Beautiful Mistake(53)

“Nope.”

He took the coffee I was holding out of my hands and walked to the kitchen, leaving both our mugs on the table. Returning to me, he leaned down and lifted me up and over his shoulder, fireman style. I squealed, but loved every minute of it. Especially what came after…

It was the middle of the afternoon before Caine made mention of leaving. I had to work at O’Leary’s at five, and we’d just taken a shower together. He dressed while I was in the bathroom doing my usual routine. Still wearing just a towel, I leaned into the bathroom mirror to rub moisturizer into my skin. Caine came up behind me and watched in silence. We exchanged smiles and looks, but for the most part, neither of us said anything. He just watched as I finished with my face moisturizer, rubbed a different one into my legs and arms, then brushed my wet hair.

Eventually he spoke. “Ever hear a song for the first time and you don’t know the words, but the music is really familiar?”

“Sure. Like ‘All Summer Long’ by Kid Rock where he uses parts from ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ and ‘Werewolves of London’?”

“No. An all-original song that you hear for the first time, but you know the music anyway?”

I turned to face him. “I guess. I mean, all songs have commonality to them. A riff, a chord, a lick, a common register or timbre. Our brain seems to index all those little things so we hear something and have that familiar feeling, yet we can’t figure out where it came from. Why?”

“You’re that song. I don’t know any of the words, but the tune is so damn familiar.”

I understood what he meant. I’d felt a connection from the first time we met, too. I didn’t want to scare him, but whatever was between us had always felt bigger than me—bigger than us.

Teasing, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, my body probably reminds you of some supermodel. I’m guessing the one that football player is married to.”#p#分页标题#e#

Caine smiled. “You mean Tom Brady?”

“That’s the one. My body? Dead ringer for his wife. And my heart, probably a little Mother Teresa.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “That must be it. I gotta run, Mother Teresa, and you need to get to work. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. I’ll be the one at the front of the room, ignoring you and trying not to stare at your rack.”

“Okay.” I pushed up on my tippy toes and kissed him this time. “And I’ll be the one you’ll know has no panties on.”





Caine

Fifteen years ago



She didn’t show up last week. It should have made me happy that after eight weeks of sneaking off to church, I finally had my Saturday back. But it didn’t. It made me anxious, and the goddamned week dragged.

I looked up at the cross above the church and grumbled to myself before going inside. Sorry about the goddamned, big guy.

The church was empty as usual, and I had a song to learn, so I went to my regular spot to take a load off rather than stalking outside. Liam had been on one of his drunk-songwriting binges again. But after the last fiasco where he could only remember half of a kick-ass song, we’d all chipped in and bought him a portable digital recorder. The thing was smaller than a phone and could record twenty hours of music with the press of a button. It worked great. When he showed up hungover at practice this morning after his typical Friday night drinking and songwriting session, he couldn’t remember shit. But all we had to do was upload.

We were grateful Liam had remembered to turn the damn thing on. Only, unfortunately for us—and for him—he didn’t remember to turn it off all night. We were definitely going to find a way to sample some of his midnight jerking-off grunts on a track in the future.

I sat in the dark confessional for almost a half hour with my earbuds in. Even though she hadn’t shown, at least I’d learned the lyrics Liam had come up with. When I was done, I sank down into the red velvety plush seat, closed my eyes, and put on some Bob Dylan. The sound of “Blowin’ in the Wind” blocked out everything else around me—including the sound of the door creaking open on the other side.

I wasn’t sure how long she’d been there when I finally opened my eyes and noticed her. Pulling a bud from my ear, I slipped from priest mode and let my sixteen-year-old self show. “Hey. I didn’t think you were going to come.”

The music blared from my dangling earbud.

“What are you listening to?” she asked.

I couldn’t very well tell her I’d been listening to Dylan. That wasn’t very priestly. “Some new hymns.”