Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris
30
The door thuds closed behind us and I expel a long, relieved breath.
We are finally at Luke and Michael’s family cabin after a four and a half hour drive through torrential rain. It wasn’t so much the drive or the weather that was the problem, it was that I couldn’t have my hands on Luke while he was driving. Every time I leaned across to kiss him or touch him, he batted me away. When he caught my hurt expression he explained that he wanted me to touch him but I probably shouldn’t, in case he careened off the road and killed us both. I guess that’s a justifiable reason, but still.
I turn to Luke impatiently, thrusting my hands up into his damp hair and pulling his mouth down onto mine. He drops the bags he’s carrying and laughs against my lips, setting his hands on my waist and walking me backwards towards the bedroom. As he drags my sweater up, I shiver in the cool air.
“Okay,” he says, drawing away from me. “We will enjoy this a lot more if we’re warm.”
I pout and his cheek twitches with a suppressed smile.
“Why don’t you unpack the groceries while I make a fire, then we can, you know.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner like a cartoon character, which earns him a giggle.
“Fine.” I waited four and a half hours, what’s a few minutes more?
Agony, that’s what.
I tear my hands off him with a long-suffering sigh and pad over to the kitchen, looking around the cabin. It has big round log walls, high peaked ceilings, and a stone fireplace in the main living area. There’s a comfy sofa and two armchairs, and a small kitchen with wooden cabinetry and simple wooden bench tops.
I unpack the groceries, listening to the rain whip against the windows. I’m not sure what we’ll do if it doesn’t ease up; the wedding ceremony is supposed to be outside. I make a mental note to secure an alternative location first thing in the morning if it’s still raining. That way, Alex can rest assured that everything will still go ahead.
It only takes me a few moments to unpack and when I’m done I head back into the bedroom, looking for Luke. He said he was going to make a fire, but he hasn’t been out to the living room. Why is he—
Oh. There’s a fireplace in the bedroom and he’s kneeling in front of it, coaxing little flames across the kindling, staring into it thoughtfully. Damn, he looks sexy making a fire. He’s pushed back the sleeves of his sweater to expose those delectable arms of his, and when he places another log onto the growing flames, it sets off some kind of primal response in my brain. Next thing I know I’m beside him, pulling him up so I can get his lips on mine again.
“Can I have you now?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the desperation out of my voice. My fingers find their way to his forearms and stroke over the muscle, squeezing gently. “Fuck,” I groan as I feel the tendons flex under my fingertips. Who needs foreplay when I can just do this?
He looks down at where I’m touching him and his mouth hooks into a sinful grin. Then he nudges me back onto the bed, climbing over me. “Take your hair down,” he growls, and I immediately obey.
We spend the next forty-five minutes making up for that unreasonably long car trip, and when we finally relax onto the mattress, I take a moment to soak in the surroundings. The room is lit by the glow of the fire in front of us, while rain and wind pound against the windows outside. It’s the most romantic setting I’ve ever seen.
“This place is amazing,” I say as Luke pulls me in close to him.
“Yeah, I love it. Mike and I have been coming here since we were kids.”
Something occurs to me suddenly. “Will Donnie be okay while you’re away?”
“I have the turtle lady, remember?”
“Oh, right.” I chuckle. “Of course.” I rest my head against his bare chest and listen to the thrumming of his heartbeat, smiling to myself.
“It’s so nice having you here with me,” he murmurs, running a hand down my body. His finger swirls tenderly over my stomach, trailing lower, pausing to move back and forth over the row of tiny scars along the top of my thigh. Propping himself up on his elbow, he gazes at the little ridges, etched into my skin many moons ago. “What are these?”
I shift uneasily. I have the fleeting impulse to lie, but when I think of how Luke has seen every part of me—including the messy bits—and still wants me, I know I don’t have to. “Scars,” I say at last. No one has ever asked about them before, because I haven’t been comfortable letting others see them. I guess that’s why, in the past, I’ve only ever had sex in the dark.
“I know.” Luke gives me a gentle smile. “But what are they from?”
I study his face, the way his forehead is creased in concentration as he traces his fingers back and forth over the tiny stripes. His curiosity is endearing; it seems he really doesn’t know.
“I used to cut myself,” I say, hearing the words from my own mouth for the first time in years. The only other person I’ve shared this information with is my therapist, and she gets paid not to call me crazy. Despite the fact that Luke has shown me nothing but kindness and acceptance, I half expect him to recoil in disgust.
But he just slips his arms tight around me and tucks my head against his chest. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over my hair. He doesn’t ask any more questions, but his embrace is so comforting, so—dare I say it—loving, that I want to tell him more.
“It was in high school. I haven’t done it since. But back then… it was not a good time.”
He leans back, his eyes regarding me with concern.
“I was bullied. A lot.”
“For what?”
