Sometimes Moments

by Len Webster

  Her heart was split on whether or not she loved what they did. It wasn’t like last time. There were too many things unsaid, things that hadn’t been expressed. Each time he looked her in the eyes as he entered her, there was a flash of an apology.

  But then she came. And he came. Almost together, a fraction off from a perfect unison. It was like he needed to see more than just her eyes when he shouted her name one last time before he collapsed on top of her. It didn’t help that she softly begged him not to stop as she dug her nails into his wrists. She wanted to touch him more. More than just his wrists and arms. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow herself more. She needed the tattooed cherry blossoms under her fingertips as he filled her. Cherry blossoms gave her hope for the truth. He’d said it himself. They were a symbol of her for him.

  Peyton continued to stroke the tattoo of her name on him. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Wasn’t sure who she was in this moment. So she let her eyelids fall, trying to rekindle the hate she had for him. It was still there. It lingered. Not quite touching her heart’s surface.

  “Please say something, Peyton.”

  His soft plea had her opening her eyes to stare into the grey ones that had undone her all over again.

  “Why didn’t you just—”

  “I couldn’t,” he said, interrupting her.

  The way his lips formed a frown had Peyton wanting to touch hers to his. She wanted to take away the pain, the guilt, and the secrets. But she knew it herself. She couldn’t set him completely free. That was all him. She could only get him so far.

  I love you, Peyton.

  She tensed at the thought. He’d said it. Twice. Never in the space of their relationship had he ever said those words to her. She didn’t trust the words he’d breathed against her ear as he’d found a slow rhythm that connected them in the most intimate of ways. She felt and heard her heart die inside her chest. The denial that she didn’t love him was ultimately crushed. They were right. They all were. She was still in love with him.

  “We should go,” he said, shifting under her and attempting to pull out.

  But Peyton gripped his wrist tighter. Her mind had finally succumbed to her heart’s persuasion. Her brain had betrayed the rest of her.

  I need him to stay. Right here. Enough to let me have this before he takes it away. I need these sometimes moments.

  He turned his head and stared at the way her hands wrapped around his wrist before he met her glance.

  Peyton blinked and she breathed out. “Okay,” she replied, not really sure how these after-sex chats go.

  “It’s been a while for me, Peyton, but I swear I’m clean.”

  She nodded and relaxed her grip on his arms. Slowly, her thumb followed the branches of his tattoo. Once she circled the petals of a cherry blossom, he flinched, slightly thrusting inside her. A soft gasp escaped her lips at the surprise movement.

  Don’t turn this into anything more, Peyton. You know what happens. He leaves. You stay. Don’t make this more. Make it a now.

  “Peyton, I can’t be inside you like this. It shouldn’t have been this way. I don’t want to end up fucking you when you don’t deserve that,” Callum said as he slowly pulled out and removed himself from on top of Peyton’s body.

  Peyton sat up then reached for her clothes. Without a word, they both dressed themselves. Callum’s back was towards her, and she noticed the flames of the fire dance against his skin. Peyton reached for her boots, unsure of exactly when he’d taken them off her. The moment their lips had met, her traitor brain hadn’t responded. Next she slipped them on and then her coat.

  She crossed her legs and stared at the fire, not really sure what to say. The last time they’d made love, she’d lain in his arms until almost sunrise. Before they had packed up their things, he had dressed her and made her feel cherished. But this time, Peyton felt cheap and not of standard. She hung her head in shame and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “How long has it been for you, Peyton?” he asked.

  She turned to face him. His body was tense as he waited. “Don’t worry. I’m clean, too, Callum.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking,” he said. “I could tell.”

  He could?

  Peyton uncrossed her arms and let her hands fall to her lap. “How long has it been for you?” she asked, stalling.

  “Months,” he answered.

  Her heart burned and then plunged. He had been with other women since her. She had known that, but it hurt to hear. Somewhere inside her, the old Peyton sobbed. The same Peyton who believed they would be forever.

