by T L Swan
“Where’s your bedroom?” I ask.
“A place that you’ll never get to. Go downstairs.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to go there anyway, Claire.”
Her eyes hold mine. “Good.”
“Yes, good,” I blurt back. “We’re over, remember?”
“Exactly, so why bother coming here?”
We stare at each other, and that feeling comes over me, the one where I want to push her up against the wall and kiss her senseless.
Her eyes drop to my lips, and I know she can feel it too.
“Well, where am I going to sleep?” I ask. “I can’t drive.”
“Call your limo driver.”
“He’s off tonight.”
“Why not call an Uber?”
“They ran out of cars.”
She narrows her eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Tristan.” She brushes past me and rushes back down the stairs as I stay hot on her heels.
“So where will I sleep?” I ask.
With you?
“I suppose you can have Woofy’s bed, and he can sleep with me.”
My face falls in horror. “You would rather sleep with the dog than with me?”
“I would, actually.”
“What happened to the fun, hot Claire who fucks me senseless?”
Her eyes meet mine, and the look on her face is murderous. “She woke up to herself,” she whispers. “When she realized what a fucktard you are.”
My mouth drops open as I feign shock.
She walks forward toward me, and I walk backward. “You barge into my home, uninvited, and then drink my fucking wine. Not to mention—” She cuts herself off.
I shrug as I nearly trip over the couch behind me. “Well . . . apart from those things.”
“Go home, Tristan.”
“Is this about me going out with that other woman?”
“I don’t care who you date.”
“Is that a lie, Claire? Because you seem to care.”
“Go home,” she snaps.
“I can’t. I’m over the limit.”
“Fine, you’re on the couch.”
“Can we talk about this?” I reply.
“No.” She goes to a cupboard and retrieves a blanket and pillow and throws them at me with force.
I catch them midair. “You’re not very hospitable, Claire,” I huff. “You really should work on this.”
She rolls her eyes and goes to the stairs. “I hope Muff pees on your head.” She stomps up the stairs.
My face falls as I process her words. “What?” I look around and catch sight of the mangy cat sitting on the couch. We lock eyes. “Is that a possibility?” I call.
Silence.
“Claire?”
Silence.
“I’m allergic to cats, Claire. I need to sleep with you,” I call. “In your bed.”
Her bedroom door slams.
I scratch my head as I stare at the cat. He stares back. I point at him. “You come near me while I sleep, Muff Cat, I’m putting you outside,” I whisper. “You’ll be bear food.”
I spread my blankets out on the couch and put the pillow down. Damn this. I want to go home, but I want to speak to Claire in the morning more. I climb in and wriggle around as I try to get comfortable.
Fuck, this couch is made of concrete.
Two hours later
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
“What the hell?” I whisper as I glare at the clock on the wall. What kind of sick fuck has a clock that ticks this loud? No wonder everyone’s crazy around here.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
I can’t take it anymore . . . I’m at a breaking point.
“That’s it.” I throw the blankets off and sit up in a rush. I stand on the couch and take the clock off the wall. “You’re going in the trash, motherfucker.” I storm out to the kitchen, clock under my arm, and look around in the dark. “I can’t see shit.” I flick on the light and walk over to the back door and open it in a rush.
It’s pitch black and eerily quiet. I peer out. “Where’s the trash can?”
Hmm.
I hear a noise and then a bang, and I frown as I look out into the backyard. “Who’s there?”
Silence.
Shit . . . this is fucking creepy. I close the door and go back into the house. I’m not risking my life for a ticking time bomb—no chance.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
Although . . .
“Shut up, shut up,” I whisper as I shake it. I stare down at the stupid clock as it taunts me. I imagine myself throwing it hard against the wall and it smashing into a thousand pieces.
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I look around the kitchen for somewhere quiet, somewhere that will shut this thing up, and I see the perfect plan.
Diabolical.
I open the freezer and stuff the clock in there and slam the door. I smile as I dust my hands together. “That’s taken care of you.”
I walk out into the living room and stand at the bottom of the stairs. I wonder what she would do if I just sneaked up there for a little bit of spooning. I smile as I imagine myself slipping into her bed.
I’m missing her.
I come back to earth with a thud, and I roll my eyes. I know that’s not going to happen.
I lie back down on the couch and nestle in as I try to get comfortable.
One hour later
“Meow.”
I scrunch my eyes shut . . . no, make it stop.
Purr . . . purr . . . purr. “Meow.” I try to block it out. “Meow.”
Oh hell, a night in this godforsaken place is worse than being on Survivor.
“Meeeooowww.”
“What?” I whisper angrily as I sit up in a rush. “What the fuck do you want, Muff Cat?”
Purr, purr, purr. The cat jumps on top of me, and I wince. It crawls onto my lap and sits there.
“What?” I snap.
The cat looks up at me.
“There aren’t a thousand other places to sit in this house? You have to fucking sit on me?”
“Meow.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I push it off me and lie back down and turn my back to it.
“Meow.”
