KNOT: A Wake Family Novel (2 page)

Reggie—Saturday, September 18, 2010

I
t was a beautiful wedding. My sister, Blake, had never looked happier. Casey was a hell of a guy. A man who would make her happy.

My phone buzzed in my pocket just as my new brother-in-law carried my sister off. I was kind of glad they were calling it an early night. I’d never leave her party early, but if they were done, so was I. I was at the end of my rope. Maybe not physically, but mentally and emotionally, I was exhausted.

I pulled my cell out of my suit pants, almost knowing who it was, but not knowing what kind of message it would be this time.

NORA: What’s your room number? I’m in the lobby.

She was there? In Oregon?
No.

I was never that lucky. Where Nora Koehl and I were concerned, neither of us ever got what we really wanted. Only watered-down, failed attempts. I couldn’t fathom her being
there
like I’d fantasized about damn near all fucking day. Especially when I needed her that night like I did. Her being there was on the out-of-reach shelf, right next to every other impossible notion.

ME: I’m busy.

NORA: I know. I got a flight and rented a car. But I’m here now.

Wasn’t it too late? Hadn’t we said everything? Pointed fingers enough? Would this ever just fucking end?

I’d had a few beers, but suddenly the ground felt closer, and the sky seemed to sit on my shoulders. The world was so heavy.

She was there and wanted my room number, but that wasn’t like her at all. She rarely came to me. Especially not like that—on her own.

I was exhausted from our games. Pretending one thing to get another. Reverse psychology? What a joke.

ME: I only have one bed Nora, and the chair in the room is small.

NORA: Do you want me here or not?

Did I?

We both knew I did, but I was tired of fighting about it. I was tired of all the obstacles. All the stress. All the wondering. All the fear. All the yelling. All the things I’d said and didn’t say. All the things she would and would never admit.

For one night, I just wanted her
and
peace—in the same room. Even if she stayed, I didn’t think I’d achieve that. Still, if she was offering, I wanted her to make-believe with me.

One more very last time.

It was selfish and weak, but it was what I needed. If I couldn’t have the real thing, I would gladly take the illusion as a bitter consolation.

It was better than nothing at all.

I didn’t worry about the registration desk not giving her a key. I knew more than anyone how brilliantly charming she was. She’d have my key and a complimentary bottle of champagne if she laid it on thick enough.

ME: 330. On the end.

NORA: I’ll be there waiting when you’re done.

I stood at the bar and ran my finger around the rim of my beer. Was I really going to let it happen? Had I ever had a choice? One of the things I was terrible at was telling her no and sticking to it, downright refusing her. It was always halfway. I’d never mastered denying her entirely.

I never would.

Because deep down inside my body, as I stood there around my family, something within me beckoned to her siren’s call. Something so purely greedy and forever thirsty for her roared.

An insatiable impulse to claim her. Take her. Have her underneath me, powerless against how my body made hers feel. Not because I forced her, but because she’d chosen it.

She’d told me once that I’d known her body better than anyone.

You’re fucking right I did.

That’s because her shell was the only thing she’d give me one hundred percent.

Her mind. Her heart. Her future. I’d get only fractions—with no common fucking denominator in sight.

So, her body I mastered.

Every inch cataloged. Every sound recorded. Every happy minute we’d shared was solidly grounded in my mind, but each of her tears eroded bottomless canyons into those memories.

She thought it was just her body, but what she
didn’t
know was I knew so much more. I knew her reasons. I knew her demons. I even knew the truth in the lies she told herself.

I lifted the glass to my lips and wondered how long I could take it before I wouldn’t be able to walk casually to my room.

No. I’d have to jog if I waited much longer.

It was a kamikaze mission. I had only one defense. I refused to journey into that room with my fractured heart on my sleeve.

Not again.

If I was only some over-bearing control freak—according to her—and she still came to Oregon, then that’s all I’d give her. After all, it was what she expected of me. I wouldn’t let her take more than that without something in return this time.

No more handouts.

