by Kim Karr
And with those words it all falls into place—Xander’s anger at me the night we met and River’s reluctance to tell me anything.
I frantically search for something to say, but I have no words.
“Bell, I have to leave.” Then I somehow manage to get on my feet and dash toward the door. I know I’m going to throw up and hope I make it outside first.
Brigitte is in the kitchen as I hurry through and says, “Dahlia, I just made coffee for you and the missy.”
I don’t answer her; I can’t. Shock and anger pulse through me. Ben cheated on me. I always trusted him and believed him. He’s nothing but a fucking liar!
Chapter 22
Six Degrees of Separation
Almost two hours later, I find myself heading north on the 101 and have no idea where I’m going or how I got here. All I know is that when the shock and anger consumed me, I had to get away. But now the numbness subsides, and pain takes over.
Completely exhausted, I get off the Santa Barbara exit and pull into a gas station to ask directions to the nearest hotel. The clerk tells me if I’m looking for a nice place, the Four Seasons is due west. I’m not looking for anything in particular, but I follow his directions. Within fifteen minutes I’m pulling into the hotel. It looks more like a Mediterranean getaway than a place to be alone and not think about anything. But at this point I’m so tired, I don’t really care where I stay.
Walking into the lobby, I immediately notice its grandeur. I go to check in without any luggage and the front desk assistant tells me they only have Premier rooms available. I hand her my credit card and tell her that’s fine. When she asks me how many nights, all I can tell her is that I don’t know. She smiles at me and says they can’t guarantee availability any night other than tonight if I don’t commit, so I tell her a week. She smiles and hands me a room key, asking if the valet can get my luggage. I just tell her I’m good but she still asks the doorman to show me to the elevator. He does so and pushes my floor number before sending me up to my room.
Opening the door, I head straight for the phone. The anger has been building inside me and I have to tell that son of a bitch what a fucking asshole he is. When I dial the number I haven’t dialed in so long, my fingers are trembling.
“Hello?” he answers.
“You fucking son of a bitch. How could you lie to me for all those years?”
“Dahl, calm down. What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, you asshole. You cheated on me and said you didn’t. How could you?”
“Dahl, it was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?! A mistake is forgetting to pay the mortgage. You screwed someone else.”
“I’m sorry, Dahl. Let me explain.”
“No Ben, not this time I won’t. No more. I wish you never came back—then I wouldn’t have had to know what we really were—nothing. You’ve only caused me more pain. Your death put me through hell, and just when I’m about to start my life over—you come back to hurt me some more? I wish you would have kept playing dead!”
“Please Dahl, just come over. We can talk.”
“Fuck you, Ben. I don’t ever want to talk to you again,” I scream and hang up.
After I slam the phone down, I try to calm down. I call room service and order a pot of coffee. I hope my queasy stomach can handle it. I move to the glass doors and close the wall of curtains. I briefly take notice of the beaches and mountains out the window before pulling the drapes closed and shiver as a sudden chill goes through me. I stop and scrutinize my own reflection in the glass. How was I so naive? I saw the e-mail! How clichéd were his attempts to get me back?—and I fell for him then, never questioning his fidelity. I try to look into my own eyes, but see nothing but that young girl.
There’s a knocking on the door and I hear, “Room service.” I wonder how long I’ve been standing here evaluating the merits of my stupidity. I close the curtains, open the door, and take the tray over to the fireplace. I sit in the large overstuffed chair and inhale the fresh coffee bean aroma wafting from my cup. Looking at the tray, I notice the sugar bowl. I take a deep breath and wonder if I should have ordered tea instead because all my thoughts suddenly drift to River. Would he do the same thing to me? Is he doing the same thing to me?
I can feel my heart beating faster than it should. I drop my spoon on the floor and when I bend down to pick it up, I start to cry when I see my boots—the boots River loves to see me in. I unzip them and toss them to the ground. Then I remember them hitting the floor at Smitten’s and my stomach falls. What we have is different than what Ben and I had. I know it is. And I also know he would never do to me what Ben did.
