by Howes, Ann
“Yeah, babe?”
“I’m going to throw up.”
“What?” Gianni’s brows jump an inch. “Now?” He steps in front of Lee and with those big hands clamped on my hips, shoves me to the nearest garbage bin. As I bend over, the stench of someone’s left-over fish taco hits me. My ponytail flops against the side of my face as I heave, spewing the French fries I had for lunch.
Somehow, while still holding me, Gianni procures a paper towel from a nurse and wipes my mouth, but I take it from him pushing his hand away and finish myself.
“Shit, De Luca. Didn’t think you could get any paler,” he says when I toss it into the garbage bin. “Need to get you home and into bed.”
“Yes, please,” I mumble and lean into him, grateful when he wraps his arms around me because my legs are far too weak.
“You got it, babe, it’s been one fucked-up day.”
Indeed.
7
Vicodin dreams and phantom kisses
* * *
“Wake up, sleepy head.”
Mmm.
Big, warm fingers press into my chin, angling my face.
“Shelley?”
I open my eyes, blink and stare into Gianni’s.
They’re so pretty. I wonder what they’d look like with mascara on? A giggle escapes me.
“Fuck,” he chuckles back. “You’re looped.”
“Exacketalley.” I aim a finger at his chest, but somehow end up jabbing them into his jeans. “I love Vicodin.”
“Careful, woman,” he grunts. “As much as I’d love your hands in my pants, you’ll hurt yourself.” He gently tugs my fingers from his waistband, then sliding his hands up my arms, loops them over his shoulders. “Need your help getting you out of the truck. Hang on.”
“Kay.” Though I’m not sure how much help I really am, since my limbs are rubbery and my head lolls against the curve in his neck and shoulder.
Mmm, yummy.
I may be useless in the muscle department but my nose seems to be working just fine. With each breath, I pull in his warm, slightly earthy scent as he carries me up the garage stairs and through a door into a kitchen.
My eyelids refuse to stay open for long but I capture little snapshots of his house as we pass through. I spot a room with a large cream-colored couch, and brace for him to drop me on it. Instead he continues on up another flight of stairs, into a bedroom. Gianni lowers me onto a huge bed until I’m splayed out on my back.
He slips my boots off, but leaves my socks on and suddenly my feet are cold.
“Did they give you a prescription?” The bed dips as he lowers himself and sits next to me.
“Purse,” I mumble and smack my lips.
“Sleep, while I get it filled. You need anything before I go? Water?”
“Mmm.” How about you?
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, pulling the corner of the comforter over me. I’m half expecting—hoping—he’ll kiss me on the head again like he did at the hospital and sigh in disappointment when he doesn’t. My mouth may even turn into a pout when I hear his footsteps walk away. I can’t be sure, though, as it’s the last thing I remember before I slip into the black.
* * *
When I wake again, it’s dark but I instinctively know I’m not in my own bed.
Where?
I panic and bolt upright. “Oh…shit,” I cry as pain slams through me so intense it feels as if my knees have been lit on fire.
“Ow!”
“Fuck.” Somebody is next to me and sounds a lot like Gianni…but that can’t be. Can it?
Then I feel him move and suddenly bright light blinds me. I jerk my hands up to cover my eyes only to have more pain wash over me.
“Ow…oh.”
“Christ, De Luca, don’t move. Let me help you.”
Only one person calls me De Luca.
Then I remember.
Everything.
My breath hitches when his warm, hard arm curls behind me nestling me against his chest. Though his heart seems to be beating faster than it should through the soft cotton of his thermal. Probably not used to having an injured woman in his bed bolting upright and bellowing like an injured cow. It’s enough to startle anyone.
“It's okay, woman, you’re safe,” he says against my hair, stroking his hands across my back. His touch is protective as I burrow a little deeper into him. Pretty soon my breathing evens out and I begin to relax despite the fact I’m hurting.
As if reading my mind, he moves and retrieves something from his dresser. “Gonna give you your pill, for the pain.” His voice vibrates through his chest and into my body. “Need you to open your mouth.”
I nod and open up. He places something bitter on my tongue then holds a bottle to my lips. “Drink, it’s water.”
I take a few sips and stop.
“More.”
“Enough.”
“Shelley, more.”
“So controlling.”
“Good you recognize that. It’ll save us problems later.”
“It’s annoying.”
A chuckle rumbles through his torso. Again, it feels nice. I blow out air and take a few more sips. Slowly, because I want this moment to last and content to know he thinks there’s a later.
“Billy?” I ask when I’m done drinking.
“Alive.”
I tilt my head and catch his eyes. “Just alive?”
“Out of surgery,” he answers, taking the empty bottle from me and setting it on a mahogany bedside table. “I’ll call in the morning and get more details, but for now it’s enough to know he’s alive.”
Then, sadly, he adjusts his position and helps me to lie back down on the pillows. As he eases off the bed I notice he’s changed into a pair of gray sweats and a long-sleeved burgundy Hahvahd University tee-shirt.
“Need to make you comfortable,” he says standing above me but without looking at me. “Get what’s left of your jeans off and put your pajamas on.”
“My pajamas?”
