Letters from Becca: A Contemporary Romance Fiction Novel (21 page)

John shook his head to regroup.  Marissa could always get into his head.  Maybe because she was always in his heart.  If only his heart wasn’t always pulling him in another direction.  He headed toward the bar.  As he neared it, he spied Becca out of the corner of his eye.  His face lit up and he made his way to her, oblivious to everyone else.  He arrived at the small group of old classmates, none of whom he recognized, and looked at each of their nametags, memorizing their names.

Buddy Preston, a large, loud man with little hair and small fingers was talking with his hands, an unlit cigar in one and a bottle of beer in the other.  He smiled and nodded at John as he walked up and stood at Becca’s shoulder.  Everyone turned, including Becca.  She smiled at him while Buddy continued to talk.  “Helluva deal, boys.  Helluva deal.”  He pointed at John with his stubby finger.  “I know you,” he said, racking his brain.  “You’re, uh,” he said, pointing harder as if it would help him remember.

John stuck out his chest.  “John Montgomery.”

“That’s right.  John Montgomery.  I knew’d it was you.  How the hell are you, man?”

John smiled and offered his hand over Becca’s shoulder, having no clue who this guy was or if he even knew him.  He glanced again at the man’s nametag.  “I’m good, Buddy.  How’ve you been?”

Buddy wiped the sweat from his brow.  “Couldn’t be any better.  “I was just telling Becky, here, how great business is nowadays.”

“Becca,” John said softly.

“Don’t correct him, he’ll just start over,” she said through her teeth.  “He’s on a roll.”

“I’m in the promotions business.  You know, up and coming young professionals, entertainers, down in Nashville.”

John smiled.  “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, it is.  It is, Jim,” he said.

“John,” he corrected.

“What’s that?”

Becca elbowed John gently in the stomach.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning.  “Go on.  You were saying.”

Buddy moved his finger to his chin.  “What
was
I sayin?”

“Up and coming young professionals, entertainers, down in Nashville,” John recited.

“Oh, yeah.  Right,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” John bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

“Like I was saying,” he continued.

Becca tried to contain her snicker, putting her hand over her mouth casually.

“Oh, sorry.  Gotta run, fellas.  My wife’s jerking my chain over there, so I gotta’ go.”

Buddy stuffed his cigar into his mouth and reached out to shake hands all around.  He turned to John.  “Joe, good to see you again.”

“John,” he said softly.

Becca elbowed him again.

“What?” Buddy asked.  “Sorry son, a little hard of hearing, you know.  Being married and all,” he laughed.

“Nothing,” John shook the stranger’s hand.  “Buddy.  Good to see you again.”

Buddy nodded to Becca and the other ladies, walking toward his beckoning wife.

Becca turned and slapped him in the chest.  “You’re so bad.”

“I never really liked that guy in high school,” he said, shaking his head.

“Did we even know that guy in high school?” she asked, laughing aloud.

John laughed as well.  “I have no idea.”

Their nervous laughter concluded as they both drew in deep breaths.

John looked around casually.  “So, you decided to come after all.”

Becca looked up at him.  “You, too.”

A waiter walked slowly toward them carrying a fresh tray of wine.  John grabbed two glasses from it and held one out to her.

Becca shook her head.  “No thanks,” she smiled.

John downed one glass in two gulps, setting it back on the tray before the uniformed man finished passing them.  He held up the second one to her, downing it, as well.  He smiled, tossed it over his shoulder, and it crashed against the wall.

Becca covered her laugh.  “What’s gotten into you?”

John felt like he did in high school, trying to impress her all over again.  “You want to dance?”

Becca grinned.  “Sure.  But shouldn’t we wait until they start playing again?”

John held out his hand.

Becca shook her head, rolled her eyes and placed her hand in his.  Slowly he led her onto the dance floor.  John stopped in the middle of the empty floor, wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her against him.  He began to move them, to the music in his head.  He closed his eyes and turned her easily in a circle, pressing his cheek to her head.  The DJ glanced at the dance floor and smiled, selected Roberta Flack, then began to play
“The First Time”
for the lone couple on the floor.

“I picked up the phone a hundred times to call you,” John began.

“Me, too,” she said meekly.  “Look, John.  I’m so sorry about…”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, in her defense.

“I wish I could explain.”

“You don’t have to explain, either,” he said, sweetly.

“But,” she interrupted.

“Just hear me out, okay?”  John looked over her shoulder taking a deep breath.  “Look, there are so many things I need to tell you.  Things that have gone unsaid for so long.  And I can’t say them if you keep interrupting me.”

Becca bit her lip again, then smiled.  “Sorry.  Go on.”

“Ever since we were little kids, you and me, we felt like a perfect fit.  We’ve always been a part of each other.  No matter what happened, it’s always been you and me, Becca.  I don’t remember anything before you.  My life didn’t begin until you were in it,” he explained.  “I always felt like I had to save you.  Take care of you.  Protect you.”

