by Breena Wilde
God, he was huge. I’d forgotten. He started to move slowly, holding himself up on his elbows. I whimpered, wrapping my legs around his hips. He kissed me harder and moved faster. I felt his heart beating against my breasts.
“Willow. Willow. You feel so good. I’ve missed you.” He spoke the words against my lips and I moaned, throwing my head back. He kissed my chin, my neck, and along my ear. “I want to make you feel so good. Come for me, Willow.” He moved faster and faster.
My orgasm built quickly. The tightening, the way the tip of him touched so deep inside. Deeper and deeper. I dug my nails into his shoulders and came undone beneath him, gasping for air.
He gave a final thrust as he came inside me.
Austin rested his forehead against my shoulder and pressed a kiss on my clavicle. “Let’s get you dressed.” He went to get up but I held him to me.
As soon as we dressed and left the cave, it would be back to reality. I wasn’t ready. “Austin, wait.” He lifted his head and looked at me, and I saw the love. It was easy to see, and that made me sad because he’d come clean and explained. I even understood to an extent, although understanding didn’t take away the many months of pain I’d felt. He’d still hurt me, even if he had good intentions.
“What is it, Will?” He nuzzled me with his nose. It was cold against my skin and my flesh puckered with goose bumps.
I grabbed his face between my hands. “I—there’s some things I need to tell you.”
He gave me a quick kiss and stood, then pulled me to my feet slowly. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” He handed me my undies, dangled them from his finger. I grabbed them and slid them on, along with my bra. He picked up my pants and my sweater. They were covered in sand. I took them and shimmied into them while he dressed. “I’m listening,” he said as he zipped his pants.
“It’s…” Ugh, how did I say this? How did I make him understand what an amazing child Emma was and do it without sounding like I wanted something from him? “It’s… I—we have a child,” I finally blurted.
He was in the process on buttoning his shirt and froze. His brows crunched together and his lips tightened. “What do you mean?”
I huffed and tugged on my sweater. “It isn’t that hard to grasp. We were together. Nine months later I gave birth to a baby girl.” My insides softened as I thought about her. “And she’s wonderful, the most amazing child. A sweet disposition with a full head of dark curly hair, blue eyes, and the cute—”
“A child?” He pulled his tie over his head and tugged on his shoes. “You and me?” He grabbed hold of the blanket and shook it angrily, then folded it.
I sighed. There weren’t a lot of men in the world who would be excited to hear such news, that a summer fling had given him a child. But he’d said he loved me just now. So why was he mad? “I-I just thought you’d like to know, but if you aren’t interested, I’m not asking for anything.” I picked up the bottle and the glasses and clung to them.
Austin set the blanket down and went to work putting out the fire. After it was out and smoking, he turned to me, his eyes blazing. “I can’t fucking believe it. I never would’ve thought you were that kind of girl. I just told you I loved you. I just made love to you. Why would you lie? What’s the point? You had me.”
He kicked sand over the smoldering wood, picked up the blanket and left the cave.
I shook off the feeling of dread building in my stomach, wrapped the red scarf around my neck, and followed him out.
Water had reached the entrance and my feet got wet. Dammit. He was walking quickly and had already reached the stairs. I jogged to catch up. When I reached him I put a hand on his lower back. “Austin. I’m not lying.”
He paused and turned, his features even more angry. I noticed the way his jaws were clenched and the flash of rage in the way he was breathing. “Bullshit.” He went back to stomping up the stairs.
I trailed after him, wrath building within. What the hell? I had no reason to lie.
Austin stopped. “I can’t have children, Willow. My wife and I tried for years. Years,” he shouted and started up the steps.
I was dumbfounded. I hadn’t been with another man, ever. He was it for me. “Well, I’m sorry, but it happened. She’s yours. She looks just like you.”
At my words he turned and came down. Austin towered over me like a wild bull. He was breathing hard. His hair had fallen into his eyes.
“I swear she’s yours. I’ve never been—”
He growled and started back up the steps.
