by L. M. Carr
“Can you help me with this?” he asks, walking into the bathroom with his bowtie in hand.
I turn from the bathroom mirror and rake my gaze up and down his body. “Wow,” I sigh. “You look amazing.” I grasp the lapels of his jacket and pull him flush with my body. His hands wrap around my waist and linger at the small of my back where the deep V of my red dress ends. “All eyes will be on you tonight.”
He gives me an easy-going grin as he steps back, looking at my tight red dress. “Nobody’s going to be paying any attention to me tonight.”
My hold on his jacket travels back up and I caress the light coating of scruff on his face. I draw his lips in for a quick kiss. “I don’t want to get lipstick on you.”
“I don’t mind.” Julian lifts the bowtie. “But we don’t want to be late.”
Reminded of my father’s words about punctuality, I take the silk material from him and secure it around his neck, deftly moving my fingers to create the perfect knot. He turns his head to look at himself in the mirror and smiles.
“Thanks.”
“Anything for you,” I reply with another chaste kiss.
Turning so he’s standing behind me, Julian and I stare at our reflection in the mirror. “This color looks incredible on you, and this dress… I can’t wait to get you out of it.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait until after your speech,” I giggle, reminding him that he was asked to say a few words about his return to Houston and what he plans for the team.
“I might get a little distracted when I’m up there.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I forget what I’m supposed to say or do when I’m with you.”
I snort out a laugh. “You are so full of crap!”
He shakes his head. “It’s true. You distract me.”
“Julian, I don’t ever want to be a distraction,” I admit just as the intercom buzzes, signaling the arrival of the limousine. We walk toward the door.
“Distraction? That’s impossible.”
Riding in luxury, we arrive at Bayou Place within twenty minutes, sip on sparkling champagne and mingle with wealthy business owners, local celebrities, professional athletes. Also represented are executives from Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital, the evening’s beneficiary. All proceeds from the silent auction will help fund the new pediatric oncology wing.
Seated at a table set for ten, Julian and I introduce ourselves and engage in small talk about his return as head coach and my job as a reporter.
“So, does that mean you’ll get the inside scoop and exclusive interviews?” Harold Jones, the burly CFO of an oil company, asks, smiling.
Although exasperated by his tone, I laugh. “No, sir. We will keep things professional in that respect.”
He leans in toward Julian and whispers something just as the four-piece orchestra begins to play. The fierce look on Julian’s face indicates his displeasure, and whatever he says causes the old man to stand abruptly.
“Excuse me.” Mr. Jones nods as he walks to the bar and stands next to Justin. They exchange a few words, then Justin turns to look in our direction.
I roll my eyes and look back at Julian. “What’d he say?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing worth repeating. The guy’s an asshole.”
Once dinner is complete, the dancing ensues, couples gathering on the dance floor. As soon as the orchestra shifts to Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together”, Julian reaches for my hand.
“Dance with me.”
I slip my hand into his and follow him out to where only a few couples remain. Placing one hand at the small of my back, he pulls me flush against his body and laces the fingers of his other hand with mine.
Seeing a group of players enter the room, I nod toward them. “I didn’t know they were coming.”
“Guess they want to start networking.”
He spins me, then pulls me back in. “Are you having fun?”
I laugh at the lighthearted expression on his face. “As long as I’m with you.”
He leans toward me, my grip on his bicep tightening when he kisses just below my earlobe, then whispers into my ear, offering a detailed play-by-play of what he’s going to do to me once we get home.
“I don’t know if I’ll have enough energy for all of that,” I answer honestly as he pulls away.
Since starting his new workout regimen to get ready for the season, Julian’s had the stamina of a horse. I wonder how he’ll manage once summer rolls around and training camp begins. Surely he won’t be able to maintain the hours needed to quench his insatiable desire for me. I’ve been around the game long enough to know a coach’s day can extend upwards of fourteen hours.
When the song ends, the MC returns to the podium to announce the start of the silent auction. Hailed as local celebrities, Julian and I had both reluctantly agreed to participate. While it was our intention to donate something, the chairman said our time would be more appreciated, so the coach and the reporter are on the auction block. Spending the day volunteering at the hospital doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, I’m actually looking forward to it.
For the next hour, guests quickly peruse the many available items. Even I place a bid on the week-long getaway to South Padre Island. With its beautiful beaches, an abundancy of fish and local crafters selling their wares in the small village, we could enjoy the tropical paradise without having to travel very far.
“I’ll be right back,” I announce to Julian when the weight of Justin’s stare becomes too much. I’m done with the cold shoulder treatment and the inappropriate jabs during team meetings.
Seeing him leaning on the bar, sipping a dark liquid, I walk up to it and stop next to him. One would not know the turmoil hiding underneath the surface of his good looks and handsome attire.
“Can we talk?”
Setting down his drink, Justin slowly turns to look at me, his dark, glassy eyes blinking heavily. “Now you want to talk?”
I muster the strength to continue, but I’m not entirely sure why. His level of inebriation is obvious to me, although anyone watching him wouldn’t realize just how drunk he is. I’m certain he’s not going to remember a thing I say to him tonight.
