by Anna Rezes
“I prefer mustard on my hotdogs.”
“Gross!”
“Oh, and I suppose you’re a ketchup guy.”
“I like both, but with hotdogs, it’s got to be ketchup.”
“Ketchup is gross! Even the smell makes me want to gag,” I admitted.
“You’re so strange.”
“So sweet. Really, Oliver, you’ve gotta stop hitting on me.”
“You’re the one who wanted to talk about my underwear.”
“Or lack thereof,” I said waggling my eyebrows.
“You’re going to make me crawl over this table if you don’t stop.”
I thought about encouraging him but did the responsible thing instead. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, standing.
The restrooms were just inside the ice cream shop. They were single-stall restrooms, and I walked into the unoccupied women’s. Before I could flip the lock on the door, Oliver burst in behind me.
“Oliver, what are you—”
His hands cupped my face and kissed me, interrupting my question. His tongue was in my mouth before I could catch my breath, and it was a welcome intrusion. My hands clung to him, my fingers digging into his back. His hard body pressed into me, and I couldn’t get enough. His hands gripped my ass as he pulled me against him. My hands were frantic, tugging at his shirt and running my hands up the smooth skin of his back.
His mouth broke from mine to run down my neck, his breath sending a chill through me.
“Oliver,” I moaned.
He tugged at my bathing suit cover, and his hands were on my thighs, my hips, my waist, my breasts. I am pretty sure we would have had sex right there in that bathroom if someone hadn’t knocked at the door.
He stopped kissing me, lowered my cover-up, and rested his head against my shoulder.
My hands dropped from him, but as he pulled away, I caught sight of the excitement tugging at his mustard stained shorts. I wasn’t the only one anxious for more.
He looked at me with smoldering eyes, saying, “Ready to go back to the hotel?” His meaning clear.
I answered by grabbing his hand and dragging him out behind me, ignoring the look from the woman waiting for the bathroom. We rushed to the car, and I was giggling like a teenage girl.
Oliver
We didn’t have a long drive back to the hotel, and I couldn’t stop touching her. I was an addict, and she was my fix. I leaned over and kissed the skin of her shoulder as she drove.
“Stop it, Oliver. You’re going to make me wreck.”
“Worth it,” I breathed against her neck.
She pulled away. “Not worth it! Then we’ll never get what we want.”
Trying to behave, I rested back in my seat, my body too tightly wound to relax. The hotel came into view, and I blew out a breath, I knew I could make it—just one more block. But then the traffic light turned red, and I couldn’t do it.
She peered over at me apologetically, like stopping at the light was somehow her fault, and I couldn’t take it. I pulled her face toward mine, cupping her dimpled cheeks between my palms and kissing her like I had just returned from war. She kissed back like she’d been waiting desperately for my return.
Her mouth was sweet, her kiss was hot, igniting me even as I already burned with desire. Her hands were in my hair, her nails scraping intimately against my scalp.
Cars honked, and she pulled away from our kiss, saw the green light, and floored it back to the hotel. As soon as she parked, we started right back up, kissing, touching. Desperate to get a taste of one another.
When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed against her bronzed skin. I loved her skin. It was exotic, dark enough to make me wonder about her heritage, but light enough to make me question if I was just making things up. It was just as much a mystery as she was.
Her expressive brown eyes stared at me, her face serious as our heavy breaths mixed in the confined space. She wore her emotions like most wore clothing, and I was thrilled when she smiled because I knew it was real. She was the realest thing I had ever tasted in my life, and I needed to kiss her again, but as I leaned forward, she grabbed her door handle and jetted out of the car. She ran for the hotel like a lunatic, and I was moonstruck, so I adjusted myself and exited, running after her.
Her cover-up billowed out behind her, her dark hair in wild waves as it air-dried. She slowed down as she entered the lobby, the responsible adult winning out over her impulsive inner child. But she had woken something carnal inside of me, and I didn’t give a fuck what these strangers thought of me. I caught up to her and swooped her off her feet, carrying her over my shoulder instead of cradling her like a gentleman. She squealed when I picked her up, laughing so hard I could barely make out her cries to “Put me down!”
I would never put her down, not as long as she kept laughing. It was contagious, the kind of noise that came from somewhere deep and pure, a place uncontaminated by the world. This bitter, jaded, beautiful woman who surprised me at every turn exposed a joy I didn’t think her capable.
I carried her to the elevator, only setting her on her feet so I could witness her smile and taste her laughter for myself. We had the elevator to ourselves, and I devoured her, kissing her with my hands tangling in her hair as she cupped my ass. We were hot and wild and totally uninhibited. The doors opened, and we stumbled out, tripping over one another, so I lifted her. Her legs wrapped around my hips so I could keep kissing her all the way to our doors. I leaned her against the wall to free a hand to get my keycard, but she beat me to it by sliding hers out of her bag. I took it from her and unlocked her door. She dropped to her feet, and I held the door for her before following her in. She dropped her bag, slipped out of her cover-up, and spun to me.
I groaned, and she moved forward. My mouth met hers, and my hands roamed her skin.
