"Ria," Michel said, touching my shoulder gently

Chapter 37

"Ria," Michel said, touching my shoulder gently. I still sat at the table, my hands pressed flat on the surface, staring down at the wood. "Ria, lets go to the garden. I think we should all get some fresh air."

Anthony and George murmured their agreement.

Michel helped me stand, his hands firm beneath my shoulders. He draped my arm around him, holding me tight about the waist. I didn't tell him that I could walk fine. I wanted his warmth. Needed his warmth.

Here were the only three people I knew who didn't blame me for Marc's death. Or two people maybe. You never knew with George.

Mum and Dad didn't count. Bethany and I had never told them.

In the garden, Michel gently sat me in the love seat, and sat down beside me. George and Anthony took the swinging chair opposite us.

I glanced at the twins. Anthony looked shell-shocked and disenchanted. I wondered how long he'd tried to hold on to the idea that Bethany and I were fine, and our rivalry with one another didn't go any deeper than normal.

George was expressionless, his eyes were careful.

"You know the strange thing is," I said finally, breaking the blanket of silence, "Marc wouldn't be so important now, if he had just dumped Bethany and faded out of our lives." I shook my head. "If only that dick hadn't died, everything would be fine."

He left our lives in a whirlpool of hate and blame, I thought to myself, and neither Beth nor I knew how to get out.

"We would never have loved him so much, if he hadn't died."

Michel pulled my close to him, so I was flush with his body.

"It wasn't your fault Ria," he told me softly. "Whatever you had said to him that night, he still would have left eventually. He still would have crashed his car. He still would have died."

I sighed and rested my head against his shoulder, not really hearing his words.

"It's not even Marc that's the problem," I said, talking more to myself than to them. "It was everything that happened after." I felt tears prick my eyes. "We were never subtle about it. After Marc, we wanted to destroy each other."

"Perfectly understandable," George said, his voice dry and unamused. "The both of you have always operated beyond the realms of common sense."

"George," Anthony admonished quietly. "Let her be."

"Oh fuck off Anthony. I'm so sick of this Marc shit. It's been hovering over our heads for years; they've both been in mourning for years. Don't you think its time they both snapped out of it?"

"I think you should show a little respect man, she's had a hard time." Michel's voice was angry and indignant.

"That's your problem, the both of you. You're so caught up in your damn love for her you can't see reason. You can't see what they're really doing to yourselves." George sounded angrier than I'd ever heard him, and I shrank back against Michel.

"Oh so what, you're saying you don't love her?" Anthony snapped angrily.

"No," George bit out in reply. "I love Ria. Mabye even more than the both of you. Because I love her sensibly."

Michel stiffened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Can't you fucking see? Ria's been dealing with this shit for years. Ever since she was 16. What she needs right now isn't a supporting arm and a shoulder to cry on, she needs strength man. Because she needs to get past this bullshit and grow the fuck up. If she can't see now that it wasn't her fault that Marc was a heroin-addict who couldn't drive, she'll never see it. And there's no amount of tears or self pity that can make her see it."

The truth in those words wrung them all to silence, and I pushed myself up from Michel's arm.

He met my eyes defiantly, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty in them.

I smiled at him hesitantly, and understood.

George hadn't said all that to anger to me. He hadn't said because he was angry.

He was just trying a new way to get through to me.

"Nice try, cousin," I said finally, and I saw the relief in his face before he washed it away with a scowl.

"I wasn't joking Ria."

"I know. It almost worked to."

His scowl was real now.

"Almost worked?"

I sighed. "You just want me to accept I had nothing to do with his death and move on." He nodded. "But don't you see that I can't? I have to take some responsibility here, George. A man died. A man with a family and a girlfriend and a future. And you just expect me to take all that lightly? What I need isn't to get over it, George. What I need is to accept that I did play a part in his death. What I need is to heal this rift with my sister. Then I can move on."

The scowl subsided, became a small smile. "It sounds like you're already half way there."

I shrugged. "I've been working on it for years. I know it was partly my fault. I just need to accept it. And," I rolled my eyes, "then there's Bethany."

"Isn't there always," Anthony muttered, still looking cross with his twin.

"But don't you see that I've done it again? She was right. I ruin everything for her. Now I've gone and ruined her wedding."

"It wasn't you who said the words," Michel snapped at me, looking angry with both George and I.

"But I partly put them in her mouth. She wasn't ready to confront Marc. And she wasn't ready to hear what I had to say." I shrugged. "I should have been more sensitive."

My gaze shifted up to the house, to the window of Bethany's bedroom. "Much more sensitive."

Anthony glared at me. "And there you go again, taking all the blame." He looked at George. "You see it now? Bethany's just playing with her. I wouldn't be surprised if this all turned out to be some elaborate game she's playing with all of our minds." He grimaced. "That's the Bethany I know."

George was looking at me thoughtfully. "Even if you did push her over the edge," he said thoughtfully, "I think it turned out well. All things considering."

Michel's arm tightened around me. "You're joking right," he said to my cousin flatly. "You call this turning out well?"

Anthony grinned, but there was no humour in his eyes. "It shows how new you are to the family. There haven't been any injuries or broken walls. And look on the bright-side, atleast everyone knows the truth now."

"That's the bright side?"

George looked away. "Everyone's gone off to lick their wounds." His eyes returned to mine. "There are some things this family needs more than a wedding. Healing is one of them."

"I bet Bethany wouldn't see it that way," Michel muttered.

"No," George agreed, "she probably wouldn't. And until she does, I think we should all just keep our distance."

