Love Beyond Words (City Lights: San Francisco Book 1) (13 page)

Liberty pursed her lips. “We need shots. Tequila. Stat.”

“God no, not tequila.”

“Tequila is just the thing. The guy’s obviously a nutjob. Get good and plastered and forget all about him.”

Natalie started to protest but she hadn’t the energy. Marshall brought a round of tequila shots to the table and he held up a little glass of the golden liquor. “The eternal sunshine of spotless minds.”

“To forgetting him,” Liberty said, and downed her shot as though it were water.

“To forgetting him,” Natalie said dully.

She held her shot a moment, turning it in her hand, then tossed it down. By the end of the night, she was as good and drunk as she had first promised herself, but nowhere near close to erasing Julian from her thoughts.

I don’t want to erase him,
she thought, her heart aching.
I love him too much.

The book had taken on a life of its own.

Julian didn’t know at what point he had stopped writing it for the sake the story and when he’d begun to write it for Natalie. Not even halfway, he guessed, given how the arcs had progressed. It was infused with Natalie; she inhabited its pages so that Julian sometimes felt as though he were merely a vessel, that some other power were using him to capture her spirit. His more practical side had a simpler explanation: he was madly in love with her. Her spirit inhabited
him
, infused
him
so that his writing—like his every thought—couldn’t help but be saturated with her.

Whatever the reason, I have to finish it. For her.

He sat in the car outside Niko’s that late January night, dreading how selfish and pigheaded he must seem, but it couldn’t be helped. If he blurted out the truth without plan or evidence, she wouldn’t believe him. She’d evict him from the café—and her life—for good.

Steeling himself, he tore out of the car and strode toward the café before he could change his mind. She was alone, sitting behind the counter, a book in her hand, though he could see from the street that she was preoccupied. His heart ached for the disquiet on her delicate features, and shame burned his skin to know he put it there.

It’s almost finished. Then I’ll tell her everything, and pray she’ll forgive me.

The bell tolled above him—a discordant jangle that set his nerves on edge. Natalie’s face lit up at the sight of him and then dimmed almost immediately. He cursed himself.
You did that. You and your fumbling cowardice.

“Natalie,” he said. He ached to tell her how beautiful she was, how her kiss on Christmas Day had been the most exquisite thing he’d known in so many lonely nights, but it wouldn’t be fair. “I have to finish the book,” he told her in a quiet voice. “After it’s done, I’ll—”

“Okay, Julian,” Natalie said quickly, fanning her hands in front of her. “Just…do what you need to do and then…I don’t know.”

“Natalie…”

“Here.” She held out her hand and dropped the Victorian mosaic pendant into his.

He stared at it sitting in his palm. “But it’s yours.”

“Not yet.”

He nodded.
She’s right. You have no right to expect anything more.

The door chimed. Natalie wiped her eye. “I have customers.”

Julian went to his customary table and got to work. He wrote in a constant, unbroken stream, marveling that the words could flow so effortlessly—and the story retain its hopeful cadences—despite the circumstances between them. There was no conversation that night and when she locked up, he waited a respectful distance away.

“Good night,” he said. He had thousand more words behind those, but she slipped quickly into the shadows.

“Good night,” she said, and let the gate close on its own.

#

February brought constant rains, and the café was quiet most evenings. Julian wrote furiously, driving the novel to its crescendo without looking back. The sense of being only a vessel came over him again, as he hardly had to think or ponder. He only needed to set pen to paper and the words came; the exact right words aligning in the exact right order. He’d experienced this before on other books, but could never sustain the euphoria—the pure submersion—of the work for so long.
It’s because of her. It’s all for her.

Natalie was so patient. So kind. If anything could distract him from the writing, it was the urge to sweep it all to the floor and hold her in his arms instead. But he knew his limitations. His urges. It would be so easy to forget everything and lose himself in her as he had on Christmas Day. But he had to tell her first, and once he told her, there would be no going back. Revealing his secret was a distant second to letting himself love her as much as he did; laying his heart bare before her the much more dangerous endeavor.
I love her too much,
he thought, watching with an almost detached fascination as his pen—the pen she had given him—flew over the pages.

And then the book was finished.

A quiet, empty Tuesday night. The sky was heavy with rain, the air charged.

At quarter to ten, Julian wrote the final words and shut the composition book—one of five others that comprised the whole. He set down the pen and put his hand to his mouth, contemplating what he had done.
It’s ended and now we can begin.
He looked at Natalie perched behind the register as usual, a book in her hand. She’d been watching him; she knew what he’d done.
Did you wait for me?
Julian wondered, and wasn’t half surprised to see her nod in reply.

The sky broke open.

The rain fell in sheets, sounded like shattering glass as it struck the pavement. The power went out without a flicker, and the shop was plunged into blackness. Julian stood at the window, held out his hand to her.
Careful,
he admonished himself. Natalie wended her way through the darkness with ease, and Julian steeled himself as her hand slipped into his. Even that simple, chaste touch quickened his pulse.

They stood side by side, hand in hand, watching the raindrops explode against the cement in silver bursts. The storm raged, having swept the streets empty; Julian felt as though they were the only two people in the world. Beside him, Natalie recited quietly:

“
The earth turns her face up to meet the tears,

drinks them

And creates days from the sky’s sorrow.

Between these implacable forces

We, little creatures

In shells of flesh and bone,

Dance…”

“
…and beg for mercy,
” Julian finished, closing his eyes. His words in her mouth...they finally sounded as he’d meant them to.

