by Gabrielle G.
That’s the other thing; Jordan’s mother wants her son home.
Who am I to deny that?
I’m just the guy he preferred to abandon at the altar rather than marry.
I’ll pay.
I’ll do anything they need.
I know money is tight for them, and I have so much. I don’t care.
I don’t want anything that reminds me of him.
I don’t want to think of him.
Step two is over. On to step three.
“Well, as the body is still here in the hospital, I would recommend calling the receiving mortuary in Nevada. But I need to let you know that generally, the body needs to be prepared for flying. This requires embalming or dry ice, and that is not something we do. We can arrange the transportation to a local funeral home that will then be in contact with the State of Nevada for everything. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
Step three complete.
I turn toward Sal.
“I need three more steps, Snot.”
I’m afraid if I don’t, I won’t be able to get through the day.
She reaches for my hand, but I jerk back. I see the hurt in her eyes. She needs my touch more than I need hers, but I can’t touch her right now. Not after wanting to kiss her. Being next to her is acceptable; having her touch me is not. She blinks her pain away.
“Step one: go back to my place. Step two: get settled. Step three: drink?” I nod. Step one.
Step three is underway, and I’m anesthetizing my life. I’m not even pretending to pace myself. The bottle of rum is going nicely down my throat. Sip after sip, I swallow my sorrow.
Fuck Jordan.
Fuck his family.
Fuck everyone but Sal.
I can’t fuck Sal.
I can’t…
“I don’t want to go to the funeral of that asshole,” I slur. Snot frowns.
“You’re saying that now. You’re drunk and hurt, but maybe in a couple of days…”
“He left me standing at the altar while he was dead.”
“Chris, you don’t know what you’re saying…” She puts her hand on my thigh. I want her to feel my cock, but I can’t let her touch me. I take another swipe at the bottle. Drink. Forget. I move her hand away.
“I wanted to kiss you today.” I shouldn’t tell her, but she should know what kind of man I am. She should know I’m an asshole who wants to kiss someone else when his fiancé is dead. Someone who feels things he shouldn’t. I drink some more.
“Chris, you’re just a little lost right now. Why don’t you go to sleep? I don’t think you have slept much since Saturday.”
I shrug.
“Come on, honey, let’s get you into bed.” She pulls me from the sofa.
“I want to sleep with you,” I mumble. She freezes and shakes her head. And then I finally forget.
When I wake up a few hours later, I’m in Sal’s guest room with a wicked headache for a companion. There is a glass of water and two Alka-Seltzers on the night table. The fact that she knows my hangover remedy makes me smile.
And then I remember why I’m here.
Why I drank.
Why I’m alone in bed.
I had forgotten for an instant.
I hear muffled cries coming from the other room.
Grabbing my sweatpants and a T-shirt, I make my way to Sal’s bedroom and get dressed in the corridor.
When I push her door open, her shoulders are shaking from the long sobs she’s letting out.
Without saying a word, I slip in her bed and take her into my arms. She turns around and cries on my chest, covering my T-shirt in snot.
I smile, comforting her, and remember all the times she cried on me because of another man.
I pray that her tears are because of Jordan’s death and not because I told her I wanted to kiss her.
As I stroke her hair, getting lost in her scent, my heart pounds faster than usual, my chest tightens where her head rests, and my dick awakens at the proximity of her hand. I feel like she’s the only good thing coming out of this nightmare, but I know I would never take advantage of her pain and her grief.
So I continue soothing her as if she was the six-year-old who her younger brother tripped on purpose, or the eight-year-old missing her older brother, but not the thirty-seven-year-old woman who I need to survive.
10
Salomé
“Salomé, wake up.”
My mother’s loud whisper echoes in my ears.
I try to understand what is happening.
First, I’m tangled in a man. Hair tickles my nose, my lips are smacked on a forehead, a knee pushes on my core, and something hard is snuggling my thigh.
I open one eye to find my arms against Chris’ neck and him hugging my chest.
“Salomé, wake up…” my mother’s voice repeats. I slightly move my head, trying not to wake Chris.
Not a dream.
There she is, leaning against my bedroom doorframe, a smirk on her face and a spark in her eyes.
I untangle myself from sleeping beauty. He tightens his arm around me and grunts.
“Don’t move,” he mutters in his sleep.
“Bella is here,” I whisper for my mother not to hear. Chris frowns, his eyes still closed.
“Chris, wake up. My mother is in the apartment, and by the smell of it, she made pancakes.” His eyes jolt open, and then he realizes what position we’re in and sits up as fast as he can, rubbing his still sleeping eyes.
“Good morning, sweetheart, I made pancakes. Let’s meet in the kitchen in five.” My mother sings, walking away.
“Shit, Snot, I’m sorry.” I get out of bed, avoiding his eyes. Finding a hair tie on my night table, I throw my hair in a bun and slip into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Knowing my mother, she’s going to make a huge deal out of this. She’s going to tell my father and my brothers, and then the inquisition will start again.
There are reasons why I barely bring men home. Last time I did, they found him stupid and were making fun of him all the freaking time.
Finding Chris and me in the same bed, tangled in each other is going to be worth gossiping, even if nothing happened.
