The Art of Me (The All of Me Book 1)

by S. J. Blaze

  “No, you wouldn’t. You refused to let me go to Dublin and you threw this entire family shit show down my fucking throat when I was dead set against it. How the fuck is that giving me what I want? How?” I scream the last words and try to buck him off of me. He’s so much heavier that all I do is hurt my back and tire myself out. He stays silent until I cease all movements and lie there like a weak wet noodle.

  “Are you finished?” I close my eyes and turn my head away from him. I’m shutting this man out, even if he’s squishing me with his gigantic man weight. “Shit. Charlie…look at me, love.” I pinch my face even tighter. If I could cover my ears and hum ‘Mary had a Little Lamb’ right now, I totally would.

  He leans forward and whispers that he’s sorry. Blazing kisses burn a trail up my neck. “I love you. I didn’t mean to upset you. No more Florida, I promise. I won’t talk with your mother anymore if it upsets you. You’re my priority, love. Always.”

  My eyes slowly open. With them closed, his touches are severely amplified and I can feel the slow simmering in my veins. “And the trio?”

  He shakes his head. “There’s no way in hell I would have felt comfortable with you going halfway across the world without me. Do I regret my decision? No fucking way!” He bites my top lip and molests my mouth. “I won’t let them take you. You belong to me, Charlie! Me! I take precedence. Do I need to remind you how I love you? How you belong to me?”

  I want to shout out ‘No’ but with Coen the answers seem to always be ‘Yes.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  Fuck! I feel like shit. I squeeze my eyes tight trying to ward off the next wave of nausea. I’ve been standing either across the toilet or over it for the last forty minutes. Coen and I are scheduled to be at the Cardiac Health Research event for the hospital in less than an hour. I had spent the entire afternoon getting my hair and makeup professionally done. Then…bam, my guts feel like they’re literally spilling all over. I sniffle and wipe my eyes with a clean piece of toilet paper.

  I must have eaten something bad at lunch. Coen is slated to be one of the speakers tonight, and he can’t miss this. We donated one and a half million dollars to further cardiac research in honor of Greyson. Coen thought it would be a great way to raise awareness for the hospital and get other donors to contribute handsomely. I thought it was a great idea and even volunteered with organizing tonight’s event. But at this rate, I’ll never see it.

  “Love, you feeling any better?” He brings me a cold bottle of water and some pain medication. I gently shake my head. “Maybe try some medicine?” he replies. He runs a washcloth under water and places it behind my neck. It feels heavenly and I sigh with relief then down the meds.

  “Better?” He smiles, his perfect white teeth on full display. He looks stunning in his tux, minus the jacket. I touch his chest and savor the warmth there. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. I don’t want to miss this. Get it together, Charlie!

  I feel his lips press against my forehead. “You’re a little warm, love. Please don’t push yourself.” I nod and concede. He’s right. I’m an absolute mess. I look up at him. He’s polished tonight. Perfect shave, hair locked into gel hell. Sigh.

  “I wanted to be there with you,” I pout. There’s nothing worse than feeling like shit, as it brings out my inner whininess. He bites his lip while he ponders things.

  “Maybe I can call Jameson to take my spot. They don’t need me, just my name.” He watches as I shake my head. Lips pursed, eyes narrow, I’m determined to make this man do good in this world. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t leave you like this.”

  I push at his chest and walk to the bedroom while clutching my unsettled stomach. Sitting on the edge, I remove my delectable Prada heels and carefully climb into bed. “See, baby. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably fall asleep the second you walk out of the door and stay that way all night.” I feign a smile while closing my eyes. See, all better. When really I feel like I might puke at any second.

  He sits next to me and I feel the heat of his hand caressing my moistened, overheated skin. “I don’t like this, love. Maybe I should call Malice or have Davis watch you.”

  “No, go! If you wait too long, you’ll be late. Go! Wow those billionaires and make me proud.”

  He chuckles and leans over pressing his head against my temple. “You’re such a handful, you know that, love?” He kisses me a few times, procrastinating his departure.

  “Baby, if you delay any longer you’ll be late.”

