My heart picked up speed in my chest, but my feet stopped moving. Who the hell was this guy? Nicole looked over her shoulder to look at me with a coy smile on her face. She didn’t comment, didn’t laugh, didn’t say anything at all to him. I made a face at her, nodding sharply toward the back of his head. She shrugged and kept walking.
“The steps are a little steep,” he said. “But don’t worry, I’m here to catch you if you fall.”
I wanted to pull his ass down and toss him behind me. I exhaled and shook my head instead. I was forward when it came to telling women what I wanted, but I usually did that in a different setting.
“Is the master to the left or right?” she asked when she made it to the top of the stairs.
“Left,” he said. “Or on top, whatever you’d prefer.”
At that, Nicole laughed. Even I found myself letting out a laugh, though it was only because I couldn’t believe what a fucking loser this guy was. I shook my head again. Thankfully, the douche got a phone call and excused himself, holding one finger up and saying it was an important client. Moron. Nicole opened the door to the balcony in the master bedroom and stepped out.
“This is nice,” I said, joining her. The sand was on the other side of the sidewalk. It was a perfect beach house. “So did you finally decide to move out of your eight-million-dollar Hollywood Hills home and trade it in for this humble abode?”
She lifted her face to look at me, smiling. “It’s half the price.”
I chuckled. “You have expensive taste.”
“I have good taste.”
“I agree,” I said, placing my forearms on the top of the balcony. My eyes made their way down her body. She really needed to stop wearing those dresses around me. She needed to stop wearing anything around me. She inched closer, moving so her forearm was against mine, her hip touching mine, and tilted her head back slightly so she could still look into my eyes.
“Wouldn’t it be nice, though? For me to move in here. You can come over for wine night,” she said, her voice quiet.
We were at eye level now, our faces so close I could smell her breath. She smelled like watermelon, like that pink marker in the scented pack my mom used to buy my sister and me when we were kids. So fucking good. Delectable. My gaze dropped to her mouth, which she licked.
“Yeah? When’s wine night?” I asked, feeling myself gravitating toward her. It was unstoppable, this thing.
“Any night you pick.”
My lungs squeezed a little, the air stifling at the pull I felt.
“You know,” she said, beckoning my eyes to move up to hers again, “I called this guy because I remember him from a friend’s wedding. He was hot and really, really knew how to move his pelvis, and you know what they say about guys who can move like that.” She paused.
I felt everything inside my body begin to tighten. This burn began to form. It started in my ringing ears and made its way down to my toes. What the fuck was that feeling?
“So I called him up because I heard he was a good realtor and he liked to hook up, and I figured I’d get a two for one. Good house to rent and a hot fuck since I’m trying to maybe break the record of my one and only hot fuck being with you,” she continued. The way she said it made my heart squeeze and made my dick hard at the same time. I didn’t want her to break that record. Ever. Unless it was with me again. Only with me again.
“But then you showed up and I thought, damn.” Her face was now even closer to mine. “That’s a guy who definitely knows how to fuck, and I thought maybe I should forget about this realtor guy. Maybe I should go with the sure bet, you know?” she asked, a whisper against my lips.
For a second I didn’t move. I let the wheels in my head turn some more. Pussy has ruined the career of a lot of highly successful men. I never thought I’d be on that list. Never thought I’d be anywhere near it, but there I was, headed down that path. The crazy part was that even as I thought it, I moved. I stood upright, pushing off the rail as I pulled her back inside by her wrist, and crashed my lips against hers. I kissed her with the desperation I felt for her, relinquishing all control, and she returned it equally as enthusiastically. Her hands flew to the buttons of my shirt, mine went around to her ass and squeezed.
“I want you so much,” she said, pushing me back against the wall. I grabbed her ass harder and pulled her so she could feel just how bad I wanted her. She gasped against my lips, then pulled back to look at me. “Please, Victor. Don’t make me wait.”
I closed my eyes and loosened my grip on her, giving us a little bit of space, and let out a harsh breathy laugh. “I like to think that I’m good at practicing control, but when you’re around . . .”
I didn’t finish the sentence. I couldn’t because her lips were on mine again, but even if they weren’t I didn’t have an adequate way of explaining what I felt, and it didn’t matter. I could kiss her, I could fuck her once to get it out of my system, but I knew I would want more. And I couldn’t have more. Not when my career was on the line, so fucking her out of my system was the only solution we had available, and even that one could be disastrous. In the end, I broke the kiss and gathered my wits. This was going to happen, but it wouldn’t happen when a douchebag named Rick could walk in on us at any given moment. I needed to go home, figure out how much longer I had to exert self-control, regroup, and probably jack off, not necessarily in that order.
THAT KISS. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought about it as I signed the lease. I thought about it as I held the keys in my hands. And I thought about it when I called Victor to tell him it was final. He’d agreed it was a good price and great location. He also went over the contract for me and approved it since it was a standard lease and didn’t lock me in for more than six months at a time. It was something I definitely needed, because I wasn’t sure where I would be in six months. Our conversation took a downward spiral when it went from my new place to the scheduled date I had with Gabe. At the mention of it, his mood changed, his responses became clipped and even though we were on the phone, I could practically see him running a hand through his hair roughly. I wondered what he must have been feeling. Whether or not my pretend being with Gabe affected him as much as he made it seem.
