Sting (23 page)

“Meditation?” he says with interest.

“Yeah. Knowing Gabs though, I can’t imagine it’ll be all that quiet.” When we went to a free yoga class last year, she got to the point of laughter where wetting herself was imminent. She just couldn’t get over the posers in the class, especially the guys, taking all the moves so seriously. When we had to do a move, downward dog I think it was called, I had to drag her out of there. Needless to say, it was our first, and last, yoga class.

“And then you’re going home?”
Inquisitive this evening
.

“Yeah, otherwise if I crash there, Sienna will sneak into my bed and wiggle her butt around and I’ll never get any sleep.”

“Text me when you get home?”

“Sure thing. As soon as my head hits the pillow.”

“Good. You know I’m only a call away if you need anything,” he says, emphasis on his last word.

Strange
. Is he worried about me being alone? Why the sudden concern? I shake off the questions roaming around my head. Why question his motives? I’m lucky to have a beautiful, sexy man that is thoughtful enough to care.

“I will. You know, I can’t wait for Sunday dinner,” I say, twirling my finger through my hair. I forget how long it is when I finally let it down.

“You and me both, Blondie. Prepare yourself to be shagged senseless,” his words progress into more of a primal growl.

Immediately heat rushes to my face, and the growing ache between my legs intensifies. “I can’t wait.”

“I miss you,” he says.

Aw.
“I miss you too. Work is so over-rated.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So do you want me to bring dessert?”
Lemon meringue, perhaps?

“Whatever you can manage, Blondie. I’ll eat you with or without it.”

A vision of his head between my legs has me gripping the countertop to steady myself.
Oh my
.

“I can’t wait.”

We mutter our goodbyes and then I disconnect the call.

“Love you,” I whisper to myself, staring at the selfie of the two of us on my phone’s home screen.

Maybe one day soon, I’ll get up the courage to say it to his handsome face.

Maybe Sunday.

Now that Jacob is behind bars, my heart is no longer heavy, burdened with the past. I can make more room for Ryan.

I can let him in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WILLOW

Pots and pans clang from a distance as Jane cooks dinner and nags Sienna every few minutes to hurry up and finish her cheesy tuna pasta.

I check the purple colour on Gabs’ hair and unwrap the plastic cling wrap from her head. “Are you sure this colour is going to work out okay, Gabs?”

“I can’t get in to see Mel; she’s always so busy. A change is as good as a holiday, and today, I need a fuckin’ holiday.”

“True. The last few weeks have wrung me out. I’m exhausted.”

“One of these days, you and I are going to holiday in style, lady. Sexy cabana boys, endless cocktails, sand and sunshine.”

She leans her head over the bath. Equipped with plastic gloves, and holding the detachable hand nozzle over her head, I rub the fingers on my other hand over her scalp, working the coloured cream from her hair. Purple water fills the bottom of the white tub, fading with each minute.

“I need to get one of these nozzles.”

“What for?” she asks as I run conditioner through her long locks with a wide-toothed comb.

“My bathroom is old and in desperate need of a revamp.”

“Lady, the only thing these nozzles are good for are for a wet orgasm. You have a delicious man to do that for you.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I can’t help but think about Sunday night, and whatever sexy plans Ryan has in store.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Exactly my point. No need to spend thousands of dollars on a new bathroom when you get
O
s for free.”

“Yeah,” I say on a loud exhale.

“I have to get mine from James Dean,” she scoffs.

What the fruitcake?

“Isn’t he the
Rebel Without a Cause
actor that died in a car crash?”

“Jeez, lady. Do you listen to me, like, ever?”

“Of course I do,” I mutter. It’s a big, white lie. Sometimes she gets carried away, and my mind drifts off. “Most of the time,” I add.

“James Deen, D-E-E-N is a porn star, and I have a very nice replica of his perfect peen—”

“Mummy,” Sienna screeches from behind me. Gabs and I scream and we burst into a fit of giggles. “Dinner’s ready!” She runs out of the room as abruptly as she appeared.

I’m relieved her little ears missed that word. We’d have to explain what it meant, and then she’d be testing out the word on anyone who’d listen. The vagina conversation is still ingrained in my memory. This one week, every time she came into the café she was asking everyone if they had a happy vagina. Although it was embarrassing, it was twice as funny. The giggles throughout the café were wonderful to experience.

