The desperation I saw in him momentarily weakened me. I dug my fingernails into my palms, the pain helping me hold fast to my resolve. I hadn’t cried once in over a week, and I wasn’t going to start now. “I’ve been patient, Toby. Contrary to what you think, I don’t get my jollies by forcing you, feet dragging into an engagement, and then a marriage you honestly don’t want. It’s exhausting being the only adult all the time.”
“Oh, so if you’re the adult in our relationship, that makes me the child?” He inhaled several times like he was about to implode. “These past few weeks made you take a hard look at where we were headed.” He paused in his tirade to fix me with a lethal glower. “This shit got real, and suddenly it became crystal clear what you were signing up for. In your wildest dreams, you never imagined being shackled to guy like me for the rest of your life. A guy who doesn’t have it all figured out yet. Why the hell would you when you can snag a smart, rich fucking doctor like Berger?”
“Stop bringing Andrew into this,” I snapped, my patience tumbling. “What’s happening between us has nothing to do with him.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” He slammed his hand on the table, startling me. “This is all about him or someone like him. I didn’t grow up in a suburban castle like you.” He made a wide, sweeping gesture of my house. “I get dirty when I work. I’ll never have an impressive degree—I never wanted one—but I’ve spent the last few years busting my ass. For you. Trying to be what you need me to be, trying to make you happy. With me, there’s a chance you won’t have this kind of cushy life. With Berger, it’s a fucking slam dunk. I’ll bet he can’t fuck worth a damn, but he sure looks the part of a guy who can make all a girl’s dreams come true.” He pinned me with darkened eyes. “And the best part is your daddy won’t even have to support you.”
I pitched forward, my hand itching to smack the despicable sneer off his face as my anger rushed to strike out against his. “Don’t you dare label me as entitled! I never said I wanted or needed those things.”
His broad shoulders sloped with defeat. “But I’m losing you because I can’t give you those things.”
I wanted his anger. I could put a wall up against it, but I couldn’t lash out at him when his bruised pride hung on display. I bowed my head, refusing to look at him. “No. I don’t need you or any man to give me anything. I can provide for myself.”
“If you don’t need anyone here, Boston sounds like the perfect escape.” He pushed off the table and advanced, his eyes impenetrable dark pools, the wall back up. “Go on, leave. Take the job. No big deal. I’ll find another girl. Someone who doesn’t give a crap about degrees or careers. Just so you know, I won’t have trouble replacing you. I’ll find a woman who’ll treat me like the sun rises and sets on me. Someone who only wants me.”
The floor gave way, and once again, I dropped into the viper pit with him.
“Good! Go out and get her! Go find that woman who will bow to your every whim because I am definitely not her!” I threw my arms out in rage, upending the plastic tumbler my father had left on the counter. The cup spun, spitting out the whole of its contents, raining over the counter and floor and drenching me. It smelled like booze.
I stood there, arms out, stupefied, the heat on my face turning into a blazing squall that amplified through my body at the wet, disgusting smelling mess. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Toby stared, openly shocked at my rare chant of obscenities, before turning to the sink to yank several sheets of paper towels from the roll. I picked up the fallen cup from the floor, and when I stood up, he blotted the wetness from my arm.
“Don’t!” I shoved his hand away.
“Jesus Christ, calm down!”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” I ground out and darted from the room. In the bathroom, I shucked my wet shirt, stopping when I saw my reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at me wasn’t recognizable. Angry and agitated, a real mess with dark, puffy blotches and smeared mascara under her eyes. Who was this bitter stranger? Where had the levelheaded optimist gone?
Toby leaned in the doorway, watching me, arms crossed, cool and indifferent. There was nothing he hadn’t seen, but feeling vulnerable, I pressed a towel to my chest. He moved behind me, our eyes meeting in the mirror. The burning squall from the kitchen returned, and without meaning to, I let out a gasp of air.
