by Nesly Clerge
“Chels, I’ve never thanked you enough, nor could I ever, for how you’ve supported me all these years. Even while going through your own demanding curriculum and once you started to practice law. I’ve never thanked you properly for our beautiful daughter. She’s remarkable. And, that’s all to your credit.”
“Maybe not all. She was a daddy’s girl when she was younger, if you recall.”
Garrett smiled. “They have to grow up, but I miss those days. Seemed like overnight that she stopped needing me in the same way.”
“She still needs you.” Chelsea stared at the champagne flute she turned in slow circles. “So do I.”
Garrett took her hand. “I’m sorry about all the hours, Chels. It will get better, once I’m over this hump. Once things calm down, we’re going to use some of this extra income to take a trip together, just the two of us. Someplace exotic and romantic.”
Chelsea’s gaze met his. “You mean it?”
“We’ve earned it. You certainly have. We’ll go someplace where staff can pamper you by day and I’ll pamper you at night.”
Chelsea’s eyes welled. “I’d love that, Garrett.”
“Nothing but the best for my wife.”
CHAPTER 36
Glowing from champagne and attention she’d longed for, Chelsea hurried into her closet. Anxious, and eager, she changed into the sexy gown from Victoria’s Secret. Nothing like it had been worn by her since before Kimberlie was born. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t match the one desired in her mind, but it would have to do. She straightened her posture. Confidence, Chelsea. You still remember what he likes.
Garrett’s pillow was propped behind him, against the ornate headboard, his focus fixed on his iPad.
Chelsea, trembling, forged forward to the bed and cleared her throat.
Garrett glanced up at her and said, “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” and resumed reading.
Chelsea pulled the covers back on her side of the bed and positioned herself next to him. She placed a hand between his legs, squeezed, squeezed harder.
“Chels.”
“Yes, Garrett?” She tightened her grip, and released. Tightened. Released.
“Another night, babe. I need to relax and get some sleep.”
“This is the best relaxant and sleeping pill anywhere.” She repeated the action with her hand. Nothing. She threw back the covers and started to move into position, moistening her lips with her tongue as she lowered her head.
Garrett yanked the covers back over him. He put his iPad on the nightstand and turned off the bedside lamp. “Soon. I promise. Now get some sleep.” He turned onto his side, with his back to her.
Her eyes filled and her lower lip quivered. “Are you cheating on me?”
Garrett groaned. “What does it take?”
“Yes, Garrett. What does it take? You asked for a date night. You wined and dined me. I arranged for Kimmie to be out of the house. I fixed myself up for you, including this gown that I now feel ridiculous wearing. You could have accommodated me.”
“I told you: I’m tired.”
“If you find me so revolting, you could have closed your eyes and pretended I was one of your sluts. As long as you didn’t call out someone else’s name, I wouldn’t have known.”
“Why do you have spoil the evening?”
“Do you even know how long it’s been since you’ve touched me? I didn’t rank so much as a two-minute annual hump on my birthday. I have needs, too.”
“I’ll get you a vibrator.”
“You’re a bastard. A lying, cheating—”
“Here we go again.” Garrett bounded from the bed. “I’m done. You don’t appreciate anything I do for you.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“I bust my ass every day to make sure you’re provided for. More than provided for. Yes, I made a mistake.”
“A big one.”
“Damn it, Chelsea. You can’t let go of a simple human error.”
“There’s nothing simple about what you did to me. To us.”
“You’ll never let it go, and it’s too exhausting to keep trying to make it up to you. I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight. Maybe a night alone in bed will bring home to you what you have.”
“I assure you, it won’t be much different than any other night.”
Garrett slammed the door behind him.
The tears didn’t come. No sobbing. No beating the pillow with her fists. She felt nothing. One thing she did know was that feeling sorry for herself was getting her nowhere. After tonight’s failure to launch, she was certain he ‘gave at the office’, or anywhere he felt like it, and with whomever he felt like it.
Pen was right. Garrett was the only one having a good time.
She got her laptop from her nightstand, logged on to Goodreads, typed in her cell phone number, hit Send, and turned down the volume of her ringtone. When nothing happened after waiting several minutes, she turned off the light.
CHAPTER 37
Twenty minutes later, Chelsea’s cell phone rang. She turned on the lamp and grabbed her phone. “Luke. Hi. I wasn’t sure if or when I’d hear from you.”
“I would have called sooner,” Luke said, “but I had to build up the nerve.”
Chelsea’s cheeks grew hot. A nervous laugh escaped her. “You’re doing better than I am. Took me five days to send my reply.”
“I thought I’d lost you forever. As a fan, I mean. Sorry. That sounded improper. I suppose I feel … Frankly, I feel foolish. Like a kid who got praise he was starving for. Or a puppy ready to lick the hand of his mistress. Oh crap. Sorry. Again. I’m going to shut up and let you speak.”
This time, Chelsea’s laugh was genuine, and came with a measure of satisfaction. “Believe me. I understand. You mentioned meeting for coffee so you could get my input. I’m flattered that you even want it. Where and when?”
