Gravity: A Novel

by L. D. Cedergreen

  I tried to stand, but my body was shaking uncontrollably. I leaned against a tree and tried to straighten my skirt. Blood was trickling down my leg. I sat back down on the ground and sobbed into my hands.

  ***

  I woke with tears on my pillow and ran for the bathroom, holding my hair back from my face as I vomited into the toilet. I sat on the bathroom floor, hugging my knees to my chest and sobbed for the sixteen-year-old girl who I had lost all those years ago. Being here was bringing it all back again. Drew was bringing it all back again. I had forgiven him years ago through extensive therapy, and I had forgiven myself, but I feared that maybe, deep down, I would never be healed, that I would never forgive, that I would never forget.

  Fifteen

  I hadn’t heard from Andrew in three days, since the kiss. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I wasn’t exactly banging down his door either.

  Logan showed up with my car sometime in the late afternoon. He had replaced the windshield, and had ordered a new bumper and front fender. I invited him in for an iced tea, and we spent an hour catching up on the big events in our lives that we had missed. We talked about law school, my wedding, and my job at the firm. We talked about his marriage to another local girl, the birth of his daughter, Zoe, his divorce, and the shared custody arrangement that he was suffering through. We didn’t talk about Drew or that night so long ago.

  As I was driving Logan back to Sal’s Garage, we passed by Fred’s, a legendary local hot spot that had been here for as long as I could remember.

  “Let’s stop for a drink,” Logan suggested.

  “I don’t know. I really should get back,” I said, although I took my foot off the gas pedal, and the car slowed.

  “The Gemma I knew wouldn’t have hesitated for a minute. Come on. Have a drink with me.”

  “All right, one drink,” I said, as I pulled off the road and parked the car in the gravel parking lot. The place looked busy already, but, then again, it was one of the most popular bars on the lake. We took a seat at the bar, and the bartender approached us to take our order. She was blonde, the kind of bleached blonde that came right out of the bottle, with blue eyes weighted down by too much makeup. Her breasts spilled out of her hot pink Fred’s T-shirt, and her skin was deeply tanned.

  “Hi, Logan. What can I get for ya?” She eyed him flirtatiously, and he returned the favor, his eyes settling on her half-covered breasts.

  “Hi, Scarlett. We’ll have two Bud Lights and two shots of Patron,” he said, raising two fingers in the air.

  She nodded and walked to the other end of the bar.

  “Wow, you really haven’t changed a bit,” I said, raising my eyebrows at him.

  He laughed and shook his head at me.

  Scarlett came back with two tall glasses of beer and then set two empty shot glasses on the bar before filling them to the rim with the clear tequila. Logan handed me one of the shot glasses and then picked up the other.

  “To old friends and days gone by,” he toasted before bringing the tiny glass to his lips.

  “Here goes nothing,” I muttered and swallowed the contents of my glass. The tequila was smooth but still burned my throat on the way down, and I instantly picked up my beer and drained half of it. Besides my love for a good wine, I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I knew that I was probably already at my limit. Logan held up two fingers again, and Scarlett nodded from where she was standing, practically undressing him with her eyes.

  “Oh, no, I think one shot is enough for me,” I said, shaking my head as Scarlett walked toward us with the bottle of Patron in her hand.

  Logan stood behind me, squeezing my shoulders, and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Come on, Gemma. Loosen up. You’re wound way too tight. I’m getting you loaded tonight.” He kissed my cheek as I looked up at him. His smile was devious, and I knew there was no point arguing with him. I feared the hangover that I would inevitably have in the morning as I poured another shot down the back of my throat.

  The sky was dark, and Logan and I were still drinking. The band had started to play, and I found myself dancing circles around Logan and singing at the top of my lungs. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol or the company of an old friend—a very fun old friend—but I felt myself let go. There were no tests that needed to be taken, no trial that needed to be won, and no husband that I needed to please. It was just me, in the raw, having fun with an authentic smile stretched across my face, a warm flush in my cheeks.

