Surrender (12 page)

The next morning, after we dropped Dennis off at his house, Will and I drove to Neal's hotel. We rode the elevator up to the fifth floor and knocked at his door; he greeted us with his bag in hand, closing the door behind him.

“Can I use the bathroom?” Will asked, starting to do the potty dance.

Neal hesitated, glancing at the door behind him. Finally he said, “Okay,” and, with some reluctance, let us inside.

“Just hurry up, okay? We have to get going,” Neal said then turned to me, looping a finger into the waistband of my skirt and pulling me close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, nuzzling into the soft skin of his neck, inhaling his fresh soap scent. I gave him a quick kiss then pulled away, looking around the room that he'd been staying in for the better part of a month. I took in the rumpled covers on the bed and the desk in the corner with his laptop, programming books, and papers all crowded on it. “So this is where you live.”

“I just sleep here,” he said, wrapping me in his arms again. “I do my real living with a beautiful woman and her son.”

“So where are we going?” Will asked when he emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Secret,” Neal said, heading toward the door once again.

“Are we going in your plane?” Will asked, all wide-eyed wonder.

“Yes.”

“Cool! I call shotgun!” Will skipped the entire way to the elevator, with Neal laughing alongside him, and I followed behind, nagged by a vague notion that there was something in that hotel room Neal hadn't wanted us to see.

—

At the Denton airport, Neal conducted a thorough preflight check, explaining the purpose of each step, while Will followed him around with wide eyes. When the check was nearly complete, we climbed into the plane, Will taking the front seat. He was very nearly bouncing with excitement when Neal set the headset on him, but he listened closely while Neal gave him safety instructions. As we started off for the runway, I relaxed in the backseat and watched in contentment as Neal taught my son about the instruments and their various purposes.

I fell asleep about an hour and a half into the flight and jerked awake some time later with a thundering heart, thinking for a moment that we were crashing.

“We're here, Mom,” Will said, looking over the seat at me. “We're in Florida!”

We called a taxi and headed toward the water, Will bouncing excitedly when we turned a corner and saw the wide ocean spread out before us. “It's the beach!”

Neal and I exchanged an amused glance over his head.

“Are you teaching me how to surf?” he cried.

Neal laughed. “You guessed it!”

The taxi dropped us off at a rental store, and a few minutes later we three were trekking toward the sand with surfboards tucked under our arms, already starting to sweat in our jeans and T-shirts.

After we stripped down to our swimsuits, Neal began the lessons on the sand, showing us how to paddle and how to go from a prone position to jumping up on the board. While Will and I practiced, Neal talked about safety and what to do when you fall in the water.

“Enough talking,” Neal finally said, dusting off his hands. “The only way we'll learn how to surf is to get in there and do it.”

Will grabbed his board and ran to the water with a whoop, with Neal and me close behind.

“And now for the true test,” Neal whispered to me, watching as Will hesitated in shin-deep water, still clutching his little surfboard under his arm. I knew what was going through his little mind because, without meaning to, I'd instilled in him the fear that danger and death were always lurking, waiting to claim him.

But then a wonderful and scary thing happened: Will took one step deeper in the water and then another; then he positioned himself on the board and began to paddle against the waves.

“Not too far,” I said purely by instinct, trying hard to ignore my rising panic.

Neal squeezed my shoulders and followed Will into the water. “I chose this beach specifically for its gentle waves, and there's virtually no undertow today. And I'll be close by. I won't let anything happen to him,” he said.

“How did you know? Is it showing on my face?”

“I can tell you're trying hard not to freak out,” he said with a grin. “Your ‘mom face' is on.”

I laughed as I followed him in, splashing him when he was nearby.

The water was warm when we entered, only knee-deep for a long way. Neal was right; the waves were gentle enough that I didn't worry myself to death when Will would try to get on the surfboard and fall into the water. The first time he succeeded in getting on the board, we all whooped then he immediately fell off. Neal was always nearby when that happened, helping Will up before retrieving his board. The next few times, Will was able to stay on until he reached the shore, then he jumped off and punched the air in jubilation.

