Chapter 13
David was sulky at breakfast. What a shocker.
Without comment, I served him bacon, pancakes and eggs, pointed out his drycleaned uniform and calmly sat down with a slice of toast at my laptop.
I could feel his eyes on me, a silent castigation. Well, as long as it remained silent, that was just fine by me.
True to form, he flounced out of the house without speaking to me. I noticed he took his dress uniform so, with a bit of luck, I wouldn’t see him until tomorrow. A twenty-four hour reprieve I could definitely use.
Before I faced David, it was time to man up and face Sebastian. I sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize for what I’d said last night but we needed to talk. At least, I thought we did. Whatever had happened between him and Brenda, or not happened as he’d insisted…whatever the rights and wrongs of him risking our exposure by coming here last night, I was supposed to be the adult in this relationship. I decided I was going to let him go with a few shreds of my dignity intact.
I pulled out my phone to text him.
Texts were such a useful medium: they could say so much or so little—and yet they side-stepped all the screwed up emotions of a face-to-face encounter. I could see why dumping someone by text was so popular: it was the coward’s correspondence method of choice. Well…perfect for me, then.
I was about to type a message when I heard a soft tap at the back door. It seemed Sebastian had beaten me to the punch. At least he wasn’t going to dump me by text. I supposed that was a good thing.
God, he was so beautiful. I couldn’t help taking one long, last, devouring look.
Even if this was goodbye, I felt lucky to have had him in my life. Knowingly or not, he’d been the catalyst for changing my life. I’d always be grateful.
“Hi. You want to come in?”
He nodded silently and I pushed the door open wide to let him through.
“I’m just having a coffee: do you want one?”
“Why are you being like this?” he whispered.
“Being like what?” I said, coolly.
“Like…this!” he gestured helplessly.
His voice pierced my carefully constructed façade—he sounded so bruised. I sat at the table, warming my cold hands on my coffee mug. I began my pre-prepared speech.
“I’m sorry I disappeared without saying goodbye. I didn’t mean for you to worry. I saw you with Brenda and…I thought it was better for me to go.”
“I knew it! I knew that was it! Fuck, Caro!”
He sat down opposite me and rubbed his hands over his face.
“It was nothing with Brenda. Nothing! Why are you being like this?”
Oh no, he didn’t get to be the injured party.
“It didn’t look like nothing,” I hissed, my careful control sliding away. “You say you love me and then you just walk off with Brenda? Do you have the slightest idea how much that hurt? Do you? You entered into a relationship with me knowing that I’m a married woman. But it’s okay for you to get mad with my husband, and it’s okay for you to sulk when Bill pretends to flirt with me, and you tell me how upset you are that you can’t be with me in public at the stupid fun day…but you know what, Sebastian? This is what you signed on for. With me. I sure didn’t sign on to see you going off with some girl. Did you really think it was okay for you to take a nice, romantic stroll along the beach with your ex-girlfriend who obviously has feelings for you and wants you back? Did you? Because it isn’t okay. It really isn’t.”
“Wow. You’re…you’re really angry. Caro…”
No shit!
I glared at him and he dropped his eyes to the table, sighing heavily.
“I’m sorry. I am. It’s just…Brenda is…was…I guess I knew she might be there yesterday. Her dad’s a buddy of Mitch. I should have said something…I get that now…but I didn’t know what to say…I mean, I broke up with her months ago before I even met you again so I didn’t think it would matter if she did…but I didn’t know she was going to… I’m not interested in her, so it didn’t … how can you…”
He took a deep breath.
“Caro, I’ve said to you over and over again that I love you. You never say…why don’t you believe me? Why don’t you trust me? I’d never, never do anything to hurt you. I love you.”
“You did hurt me, Sebastian,” I said, gravely. “You hurt me a lot. You say you’d never do anything to hurt me but then you go ahead and do something like this.”
I thought he was going to reach out for me, but then he closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly.
“God, Caro, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…I didn’t know what Brenda was going to say and I didn’t want you to have to sit there and listen to it. I thought…I thought I was doing the right thing—getting her out of the way. And…she was upset and I guess…I felt like I owed her or something. She’s been having a really tough time since…”
He stopped. It was probably the look on my face. I so didn’t want to hear him telling me how he owed his slutty ex-girlfriend and that he still cared enough about her not to want to upset her. But it was okay to upset me.
I sighed. I knew that wasn’t what he’d intended. He’d obviously thought that getting her out of my way was the best solution if she was going to start babbling about wanting him back. Sometimes he was just too damn nice for his own good.
“Caro, I’m sorry. Please, please don’t be mad at me. I love you.”
His voice trembled and his eyes begged me to believe him. And I did. I just wasn’t sure I believed in us.
I reached over and took his hands in mine, my resolve a little shaken by his renewed declaration.
