by S. M. Shade
I know Zoe doesn’t see it that way, and though I should probably feel guilty she’s stuck in a hospital with me when she should be in school or taking care of her brother, all I feel is gratitude for the way this beautiful, sweet woman loves me. All of me. Even this damn disease.
A few days after I leave the hospital, Dare and Jeremy help me move my stuff to Zoe’s house, our house for now. I really don’t have a lot to take since neither of us is all that fond of the antiques I inherited from my uncle, so we get the move completed in one evening.
“So, all healed up?” Jeremy asks, placing the last box on the living room floor.
“Yep, except for the shedding.” My skin has been flaking off and I feel like a damn snake. We change the sheets every morning because so much rubs off in my sleep. I run my hand down my arm, peeling a long strip off and turn to Dare. “Want some Landon jerky?”
Dare shoves me away. “That’s fucking gross.”
“Is Zoe cooking for Christmas?” Jeremy asks.
“I don’t know what we’re doing yet. Ethan is going to stay with friends that week, so we may go away somewhere.” I haven’t broached the subject with Zoe yet, but I’d like to go somewhere warm, where we can spend the nights outside, stargazing, or maybe walking along the beach like we did in Panama City.
The next day, Zoe surprises me with an idea of her own.
As she approaches me, her face is plastered with the little smile she wears when she’s trying to get her way. It’s fucking adorable and it works way too often. In her hand is a brochure advertising the convention for XP sufferers in Las Vegas. “It’s this weekend. Have you been before?”
She sits beside me on the couch. “No, I don’t need a support group.”
“It’s not a support group! It’s a chance to meet other people who have the same problem and have some fun. They have nighttime activities, plus we can go to the casinos.”
“Dare and the guys were hoping we could all get together, that maybe we could talk you into cooking again like you did on Thanksgiving.”
Grinning, she opens the brochure. “We’d be back the day before Christmas. We can get together then, and I’ll make enough food for an army.” Her pleading eyes meet mine. “You’ve been isolated for a long time. I think this would be good for you. Don’t you want to know how other people with XP cope, what new advancements have been made?”
An idea forms in my brain. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to Vegas and I’ll stop in the convention, on one condition.”
“No anal. You’re not fucking me in the ass. The answer is still no.”
Laughing, I tug her over to me. “Marry me. We’ll find one of those weird Vegas chapels where you get married by Elvis or an alien or something.”
Who needs the sun when my future wife smiles like that? “Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
“Frannie will kill me if she isn’t there,” she murmurs, considering it.
“Do you want to invite her?”
After pondering another moment, she shakes her head. “No, I want it to be just us. Let’s do it.”
She shivers when I press my lips to her ear to speak. “And I will claim that plump little ass, Zoe. Someday soon, you’re going to give it me.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting for someday.” Her breathy reply holds little conviction.
Ethan walks in, interrupting, and we take the opportunity to tell him we’re getting married in a few days. Like any teenage boy, he isn’t really concerned. He picks up the brochure and starts laughing.
“What?” Zoe asks.
“Just seems like a strange choice of city. Bring all the people who can’t tolerate sunlight to the desert.”
Landon laughs. “Kid’s got a point.”
A few hours after dropping Ethan off at Colin’s house, Zoe and I are on a plane to Vegas. I’ve arranged for a suite in the same hotel where the XP convention is being held and we settle in just as the dawn approaches. Zoe is surprised to see not all of the activities they are holding will be at night, and I grin at her little scowl. “It’s Vegas, sweetheart. You can go from hotel to casino to hotel without ever leaving the air conditioning. Anything outdoors will be held after sundown.”
“There’s a concert Friday night,” she points out, handing me the itinerary.
“Sorry, but I have plans for you that night.” My arm wraps around her middle, pulling her to me in the center of the massive hotel bed.
“Does it include me being chained to this bed?”
“After you’re chained to me. The XP foundation also arranged for Frontier Place to host a night show. It’s a western theme park built in an actual ghost town. They’ll have gunfights, bank robberies, and jailbreaks. I thought it would be a fun place for you to pledge your undying loyalty to me.”
Her eyes widen and I have a moment of pure fear that she’s changed her mind until she replies, “I’m not promising to obey, and you’ll be pledging your eternal love for me. And promising to kill all spiders that cross my path.”
“And you’ll promise to let me love and protect you, always fry me bacon for breakfast, and give me a nightly blow job.”
“I think the officiant might have an issue with those vows.”
“Fine. Weekly blow job.”
Giggling, she cuddles up to me. “The meet and greet buffet is this afternoon. We’re going, right?”
I’m not all that eager to meet others with my condition, but I’m worried about Zoe’s reaction the most. I’ve seen what this disease can do, especially when it isn’t diagnosed early. I’ve been extremely lucky not to have any outward signs—except a few scars from the burn—because my family was well off enough to get me the best doctors, and to keep me cloistered in one sprawling house or another.
I’ve done enough research and the pictures of some of the people who weren’t as fortunate are heartbreaking. Rough, permanently discolored skin, multiple scars from skin cancer removals, tumors scattered across their faces. It could easily be me, and I dread Zoe seeing what our future could be.
