The Space Between Us (36 page)

   “Is that what you’re forgiving yourself for?”  He asked softly.

   “I’m working on forgiving myself for a lot of things, but yes, running from you is one of them.  You have never been anything but supportive of me, and the one time you messed up I pushed you so far away you were never able to find me again.  I’m sorry.”

   “Can you tell me what else you’re sorry for?  You don’t have to, I understand if it’s private.”

   I smiled at that, at his acknowledgment of my privacy, but still wanting to know that part of me.

   “
No, it’s ok.”  I sighed, trying to put into words everything my mind had been sifting through for the last couple of days.  “I’m forgiving myself for getting pregnant in the first place.  I’m forgiving myself for
blaming
myself for the miscarriage.  That wasn’t my fault.”  I felt a wave of emotions wash over me when I heard the words come out of my mouth, and I stifled back a small cry.

   “Oh, Bit.  I wish I was there with you right now,” he said painfully.  I could hear the ache in his voice, the discomfort that came with wanting to be near me.  Again, I was denying him the ability to be with me.

   “I need to forgive myself for not being with my dad when he died.  For putting that distance between us, for building the kind of relationship with him that he didn’t think he could tell me he was dying.”  The cries came for real then and I couldn’t control them.  Tears streaked my face and all I heard from the other end of the phone was Asher’s voice whispering comforting words and hushing me.  When I’d calmed down a little, Asher’s voice was there to bring me back.

   “Babe, he didn’t keep his illn
ess from you because he felt like he couldn’t tell you.  He kept it from you because he didn’t want you to suffer through another parent’s death.  Trust me, I tried to convince him many times to call you and tell you, but he was trying to protect you.”

   I took his words in and tried to process them.  I knew my dad would have done anything to keep me safe and to protect me from harm, but now I’d never know what might have happe
ned if I’d been more present, if I’d been less distant.

   “I know you’re right, Asher.  It’s just something that’s going to take some time to get over.”

   “It’s another one of those things that you can’t blame yourself for, Bit.  Your father was a grown man and he knew what decisions he was making.  Don’t turn his actions around and make them into something you have to feel sorry about.  That’s not what he’d want.”

   “I know,” I whispered.  After a few moments Asher let out a frustrated growl.

   “This is killing me.  I need to see you.  I can’t be so far away from you when I know you’re hurting.”  I smiled and wiped residual tears from my face.

   “I’m ok, Asher.  This is all part of the process.  We both need this.  If we’re going to be together after this, we both nee
d to move on from everything, start over.”

   “I know you’re right.  I just want to hold you.  I want to smell you and touch you.”  I shivered at his words.  His voice was deeper and I knew his intentions weren’t just to comfort me, but to make me feel him.

   “I want that too,” I whispered.

   “Can I ask you a question now?”  I blinked in surprised, thrown off by the quick directional change of our conversation.

   “Of course,” I replied.

   “Have you seen David since you’ve been back?”

   I nearly laughed at his question, but had enough sense not to.  But I did grin stupidly.  He’d always been so territorial over me.  Thinking about him worrying over whether or not some other man was near me or talking to me made my heart rate spike.  I wanted him to assert himself over me, to be possessive.

   “No.” 

   “Does he know you’re back?”

   “I don’t know what he knows.  I didn’t tell him.  But he knows I have a show coming up, and he probably figures I’m in town preparing.”

   “Will you see him?”

   “Not on purpose.”

   “Do better than that, Bit.”

  
“I have no desire, whatsoever, to see David while I am here, or ever.  He’s a part of my past, Asher.  I never loved him.  I used him and I am ashamed of that.  He deserved way better than I gave him and I wish him all the happiness in the world, but I don’t want him.”  Asher was quiet and I let him digest my words.

   “How long were you with him?”

   “Five years.”

   “Shit… that’s a long time.”

   “It was.”

   “Well, I can tell you one thing.  I know how men work, and if he had you for five years there’s no way he’s going to just let you go – no one could just give you up.  If he knows you’re in town
, he’s going to try to contact you.”

   “And if he does, I’ll tell him I’ve moved on and that we can’t see each other anymore.”

   “Your show is Saturday, right?”

   “Yes.”

   “Do you miss me?”  Again I was startled by the turn in the conversation.

   “Desperately,” I answered honestly.

   “Oh, you’re desperate, are you?”  His voice took on a flirty tone.

   “Mm hmm.”  I moaned a little, trying to bait him.

