by P. Dangelico
“How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know yet, let’s talk about you. Tell me everything. And I mean everything. Your mother says this guy is hot as fuck.”
“Yeah, I doubt my mother said that.”
“Paraphrasing––she said he’s handsome and treats you like a queen.”
I snuggle into Dane’s enormous down-filled couch while the man she speaks of is at a network dinner meeting. Does Dane treat me like a queen? He does––when he’s not going Cro-Magnon on me and stomping around and grumbling about mushroom heads and leather belts.
“Yeah…he does.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I wish I could say no but I can’t…He’s wonderful, T. He’s wonderful in ways I never even knew a man could be…it’s kind of scary.”
“I bet.” If anyone knows my triggers, it’s Tina.
“I picked him purposely because I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in hell of this happening.”
“Never say never,” she says. A throwaway comment. Little does she know the impact of those three simple words.
“What did you say?” Getting off the couch, I walk into the bathroom to pee.
“Never say never.”
“Huh, weird. Those are the same exact words a friend of mine used.”
I pull down my leggings and my knees go weak. I stare and stare. There’s a rushing sound in my ears. It drowns out my cousin’s voice.
“T…I…I…”
“What’s wrong?”
“Blood…I’m…I gotta go.”
Dane
It’s taken three glasses of Macallan and two of wine to get me through this dinner without losing my mind.
I’m drunk. I had no intention of drinking this much, but these yahoos from the network kept wanting to hear locker room trash talk and the only way I could stomach tellin’ ’em was with a few drinks to chase the bitter taste away.
I’m not that man anymore. I don’t want anything to do with the guy I once was. All I want to do is crawl into bed with the woman I love, sink into her body, and let her hold me.
I get it now. I get why my father spent the better part of his life wanting a woman that was never worthy of him. I get why Noah hasn’t touched one in ages while he pines for the one he lost. I get why J would dump me in a heartbeat to spend alone time with Nyla. I get why men go nuts when they fall in love.
Because it’s fucking worth it. I’m flying so high half the time even these network idiots don’t bother me as much as they should. I had no idea what I was missing until Stella happened.
She’s everything to me. My comfort and my desire, my good time and my meaningful moment all wrapped into one short, sexy package. If somebody would’ve told me one person could be all that and more, a mere six months ago, I would’ve called him a fool to his face.
I’m not saying it’s perfect. Or that it’s always gonna be this easy. Love can inflict some serious damage, no doubt about it. It’s a beautiful double-edged blade. It can destroy as easily as it can save you. I’ve been a witness to the former most of my life. The trick is finding the right person to love, and being one lucky sonovabitch, I did it without even trying.
She hasn’t said it yet, that she loves me, and it’s killing me but I am not going to push. I’m not going to give her a reason to pull away because she’s scared of her feelings for me. I’ll wait it out. I can be patient.
“…and then she said it’s too big and then I said that’s what she said.”
All three yahoos laugh hard enough to be heard over the crowd, faces turning red while I can barely manage to smile. Under the table I pull out my phone and glance at the screen. 11:30. It may as well be 4 a.m. Below that I see a long list of text messages from Stella that I missed.
What the fuck. I didn’t hear the phone ring over the noise of the restaurant.
“Excuse me, guys. I’ve gotta make a call.”
I get up without waiting for an answer and march quickly past the bar.
“Daaane! Oh my Gaawwwd. Long time no seeeee!” A woman’s voice rises above the rest. Slim arms snake around my neck and before I know what’s up, Christy is kissing me on the lips. I pry her off and she smiles at me. Eyelids lazy, smile crooked. Drinking isn’t the only thing she’s been doing. I don’t have time to deal with this.
“Drink some coffee and go home, Christy. You look like shit.”
She frowns, offended. In another life I would’ve made sure she got home safely. Tonight, however, there’s only one person I’m concerned with and it ain’t her. Without looking back, I’m out the door, hitting the playback on the first message. I stand on the sidewalk with the phone to one ear and a finger pressed to the other. Shortly after that I’m sprinting down the street after an available cab.
Tires screeching, it comes to a hard stop and I slide in. “New York University Hospital,” I bark, my heart nearly crashing out of my chest.
Fifteen minutes later I throw a hundred dollar bill in the front seat, and jump out of the cab before it can come to a full stop.
“Crazy man!” the cabbie shouts.
Even though I’m drunk and my knee hurts somethin’ awful, I run through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, almost trip over a man in a wheelchair, and don’t stop running until I reach the check-in desk.
“Stella Donovan. My wife,” I say, yanking off my tie and shoving it in the pocket of my suit. It comes out naturally, without thought or hesitation.
The chick manning the desk blinks up at me. There’s a momentary flash of recognition, which also means she knows I’m not married. I dare this woman to argue in the state I’m in. I dare her.
She scans some paperwork and nods. “Yeah, she’s here. Driver’s license, please,” she says, holding out a hand.
Not gonna happen. I don’t have time to explain our situation so I take off down the hall while she shouts after me.
As soon as I enter the ER, I spot Delia at the end of the hallway and my steps slow. She frowns, lips drawing into a tight line. This is the epic karmic ass-kicking I knew was coming. This is it. Time to face the consequences like a man. I keep walking until only a few feet separate us.
