White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) (33 page)

Our tongues weave together as if they’ve done this a thousand times—not only a few. Our breathing becomes a choreographed dance, her exchanging each breath for mine in perfect synchronization. If our heartbeats were audible, I’m sure we’d find them to be precisely in time with each other. If I kissed a million women, I wouldn’t find another kiss as perfect as this one.

Her hands grasp my shoulders and then run through my hair, gripping it as if it’s her lifeline.

My hands wander every inch of her bare arms, from her fingertips to her neck. When my lungs scream for air, I pull back just enough to fill them, while trailing kisses along her jawline up to her ear. “Sky,” I whisper breathlessly when I get there. “I want you so much.”

As if my voice snapped her out of a dream, she puts a hand between us and pushes me away. “No. I can’t do this.” She turns and walks towards the stairs.

“Why not, Skylar?” I call out after her. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it. There is no way in hell a kiss like that was one-sided. That kiss was the best goddamn kiss of my life. And I’m willing to bet it was the best kiss of yours.”

Before reaching the stairs, she turns to me, her eyes burning into mine. Her head shakes infinitesimally. “You just don’t get it, Griffin.”

I watch her disappear up the stairs. I rack my brain to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. I sit on the studio couch, replaying every conversation we’ve had in my head. I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve said I want her and the baby. I’ve re-decorated for her. I’ve gone out of my fucking way to show her how I feel.

Haven’t I?

Mason’s words from the other day seep into my thoughts. Does Skylar think I’m only trying to be with her to honor Erin’s wish? Surely that kiss proved differently. I momentarily flash back to something my mom said before she died, when she was trying to impart me with all her worldly wisdom.

‘Women take everything literally, Griffin. Never assume girls know what you want. Always tell them. We’re silly creatures and sometimes you have to just spell it out for us.’

I look up at the calendar on the wall. The party is two weeks away. I have fourteen days. Fourteen days to figure out how to get Skylar to be with me. Fourteen days to think of a way to spell it out for her. Fourteen days to plan out how I’m going to put my heart on the line for the woman I’m positive I’m in love with.

I look up at the ceiling. I look all the way through it to the night sky and what lies beyond. For the first time since she died, I talk to Erin. “If you’re out there; if you do know what’s going on; if you have any way to help me fulfill your dying wish—and my living one—now is the time to let me know.”

I go to turn off the light but something on the floor catches my eye. It’s Skylar’s locket. It must have come undone when we were kissing. I lean over to pick it up. I run my fingers over the etched flower. I unwittingly hold in a breath as I spring the locket open.

A piece of paper falls out. It’s folded over and over into a tiny square. I open it up. It’s a small copy of Erin’s tattoo. This is what she chose to keep by her heart. Not a picture of Erin like I thought. Not a picture of me, like I’d hoped. But a representation of the future she longs for. The future I desperately want to give her. And in fourteen days, I have to convince her I’m the one to do it.

chapter thirty

I’m not sure I’ll ever completely understand the human capacity to love two women so unconditionally.  I’ve never questioned my feelings for Erin. I was undoubtedly in love with her. I think I just loved her differently than I love Skylar, that’s all.

I still feel guilty sometimes when I look at Skylar and want so badly to pull her into my arms and make love to her.  I feel guilty when a stubborn green-eyed beauty infiltrates my dreams instead of the demure curly-haired blonde. I’m not certain the guilt will ever totally dissipate. I’ve just learned to accept it. Like I had to accept that Erin was going to die.

As I look around the restaurant, I know that Erin would be happy with what I have planned. She loved a good party and tonight I can only hope she’ll finally get her wish.  As I watch Erin’s family help put the finishing touches on the tables, I can practically sense her here. White lilies sit amongst the pale-blue balloons that bob over every table as a centerpiece.

Everything has come together perfectly. As luck would have it, March 1
^st
has fallen on Skylar’s day off. All her family and friends are in on it. To throw her off, Baylor took her out for lunch yesterday and gave her a small gift. I played ignorant, not even mentioning her birthday.  I had to hold in my smirk when she pouted around the house last night thinking everyone forgot her twenty-fifth birthday.

