“Not everything.”
Oliver slides his tongue against my clit. “What do you want to remember?”
“You. Only you,” I say breathless as he rewards me with another swipe.
“Good answer. Lie back and let me take away your worries.”
My fingers grip the sheets as Oliver takes his time with his mouth. He alternates between licking, sucking, and flicking. My body wars with wanting to sink into the bed and needing to buck my hips. His hands grip my legs, pushing them up even higher, and I moan as he finds a new angle.
Everything feels so damn good.
This is heaven, but it’s also hell because I know, once my orgasm comes, the ecstasy stops, and I never want that. I hang on to the pleasure with both hands, not allowing myself to let go. He buries his face even more, pushing his tongue against my clit in a merciless rhythm. No matter what I want, there’s no way I can keep my orgasm at bay much longer.
“Oliver,” I pant. “Please . . .”
His finger enters me at the same time he sucks hard on my clit, and I fall apart.
Wave after wave takes my breath away as I’m washed away in him.
He keeps going, drawing out every bit of bliss, and when he relents, I’m spent.
My fingers move to his hair, stroking as the last of the aftershocks fade.
He moves up so we’re face-to-face. “You didn’t forget.”
I grin. “Did you think I would?”
“I hoped not.”
To the women before me who broke this man’s heart, you’re stupid, and I thank you for it. Thank you for giving me the chance to love him and show him that I will never take him for granted because he is my first choice.
“Make love to me, Oliver.”
He leans down, kissing me tenderly. “I want nothing more.”
My legs part for him, not wanting to waste any time. I ache for him to be inside me. I want him to know, without a doubt, that it’s him I need.
Oliver pushes against my entrance and slides inside me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes when he’s fully seated.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks quickly.
I take his face in my hands. “No. You’re saving me, and I’ve never been as complete as I am now.”
He doesn’t say anything, just moves slowly, making love to me with so much tenderness that I know I have no chance of not falling madly in love with him. If I’m not already there.
Twenty-Six
OLIVER
Today has been incredibly hard. We’re all sitting at Patrick and Linda’s home, waiting for the end to come. These people, who are normally full of laughter and jokes, are somber. Maren is in the room with him and Linda, both refusing to leave his side.
Eileen gets to her feet. “Someone should call Jimmy. This isn’t right.”
Jimmy is the uncle that Linda forbid Patrick to speak to.
“I already did, but he won’t get here in time,” John says.
“He should still get to say goodbye.”
Marie wipes at her cheeks. “He’s never going to forgive himself.”
John looks to me. “Oliver, would you be able to see if Maren would call him?”
“Of course.”
I get up and knock on the door. Maren opens it, and her eyes are red and cheeks are stained with tears. “Hey, any changes?”
She wraps her arms around her middle. “No, it’s minutes at this point.”
I don’t have much time to word this delicately. “Would you consider calling your uncle Jimmy and letting him say goodbye?”
Linda, who I hadn’t thought was listening, looks over. She wipes her nose and then nods. “He should get to hear his brothers and sisters before he goes.”
Maren grips my hand. “Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you some coffee.”
I don’t know why I say that, but it seems like something she needs.
I head back out, let everyone know that Maren is calling now, and then grab coffee and something to eat for her and Linda. When my grandmother died, food seemed to be all anyone wanted. Stella, who had been the closest to her, was always putting some tray of something out. She baked, cooked, and constantly made us all plates of food. So, I’m going with that same logic.
Before I can bring it in, Maren exits. “You should take a turn going in and saying goodbye.”
Everyone gets to their feet, and as they file past Maren, they make physical contact with her in some way. Either kissing her cheek, gripping her arm, or patting her back.
“Here, you should drink this and try to eat something.”
She looks at the plate and lets out a sob. I put it down and grab her, pulling her in my arms.
“He’s dying. He’s really dying, and I’m not ready.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I’m not ready to lose him. He doesn’t know how much I love him, and I hate that I lied to him.” She looks up at me. “I lied to him, and I hate myself.”
This is what I’d been worried about. “You did nothing wrong. We’re not lying anymore, sweetheart.”
She pushes out of my grasp as her tears fall. “It doesn’t matter. He was so happy just a few weeks ago, and now . . . now he can’t open his eyes. What if I made it worse for him? The wedding . . . it took too much.”
“Maren,” I say, holding her shoulders. “That made him happy. He told you that. He needed that. You didn’t lie to him to get away with something or gain in any way. What you did was selfless, and he loves you for giving him that gift.”
Another tear falls. “I sat there, alone in that room, debating if I should tell him, but I couldn’t. I was so afraid they would be the last words he heard from me.”
“Oh, baby,” I say, wiping the tear. “Your father knows exactly how you feel about him, and I’ve never seen a parent love their child the way he loves you. You didn’t rob him of anything.”
Her arms are locked tight around me, and I do nothing but hold her. I’m not sure what else I can do but offer her whatever comfort I can. There’s a deep ache in my chest as I feel her tremble against me, making me wish I could do anything to take it from her. I would carry her burden if I could.
Eileen enters the living room, her watery eyes meet mine, and she approaches. “He’s fighting to hold on.”
Maren releases me and looks to her aunt. “Linda won’t tell him it’s okay.”
“It’s hard to do, but he needs to let go.”
They cry soundlessly, and slowly, more people trickle back into the living room after having said their final goodbyes.
Maren looks to me. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to be alone. Will you come in with me?”
My comfort doesn’t matter. She could ask me for anything and I wouldn’t hesitate. “Whatever you need from me.”
We walk into the room, and it’s impossible not to feel the difference in energy. It’s darker, colder, and the air feels heavy.
“He doesn’t want to leave me,” Linda says from her spot at the head of the bed. “It’s why he’s still fighting.”
Maren goes to her stepmother’s side and takes her father’s hand. “He’s tired, Linda. We have to let him go.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”