Ditching The Dream (Dream Series)

by Isabelle Peterson

  “Faster! Harder!” I urged. And just like that, he was off, as was I. Meeting him thrust for thrust. I looked at his lovely face and could see he was almost there. I knew I was. “Ready?” I asked.

  His eyes flew open and we locked gazes. Three powerful plunges and we came together, flooding the roof with grunts and groans and cries. He dropped his head beside mine, propping his heaving body on his elbows over me.

  “God that was – oh mierda! I didn’t use any – Liz, I’m so –” He pulled back abruptly, terror crossing his face. “I’m so sorry!” he finished.

  I kissed him to quiet his panic. “It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant. I haven’t been able to for nineteen years.” I kissed him again gently, “And I’m clean. I have every confidence you are, too.” His body relaxed a bit under my touch. We pulled our pants up and cuddled.

  We laid there for a while in peaceful rest. Our breaths balanced one another. In-in-out-out. I have no idea how long we lay there. It felt wonderful to be out under the stars with no top on, just his body for warmth.

  “Hey, Liz?” he asked quietly.

  “Hmm?” was all I could say.

  “Feliz Cumpleaños. Happy birthday.”

  Okay. Best. Birthday. Ever.

  I couldn’t believe my fortune. I’d come up here to drink my sorrows away. To be floors away from her. Being just down the hall was too tempting. And with her daughter staying with her, I couldn’t just go knocking on Liz’s door in the middle of the night. So, I came up here for space. Distance.

  I had been there contemplating what I should do. Do I make a big play for her? Or let things play out as destiny wanted? I’d even asked the stars the way abuela used to do. And then she showed up.

  I love laying here with her in my arms. She feels so perfect. Her soft breaths cascading on my chest. Her delicate arm wrapped around my waist.

  I thought about the phone conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. Obviously she’d come to the roof for privacy. I was sure with Phoebe staying in her apartment, privacy was not very possible. Was she really falling hard for me? After that little performance, I’d say it was confirmed. But then her comment was ‘both Kevin and –’. It had to be Jack.

  That’s okay. I have her… for now.

  CHAPTER 38

  Wednesday morning I woke up surprisingly late. Okay, well, maybe not surprising, as I didn’t climb back into bed until three fifteen in the morning after my visit to the roof. Then I spent a restless night tossing and turning with guilt and anxiety. It was nearly ten o’clock when I crawled out of bed. I felt like I was a teenager, sleeping in so much late lately. I loved having double days off at Ed Scott’s and made a note to try and get a ‘weekend’ as much as I could.

  I dressed in a pair of shorts as the days were unseasonably warm this week. I made us coffee, eggs and toast.

  We got Phoebe all packed up and then went for a quick lunch at a street side bistro on Lexington. We took a taxi to the airport shortly after two for her five-thirty flight home. I saw her to the security check point and started to get choked up. I was going to miss her.

  “Just… call Dad, okay, Mom?” she pleaded, hugging me tight. “He’s really a mess. He’s called me every day to see how you are. You can work things out. He’s sure of it. Brad’s pretty worried, too. He thinks Dad’s drinking too much.” Stab. Right to the heart.

  I choked down my shame and promised that I would call her Dad. I thought about calling Jess on the cab ride home, but didn’t want to give my cab driver an earful, so I opted to wait until I got home. Besides, she had something to tell me and I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

  Instead, I thought about Jack and Kevin. And Greg.

  Once inside my apartment, noting it was after five-thirty already, I made myself a stiff Lemondrop Martini. Just after I tasted it to make sure it was strong enough for the emotions that were threatening to take me under, there was a knock on the door.

  So much for calling Jess.

  I set my cocktail down and went to answer the door. Peeking through the peep hole, my heart skipped a beat. Even with the distorted image, Kevin was still breathtaking. And that might have been amplified after last night’s episode on the roof.

  I opened the door and stepped aside. “C’mon in. How have you been?”

  He stopped momentarily to kiss me on the cheek as he stepped into my apartment. He quickly scanned the apartment.