“Under that pretty face and soft voice, you’re a force to be reckoned with. I always liked that about you.” His chest came in contact with my back causing a spike of heat to radiate in my chest. Worn out from fighting, I closed my eyes and swayed back against him. The support of his warm solidness felt good, and I wanted to turn around and bury my face into his neck, breath him in, and tell him I was sorry, that I didn’t mean any of what I said or did… but that would only be prolonging the inevitable.
“Your stubbornness is a lit wick to my powder keg temper, and when they come together, it’s explosive.” As he spoke, he pressed his palms to my hips, his long, work-roughened fingers moved slowly over my stomach. They felt hot on my skin, and heat fanned up my neck, engulfing my face.
Rich notes of his familiar musk and bergamot cologne encircled me, and the feel of his large body crowding my small one made me tremble. He pulled the towel away, and in the mirror, I watched his interest flicker to my chest. I held my breath as he skimmed the outline of my bra with his fingers. My state of arousal was revealed in the protrusion of taut nipples against thin silky fabric. Even as I lifted my hands to stop him, down low, a wanton and unexpected beat of need unfurled. Maybe it was the argument and our heightened emotions, but for the first time since the miscarriage, I felt the sharp, distinctive prick of desire. It was like a tidal wave crashing over me, so overwhelming and unexpected, that I was powerless to stop it from dragging me under. Despite everything, I still wanted him. I still craved the feel of his body against mine, hard, durable, and immutable.
He pushed my hair aside, and his warm, shallow breaths tickled my skin, sending quivers down my spine. “Your mouth says go away, but your body says stay,” he whispered before his tongue traced a moist trail up the back of my neck.
I whimpered at his onslaught, my knees practically buckling, and clutched the edge of the sink. With a fierce growl, he spun me around and pushed me back into the vanity. My breath caught as my hip collided with the beveled edge of the countertop, but still, I reached for him. Longing for the taste of him, my only intention to pull his mouth to mine, but he caught my shoulders and held me at bay.
“It’s almost painful the way the need for sex twists you up inside, isn’t it? Especially when you know how fucking good it can feel. You do know now, don’t you, Claudia?” He pressed his forehead to mine. “You know how it feels to reach that high, where everything but that need falls away. I get you there because I pay attention, real close attention. I know what you like because I listen to every sound you make. Every breath. Every little moan.”
He was priming me, something he knew how to do well, and I practically moaned when his hand burrowed under the hem of my skirt. He held my chin firm in one hand, not allowing me to look away, seeking my response as he grazed the inside of my bare thigh with agonizing slowness. My breath hitched in anticipation of him reaching the apex of my legs.
“You still want me, don’t you?” He breathed heavily, not unaffected by our heated tête–à–tête.
I nodded seeing no reason to deny what we both knew to be true.
“Tell me, Claudia, do you think Berger will know how to touch you? Will he pay attention to what you like, like I do? Will you crawl on top of him and get lost in the way he feels inside you? Will he make you so crazy you’ll want to dig your fingernails into his skin like you do mine?”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I tried to pull away. His jealousy was unfounded, but his grip on my chin tightened, locking me in place.
“You made me wait so long to have you I learned how to be patient. I have a lot more control than most guys my age. T
he guy you met two years ago wouldn’t have had the control to turn away from a hot, turned on girl practically begging for it.” His thumb swept heavily over my lips. “Damn, if I gave it to you now, you would feel me everywhere.” The warmth in his tone fell away, and the sultry promise turned bitter with his spiteful smile. “You trained me well. So damn well that I can say no to you, Claudia. And right now I am.”
Suddenly his hands withdrew from me, and then he was gone. I collapsed atop the toilet seat, shamed to silence. The sound of his keys jingled in his hand, and the front door thumped shut.
I bit back my urge to scream and claw the walls and lowered my head between my legs, inhaling and exhaling several times. Once I had the sensation reigned in and boxed up, I switched off the lights in the bathroom and kitchen but skittered to a halt at the sight of a figure prowling at the bottom of the stairway.
“Are you all right?” My mother stepped out of the early morning shadows.
