THIEF: Part 4 (4 page)

              Then, I recite my research to myself, all the tidbits I read online after breakfast, while Alex was showering.
Most people my age, when the illness is found early, reach recovery…only a small percentage need lifelong dialysis or transplants…your lungs are fine, your kidney function’s almost totally normal….

              “Positive thinking, right?” Alex reminds me.I snap out of my own thoughts and nod, shivering as he takes my hand in his.All around us, through the narrow openings of the deck, I can see snow beginning to fall.

“You look beautiful, Aunt Jane.”

              Fiona hands me a tissue as Jane steps out of the bathroom in her suite.Her dress, flowing and bright white, looks like fancy curtains blowing in the breeze as she does a little spin, feigning modesty.“The real stars here are your dresses, if you ask me,” she says, fixing one of my cap sleeves.

              My dress, cerulean blue and identical to Fiona’s, has an Old Hollywood feeling to it, combined with “classic Broadway,” as Aunt Jane calls it.I try to notice that Fiona’s dress fits her perfectly—her hourglass figure, athletic but curvy—while mine, already taken in twice in the last two months, keeps slipping out of place.My elbows look a little bony, and my collarbone seems too rigid for the billowing fabrics everyone else has on.

             
Still
, I remind myself,
you’re here
.
That’s all that matters.
I might not look healthy yet, but I am.The medication’s over, and its effects—according to Dr. Brody, at least—will wear off soon.My thinning hair will come back, the nausea’s already stopped, and my appetite’s back with a vengeance.When I look at myself in the mirror after Fiona finishes my makeup, I don’t look that sick at all.Frail, maybe, or outright scrawny, but not fresh off of chemo drugs, that’s for sure.

              “All right,” Aunt Jane says solemnly, “moment of truth.”She takes a deep breath, then pulls out two pairs of shoes from one of the enormous trunks she brought with her to the hotel.“White and silver, or…white and gold?”

              Fiona and I laugh, shaking our heads, and point to the silver pair.Jane happily slips them on, then flops onto the bed with us.

              “Jane, your dress!” Fiona reminds her.She starts smoothing the train, frantic.

              “Relax, sweetheart—that’s what steam…things are for.”She waves her hand vaguely at the corner, where a clothes steamer sits alone, ready and waiting.“I just want to take a minute to relax with you two.”Jane grabs our hands and squeezes, and for a second, I think I hear tears coming.She chokes them back, though.“I know a stepdaughter and niece aren’t the same as two daughters, but…well.You two are the closest things I’ve got, and honestly?Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

              Fiona smiles, leaning into Jane’s one-armed hug, before I do the same.

              “Still mad at me?” Jane whispers into my hair.I shake my head.I’ve nursed the hurt of her betrayal long enough.Actually, it was Alex who helped me do it.

              “That was almost a decade ago,” he’d said, after my last round of medicine, when I told him I didn’t want to call Jane for a celebratory dinner.“She’s said she was sorry.”

              “And you said you’d drop it.”

              “I will, I will.”He turned on the wipers of my car, smearing sleet off the windshield as we drove home.I had a vase of flowers between my feet and an enormous box of chocolates on my lap, most of which I probably still wasn’t allowed to eat, technically speaking; his surprises were a day-long event, he assured me, so I was actually more surprised he asked my permission on inviting Jane, instead of just doing it.

              “But,” he added, and I let out an exaggerated groan, “you should also consider the fact that your mom and aunt were sisters.”

              “That’s how aunts work, Alex.Your parent’s sister.”

              He shot me a look.“What I mean is, sibling bonds are really strong.Maybe Jane thought your mom had a good reason for it, at the time, before she found out the truth.Or maybe she didn’t want to betray her.”A chunk of wet slush slapped the glass; while I gasped, Alex simply wiped it away and continued.“Maybe Jane felt it wasn’t her place to say anything—parenting choices are a touchy subject.”

              “That’s the thing, though,” I protested, “it
was
her place.More hers than my mom’s, even, because she treated me better than my mom did.She was there for me.At least...I thought she was.”

              Alex grew quiet, eyes on the slick road ahead.“I just want you to be happy, Erin.And I know you won’t be, not completely anyway...until you’ve made up with her.”

              I knew he was right, but in the cold, cramped space of the car, I hadn’t wanted to admit it.Now, though, as I watch Jane reapply her ruby red lipstick—a very nervous Fiona on standby with club soda and paper towels, guarding that dress with her life—I’m glad Alex butted in.He was right: I wouldn’t be happy until I forgave my aunt, even if it was more for myself than her.And today of all days, I want nothing more than happiness for both of us.We deserve this much.

              “Limo’s here,” Fiona says, bouncing up and down in front of the window.As I’ve found out lately, through her many visits and our late-night texting sessions, Fiona was one of those little girls at sleepovers I would have studied and not understood, one who loved to play Wedding.I wonder, had we met back then, if we’d be friends now.

              Then I decide it doesn't matter.We're friends now, here.That's enough.

