oOo
Over the next two days, Rhees got worse, not better, and she refused to let him take her back to the States. Paul tried very hard to be attentive, but he was scared out of his mind. He couldn’t think clearly and people noticed how addled he acted. Luckily, no one suspected the reason. Logically, he kept to his hypothesis about virgin pregnancy rates, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what he’d done that night. Sometimes he even allowed himself a little pity over the loss. Whatever happened in that hotel room—he’d kill to have the memory back.
She would have preferred to stay home, but everyone knew she normally showed up with Paul every day. They didn’t want to give anyone reason to wonder, just in case.
The dive school world was a very transient environment. People moved on and others moved in to take their place. They’d lost Shelli, then Ulla soon after. Peder, Assif, and thankfully, Sarah, trickled away when they’d finished their courses. Eventually, Eddie and Brita moved on too.
Six new students had taken their places, which gave Rhees a believable reason not to be on the boat. She waved it off each day with a forced smile and then ran to Paul’s apartment to lie on his couch. Paul said his couch was bad enough, but he’d asked her to promise she’d stay off of his bed—as if she’d be tempted to climb up and down the ladder every five minutes. She lay on the couch and worked to convince herself she didn’t need to throw up. She hated throwing up. The constant need to use the bathroom was bad enough.
Paul stocked every fridge in their world with yogurt. He told her to eat at least a spoonful every half hour to keep her blood sugar even. It actually helped—Rhees that is. It made him worry even more, remembering his mom’s random babbling at the dinner table about the way her patients chose to suffer with morning sickness when, if they’d just listen to her . . . it did nothing to help his own increasingly sickened anxiety.
oOo
Paul woke three days later to find Rhees curled up in a ball, whimpering quietly. “Hey.” He leaned into her from behind and placed his cheek against hers. “Still not better? I’m so worried about you.”
“I started my period this morning. I have cramps,” she whimpered. “Isn’t it bad enough I’ve been so sick? Do I really need cramps on top of it all?”
“You don’t get cramps.” Her announcement had left him feeling too relieved, but he’d never known her to get cramps. Guilt swept over him—the same guilt he’d felt since Claire and her stupid joke about Rhees being pregnant.
“I do, sometimes, but not like this. I usually just work through them. This virus must be in cahoots with Tom. It really hurts this time.”
“Tom?” Paul leaned over her to see her face. “Who’s Tom?”
“Time of month.”
“Oh.” He felt stupid. He’d heard it called many things, but never that. He relaxed, no longer feeling a neanderthalic desire to kick some pud’s ass, but then his guilt doubled as his thoughts reverted back to the problem at hand. He sensed something deeper in her mood than just illness and hormones. It scared him. “Please. Let me take you to a doctor.”
“Why?” Once again, her tone suggested she thought he’d come up with the stupidest idea ever. “It’s a period. And you’ve been on your computer researching what’s wrong with me. You said it was probably Gastroenteritis, a virus. They can’t do anything for it except tell me to stay hydrated and wait it out. You’re always pushing water on me.” She cast an annoyed look his way. “It’s not possible to get dehydrated with you around.”
Again, the way she ground out the words—he sighed. His insides churned with turmoil.
“I know, but I’m not a doctor and the Internet’s not a doctor either. If you’re still sick on the tenth day, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to Texas. You will see a real doctor—I promise you that.”
“I was starting to feel better—until Tom showed up for a visit.”
He held her, the only thing he could think to do. The relief he felt about her period vanished with the nagging thought it could have been more than just a virus—might be more than just cramps and a period. He didn’t want to think of the possible ramifications. If he did, he’d feel even worse. Damn that night. Damn getting that drunk with Rhees around, and damn letting Rhees get that drunk—with him around.
He caressed her arm and kissed her cheek a few times. He thought of a few things he could say to make her feel better, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them. I’m sorry—I promise we’ll never let anything like this happen again—we will let this happen again, someday. It all caught in his throat, like a knot making him feel like he would choke.
The words, I love you, came to mind. He couldn’t breathe. Did he? The idea had been stalking him since Taylor had made that redonkulous comment about him being in love with Rhees. Panic threatened to strangle him as his chest constricted, brutally and relentlessly. While part of him wanted to run, all he could manage was to close the small gap between them, kissing her on the cheek, over and over. It didn’t make sense.
“Paul?” she asked. “What about your rules? You’re a stickler for your rules, but you’re being pretty snuggly right now.”
“Nightmare snuggles are permitted, remember?”
“But I didn’t have a nightmare.”
“I did.”
“Don’t.” She laughed a quick laugh. She reached back and caressed the side of his face and he leaned into her touch. “I know you’re internalizing a whole lot of guilt right now. Please don’t.”
He shook his head. He couldn’t speak. He buried his face in her hair, burrowing through it to kiss her behind the ear.
“It was too much pressure anyway.”
He pulled back with concern, wondering what she meant.
“I mean, I know you’re always telling me I’m a good person and all, but the strain of being a virgin mother . . . I don’t think I could have lived up to that.” She laughed, a little too forced, confirming his suspicions—God! She wants a baby.