  A slow song started to play, and Logan pulled me into his arms midsentence, without missing a beat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him lead me in a gentle sway while I listened to him finish his story about the black bear that he had run into at the dump.

  “I swear the damn thing was twice as big as the bear we saw on the trail when we were kids.”

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “Besides nearly shit myself?”

  I giggled uncontrollably, resting my forehead on Logan’s shoulder, feeling his chest rumble from his own laughter. And then, lifting up my head, I caught a glimpse of Andrew as he strolled in through the front door. Our eyes met briefly before he turned away and approached the bar. I watched him as he sat down on an empty stool, drained a shot of something, and then sipped beer from a dark bottle.

  I felt a fluttering in my gut, and it took me a moment to realize that it was nerves. I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what Drew was feeling after the other day. Was it a fleeting moment, brought to life from old emotions, or was it something new that was transpiring here and now? And were either of us going to acknowledge it, or were we going to act as if it never happened?

  When the song ended, Logan and I made our way back to the bar. Logan spotted Drew and pulled me in his direction. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Logan slurred.

  “Hey, Logan. Wasn’t expecting you two to be here.” He lifted his chin toward us before taking a long pull from his beer bottle.

  His eyes were cold and sad, and I couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t pleased to see us.

  “So how’s your husband, Gemma?” he asked, his words laced with thick, harsh sarcasm as he avoided looking me in the eye.

  So this was how he was going to play it? I could tell that he was drunk, and I wondered at what point he had become such a mean drunk.

  “Logan, maybe we should go,” I said, not wanting to risk my fragile feelings against Drew’s wrath.

  Drew reached out and grabbed my arm. “No, don’t go. The fun is just beginning.”

  I wasn’t comfortable with his tone.

  He motioned for Scarlett, and she brought us three shots of tequila.

  I was hesitant to keep drinking, but what the hell.

  Drew raised his shot glass. “To the things that never seem to change, no matter how much time has passed.” He tilted his head back and swallowed the contents of his shot glass.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what he was implying, but I could feel my anger bubbling just below the surface. Logan and I both finished our tequila.

  “What the fuck is your problem, man?” Logan asked with his hands on his hips.

  “Easy, Logan. No need to get all riled up,” Drew said, holding his hand against Logan’s expanding chest. Drew turned to me then, his tone still heavy with sarcasm, “Sorry, Gem. That was a dick thing to say.” He took another drink of his beer, avoiding my eyes.

  Logan shook his head back and forth, recovering from his sudden frustration, and leaned over the bar to talk to Scarlett. By the smile on her face, I could only imagine what he was saying to her.

  I stood and watched the couples dancing in front of the stage, their hips and arms swaying in all directions while they shouted familiar lyrics in sync with the band.

  Drew continued to stare with brooding eyes toward nothing in particular behind the bar.

  When the music shifted to a slower melody, the band’s own rendition of “Angel Eyes,” I felt Drew spin around on his stool and grab my arm. I turned to look
at him.

  “Dance with me?” he asked. Before I could respond, he was pulling me out onto the dance floor. He drew me in close until my body was flush against his chest, holding my hand in his while his other hand rested on my lower back.

  I rested my free hand on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes, trying to interpret his expression.

  He pulled me closer, his cheek nearly brushing mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into my ear.

  “For what?” I asked, my voice competing with the noise of the band.

  “For what I said, the way I acted. I walked in and saw you with Logan, and it brought back too many memories.” He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “He knows you’re married, right?”

  “Of course. And he doesn’t feel that way about me anyway, Drew. He never did.”

  “That’s what you think. I love the guy to death, I do. But he sleeps with everything without a penis, married or not.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Drew’s portrayal of Logan. Drew wasn’t far from the mark, but that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t fall into the category of “everything without a penis.”

  “I might as well have a penis. He views me like he views you, as just one of the guys.”

