The Leftover Club Read online

  It was as if we were making up for all the time we missed. We lounged in the hot tub, with me straddling his hips and kissing lazily as steam rose around us in the cooler mountain air. I felt him grow hard against me. “He’s awake again,” I grinned.

  “He likes you,” he grinned back.

  “I like him, too,” I confessed. We emerged from the water so that I could dry him off and show him how much, using my mouth and hands on him until he was screaming out for me to fuck him like I had the very night before. We came together again in the bedroom, fucking like animals until we collapsed in a breathless, sweaty, sated heap. He pulled me into the crook of his arm.

  “I’m going to be so sore when I get home,” he murmured as he drew invisible circles on my shoulder with his forefinger.

  “I’m sore now,” I chuckled.

  He glanced down at me. “Me, too,” he said and we laughed. He grabbed me in a hug as he pulled me close. “Oh Roni,” he said. “This is how it should be.” I simply nodded as I nestled close. “I came here after the Sequoia trip,” he confessed. “Spent a week here trying to figure out if I wanted to go to New York or run back to Orange County.”

  “You did?” I asked. He nodded. “What made you choose New York?”

  He shrugged. “I was scared, I guess. I knew what you deserved and I knew I wasn’t it. I thought it was nobler to let you go, since you had someone else.”

  My brow creased. “What are you talking about?”

  His eyes met mine. “Bryan. You were moving in with him.”

  I laughed. “I told you that was platonic.”

  “You said you loved him.” Before I could answer he forged on. “He always seemed to give you what you needed. Why wouldn’t you love him? I don’t think I ever met anyone who was closer than the two of you. Like soul mates.”

  I opened my mouth, but shut it just as fast. “I don’t think he even knows I’m gay,” Bryan had said. And apparently he was right.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel it was my place to “out” Bryan when the current plan was to keep him in the closet. I just cuddled closer to Dylan. “Who says you can’t have more than one?” I asked. I reached for a kiss and he readily opened his mouth to me, pulling me on top of him. I straddled him, rubbing against his semi-hard cock until he was once again rock hard. He penetrated me with a grunt and I squeezed him tight. I leaned down, toying with his lips with my own. I tangled our fingers together, lifting his arms above his head. He watched me as I rode him, taking my time as I ground myself on top of him, feeling him in every part of me. “I was a virgin before this weekend,” I told him. “There’s never been anyone else, or ever will be anyone else, to make me feel this complete.” I tightened myself around him until he gasped. He grabbed my hips as he started to fuck me, desperate to come, to claim me body and soul.

  He came with a yell, burying himself as he finally let himself go. There were tears in his eyes as he pulled me down for a kiss. “You’ve always been the best part of me,” he whispered against my lips.

  He flipped me over onto my back to finish me off with what was left of his erection. “We’re not going to be able to walk,” I chuckled.

  He shrugged. “Eh. There’s some kind of balm or salve, I’m sure.”

  By the time Meghan got back to the cabin, we were dressed and cuddled on the sofa, watching an old movie and eating popcorn. Taylor joined us for dinner and a rousing game of charades afterwards. Dylan kicked on some 80s tunes for a righteous dance party where he broke out his best Michael Jackson moonwalk.

  Meghan saw Taylor to the door when he finally left, and Dylan and I spied on the two young lovers from the window. They were both shy as they reached for a chaste peck on the lips, and he held her hand as long as he could before he made it off the porch.

  She came back into the cabin and spotted us at the window. “Spying on me?” she asked with a blush in her cheeks.

  “Yes,” we answered together. All three of us laughed.

  That night I peeked in on Meghan before I headed back to bed. “Having a good time?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. Much better than some stuffy old country club in Phoenix,” she decided. “I can see why you chose this,” she said finally, and surprisingly.

  “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “You chose to be happy.” There was a slight pause. “You should be happy.”

  I joined her on the bed and put an arm around her. “So should you.”

  Her eyes met mine. “I think I am. Finally.”

  “Because of Taylor?”

  She shook her head. “Because of Dylan.” My eyebrows rose and she read the expression on my face. “Ew, gross. No. He’s old.” I laughed. “He gives permission to be happy, you know?”

  I nodded. “He was always that way.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you marry Dad instead?”

  Again I laughed. “It wasn’t exactly a choice, Meghan. Dylan and I had our separate lives at that point.”

  “Yeah, but why did choose a separate life? You’ve known Dylan since you were kids. Why not just choose him?”

  I brushed her dark hair from her face. “I guess I didn’t think I deserved him. Sometimes we love where we’re at, not where we want to be. Dylan was the fairy tale.”

  “And Dad was a nightmare.”

  “You shouldn’t say that about your father, Meghan. He loves you.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. “Parents aren’t perfect, baby. He’ll see his mistake one day. I know it.”

  “He didn’t see what a mistake it was to let you go,” she pointed out, and it touched my heart that she could say such a thing.

  I leaned to kiss her forehead. “Maybe because that wasn’t a mistake. Look where we are now. And I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to live in Arizona.”

