Jax cleared his throat. “She’s just someone I knew back when I was a teenager. She was really good friends with my mom, and she was there when my parents died, and she was friends with Tyler, and she … she called out of the blue, and it turns out she lives real close to where I am right now, and believe me, last thing on my mind is visiting old friends, but I figured why not and—”
Why was he talking so fast? “Jax? Will you be coming home with Butch? Like when he’s released from the hospital?”
He exhaled audibly. “Yeah, probably.”
Probably? My intuition told me something was wrong. Why wouldn’t he come home with Butch? Jax did not sound well. I’m sure he was upset about Butch, but why was he telling me about this family friend? I had to somehow lighten the conversation. I looked out over the horizon, the clouds turning pink as sunset approached. “So, what are you wearing?”
He let out a low laugh. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line? I don’t know if you’d really like what I’m wearing, seeing as I just hung my smelly wetsuit up to dry. Then again, maybe you would like it.” His tone became lighter. “A pair of boxers.” The thought of Jax’s fit body in nothing but a pair of underwear sent a shiver up my spine, but something in his tone told me he wasn’t into sexy talk.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“The Oceano in Half Moon Bay. I’ll be here at least until Butch is released. Should just be a few days.”
I hoped Jax would invite me to Half Moon Bay. “I’ll bet that hotel has a comfy bed. Perfect for the way you like to ravish me.”
“That it does, my pretty lady. Wishing you were here.”
I bounced up on my toes. “I could be. I could get on the next flight and be there tonight. No later than morning.”
He chuckled. “I miss you too. I’ll be home before you know it.”
I didn’t want to hang up the phone, but Jax said, “So, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” My chin fell to my chest. “Okay. Call me when you’re on the way home. And say hi to Butch. My gosh, that poor guy.”
He said he would, and then we mumbled a few awkward good nights.
I stood in my backyard, my phone heavy in my hand. Butch could’ve been killed. I sat down on my lounge chair, opened my browser, and typed in Butch’s name. I found an article about the accident. Jax hadn’t told me Butch was airlifted to the hospital. The poor guy probably didn’t want to worry me. I noticed I gripped the phone hard and I forced myself to relax.
I slowly walked back into my house, stopped at the fridge to get iced tea, and then sat at my kitchen table. Opening my laptop, the screen filled with the last site I’d visited—Facebook and the photo of that Olivia person staring at me. I’d first seen her at the Ritz-Carlton. She’d been talking about some crazy sex she and her friends had been having with the same guy and then, eerily, she sent Jax a text when he was at my place.
I knew it was wrong of me to spy. I told myself that it was similar to the research I performed when tackling a big account. I suppose I could’ve asked Jax straight out how he knew her, but was afraid of the answer.
I’d become obsessed with finding out how Jax knew this woman, but there wasn’t much information. First, I’d gone to Jax’s friends list, typed in Olivia, and sure enough, there was a photo of the dark-haired lady I was certain was the same woman I’d seen in the restroom of the Ritz-Carlton. Unfortunately, her profile had privacy settings in place, so all I was able to spy were three profile pictures of her in various poses, her long black hair shining. Olivia was looking over her shoulder in one, looked pensive as she stared into the camera in another, and sat at a desk, her fingers poised over the keyboard of her laptop as someone snapped the photo in the last one. I must’ve looked at those three photos for a full hour, analyzing the porcelain skin, the wide eyes, the way a tiny bit of tattoo writing peeked out from underneath her blouse, trying to figure out who she was.
Olivia Cartwright.
How did Jax know her? And why did she have his private number?
Jax
I visited Butch in the hospital the next morning to drop off his leg, shaving kit, clean shirt, and jeans. I arrived just as Dr. Bryant was completing her examination. She whirled around when she saw me. “Good morning!” she said brightly, clutching her stethoscope.
Butch looked like he was under hypnosis again. It was like I wasn’t even there. His eyes followed her every movement until finally she left the room. Butch stared at the doorway.