   “Shit, Bit.  Your voice is really sexy on the phone.  I remember all those times we talked on the phone while I was away over the summers.  I always had a hard-on talking to you.”

   Hook, line, and sinker.

   “Do you enjoy phone sex?”  I rasped at him. 

   “No,” he said quickly.

   “No?” I said, surprised and in my normal voice, all sexy raspiness gone.  “What do you mean no?  What kind of red-blooded, American man are you?”

   “Don’t go getting all offended on me, Babe.  I just like the real thing better.  Phone sex is like teasing my cock.  He
gets all worked up expecting something soft and warm and all he gets is my hand.  It’s mean.”

   “Oh my
God.”  I laughed at his words – big, loud fits of laughter.  I rolled on the bed until I was on my back, the laughter taking over my body.  I cried from all the laughing.  “You might be the only man on the planet to ever say that,” I cried as I wiped the tears from my face.

   “Think about it.  You’re sitting there, all alone in your hotel right now.  I could use my voice to turn you on,” he said, his voice going soft and s
low, dropping to a gravelly timbre.  “I could tell you how much I wanted you, how badly I need to be inside of you.  I could talk about my tongue flicking over your nipples, about my hands gripping your ass as I rubbed myself against you.” 

   I g
ulped at his words, swallowed any laughter that remained and replaced with panting breaths.

   “I could talk about grabbing your hair, holding you in place, while I sank into you from behind, rocking you back and forth, hitting every spot you love that I remember.”

   “Fuuuck…” I groaned, rolling to my side and squeezing my thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure that was pounding between my legs.

   “Now tell me, Bit.  Which sounds better right now?”

   “Mmmm…” I mumbled in response.

   “Your tiny fingers?  Or my cock?”

   “Shit.”

   “That’s right.  You want my cock.  But I’m so far away.”

   “You’re an ass.”

   “Perhaps,” he said with a laugh.  “But you love me.”

   “Perhaps,” I said with a smile.

Chapter
Sixteen

Charlie

   After Asher and I hung up that night, I couldn’t keep my thoughts from my father and of what Asher tried to convince me.  My mind fluttered to the letter my dad left for me, the letter he wrote to me before he died.  I kept it in the top drawer of my dresser in my hotel room.  I peeled myself off the bed and walked to the dresser, slowly pulling open the drawer.  I moved aside the undergarments that I used to cover it, although, covering it was useless as I always knew it was there.  It might as well have been smoking and red hot for how it seemed to burn in my mind.  It pulsed.  I was aware of it always.  I reached for it, hand trembling, not sure if I was ready to read the last words my father had for me.

   Slowly, I peeled back the lip of the envelope and saw a piece of paper with indentions all over it from th
e pen marks my father made.  A small cry escaped me as I came to terms with the fact my father held this paper in his hands, wrote this for me.  I was suddenly angry I didn’t read it sooner. 

   I pulled the paper out, opened it, and sat down in the big arm chair in the corner of the suite, curling my legs up under me, trying to get comfortable.

My Dear Charlie Bear,

   Just the salutation reduced me to tears.  I smiled through the sobs, remembering and loving the nickname my father had for me my entire life, no matter how old I was or how mad I made him.

   The first thing I want to say to you is that I’m sorry.  I know it will be hard for you to understand my decision to keep my illness from you and part of me is very sorry to put you in this situation.  But there’s a bigger part of me, the Daddy part of me, that knows this was the least painful way to leave you.  I watched you hold your mother’s hand while she was sick and I know what that did to both of you.  I couldn’t put you through that again.  Know that you were with me the entire time, and that I thought of you until the end.  I never loved anyone the way I loved you, Charlie Bear, and I am so lucky that I got to be your father.

   In time you will heal and the sadness will fade away.  Trust me.  I want you to move on from this and live a good life.  I am not afraid to die, Charlie.  I know that when I go I will get to see your momma and the two beautiful babies that neither of us got to meet.  I will hug them and tell them how much their mother loves them, Charlie.  Your mother and I will take care of them for you.

   My hands came up to cover my face, the sobs ripping through me, a hurricane of sadness brewing inside my chest, the pressure threatening to tear me in two.  The image in my head of my mother and father, each holding a baby, was enough to stop my breath.  For just a moment, I didn’t want to breathe anymore.  I wasn’t ready to die, but I wanted to hold my children.  I wanted to hug my mother again, kiss my father’s cheek. I wasn’t envious of their deaths, just a little jealous that they didn’t have to feel the hurt anymore.  I used my shirt to wipe away the tears and picked up the letter to continue reading.

