Moving On

by Emma Tharp

  I was nervous about it, too, but she’s a ball of anxiety. I can’t hear what Jackson is saying to her, but, taking her time, she lies down. Jackson must have the same power of persuasion over her that Braeden has over me. The McLoughlin brothers are smooth.

  We all take a turn kissing the Blarney Stone and when we are finished, we decide to find a restaurant and go to our hotel.

  After a delicious lunch and visiting a couple of pubs, it’s early evening. Braeden and I decide to go to the hotel.

  Checking in, I’m not surprised that Braeden booked one room for us to share.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” His dimples play at the corners of his sexy smile. Of course I don’t mind.

  “Well, I guess it’s okay.” I’m grateful that he paid for our room tonight as well. My grandmother didn’t reserve a room for us in Cork, so I would have been up the creek without a paddle without Braeden.

  Good thing, because the McLoughlins took the last rooms in the hotel.

  I don’t ask if Jackson and Amelia are spending the night together or if he’ll be taking her to wherever her friends are.

  My phone starts buzzing in my purse. I must be picking up the Wi-Fi connection here. I pull it out and look at the screen. The first text is from Fiona telling me to give her a call.

  There’s another from Mark. Didn’t expect to see that.

  My curiosity is piqued. Texts are impossible to interpret. You’ve got no idea what type of inflection the sender is using.

  As we walk up the stairs to our room, I type Fiona’s number into my cell and let it ring. I check the time. She should be up.

  “You need to make a call?” Braeden asks as he unlocks the door to our room.

  “Really quick. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I’m going to hop in the shower. Join me when you finish?” It’s a question.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Lettie. What the hell is going on in Ireland?” Fiona’s tone is playful and accusatory at the same time.

  “Hey, Fee. What do you mean?” I’m trying to keep my voice down. Braeden just went in the bathroom and turned the water on.

  “Why have you been holding out on me?”

  I’m so confused. “I’m not.” Well, I guess I sort of am, but I haven’t spoken to her. So much has happened in the space of a few days.

  “Instagram says you are.”

  What the hell is she talking about? I haven’t been on any social media since I got to Ireland. “Quit beating around the bush.”

  “You’re in Ireland with Braeden McLoughlin? Jackson tagged you in some pictures,” Fiona says.

  Damn. “I haven’t seen them. What pictures did he post?” I’m panicking inside. This is a fling. Nothing that I want the rest of the world to see.

  “You guys were all out at a restaurant in one picture and the other is you and Braeden at some castle. He’s got his arms around you and he’s talking in your ear. Looks pretty intense. Which leads me back to my question. What the hell is going in Ireland?”

  “Okay. Well, I didn’t fly here thinking I’d be meeting up with Braeden if that’s what you’re asking.” My tone is defensive, even to my own ears.

  “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I’m your best friend and you look happy in the photos. Mark isn’t happy about it, but screw him. I want to know about you.”

  “Yes, screw Mark. I am happy. Braeden is just what I need.”

  She cuts me off. “You know he’s a player, right? And that he fucked over our friend, too.”

  “Yeah, how exactly did he wrong Janessa? For the life of me, I can’t remember.”

  “Well, he broke up with her. He didn’t have a good reason. She felt like he strung her along.”

  “Was there anything else? Did he abuse her, lie, cheat?” I’m losing my patience and getting defensive. It seems like there are a lot of unfounded accusations and no real proof.

  “Umm, no. I don’t think so. He was a dick about everything though. Be careful.”

  It’s my turn to cut her off. “Listen, please. This isn’t a relationship. We’re having a fling. That’s it. Nothing more.”

  She sighs into the phone. “You can handle that?”

  “Yes. I can. He’s been here for me when I needed help. I was a mess when I got here. We’re just having fun,” I say all of this with as much conviction as I can. I need her to get it and if Mark or Janessa reach out to her, I’ll need her to put the fire out. I was hoping that nobody would find out, but it looks like it’s a little too late for that.