I think about him asking me the first time we had coffee together if I used sugar, and every day since then making sure I always got my morning coffee—until this morning, and yesterday morning. I miss him and suddenly wonder if I should have just gone home.
As my thoughts continue to bounce all over the place, I try to focus on everything Bell told me. After a while it all comes together in an easy-to-understand picture. She was in an accident the night I met River. I left the bar early that night, fearful of what would happen with River if I stayed. Bell was going to tell Ben about the baby that same night. Bell and Ben were supposed to meet that night. And Xander fits into the picture somehow as well. As one of Ben’s frat brothers, he knew Ben had a girlfriend. But I never talked about Ben to River’s family or friends.
It all makes sense now—I went back early so Ben couldn’t leave the party. Bell didn’t know this and got in that car so eager to tell him she was pregnant. River came to the frat house later that night to look for Bell because obviously she had been hanging out there. And since I hardly ever went to the parties, Ben knew I’d never find out.
As I sip the last of my coffee, the chills seem to subside. I mentally start building what-if scenarios. I start thinking about what path all of our lives would have taken if I had stayed that night and talked to River. Would he have brought Bell home if he didn’t have to look for me? Would Bell have met up with Ben and would they be raising a child together? Would I have broken up with Ben and chosen River? Would Ben have not taken the L.A. Times job and gone to grad school instead? He took that job so he could buy us a house. If he never worked for The L.A. Times, would he have taken on that story? Without that story he never would have had to die. Would we all have had our happily ever after’s?
My head is spinning, so I lie down on the bed and pull the comforter up, thinking I will just lie down for an hour and then . . . Exhaustion takes hold and my mind finally finds peace as I fade away into sleep.
Chapter 23
The Change
Ben’s Journal
Today wasn’t just another shitty day in a long list of shitty days; it was probably the shittiest day yet. I spent hours on the phone yesterday trying to secure a place for Trent in a facility. One finally called back last night, but I needed to check it out before sending him there. I could have called Caleb to come over and stay with Trent, but I really needed to see her again so I called Dahl. That was my first mistake of the whole fucking day.
When she got to the house in record time, of course I thought she really wanted to see me. Maybe she’d thought about yesterday and decided she missed me like I missed her. I was so sure spending time together would evoke those feelings. Fuck was I wrong. She not only rejected me but when I tried to pull her to me like I used to, she acted like I repulsed her.
For some reason I couldn’t let her see that she got to me. Why? I wanted to explain my feelings, but, fuck, I’ve never been able to do that and even when it probably mattered the most I still couldn’t. So instead I hightailed it out the door. When I got back she seemed even sadder than when she got here. I tried to talk to her, to comfort her, but she squashed my attempts once again. I’m seriously starting to wonder what kind of hold this guy has over her because when she left today, I got the feeling she wasn’t coming back.
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The day didn’t get any fucking better when my sister showed up a few minutes later. She talked to her dirtbag ex-husband and he told her Trent was here. I had to explain everything to her but I wasn’t in the right headspace to deal with her shit. She did agree to send Trent to rehab tomorrow. She stormed out pissed and said she’d be back to stay the night. She wanted to tell Mom in person.
Then as if the day wasn’t already bad enough, the phone call came. The one I knew would come eventually after seeing S’belle at Dahlia’s house. I hoped Dahl wouldn’t find out. I tried to tell her yesterday to soften the blow, but just couldn’t do it. Of course the college chick had to be the dick’s sister. They look so much alike, no wonder I felt like I knew him. Fuck me.
That call ended any chance I had to get my Dahl back and now I’m left here wondering why the fuck I ever came back.
Chapter 24
Beneath Your Beautiful
I wake up and look at the clock; it’s 5:45 a.m. Shit, I’ve been asleep for more than twelve hours. For the first time in my life, I don’t like being in the dark. I quickly get up and open the curtains, letting the faint light of dawn into my room. I turn the fireplace back on and get under the thick mass of blankets, once again feeling chilled to the bone. I grab the hotel phone and decide I should at least tell Aerie where I am. But when she doesn’t answer, I leave her a message. I don’t call River—we need to talk in person.
