Yours Always (14 page)

We’re interrupted briefly for a few of the traditions: the cutting of the cake, tossing the bouquet, and such, but then we’re right back on the dance floor as soon as it’s over.  I’m gazing into the eyes of the man I love when the shrill feedback from a microphone stops everyone in his or her tracks. 

“I need everyone’s attention,” Carlton Cole slurs each and every word as he captures the undivided attention of the small group of guests.  I steal a glance in Lizzy’s direction, and she looks semi-mortified.  I whisper to Fletcher that I’ll be right back before rushing to the front of the small crowd that has conglomerated around him. I give Lizzy a brief nod to let her know that if he makes a fool of himself, I’m going to be all over it. I just hope I’ll be strong enough to rip the mic from him if the need arises.

“Our Lizzy.  Elizabeth Jordan Cole.  Oops.  Excuse me, Elizabeth Thibodaux.  Lizzy Thibodaux.  Your mother and I…  Prissy?  Where are ya, Prissy?  I can’t find you without my glasses.”

“I’m right here,” she says, pushing aside a couple so she can stumble to stand beside him.  She’s obviously still just as smashed as he is. 
Oh great!  Will I be able to handle two of them?
Though I don’t feel confident in the least, I give Lizzy a fake reassuring smile.

“Oh, good.  There you are.  This concerns you, too.  It’s time for the s-u-r… Oh forget about it, it’s time for that surprise thing we have for the kids,” Carlton slurs.

Prissy takes the microphone away from him.  “We adore surprises, so we have a few.  First, Elizabeth and Ben, we’re sending you on an all expense paid trip to Italy for your honeymoon!”

The crowd claps while Ben and Lizzy look at each other with astonishment.  They both quickly mask it with fake plastered smiles.  The rest of the crowd might be unaware, but I know that it’s because Lizzy and Ben had already arranged to honeymoon in Aruba.

“Our second surprise, and boy this is a good one, is— a brand new car!  Your sporty silver Audi SUV will be delivered to you in a few days.  They’re finishing up with some of the customizations, so we weren’t able to get it here before the wedding, but we know you’ll love it.  Here’s hoping you fill the backseat with grandkids!” Carlton says raising his glass, then sloshing back the contents.

I’m just about to make my move when he speaks again.  “And lastly, and I have to admit that this one was Prissy’s idea…  It was a great one, darlin’.  No one’s going to guess it!  Anyone?  Anyone want to try?” He raises his empty rocks glass in a mock toast to the crowd.  “Well, I don’t blame you.  Get ready, ‘cause I’m not going to spoil this last one for you.  I’m going to let you see for yourself.  Maestro, cue the music,” Carlton says, just before dropping the mic on the ground and stumbling back into the crowd.

The DJ starts to play another slow song, and when nothing unusual or out of the ordinary happens after the first few bars, people begin to go about their business.  Fletcher takes me into his arms, and once again, we’re slowly swaying back and forth in unison.  All is right with the world.

The first pop scares the hell out of me because I don’t know if it’s a gunshot, a car backfiring, or what that caused it.  When the night sky starts to glow pink, then gold, then purple, I figure out that the big surprise is a fireworks display for the newlyweds.

I try to turn away from Fletcher so I can better see the show, but he’s got a death grip on me.  I can hear his heart thundering in his chest, and as I slowly pry myself from his arms, I notice that he’s drenched in sweat.

“Fletcher, what’s wrong, sweetie?”  It’s like he doesn’t hear me.  His chest rises and falls rapidly as he nervously looks around the grounds.  “Fletcher,” I say louder.  This gets his attention.  “Are you okay, sweetie?  What’s wrong?”

“Huh?  What?  Oh.  Yeah, I’m okay.  I think it might be something I ate.  I’m not feeling very well all of a sudden.”

“Okay, let’s get you home then,” I say, concerned because of how sudden the onset of his symptoms are.  He looks like he wants to collapse, so I don’t even bother telling anyone that we’re leaving.  I don’t want him to know it, but I’m scared for him, and I have every intention of getting him to the closest hospital.

