Fade In (36 page)

A few of us drive up to Martha's Vineyard a few days before the wedding. Winnie wants to oversee the preparation and I sincerely want to help. Since my talk with Cooper, I've been trying to be a little less neurotic—or moronic, is it?—about my relationship.

I'm going out of my way, trying to be affectionate with Ben around other people. Maybe Cooper was right. Maybe Ben needed reassurance just like anyone. I've also been sending him sweet text messages when we were away from each other. Well, my version of sweet.

Me
: Send me a dick pic.

Me
: I can hardly walk today.

Me
: I'm thinking about you. I mean—you in glasses.

Thinks like that. Tatum's authentic romance. It's an acquired taste.

I think he likes it because he usually will send me a picture. He knows when I won't be able to walk the next day, so he knows that it's probably true. And he is forbidden to take the glasses home. Ever.

I think he might love me, too.

So it's the ride up north that I text him the following:

Me
: When are you coming up here again? I already want you with me.

It isn't too long before I receive his reply.

Ben
: I like that. I'll see you Friday.

Friday. Shit, it is only Wednesday evening. This is going to take forever.

Ben has become a regular visitor of my bed. He's spent more nights at my place than his own in the past weeks. I even stay there sometimes. It's peculiar being in his space, but I'm doing my best.

He left the bathroom light on for me that first night. So I thanked him generously. With my mouth.

We both slept very well.

On Wednesday night, I can't sleep at all. Usually a good hotel bed does it for me. Even though it's a full size smaller than my king at home, it seems too big. I rustle restlessly all night and finally go to sleep watching the Home Shopping Network around three o'clock.

I am not the most fun girl the next morning.

Flowers are arriving and being stored in a large walk-in coolers, and the chefs prepare meals for us to taste for the rehearsal and reception. We reorganize the seating charts so many fucking times that I almost cry out of sheer annoyance. Who in the hell sits down at a reception after eating? It is a crock of shit, I tell you.

Sleep doesn’t evade me tonight. I had Ben read me a few chapters in the crime novel he was into and I dozed right off, the inflection and steady tone of his voice like my very own sexy lullaby.

I have dreams about my own wedding. That's the most monumental part of the dream anyway. The rest is just some bullshit about Wes starting a game show. Which I will of course email to the Devons for them to recreate for next season.

When I wake on Friday, I'm so relieved that I won't have to go much longer without seeing Ben.

What if I'd lost my sight while I was sleeping? That's the newest game I like to play with myself. It's called What Will Still Be Here Tomorrow?

My sight is fleeting, and I race to see and memorize everything lately. This wedding might be the last I see. That makes me sad, but at the same time, I'm so thankful that I’ll get the chance to see it.

The Hippies aren't staying at the same resort we are. Instead, they've opted for a spot at an actual vineyard owned by their friends that isn't too far. Winnie, Cooper, and I meet them when they arrive.

It is a beautiful day. The sun is out, and it's the perfect temperature—not too hot and not too breezy. This area received a lot of rain over the summer, so everything is still lush and colorful even into August.

“There's my girl!” my dad says as he bounds up to me wearing khaki shorts and button-up that's misbuttoned, his arms spread out wide. “You look so pretty, Sis.” He steps back to appraise me, his hands still on my shoulders. “Your hair is shorter, but it suits you,” he says, placing a Dad kiss on my forehead. “And where's this bride?” He spins around, animatedly looking for Winnie.

“Hi, Mr. Elliot,” Winnie greets and easily hugs him.

“Yo, I'm retired. It's Pat.”

“Okay.”

I say, “Hey, Pat. Where's my mom?” since I’m wondering if she's planning on joining us in the lot that they've chosen to stay at for the weekend.

“She was sleeping when we pulled in. I just woke her up. She'll be out. Don't worry.”

“Hi, Dad.” Cooper begins to offer a handshake and, when Dad grimaces, he hugs him instead.

“Hi, son.” My replies to Cooper before turning back to me. “I thought you were bringing your lover to the wedding, Tatum. Where's he at?”

“My lover? Uh. Gross. Ben, my boyfriend, is driving up later this afternoon. He had to be in Washington for work.”

Why did I say that? Why?

Probably because I wanted someone else to ask the questions that I secretly needed the answers to.

Like clockwork, my dad asks, “What kind of work?” That's a good question, and coming from my very liberal father, he's more than curious what my
lover
would be doing there. “I thought the dude worked for you?”

“I think he's a spy on the side, Dad. It's all very mysterious. You don't want him to have to kill me, do you?”

“How exciting.” A smile lights his eyes.

“My children!” Mom's silver head pops around the hippie-mobile and literally skips in her sundress and signature cardigan into Cooper's arms. She kisses him all over the face. “My baby boy is getting married!” He no more than sets her down and she's embraced Winnie. “And to Gwendolyn! I love it. Sweetheart, you look fantastic. Are you excited?”

“Very!” Winnie tells her. They're still holding hands, swinging them in their shared excitement. “I think everything is ready though. Thanks to Tate. She's helped so much.”

“She has? How conventional of her.” My mother comes to me, holds my face in her hands, and kisses me on the lips. She always does that. I've always felt weird kissing people on the lips. But as they've always been, my mother’s lips are soft, and her smell envelops me. Lemons smell like her, I'm convinced.

“I have. It's been really fun.”

“How's your sight, darling?” she says only to me. We don't talk a lot, but since this has been an ongoing thing since my teenage years, she knows that it isn't just magically going to right itself.

“Oh. It's fine. I'm feeling good.” I wish I could tell her honestly how I feel, but I can't. I love my mother and my father, but it's always been Cooper who I rely on for anything emotional. It works for us.