He squeezed his eyes shut, dumbfounded and scared to death, but once again, despite her misery and the ache of her letdown, she still tried to help him feel better.
oOo
Paul wished he could have convinced her to stay in bed, but she wouldn’t have it. They stepped onto the porch, ready to head to the shop. Paul watched as Rhees walked slowly toward the stairs, rubbing her stomach in a soothing motion.
“Hey, come here,” he called.
She turned back a few steps to see what he wanted, and he surprised her by lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him. He gazed longingly into her eyes, but still had no words, so he just kissed her, very tenderly.
“What’s that about?”
“We’re not in the bedroom anymore.” He shrugged.
“But we’re not exactly in public either.”
“Close enough.” He carried her down to the street where he’d arranged for Ignacio to be waiting for them.
oOo
Rhees slept on Paul’s couch, but woke when he tapped on the door and walked in.
“You didn’t lock the door,” he scolded.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m here on your couch because I’m sick. You come and check on me every thirty minutes. If I have to get up to unlock the door every time you show up, I’ll never get any rest.”
He looked down, embarrassed she was right. He pulled the hand he held behind his back, around to the front. He had flowers, not roses of any color to imply any kind of meaning, just very cheerfully pretty purple and orange flowers in a lime green vase, her three favorite colors. He set the vase on the coffee table and glanced between her and his gift, waiting. He’d been acting so nervous all day. She smiled her approval and watched the tension drain from his shoulders.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, gazing at him.
“The flowers are beautiful too.”
He actually almost blushed. He went to the kitchen and busied himself with something, moving and banging things around, more than it seemed necessary to Rhees, but she smiled, wondering what he was up to.
It only took him a few minutes, but she thought it the most time he’d ever spent in a kitchen without her. He finally walked back to the living room with a small bowl and held it over her.
“Just what the doctor ordered. A Rhees’ peanut butter cup.” They both smirked at his play on words.
She sat up and took the cup, curiously. It held a large dollop of peanut butter with chunks of dark Italian chocolate protruding from the creaminess of her coveted nectar, all in a small cup.
“I read once that chocolate is proven to alleviate women’s menstrual-related symptoms.”
She smiled at his awkward attempt of an explanation for the sweet gesture. He sat next to her and waited for her to try it.
“Share with me,” she said.
“Nope. The doctor prescribed that. You’re not supposed to share prescriptive medications.”
She giggled. “If I’d known I’d get this kind of treatment, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hide my cramps all this time.”
“Yeah! You don’t need to be so freaking tough all the time. You can lean on your friends.”
“I’ve never had friends to lean on.”
“Maybe if you’d lean once in a while, you’d find that you do. You have to give people a chance to step up.”
“Thank you for stepping up, Paul,” she whispered, suddenly overcome with gratitude.
He looked off with a frown on his face. He rolled his gaze back to her and tried to smile. “I just opened the last jar of the peanut butter we imported from Utah. We’re going to have to tap in to some smuggling network somewhere if we want more.”
“Do it then!” She feigned a gasp of horror. “I could sell my body if we need more cash—wait! You’re prettier than I am. You’ll have to be the one to sacrifice yourself.” She giggled again.
“You did nawt just call me pretty.” He cocked his head and cautioned her with his eyes.
“Only in the name of peanut butter.” She did all she could, but lost the battle to maintain a serious face.
“I hate being called pretty, but I’ll let it slide, this time, and only for you—not the peanut butter.”
He took a piece of the chocolate, swirled it around the cup to make sure it scooped up as much peanut butter as possible, and held it to her mouth. She opened up with a waiting tongue, watching his eyes. He swooped in and flicked her tongue with his a couple of times and finished with a soft, but passionate, kiss.
“Sorry. That’s not what you expected, is it?” He bit his lower lip and scrunched his nose to accentuate his apology. He looked so cute.
“Even better,” she said and opened her mouth again. He placed the chocolate drenched with peanut butter on her tongue. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.
“Shhiiit.”
Chapter 24
By the eighth day, Rhees had recovered enough for their routines to get back to normal, but with a little awkwardness. The couple acted cool with each other at times, warmer than usual at other times. They were each insecure about their feelings for one another, but neither of them was brave enough to broach the subject.
“What’s going on with you two?” Claire and Rhees were in the office. “Is everything all right?”
“Yep.” Rhees fidgeted and seemed to be trying to look absorbed in her work on the computer. She finally sighed. “I don’t know where we stand anymore. It’s like we’ve hit a brick wall. When the river stops running, the water grows stagnant.” She started to blubber. “I’m worried we’re not running anymore.”
“Oh, Rhees.” Claire put her arm around her. It embarrassed Claire to ask. “Are you two sleeping together yet? I mean, you’re so . . . lovey-dovey. I haven’t been able to help but speculate.”
“No.” Rhees wiped her eyes and grabbed a tissue. “But . . .” She hesitated to admit it. “Please don’t tell him, but—”
“I won’t. You know I like you so much better than I like him.” Claire smiled.
