Smoke Signals

by Catherine Gayle

  The whole time, I focused on my husband. As much as I wished it were different, my stomach had fluttered when I first caught sight of him out there, and the flutters had only intensified when he’d sought me out. I was an absolute mess.

  I should have tried harder to keep my distance from Razor, even though we’d married. I shouldn’t have allowed him to see my pain, and not just the physical pain. Once he’d recognized my weaknesses, he’d used them to work his way into my heart, and now I was more vulnerable than ever before.

  Because I loved him.

  And I was terrified I would lose him.

  The immigration interview was scheduled for a week after Razor’s mother left. She was due to arrive in a few days. That meant I had less than three weeks to decide what to do and how to go about answering the interviewer’s questions.

  I didn’t know if I could handle being forced to leave Razor behind. Somehow, I’d kept myself together with glue and duct tape over the years, but I didn’t think my usual tricks would be enough this time.

  The puck dropped, and the game began, but it couldn’t compete with the game playing out in my mind.

  “MAYBE I SHOULD wait in car,” Tori said, her nerves shining through in the way she was clutching her purse to her chest and nibbling on her lower lip. She didn’t do the purse-clutching thing as much anymore. It usually only came out when she was scared about something, like meeting my mother. The lip nibbling was something I doubted she would ever stop doing. I didn’t mind that part, other than it being a sign of her discomfort. It made me think of nibbling on her lip…or on another set of her lips.

  Not something I needed to be thinking about when we were moments away from having my mother with us. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for her luggage to come. I don’t want you waiting out here. Besides, she’s going to want to meet you right away.”

  We were still about five minutes away from the airport, but with every minute that passed, the anxiety eating Tori alive from the inside became more pronounced, clogging the air in my car.

  “But she wants to see you first. Alone is better.”

  “Better for who?” I almost laughed when I asked, but I wasn’t sure she’d see the humor in the situation. “If you don’t come with me, she’ll think I’m hiding you away. Like I’m ashamed of you or something. I’m not ashamed of you.”

  In the last few days, I’d been making a greater effort to be sure everyone in my life knew it, too. Tori hadn’t said a word to me about the move Mrs. Jernigan had tried to pull on her before the game the other night, but Hunter had filled me in. Tallie had been so upset by it that she hadn’t let him get a wink of sleep that night, railing about not only Mrs. J’s hypocrisy but the cattiness of some of the other WAGs. It made my blood boil, too, but I couldn’t lay into the team owner’s wife. All I could do right now was damage control.

  I reached for Tori’s hand across the center console. She let me take it, but the rest of her body shied away from me. More and more since that night when I’d first helped her to orgasm, she was distancing herself. Shutting me out.

  She was killing me.

  All I wanted was to get closer, but she was actively rebuilding her walls. Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Maybe I’d gone too fast, not giving her the time and space she needed to keep up.

  I watched the world go by as I drove, since Tori didn’t seem inclined to talk. Even though I’d lived in Tulsa for a year now, I still wasn’t used to the differences in the weather and seasons. By now—early October—anywhere else I’d ever lived, the trees would be turning colors, and temperatures would be feeling cool and crisp. Here, everything was still green—or actually, closer to brown due to the drought we’d been in—and it was hot enough out most days that we needed to run the air conditioner. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. The reds, oranges, and yellows in autumn had always helped me to feel like hockey season was truly upon us. It was starting already, but nothing looked right to me.

  I turned into the parking lot at the airport and pulled into the first open space I found. Once I’d put the car in park and shut off the engine, I turned to Tori again. “Come on.” I gave her a smile, hoping it would help put her mind at ease. “It’ll be fine. Mom’s not going to give you a hard time or anything. She’s cool. And I’ll be with you.”

  Big, gray eyes looked up at me, pleading, but Tori sighed and unfastened her belt.

  Once I got around the car, I put an arm around her waist, drawing her to my side to reassure her. She did the same, actually hugging me to her side as we entered the baggage claim area. Her signs of affection had gotten to be more common in recent weeks, but for her to do something like that in public took me by surprise.

  We found the carousel for Mom’s flight and searched out a spot where she’d be able to find us. I brought Tori around in front of me and held her close, resting my chin on the top of her head.

  “Razor?” she said tentatively.

  “Hmm?”

  “What will you do if they deport me?”

  I stiffened, immediately tense and on guard. “They’re not going to deport you.”

  “But if they do. You find nice American girl and get married? Have babies with her? Someone like Katie.”

  “I don’t want someone like Katie. I want you.”

  “If they deport me—”

  “Hold up,” I said, setting her back from me so I could see her eyes. “They’re not going to deport you. We’re doing everything right. We’re going to do this interview, and they’re going to see that this is a real marriage, not a sham, and then we’re going to go on and live our lives like normal.”

  “Even if interview goes well, Greg said won’t be over then. Have to stay married for years.”

  Then understanding hit me like a cheap shot. “So what are you saying? You don’t want to be married to me for years?”

  “No, I—” Tori turned and started to walk away, but I took her hand to stop her.

