Temptation

by Smeltzer, Micalea

  “Sloane?” I hear Siva call and then he’s in the bathroom with me.

  “Go away!” I bat at him. Tears are now running down my face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, gathering my hair back to hold it out of my face as I start to retch again. When it appears I’m done he wets a cool washcloth and holds it to my face. “What’s wrong?” he repeats.

  “I don’t know,” I say, holding the cloth to my face so he doesn’t have to. Its cold temperature is soothing. “I think maybe I’m sick.”

  “Well, that’s obvious,” he says roughly. “What can I do?” he asks in a more gentle pleading tone.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I always get sick when I go on vacation it never fails.”

  “I’ll take you to the doctor. Surely this hotel knows a decent doctor.”

  “Siva, I’m fine!” I snap at him. “Go back to bed.” I motion out the door. I want to be left alone.

  “Sloane—” he begins.

  “Siva,” I say in the same tone, “I want to brush my teeth and go back to sleep myself. I’m fine.”

  “Sloane—” he tries again.

  “If I think I need to go to the doctor you’ll be the first to know.”

  Siva sighs. “Fine,” he groans, and I swear he rolls his eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say, as he finally leaves the small, but lavishly decorated bathroom. I know he’s none too pleased but I absolutely hate being sick around other people.

  I turn the water on in the sink, splash my face, and wet my toothbrush. I spread a generous amount of toothpaste on it and furiously scrub my teeth. I rinse my mouth out and make sure the only taste lingering in my mouth is the cool feeling of spearmint.

  I lean against the sink for a moment making sure the nausea has passed.

  Finally satisfied it has, I return to bed.

  Siva lays on his side fully awake. I lie down on my back and watch the sunrise blink through the blinds. Siva pushes the bottom of my tank top up and strokes the warm, tan skin, of my stomach.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” His tone is full of worry.

  “Yes,” I groan, sick of repeating myself. Sometimes he’s worse than dealing with a child.

  He pulls me against him and says against my neck, “I don’t like seeing you sick.”

  I laugh. “This from the man who used to suck on cancer sticks.”

  “Damn.” He grins against my neck. “Now I want a fucking cigarette.”

  I sigh. “No you don’t.”

  “No, not really,” he agrees. “Although it would be nice.”

  I smack his arm. “Your poor lungs. They’re probably ruined beyond repair.”

  “Nothing is beyond repair,” he murmurs and pulled me closer. “You proved it when you saved me.”

  My eyes begin to close and I hope for an hour more of sleep. Siva rubs my arm and the soothing motion is the end of me.

  ***

  I wake up to the smell of food. I sit up and look around blinking owlishly.

  “Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs.

  I stir. “Do I smell breakfast?”

  He grins. “I called for room service. I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry and then I thought maybe you would be. I wanted to be prepared.” He shrugs. “If you’re not up to eating that’s fine.”

  I climb out of the bed and tiptoe cautiously toward the smorgasbord of food. I pick up a bagel with cream cheese and sniff it. My stomach doesn’t roll so I take a hesitant bite. Siva smiles and waits for my reaction.

  “I think I’m good,” I say and sit down at the little dinette.

  “Good,” he replies, and sits down across from me. He pulls a plate toward him and takes a forkful.

  The smell of what he’s eating nearly chokes me. “What is that?” I croak, pointing to his plate.

  He looks up at me. His black brows are drawn and his eyes flash with worry. “Quiche.”

  “It smells horrible,” I say and put my hand to my mouth. “I’m going to be sick!” I cry, jumping up from the table and running to the bathroom. For the second time this morning I throw up.

  “Don’t say anything,” I hiss at Siva as he appears in the doorway.

  “Sloane, you’re sick. You should go see a doctor.”

  “I’ll be fine once we get home. I always get sick on vacations,” I remind him. “My body doesn’t handle climate change well,” I defend. “I have a weak immune system.”

  Siva narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t want to argue with you on our honeymoon.”

  “Then don’t,” I plead. “I’ll be fine once we get home.”

