Lost In Paradise

by Allie Boniface

  She didn't miss it. Not one bit.

  At the end of the cul-de-sac, she swung her VW in a slow circle. She couldn't stay in Paradise. It wasn't her home. She had no ties here, not really. But the thought of joining the rest of her family on Martha's Vineyard next weekend turned her stomach. The thought of seeing Colin again tied her up in knots. Not there, not here. So where did she belong?

  A door opened suddenly, and a beam of light speckled one of the driveways to her right. A black Lab emerged, sniffing the air. It meandered down the lawn and flopped onto its back. Legs straight up, it rolled from side to side on the wet grass. Ash could see its tongue lolling from its mouth.

  "Angus!” The voice was a hiss in the darkness. “Stop that!” Into the frame of light waddled a woman so pregnant, she looked as though she might fall over.

  Ash smiled. Dottie Warren stopped into the restaurant once in a while after her shift at the Post Office.

  "I told Mick I didn't need to do desk duty,” she'd told Ash over a vanilla milkshake and french fries last week. “Told him I could still deliver on the route. Christ, I been through this three times already. But you know how men are. Always think they know what's best..."

  Ash raised a hand to wave, though she knew the woman couldn't see her. Still, as she drove by, she thought Dottie took an extra look at her car, tucking away the color and the silhouette of its driver. After a moment, the dog peed and trotted back inside. Dottie shut the door, and the outside light turned off again. Ash grinned. Tomorrow or the next day, she knew, the woman would amble into the restaurant and ask Ash what she was doing on Miller's Circle after midnight.

  No secrets in this town. You know that. The minute you tell Eddie who you are, word will spread. Everyone will know. And everything will change. She yanked the rubber band from her ponytail and let her hair fall to her shoulders. The breeze picked up as she pulled away from the stop sign and gave the car some gas.

  "Well, so what if it does?” she said aloud. She couldn't pretend anymore. She was tired of living a secret. It was too damn hard. Ash tightened her fingers around the steering wheel. She knew what she had to do to make things right.

  "I'm going to tell him,” she decided. “I'm going to tell Eddie everything.” And they would take it from there.

  She bit her bottom lip and hoped he would still look at her the same way afterwards. She hoped he would still wrap those strong arms around her, still press his lips against hers, and still pull her into his embrace like there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

  * * * *

  It was after one by the time she killed the engine and gathered up her house keys. Ash dragged herself up the sidewalk. Do I see if he's still up? Or do I wait until tomorrow? I want—She didn't know what she wanted. That was the problem.

  She pushed open the front door, which he'd left unlocked. The porch light still burned, too. All good signs. Ash stood in the foyer and studied the stairs, working up the nerve to knock on Eddie's door. She took one step forward, raised her hand, then glanced down at herself and realized she probably smelled like the kitchen back at Blues and Booze. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped back again.

  Tomorrow, when I've had a shower and some sleep and we can talk about this rationally.

  But when was the last time she'd done anything rationally, when it came to Eddie West? Her hand reached up and knocked before she could stop it. “Eddie?"

  She heard nothing for a minute. Oh, God. What if he's in there with someone? What if he really did change his mind? She guessed there were half a dozen women in Paradise who'd be more than happy to warm his bed and soothe his wounded ego.

  Ash traced a crack on the floor with one toe. Her chest tightened. She knocked once more and waited a long sixty seconds. Well, if he was home, he wasn't answering. It would have to wait until tomorrow, after all. She turned to go.

  "Ash?"

  She'd almost made it to the stairs by the time his door swung open. Eddie stood on the other side, bare-chested and dozy-eyed. He wore a pair of cut-off sweats and nothing else.

  She forgot how to breathe.

  "What time is it?"

  "I'm sorry.” The words came out in a rush. “I shouldn't have—were you sleeping?"

  He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, standing it up on end. “Watching TV.” He paused for a moment, then pushed the door open all the way. “Want to come in?"

  "Okay."