I sat down. “What’s for breakfast around here?”
Butch picked up the phone. “This place is like a five star resort.” He pressed a button that connected him to whoever delivered the food, and sweet-talked them into an extra meal and within minutes, the orderly delivered breakfast for both of us.
“Is this all your insurance covers?” I plunged my spoon into the nonfat-milk covered Rice Krispies.
Butch said, “Let’s see if we can take out a few of those floating Rice Krispies with a slice of melon.” He plunged a melon slice into his bowl. “Damn things always come up floating.” We looked at each other and grinned.
We whiled the day away telling stories of surf trips and watching really bad TV.
I couldn’t stop thinking about my meeting with Rosalyn that afternoon. What did she want?
Every time Dr. Bryant entered the room, it was like I was invisible. The good doctor wanted Butch to stay one more night just to be on the safe side.
When Dr. Bryant sauntered out of the room, I told Butch, “Looks like you’re enjoying your stay.”
“The view’s not bad.”
Finally, it was time for me to go meet Rosalyn. I said my goodbyes and set out for the forty-three mile drive to Santa Cruz.
While I drove, I put my protective shield firmly into place. I was more than a bit nervous about seeing Rosalyn after all this time. When preparing for a big wave surfing event, staying calm and relaxed was the key to a successful session. I took several of my deep, calming, big wave breaths. But would I be able to maintain my cool around Rosalyn?
I made the turn into Santa Cruz and parked my truck at Pleasure Point under the shade of a pine tree. I sat there for a few minutes, taking more deep breaths. It was a perfect California day, the waves were still big, and the surfers jockeyed for position in the lineup.
And then, for the first time in over thirteen years, I laid eyes on Rosalyn. She sat on a bench, gazing at the ocean. There was no mistaking the way she held herself, like a queen with her subjects bowing down at her feet, subjects who would do anything she asked of them. Maybe not this time, Rosalyn.
Closing my eyes, I took one more deep breath while wiping sweaty palms on my jeans. Then, I got out of my truck and walked toward the bench. “Hey,” I said, unsure of how to start up a conversation after thirteen years.
She seemed aware of me at the last second. Our eyes met, and she gave a wan smile. “Jax.” My body tensed when she stood up to give me a hug. She still smelled like sandalwood. I pulled away and crossed my arms, eying her warily. Standing back, she said, “Let me look at you. You’re all grown up.” She smiled a nervous smile and patted the bench.
We sat, and I perched on the edge of the hard bench, as far away from Rosalyn as possible. What was I supposed to say? I decided small talk was the best approach. “So, have you been watching Game of Thrones?”
She cocked her head. “Isn’t that show super violent?”
I bounced my knee. “Yeah, but it’s kind of addicting.”
“I prefer Animal Planet myself.”
We stared at each other for long seconds, a rolling feeling gripping my stomach. “You’re right. They’ve got lots of gory stuff on that show. Like people being decapitated and stuff.”
She smiled. “Animal planet has its share of animals in danger. But at least there’s cute lion cubs in Africa.”
What were we meeting about? My left eye twitched, and I hoped Rosalyn couldn’t tell how nervous I was. I tried not to make it obvious as I took in this woman I’d been in love
with all those years ago. She was older, but still had beauty and grace. She’d lost some weight, making her look almost like a European supermodel. Her once long, wild hair now fell only to her shoulders. “What happened to your hair?” I asked.
One hand patted her short wavy hair. “I was the envy of everyone in the chemo clinic. You know how fast my hair’s always grown.”
Chemo?
My heart pounded so hard I thought my chest would explode. In that instant, I realized how unprepared I was to see Rosalyn again. It was as though one minute had passed mixed with a thousand years. She was a soul mate and a stranger.
“Chemo?”
“It’s a really long story.” She studied the ocean, taking deep breaths, her hands clenched. “Yep. Breast cancer. Felt a lump a few years back, and guess what?” she said with a small laugh. “All that health food and meditating I did couldn’t stop the cancer cells from growing.”
