Losing Seven (Falling for Seven Book 2)

by T. A Richards Neville

  I broke the surface, dragging my hands over my hair and down my face, tasting chlorine. Angela lowered into the water, carving wide arcs with her arms as she waded closer. “Sorry about that, I slipped.” Her scant white two-piece tied in the front, a gaping divide between her breasts. She didn’t have a lot going on up there, but what she did have, I could mostly see.

  “You ran off earlier, why?” I scooped my empty glass from where it tipped on its side in the water, maneuvering forward to stand it on the pool’s edge. Inadvertently, I backed Angela up against the stone wall, feeling her lower body on parts of mine under the clear surface. There was sufficient frustration in me that I backed her up more, the reverb of her body spurring me on. “And you ruined my jeans.”

  “I made a fool of myself before. That’s what you’ve been doing to me since you signed for this team.” I saw her arm reach out just below my line of vision, felt her fingers at the strip of skin above the waist of my jeans, where the water sucked at my t-shirt. “She’s been going to his games, Julian. They’re everywhere together.”

  “Who?” I asked, with the answering name in mind. I wanted to hear Angela say it, so I’d have a reason to relieve the pressure on this build-up.

  She bridged the already dangerously close gap, hands gluing to the planes of my stomach and my shirt. Her breaths came fast, and I pulled her hands off me with the fiery look in her eyes. “You know who.”

  I blinked off the dizzying roll of weightlessness. Angela’s hands were back on me and she reached up on her toes, red lips tickling the skin at my mouth as she used her fingers to outline my abs, my ribs. “That’s what you want?” I asked, slighting back to look down at her. “Would that make you happy?”

  “You need a woman who can be where you are. A woman who can look after you night and day, in all the ways you need to be looked after.”

  “And that woman’s you?”

  “I could be many things. You just say what you want me to be, what you’d like me to do. She’s no good, Julian. She’s just a girl. Does she even know what to do with you?”

  Through bleary eyes, I saw up-close the Angela that had been gradually creeping up on me. Keeping track of my girlfriend and moving herself into my life in an ugly way. Gathering the crumbs Angel dropped like a scavenger and saving them for annihilation. I also saw the Angela who could help dial down the noise in my brain. A magic button I could push as many times as she said, whenever it suited. Then go again when the noise returned.

  But Angel would still be out there, and there was no magic erase button.

  “Stop now,” I said, “and we can walk away from this with our dignities in one piece.”

  Angela’s drunken, dreamy gaze sharpened in personal affront. “And do what? Go second after Beau? She’s fucking around and I’m right here. Take me, Julian. Take me wherever you like. Do it here.”

  In a pool full of people? I swallowed, cleared my vision with another blink. Angela was all over me, her hands crawling and groping my skin. “I can’t,” I said in a gravelly voice. My dick was beginning to think for itself, but I was trying not to hear it.

  “Whys that?” Her touch delved south, blurring reality more, muting black and white to gray.

  For a minute my thoughts scattered, my awareness starting and ending with her—what she was doing, where she was touching.

  “Why can’t you have me?” she helpfully remined.

  My gaze journeyed the soft angles of her pretty face. Eager eyes that weren’t the right shade of brown topaz, skin just a little too pale. Intentions lacking the purity I’d become accustomed to. I’d been working with a learner since college, but Angel’d been the one teaching me. “Because I’d be using you to scratch an itch you wouldn’t be able to reach. It’s out of your grasp, Angela. So stop trying before you hurt yourself.”

  “Look where you are.” Her hands left my body to cut through the air, droplets of water spraying my chest. “When do you party? You don’t. And that leads me to believe all can’t be that peaceful in angelic paradise.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want a replacement.” I edged by Angela, braced my hands on the tiled ground and hoisted myself out of the pool, dripping water all the way to Carlion’s house. Inebriation stripped me of my clothes, and I left everything but my boxers at the French doors. Howling whistles accompanied me through the house, and I found one of the three bathrooms and knotted a towel around my waist.

