Taken (20 page)
She opens one eye. “You got drunk and whacked it on the bar.”
“How did that happen? I don’t remember anything.” I’m having an eerie déjà vu moment of another night I ended up blacking out.
“You were drunk, Rach. No big deal. You had fun.” She turns away and stuffs a second pillow over her head. “Now leave me alone until at least eleven.”
I push her shoulder and stand to leave. “Hey,” she says, “your phone’s on my nightstand.”
I grab it and don’t think anything of it until I see the light flashing with a new message in my inbox. I try not to look at it as I make coffee in the kitchen, but fail. When I go to my inbox, there are several messages between you and me from last night. My heart stops for a few seconds. I don’t remember sending you any emails last night. Shit. What did I say? The first two are from you:
From: [email protected]
Subject: Can we talk?
Rachael, I’d like to talk. Is this a good time to call?
From: [email protected]
Subject: Not a good time?
Since I haven’t heard from you, I’ll try to get in touch tomorrow.
I miss you, Rachael.
From: [email protected]
Subject: I’m an idiot.
I got drunk off my ass tonight and talked about you non-stop. My best friend thinks I’m stupid for not screwing your brains out, and if I don’t tell you how I feel, she’s going to drag me back to that hotel by my hair.
Oh. My. God. I did not write this. “Shannon! I’m going to kill you!”
The lock on her bedroom door clicks. “You’ll thank me someday.”
“Shit!
I can’t believe you did this to me!”
“Read them all.”
From: [email protected]
RE: I’m an idiot.
I’m guessing if Rachael’s that drunk then this is from the best friend, Shannon. Is that right? Is she okay? What did she say? I want her back here as much as you do. More. How do I get her to come back to me?
From: [email protected]
RE: I’m an idiot.
Quit doing stupid shit that freaks her out. She’s not that kind of girl. She doesn’t have sex to have sex. If she loves and trusts you, she’ll be with you. So earn her trust.
From: [email protected]
RE: I’m an idiot.
HOW??? I’ll do anything. I need her.
From: [email protected]
RE: I’m an idiot.
That’s for you to figure out, but don’t give up. She has real feelings for you. She needs you too. Get her back there somehow.
From: [email protected]
RE: I’m an idiot.
I’ll do everything I can to prove to her how much I need her here with me. She’s all I need. Take care of her tonight.
Merrick
“Well?” Shannon calls from her room.
I squeeze my eyes against the tears trying to overflow out of them. I’m not sure what hurts worse, my head or my heart. “What can I say? You told him, and he’s going to do whatever he can…whatever that means.”
I toss my phone on the counter and slump against it. Shannon’s bare feet pad down the hall. She peeks around the kitchen doorway. “Are you pissed at me?”
I take in her messy bed-head and smudged mascara and laugh. “No. How could I be pissed at you? You were only trying to help.”
“Maybe I did.” She shuffles over to me with her arms out wide and I fall into them. “It’s going to work out, I know it.”
“I’m glad one of us can be confident about it.” I step back and rub my eyes. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Then I need to run back to my mom’s and turn her A.C. off. If I forget, she’ll kill me when she gets home.”
Shannon tugs the refrigerator door open. “Ah, the exciting life of Rachael DeSalvo. The drama never ends.” I play-kick her in the butt and she spins around laughing. “Don’t forget some cover-up on that big ugly on your forehead you lush.”
Mom’s house is so quiet and inviting, that I find myself lying on my old bed staring at the patterns of light that cross my ceiling streaming in over the top of my closed blind. I can almost make my mind go blank lying here in silence tracing the lines and angles over and over with my eyes.
I’m almost in a trance when there’s a knock at the door.
The knock sounds again. I slide off my bed glancing at the clock, realizing it’s when the mail comes. I stride out of my room to the front door, fling it open and look directly into your piercing dark eyes.
You drop your hand, mid-knock. “Hi.”
I’m frozen in shock. “You’re here.”
“I’m here. This wasn’t the first place I looked though. You must be in hiding. Shannon gave up your location. Don’t be too mad at her. I can be pretty persuasive.”
“And charming,” I say, remembering your words when you told me you spoke to my mom.
Instinctively, I raise my hand to touch your untypically smooth face, but pull it back before I touch you.
“I shaved.” Your smile is too much to bear. You look so much younger without your stubble, so innocent.
“What are you doing here?” My words are weak, a breathy whisper from a desperate woman.
