She sniffed, her lips tipping up. “Yeah, that night was intense. I remember thinking later how it made sense, since you knew you were going. And whenever I started to feel bad about myself and doubt that you’d ever loved me, I would remember that night and tell myself you wouldn’t have seemed so tortured if you hadn’t really cared.”
I stared at her. “You thought maybe I didn’t love you?”
Her shoulders rose, and she looked up at me with a helpless expression. “What was I supposed to think? You told me you loved me, but then you were gone without a word. I figured I hadn’t meant that much to you.”
For a second, I was dumbfounded. Then angry with myself. Then determined to make her understand what she meant to me, if it was the last thing I did.
I grabbed her arm and yanked her off the stool. “Come with me.”
“Dallas, what the hell?” She stumbled along behind me, still holding on to the drawing, her feet scrambling to keep up with my long strides. I led her around the back of the brick building, toward where we’d parked, but was too impatient to wait until we reached the car. As soon as we were alone, I swung her around and took her face in my hands. Her skin was luminous in the dark.
“Listen to me,” I said. “Not a day has gone by that I didn’t think of you and regret what I’d done. Not one fucking day.”
“Really?” Her voice was shaky.
“Yes. I walked away because I was young and stupid and ashamed, not because I didn’t love you. I did.” I hesitated, then thought, fuck it. “I still do.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I never stopped loving you, Maren. I never even tried.”
She started to cry so I crushed my lips to hers and kissed her, deeply, desperately, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, her tears wetting my cheeks. Inside me, something was happening—I could feel my resolve weakening. I wanted this. I wanted it too much.
I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers, my eyes closed tight. “Goddammit. I’m not supposed to be here. I was supposed to ask your forgiveness and let you go. This is all wrong.”
“No, no.” She shook her head between my palms. “I refuse to believe that. I never got over you, Dallas.”
“You should. I’m no good for you.”
“You say that because you spent too many years listening to people who were supposed to love you cut you down when they should have built you up.” Her tone was fierce. “It’s not true.”
I pulled back and looked down at her. “You don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”
“All I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted is you. And if what you say is true, if you still love me, then we belong together, Dallas. We deserve a second chance.”
I felt myself being torn in two. How could I argue with her? How could I destroy this impossible dream she had for us, when I wanted it just as much?
“Let me love you, Dallas,” she pleaded, her eyes glittering in the dark. “I know it’s not easy for you. I know you don’t think you deserve it. But you do. Let me.”
God help me, I wanted her love. I wanted to believe what she was saying. I wanted to feel like the man she thought I was, even if it was only for tonight.
“Okay,” I whispered.
She threw her arms around me, and I held her tight, lifting her off her feet.
“Take me home,” she said softly in my ear. “I need to be close to you.”
Eleven
Dallas
We went back to her house, shedding our clothing as we kissed and stumbled from the front door to her room, where we fell into bed, skin to skin, limbs twined, mouths sealed. My need for her was like a living, grasping, starving thing inside me, powerful and wild and all-consuming. I let it take over, let it silence every other voice in my head. She was the only thing in my world, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make her happy.
Including lie.
“Tell me,” she begged breathlessly as I eased inside her. “Tell me we can find a way. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said, my heart breaking open. “We can find a way.”
Her eyes closed as her head dropped to one side, lips parted. I felt her hands pulling me closer, her heels tight on my thighs. She was warm and wet and soft and beautiful and mine again, mine tonight, mine forever … I closed my eyes, rocking deeper into her body, feeling her tighten around me, like I belonged inside her, like I was part of her.
“Yes,” she whispered, softly at first, but then repeated the word, yes, yes, yes, her voice growing louder and louder as we spiraled higher and tighter, and as we exploded together and fell to earth in beautiful fiery pieces, it was like the first time all over again. It was then and it was now and there was never a time when our bodies didn’t crave this heat and our hearts didn’t share this rhythm and our souls weren’t always leading us right back to this place, this feeling, this moment.
I clung to it, as if it could save me from drowning.
“Done.” Maren hopped back in bed and slipped under the covers. She’d gotten up to go take her pill, but otherwise we hadn’t left her bed for hours. I was surprised the thing was still standing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand if I tried getting out of it.
