Darling

by Gabrielle G

  “I told you last night I’m not letting you go.” She needs to understand that.

  “So you want us to be together?”

  To answer her question, I kiss her.

  “But I have big projects coming up, and you’re going on this tour…”

  She plays the fierce woman, but I can see how terrified she is to open her heart to me. She needs reassurance, and I’m ready to give it to her. I kiss her again, slower this time, pouring out all the love I can find in my heart.

  “I know my job is difficult, Anna love, but we’ll find the time.”

  “I’ll try”—she has tears in her eyes—“but please don’t break my heart.”

  If I’m sure of one thing right now, it’s that I won’t be the one breaking her heart. I can’t hurt her.

  The waffles finally arrive, and we sit next to each other, her hand in mine, while we eat. But after breakfast and another round of orgasms, there’s no time left for us to spend together.

  Standing in the underground parking lot of the hotel, I’m lost for words and feel as though I’m going to cry all the way back home.

  “I have to go,” she says against me.

  Saying goodbye is always harder after a great night of sex, but saying goodbye to Anna is unbearable. My whole body hurts. This has been the most fucked up thirty-six hours of my life.

  “I don’t know how all this is possible, but fuck, I’m going to miss you. Call me, text me, email me, Facetime me whatever you want, as long as we can talk, okay?” I engulf her in my arms, dragging her body closer to mine, not wanting to leave any space or uncertainty between us, and bring my hands to her face. My thumbs stroke her cheeks while my lips devour her mouth.

  “Bye, Wes,” she murmurs before rising on her toes and giving me a last peck.

  I let her walk away, not wanting her to feel I’m turning my back on us. After a few steps, she turns back and waves with her fingers before resuming her stroll out of the parking garage.

  “So that’s Anna?” Lars asks as soon as my ass is in our car.

  I nod. I don’t think he can comprehend how empty and heartbroken I feel. I knew I would cry. I’m a sensitive guy, always have been. There was a time I tried everything to feel less. I was the high rock star, the drunk rock star, the entitled and detached rock star, but in the end, nothing worked. I was just hurting my health, my career, and my reputation.

  “Fuck, man, you’re more hooked than we thought,” Art says, getting me out of my self-pity party of one.

  I nod again. I don’t have many coherent thoughts I can put into this. I would do anything to make this work, but should I? Should I walk away from Anna to preserve the little dignity I have? Does she know what she wants from me the way I know what I want from her?

  My phone buzzes, and I freeze when I see Anna’s name on it.

  Anna: Thank you for the night, Wes. I never thought I’d enjoy it so much (not speaking about the orgasm).

  Wes... By calling me Wes, loving “Once You Were Gone,” and refusing to go to my bedroom, it’s like she sees beyond Dan Darling. She wants to know me, to know who I am behind the rock star.

  Fuck dignity! I need to go to her. If I get on that plane for LA, I’ll lose her forever. Four weeks is too long. She’ll have forgotten everything she felt over the last two days. I can’t wait.

  “Stop the car,” I yell to our driver.

  Lars, Art, and John freeze.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Lars growls, but he already knows. He saw it yesterday.

  There’s no way I can leave her behind. “Look, man, I’ll meet you in Paris.”

  “No way, we have to go back to LA to record that song!”

  “Let’s do it here then. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I don’t wait for Lars’s answer. He knows there’s no point. I'm being unreasonable, asking the whole team to change their plans for a girl I met two days ago, but I don’t give a fuck. And even if I say I’ll take care of everything, I know Lars and Art will do it while I bury both of my heads in Anna.

  “Dan!” John yells when I open the door.

  “Forget it,” Lars tells our manager. “He has to go to her or our tour will be shit. Let’s find a hotel, a studio, and let him get the girl.”

  When we went to my room last night, I had no doubt that she wanted me. We were both into each other. I might be the one doing the crazy thing here, but I know it’s the right one.

