Indulge

by Liv Morris

Even though I’ll never have her in the capacity I once wanted her in, and still do frankly, I refuse to live a life without her. “Tomorrow morning, let’s go for a walk on the beach. We can go early. We have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll get you back here before the girls wake up, so that I don’t trample all over that girl time.” I intended it to be a question or invitation, but it came out as a statement and order. I realize my mistake, but still continue with my words. “Call me, as early as possible. I’ll be waiting.”

  She looks confused, but her facial expression changes from a funny little scowl to what I’m hoping is a look of acceptance. She pauses and takes a deep breath, “Okay, Garrett. Thanks for tonight, the drinks, the performance, and mostly for hanging out with us. It was a lot of fun. It’s…” She hesitates, and I’m still stuck on that she said okay. “Yeah, it’s been a fun night, Garrett. Thanks, again. We’ll chat tomorrow morning. If you don’t hear from me, you can call me, now that you have my phone number,” she says, pointing out the obvious fact that I took it without asking. I shrug unrepentantly.

  Yes, I do have her number, and damn it, I’m going to burn those digits into my brain. Shit, if it were up to me, she wouldn’t be going to sleep at all tonight. I would drag her cute little ass down to the beach, and make her tell me every damn thing that she has done since we’ve lost touch. But since that sounds insane, and I want a little bit of her time tomorrow, I’ll try and be reasonable. I gently brush the back of my fingers across my cheek. She’s so damn soft. “Yeah, sweetheart. Tomorrow. Goodnight, Lex.” I bend down and kiss her cheek. Then I open her door for her and she walks in. I can’t wait to get back to my room and dream about her resting directly under me, nestled snugly into her bed.

  Chapter 4

  I close the door to the suite and fall against the wall, sighing. I wanted to tell him how happy I was to see him, but he’s only here a couple days before he has to go back to his superstardom, real life. I don’t want to come across as the desperate blast from the past. Seeing him again leaves a very unfamiliar feeling in my body. You know, that feeling when you can’t seem to get close enough to that special someone because every millimeter closer feels so much better than the last? Only, I shouldn’t want that with Garrett. He’s just my friend. He’s always been just my friend, yet, when he bent down to kiss my cheek, my heart was fluttering and I desperately wanted his touch on my lips, not my cheek. What is wrong with me? I really need to pull myself together.

  Garrett’s here for his cousin’s wedding. His gift to the couple is to sing the song for their first dance. He has hired the band for the wedding, too. Apparently they’re incredible musicians, a local indie band. Since the wedding is in a couple days he’s hoping to hang out on the beach and get some R&R before going back out on tour. I’m not sure how that’s going to happen with all these fangirls hanging around plotting sexcapades with him. What I thought was funny earlier, when those girls were talking about some unknown star, now infuriates me! They can all keep their nasty little hands off him.

  The girls have gone to their separate rooms for bed. I walk quietly into the bedroom I’m sharing with Whit. She’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth, so I quickly dress in my favorite pj pants and tank and climb into bed. I’m exhausted. Yet I can’t stop thinking about this evening. I’m actually comforted by seeing Garrett again after all these years. It’s always made me a little sad that our friendship was disposable to him, but I guess that comes with fame and fortune. You have to leave the little people behind. That’s alright, at the end of the day I’ll be happy to have had a few hours with him to reminisce and hear about his life.

  “Do you really think I’m going to let you drift off to dreamland without discussing what went down tonight?” Whitney says, marching into the room and plopping herself down on my bed. “Spill it, Lex. What happened tonight?”

  Like I know what the hell is happening. I never expected the stampede of butterflies, or to perform with him like we’d been doing it for years. The shiver when his lips touch my face, and the desire to have him closer than I’ve ever wanted anyone, was even more unexpected. How the hell can I answer her questions when I don’t know myself?

  “Whitney, it’s almost two in the morning. I don’t know what you’re talking about. We met up with an old friend, had a great night full of reminiscing and conversation. That’s it. You were there the whole time. Did you see something I didn’t?” I ask, my voice laced with annoyance.

