by Christina OW
Kristy rolled her eyes, “Ron has been on this world tour since his dad died and left him the responsibilities of the company. Will thinks he’s trying to run away but his guilt always takes him back to England on occasion to check on their mother.”
I shivered, “It’s amazing, just the mention of dragon Gloria scares me.”
“You and me both sister. But the trick is never to let her see the fear or she’ll swallow you whole.”
Oh I didn’t doubt that but we’d gotten off topic, “Kristy—”
She sighed heavily, “Yeah yeah I know. Ron will be here tonight so go do whatever rituals you have to, to attract him.”
By rituals my sister meant the normal routine a woman went through before a date. Kristy was a tree hugger so make up, hair spray, perfumes and the likes were a taboo for her. And William loved her natural beauty and loved her enough to go off meat. Me… not so much. I love a big juicy cheese burger.
I jumped off the bed and kissed her cheek before dashing out to commence my rituals. I had a billionaire playboy to attract and I was pulling out all the stops.
~*~
“What are you thinking about?”
I cuddled into his side and he wrapped his arm tighter around me. I was naked with Ron, lying in front of a raging fire enjoying the aftermath of some wild sex. This was one of the many fantasies I had about him before I talked myself into writing him off as a love interest.
“Just about the first time we met.”
He fingers trailed up and down my spin giving me the sexy shivers. “William and Kristy’s wedding.”
I snorted, “Repeating vows from a Celtic romance novel at the beach is not exactly a wedding. Good thing Will had a mind to make it legal.”
He chuckled and I could feel it vibrate in his chest where my hand lay, still tracing the tattoo. It fascinated me. I had to remember to ask him about it.
“So what about that day?”
I pushed up onto my elbow to look down at him. He looked different, less grieved. Do I look the same? Was that all I needed to lessen the strangling grip this grief had around my heart after countless other attempts? For how long should I have sex with Ron until everything was bearable? Or how long will it last before I fall back into that dark pit of grief again?
“Sandra…”
“Oh yeah right. You barely noticed me then. I’m talking about the day you stopped over in Manhattan on your way to some jungle in South America—”
“The Amazon,” he cut in.
“—and Kristy kind of forced you to take me out.”
He combed his fingers through my hair, “I noticed you. I’d just received a stern warning to not go sniffing anywhere near you. And Kristy didn’t have to force me to go on that date.” His confession set butterflies in my belly. “What about it?”
“Everything was going so well until the end of the date.” I hinted suddenly feeling as self-conscious as I did that night.
His hand stilled in my hair for a moment before it began stroking again, “It had been a fun date, hadn’t it?”
“So what happened?”
“When we got to my hotel room?”
Hell it was like pulling teeth! “Yes, then. What changed your mind?”
He exhaled loudly dropping his hand from my hair, “Do we have to discuss this now?”
I wanted to say yes but I’d just spent a good hour of nothing but pleasure in his arms and I didn’t want to risk not having that again. I could be classed as a horrible mother using sex to forget my child but I needed the forgetfulness he gave me.
“What does that tattoo mean?”
He flipped, sliding me under him, “No talking remember?”
I nodded, slipping into the world of nothing but sexual ecstasy with him again.
Chapter Five
I don’t know how long I have been sitting here. In the wet grass staring at the sun. It wasn’t up when I woke up from yet another nightmare, bundled myself in Ron’s winter coat and walked out of the cabin. It was really dark then and the mega volt flash light was the only source of light. Everything had been as silent as it was dark. But now the sun was half way up, its golden rays shining on the morning dew and the sounds of little animals coming out of sleep filled the air. I could see my breath in white smoke rising over my face that was thawing out thanks to the sun. I wasn’t too cold anymore and that wasn’t all too good I think. The cold had frozen my mind and now that I was starting to feel warm, reality was seeping into me with the sun rays.
The raw pain hit first. Then the fifty ton sense of despair crushing my heart under its weight came next. Tears choked me and the beautiful vision of the rising sun became a blur of light.
I could feel it. It was dragging me down into its pit and into its embrace again. I had just escaped from last night. Was there no way to fully escape it, this grief from hell? Was I to be its prisoner forever!
Then I felt his heat behind me, through the thick padding of his coat. His legs cradled mine, his arms wrapped securely around me like an anchor, and my descent into the pit came to a halt. But I knew it wouldn’t be for long. The relief never did last long.
“I’m sorry I…” I began in a whisper but couldn’t get anything else past my constricting throat.
He settled his chin on my shoulder, rubbed his rough cheek against my smooth one. It was scratchy but familiar, comforting, warming.
“It’s alright. I have another. See,” he held his hand up for me to see his well padded arm. The brown coat was similar to the black one I wore. He probably had it in three other different colors. Such a diva.
I nodded stiffly, blinking my vision clear and sending hot tears down my cool cheeks. It burned.
“How long have you been out here?”
“A while.”
“And you didn’t get tempted even once to leave?” I shook my head no.
We sat there in silence for a while watching the sun ascent before he spoke again.
“Tell me about Eric.”
