her thighs, Nathan reaches for the chest of Clara’s dress. It has a few buttons that go down to the bottom of the ribs, but then it’s just skirt. He unfastens the buttons then slides the straps of the dress over her shoulders. If it wasn’t such a warm summer, Clara would be able to blame her shivering on the cold.
Nathan cups her face in his hands, leaning in and kissing her. At first, his lips barely brush her. He teases her, parting his lips only slightly—just enough so that she can feel his breath. After a moment, Nathan kisses her in earnest. Melting in his hands, she lets him take control of her mouth, tongue, body, anything. He can have anything he wants—any part of her that he desires.
Without much effort or thought, Clara’s pulled into the contact. She kisses him back, flicking her tongue against his bottom teeth. Nathan nips at her top lip, making her whine and jolt underneath him.
All too soon, he pulls away and leaves her breathless. Drifting his kisses over her skin, Nathan kisses Clara’s jaw—her cheekbone—her ears. He tugs at the top of her ears with his teeth, the heat of his breath seeping intensity into everything he does. Clara gasps quietly when he nips at her neck, leaving marks she know will last. “God—”
He looks up and brushes hair out of her eyes. “Doing OK?”
“Yes,” she breathes, positively glowing. “More than yes.”
Laughing heavy and deep, Nathan peels her dress off. Underneath, he notices the matching black lace lingerie and runs his fingers over the fabric. Clara shivers as his touch runs over her breasts.
“Oh, naughty girl. You had plans of your own.” Nathan’s voice dips into a possessive growl.
“I did think it was a possibility,” Clara admits freely. Nathan dips his head down and kisses her sternum in the valley between her breasts.
He body worships her, leaving kisses all over her skin. Clara breathes slowly, closing her eyes.
“You,” he finally murmurs, “are so beautiful.”
She opens her eyes and finds him staring at her, his expression a mixture of lust and adoration.
Clara weaves her fingers into his thick, black hair. "You're not so bad yourself."
He presses forward, capturing her in a passionate kiss. Clara drops her hands to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them as he breathes love and sex into her lips. He's already hard—she runs her fingers over his length through his boxers.
Nathan pulls back a bit, breathing shakily into her lips. As Clara continues to drift her fingers over his groin, he shudders and makes circles with his thumbs over her shoulders.
Clara leans her head to the side of his and breathes close to his ear. "I want to taste you."
Nathan lets Clara push him onto his back on the bed. She shifts down the bed so her mouth is near his hips.
Clara passes his lips over his skin, kissing his hips and following his happy trail to the hem of his boxers. There, she slides them down and frees his cock from the fabric. He gently pets her hair as she kisses up his length, flicking her tongue against the top. She drags it out as long as possible, letting him twitch underneath her. Finally, she takes him into her mouth and slowly starts to move her head.
Nathan groans, so low it's barely audible. The sound makes Clara whine as she sucks him off. She can feel him wanting her to go deeper as he clenches his fingers in her hair. With one of her hands, she gently pats his to let him know it's OK.
He's hesitant at first, but her fiancé slowly begins to push her head down onto him. Clara gags a little at first then gets used to the sensation. Taking most of him into her mouth, she swirls her tongue. The way Nathan whines under her touch makes it even more satisfying.
She pulls off before he can get close to finishing, wiping off her mouth with the back of one end. "You're amazing," Nathan breathes heavy as he watches her.
A fire lights in Clara's eyes.
Nathan abruptly switches their positions, pulling Clara to his level and then flipping on top of her. He leaves hasty, quick, tickle-inducing kisses all over her shoulders and chest. She laughs, swatting at him.
When he finally looks at her again, he's smiling. Staring up at him in the dark of her room, Clara decides that the smile of this man—the one with the green eyes, the one with the black hair that's almost always messy, the one who's forgetful and still tries his best—is one of her favorite sights in the world.
"Do you want to use a condom today?" Nathan kisses her neck below her ear then pulls back to look at her again.
