by Allie Gail
“It’s a perfect day for flying.” The weather couldn’t have been more accommodating if I’d put in a personalized order. The sky is serene and nonthreatening, a soft azure blue with only a few puffy white clouds scattered here and there. Directly below, the Gulf of Mexico sparkles like cerulean glass, fading into the distance in varying shades of teal and cyan. The view from up here is breathtaking.
And yet, the only thing I want to look at is her.
“You’re right, it is like flying!” she agrees, swinging her dangling feet as she grows braver.
“Ever been kissed in midflight?” Unable to resist, I lean far enough in her direction to steal a kiss. She responds with happy enthusiasm, even letting go of the harness to press a warm hand against my cheek. Every part of her is soft as a kitten, from her fingers to her lips to the hair that tickles me as it blows against my skin. I can’t wait for tonight, when we’re all alone and she’s wrapped in my arms once again. The days with her are amazing, but the nights…
The nights are fucking spectacular.
“That’s how the birds do it,” I tell her teasingly.
“Well, no wonder they’re always flying into windows!” Laughing, she turns her head as something way down below catches her eye. “Look! Dolphins! Do you see them? There’s five or six of them, jumping out of the water – they’re playing! Look over there, can you see them?”
“I see them.” I watch as the dolphins leap into the air, propelling themselves out of the water in a fast-moving dance that almost seems choreographed. “I also see that big ass tiger shark. Hope he’s not hungry for dolphin.”
“No way!” Leah strains her neck to look all around. “You do? Are you serious? Where?”
“Right here.” Reaching behind her, I goose her backside until she shrieks through giggles for me to stop. “Nah, I’m just kidding. No sharks in sight. No sting rays, no killer jellyfish, no man-eating sea monsters, no Bigfoot out scuba diving. And no bad luck anywhere in sight either, is there?”
“Nope. None whatsoever.” She beams at me with those sweet dimples that have become my personal kryptonite. One look at her smile and I want to give her the world on a silver platter. “I think we left it behind, didn’t we? It seems to be gone.”
“For good?”
“For good.”
Clasping her hand in mine, I bring it to my lips. “Happy birthday, Leah.”
Her eyes shine with happiness, and the sky suddenly seems clearer, the ocean bluer, and the future a million times brighter.
“Yeah,” she agrees wholeheartedly. “It is. It really is.”
* * *
“I can’t believe Charlie isn’t in here begging for some of this.”
We’re curled up in bed together, still naked from our lovemaking, watching a movie while feeding each other bites of Ryder’s sinfully rich dark chocolate cake. It’s my new favorite dessert, surpassing even Louise’s homemade marshmallow swirl brownies. I’ve never tasted anything so heavenly. The cake is layered with some kind of raspberry filling that, combined with the thick fudgy frosting, is pure decadence.
“Dogs aren’t supposed to have chocolate, are they?” Myles asks.
“No, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying.” Laying the fork on the plate, I move it to the bed beside me. We’re going to end up with crumbs all in the covers, but neither of us really cares. “Your brother better keep this recipe under lock and key. I’m warning you, if I ever get hold of it, I’m gonna wind up nine hundred pounds and in a sugar coma.”
A devilish smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “I’ve seen your cooking. I seriously doubt there’s any danger of you duplicating it.”
“Oh, eat me!” I huff, giving his leg a playful kick.
“With pleasure, my dear.” Sticking his finger in a blob of raspberry sauce, he swipes it against one of my nipples before lowering his head to slowly lick it off. “Mmm…you know, the cake’s good, but the presentation’s even better.”
I close my eyes and tangle my fingers in his hair, my breath coming just a little bit faster. “You know, I think I may have dropped a little piece of chocolate…” I nudge him with one of my knees. “…down there.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get to it.”
“But what about you? Poor baby, we can’t neglect you. That would be so unfair.” Sliding a hand between us, I squeeze the head of his cock lightly with my fingertips. “Hm. I bet chocolate would go great with this.”
“I’ve heard chocolate goes great with anything.”
“One way to find out.” Scooping a finger full of icing, I hold it up for a moment while considering how much of a mess I really want to make. We do have to sleep on these sheets, after all.
“Keep in mind…” Myles warns me. “…wherever you put that, you’re either gonna have to wash it off or suck it off. One or the other. Those are the rules.”
“Decisions, decisions…” Trying not to giggle, I smear sweet frosting across his lips before lifting my head to kiss it right back off again. “Yummy,” I breathe. “You taste like–”
“Lemme guess. Chocolate?”
“Actually, I was gonna say cedar.”
He gives me a strange look. “I taste like cedar?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How would you even know what cedar tastes like, goober? What, you gnaw on wood on a regular basis?”
“I doubt you’d want me to gnaw on your wood,” I tease him. “Wouldn’t that be a little painful?”
“Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been set up?” Catching my bottom lip between his teeth, he gives it a gentle tug, then stops what he’s doing to say, “Hold on. I’m pretty sure there’s a beaver joke in there somewhere.”
