by Poppy Dunne
“The one with sriracha and marshmallows?” My stomach ripples at the thought. “My kids, are they all right?”
“Oh, ha ha. Yeah, everyone’s fine but me. I swear, my cooking is usually so excellent, and lately it’s been making me gag.”
Finally, her stomach caught up with everyone else’s. “Listen. I need your advice on something.”
“If I say nothing, know I’m either listening intently or hworfing all over your bedroom.”
I’m…going to let that one slide. I tell her everything while she’s quiet. I hear no gagging, so I take it as a good sign. When I’m done, Emma sighs into the phone.
“Wow. You’re busy on vacation. When I went on my honeymoon, all I could think about was eating and ridiculous photo ops. Oh, and banging my husband.”
Okay, get that picture out of my mind. “Again. What should I do?”
“Hmm.” I can practically imagine the thought bubbles forming over her head. I’m sure half of them will be about chocolate pudding, if I know my sister. “Okay, we’re about to get old fashioned and romantical. How’s your handwriting these days?”
It surprises me, but then again, it is Emma.
12
Charlotte
Justin didn’t come back to the room all morning, so I took myself to the hotel café for breakfast. A Bloody Mary and a superb omelet later, I’m feeling more like myself. And myself is a bit weepy right now. All I want is to make things right between us again, but he’s not answering his phone. For all I know, he took a cab to the airport and booked himself to Singapore early. All I want is to apologize, and hold him, and let myself go a little. Me. The woman who once walked three days on a broken foot, despite screaming pain, because I was too proud to admit it was broken.
I don’t like to be vulnerable, but I’d like to be vulnerable now. For the first time in probably my life.
When it’s noon and I’ve taken some Aspirin and my headache’s subsided, I go back up to the room. My heart’s pounding. He’s got to be back by now. We’re finally going to have that talk. I open the door to find the bed still unslept in…and now I find that most of his clothes from the closet have been moved to his suitcase, open on the floor.
I think I’m going to throw up, and it has nothing to do with all the rum I had last night. Sniffling, I walk out onto the balcony…and find a bouquet of red roses. In a vase. With a note on it, bearing my name.
My hands fumble as I snatch and tear at the envelope. I need to keep calm about this. It might be his way of saying “had a great few days, I’ll be back for my bag soon, see you when I get home from Asia.” You know. Corporate asshole way of saying sorry to their neglected wives.
Except that’s not Justin, and it was wrong of me to ever think it could be.
My eyes light on the first words. Damn, it’s handwritten. And is it weird to say, or does my husband have exceptionally nice writing? Mine looks like the Zodiac killer had a stroke.
That’s not important. What matters is what the note says.
Charlotte,
You were right to get mad last night. I thought I was doing this for you and for the kids, but I wasn’t paying attention to the right things. What I want now is to get this one last, important detail right. It’s our final night on the island. I hope it isn’t too late for our romantic seaside dinner.
If it isn’t, wear that dress again and meet me at the edge of the hotel pool at seven o’clock. I love you, and you’re all that I need. I’ll never forget that again if you won’t.
Love,
Justin
I’m not crying. No, the sun’s in my eyes. The sun’s in my eyes and I’m getting a little runny, so I’d better grab a tissue and calm down.
Seven? I’ve got a few hours until then. This means it’s time to get myself down to the hotel spa and book a facial, a mani-pedi, the works.
It’s our last night to get this right? Then I’m going to be as right as I can be.
My heart’s pounding at seven as I walk out toward the pool. The breeze is warm, and it blows my dress around my legs. Ahead of me, past the last stragglers from the pool, I see my husband. Justin is dressed in a sharp, perfect suit that accentuates every powerful line of his body. When he sees me, his eyes soften with relief, and he smiles.
“So. Should we head to the restaurant?” I ask shyly when we finally meet up. But he takes my hand.
“Tonight, I brought the restaurant to you.” He grins. “Compliments of a certain hotel employee. Oh, and a hefty tip at the Blue Hawaii.”
Well, far be it for me to sneer at that. We walk out onto the beach, and head north. Soon, I can see torches outlining a table. Wow, we really are dining by the ocean.
There are a couple of waiters with burners and trays to the side of us. There’s candlelight on the white linen tablecloth, and we sit down to the first course of champagne and oysters. Justin clinks glasses with me while I try to wrap my head around all of this. All I can say is something very simple and obvious.
“You are probably the greatest husband in world history. We should send you in to the Guinness book of world records.”
“I’ll take it.” We finish off the oysters and move on to the—yes—Macadamia encrusted halibut. He knows me so well. As we eat and drink a perfect white wine, Justin reaches over and takes my hand. “I wanted to tell you something.”
“So did I.” I nod. I’m letting him go first.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I handled everything wrong. I’m not going to Singapore tomorrow. I’m going home with you. If I could land a high profile retainer like this chain, I can do it again. I don’t need to travel the world to find my purpose in life. All that matters is being here with you.”