  Siva sighs and rakes his hand over his face. He seems to be struggling with something.

  “Fine,” he finally agrees and points at me. “But if we get home and you’re still sick then you’re going to a doctor. No arguments. I’ll drag you there myself if I have to.”

  “Deal,” I sigh. I know agreeing with him is the only way to get him to shut up.

  I’m sick every day for the rest of our honeymoon. I know it worries Siva but he chooses to keep his mouth shut. He’s probably afraid I might lapse into a mood and snap at him. I guess he can dish but can’t handle a taste of his own medicine.

  Despite my bouts of nausea I think our honeymoon was pretty perfect. Spain was beautiful, the beaches were beautiful, and Siva was pretty even tempered which was a pleasure. I have to say I was sad to leave.

  The taxi pulls into the hotel pickup area and the bellhop loads our luggage. Siva tips the man, holds the door open for me, and then we’re heading for the airport.

  I look out the window and say to Siva, “I’m really going to miss this place.”

  He squeezes my hand where it rests on the seat. “We’ll come back some day.”

  “I hope so,” I say wistfully. “It’s so beautiful here.”

  “Anywhere you want to go,” he breathes, “I will follow.”

  ***

  We walk into the flat and I breath a sigh of relief. Home sweet home. I collapse onto the fancy white sectional. “I’m so tired,” I say and my eyes close with my words.

  Siva chuckles. “Usually people come back from vacation refreshed. You seem to be the opposite.”

  “Shut up,” I groan, putting my arm across my eyes.

  Siva’s arms close around me and the couch disappears from beneath me.

  “Siva put me down,” I say with a giggle.

  “I didn’t carry you over the threshold,” he warns, “so I’ll have to carry you to bed.”

  He carries me up the stairs and lays me down on the bed. “I can’t move,” I groan, trying to take my shoes off.

  He laughs and pulls them off for me and then the rest of my clothes follow. He grabs my favorite pair of worn plaid pajama pants and then one of his shirts. He slides the shirt over my head and then the pajamas up my legs and hips.

  “Sleep,” he scolds softly and presses his lips to my forehead.

  I wake up with Siva’s arms around me. The morning light filters in through the windows and I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat and my stomach is rolling. Whatever bug I picked up in Spain isn’t going away. I’d stupidly believed it was gone and my body was worn out from fighting it. I lift Siva’s arm off of me as gently as I can so as not to wake him. He looks so peaceful and I hate to disturb his dreams.

  Once free of his arm I run as quickly and as I quietly into the bathroom as I can.

  “Sloane?” he asks groggily as I finish brushing my teeth. “You’re still sick, aren’t you?”

  I sigh. “No,” I lie.

  He narrows his eyes. “Don’t lie. I heard you.”

  “It’s a bug,” I complain and tears spring to my eyes. I’m becoming certain this is not a bug.

  “Go to the doctor,” he pleads. “I can call Dr. Fletcher if you want.”

  From the stubborn set of his jaw and shoulders I know he isn’t going to let it go. “Okay. Fine,” I groan in agreement. “I’ll call Dr. Fletcher and see if he can get me in.”
<
br />   “Thank you,” he sighs in relief and walks away.

  I hear him leave the bedroom and start down the steps.

  I sigh and pull my phone out. I ring Dr. Fletcher’s office and a kind woman answers. She’s able to fit me in on Wednesday during my lunch break. Two days away.

  I putter down the steps. Siva is in the kitchen already making breakfast. “Did you call the doctor?”

  Of course this is the first thing out of his mouth.

  “Yeah,” I sigh, sitting down. “I can see him on Wednesday.”

  Siva narrows his eyes. “No, he can see you now.”

  “It’s fine,” I protest, waving my hand.

  “You’re sick,” he growls.

  “I think I’ll live for a few more days,” I say with a smile to ease his worries.

  He grunts and slides a plate of eggs across the counter to me. He chews a bite and swallows. “I have to go into the office for a bit.”

