by Lucia Franco
"You didn't lose those people because of you. Your parents, your grammy… they were unfortunate situations, but they're not your fault. You know that, right?"
My eyes drop to the ground and I let out a defeated sigh. I know I didn't personally cause their deaths, but they left my world in the blink of an eye because of a split-second change in events.
"Why would I risk tomorrow when I know what the outcome will be? We have a good thing going on right now. Why can’t it just stay that way?"
There's a flare in her eyes now. Natalie reminds me of James when he's confident he's about to win an argument.
Shit.
"Can I ask you something?" The tone in her voice seizes my heart. Hesitantly, I lift my gaze to her. "Do you want to marry him? Tell me the truth."
I don't have to think about her question—I already know my answer. The organ beating behind my ribs nearly breaks through them. Marry the love of my life? The thought of walking down the aisle to marry James is a rush unlike no other. It makes me giddy thinking of him as my husband, but that doesn't mean it should happen. No one gets to eat their cake without consequences.
"Of course, I want to marry him. I fucking love that man so much. I wanted to marry him yesterday, but you know what's stopping me now."
Natalie is beaming from ear to ear like a total fool. Admitting I love her dad isn't scary—she can see the proof herself when he and I look at each other. Telling her I want to marry him is a totally different emotion that chokes me up. Wrecking his heart is not on my list of things to do, and neither is losing a bestie.
Tears fill my eyes, and I swallow hard before telling her what’s been on my mind since the first time James brought up marriage.
"I'm scared, Nat." My heart rushes with anxiety and the knots in my stomach are cramping together. The truth is always hard to admit. "I'm afraid of loss. Everyone who's ever meant something to me has died."
I blink and stare, thinking about James dressed in a designer tux standing next to the officiant with Natalie across from him. I'd want our wedding to be small and intimate, so it's only about our love and the people who mean the most to us. My gut is saying to take the risk, but my heart is marked with blemishes that hold me back. His face flashes through my mind again, and this time not only do I see his devastation, I feel it.
"You know he's so madly in love with you he'd do anything to be with you, right?" She pauses, and for the first time since I’ve known her, she looks reluctant to continue. "I never saw him look at my mom the way he does you." She lowers her voice. "I always thought they were in love. They laughed, they smiled, they kissed, the usual affection every married couple and parents have for one another. But as I get older, I realize they didn't love each other in the same degree as you guys do. Not in the sense my dad loves you, that's for sure. The smiles are real, the kisses aren't forced, and the laughs are genuine. It's a bone-deep type of love." She squints her eyes as she thinks about her next set of words. "Isn't it funny how things work out? You think you know love until someone comes around and changes your entire perception of the word, making you reexamine every aspect of your life." She pauses, then continues more to herself than to me. "It takes you by surprise and makes you wonder why that is, what was lost or what was never there."
James wants a marriage with someone he loves more than life, and he wants that with me.
My eyes clench shut at the veracity of my thoughts. It makes my heart swell with pride that he'd want me to be his wife.
Opening my eyes, I steel a look at Natalie. I think she's realizing how honest her confession is, which is how I see it. It takes strength for her to let go and admit her father loves me in ways he didn't her mother. They're her parents, and I would bet it's caused her to question things she hasn't told me yet.
Natalie continues, though her tone is gentle. Sympathetic. "If I was a reason you were holding back from marrying him, and we already confirmed you didn't cause the loss of your family, what’s really going on?"
We're both quiet for a moment until I look away with embarrassment. I have a great man who wants to make me his wife, he wants to give me the world, and I said no.
"Me. I guess it's just me." I let out a dramatic sigh over my stupidity. "I'm dumber than a box of rocks."
She offers me a somber smile that clenches my heart. Melancholy doesn't complement her.
"Yeah. This isn't any regular relationship, so there's no manual to reference. Look at how you met him up until now. Sometimes weird shit, like marrying your John who's also your best friend's dad, is meant to happen."
