Remember Me

by L'Amour, Nelle

  “What are you still doing up?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s late.”

  “I’m not tired and besides, I didn’t want to leave Maddie alone in case she woke up.” Or had an asthma attack, I add silently.

  “Thank you.” He folds his long legs over the stool opposite me. “Are there any leftovers? I’m starving.”

  “I whipped up a spaghetti casserole—enough to feed an army.”

  “A spaghetti casserole?”

  “Uh huh.” It was one of the few simple dishes I made in my other life and Finn loved it. “Do you want some?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  I can feel his eyes on me as I prepare a generous plateful and place it in the microwave. When the electronic oven dings, I return to the island with the heated up pasta.

  “Here you go.” I set the plate down on the counter along with a fork and tablespoon. Then go back to where I was sitting.

  Finn’s face brightens as he takes a whiff. “This smells so good!” He wastes no time digging in. I watch as he twirls the long strands around his fork, my eyes traveling from his tattooed biceps to his contoured forearms. Then to those magnificent fingers. He puts the bundle of noodles to his lips, slurping it up with gusto, and then gulps it down.

  “Wow, this is good. It reminds me of a dish my late wife made.” A wistful pause and then he licks a bit of the tomato sauce off his upper lip. A little gesture that sends my libido into a tailspin.

  “Thanks for heating some up for me.”

  “Sure,” I mutter as he scoops up another forkful.

  “How did Maddie do with her lessons today?”

  My heart swells with pride and joy. “Oh, Finn, just wonderfully. She amazes me. So much passion. She’s an incredible reader and learner. Far more advanced than I thought.”

  A melancholy smile crosses his lips. “She takes after her mother.”

  My heart slams against my chest. I. Am. Her. Mother. The words crawl up my throat and burn on my lips. I want to blurt them out, but instead, I bite my tongue and change the subject.

  “How was your dinner with Kayla?” God, I hate saying her name, even more knowing what I know about her.

  He languidly twirls another batch of spaghetti around his fork, knitting his brows together in deep thought. He ingests the forkful, swallows, and responds with two monotone syllables.

  “O-kay.”

  The gloom etched on his face says it all.

  “I wish she took more interest in Maddie.”

  Suddenly, the monitor on the counter sounds.

  A frightening combination of intense coughing and harsh breathing.

  “Daddy,” rasps a little voice in between the wheezing.

  Finn drops his fork. “Holy Jesus! Maddie’s having an asthma attack.”

  My heart leaps into my throat as I jump off my seat and follow him upstairs to her room, each of us taking two steps at a time.

  My baby!

  In a few rapid heartbeats, we cross the threshold of Maddie’s room and find her sitting halfway up in bed.

  “Daddy,” she chokes out, “I can’t breathe.” She can barely get the words out. Her incessant wheezing frightens me, but I force myself to stay calm. I sit down next to her on the bed and do what any mother would do. I hug and comfort her while Finn frantically retrieves her inhaler.

  I mask my alarm as she keeps gasping for air, her narrow shoulders heaving with each desperate breath. Her eyes are watering and she can barely talk.

  “Scarlet, it hurts so much.”

  Her strained words sever me. My heart is cracking. “Sweetie, it’s going to be okay.”

  More wheezing. I can only pray I’m right as Finn hurries to her bedside with the inhaler in his hand. He puts it to Maddie’s gaping mouth.

  “Breathe in, baby!” His voice is urgent, bordering on despair.

  I watch as our little girl inhales and exhales several times, but she’s still wheezing. In fact, it’s getting worse. Panic grips me like a tentacle.

  “Oh my God, Finn. Her lips are turning blue.”

  “Jesus.”

  What’s more each time she breathes in, her chest concaves. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

  Terror fills Finn’s voice. “This has never happened before.”

  On my next pained breath, he scoops her little body into his arms as she holds her inhaler to her mouth.

  “Scarlet, call 9-1-1. We’ve got to get her to an emergency room.”

  My heart galloping, I pull out my cell phone from my jeans pocket and do as he asks. On the third ring, someone picks up.