  The living room smelled of him, of that complicated scent she associated with baseball games and late nights on the porch and winks in the bar as he sat and watched her count tips. Ash stopped near the recliner and looked around. The kitten, now a few pounds rounder in the belly, slept on a towel Eddie had tucked into a cardboard box.

  "You ever give it a name?"

  He closed the door and stepped beside her, breathing the words into her ear. “Call ‘im Tiny. Seems to like it."

  She smiled. “Fits him."

  He sat on the edge of the couch. “So?"

  "I'm sorry.” Second time in less than five minutes. Why don't I just apologize my way into tomorrow? But there didn't seem to be any other words to fit the enormity of what she needed to say.

  "Sit.” Eddie cocked his head at her. “Stop being so goddamned nervous and tell me what's going on."

  "It's complicated.” She worked her way toward him.

  "So, start with something small.” He leaned back as she edged onto the couch. “Start with—I don't know. Why you decided to leave Boston."

  Ash laughed. “I wouldn't call that something small.” That's the biggest part of what I need to say. And the hardest.

  He didn't say anything, didn't press, didn't keep questioning. He just studied her with his intent gaze, until she felt sure he'd stripped off every last stitch of clothing she wore and saw through to the heart that beat erratically under her skin.

  One hand worked its way across the cushion, until it rested on his bare leg. “What happened the other night...” she began.

  "Was nice. Was good. Should happen a lot more."

  She let out a long breath. “Yeah."

  Eddie's hand reached for hers, and five fingers entwined hers. Ash let her gaze move across his chest, over the pale fuzz that spread there. Up to the tattoo on his triceps. Over to his square chin, that bobbed when he spoke too fast or got too excited. Down, just for an instant, to the waistband of the cut-offs that dipped below his navel. Then up, where blue eyes met hers and a mouth looked as though it waited for her to make up her mind.

  "There's so much I need to tell you."

  "Okay.” Eddie pulled her toward him, working his hand from hers. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her across the pillows, so that her curves melted into his.

  "Eddie...” But there was nothing she wanted to say. Nothing she wanted to explain. A dizzying rush of desire came over her, so strong and so sudden that she felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

  His mouth moved to her neck. Her earlobe. Her cheek. His tongue tasted her, teased her. Achingly slow. Taking its time. One hand moved to the small of her back, where cotton pulled away from skin. She heard a quick breath, a gasp of pleasure, and realized seconds later that she'd made the sounds.

  In agonizing layers Eddie peeled it all away: her T-shirt, her bra, her shorts, the lacy pink panties she'd chosen carefully that morning, hoping and not hoping that this moment might unfold. Then he moved over her, and she saw herself reach for him, tear away the sweats that remained between them until there was nothing at all but skin upon skin and desire filling the room from ceiling to floor.

  * * * *

  It was nothing like being with Colin. It wasn't like anything Ash had experienced with anyone, ever before, this movement that carried her far from the house on Lycian Street, out over the treetops and to some distant island where all she could feel was a gentle undulating wave beneath her. It swelled to sweet pleasure, rising closer and closer to a breaking point that promised to come and then never did. B
ehind her eyelids, fifty different colors blended together, sparklers of light that took her breath away. She wrapped her arms around Eddie. She felt the skin of his back, tasted the salt of his neck, etched the burn of his beard into her memory.

  He murmured into her temple. He stroked the edge of her collarbone. And when she pulled back to look at him, she saw such tenderness in his gaze that she thought she might weep. Eddie gathered Ash up in his arms and held her above the rough fabric of the couch, pressing her to him as the wave continued. Her mouth fell onto his shoulder, teeth burying themselves in the soft skin there because it was all she could do to keep from whimpering aloud. She shuddered as he rose toward her, into her, faster and faster. It was a splitting apart, an aching at both ends, a pulling, a reaching, a sigh that escaped her lips and his. And then ... then it was the sweetest coming together of all, a filling up in her belly, in her soul, in the tips of her toes, the answer to a question she'd never even thought to ask.

