How To Save A Life

by P. Dangelico

  Utensils clatter to the floor and the noise doesn’t go unnoticed. Jordan pushes me to the floor where we can’t break anything, where the sound of what is finally about to happen won’t wake the baby. He pushes his pelvis against mine, rubbing himself against me. He’s so hard under his dress pants that I can feel everything through my pajama bottoms. If he keeps it up any longer, I’m going to come and I won’t be quiet about it either.

  “You feel so good,” he whispers against my mouth. “So right…”

  We can’t get close enough. I hook my leg around his waist and he melts deeper into me. Together we move as one. Slower, softer. He nibbles the side of my mouth and I hold his face, kiss the side of his. My lips part and his tongue brushes against mine. It’s a teasing game of advance and retreat while his hands rake through my hair and close into a steady grip.

  I’ve never been kissed like this before. With life-consuming passion. I never knew it could even be like this. I haven’t had a lot of experience kissing––only a few men to compare him to––but I’m pretty sure there’s enough energy traveling between us right now to knock out the power grid. Then we both hear it, Maisie talking on the baby monitor, and everything comes to an immediate, grinding halt.

  He pulls back, panting. With his hands planted by my head, his hips dig even deeper into mine. It’s the biggest tease ever. I nearly come undone right then.

  “I’m sorry,” he croaks, exhaling roughly. “I shouldn’t have. I––”

  “It’s fine, Jordan.”

  He gets up and I’m forced to stare up at him, his erection pushing hard against the tented fabric. I have to bite my lips not to laugh at the kickstand in his pants. He shakes his head. But then he pulls me up, pulls me closer, wraps a hand around my hip and plants a soft sweet kiss on the hypersensitive skin on my neck.

  He blinks. More silence from him. Another unspoken message I can’t understand passes between us. His gaze goes soft while his body remains hard against mine. He places the lightest kiss on my lips, strokes my cheek. Then, without a word, he walks out, leaving me with a lot of questions and even more unresolved feelings about what just happened between us. Then again, strange seems to be our thing.

  The next day, I get a text around noon.

  Grim: I found Eli. Pack a bag.

  13

  Chapter Thirteen

  Riley

  The ride to Cape Cod goes faster than I anticipated. I’ve never been this far north, never had a reason to, so I’m excited about this trip. Maybe it’s because everything seems new. Maybe because it’s a beautiful sunny day at the end of September and cooler in New England; the trees up I-95 are beginning to turn color, spots of red and yellow exploding out of green. Or maybe it’s because of the man sitting in the driver’s seat. That’s probably closer to the truth.

  Other than to tell me he wants to stop in Rhode Island to have lunch––he wants to introduce me to the “best lobster roll on the East Coast”––he’s been quiet. We haven’t spoken about the kiss and it’s sitting between us right now like a teenage pregnancy. It doesn’t matter how much we both pretend it didn’t happen, it’s not going away.

  We pass quaint seaside town after quaint seaside town, most all of them with small ports dotted with sailboats. Every town feels like it’s out of the Hallmark Channel. I could use a little of that in my life. It makes me realize how much I haven’t seen. How much I’m missing out on.

  “Boat,” Maisie says, pointing to an older, faded red one moored to the dock. Jordan got us a table by the water at the restaurant with the “best lobster rolls on the East Coast.” We set up her high chair to face the boats and she seems to be very taken with them.

  “Red boat,” I tell her.

  “Red boat,” she repeats immediately.

  She’s been putting two words together a lot more lately. Every time she learns something new or has a new experience, I can’t help but wonder if Lainey knows. If she can see her baby growing up so fast…and happy. I know Jordan thinks about it. Even if he doesn’t share his thoughts. I see him watching her with a faraway expression more and more lately. I’m just not brave enough to ask what he’s thinking.

  He who is brave is free…my Dad had that tattooed on his shoulder. I guess that says a lot about me.

  I catch Jordan staring at my lips for the second time since we sat down, a streak of color running across his cheekbones. This is getting a little ridiculous. We both know this is going to happen. We’ve been dancing around it for two months. It’s starting to feel like the longest game of foreplay in the history of human civilization.

  But is it a mistake? Because there’s right and there’s wrong and he and I are all kinds of wrong.

  Then there’s Maisie. It’s going to be hard letting her go and nothing can prepare me for that. We’re both going to miss her, excruciatingly so. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m curious to see what Jordan and I are like without her. We’ve been operating as de facto parents for so long that maybe this doesn’t work at all. Who knows, maybe after Maisie’s gone he’ll lose interest in me altogether.

  “You were right. The lobster rolls were delicious.”

  He signs the credit card slip and gets up. “We’ll be back.”

  Those are three words packed with a lot of meaning. “Will we?” I want to ask but don’t.

  We’re leaving the restaurant––Jordan is in the middle of strapping Maisie into the stroller––when an old man, not a day younger than eighty, approaches. He places a wrinkled hand on Jordan’s arm. Jordan scowls at first, but when he sees who’s trying to get his attention his expression softens.

  “You have a beautiful family,” the man says. He smiles then, revealing the few teeth he has left. “You’re a very lucky man.”