              “Is Ned coming?” I ask.She nods, practically swooning.Ned, her new boyfriend, is a grad student at Brown.When I met him at Fiona’s graduation a few weeks ago, he’d been really friendly, though not particularly “magnetic,” as Fiona had described him.Then again, I’ve only talked to him once—about the ceremony running a little long, and the announcer mispronouncing someone’s name—so I couldn’t judge.Besides, he makes Fiona happy, and that’s all I really care about.

              Well, that and the fact that he’s, in Fiona’s words, “definitely not gay.”I don’t remind her that she was with her ex for two years and didn’t think he was gay for a while, either, but this sounds like something Alex would file under “Negative Thinking,” so I bite my tongue.

              We pile into the limo as tonight’s predicted snowfall starts a little early.While Fiona worries over the dress getting snowed on, Jane watches the flurries through the moon roof and smiles.

              “Like a fairy tale,” she says, in a lilting, sing-song voice.She squeezes my hand again, and I squeeze back.

“You look beautiful.”Alex kisses my hand, bowing, when I enter the wedding venue.It’s at an old plantation, the colonial house charming but a little intimidating; the crown molding must be over two feet wide, and the foyer’s ceiling has a swirling staircase, the kind in old movies.Not that I’m surprised.Jane never does anything without glamour, and lots of it.

              I smile as Alex slips his arms around my waist.I’m self-conscious of my angular hips, the dark circles coming back under my eyes despite Fiona’s cosmetic touch, but Alex genuinely doesn’t care.He hasn’t, the entire time he’s been with me, and I’m grateful.

              “You look handsome,” I tell him, straightening his tie.His tux is deep gray, almost a soft black, with a cerulean tie to match my dress, and his hair’s slicked back.When I lean into his lapel, asking without words for him to just hold me for a moment, his cologne makes my knees a little weak.

              “We’re tearing that hotel room up later,” he says in my ear, romanticism giving way to dirty talk.He's gotten a lot better with it, almost a pro, since we've started dating.“So be prepared.I might have to rip that dress off of you.”

              “Why wait?”

              He pulls away a little, hiding his grin.“Now?”

              I nod towards the staircase.“I’m sure we can find some privacy somewhere.It's a big house.Besides, the wedding doesn’t start for an hour.”Taking his hand, I tug him towards the stairs.“Come on.You’ve fooled around in a hospital room—I feel like there’s not many times or places stranger than that.”

              “Got me there.”He quickens his pace, passing me, and pulls me up the staircase instead.

              We find a small room off the first landing, filled with linens.“It’s the summer curtains and throw pillows,” he says, laughing.“What are the odds we'd pick this one?”

              I push a chair under the door handle, locking it in place, and look around.“Maybe they were expecting us,” I say, and point to a pile of pillows on the floor.It’s the perfect size for two people.

              “Or,” he theorizes, “we’re not the only people to have had this idea.”

              “More probable, I’ll admit.”

              Alex smiles again, stepping closer.For all the rush getting upstairs, he’s suddenly calm.“Let me get this,” he says, and slowly unzips my dress.He doesn’t cringe when his hands graze my bony shoulders, sliding the sleeves down my arms.We watch the dress pool on the floor at my feet.

              I step out of it and undo his tie with the same easy speed, then his shirt buttons as he shrugs off his jacket.When I move to undo his belt buckle, kneeling, he stops me.

              “Lie down,” he orders.I do, watching eagerly as he removes the rest of his clothes.My hips arch when his hands slide up my thighs and pull my panties down, and I take off my bra like he’s timing me.We’ve made love in the past few weeks—close quarters, no jobs, and really liking each other will do that.But here, in the soft white light of the snowfall, alone with Alex in a toasty room filled with pillows, where other people have probably done the same thing, I can tell this time will be different.For one, I’m not sick anymore, and this knowledge excites me.It makes me feel happiness and contentment, being right in this moment.It electrifies my nerve endings, so that every touch from Alex is magnified.

              He kisses me for a long time, moving from my neck to collarbone, then back to my lips.His erection presses against my leg, so close to my pussy, yet still too far away, and after a few more minutes, I break the kiss.

              “Fuck me, Alex,” I beg breathlessly.“Please…I need you inside me.”

              “‘Need,’” he repeats, raising an eyebrow.“I like that.”

              I guide the head of his cock to my entrance, the tip touching my lips.Alex kisses me again, teasing.Before I can ask him again, though, he’s pushed himself inside.

              “Need a minute?” he asks.When I shake my head, he presses his mouth to mine and bites my lip just as his hips rock forward, filling me.

              “Alex,” I moan.“Yes…fuck, yes, baby.”I lift my hips, meeting his, getting him even deeper.He lets his head drop, sighing with pleasure, before he starts to move.

             
I’m alive
, I tell myself, winding my hands into Alex’s hair as he buries his face in my neck, kissing me everywhere he can.The way his hands touch me, the way he thrusts so deeply, but slower than usual, makes me think he feels the same as me: electrified, hyper-aware of our hearts beating together, growing faster by the minute.I’ve heard of near-death experiences, the way a person feels naturally high when they survive something so intense; it’s probably not exactly what I’m feeling right now, but it must be something close.Even in the two weeks since my last treatment, I haven’t felt this way.I didn’t let myself.