But it was a mistake: the warmth of his skin, the touch of flesh on flesh—my whole body flushed with desire. The prepared speech died on my lips.
“You looked so good together.” I choked out the admission.
He shook his head slowly, his scared eyes fixed on mine.
“And then…the others were saying how nice she was—and pretty—and that you’d made a great couple and…I couldn’t help agreeing with them. And I saw the way she was with you. She made it pretty damn obvious she wants to get back with you. I guess I couldn’t blame her. Or you. And…you don’t need all…all my emotional baggage. You should be with Brenda—or someone like her…someone your own age. And…I saw you! I saw you with her—how you were with her—holding her like that.”
He pulled my hands to his face and kissed the palms gently.
Then slowly and deliberately he sucked the tip of each finger. He could see on my face what that did to me.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered.
I tried to snatch my hands back but he held onto them.
“Don’t give up on us, Caro. Because I haven’t.”
I tugged my hands free and this time he let them go.
“Sebastian, I’ll be honest with you—I don’t know what to do for the best so I’m kind of making this up as I go along. But…all this…this craziness—we’re getting swept away by it. Making love with you is extraordinary: I’ve never, never felt anything like this my whole life. But it was wrong of me to…to start this relationship with you—and I don’t mean because of what the law says, although that’s certainly an issue…but because it’s not fair to you.”
He tried to interrupt me but I was determined to finish.
“Please, I need to say this. I’ve had a lot of years of feeling inadequate, of not being good enough—I don’t need to paint a picture, I’m sure you can guess why. And every time, every time I see you with a younger woman, whatever the circumstances, it’s going to rip me up. I don’t want to see the best thing I’ve ever known soured by my insecurities—I couldn’t bear that. You’ve brought me to life—and you’ll never know how much I owe you because of that. But you’re only just starting out in your life. It’s not fair to burden you with me. You deserve better than that. I have to let you go.”
He stared at me in silence for some seconds as if to make sure I really had finished. He took a deep breath—and I held mine.
“You want honesty? Well, answer this: if I was 25 and you were 38, would we still be having this conversation?”
I shrugged helplessly.
“About you going off with your ex-girlfriend? Yes. Definitely.”
He shook his head impatiently.
“No, the age thing.”
“Maybe,” I said, cautiously.
“No, I don’t think so and nor do you—not really. That’s what I’m saying, Caro. Nobody would blink twice. It wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Don’t you think that I don’t feel the same, that I’m not good enough for you? Hell, what can I give you? A shitty apartment and working two jobs while you try to put me through school. You think I feel good about that? Because it fucking kills me! I want to take care of you, not…I don’t care about going to college; I don’t care about leaving San Diego. I only care about being with you. And we have this same fucking argument over and over. You’re driving me crazy! I love you! If you left me now…”
But he couldn’t finish the words. He scrubbed away tears from his cheeks and looked down.
“Every time something goes wrong, you give up on us. You’re killing me, Caro.”
I sat with my hand over my mouth, unable to move or speak, appalled at what I’d done to him.
He looked up.
“You want honesty? Well, I don’t know what will happen…but neither do you. Maybe we’ll make it…maybe we won’t. But you’re giving up before we’ve even tried. I don’t understand. Why won’t you take a chance?”
Is that what I was doing? Had I found yet another way to be a coward? I’d thought I was setting him free, but he saw it as my refusal to take a chance…on him, on us, on love—maybe even on myself.
“What do you want to do?” I said, softly.
“Try. Just try.”
Yes. I could do that.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, I’ll try.”
“You’ve got to mean it, Caro. Promise me.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
His shoulders slumped with relief.
“I missed you last night,” he said.
I tried to smile but my face still felt stiff from our most recent fight.
“Shall we go to our favorite coffee shop?” I suggested, thinking neutral ground might be a good idea.
He shook his head.
“I don’t want to share you.”
We stared at each other across the kitchen table.
“Can we go to bed?” he asked. “I…I really need you, Caro. To touch you…to show you how much I love you. Please.”
It was breaking all my carefully constructed rules. What if someone saw my car in the driveway and came around? What if someone had seen Sebastian arrive? What if they saw him leave later? What if? What if? But I was tired of being afraid, and right now, I didn’t care. I needed him, too.
I stood up and held out my hand. For a second he continued to stare at me, then a huge smile lit his eyes.
We walked up the stairs hand-in-hand, each step measuring the distance from our argument.
He was surprised when I turned left into the guest room. He threw me a questioning look.
“I sleep in here now,” I said simply.
I saw him try to suppress a triumphant smile. He almost managed it.
Slowly we undressed each other, taking our time to reconnect.
