by Rue, Rebekah
“No, but I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Alright, I’ll see you very soon; be careful.” Then we hang up.
I brush off my questioning feelings the moment I open the door and am blown away with his masculine self. As I blink up at him, he grabs my face, leaning in, giving me an easy romantic kiss. My heartbeat flutters and all is good.
“I missed you,” he says, holding me in his warm embrace. “Let’s lie down, and you can tell me about your day.” Nipping my bottom lip, he softly kisses me again, walking backwards down the hall. Good, then maybe he can tell me about his.
Chapter 15
Lo
Talon won’t tell me where we’re going, but told me to dress nice. I’m wearing a pale blue fit-and-flare dress that hits just above my knees. The gold statement necklace lies perfectly over the small amount of cleavage displayed by the V-neck of the dress. I pair it with a soft gold clutch, two gold and white bracelets, and white pumps that have the heels and the thin straps around the ankles dipped in gold. A minimal amount of makeup highlights my features since my skin still holds a nice tint from summer. With a light coat of mascara and a blowout of my hair, I’m done. Before I leave, Maggie compliments my appearance, kisses me on the cheek, and tells me to call her as soon as he pops the question. I not so nicely tell her to go eat a dick. Calmly, she reminds me that it was just a joke, not a dick, and to not take it so hard. Then she leaves to call Bain.
From start to finish, every detail of the evening blows me away. At quarter to seven, I open the door to danger. I can see why they say the world is a dangerous place, especially if Talon lives in the world. No girl is safe. He looks edible. He’s wearing the costume of a good boy, decked in a sharp black blazer, gray shirt, tie, and slacks that fit to a T, showcasing his buff muscles and trim waist. A dreamy hmm vibrates out from my throat, and I feel a pull in my pelvis. Giggling, I wonder if he bought the outfit special for this occasion. Whatever he has planned is big for him; the whole idea makes me giddy. He even calls it a date, an official one.
The moment we enter the doors of the restaurant I’m blown away by the pure opulence. Marble pillars support the hand-painted dome ceilings that keep my eye. Ambient lighting and Italian tapestries embody luxury and romance. Talon leads me to our table with the softest of touches and pulls out my chair. I appreciatively smile, taking my seat, and he hurries to join me on the other side, a strained look on his face. The gentle hum of the harp plays low enough to not be a distraction in the center of the room. I drape the cream-colored napkin across my lap and eye him suspiciously. A thoughtful look beams from his features, and he appears slightly fidgety, taking several large gulps of his ice water.
“What’s gotten into you that deserves all this?” I say, shifting my eyes all over the room, referring to it. I bet people wait months to get a reservation. What a romantic place to propose. No! No!
He smiles breathtakingly beautiful and tenderly takes my hand in his, resting them on the rich fabric covering the table. His hand displays a light tremor, but he tightens his grip on mine and it disappears. My fingers tingle from his touch and my breath quickens. “Sweetheart, do I need a reason to take you out?”
Shyly, I nibble at my lip, feeling silly for asking.
Throughout the seven-course dinner, I find myself covertly analyzing Talon’s every move and his every word. Numerous times he unknowingly touches his left pocket, which appears to have a small bulge. I can’t tell for sure, but my stomach doesn’t care. It clenches, threatening to expel all previous courses to the table. I’m afraid to go to the restroom for fear my napkin will be artfully folded again and a very tiny, very expensive present will be hiding underneath. I convince myself that it’s nothing more than a simple idea vindictively placed in my mind that I’m running away with.
The food is extraordinary, masterfully cooked and plated in the most appealing ways. Our fabulous waiter is removing our seventh plate when Talon breaks out in a light bead of sweat, which lines his forehead. He gracefully blots it away as I look down, acting as if it never appeared. Instinctively, I reach around the roses and place a comforting hand on his, folding my fingers in his sweaty palm. Like magic his face softens and a charming smile blossoms. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
I smile back. “Yes, many times, thank you.”
