“Jesus.” I ran my hands through my hair, sweating through the ache and sickness. That was too much.
“The worst part,” Veronica said, “is that it was all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to that stupid party . . .”
“No. God, Veronica, no.” I took her hand. It was colder than the ice outside. “Your mom was sick, and you were just a teenager.”
“Still . . .” She looked down the hall. “She tried to find me when she finally got out of the mental hospital they’d sentenced her to. A few times she did. I don’t know how. I knew she eventually ended up on the streets, and I knew I should help her. But I couldn’t. I’d see Danny’s face . . . picture him alone under that water . . . I couldn’t bring myself to forgive her. I still don’t know if I can.”
“I get that. That’s tough. I guess what it comes down to is, can you blame her for something she had no control over? She didn’t hurt him on purpose. And maybe she’s been punished enough. No matter what happened in the past, after tonight you will probably never get the chance to be near her again, or to forgive her if you can. One of the last things she said to me before she left the shelter was that she loved you, and she wanted you to be happy. She didn’t feel worthy of your forgiveness or love, but she never stopped caring about you.” I stood and stretched my legs. “I won’t blame you if you can’t, though. I’ll let you make the decision. It’s your call.”
She moved her lower jaw back and forth, her eyes on the door of Della’s room. “Would you come with me?”
“Of course.”
I still had her hand in mine. She didn’t pull away as we walked down the hall. If anything, she leaned in closer the nearer we got to her mother’s bed.
Della was still how I’d left her, eyes closed and machines wheezing. I guided Veronica to the bed.
Veronica took a shuddering breath. “Oh, Mom.”
She released my hand and took Della’s instead. Although the hospital had cleaned her mother up a bit, years of dirt still caked her fingernails and lined the cracks in her skin.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran and never listened when you tried to apologize. I’m sorry you have this stupid disorder. I’m sorry it took both your children from you.”
Her legs wobbled, and I pushed the chair under her. She sat, gratefully. “I miss him, Mom. I miss Danny every day. I still remember how it felt to have his warmth next to me as I slept, or how he loved to run around the apartment, roaring like a dinosaur. Being around you . . . even thinking of you . . . it brought it all back, and it was too much. Remembering him was like having a thousand shards of glass slashing into my heart. And I hated you because you could forget him. There were parts of you that didn’t even know he existed. It hardly seemed fair it was all your fault, and you didn’t have to live with the constant pain like I did.”
A clear drop of liquid fell from the corner of Della’s eye, dotting her pillow.
“Oh my God. Bax, can she hear me?”
I stepped forward, studying the older woman’s face. “I don’t know. Maybe. She might know you’re here.”
“I thought you deserved to suffer, Mom. That you needed to pay for what you’d done.” Veronica stroked Della’s hand. “But I guess, in a way, you did pay for it. Losing your children, your home. Living on the streets. The loneliness, the fear. It must’ve been terrifying. No one deserves that. I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have let you live that way. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
Another tear joined the one on the pillow. I squeezed Veronica’s shoulder, urging her to continue.
She chewed her lip, fiddled with her scraped nail polish, and stared at the tears on the pillow. “And”—her voice tightened, like the words had to force their way out—“I . . . I forgive you, for Danny. I know it wasn’t your fault. You were sick. I should’ve been there. I should’ve helped you more. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She gasped as Della’s fingers twitched, then tightened around her finger. Veronica held Della’s hand to her own cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
Della’s hand loosened, and her chest wheezed. Veronica sat back in the chair, and I planted both of my hands on her shoulders, massaging the tension in her neck in slow circles.
“You did it,” I said. “Whatever happens, I think she heard you.”
Neither of us spoke for a long time. Time seemed to both slow down and speed up at once. We kept ourselves awake with horrible vending machine coffee that was only drinkable with at least four packets of sugar in it. I wandered the hospital and brought Veronica the latest issue of Vogue from the hospital gift shop. She flipped the pages almost automatically, barely looking at the words. She never left her mother’s side.
We waited as one by one the machines started to beep. Doctors and nurses rushed in, blurs of white that mingled with the walls and the floors. They yelled and dragged out more machines. They thumped on her chest and listened to her pulse. Eventually, they shook their heads.
Veronica slipped her hand into mine as we left Della in peace in a warm bed. She remained stoic, almost regal in the way she carried herself down the hall. Not a single tear slipped down her cheek.
“You’re her son?” A nurse stopped us on the way to the elevator. Veronica cocked an eyebrow at me, but I nodded. The nurse handed me a plastic garbage bag. “These are her things. They’re mostly dirty clothes and blankets that should be thrown in the trash, but I did find this.” She held out a square piece of paper. “I don’t like to throw out photographs.”
With shaking fingers, Veronica took the picture. A squeak escaped her throat and I peered at the image on her palm. A small blond boy and a dark-haired girl sat in front of a tiny Christmas tree, clasping hands. The photo was worn—the corners rolling toward the center and white lines trailing like veins through the background—but I knew instantly who the children were.
