“It’s a good thing he’s not going if you plan on wearing these granny-panties.” Sydney scrunches her nose.
“They’re my boy-shorts, you turd!”
“Well, bring some pretty ones just in case.”
“What for? It’s not like he will see them.”
“There’s a saying I heard somewhere . . . if you feel pretty under your clothes, it will show on top of them. It’s like a self-love thing I learned in Cosmo, I think.”
“That also goes with beautifully fragranced skin,” Jenna adds.
I pull out my lacy black thong and matching bra. “Like this one?”
“Holy hussy, Dee. Yes, exactly,” Jenna and Syd gasp.
“I don’t know why I listen to either of you,” I say as I shove it in my suitcase.
“Because you love us. And I’m right about Brody. You’ll see.” Sydney quirks a brow and twists her lips.
“I really hope that I’m just imagining all this. I pray that he doesn’t have some side chick or worse, is married.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and take in a deep breath.
“I’m sure he’s got a legit reason why he couldn’t go,” Jenna says, then we hear the doorbell in the background. “Shit! He’s here . . . I hate to cut this convo short, but I gotta go.”
“Who’s that?” Sydney asks.
“No one.”
“Liar,” I chime in. “Fess up, hussy.”
“My date.”
“Are you going to tell us?” Sydney narrows her eyes.
“Nope. . . Dee, have a good trip and I will call you later in the week. Syd, say hi to Levi for me. Take care, you.” The screen goes black before we can probe any further.
I down the rest of my wine, set the glass on the table, and lay my head on Sydney’s lap. “I wanted this weekend to be special.”
Sydney leans back on the headboard as her fingers comb my hair. “What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
“Nine. I have my meeting with the resort director at three.”
“If I didn’t have rehearsals tomorrow and finals to grade, you know I’d be there with you.”
“I can’t believe you’re making your students rehearse on a Friday night. They should be enjoying the weekend.”
“The show is in a couple of weeks and this is an original play written by one of my students. Which I got you two tickets.”
“Well, if I ask Brody to go, he might say no to that too.”
Sydney playfully slaps my forehead. “Stop playing your violin at your pity party. Sooner or later, he’ll realize that he fucked up by canceling. And when you return from your trip, I bet he’ll be groveling at our front doorstep.”
“Groveling or not, I just wish he would tell me why he really couldn’t go.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brody
“I fucked up.”
“Hell yeah, you did,” Kyle says as I take a long pull of my beer trying my best to ignore his berating of why I changed my mind from Delilah’s invitation. “What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s a weekend fuckfest with your mystery Kansas girl you dare not bring around me. Only because you’re afraid I may steal her from under your nose.”
“You steal her from me? You wish, fucker,” I snap. He’s pissing me off because he’s been scolding me for the last hour while I’m trying to get sloshed with my whiskey shots and beer.
Kyle knows how to get under my skin in a matter of seconds. His cocky smile and condescending questions are not the reasons I called him to take off early from work and join me for a drink.
I look at my phone for the hundredth time, debating whether I should call Delilah. I’m an asshole. I left her without a backward glance. I can’t have it both ways. Wanting her and keeping her at arm’s length.
I told her something came up and used my dad as an excuse. What the hell is wrong with me? And why am I doing that? So she doesn’t find out about my past or my dad?
I stare at my phone, willing for her to call me. But she’s angry. Even though she tried not to show it, I know she is.
My mind wanders to what she’s possibly doing. She should be there by now. I calculate in my head the departure from LAX to Oakland, air travel, the thirty minutes or so on the road, then check-in at the resort.
I imagine her in a summer dress, skin so soft, hair flowing down her back as she surveys the grounds for the project she’s working on. I could be with her right now. Instead I’m here chugging down alcohol and shit talking with Kyle.
“First, answer me this . . . why the hell did you lie and tell her you would be with Gerard?” He leans in and lowers his voice. “You and I both know damn well that’s the lie we used in college when we had another chick lined up. Hell, I still use that cop-out excuse.”
“Because I was.”
“The operative word . . . was. And you’re not now.”
I’d gotten a call from Doctor Williams. Dad had another panic attack. Avery’s still in New York with Kyndal Magazine launching her swimwear line. So, I had no choice but to drive there.
When I entered Dad’s room, he kept calling me Silas Cooper, one of the few names I know. He was Dad’s number two on the team and killed in action.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Pretending to be Senior Chief Cooper was not hard to remember. Thoughts of Matt and Silas collide, and the only difference is Dad made the call that resulted in Silas losing his life. A heavy burden to carry all these years because of an order Dad gave and a decision he made to sacrifice one man’s life in order to save the rest of the men.
Gerard Reinhardt was a legend. A hero to some and to others, he was selfish. For a man that suffers PTSD and Alzheimer’s, this is the worst memory to hold on to.
This morning, when I looked into his blank stare, there was nothing. I was Silas Cooper one minute, then a nobody the next. Not even a glimpse of a son or the sailor he once knew.
Was I not enough for this man to remember me? Did I not make my dad proud? I willingly gave up my old life as a Saint Clair, followed his footsteps and not once had he told me he was proud of me.
I’m a forgotten memory to this man and a mere stranger in his eyes.
After spending the morning with Dad and Doctor Williams, I needed to see her. Get my mind off Dad and onto her. She truly is my sunset. I brought her lunch and flowers because it felt good to make her smile. Then I took it all away with the reminder of this weekend and got cold feet.
My biggest fear is forgetting her, like Dad has done with me. I don’t want her to watch me wither away and feel like she wasn’t ever important enough to stay in my thoughts.
I left Virginia to work out here hoping it would keep my past at bay. But other ghosts came back and have been haunting me since the moment I got here. Not just Dad. But the memories of being a Saint Clair. The rich playboy. The paparazzi’s hobby. Then the tabloids and allegations of me assaulting a woman was another reason I left California and joined the navy.
If Delilah finds out, I’ll lose her.
This is why Delilah deserves better than me and the reason why I haven’t had sex with her. But fuck if I don’t want to. Having her soft skin on mine, to soothe the torments in my head.