thirty-five
peyton
It was hard pulling up to the house. Coda and Laura had offered to come, but I needed to do this on my own. There was just one car in the drive. I climbed from my own but I didn’t head inside right away. I stood on the drive looking at the house that I still could so easily see as my home.
Pain twisted through me seeing the gardens. I had forgotten that I’d called the landscapers. Everything was trimmed back, prepared for a winter sleep, but come spring and summer, there would once again be roses climbing along the trellises, hydrangeas in bloom. I strolled around to the back, I’d had a tree planted for Willy. An oak tree that would grow with the family who called this place home. Maybe one day a swing would hang from its branches. Turning the corner to the back yard, I didn’t see Willy’s tree because my eyes were focused on the sitting area at the cliff’s edge. I’d forgotten about that too. It was perfect, the stone patio, the pergola, there was even a fireplace. Teak lounge chairs, looking out to the sea invited people to sit and get lost. How much I had wanted to get lost there with Rut.
Seeing that, I knew I was doing the right thing. I couldn’t live here, couldn’t find happiness when he was everywhere. Even the charred earth from where the shed had been was now just freshly tilled soil. Sod or seeds could be planted in the spring. The reminder of the horror wiped from the property. If only it could be that easy for Rut.
I walked around the front. The door was unlocked, I stepped inside. In my head I could hear children laughing. The stairs came into view. I never did slide down that banister. Seeing a young Rut, one that wasn’t burdened by his nightmare, sliding down it brought a smile. The chandelier over my head sparkled like diamonds. The colors were perfect, the soft gray, the creamy white trim work, the floors stained to a dark walnut. Instead of heading to the kitchen, I walked through to the back of the house, to the room I had such ideas for. Christmas stocking hanging at the mantel, a tree in the corner. Baskets of blankets, dog beds, a room designed for a family.
Tears welled, I wiped them away.
I started toward the kitchen when I heard the first strings of Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get it On’. I stopped moving, my eyes closed as pain sliced through me. It wasn’t real, just a phantom memory but it felt so real. The look on his face that day, the first time he’d allowed himself to shake off his demons, the happiness, the love. I hoped he found that again, hope that he found peace.
The music continued and confused me, I followed it into the kitchen to find an iPod on the counter. I stood there, trapped in my memories, afraid I was losing a grip on reality. And then I felt him. My heart stopped, my body went numb even as my eyes sought him out, finding him standing very much like he had that first time. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, but it was his eyes, eyes that had haunted my dreams, looking at me with love that had the sob burning up my throat, but it also got me moving. I turned and walked right out of the kitchen, but before I reached the front door, his deep but smooth voice boomed, “Stop!”
Like that first meeting, anger stirred. Turning on my heels, I saw him in the threshold of the kitchen. “Stop? You’re telling me to stop?”
“Yes.” His voice was gravelly. “Please, stop.”
Knowing this man, knowing how much he liked to give orders, the please diffused some of my anger but seeing him, having him within reaching distance, the man who had broken me...it was hard to look at him. So I didn’t. Like before, I focused on one shoulder and said, “Why are you here?”
“For you,” he rushed out and went on, “For this,” He waved a hand around gesturing to the house. “For everything.” Both arms stretched out to indicate everything around us. “I fucked up,” he whispered, his arms falling to his sides. Pain floated across his face. “I fucked up so goddamn fucking bad, Peyton.”
It hurt, my heart breaking, but I forced myself to look him in the eyes. Seeing his pain hurt more and still the words tumbled from my mouth. “You left me. You walked away. You gave me a glimpse of the dream and then you walked away. I can’t go through that again. Can’t be second to your demons.”
He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and looked to the floor, before bringing his sad eyes to me. “I can never tell you how sorry I am for leaving you. Words can’t express that shit. You were never second to my demons. I thought I was doing what was best for you, protecting you, but I realized that a life without you isn’t a life. It’s just fucking existing.” A lone tear fell down his cheek when he rasped, “You told me to fight for you. I’m here, Peyton, and I’m fucking fighting for you.”
Tears streaked my cheeks because that was Rut, showing his love in the way that was so uniquely him. And I loved him. For me, it would always be him. My voice broke. “You hurt me.”
He took a step toward me. “I know.” He kept coming toward me. “Fuck, Peaches, I’ll never fucking hurt you again.”
Peaches, I broke then, closing the distance and slamming into his body, my arms going around his waist, my face buried in his chest. “You will hurt me again and I’ll hurt you, but don’t walk away again. Don’t you walk away from me again.”
Feeling his arms around me, holding me so close, had the tears falling harder. He whispered to the top of my head, “Never. I wouldn’t be able to survive.”
“Good, ʼcause these last couple of weeks have been hell. Walking around like I’m dead inside. I’d rather fight with you than feel nothing.”
In one smooth move, I was up in his arms, his mouth crashed down onto mine. Longing, love, pain, forgiveness all came together in that kiss as we both sought and surrendered the control. Without breaking the kiss, he walked us to the kitchen before placing me down on unsteady legs.
He yanked his mouth from mine, and took a step back. Eyes heated but unsure, he looked at me as if I wasn’t there, just a mirage and I understood because he had come to me in my dream too. Holding his beloved gaze, I pulled my coat off. It was all the encouragement he needed, pulling my clothes from my body in quick, efficient moves. I stood naked before him, his heated gaze drifting over my body.
