Текст книги "The Ever After of Ella and Micha"
Автор книги: Jessica Sorensen
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
“I know that.”
“I know, but still…” I sigh. “I’m such an asshole.”
He laughs even harder, one hand gripping the steering wheel as he merges into the other lane. “You’re not an asshole.” He skims his fingers across the bumps of my knuckles with his thumb. “And we don’t have to write our own vows if you don’t want to. I’m perfectly content with just marrying you.”
“You’re so sappy sometimes,” I tease, and then take a shaky breath. “But I want to do the vows.” It’s such a lie but I want to make him happy—he deserves to be happy. And this is something I can do to give that to him.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
No. “Yeah, I’m absolutely sure.” I sound kind of choked, but I don’t think he notices. I feel bad, but at the same time I can’t help how I feel. I’m never really sure about anything. I get anxious when it comes to huge decisions and that makes me hesitate every single time. If I had my way, it wouldn’t be like that, but sometimes things are out of our control when it comes to who we are.
“Vows it is then.” He smiles and it makes me sad. I want to be as happy as he is. I really do. But sometimes it seems like it’s impossible, no matter how hard I try.
* * *
I fall asleep somewhere between the exit ramp and the bridge that stretches over the lake that’s at the edge of Star Grove, the one I almost jumped off of the night before I ran away to Vegas. By the time I open my eyes again, we’re pulling up to Micha’s old house, which is next door to mine. The sun is ascending from behind the mountains that surround our little town and snow blankets the lawns around us. It’s freezing here, and the sidewalks and driveways are all glazed in ice. Silver, green, and red Christmas lights twinkle on some of the nearby houses, but most of the front yards in this neighborhood are decorated with broken-down cars, boxes, trash. There’s a younger guy who I’m pretty sure is selling drugs on the street corner, and a guy yelling at his wife as she storms down the sidewalk in her pajamas.
“Welcome home,” Micha mutters, and then yawns, stretching his lean arms above his head.
I cover my mouth as I yawn. “You should have let me drive a little. You seriously look tired.”
“I am seriously tired,” he says, silencing the engine. “And I plan on getting some sleep just as soon as you take a shower with me.” He flashes me a grin and then pulls the keys out of the ignition. “That’ll wear me out and I’ll be able to fall right to sleep afterward.”
“Dude, shut the fuck up,” Ethan grumbles, making a disgusted face. His black hair is flat on one side where his head was against the window and he has his tattooed arms around Lila as she sleeps with her head on his chest.
“Hey, you can’t give us crap,” I tell Ethan, unbuckling my seat belt. “I’m officially scarred for life after yesterday.”
“What happened yesterday?” Micha asks as he cracks open the door and cold air rushes into the car.
Ethan shoots me a dirty glare, but I ignore him. “I came home from work,” I tell Micha, “and heard some very disturbing noises coming from the guestroom.”
“Nice,” Micha says and then flinches when I punch him in the arm. “What? If it’ll make you feel better we can make a whole bunch of noise in the shower and pay them back.”
“Please don’t,” Ethan pleads grumpily as he stretches his free arm above his head. “I’ve heard enough from you two to last me a lifetime.”
“Okay, this is getting really awkward,” Lila mumbles with her eyes still shut. “Can we all just pretend that we haven’t heard each other have sex… or phone sex?”
And that’s my cue to get out of the car since she’s referring to the time Micha and I had phone sex while I was still sharing an apartment with Lila while Micha was on the road. As I step out into the snow, Micha laughs and Ethan cracks a joke underneath his breath. Ignoring them, I slam the door and wind around to the back of the car, leaving my tracks in the snow.
Thankfully, I thought ahead and wore my lace-up boots and a pair of jeans, otherwise I’d be freezing. I don’t have a jacket on, though, and my hair’s pulled up in a ponytail so my neck’s exposed to the icy air. I wrap my arms around myself and wait for Micha to come open the trunk as I stare at my house next door.
I can tell my dad’s been out and about because of the fresh tire tracks going up and down the driveway and the fact that his Firebird is parked near the back steps, the windows defrosted. Beside the car is the tree that Micha used to climb up almost every night to sleep with me. I used to hate the tree because I climbed up it the night my mom died, but now, looking at it, I can’t help but smile because it was the thing that brought Micha to me many times.
