Page 24 of When There Was You
Mick places his hand on mine. “That’s going to sort itself out over time. I’m sure of it.”
I’m less sure. Much less.
We’re quiet, trapped in our own thoughts.
“You know what I dream about?” I ask.
“Hmm?”
“Us going to Florida. You, getting the job you want on the water. Me, working for a magazine. Spending our weekends sailing and surfing.”
“The surfing’s crap in Florida, baby.”
“With all that oceanandthe Gulf? What a waste.” I glance at the sets of waves rolling in and wonder what theAtlantic looks like in comparison. “We’ll sail and go to the beach and make love a lot then.”
“That’s a damn fine dream.”
The unspoken what ifs remain. What if Remy never gets clean? What if Mick deigns to help him forever? What if Mick always forsakes himself for everyone else? What if we don’t survive this?
Thirteen
Three days before Christmas, I load my car, pulsing in anticipation at spending time with Mick prior to heading to Oakland. It’s reminiscent of last year,sans Remy, and it takes serious fortitude to shove away thoughts of the best Christmas I’ve ever had—the gifts, the sex, the affection swirling between us.
When some memories resurface, I indulge them. Mick and I hunting for a tree, bringing it back to his place and decorating it. Snuggling on the couch watching holiday classics. We’re repeating some of those new traditions, starting with this afternoon, and I’m so ready for it.
Maybe our seasonal spirit will drown the pessimistic whispers following me around.
Mick remains distracted—unless we’re making love, eyes locked, our bodies merged in a breathless kind of unity, one so poignant it often brings me to tears. The rest of the time, it’s almost as if the boat is leaving the marina without me, forcing me to run and leap, hurling my body onto the deck before it can.
I wish he’d let me comfort him, help him. He’s my everything. Not just a VIP but the MIP, the most importantperson in my life. Nothing he could say or do could change that, but he stays closed—like a book on a shelf too high to reach—giving me little to go on.
The divide widens.
And I’m panicked he’s slipping away.
I hug Jas and Kit farewell. We exchanged presents last night over a bottle of wine and stayed up talking late into the night. My roommates are headed to Oakland tomorrow to spend the break at their parents’ houses. I try not to think too hard about a few days from now, when I’m trapped in another predictably bleak holiday with Fred and Barbara Hall.
Christmas music serenades me from the radio as I make the familiar drive to Half Moon Bay. I’m instantly comforted when the Pacific—and soon after, Mick’s driveway—comes into view.
My gray-eyed ocean struts to my car with a huge grin, and my heart sprints toward all that gorgeousness. He opens my door and pulls me impatiently into his arms. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs before sealing his lips over mine.
Every cell in my body awakens with his kiss, his sheer presence, and I love being the focus of his ardor.
We pull apart and my smile broadens. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“I missed you.”
“Guess college finals take precedence over me, eh?”
I snort. “Unfortunately. But I’m trying to forget about those right now.”
He pulls me firmly against him. “I’ve got some ideas how to accomplish that—and I need my fucking fix.”
When he presses his lips to mine again, his tongue probing and claiming, my insides liquify and I moan into his mouth, already needy for all things Mick.
Everything else falls away except this man and the way he jumpstarts my heart.
