by E. R. Wade
“It’s been too damn long,” he mutters. I press my body closer to his, wanting to be closer to him without anything between us. My hands go to the buttons of his shirt, and I’m fumbling to open them. He gently brushes my hands away and makes quick work of the buttons, pulling off his shirt in no time. My hands immediately start stroking the smooth, hard planes of his chest. He’s all warm, solid muscle.
I brush my fingers across his nipples, and he shivers making him break the kiss. I repeat the action and he buries his face in my neck, his hands running all over my body.
“I don’t think I can wait,” he says hoarsely against my neck. I don’t get the chance to respond because he starts pulling off my clothes. “Tell me you want me,” he demands.
“I want you. I need you so much,” I say honestly. I’m standing in his living room in just my underwear, and my clothes are lying scattered on the floor a few feet away. We’re still wearing too many clothes. I start to unclasp my bra but he stops me.
“Let me.” He has my bra off in no time. I reach for his belt buckle and tug it open. We’re both naked in seconds.
Taking my lips in his again, he has my back on the couch before I can blink. He trails kisses down my jaw and my neck, and then his lips latch on to my hard nipple. He sucks it hard making my body pulsate with overwhelming desire. I hear soft, whimpering sounds and it takes me a moment to realize the hungry sounds are coming from me. My hand grips his hair, urging him on. I don’t want him to stop but I also desperately want him between my legs to ease the throbbing ache.
He slips a finger inside me, then a second one as his mouth releases my nipple. His lips are back on mine, kissing me, and his fingers are sliding in and out of me. I feel the sweet pressure building inside me, and I know I’m close. I move my hips to meet every thrust in a perfect rhythm with him, until a violent orgasm rips through me, nearly bringing tears to my eyes.
“We need to christen the apartment, every room in it,” he breathes in my ear. His words make my skin prickle with fierce need.
And we spend the rest of the night doing just that.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sofia
Over the next two weeks, Julian and I spend as much time as possible together, and it’s been scarily wonderful. We’ve been on a number of amazing dates, and cooked together – mostly him cooking and me watching after he saw the extent of my culinary skills. By the way, I’m still waiting for him to stop laughing and teasing me about it. We’ve worked together in his apartment – at least we tried to – and of course there’s been lots of incredible sex. He constantly alludes to us having a future together which makes me happy but also anxious. He hasn’t mentioned Addison, and I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. I’ve been trying to take our relationship one day at a time but it’s hard because Julian makes me feel like we have many years ahead of us.
Last night, we went out to dinner and then watched a local live music show. We both had a great time. And right now, we’re in his car on our way out of the city. The only thing he told me when he called me this morning was to dress comfortably.
We drive down the freeway, and after a few minutes in which we sit in comfortable silence, Julian takes an exit on the left and then another on the right. There are fewer cars on this stretch of road. I’ve never been to this area and I’m now very curious where he is taking me.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he answers mysteriously with a small smile on his lips.
We enter a narrow, tree-lined road. The only thing I can see besides the road is trees, lots and lots of lush greenery on both sides of the road. We drive for about a mile when I realize that no other car has passed by and the only sounds I hear are birds chirping. Although I know I would not be caught alone on this road at night, I can’t help but appreciate the natural beauty surrounding us and the privacy. Julian seems to know exactly where he’s going. Obviously he’s been here before. Moving my gaze to him, I can’t help the huge swell of emotion that rises in me. I take in his perfect features. As if sensing my gaze on him, he turns briefly to me and covers my hand with his. The warmth of his hand spreads through my entire body.
We get to a clearing just off the road, and Julian stops the car.
“Hold on,” he says as he takes off his sunglasses and gets down from the car. He stops at the trunk before coming to my door.
Opening the door for me, I slide out of the car and see that he’s carrying a large picnic basket in one hand.
“We’re having a picnic,” I state the obvious, unable to stop the delighted smile lighting up my face.
“Yeah.” He closes the car door, and takes my hand in his. “Come on. Our spot is down this path.”
As we turn towards the path, I see a patch of blue and a few seconds later, I see the clearest blue lake. I gasp at the sheer beauty of it. I’ve never seen anything so picturesque. Rays of light from the sun bounce off the surface of the water. Lots of plants with colorful flowers and rocks decorate the edge of the water, enhancing its beauty.
There’s a shaded area near the lake. Julian spreads the blanket he brought from the car on the grass, and he helps me sit down on it. He sits down next to me and pulls me into his arms, nuzzling my neck.
“You smell amazing,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my already sensitive skin. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.” I run my fingers through his silky hair, inadvertently pushing his head closer as I throw my head back to open up more to him.
“I should feed you before I feed on you,” he says suggestively, reluctantly pulling away from me.
Julian unpacks the picnic basket and I’m amazed at the amount of food he brought. “You know we’re not going to finish all this food, right?” I say as I watch him take out various resealable food containers and mason jars.
“Of course we are,” he responds confidently, taking a quick look at me.
“Did you make all these?” I ask in awe. There are three different types of sandwiches, and various desserts.
He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t have the time so I picked up everything we needed from the deli earlier on.”