I help him inside the passenger seat, and he practically curls into a ball.  Ben, coming out of nowhere, looks into the passenger window and pulls open the door as I start up the truck.  “Fletcher, look at me buddy.  Hey, look at me.  Are you okay?”

“Ben, I’m good.  I just need to get home.  I’m sure it’s something I ate.”

I nervously wait for Ben to shut the door so I can get Fletcher some help.  “Something you ate?  Okay Fletcher, get some rest.  I’m going to call and check on you in an hour or so to see if you’re feeling any better.  If you need me before then, I’m right here.  Just a phone call away, buddy.  Okay?  Look at me.”

Fletcher is still sweating profusely, and it appears as though chills have set in.  He manages to look Ben’s way and to give him a little nod.

“You call me if you need me,” Ben says to me.  I nod, grateful when Ben finally closes the door so I can leave.

“Which hospital is the closest?” I ask, driving like a bat out of hell.

“No.  No hospital,” Fletcher weakly insists.

“But you’re so sick.”

“I need rest; some rest and I’ll be fine.  It’s just a stomach issue.  There’s not much they can do for me at the hospital anyway.  They’d probably tell me to go home and let it run its course.”

I reluctantly concede.  “Okay, but I’m not bringing you home.  You’re coming to my place.”

“That’s fine,” Fletcher says.  “Just please get me somewhere I can rest.”

I make it to my apartment in record time, and thanks to strength I didn’t know I possessed, I manage to practically carry Fletcher inside.  He flops onto the bed, his pale face dripping with sweat.  I loosen his clothing a bit before dashing into the bathroom for a cool cloth.   Gently stroking his face with it, I feel like I should be doing more to help him.

“Can you help me get this stuff off?” he asks, his voice shaky because he’s trembling so much.

“Yes, of course.”  Without hesitation or elaboration, I remove his suit jacket, his tie, his shirt, and his pants.  All he’s left in is an undershirt and a pair of underwear.  I take the cloth and run it over as much of his exposed flesh as possible.  He doesn’t feel warm to me; he feels clammy.  I’m walking to the bathroom to freshen up the cloth when Fletcher suddenly jumps from the bed and shoves me away from the bathroom door.  I hear him retching and heaving in there, and I’m unsure of what to do.  Mostly, I want to check on him, but part of me is hesitant because I’m not sure if it will embarrass him. 

Once the noises become less frequent, I carefully peep around the door jamb.  “Fletcher?” I softly ask.  “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He’s still sitting beside the toilet, his elbow resting on his knee.  “Yeah, I’m okay,” he weakly replies.  “I’m sorry about all of this.”

I join him in the bathroom.  “There’s nothing to be sorry about.  I just hope I didn’t eat whatever it is that did this to you.”

Fletcher gives a feeble smile. “I think you’d be sick by now if you did.”

“Do you think the vomiting has passed?  Should I help you into the bed?”

“Yeah, I think it’s over,” he says, pushing against the floor with his palms so he can stand.  I wedge myself under his arm.  He insists on a brief stop by the bathroom sink so he can brush his teeth, and once he’s safely under the covers, I leave him long enough to get a glass of lemon lime soda.  He closes his eyes after drinking it down, so I carefully and quietly roll off the bed so I don’t disturb his rest.

I hear his phone buzzing non-stop in his pants pocket, so I check it to find a slew of text messages and missed calls from Ben.  I type a quick message explaining that he’s resting comfortably and that I’ll give him a call if anything changes.  Ben thanks me for responding, and after I tell him that it’s no problem, he’s off to undoubtedly enjoy the rest of his wedding night.

I look down and realize that I’m still in my full wedding attire.  Too tired to go through the process of washing the product from my hair, removing the goop from my face, and searching for something to wear to bed, I strip to my bra and panties and gently slip into bed beside Fletcher.  He pulls me tightly into his arms so that my back rests against his chest.  I was so scared before, but he appears to be doing much better now.  He’s no longer clammy, and he’s resting well.  I fall asleep by counting his breaths as his chest rises and falls against my back.