  “What? You what?” I tipped her chin so she’d look at me, but her eyes were lidded. “Talk to me, Tori. Don’t run away.”

  “I’m not running away.”

  True to her word, she stayed put. But she didn’t start talking.

  I kneaded her shoulders, trying to wipe away whatever had her so tense. I had to get her to talk to me, even though this wasn’t the most ideal place for a conversation of this nature. “What’s going on in your head, baby?” I murmured.

  “You’re good man, Razor,” she said.

  But then Mom walked up before I could get her to tell me anything else.

  “There’s my boy,” Mom said. I turned to hug her, but she stretched up on her toes and planted a smacking kiss on my cheek. She backed up a step, both hands on the sides of my face like she’d always done, patting me affectionately. Then she turned to Tori, immediately wrapping my shocked wife up in a hug. “Good to finally meet you. Ray’s told me all about you.”

  Tori went stiff as a board, but she let Mom fawn over her for a few moments before working herself free. I should have warned her that my mother was the touchy-feely sort. She didn’t have many boundaries, and she’d never had a filter. The two of them couldn’t be more opposite, beyond the fact that they’d both worked in the sex trade.

  Still, whatever it was that had Tori worked up would have to wait. I needed to give her time to acclimatize herself to Mom, and that wasn’t going to be easy.

  For either of us.

  AFTER DINNER, I went into the kitchen to clean up since Mom had cooked. She’d insisted on it, saying it had been ages since she’d been able to cook a meal for her little boy, and it would be good for her. Despite the fact that she still thought of me as her little boy, I could appreciate the fact that she would likely always want take care of me. Plus, I loved her spaghetti and meatballs like nobody’s business.

  But while I was busy with the dishes, Mom cornered Tori in the living room. I turned down the faucet so I could listen in. After all, if she’d meant for it t
o be a private conversation, she would have taken Tori to another room.

  “So I’m going to be completely up front with you,” Mom said. “When Ray told me he’d married you and what your history was, I felt the need to look you up and find out how much shit you’ve been through.”

  “You watched my porn?”

  “Enough of it. Enough to know that you’ve probably got some really skewed ideas about sex because of it.”

  Tori shrugged. “Sex is sex. Not important.”

  I banged a couple of skillets around so they wouldn’t realize how closely I was listening. And maybe because sex was a hell of a lot more than just important, and I didn’t think she really believed what she’d said for a minute. Not with the way she’d been throwing herself at me for the last several months. Not with sex being one of the areas we’d compromised.

  “Bullshit,” Mom said, and I wanted to cheer her on. “Sex is important, especially when you’re in a relationship with a man who loves you.”

  “Razor doesn’t love me.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact manner, albeit one filled with heartache, that it ripped me in two.

  “Honey, I can promise you, you’re wrong about that one,” Mom said.

  I froze, the water still flowing over my empty hands.

  Not only did Tori not believe I loved her, but she was so sure of it that she couldn’t see any other possibility. Mom was positive of the opposite. But that begged the question: which one of them was right?

  I knew I was crazy about Tori. I thought about her all the time, and I sure as hell cared about her enough that I was willing to be patient in helping her through all her issues. Not only that, but it scared the ever living fuck out of me that she might not want to remain married to me long enough to see the immigration process through, and my fear wasn’t solely related to what would happen to her when she got back to Russia. The thought of losing her was enough to rip me a new asshole.

  As far as I could tell, that meant I loved her.

  Which meant Mom was right. Of course she was. Mom was always right.

  Tori didn’t respond. She sat there staring at my mother like she’d lost her mind.

  Mom sat up straighter and tucked one leg under the other beneath her. That was her getting-down-to-business pose, so I picked up another pot and started scrubbing.

  “Ray tells me you’re seeing a physical therapist about your vaginismus?”

  I’d never seen Tori blush until now. Usually, her face lost all color and she went deathly pale. Leave it to my mother to be the one to bring out this side of her. She nodded. “Going to therapy and practicing at home.”

  “And is it helping?”

  Nothing more than a quick jerk of her head.

  “Well, that helps with the physical part of things. He said you were also supposed to be going to a counselor. A sex therapist?”

  “We went,” Tori said, her voice quavering.

  “Both of you?”

  “Razor came, too.”

  “And is that helping?”

  “Went twice. I don’t want to go back.”

  “Why don’t you want to go back?”

  Tori’s head turned toward me.

  I busied myself with vigorously scrubbing an already perfectly clean pan. The truth was, I wanted to hear her answer.

  We’d gone to the counselor twice, like she’d said. The first session had hardly been more than a getting-to-know-you appointment. She hadn’t made any progress that time. The second time, the counselor had focused on Tori’s parents and all the losses she’d experienced. She hadn’t been inclined to talk about them much with the woman, who was still a stranger, and she didn’t want to go back. So far, other than telling the counselor that Tori had worked in the porn industry, nothing had been said about her sexual issues at all, which wasn’t likely to do her much good.