  “Yes, I suppose I did, since my brain-dead best friend didn’t see the man sitting at our table, staring longingly at her all night, and completely taken with every single syllable that escaped her mouth. What the hell is wrong with you, Lex? How could you not see it?” she asks.

  “No, Whitney, leave it! We’re just friends. It’s always been just friends. Stop trying to make it into something it’s not, stop imagining things. I haven’t even set eyes on the man in almost a decade,” I say sternly, and to make my point very clear I throw in a nasty look before walking into the bathroom and firmly closing the door.

  “Be pissed at me all you want, but I wasn’t imagining shit and YOU KNOW IT, Alexis,” she says through the door, while I completely ignore her. That’ll show her. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear.

  I stand staring at myself in the mirror, begging for a reason from myself for the feelings that stirred tonight. I haven’t ever had that angsty, can’t-get-close-enough-to-your-touch feeling, ever. What’s different about tonight? What’s different about now? What’s different about him and me, together? I had a crush on him in college and got butterflies when he was around, but this, this is very different.

  When I leave the bathroom after washing my face and brushing my teeth, I see that Whitney is sound asleep. Thankfully round one of that conversation is over, but my guess is round two will begin before I’ve had a chance to find the answers to my own questions.

  I close my eyes, willing myself to get some sleep, but rest escapes me. I wonder what early means to him. Early to me is 5 a.m. Sierra is an early riser. She likes to wake up when she hears the birds start chirping at around 6:30ish. Should I call him at my early, or wait until a more reasonable 8 a.m.? He’s a superstar; I’m pretty sure 5 a.m. is much too early, especially since we didn’t make it back to the hotel until after 1:30 a.m.

  It’s now 2:30 in the morning, and sleep still escapes me. I decide to do a little reading on the balcony outside. I grab my phone and my Kindle and head outside. Hoping the fresh air, and an escape into the fictional world of lovers I don’t know, will make my brain too tired to think.

  After an hour of reading, daydreaming, and listening to the ocean, I finally feel myself relax enough to drift off to sleep. I really don’t want to move and this chaise lounge is getting more comfortable by the second. I decide to stay where I am.

  The next thing I hear is my iPhone chime, alerting me I have a text. It’s from Garrett.

  Garrett: Are you awake yet? Early was an hour ago. I’m outside your suite. I have a Chai for you. If you’re awake, open up.

  I check the time. Oh my, 6:30 a.m. Well, at least I know we both have the same definition of early, for future reference. I respond before heading to the room to quickly get dressed and meet him in the hall.

  Me: Just waking up. Sorry…had a hard time falling asleep. I’ll be out in a few minutes.

  Garrett: Alexis, stop texting me and open the door!

  Oh my, but I’m wearing pajamas. Great. Well, I guess it won’t be the first time he’s seen a woman in pjs. My guess, he usually sees his lady loves in much less than pajama pants and tank tops. I walk over to the door and look through the peep hole. He looks directly at the door and waves. How does he know I’m looking?

  “Sweetheart, I know you’re there. Open up. I have Starbucks for you,” he says, as if he can read my mind and expression through the door.

  I open the door, and he hands me a venti, non-fat, no water, no foam, Chai Tea Latte. Oh my goodness, my drink. How did he know? He couldn’t po
ssibly have remembered it after all these years. It’s not like it’s a simple order.

  “How did you know what I drink?” I ask.

  “I took a chance that your drink order hadn’t changed. I remember that’s what you used to order when we hung out back in the day. But I wasn’t sure if your taste buds had matured. I guess not,” he laughs.

  “What the hell! You were winning major cool points for remembering my drink and bringing it to me. That totally went out the window when you insulted my palate. You ASS!” I smack his arm, and it’s hard, really hard. It hurts my hand. Shaking out the throb, I flinch. “Ow. That hurt.”

  He smirks, “Don’t hit that babe. It’s like rock! You should know better. Let me see,” he says jokingly, but with concern seeing that I’m still shaking my hand. “You okay?” he asks while inspecting each finger, then placing a kiss on my palm. The throb immediately dissipates. All I can feel is the tingle of his touch.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Let me put some real clothes on,” I say, running off to the room to change. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  The beach is empty when we make our way downstairs. There are a few workers out setting up cushions on the chairs and stocking the bars. This early it’s not too warm. We’re walking side-by-side sipping our drinks, not really saying much. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s pleasant, but I still feel the need to fill the silence.