Talon uneasily nods at the same time glancing down. “Right, right, of course.” I’ve never seen him nervous. He’s a bundle of nerves. Looking back up, he sighs deeply, and my faux reassuring smile silently screams for him to just say it and get it over with already. He’s stirring up my insides into a mucky pool.
“You know I didn’t have the best childhood growing up. It’s a poor excuse, but it’s tainted how I see a lot of things.” I narrow my eyes, trying to understand. It’s hard to fathom because I had nothing but a loving protective family growing up where affection was a natural daily occurrence. He continues. “But with you . . . I don’t feel like a failure. I couldn’t have prepared myself for what you bring into my life, and I have this overwhelming need to be with you even if I just dropped you off after a long weekend.” A long breath comes from him as if all his stress goes with it. Then a warm smile appears as if he’s remembering something that makes him happy. “It’s crazy to think how we started off as the most unlikely of friends.” I smile; I tried so hard to deter him back then. “And do you know what I’ve learned through this whole experience with you?” My eyes stay intently connected with his, and I think I shake my head. I can’t remember, but he continues anyway.
“It’s that I love you.” He speaks those words so gently. I rest my other hand over my heart, my breath quivering. Those three simple words make me happier than I could have imagined. It’s like an oath of acceptance, a confirmation of respect, and positive reassurance of his love. It makes a warm sensation burn in my chest. “This is who I am and yet you still stand by me.” His face is so real and so honest. Talon lets go of my hand, and I pull my fingertips to my lips, watching him stand up and fish in his left pocket.
Oh no, oh no, I think, squirming in my chair. My eyes lock on the small navy blue box he holds in his hand. Don’t kneel. Please, don’t kneel. Whew, okay good, he’s sitting. He places that thing in the center of the table and pushes it slightly forward then waits. I swallow hard. What is he waiting for? Where the hell is the waiter? My damn water glass is empty! With the realization that I haven’t blinked, haven’t looked up, I shift my eyes to the strikingly good-looking man waiting for a response. My face must have seemed panicked because Talon scoots his chair closer to me and takes my palm and knee comfortingly in his one hand. His caring touch gives me strength and I relax. He brings my hand to his lips and presses a loving kiss to my inner wrist, touching my eyes with his. Then slowly he leans over and opens the box. It all happens in slow motion.
Nestled in crushed velvet is a beautiful dainty silver necklace with a round black pearl and a small diamond pendant. It’s elegant and simple; I love it.
“Talon, this is so beautiful,” I say, fingering the pearl, looking up to him. His relief is almost palpable.
“You like it?”
“I love it! Thank you,” I say, holding it to my heart, bending forward to kiss him.
Breaking away, he takes both my hands in his hands. “I hope this isn’t too much, but when I saw it, I had to get it for you. Some people believe that a single drop of rain falls from the heavens and with time it becomes the heart of the oyster. That’s what it means for me too. You fell to me from heaven and have become my heart. I love you.”
My heart soars and love takes root. As soon as I say, “I love you” back, his mouth covers mine eagerly.
Pulling in a breath, we lean back, smiles resting on our lips, a light blush on my cheeks. “Let’s get out of here,” Talon says, his eyes shimmering.
Nodding, I can’t agree with him more.
The weekend is here, and Talon and I are on our way to the art gallery. My makeup is more th
eatrical than usual: dark smoky eyes, cheeks popping with color, and kissable nude lips stand out. Maggie styles my hair in a whimsical updo and lets me borrow the most lustrous emerald chiffon evening gown. The fit is flawless and accentuates my feminine figure. The top is a strapless heart shape, and with each breath, lush cleavage rises and falls over its rim. Dainty diamonds line the top of the bust at the neckline then ribbon over my shoulders and down my back, outlining the plunging V that runs to the bottom of my spine. The waist is trim and flows down my legs to the ground. With every step, the slit that runs up my thigh kicks open, revealing smooth creamy skin.
We park just around the corner of the building and walk to the front of the Copa Crave Gallery. The exterior is simplified in solid glass and the interior is packed with people.