Blasting the radio of the hotel alarm clock, I lie there and just listen to whatever songs come on. Music tells so many stories. It’s a world within itself. It calms me. Speaks to me. Gives me the guidance I sometimes need. So as I listen to “Clarity,” I close my eyes and think about everything again. I think about it as a story that accompanies the words to the song. And when I do this, really listen and visualize myself as part of the song, everything seems clearer than it did yesterday. Taking a series of deep breaths, I feel a little better.
I doze off, and when I wake up again it’s 7:15 a.m. I actually fell asleep with the light coming in the room. I’ve never done that before. “Broken” is playing when I wake up again and I say out loud, “I’m not broken.” Because I’m not. I know I’m not. What Ben did is unforgivable but he hasn’t been my future for a long time. I can’t let his infidelity change what’s right in front of me.
As the song ends and a new one begins I don’t even hear the words, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, and think about River and me—our fights, our love, our life—I have to believe everything will be okay. His reluctance to tell me anything about Bell and her accident was done out of love, not deceit, and I not only accept this, I understand it. I can trust him—I do trust him. He didn’t want to tell me that Ben had betrayed me. He didn’t want to hurt me in that way. It would have been so easy for him to turn me against Ben from the day he figured out who Ben was, but his love for me stopped him. After everything, I still believe we will be okay. My only question: Has he forgiven me? I quickly jump out of bed—I need to get back to LA.
I’m sitting down to put my boots on when I hear the song “Sexy Back” playing outside my room. I stop what I’m doing and wonder if I’m imagining it. But when I hear a knock on the door, I know what it means. I drop my boots to the floor and run over to open the door without even looking through the peephole to see who it is, because I know. I have to grip the knob for support to keep my knees from buckling beneath me. I draw in a slow silent breath of relief because there he stands, leaning against the doorframe with his head down.
He looks up and his eyes are sparkling as he hands me my phone. “I did promise to always call,” he says and his words make my stomach flutter. I reach for the phone. My breathing stops as I take him in. He’s breathtaking. He’s long, lean, and so alarmingly good-looking that I can’t look away. It’s not because of how attractive he is, though—it’s because of his eyes. They tell me everything I need to know. This is the man I love. The man who loves me. The man I will be with forever. I feel like I’m being transported through time, back to the night I first met him. He’s wearing his Foreigner double– vision T-shirt and black beanie, his light brown hair sticking out underneath it. His guitar is strapped over his shoulder and he sets it down inside the room as he places his phone to his ear. Justin Timberlake’s song is still playing on my phone. “And you promised to always answer.”
I’m standing so close to him, but not near enough. I’m trembling as a sense of utter euphoria pulses through me. He came for me, he really came for me. Gripping the phone, I step closer to him and smile, “No, I promised to never hang up.”
He, too, steps closer and we are now standing toe-to-toe. “You have to answer in order to not hang up so technically you promised to always answer.”
I smile at him as he takes the phone from my hand and hits the END button. He does the same to his and tosses both phones inside the room. He removes his beanie, tossing that as well, and then combs his hands through his hair. Our eyes connect and it feels like minutes pass, but it’s only seconds. That electric pull is still there, stronger than ever.
“I hope you don’t think I’m a stalker. Aerie told me where you were.”
I bite my lip nervously and gaze into his gleaming green eyes. “No, you’re definitely not a stalker.”
He smiles, not a full smile, but that half-grin I love so much because it emphasizes his dimples. His lush lips are begging for me to kiss him and I don’t want to waste another minute as I throw my arms around his neck and crash my mouth to his. He puts one hand behind my neck and the other on the small of my back. We both open our mouths wide as our lips connect, and I feel the connection between our souls. This kiss leaves me breathless.
He slowly pulls back and grabs my cheeks with the palms of his hands softly rubbing my skin. “I love you more.”
“And I will love you more forever,” I say back because it’s the absolute truth.
He leans in and this time he softly puts his lips to mine, never taking his hands off my face. I can feel tears of joy streaming down my face.