He unbuttoned my shirt, pausing to kiss my chest, a little lower each time. He undid the cuffs and kissed my wrists, then let the material slide over my shoulders. I ran my hands down his chest, then tugged lightly on the hem, pulling his t-shirt over his head. I slid my hands over his skin, burying my face in his chest, breathing him in. He smelled of sunshine and the ocean.
He watched me, his eyes dark, filled with desire, as I slowly unzipped his jeans. He pushed them down his legs and stepped out of them, quickly sliding his briefs over his hips, so he stood naked before me, his love exposed.
He sank to his knees, and rested his hands on my waist, his eyes still fixed on mine. Then his eyes closed, and he kissed my stomach, nuzzling me gently.
I rested one hand on his shoulder, and stroked his head with the other.
He smiled up at me then turned his attention to my zipper. Carefully, he helped me step out of my jeans and panties. He kissed my body briefly, then stood up and pulled me into a tender hug.
“Do you know how much you mean to me, how much I love you?” he whispered into my hair. “I hate fighting with you.”
“I hate it, too. Just kiss me.”
His mouth rested gently on mine and I felt the softness of his lips as they moved against me. His fingers drifted over my shoulders and down my spine where both his hands cupped my behind.
My hands trailed up over his ribs until they were twisted behind his neck, pulling his head down to deepen our kiss.
Here in this room, with our bodies entwined, I felt that I could trust this fierce love that had shattered and rebuilt my life. But outside, the world was a cold and dangerous place. I didn’t know if love would be enough, but I’d promised to try.
He bent down suddenly and quite literally swept me off my feet so I gasped. He cradled me in his arms and kissed me again.
“I’ve been meaning to do this for ages,” he said, his voice a soft murmur.
“Sebastian, you swept me off my feet our very first night together.”
He grinned.
“Yeah, but I’ve been wanting to do it properly ever since.”
Gently, he placed me on the bed and stood looking down at me, his gaze soft and loving.
“I want to kiss every inch of you,” he said.
“That sounds nice: which end are you going to start?”
He laughed lightly.
“Hmm…choices, choices. Today, I think I’ll start with your toes.”
“My toes?!”
“Sure, why not? You have beautiful feet.”
And, to make his point, he picked up my left foot and sucked my big toe, nipping the end playfully.
Why that was so erotic, I couldn’t say, but it made me desperate to feel him inside me. I reached out for him but he leaned away.
“Nope! You’re always saying you want me to go slowly…your wish is my command.”
“But…!”
“Nope—slowly.”
He kissed the front of my foot and ran his tongue up my shin. He sucked my knee, gazing up at me through his lashes, a wicked gleam in his eye. Just when I thought he’d be moving up to my thigh, he put my foot back on the bed and started again on my right foot.
Why the hell had I ever asked for ‘slow’? This was torture. Slow, delicious, unbelievable torture. Boy, he was a good student.
This time he didn’t stop at my knee, but hooked my leg over his shoulder and kept on going. And going.
My back arched and I gasped as his tongue flicked up to my sweet spot, then circled around and around.
I moaned his name and clutched at his shoulders but he just pressed harder and I felt myself begin to build.
“Sebastian,” I moaned again. “Please!”
I wasn’t even sure what I was pleading for: me, him, us.
Then he started teasing me with his fingers, slowly circling, massaging me inside and out. I didn’t think I could take much more and tried to push his hands away but he was relentless. My body shuddered and he sat up. I glimpsed a satisfied expression on his face between my frantic breaths.
“Slow enough for you?” he muttered, as he continued his kisses up my body, finally reaching my breasts, which he sucked and teased with playful bites.
I pulled my knees up and felt his erection pushing between my thighs, but he didn’t try to enter me. I ran my hand up and down him and he squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily losing his concentration.
“Don’t,” he said.
“But, I…”
“You have to wait, Caro.”
“Why?!”
“You wanted slow. I’m giving you slow.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” I whimpered. “I want fast. Please. Now.”
He arched his back away from me and grinned.
“No. I like slow. Who knew?”
And to make his point, he grabbed both my hands and held them above my head so I couldn’t touch him and he carried on kissing my breasts.
That made me mad. I didn’t like not being able to touch him.
“Let go my hands!”
He ignored me so I bit his neck and pushed against him with my feet.
“Wow, you want to fight me? I like it!”
“Stop teasing me!”
“I thought you wanted slow?”
“No!” I said forcefully, and he laughed.
“What do you want then?”
I shook his hands off me and grabbed hold of his erection, placing it at my entrance. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, I really didn’t know what was!
Thankfully he took the hint and allowed himself to slide into me. I was so turned on it was a relief and pain and pleasure when he was finally inside me. And that’s when his plans to go slow completely unraveled.
“Oh, fuck!” he hissed. “You feel so fucking amazing! Oh, Caro!”
