“Okay. Goodnight, Caleb.”
I used the bathroom then crawled into Caleb’s double bed. He’d changed the sheets for me. Since I didn’t have anything else to wear, I slept in my t-shirt and panties.
And I drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Alexander. He was touching me. Running his hands up my thighs, easing them apart. I miss you. His palm cupped me, just resting there, his fingers pressing so gently. I love you. Pushing the fabric to the side, skimming the lips of my pussy with the very lightest of touches. So unhurried, so langorously erotic. Sliding his fingers into the wetness as his other hand pushed up my dress to reveal my breasts. I want you. Squeezing so lightly. Twisting. Harder. His mouth tasting. Hungry. His thumb finding the center of sensation, swirling it. I need you. Harder. Deeper. Tugging and dipping, until the pleasure simmered there on the edge of ecstasy.
Oh, god, I’m going to come.
I was coming. I tried to stop myself but I couldn’t. My climax broke in clenching spills. He’s mine, he’s mine. I want him. Oh, oh god, oh god. I love him.
But someone else was there, in the background. A dark presence, pulling his attention away. Hissing in the darkness.
I’m not giving him up. You’ll see. He’s mine.
The touch was removed, leaving me gasping. He stood up and took a step away. To her. There she was, her belly rounded. With his baby. Wait, I pleaded. I grasped for his hand and held it. She was holding his other hand, crying for her child. Pulling him away. Pulling him apart. No. No. Don’t break him.
I let go.
Oh god. I couldn’t do this. Where was he? I needed him. Why?
“Lila?”
I opened my eyes. It was very dark. Someone was standing in the open doorway. Was it him?
“Lila? Are you okay?”
I realized my t-shirt had ridden up, exposing my breasts. My panties were wet and twisted. My core still pulsed. I had come. In my sleep.
But it wasn’t Alexander at the doorway. I pulled my t-shirt down and covered myself with the sheet. And I remembered where I was. “Caleb?”
He came in and sat down on the bed. “You were dreaming.”
“I’m all right. Go back to sleep.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He was quiet for a while. “I’ll stay with you for a few minutes, okay?”
Caleb stretched out next to me on the bed, his big, athletic body causing the mattress to dip slightly. He lay on his side, facing me. His hand played in my hair, in a comforting, feather-light brush. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was just a dream,” he said.
Just a dream.
Alexander
I woke up on the bathroom floor.
The tiles were cold.
The air was hot.
My head felt like a bomb that had already detonated and was thinking about doing it again.
I had no idea what time it was, what day it was or how long I’d been here.
I tried to stand up, holding onto the exposed pipe for support. It would hurt to fall and crack my head on those fucking black and white tiles. Maybe I’d already done it once or twice. Maybe that’s why my head was so fucking sore.
But I was upright. That was something.
I reached for a glass, almost knocking it over. I turned on the faucet. Fuck, water had never tasted so good. I drank four glasses of it. I managed to get out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Out onto the patio. To the beach and straight into the sea, which was the temperature of bathwater. I swam out and floated for a while. Maybe I should just keep swimming. Straight out. Just keep on going. Until the sharks got me.
Yeah. That’s what I would do.
Later.
Right now, I didn’t have the energy. I wouldn’t even reach the fucking sharks in this state. I’d just sink out there like some goddamn pussy who couldn’t even get past the reef.
There was something I wanted to do first anyway. I didn’t even fucking care. Don’t contact me, she’d said. Don’t come after me. I wasn’t going to but it was bullshit. Biding my time while she made up her fucking mind. Sure, I was going to trust her and respect her wishes and all that fucking bullshit but all it meant was that we couldn’t be together.
It would kill me. I was sure of it. I wasn’t geared up to sit back like this and just let her walk away. Without fighting. That’s what she’d done: she’d stolen all my fucking ammunition. Leaving me standing there like a fucking idiotic piece of meat.
