by J. Saman
“Katie, in case you’ve missed it, I’ll do anything for you.”
She smiles, snuggling into me, silent for a few moments before she speaks again. “Eric hated sports,” she laughs lightly like this amuses her. “We were the odd couple like that, because I love them. On Sundays in the fall, when I wasn’t working, he’d take Maggie out for the day and I’d sit around watching football,” she snorts. “He wouldn’t even get into the Super Bowl when the Patriots were playing.” She angles her head up to me again with an incredulous look. “What kind of guy doesn’t like the Super Bowl?” It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t answer. “He and I were so well-matched with some things, and so at odds with others.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say something about Eric that didn’t include him being flawless. It’s hardly disparaging, but it’s certainly different for her.
She sighs, tightening her grasp on my hand.
“He was not the best driver, either,” she says after another quiet beat.
And this comment surprises me completely. I know he died in a car accident, but I was under the impression that it wasn’t his fault. Maybe I was wrong.
“He always got speeding tickets. Had a lead foot that would not be thwarted. I constantly worried whenever he drove Maggie around. I used to tease him that he’d die in a car accident.” She’s laughing, but it’s the saddest laugh I’ve ever heard, and my heart breaks for her. “It was a drunk driver. Did you know that?”
I shake my head, relieved somehow that Eric didn’t cause the accident. I don’t know why really, but I am.
“The driver walked away with only a two-inch laceration to his forehead. He was in the ED at the same time that they were working on Maggie.”
Jesus, I can’t even imagine. I find myself pulling her closer into me, holding her tighter.
“I can’t forgive him, Ryan,” she whispers like this admission somehow makes her a bad person. “It was his third DUI that he got caught for. He had a penchant for going to the bar and getting himself good and drunk before driving home. He left the bar that evening earlier than normal, and slammed into the side of Eric’s car, going over sixty in a thirty-five zone, after running the red light. His blood alcohol was three times the legal limit.”
My eyes slam shut and my breath stalls in my chest. My insides are on fire, anger being the most prominent emotion swirling inside of me. My parents are alcoholics, but they’ve never hurt anyone—other than themselves—or driven drunk as far as I know.
Would I be able to forgive them if they did?
“He emailed me this morning. The driver.” She looks up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “He served four months in jail and was forced to go to rehab for a month. He also lost his license for an additional six months. That’s it. He killed a husband, a father, and a child, and that’s all he got. He’s out free, and they’re gone forever.”
I pull her onto my lap. She’s sitting sideways, her head resting on my chest.
“In the email, he asked for my forgiveness. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him, including after it happened. I never even got an apology. Nothing. And now he sends this via email and asks for me to absolve him of his sins. I don’t even know how he got my email address.”
I don’t know what to say to her. I wish I were one of those people who always knew the right thing to say. Who could spew out sage words of wisdom, and anecdotes, and bullshit that would turn her world into sunshine and fairies. But I’m not one of those people, so I just wrap my arms around her and hold her as close as I can so she knows she’s not alone.
“I always thought I was a forgiving person, and truth be told, I haven’t given the fucking prick much thought over the years. But now he’s invaded my world once again, and I can’t forgive him, Ryan. I can’t.”
She pulls back to look at me with such heartbreaking grief in her expression.
“Does that make me a bad person?”
“Katie, my sweetheart, the mere fact you’re even worried about that shows you’re not. I’m not sure many people could ever truly forgive someone who not only did that to their family, but showed such little remorse in doing it.”
She sighs heavily into my chest, my fingers gliding down the back of her silky waves. I know we’re getting closer and closer to our hotel, but I don’t want to let her go until I know she’s not berating herself over this.
That she’s not letting it consume her.
“I don’t hate him, Ryan, though a huge part of me wants to. But I still want to find him and beat the shit out of him for all the life he wasted. For the future he took away from Maggie, Eric, and me.”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person either, you know? It makes you human.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I feel like I should be further along with the stages by now. I keep bouncing back and forth between anger and depression. Bargaining I feel like I hit and passed, but acceptance is like a million miles off.”
I can’t offer much, but I can tell her the truth that I’ve been holding back for fear of her reaction. “Katie, if I were Eric, I would want you to find that acceptance. A guy who spent his whole life loving you the way he did, doesn’t want you to be like that. He’d want you to be happy and live your life to its fullest.”
She’s silent for another minute as we pull up to the hotel. “I know he would, Ryan. I know that. But knowing something and being able to do it are sometimes two very different things.”
She climbs off my lap and hops out of the car, but instead of walking away like I expect her to, she waits for me, reaching out her hand for me to take. Our fingers intertwine and she grins up at me.
By the time we’re thirty seconds into our room, she’s naked and so am I. I’m devouring her, unable to get close enough. To taste enough. To kiss enough.
“More,” she whispers, and I can only oblige, because I want the same exact thing.
She’s so incredible. From her amazingly soft, yet firm, large breasts, to her slender waist and curvy hips. Don’t even get me started on her other deliciously marvelous parts, because I swear I could write a fucking sonnet about them.
