Chapter 16
At dawn, I gently shook Sebastian awake.
I’d listened all night for the sound of David’s return but the house had stayed silent and kept its secrets.
He yawned and stretched, giving me the most glorious smile.
“God, I love waking up with you, Caro. I want to do it for the rest of my life.”
His words squeezed my heart painfully. I badly wanted to believe them.
Then his smile faded and I saw the weight of memories flood back. He frowned.
“How are you? How are your legs?”
“Not too bad. Pretty good really.”
In truth, they were more than a little sore, particularly so when I flexed my knees, but nothing I was going to worry about. The worst area was the top of my right foot and that was painful. From a few exploratory prods, I could feel that it had blistered over night. It was going to be hellish trying to wear shoes; even flip-flops would rub in all the wrong places.
He looked at me skeptically.
“Really?”
“Sure,” I said, not meeting his eyes and sitting up.
He reached out and pulled me back down, forcing me to look at him. “Really?”
“My right foot is a little sore,” I conceded. “I just need to put a band-aid on it, that’s all.”
This time he let me get out of bed and lay there watching me.
I couldn’t help noticing that he’d kicked off his jeans in the night and was wearing just a t-shirt and boxer briefs—with a large bulge showing clearly. Although my body tingled with Pavlovian response, I really wasn’t in the mood to do anything about it, and Sebastian didn’t even seem to be aware. Perhaps he woke up like that every morning. I smiled to myself, considering that soon I’d be in a position to answer that interesting question.
When I came back from the bathroom, he was fully dressed. He’d even taken the time to make the bed and turn back the sheets nicely.
I crept downstairs in the pale, gray light of dawn, checking that David’s return wasn’t imminent. We’d have about two minutes after hearing his car in the driveway—just enough time for Sebastian to make an escape through the back door. I’d liked to have made breakfast for him but there was a good chance that David would return soon to get a change of clothes.
We stood in the kitchen, the scene of so much drama, so many key moments in our lives, and held each other.
“I’ll miss you every minute,” he said, softly.
I sighed into his chest.
“Shall I see you at the park at 9 AM?”
“Yes,” he said, simply.
And then it was time for him to go. It seemed to me like it was always time for him to go. I knew he felt the same.
But David didn’t return. Instead I spent the hours before I could be with Sebastian again wandering around the empty house, letting my fingers drift over the old, familiar furniture and through the old, familiar memories.
I decided what I would take with me from the marital home. When it came down to it, there was very little: my clothes; the jewelry my father had given me; my ancient laptop; a few books; and my favorite CDs which were already in the car. The ugly wedding china that my parents had bought us had been my mother’s choice—I was more than happy for David to keep it. It wasn’t much to show for 11 years of marriage, but with a new life ahead of me, I didn’t care either. That, by itself, said everything.
When I’d still lived in North Carolina, some friends and I had had a rather drunken evening and we’d all had to choose which three things we’d save in a house fire. One woman that I didn’t know very well said, and I remembered this clearly, “My dog, my handbag and my wedding album.”
“What about your husband?” we’d asked, laughing.
“He can get his own damn self out,” she’d replied.
I had one other job to do before I left the house—I scoured the rooms-to-rent websites and made a shortlist of five places to check out. I didn’t much care what the room was like so long as it was cheap and reasonably clean. It wasn’t going to be for long.
Despite my lack of sleep, I was filled with a nervous, restless energy. I’d made my decision and now I was ready to get on with my life. The last month had raced by, but the next few days seemed destined to drag.
I headed back up to the bathroom and gritted my teeth through a tepid shower that stung my too sensitive skin. All the burn marks were ugly but only my foot really bothered me. I dug in the closet and eventually located a pair of long, loose pants and found some old sneakers that were bearable once I’d made a gauze pad to cover the large blister. Not my most elegant look but hell, Sebastian wouldn’t care. And that was all that mattered.
He was waiting for me, of course, and just seeing him made my day a little brighter.
“How are you?” he said again, peering anxiously at my face.
“I’m…surprisingly good,” I said, honestly.
He smiled that beautiful smile and I saw his shoulders relax.