I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I don’t know what I expected but not that. No one had ever asked her that. It made me glad that there was one less person who wanted me to forget my son.
“He was such a perfect baby. Barely cried and seemed to love his own company. I used to go to his room and cuddle with him because I was lonely. He made being married to that ass a whole lot easier.”
“He was an angel if he could do that.”
I smiled, “I used to imagine all the things we would do together once he was old enough. All the games I would go to just to cheer him on.”
“Which sport?”
I shrugged finding the question a little ridiculous. “He’d be great at all of them and of course have the brain to match.”
“Of course, an all round jock,” he responded laughingly.
Ass! “There would be a line of girls ready to kiss my ass because they wanted to get in his good graces—him being a mama’s boy and all. We would have that kind of mother—son bond that every other mother would be jealous about. And of course I would be the momzilla who had his back no matter what.”
“Sandra, what are you doing out here?”
“Enjoying the sunrise?” I hedged hoping he would let it be. And he had, I think because he didn’t say a word for like the next ten minutes. It must have been some jedi mind trick because I found myself saying, “I could feel myself being sucked into that black hole and I… last night when we were together I felt something other than agonizing pain… I just needed something to keep me afloat. I don’t want to keep drowning any more, have been for way too long.”
His arms tightened around me and I leaned my head against his, “You are going to have to say the words Sandra. If you have any hope of making it out to the other side, you’re going to have to face it.”
My chin trembled and I clutched tightly to Ron, “I never got to drive him to school or to his friend’s house. I never got to help him with his homework or just do it for him because I was that much of a sucker. I n
ever got to drive him to soccer, baseball or basketball practice or cheer him on during games. I never got to give him embarrassing kisses all over his face in front of his friends because he played so well or passed his exam.”
“Sandra…” Ron’s broken voice filled my ear.
“I’ll never get to cry my eyes out after dropping him off at his college dorm and he never got to hug me in his big strong arms, teasing me of how much of a cry baby I was. I’ll never get to whine about how fast time had gone and how big he was and how easily he could carry me like I used to carry him. I’ll never get to call and text him a thousand times a week because I miss him so much or do his laundry when he came over for the weekend. I bet I would complain about it but still do it anyway because he’d probably have someplace cooler to be but chose to be home with his dear old mom instead.”
“Sandra, this isn’t—”
“I’ll never get to meet the love of his life because he never got the chance to grow up and fall in love. It isn’t fair Ron, it isn’t fair he’s gone so young!”
“I know love, I know.”
“My son is dead Ron, my baby is dead. Eric is dead.” I cried and Ron just held me as I did, not saying a word.
*
“How are you feeling?” Ron asked passing me a glass of water before he sat down beside me on the couch.
“After crying for hours, from morning into the night, I’m feeling a little dry. Keep the water coming,” I croaked. My throat was soar from all the crying and my eyes felt puffy and just as soar. I must look a sight!
He chuckled nodding, “Besides that, how are you?”
“Ron, crying isn’t a quick fix.”
“No, but acceptance in your case is a huge leap in the right direction.”
I drank deeply and then handed him the glass once it was empty, “Thanks. You know, I feel a little better but the hurt is still there.”
He placed the glass on the table then moved closer to me, gathering me in his arms. I snuggled against his chest, loving how his strong arms wrapped around me. I felt safe in them.
“You’ll still hurt love but with time it will lessen, become bearable,” he kissed the top of my head, “You Sandra, are the strongest person I know. Seeing you so broken frightened me but I know you’ll be fine with time.”
There was something in his voice that caught my attention. He sounded despondent. Why?
“Ron, what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean love?” He sounded absent, stroking my hair.
I pulled away so that I could look up at him. He had a distant look in his eyes, a slight frown on his lips and brow. He almost looked like he was in pain but trying hard to hide it. Could it have anything to do with why he ran and hid himself away? Eric’s death had triggered something. What?
I raised my hand to his cheek and stroked it. His light buzz tickled the tips of my fingers. He came awake then, looking down at me with a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You want to tell me what’s bothering you? And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He turned his face in my hand and pressed his lips in the middle of my palm. Innocent yes, but it shot a volt straight to my groan, making my body trembled. I swallowed hard liking my suddenly dry lips. I probably needed another glass of water. Once I met his eyes, I grew more perched. His gaze was heated as he stared into me. That’s right, he stared right into me and sent my body temperature up through the roof. I felt the wet tip of his tongue and quickly jerked my hand away. But he grabbed it, forcefully holding it to his mouth.
“Ron, you’re avoiding the subject.” He’s wet tongue on my palm reduced my voice to a whisper, my body into shivering jelly.
He pulled my hand and draped it over his shoulder. His hands dropped to my hips and I was up off the couch and down straddling his lap in a second.
“Ron…”
“Sandra…” he sighed heavily, “Look, I’m not avoiding anything. I would just rather make love to you than discuss what’s bothering me.”
I crossed my arms behind his neck, “Ah, so there is something bothering you.”
“Yeah,” he began with a sly smile, shifting me on to his crotch then pushing up, “Something is definitely bothering me. Good thing I have you to help relieve it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “Ronald tuck this Casanova version of you—which I do not like very much by the way—back in it’s box and bring back the sweet vulnerable you.”
