Kismet (20 page)

Probably not.

But I have to know what he had written. I’ll start simple. My letter. I can start there.

What is so important that he wants me to know, even in death?

Dear Katie,

I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you. But even in that moment I knew there was a sadness about you. Something in your past that would probably haunt you forever. I should have turned and run away, I could tell that you were ruled by your ghosts, but there was something deep inside of me that hoped I could bandage your broken heart.

We may have rushed into things by sleeping together that first night, then the pregnancy, you moving in, and getting married, but I wouldn’t change any of it. The only thing I wished that could be different was that I had gotten you first. Because then maybe you would have loved me like you love him.

I know we’ve never talked about your life before we met at that party, and I don’t really know that much about your past, but it doesn’t take a fool to realize that I’ve never had your whole heart. And that’s okay, because I was perfectly content to have just a little bit. I always knew that he had most of it, and I could deal with that. I loved you everyday, and everyday with you was better than the last. I’d take half of your heart over none at all. You’re an amazing person. You gave us Zoe. And you deserve happiness.

It kills me to think of you, with that sad broken look in your eyes, reading this. But find solace in the things that make you happy. Go to him. And when you get him, who ever he is, back, hold onto him forever. I wrote a letter for him too. As much as it kills me to write this, and I hold out hope that you never have to read it, just know that it’s not too late.

Live.

I love you, Katie.

The paper floats to the floor as a strangled sob escapes my mouth. I always thought I’d done a good job of covering everything up. But this letter blows everything out of the water. Michael had known all along, and it killed me to think he’d loved me so much that he was okay with it.

This letter just sealed the deal for me.

I won’t let myself feel guilty anymore. If Michael wants me to be happy, I’m going to be happy.

I put the car in park.

Holy shit, I just drove myself.

Parker comes out of the shop wiping his hands with a rag, a confused look on his face. With shaking hands I open the door and get out. It doesn’t take him long to realize that I’m shaken up.

“Katie? You okay?” he asks, walking towards me.

I take two steps toward him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”

At my words he smiles down at me, and my insides ache. Standing on my tiptoes I press my lips against his and I don’t have to work to get him to
really
kiss me. Double Mint and cigarettes. The taste of him always brings me back. Back to the simpler times.

My hands pull on his hair as he cups my rear end.

“Please tell me you’re finished for the day?” I groan into his mouth as his hand snakes its way underneath the back of my shirt.

“I have a feeling I’m just getting started.” He pulls away from me and grabs my hand leading me up the stairs to his apartment. I fidget with my clothes. The feel of them on my already smoldering skin is driving me insane. With practiced hands he quickly pops the door open and motions for me to go ahead. Once in his apartment, I freeze, staring down the hallway, when I feel him press into me from behind.

He’s ready.

I’m ready.

I spin in his arms, my lips on his in an instant. He grabs the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms, abandoning every shred of doubt I might have. “Are you sure?” he asks, stopping the shirt just at the edge of my waist.

I nod. No more guilt. I just want to feel again.

Something.

Anything.

Parker.

Without any further words from me, he’s already lifting my shirt off. My hair flicks in my face as my shirt leaves my body.

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” he says, tossing it to the floor and then taking off his own. Everything about his body is familiar, except for the tattoo. I take a moment to study it. I’m confused when I realize it isn’t the one we always talked about. Parker and I had always promised we’d get tattoos together. I knew I wanted the phrase
Make It Count
somewhere, and he wanted a nice looking clock, complete with roman numerals. Obviously it hadn’t happened back then. When we went to get mine he told me that he’d gone ahead and gotten his, only this tattoo wasn’t exactly what he always planned to get because etched into his side is a gorgeous, broken clock. I run the pads of my fingers over the roman numerals and look up at him. “It’s broken,” I say.

When he doesn’t answer I wonder if I’ve said too much, but then he nods, placing his hand behind my ear, his thumb rubbing my cheek. “My clock stopped working the minute you left. Time stood still.”

Knowing that my leaving hurt Parker just as much as it hurt me breaks my heart. But I can’t focus on the past anymore, so I pull myself back to the present.

Taking my time, I run my hands over his chest. He’s cut and lean, hairless except for a slight trail peeking out from the waistband of his jeans. I reach down and undo his belt and his eyes burn on me just before his hand rubs the length of my arm.

“I know it might not have seemed like it in the past, but I love you, Katie. Everything I’ve ever done has been for you.”

I push his jeans down before I pull him closer. We lose ourselves in our mouths. When I feel him lift me up, his hands on my hips, I respond by wrapping my legs around his waist, never pulling away from him. We continue to kiss one another, our movements frantic, each seemingly needing the other like we need air. As if I weigh nothing more than a feather, he carries me down the hallway, bumping into something a couple of times before he gently places me on his bed.

I giggle. I finally made it to Parker’s bed. We’ve only ever done this in his truck, at the lake, or the creek.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra.

“I’ve dreamed of being in your bed ever since I started feeling weird around you.”