“Mom, did you see that?” he asked, running up to me.

“I'm so proud of you!” I said, giving him a huge hug, the smile breaking my face apart.

“You going to dive in?” Neal asked with a boyish smile. “Or do you need some persuading?”

“Give me a minute,” I said, contemplating wading deeper.

The last time I'd swum in the ocean was with Jason, during spring break many years back. The day after we'd slept together, we ran into each other at a beach party. My friends and I were lying on our towels, content to just bake in the hot Florida sun while everyone around us danced and drank, when Jason sat down beside me.

“You want to swim with me?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I'm good.”

“Come on. Are you scared to get your hair wet? Your makeup ruined?”

I put my sunglasses on. “Basically.”

He tugged on my big toe. “Come on. Let's cool off in the water.”

I sat up with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.”

When I held out my hand to his, he grabbed it, and before I knew what was happening, he had me up and over his shoulder. He ran to the water's edge, laughing as I tried to catch my breath. The next thing I knew, I was in the warm water, scrambling to get back to my feet.

Jason was laughing when I found my balance, but he froze when he saw me stand up and quickly pulled me against him. “Your bikini top is floating away,” he whispered.

I pressed my breasts into his bare chest. “You'd better get it, then.”

He looked around at all the spring breakers. “But you'll be exposed.”

“People have seen breasts before. They're not exactly in short supply around here.”

With a huff, Jason spun me away from the beach and its many pairs of eyes then leapt into the waves to catch my errant top. He came splashing back a few moments later and handed it to me.

“Can you put it back on me?” I asked with a flirtatious smile. I pulled my hands away from my chest and he fumbled with the strings behind my neck then very gently laid the triangular pieces of fabric over my nipples, the backs of his fingers brushing along my skin.

“There. Done.” He smiled down at me, and in that moment it became abundantly clear to me that Jason Sherman was someone I definitely wanted to see again.

“Do you have a fear of deep water?” Neal asked, wrenching me away from the past.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said, contemplating the nearly endless depths of the ocean. Love had managed to pull me under once and I had barely broken the surface in time; I didn't know if I could survive sinking again.

Neal took hold of my hand. “Come on, I'll go in with you.” And he led me out deeper and deeper until we were up to our necks in salt water. “Not so bad, right?”

I held on to him and smiled. “Yeah. I don't know what I was so afraid of.”

—

When Will took a break from surfing to build a sand castle, Neal excused himself and took his own board out. He paddled out farther than Will and I had dared, chasing waves that were obviously too tame for his level of expertise. Still, he tried to make do, doing the same tricks I'd seen him perform once before.

I sat on the wet sand and watched his masterful display, reminded of that first morning we met in Monterey, when the sky and the sea conspired to bring us together. It didn't seem all that long ago. He was beautiful out there in his board shorts, his muscles stretching and contracting with each swing of the board, his skin golden brown and his hair tinged gold from the sun. He looked in his element, carving into waves as easily as walking, looking like some sort of water god with his easy command of the water.

After Neal came in, he helped Will dig a trench from his castle to the water's edge. Will squealed when the waves came in and filled the lopsided moat, and the two marched around the perimeter of the moat, pretending to be knights.

“This was the best day,” Will said later as we took a taxi to a hotel that I had booked ahead of time.

“I'm glad you had fun, bud,” Neal said, ruffling his hair then looking over to me with an infectious smile.

At the hotel, we went into our room and appraised the two queen beds.

“Which bed are you taking?” Will asked Neal. I half expected Neal to say he'd share a bed with me, but he said, “You and your mom can take the right and I'll take the left.”

“You'll sleep in that big bed all by yourself?”

He grinned. “What can I say? I'm a big guy.”

—

I found it hard to sleep that night, partly because I kept getting kicked by little gangly legs, and partly because I could see Neal sitting at the desk, rubbing his chin as he worked on his laptop on code that made absolutely no sense to me.