“Baby, where’s your jacket?” Micha asks as he struts around to the back of the car, slipping off his own jacket.
“I think it’s in my suitcase.” I force my attention away from my house and onto him as he hands me his jacket and I distractedly slip it on. He’s so God damn gorgeous it’s distracting. I wish I could just draw him all the time. He’d probably let me if I asked, telling me he belongs to me and I can do whatever I want with him.
I absentmindedly rub my thumb across the ring on my finger as I feel the reality of the thought. That we belong together. Him and me. Forever.
He looks down at my ring and then takes my hand and reaches out to sketch his finger around the diamond band twisted in knots that encase a black stone. “I’m still surprised how well you’re handling this.”
“What? Being engaged?” I shiver from the cold, or maybe it’s from his touch.
A pucker forms at his brow as he glances down at the ring on my finger. “Over the fact that we’re going to get married…” He looks over at my house. “Here, with everyone.”
My muscles tense, but I joke to lighten the tension building inside me. “Give me a few days and we’ll see if you still think I’m handling it well. You might not even want to marry me anymore.”
“You know as well as I do that we’re going to get married.” His eyes darken with desire as his voice deepens. “Just like we both know that I’m going to fuck you when we take a shower in just a few minutes.”
His voice sends tingles all over my body, a flurry of hot sparks. “I swear to God, sometimes you are the horniest person in the world.”
“Nah, I’m just a guy who’s completely attracted to his beautiful fiancée.” He leans in to give me a kiss on the lips, before popping the trunk.
I grab my bag and slide the handle over my shoulder. “You’re always over complimenting me. You know that?”
He swings the duffel bag over his shoulder and looks like he’s resisting an eye roll. “Don’t worry, I’ll stop when your head gets too big, but I doubt that’ll ever happen.” He picks up a large bag and chucks it over the roof of the car to Ethan, who catches it against his stomach with a grunt.
“Jesus, a little warning would be nice,” Ethan says as he slides the handle of the bag over his arm.
Micha grabs Lila’s suitcase and extends the handle, lowering the bag down to the snowy driveway. “You guys are staying here, right?” Micha calls out to Ethan, slamming the trunk shut.
Ethan shrugs, looking at Lila, who shrugs too. “I was planning on it.” He drapes his arm around Lila’s shoulder and she cuddles against his chest as they hike through the snow for the back door, leaving Micha and me to finish unloading the trunk by ourselves. “You know I like your place more than my own.”
“Only because my mom lets us do whatever the hell we want,” Micha points out.
“True,” Ethan calls out.
We follow them to the side door of the house that’s right in front of the garage where Micha used to work on his car all the time and I would hang out with him because it was the only place I felt at home.
“God, Lila, this thing is heavy,” Micha remarks as he drags Lila’s suitcase in the snow behind him. “What the hell did you pack?”
“Normal stuff,” Lila says, looking offended.
Ethan opens the back door and steps into the kitchen. “She overpacks.”
“Hey,” Lila protests, bumping her elbow into Ethan’s side as she steps into the house. “I’m a lot better than I used to be.”
“True,” Ethan agrees, following her in and letting the screen door bang shut.
“Is your mom home?” I ask as Micha lifts the suitcase up the steps.
He shrugs, opening the screen door. “Maybe.” He pushes the suitcase into the kitchen while holding the door open with his elbow. “She might have had to work the morning shift, though, or she might be out with Thomas.”
I hitch my finger through the handle of the bag. “But you told her, right? That we were coming?” I step inside the kitchen and into the warm air, stomping my boots on the mat just in front of the threshold. “And why we were coming?” I sound so nervous. Damn it. I need to chill out.
Micha shakes his head as he shuts the door. “I thought we could do it together.”
My eyes skim the small kitchen I ate many meals in while I was growing up. If I hadn’t, I probably would have starved. “Sounds good, I guess.”
He pauses near the kitchen table. “Unless you’re not okay with that.”
“No, I’m okay with that,” I tell him, attempting to push through my nerves. I can do this. It’s not that scary. You’ve been living together for six months. Hell, you pretty much lived with him since you were four. “We should do it together.”