  “We just got back,” I whine, not wanting to return to reality yet. “You’re supposed to still be off today.”

  We both had planned to take today off to get things in order before we returned to work. Besides, who likes to go on vacation and have to go back to work the very next day? That’s no fun.

  “I know, I know. But Jacob called and there’s some sort of issue I need to sort out,” he explains. Even his delicious accent doesn’t soften the fact he has to leave.

  I sigh. “I understand. Just hurry back.”

  He grins. “And here I thought you were ready to be rid of me.”

  “No, never,” I say and kiss his cheek. “You might get on my nerves sometimes, but it’s only because you’re a worrier.”

  We finish our breakfast and I clean the plates while Siva dresses to go into work. He comes down into the kitchen and kisses me goodbye.

  “I love you,” I say, relaxing against him.

  “I love you too. Always will,” he murmurs and places a kiss on my neck before he leaves.

  God, he’s changed so much from the man I first met. It’s crazy how closed off he was, and how now he’s so … full.

  Since it’s Sunday and I have no idea when Siva will be back home I decide to call Lyndi and see if she wants to do anything. She eagerly agrees and we decide to meet up for lunch. I meander upstairs and into the shower. I take the time to style my hair afterwards, mostly to kill time. I don’t usually bother with doing anything fancy to my hair.

  I finish straightening the last piece of hair and then dab on a bit of makeup. I dress in a cute pair of white pants, a flowy red top, and a black jacket. I look at the time and know I better hurry to the restaurant.

  Siva left the Porsche so I grab up the keys. I’m not used to driving in the London traffic but Siva forced me to learn. It isn’t too bad but all the taxis freak me out bit. Plus, the tiny little cars, bikes, and people who insist on darting in and out of traffic. But besides all that … um yeah, it sucks.

  I pull up in front of the restaurant and head inside. Lyndi is already there and stands to wave me to the table. She smiles when she sees me and pulls me into a hug.

  “Look at you! You’re so tan!”

  “Thanks,” I say with a shy smile.

  “How was your honeymoon? Spain?”

  She’s already ordered my water so I take a sip. “The honeymoon was amazing,” I gush. “And Spain … I loved it. It was so beautiful,” I say a bit wistfully.

  Lyndi giggles. “I’m glad to hear.” Even though it’s the afternoon she’s already drinking a glass of wine.

  “So,” I begin with a smile, “how did things go with you and Nate?” I wiggle my brows a bit.

  She laughs and fiddles with a piece of red hair. Even her cheeks flush a bit. “He was great.” Then she sighs, “I really like him. He’s so nice and I can see myself with him. But—”

  “The distance?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says mournfully and her face falls. “We’re so far away from each other. How would that ever work?” She frowns a bit.

  I laugh a little. “I never thought I’d see that look on your face about some guy.”

  She giggles. “Me neither,” she admits, but she has this look of fondness in her eyes and I know she’s thinking of him.

  “You know … you can always talk to each other on the phone and there’s video chat.”

  Long distance is hard, but not impossible.

  She sighs and rests her chin in her hand. “I know and we’ve done it a bit. But it’s not like we’ve been dating and he moved away or I did. We just met each other. It’s quite an undertaking to try and get to know someone when you’re thousands of miles away from each other.”

  “Is he worth it?”

  She gets a dreamy look on her pretty face and admits, “Yes.”

  “Then you have your answer. You try.” The waiter comes by and we order our food but immediately lapse back into conversation.

  “Yeah, I guess we try,” she muses. “Nothing wrong with trying, right?”

  “He seems to like you,” I reason.

  “Really?” she asks and her face brightens. I don’t know how she wouldn’t be able to tell, but sometimes you need someone to confirm your hopes.

  “Yeah,” I murmur and nod my head. “I haven’t talked to him since the wedding but what I saw … he definitely feels something. Maybe it’s love at first sight.”

  “Like you and Siva?”

  I nearly spit out my water. Instead it goes down the wrong way and I begin to cough and sputter. I whack at my chest, trying to get air into my lungs but it burns.

