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Authors: Trudy Stiles

Dear Tabitha (28 page)

BOOK: Dear Tabitha
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I softly trace her lips with my tongue, and she inhales sharply.

She opens her eyes and says, “I love you, Alex. With everything that I am. I love you.”

Tears spill onto her cheeks and I kiss them away. I rub my nose against hers and say those perfect words back. “I love you, Tabs. More than you know. I would die for you.”

I scoop her up and carry her over to the bed, gently placing her down so I can remove her boots. I slide them from her feet then work my way back up her body to take her lips again. Our kiss is slow and tender, not rushed. I push away from her and look into her eyes. Her eyes are glistening. As she blinks back tears, I unbutton her jeans and she lifts her hips to help me pull them from her body. She shivers as her legs are exposed. I kneel, take her left leg into my hand, and lightly trail kisses up her calf to her knee. She doesn’t take her eyes off me as I give the same attention to her right leg. This time, I don’t stop at the knee, but continue up her thigh to her hipbone.

She sucks in a breath and pulls me on top of her.

I crush my lips to hers as she presses her core into my erection. “Tabs, slow down, slow down,” I whisper against her lips.

I’m going to come undone if she continues to rub herself against me like this. She takes a deep breath and lifts my shirt over my head. Sitting up, she wraps her legs around my waist so she is perfectly positioned in my lap with her center pressing into the fullness in my pants. She holds my arms in the air as she trails kisses from my neck, down my chest, and over my ribs. I suck in a breath when her soft kisses cover my scars.

“I love you, Alex,” she says against my side as her tongue explores my tattoo.

I pull my arms from hers, remove her tank top in one motion, and push her back down onto the bed.

“God, I love you, Tabs,” I say, practically panting. I have to slow this down, but the need to be inside her is just too great. I stand to remove my jeans and boxer briefs. Her eyes remain locked on mine as I lay back down on top of her. The only fabric between our bodies is her panties and bra. That’s about to end, quickly. I kiss her shoulder and make my way down to her breast. Sliding my fingers under the strap of her lace bra, I pull it down, fully exposing her. I gently take her erect nipple between my lips and allow the tip of my tongue to barely touch her. Her heart is beating wildly under me and I look up to meet her eyes.

“Alex,” she pleads.

I slowly move to her other breast and take her nipple between my lips. She’s writhing underneath me, pressing herself into my erection again. I release her and move my hands down to her hips, holding them firmly in place against the bed as I swirl my hips, pressing the swollen tip of my cock into her wetness. I need to remove the barrier between us. I lace my fingers through her panties and slide them down her legs.

“Are you sure?” I ask her. God, please say yes.

She bites her lip and nods. “I’m sure, Alex. Please make love to me.”

I reach over to the nightstand for the condom I placed there earlier. I quickly roll it over my length and position myself above her.

“I’ll go slow, Tabs. I promise.”

She nods and whimpers slightly as I position myself at her entrance. She lifts her hips and helps guide me in. Her warmth wraps around me and her walls pulsate. She cries out as I thrust forward.

“Oh God, I’m sorry.” I freeze in place. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispers.

Her leg wraps around my hip, pulling me closer, and we move together like we are made for each other. She gazes into my eyes as I slowly press into her warmth. Deeper and deeper. Her breathing picks up and she bites down on her lip.

“Alex,” she whispers.

I cover her mouth with mine and slowly push forward as far as I can go. I’ve waited so long to be with her. Inside of her. This is exactly where I belong and she belongs to me. I cradle her face in my hands as I deepen our kiss, breathing into her and pulling her tongue into my mouth. She begins to pulse around my length and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

“Are you okay? Is this okay?” I moan into her ear.

She moves her hips into mine and opens her eyes. “God, yes, Alex. Just don’t stop, please,” she begs as she pants and I thrust into her again. She’s already coming apart underneath me when I reach down between us and swirl my thumb over her clit. She climaxes almost immediately and I follow.

I press my face into her neck as I finish my own release. “God, Tabs,” I whisper into her ear. I feel her shaking beneath me and small sobs escape her lips.

“Tabs, what’s wrong? Please, tell me you aren’t hurt.” I beg her. I am still twitching inside of her and I don’t want to leave her warmth.

“It’s okay, Alex. Really. Just … just, thank you. Thank you for making that the most tender experience of my entire life. Thank you. I love you.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and I lean forward and absorb the salty tear with my lips.

I pull out of her and dispose of the condom in the wastebasket next to the bed, and then wrap my arms around her and guide her back against my body. She’s enveloped in my full body hug and I never want to let her go.

“It’s you and me forever, Tabs. Never forget that,” I say quietly into her hair.

“Forever,” she says and completely relaxes into me. She’s asleep within minutes.

I hold her close and watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks from Belmar Beach through the window. It’s midnight. A new year has arrived. This is the year that matters for me. For us. Things are turning around and I’m so happy.

The band is doing well and we leave for a tour in a few months. My heart clenches as I think about leaving Tabby behind, but it’s going to all be okay. We’re beginning our future right now, she and I. Nothing will stand in our way. Not Seth. Not a tour schedule.

I’m going to fight to keep what we have.

I love her more than anything else in my life, and I never want her to forget it.

