Finding Life
Page 10
“Victor.” She grabs my arm as I’m turning toward the opening elevator. “I’m over him. I promise. He dropped in. He had only been there a few minutes when you showed and I hadn’t gotten the chance yet to tell him to back off. When he used to come to town we’d hook up and he’d break my heart. This is the first time we’ve seen each other since I’ve moved on. I didn’t think having it out with him in the hospital room with my recovering sister was a good idea. I planned to tell him I’m with you. Can’t you trust me?”
I run my fingers through my hair and exhale. She’s right. I’m not 15 years old, fighting over a girl in the lunchroom, and she hasn’t done anything to make me question her. She steps up closer, her eyes pleading for me to believe her.
I wrap my arms around her and kiss her hair. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I’ve been dying to see you for days and envisioned a different scenario when I walked in that room. It was my fault. Go back in there and visit with your sister. I’m okay, really.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s okay.” I place a finger over her lips. “Be with your sister. She’s the most important thing right now.”
“Can I come over when I get through here?” Her eyes practically beg me.
“Yeah, you can come over any time you want. I’ll text you my address. Don’t rush. Do you need to eat still?”
“Yeah, I could use a little something. I’ll pick it up on my way to your place. Want anything?”
“No, I’ll whip something up for us to eat. Go on, go back to your family. I’ll see you when you’re done here.”
Reluctantly, she steps back and I enter the waiting elevator. “See you in a little while.”
With a small smile she turns and moves back toward her sister’s room and I fight the urge to follow her and mark my territory. I don’t trust that guy as far as I can throw him, but guys like him have to be dealt with in a certain way and I’ll let him continue to underestimate me until I have to prove what I’m capable of.
Two hours later, I’m lounging on my couch with a beer and a book. Yes, I’m the rare breed of man who likes to read. Of course, it’s fictional stuff like Tom Clancy and Dan Brown, but it’s reading just the same. I read my fair share of sporting news and articles but when I’m trying to keep my mind busy I pick up a book like this to get buried in.
The doorbell rings so I go to the door and look through the peephole to see Colby fidgeting with her keys while she waits for me.
When I open the door and usher her inside she doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries. Instead she grabs my face and kisses me like she can’t get enough. Her lips and nose are cool from the evening air but her mouth is warm as my tongue tangles with hers. Her arms wrap around my neck and hold tight, so I pull her body in closer and lift her slightly so that she can wrap her legs around me. This is more the type of greeting I like to get, rather than the cold, deer-in-the-headlights one I got earlier.
I carry her to the couch and sit so she’s straddling my lap. Within seconds, we go into a high school style make-out session guaranteed to have any red-blooded male on the edge of losing control. When I finally slow the kiss and remove my hands from under her shirt, she pulls away; her eyes are hooded with lust and there’s a slight grin on her lips.
“So, you aren’t mad?” she asks.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because Curtis was there.”
“Nothing’s going on?” I ask, to clarify.
She shakes her head, keeping eye contact with me.
“Does he care about Shaunda?”
“Yes, they were friends when we dated.”
“Then, no, I’m not mad. Besides, if you want him I can’t do anything about it. Getting mad won’t make you want me more.”
“Most guys don’t feel that way.”
“I’m not most guys and I’ve been through enough in my life to know that I can’t force you to feel more for me than him. Did it sting to see his arm around you? Yeah, but it didn’t kill me. Would it hurt if you wanted him? Hell yeah, but me freaking out wouldn’t change your feelings. So I guess the question is, do you want him back?”
Her eyes search my face for a moment and I force myself to hold still, not to prompt her for an answer. Truth be told, I’m nervous about what her response will be. Sure, she’s straddling my lap in my home right now and not him in his, but her heart may still be back there with him. Her brother-in-law told me Curtis broke her heart and when I saw him I knew he wasn’t there for Shaunda and Jeff. He was there to get her back. I wonder if she knows that or if she really believes he was there for Shaunda.
She gently runs her fingers through my hair and along my face, following the movement with her eyes before looking directly into mine again.
“There is only one man I want and he’s seated between my thighs,” she leans in close, “my lips are close to his,” she grabs my hand and pulls it up over her chest, “and my heart is in his hands. No one else matters. Definitely not my ex.” She places the softest of kisses on my lips, my nose and then my forehead before wrapping her arms around my neck and holding tight. The little bit of unrest I felt earlier settles with her words and actions.
We sit like this for several minutes, quiet, relaxed, just enjoying the moment until I break it by asking, “How are Jeff and Shaunda holding up?”
“Better. She’ll probably come home tomorrow.”
“Good, I know Jeff will relax when she does.”
“Yeah, he hates being separated from her and from the boys. He feels torn when they’re in different places. He wants his family all under one roof.”
“He’s a good man.”
“I’ve always been jealous of them. Not in a nasty, mean, sabotage them kind of way, but in a damn-I-wish-I-had-that kind of way. It must feel so good to be loved in an all-consuming way. For as long as I can remember, he’s looked at her like she’s the only woman who ever existed. Even in high school when the most popular, most beautiful girl in school turned her sights on him, he ignored it. Like she didn’t even matter. God, that girl was pissed; she did everything to get his attention and he just keep walking. I didn’t even know it was possible for a man to be like that.”
