Promise Me

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Promise Me Page 18

by Kristin Mayer


  “Don’t cry, Sam. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

  I pulled him to me, and right before our lips met, I said, “I never knew I could be this happy.”

  His lips came down on mine as we slowly climbed to our release. The walls of my core began to tremble, and he pulled back to look at me again. The look in his eyes alone started the orgasm that was slow and intense. It was glorious.

  Exhausted and spent, he rolled to the side, and I interlocked my legs with his. His arm wrapped around my body while his fingers trailed a pattern on my back. My head was on his shoulder, and I was tracing a pattern on his abs, thinking about how this amazing man was mine. We both continued to lay there, letting the significance of the moment absorb, take hold, and deepen our connection.

  He sighed, and it sounded like contentment, but I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking.

  “What was that sound about?”

  “I’m not scared shitless that you’re going to leave anymore. I feel like you are truly mine.”

  I snuggled deeper into him. “I am, and you’re mine.”

  We lay in each other’s embrace for a while more while the sun was getting lower in the sky.

  “We better head back to see my parents for a bit if you still want to go to my place after dinner tonight.”

  He tightened his grip on me. “After this afternoon, there’s no way I can’t have you in my arms tonight, Sam. I need you.”

  I loved hearing that he needed me.

  “I feel the same way. It’s like I’ve found the missing piece to me that I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

  He kissed me again as we bathed our bodies in the sun.

  Sometime later, we were dressed and heading back home. I sat next to him on the truck bench, not wanting any space between us. The revelation of the afternoon and what we had done played through my mind. There was a peace that had seemed to settle on our relationship. It felt right, and it didn’t matter how fast this had moved.

  We were sitting at dinner at The Harvester House, waiting for our meals to arrive. It was an old-fashioned restaurant that had antique tools hanging on the wall. The old wood tables had individual wood chairs.

  My mom was definitely in her planning mode as she began to drop hints. “Mark, we’d love to meet your parents sometime. During the season, maybe we could pick a city where you’ll both be, and all of us could meet there.”

  Just the mention of his parents had all of the group-texting coming to the forefront of my mind. There were so many expectations. My parents would probably need to be sedated after an afternoon with his family. I was on the verge of needing narcotics.

  Our dinner arrived as Mark responded, “They’d love that. They’re coming to North Carolina to spend some time with Sam and me this coming week. You are more than welcome to come up there, too, if you want.”

  I was amazed at how at ease he was with my family after less than twenty-four hours.

  My mom gave Mark a smile. “Thanks, Mark, but we’ll let them spend some alone time with you guys. I wouldn’t want to cheat them of the same time we’ve gotten. Plus, we are so much closer, which will make it easier for us to see you guys.”

  Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure I could handle everyone together at the same time yet. I would for sure be committed.

  “Then, we’ll definitely work something out while I’m on the road,” Mark said.

  I gave his knee a squeeze, loving how he was treating my family. It made me feel guilty for having the thoughts I’d had about his. Mark looked at me adoringly. My mom watched us and smiled.

  I excused myself to the restroom. As I exited the stall, I looked in the mirror and smiled. The day has been perfect. The night is going perfect. My luck is finally turning around.

  As I was walking back to the table, I bumped into someone and murmured, “Excuse me.” Then, I continued on my way.

  “Sam?”

  I stopped, my blood turning ice cold at the sound of the familiar voice. I closed my eyes, wishing I were dreaming.

  “Sam, is that you?”

  Fuck. No such luck. Why the hell does he have to be here? Shit.

  Keeping my back to the voice, not wanting the face in my head, I responded, “I’m having dinner with my family, Greg. Please don’t.”

  I started to walk off, and I heard him say behind me, “Please, Sam. Just two minutes. Please, can we talk?”

  Momentarily, I stopped, still facing away from him. His pained voice was discernable.

  I wasn’t sure why I paused, but he took this as an opportunity to continue on, “Sam, I know I messed up all those years ago. I still don’t know who I slept with. I wish there was something I could do to help us work past this. I’ve never stopped thinking of you. I tried reaching out to you, but you threatened to report me to the college for harassment. You know I couldn’t lose my scholarship. My family was depending on me to get through school to help them. I just graduated. Please, talk to me.”

  My pulse was racing like a racehorse, and I felt light-headed as images from that night flashed across my mind. Our first semester of college, I had threatened to report him to the dean when he kept trying to contact me. Every time I’d seen him, I’d remembered the slap and how he had raped me.

  I peered at him, and he looked completely lost, but there was nothing to say, especially here. We were inside the entryway, and Mark would be able to see us from across the room. The last thing I needed was a scene.

  Facing forward again, I responded, “Good-bye, Greg. Please let the past be the past.” My voice was cold.

  Greg was better off not knowing what had happened. At least, that was what I kept telling myself. On my way back to the table, I kept my eyes focused forward and refused to look back. My features were tense, and my muscles were ready and coiled to run.

  Why the hell did I choose to come here tonight of all nights?

  When I was halfway back, Mark made eye contact with me, and he knew something was wrong. He started looking around the restaurant.

