“You were afraid I would stop sleeping with you.” She wanted to hurt him the way she was hurting. “You and your conditioned response. You ever think it wasn’t you, but more of a Pavlovian thing, hmm?”
He cradled her face with one hand. “Amber…”
That voice, that growly voice that meant huge emotion. It got to her every time. She covered her ears. “Just take me home!”
They walked out to the street, where he’d parked his car. He’d removed The Dancing Cow magnets from the sides, and it looked like a normal car, except for the loudspeaker on top. She wanted to grab that loudspeaker and rip it off. She felt like a wretched fraud, and he was the worst-letting her believe in her art, completely ignorant that it was her own boyfriend just making her into a big phony success.
She blew out a breath and got into his car.
He slid into the driver’s seat and turned to her. “How can I make it up to you? I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you.”
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“No, I don’t want that.”
“Well, I do. I can’t trust you.”
“You can always trust me.”
“You lied to me! You made me believe in myself and my art. The whole time I went on and on about how excited I was to sell all those paintings and you were secretly laughing-”
“I wasn’t, I swear. I would never laugh at you.”
“And your mother! She must’ve thought it was crazy, all these paintings being delivered every day. There’s at least twenty paintings just sitting in a spare bedroom.”
“Am-”
“Don’t! Don’t say my name. Don’t say another fucking word to me.”
He shut up.
He pulled the car out into the street. She heard him call Ian, tell him to lock up when everyone left, and stared out the window, unable to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt like the most pathetic starving artist that ever lived. At least her jerk ex-boyfriend Rick had been honest about how her paintings were a cute little hobby. Bare pretended they were the best thing in the world, cheered her on when she got sales, all the while buying them for his own little game. She’d never, ever felt so betrayed.
*****
Bare dropped off an eerily quiet Amber and went to his apartment in a near panic. He couldn’t lose Amber over this. He hadn’t thought it through. It had all been with the best of intentions, all of it. He just wanted her to be happy. For once his brother wasn’t hanging out on his sofa eating all his food. He really could’ve used someone to talk to and help him figure this thing out.
He took a few deep breaths. Okay, calm down. Think rationally, logically. This is a problem, and there is a solution. He sat on the sofa. He’d make a flow chart. Problem, possible paths to solutions, possible outcomes. Yes, flow charts made sense.
He grabbed his laptop and began. Problem: Amber wants to break up because she’s upset. Desired outcome: Not to break up.
Path to solution: Stop the upset.
See, already he was a step closer to desired outcome. He stared at the blinking cursor. How to stop the upset.
A. Apologize.
He deleted that one. He’d already done that, and the upset hadn’t stopped.
B. Bring gifts.
Flowers, chocolates, jewelry. Okay, that was a definite possibility and easy enough. He ordered some flowers to be delivered with a small note that said, Love, Bare. He added a small teddy bear to the order because he was her bear. She always called him Bare. He got choked up and shut the laptop.
For the first time in months he found himself utterly alone. No cast and crew surrounding him. No Ian annoying him. No Amber wrapped around him. She’d said that Pavlovian response thing just to hurt him. She never would’ve responded to his command if she wasn’t already into him. That couldn’t be trained into an unwilling subject. She’d wanted him just as much as he’d wanted her. Well…he probably wanted her more. He hungered for her in a way that was unnerving, even to him, in its insatiable need. He’d never felt like that with another woman. Like he craved her all the time. It was why he’d thought of that wager. He couldn’t stop wanting. He needed her to be ready and willing and, by God, she was.
He closed his eyes and tried to think. His mind was null, void, an empty, aching blank.
Fuck.
What was he going to do now? What would the Pirate King do? Dammit, this was exactly what he’d feared deep down. Show over, him and Amber over. Only it wasn’t because of the pirate effect. It was because of him.
He kicked himself for not telling her about the paintings earlier, before they’d gotten in so deep, before when it would’ve been a misunderstanding or an awkward conversation, because now it was fucking Armageddon. The end of their world together.
Chapter Fifteen
Amber couldn’t paint. Two weeks and she couldn’t move brush to canvas. What was the point? No one wanted her paintings. No one would ever buy them or appreciate them. She avoided the art studio Bare had rented. The place was filled with memories of the times he’d joined her there, the many, many, many times they’d made love. All that time he’d praised her art, knowing he’d sneak off and buy it when he got a chance.
Even at her apartment where she had some art supplies, she still couldn’t paint. It was only the first week of August, no rehearsals, no day job, and all of it wasted. All she did was mope around her apartment and annoy her sister with her bitchiness. At first Kate had been sympathetic. Well, as sympathetic as Kate ever got. She made Amber lukewarm chamomile tea whenever she got snippy, or near tears, or angry. Basically all day. Until finally Amber couldn’t take even one more cup.
“No more tea!” she told Kate. “It’s not calming me down. I’m still upset. All the time.”
Kate let out a stream of obscenities that had Amber’s jaw dropping. Her sister never cursed. Kate marched out of the kitchen and stopped in front of Amber, where she was sitting on the sofa watching Zombie Bonanza.
