“Yes,” she whispered, softly at first, but then repeated the word, yes, yes, yes, her voice growing louder and louder as we spiraled higher and tighter, and as we exploded together and fell to earth in beautiful fiery pieces, it was like the first time all over again. It was then and it was now and there was never a time when our bodies didn’t crave this heat and our hearts didn’t share this rhythm and our souls weren’t always leading us right back to this place, this feeling, this moment.
I clung to it, as if it could save me from drowning.
“Done.” Maren hopped back in bed and slipped under the covers. She’d gotten up to go take her pill, but otherwise we hadn’t left her bed for hours. I was surprised the thing was still standing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand if I tried getting out of it.
Not that I wanted to leave. On the contrary, all I wanted was to stay here with her for the rest of my life. Or take her back to Portland with me. Or move somewhere new and start over together. Just the two of us, like it should have been all along.
But I knew better, and the familiar ache in my head was a painful reminder that none of this could last. Some ibuprofen might have helped, but I didn’t ask her for any. The pain served me right.
Maren stretched out next to me, her head propped on her hand. “Do you have a favorite?” she asked, sweeping her other hand over the ink on my shoulder.
I thought for a second. “The mermaid.”
She smiled. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because it reminds me of you.”
“So you did remember I liked mermaids, you liar.” She poked me in the ribs. “You said you didn’t last night.”
“I think I was trying to be cool.”
“I knew something was off about that—your memory was always incredible.” She leaned away from me, looking for the tattoo in question. “I can’t see it in the dark.”
“It’s here.” I guided her hand to my side, and her fingertips played over my skin. “I got it for you.” Another little truth I could offer.
She went still. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
It was dark in her room, but I could imagine the pink in her cheeks. “When?”
“Maybe five years ago.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you like your job?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you’re really good at it.”
“I like to think so. I stay pretty busy.” I pictured the shop, wishing I could take Maren there. “My boss is a woman named Beatriz. You’d like her. She believes in all that woo-woo stuff like you do.”
She poked me again. “It’s not woo-woo stuff. It’s real.”
“Okay, okay. It’s real.”
“What’s the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked you to tattoo on their body?”
I put my hands behind my head. “I try not to judge people’s ideas, but I do think it’s fucking strange when they want animals tattooed on their stomach so their belly button looks like the asshole.”
“You are kidding me. People ask for that?”
“Yeah. People want all kinds of crazy shit.”
“Have you ever refused to do what someone wanted?”
“Sure. If I’m positive they’ll regret it. But my only really hard and fast rule is that I won’t tattoo names of boyfriends or girlfriends, or even spouses, on anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Because in my experience, people always regret it. Feelings change. Couples break up. Marriages end in divorce. People end up hating each other. You think you’re going to love one person forever, but history tells us it’s not very likely. Tattooing someone’s name on your body is like asking fate to fuck with you.”
She laughed. “You think you can influence fate with your tattoos?”
“I have no idea, but last week this eighteen-year-old girl came in and wanted a tattoo of Tweety Bird with her boyfriend’s name—which is Rocky—and the words ‘You’re my tweety pie’ underneath it. I did not want that on my conscience.”
“Yikes. Did you do it?”
“Hell no. I told her what I told you. Tattoos are forever. Love, not necessarily. Especially not at eighteen.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But I hope you’re wrong.” She lay down again, her head on my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her. We were silent for a few minutes, and I tried to commit every detail about holding her this way to memory. The scent of her hair. The softness of her skin. The sound of her breath. The memories would have to carry me through.
“Dallas?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to ask you about something.”
“Okay.”
She took a deep breath. “I overheard you on the phone with Finn. Outside my bathroom window.”
My pulse began to pound. I swallowed with difficulty. “Yeah?”
She sat up again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you say something about an appointment with a surgeon, and I’m worried. Are you okay?”
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Tell her, said a voice in my head. Tell her everything. Tell her now.
“I know it’s personal, and you probably don’t want to—”
“It’s for my dad,” I heard myself say out of nowhere. “He was having some, uh, short-term memory problems, and his CAT scan revealed something abnormal. A small mass in the parietal lobe.”
She gasped. “A brain tumor? Oh, no.”
Oh, fuck.
But I kept going. “Finn got him an appointment with a neurosurgeon next week, but he can’t be there. So he asked if I would go with my dad. My mom can get a little hysterical in those situations, and she’s been very upset.”
“Of course. That’s so scary. I’m sorry, Dallas. You must be really worried.”
Yeah, that a lightning bolt is going to strike me. “I am.”
“So he needs surgery?”
“It’s an option. But it’s risky.” And since I was already in this far, I waded deeper. “Apparently that’s the part of the brain that controls upper right side mobility … guess he doesn’t want to lose his advantage on the golf course.”