  It was by luck I stumbled upon Rebecca, half-slouched on a futon in the downstairs entertainment room. Bass thumping from the DJ outside violated the calm in the room, and I unloaded heavily onto the leather and fur beside her. “Glad you came?” I asked, my head falling back and my eyes closing.

  Her small body raised off the seat cushion and then dropped at my side. She lifted my arm and draped it over her shoulders, burrowing in to sleep. “I am, yeah. Dre’s nice. I think I’m going to see him again.”

  “Sweet,” I mumbled, disappearing into the darkness as my body relaxed and shut down.

  I woke up to stringent sunlight and Rebecca spread across me, using my thighs as her pillow. I ached all over, but my head bore the brunt of last night. Rebecca stirred from my moving, lifting her head in careful inches. “My neck,” she moaned, shooting me a critical glare. “I need water. Want some?”

  “Sure,” I said, stretching out on the futon when she stood on shaky legs and groaned. Rebecca had only minutes ago left the room when Angela strolled in, swamped in a white robe that must’ve belonged to Carlion.

  My eyes followed her to the pool table in the middle of the room. She put one hand on the red felt and boosted herself up onto the surface, pinning the robe between her knees. Misery invaded her slack smile. “I’m so ashamed. I just…I thought… I’m around so many assholes, I read the situation entirely wrong and I jumped in blind thinking you’d catch me.”

  I dealt a dry laugh. “Don’t think I’m not an asshole.”

  “You aren’t an asshole. How could you be?”

  “Reasons you don’t want to hear.” Swinging a foot to the floor, I gingerly sat up. Combed my fingers through my short hair and lodged my elbows on my knees with a belly-deep exhale. “So where do we go now?” Angela threw me a look of regret. “You moved in on me knowing I had a girlfriend.”

  “Not true. Where do you get wasted at parties? Nowhere. I had hopes the Beau Kessler story held enough weight to be true, and you’d drown your sorrows in me.”

  “You got the over part right,” I admitted reluctantly. “And you could still be right about Beau. I don’t know what Angel does with her time now.” Or who.

  Angela shuffled down from the table and tightened the robe belt at her waist. Her arms crossed, her body appearing to shrink in on itself. Nothing like the Angela I’d first gotten to know. “You really aren’t interested in me beyond friends?”

  I looked into her eyes. Wondered if I’d led her on and brought this on myself. “I’m not interested in anyone beyond friends. And you’re a pretty decent one.”

  My head hummed to the melody of alcohol afterpains, and I felt the pangs in the back of my neck, down to my eyelids. Angel moving on with Beau Kessler was for the best and the worst. The best for her and the worst for me.

  “Julian.” Rebecca wandered through the doorway with my phone in the same hand as her strappy heels. “For you,” she said, throwing shade at Angela with a dark glance.

  “Shocker, since it’s my phone.” I took it from her and held it to my ear, smoothing my fingers over my eyelids to lighten the stress gathering there. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Michael O’Hara. Are you available to talk?”

  My eyes flew open and I automatically started searching for keys to my Range Rover that I wouldn’t be fit to drive for another twelve hours. I had to get home anyway and see to Dog, before he went out of his mind wondering if I was ever coming back. “Is Angel okay?”

  “Yes. Yes. Well, no,” Michael said on a breath. “She’s hasn’t been harmed or anything, but… we
need to discuss some things, Julian. I can’t sit on this any longer.”

  E merald lawns rolled out to a sumptuous landscape along the Nantucket Sound. The descent to the sandy, pebbled shore wasn’t dangerously steep, and the view from Grandpa Killian’s coastal estate in Cape Cod was breathtaking. Blue water and bluer skies. Wisps of cloud streaking overhead, thinning as hours tacked onto the early morning, making room for a belated sun.

  I wrapped my hands around the black and gold wrought-iron balcony railing. The spring breeze nipped at my bare skin and swirled under my dress. The Baby’s Breath that had been painstakingly woven into my hair would come loose if I stayed out on this balcony any longer, and I couldn’t risk Elena going into premature labor because I’d messed up her day two hours before the ceremony had even started.