My face burned. “Were you spying on me?”
“I was only in the next room. I heard you arguing.” Her eyes lowered. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
I crossed my arms self-consciously, wondering if she had heard all that had transpired. “I spilt something on it.”
“How was your night with Andrew?” she asked.
My mother was thrilled when Andrew Berger had picked me up at the house earlier that night. Euphoric, like she’d made a multi-million dollar real estate sale, she’d pulled me aside and whispered how attractive he was and that we’d make a good couple, both so like-minded. Of course, she was right. We had similar interests in healthcare and humanitarian movements, and we talked a lot effortlessly. When we walked into the catering hall together, heads did turn. Even on the dance floor with Andrew, it was painless. He touched casually with soft, manicured fingers, smiling with thin lips, his conversation succinct, and in measured tones. I sensed Andrew’s interest in me might be more than the friendly coworker status we shared, and although it was nice to be treated well, I was impassive to it.
For a brief moment, when I had first seen Toby in the parking lot, I’d been happy to see him. I’d missed him until his unchained menacing alter ego let loose on Andrew. How could he be so ignorant of my feelings as to attack my faultless coworker? After losing Bella, all I wanted was to get through a workday, my classes—my daily obligations—in one piece. Without falling apart.
As soon as Toby retreated, Andrew had invited me to come back to his condo for a drink. Feeling badly about what had happened, I’d agreed.
Over a glass of wine, the subject of his new practice in Boston came up. Andrew’s green eyes lit up, and his enthusiasm abounded. He shared his long-term vision for it. His new practice was exactly the kind of place I imagined myself working.
“You know, I’m serious about hiring you. You work on getting that doctorate, and those ideas you’re passionate about, I’ll see they’re built into our program. We’ll get you working with the seniors,” he’d said, squarely hitting my Achilles’ heel. I had wanted but failed to bring them to fruition at Sterling.
“You’re making it hard to refuse.” I rolled back into the supple tan leather of his living room couch.
“Good. I want committed people, like you, working by my side,” he said.
An equal mix of gratification and anxiety comingled in my chest. I was flattered that he thought so much of me. It was an amazing opportunity, but it would demand making some big changes. With everything. I thanked him and promised to give it serious thought.
When we walked to his car, he moved closer, poised with clear intent. The intimacy felt strange, and panicked by the sensation, I drew back.
“Andrew, I hope taking this position with your company isn’t contingent on us—”
“No, of course, not,” he asserted. “I had a great time tonight, Claudia. I enjoy our conversations. If you decide to come to Boston, perhaps we can explore that option.”
I had felt blindsided and irrationally annoyed by the disclosure of his feelings. It was pressure I didn’t need.
My mother stood in the dark awaiting my reply about my night with Andrew. “I should have gone to the party by myself.” I snapped and marched up the stairs.
She followed me into my room. “Why? You deserve a nice man like Andrew. He’ll take care of you.”
I yanked my sleep shirt on and reeled around to face her. “Like Daddy wanted to take care of you?” Mom recoiled slightly, but I felt no remorse. “Mom, you divorced Dad because you wanted to take care of yourself. Why would you think I need, or even want, someone to do that for me?”
“It’s silly, I guess. When I was your age, all I wanted was for someone to take care of me.” Shaking her head, Mom sat down on the edge of the bed. “I met your father in my second year of college. I was only twenty when I met him and flunking most of my classes. I only went to school because all my friends were doing it, but really, I was just wasting your grandparents’ money. They never expected me to amount to much, and I naïvely fulfilled that prophecy.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” I sat down next to her, pulling my knees to my chest. I’d never heard this story before. “Besides, things changed once you met Daddy. What was it like when the two of you met?”
“At twenty-four, your father had come out of the Marines and graduated the police academy, and oh, my!” Mom fluttered her eyelids, coaxing a smile out of me. “In his police uniform, he was the handsomest man I’d ever seen. His posture was perfect, as rigid as a nun’s habit. That should’ve given me an idea of how uptight he was, but he’d been overseas during Desert Storm and seemed so worldly to me like he had it all planned out. He was quite a catch for a girl who had no plans for her future.
