Clash

by Belle Aurora

  “Baby, please.” The desperation in his tone stopped me. When I faced him and he saw my tears, he slowly closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he did it carefully and the words hit me hard. “I wasn’t ready for you. I didn’t want to love you. I got scared and did what I’d done my whole life—I sabotaged a good thing.” He held out a hand to me. “I’m so sorry.”

  Connor slaughtered me with every word. It was hard to speak through the thickness in my throat. “You’ll hear from my lawyer.”

  His hand fell to his side and, surprisingly, he nodded. “Yeah, okay. All right.” I was stunned when his lip twitched. “I gotta tell ya though, Rita’s bomb at what she does.”

  What did he just say?

  My heart skipped a beat. “Is that a threat?”

  “No.” His smiled turned into a grin. “Just a warning.”

  The ass.

  I was getting mad. “You need to leave.” Without hesitation, he moved past me and I followed him down the hall. When he reached the door, he stilled and turned to face me. He looked like he wanted to say something. All I wanted was for him to go. “What is it?”

  The jerk smiled at my clear agitation but that smile fell quickly. He looked unsure a moment then, whisper soft, he asked, “Can I hug you?”

  No.

  He waited.

  No.

  And waited.

  No, Emmy.

  My nod was barely there.

  Emily! Jesus!

  Connor pulled me into his arms and pressure instantly built in my ears. The warmth of his body both broke and healed me simultaneously. I shut my eyes tightly but the feeling was too strong. My breath hitched and my body shook. The traitorous tears escaped and I wanted to die because it felt so right.

  Connor held me while I cried, cradling the back of my head, pulling me into his chest and if we were pressed any closer, I was afraid we’d merge into one person. My arms around him, I clutched at his tee and sobbed openly.

  I missed him so much it hurt. It physically hurt. Every day without him was agony.

  Connor pulled back and I attempted to hide my face behind my hands. “Hey.” As gently as he could, he extracted them and held my wrists in his hands. “Hey, look at me.”

  When I did and saw his lashes were damp, I broke down all over again. “It hurts.”

  “Of course, it hurts.” A single tear trailed his cheek. “It was real.” He swiped at his cheek then took my face between his hands, looked me in the eye, and vowed, “I am not letting you go. I’m gonna fight hard, baby.” He sniffed. “I’ll fight dirty if I have to.”

  “No,” I wept. “Don’t.”

  Didn’t he understand? I wouldn’t survive it.

  “Yes.” He pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Yes.” His forehead came to rest against mine. “I just need you to remember one thing, okay? Something important.”

  I tried to calm myself. “What’s that?”

  He grinned although it wobbled. “I loved you before you were hot.”

  I blinked a second before a stunned laugh shot through the sorrow I felt.

  Connor chuckled and this time when his lips touched mine, I was ready for it. We kissed frantically and I tried to make it last, thinking this would likely be the last time I’d feel Connor’s warm lips on mine.

  That single thought was so depressing that my eyes blurred with unshed tears. “You need to go. Now.”

  “Okay,” he spoke against my lips but made no move to leave.

  I kissed him back a moment before trying to pull away. Connor’s lips took chase, stealing another peck then another.

  This was ridiculous.

  We were ridiculous.

  When I took a step back, Connor took a step forward and held his arms out to me. Cheeks flushed, I uttered a firm, “No. No more.”

  I took a long, hard look at him—my husband—knowing he wouldn’t be for much longer. And everything inside me shattered.

  Connor’s arms fell to his sides and he sighed deeply, nodding. He licked his lips, held my eyes and said meaningfully, “I love you, Emily Clash.”

  My stomach dipped almost painfully.

  Emily Clash.

  Damn it. He was already fighting dirty.

  Dipping my chin, I opened the door. “Get out of here, Connor.”

  He left without a fight but when I shut the door, I heard Connor yell out, “I love you, baby.”

  A small smile fought to be freed. I touched my fingers to my swollen lips.

