Mended-Hearts

by Gordon, M. E.

  He shrugged. “My father paid for their silence, and now I am as well.”

  At first I wanted to punch him for paying someone off. Then I felt bad for him--this supposed love broke him to the point he pushed people away, he pushed me away. My next thought was one of panic. Nick had succeeded in finding everything out. It was only a matter of days, hours, until Fame was going to report on it. And there was no amount of money to pay Nick off. He had nothing to lose.

  “They know,” I said, staring up at him.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Nick, he knows everything. He told me Fame’s going to put it out there. He warned me to stay away from you, that shit was going to go from zero to sixty.” I covered my mouth and for once thought about myself and the media storm that seemed to follow me around. I checked my phone for the first time since I’d left the café--one new voice mail.

  I was supposed to be back at work. It was three-thirty and I was supposed to work till three. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’ve worked too hard to lose everything now. I stood abruptly. Spencer stood with me, watching me freak out.

  “I have to go, I have to leave,” I rambled. Grabbing my jacket, I pulled it on along with my bag. I turned from Spencer, not giving him a second glance.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, reaching for my arm and successfully grabbing it so I was forced to stop and turn around.

  “Let me go, Spencer, I’m late. I need to get back to work.” I ripped my arm from his hand and went to the door.

  “Elizabeth,” he roared from behind me. I turned to him, giving in to his booming voice, and raised my eye brows, indicating for him to go on. “I’ll see you at my place, five o’clock,” he asked--demanded.

  I stood there a moment, letting him sweat it out, then finally nodded and threw a “Yeah” back at him before I walked out of the room and down the hall.

  Chapter 15

  It was six by the time I finally made it to Spencer’s. I ran in the back door, avoiding the media storm out front.

  “You’re late,” Spencer said from the kitchen.

  He was cooking, and something smelled amazing. The garlic hit me even more as I came around the corner. Italian food. I should have guessed. His adopted family was Italian. They looked just like him with their tan olive skin, dark jet black hair, and light eyes. I’d only ever seen a picture of them, but it was hard to tell he wasn’t one of them if you didn’t know.

  The heritage ran deep in his veins, and I was the only one that benefited. His cooking was amazing. Although I’d never let him know that, didn’t want that head of his getting any larger. I also benefitted in the fact that I was the only person that got to see him cooking in nothing but a pair of sweat pants that hung perfectly on his hips. Goddamn he was sexy--No, Beth! You’re mad at him, you are mad at him...

  “Why are you so late?” he asked, turning from the stove to find me standing on the other side of the large island.

  “I had stuff to do,” I responded with an attitude, because I had a right to have one. I ran from 21, jumped in the first cab I could, then made the poor cab driver run through a red light, and almost knocked over a lady to get back to my internship as fast as I could. It was pointless though. Carmen was standing in my path to the back door.

  “Don’t bother,” were the only two words she said before, “your stuff is all here.” She pointed to the bag at her feet. “Don’t come back tomorrow. We’ve already contacted your school, so you might want to touch bases with them. Have a nice life. I hope he was worth it all,” she said, holding her hand out.

  She was waiting for me to place my badge in her hand, and it killed me. It was like ripping my own heart out and handing it to her.

  I grabbed my bag after she went back into the building. The thick metal door slammed shut behind her, making me jump. I had lost everything I had worked for my whole college career. Without my internship, I had nothing. My future plans to work there had been pulled out from under me. My degree was likely not going to happen, because I’d refused to intern anywhere else.

  All of this happened because I wasn’t focused. I had always been so focused before. All it took was one night at a club that I should never have gone to in the first place. There wouldn’t have been notes and flowers, lies, or paparazzi. My god! My life would have been so different, if I hadn’t gone to that damn club. Everything I had worked for was ruined.

  So as I stood across the room from a disappointed Spencer, it was taking everything in me not to pick up the apples in the bowl in front of me and chuck them at him for ruining everything I had worked for. I didn’t want fame, or to be recognized. I wanted a quiet life. I wanted to work at the Library of Congress. I wanted to go home to a cute house and spend my time reading and hanging out with friends. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I was going to start by yelling at the main culprit!

  “Like what?” he asked, licking the wooden spoon that was covered with gravy, or for everyone who isn’t Italian, sauce.

  “Oh--do you want to know what I did before or after I had to go and withdraw from school.”

  “What? Why would you withdraw from school?” he asked, as if he somehow forgot I wasn’t already on probation and was late getting back to my internship today because of him. I rolled my eyes and slapped my hands on the granite counter top in a huff.

  “Use that beautiful head of yours to think about that again, Spencer. Why would I have to withdraw from school?” I asked him.

  I narrowed my eyes on his. I had to ignore the sexy body that now rested against the counter top. His arms crossed over his chest, making his muscles bulge. I didn’t want to, but I watched as the size of him widened even more as he took in a deep breath. Focus, Beth! That sexy, mound of muscles just lost you your dream job!

  “You’re blaming this on me?” he asked, pointing the wooden spoon at himself.