  “I need to hear you say it, Peyton. I need you to tell me that you’ve had others. I need you to say it. I need to hear it.”

  And there it was. The same voice. The same desperation. The same way he’d said that he loved her.

  Peyton stood up and took a deep breath. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she gazed out past the trees. Tonight wasn’t what she’d expected. She definitely hadn’t thought her resilience would break and she’d sleep with him.

  “Would you rather I lie to you, Callum? I’m not the liar here.” Peyton’s focus shifted down to see him staring at the small fire. It was like his eyes flashed with every single fear that he had. His frown was one she didn’t like to see.

  “I haven’t lied to you, Peyton.”

  She balled her hands. “No. You just don’t tell me the truth.”

  Callum reached over, took the bottle of water that was next to the pit, and poured it over the fire. Peyton watched the fire extinguish and stepped off the blanket in time for Callum to pick it up off the ground.

  He faced her. “The moment that I decided to come back to Daylesford, my intentions were to never sleep with you, Peyton. As I drove into town, I hoped you were with someone. The love of your life. Anyone. I didn’t care who. I just wanted you to be unavailable to me. When I saw that ring, I was relieved. I was also jealous. But I was relieved because it meant I couldn’t touch you. I don’t lie to you, Peyton. I never have. I’ve kept things, but I haven’t lied. I have never lied.”

  She pressed her lips together before she breathed out heavily. It was time to have the what-you-said-during-sex talk.

  “When did you say those words?” she asked.

  “I’ve said it three times in my life,” he said and walked past her.

  Peyton quickly turned around and saw him walking up towards the hotel. “Three?” she called out, and he stopped.

  He turned around and gripped the blanket tighter in his hand. “The first time was when you were sick in bed. I told you that I loved you and you said that you loved Mrs West’s cat. But you also said that you were sure you were in love with me. The second time was when you were in hospital. I was sure you were okay when I said it to you, but you quickly passed out. And the last time I said them was in the car as I left this town. But there was a fourth time. The night I packed up my things, your dad saw us load the cars.”

  Her heart halted silently.

  My dad.

  Peyton took two steps forward and asked, “What did you say to him?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. Without a blink, Callum said, “I’m in love with your daughter, Mr Spencer. I love her enough to do this to her.”

  Her eyelids fluttered quickly at him. Her father had known that Callum was leaving. He’d kept it from her. Callum had confessed his love to her father but never her. He’d been a coward then just as he was now.

  “You obviously didn’t love me enough, Callum. Love isn’t hurting someone like you did. Love isn’t what you’ve done or been doing for over four years.” Peyton paused. “Tonight was a mistake. Holding hope you’d come back was a mistake. Being with you at seventeen was a mistake. Loving you, Callum, is a mistake!”

  He didn’t flinch. It was like he had expected it. He gave her a sad smile before he said, “Thank you.”

  Madilynne: I hate you. I hate you so much!

  Peyton: Wh
at for this time?

  Madilynne: Because I have to return to that stupid town!

  Peyton: So I’m guessing that you haven’t left yet.

  Madilynne: No. I’ve packed and unpacked several times. Since we’re best friends, would you just give me the recommendation for my resume?

  Peyton: You know I would.

  Madilynne: And that is why I love you. But word spread quickly. My folks know that I’m coming home. Can’t run now. I’ll see you in a few days. Be a good girl until then.

  Peyton locked her phone and put it in her jacket pocket. She could last a few days until her best friend came back to Daylesford. By the time Mads returned, Peyton would be busy with prepping the hotel for reopening and for the Reynolds’ wedding. She’d be too busy to deal with Callum.

  Peyton’s shoulders sagged and she let out a sigh. The soreness between her legs didn’t help with forgetting him. Neither did the revelation that he had somehow loved her when they were seventeen. Not now. But then. It was Peyton who loved him now and then.

  Shaking her head, she opened the front door and stepped outside, closing it behind her. She immediately hugged the jacket around her tighter. It was bitterly cold out and fog was in the air. She smiled, knowing just how beautiful the lake would look.

