The Solitude of Passion (3 page)

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.

Colt’s sporting a thigh-high cast with a dozen different signatures scrawled over the front. There’s a drawing of a naked woman upside down that he probably penned himself with his dick.

“What happened to your leg?” I don’t bother with hello.

“Fell off a roof two weeks ago.” He presses out a dull grin, and I see Mitch hiding behind his face like a ghost. “Glad it wasn’t my neck.”

“Yeah, well, better luck next time.” I yank on my baseball cap. “Aim head down. You’ll get it right eventually. Where’s your brother? Rolling around with a broken back somewhere?”

“China. Building homes for orphans.” He runs his fingers through his hair. Girls used to fall over themselves trying to get Colt into bed. They thought he was some god who was going to rule their world with his pearly smile and cut abs. Now look at him. Tumbling off roofs, barely able to keep the family business afloat. They can’t save Townsend. Hell, not even I could save Townsend. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to pull off that miraculous feat.

“Sounds like Mitch is a real hero,” I say.

Colt and Hudson somehow managed to stay friends after my mother devoured their father like an anaconda. The blame should probably be the other way around. Young widow, fragile mindset, vulnerable, but it was
my
mother in question, and the word vulnerable is nowhere near her lexicon, let alone her person—not after my father died—not a moment before. Everything she does is calculated, and if she wanted to bag a very married Townsend, then, by God, that’s just what was going to happen. And it did, for a good long while until he died of a heart attack right there tucked between her legs.