I glance at her and we both bust out laughing. "Yeah, maybe in some alternate universe."
"Yolo," she says quickly. Natalie picks up the tequila bottle and takes a swig, then hands it to me. "Cheers to you becoming Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. I'll never call you mommy, so don't get any ideas."
The shot doesn't make it down. It gets stuck in my throat and I choke. Mrs. Aubrey Riviera. My eyes widen as fucking tequila spills from my mouth and my nose. It hits the ground with a splat. I reach out and Natalie takes the bottle, then moves next to me.
"Lift your arms above your head," she says.
I don't question her, I just do it. The burn of the tequila effectively sears off the skin in my nostrils, while simultaneously making me feel like I have a horrible case of strep throat. I turn my face into my bicep and cough into it. My eyes are watering, and I squeeze them shut.
"Bend over and put your head between your legs."
"What?" This time I manage a brief confused-as-fuck look at her.
Eyes wide, Natalie yells, "Just do it!"
Eighteen
I do and she scoots closer so she can pat my back and rub circles over it.
"My mom used to do this to me when I had croup as a kid. This angle is supposed to help when you're choking and can't breathe. Take small breaths and focus."
I'm perched on the edge of the lounge chair with my knees spread wide and my body bent over, my arms still in the air. I feel like an idiot sitting like this, and I can't tell if this is helping or not with how far I'm leaning over. I feel like I'm blocking my airways, not opening them up. Once the coughing subsides and my eyes aren't watering anymore, I sit up.
I look at Natalie. "You know the first thing I thought of when you told me to put my head between my legs? Marilyn Manson."
"What the fuck for and why?"
"I heard he had some ribs taken out so he can suck his own dick."
She blinks, and remains quiet for a second, then lets out a hilarious chuckle. "This is why we're besties. It's shit like this that comes out of your mouth that just confirms we're soul mates. Wait—did you think I was telling you to get yourself off?"
It's my turn to giggle. "No, he just popped into my head for some reason. I felt like I was bent over really far and he just appeared in front of me, pasty white face and all, but I swear he had piranha teeth." I pause, thinking about how weird this conversation is now. "I guess I wondered if he could actually do it or not."
"That'd be some sick shit, but after all the Johns I've had the last couple of years, I wouldn't be surprised if he could."
She's not even phased. I'd seen a lot in my escorting days, but Natalie's been around the block a time or two more. The stories she’s told me is not something you can make up off the top of your head. No one person has an imagination like that.
"Bet you a million bucks he does it." She puts her hand out.
Natalie is thinking deeper over this for some reason, while I'm trying to not allow my imagination to run wild.
"Now that I’ve poured my heart out to you, tell me why you're leaving me."
Natalie's face softens with a dewy look. She has this innocent, sweet look on her face that causes her to appear five years younger.
I chuckle inwardly. In reality, she eats men for breakfast and spits them out.
"Only if you promise me you won't reject my dad again because of me." She waves her hand in the air in a dismissi
ve motion. "Listen, you're stuck with me forever, whether you have a piece of paper between you guys or not. It makes no fucking difference to me. So why not make it official?"
My lips twitch. New Yorkers have a way about themselves that come off as pushy and arrogant to non-New Yorkers. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was trying to scold me because the truth was so painfully obvious she couldn't handle it anymore.
But I wouldn't say that. She's just trying to get real with me and get me to see it for what it is.
I glance down and the smile falls from my face. "You really think he's going to ask me to marry him again after I shot him down multiple times? Fat chance." Before she can respond, I divert the conversation back to Italy. My heart can't handle another ounce of anxiety over rejecting James. "So, Italy? What part and why?"
"Italy is calling to me, so Italy is where I must go," she says, and I’m grateful she takes the hint to change the subject. "I don't have a specific spot. I'm just going to backpack it and see where it takes me. The plan is to eat my way through the country and see if Italian men really are the best lovers in the world."
My brows rise. "You're going to backpack it?"
