Goodbye to You

by A. J. Matthews

  Now that she’s out here with me, I have no idea what to do next.

  I know I want to be alone with her.

  I capture her fingers in mine and pull her into the dark alley next to the bar, the rooftop A/C units cycling off and on humming in the air. Her skirts swish against my bare legs. I wrap my fingers around the smooth skin of her arms, squeezing the soft flesh as I ease her against the wall.

  She pushes my hands to her breasts. Um. They’re…wow.

  Then she kisses me, her lush lips magical as they move over mine under the moonlight, her hands tugging my hair, drawing my head down as her tongue delves deeper into my mouth.

  The creamy, almond-coffee aftertaste of the shooter is sweeter on her lips than from the glass.

  I groan as all the blood rushes from my brain straight to my crotch.

  I don’t know how this night will end, but I know one thing for sure.

  No one will ever kiss me like this again.

  ***

  Thea

  I pull Shay’s hands to my chest. His gentle strokes ignite sparks through the thin layers of my tank top and bra, and knowing he may be the last person to ever touch my breasts is exhilarating.

  I pant, the heat rising to my skin as I press my lips to his. He startles at the contact but gives into the kiss.

  A soft moan escapes from his throat as my fingers dive into his thick, dark hair. The wall of the building scratches at the exposed skin at my shoulders, and drunken revelers provide the soundtrack for our impromptu make-out session.

  Not how I’d expected my Key West fling to begin. Hell, I don’t know what I’d expected.

  But his broad shoulders and hard arms and big hands tell me I need more.

  Shay pulls back, his breathing labored, and I’m disappointed. My heart threatens to breaks my ribs, and I try to kiss him again, but he cups my face in his hands. “What’s the hurry?”

  If only he knew. If we’d met three months from now, instead of tonight, he might’ve looked the other way. I want to experience this pure physical euphoria as often as I can over the next few days.

  “No hurry, I guess.” I sag against the wall and drop my head.

  He slips a finger under my chin and turns my face upward to his. In the filtered moonlight, his face looks even more chiseled, shadowed with a hint of mystery.

  “I just don’t want to…” He tips his head in the direction of the street where noisy passersby wander along. “Not here. Not like this.”

  Oh. My face breaks into a wide grin. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

  “Are you visiting, or do you live here?”

  “Just a visit. Less than a week left.”

  So let’s get on with it already.

  “You had a chance to tour much of the island? Or the surrounding area?”

  I shrug. “Not much. My friends are more the ‘sit around and relax by the pool’ types, but I’m going to get out more over the next few days.”

  “I want to show you something you won’t find on any other tour.”

  He pulls me away from the wall, twining his fingers in mine as we walk east on Front Street and make a right onto another street. The street name painted on the telephone pole says “Simonton.” I recognize the tan stucco building with forest green awnings and trim. We’d gotten lost coming out of Sloppy Joe’s our second night here. Each of us, in our less than sober states, were convinced our condo was in three different directions. This—the wrong way—was my idea.

  He strokes his thumb across the sensitive skin of my palm. The sensation is more arousing than when his fingers brushed across my exposed cleavage. I thought I wanted sex tonight, but being close to him like this is a thousand times more intimate.

  We approach a marina. It’s a clear night, with a few stray clouds, and the moon glows overhead.

  Glossy white boats are lined up in neat rows, water sloshing around them. He climbs aboard one of the small ones with the name “Scamp” emblazoned on the back.

  “Is…is this your boat?”

  His bright smile shines in the moonlight, melting my knees. “No. Sort of.”

  “No?” I stop in my tracks, my flip-flops skidding on the wooden pier. “Won’t we get in trouble if someone notices the boat is gone?”

  “If Da calls the police. This,” he points to the boat’s name, “is me, and these boats belong to my family’s business.”

  “Da?” Hmmm. I think he’s talking about his father, but I’ve never known anyone to use that term.

  “Yeah, my dad. We’re Irish, so I’ve called him Da since I could talk.”