“Good,” he says between kissing my breasts, h
is lips creating a path of heat as he moves,
“because you’re never sleeping in another bed. I’m…”

Kiss.

“Never…”

Nibble.

“Letting…”

Tongue flick.

“You…”

Lick

“Go.”

I moan, as he pulls my whole nipple in his mouth and sucks gently. He slides next to me, his mouth never leaving my breast while he rubs his hand across my stomach and unbuttons my jeans. I wiggle myself out of them as he continues with his massage. The air around my breast goes cold as he moves, bringing his mouth up to mine. Our tongues dance as though they’ve missed each other. Hoping he’ll get the hint, I buck my hips up off the bed.

He smiles against my mouth and traces his fingers along my stomach, barely touching my panty line.

“Parker,” I plead.

With no further encouragement necessary, he slides his hand under the thin fabric. I pant, even though he hasn’t even started.

“Please,” I beg.

He growls before sliding a finger into me.

He groans. “God, Katie.”

Adding another finger, he glides in and out, while his thumb teases me in just the right place. Instinct takes over and I find myself moving my hips in time with every thrust of his fingers. The burning increases with every touch. He continues with his fingers as he puts his mouth back to my breast and I bite my lip in an attempt to stifle the moan.

“Parker…”

“Mmmm,” he answers, all the while continuing to work my body.

“I want you.”

Although he lifts his head to look at me, his hand doesn’t miss a beat and I’m about to lose it. I grab his wrist, stopping him. I pant, trying to regain control of myself.

“I want it to be with you.”

The realization hits him and he slides effortlessly between my legs, his hands holding him above my body. I peel my panties off before pushing his boxers down his legs until he’s able to kick them off.

He kisses my forehead.

Then my nose.

Each cheek.

And just as his lips touch my mouth he pushes inside.

He stills, closing his eyes like he’s concentrating, before looking down at me and resting his forehead against mine. “You feel so good, Katie.”

Needing to touch him I run my hands up and down his muscular back and he shivers, goose bumps appearing on his skin. I push myself up and kiss him. He responds and starts moving in and out. It’s slow and steady and the movement is hypnotic. As his rhythm increases, I arch my back off the mattress, the desire too much for me to handle.

“Fuck,” he groans in between thrusts.

I let my knees fall further apart, hoping to somehow get even closer to him. It takes only seconds for my hips to move in sync with his. As he picks up the pace, my heart pounds and the fire between my legs burns hotter. He licks the side of my neck as he pinches my nipple between his fingers and I whimper, the undeniable peak not far off. Tremors run through my body and I place my hands on him, feeling his muscles contracting with every thrust.

“I can’t hold off much longer…”

He moves a little slower, obviously trying to hang on, but I dig my nails into his skin, urging him to pick back up. And he does. My eyes roll in the back of my head as I groan.

“Katie, baby,” he begs.

I don’t need anything else—just my name coming from his lips is my undoing. The shockwaves rip through my core, I clench around him, and his thrusts come quicker as he starts to unravel.

“Christ,” he manages to say breathlessly before I put my mouth back to his. He moans as I suck on his tongue.

By the time he pulls away from me, his breathing heavy and erratic. Finally I feel him surge within me. He stills, putting his mouth back to mine then, completely breathless, he collapses next to me. When I open my eyes to look at him, he has a smile on his face.

“Holy shit,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” I have no other words.

When, after a few moments, he is finally able to move, he props himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking at me. “I could do that all day.”

My orgasm has barely subsided, but I feel the dull ache deep within my stomach and I know that, if every time with Parker feels like this I will never get enough. I’ve gone far too long without him, and I’m not willing to do it again. I turn on my side and put my arm round him. “Good, because I’m hungry for more.”

Parker follows me home for dinner. When we walk in Mom is at the sink, snipping green beans. She shoots us a knowing look over her shoulder, and I can see the smile on her face. It makes me happy to see her happy again. And then I realize she probably is thinking the same thing about me.

“Hey, Mom,” Parker says as he helps himself to some lemonade from the fridge. I grin hearing him call her “Mom.” I forgot that he always used to call her that. Parker had never known his mother—she’d run off on him and his dad when he was still in diapers—so it had just been him and Mr. McKenzie for years. While his dad did the best he could, he wasn’t exactly the most comforting person to grow up with, and because of that Parker pretty much lived with us. Long story short, he considered my parents to be his parents too.

“Are you staying for dinner, Parker?” Mom asks, rinsing the beans.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” She hums to herself, continuing to snip. “Katie, you missed your session with Dr. Stevenson.”

Oh shit. I completely forgot.

“He said he’d rearrange his schedule and come back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Mom.”

I kiss her on the cheek before grabbing Parker by the hand and leading him into the living room. I’m desperate to snuggle and watch some more mindless TV. The feeling must be mutual because he doesn’t say a word as he flops onto the corner of the couch and I curl up into his side. His arm casually drapes over me when I flick my show on. Within minutes my eyes grow heavy but I look up when I hear him say something.