I tilted my hips up and he started to really move—long, hard strokes that rocked the whole bed and sent the headboard banging against the wall.
I clenched around him, and that tipped him over the edge. He rammed into me urgently one last time, his muscles rigid, his breath hot and rapid on my neck. He rested his head on my shoulder and gently pulled out of me, collapsing onto his side.
Breathlessly, I inched back down the bed and nestled into him. He wrapped his arm around me and we lay there wordlessly.
Finally, we lay peacefully. My head was on his chest, listening to his heart beating, his breath rising and falling, and the distant sounds of the world outside our window. His fingers drifted rhythmically up and down my back.
I felt so content, I began to fall asleep. Then Sebastian brought me crashing back to the here and now.
“Did David say anything to you when he came home?”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk about him.
“Not much.”
“He must have said something.”
“He implied I drank too much.”
“What? Why?”
I laughed mirthlessly. “I think, because I offered him a glass of wine. I was trying to be…civil.”
Sebastian muttered an oath under his breath.
Well, now that he’d started this line of questioning…here was my starter for ten.
“How did you get home last night? I understood from Shirley that everyone was sleeping in the van.”
“Hitched,” he said, shortly.
And now for the six million dollar question.
“What did Brenda say to you, when you went off with her?”
He sucked some air in through his teeth. Yeah, should have seen that one coming.
“She wanted us to start dating again.”
I’d guessed as much. Hell, she couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d sky-written it with scarlet letters, then ripped his clothes off and mounted him on the sand in front of everyone.
“And what did you say?”
“I said I didn’t feel the same…I told her I’d met someone else.”
I inhaled sharply. “Was that wise?”
He shrugged. “I thought that would make her back off.”
“But it didn’t?”
He shook his head. “Not at first. She kept on and on asking me who it was.”
“And?”
“She kept naming all these girls we knew in school…” he sighed. “Then she said the thing with Jack was a mistake…and she started crying.”
All those girls…
I couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t telling me the whole story. Did I want to know? If he didn’t tell me, I’d probably just imagine something worse.
“How did you leave it with her?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when she started crying, what did you do?”
“You saw what I did,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Yes, but after that: Shirley and Donna said you’d been gone ages.”
He didn’t answer straight away.
“We went for a walk,” he said at last. “Brenda was…embarrassed. She didn’t want to go back to her friends looking like she’d been crying.”
“She’s very pretty.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What happened next?”
“That’s it. I walked her back to her friends. She seemed fine. I went back to the fire pit, but you’d already packed up and gone. I texted you,” he said accusingly.
“I didn’t look at my phone.”
I could see he wasn’t fully convinced but he didn’t press me either. I was grateful for that.
“Why were you downtown so late?”
“I was dropping off the films I took of the fun day.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Yes, the editor wanted them early. I don’t know why.” Although I had a pretty good suspicion what the reason was.
He paused. I was glad he’d decided to let it go.
“Bill’s an asshole.”
Ugh. He wasn’t letting everything go. Now I was the one who should have seen that coming.
“You shouldn’t let him wind you up so easily.”
“I hated the way he spoke to you!”
“I know how that feels,” I said, calmly.
We lay quietly for a few minutes, letting the twin specters of our jealousy spiral further away.
I think Sebastian must have finally decided to try and put yesterday behind us, because he suddenly said, “I never asked: have you ever been to New York before?”
“Yes, a couple of times. You?”
“No. Mom and Dad went sometimes but they always left me with a neighbor.”
His voice was bitter. I wondered again if Shirley’s speculation about his parentage was accurate.
“What made you want us to go there then?”
He shrugged.
“Same reason you want to go back East—to get as far away from here as possible.”
“What shall we do when we get there?” I said, happy to try and imagine our future. “I mean, is there anything special you’d like to do?”
“Have sex. A lot.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a given. Anything else? Perhaps of an outdoor nature?”
“Have sex outdoors.”
I laughed.
“I don’t think they have a lot of beaches in New York City.”
“Yeah, they do! I checked. Well, not the city exactly but there’s a surf community at Rockaway Beach. If we lived in Brooklyn or Queens, we’d be less than 10 miles from it.”
I had to smile. “You’ve been doing your research.”
“Sure! And a guy I know who used to surf Long Beach said that it can get pretty gnarly.”
“I think you should write me a glossary of surfing terms so I know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, you’ve gotta know about Sex Wax, baby.”
“What?!”
“Yeah, you rub it on your stick.”
“Okay, you’ve got about five seconds to explain that or…”
“Or what?”
“No peanut butter for you!”
“Wow! You really do play rough!”
“You’d better believe it.”
He laughed and tugged my hair gently.
“Sex Wax is a brand name for the kind of wax you put on your board—your stick. It helps give you traction. Not as much fun as it sounds.”