He nods, but his aqua eyes are still fixed on me, like he’s trying to read my soul. I kind of wish he could so he would tell me what it says, because sometimes I’m not so sure.
After a few intense moments of staring at me, he gives me a smile and then grabs hold of my hand. He steers me around the narrow counter area and toward the hallway that leads to his bedroom. Lila and Ethan head to the other end of the house where there’s a small guest bedroom Ethan used to crash in all the time while we were growing up.
Micha kicks his bedroom door open and I can’t help but smile as vivid memories rush back to me: the room where we grew up, where we spent many nights together, where he proposed to me. They’re beautiful memories and they remind me of why I’m going to marry him. I hold my breath for a moment as the thought slams straight into my chest again, like it did right before I was supposed to go to the wedding. My heart rate picks up as I glance at the window, thinking how easy it would be for me to run. I’ve done it once and I could do it again, but deep down in the bottom of my heart, buried below my anxiety, I know I don’t want to. I suck a slow breath through my nose and exhale out my mouth. Relax. I need to stop panicking.
His bed isn’t made and has probably been that way since the last time we were here a year ago. Drumsticks and a guitar are on the floor in front of the open closet and hanging on the wall are his favorite band posters, along with some of my drawings. Old clothes are piled on a chair near the window that looks out to the side yard of my house and to the leafless tree that extends to my bedroom window. His room still smells like him, too, as if the scent of his cologne is embedded in the carpet fibers. I’ve always loved the smell, a simple scent bringing me instant comfort even in the darkest times. I wonder if I just stand here and breathe it in over and over again if it can help me forget what’s in the bag that’s secured over my shoulder.
Micha chucks his bag on the unmade bed and turns to me, rubbing his hands together. “Ready for our shower?” he asks with a devilish grin.
I drop my bag onto the floor. “Yeah, just give me a second to get my clothes out. They’re all buried beneath the wedding dress.”
He crosses his arms and gives me an apprehensive look. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting really distracted and now you’re acting like you don’t want to be around me.”
I plaster on the most generic smile. Deep down I know he probably can read right through my bullshit. “I’m perfectly fine.” I place my hands on his shoulders and kiss his scruffy cheek. “But if you really want to know, I have some naughty little nighties in my bag that I don’t want you to see, otherwise you’ll make me try them on for you and they’re for after we get married.”
He cocks his head to the side, assessing me as he unzips his jacket. “Since when do you wear nighties?” He shucks off the jacket, balls it up, and tosses it on the dresser.
“Since Lila made me go into Victoria’s Secret and buy them.” Which isn’t entirely a lie. That actually did happen, but I do feel like a jerk for not coming straight out and telling him about the journal and drawings.
“You know, I’m really starting to like Lila. She’s such a good influence on you,” he says cleverly and then kisses me deeply, slipping his tongue into my mouth before pulling away. “If you’re not in the shower in five minutes, I’m coming back here naked to get you.”
“Deal,” I tell him and he heads out the door with a clean red T-shirt and jeans in his hand. As soon as the door shuts, I exhale loudly as I move my bag onto the bed. My fingers shake as I unzip it, and then I dig past the dress to the bottom of the bag and remove the box addressed to me, the return address from a Gary Flemmerton in Montana, but that’s not who it’s from, at least not according to the note inside the box, which was written by mother’s mom—my grandma. And it makes no sense, because I’ve never talked to her before, yet she took it upon herself to write me a note and send me some stuff of my mother’s. It’s weird, yet at the same time it’s got me thinking things I don’t want to think, like maybe I could meet her, but then again, do I really want to let more people in my life?
The note’s pretty simple and when I take it out of the box and read it again, I have the same reaction: confusion.
Ella, I know you don’t know me and I’m so sorry about that. There were things that you probably don’t understand, or maybe you do. Maybe Maralynn told you about me. Maybe she didn’t. But regardless, I was going through the attic, cleaning it out, and found some of her old stuff. I thought that you’d like to have it. I was going to keep it myself, but it’s just too painful. If you don’t want it, you don’t have to keep it. I just thought you might like it.
