Kiss of Fire (St. James Family)

by Parker, Lavender

  “I did. I do.”

  “But it wasn't enough, right? I wasn't good enough?” She sniffed, swiping the back of her hand across her nose.

  “I'm sorry, Brigid,” he said, because it seemed like the only thing he could say that made any sense. “Believe me.”

  “I gotta go,” she said with a small shrug. Turning on her heel, she hurried off, not giving him another look. He rolled his shoulders, feeling like shit. But he also felt relieved, oddly enough. It was over with Brigid, officially. It made him even more sure about Toni. He'd fucked up every chance he'd had at his fantasy. He'd fucked up his chance at his suburban life, at his meatloaf waiting for him on the table, at his 2.5 kids running around in the yard. And he didn't give a shit. He knew now that he'd rather have Toni than anything else. A wave of longing came over him, and he shook it off, heading for the beer. Funny that he'd seen Brigid, he thought, since he had every intention of paying another one of his exes a visit that night.

  Gwen was surprised when he rang up to her apartment. Well, maybe she wasn't, but she pretended like she was. She hesitated over the intercom, like she didn't want to let him in. But she buzzed him in anyway and he jogged up the stairs, adrenaline pumping. Usually, adrenaline and Gwen didn't sit well together, but tonight, he was pissed. He needed something. Something to do, someone to take his anger out on. Gwen was the only thing he had.

  “It's late. What do you want?” she asked, standing out in the hallway in a short nightgown.

  “What do you think?” he said, leaning against the wall, and giving her a low look.

  “You're crazy,” she said, but he could see a flicker of interest in her eyes. “I thought you had a little girlfriend.”

  “Which one?” he asked, chuckling. “Nothing serious going on.”

  “It seemed like you were serious. You forget, I saw you in your suit. At the ballet of all places.” Gwen looked him up and down. “I don't see you dressing that special for me.” O'Donovan shrugged as she took in his old jeans and his brother's Pantera concert T-shirt from the '90s.

  “I'll do crazy things to impress a woman. Look at everything I did for you.”

  “Well, I guess you're not trying to impress me anymore.”

  “Are you going to let me in or not, Gwen?”

  “Gwen, huh? Not Gwendolyn?” She smiled and went back into her apartment, and he followed.

  “Just Gwen,” he said, knowing how much she hated her full name. He closed the door behind them, and she perched on the arm of the expensive white couch. He looked around the place. It all pretty much looked the same as when he lived there, but more girly, if that was possible. The walls were still painted a shade she'd called “Tiffany box blue”. She had more soft and frilly things around, and she'd gotten rid of the chair he used to watch TV in.

  “Did she dump you?” she asked, glancing down at her manicured nails.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “That little girl I saw with in the park.”

  “Toni St. James? Is that you who you mean?” O'Donovan walked slowly over to her and she stood, realizing his demeanor had changed. “The same Toni St. James who you told that I cheated on you?”

  “Did she tell you that?” Gwen furrowed her brows, and he knew she was trying to figure out a way to get out of it. But she didn't deny it, and that was all the answer he needed.

  “Why the fuck would you say that? Why the fuck would you even speak to her?” he growled, and Gwen skirted around the couch, putting space between them.

  “How dare you? You were practically humping her leg in the park. Do you know how that makes me look?”

  “Christ! You're fucking kidding me right? So I can't be in Central Park because you say so?”

  “You're in my neighborhood! My friends could see you. People I know. How old is she, huh? 20? 21? And barely three months after the divorce was final!”

  “Are you forgetting who left who? You served me with divorce papers at my fucking job in front of people I know, so don't act like you're the goddamn victim.”

  “Were you fucking her when you were married to me?” she asked, cocking her head and crossing her arms.

  “I never fucking cheated on you. We'd still be married right now if you hadn't left me.”

  “Because you're so in love with me? You can't fucking stand me! I could feel the hate and resentment coming off you in waves every time we were together. Unless you wanted to fuck, of course.”

  “You never complained.”

  “Am I supposed to settle for that?!” she screamed. “Why did you even marry me?”

