32. temporary bubble
temporary bubble
MARLEY
My cellphone rings, pulling me from the blissful memories of last night. Still half asleep, I answer without bothering to check the caller ID.
“Well, goodness. You’re alive. Why haven’t you called me?” Her voice squawks by way of greeting.
“Ma?” I groan.
“You’re still in bed?”
I check the time on the phone. It’s almost ten in the morning. The fact that Othello had the energy to get up and run after the night we had is mind-boggling. He’d put me through the mattress four times in a row and once in the shower. I am still in bed naked as the day I was born.
“I am, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m good. I suppose you’re having so much fun in Maui, you forgot to call me.”
“I let you know that I made it.”
“That’s a text, sweetheart. Not a call. I needed to hear your voice. How are you enjoying your stay?”
“I’ve been having a good time,” I tell her.
“By yourself?” my mother asks, but there is an underlying tone to her voice.
I roll my eyes and smile, because there is no way in hell I’m telling my mother about Othello. Whatever this thing is between us feels too fragile. Like it will disappear the second we leave Maui.
“Yes, by myself.”
She lets out a dramatic, sad sigh. “Well, are you getting out there? Mingling? I heard they had parties at these kinds of resorts.”
“I went out the other night, but Mom, I’m not here looking for anyone. I’m just here to have a good time and relax. Remember?”
I can almost hear her rolling her eyes through the phone.
“Try conversing with someone of the opposite sex next time you go out. You know, I talked to Weston the other day. I told him you were in Hawaii. Solo. I told him he should come out and join you.”
“Mom, what? No!” I holler. And now I’m wide awake. I sit up in the bed, my eyes bugged out with panic. “That’s crazy. Do not push him to do that!”
“Relax. He said he couldn’t do it on such short notice. But he did say he would love to take you out to dinner when you get back and catch up.“
My mom talking to my ex is wild. My ex being back in Savannah after he said he’d never come back was even wilder.
“Charli says he was left at the altar, which was why he moved back. Too many bad memories in Japan,” she says as if reading my mind.
Goodie for him.
“I was telling him that you’re still single and not having much luck in the love department…”
My mouth falls open in pure shock. She continues on. “He seemed relieved. I figured since you aren’t meeting anyone, and he’s single—”
“Mom, you aren’t serious right now, are you?” I quip, cutting her off. “Why would you tell him that?”
“What?” she asked defensively. “It’s not like it’s a lie. Weston is a good man.”
“A good man who broke up with me over FaceTime from another country.”
“Oh, please. You act like that boy committed a felony.”
I fall back into the pillow, clutching my forehead. “I don’t need you orchestrating my love life.”
“I’m your mother. I’m only trying to help.”
What didn’t this woman understand?
“You need some male interactions. The fact that you haven’t met anyone on this trip just goes to show that you are too closed off.”
“I don’t have to meet a man everywhere I go.”
Irritated, I pull the covers off of me and get out of bed before grabbing my satin robe thrown over the armchair. Once I tie the sash around my waist, I open the drapes, hoping that the view will calm me. My mother’s fixation on me ending up with someone is suffocating.
“You’re 32 and still single,” she quips before softening her tone. “Marley, I’m not trying to upset you. I just worry.”
“I know,” I murmur. “But it will happen when it happens. You can’t force love. And there is no age limit on when it’s supposed to happen. I think it will happen when it’s meant to. When I’m not even looking for it.”
The words rattle me to the core. I turn away from the ocean and lean my back against the glass sliding door, my fingers curling tighter around the phone.
“I just don’t want you ending up alone,” my mother says softly. “You spend so much time running that magazine. Taking care of everybody else. I just…” she sighs. “I want somebody to take care of you, too.”
I drop my head in my hands. If my mother knew I was technically working on this vacation, she’d probably spiral into a conniption fit.
But I mean, working beside Collette on Carina’s piece didn’t feel like work.
When you love what you do, it never truly feels like hard labor.
So I keep quiet about this rare opportunity.
Not only would she completely miss the significance of it, but she'd immediately hit me with an ‘I told you so, you don’t know when to take a break’.
And telling her about Othello?
Absolutely not.
Although she’d be over the moon about her oldest daughter finally meeting someone. Finally relaxing. Finally letting a man in.
Literally and figuratively.
She’d also be planning my wedding right here and now. But knowing my mother, the excitement wouldn’t stop there. Soon, it would snowball into pressure. Did he want children? Was he stable? Reliable? Serious enough?
My mother had a way of making a mountain out of a molehill.
One mention of me seeing a man, and she’d be planning an engagement party and helping me design a nursery.
I wasn’t going to tell her about Othello, because it was too new for that kind of weight.
Because, really, this could just be a Maui thing.
A beautiful, temporary bubble waiting to burst the second reality steps in.
The second we leave this island and return to our actual lives.
I don’t think my heart can survive my mother getting attached to the idea of him before I even know if he’s truly mine to keep.
“Hope you’re hungry. I brought breakfast.” A voice hollers from outside the door.
It’s Othello.
I hadn’t heard him come in. And judging by how loudly his voice carried through the suite, there’s no way my mother missed it either. Her silence lasts all of two seconds.
“Who is that?” she asks, her suspicion dripping through the phone.
“Room service,” I lie, just as Othello opens the door and enters with a tray loaded with food. He’s about to speak again, but the panic on my face and my finger to my lip make him freeze.
