Accidental honeymoon, p.29
Accidental Honeymoon, page 29
of reverse roles.” Monica’s voice was low, and she looked
into the fire as she said it. Even so, Ray found it jarring.
Monica had never asked about Ray’s history so directly
before. And when she said she’d been reading about it, was
that because of Ray?
“Yeah. I guess that’s how it was. My mother wasn’t able
to take care of anything, including herself. I took on a lot, at
a really young age.”
Ray shifted in her seat, not wanting to talk about it but
knowing she needed to. If this thing between them was ever
going to be real, she had to be an open book. She told Monica
about the times there was no food in the house because her
mom had been too high to go shopping, and the random
strangers who would be invited to stay for days in their spare
room because her mom was a generous drunk. The birthday
money that inevitably went missing. The presents from
Grandpa Ray that ended up at the pawn shop. Making her
own lunch and getting herself to the bus stop when she was
only in first grade.
“I’m sorry, Ray,” Monica said when Ray was done. “No
one should have to give up their childhood like that.”
“I didn’t realize it at the time.” As hard as it was to
believe sometimes as an adult, Ray knew this was true. She’d
thought it was normal. “I mean, I knew my situation was
di erent from my classmates, but I didn’t really understand
how much I was taking on. And then it became a habit. A
really hard one to break.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every relationship I’ve had has starred me as the
caretaker. Broken women seem to flock to me like a moth to
a flame. They love the attention and feeling special, but it
becomes a one-way street.” Ray hadn’t been one for
therapy, quit after a few sessions, but she’d read every book
she could find and diagnosed herself over time. “Here’s a
little-known fact about caretakers. Sometimes we need help,
too.”
“Of course, you do.” Monica leaned forward, the fire
making her eyes sparkle, or perhaps it was a misty sheen of
unshed tears.
“The problem is, if you ask for it, my experience is that
most don’t like it.”
“Girlfriends?”
Ray nodded, ticking them o in her mind. “Every time.
Like I’m breaking some covenant of always being the
bedrock, never crumbling no matter how hard things get. It’s
exhausting to keep that up.”
“I can imagine.”
“After the last time, which ended with me losing my
condo because of her bad debt and moving back in with
Grandpa Ray, I decided I was done with relationships. I
couldn’t put myself through that again.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Five years. I mean, there’s been physical stu ,” Ray
added quickly, not wanting Monica to think she was too
bizarre. “I haven’t been celibate all that time. But a real
relationship? No.”
“Do you want one?”
“I want to be on equal footing. That’s hard to find. I can’t
be a caretaker anymore.”
“I hope I don’t fall into that category.”
“Monica, you’re probably one of the most capable people
I’ve ever known.” You have to say it, Ray urged herself. You
have to tell her.
But as the seconds ticked past, she couldn’t make the
right words come out.
“I think my mom is seeing I’m actually good at my job,
even if I didn’t become a lawyer, and it’s kind of a threat to
her.”
Damn it. The opportunity was gone. “What do you mean a
threat?”
“I don’t know, but I think that’s why she’s gone so nuts
with all this wedding shit. Me being good at it is causing her
to kick it into a higher gear so I’m still her little girl on some
level.”
Ray chuckled. “It’s amazing how quickly she can get
under your skin.”
“Mock all you want.”
“I’m sorry.” Ray met Monica’s eyes. “I wasn’t mocking.
Honestly, when it comes to your mom, I’m extremely
jealous.”
“Would you like to have a closer family?”
Ray took a deep breath, wincing at how much the
question stung. “I know it will never happen, given the way
my mother is. I mean, I haven’t seen her in years, and I’m
better o for it. But do I wish it could’ve been di erent?
Yeah. I think having a close family is what every kid from a
messed-up home dreams of.”
There was no doubt the fire had nothing to do with it this
time. Monica’s eyes brimmed with tears. But whatever she
was about to say was lost as a flash of lightning briefly
turned the lake an electric white. It was followed seconds
later by a crack of thunder. Ray jumped.
“You okay?” Monica asked.
“I’m not a big fan of electrical storms,” Ray confessed.
She wasn’t sure if she’d shared that with anyone else before.
“I know it’s stupid.”
“No, it isn’t. Maybe we should get inside.”
“Yes, it’s getting late anyway.” Ray rose and headed to
the door. “Oh, here’s some good news for you. This place has
two bedrooms. You get the fancier one, naturally.”
“Why do I get the fancy one?”
“Because that’s the type of person I am.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s not how I am.” Monica rose to her
feet, resting a hand on one hip and giving Ray a level stare.
“I don’t want you to confuse me with those exes of yours,
those takers. Not ever. We should be fair about everything.”