  “You’re damn right I’m blaming this on you!”

  “Would you like me to call them?” he asked.

  Is he kidding me right now? Call them? Like I’m a little kid, and he’s calling to tell them I deserve to be excused for my absence?

  “Wrong thing to say, Salvatore.”

  “Why is it wrong? I’ll talk to them, and you’ll have your internship back and be re-enrolled in school within the hour.”

  He grabbed for his phone that was sitting on the island in front of me. I reached across the island, or more appropriately belly flopped on it, and snatched his phone before he could take it.

  “What makes you think you can fix any of this? You can’t just wave your hand and have everything go back to normal--there is no normal with you,” I ranted as I slid back off the counter and waved his phone in the air. I regretted it the minute it left my lips. I watched as my words hit him like a slap to the face. “You know what I mean,” I said, trying to recover from my major flub.

  He didn’t say anything, just nodded and turned back to the stove to stir his gravy.

  I found myself apologizing and trying anything I could to get him to turn around and speak to me--until I realized that I came here pissed off at him and he should have been the one apologizing to me, not the other way around.

  Why did I feel bad? He was the one who screwed my career up!

  “You done?” he asked when I had shut up. He was facing me again.

  I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms, and popped my hip out. I didn’t have to say anything. My stance did all the talking.

  “Move to New York with me?” He’d done it again, that ask/demand way that he always spoke to me.

  I felt my mouth hang open as my face scrunched up. “What?”

  “You don’t have anything to do here, you’ll be alone--I don’t want you alone, I want you by my side. I can’t stay here any longer. I need to get back to New York. It’s the hub of all my businesses, and I need to be there overseeing things. I was going to tell you tonight over dinner but now that you’re free to leave, you’re coming with me
.”

  “You want me to move to New York with you?” I asked, using his phone to point to myself.

  “Yes, tomorrow if possible.”

  My mouth fell a little bit wider. Soon it was going to be resting on the counter top, and I was going to need a spatula to peel it off.

  “What would I do there? Where would I live--”

  “With me. You’d live with me of course, you practically do now. I can find you a job--”

  “No! You’re not going to find me a job. I can find a job on my own.” Sure, it would have been easy to take a job from him but this was me we were talking about--stubborn, feisty me. I was not going to take a hand out from anyone, especially my super-hot, super-rich, super-everything boyfriend.

  “If that’s what you want, fine but know I can pull a few strings and get you something at the library in New York, all you have to do is ask.”

  I was too pigheaded and stuck in my ways to accept any help, even if I needed it. I nodded anyway. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

  I fake-smiled at him and was shocked when he smiled back. Usually, a smart ass remark like that had me walking on eggshells with him, but he just smiled and shook his head.

  “Now that that’s all settled, I’ve been holding dinner over an hour, are you ready to eat?” he asked, talking over his shoulder as he added pasta to a pot of boiling water.

  “I think I’m just going to have a salad.”

  His shoulders fell, and he turned back to me slowly. I assumed he was staring at me, but I wouldn’t know because I was picking at the counter top.

  “What’s the matter now?” he asked.

  I gave in and glanced up. Was I hungry? Yes. Did pasta sound amazing? Yes. But I had, in not so many words, just agreed to move to New York with him. The media was going to go haywire, not only from that but I knew that Nick had given all of his findings about Spencer to Fame, and it was only a matter of time before that got out as well.

  I was going to be living under an even bigger microscope. People were going to be judging me on everything, and I didn’t want my size or weight to give them any more ammunition than they already had. So how did I tell that to him? The man who always made me feel the right size, the perfect weight. There was no way that he was ever going to understand that.

  “Nothing, I just want a salad.”

  “To start with?” he asked, confused by my request.

  In the time that we had been together, I didn’t change who I was, not in my stubbornness, my ramblings, or in my day to day, which included the way I ate. I loved food, but I never changed because I was with him and suddenly afraid of what he might say if I had dessert at the end of dinner or ate two rolls instead of just one. He made me feel comfortable, so it was a change for him to hear me just ask for a salad.

  “No, just a salad for dinner,” I answered.

  “Are you sick?” he asked in all seriousness.

  “No, I’m not sick. I just want to cut back on the carbs that’s all.”

  There was a shield going up between us. The more I lied, the higher it went. But he lied and kept things from me all the time, about more serious things than my eating habits.

  “Since when do you care about carbs?”

  Is he kidding me right now?

  “Are you trying to say something?” I only said that to make him feel bad and back off.

  That backfired, of course. He placed his spoon down on a paper towel and walked away from the counter. He strode over to me, all Greek God like, just like he always did. His muscles flexed in his chest and arms as he stood in front of me. He smelled amazing, he looked amazing. He jumped up on the island counter and leaned over, resting his elbows on his thighs. He folded his hands but left his index fingers out. He placed them over his lips. A few strands of hair fell out of place as he studied me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Get over here.”

  I took a hesitant step forward. He moved his elbows off his thighs as he reached for me. His hands gripped my waist and pulled me so I was standing between his legs.

