Oh, Lord, I’m not sure I can take this but I wait for the punch line.
“The more you play with them, the harder they get.” Now, my own penis gets harder at this joke. It pokes into her back. “Oh, I guess sometimes you don’t have to even play with them,” she counters.
I wrap her in my arms while she makes fun of my erection. “Are you comfortable now?” I wonder.
“Yeah, I am, but apparently you’re not.” She giggles.
Oh, the things I wish I could do to her. “You’re not making it any easier, you know.”
“Well, I have another dirty joke but this time, it has nothing to do with penises, I promise.”
“Okay, hit me,” I almost demand.
“What’s the best part of gardening?” She snickers again, even when she asks me the question and I wait patiently for her response. “Getting down and dirty with your hoes.”
She’s on a roll as we both try to whisper laugh which is almost impossible.
“Oh, I have another one. What do you call two jalapenos getting it on?”
I think I know the punch line but she’s so happy in her element of dirty joke telling, I don’t answer.
“Fucking hot.” She almost snorts at this one. From her peripheral, she looks at peace. No one would ever guess the shit storm that has been our lives the last year. And it’s my goal to make her forget it altogether this weekend.
I’m scrolling through texts after our hike. Holland is so crazy over Scotland’s schedule and she’s hell-bent on getting her down for a nap. John has sent me some concepts for a new baby line since our first go at this type of product was an absolute success. I’m impressed with his ideas.
I’m contemplating calling Holland to go hang out with her while Scottie naps. I may take my book down to the lake to read. Standing up, I decide I won’t push Holland today of all days. Grabbing my swim trunks to change, a text comes in. My heart melts with the name appearing on my phone.
Darlin’: Hey, Scotland’s schedule is all messed up and I can’t get her down for a nap. So we’re heading to the lake. Meet us if you’d like.
Me: I was just heading down there, too. See you soon.
She’s beat me to the lake. I can’t miss her. Her spirit is a beacon for my entire body. Making my way over to her towel and unicorn bag, I drop my stuff and run into the water, splashing them both.
“Ah, look, Scottie, the old man made it, finally.”
I pull her close to me. “You’re lucky you’re holding the baby or I’d be dunking you in the water.”
She turns to one side and immediately stiffens. She does this every time her eyes meet my scars on my left hand.
I squeeze her tighter. “Stop that, darlin’,” I begin. “This is nothing. I’d do anything for you. Don’t you get this?”
She pulls from my grasp, Scottie and her retreat back to the sand. I don’t follow her at first, giving her a couple minutes to get her emotions under control. I immerse myself into the cool water and after a little while, I make my way to my girls.
Scottie sees me and starts moving her arms, excited. I’ll never tire of this. I don’t dry off as I sidle up next to Holland under a large umbrella. “Darlin’?”
“What does the occupational therapist say? If you’d tell me more about your treatment, maybe I’d feel better about your recovery.”
It’s true, I don’t talk about it because when I do, Holland’s guilt manifests like a bad infection.
“Okay, I’ll be honest, but I don’t want guilt written all over your face. Got it?”
She nods, and I pull her into my space.
“It’s slow going and I have about forty percent mobility. He’s optimistic and so am I.”
“It’s just—”
I stop her immediately. “No, there’s nothing to be guilty about. So I promise if you stop reacting this way, I’ll be more forthcoming about my recovery. Okay?”
She looks up from my embrace with a hesitant smile. “I’ll try.”
Kissing her on her cheek, I respond, “Good, now, let’s get back in the water.” I have Scotland scooped up in my arms when Holland comes running in after us.
I’m pulling a t-shirt over my head, about to get Scottie and Holland for dinner when my text alert goes off.
Darlin’: Hey, Scottie is exhausted. She’s already asleep and I’m sure she will be for the rest of the night. Sorry, we can’t make dinner. I’ll see you in the morning.
