by Dana Mason
To be honest, I’m full of questions too. Where are you? How are you? Do you miss me as much as I miss you? I wish you were here.
I love you,
Rachel
Fifteen
Rachel
When Isla steps inside my office, I quickly wipe the tears from my face. She closes the door behind her.
“Is it safe to assume that’s Raegan’s dad?”
I nod, using the tissue to wipe my nose. I can’t talk, and if I could, I’m not sure what I’d say. I’m stunned. Stunned into silence. So ashamed and so heartbroken at the same time. How could I wait all these years to tell him about his daughter? God, she looks so much like him. He looks so good. So healthy and vibrant… and pissed. He’s still pissed at me and who could blame him? I deserve his anger. I know it.
Another sob escapes, causing Isla to circle my desk and crouch down to face me. “Rachel, honey, I’m sorry. Maybe you should call it a day and go home.” She sighs as if looking for a better answer. “Get some rest, then come up with a plan to talk to him about Raegan.”
I shake my head because I can’t face Raegan. How can I? “I’m so sorry,” I stutter through my sobs. “Isla, is he getting married? Was that his fiancée?”
“Is that why you’re so upset?”
I shake my head and say, “I’m so shocked, and I’m just so ashamed I didn’t try to contact him sooner.”
“Rest easy. That’s not his fiancée. Remember, I told you it was Mac Thomas and his wife coming in? That’s why I wanted you to step in. I wanted to reassure them about the hotel’s security. Mac couldn’t make it, and Mike stepped in to help.”
“Oh, God, that’s right.” I lay my head in my hands, relieved. “I’m sorry it all went to hell.”
“I think he was just as shocked as you. He actually stood to follow you out of the room but stopped himself.” She inhales deeply and says, “We didn’t get much accomplished, but that’s okay. I’m meeting with the bride again another time, but I’m sure Mike’s going to want to talk to you. I wouldn’t wait any longer to tell him.”
I rest my head against my fist and say, “I’m not waiting. If I’ve learned anything today, it’s that keeping secrets doesn’t pay. God… did you see the look on his face? He’s so angry with me, and he doesn’t even know the truth yet.”
“Maybe he’ll be more understanding once you tell him everything.”
“I doubt it.”
“Go home, Rachel. Get your head together and figure out what you’re going to tell him. There’s no point in sticking around here. You’re not going to get any work done.” She lifts from her crouched position and says, “I have another meeting in the conference room in five minutes otherwise I’d drive you home.”
I glance at the clock and realize that if I leave now, I’ll have a few hours to get my act together before I have to pick up Raegan. I agree with a nod and slowly get to my feet. I stop at the mirror and try to clean up my face. It’s clear I’ve been crying, but there isn’t anything I can do about that right now.
I pick up my purse and give Isla a big hug. “It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Fortunately, hon, you’ll never have to find out.”
I hike my bag up on my shoulder and head out. As I’m leaving, it occurs to me that I should just do it. Do it now. Go straight to the CrossFit gym and tell him before I lose my nerve. I wonder what the chances are that he went back to work.
Once I’m in the lobby, I slow my progress when I see men’s boots sticking out from around the corner. I take another step and his huge frame comes into focus. He’s resting in a small armchair in the little reading nook near the front door of the hotel, across from the front desk. I stop and glance at Howard and then back to Mike. His hands are steepled in front of him, and he’s watching me. Waiting.
He’s all dark and brooding, sexy, and… angry. A thrill of frightened anticipation touches my spine. That and a wave of affection… a longing I can’t ignore. I’ve missed him so much and it makes me wonder if he’s only angry or if somewhere, inside of him, he’s missed me too.
I walk toward him, praying this doesn’t turn into a scene in front of Howard. I swallow back my nerves and fight to push out an audible greeting. “Hey.”
“We need to talk.”
