The end of message tone startled me. I’d left her a good minute of dead air. I didn’t bother erasing it. I hoped she’d know what I was trying to say.
It wasn’t just Leah. Everything surrounding me was a subtraction instead of an addition, and I’d had enough. I’d already gotten myself down to one. There wasn’t anywhere else to go.
I took two things out of my bag. My camera. The only way anything would make sense was if I looked at it through the lens. I didn’t need words when the images said everything I couldn’t. The other was a blank envelope. It was heavy card stock, the kind only ordered for life-changing occasions. Inside was a card with a picture of Leah’s arm, the soft, pale flesh on the underside that no one was supposed to see, with the promise she’d made to her sister. Live for me. She’d held it over her head when she posed against the graffitied wall of the amphitheater. I’d cropped the rest of her out. No one would be able to resist just a taste of her. They wouldn’t be able to stay away.
The invitation to the opening of my gallery was printed on the back. I’d intended to give it to her after the interview. In a way, I still was. She’d robbed me of the chance of seeing the look on her face when she opened it. Maybe that was for the best.
Please come. That was all I wrote.
No return address. I didn’t want it back. I addressed the envelope and slid it into the hotel’s mail slot before letting New York City swallow me for the night.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Leah
“More than a dozen flights leave DC for New York every afternoon. You’re telling me you missed all of them?” Diane wasn’t my producer anymore. She’d barely been able to manage niceties before. Now she didn’t bother. She sighed. “I need to explain this to the network. Make me understand how this happened.”
I knew it was too good to be true when I hadn’t heard from her on Friday night, or through the weekend. It gave me a chance to rehearse an answer. “I decided it wasn’t in my best interest to go.”
Diane laughed for way too long. “This isn’t the junior prom, Leah. It’s a top-ranking, major network show with millions of dollars in advertising sponsors who were all depending on you to fulfill your end of the bargain. To do what you were contractually obligated to do. Luckily, Jagger was adult enough not to let a personal disagreement get in the way.”
“And he did great.”
“You watched it?” I didn’t have to see her to know exactly the look she had on her face—a weird half-frown. And she probably rolled her eyes. It was her default reaction to many of my suggestions.
“Of course I did.” I pressed my lips together to refrain from blurting out my personal business to someone who obviously didn’t give a crap about anything but her reputation and her paycheck. “I’ve spent my entire life doing things that made other people happy. And a good portion of them made me miserable. Yes, I should’ve have handled it better. That I apologize for. But I can’t put money before my personal well-being anymore. It doesn’t buy happiness.”
Unless I was buying Jagger Holiday.
“It sounds like you’ve made your decision.” Diane softened, realizing bullying me would no longer work. She couldn’t strong arm me with the threat of a contract anymore. It was scary as hell, but if I didn’t break away now, I never would. I’d accomplished many of my dreams, but the only thing that chased away the emptiness was Jagger. I was almost forty. I didn’t have room for many more fuck ups.
“I want to take private clients again. I appreciate everything the network’s done for my career, but I realized it’s taken me away from what brought me to interior design in the first place. The pure love of creating a home for someone.”
I’d lived in the shadow of everyone’s opinions my entire life—my parents, Rich, the network, and now the media. It almost cost me everything I loved. My work suffered, I’d alienated my daughter, and drove away the only person who didn’t think I was broken. I needed to walk away from all of it if I had a chance to save any of it.
“You’re such a romantic. I’ve always appreciated that about you.” Diane sighed. Could’ve fooled me. “I wish you the best, Leah. You’ve got some big brass ones. Not many people can afford to walk away from a job like this.”
“I can’t afford not to.” And with that, I felt free. The weight of worrying what would happen next and what would be the next bomb to drop lifted, floating away like a lost balloon. No more lawsuit, no more network. I’d forever have to deal with Rich and Shelley, but didn’t matter anymore. They couldn’t break me.
Now to start the process of getting back the one person who could. Before he did.
It was a beautiful Monday morning. The apple blossom petals rained down on the sidewalks and on top of cars. The blooms were breathtaking enough to bring people to Washington from all over the world, but there was something magical about this stage of the process, too. To be able to grow old beautifully, adapt to the needs of the world, and transform with quiet grace. I envied those trees.
It was my first day back in business for myself. Before my production company borrowed my daughter’s name, my design company did the same. It might not be very original to give everything the same name, but Raven was my greatest creation. I could only hope to come close with everything else.
I wasn’t sure where to begin. I was no longer with the design firm that launched my career. It was all on me. I headed out for a walk, to let the petals blanketing everything on this dewy morning inspire me.
I considered it my commute. Stopping to check the mail before I went back into my office, I braced myself for the bills and whatever else would ruin the Zen of the walk. I was stopped dead in my tracks by an envelope postmarked from New York City, addressed in familiar handwriting that topped the pile.
