Candlemoth: A Holy City Romance (17 page)

“Oh wow,” I said.  “It looks wonderful.”

“We’ll be right there,” Ry said.  He hadn’t let go of my hand since helping me out of the car, and now he held it between both of his as he turned to me.  “There’s something you might like to see…”

I grinned up at him like a stupefied idiot.  “Okay,” I whispered.

He led me up the stairs as Geordi, smiling, went the opposite way towards the parlor.
 

I ran my hand up the silky bannister, marveling at the detail of the beautifully grained wood beneath my hand.  “See how wide the panels are here?”  Ry said, unself-consciously pointing out the wooden panels at either side of the sweeping staircase.  “Our house was built back when the trees in South Carolina were enormous.  They were so plentiful then that no one thought about cutting them down.”

I kissed him.  “It’s beautiful and terrible.”

“Like all my favorite things,” Ry said, warmly.

“What do you mean!”

“I mean you’re eating my heart on a stick, smiling at me like that.”  Ry lifted me up against him, trapping me in his arms.  I felt his heartbeat against mine as we sank into another swirling kiss. 

We smiled at each other almost shyly, our faces so close I heard him catch his breath.  I loved even that about him: the very air in his lungs. 

“You make me so happy,” I said, quietly.

“I never want to stop.”

Ry’s bedroom was, predictably, adorable.  Everything was just as it been when he’d gone off to school at seventeen, and the seventeen year old Ry had been apparently quite a reader.  The walls were panelled with bookshelves, and a comfortable leather club chair was plugged into one corner of the well-lit room.  A Navajo blanket was thrown over its arm artfully, playing up the colors of the paintings hung on the walls.  Each one had been carefully chosen to create a mood that was powerfully dark, male and intense.  Best of all, everything smelled like him.  Lemony sandalwood, leather and warm books…

But oh my god, his bed. 

“This has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve
ever
seen,” I said, laughing, throwing myself into it. 

Because Ry’s bed was a king-sized hamburger.  It was round and fluffy, with a huge sesame bun for a comforter, red and green pillows, complete sheets made to look as if they were slices of cheese, meat and lettuce.  “You are insane!”

“My parents hate it,” Ry said, grinning, staring down at me.  “You look pretty good in it, though.”

I giggled up at him.  And threw a pillow-shaped piece of relish at his head.

Ry dove onto me, tickling my neck with his rough, delicious stubble.  We rolled around, laughing, sinking deeply into the goose down comforter. 

The bed was as ridiculously comfortable as it was silly- it was heavenly soft.  Soon we fell quiet, kissing deeply.  The bed rustled (
had he ever done this here before, here in his burger?
I wondered) as Ry shifted against me, his powerful hands fitting to my breasts with startling need.  But any jealous thoughts I had burned away as Ry began to kiss me more wildly. 

“Jesus, Lily…”  Ry’s voice was low and gravelled.  He turned me slightly onto my side, raising one muscled thigh between my own, teasing me with his hot, hard proximity.  

One big hand sank between us, slipping down the front of my pants.  I hadn’t realized how wet, how ready I was.  Ry’s fingers were rough and firm, drenched with me. 

“You’re so, so wet, sweetheart,” he murmured, watching me respond to him.  I cried out against his shoulder.  Ry’s eyes darkened with heat.

Abruptly, the soft music that had been playing in the background on his laptop changed to a Skype tone, ringing.  He laughed softly, moving back. 

“Maybe, someday,” he said, sexily, “our kids can have a bed that looks like a sandwich.”

“
What? 
Double
what?
”

Still laughing, Ry leapt up to answer the ringing.  “It’s my sister,” he said, over his shoulder; “she’s calling us from Costa Rica.”

I bolted upright, embarrassed, as he accepted the call.  Instantly, a woman’s smiling face appeared on the screen.  I reddened as if she’d caught us
in flagrante
, frantically smoothing down my clothes.

