Full Circle (9 page)

Butterflies fluttered in her belly. “Darn.
And here I was so looking forward to getting caught up on my
reading.”

“Always the smart retort from you.” He
grinned and squeezed her hand.

“Always.”

He guided her along the path, taking her
deeper into the wilderness.

“So, is that why you brought me here? To take
advantage of me?” She swept her gaze around the lush, green canopy
as they rounded a bend and descended toward the innards of the
gardens.

He grew quiet, and they walked silently for
at least thirty seconds before he answered.

“I brought you here because I knew you’d love
it. It’s a magical, mystical place.” He paused, letting his gaze
fall to the dirt floor as if he were watching his step. “It’s the
perfect place to feel safe. To feel like I can tell you anything.”
The shadow that had followed him for the past two days darkened his
expression, and then was gone.

Whatever was troubling him was starting to
worry her. If only he would just blurt it out.

She was about to push him to do just that
when he led her around a curve and into an opening, revealing a
secluded pool. On the opposite side, water flowed down a jagged
wall of rock so dark it looked black.

“But for now,” he said, “let me show you one
of the most breathtaking wonders of the island.” He stepped behind
her, winding his arms around her waist. “I give you one of the many
falls in the Latille Gardens.”

For the remainder of the day, she dismissed
Mark’s secrets. He led her from one falls to the next, up dirt
paths enhanced by man-made steps built of fallen branches, down
ivy-covered ridges, through vibrantly flowered gardens, stopping to
swim in one of the larger ponds and rest under the falling water a
while before leading her back to the entrance midafternoon.

Back at the villa, they napped in the hammock
after eating a late lunch then lounged by the pool until dinner.
Afterward, they took their wine back out to the pool and
relaxed.

“So, what did you think of the gardens?” Mark
said, his voice quiet.

The sun hung low on the horizon in a
cloudless sky. A breeze blew off the ocean, rejuvenating her
spirit.

“They were beautiful.” Maybe for the
islanders, the falls were status quo, but for a Midwesterner like
her, where flat farmland was the norm, the falls were like a
luxurious mirage, too brilliant to be real.

“Told you.”

They fell into silence for a while, staring
at the endless ocean and the deepening sunset.

When she was younger, she had often
fantasized about faraway lands, wondering what life was like in
other parts of the world. To her, everywhere seemed like a happier
place than where she was. Maybe that was a product of being
bullied, but she had wanted to escape and go somewhere new.
Somewhere she could start over.

She smiled to herself as she made the
connection to making New Year’s resolutions. New beginnings.
Forgetting the past. She’d been thinking a lot about both the past
two days.

“Have you made your New Year’s resolutions,
yet?” She turned toward Mark.

He rolled his head on the cushion to look at
her. “No. Why? Have you?”

“I started, but couldn’t come up with
anything.”

His gaze drifted back to the clear sky. “I
haven’t really thought about it. I don’t usually make resolutions.
I used to, but . . .”

The way he trailed off set Karma’s awareness
on end. “Why did you stop?”

He sighed and turned back toward her, his
expression almost apologetic as guilt shadowed his eyes. “Do you
really want me to say it?”

This had to do with Carol. Once again, that
woman shot up like a spiked wall between them, interfering, getting
in the way. And she’d had enough.

She abruptly sat up. “Yes, Mark, I really
want you to say it.” Damn him if he didn’t just get whatever was
bugging him off his chest. She huffed and slapped her hands on her
thighs. “You’ve been hinting for two days that there’s something
you want to tell me. I wish you’d just come out and say whatever it
is, because it’s eating me up. It’s eating
you
up.” She
waved her hand toward him. “I hate seeing you like this. This is
supposed to be our romantic vacation, but whatever’s bugging you is
mucking it all up. Just when I think it’s gone, it comes back and
gets in the way.” She stood and walked toward the edge of the pool
deck, facing the beach below, arms crossed.

