Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (23 page)

“Honey, the Red Sox are on every other night,” I said, gently rubbing his arm. “Pretty Woman is only on three times a year. And you know we’ll do
you know
later. We always do!”

“I
do
like me some Julia Roberts,” John said, relaxing back next to me, nuzzling me behind my ear. “Her hair in this movie is kind of like yours —
wild
.” He buried his hands in it and kissed my neck again. My body got hot but by sheer force of will and love of the movie, I ignored it.

“Shhhh,” I said, nudging him off a little. And then: “Can you get me a glass of wine? And some popcorn?”

He shook his head and laughed. “First the game goes, then my testicles,” he said, getting up off the couch and stretching. I couldn’t help tearing my eyes away from the movie to watch him. He had on low-slung grey sweats and a plain white tee-shirt; when he stretched the bottom of his shirt came up enough so I could see the outline of his lower abdomen, all taut muscles and tendons. He put his arms behind his head (probably on purpose) and stretched further, so I could see his biceps in full bulge. My mouth started watering, and it wasn’t for popcorn anymore. He sauntered out of the room, a knowing smile on his lips.

“You can keep your testicles,” I called, hoping Ian was upstairs and out of earshot. “As long as I can play with them sometimes.” I could hear him laughing in the kitchen and I did, too.

This was my kind of Friday night.

“Isn’t your perfect date supposed to be
tomorrow
?” John asked, coming back in and serving me a large glass of white wine and a bowl of popcorn. He flexed his muscles as he served me.

“That’s technically correct,” I said, running my hand down his bulging bicep before reaching for some popcorn, “but as I fulfilled my other duties today — shopping, lots of shopping — I feel that I’m entitled to certain perks tonight.” I stuffed some more popcorn in my mouth.

“I’ll give you perks,” John said, settling in next to me and grabbing some popcorn. We grinned at each other.

I love you,
I thought.

“Shhh,” I said. “Stop distracting me. She’s about to find the perfect dress.”

I woke up wrapped in John’s arms. He’d slept soundly last night — no nightmares. I rolled over and kissed him on the cheek and then I pulled back and studied his face.

When he was asleep he looked younger. His face was relaxed, unguarded, and the lines running down his face softened. He sighed and pulled me closer, breathing heavily against me.

It felt so good to be back with him. To just be with him, and to trust that it was real.

My heart was so happy I felt like it was about to burst.

But.
A dark thought crossed my mind. I was still keeping something from him.
Catherine, married to Angel Morales.

Monday
, I told myself.
Tell him on Monday, when we have to deal with reality — she has her medical appointment then and training starts. Let him be happy for the weekend. Eva’s going to be here, let her run interference for a few days. Keep him from the fact that his daughter is married to a cartel leader for just a little while longer. Things have been weighing on him so, so hard.

I felt better having a plan to tell him about Angel — it made me feel like I wasn’t being quite as dishonest. “I love you,” I whispered, and kissed his face again. He stirred. “Don’t get up. I’ll go make us breakfast.”

I started to move. “Wait,” he said. He pulled me back down beside him. His eyes were open now and he leaned above me, staring down at me. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen — except for Catherine’s, whose were an almost exact match.

“John…are you okay?”

“Yes,” he said, but he still looked like he was trying to see inside me. “I just want…I just want to not think about anything troubling for the next two days.” He stroked my face some more, but he looked anything but carefree. “I just want this to be about us. While we can. Before things get —”

“Ugly?” I asked, gently finishing his sentence and smiling at him. “I’m in. There’s going to be a lot to deal with. Let’s just pretend it’s not all out there, waiting for us.”

“Okay,” he said. His shoulders relaxed and he seemed relieved. But his eyes still burned.

“Something’s bothering you,” I said, running my fingers through his tousled morning hair.

He smiled at me, a sad smile, and traced his finger along my jawline again. “At the risk of sounding redundant, I need to ask you something.” He sighed. “Again.”

“What is it, babe?” I asked. I kept playing with his hair. He crushed me to him, inhaling deeply, putting his face in my neck.

“I need to know that you mean this. That you aren’t going to leave,” he said. He looked at me with eyes that were now not only fierce, they were sad. Sad and hollow and afraid.

“John!” I said, and pulled him to me tighter. I couldn’t believe he was saying this again.

“How could you even say that? I’ve told you — I love you. I’m so sorry I left before. It was so thoughtless. I’m so sorry I hurt you —”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, shhh,” he said, holding me tightly, rocking back and forth. “You told me — I know you did. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s me. It’s —”

I looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. My mind started going a mile a minute;
It’s not me, it’s you? Did he really just say that?

“What did I do? Was it the shopping? I didn’t even
want
to buy that dress it was so expensive. I almost peed my pants when I saw the price tag! I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to spend your money! I’m
so
sorry John,” I said, on the edge of hysterics.

