All of These Things (16 page)

“Any other longstanding relationships?” I carry on, and he pops another grape into my mouth.

Alec’s seemingly less on edge to share, now.

“Just casual encounters with women I stumble upon from time to time but nothing I’ve written home about. Never considered anything like that with any woman but you,” he says matter-of-factly. Alec serves up another cheese bite.

“You’ve considered telling your family about me?” I query, bringing a hand up to my face to collect crumbling morsels. My tongue slithers out a little further this time at his offering, and it grazes his finger. Alec pops his thumb into his mouth, licking it.

“I didn’t have time to consider it. I straight out told my sister about you,” he says, prepared with another grape and proffers my wine.

I blink. “You did?” I ask, feeling mildly thrilled and privileged.

“Indeed. In fact, I told Naomi that I had brought you up to speed on my family’s past, and she’s been eager to hear from me, wanting to know how this enchantress in my life received the unnerving details. I can guarantee there’s a picture of you circulating across the sea as we speak.” He winks.

“You sent them a picture?”

“They were curious. You’ve fascinated me and that fascinates them.”

“What picture?” I demand.

“A random image I managed on my mobile.”

Oh.

“Why do you always make me feel like I should be more alarmed than I am?”

“If you were my sister, which I thank the universe you’re not, I’d have to agree with you. But since I know
me
then I can tell you there’s absolutely nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

Alec raises the glass to my mouth, tilting it between my lips. I taste the wine, trying to swallow it quietly and gracefully. A trickle wets my chin, and Alec catches it, sucking the droplet from his finger. He pitches me an enigmatic smile. I think I’m ready to test the rough waters that await us, so I bid him in.

“Alec?” I speak up softly.

“Yes, love.”

“What happened with your father?” I coax, the words a sucker punch.

“Well,” he commences, sounding resigned, “my grandmother was leading my sisters out of her home. Olivia and Naomi were so beside themselves—frantically wailing, and Mum was literally snatched in my father’s hand, her hair locked in his grip,” Alec imparts, his jaw clenching.

He looks sick from the memories, and I regret launching this shock to his system. But one thing Alec’s taught me is that ignoring the past is worse.

“Mum had retched from his force,” he continues, “vomiting on herself and on my father, and his anger flared. A bruise had already pushed up against her cheek immediately after his first blow, and I couldn’t decide who to tend to first—my mother, my sisters.” I think Alec will get up and pace, instead he stays on edge, rubbing the back of his neck. “My father had been harassing Grams, too, because she made it clear that she had had enough. She warned him she wouldn’t listen to her daughter anymore and threatened to call in official enforcement.”

I watch his audible stress attack his body. Alec looks dejected.

“Mum was under this illusion that she was sparing us humiliation, and Grams was having none of it anymore. My father threatened my sisters, basically blamed my mother for him ruining our lives, and he flung insults at me. She remained so ridiculously adamant about not wanting the police implicated, and I was daft enough to ask if we could finally call them—if Mum could handle that option. Then, something came over me.” He shifts to face me entirely. “I discounted my mother and yelled to my grandmother and fleeing sisters to ring the police, after all. Mum was practically incoherent under his grip, probably becoming heavier to keep elevated, and my father blamed her for the mess and told me to bugger off and mind my business. He wouldn’t release her, and even with one free arm, he began to wrestle me. It wasn’t right away, but at some point, I had had enough,” he admits, looking vulnerable as he exhales.

“I remember becoming overcome by wrath—almost asphyxiated by rage—and I knocked him a couple of times, wanting to disable him and really hurt him until we never saw him again. One of those blows managed to fracture him to a demise.”

I gulp, drawing back.

Alec sounds so fragile that I fret for him, worrying over his discomfort of speaking about this and the burden he holds tight. All my efforts to keep the valve of my longing turned off is wholly reversed. Tears prick my eyes.

Alec withdraws somewhat, his eyes widening with fear as he takes a sharp breath.

“Do you want to go?” he asks.

I swallow. “No,” I say firmly, but I’m hardly capable of speaking with the lump swelling in my throat. “I just really hate that you went through that. All of you—your entire family.”

He gazes at me, stunned.

“You do understand what I’m owning up to?”

“I do.”

