Heart sat to the side and quietly sighed. Nerves? You motherfucker. Don’t even think about showing your face here.
We lay for a while, listening to the ocean in our own little haven, this romantic fairy tale that could have, should have been enough. When his breathing returned to normal, he lifted his head and kissed me very softly.
“Sweet Caroline,” he smiled, and I smiled back, my heart full.
Sex could be amazing, even without the O.
“I’ll be right back,” he said disentangling from me and walking to the bathroom, naked backside a sight to behold. I watched him retreat, and then sat up quickly, pulling the straps of my nightie back up around my shoulders. I rolled on to my side, away from the bathroom, and curled around my pillow. This had been the single best sexual experience of my life. Every i had been dotted, every t had been crossed. And yet, I was still no-go for O. What the hell was wrong with me?
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
Even though he’d only been gone from the bed a few minutes, when he came back, I panicked and pretended to be asleep. Childish? Yep. Totally childish.
I felt the bed dip as he climbed back in, and then his warm and still very naked body was up against me, spooning. Arms wrapped around my middle, and then his mouth was at my ear, whispering.
“Mmm, Nightie Girl back in her nightie.”
I waited, not speaking, just breathing. I felt him shake me a little bit and let out a little chuckle.
“Hey, hey you, are you sleeping?”
Should I snore? Whenever people faked sleep on sitcoms, they snored. I let out a tiny one. He kissed my neck, my traitor skin pebbling in the wake of his mouth. I sighed in my “sleep,” snuggling closer to Simon, hoping he would let me pull this off. The fates were kind tonight, as he simply hugged me tighter to his chest and kissed me once more.
“’Night, Caroline,” he whispered, and the night settled around us. I fake snored for a few more minutes until his actual snoring took over, and then I sighed heavily.
Confused and numb, I was awake until dawn.
Chapter Twenty
I HAD FAKED IT.
Faked it with Simon. There must have been a rule written somewhere, maybe even chiseled into a stone tablet: Thou Shall Not Fake It With Wallbanger. So let it be written, so let it be done. I faked it, and now I was doomed to wander the planet forever, O-less.
Was I being overly dramatic? Oh my, yes. But if this didn’t call for a little drama, what did?
That next morning, I was up and out of bed before Simon was even awake, something I hadn’t done the entire time we were on our trip together. Usually we stayed in bed until the other one was awake, and then lounged for a while, laughing and talking. And kissing.
Mmm, the kissing.
But this morning I ran quickly through the shower and was in the kitchen making breakfast when a sleepy Simon came in. Shuffling across the floor in his socks, with boxers low on his hips, he grinned through his sleep haze and burrowed into my side as I sliced melon and berries.
“What are you doing out here? I was a little lonesome. Big bed, no Caroline. Where’d you go?” he asked, planting a quick kiss on my shoulder.
“I needed to get moving this morning. Remember the car is coming for me at ten? I wanted to make you some breakfast before I left.” I smiled, turning to give him a quick kiss.
He stopped me from turning away and kissed me more thoroughly, not letting me hurry through anything. I could feel myself closing off, and I was almost unable to stop it. I needed some time to process this, to understand how I was feeling—other than miserable. But I adored Simon, and he didn’t deserve this. So I let myself fall into the kiss, be swept away by this man once more. I kissed him back feverishly, passionately, and then pulled away just before it could become something more than a kiss.
“Fruit?”
“Huh?”
“Fruit. I made fruit salad. Want some?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sounds good. Coffee made?”
“Water is boiling. French press is all ready to go.” I patted him on the cheek as I waved him toward the pot. We coexisted in the kitchen, talking quietly, and Simon stole a kiss or two here and there. I tried not to show how messed up my brain was, tried to act as normal as I could. Simon seemed to sense something was up, but he took his cue from me, let me lead this morning.
We sat outside on the terrace one last time, eating our breakfast together and watching the breakers roll in.
“Are you glad you came?” he asked.
I bit down on my lip at the obvious. “I’m so glad. This trip was amazing.” I smiled, reaching across the table for his hand and giving it a squeeze.
“And now?”
“And now what? Back to reality. What time does your flight get in tomorrow?” I asked.
“Late. Really late. Should I call you or…” He left off, seeming to ask me if he should come over.
“Call me when you get in, no matter what time, okay?” I replied, sipping my coffee and watching the ocean. He was quiet now, and this time when I bit down on my lip it was to keep from crying.
I had packed early, so when the driver got here, I was ready to go. Simon had tried to tempt me to join him in the shower, but I begged off, making an excuse about finding my passport. I was panicking and pulling away just when we’d been getting so close, but this had really thrown me for a loop.
I had put all my Os in one basket, and the problem wasn’t Simon. It was me. The sex had been unreal, amazing, perfection even with a condom on, and yet still, no.
Simon walked my bags out to the car and placed them in the trunk. After speaking to the driver for a moment, he came back to me as I walked through the house one last time. It truly had been a fairy tale, and I had enjoyed every moment.
“Time to go?” I asked, leaning back against him when he approached me at the terrace railing. I was glad for the feel of him against me.
“Time to go. You have everything you need?”
“I think so. I wish I could figure out a way to get some of those prawns home, though.” I laughed, and he snorted into my hair.
“I think we can find something at home that will be suitable. Maybe we can have the others over next weekend and recreate some of the stuff we ate here?”
I turned to face him. “Make our debut?” I grinned.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, if you want to,” he added sheepishly, looking at me carefully.
“I do,” I answered. And I did. Even without the stupid, blessed O, I wanted to be with Simon.
“Okay, debut over prawns. That sounds weird.”