Breathe Her In

by Gretchen Tubbs

  I lift my glass and take a hearty sip. “This. Get drunk and enjoy tonight. Nothing I can do about it.”

  “You gotta give us something else,” Caroline begs. “Anything. You can’t keep something like Rafe all to yourself.”

  “Look at that face,” Laurel says, albeit a little slurred. “She doesn’t have to say anything.”

  I can feel the heat creeping up my neck and spreading across my cheeks. My face is practically blazing under their scrutiny. The ding of a text coming through saves me from having to say anything else.

  I slide my finger across the screen and see a picture of me taken by Hadley just minutes earlier.

  Rafe: Just how drunk are you?

  Me: Just enough

  Rafe: Too drunk to ride me?

  The heat that was starting to disappear floods my face again, all of my friends taking note. Caroline grabs my phone from my hands, reads the texts, and they all start with their wild laughter again.

  “Eleanor, you dirty girl, what are you gonna tell him?”

  “I’m gonna tell him to come get me.” Duh.

  “Good idea.”

  I bite the corner of my lip to hide my smile as I text him back.

  Me: Nope. Hurry and come get me.

  21. Rafe

  “Shh,” I breathe into her mouth, trying to keep her from waking up Della. The walls in this place are paper thin, and a drunk Eleanor is a loud Eleanor. I teased her earlier about ridin’ me, but she was too hard to control. I had to take over or she would have woken up the whole damn neighborhood with her screams and moans.

  Evidently my girl doesn’t like being told to be quiet. She latches onto my bottom lip and gives it a tug. I grind into her deeper, setting her off in the process. Her orgasm hits, hard and loud. I swallow her moan, feeling it all the way down to the tips of my toes. My spine starts tingling, and I’m coming mere seconds behind her. I growl her name into her neck while I pour myself into her tight, hot body.

  “Jesus, Eleanor,” I pant, rolling us to our sides. “You just about killed me.” All I get is a giggle in return. I guess she’s still a little tipsy. “Stay put. I’ll get you cleaned up, and then we need to get some sleep. We’ve got a huge day tomorrow.”

  After a few more slow, lazy kisses, I pull away from her and get her cleaned up. She wraps herself around me when I get back in the bed.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “My art show or dinner with Gigi?” I ask.

  “Either. Both.”

  “Not much makes me nervous, baby. Whatever happens, happens. It’s outta my hands.”

  “I told you how my grandmother can be,” she says after a yawn.

  “I can handle it. What’s the worst she can throw at me?”

  I just get a shrug in return. She burrows her warm body deeper into mine and my arms wrap tighter around her. Just like they seem to do every night we spend together, my fingers glide over the two names inked across her scars. I kiss her temple, whisper an I love you in her ear, and we drift off to sleep.

  ___

  “This tie feels like a noose.” I tug at the fabric, but Eleanor straightens it back out and runs her hands down the front of my suit jacket, a forced smile playing across her ashen face. Worry creases my brow. “You still feelin’ bad?” She was up sick several times last night.

  She blows out a few shaky breaths and nods. “This is the hangover from hell. I’m never drinking again.” I give her a look. “Well, not drinking when Caroline is in charge of making them.”

  “You should feel better by now. You weren’t that drunk.”

  “I’ll be fine after we eat. I stayed in bed all day after you and Della went to check on things at the gallery and didn’t have much food.”

  “Then let’s get to Gigi’s and feed you.” On cue, Della comes out of the back, decked out in the dress Claire insisted on buying her for the occasion. She’s usually such a tomboy, preferring to be in shorts and t-shirts, so I’m taken aback seeing her in the green dress and flats. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her dressed up.

  “You look beautiful,” Eleanor tells her.

  My sister looks down at the ground, uncomfortable with the compliment. I take her little hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Ready?”

  She takes Eleanor’s hand in her empty one and starts walking toward the door, a silent confirmation that she is, in fact, ready to go. I get my girls settled in the car, and we head over to Gigi’s for dinner before going downtown to the gallery for my show.

  We’re all quiet on the drive across town. Eleanor is still feeling bad, I’m anxious about the evening ahead of me, and, well, Della is Della. When we pull up at Gigi’s house, though, I hear my sister’s sharp intake of breath. As I’m pushing the security code at the gate, Eleanor explains to her that this is where her grandmother lives. Della was sleeping when she came over here that one time. She goes on to tell her that her name is Giana, but that she can call her Gigi. Everyone does. She also tells her that she’s in a wheelchair.

  I expect Della to take my hand when I get her out of the car, but she takes Eleanor’s instead. They don’t bother knocking; just walk into the side door that leads into the kitchen, Eleanor calling for Gigi.

  “Here I am, darling girl,” Gigi says. She moves closer to the entrance.

  “How are you feeling?” Eleanor asks after they exchange kisses on the cheek.

  “Fit as a fiddle. Now, who did you bring me?”

  “This,” Eleanor says, holding Della’s hand up slightly, “is my friend Della Matthews. Della, this is Gigi.”

  Gigi gives her a smile, the left side of her face frozen from the stoke she had a few years ago. “Hi, honey. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Eleanor has told me all about you. Welcome to my home.”