I close my eyes tight, and I feel something hitting my face. I open my eyes to see the cat tapping me with its paw. “Are you serious?” I whisper. “Fuck off, Muff Cat.”
“Meow.”
Oh hell, the wizard is probably sleeping pretty at camp. My eyes snap open as I have a realization.
His bed is empty.
Yes, I’ll sneak up there and sleep in his bed. Great idea. I gather my blankets and pillows and make my way upstairs and creep down the hall with the flashlight on my phone.
Must be this room, the only one with the door open.
I shine my torch in, and an empty single bed comes into view. Perfect.
I close the door and climb into bed. It’s comfortable and warm. I find myself instantly relaxing and slowly drifting off to sleep.
I hear a scratch at the door. “Meow.”
I put my pillow over my head. “Shut. Up.”
This is unbearable.
I roll over and inhale deeply. Finally I’m relaxed.
Sleep is a wonderful thing. It’s morning, but I don’t care. I’m too exhausted.
I think I got two hours at the most.
I snuggle back in, and I get a strange feeling that someone’s watching me.
I open one eye. The wizard is standing over me; the look on his face is murderous.
“What the hell are you doing in my bed?” he growls.
Chapter 14
I sit up with a start and flinch. “What are you doing here?” I snap.
“This is my room,” he barks.
I lie back down and pull the blankets over myself. “Well, I’m sleeping here.
Get out.”
“Why, you—”
I sit up like the devil himself. “Listen, kid,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “I’ve had a really bad fucking night, and if I get up now, I’m probably chucking you out the window.”
“Are you going to make me cry?” he whispers in a baby voice. “Mommy doesn’t like big scary men picking on me.”
I narrow my eyes. Why, you conniving little shit. “You cry to your mother, and see what happens to you,” I whisper angrily. “Don’t push me, kid.”
“Don’t push me,” he growls.
“Get out,” I whisper.
“This is my room. You get out.”
I glare at him. “I’m not moving.” Our eyes are locked, and then, as if having an epiphany, he smiles darkly, turns, and storms out.
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling for a moment . . . what was that evil smile for? What is he up to?
Claire.
I sit up in a rush and nearly run down the hall to her room. The door is shut, and I put my ear to it and listen.
Is he in there?
I swear, if he tells on me . . . he’s dead meat.
I can’t hear anything. I look left, and I look right. Nobody’s around. I slowly open the door, and I find Claire fast asleep. I slip in and close the door behind me and flick the lock.
I creep toward the bed. Claire is sleeping on her back, her hands above her head. I find myself smiling as I watch her. She’s like an angel.
She’s so beautiful.
I look around the room. Her presence is so strong in here. God . . . I just want to take her in my arms and kiss her.
But I can’t . . . can I?
I raise an eyebrow as I watch her.
Maybe?
I slink into her bed and lie on my side, facing her. I watch how her lips part as she inhales. Her dark hair is messed up, and her eyelashes flutter. My eyes drop lower, down over her neck, her perfect décolletage . . . down lower to her floral nightdress and the tiny patch of white skin that disappears beneath it.
I’ve never known a woman as beautiful as she is.
She’s perfect—everything about her is perfect.
Her eyes flutter open, and she frowns at me, as if trying to focus.
“Hey,” I whisper. I pick up her hand, and I kiss her fingertips. She watches me in some kind of dazed state. “How did you sleep?”
“Tris.” She frowns.
I smile. She’s back; my soft girl is back. “Yes, baby, I’m here.” I lean closer to her.
I hear a bang, bang, bang on the door. “What are you doing in there?” the wizard screams through the door.
She jerks back from me and seemingly comes to her senses. “Oh my God.” She looks around with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she stammers.
“What am I doing?” I snap. “Shouldn’t you be asking what the fuck he is doing?”
Bang, bang, bang sounds on the door as he pounds it with his fist.
“Tristan,” she whispers.
“I nearly died last night, Claire, between the cement couch, the clock, the cat, and now the fucking crazy nut outside.”
She jumps out of bed.
“But it was all worth it . . . just to see you wake up,” I say.
She stops. Her eyes meet mine, and I smile softly.
“Tristan,” she whispers. “What are you doing here?”
I shake my head, lost for words because I don’t even know. “We need to talk.”
“I’m going to rip you apart with my bare hands,” the wizard yells.
Oh my God . . . this kid is cramping my style.
“You have to go,” she whispers. “This is not the time, Tris.”
Bang, bang, bang echoes through the solid door.
For fuck’s sake.
“That’s it.” I get up and storm to the door and open it in a rush. He falls in because he was leaning on it. “What are you doing, you psychopath?” I bark.
“Tristan,” Claire warns me.
“What are you doing in here?” Harry yells.
“Getting my keys.” I look around. “Nope, can’t find them. Not in here.” I march out and down the stairs, away from Claire.
That kid is a fucking cockblock.
I go down and snatch the overnight bag I’d brought in from my car and walk toward the bathroom.