“Oh yeah, you’re right! Okay, so what did the beaver say when he went on strike?”
“I know I’m going to regret asking, but tell me anyway. What did the beaver say when he went on strike?”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a dam!” I grin broadly, while he just groans and makes a face.
“That was just…awful.”
“Thank you. I have a million of ’em.”
“You’re such a weirdo.”
“I know.”
Leaning in to nuzzle my hair, he murmurs softly against my ear, “Hey. Guess what.”
“What?”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“Is it?” For a moment, I’m not sure what the relevance is. Then I remember. “Oh…”
“Yep. Your birthday’s almost over.”
Sighing contentedly, I snuggle deeper into the pillow behind my head. “Normally I’d say thank God, but somehow it doesn’t seem fitting this year.”
“Glad to hear you’re developing a new point of view. Hopefully from now on, you’ll stop thinking of this day as something to dread.”
“Pretty sure I could get on board with that.”
He assesses my expression thoughtfully. “From now on, I think you should only remember it as the day you fell for the guy next door.”
“What an ego! What makes you think I’m falling for you, hot shot?” Ecstatic with happiness, I fold my legs tightly around his waist and blink up at him coyly.
“Because. I’m falling for you, and I don’t want to make the jump alone.”
He isn’t smiling. He isn’t laughing. There is nothing but frank and open honesty in his eyes as they gaze down at me softly, affectionately. My heart swells in my chest, pressing against my throat so I can hardly breathe.
He’s falling for me.
I’ve never felt such delirious joy in my life, and to think, it happened on the least likely of days.
“You’re not alone,” I whisper, touching his face.
He could never be alone in this. Whether he suspects it or not, I’m right there with him, head over heels. And though I’m not quite ready to make the confession, to say those three little words out loud, I know it’s only a matter of time.
For both of us.
I hear the padding of little paws on the hardwood f
loor, then feel the bed shake as Charlie jumps up and snuffles his way toward the crumbled remains of the cake.
“There he is,” Myles sighs, raising an eyebrow in playful exasperation. “The dog with the worst timing in the world. Knew I shoulda closed the door.”
“Sorry, pal. Not for you.” I grab the plate just in time and place it on the nightstand out of his reach. Huffing, Charlie sits on his haunches and moons at me with the saddest brown eyes in the world. “Oh, don’t play that card with me, you big faker! You’re not hungry. I’m the one who filled your dish, remember?”
Jumping up, he bounces around in a circle and yips happily at the sound of my voice, the denied treat forgotten already.
Myles reaches over to rub one of his floppy ears. “So help me, that dog knows exactly what you’re saying. He really does. It’s eerie.”
“Let’s test that theory.” Fixing my gaze on Charlie, I issue a cheerful command. “All right, boy. Mommy wants a winning lottery ticket. Can you get one for me? Go get one! Go! Go fetch!”
Woofing an excited bark, he bounds off the bed and tears out of the room as if he’s on a very important mission.
We watch him go, then look at one another in surprise before bursting into laughter.
“Wonder what he’ll come back with,” I muse.
“I’d hazard a guess that it probably isn’t going to be a lottery ticket, winning or otherwise.” Closing his eyes for just a brief moment, Myles shakes his head. “That’s the goofiest dog I’ve ever seen. Must take after his owner.”
“Look who’s talking! I’m not the one who got my head stuck in a fence trying to spy on a naked senior citizen, am I?”
Wrapping his fingers around both my wrists, he raises my arms above my head and pins them there, holding me captive in the boundless blue of his eyes. “You know something, you’re right…with those kinds of odds, maybe you should play the lottery. How else can you explain the likelihood of finding a dog and a boyfriend who are both just as crazy as you, pretty girl?”
“Crazy as me, or crazy for me?”
“Both,” he confirms without hesitation. “But mostly, just crazy for you.”
I smile up at him, the man of my dreams, and my heart is full to overflowing.
“I don’t know. Just lucky, I guess.”
Epilogue
Hello, Mother.
It’s been a long time.
I’m sure this letter must come as a surprise to you, assuming you ever see it. I have no way of knowing when or if it will reach you. To be perfectly honest, I don’t hold out much hope that it will. But this is the only physical address I have since you did your best to disappear so completely from my life. I’m sure you’ve probably moved on by now. If that’s the case, then maybe the post office or someone who knows you will forward this to you.
It doesn’t really matter.
In a way, this is more for me. A simple, quiet closing of the door rather than the hostile slam I’d always envisioned.
You see, I once believed that what you did was unforgivable.
First, let me ease your conscience by assuring you that I don’t say this because I expect or even hope for an apology. That isn’t the purpose of this letter. I don’t want an apology from you. Or an acknowledgement. Or even an explanation. The reasons why no longer matter.
Don’t worry, I expect nothing from your end. Nothing at all.
The only thing I want is to introduce you to the daughter you left behind.
