I will not cry.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
Even though he’d only been gone from the bed a few minutes, when he came back, I panicked and pretended to be asleep. Childish? Yep.
Totally childish.
I felt the bed dip as he climbed back in, and then his warm and still very naked body was up against me, spooning. Arms wrapped around my middle, and then his mouth was at my ear, whispering.
“Mmm, Nightie Girl back in her nightie.”
I waited, not speaking, just breathing. I felt him shake me a little bit and let out a little chuckle.
“Hey, hey you, are you sleeping?”
Should I snore? Whenever people faked sleep on sitcoms, they snored. I let out a tiny one. He kissed my neck, my traitor skin pebbling in the wake of his mouth. I sighed in my “sleep,” snuggling closer to Simon, hoping he would let me pull this off. The fates were kind tonight, as he simply hugged me tighter to his chest and kissed me once more.
“’Night, Caroline,” he whispered, and the night settled around us. I fake snored for a few more minutes until his actual snoring took over, and then I sighed heavily.
Confused and numb, I was awake until dawn.
Chapter Twenty
I HAD FAKED IT.
Faked it with Simon. There must have been a rule written somewhere, maybe even chiseled into a stone tablet: Thou Shal Not Fake It With Wall banger. So let it be written, so let it be done. I faked it, and now I was doomed to wander the planet forever, O-less.
Was I being overly dramatic? Oh my, yes. But if this didn’t call for a little drama, what did?
That next morning, I was up and out of bed before Simon was even awake, something I hadn’t done the entire time we were on our trip together. Usually we stayed in bed until the other one was awake, and then lounged for a while, laughing and talking. And kissing.
Mmm, the kissing.
But this morning I ran quickly through the shower and was in the kitchen making breakfast when a sleepy Simon came in. Shuffling across the floor in his socks, with boxers low on his hips, he grinned through his sleep haze and burrowed into my side as I sliced melon and berries.
“What are you doing out here? I was a little lonesome. Big bed, no Caroline. Where’d you go?” he asked, planting a quick kiss on my shoulder.
“I needed to get moving this morning. Remember the car is coming for me at ten? I wanted to make you some breakfast before I left.” I smiled, turning to give him a quick kiss.
He stopped me from turning away and kissed me more thoroughly, not letting me hurry through anything. I could feel myself closing off, and I was almost unable to stop it. I needed some time to process this, to understand how I was feeling—other than miserable. But I adored Simon, and he didn’t deserve this. So I let myself fall into the kiss, be swept away by this man once more. I kissed him back feverishly, passionately, and then pulled away just before it could become something more than a kiss.
“Fruit?”
“Huh?”
“Fruit. I made fruit salad. Want some?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sounds good. Coffee made?”
“Water is boiling. French press is all ready to go.” I patted him on the cheek as I waved him toward the pot. We coexisted in the kitchen, talking quietly, and Simon stole a kiss or two here and there. I tried not to show how messed up my brain was, tried to act as normal as I could. Simon seemed to sense something was up, but he took his cue from me, let me lead this morning.
We sat outside on the terrace one last time, eating our breakfast together and watching the breakers roll in.
“Are you glad you came?” he asked.
I bit down on my lip at the obvious. “I’m so glad. This trip was amazing.” I smiled, reaching across the table for his hand and giving it a squeeze.
“And now?”
“And now what? Back to reality. What time does your flight get in tomorrow?” I asked.
“Late. Really late. Should I call you or…” He left off, seeming to ask me if he should come over.
“Call me when you get in, no matter what time, okay?” I replied, sipping my coffee and watching the ocean. He was quiet now, and this time when I bit down on my lip it was to keep from crying.
I had packed early, so when the driver got here, I was ready to go. Simon had tried to tempt me to join him in the shower, but I begged off, making an excuse about finding my passport. I was panicking and pulling away just when we’d been getting so close, but this had really thrown me for a loop.
I had put all my Os in one basket, and the problem wasn’t Simon. It was me. The sex had been unreal, amazing, perfection even with a condom on, and yet still, no.
Simon walked my bags out to the car and placed them in the trunk. After speaking to the driver for a moment, he came back to me as I walked through the house one last time. It truly had been a fairy tale, and I had enjoyed every moment.
“Time to go?” I asked, leaning back against him when he approached me at the terrace railing. I was glad for the feel of him against me.
“Time to go. You have everything you need?”
“I think so. I wish I could figure out a way to get some of those prawns home, though.” I laughed, and he snorted into my hair.
“I think we can find something at home that will be suitable. Maybe we can have the others over next weekend and recreate some of the stuff we ate here?”
I turned to face him. “Make our debut?” I grinned.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, if you want to,” he added sheepishly, looking at me carefully.
“I do,” I answered. And I did. Even without the stupid, blessed O, I wanted to be with Simon.
“Okay, debut over prawns. That sounds weird.”
I laughed as he hugged me to him. The driver honked, and we shuffled toward the car.
“I’ll call you when I’m back, okay?” he said.
“I’ll be there. Get some good work done,” I instructed.
He brushed my hair back from my face and leaned in to kiss me once more.
“Bye, Caroline.”
“Bye, Simon.” I got in the car. And drove away from the fairy tale.
Once I was ensconced in my first-class seat, I had nothing but hours to contemplate. Strike that. I had nothing but hours to sit and stew and grumble. I’d cried in the car on the way to the airport, trying all the while to assure the driver I was fine and not stone-cold crazy. I cried because, well, there was sure as shit a lot of tension in my body, and it had to come out some way. And so it did, through my eyeballs. I was sad, and I was frustrated. Now I was done crying.
I tried to read. I’d stocked up on trashy magazines in the airport in Malaga. As I paged through them, titles of articles jumped out at me:
“How to Know If You’re Having the Best Orgasm You Can Have”
“Kegel Your Way to Multiples”
“New Weight Loss Plan: Orgasm Your Way to a Thinner You!”
Lower Caroline, Brain, Backbone, Heart were all lined up and throwing stones at Nerves, who was trying her best to hide.
I slammed down all my new magazines, throwing them into the seatback in front of me. I grabbed my laptop, powered it up, and put in my earbuds. I’d loaded some movies on before the last flight. I could let my brain escape into a film. Yes, I could do that. I scrolled through some of the movies I had on file… When Harry Met Sally? Nope, not with that scene in the deli. Top Gun? Nope, that scene where they do it, and it’s all lit blue with the breeze blowing through the gauzy curtains? No, too close to my fairy tale.
I found a movie I could safely watch, took three Tylenol PM, and was asleep before Luke learned how to use his lightsaber.