  Another shout, louder this time, apparently directed at the entire neighborhood. “I love my wife!”

  That time, I couldn’t fight the urge.

  I smiled and, for the first time in months, sadness was the second strongest feeling inside me.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  With or Without You.

  Emmy

  Mediation was going to be difficult. On top of that, I secretly despised myself for my eagerness to see Connor again. Just before I walked into the conference room with my lawyer, Lauren, I saw Connor from the open window, swinging from side to side in his swivel chair, his knee bouncing hard and his face drawn. Rita sat next to him, talking to him in complete seriousness, and it looked like whatever she was saying was important. He seemed to snap at her and when she responded, he nodded but he did it scowling.

  Lauren knocked on the door before entering. “Morning, all.”

  Connor’s head snapped up and the moment his eyes landed on me, his face softened. “Hey, baby.”

  My heart thawed somewhat, the thick layer of ice protectively surrounding the organ cracking ever so slightly.

  Why, oh, why did he have this effect on me? It was utterly infuriating.

  Also, why was I suddenly shy? “Hello, Connor.” Then I twisted to Rita. “Hi, Rita. This is Lauren.” Our lawyers greeted one another courteously and I followed Lauren around the table to sit opposite them.

  Rita smiled politely. “Shall we begin?”

  Lauren inclined her head. “Yes, I think we’re ready.”

  “Okay,” Rita began and her confidence was worrying. She read from her notes. “Emily and Connor married approximately seven months ago. Parted soon after marrying. Emily now wants a divorce. Is that fair to say?”

  Rita’s eyes held mine. I glanced at Connor a moment before I answered, “Yes.”

  From across the table, Connor spoke. “You look beautiful.”

  Sweet Jesus. What was the matter with him?

  I had the insane urge to laugh and bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.

  Rita spoke to Connor. “Is that how it went, Connor?”

  Connor seemed less interested in talking about the divorce and more interested in praising me. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned into Rita and stage whispered, “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

  “That she does. Now…” Rita was all business and spoke directly to Lauren. “…Connor does not want to proceed with the divorce. In fact, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to see this marriage survive. Connor admits he made mistakes but he wants to fix this.” She paused. “He insists he loves Emily very much.”

  “I do,” he piped up.

  It was Lauren’s turn. “My client wants it to be known that although she continues to have feelings for Mr. Clash—”

  At that, Connor pulled his chair up to the table. “Aw, baby.” He flattened his arms across the mahogany, stretching, reaching for me, his eyes watching me tenderly.

  A bubble of laughter threatened to escape my mouth. I covered it with a delicate cough.

  “—the emotional damage she has sustained in this short marriage is enough to last a lifetime.”

  “I know.” Connor sounded woeful. “I fucked up.”

  Rita leaned down to whisper something in his ear. It sounded a lot like, “Shut the fuck up.”

  Lauren continued, “Not only has Mr. Clash continuously humiliated Ms. Aldrich—”

  “Mrs. Clash.” Connor scowl
ed. He enunciated each word with a hard tap of the tabletop. “Mrs. Clash.”

  Lauren stared at him a long moment. “May I continue?” At his dejected nod, she went on. “Let’s be honest here. Mr. Clash married a woman he barely knew, terribly regretted that decision and then resented that woman enough to write an insulting and offensive song about her, which he released to the public in hopes that she would leave him. And she did. So, why are we still talking about this?” She lifted her hand and offered, “Let’s cite irreconcilable differences and be done with it.”

  “It isn’t that simple. Both parties must agree,” Rita stated. “Connor, are you going to sign the papers?”

  He scoffed loudly. “Fuck no.”

  Rita gazed at Lauren and shrugged in a way that said, Go on. Try it.

  “Connor,” I began but Lauren stopped me. I waved her off and spoke to my husband. “Connor, please, sweetie. Don’t make this hard.”

  But he just smiled. “Nope. Not signing. Sorry, baby.”