She’d get the Reagan Warren she claimed I was. The one I
never
truly
was with her.

Before I left, I had to tell my parents goodnight, while I still had a shred of poise. They were swaying and laughing on the dance floor.

“I think that’s enough beer for you,” Mom teased my dad as I neared them. He laughed and tried to dip her, but pulled up quickly before they both lost balance and fell. After the past year, it was good to see them enjoying themselves.

“I’m calling it a night,” I said as I leaned in and kissed Mom’s cheek. She gave me a why-so-early expression.

My dad straightened. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just been a long day and I need to take care of some things.”

They assumed I’d meant work and were disappointed. I was disappointed, too. I’d love to be at the reception with Nora, laughing and dancing, but that wasn’t my reality.

The fact was, I
was
there alone. Nora turned up like she sometimes did, and I was about to go to my room to fuck her like she always anticipated I would.

I’d finally prove her right.

Then, I’d move on.

Or at least I’d say I was for the thousandth time, but at least I’d show her the difference.

She’d had Reggie all along, no matter how much I’d fought it.

That night, she’d get the Reagan she’d expected I was from the start. If I had the will-power, I might even ask her to leave when it was over. Although, I’d never been successful at that before.

“You shouldn’t be working, sweetheart. It’s the weekend. You’re out of town.” In the inflection only a mom could produce, sweet and pleading, I almost said I wouldn’t, just to ease her mind. Pouting, her head tipped to the side.

Instead of arguing with her, I kissed her cheek again and said, “Goodnight. Love you, Mom.”

She loved me back and said so.

My dad let go of her and reached out to hug me. He was a smart, strong man, but he always showed us how much he loved us. Even if I was about four inches taller than him and an easy thirty pounds heavier, he embraced me like he always had. Firmly, how only a father does with a son.

“Goodnight, Reggie,” he said, giving me a robust pat on the shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad,” I replied.

Everyone else was busy, so it was a perfect time to slip out.

I found control within myself to use the stairs, up the three flights, then trekked down the hall.

If ever there was a time to be mindful, it was then. It would be my biggest test. I’d let the counting happen. I’d let the stress turn me into someone I tried most of the time to keep at bay.

The door opened to a dark room, but I knew she was there.

I could feel her in the air. I could smell the
Apres L’Ondee
on her skin. It was there for
me
. Maybe the old me.

The
me
of a few years ago who would have gone to her on the bed, and tried to show her how much I adored her. Cherished her. No matter how fucked up it was. Back then, I couldn’t help myself.

That
me
wasn’t there.

I briefly wondered if I tried
one more time
if I could do it. Then, I recalled all the times I’d thought that before.

No.

I’d revert back to how I’d approached sex with women who weren’t Nora.

I’d be calculated. Demand patience. Control all of it.

I flipped on the light, not exactly prepared for what I saw. She looked like a sacrificial lamb. Completely naked on her back, one leg bent, one arm above her head. Touching herself as she watched me walk through the door.

Was she apologizing? Was this surrender?

No
.

It was her trying to throw me off. It was effective, but not enough.

My ears rang and a familiar sensation marched up my spine and into my thoughts. I felt a cool sweat break across my neck, and my hands balled themselves into fists. Tightening and relaxing in time with my lungs.

“What are you thinking about,
Reagan
?” Nora looked at me like I was there to hang a shelf or open a stubborn window. She was impassive and wore her mask, too.

Welcome to the show.

How did she always find new buttons to push with her pretty red-painted fingertip?

“It’s actually hard to focus and be articulate, Nora,” I contended. “Especially when you’re spread out like that on the bed.”

I turned away from her, not giving her my attention, and she fidgeted in my periphery. It was the anticipation that drove her mad. That was all I had working for me. My only defense was one of her weaknesses. What made it worse for her was she knew good and damned well how I could play her body like Chopin played his favorite piano.

I loosened my tie, which suddenly felt like a noose. I didn’t know if I could do it. It would take everything in me to bury my real desires. Ones I only had for her. The real her.

