The life I was living now was the dream. The if-I-could-choose-my-own-path-this-is-what-it-would-be life. It would be lying in bed with the man I loved on Sundays and going out and feeling like I was the prize to be won. I was getting so use to going out with him to all these different events. It didn’t bother me anymore because, as long as he was by my side, I didn’t have anything to worry about.
I was learning the ropes and, for the most part, I loved going to the charity events. I found myself going to luncheons and helping out special causes that were dear to my heart. I was using what little fame followed me to do good. I stepped up to be the role model I was afraid to be in the beginning. I was silly for ever thinking I wasn’t capable of doing it. All I had to do was be me, and I could definitely do that.
“You didn’t have to come,” I said, sitting up on my elbows in bed.
“But I did. And now I can’t say no to the...” He picked up the invitation that was on the dresser next to him and read. “The Association for solving homelessness for all animals of New York.” He chuckled as he placed the pamphlet back down on the dresser.
All right, so maybe it was on me. If he gave to one charity and not another, he would get bad publicity and social media would have a field day. Every charity known to man had come out of the woodwork, begging for him to donate to their cause. Thankfully, he drew the line at the association of naked clowns. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to attend that one, even if he donated to it. Better yet, I thought, I’d have to have a serious talk with him if he did.
He was mysterious, but I didn’t think I could handle naked-clown Spencer.
“God forbid, we don’t support the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that live in the sewers of New York,” I mocked.
Spencer’s face lit up with a smile. “I think it’s more for abandoned pets roaming the streets. But I’m not going to lie, I’d definitely support the TMNT if they had a charity event. I’d love to meet Raphael. He was always my favorite.”
“He would be. Must be the whole temper control thing, right?”
“Um, no, it’s because he has cool sias. They’re the best weapon. Are you trying to say something about my temper?”
I busted out laughing and fell back onto my pillow. “You’re funny.” He’s kidding, right? I hope he’s kidding. I felt his presence over top of me and, when I opened my eyes to see his non-smiling face, I thought, Oh, shit, I just stepped on a landmine. I readied myself for an argument.
“You think I have a temper?” he asked from above me.
“Umm...” I didn’t know what to say. One, because I didn’t know if he was being serious and two, because I didn’t want to make things worse with my sarcasm.
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips before they curled up in a sexy smile. “I thought you liked my temper?”
I laughed. “It depends?”
“Hump.” He sat back and tossed the covers off of me. Grabbing my legs, he spun me to the edge of the bed. I gripped the sheets beneath me as he traced his hand between my legs. The boy-short underwear I had on was removed.
I sucked in, lifted my hips, stretched my body, and prayed to the heavens above that I looked as good as I was imagining I did.
Mid-stretch I received a full on palm-to-ass smack on my right ass cheek. “Ouch!” I shifted away from his hand. “What the hell?”
I tried to sit up, but thought better of it because it was daylight, and I was naked under a freak of nature that only had a towel around his hips. I made the wrong choice of glancing down at his perfect twelve pack abs and swore to myself, in that moment, that I was going to exercise later.
“This is what you do to my temper,” he said as the towel loosened from his hips and fell to the floor. He took himself in his hand and grazed against the inside of my thigh.
“You didn’t have to smack me,” I shouted.
He grabbed my hips and tugged me closer. “I did and you know why.”
My legs wrapped around him, and he pounded into me. I sucked in as he hovered over top of me. Again, he smacked my ass. I gave an excited squeal. A bad habit I was still trying to break had me arching my back and, although he didn’t stop moving over me, he smacked my ass again a little harder than before. This time, I lifted my head to look at him. He had this smug expression as he kept at it. I couldn’t take the sexy smug look any longer or I might have exploded right there. My head fell back. I reached above me and grabbed the sheets. He smacked the side of my thigh as I sucked in again.
Then he just stopped, and I was reduced to begging when he pulled out. “All right! Okay, I’ll stop!”
“See, I knew you liked my temper.”
The confident bastard new me too well, another reason I was falling for him.
“What about all the homeless animals? We’re going to be late if you keep smacking my ass like you’ve been doing,” I asked, grinning up at him.
“Screw ’em! I’d rather screw you.” He gripped my legs and continued on. We missed the event and ended up paying for it the next day. The media had a field day. He was ridiculed for not caring about animals. They even went as far as to say that he was for the killing of all strays.
Needless to say he spent the next week cleaning up the mess that we both made. From that event on, we didn’t miss one.
***
“I can’t sit in here one more day,” I huffed from the bed as Spencer got dressed.
“Are you ready for me to make a call?” he asked as he buttoned his shirt.
“No!”
He reached in his huge closet and grabbed a tie. “Then stop complaining. You’ve been here two whole months. That’s plenty of time to get adjusted.”
I fell back in bed, pulling the covers with me. “I’m not that desperate,” I called from under the covers. I heard footsteps getting closer and the covers flew off of me. “Hey--”
“If you’d stop being so stubborn, you would be getting ready for work this morning too.” Spencer kissed my forehead then tossed the covers back over my face. I sat up and threw a pillow at him.