“Thank you,” I said to the nurse. “We appreciate that.”
Veronica didn’t say a word. She stared at the picture the whole way down on the elevator. She handed me her car keys without protest. She didn’t look up from her palm as I drove her home and took her into her loft.
The moment she crossed the threshold, however, something cracked in her façade, like dried mud caking under the sun. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, snaking down her face and staining her cheeks with squiggly lines of mascara. She let out a sob that echoed through the practically empty living room.
Then she collapsed.
Veronica
I didn’t remember falling asleep. I knew Bax had taken me home from the hospital. I knew I had fallen to the floor, still clutching the picture of Danny and me. I knew I’d cried. Rivers of tears. Lakes, entire fucking oceans. Tears I hadn’t let myself shed since the night I’d snuck out via the fire escape and left my mom and the memory of my brother in that tiny apartment.
At some point, Bax had picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. He placed me on the mattress and pulled the blanket up to my chin. Still, the tears came. They came till my pillow soaked through and my throat ached. They came until my eyes swelled and burned. Until every ounce of water was sucked up by the goose down under my head, and I had no choice but to close my eyes.
I awoke in the darkened room, the moonlight a silver thread on my still-damp pillow. I felt exhausted, but lighter than I had in a long time. Like someone had clipped off the anchor I’d dragged around for years.
The glowing red numbers on my nightstand clock told me it was only three a.m., but I could’ve sworn I’d slept longer than a couple hours. It felt more like days or weeks.
A rhythmic rumbling from the corner of the room revealed Bax snoring in an armchair. The moon illuminated his crossed arms and bowed head.
I shuffled out of the room on light feet so I wouldn’t wake him and took a long, hot shower. The water washed away the medicinal scent of the hospital and the sadness that had seeped in
to my bones. I wrapped my fluffy white robe around me and brushed my teeth and combed my hair. Then I tiptoed back into my bedroom.
Bax still snored peacefully, his head rising with every swell of his chest. I stepped closer, remembering how he’d listened as I’d told him about my family, how not a trace of judgment had crossed his features. The gentle way he’d held me while I cried, and how he’d finally carried me to my room and shushed me with soothing sounds until I fell asleep.
I inched close enough to touch him, tracing his jaw and lips with my fingers. His eyes stayed closed, but his breathing quickened, like his mind couldn’t decide if he was still awake or in a dream.
Bending at the waist, I leaned closer, removing my fingers and replacing them with my lips. He grunted as I gently pressed against his mouth and his eyes whipped open, but he didn’t pull away.
I edged in farther, now occupying the space between his splayed knees, and I deepened the kiss. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of him. He tasted like crackers and hospital coffee—like warmth, and a gentle kindness I’d been missing for a long time.
I ran my tongue along his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, inviting me in. He sat straight in the chair now, his hands clasped around my waist, pulling me close. When I finally pulled back, panting, he gasped like I’d been his source of oxygen.
“Veronica, what . . . ?”
“Shhh . . .” I fumbled with the knot of my robe. “I only have two things I need you to agree to, okay?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d agree to anything you asked right now.”
I chuckled. “I need to be in control the whole time. And . . . and if I say stop, we stop.”
“Of course, Veronica. I would never—”
“I know you wouldn’t. And that’s why I want to do this.”
I unlaced the robe and dropped it to the floor.
Bax gasped as I stepped into the patch of moonlight. “My God, Veronica. You’re . . . stunning. But are you sure? What about your whole policy on not sleeping with clients?”
“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure. And after today, you are more than a client to me. Now stand up. I’d like you to be naked, too.”
He stood, cupping my face with his palms. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to do this. Badly. But you’re grieving, Veronica. I don’t want to take advantage of that.”
“This isn’t about grief, Bax.” I pulled his T-shirt over his head and traced the lines of his chest and stomach. “This is about how you cared for my mother last night, for me. About how you’ve never been anything but kind to me, even when I was hurtful toward you.” I undid the button of his jeans and eased the zipper down. “This is about how you gave up everything because you wanted to save everyone else.” I tugged his pants and boxers down and touched his knee so he’d step out of them. “This is because I like you, Bax. I like you more than I thought possible. It’s because I want to be with you. Good enough for you?”
He stood in the light, naked, his eyes never leaving my face, and nodded. “That’s more than enough.”
“Good. Now, lie on the bed, please.”
His lips twitched. “Well, okay. But only because you said please.”
He crawled onto my bed and lay on his back, clasping his hands behind his head so he could see me. I positioned myself beside him, on my side, and propped my head on my hand.
Spreading my palm over his stomach, I gave him a sly grin. “Guys like you aren’t supposed to have abs like this, you know.”
“Guys like me?”
“Normal guys. Guys who don’t play sports, or sing in rock bands, or act in films, or—”
His hand covered mine. “I get it. I’m ordinary compared to the men you’re usually with. Did you get me naked just to insult me again?”
“Sorry, no. Absolutely not.” I met his eyes to see if he was angry, but he winked and my stomach settled.