Do you remember your Leah? She was a healthy baby girl born on the seventh of July, during one of the hottest summers on record. You carried her to term, struggled through nine hours of hard labor, and insisted on natural childbirth because you didn’t want to miss a thing. Your arms were the first to hold her. Your face was the first thing she saw. You kissed her fingers and tickled her toes and laughed and cried because she was perfect in your eyes.
I know all this because my father told me, and he has never lied to me.
I can’t remember any of that, obviously, but what I do remember is how you watched her grow. You curled her hair and dressed her in ruffles and reminded her to stand up straight and not to “make that face” or it would freeze that way. You taught her how to count and name her colors and sing the alphabet song. You read fairy tales to her and tucked her into bed at night. You drove her to school and ballet lessons and play dates and sleepovers. You gave her chicken soup when she was sick and hugs when she was sad and lectures when she was naughty.
For years, you nurtured her and cared for her and led her to believe, with all the unwavering faith of a child, that you loved her unconditionally.
And then a light went out, and something changed.
I thought for the longest time that it was me. That I must be doing something wrong. When your constant criticisms began to overshadow those increasingly rare moments of praise, what other conclusion was I supposed to reach? Your perfect little girl was growing into someone who was less than perfect. And the more you condemned her, the more she blamed herself. For not living up to whatever ideal you were looking for in a daughter. You took a smart, confident little girl and instilled in her deep insecurities.
I tried to be what you wanted. I really did. But in the end, it made no difference.
With no warning whatsoever, you gave up and abandoned her.
And everything that was once stable and secure in her life was gone, just like that.
What you left behind was a hopelessly damaged and heartsick little girl. One with more questions than answers. One who had been led to believe that she wasn’t worthy of love. Yours, or anyone else’s.
She stood by and watched in silence as her father struggled to hide his own heartbreak. As he nobly pushed aside his own misery to remain her rock, her anchor, the one true constant left in her life. He fought like a champ to put on a brave face so his daughter would never be burdened with his pain.
Still, she knew it was there.
It’s very easy to recognize something that you see in the mirror every day.
In time, her father’s heartache healed. He went on to meet an amazing woman and find the kind of genuine love he so deserved. Eventually he remarried. This wonderful woman stepped in and selflessly took over the role that you so easily surrendered. I can’t say that she replaced you, however. That wouldn’t quite be the truth. The truth is, she did far more than that. She somehow managed to turn our broken house into a home and made loving us seem effortless.
I’m sure it probably wasn’t easy for her at first. I can’t deny that I was angry. And it’s hard to let go of that kind of anger. For years, I hated you for walking out on us, and I hated myself for whatever it was that I did to push you away. In retrospect, I realize your decision had little to do with me. One of the lessons I’ve learned is that it wasn’t my fault, after all.
But I can’t bring myself to place the fault with you, either. Does it really do anyone any good to assign blame? Sometimes things just are what they are. Life doesn’t come with any guarantees, does it? No refunds, no returns. You get what you get.
All I can say for sure is that I now realize how terribly unhappy you must have been. Whatever demons you were battling, you kept them to yourself and chose to suffer in silence. And for that, I am sorry. I don’t pretend to know what internal conflicts you were struggling with. Or what made you run. You kept your emotions hidden so well. I guess back then it was easier just to blame you than to try and understand the depths of your unhappiness.
I want you to know that I no longer blame you. As I no longer blame myself.
Like I said before, this letter was more for my own peace of mind than anything else. Read it, burn it, do with it what you will. Either way, I’m fine.
With that said, I truly hope you found whatever it is you were looking for.
As for me, I can finally say with all honesty and certainty that I have found everything I’ve always wished for, and more.
Including forgiveness.
; Wishing you a lifetime of peace and happiness,
Leah Marie Whitfield-Bellamy
“The only sure thing about luck is that it will change.”
~Francis Bret Harte
BONUS STORY
The Firefly Effect
Allie Gail
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Kindle Edition
Copyright December 2015 Allie Gail
Cover Design by Laura Shinn Designs
http://laurashinn.yolasite.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any printed or electronic form without express written permission from the author.
The Firefly Effect is a work of fiction. Though some of the cities and towns actually exist, they are used in a fictitious manner for purposes of this work. All characters are works of fiction and any characteristics similar to any person past, present or future are coincidental.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
~ Prologue ~
Flagler College campus – St. Augustine, Florida
eight years earlier
She isn’t answering me.
I don’t understand why she isn’t answering me.
I can see her now, standing there talking and laughing in the circle of those vainglorious sluts she has the audacity to call friends. I also know every time she receives a text because she immediately pulls out her phone and glances down at it. So I know very well that she read the last one I sent her.
Why are you ignoring me?
An ineffectual question, it might seem. I am accustomed to being ignored. It is the prototypical reaction of those cretins who are disinclined to recognize and acknowledge their inferiority. To them, I am invisible. Nonexistent. Like a god, my presence is unseen and unnoticed.
But my sweet Melanie never stooped to hold me in such contempt. No, not her. Never her.
