Oops. Hadn't mentioned that to my friends. I haven't had a chance since before the family meeting.
Landon shrugs as I meet his eyes. "I told Ace at the bar. Sorry."
"It's not a secret; it's epic," Fiona says as she takes her beer from Geoffrey. "It's going to be a double wedding, and you should have been Helen and Arthur's faces when we decided earlier today. It was priceless."
"Wow," Emmy says, nodding slowly. "Looks like you have, like, a whole life we don't know about. A secret relationship, a secret child. When were you going to tell us about the secret wedding? After the secret honeymoon?"
"Listen, it wasn't, like, a secret. It was just decided this afternoon," I explain, looking to Landon for help.
"Yeah, I just don't get it," Ace says slowly. "It seems like a lot. Why the rush?"
"You're asking us about rushing things?" Landon asks. "You only knew Emmy for weeks. And now you're trying to have a baby. I don't think we're the ones who need to slow down."
"But it was different with us," Emmy says, being oversensitive.
"No, it wasn't," I say. "You didn't even know he was your boss the first time you slept together."
"Okay, I think we should stop this discussion," Tess says, raising her pint. "Let's toast. To double weddings!" She pulls on a tight, fake smile.
"This is stupid. I don't even know why we're here," Emmy says, setting down her beer without toasting.
"It's not stupid. You're here because our relationship matters. It's how relationships work, remember? They're complicated. You just said so yourself," I tell her. "You could at least be happy for me. Don't you think I deserve to be happy? To be in love? To be with Landon? Don't you think I deserve to have someone who wants to be with me ... even though I'm not perfect? Not like you?"
The table goes silent, and I realized I just blurted out a lot of personal information. Information that makes me weak and exposed. And not the good, naked-with-Landon exposed. An I just admitted I'm a mess sort of exposed.
"No one is perfect, Claire, and everyone deserves to be happy, to have love," Tess whispers.
I lower my gaze, completely mortified.
"I'm sorry for saying I don't know why we're here," Emmy says quietly. "I know why we here ... it's just really hard to be your friend when there's so much I don't know about you. Friends let one another in, friends tell one another when they have kids and are getting married in a week."
Tess speaks again, "Claire, why don't you want us to be in this with you?"
I can't speak. I just shake my head, confused and sad and so completely seen. I don't like it. When you let people in that's when you get hurt – that's why I've pushed Landon away. I can't handle it. It's too much, and now everyone is looking at me, asking for a pass to have access to my heart.
My eyes fill with tears, and I brush them away as fast as I can. Shaking my head, I manage to say one single sentence: "I don't know how."
I push out of the booth, and run to the bathroom, relieved to find it's a single stall with a lock. I shut the door and press my back against it, trying to catch my breath.
There's a knock on the door, and I close my eyes. I can't handle more of Emmy and Tess, and their requests for me to be more than I am.
But it isn't Tess and it isn't Emmy.
It's Landon's voice, his perfect accent, his tender inflection. It's Landon who came. It's Landon who is here.
"Claire," he says through the wooden door. "Let me in."
I turn the lock, opening the door for him without hesitation, without any doubt. I open the door and let him in.
And that choice alone tells me everything.
Landon
The moment she locks the door behind me, she collapses in my arms.
"I love you, Landon. I do. I love you so hard. But I'm scared. And there is still so much we need to ta – "
"Shhhh, it's okay, baby, it's okay. There will be time to talk. Right now ... let's finish the night the way we planned. Me. Holding you. Carrying you."
"Why are you always so perfect, always saying the right thing to me?"
"Because I'm your person."
"That's, like, a line from Grey's Anatomy or something. That isn't real life," she says, burrowing her face in my chest.
"This is real life though, Claire. Our life."
And then she kisses me, hard. So hard my back is against the bathroom wall, her hands hold my face, and her lips press against mine, taking my breath away.
Fuck, I love this woman.
Pulling away, I ask her, "You love me?"
"I love you."