This was us, our thing. Me pretending to be better than him, and both of us knowing, deep down, it was the other way around.
“Bax?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me. For real this time. No more pretending.”
His hand slid from behind his head and he traced my jaw and neck before moving in.
His lips were soft. They didn’t rush to probe further. Our mouths got to know each other for a few minutes; then, almost shyly, our tongues followed. I moaned into his mouth and pressed against his bare arm. He hummed and stroked the back of my neck as his tongue danced with mine.
Clutching at his hair and running my fingers through the half curls, I slowly laid back on the bed and tugged him down with me until he hovered over my body.
“Bax,” I panted between kisses, “touch me.”
He complied without protest, his hand moving from my neck, down my collarbone, and over my breast. He cupped it, then flicked his thumb over my nipple, making my body shiver with pleasure.
“Is this okay?” he whispered into my neck with heated breath.
I’d been afraid, up until this point, that the next time a man touched me, his hands would become Frank’s, rough and forceful. But Bax’s fingers remained soft and gentle. And they were skilled. Man, he was skilled.
“Yes. Don’t stop. Use your mouth, too.”
His lips were on my breast in seconds, and he sucked and teased me with his tongue while his hand mirrored the movements on the other side. I arched against him, pressing into his palm and mouth. Every inch of my skin ached for his fingers, his tongue. Heat rushed between my legs and I murmured his name and bucked my hips, hoping he’d get the hint.
He did.
He licked my hardened nipple as his hand caressed my stomach and thigh before he slipped one finger inside of me.
“Oh!” I cried, raising my hips to he could probe deeper.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so wet.”
“More, Bax. I need more.”
This was so not me. I didn’t beg men for anything. Usually, it was the other way around. But as much of him as I had, all of him, naked on my silk sheets, I still wanted more. Needed more.
I gasped as he plunged a second finger into me, and I curled my fingers through his hair. My hips rocked against his palm as he slipped in and out. He found my most sensitive spot and teased it with his fingertip. White exploded behind my eyes like a sudden snowstorm, and I cried out as my body shook and trembled with pleasure.
It still wasn’t enough. I had to have more of him. I had to have all of him.
“Bax,” I growled, “get on your back. Now.”
As he did as he was told without a word, watching me with those intense eyes, I rooted in my nightstand and pulled out a foil packet. Bax was so ready for me, I had no trouble pulling the condom on him and ditching the wrapper on the floor in record time.
I swung one leg over his body and slowly lowered myself onto him, exhaling as we became one. He filled every inch of me, as though he was made to do so. After a moment of getting used to the feeling of him inside of me, I began to rock my hips. He grabbed my waist and his ass lifted off the bed as he penetrated even deeper into me. The room spun with heat and ecstasy.
“Fuck, Veronica!” he cried in a choked voice. “Don’t stop!”
Except I did.
I stared down at him, my body frozen, my eyebrows pulling together.
“What?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I whispered. “I just realized . . . you’re the first man to use my real name in bed in a long time.”
He smiled and pulled me down gently, kissing my lips, my cheek, my ear. My breasts pressed against his bare chest.
“If you didn’t feel so freaking good right now,” he said in a throaty voice, “I’d tell you that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. But I refuse to spoil this, so I’m going to say this: Veronica, Veronica, Veronica. I
will say your name, or whisper it, or scream it from a fucking rooftop if that’s what you need from me—as long as I can keep getting to know the real you. You are incredible, Veronica. You’re the strongest, smartest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I’m the luckiest man for knowing the real you.”
Somehow, my heart both ached and warmed at his words. I brushed my lips over his. “Yes, you are. Now, put your hands on me, Baxter Linton. Get to know me even better.”
“I really love taking orders from you.” He grinned. “Especially ones I know I can follow.”
I arched my back to give him access to all of me, rocking slow, then fast, then back to slow as he touched my breasts, my stomach, my hips. One of his fingers touched my most sensitive spot as he cupped my ass with the other hand, guiding me so far onto him, I couldn’t hold on any longer. Our weeks together built up in me as we moved in a synchronized rhythm, faster and faster.
“Yes,” I murmured. “Right. There. Oh God, Baxter. Yes.”
White spots burst behind my eyes as we climaxed together, shouting each other’s names. Bax moaned as I clenched around him with one last shiver and collapsed onto his chest.
As his speeding heart pulsed against my ear, I recalled everything he’d done for me. I ran through every moment where we’d worked, but especially those where we hadn’t. And I knew, without question, that Baxter Linton had just changed everything for me.
Not that I’d tell him that.
• • •
“This would normally be the part where I’d leave,” I said, my head cradled against Bax’s chest. “But seeing as this is my place . . .”
He looked at me over his chin. “Oh, I see how it is. Use me and throw me out like one of your outfits you can’t wear more than once.”
“Exactly.” I traced a circle on his chest, making no move to let him up. He didn’t shift to do so, either. “You’ve been nothing but a piece of man-candy to me since the day we met. Don’t you know that’s the only reason I took the job?”
Dealing in Deception Page 16
