The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  “Yeah, I am fine. Where are these friends of yours?”

  Chapter 21

  Later that night, Casey lay awake in her bed. Conor had wanted her to stay at his house, but she had told him that she needed to get some writing done early in the morning. In truth, she felt strange about the memory that had come out of nowhere. She figured it arose in response to the fact that she was now officially dating Conor. What she could not understand was the fact that, though she had loved Jace immensely, she was beginning to question why? He had been a drinker, and with him, she was the worst kind of person. She drank heavily back then to stay on his level—it would have impossible to deal with him otherwise. He often got verbally abusive with her, though he always stopped himself from getting physical.

  When they had gotten pregnant, things seemed to slow down in the “young and dumb” department, but he seemed so absent a lot of the time. Casey wondered why she was thinking of this now. It had never occurred to her before tonight that Jace might not have been the right person for her at all.

  She hated to compare Jace and Conor, but they were just so different. Jace was a free-spirited country boy who loved his alcohol maybe as much as he loved Casey. Conor was an elegant gentleman with a ferocious sexual appetite. Casey tried to remember what it had been like having sex with Jace, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on a word to describe it. Of course, it had been sexy at first, when they were still in the honeymoon phase. However, it did not take long for things to go stale between them. How long had it been that way, really? Why had Casey not been able to see that the relationship between she and Jace was all wrong? Why had she gone on so long living with a man who left her unfulfilled?

  Exhausted with the questions crashing around like bumper cars in her mind, Casey closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Though the new pills she was prescribed by Dr. Roma were keeping most of the nightmares at bay, she was sure that she was in for one tonight. It was nearly impossible to sleep sound when her head was full of crazy thoughts, and as much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to get spoiled on sleeping with Conor’s arms wrapped snugly around her.

  She awoke at 3 a.m. in another of her cold sweats. Just as she had predicted, she had been visited by an atrocious nightmare, which, unlike many before it, seemed to be a memory.

  Jace was sitting behind the wheel of their SUV with the car seat strapped in the back. He was holding a silver flask in one hand, continuously taking long draws from the opening. He was crying, plump tears escaping his eyes and falling to his lap. When he finished the contents of the small container, he chunked it into the front passenger seat and put the gear in reverse. The scene changed. The SUV was engulfed in flames.

  Casey had sat up in bed, out of breath and confused. Where had the nightmare come from? Jace hadn’t been drinking that day, or had he? Why was he crying? Why would he be drinking and driving with the baby? It just seemed so out of character for him because he had been an amazing father. Casey thought about the mental block she had placed on her memories of that day. She wondered if the nightmare was just something she had projected, or a buried memory trying to break free from the mental barricade?

  Casey, confused and frustrated, wondered if Dr. Roma could get her back to that day. Could she get to the bottom of things? Could she help Casey to remember? She had to know if her nightmare was true, and if so, what had happened that day to cause Jace to drink and drive? Irritated that her mind refused to provide clarity, she lay back down and tried to sleep, though she had little hope for rest.

  After tossing and turning for most of the night, Casey decided she could not wait for her next appointment with Dr. Roma. She desperately needed to pick apart the nightmare that haunted her, so she called to schedule an emergency appointment.

  Dr. Roma’s receptionist, a doe-eyed girl in her early 20s who seemed to have only half of her brain-cells intact, informed Casey that Dr. Roma would be out of town until the end of the week. This being only Sunday meant that Casey would just have to find other ways to bide her time. Though she was frazzled, she thought that getting through the week would not be too difficult, seeing as how she was romantically involved with an absolute hunk.

  Casey hung up the phone and decided to go for a run before getting to her writing. She had found it so much easier to write for the magazine now that she was happy. She finally felt like one of those people that she so closely observed—she no longer felt like an outsider. She dressed quickly and waved to a very groggy-looking Sammie on her way out the door.

