Keeping Her (losing it) Page 4

  I didn’t get but an inch before his hand clamped down on mine. Against my ear, he growled, “You really are a hazard to my health.” I just squeezed his leg again, and leaned my head to offer him more of my neck. He nipped my skin there and then whispered, “We’re going to meet my parents. We’ll smile and talk long enough that they feel like they’ve met you, then we’re finding a place to be alone. My bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, I don’t care where. The only thing I care about is fucking you so hard you can’t see straight.”

  Annnd . . . aneurysm.

  The air fled my lungs like I’d been punched in the chest, and I blushed so hard I felt like my blood was boiling. Seriously. It had turned so hot in this backseat, I was going to have a freaking heatstroke. And I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep in the string of unintelligible noises building on my tongue.

  Garrick and I had sex. Often. Good sex. But in the spectrum of intercourse (oh God, only my brain would think spectrum of intercourse at a time like this), we made love. It was intense and sweet and perfect. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or my actions that pushed him to the other side of the spectrum, but I knew I was wound tight enough that another minute of him whispering in my ear could probably send me over the edge. That was probably why my arms and legs felt like Jell-­O when we stood in front of his parents’ door, and he rang the bell. Though I’m sure the alcohol and the stress and the traveling didn’t help.

  “This is going to be okay, right?” I asked. “You can’t tell I’m drunk, right?”

  And would his parents be able to tell that I’d just been dying to screw their son in the backseat of a car like a high school prom date? That I was still dying to?

  I could picture it now.

  Hi Mom and Dad, this is my girlfriend—­

  HARLOT!

  Then they would make me sew a red A on all of my clothing, and I did not look good in red, what with all the blushing. Plus I’d barely passed my costuming class in college. Needles and me don’t mix.

  A hand came down on my shoulder, and I jumped. Rowland smiled, “You’re good, Bliss. You’re going to be a smash. Just wait.”

  Right. I was going to be fine.

  Garrick rang the doorbell a second time, and when no one answered, Graham said, “Told you they were shagging.”

  Throwing a glare over his shoulder, Garrick took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. I stared, and for the first time realized that he was as nervous as I was. Oh hell, if he was nervous I was doomed. My odds were looking about as good as a main character in Game of Thrones.

  He turned the knob. It gave way in his hand, and the door swung open to reveal a darkened entryway. My footsteps echoed as we stepped inside.

  “That’s strange,” he said, his voice echoing, too.

  Did this mean we could just go straight to his bedroom? Because oh my yes, thank you.

  The open door let in just enough late afternoon light to reveal a strip of empty . . . well, foyer. Never thought I would have the need to actually use that word in real life. The windows were covered by heavy curtains, draping the rest of the place in darkness. I reached for the wall beside the door, running my hands along it looking for a switch.

  I wasn’t sure which of my many issues to blame when my forearm collided with something cool and smooth and vase-­shaped, knocking it sideways. When I tried to catch it and missed, I was blaming my sex-­distracted thoughts. When I heard it crash and shatter against the floor, I was blaming the alcohol. When the light flipped on revealing a seriously grand foyer, a large group of ­people streaming into the entryway holding champagne flutes, and an elegant and terrifying woman that could only be Garrick’s mother staring in horror . . . well, that’s when I knew it wasn’t any of those things.

  It was just me . . . failing at life again.

  Behind me, Rowland broke the silence with a tentative “Surprise?”

  No . . . me being a disaster of awkward proportions was the least surprising thing ever. I’d made a smash all right. Like I was the Hulk’s cousin.

  Bliss SMASH.

  5

  Garrick

  THE CRASH OF the vase echoed through the foyer for several seconds afterward, and each reverberation seemed to cause my mother’s expression to contort further.

  I’d always thought I was fairly good at thinking on my feet and reacting in a crisis (and looking at my mother, this definitely counted as a crisis). For the life of me though, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Maybe I was out of practice or maybe there still wasn’t enough blood flowing through my brain, but either way only one word was going through my mind.

  Fuck.

  And not the kind I’d had in mind.

  Luckily, my father, ever the composed businessman, covered for us all.

  “Well . . . wasn’t that quite the entrance?”

  The crowd laughed, and I could almost feel the heat of Bliss’s blush from here. The entire downstairs was brimming with what seemed like every person I had ever met, and plenty that I hadn’t. And I hadn’t the foggiest clue about what they were doing here.

  Dad crossed to Bliss, and she looked queasy enough to pass out. He was immaculate in a dark suit that contrasted with his silvering hair. He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. Her eyes flicked to mine, surprised.

  Dad said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t you worry about it for one second, sweetheart. I’m sure at some point in his life Garrick had already broken that old thing and glued it back together.”

  Mum would have flayed me. She loved that vase. But the ­people laughed, and the room collectively sighed in relief. Dad was good at that kind of stuff. He could charm any conference room, any party, any seminar. It was the one-­on-­one things he couldn’t do.

  Dad helped Bliss step over the glass shards, and that made me spring into action. We crossed to each other, but Dad stayed in between us. Still holding one of her hands, he clapped me on the shoulder and looked out at the crowd.

