Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  “Oh, and I’m thankful I’m going to go skiing at Uncle Marc’s mountain Saturday!”

  Damián shifted in his seat, and Savannah couldn’t hide her smile. If anyone could get Damián out there, it would be Mari—who had been begging him to learn to ski ever since Marc gave Mari and Savannah their first lessons last December. And Savannah would be looking on from the same observation area Damián and Angelina had watched them from a year ago.

  If he didn’t dote on his daughter, Damián might have found an excuse to get out of Saturday’s lesson. While Savannah still wasn’t sure how he’d manage with his prosthesis, Marc had assured him he had a friend joining them who would outfit him and give him pointers on navigating the slopes like a pro.

  Damián had come such a long way in not letting his missing foot keep him from losing out on life, but he still didn’t like to appear vulnerable or weak in front of Mari or Savannah. Not that he didn’t enjoy making Savannah a little uncomfortable in front of others at the club. She smiled. Maybe it was time to get him out of his comfort zone.

  If only he realized Mari adored the ground he walked on—or in this case, skied on. Nothing would ever change that.

  “You aren’t eating, querida.”

  “I know, but I think I need a nap more than anything else right now.”

  When she started to rise and pick up her plate to begin clearing the table, Damián took it from her just as Adam announced, “You ladies go relax in the living room. Since you did most of the cooking, it’s our turn to clean up.”

  Karla stood and began unstrapping Pax from his high chair while Cassie and Jenny each took one of the baby girls. “Let’s play Quiddler,” Karla suggested.

  Fatigue overcame Savannah. “If you’ll all excuse me, I hear a comfy bed telling me it’s time to take a nap.”

  “Oh, I understand completely,” Karla said. “Go on up. We’ll try to keep the noise level down.”

  “Believe me, I could sleep through an earthquake right now.”

  She parted company with them in the foyer and started up the stairs. The nagging lower back pain had returned. She probably needed to do more exercise to strengthen her abs. She’d ask Doctor Palmer about that at her next appointment.

  Once in the guest room, she stretched out slowly, placing a pillow between her knees, which alleviated the worst of the backache. Everything else faded away as soon as she closed her eyes.

  * * *

  When Adam told each of the guys to grab a beer so they could go watch football, Damián excused himself to check on Savannah. American football wasn’t his sport anyway, and he needed to be sober to drive his girls home tonight. As he passed the living room door, he glanced inside and saw that Marisol, José, and Teresa were in the fenced indoor play area, each playing with one of the babies, while the other ladies huddled around a large, round card table laughing over the cards Megan had played.

  Climbing the stairs as quickly as he could manage, he entered the guest room, closing the door behind him. Savannah lay on the opposite side of the bed with her back to him, so he removed his boots, clothes, and prosthesis and crawled onto the mattress to spoon against her back, wrapping his arm around her to cup her breast.

  “Mmm,” she said, pressing her ass against his groin. “You better hurry before my husband catches us.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, bebé, if I came up here to make love to you, I’d take it nice and slow. But I’d rather wait until we go home tonight.” He stroked her arm through her sleeve. “How are you feeling? You admitted being uncomfortable at dinner.”

  She rolled toward him slightly but remained on her side. “The baby’s been bouncing off my uterine walls today. Maybe I overdid it.”

  His hand stilled. “Should we get you checked out? Is there any danger to you or the baby?”

  “It’s normal practice contractions, I think. Worse than I had with Mari, but I’m not bleeding and can still smile through them, so I don’t think we need to worry.”

  The mention of the possibility of her bleeding made his own blood run cold. “Just the same, I’m going to ask Doctor Mac to come up and check on you.” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting his prosthesis on in seconds.

  “I don’t want to bother him on his day off. He works so hard. Honestly, I think the problem is that I haven’t been exercising enough. I miss my pole-dancing classes.”

  He chuckled, glancing down at her. “You don’t know how hot it makes me picturing you on a stripper pole. Real sorry I missed out on seeing you working out on one. Maybe after the baby, Doctor Palmer will okay your using one to help get back in shape. I could install a pole in the house.”

