by K Larsen
We reach the reception thirty minutes later. Dom introduces me to his parents--who couldn't care less about making my no-name acquaintance--his aunt and uncle and some other business associates. Slipping into a role I thought I’d long forgotten, I schmooze along with him, speaking when spoken to, and providing a pleasing view for his friends. My shoulders ache from holding my posture so rigid for the last hour. Dom hands a glass of wine to me and whispers in my ear, “Just be yourself.” I smirk at his comment as I throw my head back and let entire glass of wine rush down my throat.
“Easy, Clara,” he warns.
“I just needed to take the edge off,” I claim.
We sit at a table with some friends of his from Princeton for the four-course dinner, and like the other three women at the table I say little as the men dominate the conversation with business chatter. People stop by to chat with Dom here and there and I don’t miss the snotty looks I get. One woman even made a crack about how trashy tattoos were, having clearly seen I had one. I’d opened my mouth to give her a piece of my mind but then snapped it shut, not wanting to embarrass Dom who ignored the comment. By the time the music started I was more than ready for a break and practically begged Dominic to dance with me. That's another thing--I was instructed to not call him Dom tonight. It had irked me but I had acquiesced, slipping only once at the beginning of the evening. He takes my hand gently and leads me to the dance floor as a traditional waltz starts. I place my arm on his bicep as his hand comes to the small of my back. My other hand rests in his and he looks surprised that I know what to do. He glides us effortlessly around the floor and the steps rush back to me, making it easy to keep up. His grin screams pride as he looks at me but all I feel is fake. Being here in this situation, on his arm, is stressful for me. It’s a minor glimpse into the future if we were to have one and it makes me sad because I know wholeheartedly that I hate this kind of scene.
Of course I can act the part, and pretty damn well for being out of the game for nine years, but it leaves a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach; this isn't me. We continue dancing to the next song which calls for the fox trot and as it comes to a close Dom’s eyes cloud over when he looks at me.
“What's wrong?” he asks, clearly perplexed. I sigh and shake my head.
“Nothing. Everything’s wonderful.”
Apparently he can see right through my mask. He frowns at me and leads us off the dance floor. He gets me another glass of wine and we sit at our table with our drinks and chat quietly.
“You look miserable, Clara,” he states.
“I...it's not you. It's this,” I say, looking around the grand ballroom. “I have to be someone else...pretend...be fake. And honestly it makes me ill. This isn't who I am,” I explain. He holds my gaze as he digests my words.
“I didn't realize it affected you so much. You blend right in.”
I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not but I let it go.
“I had training and practice,” I say in a deadpan tone.
“Yes. Apparently,” he grimaces. The band plays a more popular slow song. “Care to dance, Ms. Lord?” He extends his hand to me. I nod, take his hand, and follow him gracefully to the dance floor again. Holding me close, I rest my head on his chest and let him move us languidly around the dance floor. This is nice. This is real. He holds me possessively and brushes his thumb back and forth at the base of my spine. I sigh with contentment at our fleeting moment of truth amid all the lies surrounding us.
“One more,” I whisper at the start of the next song. He squeezes me tight.
“Anything for my, Clara.” I smile into his chest at the endearment and enjoy the dance.
“Can I get you something else?” he asks on our way back to the table. I nod and release his hand so he can go to the bar. Collapsing into my seat rather ungracefully, I blow out a breath, sending my bangs flying. Dominic appears, drink in hand, moments later as a small crowd of guests shuffles by.
“Jade? Jade McQueen, is that you?” The bride herself stops and scrutinizes my face in disbelief. My heart pounds frantically in my chest, so loud I’m sure they can hear it, as I stare up at Alexandria Macworth in horror. Unable to form words, I remain seated and silent as she stares at me, wide-eyed.
“Daniel! Daniel dear, come here!” she shouts through the crowd. My blood runs cold as his name leaves her lips. How could I have forgotten her? We'd met at a Harvard mixer when Daniel and I first began dating. My survival instinct kicks in and without hesitation I stand from my seat, preparing to leave, causing as little damage as possible.
