Cara

 

It took Cara awhile to get used to her newly dyed red hair and Devin’s thicker, long beard. At first, it seemed so obvious to her that they were disguises. She assumed everyone who looked at them noticed their fraudulent appearances. However, slowly, over the course of a few months, she stopped feeling like a little kid on Halloween and started feeling more like herself.

 

She even grew to like Devin’s beard. She ran her fingers through it during sex, giving him what he liked to call “sex beard.” Boxes of red hair dye filled the space under their bathroom sink so she could touch up her roots without going to a salon, and as she became tanned from long days spent at the beach, the color stopped washing out so much.

 

The real challenge, however, proved to be living with Devin. Cara loved him. She knew that. Though, she found herself needing to be reminded some days. She knew it was just growing pains. Their relationship had happened so quickly.

 

They’d known each other for little more than a week when everything happened—the truth being revealed, the Bianchi hit, Devin leaving the country, Cara being blackmailed into another hit—and then, suddenly, they were running away together, starting new lives.

 

As much as Cara had hoped everything would be perfect, there were bumps. The normal kind: Devin leaving beard hair around the sink, Cara letting her shoes pile up next to the door, Devin using all of the hot water, Cara eating the last of the cookies and then putting the empty container back in the pantry.

 

And the unusual kind of bumps: forgetting to call each by their new names when in public, breaking down and making a Facebook profile even though it could potentially be seen by someone from their old lives and traced back to them, pulling money from their getaway stash to pay for clothes or groceries.

 

They went by James and Ava in public. It would have been easier if they’d permanently changed their names, even in private. It certainly would have prevented some of their slip-ups, but it felt too strange. Devin simply looked like a Devin to Cara. Calling him James felt wrong, unnatural. And hearing the name Ava roll off of his tongue didn’t give her the same giddy feeling as when he whispered “Cara” in her ear.

 

Their cover story was simple. They had both been businesspeople in the city, working constantly, never taking a vacation, never slowing down. Then, they’d grown weary of the hustle and bustle, and they took a trip to the island. Then, they loved it so much, they decided to stay.

 

Of course, the real story was much more interesting, but they couldn’t tell anyone that. And Devin had enough money saved up from his years as a hit man that they could afford to live comfortably for a year or two on his savings before they’d need to find work.

 

Cara grew restless from time to time with no one to talk to and nothing to do, but a nice long run on the beach could usually cure her of that. Devin would go with her, lying in the sand with a book while she exercised. That was another thing she’d learned about Devin since they’d run away together—he was a big reader. He always had a stack of books on his nightstand that he was reading, and as soon as he finished one, he’d pick up another. Cara tried to enjoy reading the way he did, but it made her restless.

 

It was on one of those restless days that Cara found herself on the beach. Devin had been home, lying on the couch, a book large enough it could have doubled as a doorstop in his hands, and Cara couldn’t stay quiet anymore. She needed to be outside. In the wind and the water and the sun.

 

She started off running and made it just over a mile when she slowed to a walk, burying her toes in the sand with every lazy step. And then, finally, she’d found her way to the water. Island life agreed with her because she never wore a bra, but instead had a closet full of swimsuits that she wore under all of her clothes. Living so close to the beach, there weren’t many days she didn’t make her way down to the water.

 

Rather than swimming laps or treading water, she flipped over and floated on her back, shading her eyes from the sun so she could stare up at the perfectly blue sky. She could feel the sun’s rays baking her skin, and she remembered she’d forgotten sunscreen. Devin was constantly getting on to her about not wearing enough sunscreen.

 

“You look hot now, but you’ll regret it when we’re old.”

 

She always rolled her eyes, but it actually gave her a thrill. The thought of them being old together. Still being a couple when her hair turned gray and his fell out.

 

Knowing she’d never hear the end of it if she came home beet-red and burnt, Cara flipped over and swam for the shore. She carried her clothes in her hand, and walked home in her swimsuit, waving at the locals she passed on the beach, and ignoring the shouts and whistles of the vacationing twenty-something men.

 

Their house sat just off the beach behind a wooded area. Within a few weeks of living there, Devin had chopped a direct path through the trees to their house so they wouldn’t have to walk around, and it was now Cara’s favorite place. It felt like walking into a storybook.

 

Stepping from the beach into the cool shade of the trees, pushing past branches and stepping over fallen leaves, until finally, the path opened onto a tiny beach cottage. The house was pale blue with a screened-in porch and a tire swing that looked adorable but was ancient and certain to break the moment any amount of weight was put on it. It looked like a painting, and Cara loved coming home to it.

 

She wiped her sandy feet on the doormat and dropped her clothes into the hamper they kept next to the door for wet and sandy clothes and stepped inside. Immediately, she smelled flowers. Lots of flowers.

 

“Did you spray air freshener?” she asked, running a hand through her wind-tangled hair and padding barefoot into the living room.

 

“Shit.”

 

“Devin?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

 

Then, she turned the corner, and she saw it. The room was full of flowers. Floor to ceiling floral. Roses, peonies, daisies, lavender. Every flower she could name—and a ton of flowers she couldn’t—were arranged in vases all around the room.

 

“What in the world?”

 

Devin shook his head, and smiled, running his hand nervously over the back of his neck. “Well, you’re home earlier than I expected.”

 

“I forgot sunscreen,” she said as an explanation.

 

Devin laughed. “Of course. Today is the day you decide to listen to me.”

 

“What is this?” she asked. She inhaled the scent deeply, letting it fill her completely.

 

“It’s for you,” he said.

 

“But why?”

 

Devin stepped forward, and then, dropped to one knee.

 

Cara gasped.