  “Fuck…” He’s still resting against me. “Can’t we just make out and be sick together. Then I won’t have to go either.” He smiles brightly when he catches me opening my eyes.

  “Babe, I swear, I’ll be fine. I promise to text you if I feel even the slightest bit worse. Promise.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, love.” He chuckles some more and then groans. “Okay, okay, okay. I’m going.” He presses one last kiss against my forehead, and then stands. “I shall do your evil bidding, Mrs. Collins.” He grabs the jacket that’s been by the foot of the bed and throws it over his arm. “I’ll come home as soon as my speech is given. I love you, Charlie Collins.” He stares, waiting for me to return the sentiment.

  “And I you, my darling husband.”

  “Sleep, my love. I’ll be home and have you in my arms in no time.” He snaps the lamp light off and cracks the bathroom door closed, so I’m still bathed in that sliver of light. He blows me one more kiss before walking through the open door.

  My stomach still feels restless, but I’m starting to feel better. I scroll through images of Coen. He has been a part of my life for nearly a year now. I could barely stand him when we met and now I adore him. I probably wouldn’t know how to breathe without him.

  After another twenty minutes, I start to feel myself again. I sit up and drink more of the water that Coen left by the bed. I feel the chill it leaves in my empty stomach. I test things out by sitting up. No dizziness, which is a good sign. I walk to the bathroom and brace myself for what my reflection will reveal. Yep, raccoon eyes. Ughh. How that man did not run away screaming, I’ll never know? He must truly like me. I sit at my vanity and start to clean myself up. There isn’t a whole lot. My hair is still nicely in place, although I have to smooth some strands back.

  Hmm. I think I can do this. I check the time and see that the party has only just begun. Cocktails will be served for at least the first hour. If I hurry, I can still make it in time for Coen’s speech.

  Excited by this new prospect, I quickly redress and I’m out of the door in no time. Davis drove Coen tonight and since I don’t have time to wait for a taxi or Malice, I climb into my Audi. It takes me roughly thirty minutes to reach the hotel, but I make it with plenty of time to spare.

  I quickly make my way through the entry way and into the ballroom and then freeze. Shit, I’m too short. There are men in tuxes everywhere, and at least two hundred guests in attendance. There’s no way I’ll find him like this. I walk to the edge of the room and snatch my cell from my clutch. He said to text if I needed him, so I’m hoping he has his phone close. As I’m about to dial, I spot him…being pulled by a woman.

  Who’s that? I watch as they make their way out of the door and into the hotel hallway, and I quickly follow. She’s quite tall and thin from behind, and it looks as though he is trailing her as she pulls him along. What’s he doing? He has a speech in fifteen minutes. With their long legs, I quickly lose them in the darkened hallway. Across the way are the bathrooms, so I begin to head in when I hear a bump behind me. I notice a sliver of light appear under the closed door and hear more bumping.

  “What are you doing, Mandy?” More thumping and a loud bang. “You’re so tense, Co-Co. I’m just trying to relax you, baby.”

  “Cut it out, I’m married now.” Then another loud thump.

  Oh my god, what’s happening? I feel like I’m about to pass out when I notice the cell in my hand. Without much thought, I hit video and record. This can’t be real.
It must be my imagination. He would never do this. We’ve only been married for a few months. He loves me. He will stop her, I know it. I clutch my stomach and try to stop the new rolls of nausea creeping through me.

  “Oh, I bet your cold bitch of a wife couldn’t suck you off for shit. I know exactly how you like it, remember baby?”

  I hear some noise and a zipper. Oh fuck. I whimper, then remembering where I am, slap my hand over my mouth. The other hand shakes while recording the door.

  “Fuck you, Mandy. Get off, oh fuck...that feels good. Shit. You need to…oh god, don’t stop.” I hear slurping noises. I keep the hand pressed against my mouth and bite down on it to stop any additional whimpers from escaping.

  “I know how to treat you, baby. Just sit back and enjoy. I’ll make you cum so good, baby.” Then more sucking and I swear I hear that son of a bitch moan. He likes this? He wants this?