The ice cream shop we’d agreed to go to was one we’d frequented while dating, not as much once we finally married, but that made the story even juicier, apparently. His manager tipped off the paparazzi of our outing, so I dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, and he wore basketball shorts and a T-shirt, so it looked like we were having a completely “relaxed afternoon.” It was such a strategic outing, that when I didn’t have time to make it home, Gabe asked me to have Marcus drive me to the mall so I could jump in his car and go with him to the place.
He was on the phone with his assistant the entire ride to the shop.
“Lee says hi,” he said, in reference to his assistant, when he finally hung up the phone. I looked out the window and stayed silent because Lee was on my eternal shit list, along with Darryl. “Did you hear me?” he asked.
“I heard you.”
He let out a sigh. “Just because we’re getting a divorce doesn’t mean you have to push away our mutual friends, you know?”
“Mutual friends,” I said with a scoff. “Lee is the last person I’d consider a friend.”
“Wow.” He shook his head as he drove down Hollywood Boulevard.
“Wow what, Gabe? In case you didn’t know, the moment we separated Lee made it crystal clear he wanted nothing to do with me. Whenever I called you when you were on set . . .” I stopped talking and shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, tell me,” he said, his voice soft. He looked over at me when we reached the ice cream shop. The paps were already running toward us and we’d only been parked for a second. I ignored them and continued to look at Gabe, the way I always did when they were around, because I couldn’t bear to look at that lens and the one-sided story it told.
“It really doesn’t matter. Nine months ag
o this conversation would have made sense, but you were too busy getting high and screwing every girl in Hollywood.”
He lay his hand over mine on my lap, his blue eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry.”
A knot formed in my throat, because for the first time his apology felt genuine. I tore my gaze away from his and instantly regretted it when I looked out the window and into five different flashing lights.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said, clearing my throat.
When he turned off the car and went around it to open the door for me, smiling for the cameras and laughing at one of their jokes, I closed my eyes and for the millionth time wondered if everything about him had been an act. I hated to belittle what we’d had. I hated to see it as if it were nothing more than a puppet show inside of a light box, especially when my feelings for him had been so real, but it was all I could think when he played the part so well. The sound of the door handle made my eyes pop open. I took his hand as he helped me out of the car and walked beside him, both of us with our heads down as we entered the ice cream shop.
“That wasn’t too bad,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. Which part? I wanted to ask? The part where you pretended to care about me? The one where you made me fall in love with you, only to leave me high and dry when you decided you missed the single life? I didn’t voice any of it. I knew if I did I would go off on him and the entire charade would blow up in our faces. New York, I reminded myself. Smooth mediation. Painless divorce.
I smiled at Veronica when we got to the front of the line, but instead of smiling back, she kept looking at Gabe while he looked up at the menu. The way she looked at him and ignored me made an uncomfortable feeling settle in the pit of my stomach. That sixth sense women have was as much of a blessing as it was a curse in times like these. My mom used to tell me that men were like puppies. If you didn’t keep them entertained long enough, they’d move on to the next toy. I never liked that idea.
I felt like we made far too many excuses for them just because they had dicks between their legs and we had vaginas, and really, if it’s about anatomy, wouldn’t the channel that they’re birthed from be superior? But alas, women like my mom and Gabe’s mom gave men the okay to be cheaters, and liars, and showed them that it was okay and that they could get away with it. All that aside, I remember when I was little and my parents were married, my mom had a private investigator tail my dad because she needed to know what he was up to when he left work. I didn’t work that way. I always felt like you had to be willing to give a person enough trust to let them make their own choices. What they did with it was a different story.
“Do you want your usual?” Veronica asked, finally looking at me with an uneasy smile.
Gabe looked down at me, flashing me that wide grin that got me to agree to go out with him in the first place. “Cookies ‘n’ Cream?”
I nodded and smiled after a beat, when I remembered to. “In a waffle bowl.”
“Got it,” he said, still looking at me like I was something to be cherished. I hated him for it. I hated myself for even feeling anything at all, though what I felt wasn’t the unrequited love I’d once felt. When he looked at the girl to order, he paused momentarily. A flirt smile bloomed on her face.
“You never called me back,” she said.
I tried to swallow, but it turned into a cough, and soon after, I was slapping my chest and coughing. Gabe patted me in the back, but I jerked out of his touch. She spoke to him as if she had no idea who I was. As if she didn’t know I was married to him. As if I wasn’t wearing the gigantic rock on my finger that he’d given me five years ago. It wasn’t her I was mad at, though. It wasn’t her I’d given my trust to.
My skin began to prickle with a heated rage I hadn’t felt since the day Gabe hit me with an onslaught of insults in the midst of his drug-induced state. I turned around and began to walk away. My idea was to sit down while he waited for the ice cream I could no longer eat, and breathe it out, but Gabe’s hand on my arm stopped me.