I nodded enthusiastically. I'd keep my distance no worries. A trip to the hospital wasn't very high on my To-Do list.

"In the mean-time," Michel sighed with the resigned air of some-one giving up on an argument he would never win, "lets go for a swim."

XXXX

I changed into my bikini upstairs and when I came down again, it was only Michel sitting by the edge of the pool.

"Anthony and George went out for coffee," he told me, answering my unspoken question. He grinned appreciatively at my out-fit, or lack of. "Nice," he commented, and then stripped to his boxers and dived into the water.

I watched him silently for a moment, then hopped in after him.

We swam our own laps for a time, both of us lost in thought.

I was trying not to think about Bethany and the last hour, but Georges words kept resonating though me. There are some things this family needs more than a wedding. Healing is one of them.

I understood his words, and what he meant.

Our little family unit of four couldn't go on like this. Bethany and I needed to understand one another and move on. Mum and Dad needed to be taken out of the dark and told exactly what had been going on for the last few years.

And somehow, it didn't seem fair that after all of this, I was the one that had Michel, while Bethany had lost her fiancé.

I reached the end of the pool and stopped.

Michel was already there, resting against the side of the pool, his arms spread out along the sides.

I tried not to stare, and failed miserably.

He looked soggy and wet and delicious.

His grin was a little arrogant. "If you keep looking at me like that I can't be held responsible for my actions," he murmured mildly.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you want to be?"

He just laughed, throwing his head back a little so his adam's apple throbbed against the skin of his neck.

Argh, I thought. Drool.

Then his laughter stopped, and his eyes turned serious.

"Ria," he began quietly, but I moved around in front of him and placed my hands over his mouth, halting his next words.

"Not now," I whispered, leaning in close. "I don't want to think about any of this now."

And then I swapped my hand on his mouth for my lips.

XXXX

"Ria," he gasped against my mouth a little later, "stop."

I raised my head and stared him in the eye. I was flush with his body, my legs pressing tight against his waist, and I felt his hardness against my thigh. It made everything in my throb with need.

"Why?" My voice was hoarse. I didn't mind.

I swooped down and caught his lips again.

He tore his mouth away.

"Because I don't want it to be like this," he groaned. His hands gripped the pool sides as I trailed a finger suggestively down his bare chest.

"Like what?" I murmured. I hooked a finger inside his boxer shorts and pressed my mouth against his neck, smiling at his quick intake of breath.

"Like this," he said, unclamping his hands from the tiles and wrapping them tight around me. "You're hurting Ria. I don't want this to be some sort of sympathy fuck."

I pulled back from him instantly, hating the cold water that rushed in between our bodies, filling the gap, and refusing to move back against him.

"Are you saying you pity me?" My voice was dangerously low, all trace of desire gone.

"No." He raked a hand through his hair. "No, god…no." His eyes shifted to mine unhappily. "That was just a poor choice of words. It's just…" he hesitated. "Marc's still here Ria. A lot of shit has happened today. I just want…I want our first time to be perfect you know? Not under the over-hang of an old boyfriend."

I almost understood him.

Almost.

"You don't want me now? Is that it? Because of Marc?"

He stared at me, then reached out and pulled me tight against him. "How can you say that?" he demanded quietly in my ear, his breath tickling my neck. "You know I want you. God I have forever. But I want you, Ria. I want you without Marc's shadow, and without Beth, and without the tears in your eyes whenever you talk about him." He shook his head at me, and his hug became gentle suddenly, less vicious and passionate. "I know you loved him Ria. I can see that. So can you understand why I don't want this now? I don't want to be compared to another man." He smiled at me sheepishly, "and if we keep going on like we were just going, I'm going to lose control."

I sighed and rested my forehead against his own. "I wish you would," I muttered honestly. "I wish we both just lost control for once."

He tucked me close to him, and I felt his mouth curve against the skin of my cheek. "You told me you wanted the free-fall once remember? But I'm not like that Ria. I'm not Marc. I can't offer you the free-fall." He pulled back and forced me to look at him. His eyes were sad. "I'm in it for the long run Ariana, not just the rush." He swallowed, and I saw the hint of fear and trepidation creep into his eyes. "And if that's not what you're after, then I think its best we just stop here."

I stared at him, hardly able to comprehend his words.

"Are you…breaking up with me?"

"No," he replied quietly. "I'm just putting my cards on the table. Letting you choose."

"Between what?" I felt like I was breaking inside, like something was being torn out of me, wrenched from my gasp.

"Between what you had, and what I can give you," he answered quietly.

I stared at him a long time.

My decision had been made years ago, I thought. The first time I'd turned from Callum to him.

"I want you Michel," I said finally. "Only you."

His face filled with relief, then something else, a kind of wondering happiness that made everything within me stir in response.

He pressed his face into my hair. "Thank god," he muttered thickly. "Thank fucking christ."

I laughed lightly. "So that means…not tonight?"

His hands snaked around to grasp my waist, pulled me tight against him. He was still aroused, even after all that talk.

"Not tonight," he agreed. "But soon." His hands tightened. "Very very soon."

XXXX

Heyyy

Author Note here

I really hope you can forgive me for this! Haha I was tempted to let them just do it, FINALLY, but I guess it just didn't feel right. There's so much more that needs to be sorted between them, and like I said, I want it to be perfect. Not have them wake up the next morning and confront the same damn issues they'd been avoiding that night. Soooo…just a little bit more waiting. But I can promise lots of sexual frustration in that time, which is almost just as yummy!