And it’s magical.
And maybe it’s the security of Lawrence’s arms around me, or maybe it’s Lawrence’s quiet strength seeping into my bloodstream, but somehow I find myself opening and sharing my deepest secrets with him. I tell him about my childhood, the Ferris wheel ride with my dad, of my mom packing her shit and leaving me behind. I tell him of Paige Callahan and her father, Matthew. I tell Lawrence how Matthew used to fuck me in a dirty motel in exchange for pretty gifts and money, and how after he was done with me, he’d go back to his big house on the fancy side of town and pretend to be the exemplary father and the pillar of the community.
When I’m done, I feel unburdened and, oddly enough, unashamed. This is the difference between Ronan and Lawrence. Ronan held me on a pedestal. He saw in me the person he desired me to be—someone worthy of him. And I was too afraid to shatter that illusion. I wanted to believe it myself for however long we were together so I would be worthy of him. If I had told him about my past—of who I really am—he would have run for the hills, and I was too selfish to do so. I wanted him too much. But you can only live a lie for so long before it smothers you, poisoning every word, every touch, and every kiss. Lawrence, on the other hand, holds no illusions of me. He knows me for who I am, and it’s freeing. So freeing.
“Before you say anything, I just want you to know that it’s all in the past. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Lawrence rests his chin on top of my head, hugging me harder. “Is it?”
I remain silent, trying to find the answer within me.
“I’m not going to pretend to know what’s in your heart, Blaire. Only you’re privy to that. But what I can tell you is that I hope one day you wake up and realize that all those people and memories don’t determine who you are. You get to do that.”
“You make it sound so easy. Tell me, what have you done with my cynical friend? You look the same, but you don’t sound anything like him.”
I look up as he looks down, our gazes locking. “He’s currently unavailable. So, in the meantime, you’re stuck with me.” He grins.
“Oh, yeah? And who are you?”
“Just a regular guy enjoying the company of a beautiful woman.”
Blushing, I feel butterflies doing their usual chaotic dance in my stomach. I push myself away and turn to face him as I start to walk backward, giving my best come-hither look. “Come on, Casanova. You promised me the unknown and I’m still waiting for it.”
The thing about happiness—beautiful chaos that it is—no matter how short or lasting the moment is, is that it makes you soar, makes you want to dance and laugh. Happiness makes everything seem possible, and there’s no better feeling than to share it with someone special.
I run toward the steps that lead down to the beach. Once I reach the sand, I take my leather booties and socks off, place Lawrence’s coat on the steps, and sprint in the direction of the ocean. The water is freezing, but it’s invigorating. I spread my arms, tilt my head back, and begin to spin, faster and faster until I lose my balance and fall in the water. Laughing, I try to stand up on shaky feet and fail miserably, landing on my ass once again.
I spot Lawrence coming down the stairs. He puts his cell away and buries both of his hands inside the front pockets of his pants. Windblown hair. Crooked grin. I’m drowning in his manly beauty. “How’s the water?”
“Toasty,” I say, my teeth chattering.
“Liar.”
I push a wet strand of hair off of my face. “Why don’t you come and try it?”
“I think I’m going to pass. I don’t want to spoil your fun. Besides, I can admire you better from afar.”
“Aww, what’s the matter?” I pout, taunting him. “Afraid to get a little wet?”
“Is that a dare?”
I raise an eyebrow. “It’s whatever you want it to be, baby.”
“Minx.”
He removes his shoes and socks and rolls up his pants, the muscles of his chest and arms stretching the white fabric of his dress shirt. With his tie long gone and the top two buttons undone, he looks like pure sex, and I find it hard to breathe. I lick my lips, feeling a different kind of warmth spreading through me.
He steps into the water, walking my direction. “Jesus Christ, this water is cold.”
“Help, please. I can’t get up,” I ask, extending my arm out.
Lawrence takes my hand in his. “You’re cr—” I tug his hand with all my strength, pulling him toward me, and make him fall in the water too. After the initial shock, he wipes his face clean as I’m rolling in the sand unable to stop laughing. The poor man looks like he wants to kill me.
He runs his fingers through his wet hair, pulling it back. His deadly gaze focused on me. Oh boy. “You’re going to pay for that, my dear Blaire.”