Kate blocked out her view of the TV. “That’s right. I call bullshit. Enough, Amber. I swear I’d rather hang out with puppy-eyed Ian than have to deal with you sniping at me every fucking day.”
“He’s only puppy-eyed because you won’t sleep with him,” Amber retorted. “Smart move. I should’ve followed your example.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “You and Barry were like cats in heat. I could barely get out of the apartment fast enough. Don’t flatter yourself. There’s no way in hell you could’ve followed my example.”
Amber deflated.
Kate shoved her glasses back in place. “I hate to be the one to point out the obvious but, logically, you breaking up with him because he bought your paintings makes no sense.”
“I told you he didn’t just buy my paintings. He lied about it. He bought them as his mother and had everything hidden at her house. He let me go on and on, thinking I was actually getting somewhere with a real collector who loved my work when it was all him.”
“Maybe he just didn’t have room at his apartment to store them.”
“Argh! That’s not the point.” She waved her hand toward Kate’s laptop. “Never mind about me. Just go back to your prime numbers.”
“I’m off that. Now I’m looking into posters for my new grad school apartment.” She sat next to Amber and showed her the screen. “What do you think of this one?”
Amber glanced over. Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory.
“Perfect,” Amber said. “It’s like the male version of you.”
“I liked you a lot better when you were getting laid,” Kate said.
She liked herself a lot better then too.
“Just please go over there and talk to him,” Kate said. “Ian and I can’t take the two of you anymore.”
That really burned. Ian and Kate crashing their apartments and freeloading all summer and they couldn’t take it?
“You two are lucky we let you stay with us rent-free all summer,” Amber sniped.
K
ate turned. “I can move out if you’d like.”
Amber immediately regretted her words. “No! I’m sorry.” She hugged her sister. “I’m just upset. Don’t move. You can stay until school starts.”
Kate went back to her laptop. “It’s only two more weeks.”
“I know.”
Amber went to her easel, her mind a blank. She waited, hoping for that spark, that tiny inkling of an idea of color or shape. Nothing.
A few minutes later, Kate announced, “I’ve called an emergency meeting of your friends.”
“What?”
“You haven’t left the apartment in two weeks. That’s not like you. Steph and Daisy are coming over.” She set Amber’s cell phone back on the coffee table and went back to her laptop. Obviously she’d pulled her contact info from her cell.
Amber bit back a groan. She hadn’t called her friends because all she wanted to do was be alone. She was terrible company, and the only reason Kate put up with her was because she was still easier to deal with than Kate moving back home and dealing with her mother.
An hour later, Steph and Daze swooped in.
“Come here, girl,” Steph said, wrapping Amber in a hug.
“You guys,” Amber said, her voice muffled by the taller woman’s chest. “I’m fine.”
Steph turned and pushed her toward Daze, who also gave her a hug though not nearly as tight due to the baby belly between them.
“You’re lucky we love you,” Steph said. “Otherwise your complete noncommunication would really piss us off.”
“You need your bitches when your man does you wrong,” Daze said.
They cracked up. Amber hadn’t laughed in so long it felt strange. They settled on the sofa. Kate brought over wine, with iced tea for Daisy, and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.
“So how bad can it be?” Steph said. “This is Bare we’re talking about. The man is crazy about you. What in the world could he possibly have done that was so bad?”
Amber was quiet. It was painfully embarrassing. She shot Kate a look. This was all her fault for bringing her friends into this.
“Did he cheat on you?” Daze asked.
“He wouldn’t have had the energy for that,” Steph said. “He was screwing her every chance he got.”
“I can confirm that,” Kate said.
Amber flushed and drained half her glass of wine.
“So what’s the problem?” Daze asked gently.
At Amber’s silence, Kate piped up. “He bought her paintings as a woman.”
“Kate!” Amber exclaimed. That sounded all kinds of wrong.
“Are you saying he’s a cross-dresser?” Daze asked.
Steph raised her brows. “Theater people are strange.”
“No, he’s not a cross-dresser!” Amber exclaimed. “He bought my paintings under his mother’s name, and then he just let me think I was so great selling to some mysterious collector when the whole time it was really him.”
“Aw,” Daze said. “That’s kinda sweet.”
Amber turned a murderous look on Daze. “It’s not sweet! He was laughing behind my back. He lied to me!”
Steph turned to Daze. “He must really like her paintings.” She turned to Amber. “Didn’t you sell a couple thousand dollars’ worth?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point!” Amber drained the rest of her glass. This little chat wasn’t making her feel any better. Her friends were supposed to rally around her, not Bare. Wasn’t there anyone who’d be on her side? Anyone who’d understand this kind of betrayal?
They got quiet.
“Do you think his mother really did buy your paintings?” Steph asked. “Like maybe he had nothing to do with it?”
Amber shook her head. “No, it was him. I confronted him, and he apologized.”
Kate raised a finger. “I told you he apologized.”
Steph and Daze looked at Amber sympathetically.
“Honey, you still love him, or you wouldn’t be this upset weeks later,” Daze said. “Don’t let these bad feelings come between you. It just makes things worse.”
