The Breakup

by Erin McCarthy

  When I finally shook my hair fully out of my way and blinked, I turned around and held my hands out to take the dress. I wanted to drape it over the chair to preserve it as much as possible. But I forgot how to speak when I saw the look on Christian’s face. He had the dress in his hands but his eyes were on me. His nostrils were flaring, his eyes sweeping over me. He was backing up, taking slow steps away from me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Was he running away from me? He looked turned on, but where the hell was he going? This was where I was a sexual failure. I couldn’t get a read on him.

  “I’m stepping back to get a better view. I want to fully appreciate the perfection that I’m seeing.”

  My breath hitched. “Oh.” I tried to think of something to say. I was such a good flirt generally speaking and good at receiving compliments. But I had dated guys who were respectful, sweet, charming. Well, at least they had pretended to be. Christian was so raw. He didn’t hide his lust. He let me see the full force of his desire. The hot, pulsing blaze of passion. It left me speechless and wet. At least my body knew what to do even if my brain didn’t.

  I decided to treat the moment like a photo shoot for social media. Hand on hip, body slightly turned, one knee bent. Christian growled. It was an actual growl. He looked like he wanted to eat me. My face flamed, but damn it, I felt sexy. Appreciated. “Should I turn around in a circle?” I asked, finding my flirt. I used my hand to rake through my hair and shake it out over my shoulders.

  “Only if you want to.”

  I was just wearing a basic white lace thong and a strapless bra. My overnight bag had the slutty lingerie I had bought for the wedding night to tease and entice. But even though this was more functional than seductive I felt sexy. Not beautiful. Sexy. That was a fun and refreshing feeling. So I pivoted on my heels, making sure I followed through with my head over the shoulder. I laughed a little, because I felt so free.

  Christian came toward me. Stalking me, really. I’d never seen that kind of an expression on a man’s face. It was so dominant, so base, so feral. I should have been scared, but it was actually arousing. My nipples hardened under my bra, goosebumps ran over my mostly bare skin. I had thought he would be gentle, coaxing me to a new sexual understanding.

  Instead he put a hand under my butt and hauled me against him. We collided with a hard smack, then suddenly I was up in the air, head and hair coming forward over his shoulder. I was too startled to do anything other than gasp. Everything I had was rubbing against all of his hardness as he walked across the room. My chest was pressed into his shoulder, my clit brushing over his belt buckle. I even liked his arm under my ass. Crazy, just absolutely bizarre that I would enjoy being manhandled. It made me blush, which made my whole body warm. Especially there. A hot ache had settled deep into my pussy and I didn’t even know what to think or to do with that. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking of my vagina as a pussy. I never felt wild enough or in tune with it enough to use that term.

  Then I was falling backward before I could have any further thoughts. I let out a shriek as I sailed through the air, scared. But I landed almost immediately with a soft thump on a mattress. I was splayed on the bed in the corner. I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I stared up at him. Christian moved over on top of me, but kept his weight off me. His arms were propped on either side of my chest and he bent down and kissed me.

  Maybe I had dreamed that I had been kissed before. Maybe I had thought that’s what I’d been doing, but compared to this I had been wasting my time. Christian kissed me like there was nothing else in the entire world but this moment, my lips, and our hot breathing. It could have felt orchestrated, choreographed, too smooth. The kiss of a man who kissed a lot of women. But it wasn’t that. It was wild, uncontrolled, aggressive.

  Like he wanted me so much nothing could stop him.

  By nature, I’m a worrier. It’s because of my expectation of perfection. Of an idealized version of reality. Perpetual rose-colored glasses, yes. But a worrier too, fixing this and that and tweaking and posing and planning. I didn’t know how to let go. How to get swept away by passion. Sweaty, dirty sex.

  And it wasn’t going to happen now either and Christian knew it.

  Sure, I kissed him back, and yes, it felt good. But I was anxious and he was experienced enough to sense it. He pulled back and smiled at me. “Why don’t you throw some clothes on and I’ll show you around the camp.”

  I was disappointed with myself by how relieved that made me. “You don’t want to do this?” I asked, then inwardly winced. That sounded so pathetic.

  “Oh, I do,” he assured me. He brushed a hand over my bra, then tapped the front of my lace panties, causing me to jerk. “This and the blinged-out heels? This isn’t you and me. We’re something else, but not this.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I thought every guy liked a woman in heels.”

  Christian slid his hand down my thigh and calf, drawing goosebumps from me. He flipped off the heel of one shoe and removed it. “If you’re going to wear heels in bed for me, I want to pick them out.”

  So he didn’t actually like that they were my bridal heels. Interesting. He wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended. Maybe he needed a minute removed from all this wedding business too. Not on the same level as me, but something that was our space, not the remnants of Bradley and me. He threw the shoe over his shoulder. “What’s in your little bag you brought? Something you can wear on a hike?”

  “A hike?” I shivered when he removed my other Louboutin. “Do I look like a girl who goes hiking? I didn’t pack workout clothes.”

