To Say I Love You (27 page)

“I want a spring wedding,” he said, pulling me farther down so we could sit on the floor with our backs resting against the couch. My hand found his, and we tangled our fingers together. “And since Jennifer put the idea out there, I want to get married in our yard.”

“Here? Or at home?”

“At home, I think. Something simple.”

I hummed in agreement. The specifics could wait, for a few more months at least. His idea was perfect, though.

“No more asking each other? Really?”

“Asking each other all the time was our way of avoiding the issue,” Will said, smirking at me. “And you know it, so don’t try and deny it.”

“I can’t offer you much, I know that. You’ve got everything I am, though.”

“No, you give me everything,” he said, and dropped his head to my shoulder. “You’re going to need to stop saying that, or I’ll beat your ass raw.”

“I’d only enjoy it.”

“Mm.”

“My husband,” I said, trying the words out on my tongue. “This is my husband-to-be.”

He laughed. “This is Jesse, my better half.”

I swung my leg over to sit astride his thighs, then gently laid my lips on his, kissing him sweetly. He ran his hand up and down my back a few times, bunching up my shirt then smoothing it out.

“I honestly don’t know how I would have coped doing this without you,” I said, running my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. “I mean, I really, honestly, could not have coped not being here. And I don’t know how to be without you around.”

Will smiled, giving me one of those secretly pleased smiles, and I just wanted to crawl inside him.

“Let’s go home,” I said.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ve done what I came here to do, even though when I got here I didn’t know that’s what it was. So… it’s time to move on.”

“What about the house?” he asked.

I looked around. We’d done a lot to the “old Miller place” in the past few months. It wasn’t abandoned and run-down any more. It was a warm, loving home for someone. Just not us.

“You could rent it out,” I said. “You’d eventually get a return on your investment.”

“I had another idea,” he said cautiously. “We could let Jennifer live here.”

I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, she could take care of it and stuff until she’s in a position to buy it or wants to move on. We can deal with it then. She wants to get a place of her own, but renting is expensive and she doesn’t want to be far from your dad. This could work for her, you know? Plus, I don’t think it’s going to drop much in value now.”

“You’re an amazing man.”

Will shrugged. “She’s like another sister to me, you know? She’s family.”

His ability to be totally amazing never changed. I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re pretty much my husband,” he murmured softly. “And we’ll make that official soon enough. Your family, my family. Same thing.”

That was good.

“Let’s go,” I repeated.

“Okay.”

T
HERE
WERE
a few things I had to do before we left Georgia. Will and I took flowers to Mama’s grave—pink lilies, her favorite. I promised to come back and visit her again soon and laid my lips on the cool marble headstone. There was a finality to this good-bye that made my chest ache, and Will held my hand all the way back to the car.

I drove back to our house and dropped Will off, leaning over to kiss him softly before turning around and heading out to the next county over. My stomach was in knots, turning up the bacon and eggs I’d made for breakfast and threatening to expel it all.

When I pulled up in front of Ben’s house, I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Before leaving the car, I sent Will a quick text, letting him know I’d arrived safe and I loved him. This visit had been his idea.

It had become a simple fact that Will knew me better than I knew myself. For all of his rage toward Ben and his misguided, unwelcome advances, my partner also knew that Ben had been an important part of my life for a few months. I’d never meant for anyone to get hurt. On reflection, Will and I had definitely learned something about pulling other people into our D/s relationship: feelings other than our own could get hurt.

I let the car door slam shut, an advance warning to Ben, if he was listening, that someone was approaching the house. I guessed he’d be in his workshop, and followed the noise of the radio around the house, then hesitated in the doorway.

Ben looked up from where he was working on a spindle. “Well. I never thought I was going to see you again.”

“Hi,” I said softly. “Can I come in?”

He shrugged, and I stepped over the threshold. The room was warm and light, the scent of wood sweet and earthy. With the sun streaming in through the window, I could see miniscule particles of dust dancing in the air.

“Why are you here?” Ben asked.

I trailed my fingers over the unfinished top of a bookcase. “We’re moving back to Seattle,” I said, forcing myself to look up and meet his eyes. There was hurt there. It was humbling to know I was the one to cause it.

“Oh.”

“Will asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ben snapped.

“Because I don’t want you to think that you didn’t matter to me,” I said. “I never meant for you to get caught up in everything.”

“Your kinky sex games?”

“You weren’t a kinky sex game,” I said. “Trust me, if you were, I would never have agreed to see you again after that first night.”

“Whatever, Jesse,” he said, shaking his head. He ran his hand over the smooth spindle, checking it for splinters.

“I don’t have many friends,” I admitted quietly. I never had. I was comfortable in my own company; I didn’t need to surround myself with people. “I know I probably spend too much time with Will in our little bubble, but it’s hard for me to trust people.”

“You don’t need to use him as an excuse, you know,” Ben said. “He’s this shield between you and the rest of the world and it’s not fucking healthy.”

“He’s
everything
to me.”

“That’s not healthy either.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He feels the same way about me, if that’s any consolation.”

“Not really.” Ben sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I don’t know why you came here.”

“To say good-bye,” I said. “To say sorry. I wish things were different and we could stay friends.”

