Diana took a sip of her Chardonnay. “Just what did you mean when you told me on the phone that he’d changed the way you looked at life?”
How much should she tell her sisters? Oh, what the hell. Diana would understand, and if Liz was as wild over her new man as she’d sounded at the wedding, maybe she would, as well. “He…opened my mind about sex. He made me experience things I never could have, or would have, with anyone else. I found desires inside myself I never even knew were there. And everything about our week together was so exciting—and also tender somehow—that, well, I just feel changed, that’s all.” She glanced specifically at Diana. “Like I’m no longer the little angel I used to be.”
Diana smiled, and Liz said, “That sounds a lot like what happened with me and Jack. And look how that ended up—he’s my dream guy, he loves me, and we’re getting married.”
“You’re just sour on love,” Diana said, pointing at her, “because of this Jon fiasco. You quit believing in the happy ending.”
Carrie shook her head. “That’s not it. I’m so over Jon. I’m completely in love with Chris.”
Diana’s voice went dry. “And you’re giving him up for a bookstore.”
Carrie sighed. “Maybe you can’t understand because you’ve never built a whole business on your own, but it’s important to me.”
“More important than life-long happiness and hot sex?”
Okay, so the bookstore argument was starting to sound a little crazy, even to Carrie. She took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s about risk. About giving up
everything
and being afraid it won’t work out. About being afraid I’ll end up with nothing, not even my store.”
Diana looked at Liz. “Would you say you risked anything to have your relationship with Jack?”
Liz tilted her head and Carrie saw the new light that had shone in her sister’s eyes ever since hooking up with her private eye. “Well, I’d say you
always
risk something when you commit to someone. You risk your heart.”
“Exactly,” Diana said. “I put myself at risk with Marc, too. And I almost blew it by not letting him know how I felt in time. I’m just lucky things worked out the way they did, and that
he
was willing to take a chance on
me
.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I admire you guys for being brave and taking a chance on relationships, but…” Wow, this just hit her. “Maybe this fiasco with Jon has had a bigger effect on me than I thought. I’m not sorry it happened exactly, but…right now, more than ever, I’ve seen how quickly things can change, how the rug can be pulled out from under you, that nothing is totally dependable. And maybe it feels important to me to hang on to the few things in my life that
are
dependable—like my store, and Mom and Dad.”
“But if you think back,” Diana imparted, “how dependable was Jon
really
? It took ten years for him to propose, for heaven’s sake, and you two certainly did your fair share of bickering. Have you seen any reason to doubt
Chris
?”
Carrie only sighed. “How many times do I have to remind you—I’ve only known him a
week
.”
“That’s about how long it took for me and Jack to know we wanted to be together forever,” Liz said.
Diana tilted her head. “Same for me and Marc. Think about it, Carrie. Don’t be so quick to pass up something that might never come your way again.”
The three sisters stayed up talking long into the night and by the time they’d drained their third bottle of wine, Diana was telling them just how wild she and Marc had gotten together—and with other people, too! Carrie nearly fell out of her chair, since some of Diana’s stories made hers seem weak in comparison. They also urged Liz to share, and Carrie was stunned to discover just how much her mature, staid, older sister had loosened up with her sexy P.I. After taking a deep breath, and encouraged by their stories—and the wine—Carrie finally took the plunge, too, telling her sisters about The Garden of Ecstasy, about her adventurous boat rides and hot tub encounter. They were all giggling by the time it was through—clearly
all
the Marsh sisters had been indulging themselves sexually in the past few months.
Her sisters pointed out that for them, those indulgences had led to impending wedding bells, as both of them were engaged now. Liz was planning a classic wedding at a picturesque church just around the corner from their parents’ house, saying Jack was ready and willing to bring the party north, so long as they made their way back to the French Quarter as soon as the honeymoon ended. Diana, conversely, was planning a huge, extravagant blowout at the Venetian in Las Vegas, where the couple would depart the reception in a gondola.
“And what if you married Chris?” Diana asked, eyebrows raised. “What would your dream wedding be?”
Carrie could only roll her eyes. “Marry
Chris
? I’m
not
marrying Chris. I just left Chris behind, if you recall.”
“Humor me.”
Carrie sighed, and tried to envision what her sister asked. “Well, given that I just saw a big, traditional wedding go to waste… I think if Chris and I got married, I’d be happy to do it on the beach at sunset, or on his boat, with just a few close friends and family.”
Diana and Liz both smiled. “Sounds nice,” Diana said.
* * * * *
“I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”
Chris looked up with a start at Shay. He’d been staring off into space, behind the bar at the Lazy Lizard, thinking about Carrie, reminding himself why he’d spent the last few years being so careful with his heart. Fuck, this hurt even worse than he remembered. Love sucked, and it was a trap he wouldn’t fall into again. “You told me what?”
“That things would change because of her. That
you’d
change.”
Damn, she had. Of course, at the time, she’d predicted things would change because he and Carrie would stay
together
, not because they were apart. Even so, he guessed the effect on Shay was the same—in the days since Carrie had gone, he hadn’t been himself. He knew he’d been no fun at all, barely speaking, never joking, and as for fooling around with Shay, well—having sex with
anyone
but Carrie was the last thing on his mind. Knowing Shay as he did—that she wasn’t nearly as strong and brash on the inside as the out—he suspected she
needed
sex more than he could quite understand, that it probably made her feel cared for. “Sorry, Shay,” he said earnestly. “I don’t mean to be an ass, but I probably won’t be in the mood to party with you for a while.”
Shay slammed her empty drink tray lightly on the bar. “You idiot. I don’t really give a fuck whether or not you want to party. And for your information, I’ve kind of hooked up with Jake now—exclusively.”
He blinked, stunned. He’d never known Shay to hook up with anyone
exclusively
. “Really? You and Jake?”