Not that I wanted to leave. On the contrary, all I wanted was to stay here with her for the rest of my life. Or take her back to Portland with me. Or move somewhere new and start over together. Just the two of us, like it should have been all along.
But I knew better, and the familiar ache in my head was a painful reminder that none of this could last. Some ibuprofen might have helped, but I didn’t ask her for any. The pain served me right.
Maren stretched out next to me, her head propped on her hand. “Do you have a favorite?” she asked, sweeping her other hand over the ink on my shoulder.
I thought for a second. “The mermaid.”
She smiled. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because it reminds me of you.”
“So you did remember I liked mermaids, you liar.” She poked me in the ribs. “You said you didn’t last night.”
“I think I was trying to be cool.”
“I knew something was off about that—your memory was always incredible.” She leaned away from me, looking for the tattoo in question. “I can’t see it in the dark.”
“It’s here.” I guided her hand to my side, and her fingertips played over my skin. “I got it for you.” Another little truth I could offer.
She went still. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
It was dark in her room, but I could imagine the pink in her cheeks. “When?”
“Maybe five years ago.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you like your job?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you’re really good at it.”
“I like to think so. I stay pretty busy.” I pictured the shop, wishing I could take Maren there. “My boss is a woman named Beatriz. You’d like her. She believes in all that woo-woo stuff like you do.”
She poked me again. “It’s not woo-woo stuff. It’s real.”
“Okay, okay. It’s real.”
“What’s the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked you to tattoo on their body?”
I put my hands behind my head. “I try not to judge people’s ideas, but I do think it’s fucking strange when they want animals tattooed on their stomach so their belly button looks like the asshole.”
“You are kidding me. People ask for that?”
“Yeah. People want all kinds of crazy shit.”
“Have you ever refused to do what someone wanted?”
“Sure. If I’m positive they’ll regret it. But my only really hard and fast rule is that I won’t tattoo names of boyfriends or girlfriends, or even spouses, on anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Because in my experience, people always regret it. Feelings change. Couples break up. Marriages end in divorce. People end up hating each other. You think you’re going to love one person forever, but history tells us it’s not very likely. Tattooing someone’s name on your body is like asking fate to fuck with you.”
I stared at her. “You thought maybe I didn’t love you?”
Her shoulders rose, and she looked up at me with a helpless expression. “What was I supposed to think? You told me you loved me, but then you were gone without a word. I figured I hadn’t meant that much to you.”
For a second, I was dumbfounded. Then angry with myself. Then determined to make her understand what she meant to me, if it was the last thing I did.
I grabbed her arm and yanked her off the stool. “Come with me.”
“Dallas, what the hell?” She stumbled along behind me, still holding on to the drawing, her feet scrambling to keep up with my long strides. I led her around the back of the brick building, toward where we’d parked, but was too impatient to wait until we reached the car. As soon as we were alone, I swung her around and took her face in my hands. Her skin was luminous in the dark.
“Listen to me,” I said. “Not a day has gone by that I didn’t think of you and regret what I’d done. Not one fucking day.”
“Really?” Her voice was shaky.
“Yes. I walked away because I was young and stupid and ashamed, not because I didn’t love you. I did.” I hesitated, then thought, fuck it. “I still do.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I never stopped loving you, Maren. I never even tried.”
She started to cry so I crushed my lips to hers and kissed her, deeply, desperately, my tongue sweeping into her mouth, her tears wetting my cheeks. Inside me, something was happening—I could feel my resolve weakening. I wanted this. I wanted it too much.
I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers, my eyes closed tight. “Goddammit. I’m not supposed to be here. I was supposed to ask your forgiveness and let you go. This is all wrong.”
“No, no.” She shook her head between my palms. “I refuse to believe that. I never got over you, Dallas.”
“You should. I’m no good for you.”
“You say that because you spent too many years listening to people who were supposed to love you cut you down when they should have built you up.” Her tone was fierce. “It’s not true.”
I pulled back and looked down at her. “You don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”
“All I want is you. All I’ve ever wanted is you. And if what you say is true, if you still love me, then we belong together, Dallas. We deserve a second chance.”
I felt myself being torn in two. How could I argue with her? How could I destroy this impossible dream she had for us, when I wanted it just as much?
