Trust Me

by Isabel Jolie

  I think about it. Would I open myself up to pregnancy? Trust my partner to take the pill? Maybe not, but another thought comes to mind. “You do know, the only way to be absolutely certain to not get pregnant is to not have sex?”

  “Oh, I know.” He holds his hands up in a defensive gesture. “And, look, if we were to have an accident, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not some jerk who’s going to run away. I’m all in. I’d be there for you and our baby.” He stops and kind of angles his head back and forth as if he’s weighing what to say next. “It’s just I believe in mitigating risk. I think we can both agree that right now isn’t a good time in our relationship to have a surprise baby.”

  I get what he’s saying. It’s not the most romantic of conversations, but we are adults having sex. It’s a conversation we should have. Researching birth control options makes sense.

  He squeezes my hand. “Hey, I’ve never felt like this with anyone else. For the first time in my life, I feel like…well, I feel like this could be it. You could be it for me, so don’t take this conversation the wrong way. I want us to work out. I am all in. I just want it to work out in the best way. For us to have kids when we want them and we’re ready for them.”

  I don’t have words to respond to all that he has shared, so I do the next best thing. I kiss him. My kiss tells him I’m all in too. I can’t say the words out loud yet. I can’t express my hope out loud yet. But my body can communicate. Connect.

  I climb onto Sam, straddling his lap. I push the sheet down that separates us. Sam unloops the sash on my robe and slides it off my shoulders. I rub myself across his very hard cock. As I slide across him, my slick folds coating him, his tip teasing my clit, we both moan, the sensation ecstasy. Our kiss deepens, and he flips me over and in one thrust fills me. He glides in easily. Possessing me. Owning me. All of me.

  My hips arch up, and he plunges deeper. My body quivers.

  “You feel so good. So tight.” His words ignite. We move in tandem. Taking each other. Giving. Taking and giving as we bring each other to the edge.

  “That’s it, baby.” His fingers slide between us, over my clit, and he finds the rhythm he’s oh-so-good at. “Come. Now,” he demands. And I do. My orgasm rips through my body. He pauses, watching as I curl forward, calling out his name.

  “God, you’re so beautiful.” Then he thrusts and joins me. He pulses his release as my muscles spasm from my own powerful orgasm.

  We hold each other for several minutes. Quiet. Our heartbeats mingle. My emotions swirl. I’m freefalling. I close my eyes and breathe him in. The scent of our sex fills the air. I kiss him, tasting his salty sweat. I live in the moment as we hold on to each other.

  A low whir sound continues on and off. I glance around the bedroom, searching for the source. The whir continues. My phone light casts a glow around the night table. I stretch and reach for it. I see it’s Delilah right as it goes to voicemail.

  A light layer of perspiration remains on our skin, and he holds me tight. He moves my hair out of the way to place soft morning kisses all along my neck.

  The phone vibrates again, and Sam groans, pushing up from the bed, away from me. “You better get that,” he says as he steps into the bathroom.

  I pick up the phone, tap it, and send a quick text saying I can’t speak and asking what’s up. Then I notice she’s called four times this morning. Shit. Maybe I should call her.

  The bathroom door opens, and Sam’s standing with a towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m gonna go for that run. You up for joining me?”

  “Run walk?” I ask. He holds his thumb up in the air to give his consent. “After coffee arrives, we can head out. Sound good?” After I agree, he slides the bathroom door closed.

  As I watch him close the door, the phone in my hand vibrates with the arrival of a text.

  Delilah: Help me! Chewie is sick. Super sick. Call me!

  I roll my eyes. What does she want me to do? What do I know about dogs?

  Me: Take her to the vet.

  Delilah: Which vet?

  Me: Didn’t Anna give you the info before she left?

  I’ve dog sat for Anna before. She always leaves the vet’s number. I drop the phone and pull out clothes to get dressed. I’m putting on my running shoes when my phone rings. This time I answer.

  I don’t even say hello. “I can’t do anything. I’m in Canada. You need to take her to the vet.”