I kiss her then, hoping to stop her train of thought. I’d love to tell her that the guy she’s been looking for is sitting in front of her right now. I’m already half in love with her and haven’t noticed a single woman since I met her outside the cemetery that day. I haven’t even been to Carol’s grave since I met Colby. Not even Valerie kept me from wanting to go there. Colby is the first thing I think of in the morning and the last at night. But if she knew that, it might spook her.
It sounds insane, considering I just met her. It could be infatuation because this is so new and she’s so different from the women I’m surrounded by every day, but I don’t think so. I’ve never been the kind of guy who is easily distracted by a great rack and nice ass. For as long as I can remember I’ve looked at the heart of a woman, even when the other guys my age were screwing every woman who glanced their way. Probably because I didn’t want to be like my dad and that’s the kind of man he was.
When the kiss ends she smiles at me. Her stomach grumbles and she giggles.
“Come on, let’s feed you. Dinner is almost ready.”
“It is? I’m starved!” Her eyes light up.
“Yeah, I can tell.” I pat her stomach playfully and she swats my hand away. “I hope you like poppy seed chicken. I should have asked. It’s my mom’s recipe and it’s easy to make so I threw it in.”
“Is that the amazing smell in here?”
“Yeah.” I tap her leg for her to move and she shuffles off of me so I can stand.
“Make yourself at home. The bathroom is the first door on the right, down the hall. I’ll get this ready so we can eat. I was waiting for you.”
She stands and looks around for the first time, and I wonder what’s going through her head.
Chapter Ten
Colby
When I stand so he can get dinner ready, I take my first look around his house. This is the house he lived in with his wife and the high I was riding only seconds ago slips away when I look around. The décor is nice and cozy, with a woman’s touch. Not the look a bachelor pad has.
My guess is he hasn’t changed one single thing since his wife lived here. That wouldn’t be a problem because really, it is a nice place. The issue comes in when I look around and find her staring back at me from every wall and flat surface. There are pictures of them and her all over the living room and I’m guessing in the picture frames that appear to line the hallway too. It’s like she could walk in the door any minute and resume her life with him.
My gut clenches tight. I feel like I’m the other woman. What if there are pictures like this in their room? There’s no way I can have sex with him here if that’s the case. It’s already going to be a little weird sleeping in a bed that was so obviously hers.
What the hell do I do? I mean, she’s dead and not really a threat. Is it fair to say something about this since I’m so uncomfortable with it? He didn’t even freak out when Curtis showed up at the hospital and had his arm around me, and I know it upset him. Is it okay for me to comment on a woman who has no hope of walking back through the door? She is clearly the one who stole his heart, the one who made him never want to look at another woman. He’s like Jeff is with Shaunda, except his one and only died and left him to find a second choice who will clearly never live up to what he had with her.
Holy shit, how do I get myself into these situations? The better question is, how do I get myself out? I’m already head over heels for this man, knee deep in what feels like love, something I never thought I’d feel again after that asshole left me. Glancing around the space he calls home, though, it’s clear there’s no room for me because it’s already inhabited by a ghost.
If I go into their room and her shit is still in the closet and drawers I’ll know that I don’t belong here. If it’s just the pictures, then I’ll work around them for a little while.
“Hey, I’m gonna snoop around a little. Your home is beautiful.”
“Make yourself at home. I’ll be about 10 more minutes,” he calls back to me.
I venture down the hall and peek into the bathroom. Neutral color décor—not too manly, not too girly. The next room is obviously an office, and although there are several pictures of them around the space it’s clearly used for his work. The first room on the right is a guest room and looks like it’s been closed up for a while. The second room on the right stops me in my tracks completely.
The buttercream-yellow walls with white trim are perfect for a nursery. A changing table is sitting against one wall while a crib sits along another. A few stuffed animals rest in the wooden rocking chair in the corner and it’s obvious this room has never been used. The questions whirl in my head like a tornado. Did he have a child die too? He never mentioned a baby. Was there just hope for one? Was she pregnant at some point? It seems strange that she’s been gone for several years and a room like this still exists. Do I ask about this now or do I wait? Is he sensitive about these things? God, how did I end up involved with a guy who clearly longs for a life and family he no longer has?
Five minutes ago, I never would have guessed I’d be standing in the hallway of his house reeling with the knowledge that he’s still living in a past that’s dead. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it.
I close the door quietly, because I don’t want to be found in this room. I’m not ready to tackle a heavy subject with him tonight. Dealing with my sister and her family is enough for me right now. I cross the hall to the only remaining door and step inside. It’s a large bedroom that clearly looks like a couple lives here, not a single man, and once again there are pictures on the dresser and the walls of them separate and together. I’m drowning in his life with her. There is no way I can stay here tonight, but how do I get out of it without having an important conversation? This house makes me feel like I’m the other woman, pretending to be the wife until the real wife comes home.
