It's Got A Ring To It

by Desconhecido(a)

Comfortable in a loose pink eyelet sundress and tennis shoes, it brought out a truly feminine side of me. Dresses had never been my go-to items in a wardrobe. Lena had the romance business down to a science. In my mind’s eye, I was on the French countryside or a Roman holiday. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin while the wind combed a perfumed breeze through my hair. Refreshing to my body and soul. A much needed cleansing. Something was blooming between us, and I wanted to let it happen.

  We pedaled past fields of sunflowers and lush orchards, the tranquility of nature therapeutically soothing. The muted din of city life opened my ears to the sound of birds chirping and whispering winds.

  Up ahead, Myles led the way—periodically looking back to make sure I was still in tow. We rode silently along with our thoughts, except for a few directional commands and a rare landmark here and there. It was nice being together without having to say a word.

  “Right at the stop sign,” Myles yelled from the end of the road. I had let him drift ahead, while I pedaled lazily absorbing my surroundings. I followed him beneath the shaded canopy of a tree-lined lane. The branches of bent willows saluted us like royalty, admitting us into what looked like a cross between The Secret Garden and the winding Labyrinth.

  When we reached a narrower entrance, Myles pulled up to the edge of the road, got off his bike, let the kickstand down, and removed the basket. He told me that we were leaving the bikes behind and only for a split second, I thought this could just as easily be The Shining.

  Taking my hand in his, with the other on the basket, Myles guided me through the maze of towering hedges until we reached a final opening. A secluded haven of a botanical dream. In every direction, flourishes of color and flowers peeking from every nook and cranny. A stone birdbath stood as the centerpiece among a cornucopia of roses, tulips, orchids, hydrangeas, and sunflowers. And they were only the ones that I knew by name. In the far corner, a jacaranda tree, in its violaceous splendor, regally commanded attention, like a harem of women feeding grapes to the pampered earth below.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked with my eyes alight with excitement and anticipation.

  “Laila, this is our Eden for the day.” He regarded the open space, gesturing with his arms outstretched in a wide circle. “Stand here for a moment.” From a compartment under the basket, he pulled a lush, red plaid wool blanket out, and bee-lined for the jacaranda tree. In one swift motion, he gave it a hardy lift into the air, releasing it from its fold as it billowed out and flounced smoothly onto the green.

  Enamored, I watched this beautiful man, and I was blown away at the lengths he’d gone to express his love. Back and forth he went, grabbing this and that from the never-ending Mary Poppins basket, enchantingly making magic with a snap of his capable fingers. When he had finished with his setup, he bounded back, taking my face into his hands. Passionately, he wound me into a breathtaking kiss.

  “When did you do all this?” I managed, both amazed and still in a haze.

  “While you were sleeping.”

  With my hand at home in his, he guided me over to the tree where he’d laid out a fancy feast for both my eyes and stomach. Gently, Myles placed my legs across his and removed my shoes one by one. Avidly, he massaged my feet, kneading the tension from them like dough. Heavy-eyed and loose-limbed, I positioned myself against the bark of the tree and let myself drift.

  When I opened my eyes, he stared expectantly.

  “What did you say?” I questioned, still adrift.

  “I said that—” His face reddened with a slight pause. “That I love you. I just didn’t know you heard me. You were sleeping so peacefully and I didn’t want to wake you.” Lightly, he combed his fingers through my hair. “I could watch you for hours. Do you know how beautiful you are?” He asked for the millionth time and leaned down to kiss me.

  Almost immediately, heat spread from our lips southbound. “I want you, now.” The words came out breathily. I’d come undone, and finally it didn’t mean my undoing. As if my hands had a mind of their own, they expertly found their way to the rising erection protruding from his jeans. Even with our clothes on, the swaying motion of our synchronized rhythm sent me into a tailspin.

  “Here, Laila? Now?”

  I frantically nodded, as if a minute wasted would see me squandered away. He spared no time, releasing himself from his shirt in one fluid maneuver and quickly redirected his attention back to me.

