Wait, come on; handle this right now! Freshen up and get the heck out of here. Grow up and face the facts—Max isn’t going to come for you. He’s lost his dad and his mom needs him right now. Do I honestly think have a chance to matter to him right now? Besides, how am I ever going to look Nancy in the eyes again? Not after I outright lied to her and everyone in his family. They will never trust me again.
I forced myself to belly up to the sink, look into the mirror, and acknowledge the fact that I totally looked like shit. My hair looked lifeless and greasy, like I hadn’t showered in a week. Huge, dark circles clung under my puffy eyes, and my skin looked a shade paler than usual. With my eyes red and swollen from crying, I looked like I’d suffered the most horrific case of Pink Eye ever. Holy crap, I’m a mess.
I pulled on the corner of the mirror in hopes that a medicine cabinet happened to be hiding behind it. Thank God my instincts were right—I grabbed a brush and tried to make myself look presentable enough. I splashed cold water across my cheeks in an attempt to clear away the tear lines pulling on my skin, maybe even relieve the burning sensation crowding the corners of my eyes.
I thought about my birthday and how hard Max had tried to make it so special. The helicopter ride…Frank was so funny, thinking he knew I’d hate it. Well, actually, he was right. But that sexy limo ride; God, I could’ve gone all the way in the back of that limo. Maybe we should have. If we’d had more time I think we would have. Naw, as much as I wanted Max, I’d probably regret having my first time be in the back of a stretch limousine.
Should I regret being with Max? I don’t think so—no I don’t. Maybe it wasn’t right to do it so soon after his dad died…no, still don’t regret it. It was so intense, and he was so totally perfect.
Why did I leave? Maybe I shouldn’t have. No, I had to—I broke Nancy’s heart with my lie. What choice did I have? I can’t bear the fact that I let her down, and took away any part of her grieving for the death of her husband.
Why hasn’t Max come for me yet? I know I left, but he is supposed to love me. Why isn’t he here? I crushed him. Maybe, he feels it’s really over. Come on, Wilson, give it up, he just lost his father. Wake up. You are not a priority in his life right now.
I stepped back from the sinks and stopped staring into the mirror. I didn’t feel so good. My stomach twisted into knots and my legs felt like they were bricks, loosely stacked, detached from my hips. I tumbled backward and felt my body land heavily on the brown leather sofa. I guess my grunt was loud enough for Nick to hear.
“You okay, Wilson?” Nick asked, tapping on the door.
Suddenly, the familiarity of being in this bathroom when I was rejected by Max, the first time, came flooding back over me. How I watched my tears plop and puddle against the leather cushions. How devastated I was when I thought I’d lost Max, before I even had a chance. How betrayed I felt when Max finally showed up.
This time it was Nick who came looking for me first.
“I’m fine,” I choked.
“When you’re ready, I have your drink,” Nick mumbled against the door.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I got up, determined to stay strong. I pulled my hair away from my face and held it back in a loose ponytail as I rummaged through the vanity and found a rubber band. Today, all I had was a half-assed attempt to look halfway decent as I stretched and looped my hair back. Shit, I still look like hell.
My thoughts melted into the memory of Max and when he came back for me—how his hand swept across my cheek and how, for a flash of time, I was lost in his touch; how desperate his eyes were as he convinced me I wasn’t just a weekend fling for him. The words that tumbled so heavily from his mouth. Our first kiss. Damn, he tasted so good. My butterflies swarmed when he kissed me, and died when I decided to walk away from him today.
Tears swelled in my eyes, pressure built against my chest, and I couldn’t take a breath. Have I come full circle in the cycle of our relationship? To begin here and end up exactly where I started burned harsh against my heart. Goddamn it, I don’t want to own this anymore. Urrgghh, stop it!
I stepped away from the brown leather couch, the mirror, and the sink. I didn’t want to be here anymore. It was over, the past. It was time to pick myself up and move on. Just like every other time I’d been disappointed in my life, my heart rolled up and my head took over. I wanna go to bed. Yeah, maybe I can sleep it off. Nick’s hovering by the door, I just know it—where’s Joanie? God, I wish she was here.
