Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3)
Page 51
So in keeping with all of that, Camie admitted that because she’s still undecided on where she stands on wanting children, she was excessively relieved to hear that I was smart enough to at least let them freeze my swimmers in case I change my mind. And even though I’m dead set on it, I admitted to being nervous about it. I mean come on, what guy wouldn’t be nervous about his dick goin’ under the knife? But in explaining the details and what recovery is gonna be like, and how she now fits into things, I was able to let go of some, not all, but some of my anxiety.
She also understands that I’m most likely gonna be bonkers for the rest of the month and she’s willing to do whatever it is that she can do to help me not pull my hair out waiting, which is why she didn’t argue in the slightest about taking that pregnancy test. She knew I needed it so I would be able to relax and enjoy myself as well as her during the party. And yeah, I know I’m not gonna really know for sure if I’m gonna have to face my darkest nightmare for roughly fourteen days, but, I gotta do what I can for a little peace of mind on that front because otherwise, I won’t be able to live my dream. And since I’ve kinda got an active imagination and Camie’s back to starring in my dreams, I don’t wanna miss out on any part of them, because damn. That’s all I can say. Well, I should probably say one more thing because it’s how this all works; you know, those are the rules…
So, for giving me life and the chance to live it with Camie, thanks, God, You’re the best.
Epilogue
Wednesday, Week Five
The stuff of fairytales ~ Pete
“So, like…how bad is it?” I asked when Tristan tried shifting a little in the beanbag he was lying in while he and I played Playstation 3.
I couldn’t help asking. I took him to the appointment, waited forty-five minutes to an hour in the bookstore across the street from the hospital, and then I came back to collect him. He looked sorta loopy but the first thing out of his mouth was, “Just don’t,” which he meant as a warning to not use the link that’s completely locked in place now to see what it was like or how he was feeling. And I didn’t wanna know. At first. However, my curiosity has been eating at me.
“Pete man, there was cauterizing. You don’t wanna know any more than that…trust me,” he answered, shaking his head and then grimacing as he shifted again, “Shit. I think this was a really fuckin’ bad idea…”
My head whipped around to look at him in shock. “Jesus Christ! Now it’s a bad idea?! Little late, don’t ya think?!”
He looked at me in painful confusion. “Wha—? Oh, no. No, not gettin’ clipped…the beanbag…I think I’m fucked.”
“Oh…Jesus. I thought you meant—Ooohhh…huh. Well, let’s see about gettin’ you out of it…where do you wanna move to?” I asked when I got what he was talking about. He’s stuck.
He tossed the previously frozen bag of peas aside and together we managed to get him to his feet but once he was up, I couldn’t help but think that with all the grimacing, swearing, and groaning he did that he’d have rather just stayed in the beanbag for the next seventy-two hours, or, until he dies, whichever comes first. He was just crawling into his bed—literally crawling and slowly at that—when Camie walked in. She and I shared a quick look in which I shook my head to inform her that he’s not a happy camper. She set her stuff down; including an overly large box wrapped in birthday paper, and then carefully crawled into bed with him. His parents had left on a trip earlier this afternoon and he hadn’t told them what he was doing, so I’m staying the night to make sure he’s okay and doesn’t need anything, however, it felt like he and Camie could use some privacy so I decided to make myself scarce for a bit. And I didn’t really wanna eavesdrop on them but as I was gathering my keys and stuff, I couldn’t not listen to the tender intimacy that was passing back and forth between them. They knew I was there but, to them, no one else existed. It was…touching.
“How’d it go?”
“I hurt, Baby…” Tristan kind of whimpered to Camie as she snuggled down next to him so that they were close and facing each other.
“Aw, I know…did you take your pain pills?” She asked gently.
“Mm-hm. I didn’t wanna…Pete made me. He’s mean.”
