by Lisa Gillis
As if she could refuse calls now...
The feel of Jack’s lips gently brushing hers had her quickly pressing the screen.
“Hi!” As she spoke, she held up a polite finger, not the one she wanted after seeing her mother’s frown, and took the call to the privacy of the hall.
“Hey!” The smile in his voice carried through the cell towers. “Coast clear yet?” Heaving a sad sigh, she responded to the negative, and he replied, “I don’t mind meeting them, you know. I was just hoping, I guess I was just thinking that...” He dwindled to a pause, and as she absently watched a patient being coaxed to walk along the hall, she heard a barely audible sigh from his end. “Is this even the right time for me to meet Tristan? Should I wait until he is not feeling so...Mariss, I don’t know what to do.”
“Well it’s not the right time to, you know...to tell him.”
With as much frequency as that last kiss between them, the various possible scripts of explaining to Tristan who Jack was to him, danced in her mind. The hospital was not one of those scenarios.
“But he’s feeling really good. I’m amazed at how good. So if you wanted to come by, hang out...My parents are about to leave.”
Spectators shouldn’t be at this momentous event. Squaring her shoulders when Jack affirmed, she resolved to rid the room of the audience. Returning to the room, she found her mother helping Tristan with his juice box, and surprisingly, not an eyelash batted when Marissa related a version of the truth.
“A friend of Tristan’s is coming by, and I’m thinking he should get some rest until then.”
A knowing look passed between her parents, and her father hastily agreed and then curved a pleased smile when her mother did the same. Obviously, they had conferred while she was on the phone, and for once, her mother was going along with his advice.
“Who’s coming?” Tristan promptly asked, as soon as hugs were dispensed and his grandparents were out of the room.
Thinking his interest was on the t.v., she had kept her voice low when speaking to her parents, but as always, nothing got by him. Gently running a comb through his hair, she explained, “A new friend. The one that brought Bandit while you were in surgery.”
“The one that plays the music?”
“Hmm?”
This question unbalanced her, and she scrutinized his tiny face wondering how he could know ‘this friend’ was a musician.
“The one that plays the music when they call on your phone.” Tristan was obviously feeling himself because the usual vexation at having to explain himself was strong.
Confusion still riddled her brain. Although she now knew he was speaking of Jack’s ring tone, she was becoming suspicious that Tristan did not know exactly what a ring tone was, and that in his four-year old mind, he visualized the caller making the sound in real-time.
A nurse bustled in humming as she checked his vitals and fussing over him with attention as most staff did. Jack rang back, and when Tristan darted a look over as she answered, she resolved to show him ring tones soon.
“You said Tristan likes Oreo Blizzards? Are they letting him eat that stuff today?”
The frozen treat conjured in her mind, and she smiled finding it sweet that Jack remembered the little things about Tristan and wanted to perk up his hospital stay. Confirming to Jack that Tristan was on a normal diet, she stepped aside for the nurse to exit, then turned to find her son’s expectant gaze avidly watching as she spoke into the phone.
“So how about you? What do you want?” Jack questioned.
“Oh, thanks, but I don’t want anything,” she assured and a warm glow radiated to every cell because he had asked. Silly, but it happened.
“Yes you do,” he argued like a big brother, best friend, or...a boyfriend.
“I don’t. Really.”
“Did you eat today?” The mindful question completed the devoted feeling.
“I ate.” In answering, she reassured that on this floor an extra food tray for the parent accompanied the patient’s tray.
Jack stubbornly insisted on getting a food preference from her and even threatened that he would pick at random from the menu if she didn’t choose.
“Besides, how will it look if I come walking in with Tristan and me something and not you?” he teased.
“Alright, alright!” Relenting, she blocked out the carbs and calories and requested a slush latte. Only once or twice had she ever allowed herself this treat, so she did not know the specific flavors. Before he could ask, she went on, “Surprise me.”
Tristan said nothing when she disconnected but continuously studied her similar to the way he would around Christmastime, or his birthday, when she came home and sneaked straight to her room to hide presents.
Nervously, she fiddled with her day old hair in the mirror.
This morning, she had showered in the room’s tiny connecting bathroom and changed into jeans with a comfortable pullover shirt. Now, she took in her appearance wishing that she had packed with the foreknowledge of Jack making this trip.
Easing beside Tristan’s tiny form, she settled on the bed to wait, her mind reeling with the odds and ends she needed to do this week, and as always today’s recollection...
Jack’s kiss...
The slight rap on the door yanked her from this reverie, and she looked down seeing that Tristan was dozing again. Jumping up, she pulled open the door and gave herself over to the familiar flutter in her stomach when Jack’s dark eyes hit her face.
Both disappointment and relief crossed his face when he observed Tristan sleeping. Handing off her frozen drink, he set the other on the stand at the side of the bed and eyed the stuffed animals at the footboard. Finally, his gaze moved back over Tristan’s sleeping face and tenderness filled his eyes.
Initially, seeing the natural paternal instinct in Jack’s expression swelled her heart, then like before, abrupt fear constricted her insides.
