by Watson, Gina
She couldn’t understand. It didn’t seem that he’d ever let go of her. But why not call, or write, or stop by when in town for holidays? He hadn’t reached out at all.
“When Dad came to Vegas, he told me that he’d had a gambling problem. He couldn’t pay a debt he owed, and some thugs roughed him up something awful. He almost died. It was my mother who saved him. She nursed him and had his debts paid. He’s got tattoos too. You know the burning aces on my back?”
Isa nodded, trying to keep up with him.
“He’s got the same tat, at least close enough. Crazy, huh?”
Isa stopped walking and studied Cash. His eyes were clear, and he seemed relieved… No, not relieved exactly. Lighter. She hadn’t noticed that when he’d come to her in Mississippi, when all she’d noticed was his grief and her own, but she could see it now. He’d been freed of his terrible burden.
“Dad told me he’d been the hardest on me because I’m the most like him. It’s weird now when I think about him. I always thought he’d been like he is now, you know, strict and uncompromising. I thought he didn’t like me because I was different, but I’m not. I’m just like him.”
In that moment Isa could see the love and adoration Cash had for his father. He’d wanted his father’s acceptance for so, so long. He had it now, and she couldn’t be happier for Cash, the father of her child. The deep love of her soul.
“I’m only telling you all this because all that stuff with Dad is behind me now. It won’t hold me back. Our future can be ours.” They resumed walking.
So it all had to do with his father’s acceptance. The thought of one man yielding so much power over a person, his own offspring, sent a chill racing up her spine. She imagined Cash with their child and she knew without a doubt Cash would never show the child anything but unconditional love. Isa had planned to tell Cash about their child tomorrow night, but she thought tonight might be better, now that they’d met up at Markos’s grave.
“Cash, do you want to come to my house tonight for dinner and a movie?”
Cash’s smile lit up his face. His eyes radiated his love. She had no doubt that he loved her, just as he’d said.
“I’d love to.” He picked up her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “Can I sweet talk you into making those muffuletta paninis?”
She laughed. “Sure, I can make those.”
“I’ll bring the movie and the brew.”
That evening, Isa was busy laying out the ingredients for the sandwiches. She had the bread that she liked, but the literature they’d given her the last time she was pregnant mentioned pregnant women should go easy on the cured meats, so she’d bought a rotisserie chicken along with the cold cuts for Cash. She shredded her chicken and pulled the provolone from the refrigerator. She’d picked up olive salad and horseradish from a deli.
Cash arrived around seven with movies and beer, as promised. He handed her a beer, which she set on the counter. “What movies did you bring?”
“I got the Gladiator sequel, Ring of Fire.”
Cash held up the movie. The cover showed a dirtied and bloodied man in leather sandals with crisscrossing calf straps. Isa wrinkled her nose.
“Eww.”
Cash put his open hand on his chest and said, “Kidding, of course. That’s for Camp. But you’re so cute when you wrinkle your nose.” He held up another movie and said, “The Hangover Part III.”
Isa snatched it from his fingers. “Awesome.”
Since Isa had the assembly line set up, she started on the sandwiches. Cash sipped his beer and watched. And gave directions.
“Hey, don’t be stingy with that horseradish.”
Isa smeared another layer on Cash’s bread. “Better?”
He nodded and took another swig of beer. “You’re not drinking your beer?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Always. Drunk sex with you is out of this world.”
She laughed at his exaggeration and his leer.
The last time they’d engaged in drunken sex had been in his truck in the drive-thru of the Jack in the Box near campus. She giggled at the memory.
It had been around two in the morning and all the bar-hoppers, just kicked out of the bars, were in line at the drive-thru. Cash had always had a mammoth-sized truck. That one sat high on some special tires and had a full back seat. They’d messed around in it before, but never in public. But the line wasn’t moving, and Cash was getting irritated. He’d always had a temper and, afraid he was going to lay on the horn and cause a fuss, Isa had said, “How ’bout I suck you while we wait?” His wide eyes had dilated as he stared intently into hers. She bit her bottom lip and gripped the erection that was coming to life in her hands. She unbuttoned his crotch and pulled his cock free. Then she leaned over and licked at the crown before sucking lightly. Cash thrust up into her mouth. People behind them honked when the line moved forward and they didn’t.
