Chapter 15
AYLA
“I need to talk to you,” I whisper to Rachel.
“Sure. Now?”
I shake my head. “No. Too many people around.”
“What’s going on?”
“Things are weird. I slept with Carson last night.”
She lets out a shriek that attracts the attention of many family members.
“Shh.” I scrunch up my face. “Also I have a phone appointment with my therapist in ten minutes. After that, I’ll try to find you.”
With wide eyes, she nods. “Holy shit, Ayla.”
“I know, I know. Nonna is supposed to arrive soon and it’ll probably be while I’m on the phone. Oh well.”
I glue an expression of good humor on my face and greet Rachel’s parents, Uncle Jordan and Aunt Ellie, then Rachel’s brother Blake.
My cousin Clark arrives with his wife and three kids ages two, four, and six.
I get sticky-fingered hugs from them. Then I have to find somewhere to make my call.
Back at the cottage? That’s probably safest.
I slip out of the pavilion but not before Carson spots me and follows me. “Hey. Where are you going?”
I grip my phone. “I, uh, have to go back to the cottage for a few minutes.”
“Something I can do? You probably want to stay here.”
I shake my head. “No. I have to do it. I, uh, forgot to shave my legs.”
His eyebrows shoot up, then his gaze drops to my jeans.
“I’ll be back in a jiff!” I take off down the path.
It’s another brilliant day, the sun a glowing yellow ball in the blue sky, the snow blindingly white. My cell phone rings just as I reach the cottage and I step inside, close and lock the door, and answer it.
I lay out the problem for my therapist, Tessa. “I don’t think I’m still in love with him?” I finish. “But I’m still attracted to him.”
I wait for her to speak. “That’s not uncommon.
And it makes sense, when you think that during the time you were together, your body created strong associations between Carson and sex.
These connections become part of you, and who you are.
Like other routines in a relationship—sharing meals, watching a certain TV show—but sex is intimate and vulnerable, so it can create an even stronger memory. ”
“Okay.”
“Obviously, that doesn’t disappear overnight when the relationship ends. It happens to many people. Some feel fear, shame, or anxiety about it, but it’s a natural part of the grieving process.”
“Yes.” I sit on the couch. “All that. And confusion. So what do I do about it?”
“Well, the first thing is to not be hard on yourself. Now you know these feelings are part of the grieving process and they’re normal. They won’t last forever.”
I nod.
“It’s also good to create some distance between you and your ex. Don’t follow him or interact on social media. Don’t stay in touch.”
“I’m doing that all wrong.” I flop back on the couch. I tell her about being with Carson for the weekend, but also that I’ve decided to sell the house so I won’t have anything connecting me to him anymore.
She approves of that idea. “You do need space to heal. However, sharing a hotel room with him for four days is probably not a good idea.”
I close my eyes. “Yeah.”
“The other thing to do is to relearn who you are as a sexual person without your ex.”
“Uh… does that mean having sex with other men?”
“That could be, yes.”
“I can’t do that.” The words pop out of me without thought.
“Why not?”
“I’m just not interested in anyone else.”
“That’s fine. Be patient. It might not happen right away. Don’t try to force it. Don’t use dating or sex as a way of moving on. You should be moving on first. Maybe consider masturbating regularly.”
“Oh, I do that all right.”
“Good. You need to rediscover pleasure and intimacy outside your relationship with Carson. What you should not do is have sex with him. It might be tempting, but that just reopens old wounds and makes things harder.”
Her words piss me off. Like… was I hoping she would tell me I should sleep with Carson? Get it out my system? Ha. “Understood.”
“Just remember that being sexually attracted to your ex isn’t a sign of weakness or failure. Rather, it’s evidence of how strong and meaningful your sexual connection was.”
“It was,” I say in a small voice.
“It also shows your capacity for love and intimacy. It might take time to get past that, but this depth will be important in future relationships.”
“Okay. I get that.”
We chat a bit more and end the call. I drop my phone and lean my head back to reflect on what I just heard.
Honestly, it’s kind of depressing. But at least I know it’s a normal part of a break-up and not something that’s wrong with me.
It will take time and I may have not thought through this plan of bringing Carson here, but I’m taking the right steps by selling the house.
Why do I feel so sad?
Shit.
A knock at the door startles me. Is that Carson? No. He has a key.
I jump up and hurry over. It’s Rachel standing on the veranda. I fling open the door. “Perfect timing. Come in.”
“Okay, what in the holy chicken fried squirrel is going on? Spill the tea! I can’t believe you slept with him!”
