Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
MY MAP
TULLY
The light through the curtains is the white-gray of a November morning. I’ve been awake for a while, watching the light shift incrementally across the ceiling. Lola is asleep on my chest, and it’s peaceful listening to her breathe.
How could Daniel pretend to care about me for so long when behind the scenes he was depriving me of this woman?
I can’t think about him right now. I don’t want him in this room.
Lola stirs, her legs stretching out. She tips her face up, and we look at each other in the morning light. I think, I would do anything to keep you looking at me exactly like this.
“Good morning,” she says.
“Good morning.”
She shifts to sit up, and the sheet falls slightly. I reach out and touch the tattoo on her shoulder.
“When did you get this?”
“Two years ago. Nadia, an artist I really love, did it. Have you seen this kind of flower before?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s incredible.” My fingers trail over her skin.
“It’s a night-blooming cereus—can you believe something this beautiful only blooms once, and when it does, it’s in the dark?”
I look at it for another moment. Then I lean down and press my mouth to the center of it, and she goes still.
“Tell me about the others,” I say against her skin.
She turns around to fully face me then, and we do it properly, carefully exploring each other’s art.
“I love your flower sleeve,” she says.
“Took a while, as you know.” I smile as I touch hers.
She smiles back. “I can’t seem to stay away from the flowers.”
“They suit you.”
She finds my broken clock and runs her thumb across the fracture lines.
“I love this one. It’s new to me,” she says.
“I got it about four years ago.”
A flicker of pain crosses her face. She spreads her palm flat over it and leaves it there for a moment like she’s trying to hold the broken parts in place, and I have to look at the ceiling for a second.
On her, I find the small swallow behind her right ear that’s hard to see unless she pulls her hair aside. I kiss it. A band of intricate vines trails over her skin, and I follow them with my fingers.
She runs her fingers over the 19 and the wolf, smiling like she’s remembering when she gave them to me. She leans in and runs her hand over my phrase.
Go be great.
“It’s something my mom wrote in my last birthday card from her. This is her handwriting,” I say.
Her breath catches slightly.
“I love that,” she says softly as she kisses it.
She finds the new piece on my left forearm—an arrow with a feather.
“This is beautiful.”
“It’s supposed to represent triumph over a life struggle.”
She leans in and kisses it too, and then she turns her back to me and lifts her hair, and down her spine is an arrow.
“This one represents direction and resilience.”
“It must have worked.” I kiss her back.
“It represented what I desperately needed, not what I already had.” She gives me a sad smile. “I’ll be back in a second.” She grabs my shirt and slides it over her head as she walks to the bathroom.
I take my turn when she’s done, brushing my teeth and washing up a bit.
When I come back, she’s straightening the bed.
I take her hand and she turns, looking up at me.
We kiss, finding our way back to each other like we did last night.
I loved exploring her in the dark, drinking in her scent, her taste, but in the light of day, seeing her body undulating over mine, and watching the shifting expressions on her face as she chases her pleasure—it’s a whole different kind of high.
“I love watching you feel good,” I say, rubbing circles over her as I stare up at this goddess riding me.
“You make me feel so good,” she says, starting to tremble. “Tully,” she cries. “Come with me.”
I give her what she needs. She comes so hard that holding out is challenging for me, but I don’t come yet. I want to make it last. I want to make her come until she’s completely spent.
Her second orgasm isn’t far behind her first, aftershocks that make her movements stutter as she moans. I give her a minute to catch her breath, and then I start teasing her nipples, slowly at first, and then I tug those fucking barbells, and the payoff is huge.
We both come so intensely, I forget my own name.
“My God,” she says, collapsing against my chest.
My hand moves slowly up and down her spine.
She leans up and looks at me.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I open my mouth, and nothing comes out. We both laugh.
“So that’s where the saying ‘fucked to oblivion’ comes from,” I finally say.
“That’s a saying?” she asks, laughing harder.
“Hmm. Isn’t it? Maybe it’s a song—I don’t know. But that’s what you just did to me. Fucked me right into oblivion.”
Her hair tickles my chest when her head falls forward, and we both groan when her laughter pushes me out of her.
She looks up at me and gives me pouty lips, which I promptly lean up to kiss before moving to take care of the condom.