“How are you?” I grinned back at him. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, starving!”
“Did you skip breakfast again?” I admonished.
His smile died. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What is it?”
He shrugged. “No food in the house.”
I felt so bad for him, knowing I’d sent him away hungry. “Is…is it usually like that?”
He carried on staring out of the window. “I guess. Although it’s gotten worse lately. All they do is fight. I don’t know why they stay together—it damn well isn’t for me. Probably to protect their reputations—as if that were even possible. God, I can’t wait to get out of there.”
I reached over and gently squeezed his thigh. He looked down and a moment later carefully twined his fingers through mine.
“I thought we could go to our coffee shop,” I said, softly.
He was still gazing at our joined hands, when he replied.
“Yeah, that would be good.”
“I’ll spring for breakfast,” I said, hoping to make him smile. “I saw on their menu that they do fresh zeppole and three different crostata.”
“Only three?” he said, his lips lifting upwards at last.
“Hmm, well! I think a taste test might be in order.”
The Benzinos welcomed us back with open arms, berating us vociferously for having stayed away so long. I made the mistake of mentioning that Sebastian had skipped breakfast and the little old nonna scolded him for five minutes solidly, rattling off her rebukes in quick-fire Italian while Sebastian wilted under her stern gaze—then she turned her attention to me, wagging her finger and telling me I was a bad wife for not feeding my man. I agreed with every word. If only she’d known.
Almost every item on the menu was soon delivered to our table and I couldn’t help smiling as Sebastian’s eyes bugged out at the vast quantity of food. But then I remembered the reason he was always so hungry, and my smile faded.
He ate everything in sight with the exception of one crostata that he insisted I have for myself.
“Oh wow, that was amazing!” he said, replete at last. “I’m going to get so fat when we go to Italy.”
“If you carry on eating like this you’ll be enormous long before we make it to Italy,” I laughed at him. “There’s nothing on the menu here that I can’t make.”
“You’re kidding? Wow, really? Jeez, I knew there was a reason I loved you!”
And he leaned forward to kiss me.
The little nonna clapped her hands together with feeling, then darted over and peppered me with questions, her quick, squirrel-brown eyes darting between us. I shook my head, more than a little embarrassed. She sighed heavily, pointed at her watch and shot off to serve some newly arrived customers, still shaking her head.
“Was that about what I think it was about?” said Sebastian, raising his eyebrows.
“How much did you pick up?” I asked, curious to know how good his Italian was getting—as well as avoiding answering the question.
“Something about babies and the time?”
“Well, yes,” I agreed, feeling flustered. “She wanted to know when we were going to start a family.” I tried to smile. “She was pointing out that time waits for no woman.”
He lifted my hand from the table and frowned as he stared at my wedding ring. “I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Caro. I reckon I could handle the idea of a couple of bambinos running around. We’d make a helluva better job of it than my folks, that’s for sure.”
I tried to smile but I didn’t want to dare let myself think that far ahead. What was the point? He was far too young to be talking like this. And when he was old enough…
The conversation was making me feel despondent so I thought quickly how to change it.
“What time are you working today?”
“Not till 4 PM,” he said, smiling again. “What would you like to do?”
“Not much,” I admitted.
“Do you want to go to our beach?”
My smile faded. “I don’t think that would be a good idea—I don’t want to get my feet wet or sand in my blister.” My words stalled, seeing the venomous look on his face.
He made a visible effort and reined in his rising temper.
“Maybe we could check out some of these rooms to rent that that you’ve seen advertised?”
“No, that’s okay, thanks. I’ll do that this afternoon while you’re working.”
He thought for a moment.
“There’s a jazz band playing down in the Gaslamp Quarter today. We could go listen if you like?”
“Jazz again!” I teased. “And here was me thinking you were devoted to opera.”
“I like both,” he said, looking a little sheepish.
I smiled at him. “Me, too.”
He stood up, stretching his tall frame and held out his hands to pull me up.
We hid some bills under our plates and tried to sneak away before the Benzinos saw us but the nonna must have had her eagle eyes trained our way because she sent her son darting after us with the money, remonstrating about our underhand trick and reminding us that family didn’t pay. Then he kissed us both, thrust the notes into Sebastian’s hands and hurried back to his business. How they ever made any profit was beyond me.