  There are so many things I want to ask him. “Garrett, can I ask you a question?”

  He looks over at me. “Anything you like, lady,” he replies with a smile.

  “Why didn’t you keep in touch with us after you left?” I ask and he looks remorseful.

  “Oh, I was afraid you’d want to talk about that…well…I guess, I was afraid to tell you guys how hard it was to survive up there. I was afraid to be a failure in everyone’s eyes. So, I just didn’t call. I’m sorry. I was an ass and that was wrong. I thought of you all the time, Lex.”

  Huh, but he wasn’t a failure. I never would have thought of him that way. I was proud of him before he was a superstar. “But, you weren’t a failure. You did what you sought out to accomplish. You’re successful. Congratulations on making all your dreams come true! I’m really proud of you. I always have been, even before you made it, Garrett. I’ve always known how special you are.” Okay, that was deep, but it needed to be said. Didn’t I ever tell him how amazing he is, even back then? I know I told him. I must have.

  He looks at me, and his gorgeous gray eyes melt me to the core. “Sweetheart, not all my dreams have come true. My biggest dreams have yet to see the light of day.”

  What more could he want? He’s a superstar musician, he’s rich, he travels the world, and he has adoring fans who worship him. He can have any woman he wants. Yet, he wants more? I can’t even imagine.

  “Tell me about your life, Lex. What are your days like? What have you been up to for the past nine years?” he asks.

  “Well, I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. Jed and I married, I’m not sure if you know, just over five years ago. I have the most adorable little girl in the world. She’s four and a half, and keeps me so busy. My brother and his wife, Kate, live about two miles from me in Tampa, which is great, since I’m alone now. When Jed died…it was really hard…but I’m getting better and Sierra is so great!” I say, wondering if he’s heard enough, but he’s just looking over at me waiting for more details. I continue, “I guess since she was still so little when Jed died, she doesn’t really remember what it was like when he was around. It’s a double-edged sword, because I want her to remember him, yet it’s nice that she isn’t sad. That sounds bad, but I guess there’s not a better way to describe it. Do you know what I mean?” Having to explain that is awful.

  Garrett looks at me with eyes full of sadness. I’m hoping not to see the pitying look I’ve come to know so well. I hate that look. I’m sick of people feeling sorry for me. “Lex, when I heard about Jed, I want you to know, I wanted to call you so badly. I wanted to rush here and hold you. I wanted to assure you it was going to be okay. But, after being away so long, I knew that would be wrong. I wasn’t the one you needed to console you. So I stayed in Nashville and just prayed. I actually went to church for three Sundays in a row, praying for you to be okay, to be strong. And then I saw your picture in the newspaper my mom sent me. I could see your strength in that picture, even through your tears, as you were holding Sierra.” He smiles. It’s not a pitying face, but one that holds a great deal of regret. I’ve learned to see the difference.

  He stops walking and looks me directly in the eyes. “She’s really beautiful, by the way. She looks so much like you.” He takes me by the hand and we continue walking, as he rubs circles into my palm. It’s almost like he’s trying to comfort me. He knows how hard that was for me to admit. I have never told anyone that I am grateful Sierra doesn’t remember much of what it was like to have a daddy. Yet, still I hope someday we’ll have someone in our life who wants to take on that role.

  No one will ever replace Jed, but a little girl needs a daddy growing up. Believe me, this is something I do know about. Growing up without a dad was hard for me. I remember being so envious of other little girls, whose dads took them to the father/daughter dances in elementary school, who took them for doughnuts on Saturday mornings so the moms could sleep, who taught them how to ride a bike and drive a car-- all the things that I either did without or learned from Jason.

  Jason and I survived in spite of our parents’ failures. I want something different for my little girl. I want her to have those special memories with a daddy and feel what it’s like to be the sunshine in a daddy’s world. But I don’t know how to do that without feeling like I’m replacing or discounting Jed. Maybe I’m just not ready. Will I ever be ready?