At around eleven fifteen, I finally crept out of bed and walked over to Neal, bending over the chair and dropping a kiss on his bare shoulder. “Why aren't you asleep yet?”

He reached back and grasped the back of my head, twisting his head around to kiss me. I melted into him, dropping down onto his lap. “I've been staring at the same code for hours,” he said, sliding his palms up and down my thighs. He leaned over and took my earlobe between his teeth and whispered, “But I can't concentrate with you lying there, sexy and untouchable.”

I wiggled around in his lap, riding higher up until my hip was rubbing against his erection. “I'm sorry to be such a distraction.”

He tilted my head back, kissing along the column of my neck. “Oh, you are the sweetest kind of distraction.” His hand was starting to slide up my leg when the bed across the room rustled.

“Meet me in the bathroom,” I whispered and stood up.

He was behind me in two point five seconds, flipping the lock behind him and pressing me against the door. “All fucking night, Julie,” he rasped, grasping my hands and holding them above my head. “I've been craving you the entire night.”

I straddled his thigh and ground into it, trying in vain to scratch an itch. I tried to pull my hands down to touch him, but he refused to give, his fingers tightening around my own above my head. He chuckled when I made a whining noise low in my throat.

“In due time,” he said, nipping at my lips.

“Get in me. Now,” I growled, wrapping one leg around his back.

He gripped me by the ass cheeks and lifted me up, grinding me into the door. “Too . . . many . . . clothes,” he gasped, burying his face in my neck. He carried me away from the door and set me on the marble counter, letting me go long enough to pull down his shorts and underwear.

I lifted my nightgown and drew aside my panties, welcoming him inside me with a hiss. He yanked me closer to the edge of the counter and held my legs up over his arms, opening me up further. “You're so deep,” I whispered as he drew away then slammed back in.

He increased the pace, gasping and groaning by my ear. I started moaning, unable to keep from making noise, not when my entire body was electrified with pleasure. He put one hand over my mouth. “Shhh, he'll hear,” he said, making me giggle.

I bit down on his hand and squeezed at his cock harder, vindicated when he gasped a little louder. “Oh, shit.” He stopped, his jaw muscles tightening. “That's going to make me come too fast.” Without warning, he pulled out and was on his knees in a flash, his face between my legs as he lapped at me.

He placed his hands on either side of his head and spread me bare on that countertop, my legs trembling as he worked me over with his tongue and lips. I leaned back, the back of my head hitting the mirror, tipping over the tiny toiletries as my body coiled tighter and tighter. I bit my lip when he thrust two fingers inside my cleft and flicked them upward to a steady rhythm, intensifying the pleasure.

When I was close, he stood up and thrust back inside with a loud groan, sending me over the edge. My climax traveled through me like a tidal wave, roaring through my body and cresting at the point where Neal and I connected.

He continued the assault, his breathing growing more ragged. Then his entire body tightened as he thrust hard one last time; his back bowed and his face pressed into the hollow of my neck, muffling his groan. He came hard, hips bucking, cock pulsing inside me.

He held me tight while our throbbing slowed and eventually stopped.

“I hope you'll be able to concentrate now that you've been sated,” I said when he eventually helped me down off the counter.

“Not even close,” he murmured, taking hold of my jaw and kissing me. “I don't think I can ever get enough of you.”

When I opened my eyes the following morning, I found Neal standing by the bathroom door in his pajama pants, watching Will and me sleep.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

I sat up and ran a hand through my tangled hair. “What time is it?”

“Nearly ten.”

I wiped a palm down my face, feeling like I could sleep another ten hours. “Were you just watching us sleep?”

He grinned. “You two looked so sweet. It was hard not to,” he said and went back inside the bathroom. “Let's go have brunch before we head back. They stop serving breakfast at eleven,” he called through the open door.

Will stirred beside me and a second later, he was jumping out of bed and racing across the room. “I gotta pee,” he said and ran into the bathroom before I could stop him. I heard him talking to Neal as he peed, then a flush.