  Walking through Montreal, I have no clue where I am and where I’m supposed to go. I could join her at the office, but I’m not even sure she went to work after she left. There’s only one way to find out. Too bad I can’t just surprise her.

  Me: Are you home?

  Anna Love: Almost.

  Me: What’s your address, Anna Love?

  Anna Love: Why?

  Me: Because I’m walking in the streets of Montreal with nowhere to go.

  Anna Love: Are you staying?

  Me: Yes.

  My phone rings, and I stupidly smile.

  “What do you mean you’re staying? Don’t you have to go to LA and do all the things a band has to do before flying across the world?”

  “You have no idea what I do, do you?”

  “To be honest, no,” she says and laughs a little. “What do you do before flying across the world?”

  “For the moment, I’m walking in streets I don’t recognize, but what I would like to do is to kiss you and find my way back between your legs to lick that sweet pussy of yours and make you come again and again and again until you only have my name on your lips. Do you think I could have your address to arrange such a thing?”

  A little moan comes from her, and with a sigh, she complies.

  11

  Anna

  Having not even ten minutes to tidy my place and make believe I’m not a thirty-eight-year-old slob should be an Olympic sport. I’ve never cleaned so quickly in my life, and I’m an efficient professional. Since I’m single and I never have anyone over, I do lack motivation to keep my place tidy, and I usually don’t care. But the man with whom I’ve had the best sex of my life is coming over when he should be on a flight for California, and I feel that’s kind of a big deal.

  I wanted him to get on that plane so I could return to my stupid easy life. I need to step back and take in all that’s happened since I met him. It seems like yesterday—it almost was—but so long ago at the same time. Dan is like a hurricane that uprooted my lifestyle, and I’m not sure yet what damage he left behind because when I thought I could breathe again, he’s already back. It delights me as much as it freaks me out.

  Thousands of questions swirl in my head while I pick up my discarded clothes from the last weeks. Am I finally ready to accept more from a man than sex? Should my no-close-relationship policy be reviewed? Do I want a relationship with a guy I don’t know and just met, a guy who’s a rock star? Would I lose myself again? Am I still the same woman who would follow a young doctor to Canada in the name of love? Am I living in fantasyland? Did I drink Dan’s Instalove Kool-Aid?

  I’m picking up my last bra from the knob of the bathroom door when my doorbell rings. I drop my clothes in the closet by the door and straighten myself before opening it wide.

  “Hey, Anna love.”

  We were apart thirty minutes, but I missed him calling me ‘love’, missed his fingers on my neck and his tongue in my mouth. He must feel how nervous I am to have him in my place and how uncertain I am about us because he steps in. Not like any other guy would step into my apartment, not even like Wes Moore would come into a girl’s apartment. He enters the way Dan Darling would, with a halo around him and a smile hanging on his lips. But I don’t move and unintentionally block his way.

  “Are you not going to let me in?” His voice is sharp and impatient. He apparently won’t allow me to doubt what he’s doing here.

  He’s been straightforward enough. He’s here because even if right now he wants to fuck me—the bulge in his pants is a flawless indi
cation of how happy he is to see me—we’re more than a fuck. He’s here because, for an insane reason, he believes in love at first sight, and he’s convinced we’re something.

  It’s absurd.

  It’s spur of the moment.

  It’s badass.

  It’s all that Dan Darling is and represents.

  “Hey, Rock Star. I didn’t think I would see you so soon.” I open the door wider for him to come in.

  “Are you happy about it?” He kisses my cheek as an old lover would.

  “I’m… surprised.” Shocked, flabbergasted, and alarmed are more what I’m feeling right now, but surprised will do.

  “Nicely surprised?” He turns his interrogative gaze on me, but he doesn’t wait for my answer before his hand finds the back of my neck. “Come here, love, I need to kiss you. I couldn’t get in that plane and leave you behind. I need to be with you. Kiss me, Anna.”

