Lincoln

Chapter 20

20

LINCOLN

It’s another beautiful day in Santa Monica.

Sunshine is my new love. It makes me bounce out of bed in the morning.

I love Scotland, but Christ, it’s depressing when it’s cold. However, cozy days spent by the fire with Violet would make them less blue and dreary.

Never going to happen, Lincoln.

“What are you thinking about?” Violet breaks my daydream.

“Nothing.” With my hands against the sand, I prop myself up and cross my ankles, watching hundreds of people and kids splash about in the sparkling sea and play in the hot sand.

“You’re quiet today.” Violet pushes her sunglasses onto the top of her head.

“I’m just tired.” I yawn.

“Oh, I know how tired you are. When I came up to the bedroom last night expecting to find you ready to fulfill your pinky promise fantasy, you were passed out.”

She lets out a squeal when I launch myself on top of her and push her hands above her head. “Well, this sex-crazed woman I only met a few days ago has been pogoing up and down my dick since I met her. I’ve got friction burns on my friction burns.”

She shakes her head against her lilac towel. “You have no stamina.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “And I’m always so wet for you that you have no friction burns.” She licks her lips.

I roll off her and back onto my towel and groan at her honesty. I convinced her to wear a two-piece today, and she looks good enough to eat in the skimpy black fabric. She has drawers of the things but says she never wears them on the beach, opting for one-piece swimsuits instead. One-piece, be gone.

I ping the string of her bottoms. “Fancy a dip?”

She sits up and looks around.

“What are you doing?”

She chews her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s a habit of mine, okay? I just sometimes have to check around. I don’t want anyone seeing me.” Her hand finds her tummy.

“You look beautiful, Violet.” I look over at a group of girls standing and chatting. I point to them. “See those girls there? What do you see?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Pretty. Bronzed bodies. Proportional.”

“And the girl in the yellow two-piece.” I jut my chin out. “What does she look like to you?”

“Slim, toned, blonde hair, great skin.”

“For the record and stating facts, you are the same size as that girl, but you are way sexier. She doesn’t have your curves or your glossy hair.”

She gasps in protest. “I do not look like that.”

“Yes, you fucking do. But you are next level, Violet West. You have some fucked-up, skewed perception of how you look. Now, get up on those pretty little toes of yours and fucking walk across the sand like the queen you are, in the boardroom and the bedroom.” I stand up and hold my hand out for her to take.

She doesn’t move but continues to look at the girl in the yellow. “Am I really the same size as her?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Now get up.”

“You are so bossy.” She huffs, standing to her full height, and fixes her swimsuit bottoms, then makes sure her boobs are secure.

“Also, you have much bigger tits than her.” I kiss her balm-covered lips.

“I have bigger boobs than everyone.”

“Fucking heaven.” I go all starry-eyed.

“Not so heavenly that you fell asleep on a promise you made to me last night.”

“Tonight, I double promise.”

There are few women who would let you titty fuck them, but Violet seems to love the idea. My cock twitches in my swim shorts and I have to adjust myself discreetly. “And anyway, I was tired, up all night with a woman who can’t get enough of me, she then spent the next day fucking my brains out, and then I was dancing last night on barely two hours’ sleep, and then she fucked me again in my car and then in her bed again this morning. That was a nice way to wake up. Thanks for that.” I awoke to Violet’s warm and wet mouth wrapped around my cock this morning. Best wake-up call. Ever.

“Be quiet. People will hear you.” Her eyes dart around the busy beach.

“No one cares. They’re all too interested in themselves.” I look around. I’m right; no one is paying us any attention.

“Let’s go, Petal.” I take the first step down the boiling sand, hoping Violet will follow. In a flash, she’s by my side and grabs my hand .

“Good girl.” I give her a wink.

I catch a few guys checking Violet out. They can fuck off. She’s mine.

The need to kiss her in front of them licks flames around my self-control. I pull her closer to me. “There are a few guys checking you out.”

“They are not. You are just saying that to be kind and anyway, they can’t have me. I’m yours.”

For now.

I scoop her up and fling her over my shoulder and run toward the water. She screams as we hit the cool waves.

After half an hour of larking about, kissing and teasing each other in the salty water, hand in hand, we slowly make our way back up the golden sand to our towels.

“Violet? Is that you?”

