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“Yup. I’d already planned to splay you out on the bed with the windows open and all those people outside.”
“But I wouldn’t be able to make a peep. People might hear us.” My mouth has already gone dry, and that tell-tale pressure has begun to pulse between my legs at the exciting thought of getting caught. “What are we going to do, Coop? We’re going to be here for days!”
“I know. It’s a catastrophe.”
I gasp. “You mean, a fuckastrophe.”
“Or a cockastrophe,” he says as serious as I feel. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. They don’t have rooms left here, hence Tony staying with me, but I’ll look somewhere else.”
“Okay. See you later, then.”
I call every place listed as a hotel, bed and breakfast, a guesthouse, and nothing. Everything is booked. How this is possible when it’s Key West during summer, I have no idea.
“Don’t people know this is the worst season to visit Florida?” I ask Reese.
“Apparently not,” she mumbles.
She turns to me from her phone. If it wasn’t because I know her better, I’d think she was on social media or wasting time. But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s doing something productive. Peeking over, I see that in fact she’s typing up some document. “Even the best students can take a break,” I tell her.
“Not if they want to be something,” she informs me out of the corner of her mouth.
Shaking my head at her, I look down at my own phone.
-Any luck?I text Dean.
-None,he answers immediately.
I throw my phone across the bed. Reese finally looks up. “What’s wrong?”
“Dean has a roommate.”
“What’s wrong with that? So, do y… Oh-h-h,” she says, stretching out the word. “Sorry, Mom. I’d offer to leave you this room, but then where would I go? We’re only here for a few days, anyway.”
True. This trip is only four days long. Four very long days. I wipe my face, frustrated. Tasting Dean has made me hungry for something I didn’t know I wanted. For all I know, Friday will be the last day I ever see him. The thought has me famished.
Grabbing my phone, I search for the perfect song. The moment “Starving” by Hailee Steinfeld comes on, I sing along in my worst voice, but with feeling.
“Mom!” Reese huffs, holding her hands over her ears, but laughing. “You need to take singing lessons.”
“But I can move!” I say, jumping on the bed beside her. “Dance with me, kid. Like we used to.”
Begrudgingly she puts her phone down, but obliges. In no time, she’s jumping as hard as I am. We hold hands, egging the other on to hit the ceiling. She giggles in that way she used to until she was ten and suppressed the child within.
I realize then that I’m not just starving for Dean, knowing I won’t be with him for days, but I’m also starving for this connection with my child. A connection I’m all too aware will almost be severed next week, when she flies in search of her own future.