              But now, on the last day of the year, I welcome the feeling.I think of this summer, the last few months—all the things that have happened this year.I think about how I’ve survived.Alex must feel it too.We aren’t just having sex; we’re celebrating being alive.Being here.

              “I’m coming,” he whispers suddenly, his breath washing across my neck.I work my muscles to squeeze his cock even tighter, with every thrust.

              “Fill me, Alex,” I tell him.“Fill me up with it.”

              He pulls his face away from my neck, locking our eyes.Somehow, even as I feel his orgasm hitting him, he manages to keep the gaze unbroken.The intensity of it makes me want even more.

              Alex pulls out slowly, taking a minute to rest.I kiss his temple, touching his smooth chin with the back of my hand.The smell of his aftershave, my perfume, and our sex fills the air, and I breathe it in, wanting to remember this moment—this feeling—forever.

              After a moment, Alex pulls away.“Your turn,” he says, before he’s fully caught his breath.I watch him kiss his way down my breasts, pausing to suck and lick my nipples, then past my stomach.The second his tongue hits my clit, I shiver and beg for more, yet again.

              “Your…your fingers, Alex,” I stammer, my voice coming in jagged whispers.“Finger-fuck me, the way you told me you would.Remember?”

              Alex glances up at me, his smile impish.“Oh, I remember.”Quickly, he plunges two fingers into my tight pussy, the third following just as I get used to his movements.

              Still, it’s not enough.My adrenaline wants more.The high of simply being here makes me want to feel everything I can, take all I can get from him.

              “My asshole, baby.”I’m not used to begging, whimpering like a horny teenager, but I love it.Being in control is fun, but when Alex takes the lead, I’m always overwhelmed by how much I love it.“Please, Alex…you said both holes.”

              “I did, didn’t I?” he grins.“Well, I’m a man of my word.”I feel the third finger slip out of me, pushing gently at the sensitive skin around my asshole.He licks my clit even faster as he works his way inside.

              “Ow,” I tell him, “it stings a little.”

              “That’s what’s supposed to happen,” he assures me.“Just relax.”

              “Thought you’d never fingered a girl’s asshole before,” I tease.I debate telling him I’ve had a candle in my ass already—that I’m used to the sting at first, that I know relaxing brings the pleasure—but I don’t.I wasn’t thinking of him when I did that.It doesn’t matter anymore.

              “I haven’t,” he says, pausing.“But I will admit, I’ve watched plenty of porn.”

              “Me too.”

              Alex looks up at me again.“Really?”When I nod, he practically moans.“Jesus Christ, Erin.That’s so fucking hot.”

              I smile back, a little embarrassed and a little proud.

              “Here it goes, baby,” he warns me.I let out a cry as he slides his finger deeper, knuckleby knuckle, until it’s almost all the way inside.

              “Does it still hurt?” he asks.I shake my head, and then gasp as he begins, as promised, to finger-fuck my holes.

              Alex’s rhythm is strong, steady.The two fingers in my pussy stroke my G-spot, already so sensitive from his cock rubbing against it, just moments ago.He moves his finger in my ass the same way, flitting his tongue all over my clit.

              “Faster, Alex…oh, God…this feels so fucking good.”I arch my back, then move down, trying to get more.“Deeper…”

              “All the way in?” he asks.

              Unable to speak, I nod.Swiftly, he plunges all of his fingers as deep as they’ll go.

              “Oh, God, Alex, yes!”I bite my lip, trying to quiet myself, but Alex’s fingers don’t stop.He picks up speed, his tongue pressing harder on my clit.Faster.Harder.Every time I think he’s reached the limit, it increases.

              “Alex!” I moan, practically screaming his name, as I try to tell him my orgasm’s hitting.It happens before I can even form the words.My pussy tightens around his fingers, then my ass, both of them quivering uncontrollably as his name turns into nothing but a high-pitched noise.My scream bounces off the fabric of our room, muffled, but ringing out all the same, even if it’s just us who hear.

              “Oh, God,” is all I can manage, even as my orgasm begins its descent.Alex never stops his fingers, his tongue.My entire body feels the pleasure he’s given me.My mouth tingles, only making small whimpering noises.

              Finally, it’s over.I make one last noise as Alex withdraws his hand, a combination of pain, pleasure, and sadness at the sudden emptiness.

              “Yeah?” he asks, laughing a little, out of breath, as he collapses beside me.

              “Yes,” I tell him, kissing him.I taste myself on his mouth and shudder, an aftershock.“God, yes.”

              He nods, the impish smile back.“You said that a few times.”

              We lie together for a long time, catching our breath.Alex touches his forehead to mine.

              “I love you.”

              His words startle me, but even more startling is that they don’t scare me.

              And then, I say them back.

              “I love you too.”

              Alex gives a nervous, excited laugh.“Really?”

              I nod.He cups my face in his hands, like he can’t believe I’m here, and kisses me.