The Dahlia Trilogy (The Gilded Flower Series) Page 7

  Dahlia looks away. She knows this but isn’t quite ready to acknowledge it. Moving out of the house, letting go of Shane’s things, is still too hard for her to even contemplate.

  “Listen,” Lily says, “Whenever you do feel you’re ready, Shane’s mom has offered to come and help. She lives down in Ventura, so she could be here whenever you want. There are a few things of his she’d like to have.”

  Dahlia nods. “Fine. You can have her call me.”

  “The lawyers contacted me again yesterday. You’ll need to sign a few papers since Shane left his estate to you.”

  “I told you I’d rather not deal with that stuff right now.”

  Lily sighs, sitting down on the bed next to Dahlia. “I know. It sucks. But there’s no moving forward until you do.”

  “You said you’d stop talking about that,” Dahlia says angrily.

  “D, you can be a zombie and grieve for Shane as long as you want, but he had a business. A pretty lucrative one as far as I can tell. There are employees to pay, athletes waiting on sponsorship checks, customers waiting for orders to be filled.”

  “I thought Sebastian was taking care of that.”

  Lily resists the urge to shake her sister. “He’s about as messed up as you are, D. Sebastian blames himself for Shane’s death. It’s completely rocked him.”

  Dahlia runs her hands through her hair. This conversation is quickly growing tiring. She rolls over and closes her eyes.

  “Sebastian is a surfer, not a business man. His share in the company was only thirty percent. He was just happy to have a way to keep surfing.”

  “Don’t they all,” Dahlia mutters.

  “Shane wouldn’t want you depressed like this. He would want you to be happy.”

  “He’s not here to tell me that, Lil. That’s the problem.”

  “No, he isn’t, D. You’re right. But you know he would want you to go on living, whatever that means to you. So the options as I see it are: stay here and act like the living dead; take on his business of making surfboards or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  “That’s the unknown.”

  “How reassuring,” Dahlia replies bitterly.

  Lily shakes her head. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 5

  “Thanks for letting me come over,” Sebastian says.

  Dahlia closes the front door behind him and leads him out to the deck where she spends most of her time looking out on the ocean—when she’s not sleeping. She had managed to avoid part of the grieving process when her baby died, but this time she’s opting to embrace it. Although it’s becoming clear to her that denial really serves a purpose.

  Sebastian sets down his backpack and sits in a chair across from Dahlia.

  “You doing alright?” He asks.

  She hugs her knees to her chest and shrugs. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean. If you mean am I alright that Shane’s dead, then no, I’m not.”

  He leans forward. “Dahlia, Shane wouldn’t want you miserable like this.”

  “Why does everyone keep telling me what Shane wants? What about what I want? I want him back home with me! I want our lives to continue as if he’d never gone to Cortes. Not as some shadow in my life.” Dahlia lets her tears flow freely.

  Sebastian puts his head in hands and chokes back a sob. “My God, Dahlia, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it’s not, Sebastian.” Dahlia wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “You didn’t force him out onto the water.”

  “Goddamn it, Dahlia. The whole thing was about to unravel because I started freaking out. Now, I can’t sleep at night. The image of them pulling his body. . .”

  Dahlia covers her ears. “Please stop! I can’t listen to this.”

  Sebastian cries quietly for a while. Finally, he takes a deep breath and pulls out a bottle of 1800 Colleción tequila. “Shane bought this for me after I won Mavericks a few years ago. I was saving it. I can’t remember why now.” Sebastian walks into the house and returns a few minutes later with a couple of shot glasses. He hands one filled with the amber liquid to Dahlia. “To Shane,” he says, throwing back the drink.

  Dahlia does the same, enjoying the sweet burn trickling down the back of her throat. It takes three more shots before she feels her emotions weighed down by the alcohol.

  With every shot, Sebastian continues to apologize and take the blame for Shane’s death. “I’ve never had such a mental block. I was looking out at this seventy-foot wall, and I just couldn’t do it. I’ve surfed bigger, but I couldn’t get past it.”