Clara shakes her head. "No. Whatever happens happens." She wraps her hands around the back of his neck. "I just want you. All you."
Nathan nods. Smiling, he runs the back of his fingers over Clara's cheek before sinking down the length of the bed to her groin. Careful not to damage them, he slips the thin, delicate panties off and tosses them to the side. Clara leans back and closes her eyes, feeling his breath near her most delicate area.
He flicks his tongue against her clit, and Clara breathes in sharply. She grips the comforter in her fingers as he swirls his tongue around her, delicately drifting his lips over her groin. He exhales, the warm air pressure making Clara shift her legs and hold in a gasp. Nathan teases her, moving her closer and closer with his tongue.
He presses his tongue against her opening, dipping it inside of her. She moans quietly, fingers finding purchase in his thick hair. "God, Nathan, save some for the main event.” He flicks his tongue against her clit again.
The shifter pulls away. His hair is everywhere like usual, an amused look in his beautiful green eyes. "This is the Nathan I fell in love with," Clara murmurs.
He raises an eyebrow. "The one who gives good cunnilingus?"
Going red, Clara grabs a pillow and throws it at him. "No, you dumbass—”
After failing to dodge the pillow, Nathan laughs and replaces it at the front of the bed. "I know, I'm just teasing.” He tucks the hair behind her cheek. "I love you, too."
"I mean," she murmurs, smiling cheekily at him. "I did, a little bit, also fall in love with the part of you who eats me out. That's a pretty measurable benefit."
"Glad you appreciate my talents," he snorts, kissing her neck and collarbone.
He positions himself at her opening and waits for a nod from Clara before slowly pushing in. He's done the work to get her ready, so there's no pain. Nathan moans, low and vibrating, as he pushes in all the way. Once he's in to the hilt, he leans and captures Clara's mouth in a kiss.
They stay like that for a while so that both of them can adjust, but eventually Nathan starts moving. He pulls out, then slowly pushed in again. All the while, Clara holds onto his forearms and breathes. A shiver runs down her back as he increases his pace.
She whines, hearing her fiancé’s moans in return.
He pulls one arm away from her, bringing it between her legs to grind against her clit. Clara inhales sharply, digging her nails into his arm. He doesn't mind.
Pounding into her, Nathan leans forward and captures her in a deep kiss. She latches onto his lips, biting at the bottom one and moaning into his lips. After a bit, she gasps for air and murmurs into his lips. "I'm close. God, I'm close—”
Nathan moans into the skin of her neck and bites down gently, making her gasp. He keeps moving his hand as he climaxes inside of her and Clara finds herself at a finish, moaning in shuddering gasps.
They just stay like that for a while, coming down from their climaxes and breathing into each other’s mouths. Nathan’s hair falls into Clara’s eyes. Lying there, she can still taste him on her lips.
After a moment, she pecks Nathan’s cheek. “Love of my life, I’d love to just stay like this, but unfortunately I definitely need to clean up.”
Nathan swoops her up in his arms and carries her to the bathroom. Opting for the shower, Clara sits on the seat inside. As they clean up, she lets the warm water wash over her and contemplates happiness.
After they’re done and she’s back in the bedroom in a clean set of bra and panties, she finally speaks up. “I think you coming into my life made me seek out my happiness in a way I hadn’t before,” she says.
Nathan gets on the bed with Clara. He climbs under the covers and faces her, squeezing her hands. “When I say the feeling is mutual, I mean it with every shred of my being and every part of me.”
“Even the bear part?” Clara teases.
He nods seriously. “Yes. Even that.”
Nathan pulls her into a hug, his warmth surrounding her. If Clara’s heart could glow any more, it would burn through her chest. Contentment settles over her, and she lets exhaustion pull her closer to sleep.
Nathan falls asleep before her, his body relaxing so that his arms loosen. Remaining in the dark and the comfort of his touch, Clara runs her fingers over her hand and touches the warm metal of the engagement ring.
Nathan always says he used to think he was cursed. Lying in the dark, Clara decides he’s far more of a blessing.
Her heart swells.