  
Now I must move on to more important matters.  One benefit of knowing you’re about to die is that you get to make one last request.  This request holds far more weight than any request you made when you were healthy for some reason.  I’m not going to question the logic, but I am going to take advantage of my situation and make one last dying request, a request on my deathbed, if you will.

   Forgive him.  Tell him.  Let him love you.  Let yourself be happy.

   There have been two times in my life when Asher Carmichael impressed the shit out of me.  The first time, you were fourteen and just started high school.  I pulled Asher into my office and we talked about what had happened to you at school, and what he did to protect your honor and reputation.  He told me then he loved you and I believed him.  I knew at that moment that boy would spend his whole life protecting you, fighting for you, and loving you.

   Then, a year later, Asher came to me asking if I would let you date him.  Only, he didn’t actually use the word date.  I believe his exact words were, “Sir, I’d like permission to start spending the rest of my life with her.”  What fifteen-year-old boy says something like to that to a girls’ dad?  A brave one.

   When you left and he started coming around here, I knew he was hurting and wanted some tangible thing to hold to.  He wanted to be near you, to feel you, without hurting you.  So I let him be here, but I thought it better to not get involved.  Well, that’s the funny thing about death, it makes you reconsider a lot of decisions you’ve made throughout your life.  Now, I’ve decided, is the perfect time to get involved.

   Promise me you won’t push him away anymore.  Reach out to him.  Let him help heal you.  I know, if you let him in, he’ll spend his whole life making everything right again.    He needs healing just as much as you do and you are the only one who can help him with that.

   I love you Charlie.  I will always love you and you will always have your mother and me watching over you.  Don’t grieve my death for too long and please try to find your happiness again.  I think it lies in the one person you’ve been trying to push away – yourself.

A lifetime of love will never be enough, but it’s all I have to offer,

Your Father

Papa Bear

   I folded the letter back up, making sure the creases were all lined up correctly, not wanting to damage the letter at all.  I placed it back in its envelope and moved back over to the bed.  I laid down, placing the letter under my pillow, and quietly cried myself to sleep.

   Tuesday started with a bouquet of beautiful, pink roses. 
Bit, Pink roses symbolize grace, joy, and sweetness.  All three are synonymous with you, but I picked pink because it reminds me of your lips.  Kisses, Asher

   Wednesday’s dinner was served with the most perfect violets I’d ever seen. 
My flower, violets represent loyalty.  You will always be confident my loyalty lies with you. Xoxo, Asher

   “You’ve got to stop sending me flowers,” I said to him over the phone Wednesday evening.

   “You don’t like flowers?  What kind of red-blooded, American woman are you?”

   “Ha ha.  I think the hotel staff thinks I’m some kept woman.  The lady at the concierge desk rolls her eyes at me when I walk by.  She probably thinks I am some mistress here to see my boyfriend who is cheating on his wife with me.”

   “You’ve got quite the imagination,” he said with a chuckle.

   “Well, you haven’t seen the looks she gives me.”

   “They can’t be that bad.  How’s the show coming along?  Everything working out the way you want it to?”

   “Yes
,” I sighed.  “The show is pretty much put together.  I’ve spent more time drawing than anything else, which is good.  But my work is different now.  If you put the piece I was working on today next to any of the pieces from the show, you’d think two different people drew them.”

   “Do you like the new direction you’re going in?”

   “Yeah, I mean, I’m really inspired and the drawings are turning out beautiful.  They’re just different.”

   “Different can be good.”  His tone was wistful, as if he meant more than he was saying.

   “Yes, it can.”  My smile could be heard through my voice and I felt it all over.

   Thursday, when I came back to the hotel from the studio, there was a ridiculously large display of long-stem, red roses on the concierge desk.  My mouth dropped open and then I rolled my eyes, figuring out exactly what was going on.

   “Ma’am,” the woman behind the desk called out to me.  “These were delivered with
explicit
instructions to leave them here for you.”

   I scrambled over to the counter and peeked around the roses at her.

   “Your
admirer
is getting bolder,” she said with a sneer.

   “Listen, he’s not my admirer.  I mean, he admires me, but it’s not like that.”

   “It’s none of my business,” she said sharply as she handed me a card.

  
Red roses symbolize passion and lust.  The meaning behind these should be self-explanatory, but if you need clarification, turn the card over.

  
I cringed, but turned the card over anyway.

