“Get it, then hurry back to me. I need you, Simon. Why are you crawling on the floor?”
“I don’t think I can actually stand at this point. The machine needs a break. The machine may very well need repairs. The machine, wait, what’re you doin’ there, Caroline?”
“What, this?”
“Yeah, yeah, it looks like you’re—wow, do you touch yourself like that a lot?”
“I haven’t lately, why? Looks good to you, yes?”
“Yes, that’s . . . wow . . . um . . . that’s the door . . . the guy with the Thai is here. I . . . and I . . . Thai . . . I . . .”
“Are you really rhyming right now, Simon? Mmm, that feels nice. . . .”
“Hello! Hello, anyone there? Someone called in an order for—Dude, how am I supposed to give you your change?”
“Keep the change.”
“Dude, you shoved a fifty under the door. You know that’s like a thirty-dollar tip, right?”
“Keep the change. Leave the Thai. Caroline, get on that bed.”
“Mmm, so close, Simon. Sure you don’t . . . want . . . me . . . to . . . mmm . . . finish . . . oooh. I love when you do that.”
“Mmph, mmph, hah, hooo . . .”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Simon, Simon, Simon, Siiimmooooon . . .”
“Okay, dude. I’m totally setting your food out here. Um, thanks for the tip.”
1:14 a.m.
We lay in bed, limp and a little stupid. My poor Simon, I’d ridden him to the brink of extinction. He wasn’t a teenager, but even he was surprised by his . . . hmm . . . stamina. After the last round of Crazytown, he crawled back to the hallway, retrieved the food, and we ate Thai sitting in the middle of the bed. I’d quickly stripped the sheets because raisins and flour clouds lingered from earlier. The amount of work I was going to be faced with in the kitchen tomorrow was daunting, but it was worth it. All of it. All of it was worth it.
Now we lounged, settled but not settling. Still wrapped around each other but now clad in a pink nightie and a pair of sweatpants. To be clear, I wore the pink nightie. We lay side by side, facing each other, legs tangled and hands held.
“When do you have to go back to work?”
“I told Jillian I’d be back Monday, although that is the last thing I can think about right now.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Spain.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it was amazing. Thank you so much for taking me, and then taking me.” I nudged him with my elbow.
“It was my pleasure, on both counts. I’m glad you could . . . come,” he snorted.
Now that the O had returned, we could joke about it. We were quiet for a moment, just enjoying the music. Simon had hobbled next door a little while ago to put on a record. Even hobbling, he was sexy.
“When are you leaving for Peru? Ass, I still hate you a little for getting to go, but when are you leaving?”
“About two weeks. And no hating on the photographer. I have to go, but I’ll always come back.”
“Oh, to be clear, I don’t hate you for leaving. I hate you because I want to go too. But I digress. I love you more than I hate you, so we’re good.”
“We’re good?”
“Yes, of course. You have to travel for your job. It’s not like I didn’t know this.”
“Well, knowing about it and then being the one left behind are two different things,” he said, eyes getting a little cloudy. I smoothed my hand across his cheek, feeling his scruff and skin and watching him lean in to my touch. His eyes closed, and he hummed a contented hum.
“You’re not leaving me behind. We live busy lives and will continue to do so. Just because you get to stick your dick in me now, that isn’t going to change us,” I replied.
A slow grin spread across his face. Eyes still closed, but grinning. “Sometimes dicks change people,” he said through the grin.
“Sometimes dicks change what needs to be changed. Sometimes dicks make it better.”
“Sometimes dicks make it better—what an odd thing to say.”
“Stick around, who knows what I’m gonna say next.”
“Sticking.”
“Stuck.”
“Going to kiss you now.”
“Thank Christ.” I giggled as he wrapped his strong arms around me. We kissed quietly, thoughtfully. I settled down into his nook, perfectly shaped and smelling like heaven.
“I adore this nook.”
“Good.”
“No one else gets this nook.”