  In muted tones, Ash cried out, begging Eddie to stop, to go on, to lose himself inside her. And he did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eddie slept better than he had in months—in years, really. At one point he woke, as early morning sunlight slipped through his bedroom window. Outside, the garbage truck dumped buckets of recyclables, shattering glass and clanking tin cans against cement. A car horn beeped. The church downtown struck the hour. He ran a hand across his chest, savoring the heaviness of morning-after satisfaction, though it had never before been so solid, so comforting.

  He moved one foot and touched her, felt Ash's warm, sleek skin next to his. She's here. I didn't dream it. He turned over, with that lazy pleasure of knowing there was nowhere else he needed to be, no work commitments to fulfill, no bad dreams to outrun. Wrapping one arm around her, he pulled her into him, still naked. He curved around her. Her spine melted into him, her breathing deepened, and even in half sleep he felt himself rise against her. Something moved at the bottom of the bed, and after a moment, he felt the brush of kitten fur against his bare shoulder. Tiny settled into the sheets, one paw patting at him, until the cat too fell asleep. Its purr rumbled to a quiet snore.

  Eddie closed his eyes. The perfect morning. I wish all of them could be like this.

  * * * *

  "Eddie?"

  He swam up from dreams at the sound of her voice.

  "Eddie.” This time she nudged him, pressed a warm knee against his side and murmured the word into his ear.

  He rolled over and opened one eye. “Morning."

  Ash smiled. Her hair, loose and messy, fell over her forehead. “Good morning yourself.” She glanced toward the living room. “You hear that?"

  He shook his head and propped himself up on one elbow. One hand smoothed its way over her hips, rising to soft curves under the sheets.

  "It sounded like a knock."

  Eddie shrugged and bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “Didn't hear anything.” The sheets fell away from them, and he moved his hands across the ridges of her collarbone. Then down. He was ready for round two, no doubt about it. Usually for him, the morning after meant quick trips to the bathroom, fumbling for clothes, awkward joking about breakfast. Not this time. He felt no rush, no wondering, no moment of second thought. With Ash, it felt as though they'd done this a hundred times.

  She shifted under his touch, and her eyes closed. Her breath hitched. He leaned in to taste the curve of her breast and stopped. There it was, a polite sort of pounding from about a hundred feet away. Maybe closer. Definitely outside number two Lycian Street.

  "Probably a salesman,” he murmured. “Or some kid selling candy."

  He felt Ash laugh, felt her ripple beneath him. “You're not in the mood for Girl Scout cookies this morning?"

  "Mmm ... no. But I can tell you what I am in the mood for."

  "Hello?” This time a voice accompanied the knocking. A male voice Eddie didn't recognize.

  Ash sat straight up, and the covers fell from her shoulders. All color drained from her face.

  "What's wrong?"

  She didn't speak. She only raised both hands to her chest and clutched at her skin as if to shut him out. In slow motion her head turned in the direction of the voice, and when she looked back at Eddie, something in her eyes had changed.

  A pause. Some footsteps. Then the knocking came again, closer this time. Eddie realized that someone—Helen?—had let the stranger inside their foyer, and now he stood directly outside Eddie's apartment door.

  "You know who it is?” He stared at Ash, who by now had begun to edge her way out of bed.

  "Um...” She didn't answer, just grabbed a T-shirt from the fresh stack in his laundry basket and pulled it over her head. The logo of Frank's Imports, faded and peeling, landed above her ribs. The fraying edge came down below the swell of her ass. Barely.

  The knocking continued. “Hello? Is anyone there?"

  Eddie swung his feet over the bed. What the hell was going on? No one went around knocking on doors at nine o'clock on a Saturday morning, not in Paradise. Not unless it was an emergency.

  "Don't answer it.” Ash hovered by the bedroom door, chewing at a fingernail.

  "Why not?” He yanked on a pair of boxer shorts and headed for the living room. “The guy already woke me up.” Irritated, he ran a rough hand across his chin. Damn. He'd been meaning to trim the goatee for a while now. Today, maybe. His hair, too long as well, fell across his eyes.

