Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
S avannah
I glance in the rear-view mirror to see Gigi’s fallen fast asleep. Relief swiftly unravels my thoughts. My tense shoulders descend from their earlobe-high perch as soft music drifts through the car speakers. It’s apparent that the soft jazz sound has the same relaxing effect on me as it does my daughter.
I breathe in a full, expansive breath and, as I exhale, conversation from earlier this evening floods my mind. I told Ian that the events of tonight would imprint on my daughter’s memories. My kissing Ian would be part of those as well.
The ride home from Ian’s is sufficient time for my nerves to unjumble and soothe like rainwater over stones but, I can’t forget his kiss.
I barely had time to catch my breath when he moved on me. The effect of the impact was mind-blowing. Instantaneously, my thoughts scattered. Sparks turned to flames as an exciting and unexpected fire careened through my system. The intensity of the kiss sucked me into the flashback. Due to my pitiful lack of self-control, the kiss would have led me straight into his bed. I wanted him with an intensity that left my will as cinder, the ash skittering away in the night breeze. I was mere seconds away from melding into him fully when the sound of my sweet little girl’s voice hit me like a cold dose of water.
I hadn’t realized until that moment how starved I was for a connection. I craved his immoral lips. Our comingled tongues danced a sordid tempo. For a careless moment, the world fell away. I loved it. Gah!
The red light brings me to a frustrating stop. Damn it, Ian. Why the hell did you have to come back into my life?
My thoughts continue to linger over tonight’s events and, though I’d prefer to only recall the sweet memories made with Gigi, it’s Ian who corrupts my musings. While the car idles at a standstill, reality slowly drips in. Pleasurable thoughts crash over me as I recall the scene. How quickly Ian bewitched me. The spell made its way to my core. His body, so different than I remembered, enchanted me with firm, thick ropey arms, and well-honed biceps. My breast crashed against his chest, the wall of muscle assaulting tender flesh while his kiss awakened it, and the pleasure that followed soothed the hurt.
I glance at my fingers gripping the steering wheel to see white knuckles. How is it possible that he can have this effect on me, especially after so many years? But he’s here now and he’s so much more real to me now than then. His lips on mine induced the same shivers I felt so long ago, but with even more intensity than I remember. I’m such a different person than I was then—so is he—but in my wildest imagination, I never dreamed I’d again be in a heated moment with Ian Stanton. Not again. My thoughts are muddled because I’m not sure I would have stopped myself. Instead, it was the sweet voice of the little person who always saves me from the worst parts of myself.
I try to tune out the warring sexy thoughts and self-incrimination the remainder of the drive and notably exhale when I press the control for the garage door. Inch by inch it lifts until it’s open wide and revealing evidence of the perfectionism that occurred after my parent’s death. I suppose my obsessive compulsiveness could be worse than arranging a variety of garden tools on a pegboard-covered wall. A container of baby clothes triggers images of an infant Gigi in my arms. Like any nervous new mother, I’m always worried about making mistakes. But then, am I doing a disservice to my daughter by not letting her see the vulnerable parts of me?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. Am I capable of a relationship? I thought I was until Drake became violent and I reasoned that what happened with Ian was because I was drunk. Once Gigi was born I resigned myself to raising her alone and then convinced myself that a relationship with anyone was something I neither needed nor wanted but something happened tonight. Something equally freeing and frightening. There is more substance to Ian than the man I remember.
I savor a quiet moment as the garage door drifts closed. Maybe to Ian it was ‘just a kiss’ but the way he looks at me with those piercing eyes makes me feel as if he can see right through me. With one touch, he reminded me I’m a woman and not simply someone’s mom, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
I unbuckle Gigi without waking her and she easily positions herself as I carefully carry her from the car into the house. An emerging headache is tapping an annoying beat against the back side of my eyeballs and I’m anxious to lay her down and swallow some pain relievers. Thank god she’s out as I navigate through the house, balancing her so as not to disturb her. I tiptoe up the steps and make it to her room without waking her. Moms don’t get enough credit. Balancing babies, groceries, and laundry baskets may not seem like a magnificent feat, but doing our part to keep our acts up and running makes us seem like circus folk, yet we never take a bow.
As I lay Gigi down, her breath brushes against my neck and my heart swells. She’s my reason. My everything. As I kiss her rosy cheek I imagine her dreams tonight will be quite full. Stars, fireflies, and wide-open spaces will emerge once again. When—if—a man enters our lives, her needs will come before my own.
“I love you, my angel.” I lightly pet her head. “You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever done.” Whispering the words, I steal one more kiss, and then tuck her in.
* * *
Once Gigi’s bedroom door closes, exhaustion hits me. The pounding in my head is relentless and has increased in intensity. I slip down the stairs quietly and quickly to find a remedy to take away the ache and, as I enter the kitchen, my phone rings. The display flashes an unknown number but I answer anyway.
“Hello.”
“Savannah, it’s Ian—and before you hang up on me—I’m sorry.”
I hit the speaker button and grab two headache pills and a glass of water. I pop them in my mouth and gulp down a couple of swallows. Now is not the time I want to talk. “Ian, I don’t want to?—”
“I know you don’t but just listen.” He pauses. “Please, just listen to me for a minute; it was an impulsive move and I’m sorry. I took something from you that you weren’t willing to give. I’m not good at this. You might not believe it, but you are my first sober kiss.”
My forehead pinches. “You’re kidding, right? You mean, I’m the first woman you’ve kissed since moving to Rock Hills.”
“No. I mean, you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed—like, seriously kissed.”
“No way.” I spout.
“Yeah, It’s true.”
“Not even when you were a kid?”
“Nope.”
“Spin the bottle? Truth or dare? Any of those games?”