  Fuck.

  He was about to get out of his chair when I infinitesimally shook my head from left to right, and in return, he relaxed. Making it to the table, I pulled all my nervous energy and focused it into making the façade I was accustomed to showing everyone. My stomach knotted with a heavy ball of some sort. I pushed the food around on my plate, forcing myself to take a bite every so often, and that only added to the weight building in my abdomen. Mark’s hand came to rest on my knee, but I refused to look his way.

  The waitress sat Greg a few tables over from where we were seated. He had positioned himself right in my line of sight. I made the mistake of making eye contact, and Greg gave me a sad smile. My fork missed the potatoes I was aiming for and made an awful screeching noise. Of course, my action caused Mark to become hyperaware of me, and he noticed the direction where I had been looking. My mom was prattling on about some change happening in her baking club that was causing an uproar. I thought Mark and I were being obvious that something had changed, but apparently, my parents were not seeing the difference. I said a silent prayer of thanks. I loved it when they were oblivious. Mark was looking straight at Greg, watching his every move.

  Shit.

  Darlene, a heavy-set middle-aged woman with graying hair, came up to our table with a scratchy Southern voice, revealing she had smoked one too many cigarettes. “Ah, I was nervous, too, the first time I brought my beau home to meet my parents. Don’t forget that a boy likes a girl with some meat on her bones.”

  Mark’s hand came to drape around my shoulder, and I let his love ooze into me. I tried to use it to calm me. It was only mildly working at this point.

  I mustered my usual chirpy voice, “Thank you, Darlene. I won’t forget. Thank you for saving me a piece of your famous cobbler. That’ll for sure keep meat on my bones. You can ask Dad. I’ve been dying to have a piece.”

  “Well, sug, I brought this just for you.” She swapped out my plate with a huge bowl of cobbler
and two spoons. “It’s the last piece, but I figured you’d be sharing with your beau.”

  “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  She patted the top of my head as if I were still five years old. “Anytime, sug.” Her wrinkles were more pronounced with her smile.

  Darlene walked by and gave Mark a pat on the shoulder before she returned back to the kitchen. He scooted a little closer, and I gave him a smile as I offered him a spoon. He took it and started eating the cobbler with me. I felt safer, the closer he was to me. Mark was eating the majority of the cobbler as I was trying to force down the few bites I could manage to take.

  My mom asked, “Oh, Sam, isn’t that Greg? It’s been years since we’ve seen him or his family after they moved.”

  That was all I could eat of the cobbler at the mention of his name. More memories of that night flooded my mind—the slapping, waking up to him savagely raping me, the smell of his drunken breath, the way he’d held my hands above my head, the force he’d used. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my grip on reality.

  “Yes, Mama. It looks like they’re enjoying their dinner, so there’s no need to bug them.” My voice was slightly rude as I responded.

  My mom raised her brow at me.

  Double shit.

  The last thing I needed was a lesson in manners right now.

  In a semi-scolding tone, she said, “Sam, they were good friends of ours, and if I remember correctly, you and Greg were the best of friends, too. He would have done anything for you. I still don’t get what happened with you guys.”

  It all clicked in that instance for Mark, and he realized who Greg was. His fingers were white-knuckled on his spoon, and his hand had started to cut off the circulation on my leg from how tight he was squeezing my thigh. My body shifted uncomfortably, which caused him to release my leg.

  When my mama turned toward Greg, I looked at Mark and mouthed the words, Please don’t. Not here.

  He was pissed. Next, Mama waved at Greg to come over to us. He looked at me and gave a genuine smile. The memory of him ripping my shirt tore through my mind, and I shuddered. Back in the day, he had been considered hot with his dark brown hair and light brown eyes. After all these years, he had stayed in shape from playing football. Once upon a time, I had worshiped the ground he walked on but not anymore. As I looked at him, none of those feelings came back. Instead, I was only filled with sadness from what had been taken from me.

  Hesitantly, he walked up to the table. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. It’s wonderful seeing you. Sam, it’s good to see you.”

  The moment Greg had started this way, Mark had possessively thrown his arm around the back of my chair. My dad had noticed, and a small smirk had played on his lips. If my dad knew what was driving this, he’d be reaching for his gun.

  I nodded and returned to pushing the remnants of the cobbler around on the plate, not looking up.

  My mom stood up and hugged Greg. “Oh, it is so good to see you, Greg. I remember a time when you and Sam were inseparable. Are your parents in town?”

  He responded, “No, ma’am. I came here to see some friends. “

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Mark looking regretfully at me.

  My mom continued on as if we were all getting together for fun, “That’s a shame. Hope they are able to visit soon. Sam lives in North Carolina now, so it’s a wonderful coincidence that you happened to be here while she was here with her boyfriend, Mark Robertson.”

  Mama was beside herself with excitement when clearly half the table was not feeling the same way. She wasn’t self-absorbed by any means, but I thought she fell more on the naive side of things.

  His eyes widened at the recognition of Mark’s name. Greg kindly said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m a big fan. Sam is a wonderful person.” He extended his hand toward Mark.

