Before I can stop it from happening, my mind drifts to the end of my short marriage and the beginning of Charley’s life. Hurt seeps into my chest and blooms throughout my entire body as I think about those first few weeks after she was born. I try my hardest not to let my mind go there, but sometimes visions of her as an infant sneak in and I can’t stop the memories from coming. I was so depressed after she was born I couldn’t even care for her. I locked myself in my bedroom, a replica of our bedroom we shared back in California, and refused to even hold her. Celeste was the only mother she knew. I couldn’t do anything but bury my head in my husband’s pillow and cry. He was all around me in that room, but he was gone forever. I would never lay eyes on him again, never feel his arms around me, and never hear his beautiful voice calling me ‘Red’. The biggest reminder I had of him, though, was my daughter, his namesake. I prayed and prayed the entire time I was pregnant that my child would be a tiny replica of Charlie. I wanted to look at my baby every day and see my husband in his or her eyes. There’s not a trace of Charlie there, though. She’s the spitting image of me, and has been since the day she was born. Just another one of life’s cruel jokes. I look down at her now, holding my hand and smiling that radiant smile, and I can’t believe I missed out on those first weeks of her life because of my depression over losing her father. If it weren’t for Celeste, I don’t know what would have happened to the two of us.
Celeste comes to find us outside, pulling me from my memories. She gives my free hand a squeeze, like she knows what was occupying my mind. I’m sure I had a look on my face that she’s seen many times. While Celeste and Charley stay outside and enjoy some more sunshine, I muster up enough courage to go upstairs and wake Miller. I wait until I can’t put it off any longer. I grab him a bagel and make him a cup of coffee, fixing it exactly how I know he likes it.
My heart is pounding out of my chest by the time I step out of the elevator and knock on his door. I think about the hallway scene last night and my breathing becomes heavy. God, if I can’t even think about Miller, how am I going to actually do anything with him?
He opens the door, pulling me from my thoughts, but inciting another line of thinking. He’s fresh from the shower, drops of water still dripping down his chest, pulling my eyes along their descent to the towel that’s wrapped around his waist.
“Andi?” he calls, clearing his throat.
“Oh, um, here,” I say, handing him the cup of coffee and bagel. I can feel the heat on my face. I guess I was being a bit obvious in my perusal of his flawless body.
“God, you’re incredible,” he says.
So are you, I think. He takes his breakfast treats from my hands and kisses my cheek in the process. I notice that his mouth doesn’t come anywhere near mine and the kiss doesn’t linger.
“I try.”
He disappears into the bathroom to get dressed and I make myself comfy on the bed, hoping he’ll bring up last night so I don’t have to be the one to do it. I’m not exactly sure how to broach the subject. How does one tell her best friend that she wants to sleep with him? Celeste said I just need to throw myself at him, but I don’t want it to happen now, I just need him to know that it’s what I want. I just want the conversation to take place. I also need him to bring it up first.
The bathroom door opens, pulling me from my thoughts. He comes and sits across me on the bed, his position mirroring mine. We both have one knee bent on the bed, one leg thrown over the side and resting on the floor, our hands fidgeting in our laps. It’s obvious he has some things on his mind, too. He looks so tired. If I had to guess, he didn’t sleep last night after I left out of here. He looks like the Miller I first met all those months ago, when he first got to Fairhope. Pasty skin, bags under his eyes, stubble on his face, it’s all there. It’s not as extreme as it was back then, but it has the potential to be. I need to pull him from this misery. I think yesterday really took a toll on him. I should have never forced him to come back here. I thought he was ready, but he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry, Andi,” he says, his foot that’s on the floor tapping against mine.
I wasn’t expecting him to apologize to me. Regret is dancing across his unshaven face. I want to lean over and kiss the remorse away, but I decide to find out why he’s apologizing first.
“What do you have to apologize about? I think I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I should have never suggested coming back here. I know how hard yesterday was for you. I just wish I could have been there for you. You needed me, and I didn’t do anything to help you. I’m the one that’s sorry.”
His hand is rubbing up and down my thigh. This is something he’s done time and time again, but after what happened last night, it brings on a completely new set of feelings. Little zaps of electricity accompany each up and down stroke of his hand. I can’t wait to feel the same movement on my bare skin.
He shakes his head. “I took advantage of you last night.” His voice is strained, upset. “You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t want me that way. I shouldn’t have touched you, but I couldn’t help myself. That was a total dick move. I can’t apologize enough for what I did. I hope you’re not mad at me. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking I violated your trust and hurt our friendship.”
The regret that’s displayed on his face is bleeding through his voice. I don’t want him to regret what happened between us. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. He’s really upset about this. He must not remember the part last night where I was enjoying everything he was doing to me, practically climbing up his body, panting and begging him for more.
