Has to Be Love (17 page)

Are you sure?

Why?

How can this be the right thing?

Are you going to let Columbia go?

Do you remember our kiss?

“Of course I won't forget.” I loop my arm through Elias's as we head for the side door.

Ten days. I have ten days to give Columbia my deferment request or deposit. Ten. Days.

“Help me understand, Clara.” Elias stops beside his truck. “Why would you apply to a school across the country without telling me? Do I think we're closer than we actually are?”

I take his hand. “We're close.” I shrug. “It's where my mom went. I was just curious. I never thought I'd get in.”

“And you did.”

“I did.”

“And now Cecily's going to New York this fall instead of being here with you. Do you …” He swallows. “Do you want to go?”

I snort and roll my eyes. “I just wanna be with you.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Clara.”

I step closer to him, let my body rest against his. “I chose you. I choose you. I love you.”

His eyes fall closed as he bends forward until our foreheads are together. “I love you too.”

“My house?” I ask.

Elias's lips find mine briefly. “Sure.”

Elias is nestled behind me on the couch at my house, and it's not exactly perfect, but at least our bodies are lined up and his warmth is pressing into me and his arms are around me. Dad's asleep, and the world is still and quiet.

“This is nice.” I sigh.

His arms squeeze tighter as he kisses the side of my head. “I love you so much. This feels incredible.”

The weight of the ring on my finger still feels foreign, but with Elias holding me and seeing what every night could be like, the weight is okay. Doable. And I'm sure it's totally normal.

“I love you too.” And I do mean it. I'm definitely sure I love him more than some married couples I see. I know he'd take good care of me, and he'd help me get through school, and he gets along with my horses and my dad and my best friend. And I won't have to leave any of them. He wants me. He wants me all broken and frustrating and ugly and moody.

He moves an arm to scratch the side of his head, and as he moves his hand back around my waist, it rubs against the bottom side of my breast. Elias stops, and I don't want him to stop. I want to know what it would feel like if he moved his hand over my chest, maybe felt me. Squeezed a little.

“It's okay,” I whisper, wondering if wearing his ring will be enough.

His thumb grazes over me more purposefully this time, but just once and then again, and I swallow a moan that's really trying to push its way out.

Elias's lips find the small spot under my ear and press against my neck. Now his hand is on my chest fully, and when he squeezes, I can't stop a whimpering noise from escaping as the want tightens the strings in my body.

He slowly sits up without a word. His arms untangle from mine and from my body, and his legs find their way away from mine until there's suddenly enough space between us for a whole other person.

Elias's breathing in these weird, slow, regulated breaths, and I'm curled on the couch and wondering why we had to stop there.

“Elias, I …” I reach toward him, but he shakes his head. Just once. What is
wrong
with me that I can't stop pushing him? Maybe we aren't at the same level of closeness.

I glance down at the ring. Maybe Elias is pushing me in a totally different way, only I'm letting him.

“Do you understand how much I love you?” he asks as he slowly looks toward me.

No, I don't. Not even a little bit. I don't get it. I feel the rewards of it in the way he looks at me and treats me and takes care of me, but I don't understand it.

“I can't touch you like that. Not now. Not until later. I want that for me. I want that for you.” He finally reaches toward me and takes my hand, sliding his fingers over my ring.

I almost open my mouth to ask him if that's why he's marrying me, but it would be the stupidest thing to say because I know it's not.
But is it part of the reason I'm marrying him?

Now I'm sort of frustrated and angry that I'm in this position.

Elias stands, but I stand too, not ready to let him go.

“Please, Clara.” His voice is low and almost gravelly sounding, which hits me in good places and makes me want more kissing. “I can only take so much. My body can only take so much. I want to do the right thing—to stick by how I promised myself I'd act.”

Tears well behind my eyes as I stare at the carpet between us. How could I do this to him? To
me?

“You have to understand,” he whispers.

“I do,” I say, still staring at the floor.

“Clara.” He clasps his hands over mine and I finally look at him.

Elias frowns when he sees my tears.

“I don't know why I feel this need to touch you, to have you …” I set his hands on my sides, just at the edge of my bra. Almost on my chest, but not quite. He grasps my sides, spreading relief through me so fast and hard that my body goes weak. “To have you touch me, and I know I should be happy when you don't push, but part of me …”
Part of me feels rejected.
I'm just not sure if I can tell him that.

He leans into me, resting his forehead against mine, keeping his hands hovering just under my chest. His thumbs resting on the bottom edge of my bra.

“I wish I could explain better how I feel when you touch me.” How I crave more. Need it almost. How what I feel in my heart and my head doesn't always match what my body wants, and how I seem to always want more, more, more … more of Elias, more of Rhodes, more feeling wanted. Desired. Elias kissing me takes some of the sting out of my hideous face. “I want more.”

His hands slide up slightly, just resting on the bottom side of my chest.

And of course this is the moment my dad picks to walk into the room, hair sticking out, bathrobe tied around his waist.

So many things happen at once that it's hard to know which is the most important. Me laughing is probably the worst reaction, which is exactly why my body feels it's the thing to do.

Elias turns eighty colors of red as he jumps away, and my dad is many shades of confused and angry.

I'm snorting in my failed attempt to hold in my laughter, while both Dad and Elias try to talk.

Contrite Elias: “I'm so sorry, sir. If you just let me explain …”

Angry father: “I'm not even sure where to
start
asking questions here …”

And instead of letting them sort it out, I jump in. Like an idiot. “Don't stress, Dad. I told you that Elias asked me to marry him. I said yes. And it wasn't his idea to put his hands …
there.”

Seems like my brain is working because I said “there” instead of boobs or breasts or anything else that might give my dad an aneurysm. “So, this really is absolutely not as bad as it looks because we're getting married.” Which is something I wasn't going to tell Dad until I had another day or two to get used to the idea.