“But you’re okay now, right?”
“Well … kind of. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Cancer? My God. I wanted to ask her everything. I wanted to know exactly what happened from the time she left Point Loma until the time she landed in Santa Cruz, what she did for work, who her friends were, if she had married, if she dated, if she was happy…
“I think there’s probably a lot we need to talk about, Rosalyn. So why don’t you go first?”
“Well,” she said, pausing and suddenly becoming very interested in her cuticles. “Well … it’s like this, Jax.” She took another deep breath and another until I thought she was going to hyperventilate. “You kind of … it’s just that you sort of …”
I sort of what? Rosalyn did not look well. She looked like she needed to gain a few pounds, but more than that, she seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“You kind of … oh, Jesus Christ, Jax, you have a son.”
The words tumbled out of her so rapidly and furiously that I felt like I’d been shot down by a machine gun.
“What?” The world tilted on its side then righted itself. “What did you just say?”
“I said that you have a son.”
All the air left my body. In that past day I had imagined a thousand scenarios: Rosalyn needed money, Rosalyn was in trouble with the law, Rosalyn needed to leave a forwarding address with someone she knew because she was moving to the goddamn moon, but never in my wildest imagination did I think those words would come out of her mouth. A son? A brief flicker of pride passed through my heart, a smile playing upon my lips. That feeling was quickly replaced with anger. I wanted to scream at Rosalyn. A son? Why didn’t you tell me? Instead, I buried my face in my hands, my breathing erratic, then peeked at Rosalyn. “Are you sure about this? I thought you were on the pill.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I was on the pill. But you know how I am. Sometimes I get a little careless.”
I sat up straight. “No, Rosalyn, I don’t know how you are. I haven’t seen you in thirteen fucking years,” I said, glaring at her. “You better not be screwing with me. Who have you been sleeping with over this last … decade? Or are you going to tell me you still get off with your vibrators?”
“Shh!” she said. Then she reached for my hand and said, “Jax, I’m so sorry. It’s a really long story.”
“Oh, I’ll just bet it is,” I said, jerking my hand away. “I’ll bet you’ve got all kinds of adventures to report back to me after all this time.”
“Jax?” she said, turning to face me. “Please don’t be this way. I really need you right now.”
“Yeah? Well, I needed you at one time too.” I stood up and faced her, anger rising dangerously up my spine. “But you know what? I don’t need you anymore.”
A sob escaped her lips, and she wiped away tears. “Maybe this is a conversation we shouldn’t be having in public.”
“Damn right, we shouldn’t,” I said. “Now why don’t you tell me all about why you need to see me so badly and why you think I’m the father of someone who is a goddamn stranger to me?”
“Can’t we go sit in your car or something?”
I paced back and forth in front of her, checking out the surfers in the lineup and dragging my hand through my hair. Surfers were catching wave after glassy wave, enjoying the day while couples strolled past with dogs on leashes. Everything seemed so normal. Except that it wasn’t.
The past thirteen years, all I’d wanted was Rosalyn. And now here she was, and it was far from the reunion I’d imagined. Rosalyn had pulled the rug out from under my life, and now she was telling me we had a son together? If that were true, I didn’t know if I could forgive her denying the kid, whoever he was, and me, of a life together. How dare she?
“Come on,” I said, striding toward my truck.
I slammed the door on my side of the truck while Rosalyn meekly arranged herself in the passenger’s seat.
“Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” I said. “I am dying to hear your story.”
“Well, it’s like this,” she said, taking another deep breath. “Toward the end of our affair, I missed my period.” I looked at her through narrow eyes, and she continued. “And I got a pregnancy test and sure enough,” she said with a small laugh. “I knew what would happen if I told you, so I just thought it would be easier—”
“Easier,” I said, erupting in anger. “God damn it Rosalyn. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were only nineteen. And you thought you were in love with me.”
