Chapter Four #2
Illuminated by the sun’s descending rays, her light brown hair framed her face with gentle waves that stopped at her shoulders.
There was something about its volume and kinks that told me she had swum in the sea or pool today, and it warmed me that she was likely having so much fun on holiday she hadn't bothered to do anything with it other than just let it dry as it was.
Studying her further, I took in her shapely brows, her dark eyelashes and the laughter lines crinkling the skin in the corners of her eyes and across her forehead.
Something that made me want to laugh and smile and feel a skin-wrinkling kind of joy in my own face.
It would be too simplistic to say that those wrinkles told me she was older than me, and it wouldn’t be the whole truth. I already sensed that she was older from the way she carried herself with her shoulders back, chin up, those lips moving into an astonishingly wide smile as our eyes met.
Almost as quickly as she made eye contact with me, she turned away.
I waited a moment before also looking away, getting the attention of a passing server.
I explained what drink I wanted and advised her on the quickest way to make it so she didn't even need a shaker, and sure enough, she was back with my drink after a few minutes, every second of which I spent looking at the woman who continued talking to Mr Nice Arse. Because yes, his arse was still nice, but I was undeniably more concerned with the curve and lift of the woman’s bottom which stretched the fabric of her clothes.
As I quickly grabbed a free table behind them, I spent a few minutes trying to decipher what she and he were to each other.
Their quick exchanges were full of smiles, nudges and giggles and this could have been friendly or flirtatious.
Clueless, I let my gaze ride over the swell of her hips and the cinch of her waist where her hand was resting, and I noted how tanned her calves were and how lush her thighs looked where the hem of her dress kissed them.
I also noticed she had a gold chain on one of her ankles, and it promptly made me think about biting it while holding her legs up against my chest.
“Oh, that's interesting,” I had whispered to myself before taking a sip of my drink.
Because my dick had seen her. It hadn’t gotten hard, not yet, but it had grown heavy. It wasn’t down to fuck, but it was ready to find out more. And so was I. So when she looked back and met my gaze again, I smiled. Really smiled. Because suddenly it was not just possible to do that, it was easy.
“Who are you buying a drink for?” Maeve returns to my side, dragging me back to the present moment. I follow her gaze to where the barman is preparing two drinks.
“You know me, Maeve, I can’t help but make friends wherever I go,” I joke, rather than answer her. It’s my default setting.
“Friends?” She cocks her eyebrow, but her eyes stay down as her fingers fly over her phone’s screen.
“Yes, friends,” I emphasise before quickly swallowing the distaste in my mouth.
Defensive doesn’t even come close to how I feel.
Guilty too, because I wasn’t thinking about Jenna like I want to be friends.
The realisation is sobering, which is ironic considering how horribly sober I’ve been for months now.
“And why was the spa so traumatic? I can’t imagine it would be a shithole. Not in a place like this, surely?”
What can I say to that? No, it was amazing, but it was also where I had a near-panic attack in the sauna followed by a crying fit in the pool, in front of two plump elderly German women who kept giving me pitiful smiles and bouncy thumbs-up to check I was okay.
And then, when I was in the showers, this totally gorgeous lean machine of a man came in and I said hello to him while I was lathering shower gel on my balls, which meant he pretty much ran away from me in horror.
To top it all off, as I watched the muscles in his back and butt flex when he stalked off, I didn’t feel anything.
Not a single dick twinge. Not a single filthy, lusty thought entered my mind.
No, I can’t say any of that, not to my sister.
“It’s not a shithole, not at all. I just...” I trail off as I run out of words. I suddenly don’t have the strength to make a joke and swerve the question.
“It’s today,” she says and lifts her eyes to mine. “The date.”
I nod and chew on the inside of my lip, the words still failing me.
“And you wanted a drink?” she asks tentatively.
Again, I nod. I wanted a drink so badly.
“That’s why you came down here.” She lowers her voice. She has our father’s green eyes, but her current solemn expression is all our mother.
“Not exactly,” I say. I find myself smiling, and it feels like a small chink of light in the darkness. “There was this cat...”
“What?” Maeve’s brow wrinkles.
“I was just standing there outside the spa, and this small, scrawny cat appeared, slinking out of the bushes beside the path. He sat down a metre or so away from me and looked at me in that sort of judgmental way cats do. I started petting it and he let me do that for a few minutes until he decided he’d had enough and then he moved a bit further away. ”
“But what does that have to do with... well, anything?” Maeve is looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“He was just like Arnie,” I say, my voice suddenly hoarse. “Small, strong, self-assured, and a little needy even if he would never admit it.”
“Are you saying you think that the cat was... is... Arnie?” Maeve’s eyes widen.
“No. Maybe. No. Oh, I don’t fucking know.
” My short laugh is strangled. “All I know is that when I asked the cat what I should do next, he turned and walked away, down towards the bar here. And he kept turning around, checking I was following him. You know how much Arnie loved sunsets and a sundowner cocktail.”
I try really hard to hold on to the smile this memory brings, but it fades like it always does. And Maeve notices.
“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” she says, looking at me with open, sad eyes.
One year. One whole brutal devastating and destructive year.
“Yeah,” I say.
We hold each other’s gaze for a few moments and then she nods at the sun slipping lower in the sky. “But it’s nearly over.” She rests her hand on my arm, which is unexpected but welcome. “Today. The anniversary. It will soon be done. And you survived.”
I can’t respond to this. I start to chew the side of my cheek.
“You know that’s why they booked it for today,” Maeve continues, her voice slow and soft. “They wanted you to be busy and have something to look forward to.”
I press down with my teeth a little harder. A second later I taste blood.
“And it’s your birthday too, in a few days,” Maeve says and while her hand stays on me, her eyes are back on her phone. She’s never off it too long.
“Don’t remind me.” I groan. “What a sad state of affairs I am, celebrating my birthday stone cold sober with my parents and annoying little sister.”
Maeve’s fake laugh is deliberately loud and coarse. “Your annoying little sister who bailed you out how many times in the last year?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. I know she’s teasing me, but still, it’s a kick in the gut.
“Do me a favour, Marty,” Maeve’s fingers apply a little more pressure on my forearm. “And you can’t say no because you fucken owe me. Try and keep an open mind about your birthday, and this week. You may actually enjoy yourself.”
“Jesus, Maeve, it’s not like I got on the plane intending to have a shite time,” I begin. “I’m not the one who...”
“Don’t start.” She holds her other hand up, the one still gripping her phone. “I don’t have time to referee fights or to come and find you in bars you probably shouldn’t be in. Just behave yourself, get a suntan and be proud of how far you’ve come.”
I balk at her words. “Proud? What in the flying fuck do I have to be proud of?”
Maeve shrugs like we’re talking about the weather. “Well, you’re still here, aren’t you?” she says, and it hits every painful, tight chord inside of me.