  “You didn’t tell him to go out there, Sebastian. He made a choice.” Dahlia takes another shot.

  “As if he had one. The shoot had to be done, Dahlia. Conditions were perfect. He didn’t want to have to plan another trip and be away from you again.”

  Dahlia closes her eyes, her head spinning from the tequila. She suspected as much. But it only makes her feel worse hearing it from Sebastian.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, crying. “I should’ve been the one out there.”

  Dahlia reaches over and pulls his hands off his face. Looking into his eyes, she says firmly, “It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself for something he did.”

  Sebastian stares back, his intense gaze burning into her. A moment of tension fills the space between them. Instinctively, she parts her lips. He presses his against hers.

  Chapter 6

  Sebastian moves one hand underneath Dahlia’s shirt to caress her bare breasts, the other pulling her body tight against him. They’re all tongues and heavy breathing, neither one wanting to think about what they’re doing—just looking for a release from the emotional pain they both share.

  Dahlia moans into his mouth as he removes her shorts and presses his large erection against her. Sebastian’s hand reaches down to her ass, grabbing and squeezing, as they continue their scorching kiss. Her steaming pussy is aching to be touched. Anticipating her need, his fingers move down and trace her wet hole, setting her entire body aflame before diving two fingers into her snatch.

  A groan escapes Sebastian as he continues to thrust his fingers into her. Dahlia arches her back, allowing Sebastian to bring his lips down her neck, kissing, sucking and nibbling as he goes. He stops abruptly and steps back, leaving her panting, craving touch. His deep green eyes betray his shock and guilt.

  Time slows to a virtual standstill as Dahlia watches him struggle to understand what’s going on. Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, but Dahlia shakes her head. It doesn’t feel right to her either, but at least she’s finally feeling something—and it’s better than the deep, profound sadness she’s been carrying inside her.

  Dahlia takes off her shirt and closes her eyes, pushing away her thoughts and emotions. Sebastian’s warm, hard chest pushes up against hers, his heart thundering. His lips find hers, and they start up again, teasing, sucking, and biting as their grief gives way momentarily to their mutual need.

  Dahlia runs her nails down his back and digs them into his tight ass, squeezing as hard as she can, channeling her pent-up anger and sorrow. Sebastian pulls her head back by her hair and lets out a low growl. He moves his mouth down her breasts and sucks on her rock hard nipples before biting down, causing her to scream.

  This is what I need, Dahlia thinks to herself, as he continues to lick and bite her soft tissue, relishing in the pain and pleasure that overwhelm her senses. Of course it’s what Sebastian needs too. His grief runs nearly as deep as hers—their grief threatening to drown them at any moment.

  Dahlia arches her back as he takes one nipple into his mouth, while pulling and pinching the other. His other hand makes its way back down to her soaking cunt and begins to thrust in and out. Dahlia’s breathing turns shallow, her hips rocking in rhythm as her muscles begin to clench around his fingers.

  All of a sudden, Sebastian flips her over onto her knees and pushes the swollen head of his cock up
against the entrance of her pussy. He circles the head slowly, spreading around her love juices. In a breathless moment, Sebastian pushes his cock inside of her. Dahlia cries out, feeling herself stretch as he fills her completely.

  Dahlia rests on her arms with her ass in the air as Sebastian slams into her so deep she can feel his balls against her clit. Each time he pulls out, he slams himself into her even harder as if trying to push away their grief. Soon, everything starts to blur as he pushes himself harder and harder into her, making Dahlia think about nothing but his cock taking her higher toward her release.

  Sebastian grips her hair tight, wrapping it around his hand as he fondles and pinches her tits mercilessly with the other. Dahlia begins to feel her muscles clench around his shaft as he finally explodes into her, their bodies trembling as they collapse onto the chair. Dahlia turns away, tears streaming down her face.

  Chapter 7

  “Dahlia, wake up.” Sebastian shakes her gently.

  She rolls onto her side. The sudden movement makes her want to vomit.

  Sebastian raises the shades. “You’ve got to get up, Dahlia.”

