Ready For You (20 page)

She was even more breathtaking than I remembered.
 

This would haunt me until the day I died.

She pulled me down and wrapped her legs around my body. I felt my dick at the slick entrance of her core. One thrust, and I would be home again. I cupped her chin, stared into the eyes of the woman I’d gave my soul to when I was nothing but a child and silently told her everything I wanted to say but would never be able to again.
 

I love you. I’ll always love you.

She gasped as I entered her, and in that instant, I felt my heart restart, firing and kicking into gear as it found its missing piece. Pausing to savor the moment, I kissed her again and felt her hands grip my shoulders.

Our kisses, like our lovemaking, became impatient, making up for lost time. Soon, I was devouring her, slamming into her, as she cried out my name over and over again.
 

“Garrett! Oh God, yes!” she cried as her nails dug into my back.
 

“Say it again,” I growled.

She cried out my name one last time as she climaxed, spasming and squeezing my cock like a vise, which sent me over the edge into my own spiral of pleasure.
 

I spent the rest of the night trying to make the evening last forever, so we wouldn’t have to leave that bed. If I could keep the sun from rising, I would never have to give her up. I worshipped her body—sweet and slow, hard and fast, over and over—until we both passed out from exhaustion.
 

But I was no miracle worker, and even I couldn’t outwit the sun.

Chapter Sixteen

~Mia~

I awkwardly juggled the plate of freshly baked goods and casserole in my hands and tried to press the doorbell.
 

What if she was just being nice at the funeral and wasn’t really happy to see me?

Was there still time to run?

I looked at the huge mound of food in my hands and glanced between my car and the door.
 

No, I was an adult. I could do this. This was what respectable people did when someone died. They showered the family with food and sympathy. I would not run with my cowardly tail between my legs just because I’d run out on her son eight years ago without so much as a phone call afterward.
 

Garrett.
 

His name flashed through my mind like a tidal wave, bringing back glimpses and memories of our passionate night together. I could still feel his touch on my skin, his warm breath on my cheek as he’d whispered in my ear, and his quivering body as he’d rocked deep inside me.
 

It had been a few days since I’d snuck out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning, leaving his tender touch into the eerie solitude of my own home. I’d fled his bed, rather than face him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him saying the words I knew I deserved to hear. He didn’t want me and never would. Our night was just that—one night—and it would never be more. So, I’d thrown on my dress and run.

I hadn’t heard from him since. My floors were done, so there wasn’t any reason for him to come by. I didn’t know why I’d expected anything different. We’d tried to be friends, and we had ended up in bed together.
 

The door I’d been staring at finally opened, and I found myself face-to-face with Laura Finnegan.
 

“Mia? Is that you behind all that food?”

I laughed a bit. “Yes, Mrs. Finnegan. I came by for a visit. I hope you don’t mind. I guess I should have called.”

She waved her hand and hushed me, inviting my pile of food and me inside. “Don’t ever think you need an invitation to come over here, Mia. You’re like family—no matter how long you decide to stay away. And no calling me Mrs. Finnegan, you hear?”

“Yes…”
 

She gave me a stern look and waited.
 

“Mom,” I finished.
 

She grinned in satisfaction.
 

Her kindness humbled me. Garrett had obviously never told her about what had happened between the two of us. If he had, she would hate me.
 

“Much better. Why don’t you help me put that stuff away, and then we can catch up?”
 

I nodded, and we headed for the kitchen. It was weird being back in Garrett’s childhood home. It was the same but completely different. The kitchen had been thoroughly remodeled and renovated. It now appeared more modern and updated. There were pictures of Garrett and Clare’s family everywhere, including Clare’s first husband who had passed away. Knowing I hadn’t been around to help Garrett through the death of his brother-in-law hurt. I knew he and Ethan had been close, but I was glad Clare had found love again.

“Now, what did you bring me?” she asked.
 

“Well, I brought some muffins from this place Leah had told me about—Phil’s. I told the owner I was a friend of hers, and he loaded me up with so many muffins that I thought I was going to double over. He threw in the casserole for free. I didn’t cook any of it, so you’re safe. I’m a terrible cook.” I was a babbling, nervous mess.
 

Laura smiled and gave me a wink. “Phil is such a sweet man. He’s got a soft spot for Leah. It would drive Declan mad if Phil wasn’t as gay as they come. Leah mercilessly flirts with him for free muffins and coffee.”
 

She put the casserole in the fridge, and I saw several others in there. Then, she pulled out two muffins for the two of us and placed them on pretty floral plates. She brewed some fresh coffee, and we took our matching floral mugs and muffins into the living room.

I took a nibble and then drank a bit from of my cup before I got the courage to ask, “How are you doing?”

She sighed and took a long sip of coffee, holding on to the cup for warmth. Outside, it was blazing from the late summer heat, but inside, there was a lingering chill from the overworked air conditioner. I held my cup as well, savoring the heat.
 

“It’s getting easier to come to terms with it each day. The loss, however, hasn’t lessened. I’ve been told it never will. It just gets easier to deal with.”

I nodded. “That sounds about right.”

“You sound like you speak from experience,” she said, meeting my gaze.

“What? Oh, I, um…was just agreeing.”

“Hmm…so, tell me about yourself, Mia. What have you been doing? Where has life taken you?”
 

“Oh, well, um…there isn’t much to tell,” I floundered, picking apart pieces from my muffin.

“I don’t believe that. Surely, you have something special to tell. Or someone maybe?” she asked, her tone even and supportive. She took a sip of coffee and then remained quiet. She genuinely wanted to know about my life.

“There was someone, but it wasn’t right. I wasn’t right.”

