Flawed

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Anytime you need me, I’ll be here for you.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We can get through this together, Hunter. Lots of writing, sex, and movies.”

  Rolling onto my belly, I place my chin on top of my entwined hands. “Tell me everything you want. We’ll shower afterward.”

  His soft, tender lips slide over my back, along with his hands. Making my spine arch and my core clench. I’m ready for him. Ready for anything he wants. Instead of staying where I promised, I push myself from the bed and climb onto his lap.

  “I need you inside me,” I whisper, pulling his shirt off, rubbing my entrance against his throbbing length. My arms hug his immense shoulders.

  Taking his lips, I kiss him desperately, sliding my tongue between his lips. Twisting and turning, I make love to his mouth. He supports my butt, standing up to shove down his boxers.

  Sinking onto him, I cry out, “give me all of you,” as his pulsating thickness enters me completely.

  We stayed in his house fucking hard, making love, and learning everything about the other for the rest of the day. The next morning, I felt so close to him even my heart beat to the same rhythm as his. He worked in his home office. Fitz had a conference call with a client and needed him to consult on the case. I went home to change and check on my sister, but she wasn’t there. I checked my phone and saw a text from her. Hazel and Gramps were going to spend the day in Central Park. I got upset thinking they were continuing to push me away, telling me how happy they were without me intruding into their happy family. I was alone. If it weren’t for Hunter, I’d have no one.

  They didn’t matter anymore. At noon, Hunter picked me up, and he drove us to Coney Island. I’ve never been there, but it was one of his favorite places as a kid. His brothers took him often during the summer when their parents were busy working.

  No plan is foolproof. Within ten minutes, Hunter’s eyes continue scanning the area, his body remaining tense.

  “I don’t feel well. Is there something else we could do?”

  He wraps his arms around me, and his lips kiss my neck. I’m loving these shoulder less tops. Mostly, I love the kisses he sprinkles around my neck and collarbones whenever he has a chance. “Are you making up an excuse for me, Miss Beesley?”

  “For the two of us.” I set my hands on his chest, stretching my neck and kissing his jaw.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you, Willow Beesley.” The soft caress of his breath makes me shiver.

  Closing my eyes, I absorb the words. The warmth of his body. The way my body melts into his even when we’re wearing clothes. Like a jackhammer, my heart pounds against my ribcage. He loves me. He. Loves. Me. Nothing and no one has ever made me happier than he does.

  We kiss, long and slow in the middle of an amusement park. Until a woman says something about us being perverts, and a male voice recommends we find a room. That’s how we ended up walking around Brooklyn Heights. Well, Hunter asked where I wanted to go. I told him Brooklyn Heights was my favorite place.

  “Say the word, and I’ll buy it.” Hunter reads the brochure of the gorgeous Queen Anne Brownstone. “Built in 1887.”

  It’s gorgeous. Elegant, four stories, and it faces Manhattan. What a breathtaking view. I can only imagine, but I don’t imagine. I panic.

  “It can be converted into a four-bedroom home,” he continues reading the features of the house.

  “Why would you need so many bedrooms?”

  “Two children, a guest room,” he says casually. He lifts my hand kissing it. “Unless you want to have more kids.”

  Is he delusional? My genes come from a crappy mold. None of us knows how to be parents. My grandfather fucked up my dad. My parents couldn’t care for us at all. I have no idea what is going on with my mother’s family. She’s never mentioned them. Rotten parental DNA.

  “I—”

  “Good afternoon,” a woman coming out of the house greets us. Her brown hair wrapped into a bun. She wears an elegant, knee length dress and a pair of red heels. For a few seconds, I’m grateful she interrupted us. She saves me from the “I am never having children” discussion. What will happen when I tell him? Is it a deal breaker? My hands start sweating at the thought of losing him this soon.

  “Mallory Schoeder.” She extends her hand. “I’m the listing agent. Would you like to come inside?”

  “We’d love to,” Hunter responds, pulling me toward the door.

  “You won’t find a brownstone like this one anywhere in town.”

  Try next door, lady

  “This is perfect for a young couple ready to start a family. We are only . . .”

  I tune her out as she mentions the excellent schools just around the corner. Brooklyn Bridge Park is only walking distance away. Renovated, state of the art appliances. I don’t cook, lady. As long as there’s a refrigerator for my salads and a microwave to nuke the rest, I’m happy.

  To be honest, the gigantic kitchen has some appeal. You can entertain guests during the holidays. There’s a library with built in bookcases. I don’t read as much as Hazel, but that’d be the perfect place for my little sister when she comes to visit.

  “Grilling on Sundays,” Hunter says as we walk outside to the backyard. “My brothers would come and see us, bringing your sister and grandfather.

  Four floors filled with future memories according to Hunter. He’s already thinking about the commute. My work schedule and Jensen driving me to the theater at nights.

  Wait, I am an unemployed actress. We just started dating. What is wrong with us? There won’t be any baby Willows. If he plans on having tiny Hunters, he better go and knock up someone else. He’s dating the wrong sister if his plan is to marry and have children. I just want someone to love and who understands me.