In seconds I've hitched her skirt to her waist, grabbed her ass, spun her so it's her back against the bathroom door. I hoist her to my waist.
"You're so strong," she says, her eyes no longer filled with tears. They're full of desire. "And I want you in me. So bad."
"God, I love it when you talk dirty."
"Oh, this isn't dirty. You want filthy, Landon? I'll give it to you."
"Give it to me then, baby," I tease her as I drop my pants, letting my cock spring from my boxers.
"I want your cock in my pussy. And I want you to fuck me."
"How hard?" I ask, as she pulls her shirt over her head. Her gorgeous tits are in a red bra, plunging low. I pull down one of the cups and lick her hard nipple, kissing her perfect skin.
"So hard. I want you to pound me."
I don't wait for her to ask me again. My cock is so fucking hard for her; I'm so turned on by her complete willingness to let loose. I need her on top of my cock. I want to consummate her I love you.
Fuck, I love her so damn much it scares me. And when I set her on top of me, without teasing her tight little pussy open, she gasps, gripping my neck, moaning in delight. My cock loves her tight lips, the way she fills me up nice and good.
Oh, I'll fucking fill her up forever. My cock only wants to come home to her. Only wants to come in her, too.
I grip her little ass, squeezing her cheeks, pressing her back against the door. I thrust into her, hard; she swivels her hips slightly, panting as she does. Then my mouth is back on hers.
I kiss her deeply, my tongue devouring her, the passion between us mounting as we taste one another.
"Oh, baby," she moans, her tits bouncing as I pound her just like she asked.
"I fucking love you, Claire," I tell her, my tongue grazing her ear as my words fill the small space between us.
"I love you, too, Landon." Her eyes close as she comes, her juice pouring out onto my skin; I squeeze her ass harder, my cock throbbing as I do. I'm so close to coming, but I want her to get off fully first.
Her body rocks as I slam into, her thighs trembling as they stay wrapped around me, tighter as she climaxes.
I love watching her get off, knowing I did that.
I come too, my load pouring into her, and her tightening pussy pulses in its release. She holds my shoulders as her head falls back, her eyes meeting mine.
"You are incredible," I tell her, planting another kiss on her swollen lips.
She steals another kiss, and then says, "As are you."
As we walk back into the pub, properly fucked, but not at all screwed, our fingers are laced, and I know it's cheesy as hell, but our hearts are laced too.
This woman is motherfucking mine.
"Everything okay?" Emmy asks.
Claire nods, the hint of a smile on her lips, and she sighs heavily, still catching her breath. I swear I get hard just looking at the rise and fall of her tits in that soft sweater she's wearing. I am such a lucky goddamned fool.
"We're having a double wedding, in a week," I tell the table. "And if you don't like that, you can go. Okay? We don't need people here who won't support us. We're fucking in love, and that should be enough for all of you."
"Okay," Emmy says, shrugging. "I'm sorry. I'm just ... looking out for you both."
"I know," Claire says, reaching for Emmy's hand. "And I appreciate that. But whatever happens next with Landon and me is our business, okay?"
Everyone tilts their head, as if reading into Claire's word choice … but we've made it pretty clear that we aren't discussing our personal life.
But the truth is, I tilt my head, too.
Does Claire want to get married in a week, because I sure as hell do ... though I guess we haven't made that explicitly clear. Yes, we've both said I love you ... But that doesn't mean she's agreeing to really being my fiancée.
But I hope like hell she wants to.
Maybe I need to make it officially-official. Maybe I need to propose again, properly. With her knowing my intentions.
I pull her close to me as a waiter delivers another round of pints. We pick up our frosty glasses.
"To our future," I tell her, clinking my glass against hers.
She smiles, but it's clear there are unspoken fears hiding behind her gorgeous green eyes. I have a pretty good idea of what those fears might be.
But she doesn't need to worry.
I'll figure out a job, get us a house, and then ask her to marry me.
All before our wedding next week.