  Without the obstacle of pants, my panties failed to pose any type of viable obstacle to Myles’ capable hands, who was able to make them magically disappear, while I aimlessly fiddled with his zipper. After a bit of a struggle, finally I freed the full length of him.

  Without even a second thought, he pulled out a condom and speedily rolled it down around himself. And just as swiftly, his lips met mine again as he effortlessly glided inside.

  Ah. My body accepted him with a warm, wet welcome. In a full embrace, my legs straddled around him, wrapping him tightly in place. Arms holding on. Lips leaving trails on every inch of his scorching skin. Though, the hankering only deepened as the walls at the meeting of my thighs tightened around him. Slowly, he went. In. Out. In. Out. Myles’ length encircled me trying to reach, but my impatient body pleaded. Faster. Deeper. Don’t stop. Please, keep going. And his body answered with hurried need.

  Oh. Our breathing accelerated until we were panting, needing so much more than air. Blazing skin against skin. Rhythmic friction, igniting us from the inside out. Oh, please keep going, I craved. The need rose with each stroke. Deeper, he thrust. Harder. Faster. Deeper. He pulled out until only the tip remained.

  Like torture, my body screamed. Please go. Hurry. And as his length stretched just far enough, like a trigger, it sent me into overdrive. My sex answered in gratitude, tightening, sending sparks arching through my spine, as my body gyrated and writhed beneath him in waves of pleasure. Imploding at the peak of sensation. Shaking uncontrollably as spasms of contractions shuddered through the depths of me. “Oh, Myles.”

  “Say it again.” He managed through gasps of punctuated air intakes, joining me in the height of rapture. His eyes closed and his mouth opened as his head fell back in ecstasy. Shivering through tremors, his body quaked with bliss. It was good. Maybe even too good to think.

  “Myles,” I breathed into him. He steadied his body against mine as I ruptured for the second time, in unison. Roughly, he gave a final thrust, which hurt just a tinge. From the inside, it felt more like a prick or puncture, but I dismissed it, as he hardly had much control. Listlessly, our languid bodies collapsed on the wool blanket, weary and worn. For a while, we didn’t move. Just lay, holding each other, drinking in the euphoric aftermath of the love we made.

  Only when the afternoon sun began its descent, did we decide to get back to the hotel before dark. A blended hue of satsuma and lavender illuminated set the backdrop for the twinkle lights flickering to life among the vineyards. Gently, Myles consumed me into a final kiss before we gathered ourselves, letting our lips linger. Carefully, he pulled out of me and like an anchor, my lithe heart dropped. It was a good thing I wasn’t standing, for my legs would surely have given way.

  It was one thing to worry about broken hearts, but a whole other level of agony to stew over the weighted meaning of broken condoms.

  twenty-three

  Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. That’s what I kept telling myself. It was the boldfaced lie that I had told Myles on the uncomfortably silent ride back to the inn. What I wished I could do, was simmer down and believe my own lie. In a raging frenzy, my mind reeled. I wasn’t on the pill. No IUD. I’d thrown away all my gooey melting condoms, somewhere in the middle of the second year of my self-inflicted celibacy. That’s the thing about bouts of depression and getting unhitched, there’s not much sex going on. Hell. I couldn’t even remember when my last pap was.

  Watching Myles pedal along, my whole vision of happiness had been distorted in the blink of an eye. No woman ever rode of
f into the sunset with a gigantic bubble on her stomach. Absentmindedly, I rubbed my belly. Is anyone in there? I halfway expected someone to answer, or at least kick. What in the heck would this mean to the “us” we’d been building?

  The next day, I continued my bone-tired ruse the entire drive back to Vegas. Under closed lids, I lolled over the past few days, praying Myles wouldn’t want to talk about it. Since the door to my house closed with him on the other side, I had yet to get my footing back. A few packs of pregnancy tests and my dusty copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting later, progress had yet to be made. I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to pee on them—too afraid to know the huge consequences of one or two little pink lines. The women in the commercials were always so ecstatic, but I didn’t know what I would be. A baby didn’t always mean a happy ending.