  I step out from behind my girls. “Gigi.”

  “Hello again, Rafe. Don’t you look handsome?”

  “Thank you. You look beautiful this evening, as well.”

  “Let’s move out of the kitchen. I have drinks and appetizers set up in the sitting room.”

  Gigi leads the way out of the kitchen. I pray that this time I can make it through dinner with her without hearing from Ford. I can’t use Dells as an excuse this time since she’s here with me.

  Eleanor and I both opt for water. Gigi gives her a look, but doesn’t comment on it. Della’s eyes are wide as saucers as she takes in the platters full of appetizers set out in the sitting room.

  “Take whatever you like, honey,” Gigi instructs. “I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I have a bit of everything.”

  “Careful of your dress, Dells.” She gives me a nod and then begins to sample all of the goods Gigi has set out.

  “I take it you’ll not be called away this evening,” Gigi says. Wow. She didn’t waste any time.

  “I should hope not.”

  “Good. I have some things I’d like to discuss.”

  Eleanor’s face looks green. I’m not sure if it’s from the lingering hangover or from her grandmother’s statement. “Gigi, please.”

  “It’s okay.” I’m not sure which one of the women I’m giving my reassurance to, but it is okay. Best to do all of this now and get it over with.

  “Eleanor tells me that in addition to the painting that you do that you’re a tattoo artist. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this something you’re planning to do long term?”

  “It is, though my real passion is art. Depending on the success of this show, and any future shows, tattooing might take a backseat to painting, but I see myself doing it for a while.”

  “Do you make enough money doing that to support your family?”

  “Gigi,” Eleanor grits out.

  “It’s fine.” I pat her knee a few times. “It’s worked for me for the past three years.”

  She stares at me for a minute or two. Gone is the soft look of a grandmother. I feel like I’m on the witness stand, being cross examined by a hard-
ass attorney. “Why did you leave her?”

  “Jesus, Gigi.” Eleanor’s fingers dig into my knee. I can feel each of them leaving tiny imprints in my flesh. She should know that none of this bothers me. “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and you’re already doing this? I thought you’d at least wait until coffee and dessert.”

  I kiss her forehead before turning my attention back to Gigi. “How much has she told you?”

  “I would like to hear it from you, Rafe.”

  I look over at my sister, who’s engrossed in Gigi’s various collections of things lining the walls of this room. None of this is new information to her, but that doesn’t mean I like for her to have to listen to it. She had to live in that awful environment, too. And based on what I’ve learned from her therapists, she had it a hell of a lot worse than I did. “My mother was a monster, in every sense of the word. I was forced to live a life and do things that no one should have to, especially a child.” I glance back over at Della. She’s still not paying any attention to us. I drop my voice. Nausea rolls through me, but I do my best to push it down before I provide Gigi with the truth that will more than likely haunt me for the rest of my life. “I was arrested right before Eleanor was attacked and lost the baby. Believe me, I never chose to leave her. I’ve lived with that regret heavy on my heart for the past eight years. It’s worse now that I’ve learned what happened to her. Never in a million years would I have willingly done that. Eleanor meant the world to me back then. Still does.”

  I get a single nod and more stares from Gigi. Then, “What are your intentions with my granddaughter?”

  “I haven’t discussed this with her yet, but I think she knows.”

  “I would like to know.” This woman is a pit bull.

  “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to marry her.” Eleanor’s breath hitches, but I keep going. “I want a family with her. We can’t have one in a traditional sense, but there are other ways of making a family. I love your granddaughter, and I want to give her everything she deserves.”

  “Can you do that?” she asks.

  “I can damn sure try.”

  She finally cracks a smile. “That’s good enough for me.”

  With that, the subject is dropped, and dinner goes off without a hitch. We eat a delicious meal, and discuss things that don’t revolve around taboo topics like arrests and attacks. All in all, I’d say dinner with Gigi is a success.

  ___

  “Tired?”

  “I’m exhausted. But I’m so proud of you I can’t even find the words.” I can feel Eleanor’s smile against the side of my neck.

  Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would sell every single one of my pieces tonight. Landon was beside himself, both at the turnout and by the reaction to my canvases. The night was a surreal blur. My body could melt into the bed, but my mind is racing, thinking of everything that needs to get done. First on the agenda is finding a new place to live. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the figure I pulled in tonight, but it’s more than enough to get me out of this shit hole. Then, I have more to paint. Landon wants to do another show, a solo exhibit this time, and my inventory has been wiped clean.

  “I need to tell you something,” Eleanor whispers into the darkness. The timid tone of her voice halts all thoughts running through my head.

  “Okay,” I draw out slowly, pulling away slightly, so I can look down at her.

  “Promise you won’t get upset.”

  “Hard not to, baby, when you preface something like that.” She stiffens in my hold. “Sorry. I’ll try.”

  She blows out a few harsh breaths. “Tristan called and texted me about twenty times tonight while we were at the gallery.”

  Now it’s my turn to stiffen in her arms. I shoot up, and start walking the floor after a few beats, unable to lay here any longer. “What did that fucker want?”

