The Gamble
Page 101
“What?” I asked.
“Sleepy Nina is Sweet Nina,” he said quietly. “I see I got Sleepy Nina.”
“No,” I told him. “I’m Three Orgasms One in a Sauna Nina. That Nina is always sweet.”
His hand stopped drifting, his arm wrapped around me and he gave me a squeeze.
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he muttered while he did and his mutter sounded like it came through a smile.
Sleep kept encroaching and I didn’t have the strength, or will, to fight it.
But, for some reason, my mouth kept talking. “Max?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“You scare me.”
I felt his fingers tighten against my skin before he said, “I know I do.”
“Every day it gets better which makes it worse.”
I felt him give me another squeeze as I pressed closer and wrapped my arm around his belly.
“Quit fightin’ it, it’ll just get better,” Max advised.
I felt my weight settle into him as slumber slid over me.
But even so my mouth kept moving. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Life doesn’t give you promises, baby, I can’t either but we’ll do the best we can.”
“Mm…” Finally, my mouth started to go to sleep too.
But my mind didn’t, not for a few seconds, while his words penetrated.
I didn’t know for sure but I didn’t think I wanted promises, not if they were empty. Honesty felt a whole lot better.
“Sleep, Duchess,” Max urged.
“’Kay.”
I got another squeeze and my mind processed this too, mainly how much I liked it.
“’Night, baby,” Max whispered, rolling toward me and wrapping his other arm around me, holding me close, holding me tight.
“’Night, Max,” I whispered back.
Then I fell asleep in Max’s t-shirt, in Max’s bed, in Max’s house and in Max’s arms and I did it before it fully penetrated my brain how I felt.
Not scared at all.
Chapter Nine
Settling
My eyes drifted open and I saw the wall of Max’s chest.
I was held tight to his side, my cheek on his shoulder and my arm was draped across his belly. It was either dawn or clouds were covering the sun for it was morning and there was light but it wasn’t the sunny Colorado mornings I had swiftly become accustomed to.
It struck me that I felt rested, not like I’d spent the craziest week of my life, but like I’d just had a week on a beach with nothing to do but sit in the sun, read a book and, if the spirit moved me, go play in the water.
And I knew it wasn’t the three orgasms (one in the sauna) that I’d had last night.
It was something else, or a bunch of something elses.
And I knew all of them, every last one and I decided to take that quiet me-awake/Max-asleep morning time, finally, to sift through them in my head.
Those something elses included Max calling me Duchess, not as if he’d christened me that name eight days ago, but like he’d called me that since birth.
And they included Max holding me while I was gripped in a fever, trembling with the chills.
It was Max making me oatmeal and telling me he’d never give me a reason to take a timeout and, if I took it anyway, he’d phone.
It was buffalo burgers and the fact that he ordered them for me, not because he was domineering (or not entirely) but because he knew they were delicious and he wanted to give that to me. Coupled with that, it was the fact that he made sure I had an ale when he found out I didn’t drink lager.
It was Max sharing his beautiful bluff and having his picture taken with me, a picture where he did, indeed, look happy. And so did I.
It was Max teaching Damon a lesson after Damon hit me.
It was him taking care of Mindy, talking to Bitsy for the police, on his back under his Mom’s sink because she needed it fixed.
It was Max hearing me tell Sarah I liked her earrings and going to buy them for me and, after finding out I’d already bought them, bringing home the ring.
It was his voice when he spoke of Charlie, as if he respected him and he’d never even met him.
It was because he had my back with my Dad, found my Mom amusing and got along with Steve.
It was because we fought all the time and he was right, I enjoyed it. It was challenging, he made me think, kept me on my toes. He wasn’t boring, staid and predictable. He didn’t let me walk all over him. He was honest and if something was on his mind he shared it even if it would anger me or he was calling me out on one of my many neuroses.
It was also because Max seemed not only to have patience with my many neuroses but most of the time he thought they were cute.
It was because he knew how I took my coffee, he held my hand, he kissed my forehead and he draped his arm along the back of the booth when we were sitting together.
It was Max telling Mindy she was loved; she just didn’t get how much.
It was because he was a good kisser and better in bed.
It was because he held me when we slept, like right then, his arm under my body, wrapped around me, holding me to his side as if, even in sleep, he had no intention of ever letting me go.
Even with all that, I knew I would never be the love of Max’s life. I knew someplace deep he’d already had that and in that deep place it also hurt knowing I’d never be that for him. If it worked out with us, I wouldn’t ever be the love of anyone’s life. But that wasn’t what bothered me. It was that I wouldn’t be that person for Max. Especially Max.
But I also knew it had taken him ten years to find someone he’d like to explore sharing his life with again. And he’d made it clear that someone was me.
So I would never be what Mom was to Steve.
But being Max’s second chance at something good was better than anything else I’d ever experienced. Nothing else even came close.
If I gave it a chance it would be settling, definitely.
But I decided, pressed to Max’s side, in his bed, in his A-Frame in the Colorado Mountains, after living the craziest week of my life and going through what we went through yesterday and still waking feeling rested and safe, I could settle for that.
Sweetheart, you’re selling yourself short, Charlie warned in my head.
Go away, I replied and shifted up, my decision made which might be stupid, insane and irrational, but I no longer had it in me to care. I put my mouth to Max’s amazing chest and I trailed it down to his nipple. Once there, I flicked it with my tongue.
Max’s fingers slid in my hair and I heard a drowsy-husky-gravelly, “Honey.”