“What are you doing?” I heard him ask Neal.

“I'm shaving.”

“Why?”

“To get rid of the hair on my face.”

“Does everybody have to shave their face?”

“No. Just men.”

“Am I a man yet?”

“Not yet. You have a few more years.”

“Can you teach me how to shave when I'm a man?”

“I can teach you now if you'd like.”

I sneaked closer, listening as Neal told Will about the shaver, the shaving cream, and all the intricacies of being a hairy man. Finally, unable to keep my curiosity at bay, I crept to the door and watched, unnoticed for a time, as my son finally experienced a rite of passage. He stood beside Neal at the sink, smiling up at him as if he were the most fascinating person in the world.

I stood there, leaning against the jamb, seeing before me the life I could have had.

“Hey, Mom.” Will turned to me with shaving cream smeared all over his face. “Are you going to shave, too?”

I laughed as Neal grabbed me around the waist and pulled me inside, to where my son stood. He squirted some shaving cream onto his fingers then slowly dabbed it onto my nose, grinning at me through the mirror.

Will squealed with delight and gave me a foamy kiss, adding to my white mask.

“This means war,” I said before grabbing the can and starting a full-fledged shaving cream fight that I was sure housekeeping would be cursing us for later.

—

As the days moved into the holiday season, Neal became more and more a part of our lives. He started taking Will to soccer practice every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon and then we all went to the games on Saturday mornings.

Neal, however, never pushed to move in, never even suggested it. Each night he said good night and went back to his hotel, and each night I stood at the front door, wondering why I was letting him go.

“Hey, Neal,” I said to him one sunny Saturday as we stood off in the sidelines and watched Will's team getting annihilated on the field.

“Great hustle, Will!” Neal shouted then turned to me. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I just wanted your opinion on something.”

“What is it?” he asked, still distracted by the game. He put his hands on his head when our team took a shot at the goal and was blocked. “Oh, man, that other team is really good.”

I shielded my eyes from the sun and followed his gaze, to the girl expertly dribbling the ball down the field. My eyes flew to the other end of the grass, where my son was standing with his hands on his waist. He caught my gaze and gave me a crooked grin.

“He's really enjoying it, isn't he?” I asked.

“He loves it,” Neal said. “And with a little more practice, I think he can really be good.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely,” he said with a resolute nod. “I've researched some drills that he and I can work on in the afternoons. He sounds very eager to start.”

I looked at up him, dazzled, the sun framing his face so that his hair looked like a bit of a halo. “You're coming over after the game, right?”

“I have some work to finish today. But I'll be over tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, wrapping one arm around his waist. “I have something I'd like to talk about.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds ominous.”

“Believe me, it's terrifying.”

—

I didn't get a chance to ask him my question until much later the next day, after Will went to bed. Then finally, at the foot of the stairs, he turned to me and said, “Okay, now, what did you want to talk about?”

I stepped up on the bottom step until we were almost at eye level and took his face in my hands. “Come upstairs. I have something I want to show you.”

He broke out into an intrigued smile. “I like where this is going.”

I tugged him upstairs, not that Neal needed much persuading, and led him into my bedroom, where a brand-new pillow sat on the bed. I chucked it at him, the plastic packaging crinkling when it hit his chest.

“You got me a pillow?” he asked.

“A firm one,” I pointed out. “You won't have to use two pillows anymore.” I ripped it open and started to put a pillowcase on it, one that matched the light blue sheets already on the bed. I pulled the quilt aside and set his pillow beside mine then walked over to the dresser and opened the drawer that I had prepared the previous night.

“Hmm,” he said, walking over to inspect the drawer where I had put the few pieces of clothing—a T-shirt, a pair of socks—that he'd left behind. He set his hands on my shoulders and leaned his chin on the back of my head. “Julie . . .” he said on a sigh.

“I can also give you a quarter of the closet, but not much more,” I said with a teasing tone.