“It’s yours.”
“Yes, yes it is. Make sure you tell that to all those gorgeous Peruvian women who will try to seduce the hot American.”
“I’ll make sure to tell them my nook is spoken for.”
I smiled and yawned hugely. It had been an exhausting few days. I was jet-lagged and had been rocked to within an inch of my life. Tended to make a girl tired. Simon leaned across me to shut off the light and tucked me back into the nook.
1:23 a.m.
“Simon?”
“Mmm?”
“Are you asleep?”
“Mm-hmm. . . .”
“I just wanted to say, well, I’m really glad you came home early.”
“Mm-hmm, me too.”
“And I’m pretty smitten with you.”
“Mm-hmm, me too.”
“Smitten like a kitten.”
“Mm-hmm, me too.”
“Who’s lost her mittens.”
“Mittens, mm-hmm. . . .”
“Simon?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Are you asleep?”
“Mm-hmm. . . .”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
. . .
. . .
. . .
“Caroline?”
“Mm-hmm. . . .”
“I’m really glad I came home early too.”
“Mm-hmm. . . .”
“And I’m really glad you came.”
“Enough.”
“ ’Night, Caroline.”
“ ’Night, Simon.”
And as Count Basie and his orchestra played us off into dreamland, we curled around each other and slept.
Text between Simon and Caroline the following Tuesday:
Talked to a buddy of mine. I think I figured out how to do those prawns you went so crazy over in Spain.
Perfect, they’ll fit in with the Spanish feast I am planning for Saturday. Everybody’s coming, even Jillian and Benjamin.
Sure you don’t want to have it at my place?
No, it’ll be easier at mine. I have the island, which is better for prepping, but I’m commandeering your oven.
Can I commandeer you on the island?
That’s not the correct use of the word commandeer.
Please, you know what I meant.
I did, and you may.
Sweet. Have you seen my running shoes?
Yep, they’re in my bathroom where you left them. I tripped over them this morning.
Is that the thump I heard?
You heard that?
Yep, woke me up.
And yet you didn’t come see if I was okay?
Didn’t want to disturb Clive.
I can’t believe he’s been sleeping on your side. Traitor cat.
We’re friends now . . . well, almost friends. He peed on my sweatshirt again.
HA! I have to get back to work, cat stealer. We still watching a movie tonight?
If that’s what you want to call it.
Makes it seem like we actually have plans.
I have plans. Oh man, do I have plans.
As do I. . . .
I’m sitting here eating your apple pie . . . think about that.
That’s all I can think about now . . . hating you.
You don’t hate me.
That’s true. Now go eat my pie.
. . . choking . . .
Text between Mimi and Caroline on T
hursday:
You sure I can’t bring anything Saturday?
Nah, Sophia is bringing drinks, and we’re taking care of the rest.
So good to hear you in a we again.
Yes, I’m enjoying the we.
And the we-we?
What are we, 7? Yes, the we-we is good.
Good to hear it. So have you slept in the bed of sin yet?
No, we seem to be staying at my place. I think I’d feel weird in that bed.
Many walls were banged from that bed. . . .
Exactly. That’s my point, feels strange.
Maybe it would be nice to make your mark on his bed, so to speak. New era, new girlfriend, new banger?
I don’t know, we’ll see . . . I know at some point I’ll sleep there, just not yet. Besides, he’s having too much fun bonding with Clive.
WHAT? Clive hates guys! Except gay guys.
They’ve come to some kind of weird kitty-man understanding. I’m not questioning it.
It’s like a new world order.
I know.
Want me to come over early Saturday and help?
You just want to get into my drawers again.
They need to be reorganized. . . .
Come over early.
WAHOO!
Get some help. . . .