  The two of us stand there kind of stunned, dumbstruck, watching each other and not knowing how to react. Jordan gets that shut-down look I used to see on him all the time. But then it clears, and he smiles broadly back at the sweet old man. It’s warm and genuine and it bulldozes the last of my resistance. My heart’s been stolen by a repressed billionaire and his rare smiles and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  “Very lucky,” he repeats. Over the man’s head, his gaze locked on mine. I don’t know what to think. I can’t read him right now. I know what my heart is saying but my heart doesn’t get a say in this. I love this man. I just don’t know how he feels about me.

  “God bless,” our sweet messenger says and ambles away. He walks out of the restaurant and out of our lives as quickly as he shuffled in, leaving a wake of emotional destruction behind.

  “What’s the address again?” I mutter, partially distracted by the houses on the street we’re driving down. They remind me of the old Kennedy home movies. Stately homes with sprawling green front lawns that face the ocean.

  “Eli lives here?” I say with no shortage of disbelief. “What does the guy do for a living, print money?”

  “Basically.”

  “What?”

  Jordan’s mouth kicks up on one side at my surprise. “Eli Noble––sound familiar?”

  “The dystopian novels they made into a miniseries?”

  “He’s also the heir to a frozen fish empire.”

  How depressing. This conversation is bringing me down. “Is anyone you know not rich?” I ask him, struggling to keep the pathetic out of my voice.

  In the familiar confines of his apartment it’s easy for me to forget that Jordan lives in another world, one far away from mine. Here, it’s impossible to ignore. Here, I’m forced to face reality. This trip is leaving me more deflated than ever.

  We finally locate the house, a clapboard style white home with navy blue shutters. It’s big and grand and has a front lawn that goes on forever. What the actual eff? What is it with these people and their lawns? And who’s mowing them?

  We follow the gravel driveway to the front door and find exactly who we were looking for all along…Eli.

  His auburnish long hair
is up in a bun, and his beard is unruly and frankly, gross. He’s dressed in a green tartan robe that’s flapping in the strong wind. It kicked up in the last half hour and has been gaining strength since. Every time the robe blows open, I get the honor of seeing his boxer shorts on full display, ones with Christmas trees on them.

  “What’s he doing?” I absently murmur.

  “He’s running a flag up the pole.”

  Correction, he’s running the flag of one of the fictional countries in his books up the pole. I turn to Jordan who seems to be in accordance with me judging by his stern expression––this situation is dire.

  “Look on the bright side––we found him,” I offer.

  “I don’t know if there’s a bright side to be found here.”

  Jordan parks the Audi and turns to me with a calculated look. “Wait here in the car for a bit.”

  Okay, because that’s not weird.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m asking you to.”

  I don’t like it, but I do as he says anyway. This is his friend. He knows him better than anyone. He could be violent for all I know. Jordan gets out of the Audi and I roll down the window to hear what’s being said. Because, yeah, I’m not missing this for anything.

  Eli, now finished with his flag, spots the car and suddenly becomes curious about his new visitors. As soon as he recognizes Jordan, he spreads his arms wide, which is equal to the arm span of a bear, and grins.

  “Buddy!! JoJo!” Eli moves in for the hug and all hell breaks loose.

  It wasn’t Eli I should’ve been worried about inciting violence. Heck, no––it’s Jordan. I hear, “Your daughter is allergic to peanuts you selfish son of a bitch.” And then he cold cocks the guy in the face. Lands one dead center on Eli’s perfect nose.

  Who is this person I’ve been living with?

  Eli’s head snaps back and an immediate look of shock appears on his face. He gingerly inspects his nose with his enormous bear paws. Pats around his face, around cheekbones that could cut glass. Once he’s determined his nose is still intact, Eli jumps on Jordan and before you know it, I’m watching a WWE match. Two grown ass men rolling around on the lawn.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  I hit the horn. Like three times. It doesn’t stop them. They keep taking swings at each other. Thankfully not all of them land. After two minutes of this nonsense, I go to plan B.

  After I make sure the emergency brake is on, I grab a bottle of soda. Maisie is just now waking up from her nap, but I won’t be gone a minute and I’m leaving my door open.

  “Knock it off you overgrown children.” I shake, shake, shake the plastic bottle and spray them with cola. Plan B works.

  Breathing heavy, they stop and look at me. “Hi, Eli. I’m Riley, your daughter’s caretaker.”

  “Hi,” he says out of breath and smiling.

  “You have company now so you should probably close your robe.”

  Glancing down, he sees what I’m seeing and thankfully slams the robe shut.

  Jordan

  I’m angry. I’m more than angry. In fact, I’m furious.

  For three months, I’ve worried, I’ve lost sleep, I’ve upended my life. I upended Riley’s life. We’ve wasted time wondering where Eli was and whether he was harming himself. And to learn that he was on the Cape indulging his fantasies makes me want to punch him again.

  “I can feel your deadman’s stare from here,” the son of a bitch hollers from across the porch. He’s on the bench swing with Maisie. It’s about time he spent time with his daughter. She’s the last piece of Lainey left in this world, he’s lucky to have her. Instead he’s been here doing God know’s what.

