Ian’s words make me lose it. I’m completely failing at the adult keep your composure rule. I know my tears are going to cause a few steps back for Pippa, but I’m fighting emotion that I just cannot keep quiet anymore.
“Kissy, why are you crying?” Pippa turns to me and places her tiny little nose against mine.
“I’m sorry, baby. I am trying to be strong for you, but I miss your mommy too.” I sniffle and wipe my nose with my sleeve. Don’t judge. “And I know you miss her, too, sweetie. So maybe you and I . . . maybe we can miss her together, and we can tell stories and help each other be okay. How does that sound?”
In her little mind, it sounds okay. The child consoling the adult. She wipes the tears off my face and squeezes my cheeks not so lightly. “Don’t be sad, Kissy. Mommy always said when I was sad, alls I had to do was to think of something happy and pretty. I’m thinking about the color pink right now. Maybe you can too.”
I love this girl.
“Good, baby, I’m glad. I’ll do that too.”
I grab her into the biggest bear hug I can muster and hug her until I feel like I never want to let her go. When I eventually release her, Ian steps in and proclaims it’s bedtime. Following his lead, I move to stand, but he mouths, I got it.
I give Pippa the ultimate princess kiss, which she giggles endlessly about, and Ian carries her off to bed.
It’s the image of Amy’s ghost following them from the room that causes my smile to drop and the reminder of loss to rise.
WHILE IAN PUTS PIPPA down, I go and get ready for bed. I wash the sadness and smeared makeup off my face and change into a T-shirt of Ian’s that he left lying around. I snuggle into the guest bedroom that I’ve been calling home for the past almost two weeks.
I’ve already laid my head down when I hear the creaking of the door open and close. I lift my head to see Ian walking toward the bed.
“Is she down?” I ask as he makes it to my side of the bed and sits.
“She is. She’s a strong kid. She’ll get through this.” He lifts his hand to brush the side of my cheek. “How are you doing?’ he asks, trying to be gentle with me.
“I’m okay,” I reply. “I just feel foolish. I’m supposed to be the adult here and I can’t even keep it together long enough to try and help console a child.” Makes me feel defeated.
Ian climbs into bed and pushes me onto my back. “You did great with her. She listens to you. You both are doing as well as anyone could expect.”
“How well should I be doing? I’m a total failure as a sister and a complete nitwit as an aunt. I can’t even help Pippa understand her dreams.”
“Chris, stop. Stop worrying so much about this. You are both grieving. Just in your own ways. She’s four. She’s confused.”
“Yeah and I’m twenty-six and have been absent. I haven’t been here for Pippa. She doesn’t even know me. I don’t even know me.”
“Hey.” He fights my hands away from my weeping face. “Hey, stop it.”
“I was never here, Ian. I was never around to know. I didn’t know Amy was married. I didn’t know she had a daughter. I am sick with guilt. And hate. And I don’t know what to do with all that.” I stare at him with clouded eyes, urging him to tell me it’s okay. But I know he can’t.
“You just have to let the guilt go.”
“Well, I can’t. How do I live with this? With what’s happened. How do I go on knowing what a horrible person I am? How do I continue to live when two great people died?”
He climbs fully on top of me and threads his fingers into mine. “Christina Daniels, I swear if you say one more crazy thing I will . . . I will do something. Amy never thought badly of you. She didn’t hate you.”
“She didn’t?”
“She talked about you endlessly. How she missed you. How she wondered if you still liked pickle sandwiches. There would be times when we would all be hanging out doing something and she would just blurt out, ‘Chrissy would love this.’ Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Amy loved you. And she knew deep down you loved her. She never forgave herself for what happened. She knew why you left and she accepted it. She accepted it because she owed you that much. She knew you did what you had to do.” He stops to swipe at the endless tears streaming down my face. “She loved you, Chris. I know you haven’t heard that or think that. But she did. You were still her little sister. Whether you were present or not. She made you Pippa’s guardian, for God’s sake.”
Because she had to plan on possibly dying.
