ATTENTION: THE AUTHOR IS POSTING THE LAST CHAPTER ON MAY 5. TO THANK ALL THOSE WHO HAVE READ HER STORY, SHE IS ALLOWING THE ENTIRE STORY TO BE PUBLISHED UNTIL MAY 22.
THIS BOOK OR ANY PORTION THEREOF MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT PERMISSION. THE SCANNING, UPLOADING, AND DISTRIBUTION OF THIS BOOK VIA THE INTERNET OR VIA ANY OTHER MEANS WITHOUT THE PERMISSION OF THE PUBLISHER IS ILLEGAL AND PUNISHABLE BY LAW.
AS THE PLANE LIFTED off outside of Austin, Regina held Robin's hand for support. The nausea took hold of her for a few moments before she felt steady. The pit of her stomach was full of coffee and left-over fritters. For minutes, she thought it would be embarrassing to have to use the vomit bag.
"Here," he pulled out a small box, lifted what looked like a sticker, and lifted her hair. He placed it on the back of her ear and righted her hair. "This'll help. You should've told me you get airsick. I do too," he put one in place on his own ear. "Just don't touch it. If you put it in your eye, you'll see blurry for hours."
"Thanks. How do you know that?"
"From an intense and embarrassing experience," he said.
The plane seemed to level off and the pressure on her chest eased. Her head seemed to right and her nausea banked to a low ache. "Distract me and tell me," she begged.
"Not a chance," he said turning toward her.
Scoffing, she met his eyes, "Fine."
He took her chin in his hand, eased into a kiss, and nipped her lip before releasing her. "Distracting enough?"
Her cheeks burned, she opened her hazy eyes, "Yea," she mumbled.
"Read this," he told her placing a large book in her lap. Regina looked down at a Locksley family book. "It has our family history. Interesting and entertaining stuff. Plus, you'll meet some of them at the Christmas party."
For the entirety of the first part of the flight, she read of his family history, some funny stories, there were pictures of Robin growing up, but most of them were after the age of six. He'd told her he would tell her his story. This was part of it, she knew.
The first picture was of him with his parents, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The boys he gazed at looked broken down and sad. The boy wore torn pants, a faded grey shirt with the name of an agency embroidered on the pocket. His shoes held holes, and his face held no smile. Her heart clenched when she looked into his sad empty eyes.
Glancing at Robin, he sat reading beside her. Peaceful. He always looked peaceful when he read, she recalled. The boy and the man were miles apart.
The next few pictures were of Robin in his new room, new clothes, a plethora of toys. He looked awkward and unsure. His room was too tidy for a boy of seven. As she flipped through pictures, his room became messy, his toys worn, his eyes filled with something. Hope, or something near it.
When she got to his high school years, she saw glimpses of the man she knew. His hair was curly and unruly, he had this cocky shot of his hip, a casual way about him. His friends seemed to be many, ranging from boys to girls.
Her favorite were the pictures of him with his father in an office, fishing, in a treehouse, in the kitchen, and in the garage. A typical father-son relationship, she mused. The pictures of his father and Robin reminded her of how he'd looked with Roland. Attentive, engaged, and like he was enjoying himself.
The last picture was from Christmas the year before, he stood flanked by his parents in front of their decorated tree. His mother's eyes were more wary, his father looked feeble and weak. Robin smiled despite it and brightened the picture. Staring at his father, she felt a pang of sadness. She knew what it was like to watch her father sick, try and help him, and then watch him die.
Not wanting that for Robin, she wished she could do something to help. It was such a sad thing and hoped she could be there for him if the time came. Closing the book, she placed it in his bag, rested her head on his shoulder. "Robin, when was the last time you went home to see your dad?"
"A while," he admitted.
"I'm glad you're going to see him. It's not easy on you, I know how that is."
He took her hand, linked their fingers, "No, it's hard. He was this strong guy and the last time I saw him…"
"I know," she soothed squeezing his hand. "My father was a humble man, sweet, and kind. Strong in his own way. He withered so quickly, by the end I didn't even recognize him."