  Apparently, Tori got the clue that I wasn’t going to help her answer my mother. She sighed. “Counselor won’t help. She wants to talk about dead parents, not about sex. And my only problem with sex is pain. Physical therapy is helping that.”

  “Honey, let’s get real. Pain is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to your problems with sex. In fact, the pain may very well have come about because of your other problems. That’s why you have to go to the counselor.”

  “I just… I can’t.”

  “Maybe it’d help if you went alone. Without Ray. Then it’d just be you and the counselor, and you wouldn’t have to worry about Ray hearing whatever you have to say. And then, if it’s something he needs to hear, you can tell him on your own, when you’re ready.”

  Tori hemmed and hawed for a minute, but she finally gave in. I had a feeling Mom was giving her one of her trademarked looks that had always made me squirm until I agreed to go along with her. She’d had twenty-eight years to perfect her Mom Looks, and she’d made excellent use of the time.

  Once she’d gotten Tori to see things her way, Mom changed the subject to safer territory—what we’d be having for breakfast tomorrow, since it was a game day and I had to make sure I ate properly.

  I finished up the dishes and headed out to join them. Tori was still sitting sideways on the couch, facing Mom, so I sat behind her and drew her back against me. She glanced over her shoulder at me, tense for only a moment, but then she settled in and let me hold her.

  A couple of hours later, we were still exactly like that when Mom got up and stretched.

  “I’m going to bed. Traveling takes it out of me.” She winked. “You two be good. Remember, Ray, you’ve got a game tomorrow.”

  Not that I could forget. And I didn’t miss her veiled warning, either. Personally, I’d always thought that a good orgasm or two the night before a game helped me perform better, though, so I had no intention of paying it much heed.

  “Night, Mom,” I said, laughing.

  She disappeared down the hall, waving as she went.

  Now was my chance to have a conversation with Tori, and based on the events of the day, there were a lot of things we needed to talk about. I waited until Mom’s door closed.

  Then I braced myself, because Tori was sure to dig in her heels. This time, though, I couldn’t let her out-stubborn me. I needed answers. And she needed the truth.

  AS SOON AS the soft snick of the door closing reached us, Razor’s posture changed. Up until then, I’d been leaning against him while his arms draped loosely around my waist in a deceptively casual position. Not anymore. Now, he sat up straighter and rubbed his hands up and down my upper arms, and my mind instantly raced to determine his intentions.

  This definitely wasn’t him preparing for either sex or romance. It felt more like he was readying for a father-son sort of talk, like the ones you’d see in American sitcoms.

  I wasn’t in any kind of mood for that after the discussion I’d already had with his mother tonight. That had been more than enough to last me for the next decade or two. I sat upright and slid out of his grasp.

  “Tori.” His voice was soft, despite the edge of authority held in his tone.

  He might be my husband, but he wasn’t my owner. The entire time we’d been married, he’d been reminding me that I was the one in control of myself, my life. Not him or anyone else. It was about time I listened to that.

  I got up, shrugging off his hands. “Tired, too. I’m going to bed.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Not now. Later. Tomorrow.” Too much had happened already. Mental and emotional exhaustion had completely taken over my life lately, and today had pushed me to the brink of what I could handle.

  “Mom’s right,” he said when I was halfway down the hall.

  I stopped. Turned slightly, mainly just my head, until I could see him. He’d gotten up and started to follow me. Right about what? She’d said a lot of things, none of which I’d been in any mood to hear. I shook my head in confusion.

  “She’s right that I love you.”

  Razor didn’t love me.

  I shook my head,
unable to allow myself to believe his words.

  Because if he loved me, it would only magnify the pain when I was eventually sent away. My own heart breaking was something I could find a way to handle. I’d experienced that more than enough to get through it again. At first, it would be overpowering. Debilitating. All consuming. But with time, the sharp, piercing ache would dull to a steady throb. It wouldn’t ever truly go away, but I could learn to live with it. It would simply become part of me, like the calluses on my feet from my dancing in toe shoes.

  But the thought that he would hurt just as deeply… That was too much.

  “I do love you,” he said, and the first of my tears fell.

  He closed some of the distance between us, but I backed away. I was too fragile. One touch would be all it took to shatter me. I’d burst into billions of pieces the size of a speck of sand.

  “Tori,” he said. Just my name. Pleading.

  A vise inside my chest squeezed out all my air. “Don’t.” It was all I could get out, a harsh, jagged, broken word, but it was everything. Don’t come closer. Don’t touch me, because I’ll only love you more. Don’t let yourself love me. Don’t believe in fairy tales, because they’ll never come true. Don’t let them send me away.

  But he didn’t listen to me.

  In three determined strides, he was there. In front of me. Touching me.

  He cradled my face between both his hands, tipping it up so our lips met. Soft. Tender. Reverent. He kissed me in a way no man ever had before. Like I was worth the effort of holding himself back, taking his time. Like I ought to be handled with care.

  Despite myself, I grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged him closer to me, holding on as though my life depended on it. At the moment, that assessment might not be too far from the truth.