I sigh. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he brings the short glass up to his lips and takes a long gulp, draining the last of its contents.
“We used to be friends,” I remind him, seeing somebody enter out of the corner of my eye.
The appearance of a tall, older gentleman and a petite woman garners my complete and shocked attention. I gasp, then mutter, “Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are they doing here?”
“I’m not sure what you’re so upset about. You broke up with me,” Justin says. At the sound of his voice, I whip my head back to meet his inquisitive stare. “Just tell me one thing, AJ… Did you sleep with him while we were together?”
“No! I was never unfaithful to you.” At least not physically. I should confess that I thought about Julian when we were together. It was Julian’s cock plunging into me. Julian’s skilled mouth on my body. Julian who clung to me as we slept. As wrong as it was, it was my way of coping with the loss I still felt all these years later.
Justin signals the bartender for another drink, then reaches into his pocket and places a twenty on the bar. “Good to know. I’d hate to think you’re a heartless bitch and a whore.”
I flinch as if he’d slapped my face, tears pooling in my eyes. But I refrain from hurling hurtful words at him. He’s drunk and nursing a broken heart. I can empathize.
“I’m going to go.” I spin on my heels.
“Yeah, go run back to your boyfriend before he decides he doesn’t want you anymore—just like last time.”
I quickly exit the ballroom and make a beeline for the ladies’ room before the tears fall, providing evidence of my current emotional state. Locking myself in a stall, I blot my eyes with toilet paper and take a few minutes to
gain my composure, taking deep breaths.
“Yeah, I guess she saw him a few weeks ago. I think they’re going to try and work it out. There was even some talk about a ring,” a woman’s excited voice fills the air.
I unlock the door, step out and wash my hands quickly. Keeping my gaze down, I ignore the women, who continue to chat about a rekindled love. After all, it is Valentine’s Day. I hope it works out for the happy couple.
Returning to the ballroom, I notice Justin is no longer at the bar, so I stop for a glass of wine.
“Well, look at you, Miss Hamilton,” an eerie voice says over my shoulder.
My entire body constricts when Ed Asher slithers beside me and lifts a hand to the bartender. Immediately, I slide to my right and ignore him, letting my eyes scan over the people enjoying the evening’s festivities. Breathe, I remind myself. I catch a glimpse of Julian talking to his ex-girlfriend. Gigi Asher’s slender body looks as if she were poured into the black material, her eyes begging for his attention. I raise my chin and walk in their direction but am intercepted by the head of Greater Houston Ladies’ Guild.
“Miss Hamilton.” She greets me with a thick southern drawl as she leans in for a hug.
I return the light embrace. “Mrs. Mosley. Nice to see you.”
I glance over her shoulder. My curiosity piques when the expression on his face hardens and he takes her hand in his and mouths, Not yet.
“We’re hosting a charity event next September. I do hope you’ll join us again.”
I nod. “Sure. Email me the details.”
Mrs. Mosely smiles and saunters away.
I stiffen at the sound of the voice behind me.
“You look stunning. Good enough to eat,” Ed whispers into my ear, enunciating the final word.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss, spinning around, directing a disgusted expression at him.
“Seems my daughter was invited to the ball, then she was uninvited by your boyfriend.” His reply is cold, calculated, reminding me of a snake preparing to strike.
“You don’t even live in Texas.”
“I’ve acquired property all over the world.”
“Great. Then maybe you should go to one of those.”
He smiles at me deviously. “Now why would I do that? What I want is right here.”
I grit my teeth, shaking my head. “There’s nothing here for you.”
“Actually, the man you stole from my daughter stole something from her. I don’t take too kindly to that. People who steal should be punished. Perhaps I need to return the favor.”
“Julian isn’t property. Besides, he was always mine, so you stay the fuck away from me,” I whisper-hiss through gritted teeth. I could walk right up to the podium and reveal his indiscretion in the elevator and his extreme indecency as a man, but I don’t want to make a spectacle and ruin the night. I will get my revenge somehow, some way, some time.
“I will get my time with you. One way or another.”
“Fuck you,” I reply with a snarl.
Adrenaline swells in me and I feel heat rise in my veins. When the instinct of fight or flight kicks in, I choose the latter and tip my head back, consuming the rest of my wine, then stride over to our table. I try to slow my breathing to calm my racing heart and use every ounce of restraint to maintain my composure. When I yank back the chair and it loudly scrapes across the floor, all eyes at the table turn to me.
“Sorry,” I offer with a tight smile.
I glance around the venue, seeing Julian shaking hands with a few professional athletes I recognize. I’m thankful Gigi is nowhere in sight.
I retrieve my phone from my small clutch and send a text message to Naomi. Apparently, Nolan had an invitation for tonight’s ball, but he hasn’t shown up yet. I’m surprised because, as the district attorney, Nolan likes to keep his face in the spotlight. He operates under the theory “keep your friends close and your enemies closer”. While most people in attendance have good intentions, there are others who thrive on power and greed. I guess money is the root of all evil.