  “Is Phoebe here?”

  I shook my head. “No, her plane took off about ten minutes ago.”

  “Good,” he sighed and he swept me into his arms, kissing me like Rhett Butler kissed Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind. And just like Scarlett, I melted right into his arms, and kissed him back with as much as he gave. His lips felt so good. His arms so comforting. Even if this was the last thing I needed.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away. I was going to come say goodbye to Phoebe. I just couldn’t be around you and not do that,” he said, brushing a thumb over my lower lip.

  “Kevin, we need to talk.”

  He nodded and followed me into the living room. He sat down on the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward as he watched me walk over to pick up my martini.

  “Can I get you something?” I asked. “A SoCo and Coke?”

  He smiled and nodded. His eyes continued to track me as I went to the fridge to grab a cold coke. I grabbed a glass and tossed in a couple of ice cubes, the clinking of the cubes being the only sound. That and my nervous breath.

  After I poured his drink and made myself comfortable in the reading chair, I took a deep breath and looked over his impressive body. He looked like he had just come from work. His button down shirt unbuttoned at the top, his tie loosened, and his shirt cuffs rolled up. He wore his signature cowboy boots. I loved how he wore the dark wash jeans to appear more formal.

  “How old are you?” I asked, my heart thumping in my ears. Hopefully the drumming would quiet down enough so I could hear his answer. Or maybe not. Maybe I didn’t want to know his answer.

  “Twenty-nine,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting back in his seat, sipping his drink then cocking his head at me with a curious expression on his face.

  “Twenty nine!?” I screeched. “As in less-than-thirty-twenty-nine?” I shot up out of my chair and started to pace. Kevin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching me make my way to and fro, worrying the carpet. Math had never been a strong point for me and suddenly, it had become that much more difficult. Forty-three less twenty-nine… borrow a ten…

  Holy Shit!

  “Holy shit!” I started to breathe heavily. My head grew light. Kevin stood and took a hold of my arms then forced me to sit back down in my chair.

  I dropped my head in my hands and scolded myself, chunking through math like my life depended on it. Fourteen years younger! What in the hell are you doing? You should have figured this out when you first started dating. Dating! Ohmygod. And he’s only six years older than Brad! He was only two years old when I met Greg!

  With a trembling hand, I reached over and took my martini and downed a huge gulp. The burn did little to calm me at this point, but it gave me something else to focus on for a split second.

  “Out with it,” he said calmly.

  “How old do you think I am?” I asked.

  “I figured you were just a few years older than me. It’s not a big deal, at least not to me.”

  “You’re fourteen years younger than me,” I whispered.

  “It’s just a number,” he shrugged.

  “Just a number…What am I doing?” I asked him, looking into his eyes. Even though he was younger than me, he seemed wiser.

  He made himself comfortable sitting at my feet, and took a sip of his SoCo and Coke.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked, peering up at me through his inhumanly thick eyelashes.

  Unable to speak, I simply nodded.

  “When you said you were married when we were in Times Square, you were s
erious?”

  Oh, I remembered that conversation. Me: Oh, married for twenty some years, three kids, a beautiful home in the suburbs in Northern California.’ And his reply: ‘Three kids! Woman, you have to catch up. I’ve got myself six and one on the way with my li’l lady down on the ranch.’

  I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, and took another sip of liquid courage.

  “I guess what you could call my current situation is a mutually agreed separation. I actually left him, two and a half weeks ago.” Had it really only been two and half weeks? “I didn’t come to New York to meet any men.” I glanced at him through my martini glass. He was glued to my every word, his hand gently rubbing on my thigh. “I came to New York because, while I was busy keeping house and raising three kids, I had forgotten who I was. And I realized that I never knew who I was.