“Seriously, Monica.” Ray sighed. She should’ve seen that
coming. “I didn’t share those details to guilt you into
things.”
“I don’t feel guilty.” Monica reached into her pocket.
“Let’s flip a coin.”
There was another brilliant flash of lightning followed by
a thunderous clap.
“Okay, but inside.”
Monica swept up the hot chocolate mugs and ducked
through the door, while Ray tailed her with a pile of blankets
they’d wrapped over their legs. They got inside not a
moment too soon. As Ray was sliding the door shut, rain
began to pelt the glass like someone had turned a fire hose
on the side of the house.
Monica, undeterred by the spectacular deluge, held a
quarter in her hand. “Do you want heads or tails?”
Ray groaned. She hated to admit it, but this woman was
every bit as stubborn as she was. “Tails.”
Monica flipped the coin and caught it in her hand. “Tails
it is. You win.”
Ray grinned. “Excellent, in that case, I choose the small
room.”
“Nope. That’s not how it works.” Monica wagged a finger
in the air. “The winner gets the large room.”
“That’s…cheating.” Ray couldn’t really explain why, but
it had to be.
“No.” Monica planted her hands on her hips. “It’s heads
or tails. It’s not complicated.”
“Doesn’t the winner usually get to pick which thing they
want?”
“Not this time.” Monica waved o Ray’s suggestion,
yawning. “Little bedroom’s over here?”
“Yes.” She said it calmly, but inside, Ray was screaming
at her earlier self for being so stupid as to book a place with
two rooms. After so many weeks of sharing a bed with
Monica, she didn’t want to be alone.
“I guess this is good night, then.” Monica’s smile
faltered. Was it possible she’d gotten used to their
arrangement, too?
Ray didn’t want it to be. Why wouldn’t the words come
out? How hard was it to say I love you and I don’t want to be
alone anymore?
Pretty fucking hard, as it turned out.
Ray gulped. “I guess it is.”
Monica held Ray’s gaze for several seconds, before
saying, “Nighty, night.”
FOR THE FIRST time in ages, Ray had a king-size bed all to
herself. Instead of spreading out and luxuriating in all that
space like royalty, Ray tossed and turned, unable to close her
eyes for longer than five seconds. If the clock on the
nightstand could be believed, it was past midnight, but the
storm seemed to be picking up again. It wasn’t just the
thunder keeping her awake. It was the emptiness in the bed.
She hadn’t slept alone for weeks now, and she needed
Monica’s calming presence, craved it with such an intensity
that Ray finally realized a little of what her mother must’ve
gone through, wanting to feel better and thinking only drugs
could help.
Ray didn’t want drugs. She wanted Monica.
But she couldn’t have Monica.
Maybe there was chamomile tea in the kitchen.
Even as she told herself she was an idiot for thinking a
cup of flower petals soaked in boiling water could substitute
for a living, breathing woman, Ray tossed the covers back
and scrambled out of bed, putting bare feet onto the frigid
wood floor.
In the kitchen, she spied a glass jar with tea bags, and
after sni ng them, she decided they were definitely not
chamomile. They weren’t really anything recognizable, but
based on the fact they looked like dried lawn clippings, they
were probably an herbal variety, so at least there would be no
ca eine. Not that it mattered. Ray was certain she wasn’t
going to get any sleep. She was going through the motions to
give herself something to do.
She filled the electric kettle, flipped it on, and then turned
around to look in the cabinets for a mug. Finding one, she
reached for it, right when there was a deafening clap of
thunder. Ray let out a yelp, and the mug fell from her hand,
shattering on the floor.
“Ray! Are you okay?” Monica flew out of her room.
“Careful where you step.” Ray pointed to the shards on
the floor.
Monica’s eyes flickered downward for a fraction of a
second, but then she was staring at Ray’s face, assessing her
as if the broken bits didn’t matter at all. As if there was
something much more important to her in need of tending.
“Did you hurt yourself? Are you cut?”
“I don’t think so.” Ray looked at her feet and shin, not
spotting any blood. She felt out of sorts but not injured. Why
was Monica there, looking at her like that? “The thunder
startled me; that’s all.”
“Come here.” Monica skirted the broken pieces and
pulled Ray into her arms. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Ray sti ened, even though the only thing keeping her
from melting into a puddle was her firm resolve. “I’m acting
like a child.”
Monica held on tighter. “Shh, everything’s going to be
okay.”
Ray leaned into the embrace, feeling Monica’s nipples
pressing into Ray’s thin T-shirt. Her resolve was growing
less firm by the second, in direct proportion, as it happened,
to how rapidly her own nipples were growing hard. Had she
discovered a mystical balance to the universe?