“It’s more than a little cliché, but we fell in love overnight. The next week he asked me to dinner with his large, very Italian family.” Mom crossed her eyes.
“Meeting Dad’s family must have been scary,” I said, thinking about how Toby had handled it so well.
“It was, but your Poppy liked me. I quit school, got married, and moved to the sleepy Long Island suburbs, and the rest is history.” Finishing her story, Mom stood.
“What made you decide to divorce him?”
Mom inhaled. “The miscarriages made me aware that something was very wrong in our relationship. Your father wanted more children. He wanted to keep trying, but I was happy with just you.”
“How did you cope with losing the babies? Didn’t it affect you?”
… like losing mine did?
“It did, but it also changed the way I saw myself. I wanted to work, to have a career,” she said. “I was too young to know what I really wanted when I married your father. I looked to him to take care of me. And he did. Being with your father gave me confidence in myself. It was truly the best thing anyone has ever given me, and I will be forever grateful to him. But as wonderful as that gift was, it was terrible for our marriage. With confidence, I became a different person, and your dad was too rigid to let me be the person I had become.”
She laid a hand on my leg. “You have to know the divorce wasn’t an easy decision. It was very, very hard to leave.”
When I was younger, I told everyone I understood my mother’s need to follow her ambitions across the country, despite the disapproving, clucking tongues and unpleasant remarks. I not only supported her, but I put her on a pedestal, telling myself her drive was something to admire and emulate. As accepting as I was, if anyone had looked closely, they’d have notice I hadn’t come away unscathed.
She brushed the hair off my shoulder and kissed the side of my face. “I know it’s tough to break up with someone, but take it from someone who knows, it gets easier. The initial break is always the hardest.”
My relationship mess wasn’t her fault, but I’d gone out with Andrew mostly to please her. Would I ever be able to break the habit of ceaselessly seeking validation from my parents? She left the room, and I focused on going to bed.
St
ripping down, my fingers gently trailed over the small marbling bruise on my hip, the spot where I’d briefly collided with the bathroom vanity. The purpled patch of skin made me think how easily and carelessly we bruised the ones we loved most.
Toby had made me want him and then, shaming me, left me hating him. I stroked the bruise with my fingers again, wondering how it was possible to have such clashing emotions about someone you loved.
Chapter 25 • Claudia
My mother stood fully dressed beside my bed, her probing eyes on my face. The sun was shining, the beginning of a beautiful day, but there was a dull ache ringing in my heart. I was certain the evidence sat deeply gorged in the tired lines of my face.
“I found this in the kitchen.” She was holding the ring box. In Toby’s dash to escape, he’d left his mother’s wedding band behind. “I have to leave to the airport shortly. I’ll drop it off on the way so you won’t have to see him again.”
The thought of not seeing him made my heart contort in protest.
“No. I’ll do it.” I whipped my hand out for it.
After a brief hesitation, she surrendered it. “All right, but you remember the things we talked about last night. It’s hard now, but it’ll get better. Give it some time.”
I imagined Toby waking today, wondering what the heck had happened, wondering where it had all gone wrong. Perhaps he couldn’t connect the dots like I had over the last few weeks.
I wanted things he didn’t.
I was independent and practical, but maybe despite my parents’ strained marriage, I sought out tradition. It’s what I knew. Maybe my version of tradition would be a hodgepodge of my family’s customs that I’d unwittingly picked over, but I could no longer deny wanting a family somewhere down the road.
Traditions held little value with Toby. In his world, they were to be avoided.
I wasn’t one of the foolish many who believed people could change in the name of love. I didn’t hold any faith or expectation in Toby aligning his beliefs to meet mine. I didn’t blame him. It was neither of our faults, but if I got what I wanted, he’d be miserable. If he got what he wanted, then I would be the miserable one.
Keeping Claudia (Toby & Claudia Book 2) Page 22
