Hard, hot, and thick, I need to be inside her more than I need to take my next fucking breath.
Dee’s shirt? Gone.
Her bra? On the pool table in my dining room.
I touch her, hold her against me-drowning in the sensation of our bare chests pressing and the velvet texture of her perfect skin. My fingers work on the button of her jeans. But Dee stops me. Her hands cover mine and she backs up a step. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. “Matthew . . . there’s something I have to tell you. I . . . did something. Last night.”
Fuck. Me. Hard.
Last night was Saturday. My first thought is, “Dee screwed another guy last night,” and I almost double over from the sheer agony of it. And the rage.
I know, technically, we weren’t together. We were broken up. I can’t get mad.
Fuck that-I’m going to lose it.
I’ll forgive her. I’ll get over it . . . after I smash something into a thousand pieces and pound on the walls like a gorilla on crack cocaine.
I sit down on the bed. “What’d you do? Whatever it is I’ll . . . fuck, just tell me what it is.”
And then she does the strangest thing. She smiles. And unbuttons her own pants, sliding them down her legs as she talks. “I thought all week about what you said. How I was scared, how I didn’t want to take a chance . . .”
“I was angry when I said that, Delores.”
“But you were also right. So I wanted to do something, to show you, to prove that I do trust you. That I want this, and you-permanently.”
She slips her panties off, and I’m momentarily hypnotized by the sight of her stunningly smooth pussy. Until I notice the white bandage covering a small patch of skin below her pelvic bone.
She peels it off, revealing the bright blue tattoo emblazoned on her skin underneath. A tattoo of my name.
MATTHEW
I’m speechless-can only stare. Then I drop to my knees in front of her and kiss the soft, still-tender flesh beside my name.
“I fucking love it. I love you.” I dust my fingers over it, very gently. “Now you’re really stuck with me.”
Delores tilts my face up and runs her hands through my hair. “Yeah, I really am.”
I stand, swing her around, and toss her on the bed. Then I jump in after her.
Chapter 20
Later, when the sun has gone down and the sheets on my bed are fantastically rumpled, after fevered “I love you”s and “I missed you”s and “Don’t ever leave me”s are whispered between desperate touches and gratified moans, I force myself to get up.
It’s not easy. Dee lays naked in my bed, her lips swollen and well used, her hair alluringly tousled. I stand for a moment-pants in hand-just looking at her.
“God, you’re beautiful.”
This time, she smiles. And I know it’s because she believes me.
She reaches out her hand. “Then don’t go. Come back to bed, Matthew.”
I groan-’cause getting back in bed is all I really want to do. But I shake my head. “I won’t be gone long. I just have to check on Drew real quick-it’s a guy-code thing. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure he hasn’t hung himself in his walk-in closet?”
“The kind who wants to make the world a better place.”
Then she spots my camera on the bedside table. She turns it over in her hands, biting her lip. “I guess I’ll just have to occupy myself . . . by taking X-rated selfies on your camera. We can develop them together when you get back.”
I take a second to enjoy the images that pop into my head-that hopefully will be showing up on my camera.
Then I hand her two extra rolls of film.
I take my time kissing her good-bye before I compel my legs to move to the door. Just before I walk out, Dee calls, “Matthew?”
I stop and turn to her.
“I love you.”
And just like every other time she’s said it today, a goofy, ridiculously happy grin appears on my lips. I walk back to the bed and kiss her yet again.
“For the record? I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”
She smiles contentedly. “Hurry back.”
And I end up running the whole way to my bike-so I can do just that.
Images
Outside Drew’s apartment door, it’s the same old same old. I pound on it and I call, but the only response I get is one bump of a baseball thrown against the door when I ask him if he’s still breathing.
I sigh and rest my hand on the door.
It’s time for some tough love. Well past the time for it, if you want to know the truth.
“Dude, you gotta man up. Whatever happened between you and Kate-however badly you fucked up-it’s not gonna get any better if you don’t come out and deal with it.”
No response.
I try taunting him. “In all the years we’ve known each other, I never would’ve guessed you were capable of being such a gigantic pussy. You realize you’re completely wrecking my image of you, right?”
Still nothing.
“Come on, Drew. Open the door. Remember how I was after Rosaline? You were there for me . . . let me return the favor.”
Third strike, and I’m out.
I tap the door, the way I’d tap Drew’s fist if these were better days. “Okay, man, have it your way. I’ll be back tomorrow, all right?”
Bam.
The door vibrates from the impact of the ball on the other side, and I know he’s heard me.
I shake my head as I walk back to the elevator. Because tomorrow, when I come back, I won’t be alone. I really didn’t want to have to do this-but it’s been a frigging week. He’s left me no choice.
It’s time to go nuclear.
I exit the lobby of the building, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Then I take my phone out and dial.
She picks up after two rings, greeting me by name.
“Hey, Alexandra. Listen, I need your help . . . it’s about Drew.”
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Images
So now you have the full story. The parts you didn’t get to see before, the answers to some of the questions that might’ve been bugging you.
When it comes to advice, I’m kind of tapped out at the moment-there’s not a whole lot left to give. But I’ll leave you with this:
Life is a short, wild ride. Don’t try to put the brakes on, don’t overanalyze or try to control it. If you’re lucky, like I was, you’ll find that perfect someone who’ll sit next to you and hold your hand through every curve, every up and down.
And that? Just makes it even more fun.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
Las Vegas, Nevada. The Elvis Chapel. It’s technically called A Little White Wedding Chapel, but because there’s an Elvis impersonator officiating the services, it’ll always be the Elvis Chapel to me. We wait in an adjoining room for our turn, surrounded by signed photographs of the celebrities who’ve exchanged vows here over the years.
It’s been six months since our first kiss on the dance floor. Maybe you think that’s too fast. Maybe you think we’re crazy. But for Dee and me?
Crazy is actually pretty normal. Let’s look at how we became engaged, for example:
“Mr. Fisher, please lay back down!” the nurse yells in a commanding voice, but I ignore it.
What a fucking disaster.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.