  “If you say so.”

  Braeden is singing something in the shower. His voice brings me back to the moment and I suddenly want to get off the phone and join him.

  “I do. And if anyone asks you, please tell them that I ran into Braeden here and we’re just friends. Can you do that for me?”

  “You know I’ll always run interference for you. I’ve got your back, even if I’m not sure this is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

  I giggle. “Thank you.”

  “One more question. Are you sleeping with him?”

  I’m quiet. I know whatever I tell her won’t leave her lips, but something in me wants to keep what’s going on with Braeden and I between us.

  “All right. There’s my answer,” Fiona says.

  “I love you, Fee. And I’ll be in touch soon.” I smooch the phone and hang up. Fiona knows what’s going on. I hope she can hear in my voice how happy I am and that she doesn’t have to worry about me.

  I strip my clothes off and open the door to the bathroom. Warm steam greets me. When I pull back the curtain, Braeden stands in front of me, beads of water dripping down his smooth skin. He eyes me and his body comes to life. He takes my hand in his and brings me into the warm stream of water. I tilt my head back and soak my hair.

  Braeden pours shampoo into his hand and massages it into my scalp. The clean scent, hot steam, and Braeden’s skilled fingers are intoxicating. I rinse my hair as Braeden lathers my body with soap, paying special attention to my nipples, which harden immediately. He uses the lightest possible pressure when cleaning my center, legs, and toes. I rinse the suds off me and Braeden kneels in front of me; his fingers slide, grip, and caress me, awakening parts of my body I’m not sure I knew existed before now. I moan and writhe when his tongue takes the place of his fingers.

  “Oh, Braeden,” I hiss out.

  His eyes look up to find mine and he stands, turns the water off, and steps out to grab us towels. He puts one around my shoulders and dries me off with skill and tenderness. He lifts me up under my legs and carries me to the bed.

  We fall together and the bed creaks under us. Both of our eyes widen with the sound. He hovers over me, warm breath on my face and breathing ragged. “I don’t think I can wait.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  That’s the only invitation he needs. He drags his length over me and I arch up to meet him. He teases my clit back and forth, still not entering me. I reach down and grab his ass, guiding him toward my entrance. His eyes are hooded and he smirks at me, knowing how much he’s playing with me and loving every second. Finally, he makes his way in, inch by inch, going painfully slow.

  I buck my hips up higher, meeting him thrust for thrust. When his mouth finds my nipple and sucks it in, I grasp at the sheets. The edge is near and we’ve only just begun. “That feels so good.”

  “You like it?” Braeden pants out and when I tell him yes, his chest rumbles.

  I reach behind me and find the cool metal of the headboard. With each thrust, the bed creaks louder. My moans become more frequent now as growing tension surrounds me.

  His mouth is on mine and his wet hair tickles my forehead. He pushes one of my legs back and it lays next to my shoulder. He is as deep as he can go. His movements are quicker now, as if he’s losing control.

  The pressure and the sound of the blood rushing in my ears culminate together and I am lost in space, my body quivering and shakin
g.

  He rides it out with me, giving me what I need to crest over wave after wave and before I can come down, he joins me in the deep.

  He rests his body on mine and we fit together like two puzzle pieces. This man complements me in every way. In the bliss that follows mind-blowing sex I wish for this peace and contentment with him for longer than this trip. It wouldn’t work. I’m not ready for another relationship. Mark made sure of that. Not to mention that Braeden told me flat out not to fall for him and that he was no good for me. Those words should’ve been warning signs enough. But, of course my fickle heart doesn’t pay a bit of attention to reason and logic. Damn thing.

  I haven’t been this happy in years. I owe so much of it to being with Braeden, and not because of him, but because of who I am with him. I’d love for my grandmother to meet him. Stupid idea. She’d fall for him, too. The impossibility of my situation weighs on me, but I won’t let it ruin the rest of the time I have with him. He’s mine, for now.