“How is she?”
“Scared. I was going to find out when she can be discharged.” I nod, my nerves balancing on razor’s edge. I’m about to take off down the hall when her voice stops me. “She’s okay, Dane. So is the baby.”
A surge of relief steals my strength away, making me double over with my hands on my knees.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“Gimme a minute,” I tell her breathing through my nose. A hand on my back pats twice. After a few deep breaths, I stand back up. “How badly did I fuck up?”
“Nothing you can’t fix––if you want to,” she answers with unexpected sympathy.
“I’ll do anything to fix this. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She starts to walk away. “Hey, Delia.” Looking over her shoulder, she meets my gaze. “Thank you.”
She nods and I run.
Stella
The privacy curtain opens halfway and there Dane stands. His tie off, hair sticking up in places like he’s been running a busy hand through it––expression distraught. I want to kiss that look away.
“Baby…” In two strides he’s half sitting on the gurney with his arms around me, and his face pressed into my neck. “I didn’t hear the phone ring,” he murmurs onto the sensitive skin of my throat, the muffled words resonating with pent-up emotion.
I wiggle my arms out of his tight grip, and wrap them around his neck. “It’s okay,” I tell him while I finger-comb his hair back into place. “I got scared when I saw the spotting and I couldn’t reach you.”
Pulling away, his big hands cup my face tenderly. Worry flares in his eyes as brightly as a neon sign.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.
He looks ready to break apart. It also looks like he’s been drinking. Knowing from firsthand experience how th
ese business dinners go, I don’t mention it. He’s feeling guilty enough without me piling on.
“It’s okay, Dane. I was just being overly cautious.”
“It’s not okay.” Hi jaw pulses with tension, any more and he’ll grind his teeth to powder. “Not even close. This is not how a man takes care of his family.”
Before I can address that ludicrous statement, the curtain opens and a middle-aged woman wearing scrubs walks in.
“Mr. Donovan?” Met with Dane’s silence, she smirks. “I didn’t think so. There are a couple of New York’s finest that need to have a word with you.”
“What’s this about?” I ask, suddenly worried.
Dane tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear and places a quick kiss on my lips. “I ran in here without checking in––” His expression gets intense. “I told them you’re my wife.”
We stare at each other as his words hang between us. Husband and wife? I don’t get the immediate urge to puke, run away, or scream foul. Interesting. For a while I stare at the words, try them on for size. They seem to fit.
“I …” Dane starts.
A cough interrupts, cutting off the rest of whatever he’s about to say. “It’s time to go, whoever you are.”
“He’s my husband.” The words come out without a hitch, my voice firm and commanding. I’m kind of proud of myself, proud enough to smile. Dane’s eyes spark with what could be construed as hope, or joy. Well, I would like to construe it as hope, or joy. It’s definitely something good, though.
“Was everything okay with my wife’s tests? Can she go home?” As he speaks, his undivided attention remains on me. A smile of shared understanding curves his sexy lips.
“I’ll check with the attending doctor.” At the edge of my vision, I can see the nurse’s suspicious gaze slide back and forth between us. “I suggest you come with me and talk to the police, sir.”
Dane gets up and I grab his hand. His eyes fall. At first he stares at our entwined fingers. Then they slide up to my face. He bends over and kisses me. Heartfelt…true. As brief as it is, those sentiments are there, speaking louder than words ever could.
“Be right back.”
It seems the entire vaunted New York City Police Department is a big fan of the Great Dane Wylder. After he left me, I got dressed, having been given the green light to go home by my OBGYN. In the meantime Dane explained the situation to the two young officers standing outside my room. Autographs were handed out, paraphernalia promised. By the time we were walking out of the hospital, half the nursing staff was lining up to stare at the man with his arm hanging around my shoulders.
I forget that Dane is a public figure. The whole idea of being involved with an honest-to-goodness celebrity is still a very foreign concept to me. One I like to pretend doesn’t exist. Truth be told, dwelling on it makes me nervous. The first time I’ve truly fallen in love and it has to be with a man that’s gorgeous, talented, wealthy, and famous? Basically, this is a worst-case scenario for me.
The next day, while I’m sitting at my desk at work, I turn on my computer and the search bar pops up. A thumbnail of trending news catches my sight. I click on it and freeze.
It’s Dane, in the suit he wore last night. He’s kissing a tall, blonde woman. Like I said, worst-case scenario. One I have good reason to fear it seems.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Stella
Tonight is the grand opening of the rec center. The foundation is throwing a big celebrity party for community leaders, the council members, and Dane’s NFL friends and teammates.
Leaning against the open doorway of the bathroom, the man of the hour watches me get dressed. His hazel eyes flood with undeniable appreciation.
It’s been ten days since the hospital incident and he hasn’t said a word about the blonde. I’m not going to chase him with a skillet. I will not do it. Or shout like a fishwife, even if at times I want to. And trust me I want to. I haven’t even told Delia lest I find a freshly dug grave in the garden and Dane missing. For once I’m not going to assume the worst. He deserves the benefit of the doubt.
