Somebody's Chelsi: Book 5 The Wakefield Romance Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  “You mean you won’t let go.” The walls of her apartment seem to be closing in on me and I’m starting to panic. It’s due to the alcohol still coursing through my veins and what I thought would have been a wonderful moment for us. I start to pace, the tightness filling my chest and all of a sudden I’m transferred back to our last mission. I’m cornered with gun fire whizzing past my ears. “I need to get outta here.” I gasp, reaching for the door when her curvy frame blocks my way.

  “Please, don’t go.” She cries, her face streaked with mascara and the sight tears at my racing heart. Her hands come to rest on my forearms and I hadn’t even noticed that I had braced myself on the door, trapping Chelsi between them.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Chels. I just confessed that I want more, you shut me down and now you want me to stay? It’s a total mind fuck and as you can tell, I’m not the type to handle that shit. I’m too fucked up to deal with bullshit any longer.” She nods her head, this not being the first time she’s seen me have a panic attack or an episode as I like to call them. My heart is still feeling like it’s about to explode and my arms are shaking with the tension. I close my eyes and take a deep, long, cleansing breath.

  “Okay.” She tells me, one of her hands moving to my chin and telling me to open my eyes to their warmth. There is something about her touch that erases the panic almost immediately and my body starts to slowly relax as if under some sort of spell. Her hand cups my cheek and I watch her wipe away the mess of mascara on her face with the other. Every time when I am around her and something like this happens, the length of the episode is significantly shorter than if I am alone. When I’m home alone and something wakes me in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and the phantom noise of a firefight around me it takes hours for the feeling to go away. But most of the time with Chelsi, it’s a matter of minutes.

  “Austin, since you left the last time there has been this empty space inside of me and it scares the shit outta me. I’ve been fighting with myself about it, a lot, but … okay, we can go on a real date.”

  “I don’t want you to say this just to calm me down.” I stand straight and her hands fall to my chest, her still teary green eyes looking up to me. A smile crosses her lips and she laughs a little.

  “I’m not. I would love to go on a date with you, Austin French.”

  “Well, okay then. How about Friday night?” She slips into my arms, hugging her arms around my waist like she always does and I kiss the top of her head. Her ear is against my chest and I know she’s listening to my pounding heart for a moment before she answers me.

  “Great. Now, come and watch some TV with me and I’ll decide where we’re going.” I laugh at her nudging me to the couch but follow her lead, knowing that in the end I’d kick myself if I left right now.

  “Why do you get to choose the place?” I crack when she hands me a can of soda, settling down beside me.

  “Because if it was up to you we’d go to Burger King.” It’s true, I do love Whoppers, but at her giggle I throw a handful of pretzels her way.

  “What yourself, girl.”

  “Yeah, yeah, old man.” She replies, swatting me in the chest before placing her head on my shoulder. I know it’s not a closed book, that BOOM we’re a couple now, but there is a different air about her right now. So I’ll sit here, talking to her and watching television, knowing that Friday might be the beginning of a new path for us.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  Chelsi

  August 22, 2014

  I haven’t been this nervous in a very long time. There have been times where I wanted to call Austin and cancel, faking being sick but then I know he’d want to come bring me something like soup or medicine to make me feel better. I haven’t seen him since he left my apartment just past midnight on Sunday, but he did have a dozen roses delivered to my work today which made everyone talk of course. Looking down the hall to my small kitchen table, I smile at the sight of them. I also laugh to myself remembering how some of the ladies I work with talked about me in the break room, not knowing I was in the adjoining office with the door open.

  “I heard the guy who sent them is a spy or something?”

  “Is that why we’ve never seen him?”

  “No, he’s some sort of business man, I think. Always traveling for work. Probably has a girl in every city he visits, damn asshole men. You know, that’s why I’m single. You can’t trust men or their penises.”

