by Erin Noelle
Shuffling my feet through the fine powder, I lead him down close to the shoreline, where we spread out the oversized blanket and unpack the bags. Once everything is set up, we stand grinning at each other like two fools, each waiting for the other to make the next move.
“If you feel more comfortable leaving your dress on, I’ll keep my shirt on too. I’m just warning you, though; I may get overheated and pass out.”
The mischievous glimmer in his eyes speaks volumes, and I—never being one to back down from a challenge—immediately slide the straps of my dress off my shoulders, studying his face as the fabric falls to the ground. Unsure of what to expect with him, since pretty much everything he’s said and done thus far contradicts what I consider to be the norm for guys, I wait for him to say something. However, instead of using words, he speaks with actions. Quirking his brow up as to ask for permission, I nod in response, knowing exactly what he wants to do. He closes the gap between us and lifts his large hands up, splaying them across my belly. Lightly, his thumbs stroke back and forth, caressing the stretched skin, our gazes locked on where our bodies meet.
“Fucking beautiful,” he hisses under his breath.
I tear my gaze from his hands, peer up at him through my lashes, and offer a faint smile. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Leo. And don’t curse around my baby,” I say, playfully slapping his chest, breaking us free from the heavy moment. Too many feels are happening, and I can’t afford to do feels. “Now it’s your turn. Strip for me, old man.”
His hands leave my body, accompanied by a scowl. “You are beautiful and I’m not old.” Then, he swiftly pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the blanket.
I laugh and roll my eyes, trying desperately not to gawk at his very toned and very tan torso, but as usual, I fail epically. The tattoo of a lion’s profile inked across his left pec catches my attention instantly, and without his permission, I reach up and trace it with my fingertip, closely studying the intricate design. Entwined into the tendrils of the mane, a quote is hidden: Courage without conscious is a wild beast.
“Now that is fucking beautiful,” I murmur softly. “Tell me what it means.”
Bringing his forefinger up under my chin, he tilts my head so I’m staring into his smiling eyes. “Maybe later, and don’t curse around the baby, young lady.”
“Touché,” I reply with a grin. Tou-fucking-ché.
I HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND many pregnant women in my life. As a matter of fact, I haven’t been around any, except when Stephanie Green was pregnant with Katrina, but I was seven then. Because I focused so much of my life on Katie-bug, I’ve never given much thought to having a family, despite Mama’s urging otherwise. However, as I spend the day with Trystan, a girl I’ve known less than twenty-four hours, I realize two things:
First, maybe because it’s a part of her entire package, but I think her little round belly is sexy as hell. I find myself yearning to touch it, every inch of her actually, over and over again. Thankfully, she hasn’t seemed to mind the occasional embrace or random caress to her unbelievably soft skin, or at least she hasn’t made me feel like a complete fucking creeper yet.
Second, I’m jealous and pissed off. Some irresponsible piece of shit was lucky enough to have this incredible woman in his life, and he left her pregnant with his kid, not wanting anything to do with either of them. I want to know more about the story, about what exactly happened, but I’m afraid to ask. Much like when she asked me about the story behind my tattoo, I’m assuming if I inquire about the background, she too will choose not to talk about it.
“I’m getting hungry again,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “I think we’ve devoured all the food we brought. Do you want to eat at the restaurant they have here, or head back to town?”
We’ve been lying out on the blanket, drying off our swimsuits in the late afternoon sun from an earlier swim in the bay and canoeing adventure. From the time she picked me up this morning, I’ve been extraordinarily happy. I was a little nervous when I first woke up that perhaps she was right—maybe I’d drank too much the night before and had been overwhelmed with emotions from seeing Katrina and the entire wedding—but that wasn’t the case at all. The same vibe that lured me to her last night has only multiplied throughout today.
“Let’s go to the one here. Is it in walking distance?” I ask in response.
Glancing down her body to her feet, she wiggles her toes and laughs. “Normally, I’d say yes, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it back afterwards. We can go ahead and pack up the car with our stuff and drive over there.”