Letting her be by herself for the night won’t do—not one bit. And because Holland is a stickler for Scotland’s schedule, I know she’s in her room for the night. But she doesn’t have to be. I may not be able to take her to the best steak place Scott and I ate at every time we were here, so I’m in the resort’s bar and grill ordering two steaks for the both of us. When I pay and give them the room information for delivery, after telling them to text me and not knock, I make my way to Holland’s room. I fully understand that if either I or room service wake the baby, I’ll be in the doghouse. I stand outside the hotel room with my phone, texting her.
Me: I’m outside your room, come let me in so security won’t escort me off the premises for being a creepy stalker.
Right away, she returns my text.
Darlin’: You’re a little creepy, give me a sec.
I’m glad I got Holland a room with a separate bedroom, so we can enjoy our dinner and not worry about waking Scottie. As she pulls open the door, I’m left staring at her. She’s in a simple white t-shirt and tiny terry cloth shorts. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail and her face is sun-kissed from our afternoon hike.
“What are you doing lurking out here?”
“You gotta eat. I’ve brought you some dinner,” I explain.
She peeks her head out in the hall and looks both ways.
“Nothing is in your hands, something coming?”
“Yeah, they’re going to deliver it, darlin’, but they’ll text me first since you’ll lose your shit if they wake the baby.”
“Um, those are rather strong words, but true,” she counters, with a shrug of her shoulders and a nod agreeing with me.
She lets me in, while I look around the little living room space. “Hey, this is nice.” I notice the flowers sitting on the table. “Ah, you got the arrangement from Jase?”
She stops and stares at me. “How did you know?”
“He called me and asked where you were staying. He wanted you to know he was thinking of you. Hell, I didn’t want to like him for obvious reasons, but he has good intentions.” I don’t add they will never amount to anything, though I certainly think this.
“Wow, you surprise the hell out of me at times.”
I don’t want to talk anymore about Jase when I ask, “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah, pick one out. I’m in the middle of washing out our swimsuits. I’ll be back in a shake.” She disappears through the doors to the hallway.
I’m left thinking of the phone call that had changed my life just a year ago when I’m alerted to a high-pitched scream through the baby monitor. And though the bathroom is closer to Scottie, with the water on, Holland must not hear her. Walking down the hallway, there’s no reason for me to be down this way, except for comforting the baby. I stop a couple of feet from the bedroom when her screams end. I’m weighing my options. Holland will lose her shit if Scottie is up for no reason. I get it. For a single mom, she needs her downtime.
Her whimpers almost call me to head through the room and pick her up. Snuggling with her is what I’d love to be doing—even if I held her all night long. When the whimpers stop, I turn around and walk back to the living room. Holland rounds the corner from the bathroom in just a towel and it falls when we bump into one another. I should look away. I understand this. Society tells me I’m a prick. I know I am. But I don’t. I look her up and down and she doesn’t stop me, nor does she bend over to grab her towel.
“I was taking a shower, forgot my panties,
” she explains—no attempt to cover up either with her hands or arms.
Why is it that the word panties from her mouth cause my erection to strain further against the zipper of my shorts. “Scottie was crying. I was going to get her but she calmed herself down.” How is it we’re talking like this is every day—as though seeing her naked as a jaybird is a normal occurrence in my life.
Her purple ends are wet, making the color deeper against her ivory skin. Her breasts are perky with large nipples, a brighter pink than I’ve ever seen. Her stomach is flat, which gives me an excellent vantage point to her creamy goodness, which is bare. Oh, I love her blank canvas.
“Darlin’? Are we going to stand like this all night? I mean, it’s all right with me but I can only be good for so long.”
She doesn’t reach for my arms, or my hands or place her hand on my shoulders. No, her fingers begin to massage the outline near my zipper and an instant grunt seeps from my mouth. But when I look at her, our eyes don’t move.
“The world won’t understand this, Maguire. They will think we’re sick as fuck.”