  I make lazy circles with my nails over the skin of his back and he lets out a contented sigh. When his breathing becomes even, I’m sure he’s fallen asleep. I ease him off me. He rolls and his arm, like a security blanket, drapes over me.

  A loud intrusive sound wails from my phone. I open one eye and see that it’s four in the morning. The display says it’s Fiona.

  I answer it, my voice thick with sleep. “Hello.”

  “Lettie. Are you sleeping?”

  “I was. It’s four in Ireland. Remember you’re five hours behind in Virginia.” I talk low into the phone, attempting not to wake up Braeden. “What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry to wake you, but it’s important. It’s your grandmother.”

  I don’t like the dread in her voice. I don’t say anything, just ease out of the bed, and go into the bathroom. “What is it?”

  “She had a heart attack tonight and…” She sniffs and continues, “She didn’t make it.”

  My vision starts to distort. I ease my body down the wall in the bathroom and put my head between my knees. I’ve passed out before and I know the signs. It’s coming. I lie down on the floor and press my cheek to the cold tile. It helps. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m so sorry. I wish I was there with you.” She’s crying now into the line. I wish she wouldn’t. It’s hard enough for me to stay strong. I don’t have it in me to console her.

  “Me, too.” I’ve lost many people close to me in my life. My mom and dad, my grandfather. Nothing has hurt this much. “I’ve got to go. I’ll get on the first flight back home.”

  “I can’t stand the thought of you being there alone.”

  “I’m not. Braeden is here. He’ll help me.” I’m in utility mode. I need to get home and keep my shit together until I get there. It’s the only thing that matters.

  She hesitates. “Okay, that’s good.”

  “It is. Thanks for calling. I’ll be in touch.” I sound cold, even to my own ears.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” I end the call.

  6

  This is it. The only time I will allow myself to cry before I get home. I can’t be a blubbering mess when things need to get done. I sob, lying here on the bathroom floor. Snot falls out of my nose and gets stuck in my throat. I cough and spit.

  Memories of my beautiful, sweet, caring, loving grandmother flood my memory. She was everything to me, and I was to her. Whenever I needed someone, she was there with her unwavering support and freshly washed cotton smell. The epitome of courage and loyalty. I don’t know how I’m going to get along without her.

  A deep pit of aching forms in my chest and squeezes at my heart. I’m not prepared to deal with this loss on top of everything else. I’ll have to shift my mask back into place and get to business, just like I always do.

  When the tears ebb, I stand and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are purple-red and bags hang there like dirty laundry. Dark mascara has run down my cheeks like roads and valleys on a map. I rinse off my face and dry it with a towel. It’s not good, but it’ll have to do for now.

  I sneak out of the bathroom and pad toward the nightstand where my purse is. I’ll need my credit card to book a new flight. I try to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, but the blinds are doing a good job of blocking out any form of light. I reach for the bag and hit the lamp instead. Grabbing for it in the dark is a wasted effort as the brass lamp crashes to the floor and lands squarely on my foot. I let out a whoop, jump around, and try to rub it at the same time. Braeden is up and out of the bed in a millisecond. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hit my foot,” is all I can get out. The sharp pain throbs and I must look like a fool hopping around the room.

  Braeden switches on the main lights and comes over to me. He’s still naked and gorgeous with his mussed-up hair. I can’t believe I can get turned on when I’m in agony. “Sit down. Let me look at it.”

  I take a seat at the edge of the bed. He examines me and says, “Stay here. I’m going to get some ice from the lobby.” He throws on a pair of shorts, grabs a washcloth, and leaves the room. In less than two minutes, he’s back with the ice and places it on my foot.

  Initially the cold stings, but quickly turns to a pleasant numbness. “Thank you. Sorry I woke you.”

  “What were you trying to do?”