  She laughed. “Me either.”

  I held my breath. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Really.”

  It was like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one. “I love you, Meghan.”

  She wrapped those slender arms around my neck. “I love you, too, Mom.”

  Tears squeezed from my eyes as I held her close.

  Despite the bounty of our holiday, for this moment I was most thankful.

  29: Hole Hearted

  January 17, 1991

  I sat on the toilet seat, staring at the stick in my hand, for what felt like forever. It had turned blue. How had it turned blue?

  When I stood, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I stared at myself for a long, long time. I was in my silk, rose-colored nightgown, which flowed delicately over my 147-pound frame. Wade insisted that I try my best to get as close as I could to 135 pounds as possible, but I had plateaued for five months. My doctor had suggested that I try a low-hormone birth control pill, and now, because of that one small change, there was a new life growing inside of me.

  I placed my hand on my stomach. It was fleshy but no longer bulged, thanks to the workout schedule Wade insisted that I keep. We worked out together, and he wanted me to match him stride for stride.

  He’d always reward me with a romantic evening on the town whenever I made it through a session, and our lovemaking was always more athletic as he tested my limits in all that I could do.

  I glanced up at my face, which was pale. I hadn’t been feeling well for a week, queasy and unable to get out of bed, which had increasingly irritated Wade as each day passed with no relief. It never even hit me until I went shopping that my period was overdue. I bought a home pregnancy test instead of tampons, and the very next day, with the day’s first urine, I learned that I was about to become a mother at the tender age of twenty-two.

  I jumped when Wade tapped on the door. “Veronica, are you all right?”

  He was the only one who called me that. He told me that was a name befitting a lady, and he felt it was h
is job to mold me into one. That started with how I was addressed, as if he were raising the bar I should aspire to.

  I was frantic as I dashed to hide the evidence of this new development. I finally opened the door a smidge to my husband. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel better,” I offered, and he rewarded me with a smile.

  “Must have just been the flu.” He traced my face with his hand. “I’m leaving for the office. Don’t forget we have dinner with the Andersons.” He looked down at my body, which was the thinnest it had ever been. “Be sure to wear that black dress that I bought you.”

  “I will,” I promised. He bent for a hasty goodbye kiss before he was out the door. I sighed as I pulled the test stick back out again, to check if maybe it had faded or changed its answer in any way.

  It hadn’t.

  I couldn’t think of anything as I sat through several lectures. I had one year left to go for my Bachelor’s degree, the pregnancy was the very last thing that I needed. I was a newlywed who had a certain timeline for my future, and a pregnancy at twenty-two definitely wasn’t on the list.

  Of course, there were things I could do about that. I had certain choices available to me. First I had to confirm the diagnosis. It was a cheap supermarket test, after all. How accurate could it be?

  Pretty damned accurate, as it happened. I went to the gynecologist after class let out, and waited to be fit in among all the appointments. It was nearly four in the afternoon before I was in the examination room and the doctor read the results of my more conclusive blood test. “Yes, Mrs. Connor. Looks like you are definitely expecting. Due around September 20th according to my calculations.”

  September 20th? That was right as my senior year in college was supposed to begin. And I was going to have a baby?

  I never even really committed to the idea of having children, especially not this soon. “You’re sure?”

  He laid me back on the exam table as he poked and prodded my abdomen. He nodded again. “About four, five weeks pregnant.”

  I sat up. “Then I still have time to do something about it.”

  He glanced me over. “That is certainly your choice.” He gave me several pamphlets, as well as a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and encouraged me to follow up for the prenatal program promptly if I decided to go through with the pregnancy. I nodded and scurried from his office.

  I managed to make it home before Wade did.

  I slipped into the black dress he bought me, which had a pencil skirt and an empire waist. I stared at my stomach. It was hard to fathom there was a new life tucked away in there, multiplying and dividing, gestating and mutating into what could one day be a person.

  What a responsibility to shoulder. The weight of it wrapped around me like an invisible cloak throughout the evening. I was quiet and withdrawn as Wade led the conversation with our friends.

  Technically they were his friends, so my input was generally never required. But for some reason, Wade was displeased with my lack of participation. He chastised me about it when we undressed for bed that evening. “I’m very disappointed in your behavior tonight, Veronica. That was really rather rude.”

  I shrugged. “Still fending off this flu, I guess.”

  He climbed into bed. “Perhaps it is time to call the doctor.”

  “I already did,” I said, leaving out what type of appointment it was. I was still battling myself on whether or not I wanted to tell him what was going on.

  He held out his arm to me and I crawled into bed next to him. “Good girl,” he crooned as he stroked my long, dark hair. He bent for a kiss and I let him explore my mouth. He pulled back with a smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t do that. Perhaps you are contagious.”