  Peeking up, she stared at the Reid house. She’d been stupid to sleep with him, only because it meant more self-inflicted pain. After Callum had said, “Thank you,” he hadn’t said anything else. Instead, he’d walked her home. It had been different from their last night. When they were seventeen, it had taken them almost an hour for Peyton to sneak back into her room. They had sat under the cherry blossom tree until he’d decided it was best that she got back inside before her parents had discovered she’d snuck out.

  I have to stay away.

  The temptation to walk up to the house across the road swept through her. She wanted to speak to him. She also wanted to feel his lips on her again. Feel him close to her. But she couldn’t. The safe word had to be said out loud. Last night had been the ending. Nothing more.

  Peyton slipped her hands into her jacket pockets and quickly walked down the steps. She needed to get to the lake and fast. There was no time to dwell on Callum Reid. She had already spent four and a half years doing so.

  By the time she got to the bench, the lake was clear. She sat down and stared out at the lake, loving the way the fog didn’t touch the water’s surface. Instead, it rolled over, allowing the lake water to have its own space to breathe. One of the many reasons why she loved Daylesford. It was beautiful. There was no denying it.

  Reaching into her pocket, Peyton pulled out her phone to check the time and the date. She wasn’t imagining the date. It was the first Monday of the month and just after eight a.m.; Graham was never late. Peyton was never the first on the bench. It was always Graham who was there waiting for her. With a victorious smile, she settled onto the bench and waited.

  After almost an hour had passed, Peyton unlocked her phone and brought up Graham’s number. She looked over at the hotel, knowing that she was keeping Jenny, the hotel’s operations manager, waiting. With a deep breath, she called Graham.

  “Hi, Graham Scott here. Can’t make it to the phone. Leave your details and I’ll get back to you.”

  Peyton hung up and tried again.

  And again.

  And again.

  The fourth time, she placed her phone on her lap and ran her hands over her face. Graham was never one to skip their tradition. Even when he was sick, he still made it.

  Don’t be so paranoid, Peyton. It’s not what you think. You’re not losing Graham.

  But then again, he’s never missed any of my calls.

  She moved her hands from her face and stared out at the lake. The thought of losing Graham killed Peyton inside. She couldn’t lose him. She loved him. She knew she did. That’s why when he gave her the promise ring, she said yes. She looked at the faint tan line on her finger where the ring had once sat.

  The screen of her phone lit up and caught her attention. Without a single thought, Peyton quickly answered her phone.

  “Graham,” she said, relieved that he had called her back. She had known that he hadn’t forgotten.

  “You called,” he said, sounding bothered by her.

  Peyton flinched. “It’s the first Monday of the month.”

  She heard him sigh before the line went quiet. Her eyes followed the roll of the fog on the lake as she waited for him.

  “Honestly, Peyton, I don’t want to look at you let alone talk to you on the phone. I’m hung over.”

  No.

  Peyton let out a strangled sound. It was a sound she tried to suppress, but it escaped her. Her eyes stung as she held the phone tighter.

  “It’s Monday, Graham,” she said, her voice betraying her. It made her appear weak.

  She heard him take a sharp breath in. “You told Jay that I’d understand, but I don’t. We’re best friends. You could have just told me. I didn’t have to hear it from Jay. Right now, I’m disappointed in you. Let me be mad at you, Peyton. Just this one time, let me be mad. I’m sorry.” Before he let her respond, Graham hung up.

  Peyton slowly removed the phone from against ear and stood up from the bench. She looked at the screen, hoping he’d call her back and say that it was a joke. But he didn’t.

  Graham Scott had officially broken tradition.

  A cup was placed in front of Peyton. She stared at it until she looked up to see Jenny frowning at her. Besides her aunt and uncle, Jenny was like a second mother, making sure Peyton never missed meals, always went to school, and always kept focus. While she had completed her bachelor, Jenny Fields had managed the hotel with Aunt Brenda and Uncle John.