I didn’t wait until I got inside to slip my thumb under the flap and open it. Jagger wasn’t a fan of the written word, so whatever would bring him to this...he’d left me a voicemail Friday night. I held the phone in my hand as it rang, too terrified to answer it. The dead air he left me as a message confirmed he felt the same way. We were caught in this dance, and as long as the music didn’t stop, it couldn’t end.
Jagger would never use words when an image could say everything so perfectly.
I traced the inside of my arm as if I could feel the ink under my skin come alive, like he’d made it do in the simple image on the card. I had no idea he’d taken this particular photo. It was simply my arm against the cold, colorful concrete, shaded from the hot Florida sun. I was so caught up in the image I almost missed the message of the back.
Please come.
It was an invitation to next week’s opening of his gallery. In typical Jagger fashion, he took no credit for his accomplishment. JMH Arts presents, a few other artists’ names were listed, and then at the bottom, like it wasn’t his dream come true or anything, he listed JM Holiday.
My hand flew over my mouth to catch the noise that came out, but it didn’t make it time. Half laughter, half sob. He fucking did it.
He did it his own way, without listening to convention or taking anything from anyone. He never let anyone get him down when they treated him differently because he’d been a sex worker or because he insisted he had no qualifications. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about what anybody thought. He made it happen.
And he wanted to share it with me.
I’d never been prouder of anyone in my life than I was of him at that moment.
Giddy, I hurried into the office and then stopped in the middle, unsure of what the hell I was looking for. Something about this pen pal thing was exciting. All this anticipation and build up. I could’ve called him and told him I was going, but—
As much as I wanted to hear his voice... Not on TV, even though I’d watched Friday night’s show a half dozen times over the weekend. Not on the phone. I wanted to hear it in person—
Instead I’d RSVP by mail.
The first night of the reunion, Jagger had left a message on my hotel phone.
I’d loved that he’d done something so old-fashioned. At the time, he didn’t have my phone number, so he didn’t have many choices. I had a feeling he’d appreciate this in the end. No matter what Jagger thought of himself, he was the most romantic man I’d ever been with. Not that he was up against strong competition.
I still had some of my old stationery. When I was first starting out, it was the only thing I could afford to make myself official. It was simple, but I’d used the nice paper and had my name written across the top in gold and underneath it simply said make your house a home.
Now I could afford the fancy pens, and I used my favorite to write in big, swirling letters I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Instead of signing it, I put on some lipstick and kissed the paper. It smudged immediately, and places deep down inside of me ignited, thinking of how much I missed seeing my lipstick smeared all over Jagger’s chin. And other places on his body, too.
I’d get back to work as soon as I planned my trip to Miami.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Leah
I’d never been so nervous about a date in my life. The first few times I met with Jagger, nothing had been on the line. Now everything was and I had no idea where I stood.
Jagger hadn’t responded to my RSVP. I refused to take it as a bad omen. We’d been communicating in this cryptic, protected manner. And I knew he had a thousand things to do. Jagger saw details in a way no one else did. He’d do everything he could to make his opening a success.
Hopefully I didn’t ruin that for him.
I leaned forward to check myself in the mirror. I hadn’t bought anything new for the event. I wanted everything to be familiar. I’d picked a wrap dress with fluttery sleeves, a low cut neckline with a soft ruffle and matching hem. My strappy heels screamed hot Miami night, at least to me. I got a text from the driver that he’d be there in a few minutes. I ran my finger along my bottom lip to clean up a little extra lipstick, but then I realized it didn’t matter. Jagger hated perfect.
The gallery snapped me back to reality when the driver pulled up in front of it. I don’t think I took a breath the entire ride. I shoved money in the driver’s hand. I probably way over tipped him but I didn’t care. I couldn’t think of anything but seeing Jagger.
No one noticed me when I walked in. A few clusters of people dotted the gallery floor, laughing and drinking cocktails. Industrial music filled the empty spaces.
I didn’t see Jagger anywhere.
Legs numb, I floated through the room, stopping to consider a rusted metal installation that had been bent and twisted into something that reminded me of lace. I knew nothing about the rest of the exhibitors, but at first glance, Jagger had tied them together with the theme of forgotten. Or things that weren’t supposed to be beautiful that were. It was all compelling, but I was there for Jagger.
The first thing I saw on the wall was the giant print he’d had in his living room. The first piece he bought with the intention of actually having the gallery. My heart swelled that he put it in here. That he didn’t keep it to himself. Something this beautiful should be shared with everyone who would appreciate it. I approached it, seeing it in a whole different context.
Jagger’s work hung beside it. I shook as I took it all in. He chose the photos from the day we went to the amphitheater. Seeing things through Jagger’s eyes was like learning a new language. The lonely, abandoned structure against the lush, green, long grass and palm trees, the crests of the waves that actually seemed to move against the stillness of the concrete.
My vision blurred with unshed tears when I saw the pictures he’d taken of me. I hadn’t seen them before that night. He never liked to show me the photos as he took them. As much as it annoyed me in the moment, I appreciated the payoff.
