“Livs?” Bill called.
“Yep.”
“We should probably eat before we pick them up.”
I walked by the pile of fishing equipment at the door and into the bedroom, where Bill was folding clothes into an open suitcase. “You should start packing, too.”
The urge to turn and run overcame me. I didn’t want to face him, so I looked away. “I already did.” I pointed to my suitcase in the corner. “I’ll make something to eat.”
“K. Hey, wait,” he said, reaching out and pulling me over. I tensed under his touch but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He kissed the top of my head and tucked some hair behind my ear. “How was your day? Work late?”
“It was good,” I said, curling my lips into what I hoped was a smile. I discreetly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to erase traces of David. “I’m not feeling well though, would you mind soup for dinner?”
He crinkled his nose in response. “I hate soup.”
“Please,” I said. “I’m not up for making anything.”
“It’s fine, I’ll get something on the way. What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing, I just need a good night’s sleep.”
“And you’re going to get one. Soon we’ll be under the stars, away from all the noise. Doesn’t get much more peaceful than a cabin in the woods,” he said excitedly. “I can’t wait.”
Life in Chicago had taught me to not only appreciate but to love the fast pace of a city. For me, the best lullaby was the telltale sounds of a sleeping city. But Bill saw things differently. He longed for the sort of tranquility that only nature could provide. “Me neither,” I agreed, trying to remain positive. “I could use some fresh air.”
After a can of chicken soup, I didn’t feel any better. I needed to cleanse, not consume. Despite Bill’s protests, I flipped the shower on, promising him it would be quick.
“Quick?” he called through the door. “Sure, then you have to do your hair and make-up, Liv, I’m almost done – can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“No,” I snapped. “The steam will help my head.” I peeled my dress off, letting it fall on the floor as Bill opened the door and stuck his head in.
“Babe, I’m not going to do my hair or make-up,” I said, exasperated.
“Damn right,” he said. “We don’t have time for that.”
“I get it. I’ll be fast. There’s a twenty in my purse – take the bags downstairs, and get yourself food from the corner. I’ll meet you down there in fifteen minutes.”
He grunted in response and turned away.
“Honey, the door! You’re letting all the steam out.”
He pulled the door shut as I stepped under the showerhead. I dumped too much body wash in my hand and smoothed it over my skin where the water burned. Oh God, oh God. What have I done? And what do I do now?
I forced David’s face from my mind. His lusty eyes tormented me, reeling me in before his body had cast me aside. I imagined my hands were his and squeezed my shoulders as he had, but my grip was pitiful in comparison. I ran his hands over my breasts, caressing taut nipples.
I opened my eyes and shook my head. Stop! I begged myself. This is wrong. This is so wrong. I twisted the dial closer toward the red, forcing myself in the water’s punishing path. The ache from earlier gnawed at me, dragging my hands downward. My chest heaved as I gave in to the memory, gave in to the feel of David’s lips against mine just moments before.
My palm pushed against the mound between my legs, slippery from the soap, and my fingers circled my opening, massaging the skin as my arousal mounted. David, I thought, slipping two fingers inside myself and moving into them. Firm, strong hands . . . holding me still . . . on my skin . . . . I shot my other fist against the wall across from me, pressing into it as I began to lose myself in the thought of him. With my back flush against the slick tile, I lifted one leg onto the opposite wall, continuing to pump and rub with my other hand. I gasped for air as my imagination took over, as David pulled open my blouse, hiked up my skirt and rubbed against me. I ripped the nozzle from its place in a fury and fixed it against myself, letting the scalding water beat against my clit. Oh god, oh god. I writhed against it as David threw me on the desk, opening me with his fingers and shoving inside of me mercilessly. With all my strength, I pushed my foot into the tile as the waves crested, throwing me into a fierce, blinding orgasm that continued longer than I was used to.
I waited until my heartbeat slowed before gently placing the nozzle back into its holder. Below, I was red and raw from the force of the water. I continued to wash my skin, carefully avoiding the painful area with my hands. I’d wanted to cleanse myself of him, of his presence, of the ache he had inspired. Instead I felt filthier than ever.
