by Aceves, Gigi
She covers my mouth with her hand, with nothing but love in her eyes. “You’ve said it already. I want to say it . . . I need to say it on my terms . . . my words—my way.” She gifts me with her smile that makes me stop and thank God for allowing our paths to cross. “I want to be with you. Now . . . tomorrow until God stops time for us. But I hope it doesn’t anytime soon, because I’ve waited so long for this—how I’ve longed for this.”
She pulls back and smiles at me. “So. . . .” She teasingly smirks at me. “. . . . we’re finally doing this?”
“Yes, baby, we’re so doing this. We need to make the most of this time because my first shift starts in a couple of hours.” I give her wet kisses on her neck which makes her giggle.
“You’re officially mine?” The laughter in her voice sends shivers up my spine. Her happiness excites me.
“Always been yours, Wildflower. Always been.”
“We’ll make it work, I promise. I love you too much to not see this through.”
I pull back and focus on her eyes. “I love you, too, more, than you’ll ever know.”
I kiss her more, loving how her tongue caresses mine. How her moans elicit a convulsive need within in me to take her at this moment, to make her mine. But the power of the promise I gave her dad kills the embers of that desire. I know I can love her without breaking that promise. It’s my hope that the strength of my conviction to fulfill that promise is formidable enough to withstand my weakness for her.
I force myself to standstill. . . . to enjoy this moment with enough restraint to put on the brakes, but with enough passion to bridge her to me—satisfying her—satisfying me. It is, though, not enough to quench the craving I have of her.
Mine—No doubt about it . . . body, heart, and soul. To deny her or myself of this is more painful than anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve denied myself for far too long.
Yours—I am hers and hers alone. I’ve been for the longest time and for the longest time I’ve held out on her, and the dam is just about to burst to overflowing.
SOPHIA
Damien: Baby, I’m coming up.
I LOOK AT THE TEXT DAMIEN sends me then at the time. Five thirty in the morning? What’s going on? A soft knock on my door makes me jump up to open it. I know he wouldn’t be here without prior approval from my parents since he’s a stickler for rules.
Power brakes remember!
He greets me like he always does with a soft kiss on my lips, a bear hug with one arm, a hold on the back of my head with the other while his face is buried into my neck. I love this hold.
“Morning. What’s going on?”
“Wait,” he mumbles. “ . . . want to kiss you some more . . .” he says against my neck.
I wait, savoring his kisses against my skin that both tickle and excite me. He wants to wait until we get married before we do the deed, which gives my girly parts intense vajayjay-angina! It seems marriage is out of reach at this point. We’ve only been together for three months, but it’s something he firmly believes will happen. ‘There are just no ifs, ands, or buts about it’ his words not mine; however, holding off is getting harder and harder the farther we push the imaginary envelope. How he controls himself is beyond me. If given the chance, I’d have jumped him by now. Arguments arise out of sheer frustration on both our parts, but mostly mine every single time he applies the brakes to us—when he breaks our moment.
He pulls back and kisses my lips softly. One peck, of course, turns into something more until we’re both devouring each other. He walks us toward my bed and sits me on the edge of the bed while he squats down meeting my eyes.
“I love you. You know that, right?”
“Oh no. That’s not a good start. Normally when someone starts with that line it means heartbreak.” My said heart beats wildly against my chest.
He strokes my skin with his thumb down to my jaw as he clasps my hand tightly. “I’m not going to break your heart. My talking to you right now will prevent that, as long as you keep an open mind.”
Breathing deeply and exhaling loudly, I say, “So, tell me.”
“I should have told you from the get go. With the excitement of us getting together, your dad’s campaign schedule, and your busy schedule, there just wasn’t any time until now.”
I’m biting my lips now, nervous as hell as to what this is all about. All I can do is wait until he spills it. As I look into his eyes, all I can see in their depths is his love for me. So, I anchor my faith and trust in that. Hopefully it’s enough.
