Daffy Duck has been a long-standing joke in our circle that Stacey started many moons ago. Stacey thought she had been around Grayson and Derek long enough master their British lingo. One night we were out for drinks, and some chick was flirting—or at least trying to flirt—with Grayson, Derek, and Max. Stacey, having enough, grabbed her arm and yelled, “Get out of here you, daffy cow!” This put the rest of us in stitches. I don’t know if she’d already had too much to drink, or she really thought it was daffy and not daft.
The girl asked, “What the hell is a daffy cow?” All snarky.
“One level worse than the duck,” Grayson stated seriously, causing another ripple of laughter from us. The girl walked away, confused—or pretty sure we were all nuts. From that day forward, daft cow became Daffy Duck amongst us. It’s funny how the stupidest things can stick for years.
“Shit ... I miss the old days!” Derek’s been saying that a lot. I know he misses Grayson as much as I do. We don’t see each other as much as we used to. It’s a painful reminder.
“Well, Stacey and Max are moving back to New England! That makes it a lot easier for all of us to get together more. I know it’s not the same without Grayson, Derek, but ... I miss you. I miss all of us together.” My nostrils flare.
“Hey, hey, Becs.” He rubs my back.
“Sorry,” I offer, and blow my nose.
“No ... it’s okay. I feel the same way you do. Before you leave, we’ll sit down and try to set up some plans to get together every few months, at least. But you need to bring Ray out here, Bec. If you’re going to keep this house, you’re going to have to learn how to share it with him.” Oh, Christ ... Father Derek is slowly stepping into sermon mode.
“Yes, Father D,” I tease him.
“Oh, Bec!” He shakes his head slowly, then starts chuckling.
“What?” I smile, knowing it’s obviously over a memory.
“Grayson ... he used to say, ‘I don’t know why she calls you Father D. I’m the one who makes her say her prayers!’” His shoulders shake. I’d try to be offended, but it was true, and poor Derek unintentionally caught us in the middle of my prayers several times.
“Yes ... he made me talk to the Lord a lot.” I put a forkful in my mouth.
“Uh, let’s put another quarter in the jukebox, people!” Stacey says, nodding toward Morgan, Diana, and Jasper. Morgan looks around the room as if she’s searching for something. I realize ... she’s looking for the “jukebox.”
“Oh, Morgy, Aunt Stacey just means we should change the subject.”
“Another inside joke?” she asks.
“Yeah, sorta.” I smile.
I actually started that one when Grayson and I were officially dating. We fought a lot in the beginning. He lived in L.A., I in Boston. It was difficult. He always expected me to drop everything when he came to town. It was one thing when it was planned; I always cleared my schedule. Quite often, though, he would fly in randomly and expect me to drop everything. Not just plans with friends, but work as well. I was struggling to get by as it was, and I couldn’t afford to lose either of my jobs. Oh man, did we used to get into it over this! One day, I just yelled at him to put another quarter in the jukebox, I was tired of hearing the same song. Stacey walked in on me saying it and interrupted us long enough to inform me that she was stealing that line. True to her word, she’s been using it ever since!
“Hey, Danni.” I give her a sympathetic smile when she walks back in.
“Hey.” Her voice is quiet. I feel bad now. She was just trying to compliment me. Do her part in cheering me up. When she sits, I reach across the table for her hand and squeeze it. Sorry, without words. She manages a half smile.
“I have a question,” Stacey announces, looking around the table for the duck sauce. “Why the hell are we all squeezing around this small-ass table in here when you have a huge dining-room table that can accommodate all seven of us?” She dips her egg roll.
“Um, I’d say a bunch of lazy asses didn’t want to bother carrying it out there,” I suggest, taking my very last bite. And I mean very last, or I’m going to burst.
“Sounds about right,” Derek agrees and attacks another wing.
“Seriously, how are you all still eating?” I feel sick watching them. Nope ... ugh, I just feel plain sick! I jump up and run to the bathroom, barely making it. Stacey knocks on the door as I give my last heave.
“You okay, Becs?” she asks.
“I think I may need an exorcism,” I groan. Ugh ... yuck. I flush, wash my face in the sink, and rinse my mouth out.