“If you want to.” She yawns and I cuddle her closer. “Let’s get some sleep.”
We wake up in time to get ready for the buffet. “I can tell you’re dreading this,” Zoe says, running one of those hair straighteners through her hair. I don’t know why she bothers, her waves are cute. I gaze at her in the mirror, her ass clad in tight jeans, a red blouse clinging to her breasts. A small satisfied grin blooms on her face. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make it out of this room.”
Pressing my instant hard-on against her ass, I press my lips to her ear. “Fine by me.”
Her giggle fills the room. “No way. We’re going. You can ravage me later.”
Damn it.
Her hand stays wrapped around mine while we ride the elevator down and find the room where the buffet is being held. It’s large and filled with dining tables, all set for a meal. A small bar rests in one corner opposite a slightly raised dance floor. I assume the room is usually used for wedding receptions or parties, and they probably reserved it for us because there are no windows to let in the sunlight. My stalling has resulted in us showing up a bit late, so there are already quite a few people here, milling around, talking, and having a drink at the tiny bar. Kids run around the dance floor in an impromptu game of tag while a couple of flustered mothers try to wrangle them.
“Let’s get a drink,” Zoe says, pulling me towards the bar. While we wait for the bartender to pour my whiskey double—I’m going to need a buzz for this—and Zoe’s fruity something or other, a middle aged couple approaches us.
“Hi, I’m Karen, and this is my husband, Charles. We ‘re the owners of the XP Support Network and we organized this event.” Karen and Zoe shake hands as I do the same with Charles. Charles appears around sixty years old, but I’m betting he’s in his late forties or early fifties. The disease has clearly affected him, but his eyes are lively and his smile bright as we greet one another.
&nb
sp; “I’m Landon, and this is my fiancé, Zoe.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I know pretty much everyone who comes to these events, so you must be a first timer,” Charles says. Zoe is absorbed in conversation with Karen. I swear she can walk into a room knowing no one and leave with a ton of friends.
“Yes, sir. This is my first one.”
Amusement tilts his lips as he leans forward and drops his voice. “Brought here by a firm tug on the old ball and chain?”
Laughing, I relax, and take a seat on the bar stool next to him. “That obvious, huh?”
“What we do for our women.”
A boy about five years old, darts up to him. Dark freckles cover every inch of his visible skin, and a mass grows in the crevice of his nose and cheek. “Molly won’t stop chasing me!” he complains, crossing his arms.
Charles lays a hand on his shoulder and points to a nearby table. “Your mom is right over there. Why don’t you join her? Looks like she has a piece of cake.”
“Okay!” The boy darts off and leaps onto his mother’s lap.
“Is that your son?”
“Grandson. His name’s David. My son, Jacob, is around here somewhere. Karen and I were lucky. The pregnancy was an accident, and we knew the odds were on our side—a twenty-five percent chance he’d be affected—so we couldn’t bear to terminate. We were overjoyed when we found out he could live a normal life, go to school and everything. Him being a carrier never even entered our minds until he had David. His wife had to be a carrier too, and really, what are the odds?”
“Damn, I’m sorry.”
Charles shrugs. “We keep things as normal as possible for him. And it could be worse.” He gestures to a couple eating at a table with three children, one in a high chair. “The Hanrons had no idea they were both carriers until their oldest suffered a severe burn about a year ago. Once he was diagnosed, they had the little ones tested and sure enough, they all have it.”
“Christ,” I mumble, and order another drink.
This is another reason I didn’t want to come. It’s fucking depressing. My gaze lands on Zoe, who is laughing and talking to a little girl hiding behind Karen’s leg. She’s good with kids. She deserves children of her own and I can’t give that to her. Even if she was tested and found not to be a carrier, I wouldn’t chance it. The test could be wrong or there could be another mutation that hasn’t been discovered. The disease just isn’t understood well enough for me to believe it if a doctor tells me it won’t happen.
Adoption. She says she’d be fine with adopting, and I hope that’s true, because I know now what I have to do. I can’t chance another condom breaking or Zoe’s birth control failing. I need a vasectomy. I need to know I’ll never pass this on to another person.
A woman gestures for Charles from across the room and he gets off the bar stool. “It was nice to meet you, Landon. Don’t forget about the pool party tomorrow night.”
“Will do,” I mumble. Yeah, not happening. My gaze travels around the room and all I can see are deformities, tumors, bloodshot eyes. Things I may have to look forward to at some point, no matter how well I take care of myself. I need to get out of here.
Zoe makes her way towards me, all smiles, and I throw back the last of my drink, grab her hand, and practically drag her to the door. “Landon, what’s wrong?”
‘I can’t be here.” She doesn’t question me until we’re back in our room.
“What happened?”
“I’m getting a vasectomy,” I tell her, and her expression goes from confusion to concern.
She sits on the couch, but I can’t sit still. Watching me pace like a madman, she asks, “Did you just come to that decision?”
“I’ve considered it for years, but…damn, Zo, didn’t you see the kids? Tumors and skin lesions.” My hands run through my hair, probably adding to the madman effect.
“Yes, I also saw them laughing and playing like typical children.”