  “Our little girl isn’t breathing,” I spit out, cognizant of the possessive adjective I’ve used. Finn, whose attention is focused solely on Maddie, doesn’t notice or react. To my horror, the dispatcher asks a series of ridiculous, time-wasting questions. “When did the asthma attack start? Has her color changed? What medicine is she on? Is she able to walk and talk?”

  “Please just get someone here!” I want to strangle the person on the other end. Doesn’t she realize my little girl’s life is at stake? Time is of the essence. I vomit out our address so fast I can only hope she’s gotten it right.

  Grabbing Maddie’s beloved Kangy off her bed, I follow Finn down the stairs, praying an ambulance will be here shortly.

  Thankfully, ten minutes later, Maddie is strapped on a gurney, her pale face covered by an oxygen mask. She looks so frail and vulnerable. My heart splinters as fear claws at every nerve in my body.

  The three EMTs wheel her to the front door at breakneck speed.

  “I’m going with her,” shouts Finn, right behind them.

  “Finn, I’m coming with you.” I need to be there for my baby. And I need to be there for him.

  At the hospital, we head to the waiting room while Maddie undergoes emergency treatment. Both of us begged the paramedics to let us be with her, but they absolutely refused. Against hospital rules and regulations.

  Finn ushers me to a couch, a hand splayed on the small of my back. The familiar touch of him sends a rush of pinpricks across my skin, the small affectionate gesture a painful reminder of the past. It’s how he always treated me, gallantly and protectively. I take a seat on the tweed couch, thinking he’ll sit on one of the armchairs. Instead, he sits down next to me, so close our knees touch. The warmth of his body radiates, heating my chilled bones and blood. I let him take my hand in his, resting our twined fingers on his muscular thigh. On my lap is Kangy. With my other hand, I stroke the stuffed animal’s soft fur and say nothing. My emotions are in a jumble. Sneaking a peek at my companion, I try to read his mind. His face is strained, full of tension like the air between us.

  “Thanks for being here for me,” he finally says.

  “Of course.” My voice is as soft as a prayer.

  “I don’t know what set her off. I try so hard to keep her environment controlled. I even moved to the beach so she wouldn’t have to deal with pollution and pollen. And switched from oil paints to acrylics which aren’t so toxic. Her quick relief medicine should have worked. I don’t know what happened. Maybe I’m not doing enough.”

  The love this man has for our child makes my heart want to burst. So does the guilt he harbors inside.

  “It’s a freak thing,” I tell him. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “God, I hope so. I would give my life for her.”

  I would too.

  “I love her more than life itself.”

  I do too. I fight back tears.

  When a doctor walks into the waiting room, I’m spared. Both of us jump up from the couch, our fingers still laced. My free hand clutches Kangy.

  “How is she?” blurts out Finn.

  The doctor, an attractive black woman in her mid thirties, smiles. “Mr. and Mrs. Jackson . . . ”

  Not correcting her faux pas because it happens to be the truth, I hold my breath and let her continue.

  “I am happy to tell you that your daughter is doing just fine.”
<
br />   Finn squeezes my hand and blows out a breath. “Thank God.”

  “Thank goodness,” I echo, relief flooding every cell of my body.

  The doctor goes on. “She’s a fighter. And quite the feisty one.”

  Smiles blooming on our faces, we both let out a little laugh to release our tension.

  “That’s so true,” injects Finn.

  Maddie is not only my spitting image, but in spirit as well. In every way, we are mother like daughter. “Can we see her?”

  “Yes, of course. She wants to see you both.”

  Both of us. My heart is again melting like chocolate.

  The smiling doctor adjusts the stethoscope around her neck. “Please don’t be alarmed. She’s hooked up to a multitude of monitors as well as an IV, and she’s got a breathing tube up her nose. But honestly, she’s fine.”

  A few moments later we’re at the entrance to Maddie’s room, still hand in hand. While the doctor prepared us for the sight of her, I’m thrown off balance when I see her little body attached to all the wires and monitors. The nose tube particularly upsets me. But thank God other than these gizmos, she looks perfectly fine. Her color back, she breaks into a smile as we set foot in the small sterile room. I’m still holding Kangy though she’s hidden behind my back.