I lower my chin, trying not to be hurt by his tone and remind myself that I deserve this. “I know…” I clear my throat and try again. “This isn’t exactly a great place to—”
I hear a faint click and turn. Howard’s stepped into the reception office. I look back at Mike and gesture for him to get up. “Quick, follow me.”
I rush past the front desk and through the door to the service stairs. I run up and open the door on the second-floor landing and step out with Mike on my heels. I’d rather not have one of my employees see me sneak into a room with him so I’m trying to hurry. I yank my key card from the side pocket of my purse and open the door to suite 108, which I know isn’t occupied.
I hold it open for Mike, and once he’s inside, I follow, letting the door swing shut behind me. I can tell by the lingering scent of the hotel’s cleaning supplies that the suite was recently made up. Mike doesn’t enter the room all the way; he stops a few steps inside, and when I turn, we’re facing each other in the dark foyer of the suite. The entry isn’t pitch-black, thanks to the partly open curtains in the seating area behind Mike. It’s light enough that I can see the hard stare in his dark, brooding eyes and as I take them in, I’m wondering if this was a bad idea. The old Mike would never hurt me, but the old Mike was always smiling. This Mike hasn’t smiled at all.
His body is like a wall between me and seating area, and this little entry hall feels very crowded. I take a step back so that I’m against the door. He takes a step closer—close enough that his musky aroma overpowers the clean scent of the suite. He smells so good I want to bury my nose in his neck and breathe him in. I want to remind myself what it felt like when he was mine and I was his. I want to relive a simple time when all that mattered was the two of us together. Even as close as he is, it’s not close enough… I wonder if it’ll ever be close enough to fill the gap between us.
He’s so tall too… so big and intimidating. This is Mike, I remind myself. My Mike.
I reach up and lay my hand on his cheek, running my fingers along his cheekbone and then his jawbone and stubble from the day’s growth. He exhales heavily. I want to tell him how much I missed him. I want to tell him how much I still, and always will, love him, but the words stick in my throat. I swallow hard, fighting to keep my emotions in check. His extraordinary, whiskey-colored eyes blaze as he stares at me.
The silence is so loud.
We stay like this for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Speaking without actually saying anything. I slowly drop my bag on the floor then lift my hand to slide the bolt on the door. When it clicks, he leans in and takes my mouth. Hard.
Heat jolts through me like lightening. The feel of him is everything. Absolutely everything.
His hands land on my hips, and I slide my fingers through his short hair, gripping it, afraid of letting go… afraid he’ll pull away.
Please don’t pull away.
His lips lower to my neck as his hands move around to grip my ass. It feels so good. His touch, the burning of his hot tongue as he kisses his way down my neck. He tugs at my blouse with his teeth, popping the buttons until my lace bra is completely exposed.
I have never wanted anything more in my life. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I can’t remember the last time a man made me want him with something as simple as the look in his eyes.
When my blouse is unbuttoned, his warm hands lift to my bare back, skin on skin. The feel almost makes me gasp. Mike kisses me hard again and then stops to stare into my eyes.
“Rachel…” his voice is rougher than I remember, but I can still see the boy I fell in love with all those years ago.
He’s in there, inside this grown man. “Do you want this?” He lifts his hands to frame my face, pushing my hair back so he can see all of me. “I need you to tell me you want this as much as I do.”
“Yes, I want this, God, I…” I’m fighting to keep my voice steady.
He uses his thumbs to lift my chin, tilting my head so he can kiss me. His tongue swipes inside my mouth before his teeth nip at my bottom lip. It’s not much, but enough to have me squirming against him. I shrug off my jacket and blouse then quickly tug down the zipper of my skirt, before pushing it and my panties to the floor.
When I’m standing in only my bra, I grip the bottom of his t-shirt to pull it over his head, but before I have time, he grabs the neck and tugs it off for me. I try not to stare at his bare chest and the ink covering it, but I can’t help it. He’s sculpted like marble, and I’m struck dumb until I hear the rip of his zipper and then the sound of his jeans hitting the floor at the same time I hastily remove my bra.
