by Tamara Lush
I swatted him on the arm. “You don’t have to do that.”
Caleb’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He sat up to check it. “It’s the concierge. The car’s here.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice suddenly small. A pang of fear went through me. Maybe I really wasn’t prepared for him to be gone for five days. Since I’d gotten pregnant, Caleb had ceased all work travel. Not because I’d asked; he’d done it on his own.
But his job needed him this week. I had to stop being childish about this because there would be plenty of times in the future where he’d have to travel all over the world, alone. I struggled to sit up, feeling like a manatee out of water. Caleb helped me into position, then pulled me to standing.
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay. Really.” My heart started beating, hard, and I put my arms around him. Why did I feel so needy all of a sudden? It was wild how pregnancy made my emotions shift with the wind.
“Okay. I’m a phone call away. Don’t hesitate to text, email, call, whatever. I have a timetable of all the direct flights to Florida, so I can try to be on one if you need me immediately.”
“Okay.” I clung to him tighter, willing the tears away. Until now, I thought I was fine with his solo trip. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
“Sarah and Laura will be checking in, too. They know to text or call me if anything happens.”
“Please don’t worry about me, Caleb. I want you to be safe. Do you have your malaria medication?”
“I do.”
“You need to keep taking it, you know.”
He nodded and kissed my forehead. He’d been taking the malaria meds for a couple of weeks now, and in addition to some forgetfulness, the pills had given him headaches and vivid, terrible dreams. We both couldn’t wait until the trip was over so he could purge his body from the drugs.
“And if you need anything else, Colin’s here.”
I sighed. “I’m sure I can handle everything by myself. Don’t worry. Now go. The car’s waiting.”
“I love you, Emma doll.” He put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me close, devouring me with a deep, desperate kiss.
When he broke away, my heart was beating even faster. “And I love you.”
Keeping his eyes on mine, he knelt and put his hands on my stomach, then touched his lips to the swell. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered.
Then he rose and we walked arm-in-arm to the elevator.
We kissed about five more times until the doors slid open.
He stepped in, and I hoped he didn’t see the tears in my eyes. I pressed my fingers to my lips, then extended my hand in the air toward him.
Caleb did the same, and the doors slid shut.
Chapter 6
The first morning without Caleb I woke, sprawled on our huge bed, my body pulsing and aching for sex. I’d had the most sensual dream, a fuzzy interlude involving Caleb’s tongue flickering between my legs, tormenting and teasing. Prince’s “Adore” played in a loop in my brain, fueling my neediness. Lately my dreams had been graphic and dirty, filled with hyper-real sounds and emotions.
More than once, I’d had a delicious sleep orgasm. Not this morning, though. This morning I was aroused and wishing my husband was next to me.
I reached for the phone and dialed Caleb on video call. It was only seven in the morning in Brazil, six in Florida. Surely he wasn’t at meetings already? I arranged my hair on the pillow, hoping I looked tousled and sexy.
He didn’t answer, and I jabbed at the screen, letting out a little indignant grunt. I allowed my hand to flutter over my breasts, trying to recall my dream, and then my phone rang.
“Hey,” I murmured. “Why didn’t you answer? Why aren’t you calling on video?”
“I was in the shower. Why are you up so early? Are you okay?”
I hummed dreamily. “I was woken by a very sexy dream. Involving you, your mouth, and the Prince song I love.”
Caleb chuckled. “Are you in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Are you calling me for phone sex?”
“How did you guess? Switch to video so we can see each other,” I giggled.
He groaned. “Babe, I’m sorry. I’d love, to but I can’t. I’m already running late. I got awful sleep last night and then blew through the alarm this morning.”
I frowned and stopped stroking my inner thigh. “That’s not like you. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. A little distracted. But, Emma?”
“Yes, babe?”
“I miss you. More than I’ve ever missed anything.”
His voice sounded wistful, maybe even a little sad, and I wanted to cheer him up. “Every minute that passes is a minute closer to seeing you again. You’ll be home soon, sweet boy.”
I heard a buzzing noise in the background on the other end and Caleb sighed. “I have to run—the driver’s here. But, Emma doll, tonight when I’m finished with work, I promise to give you the best video phone sex you’ve ever had.”
“It’s a date.”
“And right now? I want you to touch yourself and think of me fucking you. Can you do that? Don’t get out of bed until you’ve come. Promise?” His voice dropped, and a corresponding molten heat surged between my legs.
I grinned and moaned a little. He was such a tease.
“Promise.”
* * *
The days without him passed quickly. Each night Caleb called and we’d talk for an hour, then his purring, buzzy voice would direct me to do nasty things with my fingers and vibrator. But I was missing him. His laughter, his wit, and yes, his body.
Thank goodness he was coming home soon. Still, I wanted to get as much done as possible in his absence so I could enjoy him for a couple of days. We’d planned to get away to his family’s lake house near the Ocala National Forest, a private estate that included a natural spring where we could swim naked. I couldn’t wait, even though I suspected I’d look more like a sea cow than a mermaid.
After a breakfast of fresh-squeezed juice, two eggs, an English muffin, and a slice of cantaloupe, I threw on my favorite black jersey maternity dress, some sensible ballet flats, and a pair of oversized red sunglasses.
