by L. B. Dunbar
“Edie—”
“I have to go,” I muttered, my eyes on Max’s as he walked through the entrance to his office, his hand working at rolling up his shirt sleeves, exposing strong forearms. I didn’t want to be rude to Tommy, but I had to get off the phone. I clicked off.
“Edie, are you sure you’re okay?” Max walked all the way to my desk and sat on the edge. Eyes pressed on me—other eyes—those of the people in the outer offices watching as Max never spoke this intimately to an employee, even if I was his personal assistant. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?” he offered, and the generosity almost broke me. I sat up straighter, swiped my hands down my pencil skirt and smiled too large, too forced.
“I really appreciate that Max. Honest. It means a lot to me, but I’m fine.” A shaky hand smoothed at my growing hair, and Max’s eyes watched my fingers. I lowered them, hiding them under my desk.
“If you’re certain, how about meeting in my office in five? I have a few things to be scheduled this week.”
I nodded. He stood from my desk, and I watched his backside as he entered his office. It occurred to me, I knew more about my boss than Tommy. I was in over my head with the former rock star. What I needed was normal man—a stable, considerate, no-holding-back-the-truth man. To my shame, Max turned and caught me staring at him. My face pinked, and his lip curled. My phone vibrated on the desk, and I instantly looked away from my teasing boss. Reading Tommy’s name, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t answer him. I had work to do.
+ + +
Twenty minutes later, Max’s office phone rang. He didn’t even say hello when he noticed who was calling.
“Sure,” he answered, his eyes looking up at me. Holding out the phone, I stared at him. How could the phone be for me in his office?
“Edie,” Grace’s hushed voice hissed through the phone. “The most gorgeous silver fox is here to see you. Girl, you have some explaining to do.”
“Who is it?” I asked, knowing full well who might be standing in the lower office, but still shocked that it could be him.
“He says his name is Tommy Carrigan, but girl, he looks just like an older Lawson Colt.” She hummed into the phone, and I shook my head. He is an older Lawson Colt, I wanted to scream.
“Thank you,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be right down.”
Looking back at Max, I found him watching me.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
His brows pinched, and he nodded once, dismissing me. I turned for the door, attempting to walk in even, normal paces, one foot in front of the other. But the second I cleared Max’s office, I was nearly sprinting, my heels clicking as I walked as quickly as my tight pencil skirt would allow. I banged on the elevator button, tapping my foot as I waited. When it opened, I huffed “Finally,” although the inanimate object couldn’t care less about my galloping emotions. My insides coiled like a tempest, half-thrilled, half-angry. When the doors to the elevator opened on the ground floor, the tempest hit land like a hurricane, and my legs shook. Tommy stood just outside the double doors, facing me, waiting. His hair stood on end, as his fingers had run through it.
Stepping forward, I said something that was the furthest from my mind. “You missed your flight.”
“I’ll take another one.” He looked over his shoulder at our audience of Grace. Reaching for my elbow, he tugged me to the side. “Let’s get out of here.”
I twisted, pulling my arm upward, and releasing his grasp. “I can’t do that.” Some people needed to work for a living. I was one of them.
“Why not?”
“What do you want?” I countered. His lips curled in a smile as I answered his question with a question, but then they went flat as he took in my expression.
“Fine,” he huffed. “I met Deanna here in Chicago over fifteen years ago. It was one of those instant attractions. A one-night stand and we got married.” I stared at him. That wasn’t enough information. It wasn’t even comforting information, and I sensed he was omitting again. My arms remained crossed, my hip out as I waited. His eyes looked away and he took a deep breath.
“She said she was pregnant. She claimed it was mine, and I did what I thought was the right thing and offered to marry her.”
My mouth popped open, an audible gasp echoing through the windowed lobby. My stomach, which already churned, circled again, and the nausea returned.
“You have a child?”
He shook his head. “She lied.”