CHAPTER 15
THE DRIVE TURNED OUT TO BE a welcome distraction from my thoughts. Only once, while Bill and Andrew excitedly planned their morning on the lake, did I look out the window into the darkness and remember David’s unrelenting clasp on my shoulders, or the way his surprisingly tender lips claimed mine. The memory was made of details, unlike the furious sensations of the fantasy I’d given in to before.
“Enough,” Lucy said in exasperation, tearing me from my reverie. She hadn’t asked me much once I’d told her David had been impressed. I imagined her rolling her eyes in the backseat as she scolded Bill and Andrew. “No more fishing talk ‘til I’m out of earshot or extremely drunk.”
“Then the same goes for wedding talk,” Bill countered.
“Bill,” I admonished.
“No way. You girls can talk cake and centerpieces ‘til you’re blue in the face once Andrew and I have left in the morning.”
Lucy made a noise. “I don’t talk about the wedding that much.”
“You don’t, Luce. He’s just being mean,” I said. I swallowed, wincing at the early sting of a sore throat. “How many bridal mags did you bring? Be honest.”
“Well, nine, but it’s because I’m so behind, and I need your help. Like, what about shoes? White shoes are just so . . . yuck.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Bill said, shaking his head. “Tomorrow.”
“Fine,” I said. “What would you like to talk about? Sweetie?” I added as an afterthought.
“Basketball. Andrew, what’s the score now?”
Lucy and I groaned in unison.
“Actually man, there is something I want to ask you,” Andrew said, clearing his throat. “Since Liv’s going to be in the bridal party, I thought you might want to also. If you want. Like, my brothers are going to be in it, but I need one more guy.”
I stifled a laugh. It was really sweet of Andrew to think of Bill, but I knew he’d be pissed. “Andrew, that’s so nice,” I said. “Of course he wants to.”
“Yeah, of course, man, thanks for thinking of me,” Bill agreed. I reached over and rubbed his knee.
~
We arrived at the cabin late, and after unloading the car, headed straight for our respective bedrooms. I fell into bed, welcoming the warmth of the flannel sheets. Thankfully, the cabin was well-stocked with tissue boxes since I felt something coming on.
“Night,” I said with a sniffle.
Bill closed his book and leaned over to kiss my neck. Oh my God, I thought, panicked. This can’t happen. I’ve barely recovered from my shower.
“Bill,” I objected, and he slid his hand under the covers and over my backside.
“Come on, Liv,” he whispered. “We’re all alone in the woods. It’s so romantic here.” I thought better than to point out that Lucy and Andrew were steps away.
“I’m definitely coming down with something. You might catch it. What if you can’t go tomorrow?”
He relented, somewhat dejectedly, and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. “Okay. Goodnight.”
I exhaled my immense relief. I fell into sleep quickly, but thought I heard, ‘I love you.’
~
The next morning, I toweled off from a quick rinse, t
hrew on a robe and met Bill in the kitchen. He handed me a big mug. I held it close to my face and sniffed, letting the steam clear my nose. “Mmm, peppermint tea. Thank you honey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Miserable,” I said with a frown.
“Oh, no.” He leaned in. I offered my cheek, but he dodged it and planted a chaste kiss on my lips.
“Bill,” I whined, crinkling my nose. “I’m gross.”
He smoothed his hand over my wet hair. “Take this,” - he handed me a bottle of Nyquil - “and go back to sleep.” I’d been up all night with a runny nose and had a trashcan full of snotty tissues to prove it.
“Where did you find this?” I asked warily, checking for an expiration date.
“Medicine cabinet in the bathroom. No clue how old it is.”
Andrew waltzed in then, his spirits much too high for five in the morning.
“Have fun today,” I said to them nasally.
“What’s wrong, Liv, not feeling well?”
“No, I’m going to try and sleep it off though.” I poured the green liquid down my throat and, cupping my tea, plodded back into the bedroom.
