The Ground Rules: Undone

by Roya Carmen

  I love this place.

  Gabe kisses my cheek. “We’re all set. Ready to relax?”

  I don’t bother replying or even nodding, because as much as I would love to, I know there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I can relax.

  The girls sprint into the room as soon as Gabe opens the door with a gold old-fashioned key — no fancy key cards here.

  “Let’s check out the bathroom,” Chloe calls out to her little sister. Who knew a toilet, sink and bath could inspire such excitement.

  I laugh at the sight. “We really need to get these kids out more,” I joke.

  Gabe shoots me a smile as he wheels in our huge luggage and duffel bag. “They’re just excited.”

  My gaze lingers on him, on the lean lines of his torso against the stretched fabric of his thin t-shirt. He’s looking gorgeous again. Whenever he wears white, he looks like a dark angel, a wickedly sexy dark angel. I swallow, wondering what the hell has gotten into me.

  It’s the hormones.

  I try to distract myself, drinking in the space with its whimsical quilt covered beds, rustic shabby-chic furniture, and vintage inspired prints. “This place reminds me of Gwen’s beach house.”

  “It’s a little prissy.”

  I laugh. “But I love it.”

  He sets the large brown suitcase on the bed, and starts on the zipper. “Well, if you love it, then it’s perfect,” he says and shoots me a wink.

  And I’m not completely shocked when my heart does a little cartwheel.

  We start off our vacation with a hike along the boardwalk coursing through the marshes. I snap a few shots of the beautiful ultramarine of the water set against the ochre marshes. We spot a few birds and I try to capture them with my camera but I’m not the best nature photographer. I snap a few pictures of the girls and Gabe. They’re all so beautiful. A priceless gift God has given me. A gift I’ve neglected, tossed away.

  Gabe takes my hand in his, and I turn away from him, not wanting him to know I’m just about to break his heart, tear it to shreds.

  “Look,” he says suddenly.

  I turn my gaze in his direction. Two beautiful monarch butterflies skitter across the sky not far off in the distance.

  “The monarchs migrate from here to Mexico in the fall,” he tells me. “We should come here sometime in the fall.”

  I smile thinly and nod, knowing this will never happen. Our chapter is done. A new chapter is about to begin for me — one with this new child, shared custody, and Gabe no longer in my life.

  The monarchs make their way closer, trailing circles around us, their black and orange wings fluttering against the blue sky.

  You eager little butterfly.

  I remember when Weston had first said the words to me… I had my own little trio of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

  He has ruined butterflies for me forever. Every time I spot one, I know I’ll think of him. But that’s the least of my worries. Every time I look at my child, I’ll see him too. And when I look into my girls’ eyes, I’ll see Gabe.

  And I won’t have either Gabe or Weston.

  The girls both absolutely love their room. Almost as if tailored just for them, it is filled with playful, sweet touches; Norman Rockwell prints, colorful bed quilts, and vintage toys displayed on the bookshelf.

  We’ve tucked them in, full of smiles. I retreat to the quiet of my room. It’s still pretty early, yet I’m exhausted as I stretch across the bed. I know it’s a combination of all the fresh air and the pregnancy. I’m just about to drift off when Gabe stretches his long frame next to mine. He fixes me with beautiful serious eyes and the slightest hint of a smile.

  I know that look.

  Those honey hazel eyes of his almost hypnotize me. I can’t pull my gaze from his.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says, his words soft and smooth as silk.

  Ordinarily, I’d be all over him like blue on sky. But today, there’s too much guilt to even think about enjoying his touch. How can I make love to him knowing another man’s child grows inside me?

  But I can see he really wants this.

  A devilish smile curves his lips. “It’s been a while since you and me…”

  He’s being unusually coy tonight. Generally, he grabs my ass and says something like ‘it’s been forever since we’ve had sex, babe’. But I suspect he senses something is not quite right. He knows I’m skittish.

  He wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me in, closing the distance between us. And I just melt. I completely melt. I want him so much.