Violet tenses beside me, then lets out an irritated groan.

Just ahead of us is a tall wisp of a woman, dressed from head to toe in white, looking in Violet’s direction.

“I’ve been looking for you.” The woman before us crosses her arms. Even her oversized sunglasses are white too. She looks like a movie star.

“What do you want, Francesca?” As quick as a bolt of lightning, Violet’s entire demeanor changes.

Oh, so this is the sister.

“Daddy offered to sell us the beach house. Having only ever been in it twice, I thought I would drop by, have a look around first, then decide if we want to buy it.”

“It’s Dad, Francesca, not Daddy. You’re thirty-five years old. He’s selling the house I’m currently living in?” Violet shrills, pointing at her house across the road.

“Yes. Why? Did he not say anything to you?” Her voice is laced with innocence, but the way a smirk pulls her mouth, she gives herself away.

Their polite conversation goes from zero to one hundred in a millisecond.

Violet stomps past her on the way to her beach towel. “No. I mean, why would he? I’m only his tenant, after all.” She sounds so defeated. “It’s not like I don’t talk to him every day—” Violet stops stuffing her beach towel and suntan lotion into her transparent beach bag mid-sentence. “Ah. I see.” She shakes her head back and forth. “You decided you want the beach house and talked him into selling it to you.”

Francesca doesn’t confirm or deny, which screams volumes.

Violet continues, “Or you hoped he would say, ‘ Here you go, Franny, you can have it .’”

“Well, he gave it to you.”

“He didn’t give it to me,” Violet spits back. “I rent it. He takes it off my wages every month. I pay my own way.”

Violet rambles incoherent words under her breath that I can’t make out.

“You can come back another day. When Pom-pom isn’t here. I would hate for him to trigger your allergies.” Violet’s insincere words are apparent.

Angrily, she pulls on her black cover-up and stuffs her feet into her flip-flops. “I’ve had such a great day today, dancing last night, surfing this morning?—”

“You went surfing?” her sister splutters.

“Yes, and it turns out I’m pretty great, actually. Isn’t that right, Lincoln?” She pulls me into their verbal combat.

“Incredible. You’re a natural.” She looked sexy as hell in a wetsuit, too. She was amazing today. Every time she fell off, she got back up, and within an hour, she was surfing. She’s good at everything. She clunked her head, sending her under the water, but she got back on the board and was determined to master her technique.

“I’m assuming you wore a wetsuit too; how uncouth, Violet.” Her sister flares her nostrils in disgust. “Do they make them in your size?” Francesca snickers at her poor attempt at what she thinks is a joke.

I narrow my eyes. Who does she think she is?

I jump in to defend Violet. “They make them in all sizes, actually. But they don’t make them in rude, ugly soul size. It would appear you’re out of luck.”

Violet bursts out laughing while Francesca’s mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“You heard,” Violet says, deadpan.

“Who is he?” She points at me while looking at Violet. “And who does he think he is speaking to?” Francesca’s voice raises an octave.

“He’s speaking to the bitch who has done nothing but belittle me my entire life.” Violet stands tall and then hands me my sneakers. “He’s speaking to the bitch who just implied I was too fat for a wetsuit. And the bitch that had to get her daddy to find her a husband because she was too lazy to work.” Violet stuffs our belongings into her beach bag. “Now, if you don’t mind, my boyfriend and I were just leaving.”

Boyfriend.

“And in the words of my handsome Scottish boyfriend, piss off, Francesca.”

Yes. My girl’s found her fighting spirit.

My girl.

Violet grabs my hand and marches past her.

I don’t say another word or mention the fact that my feet are currently receiving second-degree burns as I haven’t had the chance to put my shoes on, and the droplets of water running from my shorts aren’t doing a very good job to cool them down either.

I turn back to look over my shoulder and Francesca is still standing in the same place we left her. I don’t think she can believe Violet stood up for herself.

I don’t know Violet very well yet, but what I can guarantee is that she’s never had the courage to speak to her sister like that.

“My sister is like Gizmo from Gremlins . She looks harmless, just add water, and she’s truly ugly beneath that cute exterior. That’s why she never swims in the sea; it would reveal the real monster within. God, she truly is an awful person. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

As we cross the road, I ask, “Did you get a dog to keep your sister away?”

She snorts. “Maybe.”