If his sister noticed, her reaction didn’t affect her serene expression.  She was swinging gently in a hammock, holding her phone up above her head.  Dark jungle leaves were visible behind her.  I remembered her face from the wedding, of course. 
Her
wedding. 

“Lily!” the young bride said, smiling towards me.  “You’re the only thing Ry talks about anymore, I couldn’t wait any longer to meet you!  I’m Mary.”

“Yes, hi!” I said, awkwardly.  I zipped over to the desk, leaning down to the screen.  “Wow-uh, where are you?” I said. 

Oops.  Costa Rica.  I already knew that, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Oh,” Mary rolled her hand.  “Costa Rica.  Hubby’s taking a nap.  We’re doing a round-the-world for our honeymoon.”  Mary grinned hugely.  “It’s been amazing, not gonna lie.  So you kids are having a
family
dinner tonight, huh?  Oh boy, I am sorry in advance.”

“What do you-”

“Oh, she’ll be all right,” Ry said, looking over at me fondly.

“Heh, our dad can be kind of a dick,” Mary said.  “Unless,” she lifted her hand theatrically, “you get him talking about history.  He
loves
history.  It’s his favorite thing.  Especially
Charleston
history.  Get him rambling, and you’re golden.”  She winked at me sunnily.  “But don’t take it personally if he’s, you know.  A dick.  That’s his thing.”

“Oh… good.” 

“Ha ha, don’t worry.  You’ll have fun, and anyway it’ll be delicious, right?  Wish I was with you guys tonight.  It’s soft shell crab season there...”  Then a sleepy man’s voice called to her off from the side.  “Just a sec, babe!  Well dolls, that’s my cue.  Bye, you two.  Don’t have too much fun.”

“Love you, baby sis,” Ry said to her, sweetly.

Mary blew us kisses and the screen went black.  Music filtered back on as Ry took my shoulders in his warm hands. 

He kissed my forehead gently.  “Ready for dinner?” he said.

“Now I’m nervous,” I said. 

“Don’t be.  Tell you what, if you get nervous, just wait for a pause in the conversation and go, “So!  I’ve heard a lot of these houses were occupied by soldiers during the war…”  My dad will be off to the races, you’ll see.  It’s cake.”

“Cake,” I repeated.  But I glanced longingly back towards his bed.  If only we could stay up here instead!  “But not burger cake.”

“Burger cake is for dessert,” Ry said, winking at me.  “For good-bad girls.”

“Ah… that I can be...”

The dinner was as awkward as promised.  At least everything was delicious.  We’d started with appetizers in the parlor, just Ry, his mother and I.  She smiled at me calmly and asked me how I liked Charleston.  After that, it was up to me to carry the conversation.  As I chattered with her, the room was so quiet I was self-conscious chewing.  Finally I gave up making any attempts at the delicious appetizers. 

At long last,Geordi swept us into the dining room, where a professional cook served us softshell crab on soft beds of lettuce and vegetables.  I’d only had soft shell crab once before, with Steve at a big dinner for the firefighters in Columbia, South Carolina.  Thankfully I knew you were supposed to eat every last bit of the crab, including its swimmer fins. 

I cut my serving up carefully, trying to use my silverware as soundlessly as the Calhouns.  They all ate so gracefully that their movements looked choreographed.  I’d never felt so self-conscious. 

I could almost understand why Mrs. Calhoun kept steadily drinking her gin and tonics.  The staff kept filling her glass unobtrusively, but it was obvious she was drinking heavily. 

And that she was used to it.  Even though we were only halfway through dinner, I calculated she’d probably already had at least five drinks, and who knows how many beforehand?  Yet she remained beautiful and almost entirely soundless, like an expensive purebred cat. 

Mr. Calhoun’s gaze was as remote as if he were a stuffed carnival toy in an expensive suit; he hardly seemed present at all.  I wondered what men like him thought about.  Men like him wanted you to think they were preoccupied with something important, but people only act snooty when they’ve got something to hide. 

The thought make me grin to myself wickedly as I stabbed a potato onto my fork.  Then I shot a naughty glance over at Ry, unable to resist.  He blushed! 