“Sleepy Nina is Sweet Nina,” he said quietly. “I see I got Sleepy Nina.”
“No,” I told him. “I’m Three Orgasms One in a Sauna Nina. That Nina is always sweet.”
His hand stopped drifting, his arm wrapped around me and he gave me a squeeze.
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he muttered while he did and his mutter sounded like it came through a smile.
Sleep kept encroaching and I didn’t have the strength, or will, to fight it.
But, for some reason, my mouth kept talking. “Max?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“You scare me.”
I felt his fingers tighten against my skin before he said, “I know I do.”
“Every day it gets better which makes it worse.”
I felt him give me another squeeze as I pressed closer and wrapped my arm around his belly.
“Quit fightin’ it, it’ll just get better,” Max advised.
I felt my weight settle into him as slumber slid over me.
But even so my mouth kept moving. “What if it doesn’t?”
“Life doesn’t give you promises, baby, I can’t either but we’ll do the best we can.”
“Mm…” Finally, my mouth started to go to sleep too.
But my mind didn’t, not for a few seconds, while his words penetrated.
I didn’t know for sure but I didn’t think I wanted promises, not if they were empty. Honesty felt a whole lot better.
“Sleep, Duchess,” Max urged.
“’Kay.”
I got another squeeze and my mind processed this too, mainly how much I liked it.
“’Night, baby,” Max whispered, rolling toward me and wrapping his other arm around me, holding me close, holding me tight.
“’Night, Max,” I whispered back.
Then I fell asleep in Max’s t-shirt, in Max’s bed, in Max’s house and in Max’s arms and I did it before it fully penetrated my brain how I felt.
Not scared at all.
Chapter Nine
Settling
My eyes drifted open and I saw the wall of Max’s chest.
I was held tight to his side, my cheek on his shoulder and my arm was draped across his belly. It was either dawn or clouds were covering the sun for it was morning and there was light but it wasn’t the sunny Colorado mornings I had swiftly become accustomed to.
It struck me that I felt rested, not like I’d spent the craziest week of my life, but like I’d just had a week on a beach with nothing to do but sit in the sun, read a book and, if the spirit moved me, go play in the water.
And I knew it wasn’t the three orgasms (one in the sauna) that I’d had last night.
It was something else, or a bunch of something elses.
And I knew all of them, every last one and I decided to take that quiet me-awake/Max-asleep morning time, finally, to sift through them in my head.
Those something elses included Max calling me Duchess, not as if he’d christened me that name eight days ago, but like he’d called me that since birth.
And they included Max holding me while I was gripped in a fever, trembling with the chills.
It was Max making me oatmeal and telling me he’d never give me a reason to take a timeout and, if I took it anyway, he’d phone.
It was buffalo burgers and the fact that he ordered them for me, not because he was domineering (or not entirely) but because he knew they were delicious and he wanted to give that to me. Coupled with that, it was the fact that he made sure I had an ale when he found out I didn’t drink lager.
It was Max sharing his beautiful bluff and having his picture taken with me, a picture where he did, indeed, look happy. And so did I.
It was Max teaching Damon a lesson after Damon hit me.
It was him taking care of Mindy, talking to Bitsy for the police, on his back under his Mom’s sink because she needed it fixed.
It was Max hearing me tell Sarah I liked her earrings and going to buy them for me and, after finding out I’d already bought them, bringing home the ring.
It was his voice when he spoke of Charlie, as if he respected him and he’d never even met him.
It was because he had my back with my Dad, found my Mom amusing and got along with Steve.
It was because we fought all the time and he was right, I enjoyed it. It was challenging, he made me think, kept me on my toes. He wasn’t boring, staid and predictable. He didn’t let me walk all over him. He was honest and if something was on his mind he shared it even if it would anger me or he was calling me out on one of my many neuroses.
It was also because Max seemed not only to have patience with my many neuroses but most of the time he thought they were cute.
It was because he knew how I took my coffee, he held my hand, he kissed my forehead and he draped his arm along the back of the booth when we were sitting together.
It was Max telling Mindy she was loved; she just didn’t get how much.
It was because he was a good kisser and better in bed.
It was because he held me when we slept, like right then, his arm under my body, wrapped around me, holding me to his side as if, even in sleep, he had no intention of ever letting me go.
Even with all that, I knew I would never be the love of Max’s life. I knew someplace deep he’d already had that and in that deep place it also hurt knowing I’d never be that for him. If it worked out with us, I wouldn’t ever be the love of anyone’s life. But that wasn’t what bothered me. It was that I wouldn’t be that person for Max. Especially Max.
But I also knew it had taken him ten years to find someone he’d like to explore sharing his life with again. And he’d made it clear that someone was me.
So I would never be what Mom was to Steve.
But being Max’s second chance at something good was better than anything else I’d ever experienced. Nothing else even came close.
If I gave it a chance it would be settling, definitely.
But I decided, pressed to Max’s side, in his bed, in his A-Frame in the Colorado Mountains, after living the craziest week of my life and going through what we went through yesterday and still waking feeling rested and safe, I could settle for that.
Sweetheart, you’re selling yourself short, Charlie warned in my head.
Go away, I replied and shifted up, my decision made which might be stupid, insane and irrational, but I no longer had it in me to care. I put my mouth to Max’s amazing chest and I trailed it down to his nipple. Once there, I flicked it with my tongue.
Max’s fingers slid in my hair and I heard a drowsy-husky-gravelly, “Honey.”