Each room holds the work of a different artist, soft music is piped through hidden speakers, and every wall is painted pure white to not take away anything from the art.
Talon and I wander from room to room, critiquing, his hand softly resting on my lower back while we walk. We speak with artists, collect information, and say hello to some of the other students I recognize.
The first room holds nothing but landscaping: mountains, landmarks, and oceans.
The next displays abstract Picasso-type stuff: bright colors, morphed pictures of people’s faces, and things I had to tilt my head sideways to understand.
Another room we find ourselves in is the largest and filled with massive slabs of graffiti art. The large slabs are positioned in a labyrinth: a complex design of turns and dead ends we have to navigate to get out. We go in one way and out another.
This room is drawing a lot of attention, and when we make it in, I can see why. The collection displays gorgeous women in their most vulnerable state, completely nude. Only a shadow, body part, or sheer piece of clothing covers their private regions. The paintings range through every emotion a person could have.
Several pieces are incredibly moving, and I find myself getting pulled in by the emotion of the person painted. A young woman sits emotionally broken, her petite body folded in on itself, so depleted she can’t find the strength to exist. It’s done in black and white; her tears prick my eyes. My hand reaches out and touches the shadowing; I can feel her pain bleeding out through every long stroke. Strangely, she and I have twisted similarities.
The deeper we move, the more provocative the images become: a woman’s wrists bound to the headboard, two men experiencing love for the first time, or a ménage a trois still tangled in a mess of erotic bliss. I can see why this artist is one of the favored artists at this showing. This room is packed and this art is amazing. My stomach clenches and my body warms, imagining myself in half of these paintings. I wonder if people actually posed for him or if they were generated purely from his own imagination. I’ve forgotten Talon is next to me when he squeezes my hand and gives me a playful wink. “You okay?” he asks. I just nod, realizing I’ve been standing still observing one of the slabs for some time now.
We finally find the artist but meander casually, waiting for the crowd that surrounds him to thin. I can’t see him since his back is to me, but clearly he’s the master of the images, and the more I stare at his work, the more questions I have. A soft vibration makes me glance to Talon’s pants pocket. Holding his cell phone up, he tells me he’s going to take it outside and will be right back. With a tender brush of his knuckles to my cheek and a soft peck, he excuses himself out the way we came. It wasn’t easy getting where we’re standing, so I plan on staying put. The large group has moved on, and I figure now is as good a time as any to dissect his thoughts. As I approach his back, he must have sensed me and turns around. That’s when my heart stops. All six hundred and forty muscles in my body lock up. A disorienting storm of emotions takes over: fondness, loss, affection, disgust, and so many more. In a rapid fire montage, I relive every good time we had together and the atomic bomb that obliterated us.
He blinks a couple of times, now getting the full view of my face. “Lo?” He stops. “My God, is that you?” Heath cautiously stands in front of me. My voice is tied up in silence, and I have a hard time looking at his face.
But that voice . . . it is masculine and smooth as verbal anesthesia. I’m instantly conflicted. One second I want to run back into his arms, and in the next, I want to slap the good looks off his face for showing back up and uprooting problems I’ve successfully buried for the last nine months. That face represents so much hard-pressed devastation for me. Sorrow morphs to hurt and hurt turns to anger. My sanity needs to stay intact if I have any hope of making it through this night without breaking down.
“It is you! I can’t believe I finally found you!” Found me? Like you even tried to look. He takes a step forward, ready to wrap me in his arms, but I take a step back, extending a hand out in front of me.
“Don’t” was my welcoming word. All happiness falls from his face when I bring my eyes to him. I shouldn’t have. His hair is longer and shaped in the sexiest style of mess I’ve ever seen, and his facial features appear more defined than I remember. His body looks amazing in a navy vest overlaying a red-and-white checkered collared shirt, a red tie is halfway tucked in the vest, and a chain drapes from one of the pockets on his chest. Each of his sleeves is fastened three quarters up his arms while the other quarter shows off someone else’s colorful art. Shapely dark jeans hang from his waist all the way down to the tan Brogues on his feet. We stand there staring at each other; his eyes narrow to my icy mood.