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe this, but I don’t care what your dress size is. What I do care about, is that you’re happy. I understand you don’t like the media. We’ve had many lengthy conversations about it, but it’s part of my job, part of my life.”

  “That’s not why--”

  He cut me off by placing a singer finger over my lips. “It is why. I thought we weren’t lying to each other anymore?”

  Damn--

  “You don’t know what it’s like--” I began to say, but he put his finger back over my lips.

  “Yes, I do. Remember, they’ve been following me long before they even knew who you were. Why do you think I look like this?” he asked, gesturing down to his perfectly tanned muscles.

  “Because you’re trying to impress me?” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  He cracked a smile and shook his head. “I do this to make my business look good. I look good, the clubs look good, I get paid.”

  “You mean you don’t get up at five in the morning to work out for me?” I said jokingly.

  “Not a chance, baby. But I don’t want you to have to worry about it. I want you to be happy. And I know what makes my woman happy.” He winked.

  “Oh and what’s that?” I asked, leaning back from him.

  “A plate full of my amazing spaghetti, which I slaved over all afternoon, that’s what.”

  “This has been one hell of day. I get fired, drop out of school, I’m apparently moving to New York--tomorrow--and I get to end it with your ‘amazing spaghetti.’”

  “No. You get to end the day with dessert.”

  “What’s for desert? You?” I said it as a joke but the sexy stare I was getting was anything but a joke. “Can we skip the spaghetti and just have desert. I have a feeling it’s going to be less carbs.”

  He reached around me, grabbing my ass, and pulled me till I was flush against him and the counter. Kissing me, he lifted his hand from my ass and held onto my neck. “You can have whatever you want.”

  Chapter 16

  I had my dessert first that night. It was delicious and, as I suspected, no carbs. The next few days were a whirlwind of packing, getting depressed, getting excited, and getting depressed again. I had to tell my brothers I was moving in with Spencer, which of course went over like a fart in church. It brought on more arguments and another bought of depression, but they got over it. They couldn’t change my mind and, after about two hours of them trying to talk me out of it, they finally gave up.

  Gia was excited I was moving to New York, not so excited I was moving in with Spencer. She still blamed him for the whole Teddy fiasco. Overall, it was an emotional rollercoaster getting from DC to New York. But I made it, all size twelve of me.

  I wasn’t even fully unpacked before I was informed that I had to get dressed up for some restaurant opening that Spencer and I were to attend. Gone were the days I could just sit around in my PJs on a Friday night. I was expected to be seen with him in all public settings, but if I was being honest, I didn’t mind it, as long as we were together. Plus, if I wasn’t there, the media would have jump on my absence and come up with some wild story about why I wasn’t with him.

  I knew that moving with him--hell, being with him--was going to change my life. I wasn’t use to having people bring me dresses and fix my hair and make-up. Actually, I didn’t think anyone was, unless they were a movie star, and I was far from a movie star. Spencer had hired a whole team to make me camera ready, because he knew I hated it. It took the stress off of me, and I was grateful for that.

  Since moving to New York with Spencer, things had been good. I didn’t know how he did it but the information that was leaked about his past barely made a blip on the social media radar. The story broke on a Monday, and by Wednesday it was old news, thanks to the complete mental breakdown of some movie star.

  Most of our evenings were spent between attending openings for night time hot spo
ts, restaurant, and charity events. Now that the world knew Spencer had gone to my family’s charity event, he was expected to attend every single one that he could.

  He blamed this on me, of course.

  “Why don’t we just stay home? We don’t have to go,” I moaned from under the covers.

  It was rainy and cold out, and I refused to get out of bed that day. It wasn’t like I had to. I still didn’t have a job or...well, anything going on. At that point in my life, I was strictly an accessory on Spencer’s arm, which wasn’t too bad, except on rainy, cold days when I didn’t want to get out of bed.

  “You got us into this, so you have to go,” he said, drying his hair with a crisp white towel.

  “How did I get us into this?” I asked, outraged that he would blame this on me. He was the celebrity, not me.

  “If you wouldn’t have been so damn cute in that elevator at your brothers office, I wouldn’t have come to your little charity event--”

  “Little? That hurts, Salvatore. That charity event is the talk of the town, I’ll have you know!”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. It was the talk of your little town.”

  I tossed a pillow at his head, but he caught it, totally defeating the purpose of me throwing it in the first place.

  “Anyway...you were the sexiest, most intriguing woman I’d ever met, and that elevator ride gave me the push I needed to take the steps necessary to see you again. And for the record, no woman has ever mentioned a boyfriend in front of me to intentionally get me jealous.”

  I winked. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

  I was beaming on the inside. This man had become my everything. It scared me to be so wrapped up in him, but I was having the time of my life. A different life--not the one I imagined a year ago, but equally wonderful. I’d navigated far away from the path that I always thought I was going to be on. I used to think that I’d be alone and become consumed in my job, friends, and probably the fifteen cats I was going to purchase, because I didn’t want to be alone. Plus, what went better with being a librarian than cats?