Dad rests a thumb and a finger over his eyes.

Elias has his wide-eyed panic face on, and I'm smiling like maybe the bigger my smile is, the less chance there is of this ending in worse disaster.

Dad points at Elias. “You. Go home.”

“But, Dad,” I protest.

“Don't take it personally, Elias. I just want to chat with my daughter.” Dad actually pats Elias's shoulder on his way out, which is obviously way more touching than I'm going to get from Elias because he won't even make eye contact. What does he think Dad'll do? Laser us with his anger vision?

“I totally understand, sir.” And Elias is gone. Just like that.

Isn't there some sort of code or something? Like when you're about to get married, you stick together. Or … help out with angry fathers or something. I sort of get that Elias is trying to respect my father's wishes, but I'd really like to come before my dad.

I slump on the couch, well aware that Dad won't let me out of this room until he's said what he needs to say. Only he's not saying anything. And my eyes float to the TV, which is off, and to the clock on the wall, which is still ticking away at a few minutes past 1:00 a.m., and still Dad isn't speaking. I think at this point I'd prefer yelling, and when he opens his mouth to talk, I brace myself but he doesn't yell.

“Were you serious?” Dad asks. “You told him yes?”

I give him a brief flash of my ring, wondering if there's a way to make my dad understand my decision when I'm still processing it myself.

Dad rounds the couch and sits facing me, but on the opposite end. This is good. He's not so angry he's pacing or anything. And I still have breathing room and a possible escape route over the back of the couch.

Dad takes in a few deep breaths, probably as he processes all the parts of what I said and what he saw.

I open my mouth to speak like five times, but nothing comes.

He scratches his forehead and stares at the carpet for a moment. “I think I've done you a disservice.”

“What?” That was not anywhere near the realm of what I was expecting to hear from him.

Dad's worried eyes find mine. “Instead of just sitting down and talking to you, I keep wondering how
best
to sit down and talk to you. I should feel relieved you'll be staying in town and will be well taken care of.” Dad rubs his forehead again. “I'm actually sad for the experiences you might not have.”

I open my mouth to speak, but again there are no words. This is so weird. And so not like me.

Dad's eyes rest on mine—tired and anxious. “Do you love him?”

I think about seeing Elias the other night silhouetted in the hallway, and about how kind he is, and how he loves me. “Yes.”

“Do you love him
enough?”
Dad's brows go up a little.

“Dad.” I sigh. “Does anyone know that? Ever?”

“Yes.” He nods. “They do.”

I don't have anything to say to that.

“Is this in reaction to … to … to …” Dad swallows. “Is this a reaction to Seattle?”

“No,” I say quickly. Not
totally,
anyway.

“How have you two reconciled your beliefs?” Dad asks. “For your forever marriage … You and I both get a lot of comfort knowing we'll be a family with your mom after this life. If Elias never joins our church, you will never get that forever wedding. The temple wedding. You won't get that
eternal
marriage. Don't you still want that?”

My church will recognize our wedding, but a temple wedding is forever and can only happen if Elias is Mormon.

“You might want to bring him to church one Sunday with us, and then you go with him one Sunday.”

“Wait.” I hold my hands up between us. “You'd let me go to a different church?”

“Clara.” Dad scoots closer to me and takes my hand. “I don't think you can understand how much I love you until you have kids of your own. And maybe not even then. Losing your mother … It just … It changed me, and you've been more precious to me, knowing how fast things
can
change. If you want something.
Really
want something. And you know it'll make you happy, that's what I want for you too. Okay?”

Tears run down my face because even though I said yes to Elias, I don't know
what
I want. It's all messy in my head and in my heart. “Okay.”

Dad brushes my tears away. “You know I'm going to tell you what I always do …”

“To give it a lot of quiet thought.”

“Right. And I'm going to ask something else of you,” Dad says.

I hold in a sigh because I can't imagine doing anything else right now.

“Don't get mad. This was my idea. I talked to Rhodes who has a friend that's a girl in New York.”

“Oh-kay …” That's not at all what I expected him to say.

“If you want me behind this wedding, I want you to understand what you're giving up by saying no to Columbia. And it's not even about Columbia—it's about you needing to see that there's a whole world out there.”

Oh no.

“I think it would be smart for you to spend a weekend in New York. I can put it together in a day or two, and …” Dad frowns and blinks, and I'm terrified he's going to cry. “And I think it would be good for you.”

I
blink a few times. I open my mouth to tell Dad that I don't want to go to New York with my face, but he looks so hopeful.

“You're okay with me going to New York alone?” I ask, wondering how okay I am with going to New York alone. People don't just … People don't just decide to go to New York for a weekend and then leave.

Do they?

Dad squeezes my knee. “Yep. I want you to see the city. The campus. Might be nice to finally see a place your mom …” He swallows. “Your mom loved.”

“Uh … thanks?” I smile but it feels all weird and probably looks strange. This isn't real.

“Want me to light a fire and you can sleep down here?” Dad asks with his frowny apologetic face.

I'm afraid to say no to anything right now. Is this seriously happening? New York? “Thanks.”

Dad ruffles my hair before standing up and moving out of the room to get firewood.

This means I'm left by myself. With a ring on my finger and wondering how I didn't realize the whole world was opened up to me if I wanted it.

22

I can't believe Dad told Rhodes he could come over tonight. And Elias is here because it's the night before I'm
gone.
To New York City. I'm packed and it still doesn't feel real.

So now we're sitting around the table, each with fried chicken and mashed potatoes on our plates, and Rhodes can't shut up about New York. There's no
way
he doesn't know how uncomfortable this whole trip is for Elias.