“But you didn’t,” she reasoned.

John gave her a reprimanding glance, before he smiled.  “Let me finish, please,” he said firmly, as they continued to move slowly to the music.  “I know I didn’t have to,” John said.  “Maybe it was that I wanted to.  Or maybe it was that I felt I needed to.  I don’t think I ever really knew what it was I wanted.  I thought I did.  And then when I left you here, I felt I’d left the best part of me behind.  It was like a piece of me was always missing.”  He drew in another deep breath for confidence.  “It hurt so badly.  Finally, I came back for you, but you had already moved on with David.”

Becca looked away for a moment before looking back into his eyes.

“And I was somehow stuck.  I couldn’t move on,” he said.  Because I was never over you.  Every time I’d see you, I’d fall in love with you all over again,” he said, brushing back her bangs from her brow.  “So I accepted my fate, to love you from afar.  And when you married David, I felt so broken.”

As John looked down, Becca moved her hand from his and cupped his cheek in it.

John sighed.  “I accepted that we’d always be friends, nothing more.” He shook his head sadly, remembering how much it hurt.  “Then David died.  And suddenly both our worlds turned upside down.  I fought those feelings all over again.  God, how I fought those feelings.  Every day.  I tortured myself with the guilt—the guilt I felt for wanting you even more.  My best friend was dead, and all I could think about was holding you.  Taking care of you.  Protecting you.” He looked her in the eyes, which were welling with tears.  John swallowed deeply.  “Making love to you.”  He lowered his head in shame, then looked her in the eyes again.  “How sick is that?” He shook his head, “I was so very selfish… I was taking advantage—”

“But you didn’t,” she said, maintaining eye contact.

“Let me finish, please.”  John put his finger to her lips.  “I took advantage of our friendship, and I took advantage of your trust.  You were still vulnerable, and I had no right to complicate things more.  And don’t say I didn’t, because I know I did.  I hurt you.  I hurt the boys.  And I’m so ashamed.  And I’m so, so very sorry.”  John drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  “Phew!  I rehearsed that over and over in my head a thousand times since that night.  I wanted to tell you that.  Needed to tell you...” his voice trailed off.

“You came all the way here for that?” she asked with a soft smile.

“Well, I figured since I used up all your recorder tape, when I just couldn’t say anything.”  He shook his head.  “I’m surprised you didn’t get a new number since you had so many hang-ups.”

“Here I thought it was an obscene caller with lousy timing.”

“It was,” he grinned.

She matched his smile.  “Or a secret admirer who was too shy.”

John looked up sheepishly.  “That, too.  Only he wasn’t shy; he was a coward.  He couldn’t follow through.”  He sighed dramatically.  “So I figured I’d just fade into your past, with that last sad, memory of my pathetic and not-so-well-timed attempt to seduce you.  When I inadvertently got an invitation to a reunion for a school I never graduated from, I figured, what the hell?” He looked out over her shoulder as he spun her.  “I thought, if she’s there, I’ll just jump completely off the cliff and make a complete fool of myself in person,” he chuckled nervously.  “That’s why my hands are sweating, and my stomach is in knots, because I was determined to finally say to you what I should have told you a long, long time ago.  I’m sorry Becca.  I’m sorry I hurt you.  I’m sorry when I wasn’t there for you.  I’m sorry I didn’t call you or write you.  I’m sorry if I disappointed you.  I’m sorry,” he dropped his head to her shoulder.  “I’ve missed you in my life, Becca.”  He raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“Shut up already and kiss me,” she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him gently.  They separated if only for just a moment, before embracing, oblivious to everyone else around them, not realizing they were the only ones not dancing.  They kissed, decades of desire between them culminating at that moment.  Becca stopped, looking into his eyes again.  “I’m sorry, too,” she smiled sweetly, while caressing his cheeks.  “And I’ve missed you, too.”

Random strangers watched from the carpet as John and Becca danced.  Marissa sipped the last of her drink as she watched them move as one.  Her mind and her heart pleaded for this not to be real.  Then they kissed.  Tears rolled down her cheeks as she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Becca stood outside the door, hesitating before she knocked.  She drew in a deep breath and tapped softly.  John immediately opened the door, startling her.  She gasped, then grinned awkwardly.

John held the door open and stepped aside for her to walk in.

“Hmm,” she said, glancing about the room.  “Looks just like ours.”  She walked into the combination sitting area and bedroom and turned, as if there was much more to take in than was right before her.  She walked straight to the patio doors and opened the curtains slightly.  She wrestled with the door lock for a moment until John walked up behind her, reached around her and unlocked it.  She closed her eyes, feeling his breath on her cheek.  Becca slid the doors open easily allowing the warm outdoor air to envelop them.  John pulled the curtains aside as Becca stepped out onto the balcony.  “Nice view,” she said, looking down at the parking lot.  “I at least get to see the pool from my room.”

John walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Her hands gently caressed his.  Slowly she turned in his arms.  She reached up and kissed him gently on the lips, then lowered her head to his chest.  “God, I can’t believe I’m shaking.”

John wrapped himself around her.  “Cold?”

Becca shook her head as she looked up into his eyes.

John smiled and kissed her nose.

“I think I can use that drink now,” she smiled.

John backed up, holding up his finger.  “Be right back.”  He cursed himself for not being more prepared in his eagerness to impress.  He walked into his room and immediately dialed room service.  “A bottle of champagne, please, with two glasses.”  He glanced out the patio door as Becca stood in the wind, her long tresses blowing behind her.  “Yes, strawberries would be nice,” he nodded.  “How long?” He tapped his finger impatiently on the nightstand.  “I’ll come down then,” he said.  “Hotel bar?  Okay, thank you.”

John hung up the phone and then looked at himself in the mirror.  He stared into the glass blankly, quickly looking away, unable to meet his own eyes.  Ashamed.  He walked back onto the patio.  Becca stood in the warm night air, holding her arms tight around herself.  He wrapped himself around her as well.  “Room service wants me to pick up,” he chuckled.  “Seems they’re behind on delivering,” he smiled.  “Something about a high school reunion.”  He kissed the back of her head.  “I can pick it up in fifteen minutes, or it will take them an hour to deliver.”

Becca closed her eyes and leaned back on his chest.  “How did we end up here, John?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she began, as she turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest again.  “I don’t know what I mean,” she sighed.

He stroked her hair, and when she raised her head and looked up at him, his hands moved to her cheeks.  “I love you, Becca.”

“I love you, too,” she said, before laying her cheek against his chest, staring ahead into the night sky.

“I was thinking that we need to find a way to tell the boys,” he began.  “I mean; it would take me awhile to get everything taken care of that I would need to move back to San Antonio.”

“Don’t talk,” she said, turning in his grip.  “I don’t want to talk.  Please, John, just kiss me,” she said, pulling his head to hers.  So he did.  Like it was his first chance to show her how much he loved her.  Like it was the last chance for him to prove how much he wanted her.  He kissed her as he’d never kissed her before, each of their tongues rediscovering the other’s, with a passion beyond intimacy.  Becca pulled away, both of them gasping.  He brushed back her hair, looking deeply into her eyes.  He wanted to speak, he tried to speak, his emotions showing on his face.

Becca smiled nervously.  “Where’s that champagne?”

“Be right back,” he said stepping away; then stepping back to kiss her again.

Becca giggled.  Her smile faded as he turned to leave.

John grabbed his wallet and walked back to her, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her again.  He leaned her back and nibbled on her neck.

“Quit stalling,” she laughed.

He tapped her on the end of the nose before rushing out the door.  He waited as patiently as an impatient man could for the elevator to arrive.  He shuffled and shook his leg uncomfortably, hoping no one would be walking off the elevator when he walked on, so as to embarrass them both.  Thankfully, the elevator was empty and there were few people in the lobby, since the reunion was still going strong in the ballroom.  He walked hurriedly to the bar and up to the hostess.  “Picking up a to-go order,” he said anxiously.

The hostess pointed toward the bar, so he made a beeline to the bartender.  The bartender smiled pleasantly and placed a napkin on the counter before him.  “What can I get you, sir?”

“I’m picking up an order for room 318.”

“The kitchen is backed up right now, but I’ll check on it,” she said, turning and walking away before he could speak.

“It’s just a bottle of champagne,” he muttered under his breath.

John leaned on the bar, restlessly tapping his key on the counter.

“Hey sailor, come here often?”

John turned.  Marissa was sitting on a barstool leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.  John furrowed his brow.  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Just took it up, actually,” she said flatly.  “Someone told me it was calming to the nerves.”

John laughed.  “Yeah, seems I heard that somewhere, too.”

“Join me in a drink?” she said, holding hers up.

“Drinking alone?  Never a good thing,” he cautioned.

Marissa leaned forward, shaking her fingers, the cigarette between them.  “Don’t judge.”

John raised his hands.  “Hey, I’m the last one to judge,” he said.

Marissa leaned back against the wall and shook her head, turning away from him.

John stood there for another moment, his impatience wearing on his face.

Marissa took a long drag on her cigarette.  “You look like you’re in a hurry, a man on a mission,” she said, drawing out the words.  When John didn’t say anything, she added, “I told her.”

John bit his lips, contemplated a moment, then walked to the stool next to hers, staring at her.

She made a face.  “I told her, and she didn’t even care.”  Marissa mashed out her cigarette.  “She didn’t care.”  She threw up her hands then shook her head before turning to face him.  “Is she waiting for you?  Becca?”