I felt myself begin to turn warm, too. 

He moved one hand stealthily down to my lap, caressing my thighs.  He stroked me knowingly, his fingers light and teasing against the fabric of my dress pants, drawing all my nerve endings up to exquisite heights.  Then his hand began to tighten roughly, his fingers seeking hungrily down between my legs.     

I caught my breath and then made an awkward throat clearing noise to try to hide it.  Startled, Mrs. Calhoun set her cocktail glass down a little too hard on the dinner table, rattling the silverware.  Her husband shot her a murderously sharp glance.

Ry’s mom blinked.  Her pupils looked loose and slightly too large, like broken drops of ink.  Next to me, Ry stiffened with concern.  “How you doing, mom?”

“Wonderful, my dear,” Mrs. Calhoun said, breezily, lifting her glass.  “How is your meal?”

“It’s great, mom.”

“Uh, so um…” How did you start a conversation in total silence, when two out of the three people you were with hated each other?  “So I’ve heard that a lot of the houses in this neighborhood were occupied by Yankee soldiers during the war.  Is that true, Mr. Calhoun?” I said.

Incredibly, the ruse worked like a charm.  I smiled back at Ry’s father as he visibly warmed to the subject.  The icy old man began to ramble about the occupying soldier- the little notes they’d carved into the mantle, the buried silverware they hadn’t been able to find, and so on. 

I wondered how many times his kids had done the same trick, coaxing him to act a little more human.  And how many times had Ry had to listen to the same droning?  I glanced over at my lover conspiratorially and read my answer on his face: hundreds and hundreds. 

Amazingly, Mr. Calhoun talked at us for hours after that.  Every now and again I’d prod a little to keep him going like you would a dying campfire.  Every question was another log on the fire, and he flared up happily.  It was so easy, it almost felt like a trap.

But after dinner Mr. Calhoun came outside to sit on the porch with Ry and I- and talked to me for
another
hour! 

After what felt like forever, he finally pitched forward in his chair, clasping his hands together eagerly before he creaked to his feet.  Ry’s father took my hand.  “Lily, my darling,” he said, “it’s been a pleasure.  I hope to see you again soon.”

“Thank you, sir, I’d like that,” I said. 

He put his hands in his pocket, turning towards his son.  “If I thought I’d get away with it, I’d try to take her away from you!” 
Some political candidate you’ll be
, I thought, traitorously.  Mercifully, I didn’t feel so bad about the footage of me and Madison any longer.   

After Mr. Calhoun went inside, Ry beamed at me.  He was thrilled.   “I haven’t talked to my dad that long in years!  He loves you!”
              “You’re kidding…”

              He took my hand and kissed it.  Then he began to rub my fingers over his lips, his eyes darkening with heat. 

              “Have I been good?” I murmured.

              “Very,” he said.

              “Back to the burger cave?”  I said.

Ry laughed.  “It doesn’t have quite the
same
ring to it as, um… how about I show you my place?  You haven’t seen it yet.”  His face grew more serious.  “I have a surprise for you there.”

              His ‘place’ was a larger version of his childhood bedroom- minus the burger bed.  He’d graduated to a dark, sleek four poster with a charcoal bed spread.  His rooms took up the whole upper floor of an old warehouse, and the open floor plan was all the more incredible for its beautiful view on downtown Charleston; the windows jutted out slightly, giving you what had to be one of the best panoramic views over historic America.

              “Dang,” I said.

              “You like it?” he said, curiously, following me around as I drifted from thing to thing, touching the things he’d chosen. 

              “It’s all so you,” I said, hugging myself. “It’s like being inside your head.  I love it.”

              He grinned like a boy.  “Check this out.”

              “-” I was speechless.  He’d clicked the light on in a long, glamorously lit bathroom.  His and her silk black nightgowns hung on the wall, and in the adjoining closet I could see the suggestion of long, whispering dresses.  “What…”

              “I thought you’d be more comfortable… staying here from time to time… if you had a few things,” he said.