  “Where’d you go, beautiful?” he asks, looking at me curiously.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I got lost in my thoughts. I do that a lot. I’m sorry.” He nods, allowing me time to snap out of my wandering thoughts.

  We reach the pier. I think we’ve been walking a while, but I have no idea what time it is. I reach for my phone and realize it’s almost eight o’clock. I need to call Sierra. I promised I'd call at breakfast. “I’m sorry, Garrett, can you give me a few minutes? I need to make a call.” He’s puzzled, but says no problem.

  I walk over to sit in the sand under the pier and dial Jason. “Hey, sis. Sierra just said mommy’s gonna call soon. That kid has you on her radar.”

  Yep, that’s my girl. At least she has learned that when I say I’m going to do something, I’ll always come through! It’s the one thing I always want her to know. Good or bad, I’ll always be there for my girl.

  “Yeah, she does. Did I tell you what she told the teacher last week when she got in trouble?” I ask him.

  “Your kid, in trouble, I’m shocked to hear that,” he says, laughing.

  “Well, apparently she wasn’t following the instructions Ms. Davis gave, so she issued an ultimatum, telling Sierra that if she didn’t listen, she was going to have to call her mommy. Sierra told Ms. Davis that would be great! Please call her mama and tell her how much she hated school. Needless to say, I have to go to a parent/teacher conference this week, again. This is the part of being a single parent I hate.”

  He’s still laughing at me. And although I too thought it was funny, I’m not looking forward to another meeting. “Well, sis, you raised that little monster to say whatever she feels. What comes up, comes out! Aren’t those your words? Good luck with that conference. I can go with you, if you want me to. I know it’s hard to always do these things alone.”

  He’s always so supportive and willing to step in at any time. But I’m trying so hard to prove I can do this on my own. “No, Jason, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though. Can I talk to Sierra, before y’all run off on your day?” I ask.

  “Yep. Here she is. Love ya!”

  “Love you, too!”

  He calls Sierra in a sing song voice. I hear her running in the
background. “Hi, Mama,” she says loudly. “I had Mickey Mouse pancakes with chocolate chips for breakfast. Uncle Jason made them special. Can we go to Disney World soon?”

  God, I love that kid. My heart is soars, hearing her precious voice. I miss her. “Of course, baby girl. We can go soon. Maybe we can even stay at the hotel that the monorail rides through that you love so much. Tell me what you’re doing today.” She’s very excited, and it makes me happy that she enjoys spending time with our only family.

  “Auntie Kate says we’re going to the zoo and the splash park. I’m wearing my new bathing suit. She made me a towel with a hood and it has my name on it!” My overachieving sister in-law can’t help herself when it comes to making me feel less than competent. She doesn’t mean to do it, but she freaking sews and makes gourmet dinners, while working full-time at the kids’ school. She’s class mom, and whatever else she can fit into the last six minutes of her day. But I love her dearly. Even though, I’m convinced she’s likely undercover, testing some pharmaceutical, to make herself super-mom!

  “Oh, that sounds fun. You’ll have to tell me all about it when I call you tonight. Do you want to hear your song now?”

  “Yes, Mama. I changed my mind at bedtime. I wanted you to sing, but Uncle Jason sang instead. He’s not as good as you, Mama.” I knew that would happen, but I find it fascinating that Jason sang to her. He has an amazing voice, but doesn’t really enjoy singing very much.

  “Hey, I heard that,” Jason says in the background and Sierra’s giggles explode, music to my ears.

  “Okay, baby girl, listen up!” I sing part of the song from Butterfly Fly Away by Miley & Billy Ray Cyrus to her while I sit on the beach, watching the waves gently caress the shoreline. She loves hearing about the caterpillars and butterflies. It’s really a precious song. I’ve been singing it to her for years. It used to be she only wanted to hear Puff the Magic Dragon, but now it’s Butterfly Fly Away.

  As I finish singing and say my “I love yous”, I realize that Garrett is sitting there staring at me. His beautiful gray eyes are glowing. He looks so peaceful. He was listening to me sing.