After we finally come up for air, he lifts me in his arms, and then carries me to the bed. He sits down with me in his lap and I curl my legs around him. Kissing my head repeatedly, he tries to ease my sobs, but they won’t stop. I start to settle as he lightly rocks me. When his hands softly rub my back, I touch my head to his. I can feel his heartbeat as his chest rises and falls. It is the most beautiful feeling in the world.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He blows out a long breath, “No, Dahlia. I’m the one that’s sorry. We should talk. We need to talk.”
I know that’s what we need but seeing him now, being in his arms when I wasn’t sure I ever would be again, I don’t want to talk. I just want to be with him. I feel the last of the walls come down between us as we sit here wrapped in each other’s arms and all that is left is pure emotion, true love. I rest my head against his chest again and this time inhale his scent, having missed it, and relish being so close to him.
I look up at him and with a shaky breath I tell him, “We will. Just not yet. Please. I don’t want to talk about what a mess we made out of everything right now.”
“Okay baby, okay. But a beautiful thing is never perfect,” he whispers as he kisses the top of my head and clings to me as tightly as I cling to him.
Slipping my hands under his T-shirt, I trace the perfectly sculpted lines that outline each lean muscle. I feel his heart pounding above his ribs. When my tears keep falling, he continues to rock me. Then he puts his mouth to my ear and with a low, husky voice starts singing a song I’ve never heard before. It makes my skin tingle. I peek up at him and through muffled sobs ask, “What are you singing?”
“A song I wrote for you. It’s called ‘Never in Pieces.’”
He continues to sing and I sit here listening to his beautiful words. His voice wraps around me, bringing the comfort I know only from him—the amazing man singing to me. The words of the song push into me, making my heart expand w
ith every word. He sings about never knowing what love was until he found me. His velvety voice sings in my ear with such intensity that I feel like I’m touching his soul with every lyric. I look at him and his eyes close as he sings about our relationship never being in pieces because nothing can break us. I absorb every single verse as my heart pounds and desire sweeps through me. I’ve never felt such an intimate connection to him. When he finishes I know exactly how he feels and I feel the same way. Nipping at his jaw, I press myself into him, then I tip his chin back and look into his tranquil green eyes. “River, make love to me.”
He looks at me with his intense bedroom eyes and doesn’t hesitate in saying, “There’s nothing I want to do more right now than to touch you and taste you.”
I feel him instantly harden beneath me as he reaches and pulls my T-shirt off. I pull his off in turn. His mouth is on mine, his tongue finding its way into mine and I’m hoping to leave a little bit of myself inside of him.
As I sit on his lap enjoying every kiss, every lick, every touch, every breath we share, I know I will never take moments like these for granted. After a few minutes he lifts me off the bed, turns us around and sets me on my feet. Kneeling in front of me, he undoes my button, pulls my jeans down, and I step out of them. Our eyes stay connected every second. When he very slowly slides my panties off, I kick them aside. He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed and places each of my legs over his shoulders and starts kissing the inside of my thighs. My body tightens with anticipation.
His eyes are still on mine. He runs his fingertips up and down the backs of my thighs and places his hands behind me, pulling me into him. His tongue is on me, but he’s taking it slow this time. His face is in between my legs, right at my center. He starts by placing small kisses up and down my slick flesh. Then his fingers open me and his tongue strokes and licks perfectly. When he peeks up at me as I watch him he says, “Dahlia, I need to taste every inch of you.” I lift myself against his mouth, urging him to move faster, and he does. Then his hands are on my hips, keeping me firmly in place as he plunges his tongue inside me over and over. I start convulsing; the feeling is so unbelievably euphoric. My body trembles. “Oh God, River,” I call out, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking me even through my orgasm, pushing me further. Gripping my hips tightly he licks, kisses, and laps every inch of me. I don’t even feel like my body is my own when another wave blasts through me. “Yes, oh God yes,” I scream and when I know I have nothing left, I gently push his shoulders back. He looks up at me and I drop to the ground to sit in front of him.