Katie is my dream girl. My goddess, and I am worshipping at her altar.
Hours later—and I do mean hours—we’re both lying in bed, facing each other with only a sheet covering our bare skin. We’re smiling and talking and laughing. I’m in heaven because nothing has ever been this good. Ever.
“Tell me about the first girl you kissed,” she asks with her devilish smile.
We’ve been playing this game for a while now, and so far, I’ve told her about the time I broke my wrist skateboarding, and the time Kyle punched me in the face and broke my nose for taking his Xbox. She’s told me some stuff too, but nothing too revealing. I fully intend to change that.
“The first girl I kissed was Jessica Higgins. I was eleven and she was thirteen. It was behind the big tree in my backyard on a dare. Her dare.”
“Really?” she raises an eyebrow, like I’m a master seducer. “A player even at eleven.”
I laugh lightly, leaning forward to kiss her lips. I do that every time she says something adorable, which is often.
“Was it good?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Sure. For a first kiss that had no tongue and lasted all of three seconds.”
She laughs, biting her lip to try and hide her smile. That may, in fact, be my favorite of her smiles. “Your turn. Was Eric your first kiss?” I’ve mentioned Eric a few times, and so has she, but it has been in a happy context.
That’s what I want for her. To talk about Eric with a smile attached to her face and through happy memories.
“Yes, but he almost wasn’t. Eric and I had gone out for our first ice cream date and then on another to the movies, but all we had done was hold hands. So we went to a birthday party at my friend Sam’s house, and of course, the boys wanted to play spin the bottle.” She’s smiling big, her eyes are sparkling and a little distant, loving the hell out
of this story. “So Sam spun the bottle and it landed on me. It was a half-assed attempt at a spin and everyone knew it. He had wanted it to land on me and as he got closer to me with his big, shit-eating grin, Eric blew up.”
“What do you mean?”
She laughs, resting her head on her tucked hands. “He started yelling before Sam got close enough to kiss me. Claimed that Sam cheated—which he had—and that he should have had to spin the bottle for real and see where it landed,” she laughs again. “Sam wasn’t having that at all, and the two of them got into it. My friend Chrissy—who liked Sam—was agreeing with Eric that Sam should re-spin, and so it went. Finally, Eric got really angry and decided to leave. I got up and left with him, and on our walk home he apologized. Told me that the reason he was so upset was because he wanted to be my first kiss. So I stopped him in the middle of the street and kissed him.”
“Wow. That’s a really good story.”
“Yeah. It is,” she sighs heavily. “Thank you for letting me share it with you.”
“Katie, baby, I don’t mind you telling me about him. Eric and Maggie were the biggest part of your life, though I technically did meet you first.” I raise an eyebrow, but am smiling so she knows I’m kidding.
“Is that so? Well then,” she pushes me onto my back and climbs on top, chest to chest, her face inches from mine. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m in bed with you. I’d hate to ever be with a man I haven’t known my entire life.”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.” My fingers slide up the sides of her body, across her silky skin.
“Really?” She rolls her hips against me. “It feels to me like I’m getting somewhere.” Her hand glides down my stomach to grip me.
“Fuck,” I hiss out, my head tipping back onto the pillow. “Jesus, Katie, what are you doing to me?”
“I should think that is fairly obvious, Mr. Grant.” God, I love it when she calls me that. “But since I assume you were being rhetorical; I’d like to show you just what I want to do to you.”
She kisses me chastely before lowering herself down my body and settling between my legs. She takes me in her mouth, licking and sucking me, cupping my balls, and generally giving me the best head of my life. Katie’s mouth is like fucking magic. Katie is fucking magic. She puts her whole heart and soul into everything she does, and sex is no different. I can honestly say I’ve never been with another woman like her and I hope to never be again.
She’s it for me; she just doesn’t know it yet.
20
Kate
* * *
We spend the entire next day doing the typical tourist bullshit all over LA. It’s a cool city, but the smog and the traffic and congestion make it not for me. I couldn’t see myself living here. I’m all for a city, but something smaller and more intimate is what I have in mind. Something less dirty and polluted too.
We end up at some trendy Hollywood hot spot for dinner that Ryan says his assistant Claire—who I found out made all of our reservations—says is a good place for spotting celebs.
Not my thing.
I figure they’re people who are just trying to go out and eat a meal like everyone else, but whatever.
Ryan is all over me. His distant mood forgotten once again. I swear his mood swings can be worse than a teenager’s.
The restaurant is all low lighting with elegantly appointed tables, topped with white linens and fuchsia roses. Every woman here is gorgeous, tall, very thin, and showing more skin than I think I’ve ever seen—and I’m a nurse. The men aren’t so bad either, and while my eyes haven’t stopped scanning the room of beautiful people, Ryan hasn’t taken his off of me.
Swoon.
