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We stare at each other for way too long. She licks her lips, and that’s all it takes. That’s the spark to the tinderbox we’re sitting on. I grab the back of her neck. “Fuck it,” I mutter as I rush to her lips. As I lean to her, she opens her legs, and I cover her with my body in this old chair I found in a small store on the island.

Her hands quickly dive into my hair. I’m on her lips, and she moans, and it’s music that fills my house and soul. “Fletch,” she gasps, and I don’t let her get another word out. My tongue is in her mouth, claiming what’s rightfully mine. I will never get enough of her, but I’m sure as fuck going to try tonight.

I pull back after owning every part of her mouth. I put my forehead to hers as we try and catch our breath. “Mine. All of you. Tonight. Mine.”

“I’m always yours,” she says, and it suits me just fine. She pushes my robe off my shoulders, and I remove my shirt.

“There it is. How I’ve missed this view.” She runs her nails down my chest and circles my nipples. Her touch is intoxicating. I spread her legs forcefully, and she throws her head back. I push up her skirt, and I can smell heaven. I pull her thong down and off her feet and begin kissing her inner thigh. I need to get her in a position where we can enjoy all of each other.

I scoop her up and her legs naturally wrap around me. We kiss again as if this is what we do every day. I walk us to my bedroom.

She pulls back from the kiss as we get close to the bed.

“I’d like to say, I miss you for more than this.” My tongue searches for her. It searches for an answer to all of this. I lay her down and lay on top of her. I make quick work of her thong. My pajamas are gone and I’m lining up with her. Her legs spread wide. We’re facing each other. I want to see her face when I enter her.

I thrust into her and she welcomes me with the most perfect gasp. I let her adjust for a moment as she catches her breath.

I begin to move and speak as I thrust. “I need this to be mine tonight like I need the Flyers to ditch Gritty as a mascot.” She laughs. “Like I need you to not crash my car.” She howls. I look into her eyes, and she puts a hand on my face. “Like I need to pretend we worked out.” She nods and smiles.

50

JILLIEN

I’m sore and sated. I’m so happy in his arms. The sun is peeking through, and the cats are curled around my head. Other Cat is purring, as is Liam. At the moment, the world is perfect, but the second he wakes up, I have a hunch he’s not down to try again. I asked him to jump off a cliff with me, and he did it. But it didn’t end the way he thought it would. I’m not sure his analytical brain could take another hit. I’m not sure I’m worth the risk. I want to be worthy of him, but after a lifetime of being told you’re not quite good enough, it’s a hard habit to shake. The self-doubt is eating me up. I’m obsessed with our paths not taken. The ones I didn’t go down because I systematically disassembled my self-worth or blind ambition. Each step I took pointed out that I shouldn’t be going that way, so I pivoted. And each time, I began to believe I was on the road to somewhere. ChiKid is something and I love it, but there’s a small seed of doubt that it’s the place for me. And other than Ethan, it seems I’ve just ended up lost.

His arm is still around me, but I can hear his breath shift. He’s not sleeping anymore. He knows it, too—whatever is on the other side of this morning will blow up this peace we’ve found for the night. Well, peace, and lots of orgasms. There were always things I’ve wanted to try, but at some point, I stopped experimenting and trying. Then he found my missing pieces buried under a lifetime of obligations and “the right” choices. I love Chicago, but it’s not home. I made it my home, but it’s not in my DNA like Philly. It doesn’t sing to me the way the beach does. I used to sit on the edge of Lake Michigan every day. The tide, the sounds, the water all set my soul better, but I missed the salt. I never moved out to the beach because my father and mother told me it was a bad investment. That there was no life out there; ‘You visit the shore, you don’t live there with those year-round people.’

We used to rent a house in Cape May every August. That was enough for them. But I loved when we rented houses with porches so I could sleep out there, listen to the water, and fall asleep with the salt air stinging my nose. I let my parents’ opinions leech into my mind and convince me to pivot.

Then I met Christopher, and he wanted to be in Chicago. I followed him and loved every second of the adventure, then I got pregnant and I pivoted again, but the world was settled. I won’t talk about the fact that my mother casually brought up options that might be better for my future. She’ll deny it. She likes to improve her past by reinventing memories. She fondly remembers her divorce. She glosses over cheating on my dad. Not that he didn’t deserve it. Neither of them was faithful. His mistress was Dewar’s, but still, she somehow comes out blameless. I don’t want to be blameless. I want to own all my mistakes and correct them. And I don’t want the mistakes of anyone’s past weighing me down anymore. I don’t want to be the punching bag or the scapegoat of anyone else’s life. I have done enough. I am enough. Now, if only I could believe it all.

I break our bliss.

“I’m sorry I shut you out.” He pulls me closer and kisses the back of my head. I feel his breath on the back of my neck. “I’ve just done it for so long. Shut everyone out of the decision making or responsibility because I had to take it all on.”

There’s a silence that’s going to suffocate me soon if he doesn’t speak. We’re still not facing each other.

“Jilly. You didn’t just shut me out. You compartmentalized me. And therefore marginalized me. You keep your life in separate boxes, and when I stepped out of mine, you couldn’t handle it.” I let that settle over me. I’m sure he can feel how my spine and soul just got stiff. “You can’t control it all.”

Tears well in my eyes. “I don’t know how to stop,” I sputter.

He pulls me closer. “I know.”

My body shakes again with the tears of things I want to let go of and keep failing. He just holds me. He whispers lovely things while I try to take them in.

“You’re not responsible for everyone and everything. You can’t be. You’re so strong and beautiful. I wish I could make you believe that.” I shake even more. “But I can’t, that would be cheating. That’s yours to figure out.” He squeezes me to him for another moment, then as his body heat wanes, I realize he’s getting out of the bed. He’s moving away from me. It doesn’t matter what I say. I suck back the tears. I hear him leave the room. I sit up and watch him walk away. And that’s pretty damn painful. I smell coffee, and I’m grateful for at least caffeine.

I pee and pull my hair on top of my head. I zip up the hoodie I’m going to steal from him. Then I unzip it just a little. Maybe that inch of the zipper will be all the difference between really breaking up with me and getting back together. Ok, zipper, let’s do this. He’s not totally innocent in this. He gave up at the first sign of trouble. He didn’t build a life with me so much as fold himself into mine. Maybe he’s pissed about that. He should be. Mine wasn’t all that great. We really should have created a different one.

I pad into the kitchen, and he’s poured me coffee. He smiles at me.

He says, “So, last night was insane. Some fantasy hot girl showed up at my house and fucked me raw.” I laugh.

I say, changing the tone of the room, “Tell me it wasn’t the grand finale.”

He sips his coffee and moves from behind the counter. He kisses me on the top of my head.

“I can’t.” He pulls me to standing and leads me out to his deck. The deck and the sound of the ocean roar to life as he opens the sliding glass door. I inhale deeply, and the salt gets into my lungs. I fucking love it. He flops down on his red outdoor couch. I sit in the big chair off to the left of him. I move it to a better position. He’s facing the water, and I’m facing him.