“Picked up a few things from your apartment.”
“Uh…?”
“Need your permission, De Luca.”
Oh jeez.
I’d pictured Gianni undressing me so many times as a teenager but never like this.
“I can do it.”
“Nope, you can’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I…um.”
“Don’t have all night, Shelley.”
“Fine.” I nod, trying to remember which panties I’m wearing, hoping it’s my good ones.
He stares down at me for a moment then blinks. “Stay still and try to relax. Gonna undo your button first.”
“Okay.”
It takes him an endless moment to release it from the fabric and lower the zipper. When the two sides are spread wide, he tugs and says, “Lift your hips a little.”
His knuckles feel hot against my skin as he slides my cutoffs halfway over my butt. Then he stops. My eyes, which had been closed, open partially. Surprisingly, his are closed and a moment later, I realize why. He hooks the edges of my panties, and pulls them up. Obviously, they’d come down with my jeans.
I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. My bet is option two. The irony isn’t lost on me that only last night I wanted him to do this very thing in my living room. However, now he’s pulling on my pink pajama pants and that’s certainly not in any fantasy either.
“Comfortable?” He asks, pulling the comforter over me and it has to be the pills making me think his voice sounds a little gruff.
“Mmm.”
“Go back to sleep, De Luca. I’m gonna work and make some calls. Be down the hall if you need me.” He reaches towards the lamp but I stop him with my fingertips on his forearm.
“Gianni?”
He pauses and even in my drugged-up state, I feel the tension in his muscles. It seems forever before he turns that beautiful face towards me.
“Thank you,” I say.
Our eyes lo
ck and something moves in his before he says, “Sleep. We’ll figure out how you can thank me later,” he says, turning off the light. “See you in the morning.”
* * *
Joey’s late. It’s cold and the wind’s picking up, whipping my hair behind me, twisting it into a spiral.
Why meet him at the marina? His text said four near the Yacht Club. But it’s four twenty.
Oh, finally! At a distance, he looks so much like his brother. Same build, same hair, different eyes.
I swallow as he takes his sunglasses off and instead of a warm, brown gaze, an icy blue flash lands on me.
Why are you here? Where’s Joey?
Not coming.
He texted me.
He shakes his head. I did.
He stares at me for a long time before he steps forward. I should step back, but I can’t move as his hands take my face, thumbs raising my chin.
He moves in slowly. So slowly, giving me time, giving me a choice. Though the wind rushes and the seagulls screech, my heart pounding is all I hear. His lips touch mine and I let him kiss me, allowing myself to taste him, to feel him.
It’s soft at first, almost tentative, questioning, until I moan and melt against him. Then he claims my mouth like a starving man, hungry and desperate, unable to feed enough. I’m all his.
Gianni’s.
Like I’ve always been.
Then he pulls away, breathing hard, his fingers entangled in my hair and staring down at me with those eyes, normally so blue, yet now cloudy and full of turmoil.
I knew it, he says. You can lie all you want. To me, to Joey, to yourself even. But you don’t love him. My brother’s not the man for you.
Then he’s gone.
Like a dream.
* * *
When I open my eyes, it’s raining. Rivulets snake down the window hypnotizing and somehow soothing.
It was only a dream.
The drugs are wearing off but that’s not what woke me. Rolling over onto my side I groan at the sudden, red-hot needles stabbing my knees and wait until the pain subsides. The comforter is crumpled next to me and I slide my fingers beneath the sheets. There’s still a faint touch of warmth.
He was here.
Is that what woke me, him leaving the bed? The absence of his presence?
I wonder what Miss Double Ds would have to say about him sleeping next to me. But I quickly banish that thought. I don’t need to dwell on any of his women, especially now that one of them has a face.
But I can’t think of them now since another, more urgent need presses and if I don’t get to a bathroom soon, I’ll embarrass myself.
When I inch myself up into a sitting position, I see the room for the first time.
Not bad.
Gianni has taste.
The walls are a dark beige, decorated with a series of abstract paintings in warm, rich earthy tones. The cold morning light filters through partially opened wooden plantation blinds hanging at windows trimmed with white sills.
Jeans lie tossed onto a corner chair along with his jacket. If there were any doubt before there’s none now. This is his room.
Fucking hell, I didn’t imagine it. I’m most definitely in his bed.
Two pill bottles with my name on them sit on the bedside table alongside a bottle of water. I chug one of each, scoot to the edge of the dark sleigh bed and slip off.
There’s a bathroom, thank God. I grit my teeth and wince with each step as I move as fast as my stiff knees allow and step into a bathroom paradise.
Oh wow.
A marble oval tub, big enough for two, sits in front of a large, curved bay window. Through the rain, I can just make out the blur that’s Alcatraz Island and down the way a little, the Palace of Fine Arts.
Double Wow.
I pee, then stare at the tub thinking what I wouldn’t give to be in that right now, filled with bubbles and him all naked and hard and slippery…
Stop.
Can’t go there.
The Gianni I remember was never a one-woman man so who is this Miss Double Ds to him? Is she someone special or just another one in a long line. And just because he’s being nice to me for a change doesn’t mean anything. I can’t let it burrow beneath my defenses and allow myself to believe there’s anything to it. But that kiss on my temple yesterday makes me want to believe it.