  He snorted and went back on his knees. “I didn’t say a workout. Maybe I should rephrase that as something you can wear on a walk. Does that sound better? Less ominous?”

  I nodded and reached my hand out so he could help me off the bed. “I sweat in a controlled environment. Pilates and hot yoga.”

  “What the fuck is hot yoga?” Christian eyed me dubiously. He went over to the kitchen table and grabbed my overnight bag. He brought it to me and I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  “What do you mean, what is it? It’s yoga. In a hot room. A hundred and five degrees. It releases toxins.”

  He snorted. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

  I took the bag from him. “Don’t make fun of me. It’s true. It’s also how I have long and lean muscles. I work really hard at it.”

  “And I’m very grateful for that.”

  He stood there watching me as I dug out a regular bra and panties and my sundress. “Do you mind?” I asked, ready to unhook my bra.

  “I don’t mind.”

  I smacked him with the bra I was holding. “You know what I mean. Turn around.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Bella. You are almost completely naked. What difference does it make?”

  “Almost is the key word. I’m shy.” It was true. Or maybe modest was a better word. A bikini all day long was fine. But I was not one to free the nipple. More power to those girls, but that was not me.

  “You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, because you’re also a lot of work.” But he winked, like he didn’t actually mean his words. He also turned around and went to inspect the fridge. “Hey, there’s wine in here. What the hell? Who is coming out to this cabin?”

  I got quickly dressed and stood up. “I don’t know. Are you sure you still even own this place?” That was a horrifying thought. “OMG, what if we’re squatting and we don’t even know it?”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t be the most illegal thing I’ve ever done.”

  “What?” I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. I pulled shoes out of my bag, dropped them on the floor, and set the bag down again on the table next to my phone, which was flooded with notifications. My chest tightened. What was I doing?

  “I’m kidding. Kidding. The only illeg
al things I’ve done are speeding and fighting.”

  That was a relief. “What if we’re doing it and someone shows up here? I would die. Literally die.”

  “Doing it? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  I pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Hey. Quit making fun of me.”

  “But I’m so good at it.”

  That made me laugh. “And I’m good at burping, but that doesn’t mean I should do it.”

  “You’re good at burping? You? Lies. Complete lies.”

  “No, it’s true. My mother thinks it’s horrifying and it is. But I don’t know. I have a lot of air in my stomach or something. I can burp the alphabet if I really want to.” Never in a million years would I have burped in front of Bradley. I wouldn’t even admit that I burped. Ever. Or had any bodily functions. But Christian was different. It didn’t matter. For all I said that I wanted him to educate me, I wasn’t trying to impress him. He’d already seen me get drunk on wine and jam at least two doughnuts into my mouth.

  “Prove it.”

  I eyed him. He was smiling at me. I wanted to show him I could be fun. Take a joke. “I need some soda and then I will.”

  Christian laughed again. He had a great laugh. It was full and unadulterated. It sounded genuine. A booming, rich exaggeration of his deep voice. Everything about him was so inherently masculine. He had a way of moving that was just a shade off a swagger. He was also confident but not in the entitled arrogant way that Bradley was. It felt easy to be around Christian. He had said he wouldn’t judge me and I believed him.

  “I’ll be waiting. I’ve got to hear this, princess.”

  “You’re going to love it. I promise.” I had never bantered with a guy like this. Between being a runaway bride and the overall surreal quality of this day I felt light-headed, strange. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Maybe that was why I hadn’t been ready for sex yet. I wanted to be in my body, in the moment.

  “I believe you.” Christian opened the door. “After you.”

  The sun was at its full height but the trees blocked a lot of the heat. It was a beautiful day. The air in Maine was crisp and clean and the sun-dappled clearing was the perfect temperature. My sandals weren’t great for the dirt drive, but I liked the freedom of wiggling my toes. I had chosen the sundress for the next day because it would travel well, but it was giving me the same experience now. Loose, relaxed. Much better than that constricting dress. I had left my phone inside. I couldn’t look at it.

  “Have you always lived here, in Camden?” I asked Christian. Polite, that was me. But I was also curious about him.

  “Yes. I don’t see myself ever leaving. No point.”

  “Maybe I should stay here myself,” I said, anxiety pressing in on me again. “I can’t go back. Not now. I gave up my apartment. My job. Geez, that’s not very good.”

  “Don’t worry about that right now. Your parents have a house. Two, actually, right? So you’re not going to be homeless. I bet even your sister would take you in.”

  I took a deep breath as we walked. He was right. No need to press the panic button. “That’s true. But did you ever just stop all at once and wonder who the heck you are?”

  “Princess, that’s just too damn deep for a summer day.”

  My wedding day. But I couldn’t expect him to want to talk about that. So I went with a light response. “So you don’t want to go deep today?”

  Of course I realized immediately how sexual that sounded. I hadn’t meant to imply anything of the kind, but there it was, hanging out there between us. My cheeks felt warm.