He let out a long breath; not exactly the excited reaction I'd been hoping for. At the very least, I was offering him a reprieve from mundane hotel life. At the most, I was inviting him into my family. Shouldn't he be more excited?

“Are you asking me to move in?” he asked.

I reached into my pocket and handed him the new set of keys I'd had made earlier that morning.

He looked down, the metal jingling as he turned it over in his hands. “Julie,” he said, placing the keys back in my palm and folding my fingers over them one by one. “I can't take this.”

I stiffened, not at all prepared for this outcome. “I just thought you might want to stay sometimes.”

“I would love nothing more than to move in,” he said, kissing my forehead. “But . . .”

I needed air, to take a step back and get a clear view of the situation, but was trapped in place by the dresser. “But what?” I asked, lifting my chin despite my trembling lips.

He grasped the sides of my face. “But before anything can progress between us, there's something I need to give you first.”

My eyebrows drew together. “What is it?” I asked, deathly afraid of the answer. If he was planning to give me a ring—well, I didn't know what I'd say. I'd vowed after my failed first marriage that I would never marry again, but, then, I'd also vowed that I would never get involved with a man again, and look what had happened.

Neal ducked down and kissed me, tenderly at first then deepening into something more needy. The kiss went on for a long while, and if he was trying to distract me with desire, then I decided I would let him, because honestly, I didn't want to have to face that possibility just yet. Moving in together was hard enough; getting married presented a whole other set of issues.

After long moments, he finally pulled away, wiping at the moisture on my lips with his thumbs. “Tomorrow. I promise,” he said before kissing me again.

He swung me around and set me on the bed, undressing and entering me with equal parts tenderness and need. He kept me glued to his gaze, the intensity of which rendered me helpless to look away. And when the orgasm rolled through my body, he ground his hips into mine and groaned through his climax, his arms steel bands holding me captive. Even before we had both recovered, he leaned up on his elbows and kissed me over and over, burning kisses onto my skin, my nose, my eyelids until I was drowning in him, inside and out and all over.

And before he tiptoed out at thirty minutes past midnight, he kissed me one last time and whispered against my forehead, “Tomorrow.”

—

I had never been good with surprises or anticipation. I hated waiting, hated the way my brain thought up a million different scenarios and made the wait that much more unbearable.

The hours dragged at work the next morning, exacerbated by lulls between patients so that I was struggling to find office work to keep my mind off what was to come.

Every time the bell over the door chimed, I looked up, half expecting Neal to come in with a bouquet of flowers and get down on his knee in front of the entire clinic.

“What is it with you?” Naomi asked over lunch. “You're acting all squirrelly today.”

“I'm not.”

“Yeah, yeah, you are. You look like a fugitive on the run.” She gasped. “You're not in the witness protection program or something, are you?”

“No,” I said, chuckling. “I'm just expecting a surprise from Neal.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God, is he proposing?” she asked, grasping my hands. “He's proposing, isn't he?”

“I hope not.”

She threw my hands down in disgust. “What? You are a single parent who's found a fantastic guy. And you're telling me you don't want him to give you the big fat ring?”

“That's what I'm saying,” I said. “I'm just not marriage material. I've tried it before and I'm pretty sure it's not for me.”

“Please. Just because you married the wrong guy the first time doesn't mean this guy is wrong, too. They can't all be wrong.”

“And I can't marry them all until the right one comes along.”

She shot me an incredulous look. “So you're just going to say no even if there is a high probability that this guy is the One?”

I stuffed the rest of my burrito in my mouth, chewing quietly. What if she was right? What was I so afraid of? This was Neal, after all, a man who had managed to pierce my armor and get to the heart of me. If he wasn't Mr. Right, then who was?

“I don't need a Mr. Right,” I finally said as we drove back to the clinic. “I'm happy with the way things are right now.”

“Bullshit. Hey, I'm down with the feminism mantra of not needing a man. I mean, you fucking did it on your own for all these years,” Naomi said. “But just because you don't
need
a man doesn't mean you can't want one.”