Instead I channeled that energy into something good. I started making arrangements for the nonprofit organization I intend to run. After New Year, I’ll give Ira notice. Knowing his ability to read my mind, however, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows.
Sitting on the end of the bed, I slowly roll on a pair of black stockings.
“Lord Jesus, are those stockings?” Pushing off the doorframe, he stalks closer.
“Pantyhose are uncomfortable,” I tell him with a sly smile.
“I approve.”
A few more strides and he’s on me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me like a man sentenced to life. I expected the sex to cool, for him to put some distance between us. That did not happen. On the contrary, once the doctor said it was safe to resume relations he was on me with no less passion.
“If you don’t stop being so goddamn sexy, we’re gonna have a problem.” He pushes me back on the bed and settles between my thighs, only our underwear separating us. Well…that and the blonde…and his inability to express what he feels for me.
“Dane––” I say between the laughter. “We don’t have time.”
“We have a lot of lovemakin’ to make up for now that Pops is gone.” His voice fades as he maps a trail of kisses up the side of my neck, his hands sliding along my body, petting and squeezing all the right places.
Lovemaking? I don’t go there. Nope. I don’t go anywhere near it. Taking a good hold of his hair, I lift his head and search his bright eyes and sexy smile. Nothing on his face indicates that he realizes what he said. “Your father left ten days ago.”
“I hate being quiet.” Tell me something I don’t know. He starts sucking on my throat, nipping and kissing his way from my jaw to my ear. “When I shoot my load into you it’s like a sneak peek into heaven, and I wanna celebrate…thank my maker for makin’ you for me.”
“That’s…I don’t know what that is,” I remark, biting back laughter that will only provoke him to continue. Smiling, he looks down at me. There’s so much adoration in his eyes that the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Do you think it will ever end?”
The mood goes from fun to somber in less than zero seconds. Every muscle on Dane’s body stiffens. “What do you mean––end?” he asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“This, between us, all this chemistry…do you think it ends?”
“No, baby,” he immediately answers. “I’ve never felt this way before.” He examines my face, his focus super intense. And Dane intense is a sight to behold. “Have you?”
“No.” Not even close.
He smiles then. “You’re the best time I’ve ever had, Shorty.”
Sweet. He’s always been sweet. But those are not the words I was hoping for.
“Can I steal away my girlfriend for a moment?” Dane says to the rec center director, Mr. Donaldson, who was in the midst of explaining all the wonderful programs he has planned for the kids in the neighborhood.
The party went off without a hitch, the rec center beautifully decorated, the catering delicious. Close to twenty-five of his NFL buddies made it. He introduced me to each and every one. It’s moments like these that I realize how fundamentally different we are. I would rather sit in a corner and hear Mr. Donaldson’s plans down to the minutia while Dane thrives in the limelight. I can’t help but wonder if it spells doom for us.
Without bothering to wait for a reply, Dane drags me away. I give Mr. Donaldson an apologetic look and he smiles back in understanding.
“That was rude.”
“I haven’t had a moment alone with you since we got here.”
Here comes the eye roll. “We’re not here for alone time. Quite the opposite actually.”
As if he hasn’t heard a word, he continues to pull me along with purpose, a man on a mission as he guides me through a side door that leads outside. The second the doors
open, the cold hits me like a two-by-four. I wrap my arms around my waist. It’s the first week of December and the ground frozen, a thin shell of ice on everything. We reach a small garden that’s been prepped for landscaping when the ground thaws, a lonely stone bench its sole resident for now.
“Dane, it’s cold out here.” All I’m wearing is a black jersey dress. “I’m not exactly dressed for cavorting in these temperatures.”
Slipping off his suit jacket, he places it over my shoulders. I snuggle into the heat still clinging to it. I bury my nose under the fabric and take a deep breath of his scent as a tremor racks my body. I’m not sure if it’s caused by the cold or his strange behavior. It crosses my mind about a million times that he’s dumping me for the blonde. My pulse starts to thrum in my throat.
“What’s going on?” My hand automatically covers my swollen tummy, a new habit. One that’s become quite common as of late.
Taking my shoulders, he guides me to sit on the bench and sits next to me. “It’s almost Christmas,” he says absently. As if it’s an afterthought.
Christmas? Seriously? I’m about to have a nervous breakdown and he wants to shoot the shit about Christmas? All I can do is nod, my energy engaged in staying calm and breathing. Passing out is not an option right now.
“I have so much to be grateful for. Almost too much.” He tips his head back, his gaze drifting up at the clear night sky. “It humbles me, to be so blessed––” His throat works as he swallows. “Grateful…I’m grateful for everything God’s given me. But most of all, you.”
He turns to look at me then, his expression solemn, his gaze direct, no sign of guilt or shame. “I wanna take you on vacation and keep you so busy you don’t wanna come home. I want to hold your hand when our child comes into this world. I want you––” His jaw locks. He breathes deeply and he swallows. “I want you to hold mine when I’m old…would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
I don’t breathe. I can’t even blink. My mind can’t process what just happened and operate my body at the same time. When it starts working again, my entire vocabulary is reduced to one word. Marry. He wants to marry me.