“It was just sleep! We didn’t have sex.”
“Oh.” She almost looks disappointed.
I fill her in on yesterday’s events and how I want to jump Carson’s hot bones and ride him like a pony.
She grins. Then waves her hands in front of her face. “No, no. You can’t do that.”
My shoulders sag. “I know. Tessa told me that, too.”
“Did she tell you that taking your ex back is like trying to put poop back in your butt?”
My mouth drops open and then I collapse into giggles. “Rachel!”
“I mean, I liked Carson, but you two were so unhappy. I don’t know if getting back together is a good idea.”
“Did I say anything about getting back together? I was talking about fucking.”
“Still not a good idea.”
The sigh that passes my lips could blow the door down. “I know. It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m good. Carson and I are on the same page. We just have to get through the weekend and then when I sell the house, I’ll never have to see him again.”
“Okay. Good. Because you know, when you throw out the trash, you don’t go outside to see how it’s doing, right?”
I frown at her. “He’s not trash, Rachel.”
Her mouth works into a pucker. “I know. It’s a metaphor.”
“We better get back there. Nonna is probably here by now.”
“Probably. Come on.” She takes my arm and leads me out of the cottage.
Back at the pavilion, more family has arrived and I throw myself into greeting relatives with hugs and kisses and smiles. Carson finds me and slides an arm around my waist, smiling at me adoringly. It almost takes my knees out. “Legs all silky smooth now?” he asks near my ear.
“Uh. Yes.”
“Good to know.”
My belly swoops like a swallow snatching an insect out of mid-air.
Luckily, my two sisters arrive.
“Ayla!” they both cry, pouncing on me.
We hug and laugh. I admire Elisa’s new haircut and Bria’s scarf. Then they look at Carson. Their eyes could cut diamonds.
“Hello, Carson,” Elisa says. “So great to see you again.” Her tone of voice is absolutely saying the opposite.
He bites back a grin. “Likewise. And Bria. How are you?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why do you want to know?”
Awkward silence descends around us.
“Bria.” I give her a look.
She tosses her hair back. “I’m fine. And how are you, Carter?”
Carson laughs out loud. “Just happy to be here.”
“You two have to be nice to Carson,” I whisper to my sisters. “People think we’re still together.”
“This is so fucking weird,” Bria mutters.
My phone buzzes and I glance at it. “Oh! They’re here. Aunt Melissa just texted me. They’re going to drop Nonna off out front here, then go park.” I start to move away. Then I decide it’s probably safer not to leave Carson with my sisters, so I grab his arm and tow him along with me.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter. “They’re just being protective of me.”
“I know. I get it.”
Uncle Vince pulls up in his SUV and Aunt Melissa appears from the back door, meaning Nonna must be up front. Carson and I round the vehicle to open the door and help her.
“Hello, Nonna!” I beam at her. “You made it.”
“Like I would miss my own birthday party?”
Carson helps her out of the vehicle and Aunt Melissa brings her walker. I hug her. “How are you?”
“My name wasn’t in today’s obituaries, so I’m doing great.”
My eyes meet with Carson’s in a little pop of amusement and I laugh.
“Hello, handsome.” Nonna pauses to beam at Carson. “It’s so good to see you. Help me into this place.”
I purse my lips in merriment as Carson escorts her into the pavilion. I follow with Aunt Melissa while Uncle Vince goes to park the car.
Of course Nonna is mobbed by everyone and I have to take control of the room by announcing that there’s a buffet lunch and everyone should find a seat.
I make sure Nonna has her place at the table reserved for her, her three surviving children, and their spouses.
Carson and I sit nearby with my parents and sisters but before I take my seat, I fill a plate with food for Nonna.
“Thank you, dolcezza.” She pats my hand. “Go have your lunch. We’ll talk more later.”
I eat my lunch to the barbed comments of Elisa and Bria directed at Carson, and my parents trying to act like everything is normal and being way too animated and effusive toward Carson.
I try to distract Elisa by asking questions about her job as a software engineer at a big investment company, and I quiz Bria for news about her graduate studies at the University of Chicago.
Then Dad starts talking hockey and he and Carson relax a little.
When I’ve finished, Grandpa and I get back up to the microphone. I’ve prepared a few things for Grandpa to say, welcoming the family and giving a quick outline of what to expect for the next few days.
Grandpa accompanies me back to the table and Carson rises to shake his hand. “Uncle Ernie. Good to see you.”
“Interesting to see you, too,” Grandpa says. He looks at me and shakes his head. I know he doesn’t approve of this plan. Does anyone, actually? Besides me? I’m not sure if I even approve of it; it was Rachel’s idea. But I did execute it. So far, so good.