“When I first got here, I met Nicole in a pub.” He stops and looks at me intently, waiting until everything clicks in my brain. The moment it does my shoulders sag and a deep sense of jealousy rocks my heart. “A couple of drinks turned into a couple more. One thing led to another, and I . . . we ended up in bed. It happened a couple of more times when I flew back for my second interview, again when she visited California, then the last times when I signed my lease to my apartment. But once I found out she works for your dad, I told her we can’t see each other anymore. Remember when I got that phone call when we were in your office? That was her asking to meet me, and I did, but only to tell her again that it’s over between us. And . . .” He pauses, and my already stalled heart stops completely. I feel like screaming and shaking the living daylights out of him. “She bought a condo unit in my building, but before you get upset over it, hear me out. I’m bunking with Luke until the end of my lease which will be in a couple of months.”
My mouth is dry, my mind replays ‘we ended up in bed’ on an endless loop. Disbelief, anger, jealousy, and disappointment fight for the top spot for which emotion I’ll let out first. My emotions are a melting pot of colors that turn from black to red just waiting to explode.
And did I hear him correctly? Is she now living where he’s staying? My head is about ready to explode. Upset? I’m beyond that! I’m . . . I don’t know what I am!
He runs his palms against my calves and rests them behind my knees. “Say something, baby.”
I can’t speak. What do I say to that? I know he’s experienced. I’m not naïve enough to think I’d be his first as he’ll be mine. But it still doesn’t make the pain of knowing he’s been with other women hurt any less. How many? At this point I don’t want to know; otherwise, my heart will end up like a pin cushion filled with hurt and nameless, faceless women. What hurts like a dagger to the heart is that nameless, faceless woman now has a name and a face to go with it—Nicole. Someone I see every day. . . . someone who works for my dad . . . someone I can’t just erase from my memory.
“Say something, Sophia. Your silence is killing me. Please.” He rests his head on my lap. When he gets no response, he twines our fingers together.
Only then do I say something, “I don’t know what to say. I suppose I shouldn’t get upset because it happened when we weren’t together. But it still hurts. Nicole, who has been a thorn on my side, has had a part of you that I haven’t had. She’s someone I know . . . someone who hates my guts, and who’ll use this to her advantage! I . . .”
He starts shaking his head. His eyes bore into mine. “You have all of me. That part you’re wanting is still yours. I just need us to wait. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want you. There’s not a second that goes by without me needing you to be under me. There’s no part of the day that I don’t crave the feeling of being inside you. The depths of that need are exactly how you feel, if not more.” He looks away as regret weighs heavily in his eyes.
His words destroy the roots of jealousy that slowly embed themselves in my heart. “Look at me?” I ask, needing to see his eyes. When he does, the sincerity paired with the hurt from his confession breaks me as forgiveness and acceptance blossom within. “Thank you for telling me. I’m hurt because I’m jealous. I’m angry because the intimacy of being with you, you freely shared with her. While I sit here and wait, practically begging for you to give it to me. I wish it didn’t happen. I wish it wasn’t her. I hate that it was, and the more
I think about it the angrier I get.” Shock and sadness register on his face, but honesty is what I’m going for, not subtleness. “I’m not going to apologize for the way I feel.”
He avoids my eyes then says, “I’m not asking you to.” His somber voice matches his demeanor and sadly I’m not grief-stricken that he feels that way. “I’m leaving today as part of the advance team for your dad’s visit to New York. I’ll be gone for days and I need to know we’re okay before I go.”
Jealousy comes back with a vengeance when I realize he’ll be in close contact with Nicole. So, this is what jealousy feels like. It practically takes hold of my brain, focusing solely on the most intimate act known to man between two people. In this case, Damien and Nicole—Nicole and Damien, both writhe in ecstasy against a wall or on a bed, maybe on the kitchen floor as he plunges deep inside her while she screams his name. Oh God! I can’t erase it from my mind even if I wanted to.
