Everything Unexpected (36 page)

“Wasn’t Bryan my escort?” she asks, her arm wrapping around mine.

“As long as I’m around, I will always be your escort,” I tell her.

And there’s that smile again.

We walk arm in arm behind the rest of the bridal party. There is a small hold up as the photographer stops Eddy and Holly to take some pictures. It gives me a moment to whisper a few of the things I’ve been thinking over the last twenty minutes.

“You are so beautiful, it’s really not fair to Holly,” I say into her ear.

Her chest rises, the way it does when holding your breath. I’m thankful for that reaction, thankful it’s not a laugh or giggle. Because as much as I love those sounds, I don’t want her to laugh off the comment. I want her to know I truly mean it. So when she looks up at me and meets my eyes, I’m thrilled when she lets out her held breath and says, “Thank you.”

WE TAKE HUNDREDS of pictures. No, thousands. Even I’m sick of it and this is how I make my living. Group shots, family shots, groomsmen only, bridesmaids only. It never ends. When Bryan mumbles his distaste and his need for a drink, I couldn’t agree more. Thankfully, a few minutes later, we’re told we are done and can now rejoin the party while Eddy and Holly take off to take pictures alone.

“Finally,” I mutter quietly.

“Come on, fuck face,” Bryan says wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Kendall’s inside and I need a fucking drink before I come face to face. I saw her cry several times during the ceremony. I’m fucking screwed.”

I turn and watch Leah walk away with the rest of the bridesmaids. “Yeah, okay.”

As the night wears on, getting Leah alone is nowhere as easy as I thought it would be. Between dinner, speeches, parents crying, crowds laughing, I can hardly grab her attention. After Eddy and Holly have their first dance, the crowd starts to move around in different directions. Most dance, others make their way out back onto the deck, and some, like Bryan, head straight to the bar. Only this time Kendall is right behind him, their hands intertwined. After an hour of guest pleasantries, I excuse myself and make my way to the only person I really want to talk to. Coming up behind her, I gently tap her on the shoulder, pulling her attention away from Holly’s mother.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say, not sorry at all, “but our song is playing.”

She looks at me confused but smiles and excuses herself. I take her by the hand and walk her out to the dance floor, turning her around to face me.

“We don’t have a song,” she says.

“We don’t?” I question. “We should fix that. The next song that comes on is ours.”

She rolls her eyes.

And as though God was finally doing me a favor, “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

“Perfect,” I say, smiling.

“Could this be any more cliché?” Leah says shaking her head, almost embarrassed.

“Wow, you are a romantic,” I tease.

She looks up at me. “Did you plan this?”

I laugh. “I wish I could take credit, but no. This, Comb, was fate,” I tell her. I pull her close, wanting nothing more than to hold and breathe her in, but she just stands in place, uncooperative. “Come on,” I urge her. “Wrap your arms around me.”

She looks down at her large bump for a second before bringing her face back up to mine. “It’s a little hard,” she says, matter-of-factly.

I reach down for one of her arms and wrap it around my waist while I take her other hand and join it in one of mine. Our body’s touch and a wave of elation at being this close jump starts my heart. I dip my head to the side of her face. I can smell the sweet scent of her shampoo as my lips move against the soft skin of her temple. “No it’s not.”

Her body eases into mine, her fingers gripping my hand harder. I feel the tip of her nose hit the side of my neck, followed by her chest rising with a deep inhale. She’s breathing me in, filling her lungs, her entire body, with me. It makes me weak in the knees. This woman can affect every part of me without even trying. I close my eyes, mentally tossing up a white flag, surrendering to her. Whatever she wants, whatever she needs, I will give her.

“I love you,” I speak into her ear. “More in love than I ever thought I could be. With the both of you.”

I feel her stiffen, only making me hold on her more tightly. I keep us swaying, turning in circles on the dance floor, refusing to allow more than an inch of space between us. I keep my lips to her ear and make her listen without interruption. “I don’t want to talk about this here. I know you don’t either. But I had to say it. Because I can’t not say it. I can’t not tell you every minute, every day. I love you, Comb.”

This time when she backs away, I give her space. I need to see her reaction, what her eyes say even if her lips won’t. And when she brings those big brown eyes up to meet mine, I’m so glad I did. Because I don’t see resistance or doubt anymore. This time, I see her own surrender as well.

“Come home with me tonight,” I nearly beg. “To talk. I have so many things I want to tell you. Show you. The right way this time. Please.”

She blinks twice before the corners of her lips rise a touch. “Okay,” she agrees.

I smile, relieved, and release her from the firm hold I have of her against my body. My fingers trace along her jaw, nearing her lips. I want to kiss her.
Need
to kiss her. It’s been weeks since I could and I can’t wait any longer. She knows it too. She knows it because she knows me, understands me better than anyone. Better than I know myself. I drop my lips down to meet hers and place the softest kiss on her mouth. I don’t push for more because the connection is enough. I kiss her with promise instead of lust. With truce instead of fight. I memorize everything about this moment before I pull away, using the pad of my thumb to fix the small smudge of lipstick from the bottom of her lip.

“I should tell you,” she says breathless, “that my expiration date tends to be around nine o’clock every night. And it’s already past ten.”

I look down at my watch, nodding. “We could leave now,” I offer.

She looks around at the crowd dancing around us. “Holly and Eddy would be so mad.”

“Probably,” I say. “But I don’t care.”

She laughs. “We’re awful friends. Always sneaking out of the party.”

Her words remind us both of what happened the last time we snuck out of a party together. It makes her blush and makes me even weaker for her.

I take her hand and lead us off the dance floor, stopping at the head table so she can grab her purse before we make our way outside the venue. Thankfully we don’t run into anyone, and even if we did, I wouldn’t think twice about pushing them out of our way. I’m not going to let anything stop this night from going the way I want. I hail the first cab I see once outside and help her get in. Once we are on the move, I turn to her and smirk.

