The Solitude of Passion, Page 2

  “Hey”—I reach up and touch his face, pulling him down by the chin—“I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

  He gives a quick glance around at the vineyard with its dilapidated sign, its dwindling crops, and gives a wry smile.

  “Sometimes I think that’s the only thing I’ve done right”—his eyes squint out a smile born of pain—“having you in my life.”

  “It’s you and me ‘til the end, Mitch.” I pull him in until he’s just a breath away.

  “You and me ‘til the end.” He crashes his lips over mine and we detonate in a vat of passion, nothing but limbs and sublime kisses right here over a warm bed of Townsend soil.

  Mitch said he would move heaven and earth for me.

  I believe him.

  Mitch

  A seam of early morning light streams into the room from the slit in the curtains.

  The clock reads 5:54—a full minute before the alarm is set to go off. I seem to do that on a regular basis—beat the buzzer, and I’m not sure why. It’s a gift, I guess, but as far as gifts go, I’d like to put in for something different. Something a little more useful that actually has the potential to produce a paper-like substance traded as currency.

  I dot the back of Lee’s head with a kiss and take in her scent as she lies folded in my arms, still and quiet—so beautiful, and I fight back tears. Of all the times for my brother to maim himself, and he chooses now while Lee houses the evidence of our love deep in her belly. The thought of leaving Lee makes me sick to my stomach, but I would never tell her that. I don’t want her to worry. I’ve been making it sound like no big deal, but Colt would have caused less pain in my life if he skinned my balls and used them for batting practice.

  Lee relaxes into me, still lost in a silent slumber, and I memorize the way her skin sears up against mine, her silken hair soft against my cheek.

  I close my eyes and beg God to take care of Lee, our baby, the business. Protect all three from my idiot brother—and deliver us from Max. I throw in that last part about Max just for fun. Can’t get him out of my head since last week. I don’t like the way it happened—the way it felt too coincidental. My father’s self-prescribed doctrine comes back to me—that there are no coincidences in life. It’s never bugged me before, but now, with Max showing up out of the blue and saying the things he did, I hate the concept.

  The plane ride floats through my mind, and I can’t help but envision an aerial cartwheel, followed by a ball of flames and nothing but the blue Pacific as we nosedive into the sea.

  Wish I could shake this feeling of outright foreboding. Then again, I don’t travel much. Maybe this is how you’re supposed to feel seven hours before an international flight—maybe it’s just self-preservation kicking in—a little something called “fight the flight.”

  I slip out of bed and head downstairs to make breakfast while trying to blow off the negativity.

  It’s probably just Lee’s hormones rubbing off on me, and any minute now I’ll be bawling like a schoolgirl, craving pickles and ice cream.

  I hit the bottom step and my foot lands on the bare plywood that spans the downstairs. I meant to take Lee into town to pick out flooring. We never should have moved in without installing a proper floor of all things. Now there’s furniture to move—heavy, cumbersome furniture that I’m pretty damn sure is lined with lead. Originally we had travertine planned, but at the last minute Lee changed her mind, and we moved in anyway. So plywood it is. The truth is, I’d love our home no matter what the floor was—because it’s just that, our home—the one Lee and I designed ourselves. The one I built with Colt as a starter project for our new side business—Townsend Construction.

  It hasn’t fallen over yet, so we must have done something right.

  “Morning.” Lee comes up from behind and wraps her arms around me. I turn and bury my face in her neck, taking in her scent—not showered and perfumed, just natural Lee. This is how I want to remember her. The sweet scent of her skin is going to get me through the next two weeks. I dig my face into her hair and inhale sharply—saving it all for later.

  “Morning beautiful.” My stomach pinches with grief at thought of boarding that plane without her. I wish she could go, but with the baby I don’t want to take any chances.

  The more I think about this situation, the more I want to smack my idiot brother. I’ve never been away from my wife for more than a day, and I sure as hell didn’t plan to go on some foreign relations excursion while Lee is pregnant with our first child.

  “Don’t go,” her voice dips into its lower register when she says it, sounding sexy as hell in the process.