  I slipped between the French doors and flower planters and snuck a glass of champagne from the kitchen to calm my nerves. This wasn’t my wedding, but the jitters harassed me all the same.

  In reverse of tradition, and unlike other details that went into the meticulous planning, I, maid of honor, was the one wearing white. Lace to the floor with a mermaid trail, sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps, Elena had handpicked the dress herself, and I’d been in love with it from the first fitting. I’d managed a few mouthfuls of banana oatmeal for breakfast, too scared of marking a dress that was to last all day and into the night.

  My champagne Bellini fizzed on the journey to my stomach, and I let out a silent burp into my hand, water springing to my eyes. I blinked it away, tipping my head toward the ceiling to stop my mascara running. The makeup artist said it was waterproof, but still. This day had my nerves on end.

  “Angel?”

  I didn’t turn around. I knew my dad would be standing behind me.

  “What?” I sipped my drink and swapped out the empty glass for a full one. I’d make this one my last until after vows had been exchanged.

  “Could I borrow you quickly, before I make myself scarce? It won’t take long.”

  It wasn’t like I could say no. This was his wedding day, and ‘maid’ was in my title. I meandered after him, through the dining and living room and out onto the front deck. I sat on the porch swing, under sheltered protection from the wide porch roof. The wind had started to settle, the sky brightening with mild May heat. I gathered and smoothed my lace skirt underneath me, adjusting to the cushions and firm pillows at my back.

  My dad stood tall at the foot of the swing in his heather gray tuxedo and white shirt. Dusky pink tie, cravat and pocket scarf. “Is this seat taken?”

  I sanded a finger over my French manicure, the creamy gel radiating light and shine. Outside of competition and skating showcases, I’d never been so soft and primed. Pampered to be put out on display. “You know it isn’t,” I said, insinuating an eye-roll, but also not wanting to disrupt the mood. “We’re the only two people out here. Sit where you like.”

  Guests would be arriving shortly. To the east of the labyrinth of White Spruce, facing the Sound, wedding staff and planners were busy finalizing the seating arrangements and erecting the ivory rose-woven archway.

  My dad took up the space on my right, and I scooted along, laying my arm on the spindled arm rest. “I’d like to explain myself, if you’re up for hearing it.”

  I folded my hand around the gold rope suspension. “I made my choice and I’m living with it. I had no right to ask for help if I didn’t really want what was offered.” Stress manifested in physical form, and I touched my fingers to my temple, muting the throbbing in my head.

  “I didn’t leave you with many choices. And by many, I mean none. Can I tell you why?”

  A total absence of moral overpowered me, and I turned my head to look at my dad. In his wedding suit with the weight of the world hitchhiking a ride on his shoulders.

  “I’m listening.”

  He leaned back, wet his lips. Changed his mind and leaned forward on his knees. “When Selene found out she was pregnant with you, she was scared. I couldn’t understand what the issue was. I’d been at rock bottom and there was nothing below. But She didn’t want a baby and I was left fighting to convince her why she did. She wouldn’t listen, and I hunted her all the way down to the local women’s center. Begged her to give us a chance—you a chance. You not being born… that was below rock bottom.”

  A hush descended. Nature’s calls and the gurgle of staff flitting around sucked up into a vacuum of unearthly silence. “She wanted to abort me?”

  My dad’s gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth to his own hands folded between his knees. “At first. I talked her round, showered her with promises and unrealistic dreams. She wasn’t ready to care for another person, and then I found out I wasn’t either. Between the pair of us, we could barely tell your ass from your head. We were terrible parents, Angel. Your downfalls are at our expense, and I sincerely don’t know how there’s so much good in you, but it wasn’t from us.”

  “You’re telling me now. Why?”

  “I still remember how it felt to armor up for that fight. My intention was to stop you resenting Julian, the way I know your mother did me for not listening to her. I begged for you when Selene had other plans, and then I stepped down from the plate and wimped out from my responsibilities. Did nothing when she pushed me away, out of her life. Hired Movida to clear up my chaos and turned a blind eye. I stupidly concluded Julian would choose football over his baby. Would stand by and watch you go it alone and without a career.