We wandered through the Gaslamp Quarter, admiring the Victorian architecture and old world charm, enjoying the sun and warm air, people-watching and relaxing in a way that was new and rather wonderful to me.
We heard the sounds of jazz filling the summer morning long before we saw the band. Strolling out of an alleyway into a large plaza, I could see that one side had been converted into a mini stage where the musicians performed, decked out in black jeans and tshirts, and wearing dark sunglasses; presumably to show that they were jazzmen, if the music didn’t already prove it. They looked young enough to be students and were playing a sort of hyped up version of Dixieland jazz mixed in with a more modern, fusion sound and some Latin rhythms. A couple of girls in their late teens were already dancing, losing themselves in the music. Soon other people were joining them and the crowd steadily grew.
We didn’t want to waste any money by sitting at one of the café tables that ringed the plaza, so we joined a group sprawled out on the sidewalk. Sebastian gallantly pulled off his sweatshirt so I wouldn’t have to sit on the dusty ground.
He did these things so naturally, with no fuss or embellishment that my heart expanded with delight and pain each time. Sebastian always put me first. I wasn’t used to that.
We sat shoulder to shoulder and he casually draped his arm around me, turning every now and then to kiss my hair. I wished the moment could last forever.
I couldn’t help noticing that his feet and hands moved constantly with the music, keeping up a contrapuntal rhythm, his fingers drumming on my arm.
“Have you ever learned a musical instrument?” I wondered.
He smiled. “No, but I always wanted to play guitar.”
“We should get you one when we get to New York. Not electric, though, please! An acoustic guitar.”
“I thought you were a rock chick at heart. Which reminds me—I still have to go beat up Anthony Kiedis!” He paused. “Did you ever learn to play anything?”
“Not really. I had piano lessons when I was eight. I hated them. Mom wanted me to do it but I begged Papa to stop the torture and he did.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Will you tell your mom…?” His words trailed off.
“When I leave David? Yes, I suppose so. Eventually.”
He held my hand tightly and kissed my fingers. “At least you had your dad—that’s one more good parent than I had.” He considered for a moment. “But I’ve got Shirley and Mitch—they’ve been more like parents to me than my mom and dad. I hate not being able to tell them about you.”
He frowned and I stroked his arm, trying to soothe away the hurt; or, if that were impossible, to show that I understood.
“I know: I hate it, too. But when this is all over, if…if they forgive me, maybe we can…”
He lifted my chin with his fingers to make me look into his eyes.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, his voice forceful. “We fell in love: it’s not a crime.”
But I still felt like a criminal. Sometimes.
He kissed me on the lips, trying to lighten our suddenly bleak mood.
“Come on,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s dance!”
“What? You can’t dance, can you?”
“Oh, yeah? Is that what you think? Let me show you, baby!”
And he could, he really could!
He placed my arms around his neck, wrapped his around my waist and forced his right leg between mine so we were joined at the groin. If it hadn’t been for the fact we were practically welded together, I would have fallen over from shock. No one had ever danced with me like this before. It was so good I was sure it must be illegal. In fact the way he wove our bodies together I was quite certain it would have been banned in several states.
David’s idea of dancing was to sway slowly, usually to a different tune from the one that was being played, and circle carefully on the spot. The only other man I’d danced with had been Papa—and that had been a waltz. I hadn’t even gone to my high school prom: I was already dating David so I hadn’t seen the point.
But this! This was more like sex to music but without the messy sheets. And in public.
He ground himself against me, our bodies undulating with the music. Then he spun me around and pulled me tightly against him again. I caught glimpses of envious faces of other women as we moved. Then his hands slid down to my ass and he pushed my hips into him, fingers splayed out over my buttocks.
When the tune finished I was red-faced and hyperventilating and so damn aroused! He grinned at me wickedly, knowing exactly what he’d done. He dipped me almost to the floor, then swept me up and kissed me hard.