  “Fuck, this is, this is…oh, fuck, so good. Shit!” I stand there, like the fucking fool that I am and listen until he finishes. I hear every groan and moan while my heart stops beating all together and I die what must be the slowest death in history. My entire body has broken out in sweat and I stand there shaking and nearly convulsing. How could he?

  “Oh god, Charlie. Oh god.” I look around to see if he sees me. No, I’m the only fool in this hallway. The rest of the world moves on. The rest of the world is living as my life comes to an abrupt ending. I never stood a chance.

  “You taste fantastic, Co-Co. Want to fuck me, now?”

  “No, you fucking whore. Get away from me. My wife…she’s going to. Oh, Jesus. What have you done to me?”

  With that, I walk away and quickly shut off my phone, shoving it back into my clutch. They will be emerging from that closet any moment now. I try to gather myself as I go and not wilt into the ground. This is the second time in my life that I’ve really felt the sting of betrayal. The last time, I died. This time, it’s a thousand times worse.

  As I walk towards the hotel lobby, I see Davis standing with his hands interlaced in front of him. He clearly sees me and looks concerned. As he’s about to step in my direction, I shake my head and put my finger to my lips. I know he owes me nothing, but I hope he knows better than to be a gossip. His eyebrows furrow and he steps back into place, neither affirming nor denying my request for his silence. Oh well. What the fuck do I care at this point? Nothing.

  I drive home in a daze. I undress and climb into the hot shower. Maybe, I can wash it all away. My hair wet, makeup off, I throw on a huge sweatshirt and sweatpants and climb into bed. Despite the warmth of the clothing and hot shower, I’m freezing and I can’t stop shaking. Even my teeth are chattering. But I know that no amount of covering will warm me. I’m cold because Coen Collins has killed my soul. I’m dead inside, so how will I ever find warmth again? I won’t.

  I grab my cell, which is next to the bed and press play on the video. I’m questioning reality and need to know if this is really happening. But, it is him. My husband. My love. The man I gave everything to and gave up everything for. I’m such a fool. I thought I had left the stupid girl behind me at UF, but I didn’t. I guess I just covered her up with muscles and music. Stupid, stupid, fool.

  I put down the phone and try to think of what to do next. I have no real job. I barely have my friends. I still have my condo but I’m married. It’s different. What can I do?

  I hear the door to the garage close. Coen is here, and my heart beat triples. In a split second decision, I decide to wait and see what he does. Will he tell me? Would that make it forgivable? I resolve to feign sleep for the interim.

  He walks into the room and stops by my side of the bed, but keeps his distance. I can tell by his body heat and scent that he isn’t terribly close. He watches me another few seconds, then goes straight to the shower. He’s in there at least twenty minutes and I swear I hear him crying at one point. But it’s hard to tell, even with my ear to the door.

  He eventually comes out and climbs into bed behind me, spooning me. I feel his warm bare arm wrap around my waist and pull me tightly to him. He’s shaking. He kisses the back of my head and whispers. “I can’t lose you. It’ll fucking kill me.” He buries his face in my hair and continues his quiet whimpers and cries. He apologizes repeatedly, all in hushed tones, still thinking I’m asleep. “I love you, Charlie. More than my own life. Please know that, love.” He kisses my ear and then settles himself.

  I feel a few more hiccups of after-tears behind me and then his breathing evens out. Soon after, I gather he isn’t going to tell me. I’ll never be able to trust Coen again. That the love I felt for him has been cheapened, dirtied. I realize I have to find a way out and that the countdown has begun. Let’s see how good my acting skills are.

  I awake alone to a sunny Saturday morning. Why the sun is up and how the Earth continues to rotate, I have no clue. Don’t they know what happened last night? I need out. I dress and head downstairs. My stomach is still feeling off, but nothing feels as off as my heart right now. My heart wins.

  I find Coen in the kitchen, wearing low slung sweats and no top. My mouth immediately waters for a taste and then my brain kicks in and chastises me.

  “Morning, love. How are you feeling today? Any better?”

  I try to fake a smile. “Yeah, it must have been a twelve-hour thing.”

  “I made some breakfast. I was going to bring it up to you in bed, but you’re up. Why are you dressed?”

