The Palms (9 page)

hat?” Lauren’s voice echoed in her ears and she wasn’t sure she’d heard Trent right. She frowned as the twist in his story sank in all around her. “What do you mean, you don’t?”

Trent looked up and met her disbelief. This was it. Finally, she knew what he’d been hiding. “I don’t have a child.”

Lauren recoiled, dropping her hand from his arm. “Okay... why...”

“She’s dead,” he blurted out, and relief about revealing at least this part of the truth took over his whole body. “Cynthia died.”

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. “Died?”

Trent ran his hand through his hair. “Yes. She died.” He took another sip from his drink and placed it back on the coffee table coaster. “It’s hard to talk about.” He shook his head, disgusted with the memories, but comforted at the same time. She hadn’t hit him yet, screamed, or cried yet. Perhaps she’d take this better than he envisioned.

“I don’t like to remember all the details, but of course I can’t get them out of my mind.”

“But I don’t under—”

“She…” He hesitated as a familiar dread filled his body. Here came another major part of the story. “S-she got into an accident.”

“Oh my God,” Lauren whispered after a few seconds passed of silence. A chill ran through her again. “I can’t believe it. Just awful. That’s so... sad.”

“The whole thing was just…” Trent crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted his weight and studied her mixed expression. He couldn’t read it, and it bothered him. “It is sad. You’re right. Very sad. Listen, what you say we get out of here. Not that I don’t want to keep talking.” He looked around the room and pulled his shirt away from his chest. Then he tugged at the collar of his shirt, and felt the sweat that covered large sections of his body. “All of a sudden, it’s stifling in here.” He stood up and reached a clammy hand down to her. “Do you mind if we leave?”

“You’re right. Let’s get out of here.” She took his hand, stood up, and didn’t drop it. Instead, she looked down at their interlaced fingers. “I decided to hate you after that morning, and I did. I hated you. For a long time.”

“I knew you did. Even as late as yesterday.”

“It hurt, Trent.” Lauren placed a hand on his shoulder. “No, that’s not the right way to describe it. When you left me — when you stopped talking to me without another word — I could have sworn you reached inside my stomach and burned me.”

“I was such a goddamn fool.”

“But I also still wanted you,” she whispered.

“You did?” he asked, and his chest tightened as a small shred of hope he’d buried inside bloomed a little.

Her thumb traced small lines on the back of his hand. She looked up into his dark eyes. “You could have told me about all this, Trent.”

“No, I couldn’t have.” He pulled her flush against him again. Their shoes locked together and his pants brushed against her naked leg. “It would have hurt you more, Lauren. And I’d already done—”

“But maybe I would have listened. You don’t know. You didn’t even try.”

His mouth became a thin line. “I didn’t want to make you have to listen.” He reached up with his free hand and ran it underneath her hair, stopping only when his fingers grazed her earlobe. She closed her eyes as he massaged it. “My parents promised they’d never tell anyone. And they never did for all these years. In fact, we don’t talk about it much.”

“Is that why you went into the Navy?” she asked, her eyes still closed. With only an inch between them, she smelled the way his cologne mixed with the salt air of Palm Beach, and it intoxicated her further.

“I needed to grow up.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, in a way. It helped a lot. I got away from everything. And everyone.” He pulled his hand away and she opened her eyes. He peered over at the clock on the far wall over the TV. “It’s after six PM. You hungry? Maybe?”

“No,” Lauren said. She breathed in and out, aware of every cell in her body.

“Good.”

“Good?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why is that good?”

“It just is,” he replied. Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers with a soft kiss. His lips pushed her mouth open wider, teasing them open while his left arm circled her body and hauled her to him. She moaned as each kiss pulsated against her mouth, and before long she was hanging onto his shirt.

“Good God,” she whispered as he broke away after a few minutes. “Don’t stop. Please.” One side of Trent’s mouth twitched upward and he answered her with another kiss. Then another. Five. Each kiss tasted sweeter and lasted longer than the last.

After a few more minutes, she was the one to break the long embrace, even though her eyes still held his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Yes.” She grinned. “We’re in the wrong room.”

6:20 PM, The Crawford Condo Bedroom

They didn’t make it to the bed. Instead, as they entered the master bedroom, he turned and slammed her against the wall. His need for her took over everything, and she allowed it.

“Lauren,” he said in her ear. “I want you.”

“And I want you,” she whispered. “Now.”

Her mouth covered his without another word, and he took control of the moment. Each kiss became a statement about the time they’d lost together. He kissed her out of hunger, longing, fear, comfort, pain, and regret. She returned each one, and they kissed until Trent’s chest pounded so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“Trent,” Lauren said as she broke away and they both gasped for air. “I never thought we’d have this again.”

“Me neither.”

“I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Or that you wanted to.” She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his willing head closer to her face.

“I always hoped we would someday,” he whispered against her swollen mouth. “But I never believed.”

She kissed him again and gave a sideways glance at the bed. Her eyebrow shot up and he gave it a small peck. His body held hers in place against the wall, and there he sensed so much about the two of them: his arm perpendicular to the wall, her hand tangled in his hair, his breath against her neck, and the heavy muscle of his thigh as he pinned her there.