The candlelight blurs as I tear up a bit. “Well, while we’re riding the apology train, I have a big one. I’m sorry that I made you feel small. That’s the ugliest, nastiest side of me, and I’m burying her. Seriously. I’m bricking that part of me up forever. Well, until it’s Christmas and your mother comes around. Then that side of me gets a reprieve.”
Justin chuckles, and kisses my hand. My heart beats faster, and I feel a fire in my belly at the touch of his lips.
“This has been an odd vacation. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
He’s right. Even if it took several days of wrestling with issues, fantastic sex, and some angst to get us to this little oasis of light in the middle of the beach, it was worth it. Anyone can have a few days of sunshine and drinking. But it takes work and luck to make a marriage stronger…through sunshine and drinking.
And sex. Lots of good sex.
I’m a lucky bastard.
We finish our dinner with some incredible chocolate soufflés and port wine. By the end of it, the attendants clear up the table and the dishes while Justin tips them. Then we wander away hand in hand, back towards the hotel. This time, we go a bit off the beaten path. In addition to the five main pools, there are little areas of lush jungle foliage and hidden grottos cunningly worked into the landscape. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before we find a smaller pool than the rest, still lit and glowing aquamarine against the night. It’s cloaked on all sides by palm fronds and exotic flowers. I let Justin take me into his arms and kiss me.
“Feel like one more swim before we go?” I whisper. Without hesitating, I unzip and let the dress pool around my feet. Stepping out of my shoes, and my bra and panties, I dip a toe into the pool. The water’s just fine, and Justin’s eyes seem to light up as he beholds me. I mean, it could be the reflection of the water on his face, but it doesn’t seem likely.
“Yes, ma’am.” A moment later, he’s stripped down and comes in after me. The water is a cool embrace, and as he pulls me against his body it only warms me up. His lips catch mine. My arms twine around his neck. We kiss like we’ll never have another chance at this, and hey, skinny dipping at our age is a little risqué. We might never do this again.
Which is why I think we’re both so desperate to get it right.
“Charlotte,” he whispers, saying my name again and again like a prayer. I sigh, floating and wrapping my legs around his waist as he reaches down and touches my clit. I moan a bit, his mouth catching mine. Can’t make too much noise.
“No jokes about how wet I am, please.” I grin as Justin floats me to the side of the pool.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gasps as I reach down and wrap my hand around the silken steel of his cock. I circle my thumb around the crown of his penis, luxuriating in the way I’m making him lose control.
Then he’s inside of me, and the water laps around us as he thrusts. I thrust back, letting him fill me up, reminding myself that it’s the two of us. We started this way, and we end this way. Aloha, and aloha. Hello and goodbye.
I love symmetry.
I dig my nails into his back as I come apart, gasping through my orgasm with my head thrown back. Justin thrusts harder until he comes as well, and we’re left spent and happy, floating in the pool.
“We should definitely get a backyard grotto when we get home,” I say, kissing my husband’s cheek. He grins.
“A sex grotto? What if the kids find us?”
I smile back. “We’ll just pack them off to Fraser and Emma’s. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
Coming together is nice. Laughing together is even better.
13
Charlotte
“We got everything?” Justin’s checking the tags on our luggage as we stand amid the bustle of the lobby at noon. Our cab should be here any minute.
“Yes. I even got the little hula dancer dolls for Sage, and some books on marine life for plane reading.” I grin. “I’m thinking next year, when Sebastian’s in kindergarten, I might take a UCLA extension course.”
His eyes light up. “Think this could be a new career for the future?”
I shrug, grinning. “Why not? At the very least, it’ll give me something else to talk about besides my precious, precious children.” I nearly break down laughing when Justin says it in unison with me. God, I love us.
“Hold on.” Justin pulls out his phone to find an incoming Skype from Emma. He picks up, and it’s Fraser’s face that greets us. He’s still sitting with his hands in front of him, but this time there’s a lollipop stuck in his hair, marker stains on his collar, and a frantic light in his eyes. Sebastian is merrily clinging like a barnacle to his uncle’s neck.
“Are you home yet?” Fraser asks with the urgency of someone nearing the edge of a cliff.
“Er, we’re leaving the hotel now, buddy. We should be home in roughly.” Justin scrunches up his face. “Ten hours?”
“Give my name to the pilot. Maybe he’ll fly faster.”
“Fras, I don’t think that’s how physics works.”
“You can’t know that.”
Emma sidles into view, nudging her husband. She looks flushed, and is grinning wildly.
“Look, we really called because we’ve got some big news.” She’s practically flying out of her seat. “Those bouts of sickness I was having? Well, they weren’t from my cooking! At least, not completely.” She throws her arms wide. “I’m pregnant!”
“I’m so happy!” Fraser exclaims, and it is amazing that he is both entirely sincere and excited and also looks like he wants to jump out a window and run away. Sebastian knocks heads with him, and Fraser nearly falls over. Meanwhile, Justin and I both scream at the same time.
“I get to be an uncle! Finally!” he says. I’m crying as I blow a huge kiss.