Rhees laughed. “Claire, I want to.”
Claire’s eyes grew bigger. “Well, why aren’t you then?”
Rhees gave her a bug-eyed look. “He won’t!”
Claire tossed her head back and laughed, a little too emphatically.
“It’s true,” Rhees sobbed. “I’ve been trying to tell him I want to move forward since my birthday, but he refuses.”
“No bloody way! Paul would—that doesn’t sound like the Paul I know. Are you sure you’ve made your intentions clear? I mean, look who we’re talking about here. All you have to do is have a vagina.”
Rhees’ eyes filled again. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the heck I’m doing wrong. I’ve never done this before. I’ve told him I want to do the things he suggested we do, back when he actually did want me.”
“Oh, he still wants you—he actually says, no?” Claire sounded stunned. Rhees just nodded.
“There was one time, in Costa Rica, we both were very drunk and apparently things happened—not the real thing—we think. We can’t even remember what we did or how far it went. But since then, he hardly touches me when we’re alone, and then he goes crazy on me when we’re not alone. I’m so confused. He gets me all—oh, my gosh! Claire! I’ve never had these feelings before, or these thoughts.”
Claire laughed again. “It is so strange to finally see you acting human in that regard, but—” Claire stifled another laugh. “It’s not funny. I know it’s not funny. Have you talked about this with him? Surely you’re not making yourself clear.”
“I don’t know—obviously not. Paul and his stupid promises,” Rhees mumbled, and then she rolled her eyes at Claire. “They’re not stupid, they’re wonderful, and he’s wonderful, but in this case—every time I try to bring it up, he says, ‘No’, like, end of discussion.”
“Maybe you should just get him pissed, or, as you Americans say, drunk. Get him piss-drunk again.” Claire raised her eyebrows with a devious smile.
“Not going to happen. Since Costa Rica, he won’t drink more than a glass of wine or one or two beers.”
“Hmm.” Claire looked really shocked. “Maybe you need to be cheekier.”
Rhees didn’t understand.
“Bolder. Brazen.”
“How do I do that?”
Claire shrugged. “Remember how you said it happened the night Dobbs socked him?” Claire grinned. “Something about, ‘Even Christian wouldn’t have been able to resist’.”
“That’s easier said than done. I’m afraid I was all talk, no knowledge, or experience—or confidence, to back it up.”
“Believe me. It’s not that hard to seduce a man, any man, let alone Paul . . . until you’ve been married a while.” Claire scowled, but then snapped out of her funk. “We need a plan. Paul won’t know what hit him.”
“I don’t want to hit him. I just want to show him how I feel about him.”
oOo
The boat was well on its way toward the intended dive site, and Paul carefully observed as Regina and Tracy analyzed their tanks for their first dives on nitrox. He’d gone over it with them before, when they’d finished the bookwork for the course, but he wanted to see them use the analyzer one more time before they dived with enriched air. While air is usually twenty-one percent oxygen, nitrox tanks are mixed differently, more oxygen and less nitrogen, allowing longer bottom times with less risk of decompression sickness, otherwise called the bends.
Paul hadn’t noticed the boat swing wide, close to Duna Caye, and his heart thumped hard against his chest when he heard the scream.
“Mon overboard!” Ra
ndy called.
Paul panicked even more when he realized he’d recognized the scream. Rhees had fallen off the boat and he scrambled, yelling orders, and preparing himself for a rescue as he scanned the water, looking for her. It only took him a second to spot her, and he relaxed. She watched him, a big smile on her face, while casually making her way toward the small island, wearing her mask, snorkel, and fins.
He realized she had something in mind, and now he understood why she’d asked him to schedule an afternoon dive to the northeast end of the island that day. She so rarely asked him to do her any favors—he didn’t know why—he didn’t think he could refuse her anything she really wanted.
He dived, like a hero, into the water without hesitation or taking the time to put on any gear. He swam toward her, effortlessly, and she, when she saw him coming, pretended to be unconscious, but with her snorkel in her mouth. Such a pathetic swimmer, she couldn’t hold her breath for more than thirty seconds.
She’s so dang cute. A silly grin masked his face as he made his way to her.
Paul pulled her to shore, a little more like a man swimming with his girlfriend than rescuing a drowning victim. He lifted Rhees’ listless body from the water and carried her to the waiting blanket he noticed as soon as they hit the beach.
He grinned, wondering how she’d managed to pull this off without his knowledge. The boat headed off toward the intended dive site, leaving them alone. Apparently, one or more people at the shop were confused as to where their loyalty should be, but he didn’t mind, and he didn’t blame anyone. People who knew Rhees well enough simply seemed to slip naturally into nurturing or protective roles.
He watched for a second, wondering how far she expected him to take it since it wasn’t really a training exercise. He pretended to check her breathing, and she held her breath.
“Oh no, the victim’s not breathing. I’d better try mouth-to-mouth.” He grinned and leaned over her. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” He grazed her mouth softly with his teeth.
Wet: Part 2 Page 30