"I'm sorry," he kissed her head.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, she watched the ground below, turned to him, "He's still here, Robin. You still have time," she smiled weakly.
"I know, and I'm glad you're coming with me. I can't wait for them to meet you." He kissed her softly, "They'll love you as much as I do."
"I hope so." Sitting back, she opened the book, "So, explain this." She wanted to change the subject from the serious. She hated seeing the strain in his eyes.
He glanced over and broke out into a bout of laughter, "I forgot that was in there. That's uncle Tommy. He's the clown of the family. That night was my dad's birthday. He decided to try and rent doves to fly out of a cage. I have no idea why, but it didn't work out. Obviously," he pointed.
The man was halfway falling on the ground with birds flying, midway droppings were falling on him, a ribbon unreadable flailing out into the wind. Laughing, she asked, "Is this a norm?"
"Yea, he does stupid things like that all the time. I'll warn you, he has no filter and will tell you exactly what is on his mind."
"So warned," she was still laughing. "How about this one?"
He grabbed for the book, "That's enough." He almost managed to snag it from her, but she got her hands on it and twisted toward the window. He tried to wrap around her back to grab it.
"Oh, no. I've already seen it, Mr. Tell me," she said putting it behind her back and facing him.
It was amusing to her that his face was red, his eyes a bit heated with embarrassment, his neck was moving toward red too. "I thought I'd taken that out," he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.
In the picture, Robin was fourteen or fifteen, he was standing in a park, he was wearing a tight red halter dress that stopped mid-thigh. There was rushing in the center, and it looked like he'd stuffed the bra. On his feet, were six-inch black stilettos. He was holding, what she can only guess was a friend's hand, and his lips were puckered up to his cheek. There was a hint of a smirk on his face.
"Explain this," she laughed.
He glanced around and closed the book, "Would you close that?"
Sliding the book to her window side, she turned, "Sorry, am I embarrassing you?" She leaned her face to his and kissed his cheek. "You look awful sexy," she purred.
"Stop it," he was more than red now. "I lost a bet."
"Yea?"
"It was stupid, I was sixteen and we made bets all the time."
Laughing, she snuck another peek, "Some bet. Anyone else seen this?"
Distracted, he snagged the book out of her grip, and shoved it into his bag, locked his legs around the bag. "No, and to save myself from further humiliation, I'm going to go through this book before I let you see any more."
Grinning, she said, "Robin seems like a good girlfriend to have."
He turned with hot eyes, "Go to the bathroom on the right."
"What?" Alarmed, she watched him. He was dead serious.
"Go." He lifted her up, guided her into the hallway and toward the front.
Regina's face flushed, she couldn't believe she was doing this. Waiting in the small space, it seemed like forever, before the door opened, and Robin filled the space. He turned the lock and the hairs on the back of her neck rose. "This is crazy," she said.
He caged her in with his arms, his eyes locked on her mouth, "Can you be quiet?"
She was flaming hot, "I…" Her breath gushed out when his hand reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. "Robin, I was just kidding."
"I know," he said teasing and a warning in his eyes. He pulled her shirt from her waistband, kept it on her shoulders, lowered the cup of her bra, and bit down harder than usual.
She surged forward, swallowing her cry, and gripped his shoulders, "Oh, my god." His teeth scraped along her nipple and her core tightened. When she tried to gain her breath, he unsnapped the button on her jeans, unzipped them, and shoved his hand under jeans and lace. Burying her face into his chest, she moaned.
"Shh," he warned. His hand shot into her hair, gripped it and shoved her head back, as he roughly took her up, he watched her eyes. Her body tingled, her brain was emptying. She was breathing heavily. "Shh," he said when she moaned again. When she came, he covered his mouth with hers to muffle her cries.
Buzzing, still out of breath, and tingling all over, he flipped her around, shoved her jeans down her hips. She heard him unzipping, he gripped her hips, put a hand on her back for her bend down, and slid into her from behind. "Fuck," he breathed. He snaked his hand up to cup her breast and lifted her to his chest.
