“More,” she breathed, rocking her hips, pushing back against me. I could oblige.
I turned her to face me, my eyes drawn to her slightly swaying exposed breasts. With her back to the wall, I returned to my goal, this time sliding my fingers firmly inside to the sound of her gasp and whimper. She began to ride my hand, but no, I needed that control. With one arm around her waist, I began to move in and out in my own rhythm, thrusting firmly, watching her breasts as she climbed. I leaned down and pulled a nipple into my mouth and sucked, skidding across it with my teeth, which had an enormous effect on Carrie, who cried out as her back arched. I didn’t stop, though, I couldn’t.
“Wait,” she said. “It’s happening too fast.”
“No, it’s not.” My thumb circled her and then moved across her most sensitive spot slowly and then again until I felt her jerk, her speed picking up. There we go. It felt like a challenge to keep her there, hovering, so I pulled back my attention. I kissed her mouth gently, pulled my fingers out, and stroked between her legs ever so softly. She pulled back from the kiss, eyes still closed, lips parted, and breathing more than a little ragged. “What are you doing to me?” she murmured, drunk.
I sank to my knees, parted her legs, and pulled her into my mouth. My tongue had only just started to go to work when she cried out, bucked her hips, and went still. I did what I could to prolong her pleasure, refusing to withdraw my efforts. After a long moment she joined me on the floor, shaking her head, trembling. I pulled her into my arms and held on. We stayed just like that on the floor of my living room for who knew how long. Finally, she stood, took my hand, and walked me to the bedroom, where she systematically removed every piece of clothing I had on and climbed on top. I was already so far along, so ready for her touch, that it didn’t take much to send me over the edge. With a well-placed thigh between my legs, she was easily able to rock me to oblivion as I stared up into beautiful blue eyes.
After, we lay facing each other in my bed, tucked beneath the sheets that felt cool against my naked and sensitive skin. Occasionally, I’d touch her face, or she’d move a stray strand of hair off my forehead. It was almost as if we were drinking each other in after such a long time apart.
“I know this doesn’t fix anything,” she said, finally. “But I’ve really missed you. This.” She palmed my breast.
I sighed. “Me, too.” I could admit that part.
“You didn’t call back.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t. I should have.”
“I know.”
The small collection of words we said to each other that night could fit on a Post-it. We communicated in other ways. Caresses, stares, and silence. We came together, making love several more times that night, until we fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. I understood as I drifted off that tonight was stolen. I hadn’t forgiven Carrie, but that didn’t mean I’d stopped loving her. She wasn’t coming back, but it didn’t mean her feelings didn’t still linger. It was simply an impossible love, and I needed to remember that. Stolen or not, it was a night that was etched in my memory forever.
When the sun woke us the next morning, Carrie quietly assembled herself and, with a final hug and soft smile, let herself out of my apartment.
In many ways, it was the good-bye we never truly got.
I took a shower, made coffee, snuggled my dog, and stared ahead at the new, strange life stretched out in front of me.
Chapter Twenty
As I cruised the Pacific Coast Highway on my way to host a fundraising event for one of the San Diego animal sanctuaries, I turned my music up way too loud on purpose. Lately, the practice had served as a mechanism for motivating me for what was ahead. The volume consumed me, harnessed me a shot of adrenaline, and got me into moose mode, ready to take on the world. I tried to sing loudly with the lyrics but didn’t know them. “Learn new songs,” I shouted to myself as a form of reminder.
I was changing a lot these days. I’d started taking tennis lessons for exercise now that spring was not far off. I wasn’t half bad and planned to join a beginners’ league. I’d also asked my aunt Yolanda to teach me how to cook a few of her favorite dishes, so I could improve upon my very basic cooking skills and impress the guests I planned to invite over and dazzle. Did I mention I was trying to make more friends? At the station, outside events, wherever. Micky was becoming the popular kid at the dog park himself, and Grace used me as her sounding board for her now full-fledged romance with Bobby. My life was feeling fuller, and that was by design. When I stayed busy and connected to tasks, it didn’t leave time to reminisce about…before. Notice the gaps that had never really filled after losing two people close to me.
Over the roar of Gaga on the radio, my screen showed an incoming call. I clicked through.
“You close?” Rory asked, his voice coming through my new car’s speakers. A pretty black Infiniti. “Dogs make me nervous.”
“Then you have no soul.”
“That’s what my ex says.”
“Oh, Rory.” I sighed. He meant well, but Rory was Rory. Good-looking but relatively simple. I had his back, though, as my partner behind that desk. “Give me five.” I paused, stared, my jaw falling open. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Rory. I’m fine, but I gotta go.” I didn’t wait for his response before ending the call. My attention had been yanked to the billboard looming to my right. A giant ad. Carrie holding a glass of white wine and smiling knowingly at me. Soon, San Diego. Then she was gone. The speed limit had not afforded me a long enough study.
Soon, San Diego? What in the world did Soon, San Diego mean?
The drive took on a new mood—befuddlement. My shock dominated everything, my curiosity was in overdrive, and I had a million questions for my empty car. Why was Carrie on a San Diego billboard? Was this a new project? Because it looked very much like the old project, the show she’d been tapped to host. Right here. In town. I took a deep breath, but it didn’t settle me at all. Maybe she was planning to shoot a few episodes here and there on a spare weekend, in between her workweeks in Seattle. It seemed overly ambitious to tackle both, but if anyone could do it, Carrie could.
At the fundraiser, I turned on the charm as best I could but was decidedly un-moose-like. My mind was a jumble, and I bit the inside of my lip far too often.
“You do that a lot.”
“Do what?” I asked Rory.
“Right before we go on air, or if you’re nervous about something, you chew on your lip. Telltale sign.” He laughed.
“Sue me,” I said absently. “Hey. Have you heard anything about Carrie’s new show?”
“As in your ex? Shouldn’t you know more about that than me?” I’d yet to think of Carrie as my ex, but I guess she technically was. We didn’t speak. We weren’t together anymore. “But yeah, I’ve heard about it.”