Brekka’s mom isn’t nearly as bad as she said. She may be a little prickly at first, but by the end of the rehearsal dinner, she’s giving me stock tips and offering me the end of her cheesecake.
“I’m okay with just the one piece, but thank you so much for the offer.” I lean toward Brekka and her mother. “Besides. Between you and me, if I eat much more cheesecake, Brekka might dump me. Trig told me she only likes me for my washboard abs.”
Brekka blushes, which I adore. “That’s not true at all. I’d love you the same, even if you were squishy around the middle.”
I freeze like a deer scenting the hunter. She’d love me? Does that mean she loves me now? Or was it a simple turn of phrase? I’ve never wanted to ditch a gathering so badly in my life. But I can’t leave Geo’s rehearsal dinner to interrogate Brekka about her meaning, no matter how badly I might want to. I’m the only real family Geo’s got left.
As if she senses my desire to leave, Geo pats my knee. “You’ve been awesome tonight, and drawn all the attention away from me. I can’t ever repay you.”
“Exactly the opposite of what most brides would want,” I say. “No attention for them the night before their wedding would probably have them snarling.”
She laughs. “I’m not most brides.”
But she does look like they all wish they looked, I imagine. And she’s marrying a guy they’d all love to marry, too.
For Geo’s sake, I wait things out. But when the band strikes up a number and couples start pairing off on the dance floor, my heart races. I should have thought about dancing. Where will that leave Brekka and me? I glance down the table at where Troy’s asleep on his mother’s shoulder.
“That’s how I feel right now,” I say. “Between the long flight and the time change, in another five minutes, I’ll be drooling on your shoulder, Brekka. Any chance you’re tired? Because I don’t want to be the only loser who can’t stick around to dance, but—” I yawn.
The lines around Brekka’s eyes ease and she beams at me. “I’m exhausted.” She glances over at Trig and Geo, swaying on the dance floor. “I doubt they’ll even notice if we sneak away.”
Brekka’s Mom winks at me. “Yes, you two better get some sleep.”
That’s one way to take the magic out of it, a knowing wink from your girlfriend’s mom. Ugh. I stand and circle around the head of the table. Brekka’s as speedy as me, backing out and spinning around toward the door.
“I’ve never seen anyone captivate my mother like that,” Brekka says when we reach the open hallway.
“I told you parents like me.”
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. She hated my last three boyfriends, and they all—”
She cuts off short, but I’d be willing to guess she was about to say they could have bought and sold me. How could her mother like me, when I’m so clearly unsatisfactory by everything that matters to a woman like Mrs. Thornton? She didn’t say the words, but they sting all the same.
“People are still people, no matter how much money they have. If you connect with them and discuss things they care about, they’ll respond to you.”
“I doubt any of my last three boyfriends had as much insight in their entire bodies as you put into that one comment.”
I shrug. “Knowing people is kind of what drives sales. You only sell well when you can provide a person something they need. I may not be able to sell individual cars well, but I understand people most of the time.”
We reach the elevators and I push the button. Brekka reaches for my hand. “You were spectacular. Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, lacing our fingers together happily.
“For being you. No matter what, no matter who you’re with, you’re always the same. Strong, steady, kind.”
“I think everyone is always the same, by definition.”
She shakes her head. “Not even close. Most people show off to some people, act humble to others, and to people they think beneath them, they’re mean. You’re always the same Rob and it’s refreshing.”
“You haven’t seen me around my family yet,” I say.
“True. Maybe you’re a monster around the people you love so much that you work day in and day out at a job you hate for them.”
The elevator dings and Brekka releases my hand. I’d never thought before how many aspects of small interactions the wheelchair impacts. No simple strolls down the beach, casually holding hands. No simple travel plans, last minute or on a whim. How complicated even things like a destination wedding make her life, and Clive’s and everyone who’s differently abled than me.
Or how strong you have to be to navigate it all without giving in to anger and irritation.
Brekka presses button number four.
“I’m on six.”
“At least see me to my room.”
My breathing hitches. “As long as you’re only asking for protection from intruders. Because I wasn’t kidding earlier. I’m so tired I might pass out as soon as I’m horizontal.”
Brekka looks down at the floor and I realize she doesn’t know I’m teasing her.
“I am tired, but I’m kidding, Brekka. I’d love to come talk in person for a while.” I drop a kiss on the top of her shining hair. Her face turns toward mine and my lips move to hers.
But the doors ding open too soon, and I stand upright to follow her out. My heart races so quickly, and my brain’s so fuzzy from exhaustion, that I can’t string words together easily. I don’t speak while I walk down the hall to her room. Four oh six.
She swipes her card and opens the door, shoving it and swiveling quickly, to back through. I reach my hand up to hold it open so she can move through more easily.