Her words saturate my ears but her hands are making me war with myself. She’s right and I can take it. I’ll take every motherfucker down, but it’s a legitimate concern I have for my two girls. And to be honest my son’s memory, too. I loved my son more than anything on this earth and with this decision, this fork in the road, will the world think I no longer mourn him because—it will never be the case.
My hand moves to her breast, the pert little nipple begging me to touch it. “I know, darlin’. And fuck, we can start over where no one knows us.” And instant remorse fills me. I’d start over for Holland but I wouldn’t for Scott. “After losing something so dear, so deep, so rooted in my heart as my son, I can’t lose someone again. I need this. I need you.”
Her free hand reaches for my fingers and she holds them. “Why does something so very wrong feel so fucking right?” Her eyes are still staring into my own.
“Because we are right for one another, darlin’.”
With our hands interlaced, I wait for her. I’m not sure where to go, what to do but I won’t push her. Pushing Holland Parrish is like walking behind a horse. Both will get their hackles up and will punch you right in the gut.
She pulls me close to her. “I’m so tired of denying this, denying you.” My face stays put. She must come to me. “I want you, Sarge, but I feel like the worst wife and mother. Why can’t I tell my heart to love someone else?”
“Yeah, I know, darlin’, I know.” My fingers are still caressing her nipple. “Hell, darlin’, I’ve never loved anyone like you.” The love is different than that of a child or friend but on an intimate level, my heart has never belonged to anyone as it does with Holland.
“The world will hate us. Scottie may hate us. Christine will surely flip her lid and make life impossible for us…”
I won’t let her finish. “Right now, it’s you and me. We get you and me straight, we can conquer the world together.” She hangs on every word I say.
Not even a split second goes by and her lips crash to mine and my body is so aroused, I don’t touch her, I start to unbutton my pants. The easy part is she’s naked as a jaybird and I need to reciprocate.
She pulls me to the living space, to the couch, as I’m walking and stripping. We stand, and she assists me, pushing down my jeans, along with my boxers. Pulling my shirt over my head, she stops at Scott’s name on my chest. He’ll always be between us. He is, after all, the reason we’re together. “There’s no reason to deny it, darlin’; he’ll always be a part of the both of us.”
I tip her chin to look at me.
“Hell, Maguire…”
“The world hates anything different. You and me—it’ll be okay as long as there will be a you and me.”
She’s not gentle, not even a little when she pushes me down against the couch. Straddling my now naked body, she gently rubs herself against me. “Promise me something, Sarge,” she asks.
“Yeah, anything.” Now her hand is caressing my cock.
“You won’t hate me—after tonight.”
“As long as you don’t hate me, darlin’,” I croon back.
She nods her head, and with turnabout being fair play, I probe at her forbidden fruit and the wetness around her. It’s more than intoxicating. It’s a hallucinogenic. It’s powerful, mind-altering and I’m already drunk on her.
When a moan leaves her sweet lips, I stare at the suggestive expression on her face. Her eyes are closed and if I didn’t know better, she’d seem pained. But there is sometimes a very fine line between pleasure and pain. At this moment, with her teeth biting down on her lip, I recognize her gratification as evident as if her body has it physically written on her rosy cheeks or from the music of her moans.
“Don’t stop; please don’t stop, Scott.”
And with this one little word, it’s the only thing that could prevent me from going any further right now. She doesn’t have to pull away, I am the one who does this. When I look back, her head is in her hands. Not even the knock on the door which happens ten seconds later could have made me stop. I would have ignored our steaks and dinner. But with one word, I’m up and off of her. Turning away, I slip on only my jeans, no boxers, no shirt, no boots. I collect the rest of my stuff, opening the door to a perplexed busboy. I walk past him with a little less than a whisper.
“Leave it out here; she’ll be out to collect it in a second.” I walk to my room, several guests turning at my appearance. But I don’t give a fuck about any of this. The only thing on my mind is the fact I’ll forever be Scott’s replacement. And it hurts almost as much as the loss of him, himself.