  I give her a minute to see if she’s going to back it up with some nightmare she had of a plane crash, then for sure I wouldn’t go. When Lee was six, she dreamed her parents were in a horrible crash the night before they were killed in a car accident. It’s never happened again, the dream thing, but if she said it, I wouldn’t go.

  “I’ll be back before you know it. Besides, hundreds of disabled orphans are counting on me.” I throw in that last part with a lopsided smile—amused she might actually believe this.

  “I know.” Lee sags as she sweeps the floor with her gaze.

  “Come here.” I pull her in tight. “Stupid Colt,” I whisper into her hair.

  “Stupid Colt.” Her chest rumbles over mine.

  “I may have to kill him before leaving the country,” I tease, rubbing her back, and she lets out a moan of approval. “Of course, I’ll have to make it look like an accident. Maybe I can run his head over with my back tire at the airport. People are always in such a damn hurry in those kinds of places.” A soft laugh rumbles from my chest.

  Lee pulls back and makes a face. “No killing, Colt.”

  “You’re right. Screw it. I’m sure he’ll have some new mutation of the clap before Christmas—and I won’t have to worry about doing the dirty work—flesh-eating clap.”

  Lee belts out a laugh. “Rumor has it, there’s going to be a beautiful brunette on call in the event you get lonely.” She bites down on her lip, her teeth white as milk. “I think I’d better give you something to remember me by.” She hops up on the barstool and rocks back with the curve of a naughty smile, crossing her legs, slow and seductive. Her skin glows from underneath her nightshirt, revealing the fact she’s not wearing any underwear.

  I give a slow spreading grin. “I can eat on the plane.”

  “Eat on the plane?” She runs her tongue over the rim of her lips. “Whatever will you do with all this time on your hands?” She slides her foot over her knee exposing a dark triangle tucked between her thighs, and my hard-on ticks to life.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” I lean in and wrap my arms around her waist. “Maybe you can help find something to keep me busy.” I trace the pattern of her brows, her high cheekbone before dipping down and feathering my finger over her lips.

  Lee runs her hands along the elastic of my boxers before expanding their girth and sailing them to a puddle at my feet.

  “Really?” I hold back a smile while my fingers work the buttons on her nightshirt. Technically it’s my dress shirt, but it’s been a longstanding habit of hers to utilize my wardrobe as her nighttime accouterments. “I’m naked in the kitchen. You’re limiting my options of what I can do.”

  She bubbles with laughter as I fumble with the buttons just over her belly.

  “Why don’t you make us some eggs?” She teases. “You could be the naked chef.”

  “You’re funny.” I peel the shirt off her shoulders, and my insides pinch seeing her like this. Lee has perfect breasts, round as melons, but her stomach stops me cold. I hadn’t seen her in the light in a while. I’ve felt her stomach firming, seen her rounding out in her T-shirts, but seeing her stomach mound like a half moon scares the hell out of me. Lee has transformed into a full-fledged goddess, a creature of beauty too magnificent to comprehend.

  “Lee,” I whisper, touching my hand over our growing
child. “What the hell am I doing leaving you?”

  “Hey.” She pulls me down to her mouth and tucks her legs over my hips. “It’ll be over before we know it. I promise you, this baby and I will both be waiting, right here, naked on this stool until you get back.”

  A dry laugh rolls through me. “I like the imagery.” My hand slips between her thighs, and her chest expands with a breath. “I’d think I’d better leave you with something to remember me by—something that might hold you over for the next two weeks.” God knows I’m not going to be able to breathe without her.

  She reaches down and guides me in. Lee lets out a groan that sears me straight to the bone. I push in and watch as her head slips back, her eyes close just enough while she bites down on her cherry-stained lip. I push in deeper before gliding out, and I’m already about to lose it. I don’t close my eyes once. I savor every moment with Lee, lost in ecstasy, and wonder if I’ll ever get to see this again.

  I run my fingers over her slick and bring her right there with me until the world, the universe, feels like a bomb ready to detonate.

  “Oh shit.” I pull her in and tremble over her as she pants wild in my ear.

