Set In Stone

by Rachel Robinson

  When you live your life to the fullest potential at every given moment, you don’t fear death. I should, but I can’t, even though I know firsthand what it does to the people who left behind. People like Morganna who, despite their best efforts, can’t pretend they aren’t affected. We speak on the phone daily, and I know she’s busy with work most of the time. It doesn’t keep me from wondering about her late at night, when her phone stops ringing and after Phillipe leaves. What is she thinking? Who is she thinking about? Do thoughts of me dominate memories of Stone? Do I want them to? Does that make me a horrible person? I’m caught in between utter infatuation with her and dread.

  Gunner is staying with her while I’m gone because she offered to take him, but of course I have ulterior motives. I imagine the dog ripping an intruder limb from limb with a smile on my face. I’m sure my smile is misconstrued by anyone at our current location. The fancy, over the top, hotel pool party we’re currently attending is, as usual, out of control. Drinks are spilling, pool lights are flashing every time someone careens into the cool water. Clear plastic cups with fruit adornments are everywhere, scattered on the patio, on the tables, and some even floating in the water. Vodka is in the air, and the scent of sun lotion morphed into perfume a few hours ago. Our cabana is packed with muscles and huge titties.

  Though his intentions were halfway decent, I’m still pissed at Cody. “I thought you were lying about Morganna, Steve. I also never thought Chloe would one, respond to the text, or two, even be in town!” Cody takes another sip of his drink, one arm slung around a blonde woman who could actually pass as Chloe.

  I jack off the air in front of my dick and then waft my hand in front of his face. “Whatever, man. The night ended the way it was supposed to anyways, but next time you should know that I’ll never need your help getting laid.” I tip back the contents of my brown bottle and angle myself toward Maverick. He’s rapt in a conversation with a newer Team Guy, or the F.N.G, Fucking New Guy. Several tens are loitering around, hoping to catch Mav’s attention. Little do they know they don’t have a shot in a freezing hell with him. Maverick’s milkshake always brings the ladies to yard, I have to give him that even if I don’t plan on partaking.

  I nudge his ribs to get his attention. “Your fan club needs tending,” I joke. For the first time he notices the tanned legs and short dresses. “Go easy on them, man.” I say.

  He laughs, a growling panther laugh, while digging his cell phone out of his pocket. What he does next leaves me shaking my head. He scrolls through his camera, showing the women photos of Windsor and the kids.

  Their faces turn ambivalent, as their gazes dart to their next target. You have to love a frog hog, even a desperate one. There was a time I would have taken advantage of the situation—would have pounced on them and woken the next morning with a clear conscience. This oddly inappropriate scenario is also part of my job. Some of the married and attached men are honorable, and some aren’t. Sometimes seeking a thrill, which is part of our personalities, comes in many forms. I’m sure it’s just that, though. A cheap thrill, a cheat they can get away with and never think of again.

  Morganna knows exactly how our off time is spent; she understands it. She knows I am an honorable man. I want Morganna more than I want any other thrill; even if I didn’t have the chase for dominance I’d be all in.

  It’s eleven o’clock at night. I send her a text. What are you thinking about?

  My heart speeds as I watch for her response. Now I’m thinking about you. I was thinking that dogs are far superior at snuggling than humans. Gunner is mine now. FYI.

  I laugh. I watch as Cody leaves the cabana, drink in hand, and Maverick shows off some seriously awkward dance moves. Teaching the new guy? I grimace. Glancing back at my lit screen, I imagine her in the bed with my dog. She’s thinking about me. That’s all that should matter. This should be good night, but the beer has taken control of my fingers. Do you think about him?

  Her reply. Of course.

  I have trouble catching my breath for a moment or two. I expected that reply. More than me?

  The childish tone of the message makes me cringe. I’m a grown ass man asking for reassurance about something that should be a no-brainer. I feel sick and it’s not from the abundance of alcohol flooding my system. My steel-trap stomach is no opponent for Morganna. I bounce the phone on my knee, impatient.