I break down in Ian’s arms. I cry. And I cry and I cry for every moment I missed with my sister. I cry because I wish our lives were different. I wish we were granted normal childhoods with two present, normal parents. I wish our lives weren’t so hard and struggle wasn’t the main word in my adolescent vocabulary. I cry because I miss her. I miss her stories. Her laughter. Her dreams. Ian holds me as I let it all out, wishing to be swallowed into his embrace and away from all this sadness.
In time, the pain eases and the crying fades. I eventually loosen my tight grip on Ian’s chest and pull away. I lift my head and take in those beautiful green eyes that have always turned my world on its axis. I reach forward and place a simple kiss on his lips. I pull away and watch his eyes flutter back open and connect with mine.
“I need you to make love to me,” I beg. I need his warmth, his comfort and, most importantly right now, his love.
He doesn’t answer. But he does oblige. He brings his mouth back down to mine and our lips connect in an all-powerful kiss that sends my insides quivering. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I hold on for dear life, afraid that this part of my fairy tale will disappear. Ian kisses me slowly, with passion and meaning. He kisses me with something that he knows I need. Love.
“I’ll always be here for you, Chris. Always. I’ll always protect your heart.” He gives me all that’s in his soul, and I kiss him back just as eagerly in return.
“Make love to me, please. I need you,” I beg him again, meeting his steady gaze. My heart stops at the look in his beautiful green eyes.
“I love you. I’ve always loved you,” he says. His eyes are gleaming with honesty and truth.
“I love you, too. I’ve never stopped,” I admit because it’s the truth. I’ve gone through life seeking material things just to mask the things I really need. My real desires. That has always been Ian. The nights I closed my eyes and all I saw was him. His voice. His scent. His eyes.
Ian and I make the sweetest kind of love that night. With unspoken words so gentle but oh, so powerful that they could blow a person off their feet. We slowly undress one another and the moment he buries himself inside me, I know this is it for me.
It was always Ian for me. I belong to him as much as he belongs to me.
I FEEL HUNG OVER. And not the ‘I partied like an animal’ hung over. This one is purely emotional. An emotional hangover is an actual thing, too. Per the Internet, it’s the feeling you wake up with in the morning after an emotional breakdown the night before. Totally legit. Pinkie promise. Hey, if comes from the land of the World Wide Web, it’s hands down the truth.
I know my eyes are going to be puffy and my body sore, but only one is due to my hangover. The soreness is definitely due to Ian and his magical moves.
I’m face down on my pillow when I feel Ian’s fingers skimming low on my back, just above my butt cheeks. Back and forth, he’s succeeding in raising goose bumps all over my skin. I know his goal is to get me to turn over. I, on the other hand, fight the urge since I know I look like hell.
The buzzing of my phone has me grabbing for it on the nightstand. Go figure, when the lawyer finally calls me back it’s when Ian is well within earshot. I’m relieved when I see Lexi’s goofy face pop up on my screen. Swiping to answer, I place it to my ear and mumble. “Hello?”
“‘Sup ‘sup, biotch! You don’t call, don’t write?”
Man, even her voice chirping is hurting my emotionally hungover ears. Her over-
the-top perky singing also gets Ian’s attention. As in, he wants to see how long I last giving my attention to the phone call.
Trying to stay focused, I ask, “Why are you yelling?” mumbling halfway into the pillow, half into the phone.
“Girlfriend, I’m not. I’m just in a good mood. Got lucky last night and thought maybe I would call and share.”
At get lucky, Ian swipes the covers off me and bends forward, placing small wet kisses down my spine. It’s hard not to moan instinctively; it’s becoming my go-to reaction when he touches me.
“Dude, what the fuck was that noise?” Lexi questions into the phone.
“What noise?” I’m trying to stay on track. Ian makes it to my right cheek and takes a healthy love bite out of my butt. I let out a semi-squeal/semi-moan.
“That noise.” Lexi is all over it. “Are you moaning?”
“Me? No . . . ohhhh . . . no.” Yep, I moan. Let’s face it. Ian’s winning this one.