Then she signed her name in flawless cursive handwriting.
I’d only ever met my grandmother once and that was at my mother’s funeral. We didn’t say anything to each other and my father didn’t talk to her. It makes no sense why she’d give me her phone number like I’d been the one avoiding her all these years. She could have come up to me at the funeral and said something, but instead she sat across from my dad, my brother, and me in the barely occupied church while the minister preached about life after death. I think she might have smiled at me once, but I wasn’t completely sure at the time, nor did I care, because I was in a place where guilt was possessing my heart and mind. Plus, from what I knew about my grandmother, she wasn’t a very nice person.
I’d heard my mom talk about her maybe only five times and from what she told me, she was a horrible mother who treated her daughter like shit and who disowned my mom when she announced she was going to marry my dad. I guess my grandmother hated my dad and thought he wasn’t good enough for her. That pretty much sums up everything I know and I’ve never talked to her to be my own judge. I’m not sure if I want to. The woman has been a shadow in my life. Then again pretty much everyone was a shadow in my life except for Micha. Micha has been my light in my dark life. I smile to myself, noting that I should put that in the vows.
My expression instantly sinks as I realize that eventually I’ll have to write a page of heartfelt words and have to read them aloud, pour my heart and soul out to strangers. And when it’s all done, Micha and I will be husband and wife. I’ll have him forever and he’ll have me. Just thinking about it, my pulse increases and my heart slams against my chest. It’ll be just him and me forever, through thick and thin, through light and darkness. Knock it off. You love him.
I’m starting to freak out at the infinite future barreling at me, and I struggle to shake it off and concentrate on the box instead. I wedge my fingers through the opening in the top and remove the thing I’d been looking at when I’d been debating whether to go down to the cliff to get married. It’s a black leather book, the cover faded, and inside is my mother’s handwriting, stating her thoughts and feelings, her soul poured out across the many pages.
I open the journal as I sink down onto the bed. “For all of you who think you know me, you don’t,” I read aloud, running my fingers along the faded script. That’s just the first page, and even reading it again puts goose bumps on my arms. It’s as far as I’ve read and it seems like far enough, yet it doesn’t. I’ve always wanted to get to know my mom better, the mom who didn’t lie, didn’t have panic attacks, the one who smiled, laughed, told jokes. Did she lie in these pages? Should I care so much? What’s done is done. She’s gone, and reading her journal isn’t going to bring her back. Yet I do care.
“Ella.” The sound of Micha’s voice startles the living daylights out of me and I jump, slamming the journal shut.
He’s standing in the doorway, completely naked just like he warned me he would be. Lean muscles carve his stomach and cursive letters tattoo the side of his rib cage in black ink, the first lyrics he ever wrote, which he swears he wrote for me: I’ll always be with you, inside and out. Through hard times and helpless ones, through love, through doubt.
Setting the notebook down on my lap, I cover my mouth. “Oh my God. You’re naked.”
“Don’t ‘oh my God you’re naked’ me.” He enters the room and his muscles ripple with his movements, causing heat to pool inside my stomach.
“What if Lila and Ethan saw you?” I ask, lowering my hand to my lap.
“Then they saw me,” he replies, his eyes fastened on me as he shuts the door. “I told you I’d come in here naked and get you if you weren’t in there in five.” He rotates his wrist, pretending to check a watch that he’s not wearing. “And it’s been five.”
I cross my legs because just seeing him like that makes me want to lie down on the bed and spread my legs open so he can slip inside me. “Well, I was coming.”
“Oh, you will be in a few minutes.” A grin flashes across his face but then it vanishes when he notices the box next to me and the journal on my lap. “What is that?”
I bite my lip guiltily. I haven’t told him yet, because I know he’ll worry about what it’ll do to me. Still, I’m not going to lie to him now that he’s asked. “It came in the mail yesterday. It’s a box full of stuff… my mom’s stuff.”
His eyes widen and his lips part in shock. “What? Who’s it from?”
I tap the top of the box with my finger. “Well, it says from a Gary Flemmerton, but the note inside is… well, it’s from my grandmother… my mom’s mom.”
“Okay. Didn’t your mom say she was mean?” he asks cautiously.