“I never wanted anyone the way I wanted you,” she admitted. She kissed him again, and her hand traveled from his jawline to the hem of his shirt. When she tugged on it, he leaned away from her lips, reached down and pulled it over his head. A hairless, muscular chest greeted her. “Oh God,” she breathed. “This is like I remembered.”

“It’s better,” he said against her left ear. He kissed her again and his hands found the ties of her wrap dress. He knew she wouldn’t protest what he did next. Within a half second, he released the knot, and she pulled the dress off her body. After she did, she kicked off her red sandals and returned to Trent’s arms in a pale pink lace bra and matching bikini underwear.

Now, his kisses traveled from her lips down her neck. He stopped to plant them at her collarbone, the side of her shoulder, and the curve to the beginning of her arm. As he did, she raised her arms against the wall and let the moment overtake her. His kisses stopped at the top of her left breast, and when they did, he used the pause to reach around and unhook the lace. She slid the bra off her arms as he returned his mouth to hers.

She groaned against the wall once the kisses intensified. “Let’s go to the bed,” she told him.

“Just what I was thinking,” he replied.

“I can tell,” she whispered.

He lifted her up by the legs and cradled her as he took the final steps to the large king sized bed. She lay back against the pillows as he took off his pants and she watched the muscles ripple in his arms. Jesus Christ. She was a goner. He was a goner.

But maybe they both had always been.

When he joined her on the bed, she noticed a small square packet in his left hand. “Was this a forgone conclusion?” she asked, keeping her tone flirtatious and sexy.

“No,” he said as he glanced down at the condom packet. “Well, maybe so. Always be prepared.”

He kissed her and moved his body on top of hers. Only their underwear separated them now. “Something else didn’t change, Lauren.” He kissed her once more. “And that’s the way I feel about you.”

“Oh please,” she murmured. “Please don’t stop.” She reached up and connected his lips with hers as his hands trailed down her body. Every touch of his fingers electrified her skin and her mind. Trent’s left hand traveled down her neck, across her breasts, and over her stomach. When his index finger reached the elastic of her bikini underwear, he gave it a gentle tug and broke their kisses again.

“I want you so much,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

She bucked her hips against his in reply, and ran a thumb over his lips. “Don’t wait,” she told him. “You don’t have to wait any more.”

8:00 PM, The Bar at Nick and Johnnie’s

“I still think you could have told me why you left,” Lauren said as she spread hummus from the plate into of her onto some pita bread. “Because after that moment, I thought—” She broke off and looked around the half-filled restaurant, still in disbelief over the events of the last few hours. The long horseshoe shaped bar opened up to a wide covered patio that faced the street. Lauren and Trent occupied a section of the bar the deepest inside the restaurant, and they faced a large flat-screen TV that played Sports Center on mute.

“Thought I’d just left you for no reason?” Trent reached over to brush the hair out of her face and as he did, his fingers lingered on her cheek. “I guess a jerk like me would have done that, right?”

She shrugged and took a bite of the bread. A large wooden platter of pita slices, hummus, tabouleh, olives, feta cheese and peppers lay half eaten between the two of them. Each had also begun a second round of drinks — more red wine for Lauren and Fat Tire draft beer for Trent.

Trent inhaled and turned on the barstool so that he faced her. The stool squeaked, but he disregarded the sound. “I was just young and, something else.” He thought for a moment. “Confused. Maybe that’s the right word.”

“That morning, I woke up on the blanket, and I thought you’d just walked down the beach a little bit. I got up and searched.” She raised her eyebrow. “Of course I couldn’t find you.” She frowned at the memory. “I went over to your parents’ place. And when your mom answered the door, she told me that you weren’t there, and that you didn’t want to see me anymore. She acted so strange. So abrupt.”

Trent swallowed and tapped two of his fingers on the wide mahogany bar.

“Yeah. I told her to do that.” He took a sip of his beer. “She asked me if I wanted to come to the door, and I told her just to tell you to leave. She didn’t know what to do. She’s a master at keeping up appearances when things start to fall apart.” He smiled at her apologetically. “Plus, I just couldn’t bear to face that Italian blood of yours.”

Lauren laughed and signaled the college-aged bartender. “I’ll have another glass of red. Same kind, thanks.” The bartender nodded and walked away.

“Four glasses in the last three hours,” Trent said. “Impressive.”

“I’m a big girl. I can hold my liquor.”

“Wine doesn’t count as liquor. Not in my book.”

The bartender placed a fresh glass in front of Lauren. She picked it up and gestured to Trent. “Neither does beer.”

“Touché.” He clinked her glass.

Lauren took the first drink of the new glass and found the courage to ask a question that had danced on her lips for the last hour. “So what do you want from me now?”

Trent put down his beer. “What do you mean?”

“You know.”

He popped an olive in his mouth. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Well, what do you want now that we’ve…?”

Trent placed his hand on hers. “I liked it, Lauren. I did.” He tightened his fingers around hers. “I did.”

“Me, too.”

“And I’m thinking that maybe we should...” He glanced over shoulder and his next words died in the back of his throat. Trent’s eyes widened and his body stiffened.

Lauren cocked her head. “What? What is it?”

Trent cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “See for yourself,” he said, nodding in the direction of the open restaurant patio.

Lauren swiveled around on the barstool. She did it just in time to see Madeline storm through the entrance to the bar.