  I don’t say anything. My words will turn him against me. He’ll hate me. I’m so fucking useless. Way to fuck it up, Willow.

  “Do you like it, gorgeous?” he asks, and I’ve missed most of the conversation while lost inside my self-loathing pity party.

  “It’s a great place.” Mallory, Melissa, or whatever her fucking name is, touches his elbow. He smiles back at her. “We can draw up an offer and get you a special discount.”

  Is she for fucking real? Am I invisible?

  “Willow?” he calls me, but my eyes are on the fucking slut. “Do you want it?”

  “No.”

  “It’s perfect, and we can work the numbers today,” he continues, trying to make his case.

  “You like it, buy it,” I respond narrowing my gaze at her. “It looks too expensive.”

  “Price isn’t a problem.”

  I chuckle. “Price is a problem,” I snap at him. The woman in front of me hides the smirk. “How about you stop eye-fucking my boyfriend. I’m right here.”

  She touches her pearl necklace, gasping. “I wasn’t—”

  “You think I’m stupid?” I growl, leaning forward. Ready to snatch that necklace from her neck.

  “Thank you for showing us the place,” Hunter excuses himself, walking us toward the main door. “I have your information.”

  “What’s going on, babe?” He uses his calm voice once we’re outside.

  “Are you dumping me for her?” I hiss, tossing my hands in the air and giving up. There’s no point in continuing.

  He cups my face, his eyes watching me closely. “Never. I love you. No one else. Never doubt it. Please, sweetheart, I need you to focus on us.”

  And I lose it in the middle of Hicks Street. As he holds me, I fantasize about the ways I could disappear: stepping in front of a bus or drowning in the Hudson. Maybe I could drive a knife through my chest. Would they miss me? That will teach them for not taking me seriously. There’s the possibility no one would miss me, not even Hunter.

  “Seeing you cry breaks my heart.” Hunter kisses my eyes.

  I look away, tears flooding down my cheeks. He strokes my back. Maybe things aren’t as I feel them. Maybe we can make this work. Whatever
it is that we have between the two of us. I’m beginning to believe he can contain whatever it is inside me that destroys all my relationships.

  Seventeen

  Back to the real world

  Reality continues to ruin my life. ~ Anonymous

  “Did you hear what I said?” Hazel drops a bunch of packages on my desk. It’s Monday morning after a week from hell.

  Transferring the call I just answered to Bruno, the investment director, I lift my gaze and cross my arms, giving her my undivided attention.

  “Next time, wait until I’m off the phone to talk to me,” I snap back at her. Who does she think she is?

  Her nostrils flare, her lips twist, and several seconds pass before she speaks, “I’m fed up with you. We had an agreement. I help you while you get your shit together. You left me hanging last week. You can’t miss an entire week of work, Willow. This might be temporary for you, but for us it’s a business.”

  “I’m having trouble dealing with . . .” I huff. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  The phone rings again, the doors of the elevator open, and I take the opportunity to calm my emotions. Last night I promised Hunter to count to ten, or twenty, when I feel like my anger is taking over. I should communicate with him when I’m feeling insecure about us—remember we are a team.

  But how can I do it when everything inside me is shaking and I feel like I’m about to explode? Hazel giving me a lecture on work ethics after the week of hell I had makes my blood boil. Does she care about me at all? I thought she was my person.

  “You and me, Wills,” she tells me when I’m asphyxiating and I can’t find a way to continue.

  “May I remind you that you said, ‘take time off’?” I recall what she said last week.

  “I meant a day not an entire week. You could at least have told me that you didn’t plan to work all week,” she protests. “Your insurance kicked in last week. Can you please go see a doctor?”

  She not only suggests I go to see a doctor, but my little sister also throws numerous business cards on top of the glass. Well, not throw, she places each one down separately for me to view. One has chicken scratch scribbles covering it.

  “You can’t checkout from reality this often and for so long, Willow.” She swallows hard. “It’s not normal. I have bad days, too. Some when I want to stay in hiding with my pillow and a book. But you just don’t leave your bed at all. That’s concerning.”

  “Well, little sister, I don’t see your degree in psychiatry to make that kind of call.” I cross my arms, leaning forward. “Do you think it’s easy for me, Hazel?”

  It’s exhausting to handle rapidly changing emotions. My credit sucks because I can’t keep a steady acting job to pay off my credit cards or any other bill on time. Most of the roles I have had in the past finish too soon or are minor and the pay sucks. Why does she care? Hazel has everything. The love of our grandfather, friends, a job she enjoys. She is smart enough to have a degree. For fuck’s sake, she’s even getting a master’s degree. I didn’t finish college because I’m useless. Maybe if I had finished, I would’ve gotten a better job. That’s my father’s fault. He stopped paying for my education claiming he didn’t have money for it. Everyone in my life has abandoned me.

  This is why I avoid asking for help. She’s becoming my grandfather. “Do as I say, or I won’t give you a hand!” If only I had my mother. Would she understand what I’m going through with these two? I wish I could find something in common with her. Then, I want to yell at her for leaving me.