  It was the first time I had seen Mark be anything less than welcoming to one of his fans as he said, “Thanks.”

  Mark ignored Greg’s extended hand, and my dad chuckled. It was a good thing my dad was attributing this to the jealous-boyfriend column.

  Mark looked at his watch. “Dean, Chandra, it was a wonderful weekend. We probably should get on the road, so we don’t get into Atlanta too late.”

  My mom turned her attention from Greg to us as we rose. “Oh, I loved having you guys. Come back soon.”

  Greg never took his eyes off me as he looked at me pleadingly. He remained quiet. Greg looked sad, but there was no way he and I had any type of a future together, even as friends.

  There is nothing left between us.

  Mark saw Greg watching me, and he made sure to stay in between Greg and me the entire time.

  Hopefully, this is the last time I run into Greg.

  I gave my parents each a hug.

  Mark managed to keep his calm as he told my parents good-bye. “Thank you, Dean and Chandra. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

  “I hope you come back really soon.” My mom had a slight mist in her eyes. It was always hard on her when I left home.

  I jumped in, “We will, Mama. Love you both.”

  With that, Mark put his hand around my waist and calmly walked us toward the exit. I felt the fury rolling off of him in waves. All the emotions from the memories were brewing inside me. I was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off.

  As we left the restaurant, Mark asked lowly, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, not wanting to have a breakdown. Right now, I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

  He opened the truck door for me, and I got in. I needed a few minutes to collect myself. He must have known that because he didn’t say a word as we drove to the highway. I was staring out the window, watching as the twilight started to claim everything. I wished it would swallow me up right now.

  Mark was calm when he asked, “Did they know you guys were together?”

  I kept my eyes looking out on the passing landscape, focusing on the whirling shapes whipping by. “No. I was dating him behind their backs, which added to the reasons I didn’t tell them.”

  “Do you really think he was drunk beyond reason? Will you ever report what happened to you? Have you checked into the statute of limitations?” His voice sounded like a mixture of emotions.

  I couldn’t look at him yet. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I said, “I have to believe that he didn’t know what he was doing. I’m not going to the cops. I’m not dragging you—”

  He cut me off, letting me know exactly where he stood, as he practically spit out, “Fuck me or what you think you would be dragging me into. You need to do what’s best for you, Sam. I’ll weather any of it with you. I’ll be by your side for whatever you need.”

  I knew his anger wasn’t toward me. I turned toward him and grabbed his knee, hoping the connection calmed him down, calmed us down. His possessiveness was shocking, but I had been warned. I liked it though because it showed the depth of his feelings for me.

  “Mark, this is my decision. You might not agree with it, but I’m not changing my mind. It doesn’t change what happened. Did you really get a creepy vibe from him? Even tonight, he was still asking if we could talk. He has no idea, none. He couldn’t talk to me in college because I threatened to report him for harassment, and then he would lose his scholarship. His family couldn’t afford to send him to college, and I knew it. He just graduated.”

  “Are you defending that asshole now because it’s clear he still has some sort of feelings for you?” His voice was rising. His hands were grabbing the steering wheel so tight that I thought he would pull it off.

  I raised my voice in volume. “I’m not defending Greg. I’m apparently having to defend MY choices to you, so back the fuck off. Just because I said I love you doesn’t give you any right to rule over me or dictate to me how I should handle things that have happened to me. It didn’t happen to you. You have no say in this.”

  “Damn it, Sam. I had to play nice with the fucker who assaulted you, and you want me to do nothi
ng about it?”

  We were practically yelling at each other, but I was not budging on this. He needed to understand the boundaries on this topic.

  Laying my hands on my legs and flexing my fingers, I tried to calm down. “I was the one who was assaulted, and it was before we met. You’re not here to defend my honor. That was long gone before you even came into the picture.”

  His voice softened as he said, “Well, maybe if someone had been there for you, you wouldn’t have felt you were worthless, and I wouldn’t have almost lost you countless times.”

  “Please just stop. Please.” My eyes were closed, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to calm myself down as a couple of tears escaped. I laid my head back, not wanting to continue this right now, as I was emotionally wrung out.

  We had just had a major fight, and my world felt out of whack. My eyes stayed closed. I drifted off in order to avoid figuring this all out.

  Mark’s voice brought me out of my sleep. His earlier anger was gone, replaced with a soft, loving voice. “Sam, we’re here. What do I need to do to get into the gates?”

  There were two condos to each building. The lower floor had storage and a two-car garage for each condo, and then the living space was upstairs. It was a gated community with only ten buildings total. There was no need to respond as the security guard came out saw me and then pushed the button to let us in.

  Mark pulled through and then asked, “Which condo are you in?”

  I responded and sounded detached, “Building five, down on the end, condo ten.”

  Mark pulled in, and I pulled up an app on my phone that allowed me to open the garage door. My little red car sat there in the garage as he pulled in next to it.

  Mark got out of the truck and grabbed the bags. I exited the vehicle without a word, tired and ready for bed since it was after one in the morning. I wanted my pillow. Mark was following me up the stairs. The quiet tension between us felt awkward.

 

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