“Preferisci una inceratura a caldo … o a freddo?”
“What does that mean? Because it sounded really dirty!”
“I said, ‘Do you like it coated in hot wax … or cold?’”
“Oh man! That sounded so hot!”
“Si è alzata l’onda, o sei proprio contento di vedermi?”
“Huh?”
“Is the surf up or are you just pleased to see me?”
“Fuck! It makes me so horny when you say stuff like that.”
“Sebastian, I could read a bus timetable and you’d say it made you horny!”
He smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve got a tide table in my jeans’ pocket. Will you read that to me?”
“You want a bedtime story? Does that sound good?”
“Supra la luna!”
“You’re learning!”
“You’re a good teacher,” he murmured into my hair.
His stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting the mood somewhat.
“Are you hungry?”
“Hungry for you.”
“That is such a cheesy line, Sebastian!”
“Yeah, but it’s still true.”
I kicked the sheets off the bed and pushed him away, grabbing my robe.
“Come on. I’m going to feed you. A little lesson in Italian cookery.”
“Pizza?” he said hopefully.
“That’s not proper Italian food. Papa would turn in his grave! No, we’ll make some fresh tortellini.”
“Will it take long?”
“It can be a bit tricky.”
He sat up, propping himself with a pillow.
“We don’t have that much time,” he said, his tone solemn. “I have to be at work at 2 PM.”
I held back a sigh as I pulled on my robe.
“Oh well. Something quick then. How are you going to get there? Ches?”
When he didn’t reply I looked over at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was going to ask Mom to drive me.”
“Oh, why?”
He blew out a lungful of air and fiddled with the sheet.
“Ches is kind of mad at me.”
“I can’t imagine that. He seems so easy going.”
Sebastian looked uncomfortable.
“I guess. But…he doesn’t get why I won’t tell him who I’m…dating.”
I couldn’t help sniggering. “I’m sorry, really. It’s just…dating?!”
He gave a half-smile and ran a hand over his hair.
“Whatever. He said that I shouldn’t expect him to cover for me with my folks if I don’t trust him with the truth.”
I felt a shiver run through me.
“Has he had to cover for you?”
He didn’t reply.
“Tell me!”
He grimaced.
“Mom…she noticed that I wasn’t there for two nights. She…she kind of made a big deal out of it.”
I groaned. “I knew it!”
“She phoned Ches’s mom and Ches said that I’d stayed over. I guess Mrs. Peters is covering for me, too. She knew I hadn’t been there.”
“We’ll just have to be more careful,” I whispered.
“Maybe…maybe I could tell Ches. He’d keep it a secret, I know he would.”
I was appalled. I understood why he wanted to tell his friend but I couldn’t let that happen.
“We can’t risk it, Sebastian. I can’t risk it. And…if anyone found out, he’d be complicit in…in a crime. You do understand, don’t you?”
He shrugged and looked down. “Yeah, I guess.”
He obviously wasn’t happy with my answer.
I sighed. “Do you want me to run you to the country club? I could drop you at the entrance and get there before you. No one would be any the wiser.”
“Okay,” he muttered. “Thanks.”
A thunderous knocking at the front door made me jump.
“Fuck!”
I heard Sebastian’s oath as if from a great distance but I couldn’t move.
The banging on the door started again.
“Caro!”
Sebastian’s panicked voice unfroze me. He was thrashing about, dressing as quickly as possible. There was nowhere to hide. He couldn’t get down the stairs and out through the back without being seen. This was every nightmare I’d imagined, played in fast forward.
I pulled my robe around me more tightly.
The pounding started again.
“Caro! Get the fucking door!” mouthed Sebastian.
I ran down the stairs and stumbled to a halt. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open.
“Delivery, ma’am,” said a man in a red and yellow DHL uniform as he handed me a large parcel. “Sign here, please.”
I started giggling: I couldn’t help it.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Yes!” I gasped, wiping tears of relief from my face.
He gave me a strange look and headed back to his van shaking his head. Hysterical woman alert: just walk away.
I sank to the floor and began to cry in earnest, more from shock than anything else. Sebastian came down the stairs and sat on the floor next to me.
“Fuck! That scared the shit out of me! Don’t cry, Caro. It’s okay.”
He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and rocked me slowly.
Eventually, he pulled me up off the floor.
“Come on. Let’s get some breakfast. I’ll make you one of my special omelets.”
“I thought you couldn’t cook,” I said, my voice still shaky from the rush of adrenaline.
“I can’t—that’s why it’s special.”
He sat me at the kitchen table and started rummaging through the fridge.
“How many eggs do I need?”
“How hungry are you?”
“Starving!”
Of course.
“Then get six. And you’ll need to add a drop of milk in the mixture.”
He peered at me from around the door.
“Really? Milk? Oh, okay.”