“Mommy, it’s Ray.” Morgan passes me my cell when I come back out.
“I’m not going back in there,” I tell Stacey and nod toward the kitchen before bringing the phone up to my ear. “So, the babies are not a fan of Chinese food,” is how I greet him.
“Eck, sorry, babe. Maybe you should have some soup.”
“Well, right now, I need to stay out of the kitchen. Sorry ... hi,” I sigh.
“Hi. I hate this,” he states.
“I know.” I head into the study and turn on the lamp. I plop into the corner of the plush sofa and throw my feet up. “Hey, sometimes you like my impulsive behavior,” I add, thinking again about yesterday’s shenanigans on his office desk.
“I do, but Christ, Becca, I feel like you’ve been gone for a week, and it’s only been a day. Your timing is really off, baby. I mean, I’m happy you’re doing what you need to do and that you are handling it so well, but ...” he trails off. “We’ve missed all the holidays together now,” he adds. I feel like his switch is pushing hard to flip. This really wasn’t fair to him, especially time-wise.
“You’re right to be upset with me about today, but I had no control over the others,” I say defensively.
“I know that, babe,” he says, his frustration showing no signs of dissipating. “I didn’t call you to fight, Becs.” He keeps his voice soft and steady.
“I don’t want to fight, either. How’s the design for that company coming along?” I inquire, looking for anything to talk about besides how my trip has disappointed him.
“I finished it today. It’s amazing how much a man can get done when he’s not distracted by his girl flashing signs in his face. Demanding signs.” I can sense his slow, sexy smirk. The one he usually makes before blowing a kissing and winking at me.
“See ... silver lining,” I say.
“I’d rather the distraction,” he murmurs.
“Hmm, hey, you know what I was thinking?” I ask, and wonder why we all ask that instead of just saying what we’re thinking.
“What?” I hear a cap pop off. Into the sink it goes!
“McNeil! I better not come home to a sink full of beer-bottle caps!” I snap. I hate when he does that!
“There’s no way I could fill it in a week.” I hear him take a swig.
“You’ve got Derek doing it now! Why is it so hard to throw it in the garbage?” Wow ... hormonal much?
“It makes the beer taste better when you toss the cap into the sink,” he answers.
“That doesn’t make any damn sense!” I say, even though I know he’s baiting me!
“Sure it does!” he starts. “See, you open your beer and toss the cap into the sink. This aggravates the piss out of your girlfriend, causing her to nag you. Makes that first sip that much more enjoyable as you tune her out.”
“You’re an ass!” I giggle. Can’t help it!
“I’ve been called worse, and without the effectiveness of a giggle,” he says. “It’s good to hear you giggle, baby.”
“So, back to what I was saying.” I push myself up straighter on the couch so my back gets more support from the armrest.
“What’s that?”
“What would’ve been your fair bid on this project if your firm’s situation were different?”
“Uh, probably one-point-five mil. Why?”
“Hear me out, Ray, all right?”
“Go ahead,” he says, humoring m
e.
“I think you should try a different approach. Tell them that, while you’d love to do the design and build for them, you can’t possibly give them the type of quality you stand by. Tell them you have to renege on your original bid and raise it by five hundred thousand. Tell them you understand if they want to go with Greerson, but that they should talk with these companies first. Then, give them the list of companies that came to you to correct his work. Then tell them to get back to you ASAP, because you are getting ready to hire people to handle another project you have lined up. You want to make sure you have enough guys to accommodate their needs, as well.” Did he fall asleep? “Ray?” I ask.
“Uh ... yeah, babe, I’m listening.”
“Well?” I wave my hand for emphasis.
“Well, what if they go to Greerson? I don’t know if I can do that, babe ...” he sounds defeated.
“Wow ... do you have any idea where they might have gone?” I ask in disbelief.
“Where what might have gone?” he asks, sounding confused.
“Your balls, Ray. Where did they go? I mean, Jesus! Next thing, you’ll be asking me if your butt looks big in your jeans.” I sigh. I’m saying this in jest, but honestly, this is not my Ray.
“I guess I left my balls at Mass General when I made you my number-one priority for three months!” he yells.