“Alexandria, you're stunning. I hate to run but I must leave.” I don't even sound like myself as the words exit my mouth. Alexandria stares, gaping at my rudeness. Dominic stands next to me looking completely befuddled and worried and I know what I’m about to do is going to piss him off royally.
“Dominic. It’s been lovely,” I say and kiss his cheek. I turn to exit, prepared to sprint if necessary, and get three steps away before he snags my arm. Spinning around I hiss at him: “Let me go.”
I watch as Daniel arrives at Alexandria’s side. His eyes bug out when she says my name and he moves to peer around Dominic. It’s too late to run so I step into Dominic’s arms and bury my face in his neck. I can't stop the shaking and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating. “Dom, please get me out of here,” I plead wildly. Daniel claps Dom on the back.
“Dominic, who’s your date?”
My body shudders involuntarily at the sound of his voice before I go rigid. Sensing my fear, Dom’s arms wrap around me protectively and I bury my face deeper into his neck and squeeze myself tightly to him wishing I could literally morph into his body to disappear.
“Daniel,” he greets. “I’m sorry but I think Ms. Lord’s had too much to drink. I should get her home.” Gallantly scooping me into his arms bridal style, he carries me outside, only setting me down to call the car. I remain face-planted in his chest and quiet.
“We're alone, Clara.” His tone has an edge to it.
Reluctantly I pull away and look up at him. “Care to explain?” he asks, irritated.
My shoulders slump as I exhale. One night in his world and my carefully crafted life is about to shatter at my feet. “Not really,” I reply as the adrenaline of seeing Daniel dissipates and tears begin streaming down my impeccably made-up face.
By the time we're in the car I'm sobbing uncontrollably. Dom sits in silence next to me, waiting for answers, when all I want are his arms to comfort me. I get no comfort though. I embarrassed him in front of his peers; I know the game he plays and being embarrassed is a definite strike. Gathering myself up, I wipe my eyes dry and look at him. His jaw is taut and his teeth are clenched. I sigh, realizing that no matter how much I want him to be different, he's not. He may be kinder than Daniel but beyond that their breeding dictates their actions. It’s ingrained in them.
“Driver. Please bring me to the airport,” I call through the intercom.
“Clara!” Dom barks.
I sniffle and wipe my eyes. “I need to get home,” I plead quietly. He stares at me a long while.
“We’ll take my plane,” Dom says softly and touches my knee. It doesn't feel good or special anymore. I’m too tired to argue so I nod in agreement and stare out the window.
* * * * *
“We’re here.” I’m gently shaken awake. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up and stretch. I follow Dom’s lead, exiting the plane and hop into the waiting car. The second the driver pulls onto the road I drift back to sleep, completely drained. The smell of bacon wakes me up. I’m in my bed at home. I have no recollection of getting here but I am and I’m alone. I breathe a sigh of relief at the familiar surroundings and hop out of bed to find Sawyer.
“What happened?” Sawyer growls in the kitchen.
“She came to a wedding with me, the bride recognized her and called her Jade McQueen.” Dom’s voice fills the kitchen. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“So?” Sawyer sounds pissed but cu
rious.
“She flipped out. The bride seemed sure though and called over our friend Daniel, I assume because he knew her as well. I’ve never smelled fear before but I understand the saying now. Clara was terrified of him. She clung to me like a two-year-old.”
I peek around the corner. Sawyer’s jaw is clenched, his knuckles white as he grips the countertop.
“Daniel who?” he grits out. This is bad.
“Daniel Hollingsworth. Why?”
“God dammit!” Sawyer roars. Allie sneaks up behind me and pokes my back, making me jump.
“Alliecat. Hi. Morning, love,” I squeeze her to me.
“Why’s Sawyer yelling?” she asks curiously.
“Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s okay,” I soothe as we step around the corner into the kitchen. Both men eye me carefully. “Morning boys,” I greet them.
“Alliecat, breakfast's ready,” Sawyer says and calms himself, knowing the conversation's over, what with Allie here. The tension in the room is suffocating though and I’m sure Allie notices.
“Mr. Napoli! Hi!” Allie squeals, noticing him. He chuckles and wishes her a good morning. Dom looks tired. I wonder if he slept at all last night and where he slept. Sawyer moves around the counter and tugs my arm, wanting me to follow him.