  “Well, we wanted a surprise engagement party, and we certainly got a surprise.” Everyone laughed again. Dad squeezed my shoulder and said, “You all know my son, Garrick.” I spotted a few business types in the crowd—­salt and pepper hair, pristine suits, impeccable ties. I sure as hell didn’t know them. Mixing business with family as always.

  “He graduated at the top of his class, and his mother and I were ready for him to go to Oxford like all the other Taylor men.” Here we go. Time for the not-­so-­sly insults about how I’d ruined our family legacy. “But children have to make their own way, or they’ll only pretend to grow up. I’m proud to look at him and see the man he has become.”

  I tried not to gape. My mother and I spoke often enough, but I couldn’t even recall the last time Dad and I had actually spoken. He’d been furious when I left, and certain that I’d ruined my life. Was it possible that my parents had done some changing of their own? This new leaf threw me off balance, and suddenly all I could think about was the scent of beer on my breath and how disheveled I probably looked. “He left us to make his own way and moved to America, where he’s already managed to become a university professor at his young age.”

  Okay, so his storytelling was a bit selective considering I was no longer a professor. But it was a compliment nonetheless.

  “He’s become a fine man and has now brought home this lovely, unpredictable young woman to join our family.” He turned to Bliss, holding up her hand. “We’re so happy to have you here, Bliss.” Then he turned out to the crowd. “We’re happy to have all of you here to celebrate their engagement with us. Please, eat, drink, enjoy yourselves. Though perhaps keep an eye on the decor.” He winked, and Bliss laughed, completely charmed.

  He presented her hand to me as ­people around the house clapped, and then without actually saying a private word to either of us, retreated to a group of men in suits.

  I wanted to punch myself. ­People laughed and aww’d at his performance, and I’d been sucked in just
like the rest of them. Like I was sixteen all over again, I churned with rage and wanted to storm out of the door.

  So much for that new leaf.

  He’d thrown this stupid party to impress ­people, and he’d made it a surprise so that I couldn’t object. Just once I would love to see my father try to do something important without an audience.

  I schooled my face into a blank expression, and then concentrated on Bliss. I placed a kiss on her temple. She hugged me, and against my chest, I heard her say, “Kill me. Just put me out of my misery, please.”

  “And leave me to be miserable without you? Never.”

  “So selfish.”

  “When it comes to you? Absolutely.” Already I wanted to just take her away, to just be the two of us again. I sighed and looked around. Some ­people were staying in the foyer, others were streaming into other parts of the house, laughing and drinking, and grabbing hors d’oeuvres from passing waiters.

  I said, “I guess our odds of finding somewhere to be alone just got significantly smaller.”

  She looked up at me and frowned. She looked so disappointed that my stomach clenched with desire all over again.

  Just a few hours. This thing couldn’t last forever.

  “I’m so sorry about the vase. And for making such a scene.” Her face scrunched up like she was going to cry, and my method of dealing with her tears yesterday morning probably wasn’t going to fly in this room full of ­people. I smoothed a hand over her hair and said the only thing I could.

  “Marry me?”

  Her eyes turned sad.

  “Garrick, not now.”

  My heart twisted. It was another one of those moments. “Yes, now, love. Marry me.”

  “Still? You know I’m just going to keep breaking things.”

  “And you know I’m just going to keep loving you anyway.” Her frown twitched, and I added, “Besides . . . not marrying you would break me.”

  The frown softened, and she blinked away the film of tears in her eyes. “Me too.”

  “It’s settled then. You’re stuck with me forever.”

  She shook her head and made a noise that sounded like disbelief.

  My biggest fear was that someday she would talk herself out of our relationship. That she would shake her head and listen more to her own poisonous thoughts than the words coming out of my mouth.

  I kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “We are forever. If you don’t believe me, I’ll have to make you. As soon as we find that place to be alone.”

  I only got a faint pink in her cheeks as she looked down at her feet, but I’d take it. After a second, she tipped her head back and groaned, a sound that went straight through me.

  She said, “I’m wearing jeans.”

  I nodded. I loved those jeans. They fit her perfectly.

  “And by the looks of it, I’m in a room filled with ­people in designer dresses. And you’re crazy if you think this foyer is only slightly grand. There’s a freaking chandelier.”

  “Luckily that can’t be knocked over.” Mum’s voice was like whiskey, it came off smooth, but ended with a burn.

  “Mum.” It was halfway between a greeting and a warning.

  “Hi sweetheart.” She leaned up and kissed my cheek before turning to Bliss.

  “Mum, this is Bliss. Bliss, my mother.”

  She smiled. “What a name.”

  Bliss knotted her fingers together. “Um . . . thank you?”

  Mum’s smile was all red lips, white teeth, and sugared kindness. It was the razor-­sharp tongue behind those teeth that I was worried about.

  “Mrs. Taylor,” Bliss began. “I am so sorry about the vase. I don’t even know how to begin apologizing.”

  “Then don’t.” God, my mother’s voice should be listed on WebMD as a cause of frostbite. “It was just an accident after all.”

