Between Now and Heartbreak - Dylan Allen Page 0,95
about as biblical as it got in our house.
I haven’t set foot in a church since my father’s funeral. But in dark days of silence and doubt, I’ve been to church every day. It’s been empty during the week and I’ve found peace in the sanctuary of the piano.
When I finally heard from Beth I decided that it wasn’t a coincidence that I was at church, playing the piano when the call came.
It’s a sign that everything is going to be fine.
I hear the crunch of tires outside and I’m pulled out of my reverie. This is it. The moment we finally get to put this craziness behind us. I’ve already forgiven Beth for her doubt. I know how influenced she is by her father and that prodigal brother of hers, Phil.
At the thought of him, my stomach coils around itself. I haven’t met him. I don’t want to.
He tried to ruin my life.
I glance up at the ornate domed ceiling and read the words etched on the ceiling.
“Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes” Psalms 37:7
Another sign.
We’re going to be okay. They won’t win. Her father and Duke set this up to foil us. I’m sure of it.
The door opens and light spills into the sanctuary. Beth is shrouded in it, her whole body surrounded by a halo.
“Hey,” I call out and stand up and head toward her.
The look on her face stops me cold.
“No,” I say, even though I know.
She nods, her lips twisting around themselves as she holds the envelope out to me with a trembling hand.
“It’s not true.” I snatch it from her and tear it up.
She moans, like she’s in pain. She wraps her arms around her middle and rocks slightly.
She doesn’t say a word, her face is pale, the port wine birthmark seems angry and darker than normal. Her eyes are red rimmed and ringed by the dark purple evidence of her own sleepless nights.
I can’t stand this close to her, watch her suffering and do nothing. I pull her to me and she comes with a strangled sound that starts with my name and ends in a sob. She wraps her arms around me and I press my nose into her hair.
She weeps in my arms and I wish I was more than just a man. I want to pull the stars down and put them back the way we need them to be.
I hold her, and I am too stunned by the viciousness of this fucking twist of fate to even begin to comprehend my feelings.
“My heart is so broken, Carter,” she whimpers between her sobs and I pull back and cup her face.
“It doesn’t matter what that says. It’s not true. You know it’s not. No fucking way is that shit true,” I say, my thumbs sweeping across her cheekbones, wiping the tears that are spilling from her beautiful eyes.
“It doesn’t matter.” I repeat. And when the doubt and fear doesn’t leave, I do what I did that first night, when she doubted me.
I lean down and kiss her, rough, demanding, bruising. It feels like it always does - right.
She kisses me back, her arms wrap around my neck and mine go around her waist. Her tongue slides across my bottom lip and I catch it with my teeth and bite until I taste blood and then I suck it gently to soothe her.
I need to show her why that paper, whatever it says, can’t be right.
I spin her around, press her down on the top of the piano and lift her skirt. She clutches the gleaming hardwood top with one hand and reaches behind her, in the direction of my jeans, with the other. I’m already a step ahead of her and her hand brushes against my cock just as it springs free from my boxers.
I’m half out of my mind with grief and denial, and the other half is consumed by fear .
“I need inside you— just need to show you it doesn’t matter.” My throat is dry and the words come out in choppy grunts as I line myself up with her entrance and press forward. Her cunt contracts greedily around my head and my chest tightens in anticipation of being inside the woman who has come to mean everything to me.
I can’t bear the thought that she will never be mine.