Chapter 12 - Drowning

Three weeks later

“I don't want to go anywhere.”

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled, too busy kissing the back of her neck to speak.

“If you weren't insisting we leave the house today, I wouldn't move from this spot.”

She relaxed a little more into the pillow before she felt his hands move from her hips up her back and around to her stomach.

“Have you been paying attention?” she asked.

“No,” he said, grabbing her arm and turning her over to look at him. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her mouth in towards his. “Not to anything that's coming out of your mouth.”

Twenty minutes later, she had managed to pull herself out of bed half-clothed to go to the kitchen. She stood at his counter, stirring creamer into her coffee, and looked at him when he came into the kitchen in his lounge pants, carrying a clothing bag.

“Can you drop this suit by the dry cleaner before the end of the day? I'll need it after I get back from Mississippi.”

“Why is it that I'm getting naked for you and I still get stuck with your dry cleaning?”

“What a rip-off, right? You'd think I could at least pay you or something,” he said with a scoff.

She smiled and paused for a sip of coffee, but stopped after she had swallowed.

“Wait – you mean for the dry cleaning, right?”

“For the dry cleaning. Yeah, that sounds better.”

“You're a pig,” she said.

She turned away from him, but smiled when she felt arms wrap around her waist.

“Come to Mississippi with me,” he said softly, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You know I can't.”

“Tell him I'm making you work. He'll believe it.”

“I know he will,” she said, “but I still can't.”

“Addy, it's Thanksgiving. I want you to meet my family.”

“And what are you going to tell them?” she said with a chuckle. “'Hi mom, hi dad. Happy Thanksgiving. This is my girlfriend. She's married, but it's no big deal; we're only sleeping together.'”

“Yeah, that's about what I was going to say – except I was going to word it a little differently...”

She sighed. “You know, usually in an affair it's the woman that always wants more from the man than they can give. Lance, this is not a joke. We talked about this.”

“We talked about public events and photographers, not parents and holidays. It's not like we'll be on display for everyone.”

“We might as well be,” she said.

He stepped away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This isn't about my parents or being seen together,” he said. “It's about him again.”

She said nothing. In three weeks, she had spent more nights at Lance's apartment than she had at her own, and at first she was sure she knew what she wanted. But with the holidays quickly approaching, old feelings were stirring up inside her – feelings she couldn't ignore.

“I always heard stories about the 'other woman',” he said. “You know, wondered what it was like to be on that side of things, that side of the relationship. You don't hear much about the 'other man' though, but I've been one for three weeks, and I can tell you, Ad – it sucks.”

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“You say we might as well be on display for everybody, but honestly – it feels the opposite for me. We're not like a normal couple. Our date nights are spent eating in and watching movies because we're hiding.”

“I didn't hear you complaining about that last week when we ordered Chinese and watched Paranormal Activity,” she said.

“How can you complain when you have a cute brunette jumping into your lap, grabbing your shirt like she's about to fall off a cliff?” he said with a smile.

“It was scary,” she said quietly, almost pouting. “Those footprints in the baby powder...fucking creepy.”

“You could barely sleep for two days, which left plenty of time for other things.”

“I swear, Lance, if I wake up one morning and there are baby powder footprints all over the place, I'll kill myself and come back to haunt you. And I won't play around with slamming doors and moving bed sheets while you're sleeping.”

She expected him to respond, but when he was quiet, she turned to look at him. She noticed the smile had disappeared.

“I'm a lucky guy,” he said. “You're an amazing person, Addy. I love spending time with you no matter what we're doing, but sometimes I wish I could take you out and show you off – show people that this time, I got something right.”

She exchanged a look with him, feeling guilty.

“He's my husband,” she said. “I've been gone two months. If I don't go back to LA and attempt to spend some time with him, it will start to look suspicious. If I'm going to eventually do this – end this with him – I want to do it right. I don't want to jump before I'm ready. I'm not ready to call the game yet.”

She reached out her hand and grabbed his, and pulled him to her until he wrapped both arms around her body.

“Until then,” she said, inches from his face, “I have to take a shower, and all this talk about ghosts has me freaked out again. I might need a protector.”

He slowly smiled.

“Damn you, Addy. How can I possibly say no?”