Gabs needs to be more careful with her words, because this special little girl is a sponge.

“Okay, we’re done here,” I say and wrap the towel around her head, then help her stand up.

She smooths a rouge drop from her forehead and smiles softly, gripping my shoulders in her hands.

“Has Brown-Eyes declared his undying love for you yet?”

I shrug. “Not exactly. I think we’re both a little afraid, you know?”

“Life’s short, kiddo,” she says and winks. She takes off the towel, and leans her head to the side, regarding me as she towel-dries her hair. “Remember that.”

“I know.”

I take a moment to let this sink in as I comb the tangles from her locks.

Of course, her words tug at my heartstrings. I can’t imagine how I would cope after losing someone you love, someone you planned on spending the rest of your life with. Gabs is living proof of how humans can soldier on, and a prime example of appreciating what you have, day in and day out.

My thoughts flood back to Ryan. I’m so lucky to have him in my life.
Blessed
. This man is my hope. My future. It’s time to admit that to him.

“I know,” I repeat.

“Did you talk to him today?”

“Yeah, just before I got here. It’s funny—he seemed overly concerned about me tonight. It’s like he wanted to know my every move.”

“Hmm. Hubby used to be like that. Sometimes it would drive me up the wall, but for the most part I loved it. He does it because he cares, Willow. I see the way he looks at you, the way he touches you, and I have no doubt in my mind or my heart that that man loves you like cray-cray.”

I smile, and blink rapidly, trying to ward off tears.

“You love him, don’t you?” she asks.

“Whole-heartedly,” I say with an affirmative nod.

****

I help Jane set up the table for dinner. When Gabs breezes into the room a short time later, I immediately notice how her hair is a deep purple on the roots, which fades farther down, leaving a strong reddish tinge to the ends.
Oh no
.

“Do you like it?” I ask, terrified that she’s annoyed with my amateur job.

“I love it!”

My shoulders slump. “Phew.”

Gabs pours two glasses of white wine and hands one to me. She takes another wine glass from the shelf and holds it in Jane’s direction. Jane shakes her head, like Gabs should know better to offer her one, instead opting to pour herself a herbal tea.

“Holiday, here I come,” Gabs says with a wink, clinking her glass against mine.

****

I tuck Sienna’s arms under the pink-and-purple patchwork quilt. For someone who protested for half an hour after dinner about going to bed, right now she’s smiling like it’s Christmas morning and there’s a full room of presents waiting for her to rip them apart.

“What’s that beautiful smile for?” I ask and kiss her on the forehead.

“Are you going to marry Big Mussies?”

Aw.

“I keep telling you, his name is Ryan,” I say, avoiding her question. I have no idea myself. The thought of wearing a ring again, contemplating something as important as marriage, is something I don’t know I’m ready for. Baby steps.

“Are you going to marry Ry … an?” she stutters, her baby blues blinking as she sees right through me.

“That depends on if he asks me to,” I say.

“Can I be flower girl and wear a purty dress and shoes, and, um, throw flowers?” She frowns, relaying to me probably the longest sentence to ever come from her small mouth.

“I promise you, my sweet princess, that when I get married, you will be front and centre in the prettiest, most elegant flower girl dress I can find.”

She flicks her arms from under the covers and scoops them around my neck, pulling me into her small embrace.

“Love you, Lolo,” she whispers sweetly in my ear.

Tears in my eyes, I swallow and clear my throat.

“I love you more,” I whisper back. As I squeeze her tight I breathe in the sweet smell of bubble-gum toothpaste smeared on her shirt, and the Strawberry Shortcake doll snuggled in beside her.

Boy, do I love this girl.

****

I turn my head to face Gabs, but she’s already staring at me with a prize-winning smirk on her face. Being a lightweight and knowing I was driving home, I only had one glass of white wine at dinner. But not Gabs. Because she’s starting her ‘holiday’, she indulged in another two. Her cheeks have certainly got that ‘I’ve had a few drinks/I’m on holiday’ glow about them.