A moment later, Mark eased up behind her and traced
his palms up her arms to her shoulders. “I know I’m being
secretive. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Mark?”

He let out a heavy exhale and tipped his
forehead against the back of her head. “Karma . . 
I . . .”

She turned and faced him. “Just tell me.”
When he didn’t answer, she pushed further. “Why won’t you talk to
me?”

He frowned and looked down with a shake of
his head.

“Come on, Mark, what’s going on?”

“You don’t understand, Karma.”

“Then enlighten me.” She crossed her arms
again. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

He blew out a scornful exhale. “For someone
as pure as you, it might—”

“Pure? You think I’m pure? What are you
saying? That you’re
not
?” She lifted her hands to the sides.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Mark.”

He frowned. “But—”

“And I can assure you, I’m not as pure as you
think. Maybe I’m not as experienced as you are, but that doesn’t
mean my thoughts haven’t gone down a wayward trail or two.”

“Fantasizing and doing are two different
things. One isn’t as bad as the other.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Oh wait, that’s
right, you won’t let me, because you won’t tell me what’s going
on.”

He let out an exasperated growl. “It’s not
that simple, Karma. What if you don’t like what I have to say? What
if it changes everything?”

“You think I’m so superficial that I would
base my feelings for you on something you did before you even knew
me? And what if it
does
change everything? For the better?
How is opening up and sharing your most personal fears with me a
bad thing if it means it will bring us closer?”

His jaw tightened. “You’re making
assumptions.”

“Because you won’t talk to me!”

“You’re assuming that what I want to tell you
is all about my past and what I’ve done. What if it’s something
else. What if . . . ?”

She waited for him to finish, but he didn’t.
His mouth opened, closed, opened again, but he said nothing
further. Only stood there and shook his head as if he couldn’t
speak.

Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?

“Forget it.” She pushed past him and took the
steps to the upper deck.

If he wasn’t going to talk to her, she wasn’t
going to stick around and argue with him, especially when she was
one breath shy of crying.

At times like this, it felt like he would
never let her in, and she hated how that felt.

* * *

Mark watched her disappear inside then slumped
against the railing separating the pool deck from a sharp decline
to the beach below.

He was messing up everything. This wasn’t how
he’d wanted the conversation about his past to go. He’d planned to
ease Karma into the discussion, feeding her small bits a little at
a time. But then she’d brought it up, and he hadn’t known how to
respond, and now everything was fucked. She was inside and angry
with him, and he was out here alone. An enormous chasm separated
them when they should have been enjoying the sunset together.

Maybe he hadn’t given her enough credit. She
said she loved him and wanted him to tell her everything. Maybe he
should put more faith in her. Because if their roles were switched,
wouldn’t he be forgiving if she revealed her darkest secrets to
him? He loved her enough to accept anything and everything about
her, no matter how damnable she thought it was.

He needed to unburden himself. Let the chips
fall where they may. Maybe it wasn’t how he’d wanted this
discussion to happen, but he couldn’t put it off anymore.

He took the steps two at a time then crossed
the upper deck to the open sliding door to the bedroom. The
bathroom door was closed, and he heard her soft sobs beneath the
sound of the shower.

“Karma?” He knocked.

She quieted.

“Can I come in?”

Silence.

He turned the handle and eased open the
door.

The glass panel hid nothing of her slender,
beautiful body, but she was turned away from him, shoulders
hunched, face hidden.

He quickly undressed then opened the shower
door and stepped in behind her, hugging her close as the warm water
spilled over them.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I’m so sorry.”

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“I will. Now. I promise. I just didn’t want
to do it this way. I’d planned to—”

“You need to quit planning so much and just
do
.” Her tone was chastising but gracious.

“I know. I’ll try harder.” He turned her
toward him and forced a tight smile. “I’ll make that one of my New
Year’s resolutions. See? You helped me find one.”

Her eyebrows turned up in the middle a split
second before a forgiving smile broke over her face. She wrapped
her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest.