“I started drinking when I was seven years old, so no. You’re the first. I shouldn’t have moved on you like that—especially in front of Gigi—but, I’m not gonna lie; I liked it but it wasn’t right to steal it.”
I sit quietly, dumbfounded. I don’t know how to respond.
“Are you there?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“I’m here. A little shocked, is all.”
“Yeah, well … sometimes truth’s stranger than fiction.” He exhales a vast sigh. “Anyway, I called to apologize. You’re a beautiful woman. I saw what I wanted, and I took it. I’m sorry.”
I breathe in deep and sheepishly roll my eyes “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Don’t you?”
“No. Not always.”
“Take a look in the mirror, Savannah. You’re gorgeous.” He pauses. “So, you forgive me for kissing you?”
I shrug. “I didn’t hate it, Ian.”
“So, you liked it?” I can almost hear the lilt in his voice. His tone pitches to a more upbeat one, and I imagine that sexy lip curl.
“I didn’t say that either,” I say with a lighter tone.
He laughs. “Honestly, you don’t have to say anything.”
"I appreciate that you called, and I appreciate the apology.” I think of something my mother used to say. Until the day comes that you don’t need forgiveness, you can’t not forgive someone else. Convicted by the memory, my tone softens. “It’s water under the bridge, as Sam would say, and let’s be real; I can think of scores of women who would have loved a kiss from you.” Time passes like the ticking of a clock as I head into the living room with the phone to my ear. “Ian?”
“I get what you’re saying but here’s the difference: I respect you. I didn’t them.” His voice fades away.
Any remnant of anger and confusion that lingered from earlier tonight slipped away like a deflating balloon. “Ian?” He doesn’t answer. “Ian? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you so hard on yourself?”
He pauses. “Because I know what I am; a fuck-up. You’re a decent person. I’m not. In fact, the word ‘worthless’ has pretty much been drummed into my head. I wouldn’t blame you if you think so, too.”
I suck in an angry breath. “You’re not worthless.”
“Yeah, well maybe I’m not as much a screw-up now as I was then, but I have my moments.”
“Who would say something like that?”
“My father. My mother. They guys in the band.” He pauses. “My father was never a ‘dad,’ you know? I was young when my mom died and, after she did, he didn’t like me very much. After Dash died, well … I don’t need to tell you the rest. The press took care of that.”
My heart sinks. “I’m sorry for your pain, Ian, and I don’t think you’re worthless.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your mom?”
“Momma had issues. She died by suicide. My father hated her for it. He hated her even more for leaving him with a kid.” He paused. “She was a great storyteller, though.” His tone pitches, and the lighter, tender one presses a smile to my lips. “That’s what I remember most.”
“You loved her very much.”
“I did. I’m surprised I remember as much about her as I do. She was beautiful and loving. She doled out affection like candy on Halloween. She made me feel special, even if all she was doing was holding my hand. What I remember most are her hugs. They were amazing. I was the sun and her world revolved around me. I can’t remember a day when she didn’t make me happy. Everything changed when she died.”
“How so?” I press.
“Both of my parents were only children, and my grandparents were dead. My dad was it. There was no one else. He told me he couldn’t stand to look at me because I looked too much like my mother. He blamed her issues and her death on me. ‘She was fine till you came along’, was the most frequently used phrase. Now that I’m older, and I’ve been through some pretty extensive counseling, I believe she might have suffered post-partum depression that lingered. I don’t know for sure. In my mother’s absence, things with my father got ugly. There was no affection, and he seemed happiest when taking his rage out on me.” Sadness lingers at the edge of his voice. “Love is a risk. It can take you from the highest high to the lowest low but it’s worth the gamble.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. All I’d ever known growing up was security and love. Mine and Ian’s upbringings couldn’t have been more different. The loneliness in his tone is hard for me to stomach, especially because I’m a mother.
“Anyway, back to tonight,” he continues. “This is an apology. We both have a connection with Sam. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize it. He means a lot to me, and I know you mean a lot to him. I wanted to call and make right my wrong.”
“I appreciate that.”
“So, are we good? I mean, the night wasn’t a total loss; Gigi had a good time and, if we’re at odds, it might put a bad spin on how she remembers it.” He takes a breath. “I can take pretty much anything, Savannah, but I don’t think I could forgive myself if something I did stole a smile from that kid. She’s a sweetheart.”
The tenderness in his voice brings a sheen of tears to my eyes. “Yes, she is.”
“If I’m not overstepping here; she’s also pretty independent.”
A laugh bursts out. “That’s an understatement!”
“She’s cool, though. I like her. She’s hard on herself when she doesn’t get her words right, but other than that, she’s a pretty happy kid.” He clears his throat. “Now, you? You seem to take everything seriously.”
“I do not,” I laugh out a protest.
“If you say so, but that’s why I called. To apologize and make things right so you wouldn’t overthink it. Old habits are hard to break. I don’t really think of myself as ‘asshole Ian’ anymore, but I still make mistakes.”
“We’re fine, Ian,” I assure him.
“I hope so because I suck at conventional norms.”
“I’m glad you called.”
“Me, too. Goodnight.”
“Night, Ian.”
We both hang up and, suddenly, sadness washes over me. It’s heavy, and the loneliness in his tone knocks at my stomach. I sink into my feelings, replaying our kiss over in my mind. I liked it, though I denied it and am raddled about whether I’d like him to kiss me again. “Oh, Savannah. Get over yourself.”
I push off the sofa, the pain in my head now reduced to a thrum. It’s been a long day and an eventful night. Sleep is what I need.
As I enter my bedroom, I slip out of my clothes and pull a tee shirt over my head. My soft, cushy bed is a comfort as I crawl beneath the covers. Ian speaking about his parents has made me think of my own. Mom used to say things have a way of working themselves out and, right now, that thing is Ian. I sure hope she’s right.