“Are we nice and comfortable?” Jane says, dimming the lounge room lights. The foam yoga mats squeak beneath us as we lay flat on our backs, squirming to get comfortable.

“Yes,” I say, in the kind of tone you’d use when the teacher took the roll at school.

Gabs mimics my tone with a “Yes, Miss Jane,” shortly after.

“Okay, let us begin,” Jane says. “As we meditate this evening, we’re going to practise our breathing. Let’s start with a nice slow breath in through the nose, filling our lungs to the brim with beautiful fresh air, and then letting it out slowly through your mouth, with all your stress and anxiety rushing out with it.”

I concentrate on my breathing, each breath helping me feel that little more relaxed. Gabs does the same next to me, except her breathing is a lot heavier.

“Okay,” Jane continues. “Now we have our breathing nice … and slow … and relaxed, let’s start off with giving our body some attention, starting with our feet. I want you to tense up your feet, scrunching those toes and then releasing, three times, concentrating on your breath in as you tense … and relaxing your feet as you exhale.”

I follow Jane’s instructions, giving attention to my legs, arms and body. It’s amazing how in what seems like ten minutes, I feel as if I’ve turned to mush on the floor.

“Now, we’re going to take a little journey into the rainforest,” Jane says. Her voice grows louder as she moves from our feet to stand near our heads.

“Can we pretty please go to a cocktail bar instead?” Gabs begs.

“I think the rainforest is more aligned to your relaxation, Gabrielle,” Jane says, unimpressed.

“I beg to differ,” my friend slurs.

“Let’s imagine standing at the foot of a three-hundred-year-old tree, its expansive branches stretching high into the canopy, bright … blue … sky visible between the lush … green … leaves. Breathe in the pure air, letting it sink deep into your lungs, filling them with purity.”

I do my best to picture the rainforest as I concentrate on the air coming through my nose.

“In your mind’s eye, imagine a gold path beneath your feet. Imagine roots growing out of your feet, connecting with the earth.”

“Grandma,” a little voice whispers. I open my eyes and turn to the hallway. Sienna’s head peers around the dimly lit corner.

“Yes, Sienna,” Jane whispers, moving towards her.

“I’m thirsty,” she says.

“Just continue to breathe, girls. Slowly in … and out. I’ll be back in a moment.” Jane says, picking up Sienna and walking towards her bedroom.

I turn to Gabs and smile. She’s completely blissed out, no trace of perfect lips, painted eyes and flawless makeup. Gabs is just as beautiful, if not more so, without any of that stuff.

I poke her in the ribs. Her whole body jerks, and her arms and legs flail about

“Take it easy, lady,” she says and laughs, holding a hand to her chest.

Her eyes half-opened, she turns on her side to face me.

“Shall we continue?” Gabs says, in the same monotone voice as Jane.

“Yes, I think we shall,” I mimic her.

With a wink, Gabs returns to her relaxed position on her back, her eyes closed once more.

I do the same, although it’s hard to remove the smile from my face.

“We return to the forest once again. This time, in front of you, stands a tall, proud man, with deep chocolate pools of desire for eyes, and abs like nobody’s business. I want you to imagine him … every inch of him.”

“Ah-huh,” I say, picturing my Ryan, because really, who else would she be talking about?

“In your mind’s eye thingy, I want you to imagine running your fingers over every bump of that lickable six-pack, down his long, thick, strong legs that plant him firmly to the ground.”

Sweet cupcakes
. I’m lying on Gabs’ lounge room floor, now randy as anything as the ache between my legs, grows. Totally inappropriate.

“As you kneel at his feet, I want you to study the gentle curve of his manhood.”

My body jerks with silent laughter, and a squeaky giggle escapes my mouth. “Manhood?” I whisper.

“Yes, Willow. His freakin’ manhood. Now concentrate.” She breathes in and out loudly several times, over-exaggerating.

“Now, imagine taking said curved member into your mouth,” her voice wavers as she chuckles and then regains some form of control. “And slowly now, take him in …. and out. In and out. Taking him deep into the back of your throat, cupping those smooth balls—”

“Gabrielle!” Jane curses.

My eyes fly open to see a not-so-impressed Jane, with hands gripped on her slim hips. The laughing halts.