I took a deep breath before I stepped out into the hall. Surprisingly, Nick wasn’t waiting next to the door like I expected. I looked down the hall and saw him sitting on the top step of the staircase. I padded over, sulky as possible. Damn, he didn’t turn around. I watched his slight curls wave as he sat there. I noticed the dark wood and brass fan, huge as a hovering aircraft, swirl above him as it hung from the vaulted beam ceiling. The air circulating across my face and down my arms chilled me to my bones.
“Hey, you,” I said as I plopped down next to him and bumped against his shoulder.
“Well, looks like you’re doing better than I thought. Here,” Nick held out a glass of something deep orange-colored.
“Thanks, I guess I am.” I took a huge swig. I wanted to make sure I could stop the pain burning down my esophagus. Truth be told, I wasn’t any better than before. I was good at faking it, that’s all.
“Hey, better slow down there, you don’t want to drown in mango and berry blend. Besides, you don’t know if I spiked it with vodka,” he smiled.
“Did you?” I almost choked.
“No,” Nick looked down at his hands, “but I brought this in case you wanted me to.” He pulled a flask out from his back pocket.
“You always walk around with a flask in your pocket?” I asked.
“No, just thought you might like something to take the edge off. But if it’s—”
“Just pour a little in here,” I interrupted as I held up my glass.
He poured a few splashes in my drink. I swirled it around with my finger then took a swig.
“Well, how is it?”
“Not bad,” I answered as I stirred the drink with my finger again and held up the glass for him to take a taste. He glanced at the glass then glanced at my finger, dripping with the vodka smoothie. Our eyes met and I felt my cheeks flush crimson. I started to pull my hand away when he caught my wrist, his eyes locked with mine, and in a heartbeat, my finger was in his mouth. I felt his tongue curl and pulsate as he swallowed. Holy shit. My heart skipped and my groin took notice.
He swished his tongue once more on the tip of my finger as he slowly pulled my hand away. My finger dragged across his bottom lip, causing it to roll and pull. I shuddered and felt my eyes burning, unaware that I’d forgotten to blink, and I felt my body react and lean toward him.
“Not half bad,” he said, breaking the trance he had me under. I swallowed hard and he took notice. “Maybe I shouldn’t—I’ll be right back,” he said as he shot up and hopped down the stairs without looking back.
“Oh…well…okay,” I mumbled before I took a massive gulp of my drink to cool the raging desire surging throughout my body. What the hell? What was that? He sucked on my finger. I sat there a minute, replaying the image of what happened and wondering…should I follow him downstairs.
I decided to do what was in my best interest and head to the guest bedroom. I knew that if I followed Nick downstairs I might do something I would regret. I was hurting; pained by the fact that even though Max was grieving the death of his father and the pressures of his family, he hadn’t attempted to contact me.
I set the empty glass of my finger-licking drink on the dresser before I flopped down on the bed and stretched across to grab my phone off the nightstand. I needed to do something to take my mind off Nick and what had just happened between us. I didn’t expect him to be so forward. But at the same time, I didn’t think my body would react the way it did. Part of me, deep
down, liked how he made me feel—the way his mouth closed and sucked the flavor from my skin, how his eyes caught mine and pulled me in, and how sexy it was to feel his mouth tighten on my finger as he pulled it out across his lips.
Stop thinking about it! You just miss Max. Check your phone, maybe he called. I had to talk myself back from the ledge I was standing on, ready to leap into a fantasy I know I shouldn’t have. Besides, I really was hoping the time and space I had given my phone would result in a text or call from Max. Maybe he was able to find a moment, in all his grief, to say he still loves me and that he’ll fight to get me back.
I looked at the screen and my heart somersaulted in my chest: I had missed a call. My arms flushed cold and my hands flooded with damp as I pushed the button to unlock the phone. I struggled to hold back the bubbles from speeding up into my throat and making me gasp for a breath. I knew he loved me and wanted me more than anything.