“You should talk to him,” Steph said. “Try to forgive him.”
“I can’t,” Amber said miserably. She reached for the bottle of wine, but Steph snatched it away.
“Give me one good reason why you can’t,” Steph said.
“Because I’ll cave,” Amber said, “and I don’t want to cave. Bare did it with the best of intentions, right? But that’s how he is. He’ll just keep doing what he thinks is best for me, all with the best of intentions, and the hell with my feelings or what I want.”
The women exchanged an uneasy look.
Amber felt instantly wary. “What?”
“You should talk to him,” Daze said.
“What did he do now?” Amber asked.
Daze looked to Steph, who looked to Kate. Kate sighed and went to her laptop.
“Here, see,” Kate said. She clicked a few times and brought up an e-vite. “We all got them.”
The e-vite read: Please come to an Amber Lewis invitation-only gallery showing at the Moonlight Gallery. Monday at 7 p.m. Refreshments served.
The party was in a little over a week. This was so humiliating. It had to be Bare. Oh, here she was, the wonderful artist who couldn’t get a show on her own, who’d never sold a single painting, whose boyfriend had to rent the gallery to get them to agree to show her stuff. She hadn’t checked her email since the breakup, or she would’ve known.
Kate looked closer. “Omigod.”
“Now what?” Amber snapped.
Kate turned, eyes wide. “Your mother RSVP’d yes.”
Her mother? Amber shot straight off the sofa. How could he do this to her? Go behind her back, embarrass her with delusions of success, involve her mother? She marched across the hall and pounded on Bare’s door.
The door swung open. Bare stood there, unshaven, his hair too long. He looked tired. “Amber,” he said in that growly voice.
She didn’t care if he was upset about their breakup. She was more upset. She was the one betrayed. Twice.
“How could you?” she hollered as she pushed past him into his apartment.
“Hey, Amber,” Ian called from the kitchen.
“Ian,” she bit out.
“I’ll be sitting on the curb eating worms,” Ian said, leaving with a beer and a bag of cheese puffs.
“You got the invitation,” Bare said.
“Isn’t it enough you made me out to be a fool by buying all my paintings? Now you have to humiliate me in front of everyone with a fake gallery showing?”
“It’s not fake.”
“So you showed the gallery my paintings, and they agreed to a showing?”
He jammed a hand in his hair. “Well, no, not exactly.”
“Tell me exactly how this happened,” she bit out.
“I rented the space. It’s a party in your honor. To show your work.”
“To show my-my,” she sputtered, so furious she could barely speak. “Again you go behind my back! Again you’re trying to build me up like I’m some great artist. No gallery has ever wanted my work! Argh!”
She paced back and forth in his living room. Her mother was flying in from Paris for Amber’s showing. Her mother, who she hadn’t seen in fifteen years, finally saw a reason to make an appearance. She would get here, see Amber was a fraud, and leave. Again.
She stopped and turned to him. “How could you invite my mother?” Her voice came out small.
He pulled her to the sofa, and she sank to the cushions, all the fight gone out of her. Her mother, the great artist, who had showings in galleries in Paris, was going to see her daughter was an absolute failure. Bare slipped an arm around her, holding her close, and she breathed in his familiar scent. She would’ve cried, except she was reaching a near catatonic state of shock. She couldn’t believe her mother was actually coming. For this. Her mother thought Amber was finally important enough to bother with. Finally important enough
to cross an ocean and visit. But she wasn’t. She never would be.
She swallowed hard. “How did you even find her?”
“Your dad gave me her email. He’s easy enough to find. You told me where he worked before.”
“Why would he do that?” she whispered.
“He said she’d want to be invited.”
“Bare, she left me.” She sat up. “She dropped me off when I was thirteen with the brainiac family and never looked back. No visits, no phone calls, no emails, just a stupid card whenever she got around to it. That means she doesn’t get what she wants.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know the history. I thought since you were both artists…Your dad convinced me it would be a good thing.” At her sharp look, he quickly added. “I’ll uninvite her.”
She felt sick. Absolutely sick. “You can’t uninvite her. She probably already bought plane tickets.”
She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, sitting in a tight fetal position. She rested her chin on her knees and stared blankly at the floor.
She spoke softly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a thirteen-year-old girl dropped off with her physicist father and his physicist wife with their brainy daughter? I was the black sheep in that family. I could never fit in, never live up to what they expected, never be understood. And my mother never came back. All I got was the occasional card with a ‘Hello, having a great time! Love, Mom.’”
His warm hand rubbed her back. She glanced over to find him regarding her with such sympathy that she had to look away before she broke down sobbing. She didn’t want sympathy. She felt pathetic enough all on her own.
“Your father was so adamant,” he said quietly. “I should’ve checked with you first.”
“My father never thinks about anything as inconsequential as my feelings. My mother wanted to connect, so he made it happen. Perfectly logical. The hell with me and what I feel.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she let him, needing that small bit of comfort.
Her voice came out sounding choked. “Did you ever once consider my feelings?”
“I was all about your feelings. That’s what this whole thing was about.”
Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom Page 44
