Torn

by Lauren Dane

  Back in the living room, she and the dog had settled on the chaise near the fire. Jezzy was on her back, her belly exposed to the warmth and Cora was already under blankets. It wasn’t even cold, but he didn’t say that because he wasn’t stupid and he certainly had no complaints about her wanting to get close enough to soak up his body heat.

  Though that often ended up with sex because once they started snuggling, it wasn’t too rare that it progressed to naked snuggling, which, given the near-insatiable need to fuck her, wasn’t such a surprise.

  “It’s officially Christmas, let’s open presents,” she said with a bright smile.

  “You’re absolutely unrepentant,” he told her, thinking about which present he wanted her to open first.

  “I have lots to repent for—don’t get me wrong. But loving presents isn’t on that list,” she explained. “Thing is, I love giving presents as much as getting them, so sit and let me choose the first present.” She flipped the blanket back and jumped to her feet.

  “I love to watch you in action. You never do anything halfway,” he told her as she left the room.

  “Nothing worth doing is worth doing halfway,” she called back. “Okay, so close your eyes.”

  * * *

  CORA NEARLY GIGGLED with nervousness and probably also margaritas, which had been the signature drink for everyone who wasn’t knocked up.

  It was the most important present she’d ever given. Her first Christmas with Beau. Her first Christmas in love. She wanted to give him something that would tell him she listened. That he was worth listening to.

  She brought out the painting and faced it toward him. Cora had already staged it the day before so she knew just how to lean it so it would catch the best light.

  Once she’d stepped back she told him to open his eyes.

  It was a hyperrealistic painting of an elephant. A close-up of one side of her face. Close enough to see the life in her eyes and the fringe of her lashes. Every wrinkle was done so well. The personality of the elephant just radiated from it.

  He sucked in a breath, taking a few steps closer to examine it better. “Cora, this is amazing. I’m stunned. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “I thought it would look good in the bedroom. On the wall behind the bed. The light would be perfect and because it’s grays and blacks it’s a good neutral.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “I saw it last month. Well, not this one but another from the same artist. And I got in contact with her and she had this one. The minute I was able to look at it in person I knew. It’s the angle, the emphasis on the individuality of the animal. The intelligence and knowledge in her eyes. There’s a story about this particular elephant that came with the painting. She’s the matriarch of her herd. Her mom was before that.” Cora clamped her lips closed before she babbled anything else.

  “It’s incredible. You took this thing I love and you not only found a present for me, but the perfect present. Yes to all that art stuff you said about the angle and perspective. She’s so real. You chose this for me a month ago?”

  She was so pleased he loved the gift she had to clear her throat before speaking. “Yeah. It’s a thing. Okay? I like to spend time finding gifts for people. And I knew you were going to be moving and would have space and so I called the sanctuary and spoke with the director there and he mentioned this husband and wife team who did photography and painting and that’s how I found the artist. They live in North Bend of all places so it wasn’t that hard to go out to her studio.”

  “Wasn’t that hard? Cora, you called an elephant sanctuary halfway across the world to talk with them because I love elephants and you wanted to get ideas about different types of art they might want to recommend? Then you tracked the artist down, drove out to her studio, which is an hour and a half or so from your place to look at a painting in person to be sure you had the exact right one for me. Just another Tuesday for Cora perhaps, but the rest of us are mere mortals and that level of detail is beyond us. You made real effort for me. For no other reason than to please me. Thank you.”

  He straightened and moved close enough to give her a hug.

  She swallowed back her emotion, not wanting to cry and get snot on him. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Now, how can I even come close to that?”

  “It’s not a competition,” she said. “But it if was, I win.”

  That broke the seriousness, making them both laugh as he pulled her out to the back deck. Jezzy raced past them, heading for her ball no doubt. And that’s when she saw the new handrails on the steps leading down into the yard.

  When she saw her poetry had been written into the wrought iron work.

  “Dancing drops of rain light your skin like diamonds.” Scrolled down the right side and on the left was “My heart is the head of a river always leading me to you.”

  “You left me the second one scribbled on the back of our order ticket from that diner. Remember?” he asked.

  “I do now. I remember that you looked at me a certain way and it made my heart sort of swell. Left me breathless. This is really beautiful.” It added to their home. Gave it her stamp. Made it theirs. Which meant he’d listened to her that day they’d had the discussion about whether or not she was going to pay rent. He’d listened to her and shown her just that with the railing.

  “Come in now. It’s cold and there are more presents, including part two of this one.”

  Part two, which was the scribbled poem on the back of the order ticket from a greasy spoon. He’d had it framed. “I thought it would be good in our bedroom too. Looks like we have complementary thinking on liking to spend a lot of time in there.”

  There was some jewelry she should have been embarrassed by loving so much, but she did. Gorgeous dangle earrings with emeralds and diamonds, as well as a watch he’d seen her admiring in a shop window in downtown.

  After everything had been unwrapped, and then cleaned up, they headed off to bed sometime after two.