  “I don't know. It was the stupidest fucking thing I ever did,” O'Donovan said. Well, second stupidest, he thought. Breaking up with Toni was currently at the top of his list.

  “You fucking asshole,” Gwen said, her voice simmering. “Get out.”

  “I want you to stay away from Toni,” O'Donovan said, keeping his voice even.

  “Oh, please. And what if I don't? We've got lots of things in common, me and her. Who knows? Maybe we can be friends! She runs in some pretty exclusive circles.”

  “Don't fuck with me, Gwen.”

  “What do you care anyway? Nothing serious, right?” she said, tossing his earlier words in his face. He didn't answer her, letting his silence speak loud and clear. He wasn't fucking around when it came to Toni. He wasn't sure if Toni had really believed Gwen or not, but the last thing he needed was his ex-wife's lies causing them more problems. Gwen's eyes widened. “You're in love with her,” she said, her face twisting as the realization hit her. “You son of a bitch. Are you going to marry her?”

  “I'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let me,” he said, no doubt in his mind.

  “How could you do this to me?” Gwen seemed to collapse inside of herself, her shoulders slumping and tears welling up. “Do you hate me this much?”

  “It's not about you,” O'Donovan said, steeling himself against her tears.

  “We were together for eight years! You hated my money, my friends, my life. Now you want to marry Antoinette St. James? I know who she is. I know who her family is. Mr. Working Class Hero wants to marry into the Van der Kind dynasty?! Are you and Christophe Van der Kind going be drinking buddies? You hypocrite!”

  “In those eight years, how many times did you go fishing with me? How many times did you come to the firehouse or go out with my friends?”

  “I don't fucking know.” She waved him off, like it wasn't important.

  “Exactly. We both know we shouldn't have gotten married. You just had the balls to end it.”

  “Great. You're free to marry your young, beautiful ballerina. I'm so happy for you!” she screamed then dissolved into heaving sobs.

  Shit.

  O'Donovan closed the space between them and took her in his arms. He really hated when women cried, even if the woman in question was Gwen. He just couldn't take it. She didn't struggle against him. She let him comfort her as she cried, hiccuping and sobbing into his shirt.

  “You were stronger than me. Smarter,” he said. “You were smart enough to end it.”

  “What good did it do me?” she wailed.

  “Now you're free to find some guy that will like all the shit you like. Some guy who will love those fucking lacy curtains and these ruffly-ass pillows.” O'Donovan motioned around the room at her décor. “Some guy who will want to go to wine tastings and plays and all that shit you want to do. Somebody who will buy you a diamond ring from Tiffany's. Right?” He pulled away to look in her watery grey eyes. “Right?” Gwen shrugged, quieted, wiping her nose.

  “I really hate you.”

  “I hate you too,” he chuckled. She pulled away from him and slouched on the couch, a pout on her face.

  “And what if I should see her in Starbucks? I'm supposed to ignore her, like a good little ex-wife?”

  “Just don't spread lies about me. That was a shitty thing to do.”

  Gwen took a deep breath. “Fine. I won't.”

  “Thanks. I appr
eciate it.” O'Donovan said, feeling wrung out. She looked like she was feeling the same. But he felt good that they'd finally had it out. “I'm going to go now so you can get some sleep.” Gwen nodded, not looking at him. He had his hand on the doorknob when she spoke again.

  “So we're not even going to fuck?” Gwen asked, having the nerve to look slightly hopeful.

  “No.” He said, throwing the door open. She sucked her teeth, annoyed.

  “I give it a year, Bastian,” Gwen said. “A year before she figures out how much of an asshole you are.”

  “She knows. Believe me, she knows,” he said, then closed the door firmly behind him.

  Chapter 21

  “You don't have to do that, you know,” Nat said, standing in the doorway of the guest room.

  “I want to,” Toni said, dipping her roller in the pale green paint. She'd already taped around the baseboards and windows and put down drop cloths. She was going to busy her mind painting the baby's room, she'd already decided. She needed the distraction. “Besides, you're going to help me right?” Toni asked, throwing her sister a smile.