The phone by her king-sized bed started ringing. She ignored it, so I did the same as we frantically lost control. It’s like we were teenagers, trying to get in a quicky before our parents got home.
The phone stopped ringing, only to start back up again. “Willa?” I panted, asking if she needed to answer the phone.
She shook her head, and her hands lifted my shirt, stripping the damp material before her hands found the button on my shorts. They were still wet, which made them stick to me, but she was determined, and soon they fell to the floor, and I stepped out of them.
I felt her smile against my lips as her hands found my bare ass. “I like commando,” she said.
Her bathing suit was the only thing left between us, and it couldn’t come off fast enough.
I untied the string behind her back just as her phone started ringing again.
She paused, her body stiffening.
Feeling her reaction, I encouraged, “Go look.”
The ringing stopped before she picked up her phone, but a second later it rang again.
She looked at the screen, and I watched her face lose some of its color. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
Frantic words were spoken in quick succession from the other line. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but I wanted to rip the phone away to protect her. It was too late. The moment had been ruined. I watched as everything Willa had let go of today piled back on her, contaminating her uninhibited joy.
Willa repeated, “What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”
More frantic words.
Tears pricked in her eyes, and she covered her mouth. “Oh my God! My poor baby.”
Her mother started speaking slower, sounding less frantic.
Willa looked up at me with so much guilt and sadness. I wanted to wrap her in a hug, but she wasn’t done talking.
“She’s such a brave girl. Okay.” Pause. “Bella, momma loves you.”
I felt like she had slapped me. How had she not told me?
“Thanks, Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I suddenly remembered I was naked and turned away to picked up my wet shorts. I slid into them and s
at on the side of her bed, listening to her side of the conversation.
“Okay, but . . . Yeah.” Pause. “I will . . . I’ll try.” Pause. “Love you, too,” she said before hanging up.
She set her phone down on the nightstand and came to sit next to me. I looked at her when she didn’t say anything. There were no tears, but she wore such a desolate expression, and I was reminded again that there was so much I didn’t know about her. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her even as I second-guessed her.
“Do you have a daughter?” I asked.
After a long pause, she said, “Sort of.”
That was all she said. She gave no explanation, and it was hard not taking her lack of answer personally. She knew my story, but only revealed fragments of her own. We promised to be honest, but we never promised to tell each other everything, so I only saw the part of her she wanted me to see. Essentially, we were still strangers, and now she was going to leave without giving me a chance.
“Are you leaving?” I asked because she hadn’t made a move for several agonizing minutes.
She blew out a breath and looked at the floor, saying, “I used to teach kindergarten.”
Rolling with the abrupt change, I said, “I bet you’re amazing with little kids.”
“I always wanted a big family—not crazy big, but maybe three or four kids. I always wanted siblings. Do you have any?”
“I have an older sister,” I said, “There are three years between us, and she and I fought all the time growing up. We didn’t start getting along until we were adults.” And there I went, revealing more of myself while she held her cards so close to her chest.
She said, “I wish I had that. I mean Jodi has always been kinda like a sister, but I just feel like once my parents are gone, it’ll just be me all alone. I never want my kids to go through that alone, so I thought having three or four kids would be great. Do you want kids?”
“Yeah, they were always in the plan, you know, once Addison’s job became more stable.
Willa
Part of me hoped he said kids were the worst. I wanted him to tell me kids were disgusting brats. I contemplated running from the room, but I looked up and saw the crease between Oliver’s brows. He was worried about me, and he’d been so patient. I could still get out of this. Sure, he’d made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years, and he made me smile and laugh until my cheeks hurt, but technically, I didn’t owe him anything. I could go back to being a bitch and scare him off. Then again, the truth might do that for me.
I checked the clock. It was almost six o’clock. The drive home would take me about eight hours. If I left now, I could make it home by two in the morning.
I stood, turning to him and saying, “You need dry clothes.”
He didn’t move, eventually saying, “Willa, you told your mom you were leaving.”
There was a question in his statement. “And she told me not to,” I said. “Why don’t we go to your room? That way, you can put on dry clothes while I drink some of your excess liquid courage, and I can explain a little more about myself.”
He watched me cautiously. I couldn’t blame him. I’d given him nothing to work with.
“Oliver,” I took his hand, tugging him up to a stand, “I’m gonna change, and then I’ll meet you over there, okay?”
He nodded; his expression guarded.
To convince him, I said, “We’ll drink Addison’s Pink fucking Moscato and order food.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He broke from my grip, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and left.
As soon as he was gone, I put my face in my hands and contemplated what to do. I could leave. I could throw everything in my suitcase and take off. I could go home to Bella, but my mom told me not to. The vet had said she’d make a full recovery. My mom was probably exaggerating the whole thing. Bella ate weird things all the time. The abdominal x-ray was probably unnecessary, but my mom knows how much that dog means to me, so of course, she would spare no expense for my baby.