He stands and walks away from me. I can hear him let out a breath and take a couple of deep ones in, then out again. As hard as I try to kill the lies playing in my brain, I can’t. How can I? If I didn’t know the woman he had sex with, it probably would’ve been better. But I do know her. I know how conniving she is, and I’m left wondering why everyone trusts her, including my own father.
“Stop!” He yells, and my eyes gravitate toward him in shock. “Whatever garbage is playing in your head, stop it now! I’m leaving in a couple of minutes. I don’t need to worry about you while I’m gone. I need you to trust me. Learn to trust me. You actually should have by now.” He pinches his nose and closes his eyes, only to open them with disappointment lacing them.
Exasperation ignites in my body. “Oh, so you waltz in here, drop a bomb on me, and expect me to be okay with it? Are you kidding me? Would you be okay with it if the situation were reversed? What if I confessed to you that I banged Travis? Would you be skipping out of here with a smile on your face? God! You even know how many times you fucked her! Who does that? Are you trying to keep a tally?”
He shakes his head as he walks toward the door. “Obviously my honesty doesn’t mean shit. I’m sorry if you think I walk on water, because I don’t. I never pretended to. Do I need to give you a list of women I fucked? Is that what you want? What good will that do? You’re afraid of someone who doesn’t mean anything to me! I expect acceptance from you, Sophia, not condemnation.”
With that he leaves, and I’m stuck replaying what he said in my brain like Ground Hog’s Day. My mom’s morning visit comes minutes after Damien leaves. I only have a few precious moments to erase the emotions vividly etch on my face and to clear my head.
“Everything okay, honey?”
“Uh-huh. Peachy.”
She narrows her eyes but holds off, giving me a hug instead. “We’re leaving for New York tomorrow. We’ll be having dinner tonight, so plan to stay home after your studio time. If I may add, truth when given freely should be accepted, because in your acceptance the person is freed from the guilt of knowing their actions caused you pain.”
I’m fidgeting with my blanket when I feel my mom’s warm hands on my face. I dare not look up for fear of totally losing it in front of her. Right now, jealousy overrides every single emotion in me.
“I heard. And yes, I was eavesdropping. Jealousy is such a potent emotion that it takes time to defeat. It doubles in size each and every time you make up wild things in your head. Kill it, Sophia, before it kills you. Stop imagining things. Let it go because it’s already in the past.”
Those were her last words before I jump into the shower. I’m hoping my day will improve after washing the nastiness of the morning away and praying I won’t bump into the person I never want to speak to again.
Acceptance—Shouldn’t it be easier to give as long as it’s the truth? I should be happy that Damien told me the truth, but now that it’s out there it’s a bitter pill to swallow. Why? Because the truth hurts, that’s why! Shouldn’t the truth set me free?
Condemnation—Shouldn’t be given when someone is being truthful. So why am I upset? I guess because while the truth sets him free, it holds me hostage in a cell filled with jealousy.
DAMIEN
“Wilson, pass these out, please.”
I hand him a list of probable suspects that might show up at tomorrow night’s fundraising dinner. Nodding, he takes the papers and starts passing them around as everyone looks and studies them. Ever since this morning’s admission debacle, I’ve been short with almost everyone around me. My honesty backfired on me which is something I actually expected, but regretfully didn’t prepare for. I hate fighting with her. More so leaving things unresolved while I’m supposed to be in complete focus is pissing me off. This is why I didn’t do relationships. They mess with your brain. With my line of work, I need to have a clear mind, not a muddled up brain consumed entirely by Sophia. Just then my cell rings, an incoming call from Luke.
“What’s up?” I unclip my seatbelt and walk toward the back of the plane.
“Your Wildflower, who is a pain in my ass, wants to talk to you.”
“Tell her I can’t talk, right now.” My voice is tight as irritation of our situation seeps out of me.
This is why I wanted to settle it earlier when we had the chance. Now, she wants to have a conversation when I can’t even see her. I’m thirty thousand feet above land and miles away from her. How the hell does she think a simple phone call will solve this?
