Page 12 of After Care

It should have been awkward. Two random adults having sex in the morning. I couldn’t even call it a one-night stand. The walk of shame was supposed to happen in the morning, not the actual sexcapades. I didn’t know what else to call what we’d done. Make love? Nope, the term did not fit. Sex, definitely. A slight tingle returned, my imagination leading me to ask him for a second helping. And I wasn’t referring to the eggs. However, I took a hefty bite to rid my thoughts of the bed.

We ate for a moment in silence.

“How long?” he asked, and I swallowed the piece of bacon in my mouth before chewing it properly. “How long did you have it?” He looked up at my hair and instantly my fingers went to the wayward curls. I didn’t have a clue what I might look like, and I started combing the edges near my ears. His hand reached across the table to stop me.

“I’ve been cancer-free a few months. I had months of chemotherapy before that. Aggressive. I just wanted it out of my body. I had a single mastectomy and then added the implants to both sides to balance me out.” I offered a weak chuckle at my vanity. I didn’t consider myself vain, but I also couldn’t fathom anything other than the decision I made. “This vacation was a celebration of sorts. I had survived. For now.” I sighed.

“Why the sigh?” He asked, his eyes still focused on my face.

“I guess at one point, I thought I might die, sooner rather than later. It was an awful period in my life. Worse than the divorce.”

He sat back in his seat, but took his coffee mug with him. After a sip, he said, “Just confirming what I already assumed. So, you aren’t married.”

“No,” I blurted with a laugh, and then focused on him. “Are you?” My voice cracked. Hadn’t I heard these horror stories of men who worked with bands, sleeping their way through the tours, while their wife raised children back in some small-town?

“Nope,” he said immediately, chuckling at the expression on my face. “Not my thing. Never plan to be.” The statement wasn’t an admission. It wasn’t a threat. It was a declaration—don’t get any ideas in your head, Edie; it’s only sex. I nodded, smiling weakly as if I understood. As if I were cool with it, as my kids would say.

I took a deep breath hoping to redirect the conversation.

“So, a band manager,” I began. He stared back at me a moment, then confirmed. “A band manager.”

My eyebrow rose, hinting I wanted more detail than a parrot response.

“I took over the boys when they were still raw talent. They were an opening act for a band on the edge of their retirement.”

“I didn’t know bands retired.”

“Ever hear of Boys II Men? New Kids On The Block? NSYNC? Bands retire,” he adamantly stated.

“Wow. Never pegged you for a pop culture, boy-band kind of guy.”

He laughed in response. “Oh, what kind of guy do you have me pegged as?”

I thought for a moment, tapping my chin. “My first thought, Rolling Stones, unequivocally. But the more I learn, I’m not so sure. I think under the hardcore rock star manager might be something a little softer.” He choked on his coffee, laughter filling his expression.

“Now, now, don’t be pinning me as some soft rock freak, but I do like me some Stevie Nicks.” I laughed as he referenced the female rock queen.

“Annie Lennox?” I raised a brow.

“Her, too.”

“Madonna,” I suggested.

“Blasphemy.” But his soft chuckle told me he might like a song or two of hers as well.

“Music is your life, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said, setting his cup down.

“Do you play something?” The shift in his seat and the glance out the window answered the question. He did. But I sensed the subject wasn’t one he was going to share with me. Silence swirled between us.

“So,” I drew out the word. “If I were a song, what would I be?”

“Something classic,” he stated immediately and my lips twisted.

“You really think I’m boring, don’t you?” My voice fell as did my shoulders. I must be so plain Jane compared to who he usually slept with. He tilted his head and then motioned toward the bed. “Uhm…no.” I giggled and his head spun back to me. He stared at my eyes, travelled down to my lips, and fell to my chest.

“'Barracuda’.” His face was dead serious, but I barked out a laugh.