The MC interjects to inform everyone that the silent auction will be closing in ten minutes. All are encouraged to dig deep and bid high. The older woman whose family owns nearly half of Houston’s commercial buildings jokes with another woman about bidding on Julian’s “services”. I can only imagine what she’s thinking.
I pick up my phone when it vibrates and chuckle at the simple message under a picture of Nolan’s crotch.
Something came up.
I send a simple text.
TMI.
Placing my device on the red linen tablecloth, I spot a small envelope, my name written across the front in graceful calligraphy, leaning against the coffee cup. I don’t remember seeing it earlier. I pick it up and slide my thumb under the seal to open it.
When Julian’s name is called, I see him slap a smile onto his face and walk confidently toward the podium. While he thanks the MC and retrieves the hand-written speech from his breast pocket, pride swells in me. I know his mother would also be proud.
Looking back at the envelope in my hand, I grasp the thick, glossy paper and yank it out. My eyes widen and I gasp, my stomach roiling when I see the same fucking photograph of myself performing a sex act.
Distraught, I crumple the image in my hand and shove it into my tiny bag. I swiftly gaze around at the hundreds of people gathered, observing for any peculiar behavior. Some listen to Julian speak about his time as a rookie quarterback, while others sip on cocktails or help themselves at the cookie bar. Not a single person is paying any attention to me.
I grab my clutch and rush out of my seat, one hand over my mouth. I knock over a glass of water in the process, drawing the attention of the people at the next table. Hurrying, my legs carry me through the ballroom exit and out to the sidewalk. Making it just in time, I bend over a manicured flowerbed and heave until my stomach is empty.
Exhausted, I collapse onto a nearby bench and hang my head. When somebody calls my name, I look over, seeing Julian. Frantically turning his head from left to right, he finally spots me and sprints over, squatting in front of me and grasping my hands.
“Addison, what the hell are you doing out here?” He brushes my hair back and cups my face, searching. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Reaching out, I snatch his pocket square and wipe my mouth. Still irritated from witnessing his earlier encounter with his ex and now the resurgence of this photo, I burst into sobs and shake my head uncontrollably, jerking away from his grasp.
“Talk to me!” he demands.
A lie forms on my lips and slips out before I can change my mind. “I saw you with Gigi,” I sob. “You had your hands on her!”
He releases a sigh. “It’s not what you think, baby. I can assure you.”
My chest shudders as salty tears continue to fall.
He lifts my chin and caresses my face. “Is this really about Georgina?”
I drag my eyes to meet his. As much as I hate to deceive him, I do. I can’t tell him about the photograph. Not yet. “I hate her and her father.”
He nods. “He’s an asshole.” Then he scowls. “Did he say something to you?”
“I just want to go home,” I say, wiping my face.
Standing quickly, he pulls out his cell phone and calls for the limousine to pick us up around the corner, mumbling something about a change of plans. He extends a hand as he hangs up. “Come.”
During the short ride to our building, I rest my head against his shoulder. My silence continues in the elevator. After he presses the button marked PH, I quickly press the button for my floor.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m going home, Julian.”
Using the side of his hand, he punches the red emergency button, stopping the elevator. “What’s going on? You haven’t said a word to me the whole way here. Did I do something?”
I keep my eyes trained on the floor.
“Talk to me, dammit!
Tell me what I did so I can fix it.”
Sighing heavily, I retort, “Some things can’t be fixed.” I press the button to get the elevator moving again.
“I didn’t realize something was broken,” he murmurs sadly.
“If you could have one wish, Julian, what would it be?”
After thinking a moment, he turns to look at me. “I wish I could go back and change the decision to leave you. Loving you was like breathing. It was easy and natural, but leaving you… That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“How about you? What’s your wish?”
I look at him, tears sliding down my cheeks. “I wish I could change who I am.”
Immediately encased in strong and loving arms, Julian pulls me close. “Why would you say that, Addison? Who you are is the best part of me, and I love you—all of you. Where is all this coming from tonight?”
He pushes me back so he can gaze into my face. I chew on my bottom lip, looking away.
“Is this about Gigi?”
“Maybe you’re better off with someone like her. Someone who likes the spotlight and won’t taint your image.”
The elevator stops on the seventh floor, the doors opening.
“I don’t want you to get off here. Your home is upstairs, with me.”
I struggle with the idea that once Julian sees the photograph, his opinion of me will change forever. It’s one thing to know your significant other has a past. It’s entirely different to see it up close and personal.
“Besides, you haven’t opened your gift. Technically, it’s still Valentine’s Day.”
Too emotionally tired to argue anymore, I nod.
The penthouse is filled with soothing music streaming through the recessed speakers. I recognize it immediately as “Speechless” by Dan + Shay. Julian leads me into the living room where candles of varying heights glow, the flames dancing slowly to the tempo of the music.
He pulls me against his body, his other hand lacing my fingers with his, holding them between our chests. He stares down at me and smiles warmly. The feelings inside of me battle, each rivaling for dominance of my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes.