“You can't,” she said, smiling.

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“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Chill out,” he said with a smile. “We're almost there.”

She sighed. He had told her the night before that he was taking her somewhere, but when she pressed him for details he refused to tell her. That morning after they'd eaten breakfast, he had urged her into the car, but he wouldn't pull out of his parking lot until after he had tied a bandana blindfold around her eyes. They had been driving for what felt like hours.

“This thing itches,” she said, scratching her temple where it rubbed against her skin. “Can I please take it off? I'll keep my eyes closed.”

“Yeah, right. Just a few more minutes. Promise, honey.”

She felt him lean over and give her a light kiss on the corner of her mouth, so she assumed they were stopped in traffic.

“Am I going to make it back from this alive? Are you throwing me off the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“I might if you don't stop complaining,” he said, smiling again. “We passed the Brooklyn Bridge anyway, we're much closer to the bay than the river.”

“The bay?” she said, surprised.

“Yes, the bay. Now quit asking questions and enjoy the ride.”

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, wishing she could look out the window.

About five minutes later, she felt the car come to a stop and heard him shift the car into park and turn off the ignition.

“Are we here?” she asked.

“Yes, we're here, but you can't take it off yet.”

She rolled her eyes behind the blindfold. She heard him get out of the car and a few seconds later she heard her door open. She felt him grab her hand, and he helped her out of the car.

When she stepped out of the car, she felt grainy pavement underneath her feet, but she could smell the salty water of the bay so she knew they were close to a beach. He helped her take a few steps away from the car before he stopped.

“Ready?” he said.

“Of course I'm ready,” she said with a smile.

The minute he pulled the bandana off and she saw the enormous Ferris wheel and rollercoasters, she let out a squeal.

“Coney Island!”

He smiled. “A couple weeks ago, when we were watching a movie, you told me your dad had brought you here a couple months before the accident and you hadn't come back since because it brought back too many memories. I thought maybe if you made new memories, you wouldn't have such a hard time coming back.”

Suddenly she was overcome. Being at Coney Island again after over fifteen years made her sad, but with him next to her it felt different. She felt an overwhelming amount of happiness.

For a few moments she was paralyzed, but then she grabbed him and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“I love you,” she said, whispering close to his ear. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for you,” he said.

For a few moments, he held her in his arms, not knowing what to say to her. He didn't want her to leave in the morning for Los Angeles, with him headed off to Mississippi. He didn't want to let her go. But he didn't want to ruin this moment for her.

He pulled away from her reluctantly, putting a smile on his face.

“Well, let's go!” he yelled, grabbing her hand and running off like a kid in a candy store.

He pulled her through the entrance, grasping her hand tightly the entire time. They strolled silently for several minutes, and she took in everything around her. It was an emotional overload, remembering the last time she was here. Coney Island always made her father so happy, especially if he got to share it with his little girl.

She knew they shouldn't because they could be caught, but as they walked by the rides and the booths, he held her hand lightly in his. The way he smiled and occasionally glanced over at her reminded her of high school – the only thing that was missing was the sway of their arms together.

After a few minutes of walking, they came across a game booth with dozens of stuffed animals hanging from its ceiling. His eye went to a weapon on the counter in front of the booth.

“Artillery,” he said, and she noticed the silly grin on his face as he stepped up to it.

“Boys and their toys,” she said, watching him pull out a five-dollar bill from his wallet and hand it to the worker.

“You gonna tell me I'll shoot my eye out?” he said as the man handed him the rifle and he put it into position with the butt up against his shoulder, his trigger finger in position and his eyes already focused on his target.

“At least they're not real bullets,” she said, feeling slightly nervous as he pulled the pump action back.

She braced herself as she heard him pull the trigger and pop the balloons, grateful when he finally put the gun down with a satisfied grin.

“Look at that,” he said.

“Testosterone,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “What's next, chest pounding?”

The booth worker handed him a teddy bear with a pink bow wrapped around its neck, and he handed it over to her with a smile.

“A mating call,” he said.

She chuckled and used the toy to hit him on the side of the face.

“I hate you, come on,” she said as she grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the booth.

