by M. C. Cerny
“Hiya right back, counselor,” I whisper before I start to slowly tickle her from her prone position. I know she’s fighting back a giggle, so I increase my pokes and rubs in the spots that affect her most.
“This is non-consensual tickling!” she loudly reprimands me. I double my efforts.
“Say it and it all goes away.” I’m egging her on, enjoying her wiggling body underneath mine.
“This offense is punishable in a court of law!”
“Eh, I’m first-time offender. I’ll get off. You know I will.”
“Ugh. Forget it.”
“Just say it.”
“Never! Liar!”
“Prove it!” I kiss her neck and she pushes her hips up to move me, but I’m much stronger just laying over her.
“Fine, Roman Winters has the biggest boat in the bay.” Ah, there’s my girl.
“Just the bay?” I admit I’m hurt. After all, she hasn’t seen all of my boats, just the ones at the marina.
“Yes, just the fucking bay, you torturer!” Abby lifts her hips up again and rolls them into mine. My dick is aching to be inside her as we roll over again; this time I’m on the bottom.
“That’s quite a potty mouth you have there, Hollywood.”
“So punish me, sailor,” she is taunts me. I let my head fall back on the pillow and take a deep breath. She’s crawled her way over on top of me, kissing and licking. I don’t want to have to do this, but if I don’t, I fear we’ll be cocooned forever with this elephant in the room.
“Abby. Abby…” She gently bites my nipple, and even though that doesn’t really do it for me, something about my girl’s mouth anywhere on my body is exciting. “Abigail, please, one sec.” God, she’ll make me beg as much as I make her beg. I take hold of her arms and keep her steady. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with passion and something else I can’t describe.
“What is it?” She bites her bottom lip and chews it nervously. I set her astride me, holding her hips in place so she can’t wiggle out of the conversation.
“The elephant, Abby,” I say, not precisely articulate. Her eyes widen with surprise.
“Uh, Roman, I’m not calling your co—” I put my hand over her beautiful dirty mouth.
“No, Abby. I mean… what we’re not talking about.” I keep my hand over her mouth until she licks my palm. “Bad, Hollywood.” Shaking my head no, distracted by her outright teasing. God love this woman.
“I know. The phone calls.” I let Abby go and she slides off me to sit next to me, crossing her legs.
“Yeah, Abby, what do you want to do?” I watch her grab a long lock of hair, twisting it over her fingers. I take it from her hand to pull it gently and get her attention back on me. Nothing this delicate and beautiful should be twisted and knotted.
“Honestly, I’m not really sure. My whole life is there, in LA, but…”
“But?” We stay silent a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Just then, her phone rings lowly from somewhere inside the bedroom. We both look in the direction of the sound. “Answer it, Abby.”
“I… I don’t know if I want to.”
“Abby, it’s not a question of wanting to. It’s a matter of doing it, and then we’ll figure things out.”
“Roman.” A single tear slips down her cheek and I brush it away with my finger.
“Whatever it is, we’ll do it together.” Her tears are like precious diamonds, made from pressure and pains in her life not yet fixed. I desperately want to be the one to fix them, for no girl this gentle and loving should ever have to cry. “Answer it. I’m not going anywhere.” She takes a deep breath and gets up from the bed. Reaching into her bag, she picks up the call on the third ring.
“Hey, Dad, what’s going on?” I get up from the bed and head out to the deck to give her some privacy because it seems like the right thing to do. I can’t hear her conversation from out here, so I just stand at the railing, taking in the beauty of the ocean as my boat skips along the waves. I close my eyes and breathe deep, seeking peace. I’m about to take a walk to the upper deck when a cry from inside the suite filters out, pain radiating from its source.
“Abby, sweetheart, what is it?” She is on the floor curled into a fetal position, crying loudly, and I can’t make out any words. She’s making me worried, unsure what’s happening. Her phone is laying on the carpet, the call no longer ongoing. Is it her dad? The douche canoe Lucas? I don’t know how to help her if I don’t know what’s going on.