“Miller, I-”
He puts his hand on my cheek and places his thumb lightly against my lips, keeping the words from escaping. “Andi, please promise me that I didn’t ruin anything last night. It would kill me if I hurt you or our relationship because of something I said or did.” He closes his eyes for a second and then opens them again, the pain more prevalent than before. “My memories are a little vague. Did I upset you? Hurt you?”
I place my hand on top of his, which is still resting on my cheek. “No, Miller. I don’t think you have it in you to hurt me.”
He laughs and looks down, shaking his head. “I did last night. I made a promise to you and to myself that I wouldn’t do that to you, and I did it anyway.”
His hand moves from my face and grabs my left hand, his thumb running lightly over my wedding band, reminding me why I shouldn’t be having this conversation with him in the first place.
“I’m so sorry, Andi,” he whispers.
“It’s alright, Miller, I promise. We are going to be just fine.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes. I’m almost ready to go.” He stands up and pulls me off the bed and into his arms. After a brief, stiff, very non-Miller hug, he leads me to the door. I guess our conversation is over. And I guess I don’t need to worry about how to bring up sleeping with him. He isn’t going to allow it to happen, despite the fact that now I want it to.
Chapter Sixteen
Andi
My daughter has never been so happy in all her life. She’s mesmerized by all of the sea creatures on display at the aquarium in New Orleans. We don’t have anything like this back home, and she’s enchanted by the animals floating before her eyes. Miller’s making sure she sees everything and gets the full description of each animal in the tanks, even though I’m sure she doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying to her. He’s so good with her. I find it odd, considering he’s an only child and has never really been around children her age before. He’s told me about Ava, Lucy’s adopted sister, but she only came into their lives recently.
Charley seems more interested in spending time with Miller than with me, so I hang back with Celeste and let them have their time together. Celeste takes the opportunity to grill me about what happened when I brought him breakfast this morning.
“Give me all the details. Don’t leave out a single, sordid act. I want to
hear each dirty little morsel,” she says, looping her arm through mine. Miller and Charley are walking several feet in front of me, but I shush her anyway. I don’t want him to hear this conversation.
“He apologized. He assured me that nothing like that was going to happen again. He didn’t even give me the chance to tell him that I want it to happen again.”
“He may say that now, but I can promise you, he doesn’t mean it. I can see how he watches you when he thinks no one is looking. He wants you. He just doesn’t think he can have you. You don’t need to tell him you want it to happen. You need to show him you want it to happen.”
I look at my friend like she’s lost her mind. I am not well versed in the art of seduction like she is. This is not something I’ve ever had to before. I would feel like an idiot.
“Let me keep Charley tonight. You and Miller need to make this happen.”
I sigh and give her a squeeze, leaving her to join my daughter, who is very engrossed with watching baby sting rays swimming in circles in an open tank.
After a very full day of amusement, we head to a hotel in the French Quarter, our arms loaded down with goodies from our excursions. I’ll never have to buy Charley another stuffed animal for the rest of her life. We’ve got at least two representing every zoo and sea animal known to man; a veritable Noah’s Ark. Even with my insistence at stopping, Miller would go behind my back and get her whatever she wanted, falling for her charms.
My poor daughter is dead on her feet, but she was such a trooper. Miller made sure she got the full experience that a two year old in New Orleans needed…the aquarium, a horse-drawn buggy ride, the zoo, the children’s museum, and beignets. I think the beignets at Café du Monde were her favorite part. Anything that makes a mess is always appealing to my daughter. All four of us had a wonderful time, but we’re all exhausted. I want to have a long bath and just crash, but Miller insists on taking me out.
“Come on, Andi, we can’t not go out. When are you gonna be in New Orleans again?” he asks me, trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to pout.
“I’m exhausted,” I tell him. “In case you forgot, I had to take care of your drunk ass last night.”
“That was a low blow, Andrea Hope.”
“Well, I’m tired. Besides, what if Charley has another bad dream and I’m not here?”
I lie back on the bed and glance over at my daughter, who is passed out. It’s highly unlikely she’ll have another bad dream. She hardly ever has them, so I’m sure last night was just a fluke, brought on from the long car ride. I don’t want to admit to Miller that I can’t handle being around him tonight. Things feel unsettled between us and I don’t like it. We are at an impasse, and I need some clarification in this relationship. The scales need to tip, one way or the other, before I reach my breaking point.
Miller squats down besides the bed, peeking over my body at Charley before speaking. “Okay. What if we just go to a little jazz club I spotted around the corner from here? We can have a few beers and come back home. If she wakes up, Celeste can call us and we can be back here in five minutes. I just want to take you out. Please?”
“Two beers?” I ask, holding up my fingers and raising my eyebrows.
“Deal,” he says, a smile taking over his face and lighting up his dark eyes. “I’ll go get ready and be back in a minute.”
Miller comes back to the room about an hour later to pick me up. I don’t know if it’s because I know he’s taken himself off the table as an option, but every time I see him I want him more and more. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, beating harshly against the walls of my belly every time he’s near me. My breaths push out of my body in an irregular pattern as soon as I open the door to my room. When he smiles at me and reaches out his hand to pull me in for a hug my heart almost explodes.