My arms fell, and I stood taller. My brows pinched in question, but the anguish on his face said it all. He’d wanted to believe she was pregnant. He wanted his own child, and it hadn’t happened.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice scratchy and lowered. I was sorry for him.
“She was a model. Six years younger than me. I should have known better. She didn’t want a kid. It would have ruined her figure. We were only married a few months, long enough for the tabloids to eat us up and spit us out. It was eventually annulled.”
“What about the airport?” His head shot back to mine.
“It’s an airport. She was heading out. I was coming in. The paparazzi must have snapped the picture as we greeted each other.” His voice was filled with irritation as he explained. That greeting included a hug. His hands on her shoulders. Her hands on his jaw. It looked intimate, longing, and something else. Did they once love each other? Instant attraction? Hadn’t that been us? I was ready to ask everything when the hard sole of a man’s shoes tapping over a tile floor drew my attention. Max walked directly up to us, determination on his face, as he came towards me. He stopped at my side, and I took a moment to compare the two men. It was a life-size display of “This or That”, like one of those games on social media. The man with a suit, or the man with tattoos. The clean-shaven, sensible short hair look, or the scruffy jaw with hair to his collar. The millionaire businessman, or the millionaire musician. My eyes flicked from Max to Tommy and back.
A battle of wills stood between the two. Max came to my side, and unprecedentedly, placed his hand on my lower back. It was a display of possession as he spoke to Tommy, but asked the question of me, “Are you all right?” Tommy took in the position of Max, the placement of his hand and the nearness of him to me.
“She’s fucking fine,” Tommy replied, and Max’s hand tightened on my back.
“Edie?” Max inquired, his voice rolling over my name and I turned to look up at him.
“I’m fine, Max. I’ll be back upstairs in a minute.”
“Who the fuck is this?” Tommy barked, and my head snapped back to him.
“This is my boss, Max Hartcore, the owner of the company,” I hissed through clenched teeth, cursing in my head how unbelievable this situation seemed.
“And you are?” Max asked, extending a hand. Tommy gripped it and held a moment.
“I’m Tommy Carrigan.” Tommy looked to me, waiting for me to clarify who he was, but I didn’t know anymore. Every time I turned around there was a new piece to the puzzle of him, and too often I was dazed by the sex to see clearly how the pieces never matched. Tommy released Max’s hand, and swiped his other one through his hair again. Looking away from me, he muttered, “Fine.” He took a step back, twisting toward the door. “Great,” he mumbled. I reached out for him, but he took another step before I could reach him. Turning completely, he headed for the double glass panes.
I spun to face my boss. Max’s expression held a smug look, his mouth curled in an ominous smile.
“I just need another minute.” My eyes pleaded with him, and to my surprise, his fingers came up to my hair. Brushing short curls behind my ear, he lingered a second. “A minute,” he said, his eyes searching my face. My heart hammered. Then he stepped back, and I twisted to find Tommy walking out the door.
Quickly, I stalked after him, cursing my skirt for the tightness at my thighs, preventing me from actually sprinting.
“Tommy,” I yelled after him as he hit the curb. His pho
ne was in his hand, and he was typing. “Tommy, wait.”
He spun to face me. “What the fucking hell was that?” I’d never heard him so angry, not like that, not at me.
“He’s my boss.”
“He wants to fuck you.” My mouth fell open, and my arms crossed, cupping my elbows.
“He does not,” I stammered, shocked and appalled by the comment.
“Don’t be so stupid, Edie.”
“Excuse me?” My mouth fell open again, my eyes wide and staring in disbelief. Who was the stupid one? Oh right, me, for thinking he cared about me, for hoping he’d no longer hold the truth from me.
“He totally wants all over you.”
“How did this get turned around to me?” My arms released and slapped at my hips. The chilly, late January air finally hit me. My body shivered.
“Go back inside,” Tommy snapped. “Go back to work.” I crossed my arms again, rubbing up and down my sweater sleeves.
“I don’t want you to leave like this,” I said, lowering the wall a little. He looked out at the street, narrowing his eyes.