  And I don’t know if it’s the fact that he calls me Anna or because his fingers are all I can feel on my neck, but I do. I’m much shorter without my heels on, and being on my tiptoes isn’t enough for me to reach his lips, so he swipes his arms under my ass and pulls me up. I’m floating, my lips just above his, and there’s a second of tension between us, as if to acknowledge that this kiss will mean more than the ones we had yesterday.

  There was the peck in my office, which was playful and his way of showing his happiness. There was the one before the concert, a thank you that quickly turned PG-13. There was a kiss against his bedroom door, which was urgent and sexual, and our goodbye kiss, which was heartbreaking. But this kiss, even before it happens, is like a promise we’re making to each other. A sign we’re heading in the same direction, a hope we want the same thing.

  But I’m not sure what I want. The second of tension is replaced by another second of uncertainty, and instead of kissing me, Dan puts me back on the floor. His chin lowers to his chest, his hands go limp, and when his eyes find mine, all I see is defeat. My stomach churns, but I can’t find the words to tell him he’s welcome.

  “Maybe I should go?” he asks.

  Knowing he could still be in my city but not in my space, I find my words again. I want to scream for him to stay, but I can’t. I’m suffocating. “Okay, I should go to work anyway. Can you let me take a few hours, and I’ll meet you tonight? Where are you staying?”

  From the look on his face, I realize he might have thought he would stay here. I feel like an asshole. Undeniably because I am.

  “Well… I’ll call Lars and see where they are and let you know.” He seems hurt.

  “I just don’t want you to wait for me.” I step closer, but he backs away. “Let me know where to meet you and I’ll come.”

  I want to cry. Stepping back hurts me as much as it pains him, but I don’t understand what just happened between us. He was commanding and I was responsive, but it all shifted when I hesitated to kiss him. I’m remorseful and now want to kiss him.

  “Wait.”

  But he doesn’t. He grabs the door and leaves.

  I’m such a fuckup. And I’m even a bigger asshole because I didn’t thank him for coming back to me. It’s the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me. In fact, Dan has been nothing but kind to me, and I kicked him out because I was afraid a kiss would mean too much… But seeing him in my apartment, how natural it seemed, how he fit in my condo, even for the thirty seconds he was here, freaked me out. I could see myself packing my bags and following him across the country and starting over again. Having no friends but his, losing every connection to my old life except my brother. I remember how lonely I was until I met Chéri at my first job, how we decided to go into business together. I remember meeting Debbie at the doctor’s office when we were both trying to conceive and meeting Julie soon after. How blissful I was—until I wasn’t. I can’t be that girl again, the one who doesn’t care about consequences, the one who lives freely and makes friends quickly, the one who’s not afraid to be happy.

  Clearing the tears I’m shedding for hurting Dan, I run into the shower and decide to go to the office. Even if it’s for a few hours, it’s better than nothing, and it will keep my brain occupied.

  Once at work, I forget about Dan and concentrate on my projects, clients, and the emails my assistant has flagged for me. After taking one morning off, I have hundreds of emails needing answers. This is why I don’t have time for men.

  I spend the next couple of hours returning calls and going to one of the construction sites. I try not to lash out at the contractor when he announces the project might be late because some of his guys have the flu. I’m not letting that bullshit excuse fly. When I started, the guys “had the flu” repeatedly.

  Being a woman in the construction world, I learned fast I needed to show men their penises were tools I wouldn’t be handling. After a few catcalls and propositions that would have made a Playboy bunny blush, I decided I needed to hold my own. The next time I got catcalled, I answered with some crude, obscene, degrading comments that made the construction workers flush. That’s how my reputation was built. Excellent and fun when you stay professional, but if not, I unleash my dragon. I have no problem having beers with them once in a while, but the job is the job and you’d better do it well or I will ruin your reputation and crush your balls with my stilettos.