  “No, Cheryl. You’re single because no man is dumb enough, or desperate enough, to stick around and deal with your cat-lady crazy. Now shut the hell up so I can eat my damn lunch in peace.” The ladies all had wide eyes and dumbfounded looks on their faces when I came walking out, grabbing a cup of coffee and then heading back to my work, but not before I laughed my ass off in the bathroom. Even now it makes me giggle, all of their crazy assumptions deduced from gossip.

  Having been lost in trying to pick out an outfit and the daze the roses have kept me in all day, I look at the clock for the first time since getting home from work and curse out loud. It’s almost six-thirty and Austin should be here soon. I quickly strip off my normal work attire of dress pants and nice shirt, throwing them into the overflowing hamper. Trying to hurry I whip through my closet and pull something from a hanger somehow causing a cascade of boxes from the top shelf to fall to the floor spilling their contents.

  “Shit, shit, shit. Not right now.” I kneel down and flip the overturned box upright, trying to pick up the pictures and papers scattered on the carpet. I quickly put them back in their storage until one piece of yellowed paper catches my eye, stopping me dead and sucking the breath right out of me. I don’t have to open it to know exactly what it says word for word, having read it a million times over, but I unfold it carefully anyways. The picture kept tucked inside falls onto my lap and it retrieve it, smiling as memories come flooding back.

  Tom and I are sitting in his favorite recliner, that ugly blue and green ratty old thing that it was, and it was maybe a month before his death. We were so clueless as to what was going to happen, but maybe that’s a good thing. I think deep down Tom maybe knew the cancer would come back and ultimately lead to his death, and that’s where the letter comes in. I had discovered it a month or so after his death when I was in the process of moving from the apartment we had shared back to my parents’ house. It was tucked in the pages of one of my favorite romance novels that I had on a shelf amongst other miscellaneous papers, manuals and textbooks. I can’t help but gently run my fingers over the messy handwriting, feeling the hurt and despair I felt the first time reading it crash into me.

  “My Love,

  I don’t know what has come over me compelling me to write this, but I hope that we can both look back one day and laugh about it as we watch our grandchildren run about in our big yard. If that isn’t to be, I want you to know a few things, so please, keep reading.

  First and foremost, I want you to know that I’ve been in love with you from the second you hit me in the face with that dodgeball in sixth grade. Sure, at times I’ve been an idiot and tried to ignore the truth, but know that no other woman could ever compare to you. You are my breath, my heart, my everything. Without you, I’d be nothing but a dumb frat boy who drinks too much and never goes to class. I’d eat too much take out and not enough vegetables. I’d never make the bed unless my mother was stopping by, and even then I’d probably just shove all of my dirty clothes in the closet and shut the door instead of putting them in the hamper where they belong. You may laugh at me when I tell you this, but when we are apart I truly count the minutes till we are together again.

  Next, I want you to know that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your love. This sickness kicked my ass, but you were there to pick up the pieces. I can never know how hard it was on you, but I hope you know how grateful I am that you stuck by me.

  With those thing being said, we both know that this cancer could come back and be worse than the first time, and if that happens and I e
nd up leaving this world I want you to do something for me.

  LIVE. I know reading it and doing it are two different things and you’ll probably hate me for saying it, but don’t ever stop being the woman I love. I know you’ll grieve, trust me if it happens I’ll be grieving the loss of you wherever I end up, but don’t ever feel that you’re life has ended. It will take time, but remember all the good times and not just my sickness and passing, I don’t want that to be what you think of when my name comes up. Get out there and do all the things we dreamt of. Run a marathon, ride an elephant, kiss the Blarney stone. Just whatever you do, don’t stop living.