Thursday evening all was quiet. Simon and I sat on my couch, working. I was sketching a holiday concept for someone’s ballroom. Yep, ballroom. This was the world I visited. Just visited, not lived in. I was still in my yoga clothes. Simon cooked, using my kitchen, in which he was becoming very much at home. He said it would be easier since we’d just end up at my place anyway, but I caught him lifting Clive up onto the counter so he could “watch.” I put that in quotes because the actual word was spoken by Simon to Clive. The entire sentence, I believe, was “Here ya go, buddy. This way you can watch! You can’t see too well from down on the floor, I bet, right? Right?”
And Clive answered. I know it was technically impossible, but the meow he uttered sounded like, “Thanks.”
My boys were bonding. It was nice.
So here we sat, me sketching and Simon making his travel plans for Peru online. He had something like seventy billion frequent-flyer miles, and he loved to flaunt them in my face.
So quiet it was, save the scratching of my colored pencils on the page and his clickety-clack on the keyboard. And the clicking from Clive. Most stubborn kitty hangnail in the free world.
Simon finished and closed up his laptop, stretching his arms over his head and exposing his happy trail. I may have drawn outside the lines a bit. He laid his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. Within a few moments, the tiniest of snores began, and I grinned silently. I continued my sketching.
Ten minutes later I felt his hand reach out across the pillows and grasp my hand.
I only needed one hand for sketching after all.
“Holy shit, Caroline, these prawns are sick!” Mimi moaned in a way that made Ryan readjust the way he sat.
It was Saturday night, and we were all gathered around my dining room table, full of Spanish food and Spanish wine. I’d had a blast trying to re-create all the wonderful food Simon and I had eaten. Not as good certainly, but pretty close. And of course we were without the coastal ambiance, but instead had the coziness only an autumn evening in foggy San Francisco can provide. The city lights twinkled through the windows, a fire crackled in the fireplace, courtesy of Benjamin, and laughter filled the apartment.
I sat in my chair, tucked in to Simon’s side as we laughed with our friends. I’d been a little nervous that we’d be subjected to some kind of hazing, since our inevitable getting-together had been the topic of conversation for so long. But it was good, and everyone settled in to the evening with only minimal teasing. Simon and I had stuck pretty close together most of the evening, but I could already tell we would morph into one of those couples who didn’t need that.
I never wanted to be that couple, the one that was entirely codependent and in constant need of reassurance. I loved Simon, that much was clear. One of us traveled, for goodness sake, so we needed to roll with it. And I thought we would. I felt him next to me, and I moved just a little closer. He slipped an arm around my waist, his hand patting my arm, squeezing and just making me more aware of him. I was aware. His fingertips traced little circles around my elbow, and I sighed as he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.
I would never need the Honey and the Baby. I just needed him and his little circles. Just needed to feel him at my side, whenever he was here. Jillian caught my eye from across the table and winked.
“What was that for?” I asked, sipping my second glass of brandy. Simon was going to have no trouble getting me into bed later that night, not that he ever did.
“Things worked out well, didn’t they?” she asked, looking back and forth between Simon and me.
“Couldn’t have worked out better. Subletting your apartment to me was the best decision you ever made.” I smiled, leaning into Simon as he rubbed my shoulder.
“Jillian giving me your number so I could text you from Ireland, now that’s the best decision she ever made,” he added, winking at Benjamin from across the table.
“Oh, I don’t know. Pretending I didn’t know your mysterious neighbor was a damn good decision too,” she said, a mischievous grin lighting up her face as Simon coughed into his brandy.
“Wait, what? You knew all along I was the one living next door?” he asked, sputtering as I handed him a napkin. “But you’ve never even been to my place!”
“She hasn’t, but I have,” Benjamin spoke up, clinking his glass with his fiancée’s.
Simon and I sat pie-eyed as we watched them laugh and congratulate themselves.
Well played. . . .
“Okay, that’s the last of it. No more dishes,” Simon announced, closing the dishwasher. After everyone finally left, we decided to clean up the rest of the mess instead of leaving it for the morning after.
“Thank goodness. I’m beat.”
