Eight Goodbyes

by Christine Brae

  “Will I see you again?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I can schedule a signing on your side of the world.”

  “I’d love that,” he said, pacified.

  “Tell me, Simon. Why did you come all the way out here to see me?”

  The moment turned solemn. She hugged her knees to her chest and tilted her head to look at him.

  “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met at the airport.”

  His honesty scared him. What was he doing?

  “Just curious, Mr. Fremont. Was that the most out of character thing you’ve ever done? Follow me to baggage claim?”

  “Definitely. That was it, for sure.”

  “Well, then promise me you’ll keep in touch, okay?”

  He saw sadness in her face. He wasn’t sure she felt the same way, but her words gave him hope.

  “WhatsApp.” He laughed.

  “Yeah. Perfect.”

  “I have to go,” he said, standing.

  “Okay.” She remained seated, this time slipping both hands under her legs.

  He wanted to reach out and touch her one last time, but he was afraid he would scare her away. She was a no next-step kind of girl, and he was enamored with who she was and what she represented.

  “It was nice seeing you, Tessa. I’ll call when I get back to Boston.”

  “Bye, Simon.”

  And with that, he turned around and walked away.

  She was sure she’d never see him again.

  People say things in the heat of the moment and then they walk away and forget. Connections, affinities—they’re hard to come by. Sometimes they never happen at all. She spent a few more minutes in the garden by herself, thinking about how lonely she was, and how much she appreciated his visit. No one had ever done that just for her. Her. Not her book. Not her popularity nor success. Just her. She sat on the bench, immobilized by her sadness, running her fingers along the letters etched on the wood, absorbed in one particular inscription.

  Go for it, Taurus!

  And that was her sign to get on her feet and run.

  She didn’t care that there were people waiting for her as she ran back into the hotel lobby. There he was at the end of the hall, right before the elevator bank, his bag at his side, his eyes fixed on no one else but her.

  “Tessa! Tessa!” Strangers called to her, books in hand, excitement in their faces. She waved at them and blew them a kiss but kept on walking; she only had eyes for the man with his back against the wall. He was waiting for her. Standing patiently and waiting.

  When she reached him, when they came face to face, they were again all alone.

  “Don’t go, Simon,” she blurted in between a deep breath. “I don’t want you to say goodbye.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” he answered, a smile slowly building. “Say goodbye.”

  She held out both hands as they stepped into her room and he pulled her close to him. The delicate way he cradled her face in his hands, the soft touch of his thumbs across her cheeks, surprised her. Somehow, she thought they’d be tearing at each other’s clothes in a frenzy.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispered, before gently brushing his lips against hers. She kissed him back while tugging at his collar, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his body.

  And then she drew her head back and gasped as he lifted her up and pressed himself against her. She was sure he could tell how ready she was for him. He carried her to the bed and laid her gently at the edge, watching as she hurriedly slipped out of her dress and her underwear. He grabbed them from her and threw them on the floor, licked his lips and tore the belt off his jeans as she held out both arms to him.

  “Tessa,” he growled. “I want to be inside you.”

  “Simon,” she answered, pointing towards the night table directly above his head. “If you want to use—”

  He silenced her with his mouth, wrapped her legs around him, made love to her with his lips, his hands, his body. He fit her so perfectly, seemed to know when to pick up the pace and when to slow down. She came twice before he did—something she hadn’t experienced in years. The way he held her after that first time, smoothing her hair away from her face and nestling her head against his chest, confirmed her connection to him as well.

  Many more times that night, they discovered each other, forming a bond and an intimacy that they didn’t dare to speak of. They’d both been there before. Like a one-night stand, nothing was implied, nothing was promised. And even though it was the most tender one-night stand she’d ever had, she berated herself for thinking it could ever happen again.

  #MeetMeSanFrancisco

  Tessa knew she was being ridiculous when she paused to compose herself at the entrance of The Cliff House before walking in. She fidgeted with the straps of her top, making sure they sat neatly on her shoulders before brushing her clammy palms against her hips. Tessa was keen on picking up where they’d left off. In fact, she’d been having trouble thinking of anything else after they’d made plans to meet again.

  She sucked in a breath as she approached the hostess, who quickly placed a caller on hold.

  “I’m here to meet a friend,” she said, squinting against the glare of the sun shining through the glass.

  “Is that him?” The hostess tilted her head toward the corner table at the far end of the room. Despite having been separated for weeks, he stood out to her.

  Simon didn’t look like every other man her age, with the typical J Crew or Ralph Lauren style of dressing. He was European, classic and streamlined. Everything he wore seemed sized to taper him perfectly, from his slim-fitting jeans to his leather lace up shoes. Even his plaid shirts fell tight against his body.

  He’d trimmed his beard and his hair looked shorter. He was a handsome man, and she was immensely attracted to him.

  We’re just having fun, she’d repeatedly assured Riley, who kept wanting to know why Tessa had to meet him.

  Correction, she’d argued. He’s meeting me. Besides, that’s the point, isn’t it? I want to get to know him. He’s leaving for England soon and I want to see him at least one last time.