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After spending most of the daylight hours browsing booths, playing games, and walking hand-in-hand through Coney Island, the two of them walked down to the beach at dusk to wind down. It was getting darker every minute and everyone on the beach was packing up their belongings and their families to get back in their cars and go home.

They laid a few feet from the water, both their backs in the sand watching the sky turn a dark blue. She rested the teddy bear on her stomach, looking up at it and playing with the bow around its neck, readjusting it.

“Addy,” he finally said, “what's your story?”

“My story?” she asked.

“You're a mystery to me,” he said. “You leave a comfortable life back in Los Angeles to come work for me. You say you need this job, but obviously you don't need the money; your husband probably makes more money in an hour than I pay you in a month.”

“Who said my life back in Los Angeles was comfortable?” she asked, fiddling nervously with the bow.

“I assumed,” he said. “The money alone...”

“Lance, I don't care about the money,” she said, feeling a grin creep over her lips. “This is what I care about – this moment. We both have flights in the morning and we should be in bed, but we're here enjoying each other.” She reached down to her side and grabbed his hand. “Money's convenient – but if I don't have this, I have nothing.”

“And you don't have this with him,” he stated, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Not even close,” she said with a scoff.

“Why are you going back then?” he asked.

“Maybe it's not about him.”

She turned her head to look over at him.

“Or maybe it's because I'm stubborn as hell,” she said, smiling.

He laughed. “That's no joke.”

“Hey, you shouldn't talk,” she said, thankful that the topic had changed. “You're just as stubborn. We both butted heads with each other all the same when I first moved here.”

“We sure did.”

“There was a time we couldn't get along to save our own lives.”

“Yep,” he said with a smile.

“Now look at us.”

“We can't keep our hands off each other,” he said, making her giggle as he moved over to kiss her earlobe.

“You can't keep your hands off me,” she corrected as he moved from her ear down her neck, ending it with a kiss on her lips.

“Are you complaining?” he asked.

“Definitely not,” she said, returning the kiss.

“You're right though,” he said. “We should probably get home. I need to pack a few more things and we both need some sleep.”

She was reluctant to leave. She was so sure about getting on a plane this morning, but after he had pulled out all the stops to make her day special, she got more nervous as the time got closer to board the plane.

He stood up and held his hand out to her, and with a sigh she grabbed his hand and let him pull her up. She watched him brush stray sand off his jeans with a smile on her face.

Coming closer to him, she pressed her hands up against his chest. It took a lot of strength to push him a few feet, into the shallowest end of the water, but she managed to push him far enough that he lost his footing and fell onto his butt, soaking him from the waist down.

“Oh no. Payback,” he said, and before she knew it he had grabbed onto one leg and then the other. He pulled her towards him, shrieking and crying out the whole time, and eventually he pulled her legs out from underneath her. She was laughing so hysterically that she collapsed with her back on the ground, her legs in the water and her back on the sand.

He stood up from the water, his lower half dripping, and grabbed both of her legs and dragged her further into the water, until the tide started lapping up to her chest, soaking her shirt.

“Stop, Lance,” she finally managed to say through her laughter. “I can't breathe.”

He released her legs, and as she controlled herself, he laid down beside her with his elbow propping him up.

“Change your mind yet?” he asked.

She let a few lingering giggles die down. “Almost...but no,” she said.

“There's nothing I can say, is there?” he asked.

“No,” she said, but she smiled. “I have a life in LA that I need to go back to. I need to face it. I ran away from it once, I can't do it again.”

He sighed; she could tell he was not happy that he couldn't change her mind about the trip.

“My Adeline James,” he said, running a finger down her face to smooth a wet strand of hair away. “She doesn't run away from anything.”

“Your Adeline James runs away from everything,” she said, a sly smile on her face. “Especially you, after she does this.”

She grabbed a handful of wet sand and rubbed it into his hair, which started her laughter again as she watched his only half-amused expression.

“Oh, that's it,” he said, and she was already picking herself up off the sand as he was, both of them struggling with the weight of their wet clothes. She took off running only seconds before he did, her lighter clothes giving her an advantage.

It still didn't take long for him to catch up to her and as he grabbed her, taking her back down to the sand laughing, she wished herself she wasn't so adamant about going back to what she called her “life” in California.