Chapter 20
D espite the awkwardness of dinner and the game shop, I genuinely enjoyed the hotel.
It was an upscale chain hotel on the outskirts of downtown Orlando, not far from my multiple failed dates at Orange Blossom Coffee. The lobby was sleek and elegant, with glossy cream-colored tiles and a rounded, cavernous ceiling that stretched up several stories. The hallways were decorated with soft yellow wall sconces, and the hotel room doors were impressively tall with huge, brassy handles.
“Your father had a bunch of hotel points saved up from his work trips,” my mother explained as she unlocked the door with her key card. “It’s up to you if you’d rather recover at home or here.”
My father ended up going for a walk at a nearby park, so me and my mother had the hotel room to ourselves. In addition to the immaculate, puffy king-sized bed and sliding glass doors that overlooked downtown Orlando, my attention was locked on the sleek alcove bathtub lined with what looked like jacuzzi jets .
I placed a hand over my stomach, which was swollen and bloated from our earlier dinner. I didn’t have a bathtub at home, and I longed to immerse my sore abdomen in the warm, bubbling water. My mother noticed me gawking at it, and she chuckled.
“Go ahead sweetie.” She pulled a bathrobe out of the closet. “Make yourself comfortable. Once you’re ready, we’ll talk about your surgery.”
I spent nearly half an hour soaking in the tub, enveloped in warmth and contentment. The water seemed to take the pressure off my swollen stomach, and by the time I stepped out of the bubble bath, it had shrunken down to a semi-normal size.
I released my hair from its updo and scrubbed myself dry, putting my clothes back on over my pruned skin. The bath made my whole body feel lighter.
We had another half-hour before my father returned from his walk, during which me and my mother sat on the bed and had our first heart-to-heart conversation in years. I still wasn’t ready to tell her about Devin, but in-between discussions of my upcoming surgery, I revealed more about my life in Orlando. Like with the game shop, my mother seemed more open-minded than in the past, which lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. Back when I was in college, the thought of me being anything other than a pious church girl was unthinkable for her.
There were also further discussions about endometriosis and what it meant for my health post-surgery. I knew that the laparoscopy wasn’t a cure, and that I would likely need medication for the rest of my life. There was also a chance I would be infertile, but I was nowhere near ready to contemplate that topic yet.
There were a few times where I was tempted to tell her about my sexual dysfunction. After all, it was a major symptom of my endometriosis, and what had caused me so much difficulty in adulthood. But talking through female medical issues with my mother was one thing. Discussing my sex life was uncharted territory that I wasn’t ready to explore.
I was so grateful for the time alone with her that I was disappointed when a loud knock echoed from the hotel door. I gave my mother a quick goodbye hug, but there was one topic still lingering in the back of my mind: her own health issues. I wanted to mention my concerns that she might also have endometriosis, but I couldn’t get the words out. Her miscarriages were a taboo, forbidden topic in my family, and I feared bringing them up would send my mother into another emotional spiral.
As we broke our hug, I gazed deeply into my mother’s warm, smiling face. On the surface she looked happy, but I could see the way her eyes glistened under the bright hotel lights and how the wrinkles lining her eyes and mouth tugged at her features. I’d seen her so infrequently over the past five years, but she always looked spry and healthy for a woman in her late forties. I knew perimenopause likely staved off her pain for good, but I wondered if she suffered all the same symptoms I had in her younger years. If, like me, she felt the need to hide it for her own self-preservation.
But those questions remained in my head, unable to be spoken aloud, as I left the hotel and went home to await my surgery day.
It was well past 11 p.m.
And I couldn’t sleep.
I felt like a coked-up zombie as I sat in front of my computer, the screen eyeball-scorchingly bright in comparison to my nearly pitch-black room. I was simultaneously exhausted and wired, and it made me feel like my brain was short-circuiting. In addition, my abdominal pain had returned, with my stomach twisting into more knots than a pretzel.
I had no idea I would be like this the night before my surgery. It reminded me of Christmas Eve in my childhood, when I’d lay restless in bed for hours while I thought about the presents that awaited me the next morning. Except this time, there were no presents, and the anxious bubble of excitement was instead one full of dread.
I’d texted Devin earlier, which helped alleviate some of my anxiety. But he’d said goodnight to me over an hour ago, and I assumed he was already asleep. I knew he didn’t work on Mondays, but I also knew he did a lot of errands and bookkeeping on his days off, and I didn’t want to bug him all night. Like with the period pains I’d dealt with for the past decade, I avoided asking for help when I was not feeling well. Even the night before a major surgery.