The next morning I find myself staring over at Fletcher.  He’s fast asleep, but that’s a recent occurrence.  I know this because he tossed, turned, moaned, and groaned the entire night, even jerked to sit straight up in bed a few times.  I’m worried about him, but I caution myself not to overreact to the situation.  I’ve had stomach bugs before, and though I felt like death warmed over, I sucked it up and dealt with it.  It’s different when you have to watch someone else go through it.  Witnessing his discomfort and pain left me feeling helpless and uncertain, two sensations that I rarely experienced while living on my own.  It’s serves as another reminder of how absolutely head over heels I am for this man.  Being responsible for another person’s care is a huge step for me, and I want to make sure I’m doing it right.

After easing out of the bed, I pad to the kitchen for a light breakfast.  I also send Ben and Lizzy a text to let them know that Fletcher is doing much better this morning.  After watching TV for a couple of hours, I check on Fletcher.  He appears to be in that place between sleep and awake.

“Hi.  How are you feeling?” I softly ask as I slide next to him.

“Like I was hit by a truck,” he groggily answers.  “I’m sorry I got sick last night.”

“It’s okay.  You scared me, though.”

“Did I?  I’m sorry.”

“You were really sick.  You should’ve let me bring you to the hospital.”

“Oh, there was no need for that.  It was just one of those things.  I’ll rest today, and by tomorrow, things will be much better.  You’ll see.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, running my hand over his face.  It’s not just a tender gesture, I’m also checking for fever.  He feels perfectly normal.

“I’m sure.”  He takes my hand and kisses my palm.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

“Just some water for now.  Thanks, sweetheart.”

I leave him long enough to fill the largest vessel I can find, which happens to be an old mug from a local gas station that ran a special on oversized fountain drinks.  It takes two hands to carry it back to the room.

“What is that?” Fletcher asks, amused.

“Water.”

“But why is it in a bucket?”

“It’s a mug, and you’ll need to drink a lot to get back the fluids you lost last night.”

“I feel like a horse drinking from a trough,” Fletcher says, trying to find the right angle to get a sip.  I stick a straw in it, and he smile shows his appreciation.  “I think I’ll save the rest for later.”  He places the mug on the nightstand.  “Did I ruin the wedding?  I don’t remember too much about what happened after Lizzy’s parents made their big announcement.”

“No, you didn’t ruin anything.  Lizzy, Ben, and I were very concerned about you, but everything went on as planned.  I brought you here, and that was it.”

“Did I say or do anything silly or strange?”

“No.  You barfed a lot though.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling it today,” he says, rubbing his rib cage.  “I should get up and walk around.”

He makes a few leisurely laps around the apartment before settling onto the sofa.  Sharing a blanket, we pretty much spend the day snuggling.  By mid-afternoon, Fletcher is ready to find substantial food.

“Let me take you out. You name the place.”

Though I repeatedly warn him that he should continue to take it easy, he insists on an answer.  I give the name of a quiet little café tucked between two giant strip malls, because even though I have a huge hankering for Mexican food, let’s face it, Mexican doesn’t usually sit well on a recovering stomach.

We have the same thing, deliciously rich bowls of steaming seafood gumbo, and I happily watch as the color returns to Fletcher’s cheeks.  I’m only about halfway done with my bowl when he finishes with his. 

“I can get this to go if you’re ready to leave,” I say, when I notice him fidgeting with his napkin.

“No, take your time.  It’s fine,” he says, scanning the restaurant.  He’s looking out of the window when he starts tapping his spoon against the table.

“Fletcher,” I quietly say, looking around the room to see if he’s disturbing others with his drum solo.  Fortunately, the restaurant is basically empty.  “Fletcher,” I say a little louder when I get no response.

“Huh?” he asks, turning to look at me.

