by Olivia Luck
With a guttural groan, Cameron leans back, growling my name. I rock against him, riding my own orgasm as it courses through me. Neither one of us releases the other, and I press my face, damp with sweat, into his neck. His masculine scent wraps around me, and I’m lulled into the post-sex, relaxed glaze. Cameron walks his fingertips along my back, not speaking either.
Until . . .
“Let’s go.”
“Go?” I’m too lost in the haze of Cameron’s cologne to follow.
He hoists me off him and into a standing position at the side of the bed. Then he dips down to swing me into his arms. I can’t contain my burst of laughter. “What are you doing?”
“Didn’t you hear me say I want you in the shower?” He’s smiling that dazzling, megawatt smile, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Again?”
“Again.”
Cameron
Not to be a prick, but I’ve been with a lot of women. It goes with the territory of being a single, virile, professional athlete. But being with Violet made every conquest of my past seem like it never happened. She owns me. Having her the way I did last night was not enough, but I know as soon as I open my eyes and acknowledge that I’m awake things will change. In the heat of the moment, Violet was all mine, but now, that’s seen the light of day, and I anticipate her second thoughts. As much as it goes against every instinct I have to make her mine forever, I know what I have to do it.
Blinking slowly, I open my eyes to find Violet staring at me. She lies on her stomach; the white sheet pulled high on her back reveals a tantalizing patch of her smooth skin. Her navy eyes are full of uncertainty.
“Did you sleep with your contacts in?” I ask, amused.
At the same time she whispers, “I have to go.”
“I don’t want you to,” I confess, moving into a seated position. Violet follows but keeps the sheet clung to her chest with one hand. Her deep-ocean eyes go glassy and my automatic reaction is to alleviate what’s hurting her. I press my palm against her cheek and shake my head. “No, don’t cry. Do anything but that.”
She shakes her head, unwilling to let the tears fall. “This is . . . I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to go, either. But I have to go. I can’t—I’m not ready for you.”
“You don’t have to be yet.”
“I don’t?” Her eyes fill confusion. She reaches up to grab my wrist with one hand as if unwilling to let me go. That’s a good sign.
“Before you leave, I need to tell you some things. You may not be at the right place to hear all this, but you need to know where I stand. Enough of me walking on eggshells. I’m not that kind of man, Violet.” Her brow furrows in confusion, but she waits for me to go on. “Do you remember when we talked about fate on New Year’s Eve?”
“Yes,” she says slowly, still holding my hand in place. I take that as encouragement and stroke her tenderly with my thumb.
“I told you I believe in it, but I didn’t explain why. The thing is, you are the reason I know fate exists. Years before you even knew my name, I saw you. At first, you were just a gorgeous woman, but then you kept showing up in my life. It was too frequent to be just a coincidence. Every time I saw you, I fell a little more. I hate what you’ve had to lose to get here, to be with me, but Violet, I know every step we’ve taken was to bring us together.”
She gasps now, eyes widening in shock.
“You’re not ready for me yet. But when you are, I will be here waiting for you. My heart is wide open for you, Violet. It always has been and always will be.”
Tears escape the corners of her eyes and then her hand falls from my wrist. “What are you talking about?” she asks hoarsely.
“I’m saying that when you realize it’s me, all you have to do is call.”
“And what if I’m never ready?” she asks bitterly. “What if everything you just said makes me sick because I know I was fated to be with one person.” She scrambles out of the bed, dragging my sheet with her. “This was supposed to be a one-night stand, Cameron, not some . . . some confessional.”
Violet’s words sting and they’re deserved, I know. I climb out of the bed and stand unashamedly naked.
I keep my voice steady, unwavering. “You know as well as I do that there’s way more between us than just one night. We are meant for greater things, you and me. Call me selfish, heavy-handed, pushy, whatever you need to in order to feel better in the short term. But come back to me when you’re ready, Violet. Come back and I’ll be waiting. I’m not going anywhere.”
She whirls around. “Where are my things?”
Without waiting for my answer, she stalks out of my bedroom and I hear her charge down the stairs. I go into my closet and pull on a pair of sweats and a hoodie. By the time I’m downstairs, she’s dressed from clothes I guess she wore yesterday before the party.
“Let me drive you,” I say patiently.
“Stop patronizing me!” she cries. “I’m taking a cab and that’s it. I—I’m sorry, but I think it’s best if I don’t look after Rocky any more.” At the sound of his name, the dog races into the room and presses his nose against Violet’s knee. She bends down and through a stifled sob, I hear her murmur her watery good-byes to my dog.
“Okay. I’ll see you,” she says stiffly.
“Violet.” I hold the door closed with my palm so she can’t open it and leave me for good. She remains facing away from me, her head bent.
I bend down, kiss the crown of her head, and take a deep breath of her hair. “I’ll be here,” I whisper. I step back and she’s gone.
Yeah, I’d be lying if I didn’t say a very big part of me is fucking terrified that I’ll never see her again, but I push the fear aside. If I never told her how I feel, we’d keep doing this ridiculous dance. And I believe she will be back. Faith is the only thing keeping me from punching my hand through a wall.
