The Locket

“You’re right. Eventually I might, but right now I have nothing to say that’s not cruel, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut!” He was so cross and my feelings were hurt.

“Fine,” I muttered, defeated.

“Fine,” he muttered back.

“Good,” I taunted.

“Good,” he scoffed.

We were definitely related.

The hotel room was a two-bedroom suite with a living area and a small kitchen. Reese sat on the small sofa and turned on the TV. He still wasn’t speaking to me, but the urge to make things right was so strong that I asked him again if he was okay. He nodded but continued his cold-shoulder routine. I decided after our brief conversation in the car that I should leave him alone. There was nothing worse than having someone ask you over and over if you were okay. Brent took my bag, disappearing into one of the bedrooms. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said much to me either. I guessed this had been a difficult day for all of us.

My mind continued mulling over a way make everything right with Reese, though I knew I should probably put a lid on my efforts. Before finding the words, Reese stood up and clicked the remote, turning off the TV.

“I’m going to bed.” He let the remote fall to the sofa and entered his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Brent’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind and he kissed the top of my head. “He’ll be okay, Claire. Just give it time. We should sleep, too. It’s been a long day for all of us and it’s almost midnight,” he said, guiding me to our room.

I decided to take a shower before I called it a night, needing to wash the day away, hoping all of the hurt and pain it brought would run down the drain, forgotten. Warm water cascaded over me as I sat on the bottom of the tub, hugging my knees to my body. The hot water eased my aches, and the smell of jasmine in my shampoo was li

ke therapy.

Feeling much better, all clean and in my comfy pajamas, I came back into the room. Brent was wearing boxers and his t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me.

“Better?” he asked in a warm tone.

“Better,” I mumbled, climbing on the bed.

When Brent sat on the bed, I breathed in his familiar scent. He smiled at me, and I had to look away so he wouldn’t see how my cheeks were coloring.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, tucking a tuft of wet hair behind my ear. I never thought I was beautiful, but when I was with him, he made me believe it. He smoothed my bottom lip with his thumb and heat filled my body, cheek to toe. His lips curved paradisiacally, making me melt. It was pure bliss. “I have a gift for you, too,” he smiled.

That surprised me. “What, Brent, you didn’t have to do that.” I felt like I had everything I ever needed already, receiving him as a gift.

He smiled affectionately, biting down on his bottom lip. “I don’t do anything because I have to, Claire.” His eyes were warm and the meanings of his words were clear. He was with me, not because it was our design or stamp or fate that brought us together. It was because he wanted to be.

Brent produced a small velvet box from under the pillow. He must have placed it there when I was in the shower. He placed the indigo-colored box in my hand. The deep blue reminded me of his eyes, when they filled with desire. I felt a soft flutter in my heart as I accepted it. Opening the box, I gasped.

“It’s beautiful, Brent,” I gushed. With trembling fingers, I pulled a stunning silver locket from the box.

He threaded his fingers through my wet hair and cupped the back of my head, massaging it tenderly. “I thought it fitting.”

I smiled shyly. It was gorgeous. The locket was muted silver with two angel wings that folded over the front, meeting in the center. As I turned it over, happy tears welled in my eyes, waiting to spill. I read the inscription, For your heart, B. I smoothed my thumb over the fine edges of the engraving.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” I purred, glowing in his thoughtfulness.

He winked, his blue eyes gleaming. “Not yet, open it,” he instructed, turning the locket face up.

The locket opened in the middle, splitting the wings. As I folded over each wing, I was in awe with what he had done for me. There was a single photo of my parents on their wedding day, the same one I kept in a frame. Tears I had been fighting back, slid joyfully down my cheeks, thankful for the warmhearted gift.

“I love it,” I cried, hugging Brent close. He did this for me before he knew we would be together, when he believed Reese to be my Paramour. It was an act of unconditional love, and consequences didn’t matter. He loved me and wanted to show it, no matter what would change. Lifting up my hair, I had Brent clasp the silver chain behind my neck and the pendant dangled on my chest.

“Now, always here,” he said, adjusting the pendent, then placing a palm over my heart, his touch sending tingles through me.

Brent softly kissed the corner of my mouth, then moved slowly to my cheek and neck, leaving a trail of kisses. I wound my fingers around the back of his head and pulled him close. When he lowered me to the bed, my breath hitched. He slowly dragged his index finger down, starting between my brow, on top of my nose, across my lips and over my chin, stopping briefly to kiss my neck again. His finger continued trailing down my chest, coming to rest on my belly. I was out of breath, and felt throbbing between my thighs in places I had never felt before. Brent slid his hand around my back and rolled me on my side to face him. He continued kissing my neck, up to my chin, then rested his forehead on mine.

“I love you, Claire Blake. I think I’ve always loved you,” he professed.