The last week with Sebastian has been a whirlwind of romance. I know this isn't what real relationships are like all the time, but I cherish the moments while they last, knowing at the very least we are creating memories I can savor for a lifetime, regardless of where we end up when fall comes.
Right now, I'm enjoying a foot massage by the skilled doctor as we watch re-runs of old sitcoms and drink wine. His fingers are strong, and he knows just where to put pressure at the base of my feet. I smile at him as I take another sip of my drink. "If life as a world-class pediatric heart surgeon no longer satisfies, you could always make a living as a masseuse."
He smiles back at me, his eyes happy and face so beautiful it makes me breathless. "Thanks, but I'm good. You, however, are welcome to these hands whenever you want."
He tucks my feet to the side and leans his body over mine until we are face to face, our bodies draped over the couch. In the background, a soundtrack offers canned laughs as the main character says something self-deprecating and funny. I ignore them and focus on the man in front of me.
"I like having exclusive access to those hands," I say.
Propping himself on one arm, he uses his free hand to unbutton the pajama top I'm wearing. "And I like having access to these." His hand slides over one breast, then the other, my nipples hardening at his touch, skin shivering with desire.
My phone rings on the table in front of the couch, but I ignore it. It's Tate's ring tone. I'll call him back. After.
It goes silent for a moment as Sebastian brings his mouth to my nipple and sucks.
I arch my back.
My cell phone rings again. Tate. Again.
A twinge of worry forms in the back of my mind, but I push it aside.
When he calls again, I sigh and reach for my phone. "He wouldn't be calling this often if there wasn't something wrong," I say by way of apology for throwing cold water on our sexy times.
"This better be good," I say, answering the phone.
"Kacie, I just got a call from Mom."
My heart speeds up at the sound of Tate's voice. Sad, stressed. "What's wrong?"
"Our grandmother died this morning. The funeral is scheduled for this weekend. We have to go back to Ohio, sis."
I tell him I'll be home shortly and put my phone down. Sebastian frowns, concern written on his face, and sits up. I button up my shirt before telling him what happened. "I have to go. Tate and I will need to make plans to fly home for the funeral."
It all feels distant. Unreal. There's no love lost between me and my grandmother, but still, the thought that she's dead, and that I'll have to go back to my old home, my old life… it all feels… surreal.
Sebastian pulls me into a hug, but if he's expecting tears, he'll be disappointed. I have none in me.
"I can change a few things in my schedule and come with you," he says.
I adore him more than anything in that moment, but I say no. "Tate will be with me. And we weren't close to her. I'll just be gone a few days. Thank you, though, for the offer. I can't tell you what that means, knowing you'd drop everything to be there for me."
He strokes the side of my face with his hand, then kisses my forehead. "I'm always here for you."
It only takes me a few minutes to pack up my bag and change out of my pajamas. He walks me to my car, and we kiss again. I rest my hands on his chest, memorizing his face, sad that our weekend plans will have to wait. "I'll call you and let you know when I get there and where I'm staying."
"I'll be waiting for your call."
Chapter 23
Blast from the Past
Tate and I say little during our hour-long drive from the airport in Cleveland to Mansfield. He offers to drive the rental, and I don't argue. I wonder how my mother is handling the death of her own mother. As much as I don't want to be home again, I also want to support my mom during what must be a painful time for her.
As we drive, I admire the beauty of Ohio. I couldn't wait to leave this place, but coming back, I have to admit that it has charm. Lush green, even in summer, and there are pastures and trees as far as the eye can see. It's so different from the concrete jungle of Las Vegas, and it brings up childhood memories of building forts and swimming in the lake near our house and cheering for our high school football team on crisp autumn nights.
We are nearly home, and Tate points out our old high school. I can see the stadium and remember my first kiss under those bleachers with Bradley Davis, the quarterback. Tate punched him in the face the next day when Bradley told everyone in the boy's locker room that he'd felt me up.
He hadn't.
After that, no one dared spread rumors about me, but it was a bit harder to get a date. Tate had that effect on potential male suitors.
Ah, memory lane.
"Do you think any of our old teachers still work there?" Tate asks as the school fades from view.
"Probably Mr. Schraeder. I don't think he'll ever retire his reign of terror on the children of Mansfield."