Natalie rolls her eyes. "No, but it just sounded better. You get my drift."
I nod. She'll have a driver or plane on standby, a wad of cash, and a black American Express card. Oh, and a luggage full of designer duds.
"Considering the number of men you’ve fucked over the years, you'd think you'd die happy never having to spread your legs again."
"Au contraire," she says with a light French accent and holds up one finger. "I discovered what I like and what I don't like, but also that there's literally someone out there for everyone. I'll find my man in the land of cuisine and attractive blokes," she says. "If not, I'll just move on to Greece. They're basically cousins of the Italians. I'm bound to find a few."
I study her, finding it comical what she wants to do. "Are you just going to put out a want ad or something? What's your plan of attack?"
Natalie purses her lips together. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…"
We giggle together. "How long are you going for, really?"
She shrugs. "Until I get my fill?" We both laugh again but she sobers up. "The older I get, the more I really start to realize we only get one life to live. Why not live like tomorrow isn't guaranteed? I know not everyone can do that, but I can, and I don't want to waste the opportunity to experience it."
"Your idea of living life to the fullest is eating Italian food and no-strings-attached sex."
"Basically." She winks.
I love how Natalie's not ashamed in the least. She is who she is, and she loves herself for it. I find it an admirable and endearing quality.
"In some odd way, it suits you."
"Did you ever have a feeling inside of you that you can't explain but you know it's right? That's how I feel about going to Italy, well, about traveling in general. New York will always be home, but I kind of want to see the world."
"You're going to get wanderlust like James."
Her blue eyes light up like that's her goal. I could totally see that being her kind of lifestyle.
Standing up, Natalie fixes her shorts and smooths out her shirt. "I'm gonna go. My plane leaves in three days and I still need to go shopping."
"That soon? What if James asks me again and then wants to get married three days later? You're not going to be here?"
The annoyance in Natalie's glare makes me chuckle under my breath. "'Thank God you're pretty. I'll just fly back ASAP. Duh, Ram Jam."
Natalie grabs the mostly empty Tequila bottle and chugs the rest then dumps it in the garbage. I shake my head and stick the remains of the joint in a pile of sand we use as an ashtray and walk her out.
"I'm going to start praying for your future husband now."
"Good. My ex-husband is going to need all the prayers he can get when I'm done with him."
A giggle erupts from my throat. "You're already calling your divorce. That's great. Who gets the kids?"
"Psh." Natalie pushes through her lips. "Won't be an issue because I fucking hate kids."
"You're a real piece of work." I joke as we step off the last step onto the first floor. My gaze flickers around the room and I pretend I'm not looking for anyone specific, but I really am. It's quiet and I don't like how empty it feels. The only light is coming from the living room around the corner. I can picture him sitting in his Chesterfield chair with a cigar in one hand, a crystal tumbler in the other. Quiet nights lounging in his leather chair are his favorite. My heart aches to be next to him, but I'm too embarrassed to see him now.
"You love me," Natalie says, taking me away from my thoughts.
"I wouldn't want you any other way."
Our smiles match each other's. Natalie grabs her purse then a water bottle from the fridge before she heads to the door. I follow next to her.
"Tell Daddy I said bye-bye."
I don't conceal my gag. Not only did she call James daddy, but she said it in a sex operator's voice.
"I hate you sometimes. Don't forget to FaceTime me while you're living your best life."
"Oh, I will be living my best life surrounded by balls like the lemons that country produces, while you'll be with ones that look like prunes under the Tuscan sun." She pauses for a second and gives me a smirk. "P.S. I wasn't supposed to tell you what James told me. So, hush, hush, like a good girl."
I stare at her long and hard. Her harmless smile is anything but. Kill 'em with a honey sweet voice and southern belle smile while throwing digs at them. I know her, though. Inwardly she's struggling not to laugh because she's that girl who laughs at her own jokes.
Finally, I speak. "I can't wait until the day you have to introduce me as your mom."