  “God, I love you, Mitch.” She grazes her teeth over my ear as she says it. “Come back to me.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  That heavy feeling takes over again.

  Please God, let me keep my promise.

  Lee and Mom sob all the way to the airport as if it were my funeral.

  I cut a hard look to Colt. He almost had surgery. They wanted to pin his stupid leg then decided he wasn’t worth the effort. I’m going to tear into him as soon as Lee and Mom are out of earshot—pin him to a wall with a hunting knife if I get the chance.

  LAX roars with the hustle and bustle of bodies readying themselves to drift to the four corners of the earth—with China being the most distal point.

  We park and the three of them come to the ticket counter with me to give a “proper farewell” as Mom put it. Hate to break it to her but this proper farewell has all of the charm of an Irish wake.

  Colt leans against the wall, sizing up a blonde in an airline uniform as she whizzes by.

  “Dude, come here,” it huffs from me, annoyed as hell. I nod him over to the counter while Lee and Mom huddle in misery.

  “What’s up?” His hair is neatly combed back. He’s showered, but his eyes look as if someone poured in vinegar. I’m afraid to ask whether or not a couple of blunts played a role in the breakdown of his blood vessels, but I’d most likely say, yes. We’d look identical if I spent more time at the gym and he spent less time everywhere but the vineyard.

  “You don’t take your eyes off Lee, got it?” I meant for it to come out harsher than it did. I’m so close to tears I force myself to take a deep breath and down the rest of my water before continuing. I’ll let it all out on the plane—emasculate myself in front of dozens of strangers minus the people on the outreach team I don’t know anyway.

  “Okay.” He salutes me. “She might not like it when she’s taking a shower, but I’ll follow orders.”

  “Right.” I grip him by the arm and dig in. “Listen to me, you little shit. My wife is having our baby. If she feels the need for ice cream at midnight, she’s going to call you. Pretend you’re an adult for five minutes. I left the vineyard on autopilot. Just show up. It might actually give people the impression someone’s in charge.”

  “So you’re just using me for my pretty face. Can I push all the shiny buttons?”

  “The only buttons you ever push are mine.” I blink a smile and offer a half-hug. “If anything happens, man, take care of Lee for me, ‘kay?”

  He pulls back, slaps me on the shoulder. “Dude, nothing’s gonna happen. But if it does”—he mock shoots me—“I’ll continue with family tradition and procreate with the girl in question.”

  Lee swoops in and shoos Colt away. Her face is blotched and her eyes stained with large, dark rings from crying. It’s a haunting image that sears itself into my mind before I can stop it.

  “Love you.” I press a kiss into her, deep and lingering, as if we were alone. I don’t usually make it a practice to kiss Lee so passionately in front of my mother, but this is an exception. I fight the urge to start breaking all sorts of carnal rules like taking off her clothes—having her right here at the baggage check in. “I love you deeper than the ocean, Lee Townsend.” The first time I told her I loved her was at the beach, and those were the exact words I used.

  She tries to smile but it fails to initiate. “I can’t do this without you.” It strangles out of her, broken in pieces, as she glides her hand over her stomach.

  My heart breaks witnessing all of the misery I’m causing, and I haven’t even stepped on the plane. I sweep my thumb over her cheek and press a kiss into her forehead.

  “I’ll be right back.” Made it sound like I was going to the refrigerator.

  “What if you’re not?” Her eyes are on fire with grief, her lips quiver with fear; although, I’d like to think it was the kiss I just delivered that was making her tremble.

  We hadn’t entertained the theory of anything tragic happening until now. Something tells me it’s too late to explore the concept, so I nip it.

  “But I will be,” I whisper. “I promise you. I’ll be okay. Don’t fall in love with Colt while I’m gone.”

  She shakes her head like a frightened schoolgirl. I want to add, if I don’t come back, it’s okay to fall in love with Colt. Something tells me to say it, but I don’t.

  I crash my lips into hers instead.

