Lost in La La Land(64)

“Emma, wait.” He jumped out after me.

“No. You don't have to add anything. I don't need a lecture, Mike. I’m not ever going to forgive myself for what I did. I don’t need you to hate me for it too. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me feel worse than I already do. My best friend in the whole world has disowned me. My other best friend is a vegetable who killed her caretaker, a sweet old widow I was really starting to love. And that is on me.” I held my hands out as if to show him the blood on them.

“No, Emma, it’s not.” He walked to me, grabbing me by the arms roughly. “You didn’t choose for Lana. She chose for herself.”

“I could have stopped her.”

“No, she was a junkie. She would have found a way to make it happen for herself. She would have found her way back into that world. Or she would have killed you in the process of trying. You didn’t kill Gilda and you didn’t force Lana to go into the machine. And I shouldn’t have called you a hag and a witch. I say the worst shit when I’m nervous and trying to be funny. My mom says I’m nowhere near as funny as I think I am.”

“Please don’t.” I stepped back, shoving him off. “I just wanted you to know I didn’t want to lie to you—I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. I know I’m not a good person.”

“You’re not the bad one you think you are.”

“I’m also not the one you think I am.”

“Emma, I don't think you’re a good person or a bad one. I think you’re a human who fucks up like the rest of us. You make mistakes. You’re real. This is the real world.”

“My mistakes cost lives.”

“Yeah, they did. So did mine.” His eyes welled too. “I can’t do this anymore.” He admitted it like it was a great secret. His voice cracked and his eyes flooded with emotion joining the tears. “I love you. I have loved you for a long time. Not the moment I met you”—he laughed that bitter chuckle—“but sometime after that. I built that library because I loved you. I spent nights on that stupid Pinterest, going over everything you pinned, smiling and plotting. I thought about you, long before I realized. And when you called me and sounded so terrified, and you said Lana had killed Gilda, I have never been that scared in my life.” His voice cracked again, making more tears spring from my eyes. “I drove across town like a madman. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

“I’m so sorry, Mike. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not okay, I’m not gonna say it’s okay. It’s fucking insane, is what it is.” He laughed again but this time it sounded like a sob. “But if this pile of insane shit is your burden to carry through life, then I am here to help you carry it. I am here, because I can’t stay away. I know I should. Your baggage puts the head-and-shoulders mom of six kids from five guys, saying she’s an average build, to shame.” He stepped closer, lifting a hand and wiping away a tear. “But I love you, crazy baggage and all. And I will never be as sorry as I am right now for the way I spoke to you and treated you. It was honestly meant to make you laugh, not tear you down.”

“Mike,” I whispered.

“Shut up, Emma. You love me and you want to share your burden and your life with me. I already know that. I’m already carrying some of it for you.” He scooped me up into his arms, pressing his lips against mine.

It was hands down the worst declaration of love in the history of declarations, but it was true.

I sobbed into the kiss and the embrace and he held me. He sat on the bench until the tears slowed and eventually stopped.

He carried me inside, like crossing the threshold of the house after a wedding, kicking the door closed and turning for the bedroom.

Being alone in the house, with no one but my ghosts of course, meant leaving the bedroom door open as he laid me on the bed.

He stood over me, maybe checking my puffy eyes for the permission gentlemen sought before.

I didn't reply with words but chose actions. I started to drag my jacket and tee shirt off as I kicked off my shoes and hauled my jeans down.

He sprung to life as well, grinning in a way that made my heartbeat hasten more than it already was.

He stripped completely naked, completely at attention, and climbed over me, hovering there for a second. “You are so beautiful.” His honey-brown eyes dazzled me, but he wasn't trying to be charming. He was being earnest.

“So are you.” I pulled him down onto me, letting the weight of him become the only weight in my life as he pressed me into the bed and brought me back even more.

Sex in a fantasy was based on all the things you wanted in another person. Sex as an adult in the real world was based entirely on sensation and experience, of which Mike clearly had loads.

We became a mixed-up jumble of sweat and moaning, lip biting and groaning, silhouettes of writhing pleasure against the backdrop of the sea. The sounds and feelings reminded me of la la land but the pleasure wasn't the same, it was truer. It was intense and satisfying, and when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, astride his cock, riding him with his hands cupping my breasts as I leaned back, I didn't look the same. We didn't look the same, as in la la land. We were real.

And when it was over there was no awkwardness or rules or polite society. There was a shower filled with laughter and exploring each other’s bodies more.