I let him go. Just stood there and watched. “You’re a stupid, stupid man, Austin Merrick,” I whispered as tears rolled down my cheeks.
When he reached the top, he turned back and paused. For the briefest second I thought he’d realized what an asshole he was being and would come back and apologize.
He didn’t.
He left me. Again.
When I reached my front door I paused, not quite ready to go in. The night started out so well and ended…
“Asshole.” I went in, quietly locked the door, and went to the freezer. At the back, behind the mint chip ice cream and the chocolate chip waffles, was a bottle of vodka. My mom had brought it over the day I found out about my cancer. I’d been pregnant with Emma at the time so I hadn’t had any. She’d had a shot and we’d cried. I’d put the rest in the freezer, telling her I’d save it for a day like today. Twenty or not, I intended to get drunk—incredibly, stupidly drunk—and pass out on the couch. That was my Christmas present to myself. I’d earned it.
I got a glass from the cupboard and carefully filled it with ice. From the refrigerator I took a lime, cut it in half, and squeezed the juices over the ice. Then I filled the glass with vodka and sat at the table.
The first swallow burned and I gasped, then took another. There was no more time for tears. I would drink and feel sorry for myself tonight—this one night. Tomorrow I would push all the feelings back down and focus on Emma and getting better. Tomorrow.
About half way through the bottle I decided I wasn’t done with Austin Merrick. I started an e-mail attached pictures from the day Emma was born and up until two days ago, when I took a picture of Emma in an elf outfit. She looked so damn adorable. And I put little comments with each picture. Like on the day she was born, I commented: I named her Emma Austin after your sorry ass.
When she hit her one-month mark, I’d taken a picture of us at the library. Underneath I typed: Baby loves books. Austin is an idiot. At two months, I’d taken her to the beach. My mom took the picture of her and I and a starfish I was showing her. My comment after I attached it was: Emma’s my little starfish. You’re a dick. Month three was Halloween, and I’d dressed her in a peapod costume. She looked like one of those Anne Geddes pictures. Under that picture I typed: She’s a sweet pea. You’re an ass. At Thanksgiving she wore a turkey on her shirt. My mom was holding her and my sisters stood on either side. I typed: My family and you’re missing out. Dick! And finally I attached the elf pic and commented: Merry Christmas. I’ve never lied to you. I don’t know how, but Emma is yours. If you can’t see that, then you’re the biggest asshole on the planet, you stupid fucking gorgeous man.
I didn’t even think about it when I finished. I just hit send, closed my laptop, and went to the couch where I promptly fell asleep, feeling much better.
I woke the next morning with a splitting headache. People were whispering, but they could have been banging pots and pans the way it affected my head. I sat up and moaned. The talking stopped.
“She’s awake now. You might as well come in.”
I forced my eyes open and was shocked to see my mom standing next to Austin. He had on jeans and a white tee. The way I remembered him, rumpled and hotter than hell. For the briefest second I thought about running into his arms.
But last night—the way he’d treated me, the things he said—came flooding back, and I was angry. “What are you doing here? You made your intentions and feelings for me quite clear. Get out.”
He didn’t leave. Instead he knelt in front of me and took my hands in his. “I’m sorry, Willow. Truly, deeply sorry.”
I was still a little groggy, but he looked haggard. Disgustingly, deliciously worn out.
My Austin, I thought. His hair hung in his eyes and I reached out to push it away, then thought better of it.
“You’re sorry. Great. That doesn’t change that fact that you think I’m a liar. That you walked away from me. Again.”
Austin squeezed my hands. “I know. I was an asshole and an idiot. The truth is, if you hadn’t sent those pictures, I probably wouldn’t be here.” He closed his eyes. “Emma looks just like me.”
That caught my attention. “How do you know her name? I never told your sorry ass her name.”
He gave me a strange look. “Wasn’t it you who emailed me pictures last night? The comments underneath were… thought provoking.”
I looked to my mom for help. She shrugged.
Almost right on cue, Emma began to cry. I tried to move around Austin but he held me fast.
“You two talk. I’ll get her up.” My mom dashed from the room as though grateful she had an excuse to leave me with that man.