Cash pulled the truck forward a little. Then Isa climbed over the seat and started taking off her clothes. She removed her shirt and bra and started shimmying out of her pants. When he saw her, Cash climbed over the seat and was on her in a matter of seconds. He sucked at her nipples and said, “Mmm, what are you doing back here Miss Petrovich?” Isa giggled and pulled his shirt over his head. Sitting on the bench seat in the back of his truck, he lowered his jeans. Isa straddled him and rubbed her wetness over the full length of him. Then she lowered herself onto him. When she had him sheathed to the hilt, she started gyrating her hips. Cash rotated beneath her.
The line moved again and cars started honking. Cash let out an expletive. Isa kept riding him. Her pace quickened. His did too. She cried out his name and squeezed his cock in her tight wetness. He followed her over the edge. When he pulled out of her, his semen dripped down onto the seat. Camp mentioned the stain when he and his then girlfriend sat back there when they all went to Mardi Gras. Isa had turned red and then flushed even more when Cash winked at her. He told Camp he’d spilled a milkshake.
“What are you thinking so hard about, Isa?” Cash’s voice drew her from the memories. “Those pickles have been chopped into nothingness.”
She bit her lip, and her gaze met his. Lord, but the man was sexy.
“You’re thinking about that night at Jack in the Box, aren’t you?”
Isa busied herself with the sandwiches. Cash laughed quietly behind her as he leaned back against the counter. With his feet crossed in front of him, he tipped his beer to his mouth.
Her distraction plan had backfired. Now she was the one distracted.
11
Cash set the table with Isa’s unmatched dinnerware and the placemats she’d woven back in college. They were like her bracelets. She’d make them during the breaks from school because she hadn’t known what to do with herself since there was nothing due and no studying to be done. Cash had taught her how to play poker during one of those breaks. Strip poker that is. He wondered if she might play tonight. He rubbed the chip in his pocket. He felt lucky.
Isa put the muffulettas on plates, and Cash cut them in half. He pointed to Isa’s sandwich. “What kind of meat is that?”
“Baked chicken.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Baked chicken? On a muffuletta? That’s a crime, Isa. And you love salami and mortadella and ham. What’s with the chicken?”
“I’m just trying something different.”
He’d loved that Isa would chow down on a quarter pound burger with cheese. She’d even peel and eat crawfish. He’d never dated another woman who ate so much or was willing to try anything; crawfish was out of the question for any woman with sculpted nails.
Isa bit into her sandwich. Then chewed. And chewed some more.
“Ugh. You’re right, it’s a crime. An abomination. There’s no salty, greasy, fatty goodness, no bite from the cold cuts. Yuck.”
Cash watched her with an arched brow as the disgusted look played across her face. He moved half of his sandwich to her plate, and she aggressiv
ely took a bite.
“Mmm.” She chewed vigorously and with a mouthful of sandwich said, “Much better, thanks.”
He smiled at her.
After they ate every bit of Cash’s sandwich and picked at more bread, he put the movie on. He sat on Isa’s couch and patted his lap. They always watched movies in the same position, with Cash sitting and Isa stretched across his lap. He’d play with her hair during the entire film. This time was no different.
When the movie ended, Cash cupped Isa’s chin between his thumb and index finger and turned her head so that he could reach her lips. He chewed at her bottom lip before kissing it. Using his tongue he licked at the seam between her lips, willing her to open for him. Isa sucked his tongue into her mouth. He explored her slowly and thoroughly.
When he released her mouth, she said, “I have something for you.” She got up, crossed to the cabinet under the television, and returned with a wrapped gift.