  “I don’t want to turn our only spare bedroom into a dance studio or workout room. We don’t have as much room as Adam and Karla do. But I’ll talk with the doctor, and if she’s okay with it, I might look into taking some sort of postpartum exercise class.”

  “Now, hang tight.” He put on his jeans and stood while donning his shirt. “I’ll be right back with the doctor.”

  “Really, Damián. This is normal.”

  “I want a professional opinion.”

  Twenty minutes later, Doctor Mac proclaimed her as having Braxton-Hicks contractions and cautioned her not to overdo it, to monitor her blood pressure, and to head straight to the emergency department if she noticed any bleeding, hypertension, or the contractions became regular and more intense.

  “Savannah, I also want you to relax more,” the doc said. “If that means cutting back on your hours at the clinic, it’s more important that you stay healthy and carry this pregnancy to term, especially with all you have going on right now.”

  Damián couldn’t agree more. “Any suggestions on ways to reduce stress, Doc?”

  “Walking, reading, meditating, having massages or even sex, as long as your OB approves.”

  Savannah met Damián’s gaze and smiled. “I have a wonderful massage therapist on call day and night who offers fringe benefits.”

  He hadn’t realized he’d been giving her exactly what the doctor ordered. He grinned back. “Anytime, bebé.”

  To Damián, the doctor said, “Whatever makes her slow down and take better care of herself is the right stuff. Trust your instincts.”

  “I promise you both that I’ll take it easier and try to worry less. But please don’t cut my hours just yet, Mac. I have so many clients who need me.”

  Damián sobered, growling deep in his throat.

  To appease him, she suggested setting timers to remind her to relax once an hour between clients. Mac made her agree to reschedule any appointment if overly fatigued or stressed.

  At least Damián could rest assured she’d be in good hands if anything happened while she was at the clinic. He’d keep a better watch on things at home by rescheduling his shop hours to coincide more with her work schedule. He’d also make sure Mari knew what to do in case of a crisis, without worrying his daughter unnecessarily.

  After the doctor left, Damián joined her in bed again. He lowered his face, kissing her collar and nuzzling her neck above the top of her shirt.

  She moaned and whispered, “What are you doing?”

  “If you have to ask, then I’m doing it wrong.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait until we’re home?”

  “I didn’t say how far I planned to take this, but…”—he nibbled on her earlobe, tugging at the stud earring with his teeth—“I have doctor’s orders to help you relax. And besides, I need a nibble or two to tide me over.”

  Her hand reached between their bodies, and she stroked his hard-on. “You’re sure we have to wait ’til tonight?”

  “Anticipation is good for us both.” And yet, he couldn’t keep his hands off her—cupping her full breasts, pinching her nipples, and making her hiss.

  “Sadist.”

  “At your service, savita. Although I’ve been curbing those tendencies for a while now.”

  Savannah had no clue what being with a real sadist would be like, but she
liked to tease him about his role as the club’s sadist service top. While her tolerance for pain was increasing, he didn’t consider her a masochist, either.

  Before things got out of hand and he didn’t want to stop, he sighed. “Did you nap when you came up here?”

  “A little bit.”

  “Do you want to sleep more?”

  “Not really.” She sighed. “I suppose we should return to the crowd downstairs.”

  “Probably.”

  With a boost from him, she sat up and gave herself a moment to adjust to the new position. He sat on the mattress beside her.

  “Damián, did you see the way Rosa looked at Mac?”

  “Yeah.” He still couldn’t believe it.

  “Do you think something’s going on—or is she just lusting from afar?”

  “Rosa doesn’t lust. Hell, she swore off men when Julio went to jail the first time.”

  “Well, mark my words, but there’s definitely a spark of interest on her part. Of course, Mac can be pretty oblivious about anything except his practice and his patients.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic, bebé. Maybe we were just imagining things, now that I think about it.”

  “I’m just saying,” she said in a singsong voice before standing up and slipping into her shoes.