“Yeah, sort of.” I smooth my hand over the journal with my chin tipped down. “But sometimes my mom lied about stuff.”
He shifts his weight and sits down on the bed beside me. Then he hooks a finger under my chin and elevates it so I’m looking at him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, looking at me with concern and making me feel at home, at peace, okay with everything, even the bad stuff.
“I can’t just yet,” I tell him and when he starts to frown, I add, “Not because I don’t want to, but because I haven’t even looked through all the stuff yet to know what I want to talk about.”
“Do you want to go through it now? With me?” he asks with understanding.
“Not right now.” I suck in a slow breath at the idea of reading my mom’s thoughts, concerned what they’ll reveal, what they won’t reveal. Who was she? Was she like me once? “But I will… I just need to process stuff one step at a time.”
He nods, but still seems uneasy as he moves his finger away from my chin and puts his hand on his lap. “So who’s this Gary guy? And why did he send it to you all of a sudden out of the blue? And why did he send it for your grandmother?”
“I have no idea, but here’s the note.” I pick up the scrawled piece of paper from out of the box and hand it to him so he can read it for himself. After he skims over the note he looks even more perplexed as he sets it aside on the nightstand. “So she was just cleaning out the attic and thought, Hey, maybe I should send the granddaughter who I’ve never talked to a box of her mother’s stuff? Or have this Gary guy send it for her?”
“Maybe Gary’s her boyfriend or something?” I lift my shoulders and shrug. “I have no idea because I’ve never talked to her before.”
Micha glances at the note again, strands of his blond hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head, worrying just like I knew he would. “This is really weird. I mean, how did they even get our address?”
“That’s a good question.” My mouth sinks to a frown as I look out the window at my small two-story house just next door, the one I grew up in, with the one that is filled with painful, sad memories. There’s snow falling and landing on the roof, which is missing half of the shingles. “Maybe from my dad.”
“Yeah, but wouldn’t he have said something to you about giving it to her?” he asks.
I aim a doubtful look at him because that doesn’t sound like my dad at all. “Even though my dad’s been better, he still gets weird about the past and my mom… Besides, I haven’t talked to him in, like, a week.” I swallow the massive lump lodged in my throat. “But I’ll go ask him in a while.”
Micha practically beams at me like he’s so proud that I’m doing the mature thing and not running away from the problem. It makes me realize that I am and that I shouldn’t be running away from marrying him, even though my initial instincts are screaming at me to bail out. It’s been in me practically forever. Run when things get too deep, too emotional, too complex. I’ve run a lot, but I’ve been good lately and I want to keep doing well.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asks with compassion in his eyes.
I nod, tucking loose strands of my hair behind my ears. “I do.”
His smile broadens. “You remember those words very carefully. You’re going to need to say them again soon.”
“I do,” I repeat with a playful grin as I bump my shoulder against his and it makes his smile stretch to his eyes. “I do. I do. I—” He swiftly slides forward and his lips silence me. At first it’s a slow, warming kiss, but the longer it goes on the fierier and more passionate it gets. Suddenly his fingers are grabbing onto the bottom of my shirt and then he tugs the fabric up over my head. Chucking it aside, his lips crash back into mine again as he gets to his feet, pulling me with him. Then he picks me up in his arms and I can feel his hardness pressing up between my thighs as I secure my legs around his midsection. It feels so good and my body ignites with heat and eagerness and suffocates all the bad thoughts in my head. As he carries me across the hall, I don’t even care if Lila or Ethan walks out and sees us. All I care about is being with him.
When he steps into the bathroom, music is playing from his iPod in the dock on the counter and the shower is on, the mirror fogged up from the heat and steam. The humidity in the air instantly clings to my skin as Micha bangs the door shut with his foot, sealing us in the sweltering room without breaking the kiss. He mutters an “I love you” over the lyrics of “The River,” by Manchester Orchestra, and I utter the same thing back as he devours me with his hands and mouth. The feel of his lips, the soft sound of the lyrics, and the dampness of the steam absorbs into my skin and floods my veins with lust, need, and hunger. They flood me with love.
God, I feel so loved sometimes I forget how to breathe.
Maybe I should put that in my vows, too.