Suddenly, she was wishing that Tristan were not such a perfect miniature of his father, as if that would stop some of the closeness that Jack already felt. A good mother would have robbed a bank for the money, not risked custody.
“What’s wrong?” Jack’s voice was gentle.
Immediately jumping to the conclusion that her consternation related to their son, he asked about the doctor’s earlier visit. Forcing a smile, she related the positive things Dr. Millosky had to say during his examination this morning. Tristan would only be hospitalized a couple more days, and once they were home, a physical therapist would come to work with him three times a week.
“Is he the one, Momma?”
Both of their gazes whipped to Tristan, and obviously wondering what Tristan was speaking of, Jack spared a quick glance to her.
“Your ring tone.” Hastily, she supplied the explanation to ease any fears he might have of her having already revealed his identity to his son. “He’s fascinated by your ring tone.”
She wanted to run to Tristan’s side but held back only standing while Jack approached the bed.
“Oh.” Jack’s smile was tense, but he moved a shoulder in a carefree shrug. “I’m the one I guess.” Setting his cup down, he indicated the remaining one. “Your mom said you liked Blizzards.”
“Only Oreo.” Tristan’s tone was hopeful, yet resigned, as if knowing a stranger might not get his flavor right.
Jack picked up the cup, peering beyond the rim with a pucker of his brows– the same pucker that Tristan had when contemplating. “Hey! It’s Oreo!”
Tristan’s mini brows shot up, and when he sent Marissa a tolerating look, she knew that her son was not fooled by adult shenanigans. But he said nothing to Jack of this reasoning that the customer purchasing would know exactly what he ordered. Instead, he beamed a grateful smile and held his tiny hand out.
“So, how do you play that music? Drums and guitar?”
Now Jack was the one who sent her a surprised look. Even though the origin of the question confused him, she knew he must be pleased that the fi
rst conversation his son started with him was music related.
“I play the guitar part. My friends play drums, and bass.” Jack alluded to the band members but said nothing of the band itself.
Watching this exchange, Marissa wondered if she should introduce them, but Tristan beat her to it.
“What’s your name?” he asked curiously.
They politely clasped hands after their self-introduction, and she watched, amazed, as the two of them carried on a conversation for a quarter of an hour, only occasionally glancing her way. They talked music comparing song knowledge, and they talked dogs comparing Bally and Rusty. Eventually, she sank to the chair and ate her desert uncaring that it was a day’s worth of calories in a cup.
Jack remained until visiting hours were up at nine. Tristan slept some but awoke as if by instinct when Jack was about to leave. With a ruffle of his son’s dark hair, Jack promised to see him next time he came to town. At this, Marissa started, her spine lifting from the back of the chair.
Waiting until they were in the hall, right outside the door, she phrased the inquiry careful to keep it emotionless. “Are you leaving?”
“My flight is in the morning. I have a thing. I would get out of it if I could.” His dark eyes seemed both apologetic and as disappointed as she was.
Keeping her voice light, she slanged the common adage, “Well, watcha gonna do...”
“Yeah...” He quirked a half grin, rewarding her with almost one dimple. “Watcha gonna do...”
With that last phrase, he seemed closer in distance as well as height. Was it a double entendre? If so, what she was going to do was...
Kiss him...
When she tipped her head up, he met it before she lifted on tiptoes.
The kiss was warm and sweet, and the touch of their tongues wildly electrifying.
Despite the public venue, and their son just on the other side of the door, she took the kiss to the next level, sucking, savoring his tongue with more delectation than the ice cream earlier. His throaty rumble was felt, more than heard. He pressed against her, pushing her backside against the wall, taking his tongue away enough to tease the sweet spots on hers and then swiped it across her lips before giving it back to her to do with whatever she desired –
“You kids need to take that somewhere else!”
The female voice was haughty as if they were teens being reprimanded, and maybe the woman thought they were.
Surprised, Marissa jerked but there was no place to go. Jack was slower to ease up, continuing to press his length against her as he stole a few more seconds of the mind-blowing kiss. Her heart raced at a dizzying speed, and she was glad that he only pulled his lips away and not himself or she would have slid limply down the wall.
Unanimously, their heads turned to the retreating figure of a large woman wearing Scooby Doo scrubs. Marissa’s giddy giggle couldn’t be stopped, that is until Jack brushed another kiss on her lips, reacquainting their tongues a few more seconds before moving back a step.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised. She nodded or voiced some form of agreement, then enjoyed watching him walk away before turning back to the room.
New custody plan. Marry Jack Storm.
CHAPTER 16
THE HOUSE WAS quiet. Tristan was down for the night, and Bally, happy to be home and happier that her people were home, lay sleeping at the foot of her youngest master’s bed.
The television on his dresser was from Jack; it had been delivered a couple of days ago, shortly after Tristan’s discharge from the hospital. As a result, the television in the main room was now off much of the time.
Jack had called every night while Tristan was in the hospital and always talked to Tristan for several minutes before or after he chatted with her. After coming home, the calls dwindled to every other night, but he sent and she returned at least two dozen texts throughout each day.