“The spoon.  You’re tapping it…”

He looks down at the utensil in his hand as though he has no idea how it got there.  He shrugs and casts it into his bowl.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You’re a million miles from here.  Come on, let’s go,” I insist.  “See, I told you we should’ve ordered in.”  I let out a little gasp as I raise my hand to my mouth.  “Oh, my gosh.  I just sounded like a nagging wife.  I’m so sorry.”

Fletcher lets out a little chuckle.  “You did, and it’s okay.  You’re right.  We should’ve stayed in.”

“Are you coming home with me? If so, I guess we should stop by your apartment to get some things, right?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stay at my place tonight, but will you come to visit me tomorrow?”

I’m a little stunned because I really thought he’d be with me tonight, but I do my best to cover it up.  “Sure!  Absolutely.  I’ll stop by after work tomorrow.”

The ride to Fletcher’s is pretty quiet.  I don’t want to admit it, but my feelings are a little hurt.  I mentally scold myself for being such a whiny butt. 
The man wants a night alone, so what!  Get over it.  He’s on the mend from a terrible stomach bug.  You’d probably want to be alone, too. 

He offers a kiss before going inside, which I happily accept.  I promise to bring supper with me for my visit.  He doesn’t know it yet, but I might bring him a couple of other surprises, too.  A slow, devious smile creeps across my lips.  Maybe it’s time to introduce Fletcher to the naughty Savannah.

Work drags and drags and drags some more.  It’s so different without Lizzy’s constant interruptions and distractions.  Frankly, I’m not happy here anymore, and I spend my break searching college courses at one of the local universities.  I’m making all of these other changes in my life, so why not put some of Grampy’s money to good use?  So far the main contenders are nursing and elementary education, with nursing edging out by a hair.

After work, I call Fletcher, and he decides that pizza should be on the menu for supper.  As I wait for my order to be prepared, I take a few minutes to duck into the clothing store next door.  I make a few purchases, and as I’m checking out, my phone buzzes to announce my pizza order is ready for pick up.  I cheerfully pay the young woman behind the register, and I practically skip back to my car. 
What has Fletcher Reilly done to me? 

Fletcher looks much better when he answers the door.  “What’s in the bag?” he asks, curiously poking his head around for a better look once he takes the pizza box from me.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself about.  Patience please, my good man.”

He plops the pizza onto the counter, encircles me in his arms, and pulls me close.  “How was work?”

“Boring,” I say, wriggling free from his embrace.  He drops his jaw and turns his palms up in a “what?” gesture.

“I’m starving,” I say, popping the lid of the box open.  I place two slices on a paper plate, grab a beer from the fridge, and make myself comfortable on the sofa.

Fletcher is all smiles when he joins me.  “I don’t think I could love you anymore than I do at this moment.”

“Wha?” I ask, covering my mouthful of pizza.

“You realize that you’re the woman of my dreams, don’t you?”

“Fletcher, I…”  I’m immediately red faced.

“Don’t.  Don’t get flustered.  I like that you’re relaxed and comfortable around me.”

“Consider yourself lucky.  The only other person I used to relax around was Lizzy.  Now I find myself at ease around lots of other people, like Molly and Julia.  Ben, too.  I’m not hiding from the world anymore, I’m at a point where I want to stand on the street and yell, ‘I’m Savannah Rose Mason, and I’m ready to conquer the world!’”

“Whoa now.  We’re supposed to do that together.”

“You’re right.  We’ll do that together, but I have decided on a life change.”

“Really?” Fletcher asks, shifting so he can give me his undivided attention.

“I’m going back to school.  I have the money from the boat sale, which I know you were absolutely one hundred percent behind, by the way.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fletcher says, gesturing feigned ignorance.

“How did Ben come up with the exact number the boat was worth, and then not haggle once about the price?  Hmmmm?”

“Coincidence, I guess.”

“Whatever.  Regardless, I think I’m going to enroll in an accelerated nursing program.”

“You want to be a nurse?  I think that’s a great idea.”

“Thank you,” I say, beaming with pride.