I’d made up my mind. I was going to contact her. Fuck it. She needed me. I knew she did.
She still had her goddamn phone for all I knew.
I walked out of the water and up to the house, dripping all over the floor. Where had I left it? What had I done with my fucking phone? I remembered: my tux. Still crumpled in a heap where I’d left it. I ran up the stairs. Nothing like a good dunk in the ocean to make a dent in a hangover. I found my tux and reached into the pocket. 189 messages. 324 emails. Could any of them have been from her?
I scrolled through, looking for her name.
Nothing.
Fuck.
I didn’t care. One text wouldn’t bring the world crumbling down any more than it already was.
I typed my message and hit ‘Send’ before I could overthink it. Which wasn’t likely at this point anyway.
I love you.
Lila
I was seriously fucked up.
I was having nightmares.
I was having orgasms as a result of those nightmares/fantasies.
I’d left the love of my life standing at the altar with his pregnant girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Whatever.
I’d pilgrimaged to my old hick town to spend the night crying all over the dirt of my mother’s grave.
And I was now randomly in Duck, North Carolina, lying in bed with a man I barely knew. Who was also my new employer.
Shit.
I couldn’t help it; maybe it was a sign of my compounding insanity: I started laughing. I really had a knack for this shit, didn’t I? Ending up in the bed of my new boss … the day I got hired. Even the cutting remark Alexander had made the other day when we’d been fighting couldn’t dull my quiet hysteria. It was fucking funny, if you thought about it. Anyway, if I didn’t laugh I’d cry.
Caleb was still asleep but my quiet giggles woke him.
Of course it was strange. Bizarre. To be lying next to him like this. At least I was under the covers and he was on top, fully clothed in his jeans and t-shirt, hair tousled, looking like something that had just stepped off the pages of a J. Crew catalogue.
“Mornin’,” he said, smiling. “Something funny?”
God, something occurred to me. Had he seen me? It had been so dark. Maybe he hadn’t. But maybe he had. My shirt had been pulled up. I’d been moaning and pleading and … coming. What was it about me? Why did I always get myself into these predicaments where I had to worry about dealing with men who may or may not have watched me get off?
“Hi. I’m sorry about last night.”
He was giving nothing away. Pure, uncluttered innocence in those clear, caramel-colored eyes. “What, you mean your nightmare? That’s not your fault. You don’t have to be sorry about that.”
Just then, I heard the ping of my phone receiving a text. My bag was on the floor next to the bed. I reached into it and pulled out the phone.
From A. I love you.
“Who’s it from?”
I couldn’t even answer him. My heart seized for a few seconds, then took off in a galloping run. Should I be mad at him? No, I wasn’t mad. What was I even doing here, when I should have been with him?
I love you, too, I thought.
And so will your baby.
I put my phone back into my bag. “I’m not talking to you about that, Caleb,” I said gently. Sure, we were in bed together but it didn’t mean I was going to spill all my secrets, if that’s what they were. I didn’t feel
like talking about it. I felt like crying and screaming and beating my head against the nearest wall, or catching the first bus to New York. Grabbing Shawna and shaking her. He’s mine. But it was too late. All that stress would be bad for the baby, of course. I felt like shaking Alexander. But it was too late for that, too. The deed was done. I couldn’t undo it. The zygote was in place, cells dividing exponentially. And I really wasn’t sure I could handle sitting back and watching Alexander and Shawna gush over the impending birth of their perfect child. Because it would be. Impeccable DNA; you had to give credit where credit was due.
I wondered when they’d conceived it. Days before my job interview? The day before? A few hours before he’d met me? Maybe he’d lied to me about not having had sex without a condom before … me. Maybe all of it had been lies.
I thought about what our baby would have looked like. Would it have been blond and green-eyed like me, or dark-eyed and dark-haired, like him? Or a sublime little mixture?
“Your boyfriend?” he smiled, persisting. Caleb, I was learning, was always smiling. And I was glad for the sunny interruption.