  The air outside was chilly, but the sun kissed her skin. She usually did not like to listen to music while she ran, but today, she needed something heavy to drown out her thoughts. She popped in her ear-buds, blasted Deftones’ “Around the Fur,” and took off.

  Chapter 22

  By the middle of the week, Casey was going mad waiting for Dr. Roma’s return. She had tried every distraction from her thoughts that she could, running miles at a time, eating, drinking hard liquor, reading a book, watching TV, and writing Conor’s name over and over.

  The only thing that was missing was spending time, and energy, with him. He had been called away the day after the game for an emergency meeting and was unsure as to when he would return. Casey was suspicious as to whether he actually was out of town, or if their change in relationship status had spooked him. After a short time of thinking that way, Casey’s thoughts had changed to, Wow, I am absolutely fucking nuts. Conor was nothing if not honest and trustworthy. She could not understand in the slightest why he was attracted to a neurotic nut case like her, but she could not deny that he was.

  The nightmare had only recurred once, but Casey could not push the eerie details from her mind. She replayed it from memory over and over in attempt to find any specific details that she might have missed the first time. She was desperate to find a clue as to whether she had simply projected Jace drinking on the day of the accident, or if it was true.

  Two bites into an unappetizing TV dinner, Casey’s phone alerted her that she had a text message. She left the bland excuse for a meal on the table, and was delighted to see that it was a text from Conor.

  It read, Hey, love! I got back into town just over a half-hour ago. I hope ya haven’t eaten supper already. I would love for ya to join me at me house. Let’s say one hour? I promise it won’t be as large as breakfast.

  Casey smiled, recalling how miserable she was the first time her cooked for her. She glanced at the now-cold dinner on the table and felt no remorse dunking it into the trash. She ran to the shower, and prepared herself for some distraction.

  When she was on her way out the door, Casey heard a muffled crying coming from Sammie’s room. Though she was running a little late, she could not bear to leave her pregnant best friend crying alone. She knocked lightly on the door, and Sammie invited her in through a whimper.

  “Sammie, are you okay, sweetie? Did Giovanni do something to you? I’ll kill him!” Casey said as she put her arms around her friend. She noticed that her baby bump was really growing. Casey had been beginning to think that Sammie would not pop until she popped the baby out.

  “No, Giovanni is great,” Sammie said through flowing tears. “It’s just, I don’t understand why I got knocked up by such a loser when there are good guys like Gio out there. Why could it not have been him? Now I am going to have this baby completely alone, and it won’t have a father. Gio won’t want me after I have extra baggage, and it is going to break my heart.” When she said the word “alone” she sucked in air in the middle of the word, as if uttering it robbed her of breath.

  “Oh, sweetie, everything happens for a reason. If you hadn’t been with that jerk of a baby-daddy in the first place, you never would have left him to come to Boston. You and I would have not made up for God knows how long, and you wouldn’t be carrying this little miracle inside of you.” A flash of ease crossed Sammie’s face. “And you are not alone. I am here with you forever, and this baby is going to have an amazing mommy and one
kick-ass auntie.” The idea of being an aunt intrigued her, since she was an only child. “And Gio met you while you were pregnant, so he knew from the get-go that you were going to have a small bundle of baggage on the way soon.”

  “That is true,” Sammie said, trying to compose herself.

  “From what I can tell, he is really into you, honey. You guys have been stuck together like white on rice since you met, and from what it sounds like on this side of the wall, you seem to be ‘getting along’ just fine.”

  At that, Sammie brightened. “Thanks, Case. You are truly one of the best friends a girl could ask for,” she praised.

  “Oh, I know,” Casey said jokingly. “What would you do without me?”

  “Probably be freaking out more than I already am,” Sammie replied. “Is there any way you could do something for me?”

  “Sure! Anything you need,” Casey replied. She would just about jump over the moon if one small task could help Sammie feel better about the situation she found herself in.

  “Would you ask Conor how Gio really feels about me?”