He edges closer to me, drops the pitch of his voice, and whispers in my ear, “You’re going to look so hot in scrubs.”  His finger trails down my throat and hooks the edge of my shirt.  He gives it a gentle tug so he can sneak a peek.  I pull away.

“I have a little surprise for you,” I excitedly say, holding the bag from the clothing store in the air while waving it around.

“You do?  I’m intrigued.  Give it to me.”

“Oh, you’re going to get it alright.  You stay right here,” I say, turning off all of the lights in the apartment except for the dim one over the stove.  “I’ll be right back.”

“I can’t wait!” he says, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

After shutting the bedroom door, I strip my clothes off and empty the contents of the bag onto the bed: sapphire blue panties and matching balconette bra, an oversized white button up shirt, and a black fedora.  After I tuck my hair inside the hat, I stare at myself in the mirror, and I’m pleased with the reflection.  The shirt is unbuttoned enough to expose the swell of my breasts and is long enough to stop mid-thigh.  I tip the hat forward slightly and decide that I need one final touch.  Opening Fletcher’s closet I shift clothes around until I find a necktie.  His military dress uniform is hanging in there, and I take a second to admire the patches, pins, and ribbons that adorn the jacket. 

Snapping out of it, I drape the tie over my shoulders, grateful that it’s already in the appropriate knot.  Tying a tie is one trick I never learned.  One last glance in the mirror, a deep breath for added confidence, and I slowly open the bedroom door to stick one leg through the gap. 

“Are you ready for me, Mr. Reilly?” I ask in my most seductive voice as I join him in the living room.

Fletcher is speechless, and his jaw falls slack.  He struggles to put a sentence together, which makes me smile.  “Hot,” he finally manages to eke out.  “So hot.”

I pull a chair from the dining area and put it in the middle of the room.  “Why don’t you have a seat?”

I don’t even get a chance to finish the sentence before he’s ready and waiting for his next command.  Scrolling through my phone, I find the song I want, turn the volume to max, and set it on the coffee table.  Never once in my life have I done a striptease, and I hope I’m decent at it.  I close my eyes and let the beat of the music course through my body.  As I catch the rhythm, I slowly begin gyrating my hips in time to the music.  The tie is the first to go, and I gently toss it to the sofa after running it seductively through my fingers. 

My eyes are still closed as my shoulders begin to move to the music, and I don’t open them until my fingers finish the trail down my chest and land on the first closed button.  Fletcher’s eyes are smoldering with desire, and I can see how much he wants me from his body language.  I feel sexy, secure, and wanted, which makes me more confident in my dancing.

The shirt is completely unbuttoned, but before I take it off, I throw the fedora and it lands on the floor.  Teasing him, I pull the shirt closed, slowly open it, and snap it closed again before provocatively bending over to pick up the hat from the floor.  I run the brim across my lips before lightly sinking my teeth into it then casting it aside onto the sofa.  Walking like a runway model, I approach Fletcher and straddle one of his thick, hard thighs.  His eager hands try to pull the shirt off of me, but I give him a playful smack while shaking my head.

“You’re killing me,” he growls against my neck.

“So you like what you see?”

“Oh, I love what I see.  I want it.  Now.”

“Nope.  Not yet,” I say, slowly sliding down the length of his thigh, then flipping around so I’m facing away from him.  Arching my back, I rest the back of my head against his shoulder while running my fingers through his hair.  His hands greedily grab for my breasts, and once again, he finds himself reprimanded. 

“No hands, mister,” I say, rising from his lap and finally casting aside the shirt.  I feel the silky cups of the bra and make sure I press my breasts together to better pronounce my cleavage.  After running my hands down my waist and upper thighs, I semi-turn and give my rear a hard smack.  Fletcher’s breath catches, and I notice that he’s having difficulties swallowing. 

Taking the tie from the sofa, I loosely drape it over the back of his neck, run it down his arms, and smile playfully as I secure his wrists together.  I give his neck a playful lick and a suck before doing the same thing to his lips.  His desire for me is so intense that he’s trembling.