That one breaks her and she throws her arms around me chuckling. We hug each other tight for a moment longer then break apart. Pressing a kiss to each other's cheek, we say goodbye and part ways.
I shut the door and stand there for a moment contemplating what I should do. If I should go to James or just go to bed. After all the alcohol I consumed, plus the smoke, my emotions are delicate now and I feel like I'd cry easily in front of him. That's the last thing I want him to see.
Nineteen
I bite my lip and make my way to our bedroom.
I decide on taking a bath because I'm not quite ready to go to sleep yet. I need to unwind. There's too much vulnerability swimming through my veins to talk marriage with James again. I'd just end up a bawling muffled mess. Plus, he's kept his distance today, so there's not much driving me to do that.
I turn on the water to start my bath, then I undress and tie my hair up. I want him to know marriage isn't off the table, but I need time to process it. I went from not wanting to marry to changing my mind and being open to it in the span of a couple of hours. That's a lot for my heart to bear and my mind to process.
Stepping into the steaming hot water, I sigh as I sink down. My eyes close as I listen to Demi Lovato's voice croon out a heartbreaking ballad. Her brutal honesty somehow manages to trigger an arrangement of emotions to bloom inside of me.
The thing is, James Riviera is the only man who has ever done it for me. It would almost be hypocritical of me to not marry him, really.
I wave the water between my fingers, watching the bubbles fizz. Could it be possible we'd be even more in love and happy together? Like Natalie said, James loves to live by the law, so a marriage certificate would mean a lot to him. Seeing him happy would make me happy too.
I let out a long, tired sigh and sink further into the water until it hits my neck. My eyes are growing heavy when I hear the wood floor creak below me. This brownstone echoes and we can hear everything. I know exactly where that creak is too—in the kitchen near the small bar. The decanter clinks together and I can hear the faint sound of liquid being poured twice.
Hope branches through me. I sit up a little higher and hold my breath, knowing he's he
aded up to me.
The door pushes open and James steps inside, gently kicking it closed behind him. Blush tints my cheeks and my teeth dig into my bottom lip at the sight of him. My heart desires him in ways that turn me into a stage five clinger, and I'm not ashamed in the least. My eyes openly drag down his body. He's wearing sweatpants that sit low on his hips and nothing else. I run my tongue over my lip, staring at the space between his hips. His manly appeal makes him so fucking gorgeous. James is in excellent shape, despite his apparent age showing. I love how hard his body is. The fact he doesn't look like a twenty-year-old makes me ache even more for him. There's just something about a man, an older, real man, with a good career whose wisdom and confidence are his sex appeal.
His eyes meet mine, observing me. I feel all these emotions form a cloud of steam in front of me.
"Hey, you." My voice is relaxed and easy.
James blinks, and his face softens. "Hey, sweetheart."
My heart is about to pump out of my chest. In the stillness of our bathroom, with soft music playing in the background, we both feel that pull between us.
Leaning against the ledge of the bathtub, James hands me a glass, then walks over to the accent chair posted near a window and pulls it up to the tub. I get on my knees and rise just as he takes a seat. Suds trickle down my naked body, his heated gaze follows the lavender scented soap over the swell of my heavy breasts and down the slope of my belly.
I don't give him a chance to speak. I just pull his mouth to mine and plant a hard kiss to his lips. James clutches my waist with his free hand, then drops to his knees so we're eye level and kisses me back with just as much vigor. Once his hands are on me, they don't leave. Blindly, he places his glass down then takes mine to do the same. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and deepen the kiss. I'm soaking wet but it doesn't faze him. His arms are securely wrapped around the small of my back and my chest is pressed to his. He moans into my mouth and it makes me wet for him. Our tongues tie together in a slow, languid kiss, like we're both trying to prove something. James cups some water and drizzles it over the curve of my hip, then runs his hand down my thigh, ending with a firm grip. I love when he grabs me like a savage. It makes me feel small and weak for him at the same time, something that revs my engine.