“Really? That’s great. What’s good for you?”
“Weekdays are best. As long as I’m back for 3:30, when my daughter gets home from school.”
“How old?”
“Fifteen.”
“Is she as beautiful as you? What am I saying? Of course she is. There I go, being inappropriate again.”
“I’m not offended, Luke. On the contrary.”
“If you still want to meet—even though I continue to embarrass myself, I don’t start my shift until four tomorrow. Unless that’s too soon.”
“How about eleven at Books and Brew? If we stay long enough, we can grab a sandwich there for lunch. If you have the time.”
“I will. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow …”
“That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
“Shakespeare thanks you, and I thank you. See you at eleven.”
Chelsea put her laptop and phone away, turned off the light, and settled under the covers. Nervous energy flooded her.
He’d called her beautiful. Again.
Starting above her breasts, she trailed her hands down, feeling the contours of her body and the sensuous silk of the gown. Imagined it was Luke’s warm coffee-brown hands stroking her, learning her.
She turned onto her side, bunched the pillow just right under her head and waited for sleep.
CHAPTER 38
Garrett was gone when Chelsea woke. A relief, to be sure. It saved her from having to choose to ignore him, be nice to him, or lash out at him. She checked her phone and Goodreads. Luke hadn’t reconsidered and canceled their date. She should call it an appointment. Yet, people scheduled lunch dates. They’d scheduled a coffee date. What was the big deal? Luke, the author, could just as easily be Lana, the author.
Tell yourself another one, Chels.
Still in her gown, she went downstairs, fixed one cup of coffee and boiled two eggs, surprised that she wasn’t grabbing a package of iced cinnamon rolls from the freezer, ready to eat all eight rolls as usual. If meeting a man for coffee had that effect … She stopped herself from taking th
e thought further.
Luke had likely flattered her because she liked his writing. Nothing more. Nothing less. She felt the familiar depression start to return. Automatically, her hand yanked open the freezer door. She stared at the frozen sweet comfort. And closed the door, empty-handed.
She grabbed her phone. Scrolled to the desired name and number. “Richard, I know you’re at work and busy. I just wanted to say this to someone who really gets it: Your brother’s a bastard.”
“I have about five minutes before a meeting. Talk to me.”
Chelsea checked her reflection in the mirror. Her hair still looked good from the evening before. And, why not? Garrett hadn’t messed it up in a fit of passionate intimacy. Even if Luke’s wife wasn’t a fan of his writing, her hair was probably messed up every night. The jealousy that flared stunned her. She shook it off.
A shower cap was fitted over her hair. She used hot water and scented soap on a loofah to scrub away the previous disappointing night.
If only it were that easy.
What to wear proved more challenging than anticipated. An hour later, she had managed to put together an outfit that appeared somewhat slimming to her eye. At least the colors worked in her favor. And one could never go wrong with silk, especially when it was warm out.
It was ten thirty. Books and Brew was a ten-minute drive away. She didn’t want to get there early. Or late.
She paced until it was time to leave, repeatedly tucking her hands into her armpits to save her cuticles from being ravaged.
Ravaged. A word so close to ravished. It’s what she needed to be. Maybe that would make her feel alive again, rather than hollow.
CHAPTER 39
Chelsea eased the Bentley into the slanted parking space in front of the coffee shop. She resisted the impulse to look yet again in the visor mirror, as though some metamorphosis—positive or negative—had occurred since she’d left her house. If Luke waited there, watching for her, such behavior would appear anything but casual.
This meeting was a casual one. They were two new acquaintances meeting to discuss his book. Nothing more. If he insisted on flattering her, for whatever reason, what was the harm in that?
She got out of her car and started for the door. The blur of a man rushing to open it caught her attention. Startled blue eyes stared into warm brown ones.
“Luke. Hi, I’m Chelsea.” She extended her hand.
Luke pressed his back against the door to hold it open and took her hand in his. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
Chelsea felt the heat climb up her neck to her face.
Luke’s smile faded. “There I go again. I’ve made you uncomfortable right from the start.”
She gave a gentle squeeze to his hand and released it. “Not at all. I’m just not used to … Do you have a table waiting?”
He pointed. “Just there. The one with my book on it.”
“Oh no.”
“What is it?” Luke glanced around the room.
“I meant to bring your book so you could autograph it.”
Luke relaxed and smiled. “You’d be my first.”
“Guess I messed that up for both of us.”
“I’d sign this one and give it to you, but it has my notes in the margins.”
“My loss.” Chelsea sat in the chair opposite his.
Luke remained standing. “What would you like?”
“Cappuccino.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She waited a few seconds then turned to look at Luke. Strong back, strong legs, firm … She caught his reflection in the mirror behind the counter. Caught him watching her study him. He grinned. She smiled, bit her lower lip and faced forward. Cheeks flaming pink, Chelsea picked up his book and pretended to read the first page, and the second.
Luke returned with their coffees. She turned to take her cup and saucer just as he reached to place them in front of her. The back of his hand grazed across her breast, which readily betrayed her by revealing her response to his touch.