I hate it when he’s right.
I’d been staying in, reading a few books--okay I read thirty-four books in one month. I had a lot of time on my hands. I did go to visit Gia. We’d go to dinner once a week, but that was about it. She was swamped with her new life, and I didn’t want to get in the way of it. There was a moment about two weeks in to my self-lock-up, that I thought about giving in and asking Spencer to get me a job. But the stubborn, pigheaded side of me won out again.
I found myself taking everything out on him. I’d complain about not being able to finish school, then I’d yell at him till I was in tears because I’d lost my dream job. But every time, he’d sit with me and take it. He’d take it all in silence--the ill wishes, the threats. And then he’d hold me till I calmed down.
We’d grown so much closer since we’d moved to New York--or maybe I had. I’d opened up to Spencer about any and everything. Stop lying. Okay I hadn’t told him about my parents, not in depth at least. All he knew was that they died in a car accident when I was little. He didn’t know any other details. That was all about to change, though.
It was their wedding anniversary the night that I decided to tell him everything. I was lonely and missing my family. Teddy was in LA, Gran was at the beach, and Charles was always jet-setting around.
Spencer and I were sitting on the couch. My feet were resting on his thighs. He was reading some papers for work as I watched my guilty pleasure TV.
I sat up, moving my feet from his lap, and turned the TV off. “Can we talk?”
He put his papers back in their manila folder and turned to face me. “Of course. But if you’re going to start yelling at me at least let me get a drink first.”
I hit his shoulder. “Not funny. I’m serious. I want to tell you a story of sorts.”
“A story?”
“Yeah, I want to tell you about my parents.”
He sat up a little straighter. I couldn’t tell if he
was eager to hear about my parents, or maybe he was expecting that I’d want to know about his family, his real family, in return.
“You’ve never talked about your parents before. What’s bringing this on?” he asked in a business-like fashion.
“I just want to tell you about them. I miss them and I’m pissed off that they never got the chance to meet you or me. You know they died when I was only two--”
“I know. But why now?” His voice changed, his demeanor changed. He was on edge. The veins in his neck began to throb. If I had been a vampire, I could have easily gone for the jugular.
I sat on the edge of the couch and stared at him. “I told you I miss them. I want to talk about them, remember them.”
He raked his hand through his hair before holding his hand out between us and resting it on my knee. “I’m sorry. Tell me about them.”
I took his hand in mine and studied him a moment. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he always surprised me.
“The earliest memory I have of them is watching them walk out the front door. It’s one of those fuzzy memories where you can see outlines but not sharp details. I remember the color green. My mother was wearing a long green dress. I remember her turning back to me at the door and blowing me a kiss...” I drifted away into the memory, like I always did. It was the only thing I remembered about them.
“I remember my father was tall. Or maybe he just seemed tall because I was so young. Anyway, when he’d toss me in the air, I remember feeling like I was able to touch the sky. I’m sure you have a memory like that, too,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
In the months that I’d been with Spencer, I learned that his face couldn’t lie to me and the night I asked him if he had a memory like the one I had of my father, his smile was a lie. It wasn’t genuine. It was forced and uncomfortable.
“That’s a beautiful memory, Elizabeth,” he said, ignoring my rhetorical question.
I didn’t mean to pry or to have him tell me anything about his past. It kind of just happened.
“Anyway,” I said. “They were on their way to a charity event when it happened. Halloween was a few days away, so it was a costume party. Someone came across the median in traffic and ran into them head on. They never made it to the party.”
I felt Spencer stiffen next to me.
“You said you were two correct?” he asked in a rush.
“Yeah, I was two, I’m sure what I’m remembering is from a picture or something. I know it’s really crazy to think a two-year-old could remember anything, why do you ask?”
“Where were they going?” he asked--demanded.
“To some party. They were always going out, or so my brothers told me.”
“Think, Elizabeth, where were they going, what direction?
“I--I don’t know. I was two, Spencer. I didn’t really have the four-one-one on them.”
“Well, you need to think harder.”
“Where is this coming from? I don’t get it? Why is it so important to kn--”
“Just try to think, please. Where were they going? Into the city? Somewhere in the suburbs?”
He was acting crazy, like a crazy person had taken over his body and made him paranoid. I sat back and searched through all my memories of that night. I glanced at Spencer and watched as his eyes went wide. He must have thought I came up with something but honestly I couldn’t come up with any other facts about that night.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” I said, shrugging my shoulders, nervous that this might make him fly off the rails.
“What about your brothers? They were older. They might know, right? Was it in the papers or covered in the news?”
“I guess...well, now that I think about it, I’ve never seen a newspaper clipping or anything like that.”
Spencer was reaching for my phone that was sitting on the coffee table in front of us before I even finished talking. He shoved it into my hands and urged me to call one of my brothers.
“Why is this so important? Does it have something to do with--” Again, I was cut off.