I looked at the screen, my eyes slightly blurred from the tears that flooded over my lids, pushed okay, and noticed it was a 702 number. My heart crumbled as I dropped the phone on the nightstand. I didn’t know anyone with a 702 area code and I sure as hell wasn’t going to call it back to find out what they wanted. Damn it! I wanted to curl up and dissolve into a dark cave, away from everything.
Where’s Joanie?
I snatched my phone back and texted Joanie. I wanted to know where she was; wanted to know how much longer I had to hold myself together until she was here to sweep me up when I shattered.
J-RU ON UR WAY? I typed the text and pressed send before I dropped the phone next to me. I knew it was safe to text Joanie. I’d be able to communicate with her this way and not crumble into a billion pieces of loss. Just as long as I didn’t hear the tone of her voice or her commiserative inflection when she was trying to make me feel better.
I ran my hands through the back of my hair and pulled out the rubber band that held it off my face. I dragged my fingers through my scalp and caught every tight tangle and loose knot, pulling the hair around the edges of my face. God, it felt so grimy, like my tears had plastered every strand together with my pain. My face was tight with reminiscences of my anguish and my body felt sticky with remorse.
Why couldn’t it have been Max who called me? I wanted him to tell me that we were going to be okay, that we would make it through, and that his mom would find a way to trust me.
My thoughts sailed off into a fantasy of Max fighting for me. I saw Nancy standing in front of him with her arms folded tight across her chest, her green eyes glazed with tears, her chest rising with each shallow breath. I visualized him bending down close to her and whispering through broken words that he needed me, that I was the one he’s been waiting for. He was tired of hurting, tired of living for everyone else’s dream. He told her that he was going to ask me to marry him in June. I saw his muscles tighten as he stretched and shoved his hand into his pocket.
I played the “what if” scenarios in my fantasy. What if she disowns him or turns him into Dean McCallous at Wesley? What if she questions my integrity? My morals? Can he look her in the face and tell her I am worthy of him? That I deserve to be with him?
I felt my phone vibrate by my hip; again my heart somersaulted. It was Joanie, she’d texted me back.
I’M N PALM SPRINGS, NO DIRECT FLIGHTS 2 ASPEN! ABOUT 2 BOARD PLANE. I’LL B THERE SOON! HOW R U DOIN?
Joanie was going to be here sooner than I thought. I felt a building need for her to be with me. I wanted her to save me, make me feel okay, and tell me I’d done the right thing.
NOT GR8, BUT BETR KNOWIN U R ON UR WAY, I texted to her.
GOTTA GO, BOARDING NOW…C U SOON! LUV YA, Joanie texted back.
K LUV U 2, I answered.
I decided to pull myself up by my boot straps and take a shower before Joanie showed up. Maybe it would make me feel better. Truthfully, I needed to get rid of the day, to rinse off the ick that clung and seeped into every cell of my body.
I collected some clothes from my suitcase—my pink, scoop neck cotton t-shirt and a pair of old, dark blue jeans ripped across the thighs. I balled them up under my arm and snatched my makeup bag.
I can do this, stay strong, suck it up. I chanted different words that built the strength in my mind to go back into our bathroom across from the guest bedroom.
I had to shut myself down. I couldn’t think about Max or even Nick. I had to go to the space I know exists within my soul that doesn’t let me feel love or joy, the space that doesn’t burn with sadness or regret. It was the space I found when my mother drove away, the same space I revisited when my grandparents died, and now the same void I felt beginning to occupy me until Joanie got here.
I pushed open the bathroom door and walked through it, avoiding the mirror, sinks, and huge leather sofa. I pushed open the inner door that led to the shower when I realized I was holding my breath. The last time I was in this shower, Max was with me—over a month ago, his lips against my skin, his body cocooned in the water with mine…Stop it! Find the vault and go there. Don’t let go…
I dropped my eyes and focused on the granite floor. Without warning, images of me lying on the huge leather couch, crying, ambushed my thoughts. I wasn’t supposed to be here; I was stronger than this.
