Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(62)
Our kisses grow deeper, needier. His soft bed envelops my back, his hard front is deliciously heavy against me. He pulls away to undress me. I help him, lifting my hips, arching my back, until there’s no clothing left on my body. It’s my turn to help him, but instead of appreciating Isaac’s beautiful skin, my fear tries to creep back in.
I ignore it and lay back down. Isaac covers me like a blanket. His lips once again meld to mine, and even though I’m insanely attracted to him, some of my attention is diverted to giving my worry a swift kick in the ass.
“You with me, Aubrey?” he murmurs against my lips.
He knows me. Somehow, he knows the push and pull, the fear that keeps me running and the desire that brings me back. I’m strong and stubborn, but when it comes to Isaac, I lose all sense. I’m terrified to want him, but I’m even more scared not to have him.
“I’m with you Isaac.” My words whisper against his lips.
Despite my assurance, I’m caught. Swaying, moving, this way and that, my heart and my brain in a tangle.
I’m a kite in a windstorm, and all I want is for Isaac to take me away, to the place we went to five years ago.
And he does. He wraps his arms around me, slides between my legs, and shows me once again how freeing it feels to fly.
My fingertips sit poised on the keyboard, ready, but nothing comes out.
I should know this policy amendment so well I can write it in my sleep. And normally, I do. But right now, after that phone call from Lucia, I can't focus.
A mother-daughter brunch. This Sunday. To celebrate Mother's Day. An annual event, she'd said. She and Lauren have been attending since Lauren was a small child.
It's in the ballroom at the Fairmont Princess. Daytime fancy, she intoned. I Googled it. It's not a technical term, but I figured it out for myself. Skirt, nice blouse. Maybe a jacket that matches the skirt. Something frilly for Claire.
Good thing she chose a pink cast this time. Her previous cast would have clashed with everything. And this new cast isn't even dirty yet, although by Sunday it probably will be.
We’d gone to Isaac’s office the day before. The front desk girl, the nurse, the x-ray technician, and the office manager—they all know who Claire is by now. I can only imagine the gossip when he told them. Suddenly the doctor they've worked with for two years has a daughter? His desk now holds a picture of a child when it never did before? Even if they're curious, they haven't asked me. They're nothing but kind when we're in there.
Watching Isaac work is amazing. The way his brows move when he studies the x-ray. He offered me the iPad the x-rays are on, using his fingers to zoom in on the break. The line is hardly visible anymore.
“We're almost through it.” He'd smiled at me. It felt intimate. When Claire broke her elbow, I was a single parent, scared for my child. Now, nearing the end of this journey, I have a partner to shoulder this with me.
I wonder how Isaac is doing today? I could text him and ask.
Or I could write this amendment like I'm supposed to.
Britt stops at my desk, providing the distraction I need from my thoughts. The wording that was elusive comes to me now, and while I'm talking with her I type out the amendment. I forward it on to the underwriting assistant with my approval to increase the limits of the policy.
“Lunch?” Britt asks when I hit send on the email.
“Can we go to the mall? I need to do some speed shopping.” I pick up my purse.
“You want to go shopping?” She raises her eyebrows and follows me out to the elevator. I’m not a shopper. I order online.
On the way down to my car, I explain the situation.
“Are you ready for something like that? Have you thought about what that room is going to look like?” Britt's forehead creases as she looks at me from the passenger seat.
“Yes, of course.” I start the car and put it in drive. “That huge ballroom will be full of mothers and daughters and—”
“Full-grown mothers and daughters, too. Not just young girls and their mommies. It won't be like dropping Claire off at pre-school. There will be women your age. With their mothers. And probably some of those mothers will have their mothers with them.” Worry soaks Britt's words. “I just... I don't know how to say this.”
“Say it.” We're almost to the parking structure. The mall is only a few minutes away, making it perfect for a lunchtime eat and shop. “Please,” I add, in case she thinks I'm angry.
“You've come so far. Since you had Claire, I mean. She gave you something to focus on besides you know who. I'm afraid this brunch will cause undue pain.” She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry. I evaluate risk for a living.”
“So do I.” I sigh and rub my eyes at a red light.
“Which is why I find it so interesting you agreed to go.”
“You aren't the only one wondering what I was thinking.”
“You must have a reason?”
“It felt like the right thing to do. Lucia asked. I didn't want to tell her no. And Claire might enjoy it. Maybe this is a tradition I can start with her.”
“At the expense of your feelings?”
I get what Britt is trying to say. But what she doesn't understand is that everything I do is at the expense of my feelings. I'm bombarded with reminders of my mother’s absence. Last week I watched a movie, and the credits showed the actress and her mother sitting on a couch, and the mom was talking about the actress as a child. One of the mothers of a child in Claire's class got caught in traffic yesterday, and she couldn't make it to pick-up in time. Guess who bailed her out? This morning at drop-off she gushed about how amazing it is to have a mom, and the other women standing around started saying things like, I couldn't live without my mom and my mom is my best friend. Me standing there and chatting with these women was at the expense of my own feelings, and the crazy part is that I never know just when the hits will come. Willingly subjecting myself to this brunch won't be any different. If anything, at least I'll be prepared.