  Casey was not fond of this request. She felt that it might be odd to ask Conor to do recon for Sammie. He was just so mature and did not much interfere with or gossip about other people. Casey reluctantly agreed only because Sammie looked irrefutably hopeful. What right did Casey have to tell her no, only to send her into a depression in the middle of her pregnancy?

  When Casey arrived at Conor’s home, she was only fifteen minutes late, but felt very guilty about it. Being late was definitely not her style. She rang the bell and was greeted by Conor sporting nothing more than a raunchy cooking apron that said “Eat My Meat.” Casey laughed out loud at the saying on the front, but giggled until her stomach hurt at the sight of Conor’s bare ass when he turned around to walk back into the kitchen.

  “Ya like my outfit? I picked it out just for ya, love.”

  “It is very—uh, revealing.”

  She followed him into the kitchen, which was thick with the most amazing fragrance. She couldn’t pick out what it was exactly that was caressing her sense of smell, but she was instantly hungry.

  Conor checked what was going on in the oven, then turned to her and said, “Still have about a half-hour till supper.” He walked toward her, and she could not help but stare at the outline of his rigid cock. “Would ya want to have dessert first?”

  Casey’s hunger pangs were replaced with a powerful lust instantaneously. In that moment, she did not think that she would be able to make it up to his bedroom before stripping him naked. She briskly walked over to him, grabbed a handful of his erection through his apron, and said, “Right here, right now.”

  Without hesitation, Conor had her unclothed and lifted on top of the kitchen table in mere seconds. He got to his knees and nestled his tongue within her folds. She moaned loudly as her head fell backward. She knew that she was in for one hell of a night of distraction.

  Chapter 23

  When the lovers had thoroughly wore one another out, Casey’s stomach screamed woes of hunger. She was never so happy as when the timer that Conor had set pre-kitchen-table-sex went off, indicating that whatever he was cooking was ready.

  “All right, love, why don’t ya go upstairs and get into one of the robes in me bathroom, and I will finish preparin’ supper? I already laid one out for ya.”

  Casey agreed, and made her way upstairs on legs that felt like limp noodles. She felt no shame in being naked around Conor, or swaying her ass from side to side as she walked, knowing his eyes were on her. She had never had much confidence about her body, and preferred to be covered at all times. But with Conor, she felt about herself the way that he must see her. She felt sexy. He made her feel like a woman.

  Upstairs, Casey decided to take a quick shower to wash the sex from her loins. When she was done lathering her swollen clitoris and felt clean and refreshed, she reached for the robe that Conor had set out for her. Unlike the dark fleece that hung from a hook on the back of his bathroom door, the one laid out was a delicate shade of pink. She had never seen it hanging in his bathroom before, and wondered if it was new. As she wrapped it around her, hugging the plush material to her skin, she noticed something else that did not usually reside in Conor’s bathroom. There was a light pink toothbrush that was almost the same color as the robe, a woman’s razor, shampoo, and conditioner. Is this for me? Casey deduced that since they had become an official item, Conor wanted her to become more comfortable in his home, which was perfectly fine.

  Casey grabbed Conor’s robe from the back of the door, aware that she could not keep a straight face if he wore the apron throughout dinner, and turned to head back downstairs.

  “I brought your robe down for you,” Casey said as she eyed the food and Conor’s naked flesh with equal desire.

  “Thank ya, love,” he said as he poured them each a glass of wine. “Have a seat. We are havin’ chicken parmesan and Caesar salad. Got the recipe from Giovanni.” Casey’s stomach roared as she sat down in front of her plate.

  Since Conor had already brought Giovanni up, Casey thought it the perfect time to fulfill Sammie’s request.