“Room service?” she questions, curiously.
“Yes, ma'am. I have to go. I promise to call you later.”
“Okay, but you better not forget.”
“I won’t, I love you,” I say quickly and then hang up before she can return the sentiment.
Othello sets the tray on the edge of the bed. A basket of warm pastries sits beside a plate of fresh pineapple, grapes, mango, and strawberries with fresh glasses of orange juice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t know you were on the phone.”
I let out an exhale. “No, you’re fine. Just talking to my mother. How was your run?”
“It was good. Much needed,” he says, suddenly seeming distracted. “I ran into Gavin on the beach.”
“And?” I ask cautiously.
“He apologized. I didn’t think he would ever say it, but I felt relieved after.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
Othello steps closer to me, sliding his arms around my waist, and the intimacy of it feels strangely foreign. It’s been a long time since a man greeted me and held me like this. Looked at me like this.
I melt into him, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne mixed with fresh sweat.
“Yeah. I think it is,” he murmurs and kisses the top of my forehead.
“How was the conversation with your mother?”
I let out a dry laugh. “She thinks I’m going to die alone.”
“Damn, that bad, huh?” Othello backs up and grabs a vine of grapes from the breakfast tray. He peels one off and munches, and I can’t help but think about all the places his lips were on me last night.
“Very bad. So bad that she was going to get my ex to come here and join me in Maui.”
This makes Othello stop mid-chew. He pauses before he snaps another grape from the vine and pops it in his mouth. “He must have been some ex,” he said.
“She thinks so. I think she just got excited that he is back in Savannah. She’s trying to play matchmaker.”
“Is that what you want?” He asks, face serious and, dare I say, disappointed.
I shake my head. “No. I have no desire to go backward.”
Othello pops another grape in his mouth, and suddenly, I’m jealous of a piece of fruit. I grab a glass of juice and gulp it down.
“Good,” he smiles. “Because today is a free day and I have some things planned for us.”
“Oh really? Like what?”
“Well, I was thinking we can cross some things off your vacation agenda.”
My mouth drops, and I give Othello a look of surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I have the chocolate farm booked for us.” He checks his watch. “We have to be there in like an hour.”
“What?” I exclaim in disbelief.
The chocolate farm is the one excursion I’ve been talking about since we met on the plane. I set my juice on the tray and then wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tight.
“You didn’t have to do this?”
“I felt like I needed to. I want to bring some normalcy to your trip. You deserve this vacation to go at least a little the way you planned. I mean, I know I can’t give you the trip you originally planned, but I’d like to give you some of it back.”
My cheeks grow warm under my blush, and I hug Othello tight. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. What would your vacation be if you came all the way to Maui and didn’t visit the chocolate farm?” he says in a mocking tone.
I laugh, burying my face in his chest.
“Okay, now you're making fun of me.”
“Just a little.”
I pull away enough to look at him. “Thank you,” I say wholeheartedly.
“For what?”
“Just remembering the little things. You really have been paying attention to me this entire trip, haven’t you?”
“More than you know.”
Othello is back in my space, hands around my waist, pulling me close. I’d been ready to snatch the cheese danish off that tray and indulge, but I find myself wanting something else a little more.
Othello’s tongue parts my lips, and we kiss. Slow and languid.
“Aren’t we going to be late for the excursion?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, my lips still lingering on his.
“We have time.”
I try to laugh, but it comes out as a soft moan instead.
“Can I kiss something I’ve been thinking about all morning?” he murmurs against my mouth before kissing me deeper. I pull away just enough to look into his eyes, nodding as I bite my bottom lip.
Othello’s kisses trail down my neck, to my collarbone, and then to my chest. My heartbeat turns reckless when he cups my breast in his hand and takes it into his mouth, sucking my hard, budded nipple before grazing it ever so softly with his teeth.
I feel the heavy swell of his dick pressing against me, pulsing and jumping, and I want to take it in my mouth, but Othello hooks my legs around his waist and places me on top of the counter-height dresser.
He spreads my thighs wide, then lifts my legs over his shoulders as he lowers himself, his face in the heat of my pussy.
The look he gives me nearly steals my breath away.
“You have no idea how fuckin’ sexy you are right now, Marley.”
My fingers curl through his hair as he runs his tongue through the folds of my pussy.
I’m drenched. Dripping, wet, and throbbing.
“You taste so good, baby.”
“Yeah?”
My hips gyrate into his face, and a broken sound escapes me. No man has ever made me feel this good, this desired, this special. I’m about to lose myself. Pleasure ripples through me, and I feel like a dam seconds away from bursting open.
“Othello!” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He gives me his all. He flicks his lethal tongue on my clit after he fucks me with it.
“Uhh…! I’m gonna cum!”
He drinks my nectar until my legs begin to tremble, never stopping. He peers up at me then, his tongue still inside of my moist canal, but his eyes gazing at me like a hungry lion. I let out a broken whimper. My body convulses, and before I know it, I’m gushing like a tidal wave.
My cries are loud and crazed. Othello climbs up my body, shushing me with his mouth. I can barely contain myself, my breathing shallow and my chest heaving like I’d run a marathon.
“Oh my God,” I groan. Othello smirks before kissing me gently on the cheek, my collarbone, my shoulder.
“You good?” he asks.
Is that a trick question?
A soft, ragged laugh escapes me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”