The door I’ve left ajar slowly opens behind me. I look up to find Chris’ eyes staring right back at me. I blush, remembering his cock against my thigh. My eyes drop. He’s still hard. His hand rubs his chin, embarrassed.
“Look, Sal, I’m sorry. I heard you cry, so I came in to console you, and I fell asleep with you in my arms. I’m really sorry.” I spit the toothpaste in the sink, rinse and bring my eyes back to his reflection. He seems sincere.
“I hope you’re ready for twenty questions because whatever we say at breakfast, she won’t believe that nothing happened. And she will tell my dad, and my brothers. Aaron might kick my ass because he thinks I slept with you; Dex might kick yours. So, yeah… I hope that sleeping in the same bed was worth it because that might be the only night we’re going to have for a while…”
He winces at my words.
He knows my family isn’t going to let this go.
He has been around for enough Gritt’s councils and family suppers to understand we’ll be the talk of the year.
“Okay.” He sighs. “Let’s go face your mom,” he says, extending his hand for me to take, and when I do, my hand fits perfectly in his, reminding me of what he said last night.
He wanted to kiss me.
How many times have I let my mind wonder what it would feel like to kiss Chris, to feel his mouth on mine, to touch his tongue, bite his lips and discover how he tastes.
By the time I’m back on Earth, we’re facing my mother. Her gaze falls on our hands right away. She tilts her head and smiles slightly.
“Morning, sweethearts, I’m sorry I had to wake you, but I told the others to come at nine, so we have an hour to discuss your… situation…”
She looks at Chris’ erection and smirks.
Isn’t he supposed to think of ba
seball or other boring shit to bring it down?
Chris shifts next to me and takes a seat at my bar while my mother prepares plates for us.
“So…” she starts, breaking the awkward silence that has fallen between us. “How long has this,” she points at the two of us, “been going on.”
“Nothing is going on, Mom. We were just talking last night and fell asleep.” Chris nods next to me, validating my quasi-lie.
“Yeah, I always wake up tangled in someone’s arms after not having spent a torrid night with them.”
I grunt.
“Bella, let me reassure you nothing happened between Sal and me,” Chris says, shoving a piece of pancake in his mouth. He seems better today, freer, more at peace.
“I’ll hit the shower first, if you don’t mind, Snot.” My mother pours me a cup of coffee and sets it in front of me. He swallows the pancake faster than a starving child, thanks my mother and goes to hide in the bathroom, leaving me alone to fend for myself in front of a very thirsty for blood mother.
“Sal,” she says in a soft voice, “do you think this is a good idea?”
“Mom, we told you, nothing happened,” I scoff.
“Yet… nothing happened, yet. He’s grieving, sweetie. Some people fill their stomach with comfort food, others fill the void with sex. When some people are numb with grief, sex might help them feel something, or they try to find a new physical intimacy with someone else. I’m not against you and Chris being together, I just don’t think this is the best moment to start anything with him.”
“Can you please not make a bigger deal of what is happening here? Please?” Tears are welling up in my eyes.
My mother comes around the bar and hugs my back, resting her chin on my shoulder, her long white hair falling along my arm.
“Don’t cry, baby girl. I know how much you love him. I just don’t want you to end up more heartbroken than you already are.”
“Please don’t tell the boys anything about this?”
“And have your father plan your wedding faster than he was planning ours? No way, sweetie. How are you feeling today?”
I shrug. I don’t know how I feel. Sadness, anger, guilt. I deflect her question.
“Chris said last night he didn’t want to fly to the funeral, but he was drunk, so…”
“So maybe he didn’t mean it? Do you want me to talk to him?”
I sip my lukewarm coffee.
“I think I’ll talk to him today. Who’s coming this morning?”
“Well, Barnabas, Adam and I came to the city last night. The boys went out partying while I went to supper with Dex and Luke. Then I slept there, and who knows where your brother and nephew ended up, surely whoring around the city. I took the emergency keys you gave Luke to come here early and prepare breakfast for everybody. We sent you some messages last night. Didn’t you receive them?”
I shake my head.
“So Barnabas, Adam, Dex and Luke are on their way? I'd better shower and tidy a little. Chris drank a lot last night; we left a mess in the living room,” I say, getting up.
“Already taken care of, Sal. What would a mother be good for if not to pick up after her children?” She kisses my cheek and gets busy cleaning our breakfast plates.
“Go shower. You have fifteen minutes before chaos comes in.”
When I come back into the living room, cleansed from the hard night Chris and I went through, there are boys everywhere. Barnabas and Adam are devouring a stack of five pancakes; clearly hungover and reeking of alcohol and sex. Since Adam came into our lives, he and Barnabas are inseparable, and what I mean by that is that they party a lot.
Next to them is Asher, Dex’s nephew, whom I met in California when I visited a few months ago.
“We had to take the boy out to meet some East Coast pussy. Nothing better to get over a heartbreak than partying, he even disappeared for a while. Wasn’t it more fun than staying in with your boring old uncles, Ash?” Barnabas says, shoving his shoulder. Asher rolls his eyes the same way Dex would.
