Page 38 of Ice Block
It’s weird waking up on vacation. It’s like my mind can’t figure out where the hell I am. As if it didn’t fall asleep in this exact spot. Add in the fact that I had way too much to drink last night, and my brain is the most confused it’s ever been. The pounding in my head feels like the damn steel drum band from the airport.No wait…I think that’sactualsteel drums coming from outside my window.I try to get my body to sit up, but the drunken haze is too much. Regardless, I have a wicked headache.Geezus, no more rum for me. Something pulls me out of the fog as my nose clocks in on the comforting aroma wafting toward me.Do I smell coffee?I lift my head, cracking open tired eyes to see a breakfast tray sitting on the table across the room.I’m tired as hell and feel like I got hit by a Zamboni, butthatis worth investigating. I do my usual morning-after-drinking-log-roll out of bed and pad over.Holy shit.My breath catches, my eyes burning.There’s a note. A fucking note.
Good morning Maggie fucking James,
This should help you feel better. Take small bites anddon’t overdo it. At the gym with Larsy. Be back soon. Try not to puke.
Wolfie
Everything from last night comes flooding back from deep in the blackout part of my brain.
Drinking too much with Shelly.Holy shit, Shelly’s here and her family owns the damn resort!Then I came back here and…oh God.Embarrassment has my knees threatening to collapse.I puked.All over. I glance around the shockingly immaculate room. Bile rises in my throat, threatening a repeat of last night as realization sets in.Hecleaned up my mess. He helped me. He took care of me. He laid in bed next to me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I can’t even look at the bed. He told me about his mom. How she died. My pulse races, my hand shaking as I read the note over and over again. My gaze freezes on the too-perfect handwriting. I have to decipher handwriting from people at work all the time, especially men’s handwriting since it’s infuriatingly unreadable, but his is so neat, soVladi, every letter precisely written in perfect penmanship.
I collapse into one of the fancy-ass designer chairs at the table, my stomach still queasy from last night’s drinking, I fight to catch my breath. The fact that Melissa Joan Heart is apparently running a mother-fucking 5K inside my chest isn’t helping shit. I take a bite of toast and a small sip of juice, each making me feel marginally more human. I need to rally to get through this day. I slouch in my chair, dread eating away at me. The entire wedding party is going snorkeling later, which means I need my stomach to calm the hell down.
But I can’t think about any of that right now. I’m paralyzed, staring at the stupid piece of paper. He got me breakfast and left me a note.Is there some hidden meaning in this?I bite the inside of my cheek, unsuccessfully battling the nerves creeping up. I need tokeep a wall between what I want this note to mean and the fact that it’s probably nothing more than a simple courtesy. But he signed itWolfie. Not Vladi or Vladimir or even #9, but the one name I use when I’m annoyed with him.Or extremely turned on by him.I can’t help but wonder if something is cracking in that giant wall of ice he calls a heart. Liv and Kara keep telling me he’s a good guy, which seemed impossible for Mr. Freeze himself, but…I finally got to see a little piece of that last night. Things are still a tad fuzzy, but I can feel his arms wrapped around me. The way he effortlessly picked up my huge ass and hauled me to bed. The way he destroyed the Great Wall of Pillows so he could make sure I was okay. Stroking my hair as he told me a painful story. Digging tired fingers into my throbbing temple, my heart is in a full-on war with my brain, trying to figure this out.I need to talk to someone about last night. And while I love Liv, this is her wedding week, and I don’t want it to be all about my drama. I quickly get dressed, grab a to-go cup of coffee, and head to the only other person who can tell me what to do.
“Well, that’s quite the development,” Johnny says as he drinks his Presidente beer with a barely restrained smirk. He and Walt have been coming out here every morning, almost as if they’ve reserved this straw umbrella on the beach for themselves the entire week. Walt, with his usual copy of the newspaper, and Johnny, with his iPad playing solitaire or checking sports scores.
“He’s been nice to me this whole damn trip, and last night was, like…the fucking nicest of all!” I flop myself back on the chair next to them, staring at the woven straw overhead. “I don’t know what the hell it means, and that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to hate him, but he’s making it so…difficult! You speak Vladi. What is he doing?”
“Honey, I’m not sure anyone can see what’s in that head of his. However,” Johnny gives me a snarky ‘dad’ kind of look, “I remember mentioning somethin’ to you when you first got here, and based on your panic, I’m guessing that hasn’t happened yet. Have you talked to him about if he’s changed his mind about a relationship yet?”
Disappointment floods my veins as my eyes roll back in my head.
I throw my arms across my face, hiding even though I know he sees everything. “Johnny, I came here for an easy answer. I just want you to tell me what to do!”
“Isn’t that what he just did?” Walt pipes up from his newspaper, his eyes peeking over the top of his glasses.
“Why do you two always have to gang up on me?”
“It’s because we love you, Maggie,” Johnny says softly, putting his iPad down and shifting his full attention onto me.Goddammit.“I’m gathering you don’t really hate him, do you?”
Kicking a foot through the sand, I pout like a toddler. “No. Hate is the farthest thing I feel for him.”
He chuckles, patting my shin affectionately. “That’s a start. So, let me ask you this then: do you want to be with him?”
I scratch my nails against the fabric on the beach chair. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sounds to me like you’re avoiding his question, Maggie Elizabeth,” Walt chimes in again, my body jolting as he drops my middle name.Dammit, this guy can smell bullshit better than half the farmers back in Wisconsin.
God, these two. I love them and hate them all at the same time. I’m still feeling a bit queasy and my heart sinking into my stomach certainly isn’t helping.If only wanting to be with him was enough.I sit upright, taking in a deep breath full of salty ocean air and watch each wave crash on the sand, feeling like those same waves arecrushing down on my emotions as well. I swallow hard, finally admitting what’s been true for a long time. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s been different this week. But I’m…I’m still hurt.”
Johnny reaches over and grabs my hand. “Sweetheart, I know how painful it was when he…what did you call it again? Ghosting?” he looks at Walt in exasperation, “I can’t keep up with all this stuff.” He smiles at me, squeezing my fingers. “With a man like Vladi, I don’t think he was raised to express his feelings. He’s not the type to just walk up and tell you how he feels. Now, if I have all this straight, he apologized to you,” he waits for me to nod, my teeth bruising my bottom lip, “he took care of you when you needed help, andhe opened up to you about his past. I’m inclined to think he’s trying to make it up to you. He’s not just telling you he’s sorry, he’s showing you.”
My throat feels tight as my mind spins from all the damn wisdom Johnny, bless him, imparted to me. I stand up and give him a giant hug, knocking him back in his chair.
“I hate you so much right now,” I murmur as he lets out a chuckle. Walt lets out a laugh as well, fully breaking the tension surrounding us.
“I know you do, honey. I hate you too,” he says, squeezing me back.
“So, hypothetically, if Ididwant to be with him, how do I know I won’t get hurt? Johnny,” my chin trembles, “I can’t go through him leaving again.”
Walt looks up from his paper again, his face full of understanding. “You don’t, sweetheart. Love is one of those things that takes a little risk.” He looks at Johnny with a sweet smile. “But if you take the risk and it pays off, it will bring you the greatest reward.”
“Goddammit, you guys need a podcast too.” I grumble, crossing my arms with a huff.
“What the hell is a podcast?” Walt asks.
“It’s…never mind. Have Bougie explain it to you. He’ll probably ask you to be a guest on his someday.”