As we mingle and talk to family, Carson sticks close to my side, sometimes holding my hand, staring at me lovingly, smiling at me.
It pisses me off.
When he pats my butt, I freeze. “Stop it!” I hiss at him.
“I’m just a husband admiring his wife’s ass.”
“Argh.” I glare at him. “We don’t have to go this far.”
“Why not?” He so close, I can see every eyelash around his eyes and the sparks of gold in his irises. “You don’t like it?”
“No!”
That’s a lie.
I like it too much.
He shakes his head.
“Just keep your hands to yourself!”
As I say the words, my cousin Clark appears beside us.
His eyebrows shoot up and he darts his eyes between us. “Uh… trouble in paradise?”
Shit.
Heat floods my veins and runs into my face. No doubt I’m as red as a goal light.
“Nope.” Carson sets his hands on my waist and pulls me close. “Just a little difference of opinion. Right, sweetheart?”
I look up at him, trying not to scowl. I drag a smile up from my toes. “Right.”
And once more, he kisses me. That kiss yesterday in front of Norm was startling. This one is disturbing. His mouth on mine is familiar… but seductive. My eyes fall closed, my mouth opens to him, and I want to cling to him and kiss him again… and again.
Clark clears his throat.
Carson breaks the kiss and draws back.
I blink several times, my lips parted. “Um…”
“I think it’s time for the outdoor activities,” Carson says.
“Right. Right.”
The kids are eager to go tube sledding and things are all ready for them once they’re dressed in outerwear. They run screaming across the snow toward the slope, followed by parents. And Carson and me. I’m still reeling from the kiss.
“I want to do this, too,” Carson says, and my cousin Ashley’s husband laughs and agrees.
“Hell, yeah. This looks fun.”
The kids all get helmets and one of the lodge’s employees shows them what to do.
While Ashley helps her three-year-old, Madison, and her husband helps five-year-old Liam, Carson takes baby Marco.
My heart stops. Carson holding a baby who’s about the age our baby was when he died.
Carson looks down at the tiny being in his arms wearing a puffy navy snowsuit, and his throat works as he swallows. A muscle tics in his jaw and his mouth compresses. Marco gazes back at Carson with a furrowed forehead.
This can’t be the first time Carson’s seen a baby since Kane died. Is it? No, I’m sure he met Ford’s daughter. Ford is one of the goalies for the Storm and a while back discovered he was a father. Long story. I was still struggling when that happened and definitely did not want to meet Ford’s baby.
Carson looks like he might cry. Is he okay? I bite the inside of my bottom lip, anxiety a tight knot in my stomach. Should I go take the baby from him?
Then he looks up at me and meets my eyes.
Oh God. The clenched jaw, the burning eyes…
I swallow, my throat pinched. I take a step toward him. And another.
“Want me to take him?” I ask lightly.
“I’m good.” His voice is gruff. He looks back down at Marco.
“Hi, Marco.” I try to sound normal and not like I’m dying inside for Carson’s misery. “Do you want to go tubing, too?” I tug his knit hat a little lower on his forehead.
“Bah!” He kicks his legs. “Bah aaaaaah da.”
“That’s right, tubing’s only for the big kids. But you’ll do it soon.”
Ashley tramps through the snow toward us. “Thanks for taking him.”
“No worries.” Carson hands him back to his mom and smiles tightly.
I move closer to him, slide my arm into his and ask quietly, “Okay?”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”
Uh huh. My chest goes hot and soft and I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him, but he’s stiff and not looking at me.
We watch the kids for a while and I feel some of Carson’s tension ease. When some of the adults want to get in on the fun, Carson’s the first to slide down the snowy slope, laughing the whole way. I blow out a breath. He’s laughing. That’s good.
“Come on, you wanna try it, you know you do!” he calls to me when he’s back up at the top of the hill.
I hesitate, then grin and run over to get a helmet and a tube. I wait my turn, then push off, gripping the handles as tightly as I can. I pick up speed and let out a little scream, the air cold on my face, but I’m laughing because it’s fun.
Carson goes down the track next to me and arrives at the bottom the same time as me. We’re both cackling so hard, we almost can’t get out of our tubes to take the carpet lift back up.
“Oh my God, that was amazing!”
“Let’s go again.”
“I shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be overseeing things back at the pavilion.”
“Oh, come on. You deserve to have fun, too.”
I tilt my head. “You’re right. I do.” And so does he.
Our eyes meet. “Attagirl.”