  But I can’t do this. I stare up at the ceiling and focus on the exposed wooden beams. I can’t quite face him. He toys with the hem of my light summer camisole, his fingers tracing the laced edge softly. I close my eyes.

  Would it really be so bad? The two of us together right now? This week might very well be my last chance ever to be with him — it most likely will be. Once he knows my secret, he will hate me.

  One last time.

  He gently slides my camisole up my torso, exposing my stomach. I can’t take this anymore, he’s arousing me. And I know I shouldn’t be aroused.

  He presses his large hand on my belly, just below my navel and completely does me in. The heat of his hand radiates through me. My body desperately craves him. It seems it’s been forever.

  “You’re so soft,” he whispers and does something unexpected. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on my belly, just a few inches above where my baby lies. I’m still staring up at the ceiling, tears in my eyes. I want to scream out my secrets, unburden myself, beg for his forgiveness, kneel at his feet and kiss his toes. He doesn’t deserve this.

  And I want him. God, do I want him.

  I pull him to me, tears still trailing down my cheeks. I press my mouth to his. He tastes sweet. His kiss heats up my entire body.

  He tears himself away. “You’re crying,” he breathes. “I can taste your tears. Why?”

  I pull him to me again, reveling in the taste of his mouth, my hands exploring the soft taut skin of his stomach. I venture south, undo his pants as fast as I can, and wrap my hand around his beautiful hard cock, the size of it arousing me even more. I’d almost forgotten how amazing he is. “It’s been so long…” I breathe, my mouth pressed against his.

  “God, I know,” he practically growls. He undoes the fly of my shorts, rough and hard, like I like it.

  I throw my head back. “Fuck me like you used to,” I beg. “Rip my panties off, Gabe.”

  He tears my shorts down my legs. “My pleasure, you kinky girl.” He pulls at the fabric of my cheap cotton panties, the strain cutting into my skin. It hurts, but I love it.

  And yet, despite how strong he is, the fabric doesn’t give.

  He shoots me a wicked smile. “These are some fucking strong panties.”

  He lets go and we both laugh hysterically.

  “But they do it all the time in romance novels,” I point out, catty. “What kind of romantic hero are you?”

  A wide smile practically splits his face in two as he leans into me. “Fiction, baby,” he whispers as he drops a soft soothing kiss on my hip. “Let’s try a softer approach.” He bites at my panties and pulls at the fabric with his teeth. I hitch up my rear to make his job easier. He drops another soft kiss on my curls.

  I am completely lost in him. I’ve forgotten everything else. There is no baby, no Weston. No more remorse. No more pain. There’s just Gabe and me and this quaint too-small vintage bed.

  With a wicked expression on his face, he sweeps his fingers along my lips, my sex wet and swollen. My breath hitches at his touch. I study his beautiful face; the gorgeous wide-set eyes, the dark brows and lashes, the wide sexy crooked smile, the perfect skin, the strong nose, and the week-old beard. I want him to make me come.

  But not quite yet.

  First, I want to kiss every inch of his body and I want him to explore every part of mine.

  He leans his head between my thighs, parts my l
ips with his skilled fingers and slides his tongue over my clit. I press against him, enjoying the build-up. I wholeheartedly want that release.

  God, I can’t.

  I pull him to me again. He fixes me with a confused expression. “What is it, Ella?”

  “Nothing,” I breathe. “I want you naked and inside me.”

  He smiles wide. “Hell, I want that too.”

  “You’re still fully dressed,” I point out as I press him back against the mattress. It’s my turn to be on top. He fixes me with such happiness in his eyes, I feel guilty again. But just for a second because I’m giving him pleasure and that’s all I care about — giving him pleasure one last time before I completely shatter him.

  I straddle him and he closes his eyes. I pull up the white T, exposing his hard chest and the tattoo I love so much. He pulls his shirt over his head in a frenzy. I trace my fingers along the curves of his beautiful shoulders, along the lines of his tattoos.

  “I love that,” he says. “When you touch me like that.”

  “I don’t touch you enough. I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’m guilty too,” he says. “We should do this more often.”