My joke fell flat.
“But what happens if he doesn’t have surgery?” she pressed.
“They’re not sure. Apparently it’s acting benign right now. But eventually it would probably … cause some seizures and other problems.”
“So you need to convince him to have the surgery, then.”
“That’s what my brother wants. But my dad doesn’t want to be forced into it. He doesn’t like being told what to do. And he’s not crazy about the idea of having chemo or radiation. He doesn’t want anyone to have to take care of him. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity.”
She made a frustrated noise. “God, men can be so stubborn sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
“Think you can talk him into it?”
“We’ll see. It’s, you know, complicated. Because of my relationship with my family.”
“Sure. I can understand that.” She rubbed a hand over my chest as if to comfort me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” What I wanted to do was shut the fuck up. I’d just made things a thousand times worse for myself.
“Okay. Well, I’m here for you. And I’m a good listener.”
God, she was so fucking sweet. “Thanks.”
“I was really scared it was about your headaches. I mean, I’m sorry about your dad and I hope he’ll have the surgery, but I’m glad to hear it’s not you.”
“Thanks.” Was there a place in hell low enough for me?
Smiling, she put her head back down on my chest and held me close. “Night.”
“Night.”
She fell asleep pretty quickly and rolled away from me, but I lay awake for hours with a pounding head, a churning stomach, and a tightness in my chest. I was scum. Lying, despicable scum. Every shitty thing that happened to me from now until the day I died, I would deserve.
<
br /> I closed my eyes in agony. How was I going to face her tomorrow? How was I going to face myself? Was there any way out of this?
Tell her the truth, my conscience pricked. Tell her the truth or give her up.
I was trying to decide which one would be best for Maren when she began to murmur in her sleep. A moment later, she started fidgeting restlessly beneath the blankets. I reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Maren?”
She stopped moving and quieted down. But soon it began again, and within seconds she was writhing and weeping helplessly like she had been last night. I tried my best to wake her, but she resisted. Then she suddenly sat up, gasping for air.
“Shh,” I said, putting my arm around her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She put a hand on her chest. “Oh my God.”
“The nightmare again?”
She nodded, a sob escaping.
“Breathe.” I rubbed her upper arms. “You’re okay, baby. I’m here.”
She took some deep breaths. “Thanks. I’m just so tired of this.”
“I know.”
“Why do you think it’s not going away?”
Because I’m the snake that’s going to bite you and your mind knows it? “I’m not sure. The mind is a mysterious place.”
“Yeah.” We stayed like that for another minute or two, and then she yawned.
“Think you can fall back asleep?” I asked.
“I think so.”
We lay down again and I held her close. Soon her breathing was deep and even, and I thought she’d fallen asleep until she spoke, drowsily, like she was half in a dream.
“Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
I swallowed hard. My head was killing me. “Me too.”
Twelve
Maren
I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain beating on the windows. The clock on my nightstand said 9:05 a.m., and for a second, I panicked that I’d overslept and missed teaching my Sunday eight a.m. class. And why was I naked?
Then I remembered I’d taken the weekend off. And the lack of pajamas—as well as the soreness in my muscles—was due to the man sleeping next to me. I rolled over and looked at him, unable to keep a smile off my face.
We could get it right this time, couldn’t we? It might not be easy, and it might take a lot of travel or even a move eventually, but we were too good together to be apart. Whatever it took, we could make it work.
Dropping a quick kiss on his chest, I left him sleeping in my bed, slipped into a short white robe, and tiptoed out to the living room. Along the way I saw random pieces of clothing that we’d stripped off each other last night on our way to my room. His jeans, my shorts, my bra, his T-shirt, my blouse, our shoes. Finally, I spotted my purse on the floor near the front door. I pulled my phone out of it to check my messages and saw that I had one from Allegra saying all was well at the studio and she hoped I was resting peacefully, and a ton from my sisters.
I was supposed to be meeting them for brunch at eleven, like we did every Sunday. Part of me wanted to cancel on them since I had a gorgeous, sexy man who adored me in my bed and it was pouring rain, but long ago my sisters and I had made a pact that we wouldn’t skip out on each other unless it was absolutely necessary. Plus, I was dying to tell them about my weekend.
How insane that my life had taken such a sharp turn in only two days!
I quickly scrolled through the messages, which were mostly them going back and forth about where we should eat and both of them wondering why I wasn’t answering my texts.
Me: Sorry guys, I’ve been busy.
Stella: Everything okay? We were getting worried.
Me: Yes. I’ll tell you all about it at brunch. What did you guys decide on?
Stella: Lady of the House and we have a reservation at 11.
Me: See you there.
I went back into my bedroom and plugged my phone in to charge. As soon as I climbed onto the bed, Dallas opened his eyes. “Morning,” I said, sitting on my heels beside him.