She sighed. “Yes, me and Jake. He’s really…sweet to me.”
Wow. Shay had a boyfriend. Who was sweet. And she
liked
that. He couldn’t quite absorb it, thinking—just when you think you know somebody…
“Anyway,” she went on, “I don’t care about your party schedule. I just…wish you were happy.”
He let out a long sigh. “Me, too. And I’m sure I will be again, eventually. I just don’t know when.” Although as of right now, he couldn’t imagine being happy—truly happy, deep down inside—ever again, without his angel.
* * * * *
A week after Diana and Liz’s whirlwind visit home, Carrie still felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. A
very
hard place. Memories of Chris’s hot, sexy cock boring into her made her tremble whenever they came to mind. Even as she stood in the bookstore on an average Tuesday morning ringing up a gardening book for a sweet old lady, her pussy tingled with thoughts of how well he’d fucked her, how much she missed everything about him—his kisses, his smile, his playful sweetness. His touches, his commanding shaft—in her mouth, between her breasts, buried deep in her cunt.
Just last night she’d lay in bed, unable to sleep until she’d gotten out one of the vibrators she’d brought home with her from Key West. Easing it up inside her, she’d turned it on and sank her fingers into her wetness, stroking her needy clit to thoughts of Chris fucking her hard and deep in the Garden of Ecstasy, on his boat, in the ocean.
She’d brought home all three sex toys, and the bralette Chris had bought, although they seemed so out of place in her old life.
Old
life? It was her
real
life. Wasn’t it? The truth was, she missed the sun and the salty air. She missed the tropical heat and the mystical atmosphere where everything from quaint and historical to wild and sinful cohabitated with ease.
God
, her pussy was on fire again already, just thinking about him and the island that had taken away all her inhibitions, and if the feeling didn’t fade soon, she’d have to close the shop for a few minutes and sneak off to the back room and take care of herself again. How empty that sounded, though—when she knew she could have the real thing, if only she wasn’t so afraid.
The next time the little bell above her door rang to announce someone’s entry, she looked up to find her mother, carrying a picnic basket.
She blinked. “What’s going on? What’s with the basket?”
Her mom smiled. “It’s nearly lunchtime. And it’s beautiful out—no humidity, seventy-five degrees. Feels more like April than July, and I thought we should get out and enjoy it.”
Carrie blinked again. She hadn’t even
noticed
the weather.
With her mother’s prodding, Carrie closed for lunch and they walked up the street to a small park to share the picnic her mother had made. She loved her mom, but it wasn’t like her to just show up for lunch like this, and why did she seem so cheerful? It wasn’t her usual way.
They’d just sat down at a picnic table and started eating when her mom said, “I’ve been concerned about you since you got back, Carrie. You aren’t yourself. It’s understandable, I suppose, under the circumstances, but I’m just a little worried. Is it Jon, dear? I know you thought you’d be married now, that you’d be starting your new life together, but—”
“It’s not Jon,” she cut her mom off.
Her mom tilted her head. “What, then?”
Carrie took a deep breath and figured there was no reason not to be honest. “It’s a guy I met in Key West.” She went on to explain how fun and lively Chris was, how caring, and how he’d asked her to stay and she’d turned him down despite being in love with him. “Because the idea of leaving everything behind is scary, and given how stupid I was about Jon, well…I just don’t want to make any more mistakes.”
Her mother drew in her breath, took a bite from her egg salad sandwich, and stayed quiet for a long time. Just when Carrie began to think she might never reply, she said, “You know, a few months ago, I probably would have advised you to stay here and forgive Jon, to follow the plan laid out for you—just like I did with Liz back when her engagement broke up. Back in my day, that’s what women did. They didn’t have the same options, they didn’t support themselves or start businesses—even if they had a job, in the end they started having babies and depending upon their husbands to provide for them.
“But I’ve seen how happy Liz and Diana have become
not
following my advice, and I want you to be happy, too.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I guess I’m saying, I can’t advise you. I’m not as smart as I used to think I was. My only advice would be—follow your heart. I’m beginning to think that the heart knows best and maybe it shouldn’t be ignored.”
* * * * *
Two weeks later, Carrie drove over the last bridge to Key West with a backseat full of summer clothes for comfort, a trunk full of books for starting over, and a new hair color for courage. The last thing she’d done before leaving home was have her hairdresser dye her locks from a pale strawberry-blonde to a warm auburn, thinking a new woman with a new life should have a new, bolder hair color as well. Dickens slept in the car carrier she’d bought, in the front passenger seat, strapped in with the seatbelt. He’d made the trip surprisingly well with some help from a kitty tranquilizer she’d gotten from the vet.
She had a plan and she was following it closely. The first thing she’d done was some internet research. The second was to sell her bookstore for a tidy sum to a local businessman who owned a number of other shops on the same street.
Now that she was back in the tropical paradise of Key West, her first task was to find a cheap hotel where she could afford to stay for a few days until she found other accommodations.
Once she got
that
accomplished and got Dickens temporarily settled, she contacted the realtor she’d e-mailed before driving down, and she looked at the empty store spaces he’d scoped out for her. She promptly selected the most expensive one, right on Duval Street, and signed the lease.
Finally, she pulled her hair back, put on a pair of sunglasses, and walked casually into the Lazy Lizard on a hot afternoon, hoping like hell Chris wouldn’t be there. No sign of him behind the bar—good. Now she only had to find out when Shay would next be working.
That’s when she spotted Shay herself delivering drinks to a table full of guys. She wore a short, low-slung denim miniskirt and a thin, fitted tee bearing a picture of Marilyn Monroe in the famous white dress, standing over the street vent that blew it up around her. Shay’s dark nipples jutted clearly through the white cotton on either side of Marilyn.