“Roman, it’s my sister. Leah. She has cancer.” Shaking, her words tumble forth like word vomit. “It’s just like my mom all over again.” Helpless, the words set me back as I fall into autopilot and pick Abby up in my arms. I sit with her on the bed and rock her carefully. I’m afraid I’ll make it worse no matter what I say. I sure as hell can’t make it better several nautical miles from shore.
“Then let’s get you home, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m afraid I’m going to lose Abby over this, because now I have to send her home, and I don’t know if she even wants me with her.
Chapter Fourteen
ABIGAIL
I answer the phone with apprehension and Dad jumps right into it. “Abigail, it’s Leah, she’s sick.” Dad isn’t one to mince words, and the way he says things leads me to believe this is pretty serious. Roman nods to me with a reassuring smile and walks out on to the deck, shutting the door behind him. I watch him go and coldness settles over me, goose bumps prickling my skin.
“What do you mean sick, Dad? She was fine weeks ago, tearing me a new one for leaving LA so she could shack up with my boyfriend.” I don’t know what else to say. She did purposefully steal my boyfriend… well, Lucas left me for her on his own, but still… Leah and I have never been close, and this just floors me. I don’t know why she isn’t calling me. Does she actually need me? My older, overbearing, bitchy sister needing anyone just sounds crazy to me.
“You saw her in June. It’s September. The doctors did a biopsy and its cancer.” The dreaded C word makes my mind buzz into numbness. I listen to my dad say a bunch of other things that don’t register. Surgery. Chemotherapy. Radiation. Medication trials. The only word I’ve heard so far is cancer, and it scares the shit out of me.
“D-dad… are you sure it’s cancer?” The word feels thick, unused and tainted. Immense regret fills me and tears pool, blinding my vision as I sink to the floor prostrate. All I can think about are the phone calls I didn’t take the past week or so, ignoring life outside our happy little bubble, and as fate would intervene, our bubble is now obliterated. The balloon of happiness pops and deflates to nothing but limp plastic.
“Of course I’m sure. I’ve been the only one here to handle things.” Angrily, he lashes out at me, and I take it because part of me feels like I deserve it. “I needed you here and you left us.” I did run away. Dad goes on about doctor appointments, treatment options, my sister’s work schedule reduced, her obvious stubbornness, and Lucas moving in with her much to his dismay. I can barely process it all. My sister, my older, wiser, more perfect sister, has cancer.
Just.
Like.
Mom.
I hang up the phone and fleeting memories of our childhood surface. I want to fold in on myself and lock out the bad. I remember our last trip to the aquarium for one, just the three of us girls. Leah and I fighting constantly over something and Mom gently intervening and making both of us somehow feel validated and apologetic at the same time. Leah’s bullying ways.
I love my sister, but have barely been able to understand the increasing distance in our relationship as we got older. I think about all the boyfriends she stole from me, and I half laugh and cry because, really, I wonder if that was her way of protecting me. They were pretty terrible as boyfriends, and she would always dump them as soon as I got over them. Except for maybe Lucas… He seems pretty firmly entrenched in our lives and Dad’s firm.
I’m overwhelmed and the thought of losing someone who was jus
t as close to our mother as I was is devastating to even consider. The cries that rack my body are surprising and terrifying. Ugly fat tears run down my face, blinding me with stinging salt. Roman runs into the bedroom, scooping me up. He’s asking me all sorts of questions and I don’t know how to answer him except to clutch his safe arms and blubber out words.
“Roman, it’s my sister. Leah has cancer and it’s just like my mom all over again.” I’m huffing air to catch my breath. He just holds me closer in the only way I guess he can.
“Breath, baby. Your lips are turning color.” His grip is tight and unrelenting, and the pain of his hold is the only thing giving me purchase to feel alive. Lack of oxygen has me swimming near the edge of unconsciousness and he shakes me back to reality.
“Roman, what will I do?” The shaky intake of breath makes me nauseous.