  Delilah screeches in response. “Anna loves this dog, and I think I killed it. Why the fuck did she ask me to watch her freaking dog! I can’t even keep plants alive! I hire someone to fucking water my plants.”

  This thought gives me pause. “You hire someone to water your plants?”

  “Pay the fuck attention! Her dog is dying. I killed it!”

  “What did you do?” Sam exits the bathroom and stands in the middle of the room watching me, listening.

  “I left the food open. The dog ate the whole fucking bag. The whole bag, Olivia!”

  “But Anna keeps the food in a canister. The lid snaps shut. How—”

  “I didn’t carry the blooming canister to my house. The dog won’t stop dry heaving. She’s really sick.”

  “Calm down. You need the vet.”

  Sam sits beside me now, his brow wrinkled. He whispers, “What’s wrong?”

  I set the phone a little away from my head and update him. “Delilah’s dog sitting for Chewie, Anna and Jackson’s dog. He ate the whole bag of dog food.”

  Sam’s brow relaxes like this is no big deal at all. “The dog’s going to be fine. She just needs to take her to the vet.”

  I pull the phone back up to my ear. “Did you hear that?”

  “I’m already at the vet! She looked at me like I’m a moron. I’m half expecting animal protective services to come and arrest me any minute now. So, if I call you again, pick up the fucking phone because it means I need you to bail me out of jail.”

  “You aren’t going to jail.” I shrug. “These things happen.” I don’t really know if these things happen, but it seems reasonable and like a good thing to say. Sam’s response makes me think he’s seen this kind of thing happen before. He’s outdoorsy.

  I hear Delilah sigh. “They should have asked Chase. He’s a better human than me.”

  “Oh, please. Do not say that. Chewie is going to be okay.”

  Sam massages the back of my shoulder as if he thinks he needs to calm me down. Some noises come through the line, and it sounds like someone is speaking to her.

  After a minute or two, Delilah returns to the phone. “I’m being allowed back now to see Chewie. I swear this woman hates me. I can’t read Anna’s handwriting. I can’t read the vet’s name. Her regular vet may not even be working this weekend. If I call you, return. My. Call.” Then I hear a dial tone.

  Sam smirks. “Just for the record. When we adopt a dog, we’re hiring a professional dog sitter.”

  Our coffee arrives via room service. Sam pours us both coffee while I rummage through the suitcase for a pullover. Once I’ve found something suitable for our upcoming outing, I join Sam at the small table where he’s set us up with coffee, fruit, and croissants.

  He squeezes my knee. “So, the condom thing may not work out. Now that we’ve gone without, I can’t seem to stop to put a condom on.” We both grin, and a warmth rises along my cheeks. “But will you talk to your doctor? Then let’s talk about the best birth control options? I mean, I’m not wrong for it to be a joint discussion, am I?”

  “No. Not at all. You’re the first guy I’ve dated who has shown this much interest. But it’s a good thing.” I sip my coffee and give him an affirming smile. I should research options. Especially since he doesn’t trust the pill.

  After leaving the hotel, we walk the few blocks to the park, then start running the steep stone stairs. We receive more than a few glares and strange looks from the walkers as we glide right by.

  Parc du Mont-Royal, referred to as “Mont Royal,” towers over Montr
eal. The temperature hovers above freezing, but the skies are a crisp blue. On the horizon, clouds are moving in, and the air has a smell that says the forecast for snow might be accurate. The view of the Montreal skyline from the overlook draws tourists and residents alike. Sam and I are no different, and we head straight to the edge.

  “Stand against the railing,” Sam says.

  I hesitate. Cheesy tourist photos aren’t my thing. But he’s already backed away from me and has his phone out, so I pose for him, my back to the city, both hands on the railing, and smile.

  A fellow tourist offers to take a photo of us both. Sam stands behind me, both arms circling my waist, and we smile. As I’m asking him to send me the photo, his phone rings.