Ryan is wearing his dark-gray pants, a black button-down, and the new gray fedora we bought today. Holy hell, can this man rock a hat. His dark hair is sticking out from the bottom, and his whole look says dark, sexy, and mysterious, especially with the beard and glasses. He’s definitely getting checked out by the local fanfare here, and I can’t say I blame them.
His hands are gliding up and down my bare legs. Apparently he’s got a thing for my legs, because he bought me yet another dress, despite my protests, and it’s very short. So short I have to cross my legs the second I sit down or everyone in this restaurant is going to get a show.
Our food comes, and tonight I ordered lamb since both Ryan and our waitress talked me out of the chicken.
“We have two options for tonight after dinner.”
“Oh lord,” I roll my eyes dramatically, earning me a pinch in the ribs. “Ah.” I slap his hand away, making him chuckle and kiss the side of my head. “What are our two options, Master?”
“Is it wrong that I love that you just called me Master? I think I might have to implement that into our bedroom activities tonight.”
I snort. “Bedroom activities? What are you, seventy? You can say sex or fucking, or even lovemaking if you want to be totally cheesy about it.”
“Fine.” He leans in right up to my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my skin. “I’m going to tie you up and make you call me Master, while I spank your ass red before I fuck you into tomorrow. How’s that?”
I flush. It only took like two seconds too. “That sounds like something we could try, Master,” I wink at him, and he presses his lips to mine with a fierce kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Now, as I was saying, slave girl,” he raises an eyebrow at me and I can’t help but laugh. Ryan leans forward, placing his elbow on the table and propping his head up with his hand. “We have two options for after dinner. One, we could go to the beach and walk around, or we could go to a club that Claire got us passes for.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t know how safe the beach is at night here. I don’t really feel like getting mugged or having to run for my life in a mini dress and five-inch heels.”
“Good point. The club then?”
I reach for my wine glass and take a sip, mulling it over. “Nah. I’m not really feeling clubby tonight. What if we just went to a bar or something?”
“Sure. I’m up for that. Besides, we have a long drive tomorrow.”
I nod. “True. Where are we stopping anyway? We never did decide.”
“No.” He leans in to kiss my head before taking my hand and kissing my fingers. Did I mention how he can’t keep his hands off me? “We haven’t. What are you thinking? Do you want to go up the Pacific Coast Highway toward Big Sur and Carmel, and see how far we get before we want to stop?”
I shrug. “Sure. That sounds like a plan. But we should probably leave on the earlier side then. That’s more than a six-hour drive, right?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Our food arrives and we eat, chatting about the various places we’d like to stop along the way. We decide to spend two nights in San Francisco because neither of us has ever been, and two nights in Redwood National Park because I want to hike and explore and even camp—gulp. Then it’s a long haul up to Portland, and after that, Seattle—another gulp. Both of us turn inward after that realization.
Yes, we knew this trip was eventually going to end.
But the question lingers in the air, unspoken between us.
Then what?
I don’t know. I really freaking don’t. Part of me wants to ask Ryan if he wants me to stay. But a slightly larger part tells me that is a bad idea. Not because of him, but because I’m not ready. I don’t want to just grab onto someone and not formulate any sort of life for myself. I want to stand on my own two feet for a while. Find my bearings and see where and how I end up.
That was always my plan.
Then Ryan came along, and now I find myself rethinking things I shouldn’t.
Do I want him? Without a doubt. Am I in love with him? I’m not going there. I like him. A lot even, but that’s as far as I’m allowing my brain to go. The thought of loving another man feels…well, it just feels wrong. I know it’s not. I know it would be a good thing, a healthy thing, but that idea kills me.
How can I love another man when I still love Eric?
And isn’t that betraying his memory just a little bit?
I always thought of Eric as the love of my life, so what would that mean for the next guy? Will they always be in second place? That’s not exactly fair, and I don’t want Ryan to ever be second. He deserves to be first all the way, and I don’t know if I can give him that—at least not right now.
Here’s the kicker though, last night before I fell asleep in his arms, I imagined what our life together could look like. Would our children be dark or blonde? Blue- or green-eyed? Tall or short? Would he want boys or girls? Does he even envision a wife and family?
It’s hard to go from having a family to not, but the idea of never having any more children is a bit more than I can handle.
Having Maggie was the best thing I ever did. She was the light of my life. The love of my life. My entire world. I miss her desperately. Every day I wonder what she’d be like if she were still alive. What new and exciting things would come into her world.
I want that again. Not this minute, but eventually.
And I can see myself doing that with Ryan.
Probably because he’s the first guy I’ve been with since Eric. Yeah, that must be it. I’m sure I’d be doing the same thing with any guy I was…whatever the hell it is I’m doing with Ryan.
We leave the restaurant hand in hand, after I finally convinced him to let me pay. That was an argument. Stubborn man.
We end up walking two blocks down and then find a small but nice-looking bar. I order another glass of red wine. If we’re waking up early tomorrow and driving a million miles, the last thing I want to be is hungover. Ryan is feeling me on this because he orders a beer instead of his usual whiskey.