“Okay, fine,” I agree in discomfort, putting away my wallet. He hands over his credit card to pay, then walks me to a table.
Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he cradles my face. “Thank you for introducing me to your mom. She’s wonderful.”
I feel the ice around my heart thaw a bit with his kind words. I nod my head. “She really is amazing. It’s going to be so hard to not have her in my life.” I bite my trembling lip, hoping to still my emotions before I lose it in a public place.
“You don't have to look at her death like that. She will always be with you, at least in spirit. You will find yourself using her words or mannerisms, looking at a problem the same way, or just remembering good times you had and she will be with you.” Talan takes my hand in his over the top of the table, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles slowly. “Something I learned after my dad died was that you carry a piece of your family in you forever. They will always influence your choices, your actions, and how you live life.”
I consider his words carefully. I feel the weight of truth in them, and know I can at least look forward to having that much when she’s gone. It doesn't help me feel any better about her death, though.
Our pager buzzes, so I get up to grab our food to avoid talking about death. Returning to the table, Talan is tapping out a text on his phone. I try to control my curiosity, as it’s not my business who he is talking to. I sip my watermelon agua fresca and wait for him to be finished before I begin eating. His thick, dark brows are knit together in concentration, his beautiful eyes intent on the screen. He’s so good looking it hurts. Maybe if I were less attracted to him I wouldn’t have such a hard time staying away from him.
Talan looks up from his phone, catching my intent stare. I blink quickly and look down at the food I haven’t touched.
“Sorry about that—work stuff. You didn’t have to wait for me.”
I pick up a slice of my quesadilla and nibble the edge. The first taste of gooey cheese unlocks the gate my hunger was hidden behind, and suddenly I'm ravenous. I wolf down half my food before I manage to curb the need for calories. Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I look at Talan. “What?” I ask when I catch him staring.
“I just feel bad I hadn’t thought to feed you earlier. You’re obviously starving.”
“Oh jeez, I’m not starving, I just require food every few hours or you risk my hanger.”
“Hanger? Is that like hungry anger?”
“Exactly. I think you got off easy today because I was distracted. Normally I have a meltdown and say mean things.” I think about my day. “Correction, I did those things. I apologize for what I said to you in hanger.”
Talan laughs. “Well if all I need to do is keep you fed, then I can totally manage your meltdowns. Between you and your mom giving me these insider tips, I’ll be able to manage your complicated feelings just fine.”
I crumple my napkin in my hands and find I can’t meet his eyes. “Complicated feelings? What are you talking about?”
“You keep pushing me away, finding ways to put off the inevitable.”
“What exactly do you think is inevitable?” I tap the table with my fingertips, wondering where this is going.
Talan sets his fork down, propping his elbows on the table between us. “Us. You want me, Bliss, and I'm happy to give you anything you want.”
“Hah. That’s a little self-indulgent, don’t you think? I don’t believe there’s anything inevitable here.” I gesture between us, but can’t meet his eyes again. I’ve always been a terrible liar. It’s so much harder to lie to myself when the object of my desire is sitting across from me.
“There’s chemistry between us, something that is hard to avoid, even though you are doing a damn good job trying. You’re receptive enough to the attraction, but find ways to talk yourself out of wanting it. It’s pretty remarkable how you can switch it off, actually.”
I bristle, but realize I have no argument against what he’s said. He’s right. I do want him and find him attractive. Which is exactly the problem.
“You’re persistent and annoyingly good at ignoring what I ask,” I counter feebly. I bite my quesadilla with finality, hoping he won’t continue this conversation.
Talan just laughs and shakes his head, returning to his own food.
We return to the hospital with a small box of cupcakes from Frost Cupcake Factory in Campbell for Mom. I had to squish the box into my purse to transport the sugary goodness on the Ducati, but it will be tasty even smashed. I remove my helmet and hand it to Talan, but make no move toward the hospital doors.
