She covers her heart with both her hands, nods once, and turns to the street, walking away from me.
Rule 20
Sometimes, we only hear what we want to hear
because we aren’t fully listening.
[Emily]
What happens when the spell is broken? They live happily ever after.
That’s how the story goes. Only, it’s not my story, and I’m not a part of theirs. I’m so happy for Jess. I’m so happy for Katie. There is still recovery to come. More questions to be answered. More special moments to live, but I will not be a part of it.
Tears blur my vision as I walk the remainder of the distance back to Nana’s.
It’s a miracle, it truly is, but I’m left with a huge sense of loss and an ache in my chest.
You did good here. I can almost hear Nana’s voice in my head, but I’m hit with a wave of grief, and the tears fall.
I take out my phone, ready to call my sister when I see I have a message from my boss—several, actually. It’s late on a Saturday, but he’s called three times.
“Doug,” I say into the phone when I return his call. “I’m sorry it’s so late. Is everything okay?”
“Wonderful news, Emily. Frank Simmons quit on Friday, and we’d like to offer you his column.”
Frank has been writing a book review column for years. His interests are stodgy and outdated, and I know I could really do something amazing with this section of the paper. It’s not exactly what I’d wanted, but I realize I hadn’t actually known what I wanted until it was offered to me. Finally.
“That’s wonderful,” I say. Despite the good news, my tears of loss still clog my throat.
“You don’t sound very excited. I thought this was what you wanted.” His tone turns stern, demeaning even.
“Just things going on here. I’m very excited. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”
Doug hesitates a moment before speaking. “Emily, you aren’t going to ask for more time off, are you? Are you going to flake on this job?”
Flake? Does he think I’ve been on a tropical vacation? I’m ready to tell him what he can do with his column until reason stops me.
This is it. This is something I’ve always wanted. It’s here. My dream job.
“So do you want this column or not?” he repeats, his voice still terse.
“Yes. Absolutely, yes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you Monday.” With that, he hangs up and it’s all final. I start a new position at the paper on Monday. The position I’ve coveted for ten years. My own column.
Then why am I not more excited?
+ + +
It’s dark when something tickles my face and I swat at it. My nose twitches, and I rub at it with the side of my hand. The teasing touch comes again, and my eyelids flip open. I’m ready to scream when a hand covers my lips, and Jess’s intense eyes stare down at me.
“Jesus,” I mutter into his palm.
“Nope. Just Jess.” He removes his hand.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper like I’ll wake someone.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He swipes something down my nose again, and I note the daisy between his fingers. “I have all this energy.”
His voice drops, and I know what he wants without him saying it. He’s here for sex. Only, I’m not certain I can do it.
“How’s Katie?” I ask. The question might burst his bubble, but his focus on me intensifies.
“How did you do it?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I hold his gaze.
“Why did she speak for you?”
“It wasn’t me,” I tell him. “It was just . . . time. I guess?”
“It’s all that make-believe you fed her.”
“I told you once before that sometimes you just need to believe in something. Real or not.”
He continues to look at me.
“Make me believe,” he whispers. “Make me believe this was real. You. Me.” His hand cups my cheek and then his lips lower to mine. He takes his time kissing me. His kisses are as soft as the petals of the flower he stroked over my face. Delicate and fragile. I know I’m going to break if we do this, if he makes love to me again.
One final time.
We start slow, the pace measured as his hands roam my body. He tugs down the blanket covering me, grabs my sleep shirt, and removes it by pulling it up and over my head. When I lie back, he’s quick to take off my shorts, and then he lies beside me. He strokes down the center of my body and back up with the flower head of the daisy. The soft petals circle a breast before he drops the daisy to use his fingertips, callused and rough from labor, and I love the feel of them on my skin. His fingers trail over the slope and tweak my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. He plucks at me and then moves to the other breast. His eyes follow his motions as if he’s memorizing the swell and dip of my breasts.
His palm flattens, coasts up my chest, and covers my throat. He leans down to kiss me with his fingers pressed to the pulse hammering at my neck. When he pulls back, his nose rubs against mine. His hand continues to travel my body. It glides to my center and curls over the mound. He slips two fingers into me, and I bow off the bed a bit, melting under his touch.
“You’re so perfect,” he says to me, and I close my eyes. I can’t listen to his sweet words. Let this just be sex, but I know I’m lying to myself. I’ve never felt the way I feel when I’m with this man.
While his fingers work, his mouth lowers to my breast, and sucks at it. The onslaught of sensation brings me quickly to a breaking point. I softly cry out my pleasure. He shifts over my body and moves his mouth to my other breast before pressing kisses down my midsection. He moves down my body once again. His face settles between my thighs, and his tongue lashes forward. His tongue that snapped and snipped at me when we first met. The same one he used to call me pushy. The one that kissed me in a library. That tongue now works at my core, and I’m rapidly approaching a cresting point again. My hips rock, and the gentle force brings him closer against me. He laps and licks before sucking at my clit, and I crash once more.
He presses a final kiss on my sensitive folds, then sits back and tugs his own T-shirt over his head. He tosses it aside and shifts off the bed to pull down his shorts and boxers in one smooth movement. Naked and beautiful, he brings his lean body back over mine and holds himself at my entrance.
“You’ve broken the spell put on my daughter, but you’ve put one on me instead. I can’t get enough of you.” He enters me with a slow surge forward, filling me to the hilt. Pausing, we breathe each other in. His mouth hovers over mine, not kissing me but stealing my breath.
“I can’t let you go,” he says, and my heart breaks. He must. I need to leave. We haven’t spoken about my new reason for leaving. We are only this, right now, joined as one. He pulls back, and my hands cup his firm ass, holding him before he withdraws completely. He thrusts forward, and we both gasp. We repeat the dance a few times, but it’s not long before we can’t keep it slow. Our tempo increases, and his fingers move to my core once again.
“Not three,” I whisper. I don’t think I can come again.