  “Right. Your uncle has a distinct accent. How come you don’t?”

  He climbs onto the boat and holds his hand out to help me on. I guess since his family owns the boat, it’s okay.

  “We came here from Ireland when I was six. I guess over the years I’ve just lost the accent, but still think in Irish terms: Da, wee, lass. Just from listening to Da and Paddy talk. What about your accent?”

  “I don’t have an accent!” I protest, but admit to myself my drawl intensifies after a couple drinks. “I’m from a tiny town in Georgia, just like my mama.”

  “Just a couple states over from where I’m going to medical school in the fall.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “North Carolina.”

  Do I tell him I live in North Carolina now? I decide no. If I do, then he gets the wrong impression, as in “Hey, I live in Newbridge. We should get together once you move.” This thing with us, though, whatever happens, stays in Florida. Between Jen and my own surgery, I have too much going on to take any complications back home with me.

  I sit down on the vinyl-covered padded bench and text Leesh.

  Me: Headed out on a boat. He’s the bar owner’s nephew. Getting good vibes. Tell B I may get lucky tonight after all. :)

  And a minute later:

  Leesh: Just told Paddy if anything happens to you we’re calling the cops on him. Have fun and be safe. Don’t forget the condoms in your purse. Oh, and the mace.

  No doubt they also informed Paddy that Bennie’s local cousins are large and scary men.

  Shay unties the boat, the muscles in his arms and wide shoulders flexing with each move.

  The buzz from the shots is wearing off, but an odd sense of exhilaration still envelops me. Like a contact high from inhaling Shay’s intoxicating scent.

  His hair had looked so groomed at the bar, but it loosens a little in the sultry late-July air and hangs over his forehead. If he wasn’t maneuvering the boat around the other craft on the pier, I’d get up and brush the stray lock to the side.

  “Life jackets are under the seat. Put one on, and throw one over.”

  I do as instructed. “You know, that doesn’t inspire confidence in your abilities as a boat captain.”

  “Hilarious. Boats are just like a car. You may be a skilled driver, but you’ve still got to protect yourself from things beyond your control. I still want airbags in my car, even though I’ve never had an accident.”

  “Point taken.” Which makes me think of something else as he steers the wheel of the boat. “Should you be driving this thing? I mean, how much did you drink?”

  “I nursed half a beer watching you with your friends. I was quite distracted.” He laughs and my face grows warm, my belly tingling again. “Then I had a few sips of a second beer and the B-52. So not even two whole drinks. Less than you and I’m a little bigger.”

  In such a good way. His shirt stretches over wide shoulders, giving way to a tapered waist and long, solid legs.

  “I’m fine.” He looks over at me and winks. “Better than fine.” My insides melt a little.

  “Where are you taking me?” I should be concerned, but something is so right about this, about him. Nothing’s going to happen to me.

  Not true. I’m pretty sure something is going to happen to me, but in an “oh my God!” good kind of way.

  “Where are you taking me?” I repeat.

  The engine
whirs a little faster, but we’re still crawling through the black water.

  Water sprays up, dampening my face and hair. My curls spring to life, transforming into the tight, crazy corkscrews that had, along with my questionable fashion “sense” as a child, inspired my mother to nickname me “Gypsy,” after one of her favorite band’s songs. I listen to Fleetwood Mac now whenever I miss Mama or need her advice. I often find the answers I need in their complex lyrics, sensing Mama played a certain song to help me.

  “It’s a surprise. And one not many tourists see since so many hit the bars at this time of night.”

  I laugh since I was one of those tourists at a bar less than an hour ago. “I hate surprises. Tell me.”

  “Nope. This is something you must witness yourself.” He cuts the engine, and we drift into a cove. He tosses a blanket on the boat’s floor, flips off the spotlight, and shuts down the navigation equipment. He slips off his life vest, then sits down and pats the blanket next to him.