“Okay, kids,” Celeste calls from her seat in the corner, “behave. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That pretty much gives us the green light for anything,” Miller teases.
“Exactly. Stay out and have a good time. The kid and I are fine. I’ll see y’all in the morning.”
“Call me if you need anything. We’ll stay close.” I move back towards my bed, kissing Charley’s head once more before I leave with Miller.
Miller’s arm is around my waist before I even get all the way to the door. He looks down at me and smiles, the exhaustion from the day still evident. Something isn’t right. I can tell he’s distracted as we walk down the hallway to grab the elevator for the lobby.
“What’s wrong? You seem upset. We don’t have to go out.”
He runs his free hand through his dark hair and sighs. “Nothing’s wrong.”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “Your hand through your hair slash sighing combo is as telling as you say my lip pulling is. Whenever you do that, Miller, something is bothering you. What’s wrong?”
Another sigh. “My dad called when I went back to my room.”
I reach across the small space and pull his hand back in mine. “Was it bad?”
“Not any worse than the usual conversation with one of my parents. They noticed the boxes were gone from my bedroom. He gave me the same lecture I receive on a weekly basis. I’m a disgrace to the entire Ashby family, I’m throwing my life away, I’m ruining their reputations, you know the drill.”
“That’s such bullshit. If I had to guess, nobody’s even talking about the fact that you took a break from school.”
“Oh, I’m sure their prestigious circle of friends is talking about it, but their opinions don’t matter for shit. Well, until it’s time to get a job anywhere in law in the state of Louisiana. Then I’ll be screwed.”
“You could work anywhere. Don’t let them get to you. Besides, you’ve got to actually finish school before you start worrying about getting a job with a firm.”
He finally gives me a genuine smile. “Hey pot. I’m kettle.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m going back to school soon. I just don’t have time right now. Two jobs and a toddler seem to take up all my time. When I get enough money saved up, I’ll quit one of the jobs and start school again. I’m close.”
There’s a lull in conversation as we step out of the hotel and walk a few short blocks along the streets of the Quarter. Miller guides us towards a tiny little hole in the wall bar that I would have passed right by if I weren’t with him. A huge man perched on a stool is at door checking IDs and collecting cover charges. Miller pays and steers us inside, his thumb rubbing circles on my back. Every movement is causing flutters in my belly.
We make our way to the bar and I instantly fall in love with the feel of this place. It’s so different from The Shipyard, with its exposed brick walls, wrought iron railings, and aged, knotted pine floors. The history of this place must be fascinating. I’m not in the mood for a history lesson right now, though. I need something in my system to help me cope with this man who’s currently pushing me up against the edge of the bar, covering my back with the front of his warm, hard body.
“What are we drinking, Mr. Ashby?”
“You can have whatever you want, Mrs. Bankston. I think I’ll stick to water tonight. Last night was rough. I need a breather.”
His words hurt me. I hope he means that the events leading up to what happened between us were rough, not the stuff that actually happened between us. I’m feeling the need to numb this gnawing sensation in my chest over his statement. My eyes sweep over the various liquor bottles lining the glass shelves in front of me.
“I think it’s a dirty martini night,” I tell him.
I feel the chuckle rumbling through his chest against my back. “So, screw the whole ‘two beers’ statement from earlier?”
“Yep,” I say, with a little more attitude than I meant.
He turns me around and his hand comes to my face. I want to lean into it and kiss the inside of it, but I exercise a bit of self-control.
“What’s the matter?”
I shake my head, but d
on’t get the chance to say anything. The bartender is in front of us and Miller orders my martini.
I get comfortable on a bar stool, while Miller stands at my side. I drink the first martini in record time, and proceed to order a second one, and then a third. The bar is packed, loud, and smoky, but I’m only aware of Miller. Vodka will help that feeling go away, or so I’m hoping. The second and third drinks are consumed a little slower, but are not very effective in helping me cope with the man standing next to me. My skin becomes more sensitive to each touch he places on my skin, his voice sounds deeper with every word that leaves his mouth, he smells better each time he leans in closer to listen to what I’m saying, and he’s just beautiful to look at, which I decide I have to tell him. I need to tell him right this second, like my very existence depends on it.
“I think you’re a beautiful man, Miller.”
He laughs. It shoots straight to parts of my body it has no business going. Shit.
“I think you’re drunk, Andi. Beautiful, but drunk.”
I rub my hand up and down his arm. “I want to dance with you.”
“Can you even walk?”
“I’m not that drunk. Just a little bit drunk.” I hold my thumb and forefinger an inch apart as the words leave my mouth and an odd sense of déjà vu washes over my body, sending a shiver through my system, causing goose bumps to erupt over my skin. I feel strange. “You don’t want to dance with me?”
The Promise of More: The Home Series, Book Three Page 12