“I’m going to stay here with my mom tonight. Thank you so much for today. It was fun to get out and try something new. I can’t thank you enough for driving me all the way down here from Sonoma. I really appreciate it.”
“Are you sure you want to stay in the hospital? I can get a room at a hotel nearby so you have a real bed to sleep in.”
“No. Thank you for the offer, but I can’t possibly accept it. I want to stay with my mom. I would hate for her to be here alone all night. You probably need to get back to work, anyway. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”
Bathed in the red glow from the emergency sign, Talan reaches for me, pulling me by my belt loops toward him. His hands snake behind me to rest on my lower back. The weight of his hands on me, and the closeness of his body is a hard pull to resist. I close my eyes and just enjoy it for a minute.
“Bliss,” he whispers. “I can make time for something I really want. I wouldn’t have brought you here or stayed if I didn’t want to.” His lips skim across my forehead, down to my temple and onto my cheek. I find myself turning slightly so he’ll find my lips. He hovers with his lips so close to mine, his breath teases them apart. “I want you to want me as much as I want you. To say hell yes, or give me a no.”
He lightly presses his lips to mine. I deepen the kiss, rising onto my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. He yields to me, opening his mouth and letting me gain access. I kiss him hungrily, wanting to be filled by him, to fill him with myself. His hands twist in my hair and smooth across my ass. After a moment of passion, he takes a handful of my hair and pulls me away from him.
“You’re going to have to make up your mind. I don’t want to be used, even by someone as beautiful,” he places a kiss on my lips, “and captivating as you.” He bites my bottom lip before he releases me completely. Turning away, he straps my helmet to the back of the Ducati before pulling his own on.
He straddles the bike and turns the engine so the Ducati idles. He looks at me one last time, tracing my figure with his eyes before he closes the visor and pulls away.
I am left panting, needy, and empty. I am left with a choice to make.
Chapter Sixteen
Mom is doing much better and is released from the hospital the following afternoon. Her pain meds may have knocked her out, but I slept horribly on the fold out chair in her room. I dutifully consider it punishment for leading Talan along, taking his affection when it suited me, and pushing him away when it started to consume me.
He is so right.
I can’t keep stringing him along like this. I need to make up my own mind. Do I want Talan and everything he offers, even if it means stealing my focus, or is it too much and I need to let him go? It’s selfish to want to have it all.
I settle Mom in her apartment, showing my ‘aunt’ Amy how to change the catheter bag she came home with. Amy has worked with Mom for years, and feels more like family than a friend. I’m happy she’s willing to stay with Mom when I am in San Francisco. I know she will keep me updated if anything happens. It’s a huge relief for me, and makes going back to the city a little easier.
Before we left the hospital, Dr. Ong finally showed up. She said the catheter would be temporary, but is the easiest way to let Mom continue to live at home with the side effects of her cancer. She warned us that the pleural effusion could come back when we remove the catheter, that it could be worse the next
time because Mom’s tumors continue to grow. Her latest x-ray showed measurable growth of her main tumor, which is scary due to only having had her original x-rays taken a few weeks before.
Dr. Ong revised her original statement and informed us that it looks like Mom’s cancer is not only extremely aggressive, but moving faster than she thought. Instead of having six months left to live, she will be lucky to have three. Mom bore the news stoically. She did not dissolve into tears like I did. She accepted her new, shortened fate with grace.
“Blissy, it’s not the end, it just means I better get to living for the small time that remains,” she told me as I mopped my eyes with a tissue.
It is hard to leave her when I have to go home. I cling to her like a scared kid, which I guess I am. Even though Mom is suffering and dying, she still holds all the comfort and calm I need.
Now I barely pretend to be in control of the emotions that swirl and froth just under the surface of my calm demeanor. Amy drops me at the CalTrain station so I can get back to San Francisco. I have the long train ride home to make plans for the future. I decide that focusing on Mom for these next few months is more important than pursuing a relationship. My heart hurts when this occurs to me, giving me reason to reconsider, but I steel my resolve. Talan will only distract me and steal my focus from Mom. I can’t let that happen when I have such a short time left with her.