  Again I shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

  He liked hearing me say things like that. After a brief peck on the mouth, he turned over to his side of the bed, leaving me cold and alone on mine. I placed my hands on my stomach. I couldn’t feel anything. It was much flatter than it had ever been, so it was hard to imagine it swollen and hard with a baby inside. I took one of the decorative pillows from under my head slowly, as not to disturb Wade, who was already snoring. Deftly I slipped the pillow under my nightgown and smoothed the fabric over it, pretending I was about to have my husband’s baby.

  I thought about the way he had pampered me and spoiled me thus far. No doubt he would likely double those efforts when he knew a child was finally forthcoming.

  Wade had been married before, but they hadn’t reproduced. That was one of the reasons he opted to divorce. He wanted a family and she didn’t, so they went their separate ways.

  He told me that story when we first started dating. At the time, the idea of children was so far into the future I assumed that I could make it all work: a husband, a career and a family. That was my promise as a kid from the 80s. I could have it all. There was no need to question.

  He had used our future family as incentive for me to continue my weight loss and get into better shape, but it wasn’t anything either of us planned for the immediate future. As far as Wade was concerned, I had two main goals at the moment. I had to get as close as I could to 135 pounds, and I had to get my Bachelor’s degree. Being pregnant threw both of those goals into question.

  How in the world would he respond if I told him the truth?

  With a sigh, I pulled the pillow out from under my gown and tossed and turned until morning, fending off numerous nightmares where Wade either abandoned me or died and I was left all alone raising a child. I woke up nauseated. I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited what little dinner I could force down the night before.

  The next morning I called and made an appointment at a clinic to terminate the pregnancy. It seemed the most rational option, but my heart was torn. I never thought I’d be in this position, forced to consider these kinds of choices. Though my appointment was set, I figured I had two weeks to figure things out. So I turned where so many young, scared, expectant mothers turn… my own mom.

  She welcomed me in for tea and served me those dainty cakes I used to eat by the handful when I was a kid. As a married lady, I politely declined.

  “You’re getting too skinny,” Mom admonished. “You’re never going to have kids if you keep this up.”

  I nearly choked on my Earl Grey. “You want grandkids, Mom?”

  “What a question!” she crowed. “Of course I want grandkids. You can spoil them rotten and send them home to your own children to parent. What’s not to love?”

  I laughed. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  She nodded. “I was young when I had you. It’s frightening to think of some tiny person depending on you for his or her safety, happiness and wellbeing.”

  “How do you know when it’s time?”

  Her eyes pierced mine. “Are you trying to tell me something, Roni?”

  I was quick to shake my head. “I just… was curious.”

  “Things were different in my day. You got married, you got pregnant. That was your job. I had no desire to have a career. My family was my career.” She sighed. “Of course, looking back it didn’t leave me very prepared for the sudden death of a spouse. Maybe you’re right to do both. When it really comes down to it, all you can really count on is yourself, right?”

  I could barely nod. She reached for my hand.

  “You do what’s right for you, honey. Forget what I want or even what your husband wants.”

  My mother wasn’t all that fond of Wade. She was suspicious of him from the moment he first walked through her front door. Why was a successful businessman preying on interns? Couldn’t a wealthy, attractive man find someone closer to his own age?

  Why didn’t he want to?

  These were all questions she gently raised to me during my whirlwind courtship. But even she couldn’t deny how I had blossomed in the relationship. When I got married, she begrudgingly accepted it. But I could always tell when she was sticking it to Wade by the way she called him my husband instead of using his name.
r />   She patted my hand. “Hey. I have a surprise for you. Guess who is in town from New York?”

  I groaned as I rolled my eyes. “Mom.”

  “It’s just for a few days and Bonnie and I would love for the four of us to get together for a dinner or something some night, just like the old times. They were our family, after all.”

  I hadn’t seen Dylan since Thanksgiving a year before, when I attempted to introduce my husband to my alternative family. It didn’t go well. I couldn’t imagine Wade would be overly thrilled if I went out to dinner with them on my own. “Yeah, I don’t think Wade would let me come.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “Let you?”

  “I’m married, Mom. He gets a say in what I do.”

  Her lips pursed as she held back what she really wanted to say. “Fine. I’ll make your excuses. Again.”

  I took a deep breath. Mom was using her best guilt-inducing tactics. I had to remain strong.

  I had too many other things going on in my life to add Dylan Fenn back into the mix. Though I sadistically wondered how my being pregnant might affect him. Would he care? Or would he breathe a sigh of relief that someone else landed on that particular grenade?

  On my way home to Costa Mesa, I stopped by downtown Orange, where I enjoyed a malted at a soda fountain located inside an old drugstore. It was so indulgent I could feel myself getting fatter by the sip, but I didn’t care. In a few weeks I’d be back to my old self and I could work off any cheats to get me from Point A to Point B.

  Only as I was leaving the drugstore, I spotted a pretty little pink music box. I opened it and the tinkling melody of Somewhere Over the Rainbow immediately put a smile on my face. I thought about my own childhood, which had been so idyllic when I was little. Had my dad not died when he did, I could have had the fairytale existence.

  But death changed all that.

  Death was final.

  It was “the end.”