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And I do. The orgasm takes over my entire body, shaking me from head to toe, lighting up every inch of skin until even the water splashing on me is too much. I cry out as he shifts, tugging even more on my breast, but then it's only to lay me down on the tiles and cover my body with his. He only releases my terrorized nipple after he's pumped a couple more times and then released himself into me.
He shields me from the shower, instead raining gentle kisses all over my face. "I will take care of you, Baylee. I only ask that you take care of this for me." His hand goes over my belly, flat for now, but he's not the only one thinking it won't stay that way much longer.
He kisses me one last time, whispers, "I'll always remember you," and leaves.
I lay on the shower floor and cry for several minutes before taking a deep breath and putting my pieces back together.
Epilogue
I feel rawas I grab my wallet and sunglasses off my nightstand. I shouldn't have gone back to Baylee. Honestly, I was expecting a guard to be posted at the women's wing or something. I expected to have a fight and have to be dragged off, kicked out to the curb so that when Luke finally came out, I had something to be mad about. That would have been better than the confusion. Instead, the path was clear to Baylee, and I'm a man who's been ruined by impulse a fair few times.
The only thing that stops me from marching right back into her room, scooping her up over my shoulder, and tossing her into my car — an easy feat with the convertible — is Luke. There isn't room for them both. In this moment, Baylee is a far preferable copilot, but Luke has been my best friend for twenty years. There's every chance that one day with Baylee in the real world will cool every crazy feeling I have for her. How many times has chaperoning for my kids made me want to jam forks in my ears?
No, this is for the best. I won't forget her in time, but she'll be nothing more than a strange but fond memory. Someone to check in on occasionally from afar to keep her on her feet, perhaps visit in another decade when she's grown up and settled down and gotten married, lived some more life. Share a pot of tea with her and reflect on this stupid crazy thing we did.
I feel good about this decision. What she needs from me isn'tme, and she'll get more than she can imagine for being a good girl.
I throw my sunglasses on as I step outside, saying goodbye to the weekend officially, and take a deep breath of ocean air. I'm going home. The world resumes.
But as I near my car, already pulled up and idling, I realize I've forgotten Luke. I look around to see if he's moping somewhere and see that the men have gathered around the limo that will take them to the airstrip.
And in the middle of them is Luke.
We're both in sunglasses, but I know he sees me as clearly as I see him. I stand there waiting for him to say farewell to the others and come back to me. Instead, he spins around and gets into that limo.
Perhaps the world does not resume.
But I've already convinced myself it's better to leave Baylee here, so there's nothing left for me to do but return to Palm Beach alone. I tell myself to appreciate the vast stretch of Overseas Highway, to not forget why I love South Florida so much despite its manymanyflaws, but I can't. I'm halfway across Seven Mile Bridge, surrounded on all sides by the bluest, clearest, most vast water imaginable, and all I can do is seethe while I call up my personal assistant, Zane.
"Theo, buddy, you're sounding real windy there!"
I breathe a sigh of relief hearing someone who I'm friendly enough with that they call me by my first name but not so friendly that they call me the nickname I hate. "Zane, I need something else from you, man."
"Sure thing." No hesitation. I already called him once with a massive list of demands today, and I've been getting a string of texts updating me since then. It's a Sunday, and he's managed to hire two separate lawyers and arrange a meeting with an Ivy League dean.
"I need an entire floor, at least two apartments, preferably penthouses. Somewhere north."
"We talking like Jacksonville north or New York north?"
I chuckle at the thought of anyone in my family in New York. They'd rather die. Ryder even said that once, when we were looking for a good starter firm for him after college. He ended up in Tampa.
"Somewhere Taylor won't hate me."
Zane sucks air through his teeth. "So, Port Saint Lucie."
Not even an hour away, but the farthest she’s ever lived from me is two miles. None of my kids have made it out of Florida, but Taylor will barely leave my zip code. This past year was the first time she let me take my annual trip back to England alone. She takes her vacations to whatever the trending party spot is, but she’s rarely gone more than a week.
"I need it closer to Orlando, mate." Baylee won't be willing to go too far from her family. I’ll figure out how to convince Taylor into moving a little further out. “Make it three units.” That way maybe I can trick her into thinking I’m going with her.
"I'm on it."
The other womenexpect me to join them in the parlor, where this all started. We've had our two full weeks here, two days of insanity and then a week and a half of fun in the sun, manicures and mud masks, hikes and those jet skis Addison got all excited about.
I understand now that part of it was the hot guys teaching us how to use them.
Jane had mentioned all this to me that day in front of the fertility clinic, but it never clicked that this was going to be like nothing I'd ever experienced before, something I couldn't have imagined.
This is how people who aren't me live, and I don't know if I should be upset over the injustice or thankful that if nothing else, I leave with fifty grand and some wild memories and a taste of the other side.