As I lay my head on the pillow and waited for the elixir to kick in, I was alone with my thoughts again. Only now, they went in a different direction. I’d betrayed Bill. By giving in to my impulses and by not stopping the kiss. Why hadn’t I? And why had David pulled away?
Glancing around the cozy cabin at Bill’s things and the mussed up sheets from where he had just been, I desperately hoped I wouldn’t see David again. Things felt dangerously easy with him, and I’d proven myself as weak as any of his girls.
But I had the memory, and it was unshakable. I began to drift amongst thoughts of arms and fingers, lips and eyes, skin, tuxedos, cufflinks . . . .
~
I threw my hair back and dabbed a bit of make-up on my sallow skin. Unrelenting shadows circled my eyes, and I gave up trying to cover them. I wandered out into the living room, feeling relaxed and a bit wobbly. I’d slept a good six hours, but the effects of the Nyquil remained.
“Hi.” Lucy looked up from her book.
“Hey,” I said, putting a pot of water on the stove.
“How do you feel?”
“Been better. But the drugs help. Want some tea?”
“Sure.”
The hot mug was as comforting against my cold hands as the peppermint was soothing. “What’d I miss?”
“Well, they’d caught a couple last time I spoke to Andrew. Salmon I think? Whatever. I just talked to Gretchen, too. She’s hungover and still in bed watching a Friends marathon,” Lucy said with an eye roll.
“Ha. What did she do last night?”
“Went to some big museum party. For work, I think.”
My ears perked up. “Oh? Where?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “She said Kristen Chenoweth and Derrick Rose were there, and that she has juicy gossip, but wants to tell us in person. Someone she met and hooked up with – oh, it was the Museum of Contemporary Art. Yes, that was it.”
I forced a sound of comprehension, but inside I saw red. What are the chances? I asked myself. There must’ve been hundreds of people there. Did Gretchen and David . . . ? Would he do that to send a message? Or worse, would he do that because he just didn’t care anymore?
I gritted my teeth. I thought again about what perfect a couple they’d make – his masculine roguishness and her small, petite frame drowning in blonde curls. They seemed to end up at all the same events. My stomach lurched as the image of them, side-by-side, popped into my head.
Lucy didn’t seem to notice as the blood drained from my face. “Anyway. Have you read this?” she asked, holding up her book.
“No, uh, how is it?” I had read it, but I was grateful for the chance to reel. I knew by my reaction that I was in too deep. I reminded myself that my anger was unwarranted and there was nothing I could do to stop what was surely going on. Gretchen had made no secret of her interest in David, and she almost always got what she wanted.
~
“Rummy,” Andrew said, placing his last set on the dining table. We all groaned and threw down our cards.
“I’m done,” Bill said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s three times in a row, let’s play something else. Something Andrew sucks at.”
“How about Texas hold ‘em?” I suggested.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Andrew asked, narrowing his eyes at me but smiling playfully.
“Yeah, good idea. Go get ‘em babe,” Bill said, tugging on my sweatshirt. “I think I have a poker set in the car, actually.”
“You do?” Andrew asked, his eyebrows knitting.
“Oh, I think you’re right honey. Should I get it?” I teased, and Andrew’s face fell.
“Veto. Andrew was cranky for a week after the last game,” Lucy said.
“Don’t like losing to a girl, huh?” I asked, shuffling the deck.
“I don’t like losing a hundred bucks, period. Two hundred if you count Lucy.”
“Oh, but I used it to buy the most beautiful leather jacket,” I said wistfully. Bill chuckled and leaned over, planting a kiss on my cheek. In my chair, I tilted toward him, snuggling in the crook of his arm.
“Does anyone want more salmon before I put it away?” Lucy asked. “It shouldn’t sit out any longer.”
“I’m full,” Bill said. “We got lucky with that seven pound Coho, man. The guys next to us said they usually cap around five or six pounds.”
“Yeah? Well let’s hope we can pull it off again tomorrow.”