Wandering the house, she picked up toys, doing general straightening to absolve any feelings of guilt at not wanting to do the dishes. Opening the desk drawer, she replaced Tristan’s art box of colored pencils, Crayola’s, and such, and when she pushed it closed the laptop perched on the desktop came to life. This was not unusual.
Olivia had stopped over to keep an eye on Tristan while Marissa did some grocery shopping. A lot of times, if Olivia forgot her tablet, she would entertain herself with the laptop, stopping in the middle of what she was doing to tend to Tristan or take a call, or whatever.
Although the screen coming on startled her, it was simply waking from hibernation, and she closed her palm over the mouse with the intent to power it off.
Before she pointed and clicked, the banner of a popular Hollywood gossip blog blinked, and she smiled at the habits of her friend. Just for the heck of it, she carried the computer to the couch. She sank down, propping her feet comfortably on the table as she clicked through the images reading of the latest celebrity exposes.
Noticing a search box, she typed in the name that never left her mind. Once the page links came up, she further narrowed the results by images and began to fondly view the face she missed and hoped to see again soon. In their last phone conversation, Jack had mentioned the possibility of flying in for a few days at the end of the week.
Various links to other blogs continuously beckoned from the edge of the page, and suddenly one caught her eye.
‘The Hottest Stories Right Now.’; ‘Jack Storm Caught Creepin At The Sky Bar With Sexy Ex Leanna Miranda Gavin.’
A quick click brought the story up, and she studied the picture inquisitive of anything to do with Jack, even ex-girlfriends. Why had she not engaged in this entertaining pastime before?
Moments after the thought crossed her mind, the things she was seeing became the opposite of fun.
While drooling over the picture, she had disregarded the date.
Apparently, the blog was not exaggerating the claim of ‘Right Now.’
The picture of Jack with his arm curved around the beautiful brunette had been snapped earlier in the evening.
This evening.
Stunned, she stared across at the blank, black television screen, then back down to the vivid laptop screen to recheck the date.
When the ugly fact was conclusive, she opened another tab and typed ’Leanna Miranda Gavin.’
For several minutes, she scrolled pictures of the woman who was, of course, a lingerie model. To see this incredibly beautiful woman clad as scantily as Jack had obviously seen her only doubled the pain.
Restraining the urge to throw the laptop at the wall, she surged from the sofa and with one arm swept the basket of remotes from the sofa table. They bounced along the area rug and clattered to the vinyl wood floor.
Thinking back over some of the flirtatious texts over the last several days, she reanalyzed them wondering if she was reading too much into the wireless words. She thought of past times, of flirting with Clayton, or any of the other guys, with no care of what she was doing. They didn’t mean anything to her, so she treated them all the same. Did she not mean anything to Jack?
Was he just playing the same word games she often had with the opposite sex? Was he just kissing or accepting a kiss when it felt right in the moment with no want of where it could lead?
These lunatic ravings sent her pacing the floor and when she stopped before the entertainment shelf system, another rake of her arm sent DVD’s flying to the floor. Spying her phone, she threw it too so she wouldn’t give into her lunacy and call him.
~♫♪♫~
Standing under a hot shower, she struggled to find a calm place in her mixed up mind.
Yes, he seemed anal for kissing her as he had–first a tender fortifying kiss, and next a hot passionate kiss– then going out on the town with his ex so soon after landing in LA.
But, that didn’t have to change her plan. It only meant it was time to step up her game.
Maybe she wasn’t an underwear model, but she had two very strong things going for her.
&n
bsp; First, she and Jack were connected by a son. A son who was a miniature version of him, no less.
Number two, she wanted him, and he had wanted her at one point if his speech at the hospital in Tristan’s empty room could be believed.
He just needed convincing that he still wanted her and that it made sense for them to raise their child together.
Draping her towel on a hook, she wrapped in her robe, checked on Tristan, and went to retrieve her phone.
Carefully, she considered what she was about to do. Retracing the hall to her room, she thought it over and it seemed sound. Dropping to her bed, she began the text.
Go ahead with setting me and Joel up
Sent 10:50pm
The text itself was as dirty a trick as what the words would set into motion.
Thankfully, Olivia was working and would not be able to immediately call with curious questions.
A few days ago, Marissa had fulfilled her promise confiding everything about Jack to her friend. Giving no steamy details, she confessed the best sex of her life five years ago and finally stopped with the two kisses at the hospital and their current phone relationship. Fiercely loyal, Olivia had been angered to hear of Jack’s initial harsh reaction to the news of Tristan, yet as a true romantic and a best friend, she was pulling for a love connection between them.
Pulling back the spread, Marissa sandwiched herself in the bed and was about to dock her phone in the charger when it sounded with a text.
RUSS
u awake?
11:55 PM
Dropping it into the dock, she shut off the light, but her eyes wouldn’t close and she lay staring into the dark for what seemed like hours.
“Mooommm.....Mom, Mom, Mom...Mooomma, Mom...”
Still heavy with sleep, she strained to wake. Tristan was singing her name in a low growl voice. This was his latest habit. It began after she had managed to find one Jackal song without curse words or sexual implications to download on his iPod.