He thrust into her and her legs almost went numb, she gripped the counter with one hand and his arm with another. She heard some shuffling outside of the door and bit her lip. "Robin," she whispered.
"I'm not done with you," he said into her hair. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. Am I hurting you?" He pulled back and pushed in slowly, slid a hand under her and pressed his fingers to her center.
"No," she gripped his hand and moved it to her side, his fingers dug into her hip. "Don't stop."
He pulled from her, his feet shoved off her shoes, and he jerked her jeans down off one leg. "Turn around," he helped her turn. He lifted her up onto the tiny counter, her legs wrapped around his waist and he entered her. He groaned, "That's better."
She took his mouth in a steamy kiss as they moved together. His hands slid around her and gripped her ass. As he thrust, he lifted her off the counter and on him as she began to shake. They moved in a rhythmic wave over and over until she was trembling. "Come for me, baby."
He took her mouth, ground into her, she tightened her grip and let go. Moments later, he followed her leaning against the counter himself. After some silence, she asked, "Was that your way of showing me you're a man?"
He laughed, "No." He lifted his head, smiled into a kiss. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "God, you feel good." He set her down, hugged her tight. "It's also a little of we're staying in my parent's house and I'm not going to touch you with my mother in the other room."
Laughing, she said, "We can't have that."
He pulled from her, cleaned them up, they righted their clothes. She kissed him softly. They both laughed at how ridiculous they were. "You look gorgeous all flushed and mussed," he teased. "Come on. Let's go take a nap."
GETTING OUT, OF THE CAB, they took their bags out of the trunk, "Do I look okay?"
He heard the nerves in her voice. "You look beautiful," he kissed her.
When his mother opened the door, his heart lifted. The smile on her face lifted all the tension he'd been feeling. "Robby!" She threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. Framing his face, she said, "You look so handsome."
"Hi, ma. This is Regina. Regina, this is my mother, Amelia." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
She took her into her arms, "It's nice to meet you, dear. I've heard so much about you. Come in out of the cold," he told them.
Inside, the house smelled the same, he thought. A mixture of his mother's baking, perfume, and his father's cedarwood burning in the fireplace.
"Through there, your old room, Robby. Take the bags back, I'll make some tea."
"Go on," he urged when she looked at him with a pleading look.
When he came back from the few trips to his room, Regina and his mother were sitting with teacups in their hands and laughing. "Robby, I was just getting to know your lovely, Regina."
"She's alright," he winked.
"Oh, don't tease her, she's nervous around me," she smiled.
Regina gaped, "No, I…okay a little."
"Don't worry, dear. I'm harmless, and if Robby loves you, so will we. But…" She turned and pointed at Robin, "If you sneak off to get married, you'll get the paddle."
Robin laughed, "Promise."
"The paddle?" Regina looked between them confused.
Robin pointed at the wall, it hung a paddle with holes in it and his mother threatened, but never used, the paddle on him when he was younger.
"Oh," her cheeks pinked.
"Robby, let me pour you some tea."
"Thanks, mom. Where's dad? He's not in his study."
He watched his mother avoid his eyes when she set the cup down in front of him. "Regina was just telling me about you helping her land a major client. How sweet of you," she said.
Robin watched the women speak, let them for a few minutes finally seeing Regina relax. Seeing her in his homemade him feel good. She looked like she belonged there. Along with the furniture, the pictures, and his memories. Memories mixing between past and current, his mind wandered into the future.
As she laughed with his mother, his mind couldn't focus on the missing link. His father is missing, and it isn't like his mother to avoid the topic. "Mom," he said. "Where's Dad?"
Regina put her cup down and put her hands in her lap. It upset him to see her withdraw.
"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you, dear."
Regina took his hand, he held on tight. "Tell me what?" His chest felt tight.
"There was a problem with his machine. We tried to fix it, but we couldn't, and the doctors said it was better this way," she said sitting down. "He's in the hospital."
Anger burst through him along with the fear, "Why didn't you tell me?" He slammed his fist onto the table.