He shifted his focus from the front of her sheer blouse to her face. “That was an accident.” He put her coffee down, spilling some. “So was that. I’m not usually so bumbling.”
“It’s all right.”
Luke sat. His gaze connected with hers. “Which part?”
Chelsea realized he was waiting for an answer. “Which part what?”
“Which part was all right? Forget I said that. Forget the last thirty seconds. Let’s start over.”
Chelsea laughed. “Well, here we are.”
“Here we are. Cheers.” Luke held up his cup.
She tapped his cup with hers, keeping her gaze locked with his, and avoided saying what was foremost in her mind:
The question is, Where are we going from here?
CHAPTER 40
Not since college had Chelsea had such engaging conversation with anyone. Garrett, when he was around, had spoken of little more than his work for as long as she could remember. Kimmie could be a real chatterbox when the mood struck her, but wasn’t an adult, even if she attempted to act like one on occasion. Pen tended not to talk about anything deeper than men, herself, men, clothes, men. Her mother talked about her marriage to Garrett, and Kimberlie, more often than anything else substantial.
She’d focused so long on the absence of physical intimacy, the pleasure of intelligent conversation and a person’s desire to hear what she had to say, and how much she needed that interaction as well, had gone ignored.
Luke had prodded her for her thoughts, her feelings. Drank them in. Drank her in with his eyes.
They’d discussed passages from his book and how they connected to real life, his gaze intent on her face. His body taut at her every word. Occasionally, he’d touched her hand or arm for a moment. She’d done the same.
It was lovely, a luxury. But that kind of attention doesn’t last, she reminded herself. The first blush always fades from the bloom.
“Mom! Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry, Kimmie. What did you say?”
“Where were you?”
“Thinking about a book I read.”
“Must be some book.”
“It is.”
“As I was saying—”
“Can you say it while we swim?”
“You’re going to swim? Like, in a bathing suit? Like, do you even own one?”
“I’ve got a suit. I’ve got a pool. Time I use them. Get changed. I’ll meet you in five minutes. Then you can talk to your heart’s content.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my mom?”
Chelsea laughed and bounded up the stairs.
CHAPTER 41
Tired, yet content after swimming twenty laps and playing pool games with Kimberlie, Chelsea stood in front of the refrigerator, wondering what to cook. She queued Garrett’s number.
As though the previous night had never happened, she asked, “If you’ll be home for dinner, what would you like?”
“I’m working late. I’ll grab something in the cafeteria.”
“Sounds good. See you when I see you.”
Chelsea ended the call and looked up the number for a nearby restaurant that delivered. Two dinners of boiled lobsters, steamed asparagus, plus two tomato, basil, and mozzarella salads.
She sent the delighted but bemused young delivery guy away with a twenty-dollar tip. Opened a chilled white Bordeaux for her and a sparkling water for Kimberlie. Set the table, with candles. Dished the food onto her best china. Added music she and Kimberlie could each tolerate and called up the stairs for her daughter.
Kimberlie dashed down. “I’m star-ving. What’s for—? What the heck, Mom?”
“These are some of your favorites, right?”
“Yeah, but …”
“Great. Let’s eat.”
“Sure. But what’s eating you?”
Chelsea spun around. She took her time pouring a glass of wine, enough time
to let the blush leave her cheeks, prompted by the thought of changing the innocently spoken word “what” to “who.”
Dangerous thoughts, Chels. Luke’s married.
As are you.
Kimberlie slouched against the chair back. “I’m stuffed. And, I’ve got tons of homework tonight.”
“Better get to it, then. But don’t stay up too late. Beauty sleep, missy.”
Chelsea loaded the dishwasher then stood at the bottom of the stairs. Kimberlie’s door was closed, which meant she was serious about getting her homework done and didn’t want to be interrupted short of an emergency or her favorite pop idol showing up to surprise her.
She took her cell phone outside, where she reclined poolside on a lounge chair. The text message to Luke was keyed in and sent.
Any chance you can call me?
She waited an anxious minute. Sighed after five. Then a ping.
Can you give me fifteen minutes?
If I can wait that long. She typed Yes.
Twelve minutes later, her phone rang.
“Sorry, Chelsea. I had to make up a reason to leave the house. I could have gone to the basement, I suppose, but I didn’t want to chance it.”
“I’m sorry. And inconsiderate. The last thing I’d want to do is cause you trouble at home.”
“Believe me. I’m happy to leave that noxious atmosphere.”
“More than a simple matter of her not liking your writing, then.”
“Way more. Let’s not talk about that. I’m pleased to hear your voice again, but surprised. I thought you’d be enmeshed in family.”
“My daughter’s focused on schoolwork. My husband won’t be home until late, which is typical.”
“He may be smart enough to be a doctor, but the man’s a fool. I’d rush home every night to be with you.”
Chelsea twirled strands of hair around her finger. “Nothing is more painful than being disappointed by the one person you thought would never hurt you.”
“My words. From my book. The question is, do you use them for my situation or your own?”
“From what it sounds like, both.”