“Brilliant.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Back in the house, I let Violet process the events at the beach and leave her to have a shower and freshen up.

When she appears back downstairs, I’m lying on her large white leather sectional sofa with Pom-pom curled up on my chest, fast asleep.

He’s like a living snowball.

“You found fresh towels, then?” She eyes the crisp white towel wrapped around my waist.

“Yeah, my shorts were soaked through. I’ve hung them outside. I still need a shower, though.” I had to dash out this morning and buy swim shorts and new clothes for today. I wasn’t prepared for bumping into Violet last night or staying over here again. I could have nipped back to my hotel, but it was quicker to hit the shops a couple of blocks over.

Violet places two fresh coffees on the white gloss table, then sits down with an enormous sigh .

“You must have accidentally sat on Pom-pom before. He’s camouflaged against your white leather.”

She rests her head on the back of the low couch. “He’s too short to jump up. He needs me to lift him on top.”

I chuckle. “I never thought of that. He’s a funny-looking wee thing.” He’s so soft and light, his weight barely registers on my chest.

“He’s cute, though.” Violet rolls her head to look at me. “But he costs a fortune in vet bills and he was very expensive.”

“How much did he cost?”

“You don’t want to know.” She rolls her eyes.

“Ouch.”

“Ouch, alright,” she says softly.

I reach for her hand and knit our fingers together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, though, are you? You feel bad for saying what you did to Francesca because you have a heart. In the moment, you wanted to finally defend yourself, but the afterglow is not what you expected. You feel worse now. Am I correct?”

She cringes. “Yes. God, I was awful.”

“You weren’t. You were brave today and finally said what you’ve been holding in for years. And maybe it’s time for a change, Violet. As beautiful as this house is, it doesn’t reflect you. It’s all straight lines and stark. You’re more warm and welcoming than this place. Also, I noticed you have hardly any ornaments or soft furnishings in here. It’s like you haven’t moved in.”

She looks around. “You’re right. I haven’t. Being by the beach is so nice, though.”

“I’ll grant you that, but maybe your sister is doing you a favor. This is just a house. It doesn’t suit your personality. It suits Francesca’s, though—cold, white, sharp edges.” I shudder dramatically, making Pom-pom flinch.

This makes Violet laugh.

I bolster her confidence. “You were nothing but articulate when you stood up for yourself, especially when you told her to piss off. You should have also told her she was a bawbag. Now I would have paid money to see that.”

“A what?” Violet looks confused.

“A bawbag. It’s Scottish for an idiot.”

“I love that.” She giggles, then whispers the word back to herself. “You don’t say many Scottish words like that. I thought I would find it difficult to understand you, but you don’t use a lot of slang words.”

“I live on the east coast of Scotland, so our accent is not as strong as other parts of Scotland. But none of us really go about saying your stereotypical words like, och, aye, the noo . We don’t speak like that. We subtly drop in a Scots word or two into what you would class as a normal sentence.”

“Like what? Give me an example.”

I do an easy one. “You’re a blether.”

She scrunches her nose up. “What does that mean?”

“You are talking nonsense.”

She giggles. “Give me another.”

“It’s braw out today.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s a pleasant or nice day today.”

She nods her head.

“It’s more common for the older generations to speak broadly but me and my friends don’t tend to. It’s a subtle word here and there. I think it’s a generational thing.”

“That makes sense, I suppose, as more and more people travel. ”

“My grandfather has a very strong Scottish accent. My yaya still finds it hard to understand him sometimes.” I laugh at visions of her shouting profanities in Greek when she gets frustrated.

“And your yaya is your grandmother, correct?”

“Yeah, you remembered. She’s Greek. Short. Elegant. Feisty and wow, can she cook. Her baklava is the best.” My mouth waters at the thought of flaky pastry layers drizzled in honey, syrup, and nuts.

“I do not know what that is. You’ll have to find a place that does it here so I can taste it.”

“Deal.” New mission: find a Greek bakery.

Violet stays silent for a few moments, sipping her coffee, and I can tell she’s gearing up to ask me something.

“Can I ask you about your mom?”

I knew it.

“Yeah, but there isn’t much to tell. I told you pretty much everything I know at our team-building day.”

She turns around to face me, tucking her bronzed legs underneath herself on the couch.