“Oh, my God, Christina Daniels, are you doing something sexual right now? Like with a guy?” She squeals out that last part. “You so are, aren’t you! You dirty bird, you. Dude, put me on speakerphone right now!”
God, my friend is such a perv.
Just as Lexi blurts out her demand, Ian dips between my cheeks from behind. His laughter at Lexi’s comment, which he heard since she’s yelling, sends his laughter vibrating between my legs.
“Put her on speaker. Let’s see how long you can last.” Ian hums while he works.
Lexi’s swearing all sorts of madness in the phone. “Wait, is that him talking? Like the ex? He sounds superhot. Speakerphone me now, biotch.”
Oh, fuck it. I swipe speaker and lay the phone on the pillow. I squirm out of Ian’s hold and flip onto my back to give him proper access to my goods. Shockingly, they’re pulsing, waiting to be devoured. You’d think they needed a time out after last night, but nope. Alive and waiting.
“Dude, hottie ex, what’s up? Whatcha doing right now to my friend, ey?” Lexi’s blunt questions send my cheeks to the color spectrum of rose red.
“Oh, my God, Lexi, shut up,” I groan through my hands covering my face.
“You’re so kind to ask, Lexi.” Ian purrs her name. That scandalous bastard. He knows he’s totally messing with her. “I’m about to get a hearty breakfast from your lovely friend here.”
“Holy shit.” I can hear her breathe in and out. “Hottie ex, do you have a brother?” she asks and we both laugh. Ian gives me the most devilish grin in existence and it looks like he is done talking and ready to start eating. He bends forward and places his mouth to the golden egg.
Oh, come on. My goods are precious.
“Wow, I can’t believe you’re finally getting some. I can’t wait to totally rub this one in BTD’s face.”
Oookay!
Her comment causes me to totally flinch, smacking my snatch into Ian’s nose.
“Shit,” I hear him grunt as he grabs his nose. I take this opportunity to dive at my phone and get it off speakerphone faster than Cinderella running at the stroke of midnight.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I try and reach for Ian as I scramble off the bed.
“What did you do that for?” his muffled question is barely heard while I jump off the bed.
“I’m sorry. Just . . . um . . . nothing, I don’t know. I have to take this call.” He looks completely bewildered. But it’s okay because I’m acting like a crazy person right now. I blow him a kiss and scurry my naked self the feck into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Dude, what the hell just happened?” Lexi belts out. “It sounded like that shit was just about to get good.”
“You mentioned BTD, that’s what happened,” I whisper into the phone, worried Ian might overhear.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I guess mentioning your fiancé would kinda kill the mood.” She laughs.
“He’s not my fiancé,” I inform her.
“Okay, sure he’s not—wait, what?!” she screeches.
Oops, I guess I’ve been so busy playing house, I completely forgot to call and mention my little life-status update. It’s like if you don’t inform Facebook, it’s not fully legit.
“Okay, so yep, all your dreams have come true. I dumped BTD, because he was exactly what you pegged him to be which was BTD.”
“OMG, you hoe. How? Why? When? Blahhh!” She’s fumbling over her own words.
“Well, before I left I tried to break it off. I knew it wasn’t what I wanted. Brent wouldn’t take no for an answer so he told me to take a break until I got back. A couple nights ago I had a semi-breakdown and decided to go home and officially cut ties when I found Brent preoccupied with . . . I believe you called them hoe bangers. Pretty much told him to get herpes and die, and the rest is history. I came back here, expressed my love to my ex, who you now know as Ian, and have been shacking it up Jerry McGuire style since.”
I wait for her response.
And nothing
“Hello?”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“Nope. All truth.”
“So no more BTD?”
“No more BTD. Like history. He’s like the day-old sushi that no one but the trash will touch.”
“Sick and who eats day-old sushi?”
“Right!”
“Oh, girl, I’m so proud of you. You owe me more details later, but I’m proud of you. You were too good for that douche. And you actually sound happy. So, this Ian’s the one, huh?”
I sigh. “He is.”