  “Why?” She asks into her pillow, her voice hoarse and dry from the tequila the night before.

  “Shane’s mom is here.” Sebastian throws back the covers.

  “Oh shit,” Dahlia cries as she stumbles out of bed, nearly falling over. She grabs onto the nightstand to steady herself, but can’t find her footing—still feeling the effects of the alcohol. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Dahlia rushes to the bathroom and throws up. Sebastian stops at the door.

  “What are you doing here?” She asks, heaving into the toilet.

  “Perhaps you don’t remember, but I was in no condition to drive home last night,” Sebastian replies warily. “I crashed on the sofa after I put you to bed.”

  Dahlia leans against the wall, pressing her cheek against the cold marble. The night begins to return in flashes. Shots of tequila. How many? Six before she lost count. Kissing Sebastian. Those warm, inviting lips. Feeling his tongue and teeth all over her body. Sebastian plunging his cock inside of her. Dahlia hangs her head over the toilet as a wave of nausea hits her again.

  “I’ll give you some privacy,” Sebastian says, closing the door to the bathroom.

  Dahlia examines herself in the mirror noticing the bite marks and hickeys all over her neck and chest. A tear trickles down her cheek. Now she can add shame and guilt to accompany her grief.

  Chapter 8

  “Pearl, I’m sorry. I forgot you were coming today,” Dahlia says awkwardly, shifting her weight from one foot to another. Shane’s mother smiles warmly at her.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I should’ve called.” Pearl looks from Dahlia to Sebastian, who’s standing on the other side of living room, tension and discomfort filling the space with every breath.

  “Well, uh. Thanks again, um, Dahlia. For the talk, I mean,” Sebastian says. He walks up to her and offers her a platonic kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”

  He turns and hugs Pearl. “Good seeing you, Mrs. Walker.”

  Dahlia blinks back tears. The last time Dahlia and Shane spoke, he referred to her as Mrs. Walker. She was in Miami to tell Rodrigo in person that she decided to live in California to be with Shane. She could hardly wait to see Shane and go on the honeymoon they never had. It’s still difficult for her to imagine that she’ll never hear the sound of his voice again.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Dahlia asks Pearl as she heads into the kitchen.

  “Whatever you’re having will be fine, as long as it isn’t hair of the dog.” Shane’s mother winks at her.

  Dahlia pours two glasses of water and hands one to Pearl. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Hard not to notice the empty shot glasses and bottle of Tequila over there.” Pearl nods her head toward the end of the kitchen countertop.

  Dahlia blushes. “Sebastian came by to talk last night.”

  “Of course he did,” she replies. Although by the expression on Pearl’s face, it’s obvious she knows what happened. Dahlia can feel her stomach churn.

  Dahlia clears her throat. “You mentioned there are some things of Shane’s you’d like to take.”

  Pearl puts her hand on Dahlia’s arm. “That can wait. You know hon, it’s okay.”

  Dahlia looks at her confused. “What’s okay?”

  “You know.”

  She shakes her head.

  “That you and Sebastian . . .” Pearl leaves her to fill in the blanks.

  Dahlia sets down her glass and shakes her head. “No! It’s not alright.” Tears prick her eyes. “I can’t believe that happened.”

  Pearl puts her arms around Dahlia to comfort her. “Here, have a seat,” she says, pulling out a stool by the counter. Dahlia does as she’s told.

  “I’m not a great liar. I came to get a few things, but I really wanted to check on you.”

  “But you said . . . over the phone,” Dahlia’s voice falls.

  “I know, but I didn’t think you’d want me to interfere in your life. I’m just worried about you.”

  Dahlia crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You’re not the only one.”

  “But I am probably the one person who knows what you’re going through, even better than you do.”

  Dahlia notices tears welling in Pearl’s eyes. Of course Pearl would know. She lost a husband, leaving her a widow with two children. And now she’s lost her youngest son. A child and a husband gone from Pearl’s life. She would certainly know better than Dahlia.

  “When Shane’s father died, I would’ve been lost if it weren’t for Troy and Shane. Shane was just 5, but he was such a sensitive kid. He knew his father wasn’t coming back from the Gulf.”