  That’s an unfair question. She responds after a full minute. I stand up and pace a bit.

  I never intended for the conversation to go this way. I never realized I cared until now. It’s why I can’t fuck her brains out without wearing handcuffs. It’s why she closes her eyes when she comes around my dick, screaming my name. It’s why she’s avoided sex with me for so long and yet I turned a blind eye to it. Draining another beer, I put my phone in my pocket before I say something I’ll regret later, and I will surely regret it.

  My cell chimes, alerting me to a phone call. Sighing, I take it out of my pocket and I’m ambushed by a photo of Morganna, black hair swinging, pouting lips perfected in gloss, teeth beaming white in a smile. If I answer it will be catastrophic. I walk to an abandoned area of the pool deck and straddle a lawn chair. Laying down, I gaze at the stars swirling overhead.

  I hit the fucking green button. Because the red would be like telling her no. “Hello,” I say, clearing my throat.

  “Don’t text me when it’s obvious you have something on your mind you want to talk about. Texting is for Hollywood breakups and teenaged drama. Maybe even sexting, but it doesn’t seem that was the angle you were aiming for.” Morganna’s voice is sleepy, but calm. She’s not upset. Not like me.

  “I don’t want to talk right now, Morg.”

  “You’ve been drinking. How much?” Her voice takes on a worried note. “I knew you were partying because I spoke with Windsor earlier, but I wasn’t sure of the extent…”

  I sigh. “I’ve had a few beers. I’m not sure I can compete with a ghost, M. I drink too much and the truth rears its nasty head. Do you think about him when you’re fucking me? Because you do fuck me. It’s not the other way around.” I swallow loudly. Too brash. Too forward. I’m an idiot.

  I hear her soft breaths through the line and it calms me. She takes in a deep breath. It will go either way. Fury or tears. There’s no in between. “It’s not easy for me, Steven. We both knew this would be a challenge. You understood. You said you understood the very odd situation we’re in. There’s no competition. If you’ve forgotten, Stone is dead. He’s not coming back to challenge you to a duel, or to take your place. All that Stone wants is the piece of my heart that’s his. I owe him that.”

  I close my eyes. When I open them, a tiny shooting star darts across the sky, as if telling me I better wish my fucking ass off if I’m going to get out of this alive. Her words slice me even though they should reassure.

  The bottom of a fresh beer appears over my head. “Think fast,” a male voice says a moment before the full bottle falls. I catch it with my free hand just before it hits me in the face. I nod my thanks and twirl the cap off with my forearm—because another beer is probably a good idea right now.

  “Fuck my heart, is it? Don’t worry about me. The heart is a muscle. We both understand I know how to control muscles. All of them.” The words are out. I swallow half of my new beer and wait. I’m not sure for what. Maybe I want to make her feel something. Anything. Love. Hate. I’ll take either at this point.

  “You’re such an asshole, Steven Warner. If I didn’t know any better I’d tell you to fuck off, but because I know you’re piss drunk and will regret this tomorrow, why don’t you go sleep it off and call me in the morning?” So practical. So indifferent. It infuriates me. I kill the beer and throw it down, shattering the glass on the cool deck beside the pool. No glass. That’s what the sign said. Oops. “Go to bed,” she repeats.

  “Maybe I will go to bed, Morg. Maybe I’ll even go to bed with a woman who will let me fuck her proper. She’ll let me have her any way I
want her.” I glance around me, scouting for potentials. “How would that affect your heart? Or would it at all?”

  “Don’t threaten me. Don’t you dare say things like that unless you intend to follow through, in which case, thank you for the head’s up.”

  I shake my head, furious. Nothing. She’s still giving me nothing. I’m not sure how much I can give before I’m tapped out—a shell of myself, with nothing left inside except Morganna Sterns.

  “Of course it would affect me,” she whispers, her voice cold. She didn’t want to tack that on, but probably thought better knowing my temper. Or she thinks I really will act on my asshole threat. “We can discuss our sex life when you get back. If talking is what you want to do,” she snips.