Ben looked at me until I squirmed. Then he pushed himself to his feet and crossed the workshop to me and pulled me into a hug. This time his advances didn’t feel sexual at all. It was a hug from someone who didn’t understand a lot of things about me but knew a lot more. I hugged him back, inhaling deeply his unique scent of spice and sawdust.

“If you ever come back to the area, look me up,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I will,” I promised. “See you later.”

He nodded, and I turned to leave.

“Oh, Jesse?”

“Yeah?”

“Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thanks,” I said with a grin.

Back at the house, Will had made a decent start on getting our stuff into boxes. It was weird to see the house I’d restored and turned into a home being deconstructed again only a few months after we’d built that home together.

“How was it?” Will asked, looking up from where he was packing DVDs.

“Okay,” I said. “Good. We cleared the air, I think.”

“Good,” he echoed.

I ruffled Will’s hair as I passed him on my way to the kitchen, a familiar, affectionate gesture. What I’d told Ben was true—we were everything to each other. I knew people outside our bubble wouldn’t always understand, and that was fine. He was the love of my life. Nothing else mattered.

W
ILL
UNLOCKED
the front door and pushed it open, letting me in first.

The house was dark, all the curtains shut, and the air smelled dry and musty.

“Home at last,” Will murmured.

I kicked off my shoes and left them by the hallway closet, then wandered through the house. Cara had been in while we were away, and there was a stack of mail on the dresser, the few letters that hadn’t been forwarded. I trailed my fingers along the smooth wood surface as I passed, collecting dust.

Even though it was late afternoon, I went into the living room and threw the curtains wide, letting in the murky light and the familiar sight of rain. In the kitchen, Will opened the blinds and plugged the refrigerator back in, then set our coffeemaker to brew. We didn’t have any milk, but I didn’t mind drinking it black.

The suitcases were still in the car, but they could wait, there was no rush; I took Will’s hand and pulled him up the stairs. Our bedroom was at the front of the house with two spare rooms at the back. Will opened the curtains and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the bare mattress on the bed.

“You wanna make it?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

While I got sheets and blankets out of the closet, he opened the window, letting in the fresh air. I didn’t mind the rain. We had a wide windowsill that would catch it, stopping the floor from getting wet.

We made up the bed together—it was easier with two doing it—then Will flopped dramatically down on top of the neat sheets. I laughed and ran my hand over the headboard. It was a wide, sleigh style with elegantly carved wood.

Then I lay on the bed next to him.

Without saying anything, Will gathered me in his arms and held on tight while I cried.

I
N
THE
weeks that followed, I threw myself into my job, finding more than a little satisfaction in being able to use the work I’d done in Georgia to help my next few projects. I was brought back to the museum family with lots of hugs. It was a relief. Part of me had worried my colleagues wouldn’t exactly be pleased at having to pick up my workload the past few months.

I’d underestimated them, though, and found a “welcome back” cake on my desk when I arrived the first morning.

The most difficult part of returning home was finally letting go of my mama. Will encouraged me to talk to my therapist again, and it helped being able to talk through the issues that had kept us in Georgia for so many months. Not that Will minded. He’d told me he would follow me anywhere.

Now that he’d changed locations again, Will ended up working longer hours to bring everyone in Seattle up-to-date with what was going on in Atlanta. There were more trips planned for him; he needed to go to Houston and New York before the end of the year, part of the new responsibilities he’d acquired when taking the promotion. It would mean two weeks of me being on my own, so he was trying to delay that for as long as possible.

Other things, like our regular night having dinner with Cara and Will’s dad every Thursday, stayed the same, and we never brought our work home on Sundays unless it was really important. On Friday nights, we went out for dinner or ordered in if we were both tired. The routine helped rebuild the sense of normality I’d sorely missed.

After a few weeks at home, we opened up the playroom again.

Even though it had been thoroughly cleaned only a few days before we left for Atlanta, I still wanted to tidy up and dust before we had a session together. The box of toys had been shipped back to Seattle, and I’d already worked my way through it, placing each item in its proper space.

Will found me in the attic, an Otis Redding CD playing while I scrubbed down the wood floors on my hands and knees.

“Now, why does this look familiar,” he said, mock-puzzled, as he leaned against the doorframe and tapped his finger against his bottom lip pensively.

I huffed, pretending to be annoyed. “I’m trying to make it nice for you.”

“It’s appreciated. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for your hard work. Your hard,
hard
work.”

Sitting back on my heels, I tried not to laugh. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I am.” He walked over, leaned down, and pressed a firm kiss to my lips while holding my jaw steady. “Come on. I made you some lunch.”

T
HE
NEXT
morning, we were both up early for work. I’d kept my running habit, even if the weather here was much colder, burning my lungs in a different way. It had become time for me to clear my head and get my thoughts in order before I started my day. Plus it was keeping me fit.

I knew Will was awake because of the smell of coffee wafting through the house. After kicking my running shoes off at the door, I jogged up to the bathroom to take a quick shower before breakfast.

After being off work for months while we were in Georgia, my boss had me doing reduced hours while I got back into the swing of things. I offered to do some of the Saturday shifts to take the pressure off those who had been covering for me. We split the weekend rotation so no one got stuck doing it every week, even though we only needed to be there for a few hours to answer inquiries.