I knew it was a possibility that he’s not over her yet; hell, I met him while he was visiting her grave. But because he never talks about her to me I assumed he was in a better place with his grief than he clearly is. We need to have a conversation about her and them and his feelings, but there is no way in hell it’s happening tonight. I can’t do it. I have enough tough stuff in my own life without lumping this on right away. Maybe when my sister is better and goes back home we can talk, but for tonight…I have to get out of here.
Maybe I can come up with a good way to slip out after we eat.
As quietly as I can I back out of his room and return to the kitchen where he’s working on dinner. He grips my hips and lifts me up to rest on the counter while he finishes preparations. With a dish towel tossed over his shoulder he bends down and pulls the chicken from the oven, resting it on top of the stove.
“We need to let it cool for a few minutes. Glass of wine?” The corner of his mouth kicks up slightly and I’m reminded of what brought me here in the first place. Not only is he thoughtful but he’s handsome and adorable all at once. I could use the entire bottle of wine, considering his wife is watching this whole date unfold. It’s terribly awkward and he doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Colby?” he asks, snapping me out of my thought process.
“Do you have beer?”
Now he flashes a full-blown smile. “Of course.”
He reaches into the fridge, pulls out a bottle of beer and unscrews the top using the lower part of his shirt, and then passes it to me.
I take an extra-long swig and look at him. Physical perfection.
“Want to help me set the table?” he asks.
I nod so he helps me down and we set the table. Afterward he turns on music to play softly in the background. We fill up our plates and take them to our seats. The food is amazing and the tender way he’s watching me melts my heart. Maybe he’s just never touched anything around here because he doesn’t know what to do with it all. Maybe there’s an explanation for this museum of Carol. I’d love to hear why there is a nursery ready and waiting down the hall.
“So, how long until you travel for the monster truck gig?” he asks, breaking my train of thought.
“We start back up in a little less than a month.”
“Are you excited? Is it something you still enjoy?”
“Who wouldn’t? Driving a big ole truck over cars and racing around a dirt track? Then having tons of kids run up to get your autograph? Their little eyes light up and their excitement is catchy. It makes me feel good. I like being a positive role model for them.”
“I can’t wait to go and watch. I’ve never been to one before. I’ve seen clips on the internet and television, but I’ve never been to a live show. When I was looking you up online I found dozens of fan pages dedicated to the sport and several just for you. It was kind of weird to think there are a bunch of kids, and probably grown men too, out there with your picture hanging in their bedroom.”
“It did take a little bit of time to get used to, but I don’t let it go to my head. I just enjoy it for what it is. Fun. Although the season can be hectic and tiring, it’s still a good time.”
We finish dinner with small talk and a few laughs and he refuses to let me clean up. We migrate to the couch and it doesn’t take long for us to slip into a more physical state of relations. I love this with him. His big warm body. The strength he radiates, the inner calm he portrays even when his heart is racing under my palms. When he pauses just to look at me, the hooded expression is enough to melt me. Those piercing eyes could stop a polar bear in its tracks. They’re amazing.
“I wish you had half a clue how beautiful I think you are. Words just don’t
seem to cut it,” he tells me.
“I feel the same about you.”
He lowers his head, planting a tender kiss on my forehead, then down to my cheekbone, trailing his nose down my cheek to the sensitive place behind my ear. Goose bumps rise and my body reacts, arching against him, almost begging for more. I’m ready to claw his clothes off when I open my eyes again to find a picture of his dead wife staring back at me. That’s like tossing ice water all over me. She was beautiful, but having her discerning eyes staring at me while I make out hot and heavy with her husband is too much for me. I push him off of me and my heart constricts a little when I catch his look of confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
I don’t know what it is, probably that I don’t want to get into it tonight. I really don’t want to hear that he’s still in love with her or even some lame excuse.
“I can’t go any further tonight. I need to get home and get some sleep. I have a long day tomorrow and if we keep going I’ll be here like this until daylight. I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have even come over.”
He sits all the way up, his eyebrows still pulled together. He knows I’m lying but I’m not going to say any different right now.
“Okay, I won’t push you. If you want to stay and just go to sleep, we can do that instead.”
“No way!” I blurt out, probably too harshly. I soften a bit and add, “I know I can’t keep my hands off you. I understand my limits so I’d better go.” I glance over at Carol’s picture—one of the many—slip my shoes back on and stand. I move toward the door quickly so I don’t change my mind, grabbing my stuff as I go.
“Are you sure everything is okay? You’re acting weird.”
“Yeah, I just know I have no self-control with you and I need to go. Thank you so much for dinner. It was awesome. I’ll see you soon.”
I slip out the door with a quick peck to his lips and practically sprint to my car. God, I’m such an idiot. Why don’t I face this head on and talk to him about her? I know why. I don’t want to hear what I think is the truth. He’s still in love with her. I can’t compete with a ghost and I’m far too fragile to find out right now that he can’t let go. So, I’m going to act like a high school girl and run instead of communicate.