Glancing at the various items laid out with the food including napkins, plates, utensils, clear, stemless glasses, paper towels, I say, “You definitely came prepared.”
“Yeah, I’m hoping I can impress you with my picnic organizing skills,” he teases.
We start with beet and feta dip, and then mini herb frittatas with smoked salmon which is absolutely delicious. Julian goes on to have the horseradish roast beef wrap which I skip, and I opt for the buffalo chicken and avocado BLT wrap. The food is amazing.
An hour later, sipping the sweet white wine he brought, I say, “Julian, I can’t believe you made me eat this much. If we keep this up, I’ll have to buy clothes a size up very soon.” I just finished eating a brownie and a raspberry coconut scone. Before those, I had a sweet potato salad. I really can’t believe I ate that much food. “You’re certainly not good for my waistline.”
“I’ll be happy to help you burn most of it off tonight,” he murmurs sexily.
Giving him a playful look, I answer, “You could try.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to.” He gives me a kiss that has me curling my toes, but it’s over quicker than I’d like. “Tell me about your childhood. What were you like as a child?” he asks. I’m surprised at the abrupt change in the direction of our conversation. He looks at me expectantly, waiting for my response.
“I was a quiet child. I always had my nose in a book or sketching anything that looked remotely interesting. When I was younger, I wanted to be an artist until the year I turned fourteen. I remember flipping through channels one afternoon and coming across a TV show about home renovations. I was fascinated about how you could transform something so derelict into something amazing. The idea that I could turn an open space into something efficient, beautiful and useful appealed to me.”
Julian listens as I talk about my passion for designi
ng, and then we move the conversation on to more personal topics.
“Do you like it here?”
“Yes. It’s beautiful. I hope we come back soon.”
“Anytime you want,” he assures me. “This has been my favorite spot for many years, and I’ve never brought anyone here. It could be our spot,” he tells me, and steals a kiss.
A wide beam spreads across my face, and my eyes are shining with happiness at his words. I love how much he alludes to a future with us still together.
The sun starts to set, and suddenly it’s time to head back to the city. I’m reluctant to leave and it seems that Julian feels the same way. We’ve spent hours talking, and we’ve had the entire place to ourselves. After packing up the last of the food and folding the blanket, Julian takes my hand in his as we make our way back to his car. He opens his trunk, and drops the picnic basket and blanket inside before closing it. After putting everything away, he turns to me and pulls me into his arms. “Spend the rest of the weekend with me. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.”
I’m not ready to let him go too. “My place or yours?”
“Let’s go to mine.”
Lying naked and sated next to Julian in his bed, I feel like I have everything I could ever want right now and I marvel at how far we’ve come together these past few weeks. His fingers are gently stroking my back down to my hip rhythmically. He’s been doing that a lot lately after we make love. This isn’t just sex anymore, although I don’t think it ever was for me.
His phone rings. “No,” he groans. “Why isn’t the phone on silent? Whoever it is can call back tomorrow.”
“It could be important,” I murmur, even though I am reluctant for him to move.
After the fourth ring, he picks up his phone from the nightstand and something I don’t quite catch flickers across his face when he sees the name on the screen.
“Samantha,” he says in greeting. I can make out a woman’s excited voice but I can’t make out what she’s saying to him. Whatever it is has caused him to noticeably stiffen.
Who’s Samantha? I feel like I should know. Her name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t recall meeting anyone with that name.
“When?” His voice comes out strangled. More silence as he listens to what the woman at the other end of the line is saying. He closes his eyes for a moment. “I’ll be right there.” He ends the call, and stares at his phone like he’s in shock.
Concerned, I touch his arm lightly and ask, “Julian, is everything okay?”
He turns to stare at me as if he’s not sure what to say, and I see the jumble of emotions playing across his face – surprise, hope, relief and wariness. He’s still gripping his phone tightly in his hand.
“She’s awake. Addison is awake.”
TWENTY-NINE
Addison
I’ve been awake for three days.
When I regained consciousness, I wasn’t sure where I was. My eyes were still adjusting to the dim light in the room when I saw a blurry figure enter. I could tell it was a man, and assumed it was Julian. I tried to call out his name but it came out as a croak. My throat was dry and my voice box didn’t seem to be working. I tried again. An unrecognizable scratchy sound which didn’t sound anything like his name made it through my lips. It got his attention. He turned to me, and came closer. But it wasn’t Julian. The man was black with short black hair and dark brown eyes. Where was Julian? I croaked out his name again trying to ask the question.
“Mrs. Scott. You’re awake. I’ll call the doctor.” The doctor?
That was the first clue to my whereabouts. The second clue was the faint beeping sound coming from somewhere beside me.
He called for the doctor and told my mom who happened to be talking to a hospital staff right outside my room. She rushed into the room and stood beside me holding my hand gently as if afraid it would break. She had tears in her eyes.
“Oh honey. I’m so glad you’ve finally woken up. We’ve been so worried,” she says in a trembling voice. I wanted to ask her what was wrong with me but my throat felt parched. “You’re in the hospital. You had a car accident.” I already figured out that I was in a hospital from the nurse, the equipment in the room and the needles strapped securely in my arm feeding me intravenously.