Before I can react, Mike’s hands grab my ass, and he lifts me off my feet as if I weigh nothing. A second later, he’s lowering me down on his rock-hard erection. Then he’s all the way inside me. It’s tight—he’s big, and it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. It’s everything I want in life. Him, inside me.
With my back against the wall, Mike slides into me over and over, and I’m trying so hard to be quiet, but I can’t. I can’t keep the cries at bay. This is my Michael. Our eyes are locked, and my hands are clamped on his shoulders; he feels so good. When my orgasm hits, I cling to him, my hands wrapping around him, trying to stay upright, but it’s hard. When my body relaxes, he wraps an arm around me and says, “Hold on, baby.”
His words and the endearment make me almost want to cry. It’s all I’ve dreamed of for nearly fourteen years. I grip him tightly, praying he doesn’t let go as he carries me into the bedroom of the suite.
He lays me down without pulling out, and within a second, he’s pounding into me again, his eyes back to mine. It’s so intimate and unexpected that watching him brings me to a peak again and before I can slow it down, before I can wait for him to come with me, I let go and lose myself in him again. Mike doesn’t slow his progress, he grabs my hands and holds them above my head, tilted against me. My knees are up around his shoulders, and he’s so deep, I feel like he’s become a permanent part of me.
Within another minute, he lets go too. After a long groan and one more push, he drops on top of me.
Sixteen
Rachel
Dear Michael,
I’m sorry I haven’t been writing lately. Life is busy, and our little girl is growing up. She’ll be a teenager tomorrow, and I’m not sure how to digest that information. She’s turned into such a beautiful person, and I’m afraid of what this life has in store for her. I’m fearful of the life lessons she still has to learn… some the hard way, but I’m hoping not all. I’m hoping things are easier on her than they’ve ever been on me.
The difference is, she’s much smarter than I ever was. She’s got a ton of common sense too. She’s strong, and she’s learning to protect herself. Life is full of bad people and horrible tragedies, and we can’t always avoid them. I’m trying very hard to teach her how to prevent these tragedies and how not to be a victim of bad people.
We’re both taking Taekwondo, and she’s advanced very fast. I want her to be able to defend herself. I realize that, in her eyes, it’s a sport, but in mine, it’s a way to prepare her for whatever adversity she may face in her life. Whether that adversity is manmade or natural. She’s learning self-respect, perseverance, discipline, and how to be strong in spirit and body.
I know you’d be proud of her. She’s the very best of both of us combined.
Fun fact: Raegan is almost taller than me now. She definitely takes after you and not me. Thank God for that.
I think about you every day. I wonder what you’re doing and how you are. I wonder what you’d think of our daughter… what you’d think of me. I regret so much of my life. I regret so much of what I’ve lost. I regret losing you. I think about looking for you… contacting you… telling you everything. Then I think about the years that have passed and I know… I know that mountain between us is too high to climb.
Sometimes I think I’m strong enough… and I begin the climb, but then something brings me crashing back down and reality hits… and I remember that I’m ridiculous and weak. And not having the nerve to reach out is proof of that.
I love you, and yes, I still miss you. I miss you so much. I ache with it. Every day.
Rachel
Seventeen
Michael
There’s a soft glow of light filtering in. It’s enough to see her face clearly. She’s been crying, and I get it. I want to cry too. Instead of crying though, I’m stricken with insecurity, wondering if she was crying because she didn’t want me to find her or if she was crying because she’s happy I’m here. This same insecurity—these same feelings—have me twisting away from her and sitting up. I shift and perch on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor and my back to Rachel. I remember every moment I’ve spent with this woman and never once, in any of those moments, did I question how I felt about her or about being with her. Not even when we were inexperienced teenagers who didn’t know what we were doing in bed. Jesus, I remember the very first time I watched her come. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—and I gave her that, just like she was my first.