  And lastly, I want you to LOVE. It’s hard for me to write this, thinking about you falling in love with someone else, but you have so much more to give. I don’t want you to deprive the world of your love just because I am gone. Someday there will come a man who just gets you without you having to say anything. He’ll be strong and smart, and hopefully a smartass just like you, because trust me, he’ll have to be. He’ll know to send you roses just because and order desert at the end of the meal, even though you say you’re full. (Because let’s face it, there is always room for dessert.) He’ll give you the babies you’ve talked about having since we were younger, all 5 of them, and he’ll concede when you tell him all of their first names are going to start with B’s, and their middle names with R’s. He’ll hold you when you’re happy and when you’re sad, wiping away the tears that fall from your gorgeous green eyes on both occasions. He’ll be able to love and cherish you the way that you should be, and he’ll take care of you the way you’ve taken such good care of me.

  Please don’t hate me for having said these things, I just know if I try and actually talk to you about them that you’ll just tell me to shut up and jokingly shake it off. Don’t say that you wouldn’t because you already have, twice.

  I love you Chelsi, with every single cell in my body…even the ones that might kill me some day.

  With love – always

  Tom”

  I wipe away the tears from my cheeks, the words echoing in my mind when the doorbell chimes. Looking at the clock I utter another “Shit!” and grab one of my robes, tying it around me and run toward the door. Peeking through the curtain I spot Austin, adjusting his tie and looking a bit nervous on my porch. The sadness I felt reading the letter disappears, replaced by anxiousness as I swing open the door.

  “I’m sorry I’m not ready yet, but come on in.” I can’t stop the blush when I notice he looks me up and down, walking past me. Damn, he smells like heaven, the familiar cologne wafts around me and I find myself closing my eyes and taking it in. There is something about it that makes my skin tingle, maybe it’s the man that wears it, and as I open my eyes he’s staring intently at me. I inwardly laugh at myself and shut the door, leaning against it trying to gather my thoughts which are racing.

  “It’s okay, I’m in no hurry. Figured we’d try that new Italian place off of General Mahone Boulevard. I keep seeing a billboard for it every time I come back and forth from Norfolk. Chad and Rhea said that it’s pretty good.” He makes himself at home, getting a beer from the fridge and sitting on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and flipping through the channels. “I see you got your roses.” The sight of them makes me giddy all over again and I smile at him, thanking him. “You’re welcome. Anyways, our reservations are for 7:45, so you’ve got time. Go get purdied up, girl.”

  “Oh, shut up old man.” I try and laugh off the way it makes me feel when he smiles and winks at me, putting the beer up to his lips and how I just want to run over and jump on him, pushing the bottle from his lips and replacing it with my kiss. The thought of his hands running up my thighs, butt and back, gripping the back of my neck while he kisses me back makes goosebumps and a shiver fill my body. Luckily I’m already in my bedroom when it runs through my body and I try to focus on getting ready.

  Slipping into the just above the knee, black with red lace overlay dress, a little bit of mascara, and only slightly burning one of my fingers on the curling iron, I’m ready in less than fifteen minutes. Not too much fuss, I remember Austin telling me how he hates too much makeup on women, so with one little spritz of perfume, I step into my red kitten heels and make my way out to his deep laughter at something on the TV. The click from my shoes on the cheap linoleum tiles of my kitchen brings his attention my way and with the beer halfway to his mouth he stops, letting out a whistle that makes me smile.

  “Dannnngggg, girl.” He quickly stands up, coming over and dumping the last bit of the beer into the sink and facing me, a huge smile filling his face. He starts to say something, but stumbles over his words and clears his throat to cover it up.

  “Come on, tell me what you really think.” I giggle a little when I spin around, joking at first but when my stare meets his again, his eyes are trained on me filled with something just short of a carnal desire. My heart starts to race and again I’m filled with this tingle that I’ve only felt under his attention. It goes right to my toes, feeling like an electric shock is pulsing through me and I say quietly, “Do I look okay?”

  “You look beautiful,” he practically growls at me, his stare finally coming back to mine and a crooked smile picks up one side of his mouth. “Ready to go?”

