Deep Surrendering: Episode Five (8 page)

“I got something you’re really going to like today,” I said when Fin called me to video chat that night. He said he couldn’t talk long because he was heading out soon to leave for Germany, but it didn’t matter. As long as I could see his face and hear his voice.

“Did you now?” He arched an eyebrow, and I grinned at him, liking the fact that I had something to hold over him. Something he didn’t know for a change.

“Yup. You won’t get to see it until you come back though.” He practically growled, and if he were here, I would have thrown myself at him.

“I know something you don’t know,” I sang, and he glared at me, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Sorry, but this is highly enjoyable. You’re usually the one who has secrets.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of secrets, Mari Cherry. Everyone has secrets. Some just have more than others.” True story.

“Do you feel any better than you did last night? We got kind of heavy there,” I said, and he rubbed his face like he hadn’t gotten much sleep. I couldn’t wait until he was back in the United States and I could nag him more about sleeping.

“I’m fine. Just tired as usual.” He gave me what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t. I was worried about him. So I thought of a compromise.

“How about this. How about if I show you my secret, you’ll agree that you’ll go to sleep. I know you can’t force yourself to sleep, but your body reaches a certain point and then it crashes. From the look of things, you’re near that point.” I didn’t have to be in the same room with him to see it. He wasn’t doing well.

“I also want you to eat something.” His cheekbones, prominent as ever, were even more so. How had I not seen that? I guess I’d just been so happy to see him that I didn’t notice.

“Marisol, I’m fine,” he said, and I shook my head.

“Stop telling me that. I’m not asking for much. I just want you to be healthy.”

He rubbed his face again. “Fine. Do you want me to eat in front of you?” That seemed a little creepy.

“No. I just want you to promise me that you will eat something and get some sleep. I trust you.”

He stared at me for a long time and then he nodded slowly. “Okay. So what do you have to show me?”

“Be right back.” I hopped off the bed and went to unwrap the set and hold it up for him.

“See? Sloane made them for me. They’re sort of patriotic, don’t you think?” I wiggled my eyebrows as Fin stared at the lingerie, his face morphing into disappointment.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?”

“I’d like them more if you were in them.” Oh was that how it was going to be?

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I sat up and stripped off my shirt and then the bra I was wearing, listening with pleasure as Fin’s breath caught.

“On second thought, I’m liking the direction this is going,” he said, his eyes going dark.

I still picked up the bra and put it on, then stripped off my bottom half and put on the panties.

“What do you think?”

“I like you naked. But, as far as lingerie goes, they’re lovely. And lovelier for having you wearing them.”

I blushed. “You sure know how to compliment a woman, Fin.” I spun around, giving him a shot of the back and did a little booty shake. “I need music.”

Fin started making what sounded like a bass beat and I danced a little, feeling foolish.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” I said, putting my shirt on over the bra so it wouldn’t be a distraction. “I should probably let you go so you can eat and get some sleep.”

“I suppose,” he said, and I could tell he probably wanted to talk more, but we’d have time soon.

“Signing off,” I said with a little salute.

“Goodnight, Marisol. I’ll see you next when I’m in Deutschland.”

“Have a safe trip,” I said, and waved as the video cut off. I picked up my phone and sent him a text.

Eat something. Go to bed. TTYL.

His response was quick.

Will do.

F
in arrived safely in Germany, and sent me a message confirming that he’d eaten and slept and was anxious to talk to me. We video chatted that night, and he looked a lot better. The next week was busy for him, so we didn’t talk much, but I spent it preparing for an oral presentation and an exam, and working with my charity groups. I had another candle party, which Chloe assisted me with, and I made a killing. She was a fabulous salesperson, and I agreed that she could be my full-time assistant and get a percentage of my profits. Of course, she told me that assisting me fell within the boundaries of friendship, and she would only take payment in the form of dinner and drinks. I’d chosen my best friend well.