  “Scarlet! Daddy!” Even her voice is bright and strong.

  Finn sprints up to her, and since I’m still linked to him, so do I.

  “Hi, sunshine!” Smiling, he plants a kiss on her forehead. “You gave us a scare!”

  Us.

  “Yeah, Daddy, that was scary.”

  “It sure was,” I chime in. “I brought you someone special.” In a sweeping abracadabra move, I bring my right hand forward and hold up the worn, little kangaroo.

  My sweet little girl’s eyes light up. “Yay! Kangy!”

  I hand over her favorite toy.

  She hugs the fuzzy animal to her chest. Her joy brings a smile to my face. My heart is overflowing with happiness when a nurse walks into the room.

  “I’m afraid visiting hours are over. The doctor wants your daughter to stay overnight for observation.”

  “What does obserbation mean?” asks Maddie, having difficulty pronouncing the word.

  “It means that your doctor wants you to sleep here tonight so all the people in the hospital can watch over you and make sure you don’t have another asthma attack.”

  “Can we stay with her?” asks Finn.

  “I’m afraid not. There was a food poisoning outbreak at a local restaurant, and we’re short on extra beds and loungers. However, there’s a small hotel down the street that might be able to accommodate you.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re at the hotel. There’s only one room available. And we’re sharing it.

  CHAPTER 23

  To say this is a hotel is stretching it. The seedy, rundown inn is more like a roadside motel. Make that the Bates Motel. It’s seriously straight out of Hitchcock’s Psycho. Even the character at the front desk. A wiry man with big ears, an ill-fitting brown suit, and metal-rimmed glasses that sit low on his beaky nose.

  After giving him a credit card, he hands me a key. The old fashioned metal kind, not a keycard. His voice is nasal.

  “Room 113. It’s at the end of the hall to your right.” He shoots me a salacious smile. “Enjoy your evening . . . together.” He eyes Scarlet like she’s a whore. And me, like I’m about to score.

  “Remember, check out time is eleven a.m.”

  Trust me, he doesn’t need to remind me. I already want to check out of this frickin’ joint. The stench of mold and stale coffee is nauseating me.

  The room we’re given is no better. Decorated in the sixties, it’s never been updated. Ugly as sin walnut furniture, a Zenith TV set, pea-green carpet, and a double bed with a faded floral bedspread that matches the shabby curtains. In addition to the bed, there’s a worn corduroy couch.

  “Nice, huh?” I snort with sarcasm.

  “Right out of Architectural Digest,” deadpans my companion, taking in our depressing as hell accommodations.

  “Are you okay sharing this with me?” I ask, aware of the awkwardness of the situation.

  “Seriously, I’d be afraid to stay here alone.”

  I can’t help a little laugh after all we’ve been through tonight. Maddie’s asthma attack totally unraveled me. De-stressing, I feel almost back to myself.

  “Hey, do you want to take a shower?”

  Scarlet gulps. “Um, uh . . . ”

  Her shocked expression makes me mentally kick myself. I sound out of line. Like I’m propositioning her. I’m not, but the honest truth, the thought of her slick wet body, naked and next to mine, enters my mind. I try hard to banish it, but the twitch in my cock makes it harder. No pun intended.

  “I mean, do you want to take a shower while I turn down the bed?” Upon my clarification, she lightens up.

  “I don’t think so. Norman Bates may be in there and throw knives at me.”

  I do my best Norman Bates imitation or maybe it’s more like a dagger throwing circus performer. Either way it’s hilarious, and we both burst into laughter. Soon, we’re both laughing so hard we’re crying. And bent over. Tears are cascading down our faces and when we exchange glances, we laugh even harder. My insides hurt.

  “Scarlet, I’m sorry about this place,” I manage to say. “It’s a fucking dump.”

  Still roaring with laughter, my roommate swipes at her tears. “I’ve seen worse.”