  “Hey, Conor,” Casey said as she sliced a piece of the tender chicken. “I know that what I am about to ask you is probably ridiculous, being that you are a man and I don’t think men are anything like women…” She knew she was rambling, and Conor looked at her strangely, waiting for whatever it was that she was about to ask. “Well, look, it’s like this. Sammie is my best friend, and she has been through a whole lot in the last year or so. I mean, deadbeat drunk boyfriend who tried to beat her, and unknowingly knocked her up. Then there was the trip to Boston, and landing on my doorstep after we hadn’t spoken for at least a year…” Rambling again.

  “What is it, love?” Conor seemed anxious for Casey to get to the point, and a shade irritated for some reason, so Casey got right to it.

  “Do you know at all how Giovanni feels about her? Like, is he some sort of crazy perv who just likes pregnant girls, or is he really into her? Because she seems to think he won’t be around after the baby comes.”

  Conor devoured a man-sized bite of his meal. Casey loved watching him eat. She sometimes imagined him as a fierce warrior returning from battle, where his constant starvation had turned him into a bloodthirsty killer.

  “He’s crazy about her, just as I am for ya. He acts like a nance when he gabs about her, getting’ that starry look in his eye,” he responded, somewhat uninterested. “I would be willing to bet he loves the gal.”

  Relief washed over her. She was overjoyed that he was not some closet freak, and let herself relax. She could not wait to report to Sammie so that she could go on about her days without tears. She settled back into her food, which she decided was the most delicious thing she had ever put in her mouth, aside from Conor, of course. The rich flavor of the Parmesan paired nicely with the wine Conor had chosen.

  “This is delicious, Conor. Thank you.”

  “Ya’re grand, love,” he said, forking another heaping bite into his perfect mouth.

  As they ate, they talked about Conor’s trip, and the flight there and back. Casey talked about how she had never been out of the United States, and Conor assured her that he was taking her to Ireland someday. They talked about the latest Sox scores, and upcoming games that they might like to attend together. Casey enjoyed the ease at which they changed from one subject to another, never allowing a moment of awkward silence to take over their conversation.

  Looking down at the robe, Casey asked, “So, where did all of those toiletries and things come from? And this robe?”

  “I bought them today at the market for ya. I figured ya might need some girlie things around for when I wear ya out, and ya stay the night.” Casey smiled at his nonchalant attitude toward the situation, and she was completely flattered that he had went out of his way to make her feel more comfortable in his home.

  “Thank you, that was very thoughtful.”

  Wh
en they finished dinner, Casey insisted that Conor let her help with the dishes, though he protested immensely. When the kitchen was spotless, the made their way up to Conor’s bedroom to “watch a movie,” which unsurprisingly turned into the ravishing of one another for hours. In the aftermath, Casey lay on Conor’s chest, their hands intertwined.

  “Hey, Con,” she said.

  “Hmm?” His voice was so gentle. He was gentle. He was so perfect.

  “What is your family like? I feel like I know you completely, but I also feel like I know nothing about you.”

  He kissed her forehead and said, “Ah, now there’s a story. Me folks wanted me to marry Ms. Aislinn Kenney, who was a homely lookin’ little gal. They thought that we would be the perfect match, but it truly was an old-fashioned way for them to bring our two farms together. I gave it a go and took her to a dingy little pub, but she barely spoke to me. I think I scared her. So, I defied me ma and da and moved stateside to go to college. I didn’t speak to them much after that.” Conor’s gaze focused on nothing in particular, his eyes touched with sadness. “Then ma died unexpectedly in my last year of college. I couldn’t go home for the funeral ‘cause I was so near graduation.”

  Casey, feeling an untapped amount of grief for Conor, pressed her lips softly against his. “I am sorry for your loss. It is hard losing someone you love.” Which she knew all too well. “But it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t go to the funeral.”

  “That’s not what Patrick thought,” he said sternly

  “Who’s Patrick?” Casey had never heard him mention a Patrick before tonight.

  “Patrick, Jr. Me brother. Two years older than me and he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. He never forgave me for not bein’ there when they put ma in the ground. I really can’t say I blame him.”