I hop to my feet and grab her hands, helping her up as well. Standing right in front of me, she looks up into my face with her charming green eyes and sun-kissed cheeks. It takes every bit of willpower inside me not to lean down and kiss her plump lips, but I’m afraid of ruining the last few hours I have with her. The last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable, or for things to get awkward between us.
“Thank you for today,” she says shyly. “I don’t think you realize how long it’s been since I’ve done anything but school or work, and I feel blessed I got to do this with you.”
“Are you kidding? Thank you! You’re the one who’s taken me, some random visitor from out of town, out for the day and shared this amazing place with me. I’m definitely the lucky one,” I contend.
She reaches up with her small hand, swiping the pad of her thumb over my tattoo, letting it linger over the script. “I don’t believe you could ever be a wild beast,” she whispers.
Completely engrossed in her gentle touch and thoughtful words, I can no longer hold back. Taking her hand in mine, I lift it from my chest to my mouth, lightly kissing her palm. “I hope I never am again,” I mumble as I take that same hand and wrap it around my waist, drawing her into a tight embrace, our bodies snugly pressed up against each other.
“I wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow,” she admits in a hushed voice against my chest. “I want to do this again.”
“I do too, Trys. I do too.”
Less than half an hour later, we’re sitting at one of the black metal tables, enjoying some of the best seafood I’ve ever tasted. In order to try a little bit of everything, we decide to split the fish tacos, crab cakes, and lobster burger…and I still can’t decide which one’s my favorite.
“Do you ever want kids? A family?” she asks, tearing me from my near-foodgasm.
Chuckling softly, I set the burger down and wipe my mouth. “You know, it’s funny you ask. I was thinking about that just a bit ago, and to be quite honest, I’ve never given it much thought. Most of my twenties, I was focused on my job, and it wasn’t until spending the day with you and…” I pause awkwardly, not knowing how to verbalize my thoughts.
“It’s okay, Leo; you can say it. I think it’s natural that spending some time with someone who’s about to have a baby would make you think about it,” she replies, smiling. “By the way, what do you do? I’ve been meaning to ask, but each time, our conversation leads us in a different direction.”
Not wanting to lie to her, nor sidestep another question, I answer vaguely, “I used to work in security, but I retired from that a couple of years ago when I moved overseas. I’ve been playing around with photography lately, just teaching myself online and stuff, nothing too fancy. What about you? What do you plan to do after you finish school?”
She shrugs and looks down at the table. “Who knows when I’ll finish my PhD after the baby comes, and unfortunately, the only thing you can do with a Master’s degree in Psychology is be a social worker or a school counselor. Sadly, I make more money bartending three nights a week than either of those jobs pay. Do you think you’ll ever return to the states?”
“I’m not sure. This has been my first time back since I left. Mama’s in Italy now, which isn’t too far from me, and other than Katrina, I don’t have any ties here anymore.”
“Are you happy there? Do you have a girlfriend?” As soon as the q
uestions tumble from her mouth, I can see the blush in her cheeks rise to the tips of her ears, even through the slight burn she got today. “I’m sorry; that’s none of my business.”
I grab her hand across the table, partly to assure her it’s okay, but mostly so I can feel her skin against mine again. “I’m content there, and no, I don’t.” Flashing a sincere smile, I rub my thumb back and forth across the top of her hand. “Now it’s my turn for a hard question.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Tell me what happened with your last relationship, the baby’s father.” I’m fully expecting her to brush me off, but she surprises me.
“That’s not a hard one at all,” she answers with a flicker of contempt in her eyes. “I’ll give you a little background first, if you want it?”
“Of course. Like I said earlier, I want to know whatever you’ll share with me.”
After taking a long drink of water, which naturally draws my eyes to those damn lips I so badly want to taste, she begins. “I lived at home with my parents throughout my first four years of college; however, when I graduated, they retired, sold our family home, and bought an RV to travel the country in. I guess they figured they’d raised their kids and it was time for them to do their own thing. So, I moved to Sunny Isles to be close to my sister, who’d settled down here after she’s gotten married and started her family. Next month, I’ll have been here four years.”