“Hey! Don’t put this on me! I didn’t ask you to stay by my side and ignore your business! It was your choice to flush it down the tubes!” I yell back.
“I stayed by your side because I love you! Nothing else takes priority over you!” He’s even louder now. “Then you say some shit like that, and I wonder why the hell I bother to stick around at all!” He starts to lower his voice. “I know you’re not a heartless bitch, baby, but sometimes you come off that way. The ball just dropped ... Happy New Year.” His tone has changed to flat ... lifeless ... done.
“Ray ... I’m—” I start.
“G’night, Becs.” He cuts me off.
“Wait!” I say, but he hangs up. I text him.
December 31, 2012 9:01 p.m.
Me: Ray, I’m sorry. Please love me tomorrow. :(
Ray: Always. G’night.
Me: G’night.
I open my eyes and look at the clock. It’s 10:30 a.m. Wow. I could lay here for another hour. I was up late last night laughing with Derek, Danni, and Stacey. We were reminiscing some more. Because of my long nap yesterday, I wasn’t tired when everyone went to bed. I stayed up reading the rest of an old novel by Judith McNaught. I snuggle deeper into Grayson’s sweater and inhale deeply. I’m disappointed that he didn’t visit me in my dreams last night.
My eyes shoot open quickly when I feel fingers caressing my face. Ray sits on the side of the bed.
“Hi,” he says, his voice soft. His hand palms my cheek.
“Ray?” I sit up. I’ve already begun to cry. “Are you really here?” I ask, leaning forward and grasping his face in my hands.
“Yeah, baby, I’m here.” He pulls me to him and captures my lips. My mouth opens at his tongue’s beckoning. My tongue meets his and softly they caress each other. Ray begins to climb on top of me.
“No, Ray, don’t,” I gasp, pulling away.
“What?” he whispers in disbelief.
“No, no. I want to.” I kiss him. “Just not in here. This is ... it’s Grayson’s and my bed. This is where I made love to him. I can’t, it just wouldn’t be right.” I search his stormy eyes for understanding.
“Okay. Where can we go?” He stands and pulls me up. I swing my legs around. “Do you need this?” He grabs Grayson’s sweater. He gives me a strange look and raises it to his nose.
“Here, I’ll take it,” I say quickly, trying to reach for it. He pulls away and shakes it open.
“What’s this, Becca?” His nostrils are flaring.
“My favorite sweater of Grayson’s,” I say quietly.
“You put his cologne on it and slept with it?” His jaw twitches now to complement that nose flaring.
“Ray, please.” It’s all I can say because I’m too busy crying. He closes his eyes. I think he’s trying to control his anger. He opens them and tosses the sweater back onto the bed. He grabs my hands.
“Come on. Show me where I can have you.” His voice is low ... sexy. He pecks my lips. “Now, baby.” He squeezes my hand. I grab the clothes on my chaise lounge before I lead him out of the room and head to the guest room that Gray and I never christened.
It seems to take forever to get there. I watch as Ray takes in the architectural design of the house. Habit. He’s finding what he’s impressed by and what he can improve on. As I lead him down a long hall, a memory hits me. A T-shirt of Ray’s is hidden in the back of the third middle drawer of my dresser at the inn. A slow smile comes across my lips. I speed up to walk backward in front of him. I grab his other hand and lead him in. He studies my sudden change of mood, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“I just had a memory of something that has nothing to do with my alter ‘Lucy’ personality.” My smile becomes huge. It ignites a hint of one at the corner of his mouth.
“What is the memory?” He pulls me to him.
“Whenever you sleep over, I swap out your T-shirts.” I bite back my smile. “It all started when you forgot one. I kept it and slept in it so I could smell you. Then, the next time you came over, I swapped them because the first one lost your scent. I keep it in a ziplock bag in my third drawer to hold the scent.” I look up at him as I slowly unbutton his shirt.
“You wore it even when you weren’t ‘on’?” He makes air quotation marks and continues to study me.
“Yes. All the time. It makes me feel safe and loved.” My hands run up his chest to his shoulders and slowly I guide his shirt off. Amusement flickers in his eyes. “What?” I lean up and kiss his lips, thankful his mood seems to be changing.