The wizard steps in my way. “I’m warning you,” he sneers, “stay away from my mother.”
I glare at the self-righteous little shit in front of me. “I’ve got two words for you.” I hold up two fingers.
“What are they?”
I lean in real close. “Boarding. School.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re going down, pretty boy.”
I grit my teeth. “Bring it.” I storm into the bathroom. I have no idea how to handle this little shit. I’m going to have to try to talk to Claire when I can get her on her own. There’s no point staying here with him carrying on like this. If I lose my shit with him, that’s it—I can kiss her goodbye for good.
Although, kissing Claire and her house of horrors goodbye would be the much smarter option right now. What the fuck am I even doing here?
I clench my hands together as I imagine myself wringing the little fucker’s neck. Finally I throw on some clothes and walk back out to find Claire in her dressing gown. She has the kettle boiling and is standing in the kitchen.
Calmness sweeps over me, and I smile. “What are you doing today?” I ask her.
“Mom stuff,” the wizard snaps from behind me.
“That’s enough, Harrison,” Claire snaps back.
Fuck this.
“I’m going to get going.” I sigh. This pit bull of a kid is chasing me out.
“Okay.” She forces a smile.
“Are you sure you can’t escape for a lunch date?” I whisper.
“We’re very busy today, Mom,” Harry interrupts.
I clench my jaw. I wasn’t joking—boarding school could be in this kid’s very near future.
She smirks. “Does it look like I can do lunch today, Tris?”
I stare at her deadpan. “Fine . . . I’ll see you later?”
“Okay.” I slowly walk to the door, and she follows me.
I turn toward her, and we stare at each other for a moment. So much I would like to say . . . to do.
Harry steps between us, forcing me back from her. “Do you mind?” I ask.
“Not at all,” he snaps.
I glare at him. “If you want to do something useful, keep Paul from Pilates off the property and away from your mother. He’s no good, that guy.”
Claire tries to hide her smile and fails abysmally. “Goodbye, Tristan.”
Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “Who’s Paul from Pilates?” he says as he looks between us.
I smile at Claire and give her a wink.
She narrows her eyes in return. “Nobody that you need to worry about,” she says. “Tristan is delusional.”
“Goodbye,” I say, feeling pleased with myself.
“Oh, Tristan,” Harry calls, and I turn back toward them. “Tick. Tock.” He smiles darkly, as if he has a secret.
I narrow my eyes . . . what the fuck does that mean? I shake it off. “Goodbye, Claire. Goodbye, Wizard.”
I walk out to my car, and I hear a little voice call, “Tristan?” I turn and see Patrick running out after me. He’s all messed up and just woken up. His hair is standing on end.
“Hey, buddy.” I smile.
His face falls. “Where are you going?” he asks.
“I have to go home.”
He catches his lip with his teeth, as if worried. “Well, are you coming back?”
“Of course I am.”
“When?”
“Um.” I glance up and see Claire standing at the door, watching us. “Soon.” I ruffle his hair and smile. “Thanks for hanging out with me last night. Next time I get to pick the movie.”
He swings his arms happily. “Okay.” He turns toward his mothe
r and smiles proudly.
With one last wave, I get into my car and drive away.
Half an hour out on the highway, and my car begins to shudder. I turn the radio down to listen to the engine. I accelerate, and it shudders again.
What’s going on?
I slow down and continue to drive, but the car seems to have no power.
What in the world?
It begins to shudder violently, and it limps along for a while. I eventually pull the car over and turn it off.
I sit for a moment and then turn it back on. It won’t click over.
The engine ticks as it tries to start, but it just won’t. “Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
This car is fucking new.
I try to start it again and again.
Screw this. I get out and slam the door shut.
I take out my phone and google tow trucks.
This is the last thing I need.
Claire
I type the email.
Mr. Scott,
It was lovely meeting you
I’m interrupted by my phone ringing. The name Paul lights up the screen.
Oh no. I exhale heavily. I don’t even want to speak to him. Our date on Friday was the longest night of my life.
It’s Monday, and I know he’s calling to see if I’m going to Pilates tonight. Damn it.
Now it’s just going to be awkward. What a stupid move to date someone from my favorite Pilates class.
My mind goes to Tristan. I can’t believe that he was waiting for me to come home from my date. I smile at the thought of him at home alone with my kids.
Oh well . . . at least he survived, I guess.
I ignore the call and go back to my email. Then . . . knock, knock.
“Come in,” I call as my eyes stay glued to my computer. The door opens and closes.
“Anderson,” I hear the deep, flirty voice purr.
I look up to see Tristan Miles in all his glory. Perfectly fitting dark-navy suit, a crisp white shirt, and a navy tie. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks very much like the Miles Media heir that he is. His dark hair is messed to just-fucked perfection.
“Tristan.”
Our eyes meet, and my stomach flutters. He’s so damn gorgeous that I can’t stand it. “Hello.” He smiles.
“Hi.” I turn back to my computer, unsure what to say. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to take you out for lunch.”