“But if there’s one thing my father taught me, Caroline, is how to
not
treat a woman. I’m a better man for it. But I did an unconscionable thing. I retaliated harshly.”

“I understand.”

He slackens.

Alec’s fear fades, and at barely an arm’s length, I can transfer my fondness with a touch. I think about glazing my finger over his hand, or embracing his arm to nestle my head on the crest of a muscle. I stare impassively at the heady foliage, and like a star flickering out of the sky, Ryan evaporates—a character in my book of life that’s come and gone from my story. Pain lances through me.

“Alec?” I ask faint-heartedly.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“This doesn’t mar you.”

He licks his glorious lips. “I thought I’d be ruined in your eyes.”

Mine narrow.

“That’s so far from the truth.” I hope to set his mind at rest.

Alec reconnects with our place in the world, stretching out to pick a grape, and readying to feed me. He pauses.

“I’m in awe of you,” he says. “I’m in awe that you’ve come out to see me of your own volition.”

I open my mouth slightly, beckoning Alec to fill it. He obeys, producing the grape. I clasp the plump, pulpy fruit, trapping his fingers in my locking lips. My mouth becomes moist, saturating the tips of his hand. I bite down on the nectar, and my tongue collects it, circulating around Alec’s finger, gliding and brushing the top of it until I draw more of it in, lapping my tongue around it until I have a mouthful. Alec stifles a gasp, but his eyes implore. He looks dazed and affected.

Blinking up at him, I endure this glorious suffering, keeping an eye on Alec watching me. I’m bashful and dauntless at once, heart hammering and blood jutting against my veins. Everything inside me unfurls, and everything about Alecsander is hard and tense. He’s so rigid and frozen, totally in awe with my shameless disposition.

“You’re killing me, love,” Alec manages a whimper.

I persist, my sanity yet to be recovered, and Alec’s eyes shut forcefully, darting open with a passionately penetrating glare. He stands, hauling me up with him, clasping my hand and returning a quick thrashing of my fingers with his tongue. Our breathing is noisy, my heart thunders in my ears, and it’s positively aflutter below my belly. He stares me down, hoisting me up, and instantly my legs wrap around him.

“Tell me what you want,” he snarls, but conveys doting affection.

I restore my bravery, not taking my eyes off his.

“You,” I mutter. “I want you.”

Alec presses into my face, his nose flattening mine, and his fingers manipulate my lips. The heat of his breath enters my mouth, mingling with my own, warming my chin. I feel naked and unashamed.

“I want you, too, love,” Alec says between staccato breaths. “But if we defer to this, then you must know that I’m mad about you, Caroline. I worship you, and I’ll try everything to deserve you if you decide you can’t totally be with me. Unless you tell me to back away, I will live trying to be worthy of you.”

I stop him from saying more, clipping his lip between my teeth. I feel fearless: profusely deft and nimble.

His eyes sear. “Where shall we explore each other?” he asks nuzzling my hair, electrifying my ear.

“I don’t care,” I hiss. “Here… floor… I don’t care.” I pant.

He smirks. “Now where’s your romantic side, love? I want you where I sleep, Caroline. I want to make love to you upstairs, and I’ll devour you downstairs. Yes?”

“Yes,” I mouth softly.

His hands claw at my jawline as I slip away, descending from the alcove of his chest.

“Come to bed with me, my love,” he utters, magnificently pulling at my heart, and I’m exhilarated.

Our fingers fasten as they lace through one another and love explodes, the sensation sweeping through me. I follow behind on a narrow stairway, wondering which door is our lucky one.

“Where do you paint?” I ask, a new desire bursting up for the taking.

“In there.” He points, directing my vision to the third door in the rectangular hall.

“Show me.” I beam a coquettish smile.

He leans in for a kiss, sucking at my lip.

“Of course,” he says, and we stride towards it. Alec stops abruptly, seemingly pensive, and his darting gaze says it’s looking out for a tragic blow.

“What is it?” I ask, growing distressed.

“It’s rather disorderly in there. We’ll inspect my work tomorrow.”

I’m muddled.

“Is that it? I don’t want to
inspect
your work, Alec. I just want to see that side of you.”