Cash smiled from ear to ear. “I like surprises.”
“I know you do.”
She handed him a package wrapped in purple paper covered with gold tigers—Louisiana State wrapping paper. A big white bow flopped across the top. He thought it might be a book. He loved her surprises; with Isa, nothing had ever been boring. She’d intrigued him all those years ago when she’d been waiting on him and his brothers at the restaurant where she worked. He’d been flirting with her, trying to score her number. She’d told him he only thought he wanted her number but the truth was that he really didn’t. He hadn’t known what to say to that so he’d said, “Is that a challenge?” She’d replied, “It’s the God’s honest truth.”
Camp had the book unwrapped in seconds and the first thing he noticed was that it was a children’s book. Me and My Daddy. He looked up at Isa, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t get it. She was rubbing her belly and smiling down at him. When her message hit him, he went lightheaded.
“Isa? God, you’re…” He choked and cleared his throat. “Are you? Are you pregnant again?”
“Yes, Cash. I’m carrying our child.” She smiled at him. “I’m just over eight weeks.”
He pulled her down to him, and then he slid off the couch, sinking to his knees. She joined him and pulled his hand to her belly. He spread his fingers over her, imagining his son or daughter being nurtured inside.
“And everything’s good? You’re healthy? The baby’s healthy, growing like it should?” He didn’t know what to do first, what to ask first.
They were having a baby. And he’d get to be there this time. For all of it.
He looked up at a cry from Isa.
“Oh, God.” Her hands flew to her face.
Watching her face go from jubilant to abject horror frightened Cash more than he’d ever been frightened before. “What? Are you hurting?” He waved his hands over her back and chest and stomach.
She clutched his hands, stared into his eyes. “I didn’t even think, didn’t wonder… Oh God, Cash, what if…” She gagged and fought for breath. Crying, she shrieked, “What if this baby is stillborn too?”
Cash scooped her up into his arms and lowered her to the couch. He sat next to her and pulled her close, held her tight. He murmured assurances again and again, but he eventually realized that she’d passed from fear over the next child to mourning their dead child. Mourning Markos. Cash recalled what Camp had said. “I stood by her side and bawled, but she never faltered.” She was bawling now. And Cash wanted her to. She needed the release. She needed to begin healing. He’d hold her for however long she needed to grieve.
He lost track of the time as he held Isa. Her cries turned to sobs and then grew into shrieks. She wailed and moaned. Then she started to quiet. Now she was sighing softly against his chest. He’d held her so long he’d had time to think, to plan.
They’d been given so many second chances to do things right. This was another such opportunity. The past was in the past, and it was high time they thought about the future. Their future. The one for all three of them. They would treat this like any other pregnancy. They’d be diligent and follow the doctor’s advice, but Cash wouldn’t have Isa doubting herself. The time leading up to the baby’s birth would be one of joy and anticipation, not fear.
Cash carried her to bed and rocked her until she fell asleep against him.
12
At ten weeks, Isa still claimed she wasn’t showing, but Cash swore he could tell when she was naked. And he liked seeing her naked a lot. Isa had told him she still didn’t want to get married, but Cash didn’t believe her anymore. They spent all their time together, and not only planning for the baby. They talked. They dreamed. They were sketching out a future.
And Cash thought it was brighter than even the Vegas Strip at midnight.
He had no intention of letting Isa get away, of them setting up separate households when the baby came. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, ways of convincing her that he loved her with a forever love. This weekend’s fun was just his latest scheme.
He’d been planning this weekend for a couple of weeks now. Bernard Larue was doing a concert at Xavier University in New Orleans; Cash had been third in line to buy tickets, and he had big plans. Plans that involved Mr. Larue.
Cash had purchased gold wedding bands and had Isa’s parents’ names—Markos and Dvina—inscribed in Croatian script on the inside of each ring. Their own names, Cashel and Isabela, were inscribed on the outside. The Croatian gold was spectacular—purer than American gold. Those were the only marks marring the perfect metal.