“I can’t wait to walk you through all of this. It’s going to be the most amazing—”
I have to pause because the girls run past the camera screaming with joy, and Fraser gets pulled away into a tide of children. Emma continues to beam.
“We’re going to have some sparkling apple cider when you two get home to celebrate!”
“I’m just so glad Fraser’s had an opportunity to bond with kids,” I giggle. It sounds like there’s chanting in the background. For all I know he’s about to be a sacrifice, Lord of the Flies style.
“Gotta go. See you tonight!” Emma blows another kiss and logs off. Justin hugs me, and I’m about ready to fly away with excitement. When his phone buzzes, he grabs it and doesn’t even look at the ID when answering.
“Have you thought of baby names yet?” he asks, expecting Emma. Then, his smile fades and his face goes white. “Oh. Mr. Lee. Henry. Hi.”
I freeze as Justin listens, nodding silently. “Uh, yes. She’s here.” He looks at me and puts the phone to his shoulder. “It’s the guy who offered me the job. He wants to be on speaker. He wants you to hear.”
If this man is about to ream my husband with me listening, he is going to get the verbal smackdown of all time. “Okay,” I say, mentally preparing. Justin hits the speaker button.
“Justin. Hello,” a man’s voice says. “And hello to your wife.”
“Hi,” I say warily.
“I landed in Singapore and wanted to call you. I’ve thought over your refusal, and your reasoning.” The man pauses. “It reminded me of my own father. Or rather, it didn’t.”
Where is this going? Justin and I exchange looks.
“He was a man who always put business before family. At the time, I thought it made him a great man. He provided for us all so well. But looking back, I know my mother suffered for it. We all did. I wanted to see if I could be a man who built an empire of my own, but didn’t let it rule me. Does that make sense?”
“Er, yes,” Justin answers.
“Good. Because I think you are the perfect man for this job, and I won’t take no for an answer. I want you on the ground with me here, but in a week, say? And for no more than a week. I won’t take you away from your family constantly. You have my word on that. We can work out the terms. Is that acceptable?”
“Well,” Justin says, but Lee interrupts.
“I’m asking your wife, as well.”
Holy shit. Justin’s eyebrows lift, and I know that he wants this. He wants this, and he’s willing to put me first. There’s only one answer to give.
“I’m satisfied if my husband is,” I reply.
“Then yes. Yes, I accept.” It’s like all the air leaves his body in relief.
“Splendid. Expect my man to be in contact shortly regarding contracts and booking. Thank you.”
And with that, the man hangs up. I think he’s a little eccentric, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Justin puts the phone down, and takes me into his arms.
“I couldn’t do this without you,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you, Charlotte.”
I might be crying a little, but I don’t care. “And I love you. Always.”
We kiss, just once, but there’s enough feeling in it for five more. Ten more. Plus a little groping. But we keep it classy in public. Sort of.
“You know,” he murmurs in my ear. “If we don’t mind buying an extra ticket, I think you can come with me to Singapore.”
“Oh?” I’m practically buzzing with excitement. “What about the kids?”
“Fraser loves babysitting, and he needs the practice. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”
I giggle. “So…a second honeymoon?”
“I’ll have to be working, but there’ll be time. I’ll always make time for you,” he says, kissing me.
I mean, who doesn’t end their first honeymoon with the promise of an immediate second one?
Aloha, Hawaii. Aloha, Singapore.
Goodbye to one. Hello to another.
The end!
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Copyright © 2017 by Poppy Dunne
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Dedicated to Los Angeles in all its kale-eating, smoothie-sipping, celebrity-worshipping glory.
1
Chelle
William Shakespeare once said, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Not bad for a man in the sixteenth century, but if he were around in today’s Los Angeles, he might have said “All Runyon Canyon’s a stage, and all the men and women who work out there are hot. Like say, anywhere from a seven to a nine point five. Please don’t interrupt me, my agent’s calling.”
Will wouldn’t have made it in LA, though. Too many out of left field plot twists.
Still, Runyon Canyon’s perfect for me in the here and now, right as dawn is lighting up the sky. It’s beautiful, cool, and I get the place to myself. No shirtless douchebros trying to hit on me, no veganites with penicillin dairy free milkshakes judging me because I once—once—ate a sandwich. Just me, the gorgeous trail, and my little dog Archie. Archie’s a mutt rescue. Not sure what the mix is, but probably a combination of dachshund and Gremlin. He’s got big, flappy ears, a waggly little butt, and if I feed him after midnight, he poops on everything.
As I run up the canyon trail, Archie skipping and yipping ahead of me, I focus my thoughts on the day ahead. Because it’s the Chelle Richardson show, ladies and gentlemen, pulling into another over-privileged, ritzy elementary school. The place is called Bay of Dreams, all the way up in Laurel Canyon. You know, one of those places the hippies found and infested back in the 70s. Well, now it’s a probiotic day school for the richest and crunchiest Angelenos and their kale in the lunchbox children. Considering the demographic I’m going to work for, I’m guessing there’ll be three kids in the class named Kale.