“What?”

“This,” I say, motioning to the cab. “Reminds me of old times.”

She shakes her head, looking away from me and out the window. But she does a terrible job at hiding her own smile.

“HOLY SHIT,” LEAH breathes out after I unlock the front door. “You’ve been robbed!”

The instant concern in her voice almost makes me laugh. I swing the door open further, ushering her inside. After scanning the living room myself, the thought I was robbed is understandable.

“No, Comb.” I smile, walking past her, dropping my keys on the kitchen counter. I take off my suit jacket and toss it over the keys, loosening my tie and undoing the top two buttons of my shirt. “I wasn’t robbed.”

She stays rooted in place, only her eyes moving, taking in how empty the apartment now seems. “Then where’s all your stuff?” her voice pitches.

I look around the space once more. It’s true, some things
are
missing. The couch and coffee table, the PlayStation and Xbox, but there’s still quite a bit left scattered around. My photographs are still hanging on the wall, the flat screen still mounted, bar stools still sitting around the counter. “Right here,” I answer.

“I’m confused,” she says, slowly walking further into the apartment. “Where’s all your furniture? The foosball table??” She points to the corner. “Your laptop is on the floor!”

I place my hands in the pockets of my pants and roll back on the balls of my feet. “This
is
my furniture.”

She looks at me dumbfounded. “Are you not noticing that the couch and table are missing? Your game boxes?”

This time I do laugh. “Well technically, those weren’t mine to begin with. They were Bryan’s.”

“Okay, so are you not noticing that
Bryan’s
stuff is missing? He’s going to be so pissed,” she says. She raises a brow. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Because, Comb,” I take a few steps towards her. “I know where his stuff is.”

A look of mild surprise comes over her face. “Oh,” she responds, folding her arms together. “Where is it?”

“His apartment.”

Her eyes open wide. “He moved out?” she nearly shrieks. “What? Why? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

I grin, amused with watching her right now. “How about you stop with all the questions and let me explain?”

I take the last two steps I need in order to stand right before her, and for a moment, just stare at her. Appreciate all the little details that make her so perfect. How both her top and bottom lip are full and plump, perfect to bite. How thick and shiny her golden hair is. I know my fingers could get lost in its waves. The lone little freckle just below her left collarbone that I want to kiss so badly. But first, I have something I’ve been wanting to tell her, show her, for weeks. “Follow me,” I say, cocking my head towards the other side of the apartment and extending my hand. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

Her eyes look in the direction I’m headed before she accepts my hand and I lead us towards Bryan’s bedroom. Or to what used to be Bryan’s bedroom. Before I open the door, I look down at her and hope that what she sees behind this door will prove to her just how serious I am about what I’m about to say.

“I need you to know that I heard everything you were saying to me,” I say quietly. “I didn’t know any other way to show you I heard you.”

She looks up at me, her eyes narrowing, causing her eyebrows to furrow just the slightest amount. Before she can say anything, I open the door and turn on the light. Her sharp inhale is the only sound I hear.

I gently coax her into the room, watching as she takes in the dramatic changes the space has gone through. How the bedroom that once belonged to Bryan has now been completely transformed into a fully completed nursery.

“I—I don’t… Wow.”

Leah is never speechless so I’m going to take this as a good sign.

“You like it?” I ask, still wanting confirmation.

“I—Shane… How could I not?” she answers. “It’s beautiful.”

She walks further into the room, taking it all in. These last few weeks, Bryan and I have spent all of our free time working to get this room ready. The walls have been painted a light creamy yellow. It’s a nice warm change from the mossy green it used to be. Where Bryan’s queen sized bed used to sit, the white crib that was boxed up for so many weeks takes its place. Soft gray and white bedding fills the crib along with a mobile of dancing animals hanging from it. Leah steps in front of the crib and runs her hand over the soft linens. She picks up the brown stuffed bear sitting in the corner of the crib.

“This is cute,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Bryan’s contribution.”

She smiles, putting it back in its place. She turns around and sees the overstuffed chair in the corner near the window. I ordered it in a neutral color but threw a blue blanket over top.

“It glides like a rocking chair,” I say.

“Still thinking it’s a boy,” she says.

I shrug, returning her smile.

The wall off to the side catches her eye and her smile falls from her face. In its place comes a look of complete bewilderment. “What’s this?” she asks, stunned.

“This,” I begin, “is
my
favorite part of the room.”

Her eyes quickly become glassy, a hint of tears shining in the dim light of the room. She takes the few steps she needs to stand right in front of the wall—in front of several hanging picture frames. Two rows of three large, white picture frames, each one filled with black and white photos of
her
. Each one is a different stage of her pregnancy. In several of them, she wasn’t even aware I was taking her photo. Her eyes gaze at each of the frames, freezing on each one before moving to the next. In one, she’s asleep on what used to be my couch, her hand resting over her barely showing bump. Protecting it, even then. Another I took with my cell phone when we went shopping for baby things. It’s the expression on her face I love the most. So serious in deciding whether she liked the little sleeper in her hands or not. Next to that one, she’s laughing, throwing her head back at Holly and Eddy’s bachelor/bachelorette party, her hands resting on top of her much bigger stomach. But my favorite of them all is the one I took a few months ago. The night we decided to give whatever was happening between us a real shot. She came out of my room wearing my
Frankie Says Relax
t-shirt and nothing else. And when she walked to the window pushing those curtains aside, I couldn’t help but take her picture. She glowed in the moonlight, silver light reflecting off her face. She scolded me for it taking it then but to this day, it’s still the most honest and beautiful picture I’ve ever taken. I watch as she stays focused on that shot longer than the rest.