I tried lying down several times, but while my body was exhausted, my mind was in overdrive. All my attempts at sleep managed to do was give my brain more time to contemplate the thousands of ways my surgical procedure could go wrong.
I distracted myself with video games instead, even if it meant passing out from exhaustion at an ungodly early hour. What did it matter if I didn’t get any sleep? The anesthesia would take care of that for me, and I’d be so drugged up on post-op pain meds that I’d be fast asleep for the rest of the day.
Thirty minutes passed. I was so restless that I could barely focus on video games, and milking cows and collecting eggs in my farming sims was starting to feel like actual chores. I couldn’t turn on my television for fear of waking Cassidy in the next room, so I put some YouTube videos on my computer.
Halfway through a “Top 10” gaming list, I nearly threw my headphones off in frustration. None of this was helping with my anxiety, and I wanted to scream. It was now almost midnight, and with every passing minute on my phone screen, I was inching closer to my dreaded surgery. Within the next few hours, the sun would start peeking up above the horizon, and I’d be forced to endure this procedure full of both anxiety and exhaustion.
I opened my earlier texts from Devin, but my fingers were frozen above my keyboard.
Do I really want to do this?
Do I really want to bug him at midnight?
My phone buzzed with a notification, and it was so unexpected that my hands spazzed out and I nearly dropped the little device on the floor.
Hey, not sure if you’re asleep yet.
It was Devin.
I was so relieved that I wanted to reach through the phone screen and hug him.
I’m not. I can’t sleep.
I don’t blame you. The night before surgery is rough. I’m having trouble sleeping too.
Why ?
Honestly…I’m kind of worried about it too. I’m anxious that you’re having surgery and I won’t be there for you.
Aww. My anxious heart softened at his words.
I’ll be okay, Devin. It’s not a big deal.
It’s okay to be scared, Avie. You don’t have to brush those feelings off.
Okay, okay. I am scared. I just hate thinking about it.
Well…if you can’t sleep and I can’t sleep, maybe we should stay up together?
What do you mean?
Come over. You can spend the night here.
My heart screamed yes, but my brain had concerns. I knew it was unlikely that we could share a bed for a night without wanting to pull each other’s clothes off, and I wasn’t ready to practice having sex until after I’d recovered from surgery.
I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
Is it the sex part? I don’t expect anything from you, Avie. It’s okay.
It’s not you, it’s me, lol. I’m concerned that I’m going to be all over you if we share a bed.
You know, I’ve been thinking…if you did want to be intimate, you know we can do so without actual penetration, right?
Not really. What do you mean?
I felt stupid. Between my sexual dysfunction and my abstinence-focused upbringing, my knowledge of sexual activities was limited for someone my age.
Well, maybe you can’t handle full-on sex, but we might be able to get a finger in there. There’s also oral, or just external stuff. Lots of options.
A bubble of hope welled up in my chest. I craved the thought of spending all night with him, and I knew from my limited experience that sexual pleasure was a great way to stave off anxiety.
I looked up at my computer screen and then back down at my phone.
Fuck it.
What’s your address?
Devin lived around the corner from Critical Games, less than twenty minutes from my townhouse. I recognized the name of the community he lived in; I often drove past it when running errands downtown.
Give me half an hour. Need to put some clothes on .
I mean…
Shut up.
As I scrambled out of my gaming chair and into the bathroom, desperate to make myself presentable at well past midnight, the reality of what I was doing sunk into my chest like a warm yet tingling blanket.
I was spending the night.
With Devin.
And I was both thrilled and terrified.
Devin lived in a community called Willow Grove, according to the worn wooden sign flanked with colorful flowers at the end of the main road. It was a small neighborhood, heavily shrouded by oak trees and centered around a large pond. While my townhouse building was in the middle of a traditional neighborhood, this community was entirely single-story townhomes, each with a garage, covered front porch, and muted blue paint. They were modern without being brand-new, built maybe twenty years ago based on the condition of the exteriors.
The long stretches of interconnected homes formed a maze, and I found myself going in circles, unable to understand the inane numbering system used to mark both the buildings and the individual residences. Finally, I came across building number 8, house number 342; an end unit next to a dense cluster of trees. I squeezed my Camry into a driveway that was barely big enough to accommodate it. There was no front yard, only a thin row of hedges that separated Devin’s space from his neighbor’s.
He had a patterned brick walkway leading to his porch, which I studied as I approached his front door in the darkness. An overhead wall lantern flicked on, bathing the front porch in yellow light and making me jolt.
Devin had a smart doorbell with a camera, so he likely already knew I was there. Instead of ringing it, I gave a faint knock, aware of how late it was and not wanting to disturb the neighbors.
I heard faint footsteps from further back in the house, but I startled when a much smaller, definitely-not-human figure appeared in the side window.
