Page 76 of Side Piece

“I was out of my mind with worry.”

“That’s exactly why I came. Isn’t that part of this deal. I’m here for you, and you’re there for me?”

I kiss my woman’s forehead and pull her back to my chest. “I didn’t know what I was asking, and he’s fine. And you abandoned the shore. Thank you.”

“Shh. I’m right where I should be. It’s fine.”

“I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you.”

She gives me another long hug then whispers in my ear, “I’m really happy to be here. I missed you terribly.” And after a moment, I feel a teardrop on my neck.

I hold her away from me to inspect. “Babe. He’s fine. Are you ok?”

She shakes her head. “It’s been a day. Remind me to tell you about it someday. Can you just hold me?”

I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t about my dad. That’s bullshit. She needs to tell me now.

I find an alcove and put my hands on her shoulders. I drift my thumbs over her collarbone. “I’m reminding you. Right now. It’s someday. Tell me now. Let me be here for you.” I wipe her tears as she tries to smile. It’s a poor representation of her genuine smile. She inhales sharply and blows out the breath slowly. As if she’s gearing up to break up with me or something. I don’t like this.

“I do a thing every year. The details can wait, but the crux of it is, thirteen years ago, I was in that Florida hospital for the last time.”

I press her tight to me. Oh shit. This is not about me. I kiss the top of her head. “She died today? And you still came to the hospital? You’re so astonishingly strong. You’re incredible.”

She quickly says, “So are you.” We kiss deeply, and it’s weighted. I’m not afraid of it, which is the truly terrifying part. I can’t imagine what my days were like before her.

I say, “I adore you. I’m so sorry. What can I do for you?” I kiss her wet lips and put my forehead to hers.

“Don’t be sorry. I swear, I’m ok. Tired. That’s all.”

“Then let’s find a cozy chair to curl up in.”

“Here?”

“Just kidding. Let’s find my mom and go home.”

“To your house?” She seems panicked, but I’d like to get her away from a hospital on the day her mom died. I’ll sneak back later to see Dad.

“You get the pleasure of not having sex with me tonight in a double bed that still has Red Sox sheets. But the house has good Scotch, and there’s a really good deck.”

“It’s a dream come true. A more romantic vacation, I couldn’t imagine.”

I say, “You know what keeps flashing in my mind right now?”

“What?”

“Punta Mita.”

“Which part?”

“The part on the beach. How attractive you look when you—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. We have to sleep in a double bed down the hall from your mom.”

I lean down and kiss her with intention. It’s going to be the first night we’re together where we don’t have sex. She parts her mouth, and we stay suspended in our waiting room chairs while our tongues do things we wish other body parts could.

50

Tess