  “I'm pregnant. That gives me a reprieve,” Nat answered, walking into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Christy has informed me that I am to do no hard labor while he's gone.”

  “How convenient,” Toni said, sliding the roller over the wall, watching the bright yellow paint disappear under the green. “Keep me company then.”

  “I suppose I could do that,” Nat said, dropping a hand to cradle her belly. Christophe was in Toronto for a week, and Nat had been less than her normal self. She missed him, Toni knew, although she didn't say it. Toni knew exactly how her sister felt.

  She'd been slowly trying to get back to normal since she arrived home from New Orleans a week before. With Christophe out of town, she'd been spending most nights at the townhouse, curled up on the couch where she and O'Donovan had made love, watching TV with Nat. Going out of her mind, she'd decided to paint the baby's room on a whim, after Nat had asked her opinion on some paint swatches.

  Sayonara, marigold room, Toni thought to herself. It felt strange, knowing that she wouldn't have a place in Nat's house anymore. It was the end of an era. But she had her own place, she reminded herself. Even if her new apartment didn't exactly feel like home yet. She felt a shudder of loneliness run through her, thinking about returning to her big, empty two bedroom apartment.

  “We haven't really talked about New Orleans. How was it?” Nat asked.

  “It was good,” Toni said, remembering her promise to Vivica to not tell Annata that she'd been in Louisiana. “Granny was in rare form.”

  “What did you think about the ballet company?”

  “I don't know,” Toni shrugged, bending to dip her roller in the paint again. “I don't think I want to be down there so close to Marietta and Rodrick.”

  “Understandable,” Nat said. “But it's better to have family close.”

  “Maybe,” Toni said, not convinced. She was beginning to think maybe she should strike out on her own, go somewhere where she didn't know a soul. Somewhere where she had no chance of running into someone that she knew. “I think if Pacific Northwest called, I would take a position there. Or Montreal. Those are my top two.”

  “Pacific Northwest is so far away,” Annata murmured.

  “Exactly,” Toni tossed a smile over her shoulder.

  “I don't like the idea of my baby only seeing her auntie on holidays and vacations.”

  “It won't be for forever. I just need a change,” Toni said, hiding her pain over Nat's words. She didn't like the idea of her niece or nephew growing up without her, either.

  “I know you're hurting, but that doesn't mean you should uproot your life,” Nat said softly.

  “I'm tired of being the one everyone has to take care of. It's time to take care of myself,” Toni blurted out, painting furiously.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Christophe bought me an apartment, Nat! I feel like I didn't earn it.”

  “It was a gift. We have the money, and we want to spend it on the people we love,” Nat said, brushing it off. “Did O'Donovan say something? Is that why you feel bad about it?”

  “No. I mean, yes. But it's true.”

  “You're not giving back that apartment. You're not allowed.” Nat's tone was frosting over and Toni knew there was no reasoning with her.

  “I'm not being ungrateful, I swear. I love my apartment,” Toni said, wanting to smooth things over. A heavy silence descended on them, and Toni was glad she had something to occupy her hands. She painted a few more lines before Annata cleared her throat.

  “If O'Donovan makes you feel bad about being yourself, then you're better off without him,” Nat finally said, her know-it-all tone grating on Toni's nerves.

  “He doesn't make me feel bad about myself. He just brought some things to light that I already knew,” Toni said, annoyed. “I don't want to take advantage anymore.”

  “You don't take advantage of us,” Nat said. “We're family.” Toni sighed, trying to think of the right way to explain it.

  “You believe in fighting hard for everything you get, right? You've gotten far in your career because you're a fighter. Maybe the reason I'm not where I want to be is because I don't know how to fight as hard. I've never had to. Daddy gave me everything I wanted, and now you and Christophe do the same.”

  “You're strong, Toni. You left home at eighteen to fight for what you wanted. It's commendable.”

  “Everybody else I work with did the same thing.”

  “You're driven. You did what you had to do to succeed.” Nat sighed. “Look, I'll admit that maybe I've babied you since the accident. I liked having you close.”