  Drew’s head fell back as he laughed, a huge grin spread across his face. “You’re crazy if you think any man could envision you as one of the guys, Gemma. Look at you.” He stepped back, keeping one hand in mine and the other still on my back, but his eyes scanned my body from head to toe. “You’re gorgeous.”

  I hit him in the chest. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me,” I said, as I pulled myself flush against him, interrupting his perusal of my body. Inside I was high-fiving myself. He thinks I’m gorgeous. And then I thought of our kiss, feeling a familiar warmth flood my insides.

  “You know I wanted you so bad back then, right?”

  “What?” I asked, remembering that last summer that I saw him, feigning obliviousness.

  “Oh, yeah. Wet dreams and all.” He laughed, and I smacked the back of his head, playfully.

  His voice grew more serious. “I wish that things would have turned out differently.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, his comment bringing me back to that night. A night that I wanted to forget. An instant chill swept over me, replacing the warmth that I had felt just moments before. My body tensed against his, and he pulled me in closer. Silence fell over us, and I sensed that he knew he had said too much.

  The song was fading, coming to an end, and I stepped back, out of Drew’s arms. “I need another drink,” I said, as I made my way toward the bar with Drew on my heels. Logan was still monopolizing Scarlett’s attention when I asked her for another round. She reluctantly turned from Logan’s gaze to fill three more shot glasses, which she set down in front of us, filled two glasses with beer from the tap and uncapped a bottle for Drew.

  ***

  I wasn’t sure at what point I could not feel my lips, or my legs for that matter, but I was pretty sure that I consumed more alcohol than I had since college. The three of us closed down the bar. I hadn’t had that much fun in years, and, for just a few moments—with our trio in full attendance—I felt like that girl again, the carefree girl who I used to be.

  We piled into Drew’s Jeep with Scarlett at the wheel. My head had started to spin or maybe the world around me when I heard Scarlett ask, “Where to?”

  “My place, Kalispell Bay,” Drew slurred.

  We stumbled into Monroe Manor, and I was instantly assaulted with memories. Good memories. The place still smelled the same, reminding me of the early years when Drew’s mom used to make huckleberry pancakes for dinner and read us stories in front of the fire on rainy days. When we were older and his mother was gone, Matilda—the Monroes’ housekeeper and nanny—would make us French bread pizzas and chocolate milkshakes while we played pool or foosball in the game room. Although after Katherine passed away, we had spent most of our time at my cabin.

  Scarlett’s high-pitched squeal pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see Logan chasing her up the stairs. The guy really hadn’t changed—the ladies were still eating out of his palm.

  Drew walked around the kitchen island and opened a cabinet, retrieving two glasses which he filled with water from the filtered tap. I walked over to the two-story-high windows that faced the lake. Although the few lights on in the cabin were dim, it was too dark to see anything outside other than a blanket of stars and a sliver of a moon. I could see my own reflection in the window as well as Drew’s as he came up behind me. He handed me a glass of water once he was standing beside me.

  “Thanks,” I said, my heart thudding in my chest. My head was cloudy, and my body heavy, weighted down by the amount of tequila still running through my veins. But, on the inside, I felt light as a feather. I was floating on a cloud of something; I wasn’t sure what. We stood in silence, staring into the night. It was hard to ignore the fact that we weren’t those two kids anymore, best friends, seeing the two grown-up reflections in the window side by side. After several minutes had passed and our water glasses were empty, I turned from the window and walked into the kitchen. My steps still wobbly with intoxication.

  “Well, I should go,” I said, as I set my glass on the marble countertop.

  Drew came up behind me, setting his glass next to mine; he grabbed my wrist and turned me until I was facing him. Without warning, he leaned down and kissed me, while drawing me closer with his arms wrapped around my lower back. Unable to process what was happening, my body took over, and I kissed him back as my hands found their way around his neck. He kissed me with such intensity, his tongue weaving around mine, that a moan escaped my lips. My entire body came alive under his touch.