  “We should,” I agree, sliding down his legs. I peel off his silky boxers, freeing his erection. I wrap my hand around him and take him in my mouth, as far as I can go. He moans a little too loudly, but I love the sound. I wish I could take him deeper but he’s just so big. I swirl my tongue around him and I shoot him a sly look.

  He throws his head back. “You’re killing me, Ella.”

  I suck harder, wanting to drive him even crazier, wanting him to come in my mouth.

  But he grabs me by the chin and pulls me from him. “Come here.”

  The Gabe I know is back. He rips my camisole over my head and pulls at my bra, unclasping it in a hurry. “God, you’re so beautiful, Ella,” he whispers, his words broken. “I can’t believe we don’t do this every day.”

  “Ditto, babe.” I smile and kiss him again.

  He tears his mouth from mine and travels to my breast, biting me hard.

  I can’t wait anymore.

  My mouth finds his again as I straddle him and rub my sex against his shaft, frantic and lost in his kiss. He bites my bottom lip as he finally sinks into me. I press into him hard — one push, two or three more and I fall apart immediately. And so does he. I don’t think it’s ever been so fast between us.

  I cling to him, not wanting to let go. I want to stay in this moment forever — right now, I don’t quite need to face the future, and the mess that is our lives.

  I study my reflection in the wall length mirror. I’m completely naked, just about to step into the shower. The natural daylight streaming through the window casts a soft flattering light — I look pretty. My skin is fair as always, soft freckles splattered here and there. My shoulders and nose are a shade of pink, sunburned. I’ve tried to be good and lather on sunblock religiously, but despite my best efforts, this happens every summer. Thankfully, the girls and Gabe don’t have this problem.

  I trace my finger along the faint mark on my breast — a soft crescent, like the red tinged mark of a half-drunken bottle of Merlot left on a white tablecloth. He bit me again. Almost as if he knew I’d been a bad girl and deserved to be bitten. And I loved it. I loved the passion we shared. I’m aroused by the memory of our lovemaking. It was so amazing.

  The faint mark on my hip draws my attention too — the strain of my panties when he tried to rip them off tore at my skin. The red line meets the edge of the intricate scrolls framing his name tattooed on my skin. His mark is all over me. And inside me as well… he’s everywhere. I have no clue how I’m supposed to go on without him.

  I turn to the side and study my profile. I’m not quite sure if my pregnancy shows already. There is definitely a small belly, but it’s always been there, ever since I’ve had the girls.

  I hear a quick knock at the door. “Who is it?” I call out, half hoping it’s Gabe. Suddenly the idea of a shower quickie sounds like a lot of fun.

  “It’s Claire-bear.” Her sweet voice brings a smile to my face.

  I slip on my robe and open the door for her. “Hi, Claire.”

  She hugs me, pressing her sweet face against my stomach.

  “Can I go pee?” she asks as she scurries to the toilet. She tinkles as I fiddle with the faucets, trying to figure out the shower and get just the right temperature. It’s always like that when you’re somewhere strange.

  “Can I have a shower too?” she asks, all smiles, looking adorable in her father’s oversized t-shirt. In my haste and distraction, I completely forgot to pack pajamas for her and Chloe.

  “Sure. You can hop in before me. But just five minutes.”

  She peels off the t-shirt and her little star covered underwear. “I’m ready.”

  The sight of her, so adorable and happy, makes me smile, just like it did that fateful day in my walk-in closet, when she wore my pink vintage dress.

  If only we could all go back in time, to that exact moment.

  The moment that changed everything.

  The next day, we venture a little out of our comfort zone, taking the girls on a bike ride with rented bikes. An old-style blue beach cruiser for me, complete with quaint basket and basket rack. It’s very me. Gabe rides a standard mountain bike and Chloe is pleased as pie to be riding a pink sparkly rental. She gets a basket, and a bell too. Claire pouts because she doesn’t get to ride. She’s riding in a trailer, pulled by Gabe. She gets the Queen’s treatment if you ask me. Nestled next to her are our supplies: a beach blanket, lunch cooler, towels and beach toys.