  I smother the urge to jump up and dart into his lap. I slide off the seat and walk the couple steps to where he is. I pull off my own vest and sit down next to him, my shoulder brushing the soft fabric of his shirt as I close the gap between us. He slings his arm around me, his warm fingers eliciting contradictory shivers across my skin, and I can’t help but breathe in the scent of him.

  “Look up.”

  I comply, and the view above steals the air from my lungs.

  From our vantage point in this darkened cove, the constellations glow, painting a picture of the ancient gods against an inky background.

  I wish I remembered the names of the constellations. I can make out a few, but can’t think of their names.

  “Wow. So beautiful.” A pale light streaks across the indigo sky, and I make a wish. A few wishes.

  “It is dazzling. Da started bringing me out here when I was about eight and showed an interest in science. Reading about stuff in books is fine, he says, but better to experience it. This niche is perfect for stargazing. No light pollution to dim the view.”

  “What’s this one?” I point to a shape of twinkling stars on the right.

  Shay extends his arm and takes my hand in his, my fingers burning at the contact. Our hands move together, drawing out a rough Y-shape. “Perseus. Just a couple stars from his Andromeda are visible this time of year, but a little to the northwest is her mother, Cassiopeia. Do you know the story?”

  Yes. I remember my mythology. But the rich timbre of his voice makes my toes curl and I want more. “Tell me.”

  “Cassiopeia boasted that Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereids, nymphs of the sea. This claim angered Poseidon, who demanded the princess be sacrificed to a sea monster. Perseus, flying in his winged sandals, spots Andromeda chained to a sea wall. The monster rises from the water to kill her. Perseus had earlier cut off Medusa's head, so he pulls it out of his sack and the sea monster turns to stone and crumbles to pieces. Perseus hacks off Andromeda’s chains and returns her to her family. When Perseus asks her father, King Cepheus of Phoenicia, for Andromeda’s hand in marriage, the king approves.”

  I try to concentrate on the words, but the rumble of his voice sends butterflies skittering around in my stomach. His rough thumb, stroking the base of my neck, sends a jolt of electricity down my spine.

  I wouldn’t protest at all if Shay laid me down and kissed me, but this moment, sitting here and looking at the night sky while he caresses me, takes my breath away.

  I don’t want it to end.

  Shay shows me a few more constellations, holding onto my hand. I’m clinging so hard I don’t think he could let go if he tried.

  I suppress a yawn, and Shay looks at his watch. He’s one of the few people I’ve seen in recent memory wearing a watch. And he’s more clean-cut than most of the guys I’ve dated. The gleam in his eye hints at a streak of mischief I find appealing.

  “Well, Cinderella, it’s way past midnight, and I should get you home.” He strokes my cheek with one of his long fingers, the tender gesture making my heart swell.

  I lean in, my lips parting. My breath, coming in shallow gasps, mingles with his.

  My heart flips again, and keeps spinning as his lips whisper against mine.

  His hand slips into my hair, but doesn’t pull me deeper into the kiss. The light caress of his lips ignites a spark of desire. Heat radiates from my belly through my limbs. This kiss is sweeter but even more erotic than the one in the alley.

  He pulls away and kisses the tip of my nose.

  “Thea, I don’t do this, you know, pick up random girls in bars. Ever.” His voice cracks on the last word.

  A stray cloud must pass over the moon, masking his expression in darkness, but I trust him.

  “I don’t do this either. I’ve never…” Had sex with a total stranger. The point of this vacation is for me to relax, unwind, and give in to pure physical pleasure.

  I don’t want my last time before the mastectomy to be with some random guy. I’d rather not do it at all.

  My shoulders tighten, and I straighten my spine.

  I can’t do this. Not here, not like this.

  The moon shines down on us once more. He nods, his eyes warm and understanding.

  “We can do whatever you like. But we don’t have to do anything at all.” He takes my small hand in his large one, the calluses on his palms scratching into my skin.