  “No. You’re not understanding what I’m trying to say, Willow. I’m here offering to help you because it’s hard.” She grasps the edge of the desk, looking down at me. “Nothing will change unless you start working on it. You have to help yourself. Ask for help. Advocate for yourself. I don’t know what’s going on with you because you don’t share.”

  “Why would I share?” I raise my voice, springing from my seat. “Do you ever share what’s going on with you?”

  She steps back, her mouth opens slightly, those light brown eyes go wide. “I try my best. But we spend so little time together. I’d rather enjoy an hour chatting about fun stuff, learning what’s up with you.”

  “You trust everyone else, but me.” She shakes her head but I continue before she makes her case. “Fitz knows more about your ex than I do. It’s been two years, and I barely know what happened. Why couldn’t you work it out? Either you don’t trust me, or you think I’m not worth telling shit to.”

  “It goes both ways!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You use me as your last resort. Don’t you think I’ve noticed that you’d rather starve than ask me for help.” She huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m waiting for you to up and leave me hanging, like you have done in the past couple of years.”

  Her words catch me off guard—they’re a bucket full of ice. A reality check and mostly a reminder of how my life sucks. Doesn’t she understand I’ve failed her? “I’m supposed to take care of you.” My voice echoes, making me jolt.

  “No. I’m not a little girl anymore. For the last time, I’m old enough to hold a job, drive, and drink. Old enough to be taken seriously by you.” She points at me.

  The conversation has shifted into unknown territory. My heart beats fast because I’ve never seen this side of my sister—ever.

  “I promise not to skip work. Can we be done with this conversation?” I simulate indignation, hiding the astonishment.

  “No. You want to know my shit. I’m recovering from the depression caused by my separation from the man I thought was the love of my life. Through therapy, I’ve discovered that my issue wasn’t my ex, but my parents’ abandonment and needing validation from outsiders.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Is it all in my head? He fucked up, but I’m to blame, too.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she lowers her voice. “So here I am, working out the self-doubts. I have so many insecurities, and most are the product of my strange childhood. While of course, I try to grow up. Deal with my sister who still sees me as a two-year-old, and be the woman I would like to become.” Then she laughs as I’m speechless with what she just dumped. I never thought Hazel was insecure. She’s always poised, laughing, and being so positive. “Would you like to know more? Of course not, because my sister doesn’t like to discuss our parents, our childhood, or therapists.”

  Her words get under my skin. “What are you insinuating?”

  “Nothing. I’m telling you how things are. You’re the most caring, wonderful, loving sister I know. You sacrificed most of your childhood to be what you didn’t have, a mother. Except when it comes to things that affect you, too. Then you . . .” She shrugs one shoulder. “Detach and try to change the conversation. Why would I try to bring up something that will damage our relationship?”

  This is the point where it’s too much. She’s not saying this out of spite or to hurt me, but it is hurting me nonetheless. The energy I accumulated from the past two days is beginning to fade—fast. Another disappointment.

  “I love you, Wills. It angers me not knowing how to help you. One moment there’s a spark in your eyes, and the next you can barely move. This crappy life is hard enough, why not lean on me when you’re down? It doesn’t make you weak.”

  Turning to the desk, I pile the cards. Telling her I’ll try my best will make her happy. “I’ll do it.”

  “What if I propose going to visit our parents?”

  “Are you insane?” I see red, and my voice sounds screechy. Why would I visit them?

  “No. I’m looking for answers and a relationship with them. Gramps and our father barely speak to each other. I don’t want to be sixty and estranged from our parents. I love them.”

  “Girls,” Gramps calls us from the creepy intercom. “The entire office has learned our family history. I recommend next time you take this discussion somewhere else.”

  “Sorry,” we both apologize.

  “Willow, can you com
e to my office for a minute.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, turning around and ignoring my sister. I’ve had enough of her. My own sister plans on changing who I am.

  “This won’t be over until you take a step in the right direction. This job is temporary, Willow. You can have it for as long as you want, but remember what makes you happy. Acting.” Hazel doesn’t follow me. She walks to the elevator, calling it. “I’ll be back on Thursday. Call me if you need me.”

  For the first time since my parents brought her home, I feel like she doesn’t belong to me. What now? If only we could get past this barrier. Wait, I didn’t know we had a barrier. What is happening between us? Why am I losing her, too? I can’t lose her. She’s the only one keeping me standing. The weight of the revelation brings me down for a few moments. The memory of Hunter’s breath caressing me and his musky scent while we slept remind me that I have him.

  After work, Hunter invites me to dinner. I hate to rehash what happened with Hazel, but I need to talk it through with someone.

  “She left, reminding me that acting is what makes me happy,” I say, staring at the glass of water in front of me.

  “She didn’t even mention my birthday,” I protest.

  “Wait, when is your birthday?”

  “Wednesday.”

  He flinches. “Okay, I have a full schedule tomorrow and most of the day on Wednesday.”

  “It’s okay,” I say, deflated. My shoulders slump, and my chin almost hits my chest. Grandfather has told me earlier that he is going out of town tomorrow—with Fitzhenry.

  “Can you trust me?”

  I purse my lips, thinking about his question. Trust is hard to give. We know each other better but trusting him? “With what?”