She sighs softly, running her fingers through her long wind-blown hair. “Anyway, she got me a job as a bartender at the catering company. We specialize in events such as weddings, bar mitzvahs, galas, etcetera, which are pretty common with all the money floating around here. So I was working a party at one of the houses about a year after I moved here, and I met him there. We went on a few dates, and it didn’t take long before we were just…together. I’m not sure exactly. I think at first he liked me because his parents didn’t, since I’m not from one of their high-class, ritzy country club families, but after a while, I think he developed real feelings for me. At least, I like to tell myself he did.”
“So what happened? That was what…three years ago?” I interject.
“The first year or so, things were good. His parents finally began to tolerate me, even though I know they thought it would never work long-term. They knew he would eventually tire of me, especially if he didn’t see our dating as an act of defying them,” she explains, her eyes focused on the middle finger of her free hand trailing around the rim of her glass, “and they were right. He began to lose interest and started cheating on me in the last year. Even though I couldn’t prove it, I know he was.”
My heart hurts for her. Growing up with the Greens, I know exactly the type of people she’s talking about, and they’re ruthless, entitled assholes. “Sounds like he’s a real classy guy,” I mutter.
She chuckles bitterly and nods. “It’s funny; all through life, people have always commended me on my determination and resolve. They make it seem like those two great qualities are necessary in order to persevere, but often, they blur into an area of stubbornness and the inability to walk away from a lost cause. I was finally ready to walk away, to say enough is enough, but of course, that’s when I found out I was pregnant. So I decided to give it one more shot, hoping he’d want to fix things knowing I was going to have his kid, but instead of it changing things between us for the better, it only pushed him farther away. He left last month to travel through Europe with some friends. He said he wasn’t ready to settle down and all that other shit you say when you’re through.”
The anger in her eyes turns into sadness and loneliness, and I want to hold her in my arms and tell her it’s all going to be all right, but I can’t make her false promises. “When are you due? Are his parents involved at all? Do they not want to see their grandbaby?” I pepper questions, and then take a drink of water.
She swallows hard, pushing back the pooling tears, and I instantly feel terrible for making her talk about this. “I’m due October twenty-fifth, so I’ve got a little less than four months left. I’m going to take the fall semester off from classes and see where it leads me. His parents questioned if it’s even his kid, which is completely hurtful and hateful, like I’m doing this to get to their money. He’s the one sleeping around, not me, but I guess once the baby’s born, we’ll have to do a paternity test. I’ve gotten to the point I’m almost numb about the whole thing. I don’t even care anymore. Part of me wants to leave the father’s name blank on the birth certificate and say fuck them.”
“Language, young lady,” I tease, trying to get her to smile.
Fortunately, she does. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to work on that too.”
The next few minutes, we spend silently finishing the last few bites of our dinner, both lost in our own thoughts. I wish there was something I could do to help her; I hate the helpless feeling consuming me right now. Tomorrow evening, I’ll get on a plane and fly to the other side of the world, leaving her here to deal with all of this basically on her own, and I’ll probably never see her again. It doesn’t make much sense to feel this way about someone I’ve just met, but I know I’ll miss her. More than I should.
On the drive back to the island, I rack my brain trying to think of some way to make the date last longer. I can’t very well ask her up to my room without it sounding like I’m trying to get her in bed. I hope she thinks more of me than that, but the truth remains; despite this ideal day we’ve spent together, I’m still some strange guy she knows very little about. Wincing internally, I hate to think about telling her the things I’ve done in my life, the days my courageous actions had no conscience.
As my hotel comes into view, I decide to ask anyway. The worst she can say is no, while she kicks me out of her car without slowing down, right? “Would you like to come up to my room? We can order some dessert from room service and watch the sunset on my patio.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her answer as we pull up in front of the massive stucco building, silently begging her to say yes. She’s been so quiet ever since she talked about getting pregnant and the fucking loser who broke her heart. I almost wish I wouldn’t have asked, but at the same time, I’m glad I know.