Violet
“Where you going?” the taxi driver asks after a few seconds of silence.
Crammed in the backseat of the cab with all of my stuff from last night (minus the things I left sprawled on Cameron’s bedroom floor), the question should be an easy one to answer. All I need to do is give the address of my apartment. Instead, I shock myself when I give another one, not far in River North.
I hand a few bills to the driver when he pulls to a stop in front of the mirrored high rise. Every other time I’ve been to this building, I was with a buffer like Stella. Today I’m by myself, showing up before nine in the morning on a Sunday.
“Good morning. I’m here to see Dominic Baccino, 3412,” I tell a sleepy-looking doorman. He nods and lifts a phone receiver to his ear.
“Your name?” he says.
“Violet Harper.”
Dominic must tell him to send me up because the doorman opens the locked glass door leading to the elevators. Elevator doors whisk open when I press the call button, revealing a mirrored car. I wince at my blood-shot eyes and messy hair. Last night’s curls and make-up are a thing of the past, and I’m left looking thoroughly mussed.
On the thirty-fourth floor, I almost turn around and press the lobby button. Then I hear a door open, and I freeze in the center of the hallway.
“What are you doing here, V?”
Dominic crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me not unkindly, but in confusion. Standing there, I don’t see my departed husband. I see a man who was once supposed to be my brother, if only by law. I see a man whose advice I need.
“I—” My voice cracks before I can say anything else. It’s the first time I’m speaking to Dominic since the argument and I’m at a loss for how to behave, or why I thought this was a good idea in the first place. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Can we talk?”
“Come in,” he says quickly.
“Oh.” I stop short inside his apartment because Paige stands in the kitchen, looking back and forth between Dominic and me angrily. “I’m sorry to interrupt; I didn’t realize you had company. I can come back.”
<
br /> “No, stay. Paige’s leaving.”
Does Paige know that? Her lip curls upward then she rolls her eyes in my direction. I shift awkwardly then leave them to do whatever it is that they’re doing and sit on the sofa. The door clicks shut and Dominic sits in the loveseat adjacent to the couch.
“I’m glad you’re here. There are things I need to say to you,” he says.
My stomach twists. I don’t know if I can take another lashing from him.
“No—no. I’m not going to be an asshole again. I think I’ve done enough of that for a while, don’t you?” Dom’s lips twist wryly and I find myself sharing a small smile with him.
“A little,” I confirm.
“What did you want to talk about? Ladies first, as Ma would say.”
“You know, I’m still trying to figure it out. Maybe deep down, I never really believed that you hated me.” I glance down at my hands. “I need your advice because you knew Max best. And I think you’ll be honest with me. Blunt, if necessary.”
Dominic sighs, but his eyes are light with humor. “Should I get some liquor?”
“Is Dominic Baccino making a joke in my company? I thought I’d never see the day.”
That sobers him and Dominic frowns. “You were right when you called me an asshole. I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you since I met you. I’m sorry, Violet. If Max were here, he’d beat the shit of me for treating you this way.”
I clench my hands together in my lap. “Why did you dislike me on sight? I wanted nothing more than to be your friend. You know my own family doesn’t want anything to do with me. All I wanted was for us to get along.”
“Jealousy.”
My mouth falls open and I stare at him in horror. “What?”
“Not the romantic kind of jealousy,” he’s quick to explain. “More like I saw how happy you made my brother and I was jealous that he found you. It’s no secret that he was always more of the relationship type than I was, but he’d never dated someone as genuine as you. The first time I saw you together, I knew it was the real deal for him. You made my brother blindly happy. I don’t mean that in a bad way, I mean that you gave him what he always wanted. He used to tell me that he couldn’t believe you were real.” Dominic scrubs a hand over his face as if to wipe away the memories. “I was jealous he found that. I was jealous he had someone new to confide in, like he didn’t need me anymore. I let it eat away at me until I thought I was angry with you. Then we lost him and well, my grief has been driving my emotions lately. What I said to you the other day was unforgivable and I understand if you don’t forgive me. But can you try for Max? I promise I’ll get my shit together.”
Silently, I ruminate on his confession. “That’s—well, wow. That’s a lot. Honestly, I just thought you disliked me from day one because I’m not close to my family and I don’t know how to cook.”
We share a little smile then and Dominic clears his throat.
“I wish you had told me all this earlier,” I say.
“Yeah, well, I would have if I’d admitted it to myself,” he says with a grimace. “Look, I said ladies first and I’ve done all the talking. What was it that brought you here?”
“After everything you’ve said, I’m not sure I can even tell you. Because you’re right, Max and I had a fairy tale relationship. I thought he was my guardian angel. I was on my own for a long time and then he came into my life and brought a huge family who wanted me. I’d never felt luckier.”
“You know, he was always the one who considered himself lucky,” Max interjects.
“We were one of those annoying couples who would argue about who was luckier,” I remember with a fond smile. Memories of last night flash through my mind and I squeeze my eyes shut. But that just makes the images stronger. “That kind of relationship doesn’t come around every day. And here I am wondering if one day I’ll ever be with anyone else.” I can’t believe I admitted that out loud, and to Dominic, no less. All of the bitterness between us seems to be gone now and I feel safe talking to him.