“And I want you to know it, too, but alas, Caroline, we’re not having any of that tonight. We’ll reconvene tomorrow. I promise,” he assures, distracting me with a peck on my forehead.

His wayward defiance rattles me further, and it’s suddenly topsy-turvy in the hallway. I can hardly appreciate his contrariety, and so I test it again.

“But I want to see it now. Why are you being this way?” I want to say defiant and cryptic, and this will plague me if he doesn’t open that door this instant.

“Caroline,” he tries. “Love, I am not withholding any part of me from you. Surely you know this about me. I want you to have access to all that is me, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take up being the magistrate on this one. Let’s not ruin the evening, sweetheart.”

“If you don’t open that door, Alec, you’re the one risking the evening. Do you know what scenarios are flying through my head right now?”

He grabs me, claiming me, hungrily tugging my head back.

“Why, Caroline? Why, why, why must you always resort to worst-case scenarios? Please don’t make this a thing. Don’t make this bigger than it is.”

I pick up my wits to start up again after his kiss.

“Don’t you dare pin this on me, Alecsander! You’re the one being all secretive. You’re the one that’s being all close-mouthed and uncommunicative.”

My ire surprises him, as it surprises me. Alec smiles smugly with that smirk I’ve been obsessing about slapping off his face from the day we met.

“
Alecsander
,” he repeats. “You are so mad at me right now.” His hands claw at my arms, and his eyes spark darkly. “Let this one go, sweetheart.”

I shake my head.

“What is it?” I demand. “Do you paint erotica, or maybe you forgot there’s a woman in there? Or is it that you’re some lunatic in the woods storing body parts. What is it?”

“Of all the stubborn women in the world,” he says behind gritted teeth. “Alright,” he motions to the door. “I’ll show you, but,” he pauses for a quick beat, “do try to remember that sometimes an artist receives personal requests. Don’t make this into a world crisis, and try to have an open mind.”

Alec has just slighted me. He really does believe that my instinct is to overreact. I’ve had loads of things to overreact on in my life, and yet I manage pretty damn well, thank you very much. Granted, around him and Sofie, the drama queen may reign in from time to time, but that’s not for the most part, and I don’t appreciate his assessment. To top it all off,
yes
I’m totally choosing to go over the top with this one.

“Alec, open the door,” I command.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he answers dryly. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t hide anything from you.” He stares me down and turns the knob.

I cross the threshold warily.

The room is oyster white with a maple desk occupying much of the space. Behind it is a narrow, rectangular window cut through the wall, almost flush to the hill, exhibiting grassy roots and rocky soil. One of the house’s three decks protrudes from the patio door, and an easel is tucked in a corner of the room. I come across sketch books, completed canvases, and art supplies. They’re dispersed cautiously around the room, and so far I don’t know what the big deal is.

I look to Alec for answers. He’s deadpan.

I move in, eyeing the easel and walk around it for a look. I hear him drag a hefty breath.
Bingo.
There’s something about this painting that he’d rather keep from me. Tenaciously, I make my way to it.

A range of blues crop up around a silhouette—a
naked,
pensive, come hither silhouette. I recognize the body of water as York’s but the woman rearranges like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope. I’m walloped by shocking fear—blindsided at first, but now I’m nauseatingly aware.

Sofie!

Nathaniel’s Correspondence with Dr. Toussaint

I made certain the conversation ran short. I didn’t want to overwhelm Amalia, so I was very careful about that. She was busy around her vanity when I arrived, looking splendid in a taupe sundress with white polka-dots. I can usually depict her frame of mind according to how methodically she’s applied her makeup, and her lips looked soft and velvety in her favourite red-orange lipstick. Her hair wasn’t too heavily parted to conceal half her face, so I knew she would not be inclined to step out for a walk.

I told her the magnitude of love I have for my daughter and her mother will not allow me to give Sandrine what she should be experiencing with a man. I want to be more available to help out, or reach out, in case the two of them need me and admitted that I don’t want to feel bad about that anymore. Afterwards, she and I shared a glass of iced raspberry mint tea from my niece’s homemade batch and spoke of Caroline and the weather. The good news is I don’t think she’ll be a struggle about attending group this Saturday. She’d like for me to sit in with her, and so we’ll come by your office together and say hello.