Present

Age 24

 

M
Y STOMACH
churns with nerves as I walk up the stairs to the big wooden doors. The driver grabs my bags from the trunk and meets me at the top. When he opens the door and I walk into an enormous grand foyer, I look around in awe. Two staircases wind up either side of the room to the second floor, each with forty or fifty steps. The ceiling in the foyer is vast with a huge chandelier the size of a Volkswagen Bug hanging from the center. The entryway alone is the size of most middle class family homes.

I can’t believe the opulence that I see around me. Dirty, filthy money paid for all of this. How could Marta have raised Sara in this home? This is not real life. I’m growing more and more disgusted as I walk further inside.

“Miss Fletcher?” a woman says as she approaches me. She’s wearing what I would consider a traditional grey dress with white apron overlay appropriate for a servant or maid.

“Yes, that’s me,” I answer as I continue to scan the house. I’m anxious to see Sara, but I’m also suddenly self-conscious about what I have to offer her. My two bedroom apartment is probably the size of her bathroom. I feel sick to my stomach.

“Come with me, please. Sara is still in school and then has tutoring and dance. She’s due home in a few hours. Marta would like to see you before her nap. Please keep in mind that she is very ill and has momentary lapses of unconsciousness.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I just spoke with her and she didn’t sound so bad. Of course, she was upset and weeping while on the phone with me, but she seemed coherent most of the time.

I follow the woman through the foyer and down a long hallway. I scan the walls and see pictures of a beautiful little girl with brown curly hair, smiling, and I choke back a sob. It’s Sara.

“In here.” She gives me booties to cover my shoes, and squirts sanitizer on my palms. I rub the cool gel onto my hands and slowly enter the room.

Sunshine brightens the room through four giant French doors, which lead out to a sprawling backyard that slopes down to what I presume is Lake Oswego. A large pool and several smaller houses and cabanas edge along the back end of the property. I can’t believe the compound that Tony maintained for his mother. I clench my jaw in anger as I picture the tiny apartment that he kept me locked in most of my time here in Portland, while this sprawling estate was a short car ride away. Would living here have made what I endured any easier? Absolutely not, but I’m still in shock and awe of the opulence of this place that Tony called home.

Marta is lying in the hospice bed, and when she sees me, she raises the back of the bed to a sitting position. “
Cara
. Tabitha. It’s so good to see you.” She struggles with her words and her breathing sounds labored. “Thank you for coming.” She reaches her hand toward me and I take hold of it. She’s so cold and frail. This woman used to be so strong and held herself with such confidence. She’s a shell of her former self, which makes me feel sorry for her.

“Marta,” I say faintly.

“I’m so sorry,
cara
. I am so very sorry for what we’ve done. I don’t blame you for never forgiving Tony or me, but please don’t take your anger out on Sara. She deserves a chance at life. Please don’t hold who her father is against her.”

It amazes me how this woman can pull at my heartstrings, and at the same time, make me want to strangle her. It’s unreal that she reminds me of what she and Tony took away from me. It’s also appalling that she could even suggest that I would take anything out on
my daughter.
I try to compose myself because I don’t want to pick a fight with a dying woman.

“I would never, Marta. You have to know that, right?” I ask her.

“Of course, of course,” she says.

Her aide brings a chair so that I can take a seat next to Marta.

“So what’s next?” I ask.

She coughs for what seems like forever and the aide comes over to wipe the sputum from her mouth. She offers her a sip of water and Marta declines.

“I’m failing quickly,
cara
. My aides and doctors don’t think I have many more days left. Maybe three or four at the most. I need you to take Sara from here today. I don’t want her to see me die.” She looks down at her hands and wipes a tear from her cheek.

“Okay. I can do that,” I answer. “What does Sara know about me and about where she’s going?”

“She knows everything. I’ve told her all about you and have spoken of you all of her life. Tony never told her anything, as you can imagine, but I did. Sara knows of your beauty and the type of person that you are. She knows that you are her mother and for many reasons, you were not able to raise her until now.”

“Because you wouldn’t let me!” I retort. “Remember that? Or did you happen to leave that point out?” I try to reel in my anger, but I’m losing the battle.

“She doesn’t know all of the details. I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that she was stolen from you. Of course, after I’m gone, you are welcome to share the entire, ugly truth. Please spare me from it until I’m gone. Please.”

What the fuck? It’s now up to me to either hide her despicable lies or bring them to light and possibly destroy the only memories of a mother figure that Sara has ever had. Nice ultimatum. Fuck.

I sit quietly as I try to calm myself down. “Marta, don’t worry. Your secret will be safe with me. You can’t possibly think that I’m going to bad mouth you to my daughter and risk that she’d hate me immediately. Well played and touché, I guess. I can’t promise however that I won’t tell her someday about the type of person that her father was. She may find out on her own if she Googles his name.”

“That’s fair,
cara
. That’s fair. Thank you.” She looks out the doors toward the vast property that is Sara’s backyard. “It’s beautiful here, no?” she asks.

“Yes, it is. Very beautiful.” I try to squash the sick feelings that are rising like bile as I think about Tony living here with Sara.

“Sara will miss this place, but I know that she is looking forward to starting someplace new with you. She has some friends here, but I admit that I shelter her too much. She isn’t as free to leave the house as a young girl should be. She should have more friends around her in a nurturing environment. You’ll give that to her, won’t you?” she asks me, almost begging.

BOOK: Dear Tabitha
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