Had she actually opened that bottle of wine she’d o ered
Monica, even though she didn’t remember doing so, and was
now impossibly drunk?
Another lightning strike was quickly followed by thunder.
Her heart jumped like a panicked rabbit.
“I think that was right overhead.” Monica protected Ray’s
head as if there was actual danger. “I’ve never been in a
storm like this. Have you?”
“Not that I can remember, but as you’ve probably
guessed, I’ve never liked them.”
The kettle clicked o as the water reached a boil.
“Do you still want tea?” Monica asked, loosening her grip
a fraction.
“No.” The only thing Ray wanted was for Monica to never
let go.
“Shall we get you back to bed?” Monica’s voice was filled
with an emotion Ray couldn’t put her finger on.
“Maybe I’ll sleep on the couch. Having the back of it
might make me feel safer.”
“No way am I letting you sleep on the couch, not when
you have a king-size bed.”
It’s lonely without you, Ray’s brain whimpered.
“Do you want me to come in with you until you fall
asleep?” Monica o ered. Had she read Ray’s thoughts? Or,
more likely, were they written all over her face?
She should definitely say no. It was the only proper thing
to do.
“Yes,” she answered instead, because screw being proper.
Ray couldn’t force her head away from the safety of the
crook of Monica’s neck.
Monica ran her hand up and down Ray’s back, like she’d
been doing most nights when they shared a bed.
Ray’s muscles started to unclench in response.
“There you go,” she soothed. “You’re starting to relax.
Look at me.”
Ray burrowed her face further into Monica’s shoulder.
“Please, Ray. Look at me.”
Slowly, Ray lifted her head and was startled by the
unmistakable longing in those clear blue eyes. Monica
cupped Ray’s cheek. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Ray’s mind was going a million miles a second thinking
of all the things she wanted to happen to her. As Monica’s
pupils grew impossibly large and dark, it was possible she
was of the same mind.
Ray moved her head closer, Monica mirroring the action.
Their eyes met, as if each was asking of the other if this
was okay.
Yes. Yes, it was.
Neither spoke, but the force pulling them closer became
increasingly impossible to resist, until, at last, their lips
collided with need. As soon as the initial hunger was sated, a
tenderness took over, allowing Ray to savor the moment. If
this might be the last kiss they ever shared, she wanted to
make it memorable.
Monica’s velvet lips smothered Ray’s, each caress healing
a part of the scarred woman Ray kept under wraps. It was
magical.
Then it happened. Monica opened her mouth, allowing
Ray’s tongue to explore and taste to her heart’s desire. It
wasn’t solely Ray whose need was rapidly reaching a
crescendo. As Monica hungrily explored Ray’s mouth with
her tongue, her fingers dug into the back of Ray’s head with
such force Ray might’ve screamed had she not been too
distracted to notice.
Monica pulled back, breathing heavily. “Where?”
“What?” Ray gulped. Why was Monica asking her di cult
questions when her brain was about to explode?
“My bed or yours?”
The meaning of Monica’s question dawned, but was this
really going to happen? There was no doubt in Monica’s tone
or intense stare. All Ray had to do was make a choice. Heads
or tails.
“Mine.”
Monica took Ray by the hand and marched them into the
bedroom with a pace that clearly meant no take backs. Ray
had been daydreaming about this moment night after night
—right down to Monica’s total bossiness—thinking it would
never happen.
Now it was about to.
At the foot of the bed, Monica reached under Ray’s shirt,
their lips meeting again, while her fingers walked over Ray’s
bare skin. Yearning for more, Ray reached for Monica’s
nighty, only to be met with yards of fabric. What had looked
so pretty folded up in a drawer, inspiring several nights of
strange Little House on the Prairie inspired fantasies, turned
out to be a pain in the ass when actually trying to remove it
from a real woman.
“How do I get in?” Ray demanded. She was pretty sure
that even in the heat of the moment, Monica would never
forgive her for ripping it.
“Ask nicely.”
Ray’s pulse pounded in her throat. “Monica, dear, can I
touch you?”
Monica didn’t move or answer, her eyes digging into Ray.
“I know you’ve been teased before about that”—Ray
pointed to the cotton nightgown—“but if you want to know
a secret, I think it’s kinda hot. Except now, I want to see
what’s underneath.”
“Do you mean all of these times we’ve undressed for bed,
you haven’t peeked once?”
Ray shook her head. “Have you?”
“Not then.”
“When, then?” Ray asked with a smirk.
“It’s possible, when you’re working in the field with
Christos, your shirt slips up, and I can’t help but see…
things.”