She turned to him, gasping. “You know it? So beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Not half so beautiful as you.” He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “I hope you can forgive me.”

She leaned close to him; he could feel her heart thundering under the soft cotton of her dress. “Breaking through old routines…” she said, “it’s not easy.”

“No. But there are so many things I have to tell you.” He said this to himself as much as to her, to remember restraint.

“I know,” she breathed. She slipped her arms around his waist and tilted her chin.

“Natalie…Wait.” Julian held her by the shoulders, his voice hoarse with want. “When you look at me like that, I can’t think...”

“Don’t think,” she said. She leaned close, stood on her toes to reach him, her lips brushing his with every word. “Kiss me, Julian. Kiss me…”

Just one kiss,
he thought before rational thought abandoned him completely. He slipped one had to the back of her neck, the other to her waist, and in one swift motion pulled her to him like a drawstring closing, engulfing her completely.

Outside, rain and wind battered the windows. Inside, Julian felt Natalie’s vitality, powerful and potent, sweeping him up in its own storm. He kissed her hard, with lips and tongue and teeth, pulling his hips against hers, until he was desperate to satiate the heavy need between them. She responded with equal passion; her hands slipped around his neck, holding his mouth to hers with her own fervor that was somehow ardent and gentle and the same time.

He groaned at her touch and surged against her, driven by a sublime, absolute synthesis of love and lust. One hand wound into her hair and pulled gently, exposing her neck to his mouth. She let out a half-cry, half-sigh of want that stirred his blood into a frenzy. He trailed kisses down her throat as his other hand slipped down to cup one small breast; it filled his hand perfectly, and she arched her back into his touch.

Desire whipped him again; he backed her against a table, pressed himself between her knees. She clung to him, wrapped her legs around his waist. He thought he’d go mad if he didn’t have her then. An animal need was taking over, turning his hands greedy, his kisses savage. A vague, half-formed thought warned him that they were nearing the point of no return and he still hadn’t told her anything, when lightning flashed outside, breaking their kiss, and saving him from his own unthinking lust.

“Your heart is racing,” Julian said, breathing hard, the physical world rematerializing around him from a red haze of want. “Mine too. We should stop. We have to stop…”

“No, no,” Natalie said, her own breath fluttering on every word. “I don’t want to stop. It’s okay…I’m ready.”

“Natalie…”

“But…we shouldn’t do this here,” she continued, her face flushed and her dark eyes cloudy with passion. “And I should tell you now…I’ve only ever…once before. A few years ago.” Her hands gripped the front of his shirt, twisting and untwisting. “I mean…I’m not a virgin but may as well be. I sort of feel like it, it’s been so long. So I want it to be perfect…and now I’m babbling. God, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t say that,” he said quickly. “Don’t be sorry. For anything. It’s better if we stopped. Natalie, I—”

“No…” she said and took a deep steadying breath. “I don’t want to do nothing, Julian. We’ve done nothing for long enough.”

Julian felt the tenor of his heartbeat change from the fiery pulsing of lust to the nervy stutter of worry and doubt.
She’s right. And now you’re going to stop again, hesitate again
.
Engaña
r
, you let it go so far…
He held her hands more tightly, as if he could keep her from running away. “I can’t. I want to, god, so badly Natalie, believe me, but not yet. I have to be honest with you. I have to tell you—”

“No.” The open sweetness of her face began to fold, close down. “Not again,” she whispered. “Don’t do this to me again.”

“Natalie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go so far. It’s just so easy to become lost in you. The way you were looking at me, I—”

“So this—whatever it is you’re doing—is my fault? I don’t understand. What is happening? Again
?”

“
Nothing
is your fault. No…Please, don’t cry.” He tried to touch her face but she pulled away. “I want nothing more on this earth than to spend the night with you. More than that; I want to be with you every moment of every day. I want to share my life with you, and now that the book is done, I’m ready. I’m ready to tell you everything, and I’m so terribly sorry I put you through such a strange, fruitless courtship.” He cautiously stepped close and held her gently by the shoulders. “But it all pales in comparison to the betrayal you’d feel if I made love to you before you knew the truth.”

She nodded and swallowed hard, her voice small and tremulous when she next spoke. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

He nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity but didn’t dare. “No, I’m not.”

Relief flitted over her delicate feature and was gone again. “Are you gay? Are you dying? I just don’t…What is it?”

“I can’t tell you now. Not here. Tomorrow night. At my home, where I can show you—”

“What? No. Tell me now…”

“I can’t, Natalie.”

“Why not?”

“Because, my love,” he said, infusing each word with as much truth as he could muster, “
you would not believe me
.” He could see the import sink in but he said it again. “You wouldn’t believe me. I could quote a thousand poems, I could show you what’s in those books—“ he indicated the black and white comp book on the table, the last of his now-finished novel, “but it wouldn’t be enough. You’d think it all a terrible, manipulative ploy. I have to do it right. This is hard for me too, I promise you.”

She blinked hard, her eyes glittering. “I don’t understand.
Why
is it so hard to tell me? Why has it taken so long?”

He moved closer to her, cupped her face in his hands. The desire to kiss her again was fierce but giving in again would be unforgivable.

“Sometimes the mind shrinks away from the what the heart wants because what the heart wants is so good, so impossibly extraordinary, that to keep it forever would be a miracle. The mind can imagine losing everything, while the heart can’t. It only wants what it wants.”

He felt her melt into his touch. “Am I…that? To you?”