The watching crowd gave us an ironic cheer and several yelled at us to get a room. It was the best suggestion I’d heard all day. Instead, Sebastian saluted the amused audience and grabbed my hand, towing me in the direction of the car.
“Where…where did you learn to do that?” I gasped.
“Shirley and Mitch,” he said, walking so fast I had to trot to keep up.
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope! Base salsa champions, four years running.”
He pulled me down the street, a determined look on his face. When we got to the parking lot, I saw his eyes scanning the rows of parked cars until he found my Ford. I tried to fish my keys out of my purse but he was walking so quickly, it was hard to keep up and do anything else.
When we got to the car, he slammed my back against the door, his hands in my hair, his teeth on my throat .
“I want you so bad,” he breathed into my skin.
“Empty lot.”
“What?”
“That empty lot—you remember.”
“Fuck, yes!”
With shaking hands, I climbed into the driver’s side and fiddled with my seatbelt. Sebastian reached across me and snapped it into place, letting his fingers drift across my stomach as he did so; his heated expression made my mouth dry up.
I don’t know how I drove without having an accident—my whole body was on fire for him. Sebastian leaned back in the passenger seat, his eyes closed. He looked calm, but his too rapid breathing gave him away.
I swung into the weed-covered space of the empty lot, slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt. I’d only just managed to take off my seatbelt before Sebastian was unzipping his pants and showing me just how much he wanted me. I was so turned on seeing his need. I crawled onto his lap and thanked my lucky stars I’d chosen to wear loose pants with an elasticized waistband. I pushed them over my hips, ignored the pain from my sore skin and sank down on to him.
There was no finesse, no gentle touches—it was hard and raw and urgent. Sebastian grabbed my hips, pumping me up and down even faster. His eyes were tightly closed and his head was buried in my chest, every muscle rigid. He came hard, shuddering into me. I whimpered as my body exploded from the inside out and, without meaning to, I bit down on his neck.
His arms tightened around me and we sat there, trying to adjust our shattered breathing.
Finally, the pain from my sore skin broke through the post-orgasmic miasma and I shifted awkwardly back to the driver’s side.
I glanced over to see Sebastian zipping up his pants, a huge grin on his face.
“We should name this empty lot,” he said.
“Like what? ‘Emergency Room’?”
“Yeah!” he laughed out loud. “I hope they never build on it.”
“Maybe they’ll build one of those Japanese Love Hotels and put a plaque on the wall in our memory.”
“What’s a Love Hotel?”
“Places where courting couples can go for some privacy. You can pay by the hour.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Do they have them in San Diego?”
“I can see what you’re thinking, Hunter, and the answer is no way!”
He narrowed his eyes and then with a lascivious leer, leaned toward me. He ran his finger down my throat, over my t-shirt, between my breasts and all the way down to my stomach.
“You sure about that?”
My eyelids fluttered. I couldn’t remember what my reasoning was.
Suddenly he swore. “Fuck!”
A police officer was walking toward us.
He tapped on my window and I rolled it down. If he’d been two minutes earlier…I really didn’t want to think about that.
“May I see your license, please, ma’am?”
He was stocky, in his fifties, and had a weathered face that was not unkind.
“Yes! Yes, of course!”
I reached over to the back seat to grab my purse. I felt a little shaky; Sebastian just looked pissed.
The officer glanced at my ID and then over at Sebastian. “You from the Base, too, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm, well. This is private property. So you and Mrs. Wilson should find somewhere else to…park.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll do that. Thank you, sir.”
The officer handed me back my license and watched while we buckled ourselves in and I drove off.
Sebastian blew out a long gust of air and grinned at me.
“That was so embarrassing,” I whined.
He laughed and shook his head. “It was worth it.”
“Where shall we go now?” I said, still feeling grumpy.
“Somewhere we can get some food.”
“You’re hungry again?”
He gave me a wicked smile. “Sure! It must be all the…exercise.”
I slapped his leg. “You are a bad influence!”
“Yeah, baby, but you love it.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
I drove us back to the I-5 and then took a turning toward Mission Beach, heading north up the coast road until Sebastian told me to pull over.
“There’s a place here we can get some food,” he said, quietly. “This cove is real pretty—we could just sit and chill for a while.”