“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.” I know I love this man unexpectedly and wholly in this moment. He rocks me gently and kisses my hair as he brushes the wild mess from my teary face. I have no idea how we’ll make this work. Can we make this work? “Let me make the arrangements and take care of you.” Roman hushes any protests I might have and, instead, tucks me into the bed under the covers. “I’ll be right back.” He kisses me again and leaves the bedroom. The silence hurts, but I have to trust we’ll get through this. I allow myself to block out the pain and drift into exhaustion.
* * * * *
“Yes, I want a first-class ticket on the next flight out of Seattle, direct to LA. Yeah, I know what it costs, and I’m not limited by a budget here, Gary. Just get me the ticket. Round trip? No, but leave the option open. Car service? I’m not sure, but yes just in case. I don’t want her to have to worry about anything.”
The mattress dips, and a hand rests on my leg for a moment, rubbing warmth into me. Roman is sitting on the bed next to me when I open my eyes, threading his fingers through my hair. I’m more relaxed now, stunned by the shock I suppose. His palm cradles my cheek tenderly and his callused thumb brushes away another teardrop. His eyes look into mine and I realize he just booked me a flight ticket home… as in singular. He’s not coming with me.
The boat no longer feels as smooth sailing as it did previously. My stomach wants to revolt both from nerves and the pitch of the waves the boat’s sleek hull cuts through. I can tell it’s moving at a clip, but my brain is still disoriented from my dad’s phone call and bawling my eyes out to Roman. To say I feel insecure is a bit of an understatement.
Roman hangs up the phone and tosses it on the edge of the bed. “Come here, Hollywood.” He crawls over me and strips the bedding away, peeling me from between sheets and pillows, tugging me in the direction of the bathroom. I stumble into Roman’s backside and he turns, placing his warm hands over my bare shoulders.
“What?” My voice croaks from the tears earlier. He looks deep in thought as a breath escapes his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. The sudden distance between us feels more than just a pending flight away. Why does this feel like fucking goodbye?
“Nothing. I just don’t ever want to be a reason you cry, Abigail.” He smiles softly, and if I could have puddled on the floor, I would have. Instead, I follow him mindlessly into the bathroom on unsteady legs. He sets me in the corner and gets the shower going. I watch him grab his T-shirt by the back of his neck and deftly pull it off, tossing it on the floor. Next he’s pulling me toward him and lifting my top up and off me, dropping it on the floor next to our little pile. His eyes don’t leave mine for even a millisecond to look at my now naked body. I feel like he’s imprinting me in his mind for some reason. I pray this isn’t a goodbye of some kind, one last intimate sendoff, but I can’t be sure.
“R-roman…” There is so much I need to say to him, but he puts his finger to my lips and kisses my temple instead. I let my brain yell, I LOVE YOU SO DAMN MUCH, because I can’t get my mouth to form words, except to utter hoarse choking cries. I pray he hears me through all of this.
“Shhh,” he tells me and then drops to his knees to kiss my belly and peel my panties from my hips. I reach a hand into his hair, running my fingers into the soft strands while looking up at the ceiling for hope or divine intervention to fix this, because I sure as hell can’t. I can’t believe we were so close and now so far. He hugs my knees and spends time with his head against my lap, kissing me wherever he can reach. I tug a bit and he looks up, eyes sparkling with mischief as he stands and peels his own lounge pants off.
We step into the shower and everything is slow and savored from the way he washes my hair to the way he trails his fingers over my skin—delicately loving and tracing my body, as if he could draw me for eternity. I don’t want a moment of this to end, because now, I finally know what love feels like.
ROMAN
I don’t want a moment of this to end… I never got a chance to ask my parents during their lifetime how you know when someone is the one. Death and a drunk driver cheated me of those things twice. I want to tell Abby I love her so damn much, but I don’t want her to feel obligated to return to me out of guilt. You know that saying: if you love something, set it free…
I fucking hate that saying. I have to let her go, because damn if our timing isn’t the worst possible thing right now. I need to be there for her no strings attached, because if she comes back to me—when she comes back to me—I don’t ever want to let her go. I fucking hate letting go.