My phone buzzed right when I was about to step in the elevator.
Emma darling, how is your morning? I miss you. Feeling okay?
I smiled and returned the text.
Hey, babe. I’m on my way to the bookstore. Feeling great, the baby is kicking like crazy. How’s São Paulo? I miss you, too.
Caleb quickly texted a photo of the building, telling me the party was in less than eight hours and he was doing some work in his hotel room.
Wish I was there with you. I love you. I took a selfie and sent it to him.
Beautiful as ever. I’ll call you later. I love you, Emma doll.
Whenever he texted me, emailed, or called, I still got a little charge. Even after three years together. That reminded me; our anniversary of the night we’d met at Story Brothel was coming up. I wanted to buy him a gift. But what?
I pondered this while I drove to my bookstore, which was only five blocks away. I had so many stops to make today I didn’t have time to walk. Or, in my case, waddle.
Gina, the store’s new manager, was already there when I arrived. And so was my brother-in-law. I rolled my eyes. Colin was dressed in one of his expensive tailored suits, leaning over the counter and grinning at Gina with familiar predatory eyes.
“Hey,” I said dismissively. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
“We met at your New Year’s Eve party. Don’t you remember?” Gina asked.
I shrugged, stuffing my purse in a drawer. For some reason, I thought Colin had brought another woman to our party. I hadn’t kept track. The TV reporter, perhaps?
The urge to say something snarky about Colin’s never-ending parade of women was on the tip of my tongue, but I liked Gina a lot, so I didn’t. Later, maybe I’d tell her about his inability to com
mit. Or maybe I wouldn’t because it was none of my damn business. Still, I wanted her to stay with the store and didn’t need any tension between us when my brother-in-law inevitably ghosted her.
“Oh, right, I do remember you two dancing on the terrace.” I patted my stomach.
“Yes, Gina was showing me how to salsa. She’s quite rhythmic. And those cake pops of hers…” Colin grinned lustily. I could fully understand why he’d be smitten with her; Gina was gorgeous and fun. She had wavy, honey-blonde hair, wore dark-rimmed glasses, and had a curvy body. Gina was also bright, witty, and wrote for a popular feminist website.
So why would she want anything to do with Colin? I wondered.
“Em, did Caleb send you the photos of the building?” Colin passed his phone to Gina, and she cooed.
“He did. It looks amazing. I’m really proud of him.”
“We all are.” Colin straightened and caught my eye. God, he was tall. Like his brother. I hoped the baby would get their height. “Well, I need to get to the office. Em, see you around. Gina, I’ll text you tonight. Maybe we can catch a movie or something.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she called out in a higher-pitched voice than usual.
As Colin walked out, I shuffled through the mail. Gina came up next to me.
“I won’t go out with him if you don’t want me to. If you think it would be awkward.”
I looked at her, puzzled. “Why would it be awkward?”
“Because you’re my boss and he’s your brother-in-law.”
I shrugged. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“But?”
“There’s no buts.” I paused, then smiled. “Okay, there is a but. And I’m telling you this woman-to-woman. As a friend, not a boss. I’m not sure Colin is, um, the best choice for anything but a fling.”
Gina grinned. “Who says I want anything more than a fling?”
I rubbed my stomach and burst out laughing at Gina’s words. I’d said the same thing once upon a time, right in this very store.
* * *
I didn’t stop moving all day. There was the baby clothing shop, where I intended only to look but walked out with a dozen organic cotton mint-green onesies, each with a different animal embroidered on the front. I spent two hours at my new bookstore, talking to contractors who were finishing an annex to the main sales floor where I planned to throw romance-themed parties and hold book signings. I dropped off a check to the interior designer of the nursery, drank a fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice, bought two oatmeal cookies and ate one, went back to the bookstore to pick up checks, and then ran to the bank before it closed. After, I was famished and ate an entire gluten-free vegan pizza.
Along the way, I sent Caleb photos.
Do you like the onesies?
I ate this entire pizza.
And this cookie.
Do you still have a headache?
He responded immediately each time.
When’s your massage? You need to slow down and relax.
Yes, I am still feeling a little weird. I think it’s something I ate.
Can’t wait to be home.
Why did he always have to push himself?
Don’t drink too much tonight. I’m going into massage place now. Don’t worry about me!
After the two-hour rubdown, I felt boneless and spent. The shred of energy I had left was spent on driving home, and when I arrived, I stripped off my clothes, peed, drank water, peed some more, and then flopped on the bed. I looked at the time. It was already six o’clock.
Are you at the party? I texted to Caleb.
Yes, check out the food and flower spread.
He sent several photos of the tropical displays, each one more beautiful than the last.
Ohhh I wish I could be there.
I do, too.
Have fun and don’t worry about texting me over the next few hours. I’m going to nap. Or maybe go to bed for the evening. I’m sleepy. Make sure you get enough rest.
I hoped Caleb would work less when the baby came. We’d have to have a talk about it when he got home.
Yes, I will. But please relax, my love. And take your blood pressure at some point. Don’t forget. I miss you. Quero passar minha vida te amando.