  He lifted me until I was sitting on the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair. For a mere thirty seconds, my hazy thoughts drifted to Ryan. I hadn’t kissed anyone but him, like this, in so long that Drew’s tongue in my mouth should have felt foreign, but there was something so right about the moment. Ryan’s indiscretions filled my bitter heart, and I kissed Drew back with more determination. I could feel the hard definition of his chest pressed up against mine, his warm, strong hands on the bare skin of my back where he held me underneath my shirt. Desire pooled in my gut, heat building in my core, as I lost myself in him.

  It wasn’t long before he was walking toward the master suite with my body still wrapped around him. He laid me down on the bed, and my legs untangled from his waist as he pulled away from me. I felt the sudden loss of heat the moment his body left mine. I watched him in anticipation of what was to come as he pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans, letting them fall to the ground. I was mesmerized by the sharp cuts of his chest and abdomen, and the defined V that led to his man parts beneath his boxers. The man before me was more amazing than the teenage boy that I remembered, and I ached to reach out and run my hands over his body.

  I sat up on the edge of the bed as he grabbed the hem of my tank top and began to pull it off. I raised my arms slowly over my head as he lifted it from my body. He interlaced our fingers and pulled me to stand in front of him. Tenderly sweeping my long hair from my neck, he slowly kissed me behind the ear, trailing gentle kisses along my neck, collarbone, and finally the top of my breasts, where they spilled out of black lace. I felt his hands reach behind my back and unclasp my bra, peeling the straps down my arms—one at a time—until it fell to the ground. His warm hands cupped my breasts firmly as his tongue found my mouth once again. My legs were shaky from the sensations that Drew’s touch evoked, so I wrapped my hands around his neck to steady myself. My cropped skinny jeans were next as he pulled them from my body before pushing me back gently against the bed.

  My thoughts were incoherent at this point. I was all body, all sensation, relishing in the way Drew made me feel. His hands and mouth worshiped every inch of me until I was reduced to a panting, pleading bundle of need, practically begging to feel him inside me.
The incredible sensation I felt when he finally was inside me nearly sent me over the edge. He hovered above me, whispering my name with the first few penetrating thrusts, the passion between us escalating from slow and gentle to rough and urgent and then back again as he made love to me for hours. I lost sight of everything beyond Drew. Aware of only him as he moved our bodies from one place to another; shifting seamlessly from above me to beneath me and then behind me, taking and giving, his movements tender and yet demanding. His touch reminding me of what my body could do, what my body could feel. It had been too long since I had felt like this.

  Sixteen

  I awoke in the morning, my heart pounding in my head. The sun was streaming in through the tall windows, and it took a moment to remember where I was. My location was made perfectly clear when my eyes found Drew asleep next to me. The sheet was barely covering his manly parts. I took a moment to watch his chest rise and fall with his breath; even in sleep he was beautiful. My spotty memory from last night filled my mind, and I jolted to a sitting position.

  “Oh, my God,” I muttered to myself. I suddenly felt sick and not because of what I had done, but seriously sick. I ran, completely naked, to the bathroom. Barely making it in time, I threw up in the toilet. I splashed water on my face and rinsed my mouth. Ugh, why did I drink so much last night? I thought. I wrapped a large fluffy towel around myself before returning to the bedroom.

  I found Drew sitting on the edge of the bed with his face buried in his hands, the sheet wrapped around his waist.

  I moaned and crawled back into bed, pulling the down comforter over me.

  “I am so sorry, Gemma,” he groaned.

  “For what?” I asked, rolling onto my side, staring at his back and the way he was hunched over.

  “For last night,” he said, turning to face me, gripping his hair in his hand. “You’re married, and I’m not that guy. I just . . . I don’t know what came over me.”

  I propped myself up with my elbow and looked into his eyes. “Drew, don’t apologize. Please, don’t apologize. Last night was amazing, from what I remember anyway.” Sighing out loud, I slumped back down on my back, my head sinking into the plush pillow and added, “My marriage is . . . complicated right now.”