“Allie, come eat with me,” Dom offers and Allie is all too happy to oblige. I follow Sawyer to my room and shut the door.
“Did he see you?” The vein in Sawyers neck is bulging and I can’t stop looking at it.
“I don’t think so,” I admit.
“Damnit Clara!” he barks.
“I know! I’m sorry.” And I am. I let my guard down in a momentary lapse of judgment and it almost ruined everything. Everything.
“You went to a wedding with him?” He changes the subject, looking like I just killed his puppy.
“Yes,” I answer so quietly I can barely hear it myself. He shakes his head and his expression turns hard.
“I can’t do this,” he says and my panic flares at his tone.
“Do what Sawyer?” I push, hoping he isn’t about to say what I know he is.
“This....” he gestures between us. “You and me. I love you, Clara. I know you know. Every time things get good for us you stomp all over it. My heart...” His voice cracks and I want to reach out and comfort him but I don't. “It can’t take it anymore. You’re either all in or out completely. Choose. I’ve let you string me along for years and it has to stop.” His tone has finality to it like I’ve never heard before and it scares me. I can’t lose him. It would crush me. It would crush Allie. How am I supposed to choose between these men? Sawyer is my family and I do love him but Dominic consumes my heart in ways Sawyer can't and I don’t know why yet. I need them both but I don't know how to stop this tug of war in my heart.
“I’m all in Sawyer,” I blurt before I can think better of it.
“All in huh?” Dom’s voice is low and full of disappointment. My heart cracks in my chest and freezes, refusing to pump. “Dom,” I croak, my eyes pleading with his to understand.
“Enough.” He holds a hand up, silencing me. “I’m done,” he murmurs before stepping into the hall and disappearing. Sawyer stares at me, waiting for my reaction but I won't let there be one. I have to let Dominic Napoli go, it’s the only logical choice. I wait until Sawyer leaves the room to break down and I do it quietly so he won’t hear me.
Reckless
I’m definitely in a funk. Ever since the wedding I've been paranoid and have become hyper vigilant about being aware of my surroundings and who might be lurking around. Dom has not sent flowers, he’s not called, and he hasn't made his final appointment for his tattoo. Things between Sawyer and I are strained at best. I’ve hurt him too many times and we both know I chose him for the wrong reasons. He’s distant and moody, like me, and I can't bridge the gap between us. It’s terrifying.
To think that in mere months I’ve lost two men I love seems impossible, yet here I am, living with one who loves me for me and my daughter, too, and pining for the other, who doesn't fit into my world at all. Even my Wednesdays at the school with the chorus kids don't brighten my spirit lately. I’ve officially fucked myself. True to Dom's word, no pictures from the wedding surfaced of me and my name wasn’t mentioned. It must have been his last act of generosity towards me because there were definitely lots of flashes going off that evening. I silently stalk him once in a while on the internet, checking out pictures from various functions he attends then quickly delete my internet history because I’m sure Sawyer would be pissed. Sometimes I open the jewelry box and let my fingers graze the diamond butterfly pendant while memories flood my mind.
I’ve been restless. My days consist of going to work, being a mom, directing the chorus, and more work. Our age-old routine seems dull and boring lately. June feels like a lifetime ago. Everything's as it should be. We both go to work. We have dinner as a family, we help Allie with her homework, and attend school functions together. I couldn't want anything more out of family life. I shouldn’t want anything more. This is what I’ve strived for. Sawyer’s considerate of my wants and needs. He adores Allie and he is definitely affectionate and thoughtful. Still, everything feels wrong, off...fake. And it’s my fault. I furiously clean the shop or the house to keep my mind from dwelling too much on the choice I’ve made because I should be happy with it. For Allie and Sawyer, I have to be happy with it.
“Clara. Come sit,” Sawyer calls. I scrub the stain on the countertop a little harder.
“In a minute,” I mumble as I continue scrubbing vigorously.
“Clara,” he calls again a few moments later. I ignore him and continue my chore.
“Goddammit. Stop cleaning!” His hand covers mine, stilling my movements. “Just chill out,” he says softly. He tugs me away from the kitchen so I follow him to the living room and try not to fidget as we snuggle and watch some TV together.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say a little too brightly.