“I caught you once.” He nudges my lips with his. “I came over early one morning to have breakfast with you. Remember? The girls were with my parents for their yearly Cape Cod trip.” He shakes my hips a bit. I shift my eyes as I try to remember. “I went upstairs to wake you. I was surprised you weren’t helping Hazel with breakfast—thought maybe you weren’t feeling well.” He closes his eyes. “I unlocked your door and walked in.”
“How did you get a key to my room?” I interject.
“I made a copy of it, baby.” His smile is mischievous. I just shake my head at him.
“So I walk in and goddamn it, Becca, there you were. Fast asleep on your belly, facing away from the door. You were wearing my shirt, hugging your pillow, with your right leg bent straddling the blanket on the outside. My shirt had risen above your ass, and your panties hugged your cheek in just the right place. I knew right there, this was either going to be a very good day or one of our worst, because there was no way I could find you like that and not touch you.” He thumbs my lip and collects it. A low groan escapes my throat as he sucks purposefully on it.
“Ray, please tell me more.” I pull away. “I want my memories back.” I turn my face away.
“Just this one, baby, then I want to make love.” He leans his forehead against my temple.
“Okay.” I’m breathless. His fingertips softly strum over my nipples through the fabric of my pajamas. “Ray, please.” I place my hands on his forearms and stare into his eyes. I watch as they dart left to right, taking me in, his fingers still working. My breathing becomes more erratic by the minute—second, really. “Ray.” I close my eyes, getting lost in the erotic feeling of his fingers, the fabric, his blue-gray eyes. “Ah ... Ray, please!” I gasp as he tweaks my nipples harshly, tightly kneading them between his fingertips. My panties are like the Hoover Dam. I squeeze his arms for support as my knees get weak.
“Open your eyes, baby.” His voice is sexy and low. I open my eyes as he continues his torturous play at my nipples. He gives them one last long tug, pulling them toward him and rubbing the tips. I gasp and try to steady my breath. Abruptl
y, he releases them. My hands lose hold as he drops his arms. He practically jumps on top of the bed.
“So, I took my coat off and tossed it onto your chair,” he continues, unaffected while I stand there dizzy with desire. “C’mere.” He holds his hand out to me as I turn toward the bed. I take it, climb up, and lie on my left side to face him. His hand rests on my right hip. “You okay, baby?” he asks, as if I stubbed my toe or something. I nod and rest my head on my left arm. “So, I climbed in next to you and very slowly traced the edge of your panties, then caressed your cheek. You woke and looked over your shoulder. You put your head back down and didn’t say anything. ‘Becs, baby, you have the most fantastic ass,’ I said near your ear. Then I said, ‘Is this my shirt?’ and tugged on it a bit. You looked back at me and said, ‘No. It’s my boyfriend’s shirt.’ You said it so nonchalantly, I took you seriously and a flicker of anger came over me. I swatted your ass. The sound of my hand hitting your skin, the sound that came from you ... Jesus! Something ignited in me that I couldn’t cage. I got off of the bed and ripped my shirt off. You turned, watching me strip down. I could see you becoming more and more nervous. Your eyes widened when I went Full Monty. It was hard to keep the predator look going.”
“Is that what that is?” I touch his face. He smiles.
“I climbed onto the bed and told you I was going to take your panties off. You didn’t utter a word. You lifted your hips when I reached to pull them down. I climbed between your legs and rubbed my dick up and down. Christ, you were so wet, Becca.” He closes his eyes. “I said, ‘Who’s your boyfriend, Becca?’ I waited for your answer. You said, ‘You are, Ray.’ I asked you again. You repeated yourself and pushed toward me, begging. ‘Who?’ I asked again. You said, ‘You, baby.’ And I slammed inside of you. God, baby ... I fucked you so hard—so deep. All the while I kept asking and you kept answering. It was so hot ...” He trails off, lost in the memory. “We stayed in bed that whole day. Oh man, you were so fucking on that day, baby!” He opens his eyes to look at me.
“Like Donkey Kong?” I smile.
Goodbye Uncertainty Page 14