“Alright, I’ll break it to her gently. Wish I were there and not here. Just saying.”
“Take care of her for me.” A simple yet important request leaves my mouth.
My personal cell buzzes inside my pocket. I swipe my phone, happy it’s her texting but dreading what I’m about to read.
Wildflower: I know we’re fussing. Can we have an MU?
Me: What is MU?
Wildflower: Mutual Understanding
Me: Noted
Wildflower: 1–4-3–4-4
Me: Is that a code?
Wildflower: It means. . . . I Love You Very Much.
Me: How so?
Wildflower: It corresponds to the number of letters of each word.
Me: 4–3-5–8
Wildflower: Huh?
Me: Your Ass Needs Spanking
I smile after typing those words. I know they’ll get her all riled up and putting on the brakes isn’t necessary.
Wildflower: 4–2
I smile wider after reading her text since I know what it means. I can imagine her rolling her eyes at me once she reads my response.
Me: Bite Me? Is that an invitation, baby? I’ll bite every inch of your body while you scream my name. You squirming, yet?
She doesn’t answer right away, so I walk back to my seat. Then my phone buzzes one after another as soon as I click my seatbelt on.
Wildflower: >:(
Wildflower: Meanie!
Wildflower: Tease!
Wildflower: Thanks! Now I’m leaving the safety of my room sans panties!
As soon as I read the last message, every single drop of my blood goes straight to my head. She better not be leaving without . . . I can’t even say the word, much less imagine her without them. I forcefully unclip my seatbelt and lock myself in the lavatory before I force the pilot to head back to D.C.
I punch the numbers into my phone, not caring if I crack the screen. Counting the seconds until she answers is driving me insane, reminding myself to take deep breaths is the only way air is circulating in my body.
“Hello.” Her angelic voice douses the fire of ire in me.
“Please tell me you’re still in your room.” A red angry face reflects back at me as I stare in the mirror. “You better be wearing panties. If not God help you when I get back. I’ll tie your ass to your bed for days.”
I hear a loud gasp followed by a giggle. On any normal day that would’ve caused a smile to spread across my face, but this time my brows furrow while I turn green out of utter annoyance.
“I’m
not finding any of this funny. Are you wearing panties? Answer me, Sophia Andrews!” My voice is trembling, control evidently slipping away.
“Baby, I’m wearing Victoria’s Secret lacy boy shorts. Want me to send you a pic?” I can hear the laughter in her voice.
“Can you please behave while I’m gone?”
She quips quickly, “Depends.”
My fist clenches at my side. “It depends on what?” My mind is twirling a mile a minute trying to decipher what she means by it ‘depends’.
“If you still love me,” she whispers.
“What gave you the impression that I don’t? Is this about our argument this morning? I told you about her because I don’t want you blindsided. I don’t want her poison destroying what we have, plus honesty is what will make this last. Love isn’t our issue, baby. It’s everyone around us who wants to destroy us. I need you to trust in me completely, whether I’m near or far. You’ll need to believe in the man I was before you and who I am with you. Otherwise, without trust and faith in each other, I’m afraid our foundation will crumble at the first sign of trial that comes our way.”
“I trust you. I don’t trust her.”
“All you need to do is to trust me. No one, not her, not any nameless woman I’ve been with in the past is part of our equation,” I whisper. “Who do I love?”
Her soft sweet voice melts the anger inside me. “Me.”
“Who do I swear forever with?”
“Me.”
“Who do I want to make my wife?”
“Me.”
“So, if it’s you, don’t ever doubt my love. Don’t ever question it . . . I want you to always fight for it, so a simple argument or misunderstanding won’t diminish or kill that love, baby.”
A sigh of contentment echoes in my ear, and I know right then we’re right side up once again. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Please be careful. Call me when you can, and I miss you already.”
Being separated from her is something I don’t ever look forward to, but her voice and sweet words always bring a sense of calmness and relief from the anxiety that surrounds me.