“Children who likely won’t make it to adulthood before dying of cancer!”
“Stop,” she orders, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the couch with her. “Landon, if you want a vasectomy, I have no problem with that. They’re reversible anyway, if you ever change your mind, and as I said before, adoption is always a possibility, but I don’t think that’s what you’re really freaking out over.”
Her hands are soft as they cup my face. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“It could be me, probably will be me someday. You don’t realize what you’re getting into.”
“God, you’re an idiot.”
I must’ve heard her wrong. “What?”
“Idiot. You’re an idiot if you think I don’t know what could happen. Anything could happen. To you or to me. A boulder could fall on me and paralyze me for life, or I could lose both of my arms in a car accident and you’d have to spoon feed me every day. Anything can happen, but we can’t live in fear of horrible outcomes we can’t predict. Neither of us knows the future or how long we have, so I choose to embrace the incredible possibilities of what our lives together could be like.”
She’s right. I am an idiot. Without a word, I slide a hand behind her neck and take her soft lips with mine. She lets out a little moan, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue into her mouth, licking and tasting with a slow steady rhythm that drives her crazy. When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead on hers. “I love you so fucking much, Zo. I’ve never felt like this before. You’re perfect.”
“I’m not perfect. I’m messy. I leave my clothes on the floor. I use your toothbrush without asking when I forget mine. And I’m sure you’ll find a hundred other things I do that you’ll hate.”
Pulling her into my lap, I hug her hard, burying my face in her neck. “You’re perfect for me.”
“And you’re everything I never knew I needed. The only person to ever love me without judgment or conditions, so stop worrying. I’ll love you no matter what battles you have to fight with this disease or how it affects this gorgeous body.”
With a sigh, she settles against my chest like she usually does, in the place that feels like it was made for her to rest. My hands thread through her hair. “You use my toothbrush? That’s kind of gross, sweetheart.”
“You put your tongue in my mouth and my pussy,” she giggles.
“And when did we start living in the Wile E Coyote universe where a boulder can fall on you?”
“It could happen. Haven’t you ever driven down one of those roads with the Falling Rocks signs? I mean, really, what am I supposed to do with that information?”
This woman never fails to make me laugh or drag me out of a dark mood. My stomach growls and I realize we never had dinner. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving, room service?”
“How about we go to the restaurant downstairs, then to the casino?”
She’s on her feet in half a second, an excited grin on her face. “I want to play the slots!”
“Give me a minute to put some sunscreen on,” I tell her, grabbing it out of my suitcase.
“Sunscreen? We aren’t going out.”
“Vegas is the city of lights, sweetheart. And some of those lights are fluorescent which also emit UV rays. It’s not as dangerous as the sun, and with a little sunblock, I won’t have to worry about it.”
She takes the container from my hand as I rub the fragrant lotion into my face. Soft hands run over the back of my neck, rubbing in the lotion. My jeans and long sleeved shirt will protect the rest of me.
“Mmm, this smells good. I like it,” Zo says, running her nose across my cheek.
If she doesn’t stop, we’ll never make it downstairs. “Let’s go, baby. I’m starving.”
The restaurant is nice and not too crowded, so we get seated right away. After a delicious dinner of steak and baked potatoes, we make our way to the casino. Zoe is definitely out of her comfort zone around the blackjack tables, so we agree to split up, and she heads off to play the slots.
When I catch up to her an hour later, she’s waving like a madman. “I won!”
It’s cute she’s so excited. I mean, how much could she have won on the slots? A hundred or so? “That’s great! How much did you win?”
“Ten-thousand!”
My jaw drops. “On a slot machine?”
“Yep. I hit the jackpot! How did you do?”
“Broke even,” I mumble, but I can’t keep the smile from my face.
“Really?” Her eyebrow raises.
I throw my arm around her, leading her to the front doors. “No, I lost a grand, you lucky brat.”
Giggling, she asks, “Where are we going?”
“It’s dark. I thought you’d like to take a walk, see the strip.”
“I’d love to!” I love to see her this way, excited and happy. And she’s going to marry me. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch that ever lived.
Zoe and I spend most of the night exploring Vegas. We watch the fountain at the Bellagio, and ride the coasters and rides at the Adventure Dome. Zoe is fun and not afraid to try anything. We get back to our hotel a few minutes before dawn and fall into bed. Exhausted or not, I still have to have her, and she sure doesn’t complain.
After breakfast—at 5pm—Zoe gives me a wary look.
“Spit it out sweetheart. I see that brain working on something.”
“Can we go to the pool party tonight? I know you didn’t enjoy the buffet, but the people were really nice, and I think you’d like them if you give them a chance. We can just swim for a bit and see how it goes.”
My stubborn girl. There’s no way I can say no to that pleading look on her face. “I suppose. But you aren’t wearing that tiny bikini are you? I don’t want to have to beat some old man’s ass for ogling you,” I tease.
“No bikini,” she replies, kissing me.
She wears a two piece with a halter top and boyshort bottoms, but the sight of her flat little stomach still makes me want to drag her back to bed. She’s determined to make it to this pool party, so like it or not, I end up escorting her to the huge pool after dark.