“You’ve been cleaning non-stop for weeks...and you don't clean,” he says knowingly. I grumble under my breath at his stupid observation.
“Spring cleaning?”
“Clara. You’re restless,” he states.
“I’m fine. I definitely not restless,” I fire back indignantly.
“You’re unhappy,” he says flatly. “With me.”
“Sawyer, I love you. Don’t push this,” I say rather defensively. He sighs before turning off the TV and standing.
“I don't know what to do to fix us,” he exhales dejectedly and walks away. Well, shit, him and me both. I listen as his footsteps stomp up the stairs and his door opens and closes. God help me because I’ve seriously screwed up. I’m not sure there is a fix this time.
And that’s how, eight months after swearing to Sawyer that I’m all in, I’m currently thirty thousand feet in the air on my way to Miami. I left him a note saying that I needed a week to think things through. I’d kissed Allie in the middle of the night, set the note on the counter for him, and caught a red-eye flight. Impulsive, YES. Irresponsible, SURE. Necessary, PROBABLY. Going to end badly, most likely. Does any of that matter to me? No. I decided that I can't please everyone so this week my only goal is to please me. I’m a selfish cow but I can’t seem to help it.
I check into the Hilton, toss my shit on the bed, turn my phone off, and crash for a solid eight hours. After waking and lazily lying in bed for another hour, okay, two, it's three in the afternoon on Friday and I'm starving. I order room service and rent a movie to occupy my time while I debate whether or not I can actually go through with my plan. Deux opens at nine. I have no idea if Dominic will be there then but the rags reported he'd be in Miami this week so I assume it’s for work. If I go and if he's there...then what? Will he talk to me or throw me out? What if he's there with someone else? Do I have the balls to approach him? The questions swirl in my head and make me dizzy as I try to imagine every possible outcome and
prepare for them all. At eight I shower and dress. My brown hair is now a deep purple. It looks black mostly but in natural light or the dim lights of a club it glows a sort of eggplant color. I twist it into buns above my ears and slip into the backless black dress I brought before slipping my red cowboy boots on. After lining my eyes with kohl, applying mascara and coating my lips with cherry lip gloss, it's just after nine. I stare at my reflection for a long time before deciding I look good enough. Snatching my clutch from the counter I head out. As I make my way through the lobby my phone chirps it’s text message alert.
Amanda: Where R U?
Why?
Amanda: Sawyer’s going ballistic
I needed some time away to think
Amanda: CLARA
I know!
Amanda: Sort your shit out and get home
Trying
Amanda: You know I love you
I know, thx.
The line to get in is already long and instantly I'm irritated. If I don't get in soon I'll lose my nerve. After mentally kicking myself a hundred times and almost jumping out of line twice I'm next to get in. The bouncer smiles seductively at me and I coyly wink and bat my lashes in return. Like magic he unclips the rope and ushers me inside. Sometimes having a vagina is a good thing.
The bass vibrates the floor and lights strobe rhythmically with the music. Deux is two floors and huge. A shot girl stops next to me. "Want one?" she shouts, gesturing to tubes of liquids in various colors.
"Three!" I shout back. I hand her thirty bucks and tell her to keep the change. They are sticky sweet and just strong enough to take the edge off. I shoot all three in succession and set the empty tubes on a vacant table. Leaning against the wall I scan the club. No Dominic. I head upstairs and find an empty corner to stand in as I search for the tall, dark man who consumes my dreams and drives me insane. The only place I can’t make out is the VIP lounge. Another shot girl saunters by and I grab three more shots of liquid courage from her. Skrillex blares from the speakers. I close my eyes for a moment as my buzz starts to take hold of me. Opening my eyes, I keep them trained on the VIP entrance and move to the middle of the dance floor. No reason I can’t enjoy myself while I'm here. I feel pleasantly loose as I start swaying my hips, bouncing and dipping to the music. Daft Punk comes on and I let the music take over completely, arms in the air, hips rolling, ass shaking and a shit-eating grin on my face. A few different men try to dance with me but I twirl away from them, content in my little bubble of release.
