Page 49 of Licks

Her lips parted. If the music were quieter, I’d bet I’d hear her whimper. But she said, “Having sex isn’t a relationship.”

“That wasn’t sex. We made love, and you know it.”

“We said seconds—that we’d focus on our time now, not the future. Today’s the first I’ve seen you in nine years. No one in their right mind would call you my boyfriend. That goes against every relationship rule.”

“Then I must be certifiable, because when it comes to you and me, Gwen, there are no rules. We aren’t other people. The second I had my mouth on you, my cock in you, you became mine, and I became yours.”

“You leave in two days.” Her chin wobbled. I didn’t want her chin to wobble. Every minute together was valuable.

I kissed her forehead, pressed a soft one to her lips. “I’ll fly you out to visit me. I’ll come home when I can. We’ll look at a calendar and map it all out.”

“It’s not that simple. I’ve been treading water all night, trying to savor our seconds like we agreed. Not let all these emotions drown me. I want this time with you. I want….” She shook her head as though having an internal conversation. “Honestly? I have no clue what I want. And you haven’t even asked me. But you’re going on like we’re engaged.”

A notion I could sink into. Gwen was it for me. Come hell or high water, or a swarm of locusts, she would be mine. Having her once wasn’t enough. Having her for the rest of my life wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t see it. Because of our history, maybe. Our different lives now. None of it meant a damn thing.

I opened my mouth to say as much, put my heart in her hands, but Finch returned.

“Uncle Rex will chat with you.” His gaze lingered on Gwen’s taut body, every compact inch displayed in her slim jeans and tank top. The urge to punch him returned. To me, he said, “We can talk in my office.”

Gwen was up before I could reply, her purse clutched to her side as she maneuvered toward Uncle Rex, not a glance at me. I wanted to pummel Finch and yell at Gwen until she saw reason. None of it would do me a lick of good.

Gwen

I couldn’t get away from August fast enough. He didn’t understand how hard this was for me, how low I’d sunk after I’d thought I’d lost him for good. If I let him in fully, opened myself to the possibility that we were more than this blip of time and we didn’t work out, the fall wouldn’t be pretty. It would be a free-climbing disaster, a bungee jump without a cord.

You’d have to scrape me off the ground.

I kept my focus on the boisterous round table Finch had visited. Finch. I still hadn’t recovered from seeing him again, those two boys—no, men—side by side. I had never apologized to Finch after our night together, either. He’d gone backpacking. I’d disappeared inside myself. Our coffee hours and library studying had vanished the next year. We’d make eye contact across a room, and one of us would turn the other way. My avoidance skills had been top notch.

Here, all these years later, I wanted to say the things I’d never said. Explain to him how dejected I’d been, apologize for using him. But not with August around. That was a conversation for Finch and me alone.

All that concerned me now was finding my father. Funny how that had become the less stressful aspect of this night. The not-easy/easier problem.

Wigged out on zany adrenaline, I zeroed in on my target.

If a walrus took human form, it would be Uncle Rex. He was a round man with a bulbous nose, his gray eyebrows an entity of their own. His handlebar moustache was overgrown, his sparse hair pulled into a frizzy ponytail. He whispered in the man’s ear at his left. The tall man vacated his seat, smiling as he passed me.

Uncle Rex patted the chair. “Finch tells me you’re looking for someone.” His voice was gruff and rumbly, as though he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes and had shouted for an hour.

I accepted his invitation, grateful to sit. My limbs felt heavy. My heart felt heavier after bickering with August. The urge to turn and search him out was powerful, but I gripped my purse tighter, felt the journal tucked inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt your night, but yeah—I’m looking for a man who would have frequented this place in the late eighties. I don’t know his name or what he looked like.”

“Sounds like quite the puzzle.”

I huffed out a humorless laugh. “One I’ve been trying to solve for twenty years.”

“Okay.” He twisted one of the rings on his stubby fingers. “Lay it on me. What do ya know?”

“He came here with a woman, Mary Hamilton.”

He frowned. “The name don’t ring a bell, but most wouldn’t.”

I sifted through what else I’d learned, a clue that could trigger his memory. “She danced at the TASC center, was part of a group called the Sunshine Girls.”

He slapped the table, his eyes disappearing in a happy squint. “Yeah, sure. That babe lit up a room.”

Now my mother had been a babe. Would wonders never cease? “You knew her?”

“I wished I’d known her better, if you get my drift.” He winked.