My mom has three months to live.
The CalTrain is filled with evening commuters returning to the city from their tech jobs in Silicon Valley. A few girls who look about my age get on when the train reaches the Stanford station in Palo Alto. They sit near me and chat loudly enough for me to perk up and start eavesdropping when they mention the bands they are going to see in concert at Slim’s tonight. I pretend to read on my phone while I listen to them, jealous of their excitement and lack of worries. When the girls begin talking about their dating woes, I really pay attention. They may not have a dying parent, but they probably would understand the dilemma I’ve been wrestling with. Maybe I can gain some insight from them. I quickly figure out that they are worried about their own guys who are hot and cold, much like I have been with Talan. One of the girls, Miranda, spears me in the gut as she talks about how she feels about the guy, David, she’s been seeing.
“I mean, he’s attentive and interested when we’re together, but I can’t get anything from him when we’re apart. It’s like he’s only interested when I’m right in front of him, my boobs on display or my girly parts available. I basically don’t exist the rest of the time,” she tells her friend Cami. “I might as well be a blowup doll. I want someone who thinks about me constantly, calls and texts and tells me he wants me for more than a casual hookup when he’s horny. I feel like I'm wasting my time waiting for him to really see me, and value a relationship with me. But I can’t just give up on him, either.”
“Miri, you can’t let him disrespect you like that. You’re worth more than a casual hookup. You should have a guy falling at your feet, begging you for your affection. Fuck that douchebag, anyway. David is such a tool whenever anyone else is around. Whatever happened to Blake? He was hot and super into you,” Cami replies.
“Oh,” Miranda says sadly. “He wanted to start something serious when I wasn’t ready. I haven’t talked to him in months, but I found out last week he’s seeing this chick Victoria now. I stalked his Facebook and there are all sorts of pictures of them being fucking adorable. I totally let a good one get away, and now I’m paying for it with Douchebag David because at least he wants me some of the time.”
I tune out Miranda and Cami’s conversation, feeling sick. If I truly let Talan go, there is no way he will wait around until I’m finally ready. He will find someone who is ready now, who can reciprocate his attention and they will be adorable together. I will miss out on everything he is offering me right now. Can I live with myself if I make that choice?
If I do the selfless thing and let him go, I will have the freedom to follow my aspirations of freelancing successfully, and be able to make sure the last few months of my mom’s life are the best they can be. But I won’t have Talan. I'm even more confused and torn over my choices when I finally make it home.
“Hey stranger, have you been boning for a day straight? You look like shit, by the way. I'm so not used to seeing you without your eyeliner looking fierce,” Willa says when I walk inside the apartment. She’s in sweaty workout clothes, so she’s probably only been home for a little while.
“I was at the hospital overnight with my mom.” I leave out any mention of Talan. My heart hurts when I think about him.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. What happened now?”
I spend a few minutes updating her on Mom’s condition, and her new expiration date.
“Damn, that’s rough.” Willa hugs me tightly.
“Ugh. You stink. Go shower,” I tell her as I push her away and laugh.
“You know you love my manly sweatiness. It makes you hot.” Willa flexes her biceps and walks off toward the bathroom. “I really liked it better when I thought you were out with your new man-candy Talan,” she calls over her shoulder.
Yeah, me too.
I collapse on the couch, pulling my phone out to check emails. I have an email from Finch, confirming ten models to walk in the fashion show, and my stomach drops. My fundraiser is tomorrow night. Holy hell, it snuck up on me. I spend the next two hours confirming vendors and checking on RSVPs for some of the guests that have not confirmed via our Facebook event page. The turnout looks like it will be good. The designers have even offered to donate some of the proceeds from any sales of their clothes outside of the auction to Mom’s crowdfunding account. Now I just have to hope it all goes according to plan.