“Morning.”
“Did you sleep okay?”
His brow furrowed. “My head was bothering me for a while. I don’t think I slept much.”
“It probably didn’t help that I woke up screaming. Sorry about that.”
He reached out and put a hand on one knee. “It wasn’t that. Did you sleep okay afterward?”
I nodded. “I did. Fell back asleep really easily and slept all the way through until about ten minutes ago.”
“Good.” His eyes closed again.
“So I have a question to ask you, and you can say no, but I hope you say yes.”
“What’s up?”
“Every Sunday I have brunch with my sisters at eleven. I won’t drag you along, but do you want to wait here for me?”
He opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“It’s only nine fifteen. I’d much rather hang out with you, but I sort of have to go to brunch or else they’ll harass me.”
“Of course.” He sat up, but he seemed a little groggy still. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“No, no. You stay here and sleep. I’ll even bring you something back.”
“No. That’s okay.” He looked around and scratched his head. “Where are my pants?”
I giggled. “I think I saw them in the hallway.”
“Oh. Right.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused.
“Are you dizzy again?”
“I’m fine.” But he took another moment before he stood up, and then he moved slowly toward the door.
Watching him, a warning bell pealed in my head. Something was not right. “Can I get you some ibuprofen?”
“Sure.” He began pulling on his underwear and jeans with lethargic movements. “Thanks.”
I went into the bathroom and took the bottle from a drawer. “How many?” I called out.
“Four.”
I shook out four pills and went back into the bedroom, where he sat on the bed wearing only his jeans. “Here,” I said, holding out my hand. I was growing more concerned by the minute. “I’ll get you some water.”
He took the pills from me and I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, brought it back, and watched warily as he swallowed the pills. His color didn’t look good.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go to brunch today,” I said, chewing on a thumbnail. “You don’t look like you feel right. I don’t think you should drive.”
“I’m fine,” he said, standing up. “I’m just tired. I can drive.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” But he still seemed to be moving sluggishly as he got dressed.
“I’m worried about you,” I told him as I followed him to the living room.
“Don’t be.” He sat down on the couch to tug on his boots. “I’m gonna go back to the hotel and take a nap. Then I need to book my ticket to Boston.”
My heart plummeted. “When will you leave?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Can I convince you to leave tomorrow? Spend one more night with me?”
He stood up and smiled at me, but it struck me as a sad kind of smile. “Very tempting.”
I went to him and slipped my arms around his solid middle. Pressed my cheek to his chest. “We can stay in. I’ll cook dinner. We’ll just be lazy and hang out, you and me. How does that sound?”
“Like heaven.”
I tilted my head back. “Then say yes. Maybe I’ll even clear your chakras again.”
He shook his head. “You’re too good to me.”
“Well, I was without you all those years. I’m trying to make up for lost time.”
He exhaled and put his arms around me, pulling me close. “Okay. One more night.”
I bounced on my toes. “Yay! Thank you.”
A moment later, I walked him to the door and pulled it open. Torrential rain poured from an angry pewter sky. “Yikes.
Want an umbrella?”
“Nah. I’m okay. See you tonight.”
I smiled as he kissed my cheek. “I’ll make something nice and healthy and delicious. I bet your diet is part of your problem with your headaches. So much of how we feel is related to what we put in our bodies. You probably don’t even realize all the chemicals and additives and preservatives that lurk in everyday foods.”
“Probably not.”
“I’ll text you as soon as I’m home.” I realized something. “You know what? I don’t have your number.”
He pulled out his phone. “What’s yours?”
I gave it to him, and he put me in his contacts.
“There. I just called you.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
He dropped another quick kiss on my lips and took off into the rain.
After he’d gone, I jumped in the shower, grinning like crazy as I imagined the stunned expressions on my sisters’ faces when I told them about my weekend. Usually it was Emme who had the dramatic stories about her love life, although since she’d been with Nate, mostly she just rhapsodized about how happy she was.
Today it was my turn.
“What’s with you?” Emme asked as soon as I dropped into the chair across from her. She and Stella were seated next to each other on the emerald green banquette.
“What do you mean?” I smiled up at the server who poured me some water.
“You look different.” Emme eyed me curiously.
“I do?”
“Yes. Doesn’t she, Stella?”
Our older sister studied me. “More rested, that’s for sure. Are you sleeping better?”
“A little.”
“It’s more than that,” Emme insisted. “I know that look.” She leaned closer to me. “You had sex.”
I laughed and picked up my water. “Good guess.”
My sisters gasped.
“I knew it!” Emme clapped her hands. “With who?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
“Tell us anyway,” Stella said, wide-eyed.
“Dallas Shepherd.”
Two jaws dropped simultaneously.
Only Him Page 13