  "Eddie."

  He turned to see Ash still frozen in his doorway. Pain etched a line from her brows to her down-turned mouth.

  "I'm sorry.” It was all she said, a quiet apology. Yet days later, it would be the only thing Eddie could hear echoing in his skull, the only thing he could remember of the moment before everything changed, the moment before he opened the door and saw Senator Randolph Kirk standing outside.

  * * * *

  "I'm sorry to bother you."

  From the bedroom, Ash heard the voice again. Smooth, kind, polished through years of public service. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain seizing up inside her. How had he found her? Why had he come?

  "You ... you're Senator Kirk, right?"

  "Randolph. Please."

  Ash leaned against the wall and entertained the idea of going out Eddie's back window. I could climb outside, sneak down the block, maybe stall for a couple of hours in the coffee shop. She looked down at herself. Oh, yeah? In what? Eddie's shirt? The rest of her clothes lay somewhere out in the living room, still tossed on the floor. In plain sight. Oh, God.

  "I'm looking for my daughter. Ashton.” Pause. “I understand she may be staying in the neighborhood for the summer, and..."

  "Sir, I don't think I can help you.” Politeness coated Eddie's words. Ash could have cried. “I don't know her."

  She heard rustling. Go out there. You can't hide in Eddie's bedroom forever. You can't pretend this isn't happening. But maybe she could. Maybe Eddie would steer her father in a different direction. Maybe he would—

  "This is her picture,” her father went on. “A few people in the grocery store said they've seen her. Said she might be working at a restaurant here in town. And the woman across the street—"

  "I don't think...” Eddie stopped.

  In her mind's eye, Ash saw him study the picture. Saw him do a double take and look closer. Saw the corners of his mouth twitch. Imagined that bile rose in the back of his throat as he looked at an image of the woman he'd just spent the night with, the woman who had lived upstairs, and lied to him, all summer long. She forced herself to walk down the hall.

  "You can stop looking,” she said. “I'm here."

  Her father stood in the open doorway, one hand in the pocket of his pressed suit pants, the other absently picking at a buttonhole in his sports coat. He looked, she thought, the same as always. Poised and confident. Taller than the average man, but not haughty even though he looked down on just about everyone.

  "Ashton!” His gaze shifted as she walked into
the living room, and she saw him take in the T-shirt she wore and her bare legs beneath it. He looked from her to Eddie and back again. He swallowed, a small motion that anyone else might have missed. Then he smiled, and it was true and fatherly, the way she remembered. He walked toward her, raised his arms as if to reach for a hug, then dropped them again. “It's good to see you."

  Eddie frowned. “You're ... I don't ... What's going on here?” He stared at Ash and pushed the picture back at her father. “Why are you here?"

  She wasn't sure who he meant, her or her father. Neither one answered.

  "Ash?"

  Finally she drew a breath. “Yes. He's my father,” she whispered. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

  Eddie shook his head. “I don't get it. Who are you? What's your real name?"

  "I'll give you two a minute,” Senator Kirk said, and slipped back into the foyer. The door clicked shut.

  Ash wound the edge of Eddie's T-shirt around her fingers.

  "You're Senator Kirk's daughter?"

  She nodded.

  "Why didn't you tell me?” Eddie's voice turned thick.

  "I didn't know how."

  He took her by the shoulders then, squaring her off, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why the hell not? How hard—” He shook his head. “Jesus, what else haven't you told me? Is it all a lie? Law school? Breaking up with your boyfriend? Every damn thing?"

  Her tongue moved inside her mouth, searching for words. He spun away from her. Facing the windows, he laced his hands behind his head. “Just leave, Ash. Or Ashton. Or whatever your name really is."

  "Eddie, please. It ... I'll ... I can tell you...” She'd tell him whatever he wanted to know. But it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change what had happened last night, or the way she felt about him. Ash sucked in a breath and held it, trying not to cry. But maybe it did. Maybe it changed everything.