So very much.
My reflection shows I could be an extra in The Walking Dead. Only I wouldn’t need make-up. Hard for any man, let alone Gianni, to find that attractive.
Sigh.
In the bedroom, I rifle through the duffle bag Gianni brought from my apartment, checking the clothing. He’s thought of almost everything.
Sweats, toiletries, toothbrush and a hairbrush. Even a clean bra and panties. The good ones too. My face burns knowing he went through my underwear drawer. Somehow that feels really intimate, but then I remember how many women he’s had. No stranger to lady’s underwear and probably bought his fair share too.
Shoving that aside, a little forcefully I might add, I keep looking but find no shoes.
Oh, well.
The bandages make it difficult, but I wash my face, brush my teeth and pile my hair on the top of my head in a loose bun. Then I follow my nose to the kitchen.
The stairs prove to be inconvenient and I consider sliding down on my ass, except my knees won’t bend far enough for me to get on my ass. But, since the drugs have begun to kick in, it makes it tolerable, if not comfortable.
The closer I get to the kitchen, the more my mouth waters at the smell of coffee, eggs and toast. I haven’t eaten in a long time and what I ate then is now married to a leftover fish taco.
Gianni butters a slice of toast at a long granite counter, hair messier than usual, like he’s run his fingers through it. Which, damn him, makes it sexier than usual. Those sweatpants mold that perfect ass, showing off indentations on the side of hard butt cheeks. If my knees could take it, I would stand and watch him all day.
No man has a right to be so damn beautiful.
“Morning,” he says, looking over his shoulder, hitting me with those eyes.
I smile, although I think it’s a little wobbly. Stupid Vicodin.
“That smells really good.”
“Sit down and eat. Unless you want me to feed you standing up?” he snarks, reaching into a cherry wood cabinet.
“Ha. He has a sense of humor.”
“I have a sense of something,” he responds almost to himself. “Not sure it’s humor.” He pulls a red mug with Be mine written in a white heart and fills it from the coffee pot.
I can’t help wondering which one of the many gave him that. Miss Double Ds? Bitch.
“Milk and sugar?”
“Please.” I nod and slide onto a bar chair at the kitchen island, which is made from the same granite as the counters. Mostly white with warm beige seams flecked with gold.
“You heard anything about Billy? Can I see him?”
“Still critical.” He pushes the mug to me, before moving to a double-door fridge to pull out a half gallon of milk. “No point in going today since he’s still out of it. Maybe tomorrow, depending on how you’re doing.” Gianni adds milk, then points to the sugar bowl. Using a spatula, he spoons scrambled eggs onto a plate, adds the buttered toast and places it in front of me.
I smile my thanks, then watch him as he straddles a chair opposite me, sipping from his cup. Taking in his bloodshot eyes and the darkness beneath them, it dawns on me how much I’m imposing and disrupting his life.
“Have you slept?” I ask and take a bite of the eggs. Although I’m sure they’re delicious, the drugs have killed my taste buds.
“A little.”
“I’ll call my girlfriend, Cass. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind picking me up.”
His eyes meet mine and go all steely. “Absolutely not.”
I swallow. “Absolutely not to which part? Calling my girlfriend or her picking me up?”
“Second.”
“Gianni, I can’t stay here.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Well…” My mind goes blank.
Shit. How do I explain it’s both? I’ve no desire to be around witnessing him do his thing with his women.
He’s still looking at me, though now his eyes have narrowed as he waits.
“I’m not going to impose on you. I already owe you enough.”
That little Y forms between his brows. “Owe me?”
“You said last night you’d think of how I could thank you.”
He grunts. “I did say that, didn’t I. But what does your girlfriend do, De Luca?”
“She does hair, like me. We work together.”
“I see.” He places his coffee cup on the counter. “So, let me get this right. The two of you are gonna keep that asshole away with a pair of scissors and hairspray?”
Pff.
I roll my eyes. “Shears.”
“Pardon?”
“They’re called shears,” I say slowly. “Not scissors, and in case you didn’t know, hairspray’s flammable.”
He shakes his head, eyes boring into mine like I’ve lost what little mind I had left.
Okay, so he knows hairspray’s flammable.
“Must be all that LA smog.”
“Excuse me?”
“Lack of oxygen in the air, killed your brain cells, ’cause what you’re proposing is not happening!”
“Why not?”
“De Luca, do you remember anything or are you just being stupid?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me what I remember? And who are you calling stupid?”
“I’m not calling you stupid. I said…Jesus, never mind! Let me spell it out for you, woman.” He holds up a finger. “One. You can’t be alone or with people who don’t know how to protect you.” Up goes the second finger. “Two, I’m gonna protect you. But in order for me to do that, you gotta do everything I say, no argument, and third”—his thumb joins the other two fingers—“you’re going to my mom’s.”
“Your mother?” I squeak. “I’m not involving your mother.”
“Not the right answer, Shelley. You can waste energy and argue all fucking day if you want but it’s not gonna change the outcome. You have no choice, not until this is over.”