  “Ready to go back down?”

  She nodded, taking his hand, and they walked down the staircase together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Damián tried to balance his weight on the blade while Evander, Marc’s friend, showed him how to wield the ski poles. Thank goodness Marisol, José, and Teresa were off with Marc again and not watching Damián painstakingly try to maintain his balance on this white shit. For two days, he’d struggled to get it. Today, he’d insisted that Savannah stay with Angelina at the restaurant back in Breckenridge where she, Megan, and Cassie were having a cooking lesson in Angelina’s kitchen. While her back pain had eased up some, there was no reason to have her up here shivering her cute little ass off watching him make a fool of himself.

  But watching Evander getting around like a ski pro with an above-the-knee amputation had Damián determined to at least cruise down the bunny slope before the end of the weekend. Marisol wanted to see him ski. He couldn’t deny her such a heartfelt wish.

  Damián dug the poles into the packed snow and propelled himself forward, only to feel his good leg slipping out from underneath him. Bam! Before he knew it, he was sitting on his ass in this cold, wet shit. Again.

  “Here, man. Let me give you a hand,” Evander said, helping him back to his feet.

  “Maybe skiing isn’t in my genes.”

  Evander gave a hearty laugh. “You think we have snowy peaks in Jamaica? It’s all in your attitude, Damo. Look at our Olympic bobsled team. Now grow a pair, and get back on your feet.”

  Damián wouldn’t be outdone by this Caribbean vagabond who had somehow landed in Crested Butte a year ago teaching amputees how to ski. Marc’s sister, Carmella, had invited Evander to the D’Alessio resort to provide weekly ski lessons to those with physical disabilities.

  Evander had agreed to work with Damián this weekend, and Damián was determined to succeed if it killed him.

  Damián’s goal wasn’t to descend the treacherous black diamond runs here in Aspen any more than he planned to compete in the Paralympics or Invictus Games. He only wanted to stay upright long enough to show Marisol he could do anything he set his mind to—and so could she. He adjusted his grip on the poles as he glanced at the daunting bunny slope ahead.

  “We’re going about this all wrong,” Evander said, shaking his head vehemently as he waved his hands in front of him like a baseball umpire calling a player safe at home plate. “When are you going to trust me and take off that prosthesis?”

  “Haven’t I fallen on my ass enough today?”

  Evander howled with laughter. “Hell, no, man! The day’s still young.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” The man’s eternal optimism was beginning to grate on Damián.

  “Aw, I’m just pulling your leg.” He chuckled at the irony. “Now, if you’re ready to quit trying to ski like a two-legged man and do it my way, we can get somewhere.”

  Damián sighed. He hated making concessions to his physical limitations, especially publicly, but based on the last hour or so, he wasn’t going to get anywhere like this. “Fine. What did you have in mind?”

  “Lose the prosthesis. I’ll be right back.”

  Damián hopped back to the bench a few yards away and plopped down. Marisol wouldn’t want to leave for at least five or six more hours, so he might as well keep trying.

  When Evander returned, he carried two contraptions that looked like forearm crutches with mini skis on the ends. “These are outriggers, similar to the ones Hawaiians attach to their canoes. But you’re going to use them to give you the balance you need to get around on the slopes on one leg. Close your eyes.”

  Damián stowed his prosthesis in his seabag and did as instructed, despite his uneasiness at trusting someone he barely knew.

  “Now, visualize yourself zipping down the slope shifting your weight from one leg to the other until you have a good rhythm going.”

  Even though he only had one leg now, Damián decided to humor his ski instructor. He mentally shifted his body from side to side, leaning on the outriggers. He conjured up the feel of snow hitting his face as he imagined himself racing down the slope with Marisol watching and cheering him on.

  “Okay, now let’s get out there and put that visualization into practice.”

  ‘Mind over matter.’ How many times had he heard that? Countless physical therapists had told him that’s all he had to do to give himself the freedom to live outside the box. He realized it was the same dark, isolated box he’d locked himself into before Savannah had come back into his life.

