by Gia Riley
“You have to say goodbye to her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“I said everything I needed to say to her when she was alive.” I reach inside my suit jacket, pulling out the flask I made sure I filled before I left the house this morning. It’s the only thing keeping me from running straight to the parking lot to grab the full bottle of whiskey in my trunk.
Through the crack in the door, I can see Shay’s parents standing at the end of the receiving line, their eyes glassy, and their smiles as fake as they come. This whole day is one big act—pretending we’re all okay when we’re not. Like we didn’t just lose the best thing to ever happen to us.
“Please put the alcohol away, East. You’ll end up regretting it.”
I shake the flask in my hand, the absence of my new best friend pissing me off. “It’s empty.”
“Good. That shit’s going to kill you if you don’t slow down.”
For a minute, the thought of dying isn’t so bad—at least I’d be with Shay again. It’s the last semi-coherent thought I remember having before waking up on the cold floor downtown. In jail where they think I belonged.
The lawyer I didn’t know I had, sits next to me holding a police report listing my infractions—public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and intent to drive while under the influence. “Am I going away for this?”
“You’re already there, but I pulled some strings given the circumstances. Shay’s parents also spoke with the authorities and made this mess you’re in sound like one, big misunderstanding. You have them to thank for that. The judge was ready to toss you in—the whole three strikes and you’re out rule.”
“I can go home?”
“You can go as soon as you’re sober enough to get there.”
I should be pissed I’m in jail, but I’m more upset by the fact that I owe Shay’s parents an apology—that I managed to fuck up the same day they had to bury their daughter.
I wouldn’t want this to be Shay’s final gift to me, bailing my ass out before she leaves me completely on my own, but it probably is. Only I could manage to let her down on the day of her funeral.
Regardless of the free pass I was given, it doesn’t take much convincing from Dom on the way home to persuade me that I need a change of scenery. Unless I want to end up in prison for something a hell of a lot worse than a drunken tirade at a funeral, I need to leave New York.
Where I’m heading, I don’t know yet. But it will be someplace I can get my head on straight—even if it seems impossible without my girlfriend.
“Do you have a record?”
“Citations, but nothing permanent. I’ve never served time other than a night waiting for a lawyer to show up. Though if I make one more wrong move, there’s a good chance my ass is going to be locked up for a very long time.”
I expect her to shy away from me, maybe even get up and walk away, but she doesn’t. She sits in the sand next to me, patiently. “Well, I’m sure they were all valid reasons. You live and learn, right? It’s not like you stole an edible thong from Walmart and got busted for it.”
“Please, tell me that happened to someone you know.”
Lark smiles, laughing to herself. “No, but I heard about it from a friend. Some kinky people in this world.”
My eyes land on Lark’s long legs, suddenly wishing they were wrapped around me again now that I know what they’re capable of. “Hot, it’s really hot,” I mumble, tripping over my own tongue.
She stands up, still only half dressed. “You coming in the water?”
Standing on my own two feet, I move closer to her until I’m standing so close I can feel the rise and fall of her chest. My hand reaches down and easily unbuttons her shorts. I hook my thumbs inside the denim, pulling them over her hips, and letting them fall to the sand beneath us. It takes everything I have not to undress her completely, right here, right now.
Her long hair sticks to her neck as a bead of sweat trails down her skin, landing on her chest between her breasts. I lean forward, licking it with the tip of my tongue. “Are you ready to get wet, Lark?”
She walks by me toward the edge of the water, glancing over her shoulder when she’s halfway there, tempting me and teasing me. With one toe barely in the water, I take her hand and pull her in with me. She follows, staying close with her hand on my back.
We’re only waist deep when she yanks her hand out of mine. She shrieks and spins around in a circle so fast I think she’s playing. So, I grab her around the waist, ready to toss her until she digs her nails into my arm, painfully. “Stop!” she yells.
I loosen my grip, turning her around in my arms. When I do, her expression is anything but the playful one I was envisioning. She’s panicking, so I hold her face in my hands, waiting for her to look at me. When she does, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
Her chin quivers, pure terror overwhelming her. “I-I can’t be out here.”
I let go of her face, wrapping my arms around her instead. She wraps her legs around my waist, and suddenly I become her own personal life preserver. Her heart beats so hard, I can feel it the second our skin touches. “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”
“I’m trying,” she whispers.
I rub her back, holding onto her tightly as her body trembles in my arms. “What happened?”
“I was really trying, but something touched my foot,” she says in a rush.
“It was probably seaweed or a shell. There’s nothing out here but us—and maybe some fish.”
The mention of fish only makes her latch on tighter. “I should have told you when we got on the boat, but I thought that maybe, just this once, my fear would be overshadowed by you.”
“What exactly are you afraid of?”
“Sharks,” she says, as seriously as her next breath. I try not to laugh, but her face is so cute when she’s all serious, that one accidently sneaks out before I can stop it. “I’m glad you find me amusing.”