“It wouldn’t be a betrayal to move on, Violet,” Dominic says quietly. My heart squeezes painfully, and I take a deep shuddering breath.
“On a logical level, I know you are right. Emotionally, I’m so confused it physically hurts.” Tears well up on my lower lids for the second time today, and I do nothing to hold them back. “Cameron Stone came out of nowhere. All of a sudden, I have feelings for him and want see what would happen if we dated. It’s like I’m cheating on Max. It sounds crazy because he’s never coming back.”
Dominic vaults up from his seat and returns a moment later with a box of tissues. He hands several to me and then takes a seat next to me. I dab at the tear tracks. “God, I’m always crying. When will I stop crying?”
“I’m not a therapist, but probably when you start to accept what you just said,” Dominic says gently.
“Which part?”
“Well, first, that Max isn’t coming back. Every time I remember that I’ll never get to talk to him again, it’s like a sucker punch to my gut, but it’s reality. You can continue loving him like he’s your living, breathing husband or you can love him like the man who made a difference in your life.”
The words sink in around me, and my shoulders slump. “I know,” I mutter.
“If you knew that, you’d know it’s all right to want to be with Cam. He’s one of the good guys, V. You’ll get to that place when you start having a real talk with yourself. Kind of like how I figured out you’re the only sister I have and I need to treat you better.” Gingerly, he places an arm around my shoulder.
“Max’s gone; I’m not your sister anymore,” I mumble.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he says, squeezing me to his side. “You’ll always be my sister.”
Dropping my head to Dominic’s shoulder, I allow the pleasant warmth to flow through me. I have a brother, I think in amazement. It’s one of the best gifts Max ever gave me.
Later that morning Dominic drives me home to have some “real talk” with myself. The first thing I do is take a shower, though I’m regretful to wash off Cameron’s lingering scent from my skin. Which leads to more confusion.
I have no doubt that Cameron was sincere with what he said before I left his home. His words only lead to more questions. When was the first time he saw me? Did he know I was married to Max? Why hadn’t he ever spoken to me until that day at the Scrapers facility? And why was he willing to forego other relationships to wait for me? Because he’s serious about you.
Max’s twin and mother have both encouraged me to begin dating again. That should be enough of a permission slip to see where things might go with Cameron. How can I date someone else when I haven’t let go of the past? It’s been over a year since I even visited the condo I shared with Max. I haven’t been to his grave since the funeral. I have a whole list of things I want to accomplish in a journal, but what I really need is a list of emotional milestones to overcome. Visiting my sister and going back home to my condo to put it on the market are all things that need to happen before I can even think that I’m ready for someone like Cameron, a man who has the ability to make me feel cherished and smart and worthy.
For the rest of the day, I push all thoughts of the state of affairs in my life and focus on tidying up loose ends for the Scrapers. Tomorrow I have a wrap-up meeting on-site and I’m still preparing for the salon opening at the end of next week.
At eight, I collapse into bed. Before I shut the light off, I take my notebook of dreams and scratch out a new list. Hastily, before I lose my nerve, I write new goals. Seeing them on paper makes them more real and attainable. With a deceived flip of the cover, I close the journal and snuggle into the sheets.
I’m starting to realize that there’s a future for me outside of the stages of a grieving widow. For so long, it felt like my entire life ended when Max died. I’m starting to see that, yes, it was an ending to that chapter of my life and the beginning of a new, exciting, adventurous, beautif
ul chance at happiness.
Half of me desperately wants to see Cameron when I arrive at the Scrapers facility the next afternoon. The other half knows that I’m not ready to walk into his open heart. The building is suspiciously quiet when I make my way to the second story offices. The receptionist, busy on the phone, waves me back toward the conference room.
The usual suspects are waiting for me—Janet, Paige, Amber, Dominic, and Bill are all seated around the table.
Ignoring the death glare from Paige, I greet everyone warmly.
“Thank you for meeting with me today. In my experience, it’s best to debrief as close to the event as possible. Briefly, we’ll run through some numbers and then you can tell me what worked and what didn’t work for you.” With a few mouse clicks, a slide with numbers displays on the screen. “Okay. I only have good news to share with you today, but let’s start with the best news. Twenty-five thousand was our target to raise for the Hope House. When all was said and done, we hauled in fifty-five grand.” The beam on my face is impossible to contain. “I hope you are as thrilled as I am with that number. The Hope House will provide all of us with a breakdown of how they are going to spend that money. Of course, one hundred percent will go toward the residents in some form or another.
“As far as budget goes, we were right on the nose, ending up four hundred and five cents under our original number. The total number of guests was 325, including the Hope House residents and some of their staff. Leftover food was donated to a shelter that Wren works with regularly. The Modern had no issues with our clean-up crew. Four photographers showed up. That’s my part. The floor is yours. What is your feedback? What did you hear from your colleagues? Anything, positive or negative, is welcome.”
“Let me speak for all of us when I say we are delighted with the results of the fundraiser,” Janet begins. Uncapping my pen, I take notes as she reviews her feedback. Bill, Amber, and even Dominic offer their constructive comments.