Chapter 11
A month goes by and I barely speak to Maguire. I’m out at his house twice a week sanding the truck. He never comes out to chat, though he watches me from the porch. It’s creepy as hell, but I guess he wants to make sure I’m safe. And because we both can’t seem to tackle a civil conversation, even to hand over Scottie for him to watch, Teagan’s been taking care of her for me during this time.
I’m spending almost every waking moment at Elise’s, minus the time I’m at Sarge’s house. She’s not supposed to be around babies because they carry germs, but she had told me, “You and your girl give me a reason to live, so don’t deny me this.”
The doctors are confident she’ll make a full recovery but she’s weak and this round of chemo has taken a toll on her. “So,” she begins. “What in the world is going on with you and M? You two barely look at one another. The second he’s in the room, you leave. And our house has now become neutral ground, like McDonald's where divorced parents exchange their kids for weekend custody when M wants to spend time with Scotland.”
I shrug my shoulders. Elise doesn’t need drama in her life.
“Hell, Holland, what happened in Tahoe? I may be sick but not stupid. I’ve noticed it since you two returned from the lake. You know me, I won’t stop asking.”
I take my hand and rub the back of my neck with it, alleviating the tension stretching through my muscles trying to avoid this conversation. “Fine, you won’t relent until I tell you,” I begin.
“Hey, at least you know this much about me,” she retorts, pulling the scarf farther down on her head as it starts to slide off a bit.
“It’s just—fiddlesticks, I’m not even sure how to tell you. We were, well, as you can imagine, sort of in the thralls of passion when I called him Scott.” Her face falls. Anyone can imagine the shame both of us had to have experienced. “But, hell, this is a loss I never will get over. But with Maguire, I need to move on from him and the only way to begin is to start fresh.”
Her head falls to her chest and her scarf creeps off a little showing me a bit of her bald scalp. “Ah, shit, no wonder he’s been so ornery.”
“Yeah, we packed up and left the next day. We didn’t say a word on the way home. Not one word. He parked my SUV at the apartment complex
and grabbed his keys and went straight to his truck. Even when I’m at his place, working on Scott’s truck, he sits on the porch and only stares. If he needs something work-related, he talks to Diane who in turn relays the information. Shit, he walked in the design center the other day, went right past me, without a word as he spoke with Di. She came over to tell me I had secured another hotel contract. He couldn’t tell me; it had to come from her.”
Moving her lips from side to side, Elise asks, “Have you tried to talk to him?”
“No, why would I? We can’t be together; my slip of the tongue is evident.” She doesn’t take her eyes from me. “Wait, Elise, I thought you didn’t agree with us, being well, an us?”
“Listen, sweetie,” she starts. “I don’t know what I think when it comes to you and M. I mean, hell, I love the man as I love you, unconditionally—like he’s my younger brother. And sure, it seems wrong on so many levels. But, hell, I’m battling cancer for the second time in three years. Ned and I have had a great life together and I can’t imagine anyone but him being by me through the good and bad times. It’s not like I’m giving you permission and quite honestly, Holls, you don’t need it from me. You do what’s right for you and I’ll always support it.”
She holds on tight to me, as if I might disappear and I do the same. Before I leave, I lean down and kiss Scottie as she sits on Elise’s lap. “You be good for Gramps when he gets here to pick you up, okay, sweetheart?”
As I pull away from the driveway of Elise’s house, Maguire is in my rearview mirror. It really is the only place he belongs, in my past. Because he sure as hell can’t be part of my future.
Shit, I hate this. How I’d love a re-do. Why did I walk away from her? It was mind-blowingly devastating for the ego. She finally was where I’d been dreaming of her and now she can barely look at me.
She’d sent me a text that morning. I still have it on my phone and look at it often as some sort of extreme punishment to myself. “This was a mistake. Either we leave first thing this morning, or Scottie and I will take the bus back.” I pull up this text from time to time for my self-loathing enjoyment as I try to will my past self to stay and talk to her about what happened.
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