“Let me love you, Dallas,” she pleaded, her eyes glittering in the dark. “I know it’s not easy for you. I know you don’t think you deserve it. But you do. Let me.”
God help me, I wanted her love. I wanted to believe what she was saying. I wanted to feel like the man she thought I was, even if it was only for tonight.
“Okay,” I whispered.
She threw her arms around me, and I held her tight, lifting her off her feet.
“Take me home,” she said softly in my ear. “I need to be close to you.”
Eleven
Dallas
We went back to her house, shedding our clothing as we kissed and stumbled from the front door to her room, where we fell into bed, skin to skin, limbs twined, mouths sealed. My need for her was like a living, grasping, starving thing inside me, powerful and wild and all-consuming. I let it take over, let it silence every other voice in my head. She was the only thing in my world, and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to make her happy.
Including lie.
“Tell me,” she begged breathlessly as I eased inside her. “Tell me we can find a way. Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said, my heart breaking open. “We can find a way.”
Her eyes closed as her head dropped to one side, lips parted. I felt her hands pulling me closer, her heels tight on my thighs. She was warm and wet and soft and beautiful and mine again, mine tonight, mine forever … I closed my eyes, rocking deeper into her body, feeling her tighten around me, like I belonged inside her, like I was part of her.
“Yes,” she whispered, softly at first, but then repeated the word, yes, yes, yes, her voice growing louder and louder as we spiraled higher and tighter, and as we exploded together and fell to earth in beautiful fiery pieces, it was like the first time all over again. It was then and it was now and there was never a time when our bodies didn’t crave this heat and our hearts didn’t share this rhythm and our souls weren’t always leading us right back to this place, this feeling, this moment.
I clung to it, as if it could save me from drowning.
“Done.” Maren hopped back in bed and slipped under the covers. She’d gotten up to go take her pill, but otherwise we hadn’t left her bed for hours. I was surprised the thing was still standing. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand if I tried getting out of it.
Not that I wanted to leave. On the contrary, all I wanted was to stay here with her for the rest of my life. Or take her back to Portland with me. Or move somewhere new and start over together. Just the two of us, like it should have been all along.
But I knew better, and the familiar ache in my head was a painful reminder that none of this could last. Some ibuprofen might have helped, but I didn’t ask her for any. The pain served me right.
Maren stretched out next to me, her head propped on her hand. “Do you have a favorite?” she asked, sweeping her other hand over the ink on my shoulder.
I thought for a second. “The mermaid.”
She smiled. “Yeah? Why?”
“Because it reminds me of you.”
“So you did remember I liked mermaids, you liar.” She poked me in the ribs. “You said you didn’t last night.”
“I think I was trying to be cool.”
“I knew something was off about that—your memory was always incredible.” She leaned away from me, looking for the tattoo in question. “I can’t see it in the dark.”
“It’s here.” I guided her hand to my side, and her fingertips played over my skin. “I got it for you.” Another little truth I could offer.
She went still. “You did?”
“Yeah.”
It was dark in her room, but I could imagine the pink in her cheeks. “When?”
“Maybe five years ago.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you like your job?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you’re really good at it.”
“I like to think so. I stay pretty busy.” I pictured the shop, wishing I could take Maren there. “My boss is a woman named Beatriz. You’d like her. She believes in all that woo-woo stuff like you do.”
She poked me again. “It’s not woo-woo stuff. It’s real.”
“Okay, okay. It’s real.”
“What’s the weirdest thing anyone has ever asked you to tattoo on their body?”
I put my hands behind my head. “I try not to judge people’s ideas, but I do think it’s fucking strange when they want animals tattooed on their stomach so their belly button looks like the asshole.”
“You are kidding me. People ask for that?”
“Yeah. People want all kinds of crazy shit.”
“Have you ever refused to do what someone wanted?”
“Sure. If I’m positive they’ll regret it. But my only really hard and fast rule is that I won’t tattoo names of boyfriends or girlfriends, or even spouses, on anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Because in my experience, people always regret it. Feelings change. Couples break up. Marriages end in divorce. People end up hating each other. You think you’re going to love one person forever, but history tells us it’s not very likely. Tattooing someone’s name on your body is like asking fate to fuck with you.”