  By the time I’m done catching up, I haven’t had supper and it’s past ten. I’m glad Naomi had an emergency that coincided with Lars’s arrival, but the numerous texts I’ve received from Debbie and Julie, both wondering how it went with Dan, didn’t help to get him off my mind. I wonder why the news that the Darling Devils are still in Montreal hasn’t come out yet. Or maybe they’re gone. That idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Did he leave? Was I such an asshole that he left for LA without telling me? Would he do that?

  Shaking at the idea, I pick up my phone and text him. I should call, but I’m too afraid to hear him tell me he’s back where he should be. I know I was a jerk this morning and told him to go, but I didn’t mean to leave the city. I just needed a little time to defog my brain, but the truth is, if he’s around, I want to spend time with him. I want to know him. I shoot him a text that I hope he’ll take as an invitation, maybe even as an apology?

  Me: Going home. Too tired to be out tonight. Come by if you want to see me.

  But there’s no answer. I make my way home and check my phone obsessively, hoping he’ll return my text or call me. There’s nothing when I get out of the subway, nothing while I walk from the station, nothing when I open my door or get out of my shower. Nothing when I reheat the three-day-old pasta in my fridge or when I give up and get ready for bed. But the moment I slip under my sheets, my phone buzzes and my breath bottles up in my chest.

  Rock Star: I do, but do you? Am I going to be kicked out again as soon as you can?

  His words are so harsh, they tear my soul. I fucked up, but I refuse to go down without a fight, and I don’t know where it comes from, but I won’t let him talk to me that way. He might get used to having everybody at his beck and call, but he can’t appear at my door and think I’ll put everything on hold for him. That’s what Joel would have done.

  Men are assholes. Fucking assholes who think we’ll spread our legs for them in a snap of their fingers. I might have fucked up, but he could understand I’m not waiting around for him to claim me and decide I’m the woman he wants. Fuck it. If I can deal with obnoxious, dirty-minded construction workers, I can deal with an over-egotistical rock star!

  Me: I guess you don’t want to come then. That’s fine. See you soon.

  I know I went from asshole to bitch, but my pride is hurt, and I won’t beg for him to come. He can stay away if he wants.

  Rock Star: Okay then. Nice knowing you.

  Or I can beg…

  Me: Please Dan. Don’t do the diva… I want to spend the evening with you…

  Rock Star: Seriously Anna, are you lacking relation skills? Why the hell would you think calling me diva would make me run
to you?

  He won’t come. It’s a total power play on his part. He came to me, I hesitated, and now he wants me to go to him.

  I get it.

  I would too.

  Anna: Listen, come here and stay the night, stay tomorrow, as long as you want. I’m sorry.

  Rock Star: I am staying at the Queen Elizabeth again under Donald’s name. I’ll give yours at the reception. If you want me, you should come to me, Anna. I ran enough after you. I’m exhausted. If you’re not here in twenty, good night!

  12

  Dan

  I’m glad I gave Lars my phone this afternoon because I would have tried to talk to her. I’m a fucking moron. When I called him to ask where he was because I’d gotten kicked out, the best friend that he is took care of everything. When I met him in the car, he said we had a studio booked for the afternoon, we had three days to record the song and I wasn’t going to fuck it up, so he wanted me to give him my phone and let him handle anything Anna.

  So I did—because I know he has the band’s best interest at heart. Because last time I was in love, he’s the one who convinced me I was pushing my own destruction too far and I was ruining my career and his. Because when I didn’t listen, he’s the one who called Art and had him convince me to slow down. I owe Lars a lot, so I let him handle my ass regularly.

  When Anna texted tonight, Lars handed me back my phone. I was ready to jump in a cab and go, but as we texted, my mood changed. Lars said that he knows from a good source that Anna is a little lost. I know his source is Anna’s assistant, but that’s none of my business.

  I needed to stand my ground a little. Nobody throws me away. Nobody can talk to me that way. Lost or not, it’s her turn to grovel.