She turns to me with a wicked grin on her face. “Are you bribing me with the sweets, or the sunset?”
“Both,” I reply lightheartedly. “Did either of them work?”
As the valet attendant opens her driver’s side door, she leans across the middle console and softly kisses my cheek. “Both,” she teases before climbing out of the car.
MAYBE I SHOULD BE NERVOUS about going up to Leo’s room with him, but I’m not. It hasn’t escaped me that he’s cautiously careful when sharing information about himself. He’s said next to nothing about why he retired and left the country, and I’d be willing to bet there’s a story behind Katrina, the close friend he walked down the aisle yesterday. However, none of that bothers me. For some inexplicable reason, I trust him, and knowing I’ll never see him again after today, I want to prolong our time together.
We stroll hand-in-hand through the lobby, passersby noticing my belly bump then looking up at the two of us, smiling warmly. He doesn’t seem to notice the extra attention as he leads me to the elevator bank, but I’m unaccustomed to looks of approval and support. We enter the elevator with a frail, elderly couple, who remind me of the Schumachers in Dirty Dancing. I wonder if they’re stealing all of the wallets here...
“When are you due?” the lady asks in a weak, cracked voice.
I turn to look at them, slightly embarrassed of the thoughts that were fluttering through my head. Before I get a chance to answer, Leo replies confidently, “October twenty-fifth.” My heads snaps to his, confusion surely blanketing my face, but he simply winks at me and squeezes my hand.
“It’s so refreshing to see a happy young couple starting a family. I’m sure you’re going to be great parents,” she announces. “I can tell you are both so in love with each other. It’s so obvious, isn’t it, Hen
ry?” Her husband looks over at us and grunts his concurrence. He’s apparently learned to nod and agree with her throughout their years of marriage. Smart man. “I can always tell when these things are the real deal—it’s like a sixth sense I’ve got—and you two exude genuine devotion and affection. One day, you’ll be like me and Henry here, old and wrinkly, but still head-over-heels in love.”
Mercifully, the elevator dings with our salvation from this conversation, which is becoming more and more awkward with every word that flies from Mrs. Schumacher’s mouth. Leo tugs gently on my arm to let me know it’s our floor, and we both smile politely and say good evening as we step out of the car.
As soon as the doors close behind us, we look at each other and burst into howls of laughter. Tears of hilarity cascade down my face, and if I don’t get to his room soon, I may pee on myself. “Please…bathroom…now,” I manage to say in-between breaths, hoping he understands.
“Come on, love of my life,” he teases, leading me down the hallway towards his room. “I wouldn’t want you to exude anything other than your undying devotion for me.”
I’m still trying to contain my giggles as he unlocks the door and we crossover into a lavish suite decked out with every amenity possible, including a visible hot tub on the outdoor patio that overlooks the rolling waves of the ocean. The furnishings are all high-end pieces and the décor is impeccably matched; it’s nicer than some of the homes I’ve worked in, which is saying a great deal. “Wow, this is beautiful,” I murmur, more to myself than anything, wishing I could one day afford to stay in a place like this.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Leo’s deep voice drags me back from my momentary daydream. “The bathroom is right over there, and the fridge is stocked with whatever you’d like to drink. I’m going to order some snacks and desserts for us to enjoy while we watch the sunset out on the balcony.”
Half an hour later, Leo and I are relaxing out on his balcony, talking like we’re old friends who’ve done this thousands of times. He’s laid out on a chaise lounge, while I’m cozily seated in a padded patio chair barefooted, with my legs propped up on the wrought iron railing and a gigantic ice cream sundae resting on my belly. Leo changed out of his damp board shorts and into some dry khaki shorts, but still hasn’t put a shirt back on—not that I’m complaining whatsoever. His dessert of choice is a fruit and cheese tray, which we’ve already argued over whether or not it can truly be considered a dessert, but I conceded when he dipped one of his strawberries in my chocolate syrup and hand-fed it to me.