“Sounds great,” I said smiling at him. “Although I’m more thirsty than hungry.”
“You should eat something,” he said seriously.
I just adored the way he tried to look after me—so, so sweet.
“Okay, I’ll have a sandwich. Anything, whatever they’ve got.”
I wandered down the steps to the small cove and cautiously laid out the picnic blanket as near to the concrete steps as possible, without being so close that people would actually trip over me.
It was soothing being by the ocean. I imagined how blissful it would be to hear the sound of the waves rolling in until they were as familiar as breathing. I felt so full of hope for the future—I hadn’t even realized it had been missing from my life until Sebastian had opened my eyes.
I didn’t need to turn around to recognize his quiet footsteps coming down behind me. He had a bottle of water and a can of Coke in one hand, and two packages of sandwiches in the other. He flopped down next to me with a grin and kissed my shoulder.
“Tuna or BLT?”
“Tuna, please.”
He handed me the package and I took a huge bite. It was freshly made and very good.
“Hungry?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Must be all the exercise,” I said, glaring back with my mouth full.
He laughed and unwrapped his own sandwich.
He finished before me, of course, and pulled off his t-shirt to lean back on his elbows and soak up the sun. His smooth skin gleamed in the sunlight, utterly distracting me from finishing my sandwich. I ran my eyes over his flat stomach and muscled chest and decided I’d much rather eat him.
I laid the remains of the sandwich to one side and pushed him down onto the picnic blanket.
His eyes flashed open in surprise and then he let out a long sigh as I kissed his chest and teased his nipples with my tongue. Mmm. He tasted way better than any old sandwich, no matter how freshly made.
I stroked the flesh just below his waistband, running my fingers along the edge of the denim, knowing that he was primed and ready for action. He groaned.
“Caro, what are you doing to me?”
“Saying thank you for the sandwich,” I murmured against his stomach.
“You’re driving me crazy! How am I supposed to think about anything when you’ve got me like this?”
He gestured weakly toward his zipper.
“That’s the point,” I said, smiling against his chest. “You’re not supposed to think about anything.”
“It’s working,” he muttered, then ran his hands down my back, pulling me closer.
I wanted him very badly and I only had myself to blame. I wondered briefly if the storage closet at the country club’s locker room had a ‘vacancy’ sign on it. But he had work to do and I had room-shares to check out.
I ended our mutual torture, planting a loud kiss on his belly button, then snuggled into his shoulder, resting my head on his chest.
“When did you get to be such a bad girl?” he asked, stroking my hair.
“Oddly enough, around the time I met you,” I said sharply, digging my fingers into the ticklish spot around his waist.
“Okay, okay! I give in! Jeez, you play rough.”
“I got the distinct impression you like it rough,” I said, leaning up to look at him.
His anxious look was back immediately. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, Caro! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Of course not! And believe me, I enjoyed our illicit car sex just as much as you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes! How many orgasms do I have to have for you to believe me?”
He smiled and looked smug. “Five is the record.”
“What?! You’ve been counting?”
He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed, as if he’d been caught out in a naughty secret, which he had.
“Can’t help it—it’s a guy thing.”
“You…you haven’t said anything to Ches, have you? Because if you have I wouldn’t be able to look at him…”
“Of course not!” He sounded angry. “I would never say anything to anyone about us. Ches knows as much as he needs to.”
“Has he said anything else?”
Sebastian sighed. “He’s worried, I guess, but he won’t tell anyone.”
I decided to let it drop. If he trusted Ches, well…there was nothing I could do about it one way or another.
“By the way, did Brenda find you again yesterday?”
He scowled. “That stupid bitch nearly got me fired.”
While I wasn’t sorry that Brenda was annoying him, I was shocked to hear him talk about his ex-girlfriend like that.
“Did she…um…try again after I left?”
He sighed. “Kind of, but…”
“But what?”
“I told her I was seeing someone and that there was no way I was getting back with her after…”
Now he had my complete and undivided attention.
“After what?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
I bit my tongue, determined not to press him if he didn’t want to talk. But, wonder of wonders, my silence seemed to have the opposite effect.