  Cora didn’t need Santa. She had Beau, who made her dreams come true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BEAU LOOKED UP at his painting as he tightened his bow tie. He’d been hoping to get away with a suit instead of a tux for the Silvera’s party but unfortunately that didn’t work out. Black tie was black tie, he was told.

  Though Cora did say he could wear whatever he wanted, it wasn’t as if he planned to do that and agitate her parents or make them feel he was disrespecting them. His only consolation was that all his male friends attending would be similarly uncomfortable.

  “What do you think?” she asked, coming out of her closet wearing a dress he’d given her for Christmas. One shouldered. Asymmetrical neck. Navy blue, which she wore very well. It showed off her shoulders and some of her ink, as well as her new watch. He loved her legs so the hem skimmed along at midthigh. She looked like a piece of art herself.

  “I think that dress was made for you. You’re beautiful. Which is true all the time, of course. But right now you’re particularly gorgeous.”

  “You know my feelings about you in a tux. And if you recall we didn’t play James Bond after the wedding. Damn.”

  “That’s because you were driven by your ever-present lust to open presents early.”

  Her smile, damn, he’d give her anything for one of those open, silly, affectionate Cora smiles.

  “My priorities were...momentarily different. Plus I wanted to give you your painting. And you can’t lie and say it wasn’t totally a Day of Delight. Tonight though.” She groaned. “Damn. Well, naturally after the party we’re headed back here to have people over to watch fireworks. I’m not going to make you wear it for hours longer than you have to just so I can play my dirty games with you after. For damn sure I’m taking these heels off when we get home.”

  “The difference between you and me ther
e, I guess. See, I’m willing to wear a tux all damned day if it led to sex with you. However, as I own the tux, I’ll put it on whenever you feel like being interrogated.”

  She smiled again. This one was her sex smile and he adored that one too.

  “What if I want to be the one interrogating you, Mr. Bond?” She slid a hand up the front of his chest.

  “Fine with me.” He held his hands up in surrender and she hugged him, laughing.

  “It’s nice that we’ll be able to set up with our blankets and stuff and watch the show from the front yard here. I loved that about my town house but my porch wasn’t as nice as it is here and it was far more cramped. And the house here is big enough that if everyone wanted to stay over instead of drive home they could quite easily.”

  Satisfaction settled into his bones as he realized it was the fact that he’d given her a home she liked and wanted to share with their friends. It still surprised him when that hit. Each time she was pleased by something in that way it appealed to him on some primitive mate level. Sometimes when he made a recipe that she really truly loved, it felt like he was presenting her with gold and jewels. Tribute to his beloved.

  Cora took off her shoes and stood on the second step of the staircase to the upper floor. She’d discovered that it brought them face-to-face. “You just had an expression that said you were deep thinking about something. But you were smiling so I figure it was good?”

  Another thing he’d still found himself surprised by was the way she checked in with him. Not in a domineering sense, but Cora wasn’t one to not ask if he looked upset or puzzled or what have you.

  It was still so very intense with her, but it wasn’t overwhelming, and better, it was tempered by the way they’d been growing as a couple. He’d never lived with a woman other than his wife and that had been, well, far different than what he and Cora shared.

  Cora’s energy made him happy. He liked the evenings when she got home from the gallery and he made them dinner. It was blessedly normal and their time to talk about the day. But Cora never made anything boring. She always had a story, or a bit of poetry she’d written, a photo she’d taken while out and about, whatever. She shared herself with him.

  “I was just thinking about how being with you made me happy,” he told her, leaning in quickly to kiss her.

  “Oh well, that is a nice thing for a gal to hear. You make me happy too.”

  Jezzy barked a few times just to let them know she was happy, as well.

  “I need to get back to the gallery just to be sure everything is running smoothly,” she said.

  Cora had already been to the gallery for a full day’s work before closing and getting the crew in to set up for the party.

  “All right. I’ll drive so you can have as many glasses of champagne as you like,” he told her.

  Someone needed to take care of her. Walda kept on telling everyone this party was all hers, all her idea and planning, but it was Cora who’d implemented all that Walda cloud talk into solid plans. Cora who’d organized and checked in with all the various caterers, florists and service staff.

  And she’d done it while also running the gallery and having a very full social life with him and their friends. She wasn’t getting enough sleep and the stress of Walda’s demands had worn her a little thin at the edges.

  Tomorrow when they finally got up—and having a dog meant they couldn’t sleep until two in the afternoon—he planned to make them both brunch, which they’d eat while watching movies and the parade. She needed rest and some spoiling and he would be sure she got it.

  She came down the steps and got her shoes on once more. “I mean if you want to drive, thank you and I’ll take your offer because then I don’t have to walk from my town house. Just be advised the parking tonight is going to be impossible. Between all the clubs and restaurants and people headed into Seattle Center for the fireworks at midnight, it’s probably best if you park at the town house when you come back for the party. Go have a drink with everyone over at Whiskey Sharp once you drop me off though. Just come when they do. Otherwise you’re stuck at the gallery for another hour and a half while I bark orders at people.”