He frowned and disappeared back inside the fridge.
I stood up to fetch the frying pan and mixing bowl but he waved me back to the table.
“I can manage,” he said, confidently, as he turned on the stove and placed the frying pan on top.
I waited for a moment, twitching in my chair. I had to speak.
“Um, Sebastian?”
“What?” he said, staring intently at the eggs as he whisked them sloppily.
“The frying pan is getting really hot and you haven’t put any oil in it…”
“Oh, fuck!”
He pulled the pan off the stove and swore as the hot metal burned his wrist.
“Quick! Run your hand under the faucet!”
He stood with his hand under the running water cursing softly. He really was adorable and I couldn’t help grinning at him.
“What?”
“Will you let me help you now?”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly. “You can help.”
In a calmer, more organized fashion, I showed him how to make a plain omelet, seasoning it with black pepper and a little salt; fried some tomatoes to go on the side, put on a pot of coffee and breakfast, or rather brunch, was ready.
“By the way,” I said, a thought occurring to me, “what were you planning on doing—you know, if it had been someone…else at the door?”
“Fucked if I know,” he said honestly. “Climb out the window, hide under the bed? Any suggestions?”
“Not the window—you could fall and get hurt. Besides, that window is right above the front door—it would have been kind of obvious.”
“I could have flattened the bastard,” said Sebastian easily.
While I went back upstairs to shower, Sebastian insisted on clearing away the dishes, which was a novelty for me. I hoped he would manage not to break anything.
I’d just finished rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when the shower door opened and Sebastian pressed his chest against my back.
“Mmm, you smell great,” he said approvingly.
“Sebastian!” I said, my voice a warning, as he ran his hands over my breasts and kissed my neck. “We don’t have time for this.”
“I’ll be quick,” he mumbled into my skin.
I didn’t even try to resist him.
Which made us horribly late.
“I told you!” I said crossly, as the highway traffic congealed in front of us. “You’re going to be late and get fired!”
“It was worth it,” he grinned, reclining his seat all the way back and pulling his sunglasses over his eyes.
He was acting like he hadn’t a care in the world. How did he do it?
“Look, I’ll drop you around the back of the country club; you haven’t got time to run down from the entrance.”
“Whatever,” he said, carelessly.
I shook my head, a little irritated, even though I was just as much to blame.
I drove too fast down the avenue leading to the club and skidded into my favorite parking lot at the back.
“When can I see you again?” he said, curling his fingers into my hair.
“Tomorrow morning?”
“That’s ages away. Can’t you sneak out tonight? I mean, you’re in the guest room—he’ll never know, right?”
“Sebastian, I don’t think so. It’s too risky. We’ve just got to be careful for three more months and that’s it. After that you’ll see me every day and you’ll soon be sick of me.”
“That’s not funny,” he said frowning.
“Sorry. Bad joke.”
He sighed. “Okay, tomorrow, then.”
Instead of getting out of the car, he pulled me toward him and we kissed with the desperation of our imminent separation.
For a moment, he leaned his forehead against mine, and then pushed open the passenger door. And froze.
Ches was staring right at us—and from the shock on his face it was obvious he’d seen everything.
The floor dropped away and I stared back at him in horror.
“Fucking luck,” said Sebastian bitterly. “Let me go talk to him: it’ll be fine, Caro, I promise.”
My hands locked on the steering wheel as Sebastian walked toward his friend. For three of the longest minutes of my life, I watched them talk. Well, Sebastian seemed to be doing most of the talking; in fact it looked like he was pleading with Ches. It was a twisted replay of yesterday’s scene with Brenda, except this time it was Sebastian who was doing the begging.
Ches’s body language was hostile, his arms folded across his chest, his face stiff and angry. Eventually I saw him nod curtly then stalk off in the direction of the clubhouse.
Sebastian looked upset as he got back in the car and pulled the door shut.
“He’s cool,” he said, an expression of pain on his face.
“What did he say?” I whispered.
“He promised not to say anything.”
“He didn’t look very happy about it.”
Sebastian sighed. “He wasn’t.”
“What did he say?”
Sebastian shook his head.
“Please tell me,” I said softly. “I’d rather know.”
“It doesn’t matter—the important thing is that he won’t tell anyone.”
“Please tell me,” I repeated, quietly.
“Why?” said Sebastian, angrily. “What difference does it make? He’s just pissed at me generally.”
“I thought you wanted us to be honest with each other,” I reminded him gently.
His temper exploded.
“Why do you do this, Caro? Why do you have to drag out every last fucking, miserable word? Why can’t you just let it go?”
“How the hell am I supposed to ‘let it go’?” I snarled, my fear and anger getting the better of me. “I’m the one who’ll be prosecuted if Ches tells anyone!”
“He won’t!” shouted Sebastian.