“That was a long time ago,” he said.
I kept facing forward, toward the doors, where the paparazzi were still standing, aiming their cameras right at us, capturing the moment. I prided myself in being calm, cool, and collected when I wanted to be. I prided myself in being able to control everything that left my mouth, in being able to reel myself in when I was going too far, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. That was a long time ago? THAT was his excuse?
“It was a long time ago?” I said, seething as I turned to face him. I pushed his hand off me with my other hand. “Long time ago when, Gabriel? When we were fucking married?”
“Don’t make a scene, Nicole.”
“Don’t make a scene? Are you serious right now?”
“It was nothing serious,” he said, lowering his voice and softening his gaze as if his sudden concern was going to be enough to keep me there.
I pushed back on his chest with both hands and turned around again. “Go fuck yourself.”
He grabbed me by the wrist, hard, and pulled me back against his chest. His mouth was near my ear. “All we have to do is get out of here with smiles on our faces. That’s all we have to do. I fucked up. I was a terrible husband. I’m sorry. I am, but doing this isn’t going to solve anything.”
I closed my eyes, surprised by the sudden need to cry. I felt sick. It wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t. I’d heard he was having sex with other women. This wasn’t breaking news, but the heavy and unwanted feeling still settled in the pit of my stomach. I felt myself soften in his hold as I let out a long, deep breath.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I whispered. He let go. I didn’t look at him at all, or in Veronica’s direction as I disappeared down the hall and pulled out my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“I need you,” I said, my voice hoarse with unshed tears.
“Are you crying?” he demanded. “Where are you?”
“I’m not crying,” I said, even though it was clear I was about to. “Cold Stone in Hollywood.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes.” He paused. “Four minutes. Fucking traffic,” he yelled, then softened his voice. “Are the cameras still there?”
“Yes,” I whispered, wiping my face. I hated crying. Hated it, and I had an aversion to crying in front of people, so I needed to calm down before he got there.
“Can you go out through the back?”
“Yes. I just have to tell Gabe first.” There was a long silence. “Victor?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Okay. I’m at the light. I’ll pull up to the back door,” he said.
I thanked him, but realized he’d hung up the phone. I put it in my purse and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked normal, and it reminded me of how little we let people see of us. When I walked out of the bathroom, Gabe was standing in the hallway with our ice creams in his hands. He held mine out to me, and I took it.
“I’m leaving.”
He flinched slightly, frowning. “Okay. I’ll take you home.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m leaving. Without you.”
I could tell I caught him off guard when he lowered the hand he was holding his ice cream in and sagged his shoulders.
“Really, Nicole?” he asked, sighing. “It was a mistake. I was an idiot. It was one time—”
“I don’t care. I don’t care,” I added slowly, sternly. “I haven’t cared for a long time, Gabriel. I haven’t, but for you to bring me here? How fucking insensitive can you be? And I’m here to do you a favor. I can’t fucking believe—”
“You signed an addendum.”
“And because I signed an addendum I’m supposed to stick around while somebody disrespects me and you let them?”
“I didn’t realize you needed saving, Nicole. I didn’t realize you were a damsel in distress.”
He was such a bastard.
“I don’t need saving. The only damsel in distress in this situation is you. And I’m sick of being your knight in shi
ning armor,” I said, pointing a finger at his chest before turning to walk toward the back door. I stopped when I reached it, hand on the handle as I tossed the ice cream cone into the waste basket next to me. “P.S. Fuck your addendum.”
Victor’s sleek black two-door Jaguar was parked right outside the door. I pulled the door open and got in. I hid my face in my hands momentarily before I even got a chance to look at him. Thankfully, he took that as a sign to start driving. As we reached the curb, the paparazzi started running toward the car with their cameras in tow. I hid my face, but I was sure they’d caught me in their photos.
“Where am I going?” he asked.
“Anywhere.”
His fingers peeled away one of my hands from my face. I still didn’t look at him, but I let him take my hand down with his and left it in his grasp when he threaded our fingers together.
“Having second thoughts on that stupid paper you signed yet?” he asked after a beat, squeezing my hand so I couldn’t move it away when I tried.
“Something like that.”
“What happened back there?” he asked, taking my hand with him as he shifted the gear.
I sighed. “Nothing out of the ordinary. We agreed to go for ice cream, and it was fine until the cashier, who I used to think was nice, basically told me she’d fucked him.”
From my peripheral I saw him nod and mutter he’s an asshole. He exhaled sharply and continued to drive down Pacific Coast Highway. Neither one of us said anything until we got to a house on the beach, where he parked his car right outside the garage. I swallowed, thinking about how quickly things could escalate as soon as I walked in the door. I’d wanted him for so long, but now that the moment was finally here . . .
“You brought me to your house?” I asked as he switched off the engine. He looked at me and smiled.
“Not my house. This is my sister’s. I told her I’d come by to help her put up a TV. She wants to surprise her husband before he gets home from work.”
Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3) Page 12