  “I am so very sorry though. And so thankful that you’ve welcomed me into your home. It’s so nice to meet you. And I’m just so, so happy to be here.”

  “So you are. And we’re happy that our Garrick has come home. And brought you along, of course.”

  “Yes, I’m so happy to be here.”

  “You’ve already said that much.” She turned to me then. “She’s very sweet, Garrick. Is it just the clumsiness she’s overcompensating for? Or something worse?”

  And so it began.

  I laughed like she was joking. Because that’s how you have to handle my mother. She wants a reaction, and humor is the safest one. I kept laughing, and after a few moments, Bliss’s uneasy laugh joined mine.

  I changed the subject before Mum could point out that she wasn’t, in fact, joking.

  “Was this party your idea, Mother?”

  She gave me a look before rolling her eyes toward Dad. “Your father wanted to make sure you and your fiancée had the best welcome possible.”

  Read: He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to show off. The “best welcome” was just the company line. And though my mother certainly had her issues, I loved her for not even pretending to go along with it.

  “Right. Thanks for that.”

  She gave a single, solitary chuckle and took a long drink from her champagne. Mum hated events like this. I suppose that was at least one thing that she and Bliss had in common.

  I saw Bliss fidgeting with her shirt and shifting her feet.

  “Mum, would you excuse us for a moment? Since we had no warning, we’re not quite dressed for a party. We’ll get changed and then come back down.”

  “Of course, dear. That’s definitely a good idea. Just casual party attire will do fine.”

  As we turned to grab our luggage, Bliss said, “In what world is this casual?”

  My world, unfortunately. Or my old one anyway.

  I took her bag for her, and said, “We’re upstairs. I’m right behind you.”

  I didn’t have to tell her twice. At the speed she went, I’m sure she was tempted to take it two stairs at a time.

  I directed her toward my old room. She breezed through the door, and didn’t stop until she had thrown herself facedown on the bed with a groan.

  “I’m never going back out there. I’ll climb out the window.”

  I parked our luggage just inside the room, and then shut the door behind me. I took a seat beside her and laid a hand on her back. “Look on the bright side, we’ve got some alone time after all.”

  She rolled over, putting herself farther away from me.

  “Sorry, but I’m not exactly in the mood anymore.”

  I winced.

  “Bliss, I—­”

  She pushed herself up and off the bed and began pacing. “Why couldn’t you just tell me that she was going to hate me? Why tell me again and again that I was worrying over nothing when I clearly wasn’t?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry. I thought things would go smoother if you were calm.”

  “Have you met me? Smooth is not an option I come with. If you’re looking for smooth, maybe you should look elsewhere.”

  Mid-­pace, I caught her by the elbows and made her face me.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t push me away.”

  She covered her hands with her hands and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just . . . I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She shook her head, and dropped her hands to look up at the ceiling instead. “Nothing. It’s . . . nothing.”

  She pulled away and went to her suitcase. She went to put it up on the bed, took a long look at the white bedding, and then laid it on the floor.

  “Bliss, talk to me.”

  “Do you think this is okay? It’s the best I have.” She stood, pulling a simple blue cotton dress from her bag.

  “Bliss, you can wear whatever you want down there. I only said we were going to change to give us a break.”

  “Right. Maybe I can find some decent jewelry. Just give me a ­couple minutes.” She took the dress and
a few other items, and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed behind her with a click, and it was my turn to throw myself back on my bed.

  I stared up at the ceiling and cursed under my breath.

  Maybe my fears were warranted after all.

  6

  Bliss

  THIS WAS A joke. A massively unfunny joke.

  I’d fixed my hair, retouched my makeup, donned my best outfit, thrown on my best jewelry, and I was fairly certain that their toilet bowl scrubber still cost more than my entire outfit.

  Why hadn’t he told me?

  I got that he didn’t talk about his family much. They clearly weren’t close. God knows I didn’t talk about mine much, either, except to complain. But you’d think he could have just taken half a second to drop a quick “By the way, my family is loaded” into conversation.

  If I was worried that Mrs. Taylor might think I wasn’t good enough for her son before, it was pretty much a solidified fact now.

  I didn’t fit here. At all. Not even almost. One of these things is really not like the others.

  And to make matters worse, Garrick looked perfect when I exited the bathroom. He’d donned a button-­up shirt and tie to go with his khaki pants, and he looked effortless. Unlike me, he fit.

  And a small, niggling voice in my mind asked how it was possible then that we fitted together? I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and Garrick crossed the room to place a kiss on my forehead.

  “You look lovely.”

  I smiled, but I didn’t feel it. “Thanks. So do you.”

  “Everything is going to be fine.”

  He’d said that so many times that it didn’t mean anything anymore. Like when you say a word too much and it stops sounding like itself and feels alien and foreign in your head.

  “Let’s go then,” I said.

  His hands cupped my jaw, and he leaned in for a kiss. I tilted my head back away from him.

  “You’ll get lipstick on you.”

  “I don’t care, love. The only thing I care about right now in this entire house is you.”