  “You totally underestimate how hot it is to watch you bark orders at people. Even when it’s me. I have some calls to make. I’ll hang out in your office and do that while you do your thing. Don’t waste any more of my time by trying to do me a favor by sending me to Whiskey Sharp,” he said to forestall her argument.

  The truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure how Walda would act and he wanted to provide some backup in case it was unpleasant. Yes, Cora could handle it and she did on a regular basis—though not nearly as selfishly enough as she should in his opinion. But his being there would underline that he was always going to be at Cora’s defense should that be necessary.

  Even if it was her mother who needed to hear that point. Jesus, the woman called Cora all the time for the most petty of bullshit. Just to be sure Cora was there. He wanted to tell her that she could assure herself that her kid was there by having lunch with her instead of trying to make her responsible for Walda’s entire fucking life. But it would start a mess and Cora didn’t need that.

  He and Cora’s mother would have a set-to at some point. She pushed but he didn’t react. So far. But Beau wasn’t under any misapprehension that she wasn’t just thinking about what would get him to dance to her little tune.

  * * *

  NATURALLY BEAU DROPPED her right out front of the gallery before telling her he’d park at the town house and walk from there.

  She was still smiling as she walked into the main room that’d been decorated to her mother’s precise instructions. Her coat and bag went into the closet in her office, as did her shoes, which she traded for flat slide-on slippers.

  Out in the gallery, she quickly intervened in some sort of kerfuffle between the bartender and the caterer and was still untangling it when her mother came in.

  “It’s very vulgar to have this sort of thing happening in front of party guests,” Walda said once Cora had solved the problem.

  Cora wasn’t going to be goaded into some battle of wills over this petty crap. “There are no guests here yet. It was a basic problem—it took a basic solution. We’re good. Would you like me to make you a plate? Get you some tea?”

  “Make me a plate with all the appetizers being served tonight,” her mother said. “I want to be sure everything is up to my standards.”

  “I’ll do that,” Beau said. Cora hadn’t even heard him come out of her office, where he’d headed once he’d arrived. “Good evening, Mrs. Silvera. You look lovely tonight,” he called out with a wave before he turned to deal with the food.

  “He’s here early,” her mom said.

  It had snowed so hard on Christmas Day they’d had to drop out of the day with her family because the roads had been a mess. She still hadn’t told them about moving in with Beau, but they most certainly knew she was in a serious relationship with him.

  Which was probably why her mom was acting a fool.

  “He drove me in to save me trying to find a parking spot. Dropped me right out front.”

  “There’s a spot here at the gallery, why would he have to do that?”

  Beau had returned to hear the last part of the interchange so he replied, “The spot your car is in now? Cora wanted to keep it available so you and John could park there and not have to worry about a long walk in your formal wear.”

  Then he handed her a plate with all the things being served during the party with a flourish and a slight bow.

  Cora’s heart was still pounding after the way he’d just answered her mom’s question but also put her in her place.

  “The caterer said to let her know what you think,” Beau said as he straightened. “If you need to handle anything else, I’ve got your mom,” he told Cora.

  “I don’t need handl
ing,” her mom said.

  Cora looked down at the plate in her mother’s hand and then back to her face. Was it simply that her mother had no idea how things showed up in her life? She was so used to being taken care of she didn’t even see it as people doing things for her? She never worried about parking spots or food, even the party she was standing in that Cora had done all the work for she didn’t see as being handled.

  “Go on,” Walda said with a wave of her hand. “You need to change out of those ratty slippers before anyone sees them and thinks they’re a reflection of the work on my walls.”

  “So, Mrs. Silvera, how do you like those crab bites?” Beau asked her, snagging her attention.

  Cora stood there for another few moments, debating, but in the end, she took the reprieve he’d handed her and moved off to handle other things—including changing into her heels.

  Beto came into her office with a smile and a hug. “Hello, my darling. You look gorge. What’s happening tonight? Can I help?”

  “This old thing?” She indicated her dress. “A present from Beau. Also, you look fantastic, as well. Silvera men do know how to wear tuxedos. As for help? I’m good. We’re ready to go. People should be arriving any moment.”

  He linked arms with her as they headed back out to the gallery.

  “By the way,” Cora said quietly, “Beau and I have moved in together. I haven’t told anyone else in the family yet because it’s a face-to-face sort of conversation, but I wanted you to know.”

  And she understood her brother enough that she was certain his reaction would be pleased and she wasn’t disappointed when he stopped to give her a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

  “I like this Cora. Happy. Passionate and totally in charge of your future. Dad and I are going to your boyfriend’s, uh, your house I suppose, to look over the lot and get some ideas about our design.”

  “Excellent. Then you can meet Jezzy—that’s the dog I keep texting you pictures of—in person. She should know her uncle. You will love her. Or lie about it because she’s like my kid and that’s part of the sibling rule book.”