  “That goddamn accident,” Toni said. “The accident made me feel so helpless. And then after O'Donovan and I kissed in the hospital, I-”

  “Wait, what? Nat asked, eyes wide. “O'Donovan was at the hospital?”

  “Oh.” Toni clamped her mouth shut, remembering that Nat still didn't know O'Donovan was the one who saved her.

  “O'Donovan was the heroic fireman, wasn't he?” Nat said.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Toni.” Her face said it all.

  “He saved me and Christophe found out his name for me—” Toni tried to explain, before Nat interrupted her.

  “So Christy knew?!” Nat shot up and then a weird look came over her face. She slapped her hand against her belly. “Oh, the baby didn't like that.”

  “You okay?” Toni dropped the roller in the paint tray and hurried over to Nat.

  “It's fine. Just a little nausea.” Nat smiled weakly and let Toni ease her back onto the mattress. “I can't believe Christophe kept that little nugget of information from me,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I asked him to.”

  “Why?”

  “I don't know. I didn't want it to seem like it was some Cinderella-post-traumatic stress fling, or whatever you're thinking.”

  “I'm not thinking that,” Nat said.

  “It was real, for me at least,” Toni said, the words blurting out.

  “Okay,” Nat said, carefully. “I believe you.”

  “Whatever. It doesn't matter,” Toni said, turning back to her paint. “He doesn't feel the same way about me anyway.” She could feel Nat's eyes on her, but neither of them said anything for a long time. She slapped the paint on the wall furiously, angry and annoyed and helpless, all at the same time. Longing for O'Donovan washed over her as she thought about how he followed her to New Orleans. Her mind was telling her that he didn't really feel as strong as she felt about him. But in her heart, she still had hope. And that's why she had to go far away. O'Donovan would always be too tempting if she stayed in the city. She'd never be able to move on. But her hurt was too strong to risk her heart again.

  “Are you hungry? I'm hungry.” Nat said suddenly. “Thai?”

  “Sounds good,” Toni said, sending a smile her sister's
way, although she wasn't hungry in the least. Nat nodded and left the room, not looking entirely convinced. Toni focused on painting, spinning an elaborate fantasy in her mind about moving to Seattle and starting a whole new life. A whole new life that didn't involve longing for a man she couldn't have.

  ***

  It was Toni's birthday, O'Donovan realized, as he ran his finger over the printed date on the calendar. The blonde August pin-up girl stared at him from the glossy page, taunting him, her smile as big as her inflated tits. He rolled his shoulders, the phantom pain in his back acting up again. His slipped disk was healed, and yet, he still had pain. His whole body ached, most days. He knew he was getting old, but he couldn't help but wonder how much of that pain was psychosomatic. How much of it had to do with the pain of losing Toni?

  The door slammed behind him, and he turned to find Captain O'Reilly, red-faced as ever, blocking the exit.

  “What are you doing in my office, O'Donovan?” O'Reilly barked out.

  “Can I have a minute?” O'Donovan asked, sliding into one of the vinyl chairs in front of O'Reilly's desk.

  “Did I say you could sit?” O'Reilly asked, but he moved around his desk and plopped heavily into his own chair with a sigh. “This little meeting got something to do with you applying for a transfer?”

  “Could be,” O'Donovan said, his eyes drifting back to the date on the calendar.

  “Look. You did my daughter real dirty, and I'm not going to forget that anytime soon.” O'Reilly said, leaning forward. O'Donovan winced, not wanting to think about Brigid. “But you don't have to go high-tailing it to Manhattan like a little bitch with your tail between your legs.”

  “No offense, Captain. But it's not about that.”

  “I thought I made myself pretty clear that Brigid was off limits. But you go behind my back and play around with her. Now you have the nerve to come in here and ask for a transfer.”

  “I'm not asking, Captain,” O'Donovan said.

  “No, I suppose you're not.” O'Reilly squinted his eyes. “You don't have to go, you know. Nobody's forcing you out. You been at this ladder a long time. We're all family, despite any conflicts.”