  Truthfully, I have too. On our road trip to LA, my late wife and I shacked up in hellholes that made this place seem like The Ritz Carlton. Finally, our laughter dies down and I ponder our sleeping arrangement. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Relaxed at last, my eyes soak her in. Dressed in faded jeans that sit low on her hips and a wafer-thin T-shirt, she looks sexy as sin. Frankly, I’d like to spoon her in that decrepit bed and hold her next to me all night. That’s if I can keep my pants on.

  She cuts into my totally inappropriate thoughts. “Okay, I’m going to call it a night then.”

  She treads toward the bed. Before she takes two steps, I call out to her. She pivots and meets my gaze. The look on her face is wistful. Mine wishful. We exchange slow smiles that barely lift our lips.

  “Come here.” My voice is soft but commanding.

  Silently, she pads toward me. A breath away from me, I haul her into me. She looks up at me, and I stare into her captivating green-brown eyes.

  “Hey, I just want to thank you again for being here for me and Maddie.” My lips want to touch down on hers, but I refrain.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Really, it means a lot to me.” My voice grows softer, more emotional. “She scared the shit out of me tonight.”

  “Me too.”

  “Maddie is my everything. If I lost her, I couldn’t live.”

  Tears well in her eyes. “I understand.”

  There’s something about the way she says those words that tugs at my heartstrings. Something so heartfelt, so genuine. Drawing her closer to me, I plant a chaste kiss on her head. For the first time, I inhale her hair. The delicious vanilla scent wafts up my nose, obliterating the room’s fowl odor. I inhale again. Mmm. She smells so good. Feels so good in my arms. Like she belongs there.

  Why do I feel so drawn to this woman? So insanely attracted to her?

  It’s not just the scent of her silky hair, which reminds me of my late wife’s.

  Or her expressive face. Or the sensuous touch of her curves. Or the warmth of her flesh.

  There’s something more. Something deeper. Something Kayla and I have never had. An inexplicable connection. An electricity.

  I inhale her again and I’m transported.

  CHAPTER 24

  Six Years Earlier

  “Mmm, that feels so good,” purrs my wife as I lather up her hair with shampoo, my fingers digging into her
scalp. The delicious vanilla essence mixes with the steam, turning the shower into a wet sauna of sorts. My cock grows hard, my desire intense. The shampoo must be an aphrodisiac. The little sexy gurgles that escape her throat as I work her scalp drive me crazy, insane with lust. I part her hair and kiss the nape of her neck as the water bombards us and rinses away the foamy white peaks. Reaching for the conditioner, I squirt a generous amount onto her head and massage it into her scalp. I love the feeling of her wet silky hair against my fingertips. The way it smells.

  She tilts her head back as I slide my hands down her toned arms, making my way to her spectacular ass. I cup her heart-shaped cheeks, a thumb running over the small flower tattoo she got after losing our bet. The tattoo is another turn-on, a vivid reminder of the life form she has growing in her belly. I trail kisses down her back, lapping up the warm droplets of water that trickle down her spine. She lets out a moan before I move my hands to her tummy and gently rub it.

  I love the way it feels. Hard and rounded. Three months into her pregnancy, Skye’s begun to show. Her baby bump has blossomed. Bending down, I whisper against it.

  “Hi, little guy.”

  “He’s a she,” counters Skye, her voice rising above the pelting water. “You’re going to get her all mixed up.”

  “Trust me, I know I’m right. You’re having a boy.” I correct myself. “We’re having a boy.”

  “Let’s make another bet.”

  “Okay. Same as before.” I can already picture another flower tattoo on her ass—the other cheek. Perfect symmetry!

  “Deal!” She laughs as my hands move down her haunches and reach her inner thighs. One hand moves between them and strokes her slick, wet folds, the base of my thumb rubbing her sensitive clit.

  “Oh, Finn,” she moans, her nub swelling beneath my touch.

  On my next breath, I begin to run circles around it, each rotation harder and faster. My massive erection presses against her backside as she arches her spine. Breathy gasps spill out from her lungs. The pleasure I’m giving her equals mine. I nibble her ears, darting my tongue in and out, making her moan again.