“And I have dishpan hands.” He winked, showing me how red they were.
“That’s the mark of a good housewife.” I just barely sidestepped his grabby hands.
“Just call me Madge and bring that fantastic ass back over here,” he fired back, snapping a dishtowel in my direction.
“This ass? This ass right here?” I asked, propping myself against the island just so, leaning forward on my elbows.
“You want to play now, is that it? Thought you were beat,” he murmured, catching my bottom in his dishpan hands and giving me a light smack.
“Maybe I’m catching my second wind.” I giggled as he promptly swept me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and headed for the bedroom. Upside down, I beat my fists against his bottom and kicked, though not so much as to actually get away. His feet stopped at the bedroom door.
“Forget something today?” he asked, turning so I could see inside: stripped bed, no sheets.
“Damn, I forgot to put the sheets in the drier. They’ll still be soaked!” I grumbled.
“Problem solved. Slumber party at Simon’s,” he announced, pulling open my lingerie drawer. “Pick a nightie, any nightie.”
“You want to stay at your place tonight?”
“Yeah, why not? We’ve been sleeping here since we got back from Spain. My bed’s lonely.” He ruffled through piles of lace and peekaboo.
Hmm, his bed was probably lonelier than it had ever been before.
“So, pick one.” He gave my ass another slap.
“Eh, you pick out something you like. I’ll model it for you.” I grinned, talking myself into this. Come on, I could certainly spend the night in his bed. Could be fun. I saw a familiar something pink and lacy make its way under his arm, and then we were off across the hallway. I managed to kick his door on the way in, something pretty hard to do while upside down.
Once more, I found myself in a bathroom, putting on lingerie for Simon. He really liked e
verything I wore. Whether it was actual lingerie or one of his old shirts, he didn’t seem to care. And it was rarely on for very long.
Without meaning to, I thought of all the women who’d come before me, all the women he’d enjoyed and had enjoyed him. But I was here now, and I was who he wanted. I smoothed the silk over my body with a deep breath, my skin already beginning to tingle in anticipation of his hands.
I heard him messing about with his record player—the telltale crackle and pop of needle on vinyl such a comforting sound.
Glenn Miller. “Moonlight Serenade.” Sigh.
I opened the door, and there he was. Standing by the giant Wallbanger bed of sin. His slow grin overtook me, and he looked me up and down.
“You look good,” he murmured as I walked in.
“You too.”
“I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing earlier, Caroline.”
He smirked as I encircled his neck with my arms. His fingertips dragged up and down my arms, tickling the inside of my elbow.
“I know,” I replied, placing a wet kiss under his ear. “You looked good then, and you look good now.”
“Lemme get a better look at you,” he whispered, responding with his own wet kiss at the base of my throat. I shivered. The room wasn’t at all cold.
He spun me out, as if on a dance floor, and held me at arm’s length for just a moment. The pink nightie, his favorite. He’d neglected to bring the matching panties, and I neglected to notice. He spun me back into him, and I immediately began to work the buttons on his shirt.
“Quite a night tonight,” he remarked.
Two buttons down.
“You’re telling me. I can’t believe those two were matchmaking from the very beginning! Although I don’t think they can take credit for the other two couples. That was all us.”
“Who knew love was in the air when you banged on my door?”
Another button down.
“Luckily, you were so taken by my charms, it was inevitable.”
“It was the nightie, Caroline. It was the nightie that did me in. The charms were a bonus. I had no idea I’d be getting a girlfriend out of the deal.”
Shirt untucked and on its way off.
“Really? And here I thought we were just messing around!” I giggled, scrambling to get his belt buckle poked through.
“Well, then, here’s to messing around with my girlfriend!” Belt buckle undone, jeans buttons popped. Thank goodness for the old-fashioned button fly. He picked me up, by my naked bottom I might add, and walked me to the bed as I pushed his shirt off. It hung from him by the sleeves.
The Cocktail Collection Page 32