“Look, I don’t remember sending you any photos, but nothing’s changed. I told you about your daughter, you called me a liar, and then walked away. I have nothing more to say to you. Now get the fuck out of my house.” Stupid fucking tears formed at the idea of watching him go, but it was bound to happen. “And this time, don’t ever come back,” I added, knowing I wouldn’t be able to take it again.
Austin stood, crossed his arms, and glared.
I jumped up and pushed his way-too-sexy chest. He didn’t move, so I slammed a fist into his arm. I totally hit like a girl, but I didn’t care. Angry tears fell from my face. “You don’t get to be mad, you son-of-a-bitch. You don’t get to see your daughter and you don’t get to see me. You get to leave. So go.” I pushed at him again. “Go. Get out. Damn you.”
Austin grabbed my hands and pulled me into a hug. “I can’t. I won’t ever leave you again. I know I’m an asshole, but I swear I’m here. I’m staying. I—”
“I have cancer, Austin. The doctor’s giving me a fifty-fifty shot at survival.” I was doing the ugly cry, the kind where you don’t care what you look like and, even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop it. “So shut up and leave.” I was out of control, hitting him without force, but still hitting.
Austin froze. I felt his body go stiff, and I momentarily felt bad. I wiped my nose on my sleeve and looked at him through my tears. “What kind?” he whispered.
“It’s on my spine,” I said and sat on the couch. I hadn’t wanted to tell him like that, but I was glad it was out. All the cards on the table.
“What’s your treatment plan?” he asked, so soft I almost didn’t hear him.
“I start chemo the middle of January. At the moment I’m on several different drugs to help slow it down. So far they haven’t helped much.”
Austin sat beside me and put his head in his hands. Now I really felt bad.
“You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to go through this.” I shrugged. “If, you know, you could come and visit Emma sometimes, I’d really appreciate that, though.”
“You mean after you’re dead?” he asked and looked up. He was angry again.
I nodded slowly. “If something were to happen, it’d be nice if she could see her dad.”
Austin turned and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Don’t you fucking talk like that.” He stood up and walked to the door. “I’m leaving, but I’m not leaving-leaving. I need to make a couple of phone calls, move around a few things, and cancel a couple of others. I will be back later today and I will meet my daughter. Got it?”
I nodded numbly, afraid if I said anything he might change his mind.
When the door closed my mom came out holding Emma. “That was intense.”
I sniffled and smiled. “Hi baby-girl.” I took Emma from my mom and snuggled her close. I’d given up a lot for her, but I’d do it again in a second.
“Do you believe him? You think he’s coming back?”
I shrugged. “His track record isn’t great.” I placed Emma in her bouncy chair, buckled her in, and busied myself making her bottle.
My mom poured two glasses of orange juice and flipped on the coffee pot. “Why don’t you let me feed her while you shower. You smell like you bathed in vodka.”
I sipped the orange juice and brought the bottle over. “That reminds me, he said I sent him pictures.” I flipped open the laptop and scanned my sent email. Sure enough, there was an email to Austin Merrick. “Holy shit.” I opened it. My mom leaned in and we looked at it together.
My mom covered her mouth. “No wonder he showed up here this morning frantic. But you’re right, Emma looks just like him.”
“Yeah, she does.” I smiled at my daughter, picked her up. “You sure you don’t mind feeding her?”
My mom took her. “Not at all. Go shower.” I walked out of the kitchen. “You just may get your Christmas miracle, Willow.”
I turned back. “I don’t need a miracle. I have much more than most.” I walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, mom.”
While I was in the shower my mom called my sisters. When I got out they were sitting in the kitchen. It smelled like freshly cooked bacon and coffee. They were eating and laughing.
“Hey, party animal. Next time you drink a bottle of vodka, invite me over. I want to have fun too,” Liv said, and I blushed.
“What, no makeup?” Heather asked.