  One last time, my ass, Riley had said.

  Simon looked deep in thought as he folded and unfolded his napkin and laid it neatly on the plate.

  “Hi,” she said. “Simon?”

  He lurched out of his seat, hitting his knee on the table.

  She smiled. It wasn’t like him to be so rattled.

  He pulled her into an awkward embrace, one hand on her shoulder, the other loosely touching her back “Hi,” he said. Remarkable how familiar his touch was.

  “Hi.”

  It felt good to see him in person once again. She turned and sat across from him, facing the wide expanse of sun and sea. It was a windy day, the waves crashing wildly along the shore. A sole surfer sat on his board and swished and swashed with the force of the water.

  “You look great,” he said, his smile shy, demure.

  “Considering I just flew in this morning,” she responded self-consciously, wishing she could check herself in a mirror. She was there for a book signing, and he was there for her. The texts and messages between then had increased in frequency after they’d seen each other in Vegas. What had been once a week on Thursday was now at least once a day.

  She missed him, late at night when she was all alone, when the apartment was quiet and the stillness of everything blared in her head.

  “Riley still giving you grief about meeting me?” he asked, taking the menu and looking it over.

  “I kinda like it.” She waved at the server to let her know they needed more time before ordering. “Driving her crazy, I mean.”

  “Ha!” he answered with a chuckle. “How’s the new book going? Any luck with the writing?”

  “Nope. Still muddling through. I’ve finally figured out that my brain can only handle one thing at a time.”

&nb
sp; He smiled. “Not true. I think they’re just coming at you from so many directions, you can’t keep up.”

  “Maybe.”

  They both shook their heads while studying the menu. Disoriented by his presence, all she saw were words that made no sense. The server approached again. This time, Simon was the one who waved her off. “I think she wants to take our order.”

  “I’m not really hungry.” She caught his gaze before he licked his lips and smiled back at her. She wished he could read her mind.

  There was hope, after all. Maybe he could read hers.

  “Me, neither,” he answered. “At least not for food.”

  Tessa shifted nervously in her seat. “We can go for a walk. It’s a bit windy, but the beach looks pretty empty.”

  He slid over to the seat next to her, laid his hand on her lap and slowly trailed his fingers on the hemline of her skirt.

  Her breath caught in her throat and her face felt hot.

  “Or… we can stay indoors and continue where we left off…”

  “I’m starved.”

  Tessa sat on the floor with her legs crossed, surrounded by two large trays of finger foods and fresh fruit. Simon lay splayed out on the bed, a sheet draped over his legs. He reminded her of the Calvin Klein model on a huge billboard in the middle of Times Square.

  He shot his head up, eyes squinted, lips parted. “What?”

  She ignored his jibe, knowing exactly what he meant. She wasn’t sure she’d had enough of that—to be honest.

  “Mmm. Did you try this one? It’s got brie baked into the crust. Oh, and here’s the one with the gross olives you ordered,” she said lightheartedly. “Want me to fix you a plate?”

  She popped a strawberry in her mouth, and then threw a piece at him. He jerked his head upwards and caught it with his teeth.

  “One of your many amazing skills!” she teased.

  “Are you done devouring that yet?” Simon sat up and watched her chomp hungrily on a croissant. “Jesus, where do you put it all?”

  “Why? Did you want to go and do something? It’s midnight. I wonder what the nightlife is here in this place.”

  Tessa dusted the crumbs off her and lifted herself off the floor, her robe untied and undone, giving him a clear view of her body. She saw the shift in his face as he stared at her, his eyes like burning sapphires.

  Feeling shy all of a sudden, she pulled it closed, her fingers hastily tying a knot as she approached him.

  “You know what I want. I want you to come here,” he motioned, offering her his right hand.

  She bolted on the bed and landed on his lap, facing him.

  “Seriously? We’re not going out?” she teased, grinding on him at the same time.

  “No. I’m more than fine,” he growled, “staying in.”

  He brought his lips to her neck and traced a trail of wet kisses down toward her shoulder. Their coupling had the energy of the first time—the sparks, the butterflies, the overwhelming stimulation, in equal parts with the stumbling, the faltering, and the ardent desire not to over commit.

  “Okay.” She pulled away from him and slid toward the end of the bed, still holding on to his hand. He let her lead him to the tall window by the corner of the room. She wriggled her shoulders until the robe slipped off and pressed herself against the glass. She could see Alcatraz in the distance, seagulls circling the island and then dipping down into the trees.

  Yes, she was still as alone and independent as she was before she met him. But Simon could become her refuge from the craziness of her career. He could be the break she needed every so often—no pressure, no timeline, just a meeting whenever they were able to pull it off.

  “I have to make it worth your trip to come see me.” She turned her head sideways to address him.

  “It was worth it three hours ago.” He stepped in to wrap his arms around her, trying to protect her from the cold, hard surface.

  “Here?” he whispered in her ear.

  His body felt hot against her skin.

  “Here.”

  “Why?” he asked, his nose buried in her neck. “Because I hate heights?”