These photos were far different than the ones he’d taken the night of the reunion in our hotel room. Those weren’t to be shared with anyone. Like that night, I was far from perfect in these. Usually, when I saw pictures of myself from Great Start Today, I was so photoshopped I looked more like a cartoon character than a person. In these photos, I was relaxed, windblown, and overwhelmingly happy.
It took everything I had not to reach out and touch the image of myself to try to get that feeling back.
“She inspired me to create beautiful things.” Jagger’s voice made me jump. I’d been so lost in the image I had no idea he’d come up behind me. He laughed when I gasped.
Our lips found each other as soon as I turned to him. I closed my eyes and sighed against the movement, letting him fill me with everything I’d been missing the last few weeks without him. Happiness, safety, and love pushed away the emptiness and the fear. I needed him. Not because I wasn’t complete without him, but because he brought it out of me in a way no one else could. He made me appreciate all the things I’d never been able to see.
Nothing else existed with his arms around my waist, his lips so close to mine. He was more beautiful than anything else in the gallery. “It’s always been inside you,” I finally said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m honored that I helped you see it.”
He relaxed under my touch. I loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “That’s exactly how I feel about you.”
Another kiss was the best way to respond to that. This one was sweeter, all the nervous energy faded away. Both of us knew exactly why we were there. He pulled away, but I cradled his face, pulling him back into me. For the first time, I remembered we weren’t alone. It didn’t matter.
“I’m so proud of you.” I gave him a quick peck. “Show me around your gallery.” Goosebumps blossomed over my skin.
“I’m so glad you came.” Jagger took my hand in his, kissing it before taking it away from his face.
“Didn’t you get my RSVP?” I realized that my word meant nothing after my New York City no-show.
“I did. Doesn’t mean I’m not glad to see you.” He squeezed my hands in his. “What are you doing after this?”
Like there was any question. “You, hopefully.”
He grinned. “Besides me.”
“Is there a party afterward? A reception?” I asked. Jagger wasn’t the type for an after party, but things were different for him in Miami. I couldn’t make assumptions.
“No. I’d considered it, but I canceled everything when I heard from you.”
I bit my lip, tugging him over to the next grouping of his photos. I was in all of these, but it was like seeing them for the first time. Because I really was. “I want you to take me salsa dancing.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jagger
I’d missed the way Leah’s body moved against mine. I missed so many things about her. Her wild curls, the feel of her lipstick against my lips. When she smiled in her sleep and stole the sheet away from me. The way she blushed and shook her head bashfully when I pointed out the obvious, usually about how amazing she was. Most of all, the heat of her body. It wasn’t just the physical, when she was so close to me. It was what that heat did to me. It ignited everything inside, and brought me to life.
I’d been afraid of love before I met her, and now I wasn’t willing to live without it.
We danced under the moon, humidity and anticipation coating our skin with dew. A band played, and bare bulbs hanging by strings lit up the beach. She hadn’t forgotten the dance moves I taught her in her living room on New Year’s Eve. It might have been the band or too much time apart, but she was better now than the night I taught her. This dance was made for Leah’s body.
She tipped her head back when the song ended. Something startled her, her eyes widened, then she looked back at me, faded red lips parted. “The sun’s coming out.”
“Welcome to Miami. The party never ends.” I couldn’t resist kissing her neck. No one but me would’ve heard her moan over the start of the next song. “We can do this all the time.”
She stopped dancing. Shit.
“Why don’t we head back?” I suggested, not comforted when she
nodded.
Leah leaned against the car as I unlocked it. “Let’s stop by your hotel, get your stuff, and check out before we go home,” I said.
“Sounds good.”
I opened the door but caged her against the car. “I reach for you when I wake up every morning and hate that you’re not there.” I ran my hand over cheek and she shivered. “Are you sorry you came?”
She jumped. “No. Not at all. I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.” She laughed, grasping my hand. “You know that four in the morning wine haze that makes everything so clear.”
“All too well.” I moved next to her, not letting go. She was still a flight risk. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Leah’s shoulders relaxed, and she looked up at the sky. The first streaks of orange had broken through. “I’m not the one who left, Jagger.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. “I never left you. You always had my heart.”
The corner of her mouth curled up in a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes right away. Not until she turned to me. “I can’t just have a piece of you when I know how good the whole package is. And how much better you make me. I need to know you’re all in. The good, the bad, and the absolutely ugly. Especially the ugly. I want it all.”
I was completely overwhelmed. This beautiful woman who wasn’t afraid of her flaws—even more, who wasn’t afraid of mine—wanted me. Maybe, just maybe, I was good enough for her. After everything that happened, I’d braced myself for the inevitable. But we were stronger than that. Not on our own, but together, we could overcome all the bullshit and make it to the other side better than we were before.
Leah’s eyes closed before our lips touched. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me against her body. I gasped when she let me go. “I’m in,” I said. “For every single last bit of it. Our worst day together is better than my best day without you.”
Wrapped Around My Finger Page 19