I shook my head, working to ignore the sick worry filling my stomach. For some reason I worried that if I put on make up and did myself up for Austin, I’d jinx it and he wouldn’t show. So I’d put on an old pair of jeans and an oversized long-sleeved thermo shirt. My feet were bare, and my wet hair was in a bun. I’d brushed my teeth, shaved my legs, and put deodorant on. Any more would seem hopeful, or so I told myself.
Sara glanced over. “You’ve got a way with words, dear sister.” She indicated the opened laptop.
I chuckled and the rest laughed. “Where’s Emma?” I asked, turning in a circle.
“I put her down for a nap,” my mom said, taking a bite of bacon.
I stole a piece off her plate and shoved it in my mouth. “Mmmmm, delicious.” I went for another but she slapped my hand away.
“Get your own.” She pointed toward a plate on the counter.
I looked over and noticed there was buttered toast as well. I grabbed a plate, took another piece of bacon and two pieces of toast. Homemade strawberry jam sat on the table and I used a knife and covered the toast. “Heather, did you make this?” I asked, taking a bite.
She took a bite of her toast and smiled around the jam. “Yeah, Merry Christmas.”
“You’re eating my present?”
“It isn’t my fault you were in the shower when I brought it over.”
“Still, if it’s mi—”
Someone knocked on the door. I knew who it was, who it had to be. “Austin,” I whispered, my stomach flying into my throat. I stood, but couldn’t go to the door. I was too nervous.
“I’m so excited we finally get to meet him,” Sara said, walking past me and opening the door.
It was Austin. He still wore his jeans, tee shirt, and boots. His hair was pushed back off his face and I could see the crinkles on the sides of his eyes. In his arms were a bundle of wrapped presents.
He’d come back. I covered my mouth, unable to stop the happy giggle that gurgled up my chest.
Austin’s eyes found mine and he winked.
My mom took charge since I couldn’t move, my sisters were gawking, and Austin was still standing in the doorway. “Let the man in, ladies. For goodness sake.” She pushed aside my sisters and pulled him in my house by the arm.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” My mom helped him tuck the presents under the tree. “Take a
seat.”
Austin sat on the center cushion. Liv sat on the left. Heather and Sara sat on the right. My mom took the rocking chair.
“So why don’t you tell us about yourself?” my mom asked, crossing one leg over the other. My sisters leaned in, gigantic grins plastered on their faces.
“Well, okay. I’m from Dallas. I met Willow a couple of summers ago. I fell hard for her and, apparently,” he clasped his hands together and glanced around the room, “I have a daughter.”
Liv patted him on the knee. “What do you do for a living?”
“My family is in the oil business. My great granddaddy started it many years ago. It’s been passed down from father to son and was…” He took a deep breath before continuing, “ultimately passed on to me.”
Holy shit. He belonged to those Merricks. As in Merrick Oil. They had the jingle If you want your car to last, get your gas fast at Meerrrr-iiiiick. They were the biggest oil company in the United States.
I never would’ve guessed by looking at him. His clothes were so casual, and the way he wore his hair—longer. At the moment he even had a little scruff on his face. He didn’t look like a man who was the sole heir to the Merrick fortune.
We were small town people, but we didn’t live under rocks. Everyone knew the Merrick Oil name. My sisters were suddenly excited, all chatting at once. Even my mom’s eyes had perked up. I still hadn’t moved.
This man and I had nothing in common. He was like royalty and I was a mere commoner.
Emma started to cry and I snapped to attention. Austin stood as well. “May I go in with you?”
A hint of a smile crossed my lips. Then I cleared my throat. “Sure.”
I glanced at my mom. She stood and walked to the door. “Come on, you three. Let’s give these two some privacy.”
Three grown women threw mini temper tantrums, but grudgingly left. When the door was closed, I looked at Austin.
“Ready to meet your daughter?”
“Yes, I am.”
Emma’s bedroom was small. I’d painted the walls butter yellow. The curtains and bedding were white. The crib was honey colored and there were large stickers of the Winnie-the-Pooh characters adorning the walls. Across from the crib was a dresser with a Winnie-the-Pooh lamp. Under the window stood the changing table and across from that was the closet.