“Look, Edie, being apart is hard. It involves trust.” He sighed and looked back at me. My body was beginning to tremble, but it wasn’t the cold winter air. Shock was kicking in. He was going to break up with me. We weren’t even dating, and he was going to break up with me.
“You want the truth, Edie? I wanted that baby, the one she never had. And I wanted her to love me, but that wasn’t love. Tricking a man into thinking he’s going to be a father—that was treachery. Did I love her? I don’t think so, but I’ve written songs about it, about heartbreak and lost love and ruined dreams. But it wasn’t her. It was the emotion after a tragedy, but not her.”
His whole body twisted, and he removed his leather jacket. Wrapping it around me, the soft material was heavy over my shoulders, but the heat of his body lingered in the fabric, warming me. His scent filled my nostrils.
“Darlin’, I love you, but if you don’t trust me, there’s nothing between us.”
My eyes shot up to his. I couldn’t even blink. The cold seemed to freeze my eyelids. He couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t have even known what he said.
“What?” He asked, growing nervous as my eyes remained wide and dazed.
“You…you just said you loved me.” I blinked. “But of course, it was just a slip. I mean…” Hands cupped my face, and he stepped into me, his lips stealing any other words. This was his kiss—aggressive, pressing, and demanding. He parted my lips, commandeering my tongue, and took his time to cover every inch of my mouth. Pulling back, he looked at me, and I shivered.
“You can be so stubborn, darlin’,” he said, ignoring my comment and adjusting the jacket. I didn’t speak.
“I didn’t want to do this here. Not like this. I had it all planned out, repeating it over and over in my head, but it never came out.” I continued to stare, not taking his meaning. “I love you, Edie. I know it’s been a bit fast, and I said don’t make me love you, but you can’t seem to help yourself. And I can’t help myself either. I love you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring him from my sight.
“Darlin’?” he questioned, pressing his thumb against my cheek and swiping at a tear that threatened to freeze in the chilly air.
“I love you, too,” I said, my voice shaking from the cold, but more so from the words. “I think I loved you from the first touch, but I definitely loved you before I ever left Hawaii.” His mouth returned to mine, searching, seeking, savoring. It was in his kiss. All the longing, the miles and hours between us, and I didn’t want to separate again, but we had to. A car honked, and he pulled back from me.
“That’s my Uber. I need to get back to the airport.” He lowered his head to mine. “Are we good, darlin’?” In many ways, I thought we had so much more to discuss, but this was enough. For the moment, it was enough.
“We’re good.”
“I love you,” he said again, giving the collar of his jacket a little shake. “Trust, beautiful.”
I nodded, moving to remove the heavy coat. “Keep it. I don’t need it in California. It will be my excuse to come back.”
My brows furrowed, and his finger pressed the crease. “What’s that look?”
“I want to be the excuse for you coming back,” I said boldly.
“You’ll never be an excuse, darlin’. Always my reason.” His lips curled with the comment, and we gazed at one another a moment.
“I’m never going to be able to surprise you. I can’t just fly off to California.” I looked down at my boot-covered toes. “I couldn’t afford it. How is this going to work?”
“Darlin’, you surprise me by saying you love me. That’s all the surprise I need. You love me, and you want to see me, that’s all you have to say, and I’ll send you a ticket.”
“I love you,” I said, my lips curling, my face splitting between my sudden happiness and the cold sorrow of his departure.
“I love you, darlin’.” He kissed me once more and slipped into the car. Driving away, he might have left me his jacket, but he took a piece of my heart with him.
+ + +
“I don’t know how you do it,” I said to Ivy over the phone. My heart shattered inside me, clogging up my insides with the sharp pain of missing Tommy. It was unbearable. I couldn’t see how our relationship could continue with only phone calls and no schedule to see one another.
“You get used to it. Separation becomes a norm of your life.”
I didn’t like that answer. I’d already been with a man who travelled often, missed much, and was hardly present when he was home. A long-distance relationship was the last thing I thought I’d have at my age, but I couldn’t see any way around our situation. He lived in California. I lived in Illinois.