  At my long sigh, Lauren spoke. “So, where does this leave us? My client no longer wishes to be married to Mr. Clash.”

  Rita paused before stating, “Maybe you should ask your client why she filed for medical guardianship over Mr. Clash only five months ago.” Lauren turned to look at me with a curious look in her eyes but Rita continued, “Maybe you should ask her why she put him into rehab and acted as his caretaker for three solid months.”

  “I did not know this.” Lauren looked miffed when she twisted to look at me. “Is this true?”

  Uh oh. Something was happening here and whatever it was wasn’t good. “Well, yes. Connor was killing himself.” When her eyes told me I’d screwed up, I leaned in and muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  Lauren closed her eyes, irked. “I see.”

  Rita looked positively delighted.

  Lauren spoke directly to Connor. “You’re not signing those papers, are you?”

  Connor just grinned and shook his head slowly.

  With a sigh, Lauren turned to me. “This isn’t in your favor, Emily. It’s too late for an annulment. The law is very specific in matters of marriage. You must be married for one year and one day before you file for divorce, unless, of course, both parties agree, which—” She nodded in Connor’s direction. “—is not the case.”

  My frown was deep. “So, what now?

  “Unfortunately—” Lauren stood, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “—you’re stuck with him. For now.” She shot me a sympathetic smile. “Call me in six months.”

  I watched my lawyer leave and when she was gone, I faced Connor. He was grinning like a loon. “I love you, Rita.”

  Rita stood, and muttered, “Yeah, yeah.” She shrugged into her blazer then caught my eye. “Look, I’m not proud of myself, okay? But this asshole—” She threw her thumb across to Connor. “—he loves you. If you want a war, you’re going to get one. Regrettably, he has the dough to fund his battalion.” One pretty brow arched. “Do you?”

  I had money. Not enough to go to war.

  Why did it have to be a war? I was sick of combat and conflict. Why couldn’t we all just get along?

  “And you.” Rita’s lips thinned and she slapped Connor across the chest with the back of her hand. “When I tell you to shut the fuck up, you shut the fuck up, Clash. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear ya.” But he kept his smiling eyes on me. “I missed you.”

  Rita rolled her eyes. “I’m confident you two aren’t going to kill each other so I’m leaving but you need to be out of here in ten minutes.” And then she was gone.

  Connor’s smile turned wry. “I told you she was good.”

  I wanted to be pissed. Why wasn’t I pissed?

  “She sure is,” I uttered, slightly annoyed. A long moment passed and I looked at him. Really looked at him. We hadn’t spoken properly since the day I left him at rehab and I had a plethora of questions built up inside me. I started with something simple. “How are you doing?”

  Connor knew what I meant. His face fell and he unconsciously scratched at his arm. “Every day’s a struggle.” Ugh, my heart. “I’m in therapy. I have N.A. meetings every Wednesday and they’re teaching me a lot.”

  “Like what?” His voice was a balm on my soul. I missed our little talks.

  “Like I’ll never really be well because the sickness is a constant compulsion. That there is no cure for addiction and I’ll have to manage the impulse for the rest of my life.”

  My smile was reassuring. “You can do it. I have faith in you.”

  His looked me deep in the eye as he bit his thumbnail. “Says the woman who tried to divorce me a minute ago.” The words came out soft but hit me like a baseball to the chest.

  Quite abruptly, I felt lower than scum.

  The truth was, I loved Connor but he not only stomped on my heart, he’d shattered the fragile trust that had been building between us.

  The saying goes “Trust takes years to build, a second to break, and a lifetime to repair.”

  I wanted so badly to believe he’d changed. If I had even a modicum of assurance from him, I’d take it and run with it. Because I didn’t want anyone else. It had always been Connor, from the very beginning. I just hadn’t known it at the time.

  Our friendship had flourished into something unexpected for both of us and, truth be told, I didn’t blame him for being scared. Lightning fast, love had struck, and the blow hit hard.