I can’t help but chuckle at his genuine bewilderment. “Well, I wasn’t always the super cool, sexy lady you see today.”
He doesn’t laugh. He just leans down and presses his lips against mine, running his thumb over my cheek.
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “For being a nerd. I liked things that weren’t cool. I read a lot, I wore glasses, I was awkward and I guess I was just easy prey.”
He gives a little nod, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“This was just one way of dealing with it,” I say, gesturing to my scars. “I know it wasn’t healthy, but I was a teenager. I didn’t know how to handle everything. It got so bad—” I break off, wondering how much to share. I hate revisiting this period of my life and I never share it with others.
Before I can stop them, the images rush back to me and my chest burns. I’m back in the girls’ bathroom at high school, the sound of cheap plastic heels clicking on the filthy linoleum as Tracey Merritt backs me into a corner, flanked by two girls—Jade and Meredith.
“Where do you think you’re going, Harriet?” Tracey always said my name in a mocking sing-song, just to emphasize how much she hated me. “Off to play another one of your board games?”
I tried to move past them, but they stepped closer. Trepidation climbed my spine as I realized I was alone with them in the bathroom. I clutched my books tighter, like a life preserver in a stormy sea, hoping someone would come to my rescue.
“Or maybe it’s book club today?” Jade asked, arching a menacing brow.
Meredith joined in with a cackle. “It will be something completely nerdtastic. You’re such a dork, Harriet.” She took a step forward, sneering, and panic zipped through me. My pulse scrambled and suddenly, it felt like I was treading water and only just staying afloat.
“She can’t even talk,” Tracey said, snickering. “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic, Harriet.”
I tried to take a breath, determined to prove them wrong. “I’m not—” I choked out, but I couldn’t find the air I needed to speak. My lungs seized and my vision blurred. I didn’t know what was happening to me.
“Pathetic,” Tracey hissed. “No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend.” She jabbed a finger into my chest, sending me stumbling back into the wall. My heart slammed in my ears as I cowered under her, and when I tried to grip onto the wall for support, my hand slipped. My books crashed to my feet. The room spun around me and I couldn’t fill my lungs. I wasn’t afloat anymore—I was drowning.
I don’t remember much after that. I think someone found me and took me to the school nurse, but I can’t be sure. It took this happening a few more times before I learned what was happening to me. Panic attacks, they called them. Attack certainly felt right—like my body just turned on me when I needed it most.
The doctor recommended therapy to help me manage everything. I resisted going at first. Living in such a small town, I worried everyone would know I had these issues, that I would be labeled as “that girl.” But I also didn’t want to keep feeling that way. I wanted to get past it. Not just being taunted for who I was and what I loved, but for the way everything felt sort of… dangerous. All the time. The way I couldn’t trust my body not to betray me. The way it felt like there was no way to be safe.
Eventually, once I learned how to manage things in a healthy way, I found some semblance of a normal life. I decided I wouldn’t let those girls and their nasty words stop me. With hindsight and maturity, I came to see that people’s behavior is usually a reflection of how they feel about themselves, and has little to do with others. I embraced my inner nerd and learned to love myself. I got a job, I had friends, and I had my board games and my books. I had a life.
Well, I’d thought I had. But after these two weeks with Luke, I can see very clearly that the life I’d created for myself was so safe, so insulated from the outside world, that it had become a sort of prison. I hadn’t even been aware that I was afraid—afraid of another panic attack, of all the things that could go wrong if I didn’t keep a tight grip of control over every aspect of my life. I had my books and games, but that was all I had.
And now, as Luke gazes at me with compassion, a realization starts to crystallize in my mind. In the past, I’d thought I wasn’t all that interested in men, but now I’m wondering if I was actively avoiding them. Those few times that I did attempt anything, my inability to let go, to give up control, to be vulnerable, meant that nothing real ever developed. I was afraid to share my full self, scars and all, with anyone because I thought they’d think less of me for not always being able to keep it together. They never saw me at my worst—they never even knew about my worst—and I preferred it that way. Even Steph doesn’t know about my panic attacks.
But Luke has seen me worry, he’s seen me afraid, he’s seen me confront my fears, and he still wants me. It’s only been two weeks but it feels like he knows me better than anyone. That’s how I know it’s safe to share these things with him, too. I know he won’t run away.
“Wow,” Luke says, after I tell him everything. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was.” Tears prickle in my throat at the way he holds me tighter, and I take a controlled breath, waiting for them to pass. “Anyway. It was a long time ago, and I haven’t had a panic attack since, so… that’s good.”
“You’re such a brave, amazing woman, Harri. You know that?”
I give him an odd look. How on earth does that make me brave?
“Even after everything you went through in high school,” he continues, “you’re still this outgoing, adventurous person. You still do things most of us are too afraid to do. I mean, I’ve never been skydiving and I’m not sure I could. And what about the trapeze? You’re pretty much fearless.”