They invite us in and we drink iced tea and chat about the events for both tonight and tomorrow. The two most easygoing people on the planet don't refuse any of Winnie’s or Cooper's requests, which are few.

Grooms’ parents don't really have much to do in a wedding, it turns out. Basically show up and have a good time.

My phone vibrates and it's Ben.

Ben
: I'm here. Checking into my room.

Me
: Your room? You mean my room?

We planned on sharing a room this weekend, but I don't dwell on it even though I left him a keycard at the front desk and they know who to expect.

Ben
: I just went ahead and got one. Where are you?

Me
: With The Hippies. Be there soon.

Ben
: Room 55C.

I do everything I can to rush through the visit with our parents and get back to the hotel. I guess my urge to leave is noticeable, and Winnie saves me by telling them that she needs to head back to get ready.

Of course, when we get there, we run into every Tom, Dick, and Harry we know. Wes is there, and most of our work friends were already occupying the lounge. Their laughter and commotion can be heard across the property, I'm sure.

Rehearsal isn't until four, and I have a few precious hours that I want to spend with Ben. Preferably naked—or something like it. I know it's only been a few short days since I last saw him, but I can't get to him fast enough.

His room is on the other side of the complex, not with our block. I navigate the long halls that only seem to get longer the faster I go.

Finally, 55C.

“Room service for Benny,” I say through the door after only a light rap of my knuckles on it. I've never felt this much pull to one person in my life.

“I'm waiting for my girlfriend,” he yells through the closed door. “Come back later.”

“She, um, called. She's not coming. So you can let me in,” I sing back in the same melody as he just used.

The door cracks open and only his eyeball shines through the space that the chain lock allows. “You are hot though.” He meets me in the doorjamb, smooching my lips between the wood.

“Kiss me,” I say, forfeiting the game to purchase a taste of him. I make kissing sounds, sucking the air between my lips.

He finds them with his and smacks one on me then licks them. “Back up, crazy. I'll let you in.”

I shoot up. To open the door he must first close it, and I don't need to be looking like I have a botched lip fill all weekend. My lips are spared, despite his rush to open up.

He opens the door, looking both ways like he's being sneaky. Bracing himself with one arm on the doorway, he urgently grabs me around the waist and pulls me inside.

“That was close. Someone could have seen us.”

“I wouldn't care if they did. Come here.” I'm hungry for one thing, and it's Ben. I frantically clutch at him like he's a soldier home from the war. My arms undecidedly roam from around his neck to his waist and ass over and over.

“Someone missed me?” he asks, backing himself up to a wall and carrying me with him.

“I did miss you. Everyone else kisses like shit.” I pepper kisses all over his face and neck.

“Well, stop kissing everyone. Just kiss me.” He laughs, wrapping my legs more securely around him and blanketing my spread ass with both hands in support. I damn near eat the man alive.

“You smell so...” My brain fumbles. Adjective. Adjective! “Ben.” I hold him tight and slow my assault. “I'm better near you.”

“Oh, my sweet baby. I'm better near you too.”

I watch as he wets his lip before he claims mine. I'm a closed-eye kissing girl every time. But not this time. This one I want to see. As he deepens the kiss and moans into me, his brows knit together and he tightens his arms and chest around me. I've never witnessed such an expression.

His body said, “Mine,” on mute.

I close my eyes then, deciding to feel it instead of merely watching. I don't have to see anymore. I wanted to feel instead, and I can.

Maybe he is my lover.

That gross hippie was right. They always are.

It's all too soon that I have to leave for my room to get ready for the rehearsal. We're both sweaty and messed up so good that I don't want to leave. Ben keeps touching me and begging for one more time.

Before I consent, I leave to my own room for a shower and to change.

The rehearsal is limited to just the wedding party and parents. While Winnie goes through some of stuff with the officiant, Ben and our parents talk about our trip, and I decide to mess with Cooper a little.

“You know, if you're planning on being a pussy and crying, you might want to do it here. Get it out at rehearsal. You know?”

“You're probably right. Marrying Winnie assures me I'm never,
ever
fucking getting rid of you. Am I?”

We laugh.

He's right though. It will always be me and Winnie no matter what. I'm not too proud to say that they're both getting the very best with her.

We have an incredible night. My mom and dad chat Ben's ear off, telling him of their travels, and Ben's genuinely interested. He smiles at me every once in a while when he catches me looking at him.

After dinner, we do karaoke in the hotel bar. Neil and Wes do “Rocket Man” and Winnie and I sign up for every Bon Jovi song on their list.

We drink and play late into the night.

I wake up the morning of Cooper's wedding tangled in the most beautiful man's arms.

As I roll over to study his face, he stirs and says, “Good morning, baby,” before pulling me in closer and trying to go back to sleep for a few more minutes.

“No. Wake up. Let's take a shower. I have to meet Winnie.” I find my phone next to the bed and light it up to see the time. “It's already eight. Come on.”

“What's in it for me?” His gravelly morning voice tempts me to misbehave. He's just too damn enticing, with his disheveled fuck-me hair and his body that begs for my touch.

“I'll let you smack me around.”

Ben lifts one eye open to gauge my face. “I'm listening.”

“Well, I don't have much time. You're going to have to fuck me fast and har—” Before I have the word “hard” all the way out of my mouth, he has us off the bed and me over his shoulder, on the way to the bathroom.

He smacks my ass while waiting for the water to heat and doesn't set me down until he’s in the stall.

“I hope you thought about walking down the aisle later before picking his fight. I'm going to make sure you're thinking about me with every step.”

I love this kind of troublemaking. I hope he does fuck me fast and hard.

He soaps us both up quickly, squeezing the soap on his chest and puts two big globs on mine, dividing the gel on each breast. He washes me with one hand and himself with the other. I laugh the whole time.