Wild Duet Bookset

by Colet Abedi

  Colt looks at the screen and perks up. He makes his way to the family room and takes the couch opposite Jamie. It appears we are serving them today.

  “He’s so sleeping over tonight.” Kerri rolls her eyes as she takes in the scene. “Jamie’s jet-lagged. He’s about to get drunk and heavy with food, and he’s sitting in front of football. We’ll be lucky if you can get him to move at all, and I know you’re going to want him to move some for you.”

  I should blush, but I don’t. Because she’s right.

  “Bring me food, woman,” Jamie orders from the couch, his eyes glued to the screen.

  I roll my eyes. “Lucky me,” I whisper to Kerri.

  “You love it.” Her grin is knowing. I wish I could deny it.

  I look at my dream lover, and I guess she’s right. I kind of do love it. I want to take care of Jamie and make him feel good, give something back and reciprocate as much as I can. He’s been so good to me.

  I just want to be good to him.

  ––––––––––

  As Kerri predicted, Jamie spent the night.

  He’d barely moved from the couch the entire day. Colt stayed over for a long while too. After they got over their initial animosity and actually started talking, they realized they had a lot in common. I think they secretly enjoyed each other’s company, and it didn’t hurt they were rooting for the same team.

  It was the first night we didn’t fool around. Jamie was dead tired, and we just fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. The day had passed quickly, and I didn’t have a moment or really the inclination to tell him how I felt about him. Jamie didn’t open up again or profess any love. He kind of just let it be, so I did too.

  I realized there was no rush. Everything would just happen like it should.

  Jamie and I decide to leave for his place early in the morning. Kerri is still passed out, so I leave her a note and send a text message telling her I’ll see her on Monday at work. I know Jamie probably won’t let me go home on Sunday, so I won’t even bother pretending I might show up.

  We walk outside to his navy-blue Range Rover. He opens the door for me, and I hop in and strap my seat belt. I really love that the car isn’t decked out or bling-bling; it’s simple and classy. And super cool, like him.

  He turns to me with a boyish smile. “So I have an idea.” His mood is infectious.

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s go buy a Christmas tree,” Jamie says to my utter happiness.

  Growing up, we never had a Christmas tree—or at least a real one. We had the same bent-out-of-shape, fake-ass tree every single year of my life at home. My mom had bought it for practically nothing at some garage sale. I’ve never even been to a Christmas tree lot. How sad is that?

  “I’m one hundred percent in.” I know I sound overly enthusiastic, but I can’t help it. “Do you have ornaments?”

  “Of course I do,” he says like he can’t believe I’d even doubt it. “My family takes Christmas very seriously. Gifts, holiday cheer, and mistletoe… We go to the extreme. It’s a serious production. If there was a reality competition titled Extreme Christmas, we’d be the winners.”

  “So are you going to be building a winter wonderland in your house?” I ask with a laugh.

  “I don’t go that far, but Kathleen follows my mom’s lead and makes sure the house is done right,” he says. “I’m sure she already has people fixing the home up. Probably started as soon as I left town.”

  “Does she know you’re back?” I ask.

  “No.” Jamie shakes his head. “I’ll have to send her a text. I know it’ll shock the shit out of her. I’ve never come home from my parent’s holiday festivities early. It’s my favorite time of the year.”

  “You sound like a little boy.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.

  “It’s the best.” Jamie’s so excited. “Let’s do this.”

  Forty-five minutes later, we’re pulling into a Christmas tree lot, and instead of feeling as thrilled as I did before we arrived, I suddenly get sad when I look at all the cut little trees. Shit. Makes me think of Tom, Dick, and Harry. Jamie takes in my depressed look as we walk around the lot, and he sighs.

  “You’re thinking about the kids, aren’t you?” he asks knowingly.

  “Well, yeah. I can’t help it.”

  “Listen, they’re already chopped down,” he says, stating the obvious. “We might as well put them to good, festive use and enjoy every minute of them. Then we can recycle and use them for something else, so it’s not a waste.”

  I lean up onto the balls of my feet and give him a soft kiss on the lips. “You are seriously the best,” I say to him, and I mean it. I wanted to say I love you, but something stopped me from going there.

  “I know.” Jamie sighs and wraps his arms around my waist.

  I lean into him and hug him back. We both just take in the moment, and it’s the best—

  I feel Jamie’s body tense up against mine and hear him curse.

  “Fucking paps.” He sounds disgruntled.

  “Oh, no.” I look for a place to duck and hide. I don’t want my picture anywhere. It’s the last thing I need.

  “Too late.” He looks really irritated for a second then shrugs like he gives up, then puts his finger on the bridge of my nose and says, “What are we going to do now? It’s too late. Let’s just pick out our trees and wait for the fake article to come out saying how we’re planning our wedding.”

  I stare at him in horror.

  “You look like someone said you’re related to Hitler.” Jamie looks offended.