Later, after we’re out of the shower and getting ready for the airport, I lean against the bathroom counter, facing her.
“Come to Windy Harbor for Thanksgiving,” I say.
She stares at me with an expression I can’t fully read.
“You’ve finally met my family. You loved each other.”
I can see her working through it. “Thanksgiving is a big deal. And it’s next week! Isn’t it too last minute?”
“Not for my family. Would your family have a problem with it?”
She bites her lip. “I haven’t exactly told them about all of this. With us and what we’re…doing. I don’t know what to tell them.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I get a sudden surge of panic.
“I mean—” She gestures between us. “I don’t know if we’ve defined what we’re doing.”
I stand up straighter and run my hand through my hair, reminding myself to breathe. “What do you think we’re doing?”
“I think we’re—” She pauses. “How would you describe it to your family?”
“They know you’re someone I care about. That’s all they need.”
“That’s not exactly an answer.”
“Okay.” I look at her. “Are you worried about how your family would feel if they knew we were talking again?”
Something moves across her face. “We’re doing more than talking, aren’t we…”
It isn’t quite a question. I feel the ground shift slightly under me anyway.
“Are we?” I ask. The words come out quieter than I mean them to.
Her expression changes. “Hey,” she says, putting her hand on my arm.
“I just—” I look down at her hand. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page. That’s all.”
“Tully.”
“Because last time we weren’t.” I’m not trying to do this, I’m not trying to open this door, but there it is.
“Last time I thought we were on the same page, and then you were gone. And I know why now, but—” I exhale.
“I know it wasn’t what I thought it was.
But that doesn’t mean I—” I press my hands flat against the counter and meet her eyes in the mirror.
“It doesn’t mean I automatically know how to stop waiting for you to leave again. ”
The room is very quiet.
I reach out, giving her every chance to pull back. My fingertips graze her wrist, then slide to her waist. She’s wearing a black lacy bra and matching panties, and her skin is fever-hot from the shower. “Tell me this isn’t just nostalgia, Lola. Tell me what we’re doing.”
She puts her hands on either side of my face.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I say quietly.
“I mean it, Tully. I love you. I never wanted to leave you. I thought I was doing what I had to do. I tried to fill the void, and it only left me feeling emptier inside. I don’t have any other secrets to reveal, I promise.
I want a future with you. I’ve been hesitant to make you feel rushed into anything now that you know the whole story. What can I do to help you believe me?”
I gaze down at her, so in love with her I can’t see straight. “It helps to hear all of those things. I could tell you were being careful at times, and I wasn’t fully sure how to read it.”
“If you’re feeling unsettled about anything, let’s talk about it. I haven’t done a good job of doing that, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.”
“Me neither. I want to talk about all the things. I’ll work on it.” I run my hand over my face and smirk. “You know, I never knew a moment of insecurity until you broke my heart.”
She puts her hand over her mouth and giggles. “Poor baby.”
“Shush. Do I really have to thank you for humbling me?”
She tries to keep from laughing. “Absolutely not.”
I kiss her because I can’t be near her for two seconds without having to.
“Love you, Trouble.”
“I love you so much.” Her hands wind through my hair, and then she smooths down my stache. “And I’ll work on coming to Windy Harbor.”
“Yeah?” I grin and then make a face. “I just don’t want your parents to hate me more than they already do.”
“They don’t hate you. Maybe the next visit can be to Nantucket, and you can finally meet my parents and brother.”
I nod. “Okay.”
She rubs her nose against mine and grins up at me. “You might have to keep the stache. I’m kind of getting attached.”
“Goldie will disown me if I keep it. She says it’s giving a 1985 gym teacher vibe.”
Lola bursts out laughing.
“She says since we’re twins, I’m making her ugly by association. Which just isn’t right—it’s not like we’re identical!”
Lola laughs harder, and I have to keep going—it’s too fun to make her laugh.
“She says I look like someone who’s been asked to leave White Castle.”
Lola gasps, her eyes bulging.
“I know, right? I thought that was going too far too.” I start laughing again. “She said, ‘Tully, my future children will have your genes, and I really need you to think about that.’”
When I pull off Goldie’s voice a little too accurately, Lola clutches her stomach, she’s laughing so hard.
“You might have to keep it, just so Goldie can keep working on her material,” she manages to get out.