  “Glad you noticed. You want to explain to me why I haven’t heard a word from you in three months?”

  “Head wasn’t right.”

  “And you couldn’t call?”

  “Head wasn’t right.”

  The father daughter reunion was touch-and-go at first. It took a minute for Maisie to warm up to him. The hair and beard certainly didn’t help matters. You abandon your daughter for three months and there’s bound to be problems.

  I scan the lawn for Riley and can’t find her. She left ten minutes ago to explore the property and hasn’t been seen since.

  “I’m going to look for Riley.”

  “She’s coming.” He tips his head at the side of the house.

  A gust of wind kicks up and blows her long wavy hair all around. I watch her laugh as she tries to harness it. It hits me in the chest like a battering ram.

  I want to make her laugh. I want to make her scream my name as she comes. I want to make her happy. But the space between what I want and what I can have seems insurmountable.

  I tried to stay away. Kept myself busy and stayed out of the house. I even went on a date––an unmitigated disaster. I’m tired of fighting it. I want her and she wants me. It should be simple. The problem is that what I feel for her isn’t simple at all.

  I catch Eli checking out her long tan legs in those jean shorts and send him a warning. Riley is off limits. He’s probably thinking that I deserve a dose of my own medicine, but those days of the two of us fighting over a girl are long gone.

  “You have a boat!” Riley shouts, a smile stretching from ear to ear. Every time I think she can’t get any more beautiful she proves me wrong. “Eli, can I sleep on the boat?”

  “Anything for the woman who took care of my baby.”

  She’s so beautiful sometimes I catch myself stealing second glances. As if I can’t trust my eyes. And she has no clue, no idea, of her effect on men. All that sex appeal and she doesn’t even know it.

  “Jordan, it’s a sail boat. Come see it.” I get up and go to her. It’s the easiest thing for me to do, as natural as breathing. “I’ll be back.” Walking past him, I pet Maisie’s beautiful head and she smiles at me.

  “Take good care of her,” I tell Eli. There are about a million and one meanings to that statement and he knows every single one. Eli looks away, back at his daughter who should be the only thing on his mind.

  “Hear that, my amazing Maisie? Your uncle Jordan is looking out for you.”

  “Jo!” the baby says, and tips her head back to look at me again. It’s the first time she’s said my name and I can barely breathe, stuck between feeling everything and desperately trying to block it out. I’m failing at both.

  Eli watches me closely. “You won’t die from loving someone, Jo.”

  Is he kidding? The two of us are a perfect example of how destructive love can be. For years, I played the role of dead man walking. Now it’s his turn. “You sure about that?”

  “Jordan! Are you coming?”

  “Go to your girl”––a slow smile creeps up his bearded face––“or I will.”

  Riley’s headed to the beach. I run after her because it’s the only thing in my life that feels right anymore. She’s the only thing that feels right.

  “I like it here,” Riley says, climbing down from the boat after having explored belowdecks.

  We can come back whenever you want, I want to tell her. Whatever she wants I’ll give it her. I’m constantly fighting between doing anything to keep her and knowing I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to her. I can’t be sure how long I’ll be around and I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

  She leaves me on the dock to explore the beach, and I follow slowly, watching her excitement. Drinking it in. Sometimes it feels like life started the night we met. She saved me from more than getting my ass kicked.

  When I catch up to her, she’s sitting on the beach with her arms wrapped around her knees and staring out at the ocean.

  “I spent most of my summers in Martha’s Vineyard,” I tell her, taking a seat on the sand next to her. I don’t know why I just told her that except that for the second time in my life I want a woman to know me, really know me and not the bullshit that she can read online.

  “Is it like this place?”

&n
bsp; “Yes, except it’s an island.”

  She faces me. “You’re lucky.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  In the distance, a bank of fog is rolling in. The wind has shifted direction.

  “Beau told me you were sick when you were a teen.”

  I nod. It’s not much of a secret if the information is everywhere. Plenty of interviews I’ve given. Plenty of articles written about me. I was more surprised to hear she didn’t already know when Beau mentioned it. He said Riley took the news hard and it’s bothered me since. The last thing I want for her is to worry over me. She’s been through enough. If I was a better man, I’d send her away, spare her the misery. But I’m not that man.

  “Is that what you meant when you said you spent a lot of time alone?” She places her chin on her knees and watches me. I nod. “You’re kind of amazing.” Her big blue eyes fill with wonder I don’t want or deserve. I’d rather see it turn into lust when I kiss her senseless.

  “Nothing amazing about it. I was lucky my cancer wasn’t aggressive.”

  Riley shakes her head, looks out at the ocean. Now that the wind has calmed, it looks unnaturally smooth. “My dad had it. It was the hardest thing he ever did and he pulled people out of burning buildings…I think you’re amazing. Everything you’ve accomplished in spite of it…”

  I could love this girl. We haven’t discussed our arrangement when we get back home, but I’ll find something for her to do. I don’t care what it is but I can’t lose her.

  “How did you all become friends?”

  “Me and Eli?”

  “And Lainey.”

  Lainey…even dead she stands between us. I decide to go with the truth. It’s time we buried it all.