He’d contacted Bernard Larue, told him about the rings and told him their story. He was prepared to let Cash take the stage during tonight’s show.
He and Isa were on the road, heading to New Orleans.
“So you won’t tell me where we’re going?” Isa asked from beside him.
“Nope, that would ruin the surprise.”
“Well, I hope it’s not far. I don’t like wearing this thing.” She scratched at the bandana Cash had tied around her head.
Cash distracted her with corny jokes, and twenty minutes later he pulled into a parking lot. He parked and took the blindfold off, tenderly kissing both of Isa’s eyes and then kissing her lips. She kissed him back, but then she wiggled around to look out her window.
“Foreman Auditorium?”
Cash kissed her again. “You look beautiful.”
She smiled at Cash. “Well, you dressed me. So I guess you get the credit.”
He had dressed her. In fact, he’d been staying with her ever since that night she’d told him about their baby. He’d been dressing her every day too. At first she’d tried to bat his hands away, but she’d become used to it, even said she liked it.
They sat directly in front of the stage. When Bernard came out, Isa’s hand lifted to cover her mouth.
Cash leaned in and said, “Happy?”
Isa did what she’d been doing every day lately; she cried.
Cash had read that women could become emotional during pregnancy, but Isa had never been an emotional woman. In the past, he’d sometimes wished that she would cry. Well, he’d finally gotten his wish. He took her hands, kissing them and holding them in his. She leaned into him as they listened to their favorite Bernard Larue songs.
Halfway through the set, Bernard told the audience they were going to be witnesses to one of the sweetest acts they would see in their lifetime. Into the microphone he said, “Come on up here, my boy.”
Cash stood and walked a few feet to join him. He could hear Isa whispering at his retreating back. Bernard placed his arm around Cash.
“This is my good buddy Cashel St. Martin and that”—Bernard pointed at Isa in the front row of the small auditorium—“is the beautiful Isabela Petrovich. We’re gonna let Cash take the mic now for a moment so he can do his thing.”
Isa’s eyes burned into Cash. He knew she had no idea what was going on, but he could read the trust in her gaze. He stood in front of her with a soft spotlight on his face.
/> “Isa…” He took a deep breath that was picked up by the microphone. “I’ve loved you for eleven years. And I’ll love you for the rest of my life. When I met you all those years ago in the restaurant where you waited tables and you challenged me when I asked for your phone number, I knew that I had to know you. I wasn’t used to being turned down, and you intrigued me from day one. You had mischief in your eyes and that olive skin that shimmered under the light and God, I was lost in you.”
Cash stared at her while he collected his thoughts. “The first time we played poker and you beat me, I knew we were meant to be together. And yes, I mean the strip poker game. To say I was a little distracted is an understatement.” Cash grinned at her. “I’m looking forward to a rematch.
“Because of you, I’m whole again. I’d lived so long with the anger, with the hate, with the pain, and you came and changed it all. Just by being you. Just by loving me. You never gave up on me, even when I did. You waited for me, saved yourself for me. Because of you I have my family back.”
Cash cleared his throat and took a deep ragged breath. “Watching you jump hurdle after hurdle has amazed me. You never give up, even when the outcome seems impossibly bleak. Life has been hard, maybe even unkind, but you have never let that stop you. Where others cut and run, you stand strong and steadfast, a beacon in the storm. You are stronger by far than any man or woman I’ve ever known. I am dust in comparison.”
Cash stepped close to Isa and got down on one knee. Bernard held the mic in front of his mouth while he dug the rings from his pocket. “Isa, we both love jazz, late-night takeout, trashy comedies, and big juicy hamburgers. But that’s the little stuff. We also love each other. And that’s the big stuff. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have the family you’ve always longed for. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be a family, make a family for you and with you. I love you, Isa. I swear to you if you give me the chance, I will die sixty or seventy years from now, still making you happy. Isabela Petrovich, will you be my wife?”