“What’s wrong with you? Is someone hurting you?” Yes, you. He’s probably running through every scenario to figure out why I’m acting so docile. Sadness bubbles up in my soul; bubble by bubble it surfaces. I need to get out of here. With torn conviction, I subtly shake my head and dart in the opposite direction from the man I once loved. I don’t realize it at first, but Heath catches my wrist and swiftly hauls me away from his work and into a secluded back hallway painted dark gray, maybe near the back entrance of the building. My heels stumble to keep up, and my traitorous body doesn’t even fight him through this whole thing. When we come to a stop, I rip my hand from his hold.
“Keep your hands off me,” I seethe, taking a few steps back. My wrist still prickles from where he grabbed it.
Heath holds his hands up. “Okay, okay, just please don’t run.” He stares down at me at the same time as I take a deep breath, gathering up my courage. “I know what you went through was tough, and I fully empathize with what you’re feeling, but we need to talk about—”
“We? We don’t need to talk about anything, and you don’t know half of what I went through. So don’t spit your sympathetic bullshit at me.” I lived through that hell already. I don’t intend on suffering again. Whether he likes it or not, he played a solid hand in my downfall. I gather up my dress, ready to leave, not knowing where I’m going just as long as it isn’t here.
“Wait! Don’t leave me!” My body stops. “Don’t you remember? Remember us? I used to be your whole life; now you won’t even let me be a part of it. Please just give me five minutes.”
For the briefest moment, my heart hurts for this man. I had acutely lacerated my love, our connection, and all communication with him, purely for my own self-preservation. Maybe now I’m strong enough. Five minutes doesn’t seem so long, and maybe, just maybe, it will make all my pain not so painful.
Steading my posture, I mean every word. “You have five minutes.” Heath’s eyes light up with hope, but just as I say that, I notice Talon standing with his back to us at the end of the hall, maybe a hundred and fifty feet away. I completely forgot about him. His expression appears worried as he eyes every face that goes by to find me. How had I forgotten? Heath will have to wait.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this tonight.” I start backing down the hall. He trails me.
“Then when?”
I shake my head, giving Talon a quick glance. Talon does a double take, spotting me, and casually heads down the long hallway ful
l of bustling workers. “I don’t know, but now is not the time.”
Heath rushes me, firmly pulling up my shoulders ridiculously close to him so I have to bow back slightly to see his face. “I’ll be damned if you think I’m just going to let you walk away from me again. When?” His southern accent thickens with his anger and strong eyes bore into mine. I quickly glance back at Talon and tense. He’s getting closer, weaving around the waiting staff that’s coming and going down this hallway. I twist back around. I have to do something, but what?
“When . . . ?” He draws every letter out this time, lifting an eyebrow.
Shaking from his grip, I’m able to think again, yet I completely miss his touch. I’m just not able to think as quickly as I need to. Heath swift connects the dots, spotting Talon’s approach.
“Meet me at the Bora Stone Hotel tomorrow, room 8649, seven o’clock.” With that, he quickly grabs my left hand and presses a kiss to my ring finger, disappearing around the corner.
Within seconds, Talon reaches me, placing a hand around my waist and kissing the side of my head. But I barely feel it. For some reason, it seems dull compared to the tingling that radiates from my left hand.
“I was beginning to worry I wouldn’t find you. Do you realize how big this place really is? Was that the artist?” He points. When I didn’t answer, Talon moves to stand in front of me, looking worried. I try to school my features, but I guess I don’t try hard enough. Heath has me thoroughly shaken.
“You okay?” No.
I shudder at the effort it takes to look okay, nodding my head and faking a smile.
“Did you meet everyone you wanted to meet?” Aghh! “I’ve gotta say that last guy’s work was pretty . . . interesting. I wish I could have been with you when you talked to him.” And I’m so glad you weren’t.
Chapter 16
Lo