Mindy called her ten minutes ago with a restaurant emergency, telling her she had to come right away to avert a delivery disaster. As we wait in the relative darkness, Mitchell’s having been closed early for the private party, I take one final walk around to make sure everything is ready.

A banquet table is piled high with gifts, some for the baby shower, some for Skylar’s birthday. Another table is set up buffet-style with mountains of finger foods. The centerpiece on the food table is a framed copy of the picture I’d taken of Skylar’s belly—the one where she was holding the white lily against her. My favorite picture. The picture to trump all others.

I look over at the temporary stage we’ve set up, both nervous and excited about what I’ve planned for the evening.

Skylar walks through the door, looking irritated. “Why are the lights off? And why the hell did someone put up the closed—”

“Surprise!” we say calmly and in unison, tactically agreed upon so we don’t scare her into early labor.

She looks around at all her friends and family, a smile quickly overtaking her frown. “You guys!” she shrieks. Her jaw drops when her eyes fall on the table piled with gifts. She hugs everyone as she walks around, taking in the balloons, the flowers, the food. When she sees the picture, she spins around, searching for me.

As she makes her way over to me, Baylor whispers something in her ear.

Skylar stops in front of me and pokes me in the chest. “You did this? Really?”

I shrug. “I had some help.”

“Thank you.” She pulls me in for a hug. I get a whiff of her hair. It smells fresh, like she had just washed it before coming. I could stand here and smell it all day. I don’t want to let her go. Before she pulls away, I run my hand down her arm, eliciting goosebumps and a shiver that I’m not sure she wants me to see.

She points to a huge balloon displaying her age. “I thought everyone forgot. I mean, we usually celebrate on the 28
^th
since my birthday is technically in February. But I figured this year, with everything else going on . . .”

“No way,” I say, shaking my head. “No way would anyone forget your birthday, Sky. You’re unforgettable.”

She blushes. It’s fucking sexy. I have to look away and find something else to focus on so my blood will quit rushing south.

For the next hour we laugh, eat, and shower Skylar with gifts. It’s a bit overwhelming seeing all the baby stuff. How can one tiny baby require so much crap?

The women play some sort of baby shower game while the men congregate and drink beer. I take a shot of tequila, knowing what’s about to happen. Knowing I’m about to put it all on the line.

Five of us guys take leave and head back to the kitchen where we prepare for the baby shower surprise. I’m not even sure whose idea this was. Mason and I were out drinking one night and were tossing around party ideas when some drunk students did a hilarious karaoke version of Y.M.C.A. so we started joking about doing something like that at the party.

The music starts and I walk out on the stage with Gavin, Mason, Skylar’s dad, and Chris—the manager of the Maple Creek restaurant. The five of us are wearing long blonde wigs and we each have fake baby-bumps strapped under our clothing as we sing and dance to our own rendition of ‘
Baby One More Time
,’ by Britney Spears.

Laughter fills the restaurant and phones come out to take video that I’m sure will be posted on the Internet before the night is out. Every time we sing the line ‘
hit me baby one more time
,’ we turn and bump our fake bellies into each other like athletes celebrating on a football field.

When I catch a glimpse of Skylar, wiping tears and doubling-over in a fit of giggles, as far as her real belly allows, I know this is what I want every day for the rest of my life. To make Skylar laugh. To see her so happy she can barely contain herself.

When the song comes to an end, we step off the platform, removing our wigs and ‘bellies.’ People clap and laugh before going back to eating and making conversation. Some approach us, wanting to try on the baby bumps. I look around the room nervously. It’s one thing to get up on stage and make an ass out of myself with four other guys. It’s entirely another to fly solo, especially with so much riding on this.

I rub my sweaty palms down my jeans. I take a number of deep breaths and hope I don’t pass out from sheer anxiety. I’ve never done this before. I don’t even sing in the shower for fear of offending music’s very existence. I can barely carry the tune to ‘
Happy Birthday
,’ let alone sound remotely like Jason Mraz.

Yet, that’s exactly who I’ve picked to sing to her. A song with references to fate, and as luck would have it, the sky.