  Sam answers the phone, and I hold onto the railing as I gaze over the city. It’s a gorgeous view. I’d like to come back here when snow blankets the park and tobogganing and snowshoeing are options.

  “Wait, tell me again what happened.” Sam sounds concerned. He comes to stand beside me, looping one arm around my shoulder. “Okay. I got that. But why do you think it’s an emergency?”

  I can’t help wondering who Sam is talking to. He’s not using his business voice, which has a distinct tone to it.

  “So, go knock on his door.” Now he sounds exasperated. “Ollie, I’m in Montreal. What exactly do you want me to do? I saw him last week. He seemed okay.” There’s a pause, then Sam adds, “I mean, he seemed like he has been for a while. I told you I’m concerned. I am. I’m just not understanding the urgency.”

  A minute or two passes while Sam listens. The person he is speaking to seems to be getting louder, because I can hear the voice coming through the line. I can’t make out exactly what he’s saying.

  “Ollie, I’ll tell you what. Go to lunch with Mom and Dad. Talk to them. If you all want to talk to Jason tomorrow, I’m in. I’ll make it back.”

  Hearing that, I look up at Sam, and he winces apologetically. After he hangs up, I turn and pull him against me. “What was that about?”

  Sam rubs his hand through his hair, concern etched on his face. “My buddy Jason. Ollie’s concerned. He’s not wrong. I’ve been concerned too, but I tend to think Ollie’s jumping to conclusions. Freaking out when there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  “What does your brother think?”

  Sam sighs, leads me away from the overlook, toward a hiking path he wanted us to take. “He believes he’s suicidal.”

  I stop. “Sam, if you need to, let’s go back.”

  Sam leads me forward, shaking his head. “I don’t think he’s suicidal, but I will grant you, I don’t want to be wrong on this.” He pauses. “You actually know him.”

  “I do?”

  “He’s your accounting professor.”

  “Dr. Longevite?”

  “Yeah. Have you ever noticed anything? Does he seem, I don’t know, normal in your classes?”

  I mentally review my encounters with him. I meet weekly with the guy, but he’s my professor. We don’t chit chat. “I’m not sure the question to ask is whether he seems normal. People suffering from depression often seem normal and can function.” I suck on my lip, thinking through what I know about depression, a limited knowledge sourced from random articles and from a friend who started taking meds in college. “What did your brother say? What concerned him enough to call you?”

  “He blew him off. Won’t answer his door. Not answering his phone.”

  It’s the weekend. That could just be a single guy tuning out the world. A depressed person wanting to sleep in. I remember how antisocial I was after Damien. How many weekends I’d spend never leaving the apartment. Time alone allows us to heal. “Did something happen?”

  Sam squints, either at me or from the sun. “You mean, like, did someone die?”

  “Or did someone break up with him?”

  “You know, I don’t know. I see him a couple of times a week. But he’s struggled with cancer for almost fifteen years. Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. But he got confirmation it’s in remission, so you’d think he’d be happy. He’s had partial remission before, but now it’s considered complete remission. Which is huge.” Sam’s staring off into the trees as we walk, lost in his own thoughts.

  “Do you think maybe someone he’s close to didn’t get good news? If he’s been in and out of treatment for so long, do you think someone he knows isn’t faring as well?”

  “You might be on to something. I know he did have a good friend who passed away years ago, and he took it hard. I went to the funeral with him. He’s still close to that guy’s fiancée. In fact, she’s his best friend. He could’ve become close to other patients.” He picks up the pace, and leaves crunch under our feet as we walk. “You know, maybe I haven’t been asking the right questions.”

  “What does Ollie want to do?

  “He wants us to meet Jason for lunch tomorrow. That is, if he can get a response from Jason. If not, I think he’s going to break into his apartment tonight. He’s considering calling the cops.”

  “Does he think he’s suicidal?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if he’s…I don’t know.”

  I stop and force Sam to face me. “Look, your brother is in town. If he’s this worried, you should be there. You’re worried too.” Sam opens his mouth to say something, and I speak louder so he won’t interrupt. “Let’s go back. We can come here again.”

