Bobby locked his eyes on mine, something we were too shy to do the night before. Already things had grown between us. He pushed into me, as I grimaced in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I had only had sex twice before and I was still just as tight. I gripped the edges of the vanity as his shaft disappeared into me, and then I twined my arms around him as he did the same to me.
The vanity rocked violently, shaking the few items that remained on its surface, including the necklace Rory sent. I watched as it slowly hopped to the edge and slipped to the floor.
I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry out Bobby's name as he pistoned into me. Each time we had sex it got better, as I became a little more relaxed. The sensations this allowed me to feel forced me to break my stare with Bobby, so I could bury my face into his chest and bellow his name.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. We tried to pull ourselves apart, but it flung open as we frantically decoupled. It was Julia. Simultaneously my prayers had been answered and my nightmares became a reality.
Her eyes grew with shock, but in second her expression morphed into stone. If anything she seemed more exhausted than shocked.
“Jules . . . I'm sorry,” Bobby panted, pushing himself back into his pants.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring Bobby and making direct eye contact with me.
“Wait, let me just explain,” I said.
She shook her head disapprovingly. “Mom sent me to check on you and make sure you were okay. You need to get ready for the wedding. Both of you. I'll be waiting outside the door,” she said, closing it firmly.
Summer 1957
I wish I could say that those two weeks Bobby and I spent on the lake weren't everything I had hoped they might be. I wish I could tell you that we didn't take turns waking up before the other to make breakfast. That we didn't have a paint fight when I tried to touch up the living room walls. That we didn't clean his parent's bedroom and make it our own, pretending what it would be like to have a home together. That Bobby didn't fix up one of the old boats so we could anchor it in the middle of the lake to sunbathe and make love. That we didn't go for our midnight swims to cool off when it got too hot. That we didn't head back to Chicago to have dinner at Will and Sasha's place and stay up to the wee hours of the night talking about all kinds of things. Or that I didn't find a pair of Bobby's old overalls from when he was a teenager and wear them all week, barefoot, with my hair down and no makeup, feeling the most beautiful I had ever felt. That sweating alongside Bobby as we fixed up the lake house wasn't one of the most blissful experiences of my life. That on some nights we didn't just eat pie and beer for dinner and share stories about the years we had missed together.
But it was. We did.
Over the past few years, especially when I believed Bobby was gone, I told myself that my feelings weren't real. That they were something I had built up and made into some grand thing. That if I saw him again, I would realize it was pre-wedding anxiety that made the time we shared in the attic of the boathouse so intense. That not being able to have him made me love him. His absence. The forbidden fruit. That once I tasted the fruit again, it would have been long past its ripeness, and I would have known our time had passed.
I tried as hard as I could to make that the reality when Bobby returned. Convince him and myself that our feelings had expired. But no, our feelings weren't fruit, they were wine. Stored and aged to perfection, so that now our maturity, pain, and our ability to express ourselves had only made the love richer, fuller.
Our last day at the lake house was less playful. There was less laughter. A shadow of inevitability loomed over us. We understood we had to go back. Neither one of us was ready to hurt Rory, not at this level. Bobby had just reunited with his brother, whom he loved very much, and I would not make him choose. I had been Rory's wife for seven years, and we had built something together. Something imperfect and messy, but it was something. And Bobby had left once before. If he wanted me to leave my life behind to be with him, he would have to be clear and committed. Two perfect weeks weren't enough to erase seven painful years. We had our time and hoped it might be enough.
On our last perfect evening, I sat with Bobby on the porch swing, wrapped in his arms as he sat behind me.
“How do we go back?” I asked him.
“We just do,” he murmured into my hair. He sighed. “We just do.”
“This isn't fair.”
“It's not.”
“When do we get our happiness? When has Rory had enough of it?” I demanded. “When do we stop caring what other people think?”
“We'll know when.”
“What if it's never?” I asked.
He held me tighter. “It won't be never. I have to believe that. Just like I believed I'd see you again.”
“When will you be okay with doing this to Rory?”
“I don't know if I'll ever be okay with it,” he confessed. “I hate myself every day and yet, my love for you is stronger than that hate. When will you be okay with walking away from him?” He flipped the question on me.
“I'm scared. I don't know why. I guess it's like when an animal has lived in a cage and you open the door and it won't crawl out. But being out here with you, I've had a taste of life outside the cage, and I don't know how long I can stay back in it.”
“There's so much I want to show you, Lil,” he murmured into the back of my neck.
“There's so much I want you to show me.” I nuzzled deeper into his arms. “This weekend will be hard. He'll be home and I have to pretend . . . like you mean nothing to me.”
“I'll understand.”
“Doesn't it drive you mad?”
“I've had to deal with Rory having you for a long time now. There's no room for jealousy. I'd have lost my sanity a long time ago.” He kissed the top of my head, “Let's enjoy our time left. Tomorrow will come. And what will happen, will come.”
Though we didn't have a plan, Bobby had a way of putting me at ease. I still felt like, somehow, this could all work out.
“Notice something?” I asked.
“A man can never win by answering that question.”
“How about now?” I held my hand up.
“You still have it,” he uttered in disbelief.
“I kept it here because I was afraid Rory might see it and recognize it,” I admitted, admiring the pale apricot ring sparking under the porch light.
“You wear it well. I'll admit, I didn't ask because I thought you might have forgotten about it.”
“Never,” I protested. “That was all I had left of you.”
“I have a surprise for you.” I felt Bobby smile behind me.
“Oh, dear,” I teased. “I don't know if I trust your surprises.”
“Well, you're gonna. You cannot open your eyes. Understand?”
I sat up and turned to face him, covering my eyes and then splitting two fingers to peek through.
“None of that! I'll get a pillowcase if I have to.”
“Okay. Okay!” I laughed. “Cross my heart. But if you throw me in the water, it will be the last thing you ever do. They'll find your body floating in that lake, ya hear?”
“Let's not get too confident just because you carried a couple cans of paint up a flight of stairs. Now come on.” He swept in and lifted me off the ground. I yelped as he scooped me up. “Lil. Cover. Your. Eyes.”
“Okay!” I giggled.
I kept my promise, unable to wipe the smile off my face as he carried me off to an unknown destination. I had a hunch I was going towards the lake, and I reminded him more than once that his life was in mortal danger if he dunked me in there. But it was when I smelled the old damp wood, heard the creak of his footsteps in the narrow staircase, and felt him duck before lowering me to my feet that I realized where he was taking me.