She unwraps her arms and legs, diving under the water to get back to the beach. When she pops up, I’m right beside her, reaching for her waist and pulling her back where she belongs. She doesn’t try to get away, but she doesn’t cling to me the way she was, either.
“I’m sorry.” With my thumbs, I brush away the droplets of water that fall off her lashes. She seems surprised by the gesture, narrowing her eyes, yet letting me touch her. “Your fears aren’t funny, Lark. It just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to be afraid of being eaten by sharks because when you want to be, you’re so sure of yourself. But when you let yourself be vulnerable, like you are right now, it helps me see how real you are. You make me want to find out more of your story.”
“I could say the same thing about you.”
We’re only in water up my thighs, a little higher on her, but I don’t want her to be afraid—especially when she’s with me. “Are you okay standing here?”
She nods her head, her lips catching a few more falling water droplets. A single swipe of my thumb gets rid of those, too. She leans into my palm that’s cupping her cheek, blinking slowly like she might be seeing me for the first time all over again. “I’m not scared anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Grant’s parents had a house by the bay. Our group of friends would go the beach a lot over the summer—it was every high school kid’s dream. I was never afraid until I slipped and fell off the dock behind the house. Earlier in the week, there had been a couple shark sightings not far from there. As soon as I hit the water, I thought I was going to die. If Grant hadn’t jumped in after me, I don’t know what would have happened because I was so panicked, I forgot how to swim. I just kicked and flailed around, making myself an even bigger target. The next day, the shark was spotted near the dock.”
“Jesus, I’d say you have every right to be freaked the fuck out. Is Grant your ex?”
“As of two months ago—and counting.”
“I’d thank him, but from the look on your face, it didn’t end well.”
&n
bsp; She looks away from me, staring out into the water like she might miss him. “Do breakups ever end well?”
“I don’t have an answer for that.” Mostly because I never broke up with Shay—she passed away. The other relationships I had weren’t serious enough to amount to any drama. You have to be invested for it to matter enough to fight, and I wasn’t invested.
“It’s okay, I don’t need an answer. Not after I lived it.”
“Two months isn’t a lot of time. From the looks of it, you’re still living it.” I’m still processing shit from a year ago, I can’t even imagine what she’s still dealing with.
“Some days it feels like an eternity has passed. Others it’s like it was yesterday.” The tone of her voice is my first clue that she loved him. But what I can’t figure out is why he was stupid enough to let her go.
I realize we’re drifting as we talk, the water up around her waist again. Her eyes dart around behind me, so I dip down in the water, bringing myself to her eye level. I rest my hands on her hips in case she wants to hold onto me. “Do you want to get out of the water?”
Her hands find my shoulders as she stares at my face and then my chest at the water line. “I’m okay if you don’t mind me clinging to you a little bit.”
“Baby, just take what you want.”
Even under the heat of the tropical sun, she blushes. “I think that’s your motto—take what you want.”
“How’s it been working so far?”
Her lips gently brush against mine, “I’ve been very satisfied.”
I slide my hand over her stomach and play with the edge of her bikini bottoms, teasing her through the material. “I don’t want you to think about where he’s been. All I want you to do is think about how good we feel—about where I’ve been.”
She sucks in a breath, her teeth grazing my shoulder as I continue to tease her. “I might need reminded often.”
“I’ll remind you all day long if I have to.”
“You need me Lark, we need each other. I promise you, I’ve learned my lesson.”
It would be so easy to take Grant back—to forget he ever cheated on me, repeatedly. But whenever I see him, whenever I think about him, I see her. They shared something entirely different than what we had—something explosive. That isn’t the kind of thing that’s shut down instantly. Not after their level of intimacy. “I can’t.”
He sighs through the receiver, frustrated with my response. There’s no way I can do it. If I did take Grant back, I’d always wonder if he was thinking about her while he was with me. Would he compare the two of us? Miss what they shared? Wish I was more like her? It’s a wedge that would always be between us and I can’t unconditionally love someone I can’t trust.
“Did you at least get the flowers I sent you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, glancing at the kitchen table where a shattered vase is scattered around the wood, stems of the most beautiful red roses laying haphazardly on top. I always wondered what it would be like to receive flowers for a birthday or anniversary, but they never came. It took Grant cheating on me to finally get them.
“They don’t take away all the pain I’ve caused you, but Lark, I need you. You’re the one I want to be with. You’re my girl.”
“If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have ever been with someone else. You don’t cheat on someone you gave your heart to—someone you want to share a home and your life with.”
“I was losing you, Lark. I felt it and I did something stupid because of it.”
“What you did isn’t my fault. I came home to you every single night of my life. On my lunch breaks, I called you. When I had a spare minute between clients, I emailed you or texted. You were the only man on my mind, Grant, despite all the ones I crossed paths with every single day. I was that in love with you.”