Devin has a cat?
The fluffy brown tabby, who had a white belly and four white paws, opened its mouth and let out a quick trill of meows. I couldn’t tell if it was friendly, but I giggled as it raked its paws across the glass.
A metallic rattle shook the lock from inside the house, and the door swung open.
At first, my insides froze, fearing that I’d gone to the wrong residence and awoken a disgruntled neighbor. But even if I’d never seen him shirtless, with his impressive build and full tattoos on display, I knew that face smiling at me from the darkness.
I stepped forward, and Devin pulled me into a hug, closing the door behind me. We stood in silence for a few minutes, holding each other like we hadn’t been together in weeks. I slid my arms around his back, tracing the muscles of his shoulders and biceps with my fingertips. His bare skin against mine felt so good. Too good. I feared I’d be tempted to jump into bed with him without so much as a hello.
“I’m so happy you’re here.” His words finally broke the sweet stillness. I could tell by the warmth in his voice that he was just as relieved to see me as I was to see him.
He pulled me back from our embrace, running his fingers along my jawline. In the dim light of the foyer, I could see his familiar face, including the holes below his lips and in his ears where he’d taken his piercings out. He was shirtless and barefoot, only wearing a pair of black gym shorts, and for the first time, I could see the full extent of his tattoos.
In addition to his C I didn’t want to risk waking him.
My gaze returned to his face. Strands of his shaggy black hair fell over his brows, obscuring his forehead and closed eyelids. I’d never noticed how thick and dark his eyelashes were, and I giggled when they twitched in his sleep. I wondered what he was dreaming about.
I wondered if he was dreaming about me.
His breath hitched, and my body tensed as he shifted the arm behind his head and tilted his body closer to mine. Just as I reached out to rub his shoulder, at the part where his tattoo sleeve faded away to bare skin, his blue-green eyes fluttered open.
He blinked a few times, rousing himself back to reality, and a warm smile slid across his lips as he caught a glimpse of me lying next to him.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
I replied by pulling him closer, so our chests were touching, then our foreheads, then our lips. I kissed him eagerly as heat flushed both our bodies, and I was tempted to give myself to him all over again.
“Did you sleep well?” Devin asked.
“Yes,” I lied, snuggling closer to his bare chest. Despite my sleepless night, I was wide awake and buzzing with adrenaline.
We lay in silence for a few moments, with Devin rubbing my curly hair and me tracing the outlines of the tattoos on his chest. I let my thoughts drift back to our time in the shower, just like I had done repeatedly all morning. While the act itself was odd and took some acclimating, I took immense joy in how much pleasure it brought him. I ached to remember every detail: the way he braced himself against the shower wall with his fists gripping the side rails, the way he tilted his head back and cried out every time I went deeper. But most importantly, I could still feel the way he raked his fingers through my hair as I knelt before him, as he told me how wonderful and amazing and sexy I was between his ragged breaths.
Once we were finished, we held each other under the hissing stream of the waterfall shower, enjoying the warmth from both the hot water and our own burning attraction to each other. Water trailed down our faces and intermingled with our lips as we kissed, and I discovered that I thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of him pressing me against the shower wall.
And I was right. He felt even more amazing when we were both wet.
Now that we were both awake, I spent more time admiring him, tracing my hands over every unexplored inch of skin. I brushed strands of onyx-black hair away from his face, but my fingers paused above his dark eyebrow. A small, circular scar sat just above the hairline, and Devin gently pulled my fingers away and chuckled.
“Yeah…I used to have a lot more piercings,” he explained, rubbing his eyebrow. “I had my right eyebrow done, but also my nose and the cartilage of my ear.” He pointed to each scar and made a sideways gesture with his finger near the top of his ear. “I used to wear a bar through here.”
“What made you take them all out?”
“Well…when I took over Critical Games, I decided I needed to look more like a proper business owner and not like a cashier at Hot Topic from 2008.”
I giggled, and Devin crinkled his nose and rubbed my hair.
“Okay, well now I’ve gotta ask.” A devious smile crept across my face as I peered below the sheets. “Did you ever get it pierced?”
Devin was silent for a moment before bursting into laughter and running a hand over his face. “No, I wasn’t quite brave enough for that. ”
I peeked below the blankets, my gaze trailing down Devin’s chest and bare hips. I wondered what it would feel like if he had been pierced. Part of me was intrigued, and part of me feared it would make the tension in my vagina even worse.
As much as I’d enjoyed the night before, another pang of guilt slammed into me like waves crashing against the shoreline. No matter how wonderful it was, it still wasn’t sex. And I knew Devin wasn’t a virgin, and that in the past other women had been able to give him what I could not.