  We explore the waterfront trail which circles the Lake Erie shoreline all around the island. It’s quite breathtaking, taking us through the countryside and past vineyards and marshes. I’m getting quite a workout, but Gabe is always considerate in asking Chloe and I if we’re doing okay. She looks adorable in her hot pink helmet. Her bright smile lights me up.

  We stop by the water for a quick swim and lunch. The cold breeze is refreshing as we peel off our shirts and shorts, exposing our bathing suits. We all dive in, hot and exhausted.

  We pick a pristine spot on beautiful sand dunes to lay out our beach blanket. Starving, I grab all the staples from the cooler; salami and cheese sandwiches, apples, ketchup flavored potato chips, water, juice boxes for the girls, and mini donuts for dessert.

  The girls are itching to go play by the beach, but I insist we all eat first. I’m ravenous as I dig my teeth into my sandwich. Gabe flashes me a sweet smile here and there, and I’m reminded of the night before and how amazing he is. When he smiles at me like that, I can almost forget.

  Almost.

  The girls sit at the water’s edge. We both keep an eye on them. Claire wears her water wings but I know that’s not enough. They’re both wearing their matching polka dot suits, much to Chloe’s dismay. They’re working on yet another masterpiece. Chloe seems to be in charge of fetching the water. And Claire’s hands are busy filling the sand bucket. I love watching them play when they get along.

  As I take in the beautiful scene before me; the blue sky and turquoise waters, I can’t help but think this is a perfect picture.

  “Beautiful day,” Gabe says, almost as if he’s been reading my mind. “Couldn’t get any better than this.”

  I sigh at his words. “It is.”

  We sit in silence for a while, taking it all in.

  “And to think,” he says, turning to me. “We almost fucked it all up.”

  My heart sinks. I don’t need to ask him what he’s talking about — I obviously know. We have our own language, he and I.

  “I don’t know what we were thinking,” he goes on. “We have an amazing life…a perfect family.”

  Every single word cuts me to the core. We do.

  We did.

  I close my eyes, trying to calm myself. I’m breathing too fast again. The open skies seem to close in on me. The remorse is sending me into full panic mod
e.

  I jump up. “I’m going to go watch them more closely,” I say, not quite looking at him.

  “They’re fine.”

  “I know. I just want to say ‘hi’”.

  And with a heavy heart, I sink my feet into the hot sand.

  It’s been said that there’s not too much to do on Pelee Island, but we manage to cram in quite a few activities, and more than a special moment or two.

  We go canoeing in the marshes, all four of us tucked into bright red life jackets. My arms grow tired really quickly, and I remind myself I need to shape up. Gabe does most of the work. He doesn’t need much assistance — he’s all strength and stamina. I enjoy the view. And I’m not just talking about the marsh.

  We eat at the wonderful Anchor & Wheel Inn, and check out the beautiful lighthouse and make our way to the sand spit at the southern tip of the island, and take in a gorgeous sunset. We don’t go for a tour of the famous Pelee Island Wineries because I know that’s not Gabe’s cup of tea. No, that would be more of a Weston thing, I can’t help but think.

  The trip is bittersweet, filled with beautiful moments. I’m the only one who knows this will be our last trip together. And I struggle to keep up the pretense because it’s the least I can do for them.

  Gabe and I have only had sex once. Still, it’s all I can think about on our last day. Because I know that soon, we’ll be back home and he’ll most likely leave me once he knows my secret.

  This will probably our last chance to ever make love, I realize as I tuck myself in the crook of his arm, staring up at the wooden beams overhead. I trail my hand along his bare torso, warming the tip of my fingers against his hot skin.

  Gabe takes my hand in his. “We’ve had a great week, haven’t we?” he asks. “I’m so glad we did this.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Me too,” I say, looking up at him. I sit up and press myself close against the length of his body, smothering him. I want to get as close as I can. I press my lips against his.

  The sound of his laughter vibrates against my mouth. “You’re a frisky little bunny this week,” he breathes. “I like it when you can’t get enough of me.”