“Hmm…” she said again.
 

We continued to nibble on our muffins and sip our coffees. I looked around the room and noticed the small changes that had been made. New furniture had been purchased, and pictures had been added. Clare’s and Leah’s children had been added to the mantel as well as wedding photos. Time had moved on while I was away.

“He’s been waiting for you,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts.

“What?”

“Garrett has been waiting for you to come back to him.”

I set my muffin down on the small table next to the sofa.
 
My heartbeat had just kicked into high gear, and I didn’t want to risk spilling anything on what looked like brand-new carpet. This was not how I’d expected this visit to go.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“He might not come to me like Clare does, but I’m still his mother. I know him better than he thinks I do.”

Tears stung my eyes, and my voice quivered as I said, “I never meant to put his life on pause.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, rising from her chair to sit with me on the couch. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Love can often be strange, and sometimes, it doesn’t always take the path we expect it to. Whatever or whoever took you away from us, from him, it doesn’t matter now. You’re here now. Make it count.”

“I don’t think this can be fixed or forgiven.”

“It can. If it’s true love, you can move past this,” she encouraged, taking my hands.
 

I stared down at them as I let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what happened.”

She squeezed my hands and I looked up to find her looking at me with those warm green eyes that were so much like her son’s. “I do.”

“No, you—”

“I do. I’ve always known,” she said.

I gasped and tried to pull away, but she kept a firm hold on my hands.
 

“I found the note in Garrett’s room a few weeks after you left.”

My head fell forward. I was too ashamed to look at her. “You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Mia. You were faced with an immense choice, one beyond your capacity to handle as an eighteen-year-old.”

“I chose wrong, so wrong,” I said.

“Whatever you chose, it led you to this moment, sweetheart. Don’t let another opportunity pass you by. Stop living your life in regret.”

I fell into her arms and sobbed. I cried for the child I never knew and the life I lost because of it. I mourned the loss of possibilities because of my poor decisions, and I cried for the kindness I was being given from a woman who should hate me. I’d ruined her son’s life.
 

“Since that day I said good-bye to Tom, the only thing that gets me up in the morning is the fact that I know we spent every day of our lives together loving each other as much as we possibly could. If I didn’t have that, I think I’d lose myself to regret and grief.”

She stroked my hair as my tears dried up. Our coffee had long since gone cold, but neither of us cared. The sun was setting and casting rays of light on the mantel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a picture frame catch the sun’s reflection. It was Garrett in a cap and gown on the day of his college graduation. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
 

That was supposed to be our graduation day, our accomplishment.
 

So many lost moments.

So many regrets.
 

How could we move forward when we were both still stuck in the past?

~Garrett~

Sweat poured down my bare back as I wiped my brow and pushed my parents’ lawn mower back into the shed.

Correction—my mother’s lawn mower.

Would it ever get easier?
 

He’d been gone almost two weeks, and I couldn’t bring myself to take his cell number out of my list of contacts. Clare and I still called this our parents’ house, regardless of who lived here. For the life of me, I couldn’t walk into the living room without expecting my father to be sitting in his favorite chair, ready to ask me about work or read a story to one of the grandchildren.
 

But he wasn’t here, and as I locked the shed and walked back into the house where my mother now lived alone, I felt more lost than ever.
 

My father had been my rock in life, my mentor and guide, the one I turned to when I needed advice or strength. Even after Mia had left and I shut down and closed myself off, he had still been the person I went to when I needed an outlet.
 

Now, he was gone, and after a week of silence, so was Mia.

I didn’t know why I’d expected anything different. It was what we’d wanted and needed—no attachment beyond one night. In one moment of weakness, we’d reached out for each other to remember, and God, had I remembered.

Her skin had jump-started my heart, her kiss had ignited my passion, and every single touch had reminded me that my soul would never belong to anyone else but the woman beneath me. Mia owned me and always would. The rest of my life would be a game of trying to find someone who would never quite measure up to the woman I’d lost.
 
Was it even worth trying? Would it be cruel to pursue someone, knowing I’d never be able to give her anything more than a lukewarm companionship?

No answers came to me as I grabbed a freshly laundered towel from a basket near the laundry room. I used it to wipe away the sweat still left on my body from outside. My dad had always been the one to take care of the immaculate lawn. Now, I would have to do it or find someone to take over because there was no way my petite mother was taking charge of that task.
 

I meandered into the living room, avoiding the empty chair in the corner. I lifted my shirt from the back of the couch and threw it over my head. Taking a look around, I found my mom in the kitchen, trying to make sense of all the food, flowers, and gifts that had been dropped off over the last week. Every inch of countertop was covered.
 

“Here, Mom, let me help you,” I offered.

She nodded, and we started making stacks and piles. Desserts went into one pile, flowers went on the kitchen table, and cards went in another stack to be taken to Clare so that she could write thank-you cards.

“I can write the thank-you cards,” my mother objected.

“So can Clare,” I countered. “You’ve done enough. Let us help.”

“I just don’t want anyone thinking I’m ungrateful.”

“No one is going to think that, Mama.”

She smiled. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

“What? Mama? Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t, not since high school.”

“Oh…well, it wasn’t on purpose,” I said, scratching my head.
 

“I know, sweetheart.”

We continued to make headway through everything, and I stole a muffin from a giant stack. My midday mowing in the middle of summer had left me starving.
 

“Mia brought those over yesterday,” she mentioned, pointing to my muffin as I shoveled it in.

“Mia was here?” I said between bites.

“Mmhmm.”

“Why?”

“To offer her condolences and to spend some time with me.”

Confused, I looked around, like I expected her to suddenly appear and explain herself. “But why?” I asked.