  “You seem like you need it,” Jenny said, sitting on the seat in front of Peyton’s desk.

  Peyton gave her operations manager a tight smile—one that Jenny squinted and shook her head at. Then Jenny pushed back her auburn hair over her shoulders and sighed. Jenny was the same age as Peyton’s mother. Forty-six. But unlike Jenny, Cindy Spencer had only made it to forty-two.

  “Thanks,” Peyton said as she moved the folder to the pile and reached over for the cup of coffee. Picking it up, she stared at the light-brown liquid that was inside.

  It was Wednesday and she still hadn’t spoken to Graham. He never called. Never texted. But she’d let him be mad at her.

  “What’s on your mind, Peyton?” Jenny asked. Her light-blue eyes filled with concern.

  “I’m running a hotel. Between new bookings and a new business plan, I’m… I don’t know. Some days, I just think this place would have been better in your hands and not mine,” Peyton confessed.

  Jenny’s facial features softened. “This is yours now, Peyton. I know it’s a lot sooner than you or your parents would have liked, but it’s yours. I’m always here to help you,” Jenny assured.

  Peyton saddened. Jenny was just like her—staying in Daylesford because of responsibilities and loyalty. And she regretted the fact that she’d held Jenny back. Peyton put her coffee down and pulled the drawer open, taking out a large envelope.

  “This is why you have to do this for me,” Peyton said, handing the envelope to Jenny.

  “What is it?”

  “Orientation papers for the Park Hyatt in the city. I called in a few favours from June; with her uncle being Park Hyatt’s HR manager and my recommendations, she was able to get you the managerial position they had open,” Peyton explained.

  The disbelief washed over Jenny’s face as she opened the envelope and took out the papers. Peyton sat and waited. She would be losing a valuable employee, but Jenny’s dreams were more important than the hotel or the town. Only some were able to leave, and Jenny should be one of them. The hotel was losing a great asset, but Peyton didn’t mind.

  Jenny stood up and placed the envelope papers on the desk. “I love this hotel, Peyton. It’s no Park Hyatt, but it’s something special. I wish you’d see that. You’re doing well. Y
our parents would be proud of what you’ve achieved for this place. I’m proud of you. Tell June I said thanks and I can’t wait for her new album, but I’m not leaving you or this hotel.”

  A knock on the office door had Jenny stepping aside. Peyton stood up to see a man in a pair of cargo pants and dark-blue shirt holding a clipboard.

  “I’m looking for Miss Spencer?” he said and smiled at both women.

  Peyton walked around the desk towards him. “That’s me. How can I help you?”

  He tipped his head at her. “I have the wooden frames and planks for the dance floor. I have the rest of the boys with me to start digging into the dirt and putting them up.”

  “Right,” Peyton said with a nod. “How about you get them to start unpacking everything you need and I’ll show you where we’re building it all.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Spencer,” he said, tucking the clipboard under his arm.

  “It’s Peyton,” she corrected.

  “And I’m Nigel. I’ll get the utes unloaded,” he said and walked towards the front door.

  Peyton felt relieved. She finally had things under control. Over the past few days, she’d worked on a new business plan that meant incorporating more of the community into the hotel. But that part of the plan would take some time.

  “See? You handled that perfectly,” Jenny said from behind her.

  Peyton turned around and smiled. “I guess so.”

  Jenny stepped forward and looped her arm through Peyton’s. “Let’s go see if we can’t find you a tradie husband.”

  Peyton let out a laugh and shook her head. “I’m good.”

  “Because Callum’s back in town?”

  Peyton tensed next to Jenny. “He’ll be gone soon,” she said.

  “And you don’t want him to go?”

  “I didn’t want him to leave the first time. But that doesn’t matter. Callum is nothing to me. Shall we go out to the cabins? I’d love to show you my plans for some of them.”

  “First, the tradies,” Jenny said, excitement in her voice clear.

  “You’re old enough to be their mother!”