I went out to see my parents that Saturday, and I could feel the tension building as I got closer to their place. I rented a car since I didn’t have my own and rarely left the city.

That was my mother’s first criticism. The car.

“What is this thing you’re driving?” I’d picked out a nice little sedan. There wasn’t anything wrong with the car but somehow my mother had found something.

I ignored her and went to hug my dad. We got along fairly well, but I could never enjoy my time with him because Mom was always there to ruin it.

“Marisol, I asked you a question. What is this you’re driving?” She gestured to the little red car.

“It’s a car. I rented it. I don’t have my own, remember? I’m trying to save money and it’s not worth it for me,” I said as we walked into the house.

“What about that car we bought you?” she asked as I followed Dad through the house and into the den. My parents had one of those stuffy houses that you always felt uncomfortable in. The chairs were all hard, the furniture more like a museum than a home.

“What car?” I asked, completely confused.

“The car we bought you for your birthday,” she said as if I was being purposefully difficult.

“Mom, that was a long time ago. We sold it, remember?”

She glared at me and then recognition dawned. “Oh, yes. That’s right.” I looked at Dad, confused. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. What was going on?

I made a mental note and changed the subject, asking about the remodeling project. Mom jumped right up and led me through the house to show me what she’d done since I’d been here last. Either she was really busy, or it’d been a while since I was here.

It was both.

I noticed other things, the longer I stayed at the house. Dad hovered around Mom and kept cutting her off when she’d talk about things. He took charge of the conversation and also wouldn’t let her lift a finger. Granted, that was pretty much par for the course, but it set off a few red flags for me.

I searched for an opening where I could talk to him alone but couldn’t seem to find one. Maybe I could somehow call him when Mom wasn’t around and ask him.

Sure, my parents were getting older, but they weren’t
old.

I was so distracted about watching Mom and catching the weird vibes that most of her little quips rolled off my back. Or maybe I’d become immune at this point.

And then Mom asked about Fin. I knew he was going to come up eventually.

“So, how are things with your young man?” He wasn’t mine, but I ignored that.

“He’s good. Busy with work. He just got to Germany, and then he’s going to England before he gets back.” I kept the details to a minimum.

“He must make good money,” she said. Yup, the money was the most important. Sure, it was nice to know Fin wasn’t living in his parent’s basement and mooching off of them, but money wasn’t everything. That was one thing I knew to be true.

“I haven’t asked,” I said, and that set her off.

“Well, if I were you, I’d want to know. You need to know if he can support you,” she said, snapping her napkin and laying it over her lap as Dad poured her some tea.

“We’re not getting married,” I said. I knew I could say this until I was blue in the face, but it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

She made a disapproving sound and stirred her tea. I sipped mine, burning my mouth. Didn’t matter.

“Hey, Dad, let me help you with that,” I said as he took some of the dishes back into the kitchen. This might be my only chance to talk to him.

“No, I’ve got it. You stay and chat with your mother,” he said, smiling. I figured that was what he’d say.

“Well, I think I’m just going to get a glass of water then,” I said, standing and following him despite his protests.

As soon as we were in the kitchen and the swinging door closed, I confronted him.

“What’s up with Mom?” He gaped at me for a moment, and then set the dishes down on the counter.

“Nothing, why do you ask?” This was another reason I had a hard time with my dad. He couldn’t be direct about things. Right now I just wanted him to be straight with me. Cut the bullshit.

“Dad. I’m not an idiot, and I really don’t want to do this verbal tap dance with you. Something is up.” I didn’t want to assume anything, so I didn’t say out loud what my suspicions were.

“She’s fine, Marisol. And you don’t need to worry.” His voice was firm, and it was one of the only times he’d used that tone with me. It was clear. He wasn’t going to talk, and I wasn’t to ask about it again. Case closed.

He went to the cupboard and got a glass, filling it with filtered water from the refrigerator before pressing it into my hand.

“You should get back to your mother,” he said. I opened my mouth to say something, but there was nothing to say. I closed it and went back into the dining room.