  “No!” I say quickly, trying to placate him. “It’s not that. I just—that kind of article… It just sounds really aggressive.”

  “Get used to it,” Jamie states. “That’s what happens. New picture. New story. New outrageous headline. Ninety percent of the time, it’s all wrong.”

  “Ninety?” I ask.

  “Well, sometimes they are eerily right.” Jamie smiles. He doesn’t look bothered or even worried. “Don’t think about it. You’ll eventually get used to it or maybe not. But it’s how it is. Let’s just get our trees.”

  Easier said than done, but I guess I really don’t have any other choice.

  “Trees?” I ask, then interlace our fingers.

  “We need a few,” he says sheepishly. “One in the bedroom, one in my office, and of course there has to be one in the family room.”

  “You don’t think that’s a tad bit excessive?” I look at him with what I know is a goofy-ass smile. I hope no one takes my picture looking like this. Now that’ll be really embarrassing.

  “Maybe,” he says in agreement. “But it’s our first Christmas together. We gotta go all out.”

  I’ll take it.

  We go back and forth for a long while, but we finally come to an agreement on our trees, and Jamie pays the owner to have someone deliver them for us in the afternoon. Jamie places an order at Nobu, and we swing by and pick up the sushi for lunch before heading to his house. By the time we get there, the guys with the trees have arrived, and for the next hour, it’s a complete production while we figure out where to place each of them. Jamie pays the men to help us grab some of the ornament boxes from the garage.

  Jamie wasn’t lying. Kathleen already did start decorating for Christmas. The house looks super festive with reindeers, wreaths, and pine garlands placed all around. It makes you happy just being around it. Once the guys are gone, Jamie and I settle in the family room with sushi and hot tea and a bottle of red. He puts on Christmas music, and because it’s totally overcast and cold in Malibu, it actually kind of feels like Christmas. It’s super cozy and romantic.

  The fireplace is going, and we’re decorating as we go. We both changed into comfy clothes. I’m wearing one of his sweatshirts and nothing else, with my hair in a ponytail, and he’s in sweat pants. We already snuck in a quickie when the guys were downstairs in the family room setting up the Christmas tree. It felt illicit and naughty… a.
k.a. super hot.

  I place colorful ornaments on the tree while Jamie sits back on the couch and watches me. I’ve never been more content in my life, and that’s not a lie or an exaggeration. It’s the truth.

  The truth is kind of scary.

  “So when are you going to tell me,” Jamie asks after a moment, his voice soft.

  I know what he’s asking about. “You’re not guaranteed a weekend winner yet—”

  “Come on, Wyld.” Jamie is serious. “It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about you telling me something about yourself. Something substantial. About where you came from.”

  My gaze meets his, and it takes my breath away. There is such a fevered intensity blazing from his eyes. It makes my heart stop.

  “I’m in love with you.” He says it a lot easier this time. “I’ve never said that to a woman before.”

  I can’t describe how his words make me feel—except for maybe “whole.” I feel whole. This time when he says the words, it doesn’t look like he’s being poisoned. Or about to have a missile dropped on his head.

  “I want to know everything about you.” Jamie’s eyes darken as they sweep over my body. “Even the parts you think in your whack-ass head might make me think less of you—”

  I break his gaze and turn back toward the tree and busy myself with hanging the ornaments.

  “It doesn’t sound like we had the same type of childhood,” I say in a small voice.

  “I gathered as much.” He gives me an innocent look. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

  I actually appreciate his attitude because it lightens the mood and makes it a lot easier for me to talk.

  “My dad has cheated on my mom since the moment I opened my eyes.” My voice is soft. I’ll tell him my sad story, but I can’t bring myself to actually look at him while I do it. I continue picking up ornaments and placing them on the tree.

  As I relive my past, I begin to see some of the scenes—that are branded in me for life—play out before me.

  “My mom was a mess,” I say. “Always some varying degree of a mess. She was always crying. Always sad. Always talking about my dad and his whores. It almost feels like from the time I could speak, she was telling me about it.”

  I’m sure my voice sounds bitter.

  “Let’s just say my mom had no filter and left no detail out.” I want to clarify the extent of the type of abuse I endured. “I would ask her not to tell me, not to show me pictures she’d take when she would follow him around. I would beg her to leave him and she’d make up an excuse. There was always some reason or another.”

  I stare at one of the metallic ornaments.

  “Now she pretends like she doesn’t hear me,” I say. “And then suddenly and for no real explicable reason why, it’ll change.”

  I look at him and give him a wobbly smile, trying my hardest not to cry.

  “My dad will come back to her,” I explain. The sympathy in Jamie’s eyes is nearly my undoing. “He’ll beg her for forgiveness, and she’ll take him back, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. The way she’ll dote over him and stare at him is like she’ll die without him. Those were the times I didn’t even exist. She’d barely even look at me when it was good with him.”