“Well, I’m glad you trust him so much!” I yelled back, “Because he’s the loose-lipped idiot who told Brenda that you got a job here!”
“What the fuck has Brenda got to do with this?”
“Nothing! Everything! I don’t know! Just tell me what Ches said—I need to know!”
“He said I was a stupid fucking asshole for screwing a married woman who probably just wanted to get her rocks off for the summer, and he hoped the fucks were worth it because my dad would beat the shit out of me when he found out. Happy now?”
He looked away from me and slammed his fist against the car door.
I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hand, refusing to cry.
We sat there in silence for several minutes, the atmosphere tense and angry.
“You’d better get to work,” I said at last in a low voice.
He stared at me coldly then flung open the door and stormed off.
I kept waiting for him to turn back or turn and look at me—some slight acknowledgement. But he didn’t.
Bile rose in my throat and I hurriedly leaned out of the car and vomited, watching my brunch slowly sink into the gravel.
I drove home feeling weak and shaky.
All afternoon I waited for Sebastian to text me, but he didn’t. A dozen times I picked up my cell to send a message, but I didn’t.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I tapped out five letters.
* Sorry *
Why had I forced Sebastian to repeat Ches’s angry words? Why did I continue to allow my pathetic insecurities to spoil the best thing that had ever happened to me? Was it some form of deliberate self-destruction, some way of proving that I didn’t deserve Sebastian’s love? And it must be love—why else would he put up with my ridiculous outbursts and lead-weighted emotional baggage? Because it sure wasn’t for the fun.
Feeling wretched, I tidied up the guest bedroom, my bedroom, and contemplated the sorry state of my life. I really had an amazing talent for making a complete fuck-up of everything. If the military could bottle that negative energy, they’d have one helluva weapon of mass destruction.
As I hung up my robe, a thought occurred to me—something I’d forgotten about in the whirlwind of the last three weeks. I reached into the pocket and pulled out the lock of Sebastian’s hair that I’d saved from the bathroom floor the night I’d found him at the park, the night we’d made love together that very first time. His hair was light brown near the root, bleached by the sun to a golden blond at the ends—the surfer boy he’d been when I first met him.
I took an envelope from David’s study and carefully sealed the lock inside, simply writing Sebastian’s name and the date across the corner. Then I placed it between the pages of my copy of Lolita—a book so profane that I knew David would never so much as touch its dust jacket; it was also my private joke—not that I felt like laughing. In fact it was everything I could do to keep from crying.
And I knew I was on borrowed time with David—he wouldn’t take another night of me sleeping in the guest room without some sort of explanation.
I had two choices. I could lie:
‘I’m fine, I just need some space’.
Or I could tell part of the truth:
‘Our marriage is over and I want a divorce. No, there’s no one else’.
Either way, I was scared of what he’d do. His temper was so unpredictable, I didn’t know what would happen if I pushed him to extremes. Discussing divorce certainly constituted ‘extreme’ in anyone’s book.
I wandered into the kitchen to make something for his supper. Without even being aware of my movements, I threw together a lasagna and tossed it into the oven.
It was a quarter after six and I was beginning to wonder where David was when I suddenly remembered it was his formal dinner at the officer’s mess. He was right: I really should check the schedule more often.
I pulled the lasagna out of the oven and dumped it on the side. I considered throwing it in the garbage but I hated to waste food. David could have it reheated in the microwave tomorrow. He was going to have to get used to microwaved meals once we were separated—I figured he may as well start getting in some practice now.
The thought made me feel a little better. I decided to risk checking my phone. Maybe there would be a message from Sebastian, or maybe I could just torture myself a little more by seeing that he hadn’t responded.
* Me 2 *
God, I loved this man.
I sent another quick message.
* Can I c u tonite? I can get away for a while if u can. What time u finish? Pick u up? *
His reply was immediate.
* 10 *
* I’ll be there *
* :) *
With those few words, happiness flooded through me.
And then I remembered Ches—I hoped I wouldn’t have to face him again today. It had been bad enough seeing the look on his face this morning; and it had been beyond horrible fighting with Sebastian. I just wanted to be able to see him and touch him and have him hold me and utter the sweet lie that it was going to be okay.
It really wasn’t my day.
He was waiting for me: ‘he’ being Ches, not Sebastian.
He was leaning against his van in the rear parking lot where he’d seen us earlier in the day. He folded his arms as I drove up and threw me a look of such contempt and loathing that my stomach gave an unhappy lurch. I wanted nothing more than to hit the accelerator and drive in the opposite direction and get the hell out of Dodge.
Gathering strength from some unknown place, long hidden, I took a deep breath and got out of the car to face him.
“Hello, Ches.”
“Mrs. Wilson,” he said, emphasizing the ‘Mrs.’.