He dropped his head with a sigh.
“Ron—what are you—” the rest of my sentence was cut off by my shirt going over my head. He had my arms up and my shirt off in a second. I sat there in my bra staring at his smug face in complete shock. “You have stripping women down to a science.”
He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it where he had mine, “I’m quite talented in silencing them too. And I only use my tongue.”
Just the thought of his tongue on me made me mute. And judging by his arrogant smile, the ass knew it. We wouldn’t be talking about his problems for a long time, but I was determined to help him just as he was helping me.
*
As I sit here on the porch swing, staring at nothing but trees, for the first time since Eric died I feel like there was something more than a loose band aid holding my heart together. After weeks of living in the middle of nowhere with Ron, I feel like my heart is stitched up and the healing process had began. I still hurt when I think about my dead baby but it doesn’t drown me, smother me. The grief doesn’t have its hands wrapped around my throat squeezing the breath out of me. I still cry for what I lost, what I was robbed of but I also smile because of what I had with Eric. Ron had a hand in that, in my feeling steady. Each day he asked me to tell him something about Eric and I end up laughing more than I cry. Yes, the memories hurt but they give me comfort.
Chapter Six
“Ron, Ron?” I held the bed sheet tighter around my naked frame and left the bedroom to go in search of Ron. When I woke up the side of his bed was cold so he’d been gone a long time. I made my way down the corridor but slowed when I heard his voice. He was on the phone and his tone suggested…
I shook my head. No way. He wouldn’t be that much of an asshole. He wouldn’t do something as slimy to me.
“Yes love I know I’ve been gone a while but you know business… what kind of business? Since when were you interested in knowing?”
I felt like my neck was in a chock hold and I couldn’t breath. Business? Was that what I was now? Love? I never claimed exclusivity to the endearment but damn it hurt hearing him call someone else that. I walked into the room he was having his phone conversation in just catching his whispered ‘I miss you too can’t wait to fuck that sweet ass again’. I doubled over like I’d been punched in the stomach.
I was back to being that foolish girl again. Building castles with no foundation, a life with a man who didn’t see her as nothing more than a temporary shag. One month we’d been here in what I used to consider our love cabin in the middle of the woods had just been reduced to a shameful tryst by his few words.
“Sandra…”
I held my hand out wading him away, “Don’t. Don’t come near me, don’t speak to me just don’t!” I straightened fighting for a little dignity and stared him down. My vision was blared but I kept myself from blinking.
I waited for some half ass explanation, some of his English charm, seduction but nothing. He just stood there staring at me, with a blank expression. He hadn’t meant for me to hear him but he also wasn’t going to waste his time trying to convince me I heard wrong.
“I can take you home in an hour if you like?”
Oh dear lord that hurt! I shook my head, “No. Just take me to the nearest town and I’ll make my way home myself.”
“Sandra—”
“I’m not asking for your permission nor was it a request! I can’t stand to be near you for more than I have to and I don’t have to endure hours to New Jersey.” I yelled
at him and he flinched.
Quickly, not trusting myself to hold it together any longer, I ran back to our bedroom and quickly got dressed. And just as quick I packed my two bags taking a minute or two to break down. How could I have been such a fool to think this time would be any different? But he didn’t promise me anything and I was the one how suggested adding sex to our mourning process.
I sat heavily on the bed, my face in my hands. I’d made such a mess of my life, it’s a wonder I still get surprised when things keep going wrong.
“Sandra…”
I vaulted up on my feet. Keeping my back to him I palmed dry my face hissing a little when I rubbed my soar eyes a little too roughly.
“I’m ready to leave.”
“Would you like me to take your bags?” he sounded subdued but I wasn’t going to give myself even a second to romanticize it. His hesitance may suggest pity just as it would guilt.
“No, I got it.” I turned around to face him and he looked impeccable. I’d missed it the first time.
His hair was sleeked back with product, his beard and mustache in perfectly cut lines. He wasn’t in a suit but he was in something close to it with his GQ long open neck sweater and dress pants with matching shoes. He was back to being the lady killer Ronald Stanford. No longer was he the mourning Uncle Ron.
I grabbed my bags and hurried outside. I tried to open the car passenger door but it was locked so I stood there stoic, my bags in my hands and waited. I could hear him behind me locking the cabin up. I was tempted to turn around and look at the place where I learned to bear the loss of my son but I was afraid learning that I was nothing but a temporary distraction in the same house would break me. From the look of Ron, the cabin had also served its purpose as did I.
“Would you like me too—”
“I can get my own bloody door just open it!” I bit out.
He moved away from me and walked around the car to his side. He stood facing me but I kept my gaze away for the eons he stood looking at me. When that click that signaled the doors were open, I practically ran to the trunk, tossed my bags in then reluctantly walked to the passenger side. I wish it wasn’t one of those selfish cars with just two seats—the driver and passenger. I got in, did up my seat belt then turned to the door, squeezing against it. I wanted to be far away from him as possible.