John lowered his head as he took another step toward her.

Marissa held out her hand.  “Don’t,” she began, tears welling in her eyes.  She refused to face him, looking skyward, as if the tears would dry up or not fall, but it didn’t work.  She finally, angrily brushed them away, turning to face him.  “You know, I used to have so much respect for you, because you were respectful of her and her marriage.  You loved her all that time, but you stepped back—the whole time,” she began sobbing.  “The whole time you were with me, I knew it was her you wanted, even though I tried to convince myself that you loved me.”

“I’ll always love you,” he said, stepping to her.

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head.  “Don’t.” She began sobbing again.  “You don’t have to pretend anymore, John.”

“Marissa, you don’t have to do this.”

She looked him in the eyes.  “
I
don’t have to do this?” she asked angrily wiping her tears.  “No, John,
you
don’t have to do this.”  She shakily lit another cigarette.  “You two are all I have left in the world.  You’re it!” she exclaimed.  “And it breaks my heart that she would dishonor herself and everything she believes in by doing this and that you would
let
her.”  She took a long drag on her cigarette.

John looked at her with surprise in his eyes before quickly looking away from her, hurt and anger building inside.

“I thought I knew her.  I thought if I told her the truth, she would walk away, and be able to face herself in the morning.  But do you know what she said?” she took a sip of her drink.  “She said she didn’t care,” she said, dragging out the words.  “She said she was so sad and so lonely and missed David so much that she just wanted someone to hold her, to love her.”  Marissa wiped her tears again.

John looked back at her, fighting tears, the words burning into his heart.

The bartender walked out with the bottle of champagne and a to-go container of strawberries.  John didn’t even see her.  She watched the two of them talking, realizing it was an intense conversation, so she stepped away.

Marissa spun her lighter on the counter.  “We’re a pathetic bunch,” she said, shaking her head.  “We each want someone we can’t have.”  She downed the rest of her glass.  “I’m sorry, John,” she said.  “I’m not telling you this to hurt you,” she said, shaking her head slowly.  “I’m saving Becca from herself, by telling you.”  She lowered her head, trying to catch his attention and keep it.  “She’s the only innocent one in all this.  She has enough painful memories in her life, don’t let this be one of them.  Don’t let this be the last one with you,” she said, wiping her tears again.

John felt his face getting hot with anger.  “Why are you telling me this?”

Marissa forced a smile.  “Because I believe you love her enough to not let her do this.  I
trust
you love her that much.”

John glared at her, before turning to the bartender.  “How much?” he asked.

The bartender handed him the ticket and he tossed two twenties onto the counter.  “Keep the change,” he said.  She handed him the bottle, two glasses and the container of strawberries.  “Thank you,” he said forcing a smile.

“John,” Marissa said.  “Don’t let her do this.”

John glared at her once more as he walked away.

“John,” she called after him.  “She’ll never forgive herself,” she yelled louder.  “She’ll never forgive you.”

Marissa turned and sobbed into the palms of her hands.  She motioned to the bartender for more napkins without looking up, blew her nose on them and tossed them aside.  “Hit me,” she said.

“Ginger ale?” the bartender asked.

Marissa nodded and lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply.  “Goodbye, John,” she said, as she watched him get onto the elevator from the mirrored bar in front of her.  When he disappeared she stared at herself in the mirror, then dropped her head to her arms and sobbed.

John stared at the scuffed wooden floor in the elevator.  He felt such rage he wanted to scream.  How dare she?  How could she?  John slowly looked up at the polished metal wall, at his distorted reflection.  He realized he was crying and felt foolish.  He angrily wiped away the tears, pacing in a circle.  Suddenly as the door opened, a couple that was laughing was startled by his presence and quieted.  They waited for him to step off, as he stood there momentarily confused.  He was still on the first floor.  He hadn’t even pushed the button.  When John didn’t step off, they looked at him strangely and then at each other before stepping on.

“Third floor,” the man said, since John was standing before the panel.

John reached over and pressed three.

He could hear the couple giggling and kissing behind his back, whispering loving things to each other.  He moved the strawberries into his other arm and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.  His head was starting to hurt.  He glanced slightly to his right and saw the room number on their envelope.  The elevator dinged upon arrival, and the couple began to step off the elevator.

“Excuse me,” he said, startling them again as they passed.

“Are you the couple in room three ten?”

“Yes,” the man answered, holding his wife’s hand.

John drew in a deep breath and smiled.  “Compliments of management,” he said, handing them the champagne, glasses and strawberries.

The couple’s faces lit up.  “Really?”  They looked at each other.  “Thank you so much,” they said, as they kissed and hurried to their room.

John stepped back onto the elevator and pressed one.  He sat down on the cushioned bench inside the elevator, dropped his head into his hands and wept.