  “Are you sure?” His glove gently brushes along my cheek.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Sam pulls me close and gives me a slow, soft kiss. A kiss that says thank you.

  “I was going to take you to Quebec City tonight. The Christmas market opened, and holiday decorations are out.”

  I press up on my toes and place a soft peck on his moist lips. “Next time.”

  He grabs my hand, and we continue our hike. “You know what I love about you saying that?”

  “What?”

  “You sound confident there will be a next time. I want my girlfriend to be confident. In us.” He tightens the hold on my hand. “Now, even if we go back today, you’ll still spend the weekend with me, right?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Good. You can meet my parents tomorrow. And brother.”

  “You want me to meet your family?” My muscles tense.

  “Yeah. I haven’t had a girlfriend in ages. They’re gonna love you. Just like I do.”

  My legs stop moving as I absorb this offhand remark. My heart beats erratically, and my breath quickens as if we were out running and not hiking.

  When he sees I’ve stopped walking, he smirks and returns to me. He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose as he pulls me close. “Yes. I love you. You don’t have to say it back. But I want you to know how I feel. I want you to know I’m all in. I know this seems fast. Maybe too fast. But it’s kind of who I am. Be all in or get all out. There is no halfway with me. And with you, I can’t slow it down. I tried. There’s no point. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  His admission sends heat through my chest. My skin tingles. I should say it back. It would make for a better moment. But it’s a leap I’m not quite willing to make. My chest tightens. I do love him. Love everything about him. He’s kind, smart, caring, a family guy. In so many ways, he’s better than anything I could dream up. But there’s no way I know everything about him yet. We’re still so new. I’m still learning who he is. I’ve been with other men far longer before I learned their true colors.

  When I gaze back at him, I’m lost in his blues. They’re a shade darker than the clear sky behind him. This wonderful guy loves me. I’m not going to say it yet. The unruly nerves in my stomach tell me it’s not time. One day, I will tell him. When I’m ready. When there’s no chance it’s just heightened emotions from a romantic weekend getaway.

  We walk for a while in silence. I don’t say anything, and he doesn’t press. Tourists and joggers walk along the park paths. The trees are barren, but the ground is still covered with leaves. A small stream to the
side of the path flows, but pieces of ice form on the edge. Soon, the stream will fall under a hard freeze. The park shall become a winter wonderland. I track the ice formations along the stream as we walk.

  Sam’s voice breaks the silence. “Don’t your parents live in New York?”

  I answer cautiously, fearing where he may be going with this line of questioning. “Yeah.”

  “So, when am I going to meet them?”

  “They aren’t around much, but we’ll see. Sometime, I’m sure.”

  Sam stops and pushes me up against a tree. His gloves slip up the sides of the pullover I’m wearing and lightly tease my bare skin, tickling me. The tickling makes me squirm and involuntarily snort a laugh.

  “Sometime? Sometime?” he repeats, a large dimple bearing smile on his face.

  “Sometime!” I shriek as I try to break away from the tickling. I can’t stand to be tickled.

  He roughly grabs me, arms circling around me, and kisses me, an intense, not really appropriate for a public setting kiss. Within minutes, I forget all about the risk of tickles. Forget what we’re talking about. My nerves calm, and a different scintillating tension builds.

  Still holding me close, he breaks the kiss and steps away, creating space I don’t want between us and leaving me breathless. “Meeting the parents, that’s a next step. Got it?” He then loudly slaps my Lycra-covered butt and tugs me along the rest of the hiking trail.

  Chapter 22

  Sam

  Olivia and I land in New Jersey around 5:00 p.m. on Saturday. One phone call to my assistant, and our private plane was ready and waiting on the tarmac for an afternoon departure. Flexible, on demand travel arrangements might be the one thing I love most about having enough money to do anything I like.

  As I open my apartment door, Olivia by my side, my phone rings. It’s Ollie.

  I answer while holding the door open for Olivia. “Hey, we just got back. Was about to call you.”