  I hear a male voice in the background. “Who is that,” I slur, sitting up in the chair. People have made their way over to my quiet corner, a couple making out in a lawn chair a few down from me.

  “Don’t concern yourself with what I’m doing, Steven. Just remember I’m not the one threatening to cheat on you.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, I would never cheat on you!” I yell into the phone. People around me startle. “I just want more. I want all of you. You can’t blame a man for that. I get bits and pieces and snippets of your body and your mind.”

  Ignoring my sentiment completely, she says, “It’s my private detective. He’s dropping off a package. Someone’s been trailing my car lately.”

  My heart leaps into my throat. My pulse throbs wildly. I’m not there. I can’t protect her. Standing on wobbly legs, I lay my head on my arms while leaning against the fence that surrounds the pool area. “Why are you just now telling me?”

  I hear her muffle the microphone on her phone as she talks to the detective—if that’s who is really there. It’s probably that asshole, Alex.

  “Why?” I raise my voice even louder this time.

  “It’s my business. Mine. Not yours.” My blood pressure is probably that of an obese, out of shape man running a marathon.

  “You are my business. I want to talk to him. Now.”

  She laughs. “A second ago you were taking another woman to bed and now my safety is your business? I’m convinced you’ve drunk yourself stupid. Call me in the morning. Be careful, Steven. Don’t worry about me. I’m safe. It’s handled.” She hangs up.

  I stand there with the silent phone pressed against my ear for entirely longer than is normal. I feel my fingers tightening around the phone, wanting to break it, shatter it, kill it. Maverick comes up behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder.

  “Why don’t we get you to bed, killer?” His voice is light and I know for a fact Morganna has called him and this is his attempt to appease her. It makes me want to do the opposite.

  I turn to face him. “Someone is following her,” I tell him, though it comes out like drunken speech.

  “Why are you so upset, man? She cares about you. She gives enough fucks to call me to make sure you didn’t do something stupid. Like tagging one of those girls.” He nods his head to a large group of chattering women. They’re eyeing us down like hawks. “Or drowning. Or smashing your beautiful face up in a collision with cement.” He trails a finger down my face. I smack his hand away.

  I nod. “She gives a shit. Congratulations to me. Do you know what I’m going through with her?” He sucks in a breath and tries to guide me out of the gate toward the hotel. I let him lead.

  He clears his throat. “I know. You’re stronger than I thought you were. After all this time. He’s been gone for so long.” Maverick looks up to the sky, remembering Stone Sterns. “You’ve stuck by her.”

  I have and I’m just now realizing the price. I’ve turned a blind eye to the obvious for too long. “I love her. She loves him.”

  Maverick stops walking and turns to face me. “What are we talking about here? Morg being followed and her safety, or something else entirely?”

  The urge to call her back to get more details springs to mind, but I know I’m too drunk to do anything about it. “Both! A fucking ghost follows her and some other fuck is walking around breathing when he should be six feet under. Why her? Who is it? In case you forgot, we’re leaving for six months. Morganna will be back in Virginia all by herself. Alone. No protection.”

  “We’ll handle her safety. For that matter do you think Morganna would let anything happen to Morganna? She takes care of herself and we’re just backup, Stevey. She’ll be safe. Do you think I’d let anything happen to her? ”

  “You let him happen to her.”

  His face falls. “And now our conversation comes full circle. Stone isn’t here to kick your patsy ass right now. Luckily I know he wouldn’t want me to, because Morg loves you. She fucking loves your crazy, stupid ass. Give her more time, because that’s what you should do, or peace the fuck out and let her find someone else. Then you can go right back to your fucked up relationships. That sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?” His tight grip on my shirt loosens. The night air chills my body and goose bumps prick my skin. “You’re drunk. If you weren’t this wouldn’t even be an issue, would it?”

  I let my gaze fall to the ground. “No. Because I wouldn’t have the balls to speak the truth otherwise. When I’m with her I can’t…I just can’t. I’m going to bed.” Turning from Mav, I walk directly back to my hotel room, and he doesn’t stop me. The alcohol numbs the pain in my chest, but it doesn’t numb my mind. Falling onto the down feather bed, I cross my arms over my face and pray that I wake up in an alternate universe. Somewhere I’m not haunted by the decision I didn’t make before Stone did. A place that’s fair, without heartbreak or complications.