  “I’m gonna hit Tornadoes.” This is the part where he would usually put up a fight.

  “Oh, okay. I guess you really are feeling better. Do you want something to eat before you go? I made a veggie omelet, just the way you like, and an English muffin.” He’s sweetly smiling, but it looks like he isn’t readily meeting my eyes.

  “No.” I croak. “Maybe some water, then I’m off.”

  “Sure, anything you want, love.” He reaches into the fridge to grab a bottle then holds it out to me. I reach forward and he pulls it back. “Do I get my morning kiss?”

  I lean forward and wrap my arms around his middle and place my nose over his heart. His stupid cruel heart. I hate this fucking heart. I hate that I can breathe him in and it brings me peace and warmth and I want to drown in it. I hate myself so much right now. Just two more minutes. Keep it together, two more minutes.

  “I love you so much, Charlie Collins. So fucking much. You know that right?” His voice cracks slightly but he tries to cover it with a laugh. Yes, laugh at the stupid girl. It’s all so fucking funny. I nod my little lying head and kiss his deceitful heart.

  “Give me my lips.” He pulls my ponytail back and it snaps my head. Then he lays his soft beautifully perfect lips against my own. I hate his lips. He kisses me painfully soft and lets it go on past its expiration. Closing his eyes, he whispers. “Hurry home to me, my heart.” I nod and then grab my stuff and walk away.

  I run to the car and hightail it out of there. Walking into Tornadoes, I hope the smell will wash away Coen’s. I want to get in the cage, I want to run, but instead, I climb up to Tank’s office and plop myself on the beat-up plaid couch, resting my head on the arm rest. I let the sounds carry me away and hope that today will be over soon. I ache everywhere. I couldn’t possibly exercise. I don’t even know why I’m here.

  “Baby?” I look up to see Tank crouched down in front of me. When did he get here? “Charlie, ya ok?”

  “No…”

  “Ya feeling sick or something? Ya look wicked pale, babe. I called your name like three times, where were ya?”

  I shrug. “Coen cheated on me last night.” Boom. It’s alive now. I can’t believe I said that.

  Tank nods slowly. “What do ya wanna do?”

  “Dunno?” His thumb strokes my cheekbone.

  “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” He puts his head to mine. “Ya want me to take ya somewhere or call someone to getcha? Gunner, Bull?”

  I shake my head. Why? So they can tell me ‘I told you so?’ No, thank you. This is so embarra
ssing. I feel like the biggest fool, why the fuck would I want to share that?

  “Malice?”

  “No, I can…” I swallow, my throat is so dry today. “I can call him, later.”

  He climbs onto the couch and holds me next to him. I try to find his warmth and allow it to penetrate this icy chill, but it doesn’t. He gets a knock on his door sometime later and needs to go downstairs. He asks once more if there’s anything he can do. After convincing him that I’m fine, he kisses my head then excuses himself.

  I take a moment to gather my thoughts and call Malice. I tell him what happened and mail him a digital copy of my recording. At first, he thought I misheard, but after he listened to everything himself, he swears death. I don’t want that; I just want to survive the Coen Collins aftermath. If it’s possible. I tell him what has to be done and he swears that everything will be in order.

  After our conversation, I sit and stare at the paint chipping near the ceiling for almost an hour. Then decide that I need to return. See what I can get out of the man who swore to love me forever. The greatest liar the world has ever known.

  When I walk in, he’s waiting for me. “How was your workout?” I nod. I’m so tired. This stress is eating me alive. “I made some lunch if you’re hungry.”

  “Sure.”

  “Perfect. I was hoping you’d feel better, so I ran out to that deli you like and got your favorite.”

  We eat in silence, clean up, and then make our way to the couch.

  “How about a RomCom?” Hell to the no!

  “No, not in the mood. Maybe just some Food Network action?”

  He scoots towards me and pulls me to him. We sit for a couple of hours staring blankly at the screen, each clearly lost in our own thoughts. I decide I want answers, so I straddle him and make close eye contact. I rub my hands over his gorgeous bronzed shoulders. I hate these things.

  “I forgot to ask how last night went. How was your speech?” I smile, letting him think I’m clueless.