“I just miss him so much.” I couldn’t believe I’d admitted this to his niece, but I had to tell someone. It seemed inappropriate to tell my children how I longed for a man who wasn’t their father, even if they were old enough to accept our divorce.
“I know.” Ivy’s voice lowered, and I realized she’d lived her whole life with separation—from her mother, her lover, her husband. Shaking off the sad direction of our phone call, I asked her about other things.
“How did Gage take the pregnancy?”
“He was disappointed that I couldn’t travel with him, but he’s always excited about babies.” The idea seemed contradictory to his hard ass personae.
“Did you speak with him about the musical therapy work?”
“I did. He wasn’t overly receptive, but…” She paused as sarcasm filled the line. “I found the perfect place. Edie, I don’t have all the details, but it’s a not-for-profit school, and it needs some funding. It isn’t in the best location, and it seems to be desperate. It needs a director after the last one misappropriated their funds. I’m looking into a…secret…with them.”
I lowered my voice in conspiracy with her. “What’s the secret?” I whispered.
“I’d like to buy the place.” I sat straighter, eyes widening even though she couldn’t see me.
“Can you do that?”
“I’m researching it. Their board wants to just disband, but I see its potential. It’s kind of exciting.” The enthusiasm in her voice was infectious. Her desperation to be involved and take over the school, whatever that might mean, was nearly palpable.
“It sounds interesting. Can I help you somehow?” I had no idea what I could do from Chicago, but I’d aid her in any way I could.
“I don’t know,” she chuckled, her laughter filled with fear and passion. “But I’ll definitely keep you in the loop.”
“Is anyone helping you now?” I hoped Tommy was supporting her if Gage wasn’t.
“I hired a lawyer. He’s working on the legality of things.” Her voice rose again with anticipation. She wanted this project.
“I’m so proud of you.” Silence followed the statement, and I worried I’d lost her. “Ivy?” I questioned, thinki
ng the connection was cut.
“Thanks, Edie. That…that means a lot to me. A lot.” Her tone had shifted, and the weight of her appreciation hit me in the chest. This is what Ivy had wanted, someone to be proud of her, like her mother would have been.
+ + +
Over the next two weeks, Tommy and I talked nightly, and Skyped often, including some risky, sexy time over the wires.
“Darlin’, whatcha doin’?” he asked me one night when Masie was at her dad’s, and Caleb had taken off for team meetings in Iowa.
In an exhibitionist sort of way, I took more risks with Tommy than I’d ever taken before. I slipped out of view, stripped, and re-dressed. Reappearing before the screen, his dark eyes turned to obsidian.
“Is that my jacket?” He swiped through his hair, pressing his face closer to the screen. “I’m so fucking jealous of that leather.” He sat back, and his hand lowered below the table where his laptop sat.
“Open it a little more.” I parted the jacket, exposing a hint of breast, and then slipping lower, revealed a touch of thigh. He swallowed, and I watched the roll of his Adam’s apple. “Fuck,” he groaned.
I moved the laptop to rest on my bed. Crawling toward the screen, I laid on my side, facing him. I shifted the jacket to cover me like a blanket. The sharp sound of his zipper ripped over the wires. We’d gotten a little out of control one night, and he showed me himself as he took care of his business. I drew the line at holding the phone between my thighs as I worked myself.
“I don’t need this on some foreign internet porn site,” I had teased.
I rolled to my back. The sound of gentle vibration echoed in my room, and I heard Tommy’s breath hitch.
“Is that…Mr. Bob?” he choked. He couldn’t see what I was doing. Everything was under the jacket, but with the weight of the material, the scent of him surrounding me, and Mr. Bob between my thighs, it was as if Tommy were present. Not quite, but close enough. His voice increased my arousal, encouraging me with dirty words, and I rolled my head to focus on his face as I took my own pleasure with a little battery assistance. We came together.