Her wet hair is plastered back, and she’s wearing an oversized pastel lilac tee shirt and booty shorts. I like how she can be her natural self around me, and I love how she always wears loads of purple clothes to match her name. It’s cute.

“So you have never met your mom? Ever?”

“Nope. I don’t know where she lives, and she might not even be alive.” That’s the first time it’s crossed my mind, and it doesn’t sit well with me. “Can you pass my coffee, please?” I don’t want to disturb Pom-pom.

Our fingers touch as she carefully places the mug in my hand, and when she rests back against the sofa, a puff of her fresh scent of pear fills the air. I must ask her what perfume she wears.

I take a large sip of the hot nectar and rest the mug under my chin. I need all the caffeine courage I can get if we are having this conversation.

“Have you ever thought about finding her?”

“I have.” But it was a fleeting moment. “She traveled a lot. I’m not sure she would be easy to locate.”

“Do you want to locate her?”

I shake my head. “That’s a hard question to answer. I feel like I would be betraying my father.”

“Have you told him you might like to find her?”

“Never.”

“Do you think he would object?”

“My father is a very levelheaded guy. He would be hurt, I think, but he wouldn’t hold me back if that’s what I wanted to do.” I find the next part very difficult to say. “You also have to remember that she never returned to Scotland to visit me. Not once. I’m not sure she wants to be found.”

Violet’s hand finds my shoulder, and she gives it a gentle rub.

“But like I said before, I’m fine.” An episode of heartburn is coming on. I touch my chest.

“Like me with my sister. Fine .”

I roll my head to meet her gaze. “Straight-up, no-nonsense talk? Can I share something that I haven’t shared with anyone before?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes flash with curiosity.

“Deep down, I would like to find her and talk to her and perhaps discover where she went after she left us. What she did with her life, what her passion is, her hobbies. I’d love to know where she is now. Sit her down and honestly ask her if she ever loved me at all. Ask her if she ever thinks about me.” That hurts to say out loud and nerves slam against the walls of my stomach. “But what if she rejects me again? What if I find her and she didn’t want to be found? I’m not sure my heart could take it.” I don’t mean to say the last part out loud.

“Oh, Linc.” Violet moves in closer and cups my face. “I’m so sorry.”

“If I went looking for her, it would either make or break me. I’m not prepared either way. It’s best left alone, I think.”

“Would you not want to make peace or find closure?”

“Yes and no. It seems like the easier choice to keep everything as is and not to go looking for unanswered questions. There is this niggle inside of me, though, that tells me to find her. Almost like she’s the missing key to this unsettled feeling I often have. It comes in waves. I’ve never told anyone about it. You’re the first.” I don’t know why I am telling her.

“What kind of feeling?”

“Like a knot that needs to be untied in my stomach. It’s all coiled up with tension. I don’t know. Maybe my mom is the one who holds the key to untying it. Sometimes I feel like there is a missing piece of my jigsaw puzzle out there, making it hard for me to see the complete picture of myself. I know you don’t know me very well, but I hide my fuckery well, and I have bad days sometimes. I’ve become an expert at hiding it, though. I do everything in my willpower to push those feelings down. I don’t even understand what I am saying, so how can you? Sorry.” I pull Violet’s hand away from my face. Trying not to show how uncomfortable I am, I give the palm of her hand a quick kiss. I fucking hate that look of pity she’s currently displaying. “I need a shower.”

Violet picks up Pom-pom off my chest. He opens his small mouth and lets out a whimpered yawn. “Are we going out for dinner?” I ask .

“I was going to order in for us.”

“Okay.” I need to kick myself out of the solemnity. “You pick, Petal. You know this city better than I do.”

“I’m not so sure. You’ve introduced me to places I have never been or heard of before all weekend. Maybe I should let you pick.”

I jump over the back of the sofa. “What about Sea otherwise, you’ll come straight home, dive into work, and we won’t get the chance to hear all of your stories from your travels.

Me

I can’t wait to see you.

Dad

Me too. We’re staying at the same hotel as you. We have the presidential suite, so we’ll all be together. Can you imagine six adults and seven kids under the same roof? It’s giving me a headache just thinking about it.

Me

You love it, really.

Dad

I do.

Me

I’m setting a countdown for your arrival on my phone.

Dad

Already done mine. *smiley face* Twenty-eight days.

Me

Can’t wait.