“Ches told me some stuff…after I broke up with Brenda, she started hanging out with some of the guys we used to surf with. She was…partying a lot.”
“Oh.”
From the expression on his face I guessed that was a euphemism for sleeping around. I could see Sebastian wasn’t impressed with that.
I sighed to myself. Men were so good at double standards—here he was, having an affair with a married woman, and he was dismissing his ex-girlfriend because she’d slept with other people after they’d split up. I knew he didn’t think of what we had as an affair, but that was just his insider view, and if he’d have asked Ches to tell it like it was, that’s exactly what his friend would have said.
I felt almost sorry for Brenda. Almost.
“You know, I just don’t see you two together. Was she always so…pneumatic?”
“Pneumatic?!”
He smirked then a shadow crossed over his face.
“Not always. I mean, she could be pretty full on—she liked being the center of attention, Homecoming Queen, all that kinda shit. It wasn’t really my scene—it was one of the things we used to argue about. But she could be really sweet and fun, too.”
It was my own fault for asking, but I really didn’t want to hear her described that way. My sympathy for her took an early bath.
“What happened?” It was none of my business but now I really wanted to know. “Why did she change?”
He shrugged and lay on his back, folding his hands under his head.
“Some of her friends were sleeping with their boyfriends and she thought we should, too. I just thought it was lame to do it just because her friends were.”
“And you were never tempted?”
“Yes and no. I thought about it a lot…” Then he smiled. “Not as much as I think about having sex with you, but yeah, I thought about it. We got close a couple of times. I’d pretty much made up mind I was going to…”
“Hence practicing with the condom?”
He reddened and didn’t reply.
“So what stopped you?”
“Ches told me he’d seen her making out with some other guy. He wouldn’t tell me who so I figured it was probably someone I knew…I thought maybe Jack…she denied it—at first, then blamed it on having too much to drink. But that just finished it for me. I thought…I thought I must be something special if she wanted to…with me, but…I guess not.”
I leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.
“Well, I think you’re very special; and Brenda’s loss is my gain. Although, I’m surprised she thought you’d take her back after that.”
He smiled. “She said she didn’t believe I was seeing anyone—that I was just making it up to get back at her.”
“Well, hopefully she’ll go on thinking that.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because as long as she’s thinking that, then she’s not suspecting me. I mean, let’s face it, you couldn’t have been more damned obvious yesterday!”
He looked hurt. “I hardly even spoke to you!”
“Sebastian, you were staring at me the whole time. Even when she heaved her enormous tits up in her bikini top, you didn’t look at her. She must have thought you’d gone blind.”
“Enormous tits!” He laughed loudly. “Yeah, I guess they are kind of hard to miss. But I prefer yours.”
“I thought all men liked women with big breasts?”
He nuzzled my hair. “I’m more of an ass man,” and he ran his hands over my backside, squeezing gently, to emphasize his point.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, because I definitely can’t compete with her on…chest volume.”
He chuckled quietly and continued stroking my back as I snuggled closer.
Then his hands stilled and he seemed deep in thought.
“I was wondering,” he said softly, “can I ask you something…about you and David.”
Uh oh.
“What were you wondering?”
“How you got together in the first place. You don’t seem to have much in common.”
Or, in fact, anything at all.
“He was stationed at the Base near where I lived. I’d gone to the drugstore to pick up something for my mom and he drove up in this cute little sports car—a Corvette—electric blue. He was in uniform and he just came up and started talking. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me—sophisticated older man.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I just saw what I wanted to see—and I was desperate to leave home.”
He nodded. “I totally get that.”
“I was in my senior year, so…when he proposed, I said yes.”
“Did…did you love him?”
“I convinced myself I did—at first. But I soon realized I’d made a mistake. I just didn’t have anywhere to go back to. Mom made it pretty clear I’d made my bed; and Papa—he just did as he was told. Besides, I got to travel—a bit.”
He was silent for a moment but I could tell he still had more questions. Eventually he cleared his throat and tried to sound casual.
“When did you and…him first…um…?”
“First have sex?”
“Well, yeah.”
He had a right to know—he’d told me all about Brenda.