“What I don’t understand is why we’re too old, but you aren’t, Barn, when you’re thirteen years older than the kid?” Luke teases our younger brother.
“I think,” Dex pipes in with a grin, “that Asher is as mature as a Barnabas. They’re both around Adam’s maturity level which is something between, I’m an asshole, and I know it all, and I’m soon to be an adult, even if I love my mommy tremendously.” He laughs.
“Hey,” Mom chimes in, “there is nothing wrong with loving your mommy. Right, Luke?” As usual, Luke smiles at Mom and wraps her in his large tattooed arms with a hug.
“Mamma’s boy,” Barn coughs into his hand.
Their banter is fine, but I don’t feel like laughing with them, or at them.
Above the crowd, I find Chris studying me. He seems to be enjoying the conversation as much as I am.
“What?” I mouth. He smiles at me and shakes his head. That smile is everything though. It’s a sweet, easy smile, one to tell me he likes seeing me surrounded by my family, one that says we’re friends, we’re family.
“Baby Cakes,” Dex says as Barnabas, Adam and Asher make fun of him behind his back. He turns around, sends them one of his ‘dare to fuck with me’ looks and turns back to me. “When are you flying to Nevada?” I try to find Chris’ gaze, but he’s looking at the point of his shoes.
“I was thinking maybe tomorrow? I have to look at flights, but the funeral is in two days, so…”
“Do you want us to come with you?” Dex asks, concern written all over his face.
“I can go alone, it’s okay.”
“Wait, Chris, you’re not going?” Barnabas asks, always ready to put his foot in his mouth.
“I… I don’t see the point.” Chris lowers his chin, his arms hanging by his side.
Mom slaps Barn behind the head and motions for him to zip it.
“Look,” Dex says, “I’ve never gone through what you’re going through now, but I know that if you don’t go to Nevada to say a last goodbye, you’ll regret it.”
“I agree with Dex,” Mom states. “When my father disappeared, I went to the funeral, if only it were to spit on his grave, but I still went.”
“Not helping, Bella,” Dex chastises her. “What I mean, Chris, is that you’re angry with him for walking out on you, for dying without telling you anything, but you need closure, you need to see his casket being lowered into the ground. Sal needs it too. If you both want, Luke and I will come. We can fly to LA afterward. If you prefer to be alone for any reason,” he arches an eyebrow, “that’s fine with us too.”
I blush.
I hate Dex as much as I love him. He always knows what’s going on around him. I’m sure he knew Chris and I woke up in a very intimate position even before Chris and I knew we were in the same bed.
“Ohhhh,” Barnabas exclaims before Mom slaps him in the back of the head again.
“Finally,” Luke mutters under his breath. Dex elbows him in the ribs.
“Okay, I’ll go,” Chris says, “but after that, I never want to hear about that guy again. He’s not worth me crying over. He didn’t care about my feelings, so I refuse to care about him now that he’s dead. I’m done.” He leaves the room and goes to my guestroom.
“I'm surprised he knows where his bedroom is,” my mother mumbles before disposing of the boys’ plates.
“I think we need to send Dad to chaperone,” Adam says, speaking about Aaron. We all stop and look at him surprisingly. It’s the first time he has referred to Aaron as ‘Dad’.
Self-conscious of what he just did, he smiles. “What? I need to try it on you guys before I call him ‘Dad’ to his face. We don’t want him to have a heart attack, right?”
And just like that, my nephew stole the spotlight. He winks at me, showing me he knows he just saved my ass from a long list of questions.
I knew I liked that kid for some reason.
11
Chris
“Are yo
u okay?” I ask Salomé, like a moron.
She’s clearly not.
She’s grasping onto her seat so hard her knuckles are white, her eyes are closed, her breathing indicates she’s trying to get over whatever is happening, and if all that wasn’t enough to tell me she wasn’t okay, a bead of sweat is forming on the top of her lip. My cock stirs.
Fuck if I wouldn’t like to be the reason for the pearl of sweat.
I could lick it slowly while I… No, I am not going there.
Since he woke up on her thigh a few days ago, my dick keeps putting ideas in my head. Or maybe I put ideas in his when I considered kissing her. It’s a bad idea for many reasons. First, she’s grieving. Well, I am as well, but I would say I’m more angry than sad at this point. I’m so mad at Jordan, I want to resuscitate him to kill him with my own hands. No, I would bring him back to life, ask the hundreds of questions bouncing around my head and then kill him. I’m not sure if I hate him for what he did, or love him for who he was. But again, did I really know who he was if I never saw he was hurting? Shit, I don’t want to think of all this while I’m in a flying aluminum box with nowhere to take a breath of fresh air. I focus back on Snot.
“Sal?” She’s still ignoring me.
In fact, there has been a lot of ignoring since Bella was in her apartment. We haven't slept in the same bed again. I miss it, and without her next to me, I can’t sleep.
I need her proximity.
Maybe I can close my eyes for a few hours now that she’s close, but she seems to be in so much distress right now. I want to help. I lay my hand on top of hers on the armrest separating us and squeeze.
She tries to remove her hand right away, but I don’t let her.