“You can focus on me, Reagan.”

She didn’t know how fucking bad I wanted to, but I wasn’t crazy. She was playing me.

“Turn around and watch me. Watch me finger-fuck myself. I’ll watch you fist your cock, and punish it like it was me. You know how I like watching.” Her voice took on that scripted sound I’d heard her use before.

My ears flooded with white noise.

Focus, Reggie.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Fuck it.

The game changed, and I was getting what I wanted.

I ripped open my shirt, tossed it aside, and kicked off my shoes. I observed her face transform from
Nora playing tricks
to
Nora seeing how big of a check her ass was about to cash
.

It wasn’t fear. Surprisingly, it was excitement.

How pathetically ironic.

“Although you look like you know what you’re doing, you should stop. You’re the mouse. Remember?”

She sweetly argued, “You don’t think mice chase other mice?”

Nevertheless, her fingers followed my instruction. So typical. Argue and obey.

“Roll over and put your fucking ass in the air,” I demanded, and vaulted to retrieve the chair from across the room. I positioned it directly center at the foot of the bed, then sarcastically added the one word that would get to her. “
Please
.”

“Reggie?” she asked hesitantly. I’d never spoken to her like that. I’d never approached sex with her like that. It could have been different with us—how it briefly was before—but that was the past. Now it was the only means I had to handle it. I sure-as-fuck wouldn’t turn her away.

So it was this. Another goddammed compromise.

“You never call me that. It’s Reagan. Now roll over.”

She gave me a challenging look. It almost—
almost
—killed my bravado. A hurricane in her grey eyes formed, swirled and intensified, but I didn’t give a fuck. I stared back. Not backing down. Not doing a damn thing until she saw how it
really
was to be dominated. How it was when a man
only
thought about
what
he wanted and
how
he wanted it. How she’d fictionalized my desires to suit her excuses, all the while expecting me to be open to her ways.

Reagan was all she would get from me.

Silently, she rolled over. Like the wicked heathen she was, she inched down the bed and got as close to the edge as she could. Her feet dangled over the foot of it in front of me. Her glorious ass in my face.

She was still testing me. Pushing her boundaries.

What was new?

Leaning forward in the armchair, I could faintly smell how she would taste. Sweet and salty. Clean and dirty. Rapture and perdition.

My mind slipped into the erotic landscape before me.

“Put your head on the bed, and use your hands to spread yourself. Let me see everything. Let me see if I still want it.”

Of course I still wanted her. I was already sure. I wanted her more than
all
the money in
all
the banks in
all
of Switzerland. Simply, I wanted it more than I wanted it to stop—which would have been the wiser move.

Where was wisdom when I needed it?

I forced myself to sit back, the closeness only fueled my hunger for her. That’s where I’d crack. Where I’d cave. Where I’d give in to the illusion.

She reached up the bed for a pillow, laid her head on it, and her hands slithered down the duvet to behind her knees. She flipped me off with both hands. They indented her skin as she raked two cherry-red nails up the back of her thighs and over her ass until they met in the crease. Then she pulled them apart, proving her modesty was as thin as the air between us.

I’d seen it all before.

The freckle that looked like a lopsided heart on her left ass cheek. The places where the sun didn’t shine between her long legs. The parts women usually kept to themselves. I was a local in her kingdom. A patron of her body.

She held the skin apart, then one hand dropped and went under her stomach and peeked out between her legs. She ran a delicate, thin finger through her wetness, and then it dipped inside her.

But this wasn’t her game.

Once again, I leaned forward and hooked my finger around hers as she moved it in and out, halting her attempt to shake me. Then because I couldn’t resist, I kissed the spot where her ass and her leg met.

“Not yet,” I scolded. “Only I can touch you. Only when I’m ready.”

I was ready, but then again I wasn’t. I wanted her to wait for me. I wanted her to be crazy with need for just me and what only I could give her. I’d never delayed her pleasure before—not like this anyway—but it felt so good to have control of it.