I grinned and tapped on the screen. I’m so impressed with your Portuguese. What does that mean?
I want to spend my lifetime loving you.
I sighed. Could I have married a better man?
I love you so much. Text me when the party’s over and you return to your hotel room.
I didn’t even have the strength to set my phone on the nightstand. Instead, I held it as I drifted off.
Chapter 7
My bladder was on the verge of exploding, and I woke from a dead sleep. I flung myself off the bed and into the bathroom, groaning as I relieved myself. It seemed like the more pregnant I became, the less my bladder could hold.
I padded back to the bed in the dark and patted the sheets for my phone. Finding it, I flicked it on. It was midnight, and I’d been asleep for nearly six hours.
So it was one in the morning in São Paulo. I checked my texts. Weird. Caleb hadn’t messaged me. I frowned at the glowing device in my hand.
It wasn’t like him to not text me. Or call. Or both.
Hello sweetie! I woke up after sleeping for six hours. I’m going back to bed but text me to let me know you’re back in the hotel and safe, okay?
I waited a few minutes, staring at the screen. Caleb always returned my texts immediately. He’d texted when he was dining with the governor, when he was in business meetings in D.C., when he once went to China and the time difference was a half-day. If he couldn’t talk, he’d reply with something quick. Call later. ILY, he’d write. The ILY was his shorthand for I love you, and it meant he was super busy.
Now, nothing.
I dialed his number, and it went straight to voicemail. His mailbox was full, and I couldn’t leave a message. What the hell? I sent him a short email.
My heart started to thump faster. Where was he? I knew the party had probably lasted late; it was Brazil, after all. But this late? Surely there’d be lots of drinking and celebrating. Maybe they’d all gone to a restaurant or bar afterward?
I dialed again and got the voicemail. Then I texted a second time.
Caleb, I’m worried about you. I keep getting your voicemail and it’s full. Please call me. Or text. Please? I love you.
I checked my email. Nothing. Facebook. Nothing. I looked at Caleb’s Facebook page, and he’d posted some photos of the party at around six my time—they were mostly the same photos he’d sent me. He also posted a photo of him with the architectural team, and I swiped and pinched and expanded the picture. Although he was smiling, Caleb looked exhausted, with deep circles under his eyes. Travel didn’t usually tire him, and the time difference between Florida and Brazil was only one hour, so jetlag wasn’t an issue.
Was he sick? He hadn’t been feeling well. Was that why he wasn’t answering his phone or texts?
I scrolled through the comments and didn’t see any from him.
There had to be another way to contact him. The hotel! He’d sent me his hotel name and room number. I read back through hundreds of our messages and found the information, then dialed. The hotel operator answered in Portuguese.
“Good evening, I’d like room 4000 please. The presidential suite.”
The operator responded in English. “One moment, ma’am.”
The phone rang and rang, and then the operator’s heavily accented voice came on the line. “No one is answering. I’m sorry.”
I hung up and my stomach dropped as my phone’s screen faded to black, leaving me in the darkness. Where could he be? I had a bad feeling about Caleb’s silence. Immediately my paranoid mind defaulted to the obvious explanation: he was with a woman. A final fling before he was tied down with a wife and a baby. Of course my mind went to that scenario, because before Caleb, I hadn’t been with many faithful guys.
No, it wasn’t possible, I told myself. Caleb was the most trustworthy man I’d met. He loved me. He wasn’t like the men I’d dated before him. He’d even had the chance to cheat on his first wife, who he hadn’t truly loved, and yet he didn’t.
So where was he?
A darker thought came to mind. What if he was hurt? What if something happened to him? Did they have kidnappings in Brazil? Terrorist attacks? I flicked to my favorite news app and scanned the world news. Iraq…Beirut…Indonesia. There were no stories out of Brazil.
Chewing on a thumbnail, I took another pass through all of my social media accounts to see if anything new had been posted. It hadn’t, and I leaned over to the nightstand and flicked on a lamp. I shivered and covered myself with a sheet, and then I dialed Colin. I figured they would have been in touch about the business.
“Hello,” he mumbled.
“Colin. Have you heard from Caleb? I haven’t heard from him in six hours and I tried texting and calling him and checked his Facebook and—”
“Whoa. Whoa. Emma. Stop. Calm down. What?”
I heard the murmur of a female voice. Of course. I rolled my eyes and spoke slowly into the phone, like I was talking to a three-year-old. “I. Have. Not. Heard. From. Caleb. In. Hours.” I paused, then released an explosion of swear words. “And I’m really fucking worried.”
“Hmm. Okay. Okay. Let me check my messages. One second. Gina, can you move your leg please? Emma, I’m going to put you on speakerphone.”
The other end of the phone crackled with the sound of movement. I sighed audibly. “Hey, Gina.”
Gina giggled. “Hey, Em.”
Caleb cleared his throat. “Looks like last I heard from him at five-thirty when he sent me pictures of the view from the rooftop terrace.”
I groaned. “I got the same photos. No emails? No Facebook messages?”
“Let me check…email…no. Facebook…no.”
“Okay. So what are we going to do?” I was trying not to implode with anxiety.