“It was a week before my eighteenth birthday. There’d been some event up at the Base—my first big formal. I’d loved all the dressing up—it seemed so glamorous to me.” I took a deep breath. “We did it on the passenger seat of his car. It was…unpleasant. It hurt.”
“Have you…?” He bit his lip, unable to finish the question.
“Have I what?”
“I know I have no right to ask, Caro, but since…since me and you…have you…slept…with him?”
I could tell this was a question he’d wanted to ask me for a while.
“No, tesoro. I haven’t let him touch me since our first night together.”
I didn’t think he needed to hear that I’d jerked David off instead.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, tesoro. It’s only since I’ve met you that I’ve known what it’s like to make love; really make love.”
And I kissed him, desperately, passionately, to show him that I meant every word. He held me to him, our mouths locked together, breathing each other in.
“Don’t go back to him tonight, Caro, please.”
“I have to, Sebastian. After I drop you off at the club, I’m going to check out those rooms. I’m sure one of them will do. I’ll put down a deposit and move my stuff in tomorrow. Then, when I’ve got somewhere to go, I’ll tell him that I want a divorce—tomorrow evening. I’ll be able to go straight away.”
“I don’t like leaving you with that asshole! You don’t know what he’ll do! He could hurt you again!”
Sebastian’s body filled with tension and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
“He won’t hurt me. Yesterday evening was an accident. Yes, he’s a bastard, but he’s not like that.”
It was clear that he didn’t believe me. Perhaps he needed David to be as big a bastard as his father.
“I can come over tomorrow morning and help you pack,” he offered, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.
“There won’t be much—just my clothes and a few bits and pieces.”
“I want to help.”
“It’s probably best if I do it myself after he’s gone to work tomorrow. I’ll meet you after I’ve moved into the new place.”
He scowled, unhappy with my plan.
“Sebastian, I have to do this by myself. It’s my mess—I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“If he lays one finger on you, I’ll fucking crucify him!”
“He won’t. I promise. I’ll be fine.” I glanced at my watch. “Look, we should go now. You have to be at work in half an hour.”
“I mean it, Caro, I’ll rip his fucking arms off!”
I didn’t think there was any point replying so I picked up my empty bottle and Sebastian’s can and shoved them in my purse, and waited for him to get off the picnic blanket so I could fold it.
He stood up and pulled his t-shirt on but his expression was still angry.
“Hey, come here!”
I dropped my bag on the floor and wrapped my arms around him, willing his tension and anger away.
“We’ve just got one more day to get through and then I’ll be free of him. One more day, tesoro. Just one more day. We can do it.”
After that we walked back to the car in silence but I could tell his mind was still mulling over everything I’d told him. I hoped it would be busy at the club to help distract him.
As I drove, my right foot started to feel very sore. I glanced down and noticed that the dressing was wet. Damn. The blister must have burst. I really needed to re-do it before I started traipsing around the city or it would be a lot worse. I decided to ask at the club’s reception to see if they’d let me use their First Aid Kit, once I’d dropped Sebastian at the parking lot. I really didn’t want to give him another reason to imagine doing violence to David.
“Can I see you tonight?” he said, his eyes already knowing my answer.
“No, I need to pack and sort out a few things. I’ll text you tomorrow when…I’ve moved.”
He sighed and got out of the car, then stood, waiting for me to leave.
“I…have to go and check up on something in reception,” I said. “I’ll text you later.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
He walked away, his hands jammed in his pockets. I could tell he felt miserable from the set of his shoulders—and because I felt exactly the same way.
I waited for him to disappear out of sight, then headed to reception where I explained my predicament.
“Of course, ma’am,” said the helpful receptionist. “I’ll just send for one of our first aiders.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, I can do it myself.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” she said, not sounding at all sorry. “I have to call it in.”
She made a call and a few moments later Ches came striding over, a look of surprise on his face when he saw me.
“Hi, Caroline. How are you?”
“Good thanks, Ches. You?”
“I got a call that someone needed first aid?”
“Yes, this lady here needs some help,” said the receptionist, obviously having one ear tuned to our conversation.
“It’s nothing, really,” I said hastily.