I swallow the frustrated groan threatening to rush from my mouth and close my eyes, unable to look at him. It’s true that I feel more like my alter ego than I ever have, and I know I’m not the same person I was when I stepped on that plane in New Zealand. I’ve surprised myself with the things I’ve done over here. But each of those victories was hard-won; I had to consciously work through my anxiety and push myself to do them. That’s a far cry from the thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie I’ve led him to believe I am. The only place I’ve naturally felt adventurous is in bed—and the plane, and the kitchen—with him. I’m still trying to figure out why I feel so free with him sexually. I think it started with the plane—the close proximity and unusual circumstances, and the fact that I thought I’d never see him again. I just totally let go, and I’ve been that way with him since.
I know I should come clean about Harriet 2.0, but I’m worried that telling him the truth might make him see me differently. He’s been so accepting of my anxious side, but that’s because he also thinks I’m brave and outgoing. Once he knows I don’t have a wild side, he’ll realize that my anxiety isn’t just a part of me—it’s all of me.
“I’m not fearless,” I say, glancing up at him. “You’re fearless, Luke. You left a job to follow your dreams, even when your wife and father told you it was stupid. That was really brave. I admire you so much for that.”
He sighs, fiddling with a strand of my red hair. “No, I’m not brave. If I was, I would have told everyone about my divorce five months ago. Instead, I’ve been living a lie.”
My heart squeezes for him, and I press a kiss to his warm skin. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell people the truth if you think it will make them look at you differently.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I just can’t stand the thought of Dad having yet another reason to be disappointed in me.”
“You really think he’ll be disappointed?”
Luke utters a bitter laugh. “My parents love Dena. They’re going to think I did something to drive her away, that it’s all my fault. I’ll be surprised if Dad even talks to me after this.”
I’m quiet, processing this. Surely he’s overreacting? Surely they could see their son was unhappy with her, and now, with me…
My thoughts grind to a halt. Because, of course, they won’t see him with me—and soon, I won’t be here with him anyway.
“But you will tell him?” I ask, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for his reply.
“I’m going to have to eventually. She won’t play along forever.”
“Why is she going along with it?”
Luke grimaces. “I really hoped you weren’t going to ask me that.”
Dread crawls across my skin and I pull my hand away.
“We…” He scrubs a hand over his face, reluctantly meeting my gaze. “We have an arrangement.”
I inhale sharply as my stomach nosedives. If he’s still sleeping with her, I’m going to—
“God, no!” he exclaims, reading my face. “It’s just financial.”
“Oh.” My breath rushes out in a whoosh, followed by a laugh of relief. “Sorry. I thought maybe you and her were still…”
He reaches for me again, gathering me into his arms. “You really think I’d be here, doing these things with you, if I was still doing things with her?”
I shrug, awash with jealousy at the thought of the two of them together. This isn’t a feeling I’m familiar with and it’s very unpleasant.
Luke sighs, dragging his nose up my neck to my ear. “There’s just you, Harriet.”
Just you.
I soften into him, letting his words soothe me. “So, what do you mean when you say you have a financial arrangement?”
“She wanted the Mercedes in the divorce settlement and I agreed, as long as she went along with this.”
“It really means that much to you that she’s at the wedding?”
“Well, I never liked that damn car. She chose it. But it wasn’t just that.” Luke’s gaze drops to his hands. “I didn’t want Mike’s wedding ruined because I was arguing with Dad, and I knew they’d all wonder why she wasn’t there. I thought it was pretty harmless—she knows my family and it will keep everyone happy and allow them to enjoy the wedding, rather than getting caught up in my drama. It seemed like the perfect solution.” He rakes a hand through his hair, his eyes returning to me. “But then I met you.”
My lips tug into a tentative smile. I’m brimming with questions, like how soon after the wedding he’s planning to tell them, if he’s considered telling them sooner now that he’s met me, if, after the wedding and he’s told everyone, if I did consider moving here and opening my cafe, would he… could he and I be together?
Because as I lie here, nestled into the warmth of Luke’s side, listening to him talk about the things that have hurt him, I’m forced to confront just how much I care for this man. I care that he’s been hurt, that he’s still hurting. I care that he feels trapped, that he feels like he can’t tell his family the truth. I want nothing more than to kiss him and take his hurt away, but I know it’s not my place. And worse than that, I’m not sure if he wants me to. I’m not sure if he’s feeling what I’m feeling.
“Anyway,” Luke says with a strained laugh. “Let’s talk about something else.”
I wriggle onto my side to look at him properly. There’s one thing I can do right now to distract him from all of this. I lean in and graze my lips over the shell of his ear. “Or we could do something else.”
His gorgeous mouth tips into a grin. He grabs my waist and flips me onto my back, diving down to take my nipple into his mouth. And for a few hours, we both forget the things that have hurt us.