  He used both knees to push her legs apart.

  “Precisely.”

  Simon stared at the horizon as Tessa walked along the shoreline, dipping her toes in and out with the tide. He’d never been this close to the ocean before. A blue and yellow buoy bobbed in the distance, spraying fine mists of water as the waves lapped against it.

  He felt unsettled about leaving for the airport in a few hours, but he had never deviated from his plans. Except that one night in Vegas, when his gut had told him he couldn’t leave her just yet. When she’d asked him to stay with her, he hadn’t needed to think twice.

  The woman he watched on the beach was a constant mystery. She laughed easily, never gave too much of herself away, was worldly, well-traveled, and extremely well spoken. They never ran out of things to talk about, there was never an awkward moment between them.

  Add that to a smoking hot body, with curves in the right places and breasts that would put any supermodel to shame.

  Two more weeks in Boston and then back home to England he would go. He was chasing a deadline, should have been working this weekend instead of flying out to San Francisco to see her. But all he’d been doing for weeks was working, and this trip was his prize for all those grueling hours.

  Testing and retesting, documenting his hypotheses and results. His brain was always in overdrive. In fact, before he’d met her, life to him was all about his career. It still was, but she was his obscurity—a break from the clarity he’d lived in all his life. Outside of this explanation, he needed to admit that he was fixated with her.

  “Are you going to check out the Sutro baths with me?” Tessa called from the pile of rubble leading to an uphill path filled with gravel. They had just had breakfast at the Cliff House on Ocean Beach. Adjacent to the restaurant was the historic site that housed the baths—public saltwater swimming pools that had burned down in 1966.

  “You’re climbing that thing?” he yelled back. “I think we can get to the same place through the restaurant.” He looked down at his feet, felt the sensation of soft powdery sugar between his toes. He kinda liked it.

  “What’s the fun in that?” she asked, pausing at the bottom to gather her sandals while holding her hand out to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

  Slowly, he stood and walked toward her, mumbling. “Why do you always have to say that?”

  The path was wide enough for only one person. Tessa walked in front of him, still barefoot, maneuvering herself through the stones and climbing up with one leg at a time.

  “Don’t ask me why I wore white today,” she said, poking fun at herself. The last few levels were higher than she could manage with an upward step, and so she landed on her knee and scraped her pants on a sharp ridge.

  “You sure you want to keep your sandals off? You’ve got sand all over you.” Simon held on to her as she lost her balance.

  She nodded and kept on. “It’s only sand, Simon. Believe it or not, it washes off.”

  Soon, they were walking along the walls of the baths—the narrow foundation filled with stone and cement. Simon couldn’t get down quickly enough; he didn’t enjoy the feeling of walking on a tightrope. The walls were quite high, about five feet above the muddy path. As soon as he was able to get off the wall, he did so.

  Tessa continued tracing the walls, one foot in front of the other, arms stretched to the side. She stopped to take in the view from where she stood before pulling out her phone and snapping a few photos. The blue sea, the dark colored sand, the baths in all their majesty, the cloudless sky—Simon observed this from the ground while she towered above him, twisting her body to maintain her balance.

  “Kind of looks like the Roman ruins, doesn’t it?” she yelled.

  Simon grabbed her hand and gently pulled until she hopped down from the walls.
He led her down a path to a small cave.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this all morning,” he whispered as he pushed her against the wall and brought his lips to hers. He bit into that softness. She tasted sweet like the cotton candy they’d shared that time in Vegas.

  “Why didn’t you just say so?” She kissed him back. Last night, this morning—it didn’t matter, Simon wanted her again, right now. He loved that her arms, her kisses, her touches were for him anywhere and everywhere he needed them.

  “We can go if you want to,” she whispered, rubbing her nose against his chin and then nuzzling his neck.

  He wanted to. He needed to. The blouse she wore had been driving him crazy all morning. Its crocheted material left much to the imagination. Tessa had tastefully lined it with a tank top, but her cleavage just couldn’t stay concealed no matter what she wore.

  But first things first. He needed a plan for the next time. It bothered him that she never brought up anything having to do with tomorrow. Or the next hour. Or the next day. They lived in the moment, enjoyed themselves and when it came time to say goodbye, she never had a plan. Maybe that was his role in her life. To give her a plan. Because he wanted to see more of her, more often.

  “Okay, but can we sit for a few minutes to talk? You know once we get to the hotel room, there’s not going to be much talking.”

  “Oh baby, if you want me to talk, I can talk,” she teased, kissing his nose.

  He laughed. “That too. How about over there,” he said, pointing to some picnic tables outside the cave.

  There they sat, across from each other, Simon with his right leg crossed over his left and Tessa with her head resting on her elbows.

  “Look at that couple over there,” she said. He turned to see a woman wagging her finger at a man who slapped it away from his face. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but their voices were raised, and she was crying. “Don’t they look like they’re about to get a divorce? The woman has been nit picking at him for this whole time. I heard them arguing. Obviously, she’s upset about something. And he’s not saying anything, like he’s given up. I wonder if they have kids. Maybe they—”