“Thanks.” Her voice is small, so small, just like her. A tiny person with a huge soul.
I follow her into her room and turn in a circle, marveling at her space. It’s huge. Accessible, clearly, and about three times the size of my room. She rolls through to the sitting area and lines Gladys up next to the fluffy sofa. She moves her legs off her chair one at a time using her hands. Then she shifts her bottom until she’s sitting on the sofa, and pats the space next to her.
“I promise I won’t keep you up very long, but I’ve been wanting a hug since the moment I saw you.”
Her wide eyes tell me how much it cost her to admit that. I practically sprint across the room and sit down next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I close my eyes and savor the connection between our bodies, all along my side, her shoulder tucked under my arm, the side of her body pressed against mine.
Something I’d been missing my entire life clicks into place.
Like the last small fragment of a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. Like attaching the doors to the front of an otherwise perfect cabinet. Like drinking a tall, cold glass of milk after I’ve inhaled four cookies. Like breathing after a long swim underwater.
Pulling Brekka’s body against mine repairs the parts of me Mark’s death shattered. It repairs the pain from Geo not loving me. It repairs the fear I’ve had that I’m not enough for her. Because clearly she’s the yin to my yang, the creamy peanut butter to my dark chocolate.
I sigh, and her head tucks underneath my chin.
“You shouldn’t have kept me away.”
“I wasn’t ready to see you until a few days ago.” She breathes softly against my chest and I wish I could capture this moment in a bottle and savor it when things are hard. When I’m lonely. When the ache inside my chest feels like it’ll never ease.
“Why not?” I need to know. Why did she hold me at arm’s length for so long when we clearly fit so well?
She ducks her head even lower, her voice muffled against the fabric of my shirt. “After the surgery, I lost sensation in my left side.”
I don’t swear, but I want to. She’s been hurting and I didn’t even know. Why didn’t Trig tell me? Or Geo? They had to know. Or why didn’t Brekka tell me? Doesn’t she trust me yet?
“I had to learn how to navigate without it. I doubled down on physical therapy. None of it helped, and I was spiraling a little.”
I hook one finger under her chin and lift her face so I can see her soft golden eyes, her fringy lashes, and her high cheekbones. “I can’t be there for you when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
She shakes her head. “Only I could fix it.”
“You can’t fix everything. Sometimes you adjust instead.”
She bobs her head. “I know that. But in this case, the sensation came back, or at least most of it has.”
I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Oh, I’m so glad for you. Not that it matters to me, but I’m sure that was rough.”
She looks down again and this time I let her. “All I could think about was how I’d never feel you touching my left leg. I’d never feel you, not there. Not ever, because I didn’t listen to your advice. Because I was trying to make myself good enough for you.”
I shake my head, sure she can feel my vehement denial in the stiff line of my body. “You’re already way too good for me.”
Her eyes meet mine of their own volition this time, and my head closes the distance between us. I capture her soft lips with mine.
She’s the first bite of a crisp grilled cheese. She’s the first dive of summer into a cool pool. She’s raindrops on my face after a hot day. I could kiss her all night, her presence eradicating any exhaustion I felt. She shifts in my arms and her hand cups my face, rasping across my five o’clock shadow. When her other hand slides across my stomach, my abdominal muscles tighten.
“You really do have a six pack,” she murmurs.
“You’ve been to the beach with me,” I say.
“It’s different to feel your stomach myself.”
I’ll say.
But before her hand can slide under my shirt, I force myself to sit up and shift slightly away from her. It nearly destroys me.
“Why are you pulling back?” Her eyes fill with uncertainty and doubt and I want to shove ahead without thinking. I want to yank my shirt off myself, but that’s not what Brekka needs. Fragile, perfect, painfully beautiful Brekka. And what I want always comes second to what she needs.
“We can’t,” I say. “Not tonight, not now.”
She swallows. “Why not?”
I look up at the ceiling. “Because when we do, it’s going to be earth shatteringly perfect. It’s going to change everything for you, and for me, and for us.” I look back at the face that would make Madonna cry with envy. “I love you Brekka Thornton. I’ve loved you since you stormed into my office to tell me I couldn’t love your brother’s fiancée. I’ve loved you since you utterly confused my life, and turned everything on its head. I love your defiance, your vulnerability, your doubt, your strength, your bravery and your care for the people you love. I love your anger, your frustration and your hope.”
I take her hands in mine, not letting go when she tries to pull away. “And I love when you kiss me. I love the feel of your body next to mine.” I kiss her nose. “I love everything about your face.” I kiss her neck. “I love your collarbones, your arms.” I place one hand on either side of her knees and squeeze. “And I love your legs, exactly as they are. I love all of you, just as you sit in front of me. And I’m sure I’m not the first guy who has touched your nose, your arms, or your legs.” I drop my voice until I’m positive she can barely hear me. “But I think I’m the first guy who has touched them since your accident.”