“Where’s your girlfriend, by the way? You look like the kind of guy who should have a girlfriend.”
“We broke up two weeks ago,” he said matter-of-factly. “Mutual decision. She’s still at Tulane, her senior year. We decided a long-distance relationship was too complicated.”
“That’s too bad, Caleb. Maybe you’ll get back together once she graduates.”
“Maybe.”
I felt like changing the subject. “When does our shift start?”
“The restaurant’s closed on Mondays. We have the day off. What do you want to do? Let’s go for a drive along the coast.”
“Caleb, you don’t have to be my tour guide. What did you have planned for today?”
“No plans,” he said breezily.
So we did. We took his Jeep and drove along the shoreline. The radio played top ten hits and Caleb sang along as the sea breeze blew through our hair and the sun shone. He had a decent voice. I thought of how easy a relationship with someone like Caleb would be. So uncomplicated. Without all the heat and volatility of Alexander’s intensity.
Steady. Bland.
Fun. Meaningless.
Normal. Boring.
What I was trying to do was figure out why the sea looked murky even on this blue-sky day. Why the fresh air felt stifling and at the same time harsh. Why the shape of my vision felt blurred and dull. I knew why, of course I did. It was his spark that brought everything to life. It was his fire and imperfections that meshed so seamlessly with my own. Alexander had imprinted his beauty and influence into every corner of my being. Without him, the world seemed drained of meaning, devoid of true light. Without him, it was all just a question of endurance.
I love you.
I need you.
I can’t do this without you.
Alexander
The days blurred into an endless sea of sorrow. I woke up on the floor of the dining room, half under the table. I wasn’t sure if I’d even slept on the bed yet. With effort, I lifted myself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall. I pushed my hair out of my face. It was getting long, not that I cared. I was still wearing the same shorts I put on when I got here. How long had I been here? Days? Weeks?
I could see the glimmer of sun on water from where I was sitting. I could see my boat, named Lucky. Yeah right.
I hadn’t even been in it yet. Not since the last time I’d been down here.
Fuck it. I got up, somehow. The world swooned. I liked the effect, except for the nausea. I barely made it to the bathroom before losing it. I vomited up torrents of the red wine I drank last night – or was it this morning? Who gave a fuck. I vaguely remembered wandering the streets, sitting in some bar where Hemingway used to drink. Maybe I should consider blowing my fucking head off with a shotgun like he did. A quick flashback flickered: of a woman, talking to me. Touching me. I couldn’t quite bring myself to regret how fucking rude I’d been. I flushed the mess away and splashed my face with some cold water from the sink. I brushed my teeth, God knows why. Habit, maybe. I went back to the kitchen. In the fridge there were two beers left. I grabbed them both and a bottle of whiskey and headed out to the boat.
I took Lucky out for a spin. The water was smooth, jeweled with diamond-light.
The beers tasted good. So did the whiskey.
I hugged the shoreline for a while.
Kept going.
The whiskey burned.
And going.
At some point, I found an idyllic little cove. Dropped the anchor. Took another big swig of whiskey and took my phone from my pocket. Scrolled through my messages, just in case.
Hundreds. But not one from Lila.
I typed in another byte-sized love letter that made the inside of my chest ache. I miss you. Where are you? Come back to me.
Hit ‘Send’.
Then I tossed my phone onto a cushion and grabbed a mask and snorkel. I dove into the cool water.
It felt good under here. More bearable. The tropical fish flitted around, the white sand seafloor looked soft. I felt buffered from the pain in this underwater seascape, just a little.
I swam for a long time, until I was so exhausted I thought I might drown. Which might not be a bad thing. It would be a peaceful way to go. Less messy than a shotgun.
First, I wanted to check my messages. I climbed up the ladder and scrolled through my inboxes.
Still nothing.
Fuck.
I threw my phone out as far as I could. It made a small splash and disappeared.