“Shit. My girl’s in love.”
Sigh again. “I am.”
“So what’s up with work? When you coming home? Shit, are you coming home?”
A question I just can’t answer. “I . . . I . . . I don’t know, to be honest.”
“That serious, huh?”
“Yeah. I think it might be.” This damn question is like a monkey hanging on my back, but instead of just being a pest, it’s strangling me. It’s the question inquiring minds are just begging to know. And one I cannot answer. I have a life back home and a job that I’ve worked my high-class tail off to earn. I just can’t see myself letting it all go. But on the flipside, I can’t see myself leaving any of what I’ve started here behind. Again.
“Babe, it’s okay. You need to do what makes you happy.”
That’s why I love my Lex.
“How has the gallery show been?” I ask because I really do miss it.
“It’s fine, actually. Cornelius is a pain, as always, but I seem to be pleasing Alfonzo. He’s taken a fancy to me, so his professional needs are being met, which means Cornelius is happy. So all is good in the land of Art.”
It feels like a tiny little kick that the place is running just fine without me, but Lexi is as talented as I was. Am. Not that she wouldn’t be great if someone needed to step in to fill my place permanently.
If I plan on not returning.
If that’s what I decide.
Because I have options.
And I may be staying in never-never land forever and ever.
I can hear the house coming to life with Ian and Pippa, so I wrap up the call and ask Lexi the hugest favor—going over to Brent’s and snatching my stuff. She doesn’t even flinch before she completely agrees to the onerous task of a visit to BTD’s.
“I even promise not to trash anything,” Lexi’s says before she hangs up.
An audible sigh leaves my lips as I rest my head against the bathroom door. It’s hard to grasp just how much my life has changed in such a short time. I blanch now at the thought of me actually going through with marrying Brent. Speaking of Brent and engagements, I should tell Ian.
I need to tell Ian.
I am going to tell Ian. Just as soon as I get the courage to.
Mental note to self: find lots of courage.
I NEVER KNEW HOW much fun not partying and acting like a snobby socialite could truly be. And that’s because I’m having the BWE, aka Best Weekend Ever. Named. Hashtagged, and total
ly Wikipedia-ing this.
For starters, on Saturday morning, Ian makes us green eggs and ham for breakfast. Add a side of awesome sauce when he puts a steaming cup of joe in front of me. Pure heaven.
Next, since I have to ditch the word ‘shit,’ I’m stoked to discover my new favorite phrase.
My new jam is ‘hot diggity dog.’ My official new slam phrase. And it goes with everything if you just change the tone; hooray! I fall on my face? Hot diggity. Something great happens? Hot diggity! I’m totally staring at Ian’s tight, scrumptious ass while he serves up breakfast? Hot-hot-hot diggity!
See. It all works. RIP potty mouth. There’s a new vocab in town.
Breakfast completed, we spend the morning entertaining Pippa, granting her every request. Well, not every. Ian balks at the idea of her dressing him up as Ariel while we watch The Little Mermaid. We vote, but I guess it technically isn’t fair since it’s two against one. Duh. I, of course, side with Pippa on this one. Regrettably, the look on Ian’s face tells me to pick my battles. I give in and assist in rerouting her little mind to building a fort instead.
Pippa’s on one side of me, Ian on the other, as we lie underneath a sketchy blanket fort being held up by a mop, a vacuum and some table lamps.
With good reason to race out of my adolescence, growing up was the best thing to happen for me. But watching life through the eyes of Pippa makes me yearn to reclaim my lost childhood. I guess the theory stands true no matter what path we take. And it’s that we focus so much on growing up just to become adults that we completely forget how much fun it is to just be a kid. And why is it that the second we are grownups we want nothing but to be young again? We always assume life is greener on the other side. It’s like a sickness built within all of us. Look, even Ariel sold the most precious thing, her voice, to get a taste of the other side of life!
Even more important, why are cartoon characters always so dreamy when you’re a kid? I mean I seriously wanted to marry Prince Eric and have all his babies when I was, like, seven.
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 13