This was something he and I had a short argument about earlier. An argument I won. He told me that from now on, he’s gonna be one hundred percent clean and sober and he wanted to recover without drugs; however using prescription drugs for the real pain he’s in isn’t like using them just to get high. He was being stubborn and I was goin’ along with it at first, but after I’d helped him climb the stairs and by the time we’d gotten to his room, he was shaking and sweating, and so pasty pale that he was almost white, so I forced him. Actually, I told him I’d call Camie and tell on him. It totally worked. He told me to fuck off and then downed his pain meds without further argument.
“He’s not mean, he’s smart.”
“Well I don’t like him.”
“Yes, you do,” she said indulgently, “And you’ll feel better soon. Now, are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something?”
“Mm-mm…and, Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you a whole fuckin’ lot, you know that, but, I don’t like your cooking.”
“Huh. I don’t like how you cook either…”
“So I guess we just eat take-out for the rest of our lives?”
“Works for me,” she answered and then cozied up a little more to him, being careful to not move too much, “Oh! I almost forgot…I brought you a birthday present.”
He looked at her and I saw the first glimpse of an almost smile brighten his face. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hm, you wanna open it?”
“Mm-hm,” he replied and then winced when he went to pull her a little closer to him. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe later after the stupid drugs kick in…”
“Aw, Tristan…what can I do to help y—”
“Nothing, Baby…I chose to do this to myself,” he interrupted, being a cross between petulant, irritated, and, discouraged.
“I know, I just wanna make you feel better…oh, wait…maybe this’ll help,” she said and reached into her back pocket to produce an approximately four inch long, thin something-or-other wrapped up in the same birthday paper the big box was wrapped in, “It’s not really a gift, I just thought it would be more fun like this…”
He tore the paper off and this time, a true smile spread across his face when he read what I’m guessing were the negative results of the pregnancy test she’d given him. “Aw Baby, this is the best birthday present ever,” he told her, still looking at the little wand he was holding. Then looking back to her, they were quiet as they just gazed into each other’s eyes a long moment before he whispered, “God, I love you…”
I don’t think he even meant to say it out loud as the message was being broadcasted loud and clear without speech. However, when she didn’t say anything in return but continued to look into his eyes like she was speaking directly to his soul, I took that as my cue to finally leave them so they could continue professing their heartfelt words, silent as they were, in true privacy.
As I walked downstairs, I found myself being introspective. I admit that up until very recently, a real relationship with a girl has never really been something I put much effort into because it hasn’t been something I was all that interested in having, but watching Tristan and Camie; I couldn’t help being a little envious. Don’t get me wrong; I couldn’t be happier that everything has finally worked out for them. I mean, separately they went through hell and somehow managed to not burn up during their time in that fiery realm, but rather, they rose from the flames like a pair of phoenixes, together and holding hands, even stronger than they were before and in my eyes, that’s miraculous. It’s the stuff that fairytales are made of. But, that’s just it. I want that. It’s foreign for me to want something like that, but, I do. I want my own fairytale and I know who I want to play the princess. And I might even be abl
e to have what I want if not for one, teeny-tiny problem.
I mean, how can there even be a fairytale if no one’s allowed to read it?
Also by Jenn Cooksey
Shark Bait (Grab Your Pole, #1)
The Other Fish in the Sea (Grab Your Pole, #2)
And coming in 2014
Book 4 in the Grab Your Pole Series
About the Author
Jenn Cooksey is a Southern California girl born and bred, however she’s no longer a resident of heaven on earth, but instead she currently resides in the 7th Ring of Hell with her husband, their three daughters, and a goodly number of pets. Aside from her husband, one cat, and three out of five fish, everyone living under the Cooksey’s roof is female. She’s sure her husband will not only be awarded sainthood when he kicks the bucket, but that Jesus will welcome him into heaven with a beer and a congratulatory high-five. Jenn is also of the belief that Bacon should be capitalized and that being yourself is the best way to go. That is, unless you can be Batman. Always be Batman.
You can learn more about Jenn and her books at:
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