“If you do, throw it back. We have plenty,” I said, pushing away from the table.
“I’ll throw you back,” Bill kidded as I headed for the bedroom.
I grabbed my phone, shut off the alarm and rummaged through my suitcase for birth control. When I didn’t find it there or in my purse, I started to panic and pulled out the two neat clothing piles from my luggage, inserting my hand in all the pockets. I unzipped Bill’s duffel bag in a hurry and dumped his stuff on top of mine. Squatting on the floor, I rubbed my temples, trying to remember the last place I saw it. Kitchen counter. But I remembered checking the kitchen counter before I left the apartment, and it definitely hadn’t been there.
“Bill,” I called into the cabin. When he didn’t respond, I yelled for him.
“Coming,” he responded. I crossed my arms, trying to think. What the fuck? Did he hide them so I’d forget? Does he think I’d give in that easily? Would he do that? I tried to think of what I’d do if he had. I’d have to recalibrate my whole month. And I’d be pissed. Would he take it that far?
This time I used my angry voice when I called his name and he came quickly.
“Yeah?” he asked, scanning the mess on the floor.
“Where’s my birth control?” I heard my foot tapping against the floor but couldn’t stop it.
“What?”
“My birth control. Where is it? Did you do something with it?”
“What would I do with it?” he asked, raising his chin and looking down at me over his nose.
“I don’t know but it’s not in my bag, and it wasn’t where I left it on the kitchen counter. Did you take it? Did you hide it?”
“Hide it?” he boomed. “Do you think I’m some sort of monster? Shit, Olivia, when did you get so fucking paranoid?”
“Well, where is it then?” I began to shrink back, recognizing the look in his eyes. I rushed over and shut the heavy wooden door, steeling my shoulder against it.
He snatched my purse from the floor and rifled through it. “Here,” he said, pulling the packet out and throwing it on the floor. “There’s your bullshit birth control. I put it in the zipper pocket so you wouldn’t forget it.”
“Oh, I - ”
“Along with a shitload of condoms, because I never know with you,” he said, pulling out a string of foil packets and dropping them at his feet. “Don’t worry, we won’t be needing them tonigh
t,” he added.
“All right,” I said. “I’m sorry, don’t get mad.”
“Really Liv?” he said over me. “Why are you even starting birth control now? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Bill, keep your voice down, they’ll hear us,” I said, twisting my earlobe.
“Answer me, damn it!”
“I just don’t want to take any chances until - ”
“Until you’re ready, I know,” he said with disgust. “Until everything is ‘perfect.’ How could you think I would do that?” He paused and his face lit up as something occurred to him. “You’re acting like your mother.”
I felt the breath being sucked out of me. “You’re absolutely right,” I said, pinching my ear until I winced. “I’m so sorry. I thought - ”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
“I thought wr – look, don’t patronize me, Bill. Let’s just forget it, I don’t want to make a scene.” I pulled the door open to leave, and he lunged forward to slam it shut.
“No, you don’t get to leave the conversation. I’m leaving to enjoy my weekend, and you can stay here and clean up this shit.” I had only a second to jump out of the way before he flung the door open again. I looked after him, feeling awful, and crouched to pick up the mess.
CHAPTER 16
THE NEXT WEEK WAS EMOTIONAL TURMOIL. Bill’s anger subsided, but my guilt persisted. Gretchen and David took up a permanent place in my thoughts. Elaborate fantasies and imaginative scenarios filled my head, some fueled by jealousy, others by lustful memories. I was aroused, angry and crushed all at once. David’s rejection overwhelmed me. I knew it was irrational, I knew it wasn’t fair.
At night, I tossed and turned with memories of my mother’s senseless fits of jealousy. Was I turning into her like Bill had cruelly accused? I was never jealous with Bill, but when it came to David, it was slippery and out of my control. My sleep had suffered more than usual from the anxiety. I hadn’t heard from David in almost a week, and I wondered if my Nyquil-drunken plea for relief had come true. Only, relief was far from what I felt.
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