"Robin! Don't you throw your fists in my house," she scolded. "I'm sorry, but it wasn't right to upset your life by telling you that he was in the hospital. It's not the first time."
Regina withdrew her hand from his.
"Upset my life? He's my father, ma. What did they say?"
He watched her swallow, her eyes shift to Regina, "I'm so sorry, dear."
Regina shook her head, "No, it's alright. I'll just leave you to talk." She stood and slipped out of the room before he could stop her.
"What did they say?" he repeated. "The truth, ma."
Tears fell from her eyes and his heart shattered. His mother never cried unless it was serious. "He's got six months, Robby. Maybe less if anything goes wrong."
"What do you mean?" His entire body felt numb.
"His kidney function keeps going down and no matter how much they use the machine, it isn't helping. He's still on the donor list, but they have yet to find a match. We have to consider it…I pulled out his will, and I…began to arrange for…the funeral parlor is helping…and I don't know how to…Oh, Robby," she broke down.
He stood and knelt at her feet, buried his face in her lap, wrapped his arms around her, and cried. She soothed him by combing her fingers through his hair.
FROM THE DOORWAY, tears streamed down Regina's face. Remembering hearing her father's diagnosis was painful and hurt. She knew what he was feeling. Changing her clothes, she put their clothes away, put toiletries in the bathroom, and tried to busy herself.
When Robin stepped in the door, she stopped and stared. There were still tears in his eyes, his jaw was tight. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't. There's nothing to be sorry for. Robin…" She wanted to reach out and touch but knew it could be the wrong move. "I heard and I'm so sorry."
He didn't speak, he simply stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her and clung to her hard. She returned the motion and hugged him as hard as she could. For minutes, she just held him saying nothing. Knowing that no words could be said to make this easier. Tears prickled in her eyes.
"Come on, you should lay down," she said urging him toward the bed. When he laid down, she took his shoes off, his pants, his shirt. She helped him into his sweats, a t-shirt, and covered him with a blanket. Grief had taken all his energy and there wasn't anything he could do to stop this feeling. It was too hard to fathom, she knew.
When she sat beside him, his eyes were closed. She pressed a kiss to his temple and started to stand. He took her hand, opened his eyes, "Is this what you felt? This emptiness?"
Nodding, she squeezed his hand, "I wish I could say it won't get worse, but it will." A tear slid down her cheek. "Rest."
He closed his eyes and she left him in the room alone.
Amelia was standing at the counter rolling dough, "I wanted to spare him from the pain. Can you blame me?"
"No, I can't. I lost my father a few years ago," she said. Amelia turned with sympathy in her eyes. "I know what you're going through. Amelia, I know what it feels like. I took care of him until his death. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, dear. I know you'll be there for him. He talks about you all the time," she said returning to her dough.
"Does he?"
"Yes, which shows me how much he cares for you. Tell me, how do you feel about him?"
"I love him," she said stepping up to watch her work. "I've never felt this kind of love," she admitted.
Her eyes scrutinized her, "What kind of love have you felt?"
"I was engaged years ago," she said.
"Robin didn't say, how did it end? You didn't love him?" She pressed cookie cutters into the dough.
"He died," she said softly. "It was sudden, but the point is that I loved him. Just not in the same way I love Robin. Which is why I want to ask you something and I'd like you to keep it from him."
Amelia stopped and turned, "You want me to keep a secret from my son?"
"Yes," she said. "I'm hoping when you hear why, you'll go along."
"I have an open mind," she said.
She swallowed, ringed her fingers together, "I'd like to be tested to see if I'm a match for your husband." She held her breath as she saw the shock on her face.
"You…" Amelia surprised her by grabbing her and crushing her into a long hug. "Oh, I see what he sees in you. You're a saint," she cried.
Regina felt fear flicker into her, but if she'd had the chance to keep her father longer, she would have. If she could do this for him, she would. Pulling back, she said, "I don't want to tell him because if I'm not a match, I'd hate to get his hopes up. Will you help me?"
"Yes, dear. I will. Thank you," she said and hugged her again.