He scowled at me, challenging me to speak.
“I can guess what you think of me,” I said softly.
“Can you?” he said coolly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief and disgust.
“You think I’m just using Sebastian, but it’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it is like,” he sneered, “because I’d really like to know. Seb is my friend and you…”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I said, forcing the words out as my throat began to constrict.
“Yeah? Well, you’re doing a really great job there! His head is completely spun; he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. You’ve messed him up real good.”
I choked on my reply but he wasn’t going to give me time to recover.
“You’ve met his dad. Do you know how many times he’s beat the shit out of him? Have you any idea what he’ll do to him when he finds out about this?” His voice was bitter. “Yeah, the military hero will really freak out, his son bringing shame on the good family name of Hunter and all that crap, by banging a married woman.”
I had no words.
He glared at me.
“And what about when your husband finds out? I suppose you’ll dump Seb so fast that…”
“I’m leaving David.”
I spoke so quietly I wasn’t sure he’d heard me at first.
“What?”
I looked up. “I’m going to ask David for a divorce.”
He stared at me, then shook his head.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true. We…I…as soon as Sebastian turns 18.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“No, she’s not.”
Sebastian’s voice came out of the darkness and I closed my eyes in relief. He walked up and put his arm around my shoulders, kissing me quickly on the lips.
“Hey, baby.”
Then he turned to his friend.
“We’re just waiting till I’m 18 and then I’m legally free of my family. We’re going to go to New York.” He pulled me closer and nuzzled my hair. “I’ve found us an apartment. It’s in Bensonhurst—it said on this website that they call it Brooklyn’s Little Italy. I thought you’d like that.”
He smiled at me then looked back at Ches who was staring in outrage and astonishment.
“What the fuck you talking about, man? New York?”
“Yes, as soon as we can, and as far away as we can get.”
“But…New York?”
“Caro’s going to work while I go to school. And I’ll get a job, as well. We’ve got it all worked out.”
“Are you crazy, dude?”
I thought Sebastian would lose his temper, but he just carried on talking, his voice even.
“We know it won’t be easy but we want to be together. It’s the only way.”
Ches blinked, opening and closing his mouth several times. “Why didn’t you tell me, man?” He sounded hurt.
“We didn’t want to tell anyone because…we couldn’t. Caro is breaking the law by being with me.”
It was clear Ches was in shock. He stood and gaped at us.
“I’m under age,” continued Sebastian softly. “If anyone found out…if anyone reported us, it’s a felony—because of…the age difference.” He shrugged. “Caro could go to jail. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”
“Wow, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know!” said Ches helplessly.
“She’s taking a huge risk. She wanted us to wait but…I couldn’t stay away from her. So if anyone is to blame, it’s me.” He looked Ches directly in the eye. “I think you owe her an apology.”
I touched his arm. “It’s okay, Sebastian. He was just looking out for you. I understand.”
Ches looked mortified. “I didn’t know! I just thought…is it that serious? I mean, what could happen to her?”
He seemed to be having a hard time taking it in. I couldn’t blame him—I still had a hard time with the concept of being loved so much, of being so much in love that it hurt.
Sebastian nodded, and I stared at the ground feeling a mixture of pride and shame in our confession.
“I’m sorry, Caroline,” said Ches, shaking his head. “You guys…wow…I…”
“Thank you,” I said quietly. I looked up at Sebastian. “I’ll go wait in the car.”
They talked for a few more minutes while I sat and waited and watched. Eventually Ches pulled Sebastian into a bear hug and then patted him on the arm. I guessed he was telling him it was going to be all right.
Sebastian opened the passenger door and slumped down onto the seat.
“Everything okay?” I asked, tentatively.
“I guess,” Sebastian said wearily, rubbing his eyes. “He…he gets how much you mean to me but…”
But?
“He still thinks it’s kind of crazy. He’s cool though. He won’t tell anyone.”
I hoped he was right.
Sebastian raised his hand to my cheek. “Don’t worry: Ches is my best friend—he’s my brother ,” he said simply.
I leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body through his thin t-shirt. I stared out at the stars in the night sky, wondering if one of them might be our lucky star.
I traced Sebastian’s silhouette in the darkness, his straight nose, his full, sensuous lips, his strong chin, the graceful profile of his head.
He leaned back in the seat and turned to smile at me.
The most incredible feeling of love welled up inside me. I was so lucky. He was kind and thoughtful and caring. He was fun to be with; beautiful inside and out. I didn’t know a lover could be a friend, too. And he loved me.
Me.
But was I really strong enough to follow my heart and to hell with the consequences? Could I expect a 17 year old boy…man…to be strong enough for this? No, that wasn’t right. I was the one who had to be strong: for both of us.
And at that moment, I knew the question and the answer. Was I strong enough? Yes, I was.