  “Greg, my husband, and I got married the month after I graduated college. Bradley came along just one month before our first anniversary. And over the years, we grew further apart, him climbing the corporate ladder, me the domestic glue of the home. When Phoebe left for college, I tried to figure out my place in the home, but I felt lost. Greg’s work schedule only seemed to get busier, or at least work seemed more important. I tried to spice things up with sexier clothes, and special dinners, but his reaction was never what I hoped. Our lives were more like compatible roommates.”

  “What did he say when he learned you left.”

  “He was all over the place. Lost, angry, desperate. He accused me of having some paramour and that was why I came here. When I convinced him that there was no other man. He relaxed. But then he brought up that I had gotten married young and that Greg was basically my first.” Another glance at Kevin, I was comforted that he didn’t seem shocked or disgusted by any of this story so far. I took another sip of my martini and continued.

  “The last time we talked, a week and half ago, just before I moved into this apartment, he told me to ‘sow my wild oats’ while I’m here. And I hadn’t intended to get involved with any man. I swear to you –”

  “I believe you, Lizzie,” he interrupted. “You don’t owe me any explanation.”

  “But Kevin, I do. I’m an adultre –”

  He stopped me mid-word with a finger placed over my lips.

  “What I don’t understand is how a man married to a woman like you could just tell you to go and ‘sow your wild oats.’ Who says that to their wife?”

  My shoulders dropped. “I guess the disconnect went both ways. I was just a wife, not a partner. Twenty – two…” and cue the water works. A tear fell from my eye and forged a trail down my face. Kevin sat up on his knees and brushed it away. Then he kissed my forehead.

  I looked at him for a moment or two. His face so full of caring and love. “It’ll all work out,” he assured me. “I’ll help you figure it out.”

  I cupped his face, and searched his eyes. Twenty-nine. “Thank you,” was all I could reply.

  “Oh!” he suddenly said, straightening up. “I almost forgot!” He reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a long thin, velvet box. “Happy Birthday, a day late,” he apologized with a shrug.

  I started to cry again.

  “It’s just a birthday gift. From one friend to another,” he urged.

  Birthday gifts.

  “But, I can’t accept –” I started.

  “Just open it, would ya? Please,” he pleaded, giving me large, green, puppy dog eyes.

  CHAPTER 39

  My heart started to pound again loudly in my ears. I thought about the dress and shoes from Jack hiding under my bed. Now I was holding a velvet box in my hands from Kevin. I couldn’t recall the last time I had gotten a birthday gift like this from Greg. They were all practical gifts, like cardigans or appliances, or the dreaded gift card.

  With my hand quivering, I pulled back the lid of the velvet box. What was inside caused me to dissolve in a fit of laughter and I snapped the box closed. Oh god, thank you! I needed that. I started laughing so hard I thought I would wet myself.

  “May I put it on you?” he asked with the utmost of serious intentions, even if he was hiding his own smile.

  “Of course. I would love that!” I managed.

  Kevin got up and ducked into the bathroom. He returned with a wet washcloth and a dry towel then took his place back at my feet. He opened the box and took out the gift that I was still laughing about.

  “Now this won’t hurt one bit. Not like a real tattoo,” he said, struggling to maintain his professional composure. He held up the temporary tattoo paper. On it was an anklet ‘strung’ with three stars.

  “Are you sure?” I asked cheekily.

  “I selected this one for the three kids that I thought were just imaginary,” he said, winking at me. Then he wrapped the paper around my ankle. “Look at that. I bought the right size too,” he giggled, starting to lose it, just a little. “Now hold still. The water may be cold,” he admonished while wrapping the wet washcloth around my ankle, covering the paper to transfer the tattoo to the skin.

  When he was satisfied that the paper had soaked enough, he peeled away the tattoo backing to reveal a very attractive anklet tattoo. I extended my leg and checked it over carefully. It looked quite realistic. I felt a little bad-ass, too. Even if it was a temporary tattoo.

  “You are a marvelous tattoo artist, Mr. Parker. Thank you.”