“You spent your day with people who can fill your pockets with their money—musicians, athletes, actors. What if I lost you to one of them? I’d be left with nothing.”
“You did lose me, and I don’t need money to be happy. All I needed was you.”
He lets out a frustrated growl on the other end of the line. Knowing him, he’s pacing back and forth in his living room, his head tipped back and his eyes squinted shut. It’s funny how well I know him, yet I was blind to the truth for so long.
“I need you to believe me. She means nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“For being so insignificant, you spent a lot of time with her. Just admit it, you felt an insane attraction to her because she let you live out fantasies you felt you couldn’t ask me for, and then you got caught. You weren’t threatened by my job. You were bored.”
“Lark, please. Don’t do this to us.”
“You already did it. This breakup isn’t my fault. It’s yours.”
“I need to see you one more time. I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Grant, I can’t do this. Don’t call, don’t come over, and stop sending me flowers. I’ll just throw them out.” It’s a lie. I may have smashed them, but once I hang up, I already know I’ll put them in a new vase and give them water. My relationship may have died, but they’re all I have left of what I thought I loved—that’s not as easy to discard.
“Ten minutes, please.”
“No, I’m done.” I stab my finger at the end call button and toss the phone on the kitchen counter.
Suddenly, I’m freezing cold. When my eyes open, the room’s darkened, and I’m disoriented. I expect to see Noelle when I turn my head, but it’s Easton. He’s rubbing my arm, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you okay? You were dreaming.”
“I was?”
“Yeah, maybe more of a nightmare.”
“Did I say anything?” Before he even answers, I can tell I did. I’ve been known to talk in my sleep. Noelle has all kinds of dirt on me from nonsense I’ve mumbled when I was out cold. It’s bad enough when she hears me, but it’s humiliating knowing Easton did, too. It’s why I roll over and cover as much of myself as I can while still being able to breathe.
“Don’t hide from me, Lark. You’re in my bed. Tell me what’s wrong?”
A frustrated tear slides down my cheek, but I brush it away before another has a chance to follow. “It’s nothing,” I lie.
“You wouldn’t be crying if it was nothing.”
I want to roll over and face him, but I can’t. Not if I plan on telling him the truth about why Grant didn’t want me anymore. “I work in public relations. There’s a lot of high profile clients that come in and out of the office. I love what I do, but apparently, Grant didn’t. He was so sure I’d leave him for one of my clients, he found a replacement for me ahead of time—only I never left him and he kept the both of us. The dream was the night before we left for the cruise when he called begging me to take him back. When I wouldn’t, he came to my apartment instead.”
“That’s a fucking dick move.”
I smile at his choice of words. It’s very Easton. “Yeah, what a dick.”
Easton scoots closer to me, cuddling me from behind. His arm wraps around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder, his breath tickling my ear lobe. “So far this guy has saved you from a possible shark attack, which is a redeeming quality, but he’s also cheated on you which makes him a douchebag.”
He’s not wrong. Grant was a lot of things—loyal and honest weren’t two of them. But I don’t want to lie next to Easton and talk about another guy, even if Grant still is a very large part of my life—broken up or not. “At least you get to reap the benefits this week.”
“I gotta admit, it’s been some of the best revenge sex I’ve ever had. I knew the second I touched you in the theater, you had someone else on your mind. It’s been my mission to change that.”
Each time I’m with Easton, it’s his body I feel on top of mine, but when I close my eyes, I’m still haunted by images of Grant with his whore. It fuels me to fuck Easton harder—to prove to Grant that I’m capable of giving a man every single thing he needs.
>
My days may have once started and ended with Grant—back when life was perfect and I couldn’t imagine it ever becoming difficult for us, but that’s gone. He hung the moon above the stars, and then he made me hate him. “How did you know?”
Easton kisses my shoulder, his lips warm and soft against my skin. Finally he says, “Because I know what it’s like to fuck to forget.”
I’m afraid to ask him what he means, especially after hearing his song at the show and then discovering the tattoo on his back. As much as I want all the facts, I might not be ready to hear about someone else. Not if it’ll remind me of where I was before I met him.
So, instead of pushing for more, I turn around in his arms, snuggling closer to his chest. The sheet falls away from his chest, revealing a shiny piece of metal. My eyes zero in on his nipple and the piercing going through it. “When did you get that?”
“A long time ago. I didn’t have it in.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
He takes my hand and lays it across his pec, encouraging me to explore. “First one you’ve seen?”
“Yes.” I poke at it, afraid it’ll hurt him if I mess with it too much. He brushes my hair away from my face, and I feel him watching me touch him. “What?” I whisper, as I run my thumb over his nipple again.
“If you weren’t completely my type I might worry about us being so different.”
“What is your type?”
He waits for me to look at him. When I do, he rewards me with a sincere smile I want to memorize so I never have to worry about forgetting it. “I think I’m looking at it.”