  His number nearly dialed itself, for as many times as I started and stopped myself. It’s the image of Myles looking back at me that gave me pause. In the garden, we repacked the basket, with silence wedging between us. He’d apologized profusely and each time I assured him that there was nothing to worry about. But, it was made quite obvious by my abbreviated responses, that everything wasn’t just fine.

  As we reached the bicycles again, he turned me toward him and spoke candidly. “Laila, I’m in love with you. I can’t imagine ever being without you, and even though we’ve just gotten to where we are now, I want you to know that if you are pregnant, I won’t be disappointed, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His words rang in my head.

  It must’ve been the magnitude of the situation and the speed at which everything escalated so quickly, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. If I could have rewound time, I would have taken my words back, but they’d already done their damage. I was thoughtless. Not once had I considered his feelings.

  “Well, I’m disappointed,” I’d blurted. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Pain stung his eyes and his body slumped heavily.

  But I didn’t mean it. It was the emotion talking. It had more to do with me, than him. It wasn’t him that I was disappointed in, it was me. I’d been disillusioned by some ridiculous plan that I’d had in my head that was suddenly and drastically veering off course. Even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it all stemmed from Ethan.

  If that was the worst of it, I wouldn’t have been so worried, but it wasn’t. “You won’t be disappointed? That sounds just like the words of a man, dying to be a dad.” I was accusatory. Egging him on. He had no clue that I needed to get this off my chest. I stomped after him on his heels, but when he turned abruptly, instinctually, my body folded onto the ground into a ball with my arm shielding my face.

  “What the hell, Laila? Did you think I was going to hit you?” He lowered himself onto his haunches and pulled my arm away. “I love you, Laila, but I can’t keep going through this with you.”

  Myles rose to his feet, but I pulled him back down, begging, “Please don’t leave.”

  “I know you told me about your engagement to Ethan, but I know you’re still holding something back. I’m not psychic and I’m not going to keep pressing you about this. If you want this to be something real between us, you’re going to have to let me all the way in, Laila.”

  “I know. I know.” My face in my hands, curled in that ball, I thought about where to start. There wasn’t an easy way to say it.

  “Talk to me.”

  “When Ethan left,” I started. The tears came back immediately and the shell of my old self fractured slightly at the anticipation of letting someone else know. The only people I had ever told were Ethan and Brooke. It was the reason she could not bear the sight of him. Why she guarded me so diligently. “I was hurt by the way he did it. He gave me a letter and he stood there while I read it from beginning to end, with my heart breaking and my whole world crumbling down around me. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I’d planned this elaborate event with all of these people and included them in our lives and they got to be there to see it all in shambles. My parents and my sister, my best friend, all hurting for me.”

  Myles sat flat on his butt and rubbed my shoulders quietly as I spoke. I appreciated that he allowed me to purge all the toxic misgivings of the past. “When I’d finished reading the letter and let all the guests go, I went back into the dressing room and gathered some of my things, while Brooke stayed behind to load the things from the ceremony. I’d already taken off the gown and started putting on a regular change of clothes, when I heard someone in the back. Ethan had come back for something he’d left as well. At first, I said nothing and we eyed each other closely, silently in agreement to part ways amicably. But, in the light, he must have seen the silhouette of my body. ‘Are you pregnant,’ he asked accusatively. I nodded only for a second before he hovered in my face. ‘You bitch! I know you did this on purpose. You’re trying to trap me,’ he charged.”

  Hesitantly, I paused as Myles’ fingers tightened around my shoulders and a low scratching of his clenching teeth amid his flexed jawbone, echoed in my ear. “Go on. You need to get this out and I need to hear this,” he urged me.

  “It was going to be a surprise. Only the two of us were going to know for a little while, since I hadn’t yet made it out of my first trimester. My doctor said it was the riskiest time during a pregnancy and I didn’t want to jump the gun and tell everyone, then end up crushed, if I’d lost the baby, so I kept it a secret. I’d already picked out a name for him. Lenny, Ethan’s father’s name. I thought it would make him happy.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “In that room, he covered my mouth with his hand and punched me in my stomach, over and over. I struggled, weakly trying to protect my baby, but as I dropped to the floor, he kicked me a few times to make sure the job was done.”