“She mentioned a name, I think. I couldn’t make out what it was but it sounded like the name ends with the letter N,” the nurse said from the other side of the bed.
“Julian,” my mom confirmed. “That’s her –” there’s a noticeable pause, “husband.” Shifting her entire focus back to me, she said, “You remember him. I’m so glad. I was worried you wouldn’t remember us when you woke up. You don’t know how happy this makes me.” She strokes my hair and kisses my forehead gently. “I have to call your father, Elle and Julian. They’ll be so happy.”
Why wouldn’t I remember them? Why does she think I’ll forget them?
Sean . . .
Sean Connors . . .
My heart flutters.
I want to see him. Where is he? I try to tell my mom to call Sean too but the only sound that comes out of my mouth is a small croak.
“Why can’t she talk?” Mom asks, sounding distressed and a little panicked.
“She’s fine,” the nurse assures her. “She hasn’t used her vocal folds in a while. Don’t worry, the doctor will be here soon.”
“Why isn’t he here already?”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. He’s on his way up. He’ll be here soon.”
My mom didn’t leave me until the doctor came to examine me. She went outside to call Dad, Elle and Julian. But she didn’t call Sean.
Over the next two days, I undergo a series of tests and drift in and out of sleep. I feel like I’ve been relentlessly poked and prodded. Every single part of me has been examined. I found the entire experience unnerving.
Today, the doctor, a dark-skinned pretty woman wearing black-rimmed glasses who introduced herself as Dr. Rowland, is standing in the room looking at me kindly.
“Addison, do you remember anything about the car accident?”
I furrow my brow in concentration trying to think. Dr. Rowland patiently waits for a response, and when it becomes obvious that there’s none forthcoming, she adds, “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about remembering anything right now.”
“How long have I been in a coma?” My voice doesn’t sound the way I remember it. It sounds gravelly, and it took a monumental effort to get the words out.
“Twenty-six months,” she responds quietly.
I blink a couple of times, and then stare at her. That can’t be right. I’m sure I misheard what she said.
“What?” My voice wavers.
“You were in a coma for twenty-six months,” she says, her voice kind and gentle.
That’s not possible. It can’t be true. I start to shake my head until I notice my entire body is trembling a great deal. I've been out for over two years? How is that even possible?
“Your head hit the car window which caused you to suffer from a subdural hematoma and subarachnoid hemorrhage. Also, some of your ribs were broken, and you had some cuts and scratches. Luckily your spinal cord was not affected, and your legs are fine.”
Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.
Before I know it, I start to cry.
Dr. Rowland is concerned at my level of agitation. “Mrs. Scott. Please. You need to be calm. You can’t afford to get upset.”
I ignore her, and cry even harder.
“Mrs. Scott?”
I barely notice the nurse hurriedly making her way towards me and stopping by the IV bags hanging beside me. It doesn’t take long before I start to feel calm and slip back into oblivion.
I come around a few hours later, alone in my hospital room. The familiar scent of antiseptic in the air filters through to my senses. Why is the smell familiar?
Focusing on moving my fingers despite how lethargic I feel, I succeed easier than I thought I would. I was w
orried that I might find it difficult to move. I wonder briefly if I should try to sit up but somehow I don’t think it’s a good idea.
The conversation I had with Dr. Rowland comes back to me slowly and I let out a small whimper of distress when I remember that I’ve lost the last two years of my life.
When I asked my mom yesterday who else had come to visit me, she had looked at me sadly. It seemed like she knew who I was asking about but I dismissed my suspicion. There was no way she would know. Her answer caused a stab of disappointment in my heart. A few of my friends had stopped by, but after the first few months they had stopped coming. According to her, it’s been over six months since the last visitor came. So, besides my parents and sister, Elle, Julian was the only constant.
Could I really blame any of my friends? Who would want to sit beside a lifeless person for so long? I couldn’t talk, smile or laugh back at them. I felt hurt but I could understand.
Turning my head slightly to the side, I see the inky blue night sky through the half-open window curtains. I have no idea what time it is, and absolutely no idea what day it is. And I don’t even know if I’m in a hospital in my home town of San Jose or in San Francisco.
Sean hasn’t been to the hospital to see me in the two years I’ve been here.
I’m finding that really hard to believe.
I had thought that he hadn’t been here the first and second days after I woke up because he may have been out of town – probably for work – but I had no doubt whatsoever that he’ll be here soon. He may not even have known that I was awake.
But now I know better.
He hasn’t come in two years.
He isn’t going to come now.
The hurt and confusion are clawing at me, but I refuse to let it pull me under. If I have to think too much about what it means, I don’t think I’d survive it.
I try to grasp the memories flitting around the edges of my mind. I want to remember every detail of my life. I focus on the memory of the handsome face of my husband and on his intense blue eyes, but the face that my mind – or is it my heart? – conjures up doesn’t belong to Julian. It belongs to Sean, with his striking good looks and stunning blue-gray eyes. I had never seen eyes like his until we met eight years ago – the same night I met Julian.