She bobs her head, her eyes full of unshed tears.
“Which means we’ll be learning together. And it will be breathtaking, and fun, and maybe a little funny.”
She leans toward me. “Why not, then?”
“Because I know you, Brekka Thornton. You’re like a rabbit in a clearing, looking for the slightest excuse to duck back into your warm, dark burrow. And I’m not going to let you.”
She purses her lips. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I say, “that my washboard abs are off limits to you until we’re committed.”
She frowns. “Are you proposing?”
I shake my head and laugh. “I’m confessing that I love you. And waiting in agony for you to say it back. But believe me, if I were proposing marriage, I’d be on one knee, and you wouldn’t need to ask me whether I’m proposing.”
She sighs dramatically and slumps back against the sofa. “Okay.”
“Was that an ‘okay I really do love you, you big old hunk’ kind of okay? Or the ‘okay now get out of my sight, you great big disappointment’ kind of okay?”
Brekka rolls her eyes and bites her lip before answering. “Maybe a little bit of both.”
“That’s fair,” I say. “But I still think I’m right, and I’m not willing to risk you ducking back into hiding.”
“I may never have kids,” Brekka blurts out. “I may never even be able to have sex. Are you saying you don’t want to find out until you’re already stuck with me?”
I shake my head. “That’s precisely what I’m saying. Because I don’t care.”
She doesn’t believe me. That’s clear.
I squeeze her hands. “You’re saying you may not be able to have sex.” I snort. “Pardon me, but if you can go to the bathroom alone, you can have sex, even if you can’t do it the way you’re used to doing it. You may not love your limitations at first. We may have some work to do, and we may need to be creative.” I smile. “You haven’t seen my shop yet, but if you had, you’d realize that I’m very, very creative. And at its heart, sex is about the expression of love between two people. That’s it. The rest is just details. I’m also very, very good with details.”
Brekka’s mouth turns up just a hair.
“And with the kids, I already told you. I don’t care whether you can have kids. You’re enough for me.”
“You love kids. I’ve seen your eyes light up around Amy and Chase and Troy. I’ve heard you talk about your nephew, too.”
I bob my head. “I love kids.”
“You don’t want to give that up.”
I shrug. “I’ll do it, if you don’t want any. But I’ve seen your eyes light up, too. I’m not worried.”
“I might get pregnant one day, or I might not. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling inadequate if I can’t.”
“If you want kids and we can’t conceive, we can always adopt.”
She shakes her head. “Why doesn’t that prospect bother you, like not even a tiny bit?”
“My sister Beth, who you haven’t met yet, is adopted. I love her at least as much as the twins.”
Brekka blows out her breath so hard her bangs fly up in the air. “Fine. But, how can you be fine with waiting?”
She says it like it’s a dirty word. I don’t even justify that with a response other than raised eyebrows.
“You own car dealerships. You’re familiar with the idea of a test drive. It’s standard practice to drive something before buying it.”
I pull Brekka up on top of my lap so we’re eye to eye. “The dating is the test drive, Kiki.”
“Wait, who’s Kiki?” she asks.
“I was trying it out as a nickname for Brekka. See, I’m trying things. I’m guessing from your face that’s a veto?”
She smiles. “Maybe not. It surprised me, is all. But don’t you want to try out the whole car? You’d make sure you got up to highway speed before buying something, right?”
I laugh. “You are tenacious. I’m adding that to my list. Look, you’re the most beautiful car on the lot. You handle like a dream, and your acceleration is impressive. I don’t need to take you zero to a thousand to know that you’re plenty of car for me. Some things are safer to practice when you’re beyond the three-day returns window, and for me, this is one of them. I don’t want you getting rid of me. Got it?”
When I kiss her goodnight a few moments later, the anger is gone, and the frustration too, replaced by what I hope is understanding.
I stand up. “I’m headed to sleep. But if you want to meet me for breakfast around nine, we could spend some time together before the ceremony.”
Brekka nods. “I’d love that, but I promised to have breakfast with Geo. Can we meet at ten?”
“Of course. I’ll see you then. And bring a bathing suit if you want to get in the water.” I turn to leave, but she grabs my hand. “Wait.”
I turn to face her, but it’s clear she’s struggling to say something, so I keep quiet.
“I love you too, Rob. I’m not as good at listing all the reasons, but you’ve glued me back together in a way I thought wasn’t possible.”
I want to stay the night with her so badly it stings, but I drop another kiss on the top of her head and see myself out like a gentleman.