  “Find your center of gravity.”

  He leaned forward a little. Nope. He caught himself with the outrigger then tilted his body slightly to the side and waited for Evander to adjust the height of the right outrigger.

  “Try that.”

  He leaned in again. “Better.”

  “Ready for the snow?”

  Ready as I’ll ever be. “Sure.”

  “Okay, watch how I use this pair of outriggers, and then you do the same.”

  Damián watched Evander ski away with exaggerated slowness, trying to make it look easy, no doubt. I can do that. He needed to master something to show Marisol the importance of not giving in or giving up. No, he just needed to try to achieve that goal. Damián set his ski and outriggers in motion. His sense of balance was much improved with the outriggers compared to when he’d tried to ski on his blade with flimsy ski poles.

  A sense of achievement welled up inside him. Maybe he’d get the hang of this after all.

  An hour later, about the time he’d agreed to meet up with Marc and the kids, Damián tried to tamp down his nervousness. He hadn’t fallen since he’d decided to do it Evander’s way with outriggers, so why would he fall now?

  Because his daughter was watching.

  Don’t fuck this up.

  He spotted the four of them on the intermediate slope and wished he’d told them to rendezvous on the bunny slope. But he hadn’t wanted to look like a total wuss.

  Drawing a slow, deep breath, he set the outriggers and propelled himself toward them.

  “Daddy! You’re skiing! I knew you could do it!” Seeing a joy-filled Marisol clapping and bouncing up and down in support of him made pride well up inside his chest as he sped toward her.

  “Thanks, muñequita!” He picked up speed and tried to stop, but forgot what to do in all his excitement.

  “Way to go, Uncle Damo!” Teresa shouted seconds before she and Marisol opened their eyes wide as he hurtled toward them. Marc lifted Marisol into his arms to pull her out of harm’s way just as Teresa scooted José to the side in the nick of time before his brain finally engaged and Damián brought himself
to a sudden stop.

  A giggling Marisol came rushing over to him and wrapped her tiny arms as far as she could around his waist. “Don’t worry, Daddy. You’ll get better with practice. I’ll help.”

  Having Marisol see him as being able to accomplish something important to her only made him want to try harder to overcome his fear of failing before her. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get the hang of this, and pretty soon. We’ll be skiing together every season now.” And next season, Savannah could join them and, eventually, so would their baby.

  Marc joined them, clapping him on the back of his jacket. “Not bad for your first weekend on the slopes, man.”

  “I want one of those, too,” José said, pointing to the outrigger.

  No, you don’t.

  “You’re wicked on that thing, Uncle Damo,” Teresa said.

  “A real duppy conqueror,” Evander said when he caught up. The Bob Marley song about overcoming adversity would be playing in his head the rest of the day. “I told you you could overcome anything you put your mind to, man.”

  Damián spent the rest of the afternoon skiing with Marisol after sending Marc off to the lodge to hang out with his brother and sister. The days where Marc would have avoided the time spent at the lodge had passed. He seemed much more at peace now that he was with Angelina again and training for a new career as an EMT. There was no better corpsman in the Navy; he’d saved Damián’s life at risk to his own.

  “Race you down the hill, Daddy!” Marisol announced, breaking into his thoughts as she set off down the intermediate slope. He wasn’t so much giving her a head start as just watching her slice and swerve down the hill like a pro. Not wanting to be too lame, he set off after her. With his weight and the smoothness of the outriggers, he made a decent showing at the bottom.

  “I won!” she shouted, beaming up at him.

  No, princesa. Today, I’m the winner.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Savannah’s chest tightened as she walked into the courtroom on the first Wednesday in December. She’d waited for and worried about this moment for months, and now the time had come. Before moving two steps inside the room, her gaze went straight to where the District Attorney said the defendant would sit, but the table was vacant. Still, her mouth became dry as her throat constricted. Thank God she had Damián here with her. She didn’t think she could face the monster alone. Already the breakfast Damián insisted she eat threatened to come back up at the thought of being in the same room with Gentry again.