He held and rocked her a couple of minutes
then ran his palm down her silky, wet hair. “Come on. Let’s finish
in here so I can . . .” He took a shaky breath and
blew it out. “So I can tell you everything I need to tell you.”

She lifted her head. “You promise?”

He kissed her. “I promise. This is just hard
for me, Karma. These are things I’ve never told anyone.”

“Not even Rob?” Her slim eyebrows
scrunched.

“No. Not even Rob.”

“And it scares you.” Not a question.

He answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He shifted uncomfortably, not liking how fear
felt rolling down his back. “Because what you think of me is
important. More important than anything else. I don’t want to
disappoint you.”

She folded her hands around his. “There’s
nothing you can say that will change how I feel about you. I love
you. I’ve always loved you. The only thing that will disappoint me
is if you continue keeping secrets from me.”

His gaze dropped to the tiled shower floor.
“It’s just that I’ve lived like this for a long time. It’s hard for
me to open up, even when I know I need to.”

She tipped her head back to rinse her hair
then looked back up at him. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck
with me, Strong.” She let go of his hands and opened the shower
door. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” She pulled a towel from the
rack and wrapped it around her then twisted another around her hair
before smiling encouragingly over her shoulder at him as she left
the bathroom.

Was he really going to confess everything?
Right now?

Jesus. His hands were shaking.

He quickly washed, rinsed, and dried off.
When he joined her back in the bedroom, she was sitting
cross-legged on the bed, wearing the silk, floral-print robe he’d
bought her two summers ago. She had a pair of notebooks in her
lap.

“I have an idea,” she said, lifting one of
the notebooks and a pen.

He slipped into his own red, cotton robe and
approached the bed. “What’s this?” He took the pen and notebook and
sat down across from her.

“I thought this might make things easier.”
She flipped the cover of her own notebook open and turned to a
blank page. “You can jot down what you want to tell me, and I’ll
write down a few things I want to share with you, too. Then we can
take turns revealing what we wrote to one another.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. It will make it easier for you to
share your secrets if I share mine, too.” They were sitting in the
center of the bed, and she reached behind her to untie the sheer
curtains so they fell halfway around them. “This way you’ll see I’m
not as pure as you think I am.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever prove to me you’re
not pure.” He pulled the drapes closed, sealing them into a cocoon.
“But if it makes
you
feel more comfortable, I won’t stop
you.”

“Then it’s settled.” She set her notebook in
her lap. “And writing down what you want to say will help organize
your thoughts. Trust me, I know. I used to write in a journal
almost every day.”

An expectant air hung over them, like a giant
balloon just waiting to be popped.

“So . . . just write?” he
said, flipping to a blank page.

“Yep. And I’ll do the same.”

Okay, here goes.

With a trembling hand, he pressed the
ballpoint to the paper and scrawled the first item on his list.

1. Cocaine and alcohol.

He didn’t need to write more than that. He
knew what needed to be said, and he’d already told her about the
alcohol. Now he just needed to make her see how bad his post-Carol
devastation had really been. How far he’d actually fallen, if only
temporarily.

2. Sex addiction. The parties, the clubs,
Nina and her hard-core fantasies, group sex.

This point contained too many variables to
list, none of them he was proud of. Those first eighteen months
following Carol had been filled with shameless hedonism. They’d
been a blurry, fucked up hive of depravity. But they were a part of
his past, and he needed to own them. It was time.

3. Role-play sex.

Not dressed-up-like-a-French-maid bullshit.
He was talking about full-on, intense, highly developed fantasies.
His role-play fetish was about so much more than playful sex. He
wanted to live the parts. To become the roles and set up elaborate
scenes that extended for hours or even days. To him role-play sex
wasn’t as much about escapism as it was about enhancement. It had
been a long time since he’d found a partner he wanted to play such
games with. But only because, for him, role-playing opened doors
between the players he hadn’t wanted to open again until now.