  Pearl takes a sip of water before continuing. “Raising them gave me purpose, something I could channel my energy into. I’m worried, Dahlia, that you’re floundering in your grief.”

  Dahlia shrugs. She’s never had a maternal figure in her life to talk to her about feelings. Her own mother couldn’t even fake concern for Dahlia upon hearing the news of Shane’s death, let alone come up with some pathetic excuse why she couldn’t attend his funeral. Instead, she offered to make a sizable donation in his name to a cancer research fund—never mind that Shane didn’t die from cancer. Dahlia didn’t bother suggesting that her mom consider an ocean conservancy charity. She knew none of those details mattered to Poppy.

  “Perhaps it’s none of my business. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping dear, but grief and depression can be terribly seductive. It’s easy to lose yourself to them if you’re not careful.”

  “But . . . how am I?

  “Well, screwing Sebastian is certainly a start,” Pearl grins.

  “I’m so embarrassed. We were drunk . . .” Dahlia stammers.

  “Honey, it’s okay to get drunk and stupid when you’re sad. It forces the emotions up and out. It may not be as productive as other methods, but it sure helped me. I swear I had to leave Oceanside after I slept with half the Marines at Camp Pendleton.”

  Dahlia’s jaw drops.

  “Oh please, Dahlia, grief and sex can go hand and hand. At least Sebastian is a friend.”

  “But I don’t want to disrespect Shane’s memory.”

  “That’s my point. It’s Shane’s memory, not Shane. When his father died, I kept everything in the house the same, as if I was expecting, even hoping, he’d show up one day and tell me it was all a mistake. I didn’t touch anything of his. But over time, I saw how my not letting go of him affected the boys. We were living with a ghost. It wasn’t fair to any of us. Living is the best way to honor the dead, Dahlia.”

  “But I miss him so much it hurts, Pearl.”

  “I miss him too, dear. We will always miss him.” Pearl squeezes her hand, a tear falling down her cheek.

  Dahlia lets out a long exhale. “What do you suggest I do?”

  Chapter 9

  “I’m glad you’re here, D,”
Lily says, looking over at her sister, resting alone on a poolside chaise.

  Dahlia sets down her blank sketchpad and turns away from the expansive view of the Indian Ocean and shrugs. “You were right, Lil. Staying in Santa Barbara was becoming counterproductive.” She closes her eyes, the cool sea breeze tickling her skin. The memory of Sebastian’s lips makes Dahlia shudder. Even after almost two weeks on the island, the guilt is still there. God knows the grief seems like it will last a lifetime.

  “It’s just . . . I don’t know where I go from here,” she mumbles, suddenly feeling tired. Any time she thinks about Shane, she wants to crawl into bed and let sleep take away her pain. According to Lily, it’s all Dahlia’s done since she’s arrived on this island, but it sounds like an exaggeration. The days all run into each other here, each one looking the same as the day before. She only knows she’s been here for two weeks because Lily tells her.

  “You don’t have to decide that now, do you?” Vi says, taking a seat next to her, wearing a bright yellow bikini and matching sarong. A young woman carrying a tray of cocktails emerges from the open-air kitchen and sets down their drinks on a small table.

  Vi picks up a glass and hands it to Dahlia. “Sometimes you have to not think about the future and just be.”

  “What self-help guru are you quoting?” Dahlia asks. “Deepak Chopra?”

  Vi lifts her Celine sunglasses off her face and rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”

  “So?”

  “Just let her speak, D,” Lily intercedes.

  “In any case,” Vi continues, “Years ago, I went to a man who reads palm leaves. I was at a crossroads, if you will.”

  Dahlia and Lily both perk up with interest. Vi rarely reveals this much about herself.

  “How?” Dahlia asks.

  “How isn’t the point, D. It never is. It came down to needing to decide if where I was at the time was where I needed to be or if I needed to make a change. In this case, whether to stay in New York or move to Dubai. The moves, naturally, would’ve had major implications.”