“Whoa,
whoa
,” John said, laughing a little, never letting go of me, holding me tighter and kissing my hair. “Liberty, you didn’t do anything. Stop.
Stop
,” he commanded, and I stopped squirming and opening and closing my mouth in an attempt to object. “You could buy a five thousand dollar dress. I don’t care about that. Not at all. Honey, I trust you — actually, that’s exactly what my problem is.” He laughed without humor. “That’s exactly what this is about.”

“You do trust me? Or
don’t
?” I asked, so confused. My heart was sinking, my stomach in a knot. He must’ve known that I was keeping something from him, and it must be making him doubt me.
I just wanted to spare him some pain by not telling him about Catherine and Angel. I didn’t mean to break his trust, break his heart.

“No, I trust you,” he said, exasperated. “I
do.
I trust you with my life. That’s what I’m saying. After last night — and I’m talking about
before
we even went upstairs, when we were just hanging out, watching that movie,” he said, “it made me realize I trust you like you’re my family. And I almost can’t bear it.” He pulled me to him, putting his lips into my hair.

“So you’re upset because…you’re happy?” I asked, bewildered, trying to follow his thoughts.

“I’m not upset. I just love you, more than anything. And I just don’t want to fuck it up,” he said, and crushed me to him. I almost couldn’t breathe, but there was no way I was going to say something to break the spell.

“I’ve fucked everything else up, and I just can’t handle…
feeling
this way about you…What if you leave? What if you change your mind?”

“What if I become a stranger?” I asked. He nodded. I gently put his hand on my heart.

“So that’s what you’re worried about?” He put his head against my hair, and I could feel how tense his body was. “John,” I said. “Look at me.”

He looked up and his eyes were haunted.
The ghosts of his mistakes were torturing him. He didn’t want the same thing to happen to us — but not only did he have to trust me, he had to trust himself.
I’d never had someone I could trust before. Not even my mother. If I were being honest with myself, not my sister, either.

“I feel the same way about you. It’s petrifying,” I said, the last part more to myself than to him. Because it
was
absolutely terrifying; he was my whole world now, and to love him and to trust him was to risk everything, everything that was still fragile that I had inside, everything I’d struggled to keep intact for so long.

“And I know I’m young, so I’m sure it feels like you’re taking a risk with me. But I’m old, too,” I said. “I know what we have. It means
everything
to me,” I said.

“What happened to your daughter was terrible. It was wrong. And she’s wrong now, too. She’s not the girl you knew.”

He looked up at me. “It’s my fault,” he said.

“It’s not
all
your fault,” I said. “You’re a parent. You made choices, and those choices had consequences. But everything that she’s done, everything that she’s chosen — those are
her
choices.

“It’s not so different from me,” I said, softly. “I could say look at my mother, look what she did. Look at what she
didn’t
do as a parent.” I disentangled myself from him and sat up against the headboard. I looked up at the ceiling, maybe towards heaven, towards my mother.

“But I can’t hold my mother responsible for every choice I’ve made. That’s just lazy thinking. Your parents aren’t an excuse for lackluster morals,” I said. My mother would have understood what I was saying, and she would’ve known I was right.

I wasn’t going to say more right now. Not more about Catherine’s marriage and the horrible chain of events that had lead up to it; not more about how she really thought I was a fuckwad, and him, too.
Part of it might have been John’s fault. The rest of the blame lay with Catherine. It had to.

In my heart, I prayed for them both. Catherine was not my favorite person, but still, I hoped there was time. I hoped there was time for him to get it right for both of them. I hoped they could find some common ground.

He sat back up next to me and laced his fingers through mine. “I know you’re stronger than she is — and probably stronger than I am. Better, anyway,” he said and shrugged. “What’s bothering me is feeling like my life depends on you,” he said, whispering the last part, clasping my hand, hard. “I feel like I can’t live without you, now. I don’t want to.”

“John, I feel the same way.” I looked up at him. “Like I said. It’s petrifying.”

“We’re making a promise to each other,” he said. “I just have to let myself accept it.” He exhaled. “I need coffee. I can’t believe I tried to talk to you about this without being caffeinated.”

“So, let’s go get some coffee,” I said. “I’ll make you breakfast. And we can talk about this more this weekend. We’ll figure it out,” I said.
We can figure out Vegas, my apartment, what we were going to do about Darius, and then Catherine.
Actually, maybe Darius and Catherine could wait until Monday.

Whenever we dealt with them, it was going to be okay.
I decided to be brave. I was going to face it all head-on. He loved me, I knew. And with that knowledge, I could face anything.

“Eva’s here,” John said, after we were done cleaning up the kitchen and had gotten dressed. “You ready?”