  “I’m a selfish shit, Angel. When you picked up that phone and called me, I should have said I’d do anything to support your decision. At least Selene could admit she wouldn’t be a good mother. I threw money at my problems and solved none of them. Just made everything worse.”

  The throbbing pummeled into the base of my skull and I grabbed the back of my neck. Was I supposed to be angry? Upset? Because I wasn’t any of those. My mother almost going through with my termination didn’t come as a roaring shock. She’d put herself before me most of her life.

  “This is all coming out very late in life.”

  My dad’s head slowly shook. “You had your mother right up there with Santa Clause. I’d done enough damage without kicking her down to ground-level.”

  “I never thought she was perfect.”

  “My point is, you deserved more. More than me or her.” The command of his palm on my thigh forced my eyes to connect with his. “I wake up at night in a sweat over what I’ve done. I was wrong, Angel. And I’ve told Elena about the abortion, and my part in it. Hope that’s all right with you. If I can keep my marriage pure from my own poison, your brother or sister stands a chance at surviving my bullshit. What do you think?”

  I strained a smile. “I think you’re going to need a lot of help.”

  “Elena’s not on speaking terms with me. If it wasn’t her wedding day, I’d be out on the street for the weekend.”

  “I could fix that,” I said.

  Voice rich with emotion, my dad’s steepled hands pull back from his mouth. “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do it for Elena. Her being angry with you has no benefit to anyone. And her pregnancy will go smoother without it. We’ve got a baby to think about now.” My sibling wouldn’t be born into a world of shit that I’d dredged up from the ground and insisted we suffer through. I was an adult now, and against stacked odds, I’d made it into the big world with only minor scratches.

  “I saw her, my mom. On the Santa Monica pier with another man. Looked like a boyfriend.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t speak to her?”

  “Nope. Went to lunch like I’d planned.”

  A proud gleam filled my dad’s eyes. “Good for you, kid.”

  The front door knob clicked, and Marilyn trundled out onto the porch deck with a cheap, disposable lighter in her hand and a cigarette between two fingers. “Cover me,” she said, claiming my dad’s seat on the swing. “I’m flammable t
oday. There’s a hairspray party in the back of my throat. It’s making me sick.”

  “Let’s all pray you don’t go up with the wind.” My dad loomed over Marilyn’s hunched frame while I cupped my hands around the cigarette she was trying to light. “We’d only have one maid of honor left, and that’s an uneven number.”

  Marilyn’s hand flapped in dismissal. “Make yourself useful, Mick, and look out for my mom. If anyone catches me smoking in this dress, I’m dead.”

  “You don’t smoke?” I half-questioned, half-asked.

  “I do this morning. I borrowed it from one of the caterers.”

  “Mario hates smoking.”

  Marilyn glanced up. “Look out for Mario while you’re at it.”

  A disgusted snort came from my dad. “Don’t you touch that cigarette, Angel. And don’t let her light a second one.”

  Puffing on her cigarette, Marilyn blew the cloud of smoke in my dad’s lane. “Uh, I can do what I want.”

  “Then let’s find out what Pamela’s got to say about you smoking. And we all know how much Pamela’s got to say—”

  “Jesus, fine. I’m dizzy from this one, anyway. Just needed a little smoothing to smooth the edges. Think it’s all this frickin’ hairspray and fake tan.”

  “I’ll be in the house. Hurry up with your cancer stick, Marilyn. I’m not covering for you. If your mom comes down here lookin’ for you, I’m sending her out.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Shut the door on your way in.” Marilyn crossed her knee and faced me, easing into the seat and pulling on her cigarette. Her bridesmaid dress mimicked mine in the lace, length and style, but hers had cute, frill sleeves. Conservative, stylish and simple.

  “Mario’s having the time of his life with your date. Can’t promise you’ll get him back once the wedding’s over.”

  “That’s nice for Mario.” I was just happy him and Marilyn were still something of an item. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but they’d found a route that suited.