I was vaguely aware of my face being wet, from my own goddamn tears possibly, as I chugged the whiskey and passed out under the round glow of two afternoon suns.
Lila
I miss you. Where are you? Come back to me.
How many times had I read that message by now? A hundred? A thousand?
God, how I wanted to do it. God, how I wished we hadn’t been torn apart by her. By them. But I could not deny that that baby was real. A real person who would need him, whose life could be ruined without him in it. Just like mine had.
Your life isn’t ruined, some subconscious voice breathed. Your life is beautiful and so is he. He’s hurting. It’s there in his words. Go to him. Listen to him. Let him tell you how he feels. Let him assure you, if that’s what you need. Give him a chance to be the man your father never was.
I knew it would happen: I was crumbling. Flaking out and giving in.
Not giving in, that little devil on my shoulder whispered. Or maybe it was the angel. Where’s your fighting spirit? Where’s that girl who used to go after what she wanted against all odds?
“Lila?”
It was Caleb, looking in on me before he went to bed. I was still staying with him, but after the first night I’d insisted I sleep on the couch. He’d protested but I’d given him no choice. I told him I’d leave if he refused. During the days, I’d worked at the restaurant, learning the ropes (it wasn’t hard), and began to look for a place of my own. Until then, Caleb was easy-going, happy-go-lucky, a handsome, playful sprite in the dark numbness that was my days.
He walked over to me, sitting down on the coffee table. “Hey,” he brushed the back of his hand along my cheek, wiping away the wetness there. I hadn’t even realized the tears had welled and spilled. “You all right?”
“Sure. Don’t mind me.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I attempted a smile. He knew the answer to that question.
Caleb’s hand cupped my face. Very, very gently, he kissed me.
How different this kiss was. Soft. Sweet. Boyish. Undemanding. Tame.
I felt the gentle probe of Caleb’s tongue on my lips and I knew. I knew I was addicted to the wild, tumultuous storm of Alexander Wolfe. Nothing else would do. No one would ever scratch the surface of that crazy hurricane of love and lust and pain and passion that was so unique and so us. Everyone but m
y crazy-intense lover would fall short of what I needed to make me whole. I was suddenly and entirely more sure of this than I had ever been of anything in my life.
Caleb groaned lightly and deepened the kiss. But I put my hand on his chest and pulled back.
“Caleb. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Caleb smiled and hung his head for a second. Then he looked up at me. “I knew there was someone else. I could tell.”
I could feel his heartbeat. “You are so sweet, so nice. But I have to make a phone call now.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. He stood, his body tall and agile.
“Some lucky girl won’t know what’s struck her when you walk into her life,” I told him.
“I wish that girl was you.” He started walking towards his bedroom. “If you change your mind …” He pointed towards his room and gave me another of his endearingly shy grins.
“You’ll be the first to know.”
As soon as he closed his door, I called Alexander.
The phone rang and rang. A message told me his voice mailbox was full. This seemed unusual. Why would it be full?
Just then, I got a text.
Lila. Jake here. I know you wanted to be left alone but pls call me. Or come see me at home. As soon as you get this. Need to talk. Important.
Come see me at home.
I stood up and threw my few possessions into my bag. I walked over to Caleb’s room and knocked on his door. “Caleb?”
He threw open the door almost immediately. His amber eyes were hopeful.
“Can you drive me to the airport?”
Alexander
Where the fuck was I? Fuck, it was hot. I was drenched in my own sweat.
I crawled into the shade.
Saw the whiskey bottle, lying nearby, glinting in the sun. Alarmingly close to being empty. But not quite. I drank what was left of it, the insides of me as fiery and scalded as the outsides.
Ahh, it was good.
Numbing. Dulling some searing pain in my soul that I couldn’t quite remember what the fuck was all about. This was better. I needed that wash of oblivion to keep me sane.
HONEY GIRL: BILLIONAIRE (Book 2) Page 18