  
You’re naughty, turning the card over and everything.  I miss you and I want to be inside of you – desperately. XXX, Asher

   Before I could stop myself
, I started fanning myself with the card and the bitchy concierge woman narrowed her eyes.

   “Do you need help getting your flowers to your room?”

   “No.  I’ve got it,” I said, grabbing the vase awkwardly and trying to navigate my way through the lobby.  I turned around and shouted to the woman, “He’s an old boyfriend.  Well, a new boyfriend.  He’s not married and I’m not a hussy!”  The woman held her hands up as if to indicate she didn’t have anything to say about it.  For added flair, I spun around quickly knowing my hair would fan out dramatically.  That’ll show her.

**You’re ridiculous.**

**I trust you got my flowers.**

**Shut. Up.  I got your flowers.  You’re an ass.**

**We’ve covered that already.  Let’s talk about your ass and when I’ll get to see it next.**

**You’ll get no sexy talk from me after that stunt you pulled.**

**I don’t respond well to threats, Bit.**

**Not a threat.**

**We’ll see.**

   His last text was confusing
and I was wiped out from making some final arrangements for the show.  All I had left to do tomorrow was pick up my dress and try to relax.

**I’m headed to bed all alone.  Too bad you’re not here to keep me warm.**
  I texted him, hoping to tease him and get him riled up.

**Now who’s the ass?**

**Sweet dreams.**

   Friday came and I admitted
I was a little disappointed when there were no flowers on my breakfast tray.  I even frowned a little when there were none waiting at the concierge desk.  I shook it off and continued on to my appointment with a stylist my agent insisted I hire for the event.  The meeting we had six weeks prior proved to be exhausting and an experience I never wished to have again, but here I was, at her mercy, and dreading it.

   “Elena,” I said as I gave the petite blonde woman a kiss on each cheek.  She w
as European and insisted double-cheek kissing was the polite way to greet someone.  I didn’t have to balls to argue with her about it.  She’d been in the states for over twenty years, but her accent was still thick and her scary attitude even thicker.

   “
Charlie, your dress is here.  You try on.”  I nodded at her and followed her back to the dressing rooms of her boutique.  She showed me to a room and, sure enough, my dress was hanging on a hook.  I delicately took it off the hangar and slid it over my body.  I had to admit; I loved the dress.  It was beautiful.  Black satin gathered at the waist with a twist and a tasteful bow, one shoulder, and it flowed out at the bottom to create the most gorgeous, yet manageable, train.  I loved it.  My olive skin and dark hair looked good against the shimmering black of the fabric and it looked classy, yet sexy.

   “I th
ink it looks pretty good,” I said as Elena’s eyes bulldoze over me.  I was waiting for her opinion because, honestly, it was the only one that mattered.

   “Dress is perfect,” she said with a dramatically rolled ‘r’ as she says dress.  “I do an excellent job.”

   “So… that’s it then?”  I asked, confused.  I was prepared for a three-hour ordeal.

   “Do
you
think there is something wrong with dress?”  She asked, perching her hand on her hip, cocking a perfectly tweezed and drawn-in eyebrow at me.

   “No, God
, no!  I love it.  I was just checking.”

   “
You take off dress.  I have it delivered to your hotel tomorrow after pressing.”

   “Ok, then.”  I had obviously offended Elena.
  I took the dress of, delicately hanging it back up and leaving it on the hook I removed it from.  I went to leave the boutique, but Elena stopped me, making sure to kiss both my cheeks.  Alright then.

   With
an extra few hours I hadn’t planned on, I decided to walk back to the hotel instead of taking a cab.  It was a beautiful afternoon in the city and I felt much more at ease being here than I had even a few days ago.  Something about being here solely for my art, and talking with Asher about the things that were bothering me, had made the city not so excruciatingly lonely for me.  I still felt like a visitor, but more like a visitor who was happy to be there.  I could enjoy the city, not feel overwhelmed by it.

   After a few hours of strolling through the streets, admiring the buildings, wandering through parks, I finally made it back to the hotel.  Again, I was disappointed with the lack of over-the-top flowers waiting for me on the counter.  It was nearly dinner time and I still hadn’t gotten any flowers.  Maybe he took me seriously and stopped sending them.

   “Ma’am!”  I turned back to the concierge desk with a wide grin and the woman rolled her eyes at me. She waved me back over and when I got to the desk she leaned forward.  “This display is far less impressive.  You might want to hold out on him.”  I quickly leaned back, moving away from her with a confused look on my face.