He dropped his hands to her thighs and stroked. She kissed every inch of skin, touched him with all the emotion trapped inside. And when she took him inside her, they both gasped.
She kissed him softly, on his forehead, his cheeks, his mouth. “I wouldn’t change one minute of this day, Alec. Not one minute.”
He looked in her eyes and swallowed. “Neither would I.”
When they’d both been satisfied, he kissed her hair and tucked her against his side. In time, his breathing evened out, his chest rising and falling in sleep.
But her eyes didn’t close until near sunrise.
chapter
twenty-five
Because things had been going so well between him and Faith, Alec figured he’d fuck it all up and accept his mother’s dinner invitation. She’d wanted to have Lacey and Jake over before the wedding, and when she found out from Jake that Alec was seeing Faith, she’d jumped all over it until he relented. Faith being Faith, she was thrilled by the idea and surprised to be included. He hoped that happy little bubble of hers wasn’t popped by his father’s lack of tact.
Things had . . . evolved since the night of her birthday a few weeks ago. They’d slipped into a comfortable routine. Domestic, even. She worked with Ginny during the day, and he dragged himself out of bed before noon to work on the manuscript. They had dinner at his place, walked the surf, and slept at her house. Sometimes, she cooked. Other times, he’d grill something. On the weekends, they hung out with Cole and Mia, and Lacey and Jake, either on the back deck or on the beach. Drinks. Good conversation.
He and Faith made love nightly. Talked endlessly. He couldn’t wait for her to get off work to tell her what he’d written that day, and he enjoyed when she’d relay some cute thing she and Ginny had done together.
Christ. They’d turned into a sappy movie of the week. And he liked it.
He didn’t know how he was going to leave town in one piece. He was starting to realize it wasn’t just the wide-open expanse of Wilmington, of home, that finally gave him peace—it was her. Here, and with Faith, he could breathe. There was fresh air and sun. New York had been his own form of torture. The city had beauty and qualities he loved, but the air was recycled, the buildings a trap. There was no room, no one who gave a damn about him. He hadn’t known he’d been holding his breath for almost ten years. No wonder his writing had stalled.
He glanced at Faith in the passenger seat next to him, her brown waves caught in the wind as his convertible hugged the highway. She had her face tilted toward the sun and a smile wide enough to encompass the state.
Turning back to the road, he gripped the wheel with more force than necessary. He didn’t know if he could write without her. The book had been turned in to his editor, and Cole had agreed to represent him as his agent, so things were back on track.
Except, what happened if he returned to his apartment and the words were gone? She wouldn’t be there every night to work out the plot. No muse. No fix.
Hell. That was only half the problem. The rest was Faith herself. Ten years and no woman had made him question the guilt, the decision to live with what he’d done. Ten minutes and Faith had him wanting to move past it as if none of it mattered, as if it hadn’t happened.
It did matter. It had happened. Laura’s life was gone. And all because he couldn’t take care of what was his, couldn’t love what was in front of him enough.
“It’s a pretty house.”
Faith’s voice snapped him out of his head. He looked at his parents’ cozy ranch and wondered how they’d gotten there. Jake’s car was in the driveway in front of his and the smell of barbeque wafted in the humid air.
His gut turned to ice. “No matter what crazy-ass thing my father says, just remember you like me and I’m good in bed.”
She laughed, the sound filling the holes in his chest. “Come on.”
The next hour went by in a blur. Faith fit right in with his family as if born into it. She helped his mom make a pasta salad, set the picnic table with Lacey and Jake, quipped with his dad about baseball. It was all so ordinary. So normal. Even Dad was unusually well behaved. Not a stupid, tactless thing spilled from his lips.
By the time the food was gone and the sun was setting, his parents had tortured Lacey and Faith with countless stories of their youth. All he could think was, did Faith’s parents have any stories like these? Had they looked at her, noticed her enough to see the true gem?
His dad got up to head inside and grab another beer from the fridge.
Alec leaned back in his lawn chair and stretched his legs out. At least his knee had stopped bouncing. He hadn’t realized how nervous he was bringing Faith here until the muscles in his shoulders unknotted. Taking each other to meet the parents was something serious couples did. And they were serious. That much was certain. Except serious didn’t equal permanent.
“I’m going to run to the ladies’ room real quick.” Faith patted his hand.
He nodded. Watched her go.
“I really like her.”
He turned his head to look at his mom. “I’m not surprised.”
“She’s so sweet,” Lacey said. “It’s hard not to like her. She’s got a big heart. You should see her with Ginny.”
Jake smiled nauseatingly at Lacey. “Ginny’s got a thing for Alec, too. Eats up everything he says.”
Alec took a sip of beer. “It’s the writer thing. She’s into spooky stories right now.”
“Are you getting serious with Faith?” His mom’s pleading eyes met his. “You haven’t brought anyone home since . . .”
“Laura. Since Laura, you mean. You can say her name. I won’t go up in flames.” Alec drew in a breath. Released it. His mom wasn’t to blame. “And Faith and I can’t be anything more than this. I’m going back to the city after the wedding.”
“Oh. I figured, you know, since . . .” Mom shook her head. “Never mind.”
Jake leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Anger seethed in his eyes. “Nice, man.”
He shrugged. Let his brother stew. No way would he lie to Mom. That kind of hurt was worse than the pity in her eyes.
Christ. He wanted out of here. This too-cozy little shindig was grinding his very raw nerves to dust, only reminding him of what couldn’t be.
He dug his toes in the grass. In the silence that hung, it dawned on him how long Faith and his father had been gone. Alone in the house. With God knows the kinds of things his father would say . . .
“I’ll be right back.”
He tossed his bottle in the trash and walked through the kitchen to the living room, where their voices rose over the sounds of the Braves game. Worry pinched his gut until Faith laughed. He stopped in the doorway, unseen as of yet.
“What book are you on now?”
“Just finished the last one. Nightmares, I tell you. This is why I stick to baseball memoirs or true crime.” Dad barked out a laugh. “But, hey, my son wrote it.”
The air left his lungs in one fell swoop. The edges of his vision grayed. He pressed a palm to the wall to stay upright.
His dad had read his books? His dad, who joked every chance he got that his son got paid to daydream?
“You must be so proud of them both. Jake’s done an amazing job with Lacey’s property. It’s magical. The wedding will be lovely.”
Dad nodded. “Jake was the easy one. Always getting dirty, digging a hole. Typical boy mischief. He shares my eye for landscaping. Alec was always off in his own head. Couldn’t hear a thing you said or follow a rule to save his life.”
Faith grinned. “I hear the creative types are hard to raise. But you know, he probably got that from you. Gardening is an art, too, just a different form.”
Dad laughed. “Miss Armstrong, are you saying I gave myself this headache?”