I uncovered my face and caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. My cheeks were pink from the sun—from my time with Oliver. I’d acted so impulsively today. I didn’t even recognize the woman standing in front of me. My deep brown curls were a mess of tangles. My lips were bright and full, looking like they had been thoroughly kissed. I looked a little wild which made me laugh because this mess of a woman is what Oliver had seen all day. My reflection almost looked happy, but my dark eyes shimmered with sadness—the tears were always there, lurking just beneath the surface.
I was wearing nothing aside from my bikini, and I was comfortable. I hadn’t been worried that my thighs were too big or that my stretch marks were showing. My bikini bottoms gave me a slight muffin top, and the scar on my abdomen was visible, yet this was the most comfortable I’d felt in my own skin in forever.
I thought about what my mom had told me. Apparently, Jodi had spilled the beans to my mom that I had met someone. My mom was excited, so even though she was desperate to tell me what was going on with Bella, she was adamant that I stay and see how things went with Oliver.
I had to admit Oliver brought out the good in me. I was dark and heavy, yet somehow, his light shined on that small part of me that remembered how to be happy.
Even now, he was waiting for me, and I didn’t know why or what it was he saw in me. But I was excited about him too, so I changed out of my bathing suit and slipped into another comfy dress. This one wasn’t as sexy as the one I wore the night before. The bright pink material hung above the knee with thin straps and a wrap that tied at the waist. The V-neck covered my silky lace bra but left just the right amount of cleavage. I wore the matching silky panties. I brought them on this trip because they made me feel sexy. Not because I was expecting to meet anyone, but now that I had, I thought I might get a chance to show them off.
I slipped into my sandals, threw the essentials into my purse, and went next door to Oliver’s room. He had the door propped open with the bar from the safety lock, and I entered without knocking.
He had changed into a plain white T-shirt and blue cloth shorts. His feet were bare, and his dark hair was pulled back into a little man bun. With the stubble on his cheeks, he looked rugged and sexy as he opened a bottle of Pink Moscato.
He paused when he noticed me, and his perfect lips separated. “Well, aren’t you overdressed,” he said, “You look really nice. I’m on my last clean outfit.” He held out his arms, looking down at himself.
“I think you look great,” I reassured him.
He went back to opening the bottle before offering it to me. “Liquid courage?”
“Yes, please.” I took the bottle from him.
“Do you want to go out?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, not really.” I took a swig from my bottle.
He waved a hand toward me, saying, “So all of this is just for me?”
“You make it sound like I’m all dressed up. This dress is casual. It’s comfortable and makes me feel sexy.”
He began opening another bottle. “Do you usually lounge around in dresses?”
“Sometimes,” I said, moving around him. I rearranged the pillows and sat with my back against the headboard, leaving my shoes on the floor and setting my purse on the nightstand. I stretched my legs out in front of me and took another drink. When I looked up, Oliver was leaning against the dresser watching me.
I avoided his eyes. “My mom called me to let me know my dog was sick. She will be okay. My mom overreacts when it comes to Bella. Rightfully so. She knows how important Bella is to me.”
“What kind of dog?”
“She’s a Boxer and Blue Heeler mix.”
He looked thoughtful. “Do you have a picture?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I have sixteen-thousand pictures of Bella.” I dug my phone out of my purse and pulled up a picture of Bella. In the photo, she was sitting on the front porch with her head tilted to the side in confusion while her t
ongue hung out of her mouth. Oliver sat on the bed next to me, and I handed my phone to him.
He studied the picture. “She has a boxer build with the spots and coloring of a Blue Heeler.”
“She’s the best.”
“So, she’s kinda like your daughter?”
I nodded. “She’s my baby.” I took the phone when he handed it back, looking at Bella. “Probably the only kind I’ll ever have.”
God, I hated how passive and heavy that sentence was. I felt like it oozed from my tongue like molasses—substantial and sticky, and I wouldn’t be able to get rid of the aftertaste until I said something else. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late.
Oliver slowly rested his head back against the headboard, looking at the ceiling. His throat bobbed, probably having no idea how to respond. I wondered if he was stuck with the aftertaste too.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He looked at me, saying, “I want to hear, but not if you don’t want to tell.”
I took a long breath. “I was twenty-three when I got married, and a year later, I started teaching kindergarten. I loved the kids and desperately wanted my own, but it made no sense to get pregnant. Evan was still finishing his masters, and once he finished school, the student loans crippled us financially. By the time I was twenty-six, our friends were starting their families, and I couldn’t wait any longer to start our own.
“I was hoping we’d get pregnant right away, but then the abdominal pain began. It was inconsistent, which is why I put off going to the doctor. When I couldn’t handle the pain anymore, Evan took me to the Emergency Room. They drew blood, ran tests, and then a woman came in with an ultrasound machine. Not the cute ultrasound machine where they place the paddle on a pregnant belly and you see the baby inside. This was an internal ultrasound, and it was the first time I was probed by an ultrasound wand.”
I fiddled with the bottle in my hands as I spoke, my nails, peeling at the label as I continued, “At the time I was horrified, and then I was distracted by the sound of a heartbeat. It was only mine which the nurse kindly explained to me before it began. It still hurt. To see an ultrasound image and hear a heartbeat and know that instead of everything being exactly right, something was wrong.