  My phone pings a text message from her. I love you.

  So much for calling instead of texting when she has something important to talk about. Fuck all of this. Fuck it all.

  Morganna

  Past

  “Don’t villianize the guys, Morg. It’s just the way they are. I’d bet if you polled a non-SEAL group of type A men there would be just as many cheaters.” Stone is exasperated as he pseudo-defends his friends.

  I huff. “What makes you different from them?” One of the guys cheated on his wife—his very pregnant, very beautiful wife—after ten years of marriage. Though he’s admitted to cheating all along because he could get away with it. It was the thrill of the chase. Personally, it makes me want to vomit.

  Stone replies without hesitation. “Because I love what I have with you more than anything else. I’d never do anything to jeopardize our relationship.” He stares me directly in the eyes, his brownish color twinkling with sincerity. I trust him, it’s just disheartening after hearing story after cheating story. Especially given my profession. I’m inundated with marriage failures and scandal so wild it makes my head swim.

  I lean forward and kiss him square on the mouth. “I just don’t want to end up in that scenario. I see the heartbreak too much for comfort. It’s almost as if I know what it feels like.”

  He shakes his head, furrowing his brow. “I’d never give you the clap, baby. Don’t you worry.” His smile is beatific, nothing grander.

  “I don’t want syphilis either. Write that down,” I bite back. Stone pulls me into his chest and kisses my neck. “I can’t believe you’re deploying. It’s surreal. We’ve talked about it a million times, but it was always like this looming date that I never thought would come.” I sigh, as I feel his tongue against the hollow of my neck.

  “It will go by quickly and then I’ll be right back here with you,” he says, kissing behind my ear. With one hand he holds me tightly, while he draws the other more skilled hand between my legs. My panties are long gone as we’ve been in non-stop sex sessions since this morning. Tonight is the grand goodbye for six months. A lump forms in my throat.

  “What if you don’t though? What if you don’t come back?” I breathe out, closing my eyes. His hand stops moving. It’s a rhetorical question asked just for reassurance, but I realize he’s pondering his response and I immediatel
y regret asking.

  “Then you wake up, you drink your coffee, and you go on.” At his candidness, I push him away a touch so I can see his eyes and try to rearrange my lust-hazed thoughts.

  “I drink my coffee? That’s your proposal? You die and I drink coffee? I know that your euphemisms are usually pretty solid, but not this time, Stoner.”

  His smile is sincere. “I’m not going to tell you to stop using creamer, baby. I’m just saying it’s simple. You wake up and live life. It’s too short not to. If I don’t come home, it’s a perfect example of that. Brevity forces passion. Passion fuels life. You have passion in spades. You’ll use it.”

  My eyes start to water and an unexpected anger rears. An anger I can’t control, a fury that pokes holes in my armor. How dare he put these thoughts in my head. No one has that right except for me.

  “I don’t want coffee with creamer, Stone. I want you. I want longevity, not brevity. You are the only person who can make me feel this way. You are the person that I love, that I chose to be my forever.” He cradles my face, his smile turning wistful when he sees his words affecting me. “I want your passion,” I say as a tear slips down my face—an angry tear laced with spite and dread. My heart beats on at a ragged, dreadful pace as scenarios spin through my mind.

  I realize that these horrible scenarios are actually a possibility. The bones in my chest feel like they’re caving in. This conversation puts a face next to the word deployment. A face I don’t like, that I don’t want to familiarize myself with. I can’t reply, I don’t know what to say. I’m out of my element. Sighing, I wait for him to speak.

  “I don’t want to upset you.” He kisses the tear off my cheek. “You have to know what I want for you in case though, right? I want the world for you, Morg. I want love for you. I want a life so full of passion that it exceeds your wildest dreams. If I’m not giving it, someone or something else needs to.”