 

“No, you’re joking. You can’t be serious. This isn’t real.”

 

Devin coughed. “Do you mind? I’m trying to propose to you.”

 

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she squealed, jumping from one foot to the other, her hands over her mouth.

 

Devin coughed again, trying to hide his smile. “Honestly, woman. Would you let me get this out?”

 

Cara giggled and covered her mouth. She gestured for him to continue.

 

“Cara—”

 

“Oh my God!” Cara said, unable to contain herself. “Okay, that was the last time, I swear. Go ahead.”

 

Devin cleared his throat. “Cara, you are my entire life. Every day since the moment I met you has made me a better man. You challenge me, and you push me, but you also encourage me. You help me see the beauty in this life. You help me see the good in people. You help me see the good in myself. I can’t imagine living another day without you being officially and forever mine. Would you please do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

 

Immediately, Cara launched herself at him. Devin stumbled back in surprise, and they rolled together, knocking over several vases, water spilling all over the wood floor.

 

Devin laughed. “Is that a yes?”

 

Cara kissed him, the familiar feeling of his beard against her chin and neck.

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

She nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. Definitely.”

 

Devin wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap, and kissed along her jaw to her collarbone.

 

Cara closed her eyes and let her head fall back, let the sensation of his lips on her body consume her every thought.

 

Before she knew it, his hands were at her back, pulling on the strings of her bathing suit, and she realized she was only wearing her bikini. With one tug, her top fell to the floor, and Devin was sucking at her breasts, leaving kisses around each one and flicking at her nipples.

 

She ran her fingers up his neck and through his thick black hair, pulling him into her, encouraging him. As he continued playing with her, she began grinding her hips into him, massaging him through his shorts until she could feel him growing against her leg. He moaned and flipped her over so that he was on top of her.

 

Using his teeth, he pulled the ties at her hips until her bottoms fell open, leaving her entirely nude, splayed out before him. He admired her body for a moment, sitting up to drink her in, run his hands down her chest and her sides, dig his thumbs into the indentions at her hips.

 

Finally, growing anxious, Cara sat up and undid his zipper, pulled his shorts down around his knees. He finished slipping out of them, and then moved over her, the warmth of his body touching every part of her. Slowly, he entered her.

 

It was soft and gentle and loving, but Cara still moaned as he filled her, stretched her. His breath was heavy in her ear, and it sent goosebumps down Cara’s arms. He was hers. Devin was all hers. His body, his heart. Everything. He belonged to her, and she belonged to him.

 

She wrapped her arms around him, ran her fingers along the grooves of his shoulder blades, felt his muscles as they flexed. He pushed in and out of her slowly, making sure she felt every inch, and she lifted her hips to meet him, grinding her hips into his with every thrust. He groaned, his breath hot on her neck.

 

Cara leaned forward and sucked his earlobe into her mouth, running her tongue along it. Then, she pulled her lips away and whispered, “take me.”

 

Devin had always been very responsive to dirty talk, and it was Cara’s favorite sex weapon. A few whispered words in his ear, and he turned into an animal. This time was no different.

 

Devin’s body stiffened at her words, and then he planted his hands on either side of her head and pounded into her. There was a dancer quality to his movements, to the way his hips dipped in and out of her, and Cara glued her hands to his lower back, pushing him harder and harder into her.

 

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms under her knees and lifted her towards her chest, never once slowing his thrusting. The sensation was unreal. Cara felt every movement more acutely, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out as Devin slammed into her again and again.

 

A familiar tightness grew in her abdomen, rippling and clawing at her, until finally, it exploded, sending waves of pleasure outward. Cara was filled with warmth. She threw her head back and moaned as her body took on a life of its own. She clenched around Devin, and he groaned each time, still pushing into her.

 

Then, she felt him release, too. His thrusting shifted to long, slow strokes, and his forehead creased with exertion and pleasure. He collapsed on top of her, breathing into her neck.

 

“So, that was definitely a yes, right?” he asked.

 

Cara laughed. “Oh, absolutely.”

 

They laid on the living room rug for a while, feeling lazy. Devin tangled his fingers in her hair while Cara stared up at the room, at the wooden vaulted ceiling and the flowers that encroached on every corner of her vision, feeling like she was lying in the middle of a meadow.

 

“Where did you get all of these flowers, anyway?” she asked, picking one up out of a vase they’d knocked over and bringing it to her nose.

 

“Do you remember how I said I have all kinds of friends?” he asked.

 

“No way!” Cara said, sitting bolt upright, the flower falling to the floor between them. “These are mafia flowers? You used a mafia connection to get flowers for a marriage proposal?”

 

Devin laughed. “No, I met Miguel at a pick-up basketball game a few weeks ago, and his wife owns the flower shop in town. They gave me a pretty heavy discount on all of these flowers. If you look closely, a lot of them are pretty close to wilting, so you better enjoy them while you can.”

 

Cara slapped his chest. “You jerk. You scared me.”

 

“Is that any way to treat your fiancé?” he asked.

 

“Are bargain flowers the way to propose to your future wife?” she joked.

 

“They are better than mafia flowers, aren’t they?”

 

Cara laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”

 

“I think you owe me an apology,” he said, turning away from her, his nose up in the air.

 

Cara looked up at him from beneath her lashes, biting her lower lip. “You’re right. I’m so sorry,” she said, crawling over him, her bare legs straddling his naked hips. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

 

Devin reached up and ran his hands over her breasts, down her sides, and down to her thighs. “I have no idea, but we better not leave this room until we figure it out.”

 

Cara leaned forward and kissed him, thinking not for the last time, how absolutely perfect her life had turned out.

 

THE END

 

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