“I need to know. I want to know all the details. It’s important to you, so now it’s important to me.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Spencer.” I dropped my shoulders and let my hands fall into my lap with the phone still in them. “I just wanted to tell you about who they were. It’s not important to know every horrible detail about that night, that’s not why I was telling you.”
He leaned in and took my hands harshly in his. That crazed look was still in his eyes. “I understand that, but maybe I can help you get some closure. Maybe we can find the person responsible.”
“That’s pointless.”
“Why--why is it pointless?”
“Because the person who hit them is dead. It was some crazy lady who was drunk or something. I don’t know her story, but there’s no point in blaming anyone if the sole person who caused the accident is dead, the same as my parents.”
Spencer dropped my hand and sat back against the couch. He stared straight ahead and went into zombie mode. All I’d wanted to do was to tell him about how awesome they were. I didn’t, in a million years, expect him to act like this.
He turned his head so fast I thought he was going to have whip lash. “Was there anyone else in the car with her?”
With my heart racing at his sudden movement and my eyes wide with shock, I knew for sure there was something else entirely going on. I sat there studying him, shaking my head to answer his question.
“Are you sure?”
“Spencer, you’re really starting to scare me now. What is going on?”
“Nothing. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? I have a ton of work I need to get through.”
He reached for his manila folder and stood from the couch. I pulled my legs up and crossed them underneath me. I shook my head then grabbed the pillow next to me and placed it on my lap. Leaning over, he kissed the top of my head before turning tail and heading into his office.
I knew about his adoptive family and the problems that he had with his temper, but he still had yet to open up fully. We had come so far in such a short time. If we did argue, it was over petty things, things that, in the long run, didn’t really matter. Maybe it had to do with me accepting who I was now that I was with him, or maybe it was him finally letting his wall down.
Since we had been living together, he was telling me stories about growing up with three younger sisters. He’d tell me about each of them and how, one day, he’d like me come and meet them. He told me how having them in his life helped him to move on. He was protective over them, and I wouldn’t expect anything less. We would talk for hours about our childhoods, but he only talked about life after he was adopted, never before. I knew everything there was to know about Spencer Salvatore age eight to now. Well, I thought I did.
I guess I couldn’t blame him. Where he refused to talk about a past he wished to forget, I’d kept mum about my parents because I thought that if I ever brought them up, he’d pull back from me, like he just did. Our parents weren’t something either of us talked about. He referred to his adoptive parents as Ellen and James, never Mom and Dad. And I only spoke of Gran and my brothers.
I figured he was insecure about it. I had this image that maybe he was impoverished, possibly even lived on the streets.
The thought of Spencer as a small boy, cuddled in a blanket, sitting outside of an abandoned building, shivering, was one of the many images I had of him.
I went to bed that night alone. On my way, I stopped by his office to see if he was coming to bed. He was on the phone when I walked in and, instead, of the usual smile that appeared on his face when I walked into a room, he averted his eyes and continued talking and writing something down.
I strode in and stood at his desk. He immediately turned a few papers over and closed a folder.
When he hung up the phone, he looked up at me. “Do you need something?” he asked.
It wasn’t h
arsh or mean, but it was cold, and it made me feel unwanted.
“I’m just heading to bed. I wanted to say goodnight.” I picked at his desk while I waited for a response. When the seconds turned into a minute, I cleared my throat. “Are we okay?”
He rubbed the scruff along his jaw line and suddenly came back from Crazy-Ville. He shook his head and looked up at me for the first time since I entered the room. The lips I loved kissing turned up and that megawatt smile lit me up like it always did.
“Of course, we’re okay.”
“You were acting a little weird. I just...I don’t know what I thought.”
“You don’t have to think. I’m in this, you’re in this. I just have a lot of work to get through. I’m sorry if I came across a little harsh.” He was talking at me, like I was a business opportunity that he didn’t want to lose.
“Does this have anything to do with earlier, my parents, maybe your past? I know that, that’s crazy. You were...what?...eight, not like you knew them or anything. I just don’t want to pressure you. I can be kind of a pressure cooker when I want to. Maybe I should look into being a reporter, I am pretty good at getting information out of people...well, everyone but you--”
“Elizabeth, you’re rambling,” Spencer said, cutting me off with a clip to his voice.
“Oh, right, I’m sorry if me talking about my parents brings up stuff about your own.” I said it all sorts of sarcastically, because that’s what I did when I went on the defense.
“It doesn’t,” he said ruthlessly.
“Okay, calm down. I won’t talk about it anymore. Clearly, it’s a sore subject.” I turned from his desk and started walking to the door.
“Elizabeth, stop.”
“Whatever, Spencer, I’m going to bed.”
With that I left the room and slammed his office door behind me. Ooo, he could still make me so mad sometimes! I stormed down the hall toward the bedroom. I was two steps from entering when I heard his office door open and slam shut again. I was struck with the sight of him rushing toward me.
Mended-Hearts Page 11