With so much to do and worry about, I’m almost surprised that Talan still haunts my thoughts. I work my hardest not to think about him. But thoughts of his lips on my skin, his hands groping and twisting, and his mouth on mine invade as the evening rolls on. I shut my eyes and will away the images, trying not to get caught up in my memories and ignore the heat that’s building low in my body. My brain has made the decision to ignore him, but my body with its carnal desire and my saddened heart are rebelling.
Groaning, I roll off the couch and head to the kitchen, hoping food will distract me. I soon realize that even with a full stomach, Talan continues to dominate my thoughts. I have nothing left to do for the fundraiser other than hope it goes as planned. My distractions are limited. My body has been teased, kissed, and touched so much this week that I need more than food to control this hunger.
Damn it, Talan.
I go to bed unsatisfied and wanting something I shouldn’t have. I toss and turn and when I finally fall asleep, I have horrible nightmares all night. In some, Mom is an emaciated shell of herself, yelling at me to live for us both while she coughs up blood. In others, my heart breaks as I watch Talan with his arms around Nassim, kissing her neck as she spots me over his shoulder and smiles evilly. You lose, she says to me as he picks her up and pins her to the wall, his hands pulling at her dress. I wake unrested and agitated, in a foul mood even though I have so much to be excited about.
Chapter Seventeen
My day is a flurry of activity. I take the morning to double check that plans are all in place while I soak in a bubble bath hoping for relaxation. It evades me, even as the fragrance of my peony plum bath salts sink into my skin. Once I’ve given up on finding any relaxation, I load up the Mini with my kit and a dress to change into, and head to the converted warehouse Talan so graciously secured for me.
I am a bubbling cauldron of conflicting desires. The rational part of my brain really hopes he doesn’t show up today, because I need my mind on my plan of action. Yet there is still a part of me that wants nothing more than to sink into his protective and all-consuming arms, so I don't have to think about anything else. I push past my own confusion and find Finch, already at the warehouse waiting for me.
“You don't look very good. Have
you slept at all since I saw you last week?”
“Yes and no. I’ve been back and forth to San Jose all week dealing with my mom’s diagnosis and worsening condition.” I rub my puffy eyes in point.
“Is that all, Bliss? I know your mom is sick, but you seem far more preoccupied than I expected.”
Damn having best friends who know you too well. “No, there’s more. I met a guy a few weeks back who is messing with my head. It’s ridiculous Finch. I wish he had shown up at some other time in my life, when I could actually dedicate time to building a relationship with him, because he’s a great guy. Instead, I feel so torn that I’m attracted to him and want to see where things go, but feel like I need that attention to devote to my mom instead, because she needs me so much more right now. You would think life would be a little better about planning when to throw things at you. There shouldn’t be something good that comes at the same time as something bad; it’s like oil and water. You can’t appreciate the good because the bad sucks so much and keeps floating to the surface, overshadowing the good.”
“It’s sort of hard to follow your explanation, because I will gladly take whatever good comes my way, even if there is bad stuff happening at the same time. I feel like the small bits of good help you overcome and get through the bad,” he says gently.
“But what if the good stuff overshadows things you really need to take care of?” I ask desperately.
“Are you talking about your mom, or the guy? I'm confused.”
“So am I, honestly.” I sink onto a folding chair, tired of the back and forth game my brain is having in dealing with this.
“Get back to me once you figure out your actual problem and I’ll try to help you,” he offers kindly. “Now, let’s decide what we want to put these models in tonight.”
I nod, grateful for the diversion from my complicated feelings. Finch and I sort through the various dresses and outfits the designers sent over, pulling some we really like and figuring out what to do with the rest. I slide the garments onto hanging racks sorted by model as he reads off their measurements and shows me photos.
A Taste of Bliss Page 12