  Christian gave me a sly, sexy smile. “Oh, I want to go deep. I want to go deep all damn day.”

  “So which is it?” I asked, wanting to call him out just a little. “Deep or not?”

  “So I have to get deep to get deep?”

  I smiled at me. “Maybe.”

  “Whatever you say, princess. Your wish is my command.”

  If only fairy tales came true.

  Chapter 7

  I just had to convince Bella her only wish was physical satisfaction.

  Because the last thing I wanted to think about was who I was.

  My greatest fear was that the answer was I was my father’s son. I never want to be that guy. The one who abandons his family.

  Who doesn’t respect marriage.

  Who stays because he doesn’t want to pay child support.

  Or the guy who has multiple baby mamas. I had already screwed up and I didn’t want to screw up further.

  So I didn’t want to go there in my own head, let alone out loud to Bella.

  But I could let Bella say what she needed to all day long. And I could make her forget about her dickhead fiancé.

  “If we head right down here,” I said, pointing to the well-worn path, “you’ll see the water in a second.”

  “Really? Geez, this property must be worth a lot then.”

  “I don’t think so. There is an easement that prevents direct water access. Technically we have to cut through the neighbor’s yard.” Though I did question if Bella was right and we were staying in a total stranger’s cabin. I wouldn’t put it past my father to sell it off without telling any of us. I doubted he would be allowed to conduct business like that in prison though, and my key had worked, so I was going to just roll with it. My mother wouldn’t sell. She was nostalgic, even when she shouldn’t be.

  I led her down the path and to a bench that faced the water. The neighbor’s house was behind a copse and in better shape than ours, but definitely not a mansion. We had played with their kids when we were kids until my oldest brother, Cam, got caught with his hands in the cookie jar. As in the neighbor’s fourteen-year-old daughter’s pants. After that none of us were allowed to hang out with them. Story of my childhood. If my dad didn’t fuck up my friendships, my brothers did.

  Fortunately, I didn’t give a shit anymore.

  “I like how real this feels,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but I was good as long as she wasn’t talking about her feelings. Or her fiancé.

  “But everything is so strange, you know? Like I am looking at life through a different lens.”

  And we were right back to deep thoughts by Bella Bigelow. “I imagine you are.”

  She didn’t pursue the thought though. She just reached out and ran her fingers over the leaves of some brush. Walking ahead of me she tossed her hair back, like she was letting go of her tension. I couldn’t believe that any man would leave her home alone to go fuck around. When she turned and smiled at me over her bare shoulder, I thought for a brief second that my reality was different too. That I was envisioning a different future from the one I had stumbled into.

  I wanted the words of a poet right then. I wanted to be able to say to her that she was as vibrant and light as the sun dancing across her face. That she was extraordinary in her ability to stand there and smile at me after learning about her fiancé’s betrayal and having him call her a cunt on the phone. That was a line you never crossed with a woman. There was just no reason ever to be that disrespectful, especially with someone like Bella. This was not a woman who slung mud back.

  But I didn’t have the words. And I wasn’t even sure it was my place. What right did I have to say anything to her? I needed to focus on action, not words. It had always been my MO to charm girls, but Bella didn’t need that. She needed a man to show her what she was: a sexy-as-fuck woman.

  I was about to reach out, tumble her to the ground, and kiss her, when she stopped and turned around. “Oh, this view is amazing.”

  Considering that her father’s house jutted over the bay like a gargantuan hovercraft, this seemed like a weak view in comparison, but Bella was nothing if not well mannered.

  “The view is amazing,” I murmured. I m
eant her, of course. I’d seen the water a million times. It was familiar to me. She, and my reaction to her, was not.

  Bella’s eyes widened and she smiled. “I have a huge confession to make.”

  If she told me she was pregnant or some shit like that, I was going to have to end this right here and now. “Yeah?” I asked cautiously.

  “I don’t actually like the water. The sound of it, or the expansiveness of it. I don’t like cruises or sailing. It makes me sad.”

  That was it? That was her big confession? I smiled at her. “Sad? Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who actually disliked the water. Is it fear or just preference?”

  “Both. I guess you love the water, huh?”

  I shrugged. “I can take it or leave it. I’m just used to being here, but I wouldn’t object to leaving. Not that I have grand plans to travel the world or anything. My job right now is to be a good father.”

  “I envy you that,” she said. “Having a place you belong. Having a child to raise.”

  There wasn’t a lot to envy about my situation. “Yeah. Well, don’t do it the way I did it, that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

  “I think you’re a good father,” she said, softly. “Not that my opinion matters, but you seem like you have your priorities straight.”

  “I try.” I bent over and picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could off the cliff. It sailed through the air and I beat back thoughts of Ali and the past and my parents. Not anything to think about today.

  Today was about long, tan legs, long, blond hair, and long, delicious kisses with my princess bride. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

  Bella wrinkled her nose. “Are you going to show me your junk?”