  “With Siva and I … it definitely wasn’t love at first sight,” I explain.

  She laughs. “You’re such a liar.”

  I look down at the table. “I know. It’s … I met him for the first time at Dev’s funeral. How wrong is that? Dev dies and then I meet Siva and it’s like … bam!”

  Lyndi pats my hand. “That’s how love is. You can’t predict it. You can’t fight it. Sometimes it comes softly. Sometimes it comes fast. Sometimes it’s easy and sometimes it’s hard. But always, always you have to fight for it.”

  “You’re right.”

  And she totally is. Some people think you can pencil in love like it’s an appointment to be made, but it doesn’t work like that. When it happens, it happens, and we’re just along for the ride.

  “Of course I am,” she says and flips her hair dramatically.

  We finish our lunch and walk down the street. We come to a pet store and I can’t help but go in.

  The puppies immediately begin to paw and whine for attention. “I want one,” I whine softly.

  Lyndi laughs. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I shake my head. “Probably not. But—”

  She looks at me and sighs heavily, because she knows, as well as I do, this is a bad idea. “But you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”

  I bend down next to a black lab. He’s an adult dog. The sign says he had been found alongside the road, beaten, and the animal shelter didn’t have room for him. He looks at me with the biggest, bluest, eyes I have ever seen. His black coat is dull and his tail doesn’t wag. He has a scar down his side. He’s beautiful and he’s perfect. Scars and all.

  “I want him,” I declare.

  Lyndi heaves out a breath. “Siva? Yeah remember him? Your husband. He’s going to kill you.”

  “But look at him,” I whine, petting the dog behind the ear. The poor dog still doesn’t wag his tail or give me a toothy grin. I want to save him. I want to show him love.

  Someone who works at the store came over to us. “Hi,” she says. “I see you’re looking at Jet. He’s a great dog. We’ve had no problems with him around the other dogs and he’s great with kids. Just a little skittish.”

  “I want him,” I tell her.

  Two hours later I’m leaving with everything I needed to take care of my new dog, plus the actual, you know, dog. He seems to know to go outside to do his business and he’s pretty cal
m. Although, he doesn’t like the sounds of traffic. Can’t blame him there. It is scary.

  I know Siva’s building allows pets because I’ve seen many on occasion. The big question mark is Siva himself.

  Luckily he isn’t home when I arrive so I quickly acquaint Jet with the apartment and wait for him to get home. I make dinner in the hopes of softening the blow. Jet stands beside me the entire time. He seems to have become attached to me. It brings a smile to my face. I can’t imagine what this dog has been through and I want him to feel comfortable and happy here.

  I hear the door and brace myself. Jet lets out a warning bark—already protecting me.

  I close my eyes, oh no.

  “Sloane?” Siva growls angrily coming around the corner into the kitchen. “Is there a dog in my house?”

  “Our house,” I whisper in reminder.

  “Why is there a dog in our house?”

  He’s understandably angry. I brought a dog into our home, without me even asking him, but there’s no way I could leave the poor thing behind. Not after I read everything he’d been through. He … well, he reminded me of Siva.

  I look down at Jet who is looking up at me sweetly with big round eyes. “I wanted a dog,” I explain. “I miss my dogs.”

  Siva closes his eyes and clenches his jaw tightly. “I’m your husband. You didn’t think you should have asked me before you brought a dog home?”

  “You would’ve said no,” I whisper softly.

  “You don’t know what I would’ve said because you didn’t ask me,” he growls icily.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize and for some strange reason begin to cry. He’s not even being overly harsh and is saying everything I expected, I mean if the situation was reversed and he bought … let’s say another car without speaking to me about it, I’d be upset too.

  “Sloane?” he says softly with a wince. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry. You can keep the dog,” he says and envelopes me in his arms. “Please don’t cry,” he begs, wiping away my tears.

  I hiccup and he continues to hold me. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m in a bad mood. My dad called today.”