The shower is hot and steam covers the glass instantly, embracing us one last time. She stands with her back to me and I wash her hair slowly, massaging her temples and scalp, running my fingers through her golden hair until I hear her moan against the tiled walls. I step forward crowding her in, pressing her against the wall. I kiss every possible inch of skin on her neck and trace my hands over her body. God help me if I forget a single curve or soft spot of her body while we’re briefly separated, and it will be brief.
“Roman…” I love how she says my name, dragging out the first syllable like it will prolong the limited time we have. My crew is sailing us back to the marina as fast as they safely can. This isn’t the getaway I had hoped to make for us, but it’s not like my boat is going anywhere until she comes back. We’ll have just enough time for me to drive her to the airport, breaking a few speed limits. I’ll get her car to her in a week or so when I have time to drive it down. We’ll worry about the rest later. I just need her to smile again and be all right. Her body is tight like a cable ready to snap and fray at any sign of weakness.
“Let me take care of you, Abby. Let me do all of the worrying until you get there.” She nods and leans back into me as the water sluices over our bodies. I use the soap from the bodywash to make her skin slick. She reaches back and puts her hands into my hair holding me close to her. The feel of her fingers touching me is both soothing and painful because I know putting her on a plane is the last thing I want to do.
* * * * *
We stand together on the deck of the boat as she pulls up to the marina. Not many words have been spoken, and really, what can be said? My hope is she’ll work things out with her family and her sister will be okay, because if not, then I don’t know what my girl will do with the guilt I know she’s been harboring since she picked up the phone. I hope she’ll come back to me as unscarred as possible, but there’s no guarantee, and it’s nothing I can control. Wounds of the heart are not easily mended with the baggage the mind harbors.
The ride to the airport is just as silent. I park the car up front illegally. They can tow my fucking car for all I care. Another minute with Abigail Holliday is worth the ticket. “Roman…” She’s bitten her lips puffy and glassy eyes look back at me.
“I am not going anywhere, Hollywood,” I assure her, taking her small hand in mine.
“But I am.” Her voice wavers.
“But never far from here.” I take her palm and risk putting it over my heart, trying to convey the exact thing I am terrified of saying. I’ve lost everyone else I’ve ever loved. If she rejects me, I’ll be de
stroyed. How did I let this girl close enough to mess my head and heart over so hard and so fast?
“I don’t know how long…” Trailing off, her hand clutches my shirt over my heart painfully. At least we’ll both feel the loss.
“Hush…” Soothing her, I say, “I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready to come back.” Blonde curls escape from her braid and I gently push them away from her face before I go around the truck to help her out. I grab her bag of clothes and we walk into the airport holding hands. Checking the boards, I see her plane is on fucking time. Of course, it couldn’t be late or delayed now when I want a fraction more time to spend with her.
The ticketing counter has her ticket ready, and she still has to go through security and boarding. Even I couldn’t finagle priority passenger status for her and I did have Gary try.
“So this is it.” Abby hasn’t told me much about her conversation with her father, but I know it isn’t good. I hug her and she clings to me as much as I cling to her. Leah has been diagnosed with cancer, which could mean anything until she physically gets to see her for herself, and feels reassured. We don’t know anything about her prognosis. I hope for Abby’s sake this is all a stupid plot to manipulate her home temporarily and that nothing is as bad as it seems. Douche-canoe still has a job with her dad’s firm, but he’s not my competition. I think the competition I have to fear most is Abby’s inability to tell her family no, especially her dad. It would be hard for me to make the move to LA right now. Although not entirely impossible, it’s not something feasible for at least a year with the projects I have ongoing, but Abby doesn’t know that.
“Flight 437 to Los Angeles is now boarding at Gate A11.” I step back from her, looking her over one last time, fucking interfering PA systems. Of course, she would happen to be one of the last gates in the terminal. Luckily, there’s no line at security and the guy is waving us on. I can’t go because I don’t have a ticket. Why didn’t I get a fucking ticket?