  “Why didn’t you report him to the police or get a restraining order, or something?”

  “I knew right there on that floor that I’d lost the baby, and simply didn’t care anymore after that. Not about him. Not me. Not even life in general. I just wanted to die. I was still lying there, when Brooke walked back in asking if there was anything else to be loaded in the trunk. She went stark raving mad, like a sniveling dog, snarling and attacking him. She’d clawed at him and stabbed him a few times with her heels before one of the church ushers tore them apart and asked him to leave.”

  “I’m so sorry that you had to go through that Laila. I would never hurt you.”

  Myles’ reassurance gave me comfort, but I still felt unsettled. Talking about it again just brought everything from under the rug. The weight of what Ethan stole from me. I needed space to think and figure out what I wanted, and I didn’t want Myles to have to suffer while I healed from wounds that he hadn’t inflicted.

  When I had finally resigned to make the call, midnight had somehow rolled around and gone by. I was awakened by the constant tolling of the doorbell. I shuffled to the door in yesterday’s clothes, trying to figure out who it might be. I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I yelled, looking through the peephole at a humungous bouquet of roses.

  “Delivery for Laila Smart,” shouted a husky male voice from behind the flowers. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” the man uttered, haphazardly as he had me sign his clipboard.

  Valentine’s Day? In all the hoopla, I’d forgotten all about it. At that point, I wasn’t even sure if Myles was still into me. Amid the aromatic red roses, jade green hydrangeas, and loosely dispersed baby’s breath, a little yellow card bearing the Blooming Buds logo, was tucked securely between the prongs of a tiny plastic pitchfork. As I removed the card bordered with garlands of pink roses, I recognized Myles’ handwriting.

  Laila,

  Before you loved me, I’d only been looking at life through a lens in a world without color.

  Love Always,

  Myles

  After reading his words for the third time, memorizing the words and every slant of his lovely penmanship, all I wanted to do was hear his voice. It was already nine fifteen, an
d I still needed to get to the reception to prep the candy station for Elle’s wedding. Myles was probably prepping for his double duty as bride-giver-awayer and photographer. I laughed a little to myself, thinking of how we’d joked about his title. It was a toss-up between bridal escort and bride-giver-awayer, though we opted for the latter, considering how we didn’t want to associate her with the various meanings of an escort. Either way, he was less concerned about that duty than the integrity of the photos. He’d contacted a friend to take the wedding party pictures, but he simply refused to relinquish total control and let him do the whole wedding. It’s what you do for a sibling. Stash a camera inside a tuxedo pocket, while giving away the bride. Maybe hustle from maid of honor to candy station host, here and there. Elle and Lena, had better return the favor at some point. At least I had Stephanie and Ashley to man the fort for the most part. If luck were on my side, I’d only have to check in between stints to top off my glass.

  I shifted the extensive black section of my closet to the side and pulled out a pale pink wrap-dress, lightly ruffled at the collar, which had been hibernating in the back with the price tag still attached. It was Valentine’s Day and a wedding. Slipping into a pair of nude patent-leather peep-toe pumps, one by one I took the curlers out of my hair, letting ebony tendrils spill out. A once-over in the mirror, not bad for twenty minutes. Not bad at all.

  On the way to the Sweet Tooth, I stopped at a nearby convenience store for a gift for Myles, then headed straight over. In a split second, I was in and out of the shop. I’d run around throwing the labels, serving scoops, ribbons, and a few other odds and ends into a shopping tote. Time was on my side with seven minutes to spare.

  Elle’s ceremony and reception were in the same place, an industrial conversion about a mile west of The Strip. I hadn’t expected much, given what she had to work with, but the wedding planner made a believer out of me. From the outside, the building looked like another run of the mill commercial warehouse. And before today, the inside matched my expectations. But, to see the endless aisle paved with a white cloth runner with the scripted monogram at the end, flanked with rows of pews on either side, I wouldn’t have believed it was the same place. Gorgeous pale pink peonies and hydrangeas at the interior post of each row, both as picturesque as they were aromatic, they left a lingering sweetness echoing through the air.