“I told you if I had a chance to do everything over, I’d show up at your door and ask you to go get coffee. That’s what I’m doing. Would you like to go get coffee with me and start over? The right way this time?” You swallow and there’s fear in your eyes. If I say no, it’ll pain you.
“I-I…” I don’t know. I hold up a finger. “Give me a moment.”
You nod, and I close the door and lean against it. I can’t catch my breath. You’re here.
You’re here!
I’m pathetic. I can hardly contain myself. I want to open the door and jump into your arms, smother your mouth with my kiss. The debate is over…if there ever really was a debate in my mind at all.
You knock on the door, startling me. I open it to your face full of confusion, anguish and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. You wanted to get away.”
“No!” I touch my throat, feeling flush with emotion. “No. I’m glad you came. We can start over.”
You take a deep breath and exhale through a glorious smile. “Thank God. I thought I’d done it again.”
“No. You were a better judge of my feelings this time than I was.”
You take my hand away from my neck and kiss my palm. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Rachael. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was the furthest from my mind—opposite actually, from what I was thinking.”
Your lips are so soft and warm on my hand. I run the pad of my thumb over your bottom lip before taking it away. “I know. We can talk more.”
You take my hand and lead me down the sidewalk to your car in the driveway. It’s not the Mercedes or BMW that I’d expect you to drive. It’s a Ford S.U.V.
We’re starting over in an unpretentious way with coffee.
Just us. Without expectations.
Chapter Fourteen
After helping me into the S.U.V., you come around and get in behind the wheel. “Hi,” you say, holding out a hand to me. “I’m Merrick Rocha.”
I take your hand. “Rachael DeSalvo.”
Your lips brush the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I enjoyed our phone conversation immensely.”
I laugh, and your eyes flash with the brilliance of your smile. “Turtle Tear holds a special place in my heart, Mr. Rocha. Do you know how it got its name?”
“Something about Ponce de León being a cheating bastard and turtles laying eggs if I remember correctly. Of course, that’s not what they teach you about him in middle school.”
My chest swells with our familiarity, recalling one of our first conversations about the hotel. “No, it isn’t what they teach you.”
You squeeze my hand and back out of the driveway. “I have so much to learn from you, Rachael.”
“I’m afraid you might not be an attentive student. You’re rather set in your ways.”
You pull to the side of the road in front of my mom’s house and turn to me. “Your leaving was a huge wake up call for me.” You run your hand through your hair. “I don’t want to lose whatever this is between us before it even starts.” You gesture between us, your lips pressed tight, your dark eyes burning and focused. “I don’t know where we end up, but it feels like something important. Something special, life altering. I can’t chase you away before we get there.” You pull me against you and kiss my cheek. “I’ll learn. I’ll listen. I’m in your hands, Rachael.”
The way your deep, soft words linger in my ears makes me want to curl up against you and never let go. “I’ll do my best to help you understand my feelings. I can’t promise anything. You know that, right?”
“I’m not asking for promises.” You tip my chin up and kiss me gently, chastely. “Not yet.”
You pull away from the curb and drive, and I point out the turns to take to the nearest Starbucks. Talk of future promises should make me leery, but you’ve been so certain of me from the start. What if you’ve made me into some ideal in your head that I can’t live up to? I can’t fix you. I can’t even stand up to my own mother. How can I possibly think about helping you when I can’t help myself?
This is going to be a disaster—
we
are going to be a disaster. One of us weak and insecure, the other fucked up and emotionally, detached searching for a life-line. I don’t have a life-line for you, but if I tell you that, you’ll tell me I’m wrong. That you know I do, that you heard it in my voice that first time we spoke, that we’re so much alike and I can teach you how to think of others first. I know all of your ideas pertaining to us, and there’s no changing your mind.
Glancing over at your beautiful, handsome, stubborn face, I don’t want to change your mind. If you didn’t believe I was the one who can make a difference in your life, you wouldn’t have come for me. I need you to always come for me and make me believe we can work. I don’t want to let go of you. I need to know where we go from here, how we end—if we end.
You park and help me down from the S.U.V.
Inside, I find a table while you stroll up to the counter to order my mocha latte and whatever you’re getting. I can’t help but to stare at you, your round, firm backside, your strong thighs shifting under your jeans, narrow waist and hips, broad shoulders, wavy brown-black hair. Confidence and sexuality emanate from your body with every movement. God knows I feel it, the magnetic pull my body responds to, making me burn and yearn for you and dismiss any red flag that waves in my path warning me away.