I pulled on the oak cabinet and snatched a couple of towels, tossing them on the velvety-taupe chair next to the wraparound entry of the enormous shower. I tugged off my clothes and tossed them in a pile on the floor. I was slipping off my panties and bra when I felt the necklace Max gave me separate and dangle away from my skin. I unclasped it and slid it into the pocket of my makeup bag along with the watch he gave me for my birthday. Immediately, I felt the slight chill in the air caress my skin, as if giving me permission to finally let the bondage of my day melt away.
I adjusted the faucet temperature as hot as I could stand it, and pushed into the jetted streams. The showerheads up and down the brown and tan braided stone walls still sprayed across my body exactly where I remembered them, pulsating everywhere they felt best—across my thighs, stomach, lower back, shoulders, and down my head. The huge, glass brick walls of the shower still rolled and curved, making me feel like I was eons away from any problems.
I let the water find the spaces in my body that needed extra care. The tension in my shoulders began to dissolve, and my thighs rippled with every stream that found a place to belong. The water cascaded down my hair across every bend and curvature of my skin, like hands wiping away the worst of the day, while paying extra attention to the places that needed help awakening the butterflies in my gut.
Urgghh—what am I doing with Nick? He puts his finger in my mouth, and I feel something for him? What’s that all about? Is it okay to feel something for Nick while being in love with someone else? I’ve crossed the line. Things have become too blurry with Nick. What am I going to do now? I don’t do fucking drama. This is the crap other girls do. I never asked for this drama, never. Goddamn it! I want Max here with me. Why did I leave him? What in the hell was I thinking?
My heart began to thump, hard. It was loud in my ears as tears spilled emphatically from my eyes and I felt my knees weaken. Max and I lied to his family together, and I wasn’t strong enough to be there for him. His father died and I just walked away; left him. I left. But why did he let me leave? He let me just walk away.
I lost my breath and started to sob. The rain of the shower mixed with my tears and I became lost. Who have I become? I pushed the back of my legs against the granite bench and slid down to sit. I bent forward and pushed the top of my head in the pulsating stream of water, hoping it would wash away everything I couldn’t get out of my mind.
I don’t know why I thought I could take a shower in this bathroom and not think about Max. Was I really strong enough to keep every feeling regarding him at bay? I guess not. So much for the vault. I somehow found the strength to switch off the water and wrap myself in the towels I had waiting. I gathered all my clothes and hurried across the hall. I just want
ed to get back to my room.
I peered out the bathroom door, making sure the coast was clear, before I darted across to the guest bedroom wrapped in a towel. I shoved the door open and tossed my clothes on the bed. I adjusted my towel and was just beginning to dry off when I heard someone clear his throat. I spun toward the window in time to see his eyes bounce to the floor.
“Oh my God, what are you doing in here Nick?” I demanded as I tightened the towel around my torso. “Shit, you scared me half to death.” My heart thrashed in my chest. Chills rippled down the flesh of my arms and legs, and I felt my knees wobble.
“I’m sorry, I just came in here to check on you and I heard your phone ringing,” Nick explained.
“Well, ahh, I’m fine…and totally naked. But I guess you can see that. I just thought I’d take a shower. I texted Joanie earlier and…well, ummm…she’s on her way from Southern California. That’s where her parents live, you know.” Words tumbled awkwardly out of my mouth as I readjusted the towel around my body.
“I know, I just talked to her,” he said holding up my phone, his eyes fixed. He was working hard not to drop his stare lower than my chin.
“What are you doing with my phone?” I reached out while trying to hold the towel up with my other hand.
“Well, when I came up to check on you, I heard it ringing. I was going to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop ringing. When I walked over and checked it, I saw that it was Joanie, so I answered it,” he said, almost in a whisper.
“Nick—”
“I’m sorry, Wilson. I just thought, if she was calling you that many times, maybe she had something really important she needed to tell you. Thought maybe she’d have some advice for me, so I could help you. I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he said as he inched closer to me, holding out my phone.
“I’m not upset, just a little shocked that you’re in here…and you just saw me totally naked and all,” I answered him before I snatched my phone.
“I’m sorry, Wilson,” Nick repeated a couple of times before he started walking out.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 46