“Yeah, well that’s what I thought. I thought a lot of things in those days, not the least of which was, how could you just pick up and leave like that? Did you ever,” I said, looking at her through eyes that were slits, “ever even wonder how that affected me? How it affected Tyler?”
She flinched. “Of course I did, sweetheart.” She reached for my hand.
“I’m not your sweetheart anymore!” I jerked away, gripping the steering wheel so I didn’t punch something. “Sure didn’t seem like it to me. Seemed pretty goddamn selfish, Rosalyn. Let me ask you something. Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?”
She stared down at her hands. “Will you let me tell you about Eugene?”
Eugene. I had a son named Eugene.
“How do I even know he’s my kid?”
“You can do the math yourself. And you’ll know when you meet him.”
“How do you know I want to meet him? Jesus fucking Christ, you haven’t changed at all. You think you can just call me after thirteen years and tell me I’ve got a son, and I’m going to jump and follow you around like I did when I was a teenager? Well, you’ve got another thing coming because it doesn’t work that way, babe. Not this time.”
“Jax, he’s your son.”
Your son. Anger swirled around me anew, heat flushing through my body. I turned to face Rosalyn and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me before now? You think I’m a robot with no feelings? What have you two been doing all these years? And, oh my God, Rosalyn,” I said. “What the fuck did you tell him?”
She seemed to study her fingernails and swallowed hard. “Well, I told him a little white lie.”
“What lie?”
She glanced out the window and said, “I can’t talk about that right now. I’ll tell you later.”
“No, Rosalyn. You will not tell me later. You think this is some kind of game? I’m going to ask you again. What did you tell him?”
She gazed at me like she was about to faint and said, “I told him that he … that he was conceived through a sperm donor clinic.” She buried her face in her hands and started crying softly. “But you can’t tell him I made that up!” Her eyes were frantic. “He’s really sensitive.”
“Jesus, Rosalyn,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “What’s the matter with you? A sperm donor clinic? Fucking … just fucking hell.”
We looked at each other, and I almost laughed because the whole thing was so grimly comical. I had to
give her credit for creativity.
“And did you think that story would satisfy his curiosity?”
“It has so far.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t think it’s going to fly for long. The kid’s probably not stupid.”
Then it was her turn to get mad. “What was I supposed to say? So, guess what sweetie, your dad is a kid, just like you,’” she said in a singsong voice. “And not only that, he was the son of one of my best friends. Think that would’ve gone over well?”
“I wasn’t a kid anymore!” I screamed. “I can’t believe you. I think that sacred herb of yours finally screwed up your brain cells.” I glared at Rosalyn, exhaled heavily, and leaned back in my seat, inspecting the cuts on my knuckles.
“What happened to your hand?” she said.
“Nothing. Just a little surfing incident.”
I tried to process everything that was happening. All those years after Rosalyn left that I had lain in bed wondering where she was, what she was doing, if she ever thought of me, if she was alive or dead, if she regretted anything, if she was happy, if she had other lovers. All those thoughts had never included a child.
“Why now, Rosalyn?” I said, looking at her and forcing her to meet my gaze. “Why are you coming to me now?”
When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “You know that cancer thing I told you about?” she said. “Well, it’s a little worse than the doctors thought. Jax, they gave me six months.”
She may as well have hit me with a sledgehammer. A vein in my neck pulsed, a steady thrum, as anger, fury, and despair wrapped around me like a vise. “God damn it!” I punched the steering wheel so hard that my hand started bleeding again.
Rosalyn touched my arm and said, “Jax. I really need your help. I need you to raise our son.”
I put my face in my hands, my throat tight, emotions swirling around me. I swallowed hard and finally looked at her. My voice was bitter when I said, “And what if I say no? What if I decide to call the shots this time, Rosalyn? What if I decide to take a lesson out of the Rosalyn Richards book of life and walk away? What if I tell you I’ve got my own life now?” I pointed at my chest. “I compete with my surfing. I’ve got a girlfriend. I have things in my life that don’t include you.”
Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three Page 3