  “Definitely.” Grabbing my small black purse, I make sure the lights are turned off and follow his lead. He holds the doors open for me, his hand on the small of my back as I lock the inside door and staying there when we walk down the handful of stairs. His Jeep is washed and polished to perfection, even the wheels, but it’s not a surprise. Austin loves this old thing; loves getting it dirty and then loves when it’s shiny clean. He opens that door too and takes my hand, holding it steady when I step in. He makes sure my legs are in safely before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side, sliding in smoothly.

  “So what is the name of this place?” I try to make conversation that will fill our car ride so he doesn’t hear my thundering heartbeat. God help me, I haven’t been nervous like this in forever. ‘Just calm down, Chels. It’ll be cool, you know him and he knows you. Chill.’ I tell myself, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, attempting to calm down.

  “Pasto Bella.” He says, trying to sound Italian and I burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?”

  “Not sure who you were trying to sound like, but you sounded like Mario.” I can’t stop laughing and he reaches over, poking me in the side making me jump in my seat. He’s laughing at me, laughing at him, and he starts mimicking the theme song from the video game. “Just please don’t go ramming your head into floating bricks, hoping for gold coins, ok?”

  “Roger that.” He gives me another wink, laughing a little more and then asking me about my day. I tell him about some crabby customers and a crying kid, but the entire time I’m memorizing what he looks like right now. I can tell he shaved, but his five o’clock shadow is already coming in around his chin. His dark blue shirt is ironed to perfection and tucked into his pressed slacks. His shoes are probably shined enough so I could see my reflection too, his attention to his appearance reminding so much of my father’s. He was a career Marine, retiring about ten years ago at 25 years of service, but to this day he still shines his shoes and presses his slacks with starch.

  “Thank you again for the roses by the way.” I tell him and he reaches over, grasping my hand for a moment and squeezing lightly, his thumb running over the back of it before he returns his attention to the road before us. “You made the ladies I work with jealous.”

  “Well I hope they don’t talk behind your back too much about it. They were only roses and they definitely won’t be the last ones I send you.” I shake my head at him but can’t help but smile. “Did your boss give you any lip about them?” The sideways glance he gives me while trying to act like his undivided attention is on the road, but I know he’s remembering that my boss asked me out on a date before I worked there, when I was just a frequent customer.


  “No, he’s out at a conference, but knowing him he would’ve told me he was allergic to them, to tell you not to send them ever again.” He really is a weeny when he knows another man is paying attention to me. It’s a good thing he’s transferring to another store and we are getting a new manager by the fall time.

  “What a puss.” Austin mumbles, turning the Jeep into a packed parking lot outside of an Italian Villa looking restaurant. “Here we are, pretty girl. And it’s a good thing, I’m a starvin’ marvin’.” He’s such a dork at time and I go to reach for the door handle but he hollers, “Don’t touch that. I’m comin’.”

  “Okay, okay.” I concede, acting like it’s silly, but I love the gesture. I like that he’s gentleman through and through when it comes down to it. He helps me out, putting his arm around me and tucking me into his side possessively as we head for the people lined entrance. Some of them give us dirty look as we walk past, right through the open door to the hostess podium.

  “Do you have a reservation?” The girl asks and I don’t miss the way she looks Austin up and down slyly before plastering on a fake smile for me. He gives her his last name and she scans her list, exclaiming “Well, Mr. French, the Chef has requested that you have a special table. Please follow me this way.” She waves her arm toward the romantically dim lit dining room an Austin’s hand on my lower back urges me forward. It never leaves me even as another patron almost bumps into us when coming around a corner, he just pulls me a little more into his side, keeping up with the hostess leading us into a back corner of the restaurant.

  “This really is the quiet corner. Is it okay with you two?” I nod my head when Austin looks at me and he pulls my chair out for me. Waiting for me to be settled, he makes a shiver run all the way to my core when his fingertips graze the back of my neck and shoulder as he makes his way to his seat. It takes my breath away for a moment and I realize I’m lost in an erotic daydream when I hear him saying my name.