“I’ll take Mrs. Wilson to the med room, Nancy,” said Ches, to the receptionist.
She nodded and returned to her computer screen, having already lost interest.
Reluctantly, I followed him. If I’d known what a fuss was going to be made, I’d have waited until I could have gotten to a pharmacy in town.
It felt awkward being alone in the small room with Ches. He looked uncomfortable, too, shifting around from foot to foot. Maybe he thought I was going to leap on him.
“I just need to change a dressing on my foot,” I said quietly. “Do you have some gauze and tape?”
“Sure. You want me to do that?”
“No, that’s fine, thank you, Ches. I’ll be fine.”
I sat down on the low hospital bed and rolled up my pants leg to my ankle, then tugged gently on the gauze. It was stuck fast. I was going to have to yank it off—and it was going to hurt.
I took a deep breath and pulled hard—a huge flap of skin came away with the gauze. My foot looked like raw meat.
“Wow! That looks bad,” said Ches, his eyes anxious. “I think maybe a doctor should see that.”
Then he blushed, remembering that I was married to a doctor.
We heard voices outside and Sebastian burst in, a worried looking Nancy hot on his heels.
“Caro! Are you okay?”
Damn it! Hadn’t he listened when I’d told him to be more discreet?
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said as calmly as possible. “Ches is looking after me.”
Perhaps noting my chilly reception, or Ches’s panicked look, Sebastian took the hint and closed the door in the face of the nosey Nancy.
“Dude, that looks pretty bad to me,” Ches said quietly to Sebastian, pointing at my foot.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, not at all happy to be the subject of their combined attention. It was like being a particularly ugly zoo exhibit.
“What happened?” said Ches.
“Just a silly accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” snarled Sebastian. “Her bastard husband did that to her. Show him the rest of your burns!”
He yanked up my pants leg and Ches’s eyes scrunched up in horror.
“It was an accident,” I whispered again, pushing his hands away.
I couldn’t take the pity I saw on Ches’s face and the anger on Sebastian’s.
To the accompaniment of their silent stares, I cleaned the wound with some saline, applied a thick layer of antibiotic cream and covered it up again. Sebastian’s eyes watched every move I made. Ches was desperately ill at ease; I decided to help him out—and reduce the excess of tension in the room.
“Ches, could you give us a moment, please?”
“Sure, sure. Seb, I’ll see you later, man.”
Sebastian nodded but didn’t look at Ches as he ducked out of the room.
“I want to kill him!” he said between gritted teeth.
“Sebastian, please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he snarled.
“Make things harder for me.”
He blinked, his expression changing from fury to hurt.
“How am I making things harder? I just want to help. I love you!”
“I know that, but right now what I need is for you to be calm and in control. If you keep charging in on your white horse to save me, people will start to notice.” If they haven’t already. “And the last thing, the last thing I need right now is for anyone to see you treating me as anything other than just another member here. Do you understand?”
“Of course I understand—I’m not a fucking idiot!”
“Good. Then please tell me why you’re here, making a scene in front of that receptionist, when Ches was looking after me?”
Every emotion was transparent as it scrolled across his face: surprise, anger, hurt—again—and then understanding and shame.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…I go a little a crazy when I think you’re hurt.”
“I know, tesoro. I understand, but can you see how that makes things harder for me?”
“Yeah, I get it. Sorry.”
“Okay. Then just hold me.”
He pulled our bodies together and we stood in silence, feeling the tension ebb and flow.
“Okay?” I asked, stroking his cheek.
He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine: he looked stressed out and worried.
“Okay. I’ll text you later—hopefully to tell you that I’ve found a room.”
He gave a small smile.
“Stay out of trouble till then?” I said, softly.
“I’ll try,” he said, forcing a grin, “but I’m not making any promises.”
I kissed him gently and walked back through the lobby, avoiding the over-curious eyes of Nancy.
I was so distracted that I narrowly avoided walking smack bang into Brenda as she sashayed through the main doors.
“Hi, Barbara!” I called cheerfully as I walked down the steps.
“It’s Brenda!” she snarled.
It really is the little things in life that matter.