  I leaned in to him, still seated at my feet like a loyal servant, and kissed his cheek. Kevin turned, and kissed my lips, placing a hand possessively around the back of my head. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip, begging for entrance. My body betraying my mind, let him in and the kiss quickly grew more urgent and desperate. As if were trying to erase all the baggage I had just dumped all over him.

  Like a woman possessed, I reached for his tie and slid the knot loose. The hand that was still resting on my freshly “tattooed” ankle slowly dragged up my leg, burning a trail as it went.

  I slid off my chair and straddled his lap. Lowering myself carefully, I became fully aware of how aroused he was. His cock was huge and throbbing, straining against the zipper. I rocked slightly and ground myself gently into him. He groaned his approval.

  My hands next went to the buttons on his shirt, and I undid them as quickly as I could. His kisses on my lips pressed more and more urgently, softly bruising them. And I loved it.

  I finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt and brusquely shoved it back over his shoulders. My lips trailed down, kissing his tattoos. Across his chest, his shoulder, his bicep…

  I dragged my tongue over his salty skin, tracing the tribal lines that had been permanently inked. Thinking that maybe one day I’d be brave enough to get a real tattoo.

  I pulled my mouth from his tattoos as he lifted my shirt over my head. Sitting back, letting him look me over, it appeared his breath stopped.

  With renewed vigor, his mouth crashed onto mine as he hungrily plunged his tongue into my mouth, massaging every inch, making love to my mouth, his hands caressing my skin. His breath rushed out of him and he pulled us to standing, before he swept me up into his arms, and marched us to my bedroom.

  I woke up about five fifteen in the morning. The early light filtered into my bedroom, and softly caressed Kevin’s skin. I studied him as the sun climbed and cast different shadows on his impressive figure. He was young. He would be a marvelous husband to a deserving woman out there. And a fabulous father. I took stock and made some tough decisions.

  I got up, showered, and brewed coffee. At five forty-five, I went in and woke Kevin up.

  Shaking him gently, I whispered, “Good morning. What time do you need to leave for work?”

  He groaned and rolled over, his eyes slowly opening to look at me through the light of day. He stretched, flexing those incredible arms, pecs and abs. The stubble on his face doing crazy things to my insides.

  “What time is it?” he asked groggily, shoving himself upward to sit and take the mug of coffee I was offering.
/>   “Going on six,” I answered.

  He took a sip of coffee then set the mug on the side table. He took my hand and tried to pull me into his arms. I reluctantly went, knowing what I was about to do. “I’m feeling under the weather and I think I’m going to call in sick today. Wouldn’t want to be the one to spread a nasty virus through a building of middle schoolers,” he reasoned.

  I pushed gently on his chest and sat up. I studied his face for a long moment.

  “Kevin…” I started.

  “Please don’t, Liz.”

  I searched his eyes, willing him to read my mind so I didn’t have to say it out loud. But he only looked back at me, hoping for the best.

  “There’s a foreign movie festival going on in the Village today. We can hide out in the theaters. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

  “As enticing as that sounds…” I could see it register in his eyes that he knew where this was headed.

  “Is it Jack? Do you love him more?”

  Love? I didn’t know. Need? That was more like it. Kevin was fun and made me feel great about myself, but Jack did too.

  “What you and I have shared is very special, Kevin. And, no, I don’t love Jack more. I don’t know what is between me and Jack. My head is a mess. I feel like I’ve used you. And Jack. I’m still married and –” A sob escaped my lips and tears started to roll down my cheeks.

  He placed a finger over my lips to quiet me, then he brushed away my tears and nodded. Quietly, he slid out of bed and slipped on his jeans, socks and boots. He held his hands out to me and I took them, standing quietly in front of him.

  “I understand. I do. Can we still be friends?” he asked gently.

  “I would love that,” I whispered back, my eyes brimming with tears as he placed a kiss on my forehead.

  “Me too,” he murmured against my skin.

  He pulled back and noticed the tears.

  “Stop,” he softly chided. “It’s okay. I don’t regret a single moment. And we’ll still be friends. Honest. I promised I would help you through this bumpy road and I meant it.”