  It wasn’t just scary.

  It was alarming. It was distressing. It was absolutely terrifying. And Connor reacted badly. But he was trying to make up for it.

  The question was, did I think involving myself with him was worth the risk?

  I wasn’t sure how long passed when I uttered, “Connor?”

  His voice was small. “Yeah, baby?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  He blinked, momentarily confused. His eyes searched and searched until finally, he spoke. “I’m always hungry for you.”

  My smile was slight. “C’mon.”

  Connor stood so quickly I knew he wasn’t about to give me a chance to change my mind. In a heartbeat, he was around the table and his arm was around my waist. We walked out of the conference room and he asked, “Does this mean…?”

  Before he could get the question out, I stated a firm, “No.”

  “Okay. All right. Relax, baby.” The Connor I had grown to love appeared by my side and, praised be, that treasured signature grin emerged. “Hey, Emmy.” He pressed his lips to the shell of my ear and whispered, “Wanna make out?”

  I should’ve known it was coming.

  It must have shocked the shit out of him when I responded, “Only if you’re good.”

  Because for the first time since I met him, Connor Clash was rendered completely speechless.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Open Arms.

  Emmy

  Lunch lasted as long as we could drag it out. The conversation rarely waned and even when it did, neither of us made the move to stand and end it. It seemed we didn’t want to leave each other.

  What a pair we were.

  We continuously brushed fingertips and spoke in low tones, forcing the other person to lean in when the other talked. Connor sat far too close to me and when his knee touched mine, my heart stuttered.

  That meant something. Didn’t it?

  If this man could make me feel the way he did with a simple glance of his knee, it meant something. It had to. I hadn’t been surer of anything in my life.

  When Connor checked his watch, my gut sank.

  “Time to go?” I tried not to sound as miserable as I felt.

  His eyes met mine and he sighed. “Yeah.” But then he said, “You caught a cab?” At my slow nod, he brightened. “Let me take you home instead.”

  Don’t do it. Not a good idea. “Okay.”

  My brain rolled its eyes then slapped a hand to its forehead.<
br />
  My heart fist-pumped.

  We exited the restaurant and Connor slid his arm around my shoulders. As we walked, I felt his eyes on me. I twisted to face him and found him smiling down at me.

  My boobs tingled. What was that about? “Connor, watch where you’re walking.”

  He pulled me deeper into his side and bit the tip of his tongue, moving to speak directly into my ear. “Now why would I want to do that when I’m standing next to a work of art?”

  “Oh my God.” I laughed, turning my head away, and I hated myself for blushing.

  When I peered up at him a second time, a look of complete tenderness had overtaken him, and he gazed down at my lips. “Kiss me, baby.”

  I shook my head but burrowed deeper into him, placing a gentle hand to his chest. We walked another short while before he uttered, “I get it. We’re not there yet.” He waited a bit. “But we will be.”

  Connor’s loving kiss to my brow would be my ruin.

  Finally, we arrived at his gigantic truck. I remember he’d once told me about it. It was his pride and joy. The black Mercedes-Benz G-Class was one of the first things Connor had bought with his first big paycheck.

  When I approached the passenger side, Connor materialized behind me and I watched curiously as he opened the door for me. I looked down at the step. It was pretty high up. Well, for me it was, and when I frowned down at it, Connor let out an amused, “Do you need a boost?”

  Serves me right for wanting to look cute for him. The skintight pencil skirt I wore had no give and unless I wanted to split the seam, I needed help. My lips thinned and I spoke quietly. “Actually, yes.”

  With a sly grin, Connor scooped me up and I snaked an arm around his shoulders, placing my foot onto the step. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all and it made me feel small, looked after and loved, especially when he leaned over me and buckled me in.

  We drove in silence and when we stopped at a set of traffic lights, he reached over and set his hand on my thigh. He seemed to do it reflexively so I didn’t protest but I was hyperaware of his fingers being a material length away from my suddenly clenched core.