  This whole night has been a little like a fairy tale. Rather fast-paced, but thoroughly enchanting. I want to freeze this moment. No doubt, if I could get pizza delivery out here, I’d stay here for the rest of time.

  My heart sinks as Shay stands up and puts his vest back on. I yawn again, and he hands me my vest. “Come on, before you turn into Sleeping Beauty on my boat. The Scamp is a fun ride, but not comfortable to sleep on.”

  My belly ties up into knots, and a pang of loss settles in my chest as Shay starts the boat and the lights of the marina glow in the distance much too soon. Minutes later, we pull in and he cuts the engine.

  He jumps off the boat at the pier and ties the rope off. Again my gaze moves over the lean muscles of his body. I imagine running my hands over his back as we lie naked together, his muscles bunched as he…

  “Thea? Hey, Earth to Thea.” He laughs, and I snap up my head to find his hand extended to help me out.

  I take his hand, and he asks, “Which way?”

  “Which way, what?”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Oh, um…” Crap. What’s the address? “Fleming and Porter.”

  “Not too far. We can walk. Let’s go.” He keeps a firm grip on my hand, and anyone still wandering the streets might get the idea he’s my boyfriend.

  I’m just fine with someone making such an assumption.

  If I was not at such a fucked-up crossroad in my life, I think this guy is the boyfriend I want, since we’ll be kind-of neighbors when he moves to North Carolina for med school.

  But I am at a fucked-up crossroad, and there’s no time for boyfriends. I need to concentrate on me and my family.

  It’s not time for my happily ever after, and it may never be since most guys will consider me “damaged goods.”

  Shay walks me to the door of the first floor condo. He whispers, “Meet me at Paddy’s for a late breakfast? I have to help Da out with a tour group in the morning, but I’ll be done at ten o’clock.”

  I nod, and he leans in to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

  It holds a promise of not “happily ever after,” but “happily for the next few days,” which is enough.

  For now.

  Chapter 2

  Shay

  I had a blast with the early morning parasailing group, a few families and one newlywed couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Even the forty-something mom, filled with dread about the flight, whooped in delight when she spotted dolphins swimming in the blue-green waters from her vantage point a hundred feet in the air.

  As a rule, I’m not
comfortable with chitchat, but today I’m more at ease. The endorphins from last night are still churning through my body, and some of the enthusiasm stemmed from the anticipation of spending time with Thea again.

  I stop at home for a quick shower, and then backtrack to Paddy’s, arriving a little early. My uncle’s already inside setting up for the lunchtime opening and he slaps me on the back as I approach.

  “Hey Paddy.” I scratch at my chin. “Can I, uh, fix a little breakfast for me and a guest?”

  He snorts. “Don’t mind at all, as long as your guest is the cute blond lass from last night.”

  The bells attached to the door jingle and a warm breeze blows in. Thea is more beautiful than the night before. She’s pulled her curly hair back, showing off her long, pale neck.

  She wore a long skirt last night, but today she has on some dark shorts, showing off a pair of pale, graceful legs. Her white vintage concert shirt, despite a high neck, does nothing to hide her breasts, with the band name emblazoned across the chest.

  Even with the distraction, I manage to wave and choke out, “Morning.”

  “Hey!” She sounds more energetic than I feel. Going out on the boat in the morning, getting fresh air and sunlight to start the day, usually invigorates me, but I’m drained this morning. I make a habit of getting a full eight hours of sleep, but I didn’t get home till 2:30 a.m. and had to be up and dressed by seven o’clock.

  I am dragging butt this morning.

  Thea appears refreshed, like she got some great sleep and then had time for a relaxing bath before meeting me.

  The idea of her naked and soapy and slippery in a bath makes me swallow. Hard.

  I put my hand on the small of her back, leading her to the bar, grinning when she relaxes into my touch. Her reaction signals that last night was not a liquor-induced fluke.

  She takes a seat and slings her oversized purse across the back of the stool. I go behind the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” I hope she wants something simple so I don’t need Paddy’s help.