“God,” he muttered. “So fucking beautiful.” His arms were around me again, lifting and settling me on the kitchen island. Lying on the cold stone had a chill moving through me, one that was chased by heat when his finger traced my lips, before his hand glided down. Moving over my neck, down between the valley of my breasts, over my stomach, and landed between my legs. I drew my lips between my teeth, a moan moving up my throat. Gently, he skimmed my folds with his fingers. His eyes watching every move his hand made. Heat pooled between my legs.
It was like he was memorizing every inch of my body. Warmth followed his gaze. The look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe I was here, that we were here. His head bowed and his mouth came to my neck where he lay a soft kiss before dragging his lips down my body. Over the swell of my breast, where he sucked a nipple into his mouth. My back arched as I moaned. He teased that peak, before releasing it, swiping it with his tongue before continuing to leisurely press kisses down my body. He moved around the island, stopped at my feet, his hands worked their way under my ass, and he brought me to the edge. I gasped, need crawling through me.
Both hands on my inner thighs pressed out. I spread for him, eager to feel his mouth on me again. And then he was, and I cried out even as I jerked my hips to feel more of him. Slowly he ran his tongue through my folds, over my clit, deep inside. “How I missed your taste,” he growled.
Tears burned my eyes as he continued the slow torture with his tongue, building my orgasm. One hand moved up my body and gripped my breast, his fingers rolling my nipple. It had been too long since I felt his touch that I reached the edge and fell over it in only minutes, the orgasm intense and consuming but I knew he’d be there to catch me. He moved then and started to undress and I watched with heated eyes as he did.
“Move up, baby,” he ordered, and I scooted my ass further up the island.
Effortlessly he hopped up on the island with me. His body between my legs, he fisted his cock, slowly stroking it as he looked down at me. The look in his eyes, heated, possessive, love.
“So fucking stunning.”
A hand beside my head, he hovered over me and placed his cock at my entrance. Inch by inch, he entered me, drawing a whimper from my lips, even as I lifted my hips for more. He grunted when he was seated inside me. He stopped for a second and looked deep into my eyes.
“I love you, I always will.”
Slowly he pulled out and as if he was showing without words the truth of his vow, every glide in and out of his cock, he was making love to me. Love that he never showed. He worshipped my body. Paying attention to every moan and whimper that fell from my lips. And when he brought me to another orgasm, he followed me.
I touched his face, couldn’t hold back the tears. It was all so overwhelming being here when I thought the dream was lost. But this is where I belonged, with this beautifully complicated man.
I took his hand and pressed it over my heart. “It’s yours. It always will be.”
***
We sat on the island across from one another, holding hands. Despite the past couple of weeks, it was like it always was with us. Easy and natural. Both of us talking, sharing all we had missed in the other’s life. Rut had ordered a pizza from Geno’s and my mouth was watering because it’d been a long time since I had a slice. I missed it, missed sharing it with him more.
“Do you still wanna go to Scotland?” he asked after I told him what my plans had been.
“I would like to see it someday,” I told him as he played with my fingers in his hands.
He smiled at me. I missed that smile, didn’t know how much until I saw it again. The doorbell rang. A simple chiming of bells. Something else I missed hearing.
He hopped off the island. He’d only pulled on his jeans, but with the confidence that was so Rut, he walked out of the kitchen to get the door. I played with the edge of his shirt, my legs chilled from the stone, but I wouldn’t change one thing about the moment.
He came back into the kitchen and the smell hit me. “Sausage, peppers, onions and mushrooms, right?” I asked as he placed the box in front of me before hopping back up on the island. He crossed his legs, just as mine were. He moved the box so the open end faced me.
“Would you like to do the honors?” He smiled.
“I’m surprised you only got one pizza,” I teased but happily did the honors, the scented steam made my stomach growl. I lifted the lid, but it wasn’t the sight of the pizza that had me going still. It was the small black box centered in the middle of it. My eyes lifted to find Rut looking at me, a softness in his expression that was different from what I was used to seeing in him.
I didn’t reach for the box, wasn’t sure I was actually seeing it. “What is that?” I whispered.
“I told you once, you’ll forever be my only love, Peyton. My only. And you will forever be.” He removed the box from on top of the pizza, cheese coming with it. He opened it and held it out for me to look inside.
“Before you say anything I need to explain it,” he started and continued, “I had it designed with us in mind. The three diamonds on each side are the obstacles we have endure while together. The one in the center is us.” He looked deep in my eyes. “Big, solid, larger than anything, symbolizing we as one can overcome and are stronger together because of the obstacles we face and not despite them.
I didn’t look at the ring, couldn’t pull my gaze from the man across from me, handing me my dream. This time it was my fault when the pizza landed topping side down on the floor as I hurled myself into his arms, wrapping him in mine. Tears wetting his neck as I repeated only one word over and over again. “Yes.”
He chuckled into my neck and whispered, “Now who owes who a pizza.”
I held him tighter, the man who wasn’t just a chapter, but the beginning, middle and end of my own great love story.
The fucking end.