  Max

  Oversized X’s, the size of cereal boxes, are keyed into all four doors of my truck—a bittersweet memento from Viv. Hell, it’s all bitter. There’s not one sweet bone in that woman’s body. I’m over her, though. Although, I can’t say I’m not freshly offended each time I’m forced to admire her artwork. It’s more of a performance piece I guess you could say. Just like Viv—all performance. And cutting that drama out of my life was like excising cancer. The best thing we ever did in our relationship was sign the divorce papers. I assumed the position and took it up the ass while she got the house, two cars, and the condo in Tahoe. Thank God for the prenup, or everything my father worked for would be boxed and buried right alongside him. Talk about a watertight lesson. Might just leave those X’s to remind me of what lies ahead the next time I entertain the idea of unholy matrimony.

  I pull into Hudson’s expansive, massively expensive, yet somehow doggedly showy, crap-filled yard and hop on out.

  Hudson. Leave it to my ex-con slash wannabe biker of a brother to turn the best real estate in Mono into an automobile carcass warehouse. You name it, rusted out Chevys, skeleton Fords by the mile, burnt out crap, too. Anything and everything that once held the promise of a roadside maneuver litters the landscape as far as the eye can see. He lifts a beer in my honor as he makes his way over.

  “What the hell?” Hudson stumbles forward, looking far more horrified at Viv’s extension of her vagina than I did when I first saw it. I slam the door and survey the damage right alongside him.

  “Love letter. If you’re lucky, you’ll get one someday.” I push him in the arm, and nearly knock the beer out of his hand.

  “Sooner than you think.” The lines around his eyes harden. “Jackie’s leaving me.”

  “Serious?” A quick pulse of alarm tracks through me. Hudson and Jackie have been married for over three years. They happen to own my favorite nephew, Josh—my only nephew.

  “Serious.” He yanks at his baseball cap and downs the rest of his beer before discarding the bottle into the bushes. “Moved out a week ago.”

  Hudson glances up at me. His watery eyes shine like green stones. He’d be a good-looking guy if he hadn’t let himself fall to shit. Long scraggly hair—a Fu Manchu that scares the hell out of little children including his own—not that Jackie’s a prize with that razor blade she calls a tongue. I’ve seen her greet her own mother with a blunt fuck
off on at least a dozen occasions, and half of those were holidays.

  Hudson heads toward his massive enclave of garages, and I follow suit hoping to escape the harsh sting of the sun. An entire herd of his lackeys are busy twisting over the open hood of a bright yellow kit car. In addition to pilfering the vineyard, Hudson runs a sweatshop on the side. Although, I believe the term he prefers is “automotive restoration lab.”

  “That’s too bad about you and Jackie,” I say before we head into the protective shelter of his overgrown man-cave. Can’t say the breakup was entirely unexpected the way my brother likes to keep track of the local strippers—the way he earns frequent flyer miles by purchasing drinks at the bar.

  “Don’t feel too bad.” He offers a conciliatory slap to the back of my neck. “I don’t miss her. Besides, now I get to hang with the boys.” He pats a burly looking linebacker on the shoulder.

  “That’s the problem,” I’m quick to assess. “You never stopped hanging with the boys.”

  “You come to lecture me on what it takes to keep a woman around?” He bucks out a laugh and plucks another beer from the cooler. “Or are you just playing show-and-tell with the new masterpiece scribbled on your truck?”

  “That’s what I’m doing.” I shake my head. Viv made sure I became a road show for her new career as an emasculation artist. I’m sure she calls this piece the ex-husband ode to Blue Balls. “I came by to see Josh and to tell you there’s a shareholders meeting next Tuesday. Play dress up in a monkey suit, will you? Brush your teeth, and I’ll throw in a six pack.”

  “Got it.” Hudson looks impressed with the promise of malt liquor.

  A white truck pulls up with a cheap metal sign slapped on the door that reads Townsend Construction.

  “Here’s my man, Colt.” Hudson raises the bottle in his honor. “He’s gonna give me a bid for the new garage.” Hudson plucks his jeans up by the belt-loops before meeting him halfway. They exchange high fives and bark out a laugh over something. Probably how they’ve got their brothers snowed into doing the lion’s share of work while they sit around titty bars and collect checks like Halloween candy.