“You ready for this, G?” Mason says, coming up next to me, snapping me out of my stress-induced coma.

I nod tentatively.

I feel a pat on the back and turn to see Skylar’s dad. “You’ve got this, son.”

I climb the three steps to the stage and tap on the microphone to make sure it’s still on. Jenna, who’s working the karaoke machine, gives me the thumbs up and presses the button to start the music. I close my eyes and pray my legs don’t collapse out from under me as I sing the first few bars of ‘
I’m Yours
.’

The restaurant falls silent except for the music and the sound of my shaky, untrained voice. Even all the wait-staff stop in their tracks. All eyes are on me as I make an incredible fool out of myself in the name of love and grand-fucking-gestures.

But after the first verse, everyone else fades into the background and all I see is her. Skylar’s hand comes up to cover her mouth as I pour myself out to her through the lyrics of the song that tells her everything I couldn’t. When my voice cracks as I sing the line about this being our fate, tears roll down her cheeks. I’m not sure either of us blinks the entire length of the song.

My left hand remains in my pocket, nervously fumbling with the small box as I belt out the last few lines. The music stops and you could hear a pin drop in the crowded room. Everyone is waiting to see what I do next. What
she
does next.

I clear my throat, trying to remember all the words I need her to hear. “Skylar, a wise woman once told me I had to spell it out to get a girl’s attention. So this is me, spelling it out; hoping you’ll listen to what I have to say and give me a chance.” I run a hand through my hair. The hand that’s not glued to the box in my pocket. Skylar nods and I continue. “The night I came back and you asked me what I wanted—I never had the chance to answer.” I motion my free hand around the room. “I want this. All of it. Our friends, your family. Our baby.
You
. I want it all.”

The door to the restaurant opens and in walks John-the-food-guy, sending my already racing pulse through the roof. What the hell is he doing here? Of all the times in all the days, he chooses to show up right-fucking-now. He eyes me up on the stage, then quickly goes to stand behind a group of people. But not before Skylar follows my gaze to see what’s caught my attention. I contemplate walking off the stage and postponing the whole thing. I didn’t think I’d have to do this in front of the guy she’s dating. Maybe I didn’t think this through. Maybe I should do this in private.

Her sympathetic eyes find their way back to mine. She raises a hand to grasp her locket and then she smiles. I swear it’s the same smile from that photo I took at the picnic. The one of her lying on the grass, staring at the sky with her hand on her belly. That smile—it gives me the courage to do what I came here to do. I try not to give another thought to anyone else in the room and I focus my attention solely only her.

“You said I don’t get it. And maybe I didn’t. But I do now. Did you listen to the song?” I point my finger back and forth between us. “You and me. This is fate. We belong together. We were always supposed to be the bean’s mom and dad. Erin knew it all along. It’s why she threw us together. It’s why she planted the seed. But it was up to us to do the rest.” I brace myself with the microphone stand and take a deep breath. “I love you, Skylar Mitchell. And not because someone else told me I should. I love you because when you walk into a room, I stop breathing. I actually have to remind my lungs to inhale and my heart to continue beating, because everything in my world stops when I see you. I love you because I wake up every day thinking I don’t want to be in this world if you aren’t in it. I love you because I wasn’t sure I would ever feel that way about anyone again. I love your beautiful green eyes and your undecided hair. I love the way you’ve taken care of our unborn child. I even love your stubborn, filthy mouth.”

I look down at the tattoos that adorn my forearms. “I’ve been loved by some pretty incredible women in my life. Women who made me what I am today. Women who prepared me to be a good father to our son. Women who showed me how to be a better man for you.”

I lock eyes with Skylar again. Her tears are overflowing, falling faster than she can wipe them away. My hand grips the box in my pocket, preparing to pull it out. “I want to be with you, Skylar. I
have
to be with you. I get it now.”

I step down from the stage and make my way over to her, cutting the distance between us with purposeful strides. People quietly part like the Red Sea, clearing a path for me to get to her. I stand before her, my hand still firmly in my pocket, gripping the box that will change my life. I close my eyes, gathering the courage to lower myself onto a knee, when I feel soft arms around my neck.