She’s lying across my bed, and her eyes are on me. I want her so much, but I don’t know how to ask for it. I also don’t want to pressure her. It’s not like we haven’t done it. We have, but only once and I don’t think she liked it.
I liked it, but she seemed to be in pain the entire time. Even though she said it was fine. I lean over and kiss her. She’s still smiling when I pull away, so I let my lips travel down her neck as I slide onto the bed next to her. I’m sure she can tell how turned on I am with my erection jammed against her.
When she lowers her hand to rub it through my jeans, I lift my eyes to look at hers.
“Is this okay?” she asks, and I almost want to laugh at the question.
“Of course it’s okay.” I lower my hand to rub between her legs, and as I do, her eyelids flutter closed. “Is this okay?”
She nods and spreads her legs for me. Her eyes are still closed, and I’m afraid that means I’m hurting her. “Rachel, can you open your eyes when I touch you?”
She grins seductively but shakes her head.
“Why?” I ask. “Do I look funny or something?”
“No, I’m just…” She shrugs. “I’m shy.” When she says this, her eyes pop back open.
“Don’t be shy, it’s just me. You have no reason to be shy of me. You already know I love you.”
“Yeah, but still.”
“Still nothing. I’m going to touch you, and I want you to watch me. If I can see your eyes, I know I’m not hurting you.”
“You’ve never hurt me, Michael.”
I unbutton her jeans and slowly lower my hand under her panties, sliding my fingers between her folds; she’s so wet and warm. As my two fingers enter her, her eyelids start to flutter closed again. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” she moans. “It feels good.” She lifts herself closer to my hand and with a breathy voice, she says, “Rub right there… that… that’s perfect.”
I do as she says, and then she starts moving with the motion of my fingers. Her mouth parts and her face flushes, but her eyes are still closed.
I stop moving, and her eyes pop open. “Why did you stop?”
“I’m afraid I’m hurting you…”
A gush of air escapes her mouth as she says, “You’re not hurting me… just don’t stop.”
“Keep your eyes open. Look at me so I can see you.”
“Okay, okay, just don’t stop.”
I start rubbing in the same spot as before and her legs spread further. Her hips are moving with the motion, but her
eyes are locked on mine. Watching her makes my dick so hard, and I want to start rubbing myself, but I want her to feel good first. Her mouth opens further, and little cries are escaping like gasps. A moment later, her forehead creases and her eyes slam shut. At the same time, her entire body tenses and her head lifts off the bed.
Jesus! Watching her is so hot. I tug on the waistband of her jeans while trying to get mine off at the same time. Once both our pants are gone, I lean over her. Her beautiful eyes open, and she’s smiling. “Do it,” she says. “I want to feel you now.”
Dammit. What am I doing here? How stupid and irresponsible of me to get tangled up with her without even having a conversation first. I don’t know her, not anymore. All I know is that this girl left me without an explanation. She disappeared—deserted me after promising to follow me anywhere. She’s hurt me more than any other person in my life… probably because I’ve loved her more than anyone else. Do I have abandonment issues because of it? Fuck yeah, I do.
“Fuck.” I prop my elbows on my knees. I hate that my first reaction after having her is regret. I hate it. And it’s such a contrast to every memory I have of being with her.
“Michael…” I feel her hand rest on my back. “I thought you wanted to talk?”
“Yep. That’s what I wanted. To talk. This wasn’t part of my plan. I sure fucking hope you’re not married to some other guy.”
“I wouldn’t have done this with you if I were committed to someone else. You know I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t know you at all. I thought I did once, but I came to find out you were a complete stranger.”
“I’m the same person. I didn’t leave you by choice, Michael. My mom sent me away. I didn’t have any other option.”
“You didn’t have a choice to leave?” I shake my head and say, “What about a phone call, Rachel? You fucking gutted me.”