  She sits up and clutches the sheet to her otherwise naked body. “He says he wants to talk.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I’m not doing this with him.”

  I stop my pacing and look at Eleanor on my bed, fresh from making love… her dark hair wild and flowing around her shoulders, cheeks tinged with pink, and deep brown eyes wide. She’s fucking beautiful. So beautiful that it takes my breath away when I think about the fact that she’s mine.

  “Ignoring him might make this worse.”

  She shakes her head back and forth quickly. “I’m not doing this, Rafe. I know how he works. The minute I call him he’s going to beg for me to come back to him. He’s going to tell me how good we are together.”

  I can feel the fire shooting through my veins. “Were you good together?”

  Her answer is immediate, and exactly what I want to hear. “Absolutely not. Nothing is as good as this, Rafe.”

  She reaches for me, the sheet drops from her perfect body, and my Eleanor proceeds to show me exactly how good we are together. All thoughts of Tristan Zimmerman are long gone.

  The calls and texts don’t stop the next day. Finally, after it ruins a day out with Eleanor and Della, I tell her to answer it. Just as she said the night before, he’s begging for her to come back to him. The asshole just won’t take no for an answer. She assures me that he’s harmless, but I just can’t let it go. Monday morning after I drop Della off at school, I find myself sitting in a parking garage downtown, across the street from Holtman, Smith, and Zimmerman, the firm where the douchebag works. I promised Eleanor I wouldn’t do anything, but I can’t let this go.

  I take the elevator to the top floor and am greeted by a bright-eyed blonde girl at the front desk, asking if I have an appointment. When I tell her no, she refuses to let me in to see Tristan. I don’t really give a fuck if this little girl refuses me, I’m not leaving here until I say my piece. So, I simply stroll past her desk and walk down the hallway, searching the names on the doors until I find the one labeled with his. Her heels are clacking behind me, calling out to me, but I never stop.

  I don’t bother with simple pleasantries like knocking. Pushing through the door, I stroll right up to the desk where the prick is sitting and watch the recognition light up his face. He stands up but stays behind the safety of his desk.

  Smart man.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Zimmerman. I told him he couldn’t come back here without an appointment.”

  His scowl is replaced with a saccharine smile. “It’s quite alright, Heidi. I’m sure you tried your best.”

  She’s wringing her hands together. “Do I need to call security?”

  His gaze slips back to me, the smile long gone. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We’re just going to have a conversation. Right?”

  I hold my hands out in front of me and shrug. “Right.”

  “That will be all, Heidi.”

  She scurries off, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her.

  “You have some fucking nerve, coming to my office like this.”

  I laugh at his attempts at intimidation. I stay on my side of the desk, but lean in close, as close as I can with the massive piece of wood between us. “Nerve is calling my woman day and night, begging for her to take your sorry ass back, when she’s made it painfully clear that she doesn’t want you.”

  He straightens his stance. “Eleanor doesn’t know what she wants. She’s always been indecisive. If you truly knew her, you would know that.”

  Like this mother fucker knows her like I do. “I’ve known her for thirteen goddamn years.”

  “Her father-” he starts, but I cut him off.

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about that man, and neither does she.” I’m already growing tired of this conversation. “Leave her alone. She’s done with you. She’s mine. That’s not gonna change. If you don’t stop calling her, my next visit won’t be so friendly.”

  I turn to leave, but his words stop me in my tracks. “How do you think her boss will feel about her sleeping with one of her student’s parents
?”

  Red clouds my vision. I wait a few beats before turning around. If I walk over there right now, I’ll punch him in his smug face and get the cops called on my ass. I can’t fuck things up because he’s making idle threats. An eerie calmness takes over me, and I stroll back to the desk, getting as close to him as I can without jumping over the surface of that goddamn massive desk. He must be compensating for something. No one needs a fucking desk that big.

  “So that’s why you’re harassing my woman? It’s killing you, isn’t it? Knowing that night after night, she’s in my bed, moaning my name, coming around my cock, and you never got a chance to know just how fuckin’ good that can be. Sucks for you, man.” His face is red, like that fucking bow tie around his neck is choking the life out of him. “Leave her alone. What we have has nothing to do with her job. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

  I don’t wait to hear what he has to say. This time when I head for the door, I don’t stop. I stroll out of the office, reaching for a cigarette and lighting up before I even reach the elevator banks.

  22. Eleanor

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt of all things, curled up in my office in a tiny ball.”

  I lift my head from the crook of my arm and look at Laurel, who’s impeccably dressed, as usual, and running her eyes up and down my body. I can’t believe I came to work like this, but I don’t care.

  “I’m lucky I made it here this morning. It took everything in me to get out of bed.”

  She giggles and diverts her eyes to her computer screen. “Say no more.”

  My face heats, but it’s not what she thinks. “I didn’t even see Rafe last night. This weekend wore me out. Between Makenna’s house Friday night and the art show, I needed some time to regroup. He and Della needed a night alone, too, I think. I stayed at Gigi’s house.”

  “Did you see him this morning?”

  “I was late. I’m telling you, I almost didn’t make it in. Slept right through my alarm.”