What kind of partner did that make me?
“Hey,” Devin rubbed my cheek with his thumb. “Something wrong? You look upset all of the sudden.”
I shook my head.
“Did you enjoy last night?”
I nodded. “Yes. Of course I did. It’s just…I’m sorry.”
Devin scoffed, a wry smile on his face. “I spent the night with a beautiful, naked woman in my bed, one who gave me a fantastic blowjob in the shower. What could you possibly have to be sorry for?”
“Just…the fact that it wasn’t sex. That’s all.”
“Avie…” Devin scolded in a gentle tone. “I think you’re too hung up on this. We’ll get there. Sex really isn’t a big deal.”
“But…” My voice trailed off. Telling him I was upset that I couldn’t please him the way other women could was only going to make me sound petty and insecure.
“Let me tell you something,” Devin continued, scooting himself closer to me. “Yes, I’ve had sex before. Many times. And you know what? Most of the time, I didn’t really enjoy it. Because as I got older, I realized that sex wasn’t actually what I wanted. I wanted intimacy, and it took me a long time to realize that those two things aren’t always the same.”
My gaze fell to the bedsheets, and Devin cupped a hand around my cheek .
“This was, hands-down, the best night I’ve ever had with any woman. So stop worrying so much about sex. Please?”
“Okay,” I replied in a reluctant tone. I wanted to believe him, but I knew my inadequacies and self-doubt would always lurk in the back of my mind.
Devin responded by wrapping his arm around me and pulling me toward his chest. As much as I loved his embrace, the tight, tense way he gripped me indicated that something heavy was on his mind.
“Listen, Avie…” His voice was soft with melancholy. “Just to give you some perspective on how insignificant this is. That night when you left…”
I cringed, embarrassment burning through my veins like acid. I hated thinking about that night.
“At first, I thought it was because of me. That my past drug addiction was too much for you.”
“What? No, Dev, I would never—”
“I would’ve understood,” he continued. His face was tense, like it was the night he first told me about his scars. “But it still killed me. So when I learned the real reason why you left, I wasn’t upset at all. In fact, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was relieved that the issue was something that, to me, is no big deal.”
“I don’t care about your past,” I blurted out forcefully, adamant to calm the emotion I could see welling up behind those sea-green eyes. “That was nine years ago, Dev. You’ve been clean for a long time. Honestly, I’m amazed at how far you’ve come.”
I pressed a hand against his cheek, and he took it in his and kissed the top of my knuckles.
“I meant it when I said you were incredible,” I whispered.
Devin was silent for a moment, his expression stiff and contemplative as he ran his thumb over my fingers .
Something new was on his mind. And I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“Can I say something?” he finally asked. I could hear the warble of uncertainty in his voice.
“Of course. Anything.”
“It’s going to sound insane. But I think you need to hear it. So you know how serious I am about you.”
My chest fluttered with anticipation. “What is it?”
“I love you, Avie.”
The world seemed to slow down after that, as those four words bounced around my skull like a pinball machine while I tried to process them. Shock was quickly replaced by joy, which then turned into the strongest feeling of adoration I’d ever had for anyone.
“I love you too, Dev.”
There was no hesitation. I didn’t need time to think it over. On the surface, it seemed insane to love someone after only two weeks of dating. But Dev and I went back way longer than that. I’d known him nearly my entire adult life. From our first kiss in the game shop, I knew he was the one. And even though I ran away, holding an unbearable secret that I feared would keep us apart, Devin still fought for me. His insistence on me going to the hospital was what got me my diagnosis. He comforted me when I was sick. He made me laugh when I got scared about my upcoming surgery.
But most importantly, he accepted me completely and wholly as I was. There was no act, no best-version-of-themselves fa?ade that people often wore when they first started dating. After all, we’d made the decision to be together while I was lying in a hospital bed. He’d already seen me at my worst.
Our relationship could only get better from here.
I could feel Devin’s hands shaking as he kissed me, wrapping his arms around my back and squeezing me like I was his whole world. I kissed him back, passionately, ferociously, and I would’ve gladly climbed back on top of him for round two if it weren’t already almost 6 a.m.
“I have to go.” The words hung ugly but true in the warm air as I pulled away from our embrace.
“Five more minutes,” Devin pleaded like a sappy-eyed child, his arms still wrapped firmly around my back.
“Fine,” I chuckled, settling back against his chest. He resumed stroking my curly hair, which I noticed was one of his favorite features of mine.
I wanted them to be the longest five minutes of my life. But I knew they’d pass in an instant.
There would be plenty of time for these moments later.
I just had to get through my surgery first.