  I’m not going to lie to him, but I was hoping to avoid this conversation until after my ticket was booked and I had a plan in place. “I was getting my purse. I need to leave, so I was going to book a flight in the bathroom, but I needed my credit card. It’s so damn dark in here that I knocked over the lamp and woke you up.”

  “Wait. Why are you leaving?”

  I suck back the lump forming in the back of my throat and press my lips together. “My grandmother died. I have to go make arrangements,” I say it as detached as I can. I know Braeden would be a soft place for me to fall in this moment, but that’s it. As soon as I’m gone, it’s over. I can’t get attached and relying on him for emotional comfort will do just that. I’ll fall hook, line, and sinker and heaven knows I won’t be able to crawl out of that mess with everything else going wrong in my life.

  “Oh, god. I’m so sorry. I know she was important to you.”

  “Yes. She was.”

  He throws his warm arms around me and I can smell us on him. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. I can’t do anything until I get home.” I pull away from him even though it’s physically painful to do so. “I have to call the airline.”

  He’s up and off the bed and digging through his bag. “Screw calling them. You could wait on hold forever. It’ll be easier on my laptop.”

  He goes over to the desk and pulls up a travel site. I take the ice off my foot and move it around. It’s comfortably numb. I stand next to him as he types away at the keys.

  “You don’t have to do this. I can take care of it. I can probably just change my ticket and I know you must be tired.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” The computer loads up several flight options for the morning and my stomach sinks when I see the prices. He clicks on the first flight out.

  “I can’t afford that one. Scroll down and see if the prices are less.”

  “You need to get out of here, right?”

  “Yes.” My voice comes out soft and timid.

  “Then let me do this for you.” He pulls his credit card out of his wallet and enters in the numbers.

  “It’s too much.”

  He turns his head toward me with eyes full of support and patience. “It’s done.”

  I want to cry and kiss his cheeks with gratitude. But I don’t. “I can pay you back.”

  He stands up and wraps himself around me, cocooning me. The gesture is protective and caring. I sink into him and soak it up. “Your flight leaves in a few hours. We better get you packed up. And I’m driving you to the airport.”

  I want to protest. He’s doing too much. It’s all too much, but the look in his eyes tells me there’s nothin
g I can do to stop him.

  I go in the bathroom and wash up. After I’m dressed, I gather my belongings and pack them in the overnight bag I brought with me to Cork. Braeden is dressed and waiting for me.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I think I have everything.” I scan the room one last time.

  “I called a cab. They should be outside waiting for us.”

  I nod at him as he opens the door for me. He grabs my hand and squeezes it.

  He was right, there is a taxi waiting outside the hotel doors. We get in and sit in silence for the ten-minute trip to the airport. He leaves his hand on my thigh. It’s warm and I wish it would be there the entire flight home. I’m going to miss this.

  When we get to departures and the cab comes to a stop, I want to get out and run to avoid a long goodbye. My resolve is hanging by a thin thread. If he plucks it, it’ll snap loose and who knows what will happen then.

  “Come here.” He pulls me in close. He smells like leather, spice, and crisp Irish air. I don’t want to let go.

  “Thank you. For everything. I’ve had an amazing time in Ireland.” I wish it didn’t get cut short.

  “You’re welcome. And thank you.”

  “For what?” I can’t imagine what I might have done to deserve any thanks from him.

  He pushes my hair away from my face, grabs my cheeks with his hands, and lowers his forehead to mine. “Thank you for being you. Ireland wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

  I laugh.

  He kisses my nose and then my mouth. When his tongue presses against mine in the sweetest, softest way, I think it might break me. One traitorous tear falls down my face. Instead of acknowledging it, I deepen the pressure and grab the back of his head bringing him closer to me. The push and pull of our tongues creates an ache deep in my core. I press my body to him, feeling how hard he is against me. “God, I’m going to miss this.” It slips past my lips and I regret the words as fast as I say them. I am in a lust-filled haze standing in front of the airport. I can’t be held responsible for the things I say.