  Jamie’s expression is a mixture of sadness and anger, and I know he feels sorry for me. I hate that he does, but I can feel it. I don’t feel sorry for myself anymore. I used to. Now it’s almost a badge of honor, like nothing can break me…

  Except for maybe Jamie Donovan.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “And your dad?” Jamie’s jaw is tight as he exhales.

  He’s definitely mad for me.

  “My dad?” I try to articulate my feelings for my dad the best way I can. “He just wasn’t there. Ever. He was this person in the house who would pop in sometimes, then leave.”

  “Was he abusive to you?” Oh, my. I don’t think Jamie would be too happy if I said yes.

  “He wasn’t mean to me,” I say in a rush, “or a creep, you know. I guess I’m lucky there. He was nothing like any of that. He just didn’t really care about me. I mean at all. He had—has no real emotion for me. I’m a thing, not even adored like a pet… I don’t know he… he just didn’t see me.”

  I think about it for a while.

  “Maybe three times?” I look at Jamie and smile sadly.

  “Three times?” Jamie asks.

  “I’ve had a real conversation with him,” I say with a bit of anguish when the truth dawns on me. “And the conversations, they weren’t even that deep, but I guess they were something.”

  Our eyes lock. “They were something,” I say again.

  “They were, Wylder.” Jamie’s voice is tender.

  I lean down and pick up another ornament. I walk around the tree, looking for a clear space.

  “And then he’d be at the house so long with my mom, he’d get bored and start to drink.” I realize the story of my life is coming from somewhere deep—a place that needs to unload, let all the ugliness out. All the pain. “It’s scary for my mom when he drinks. He loses control. He says the cruelest things to her. Horrible, ugly insults about how pathetic he finds her… and her love.”

  I look at Jamie. The empathy and love I see gives me strength to go on.

  “And he can hit her when he gets really mad,” I say quietly. “Not all the time. But sometimes… sometimes he hits—I don’t know if he still does. I’m sure, but she’d deny it. And then of course he falls in love with someone new he’s met at a party or a book club, and the cycle begins all over again.”

  I feel my eyes brim with shitty tears, and I have to look away from him. I don’t want to cry. I tell myself I’m only sad because the holidays are nostalgic and are usually a time of reflection.

  I keep repeating this lie to myself.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Jamie getting up. I know he’s walking toward me, and to be honest, I’m glad because I kind of need him. I need his strength and his goodness. He picks me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury myself there. Jamie Donovan makes me feel safe, and he makes me believe in fairytales. He makes me believe that sometimes the universe will give you something really amazing even if you fight it, are afraid of it, or for some sick reason think you don’t deserve it.

  And he—

  Jamie Donovan is my something amazing.

  ––––––––––

  Monday at work is a drag.

  The last thing I wanted to do was leave the safety of my Jamie cocoon. After I verbally threw up my sad childhood, he went out of his way to be caring and considerate… and then normal, which means he didn’t dwell on it too long. He couldn’t seem to stop himself and did call my dad an insensitive asshole—which he is. With my mom, he was harsher, calling her a selfish, sociopathic, self-hating, self-destructive cuckoo. I couldn’t have picked my jaw off the ground if I tried.

  He did finish it off with “but she’s your mom and somehow gave birth to you and gave you half the genes that make you who you are—don’t ask me how—so I’ll try to be less judgy. But it will be hard. Just letting you know.”

  That speech made me fall for him some more.

  Then he made love to me.

  Soft, sweet love, like he was trying to somehow make up for my sad childhood. I gladly took it. Of course, he did then fuck the living hell out of me and was back to treating me like usual in no time, which is… really well.

  Who would want to leave paradise and have to come hand Henry a pile of scripts from the mailroom and see his annoying, smirking face?

  “Wyld,” he says in that irritating way of his, like I should be glad he’s paying attention to me. Oh my God, what was I thinking? “You’re looking better and better every time I see you, kid.”

  “Must be all the sex I’m having.” The words come out before I can stop them, but I can’t help it. I wait to see him stew on it for a minute and hopefully back off.

  He narrows his eyes and glances back at his
computer screen.

  “Might as well ride out the wave,” he says in an extremely condescending way. “Your fifteen minutes will be up with Donovan faster than you know.”

  “Maybe.” I pretend to agree with him, even though I actually don’t believe it to be the case. Shockingly, I really don’t.

  “And guess what, Henry?” I go in for the jugular. “Even if that happens, I’ll never ever ever fuck you.”

  I must say, watching his face get all purple with rage is a satisfying moment. I give him a smug little smile and turn around. I walk toward the part of the building where Stacy Tennison’s office is located. It’s an area of the studio I’ve tried to ignore for the most part. Since I heard about Jamie’s alleged betrayal and even after we got back together, I just didn’t want to be caught around her. I might not be responsible for what the Wolverine claws might do because of her audacity to kiss my man.

  That’s right.

  It’s been hard to stay away, but so far I’ve done a masterful job.

  I have to pick up a package I need to deliver to an actor’s house in Hidden Hills. I’m not looking forward to the long drive, but because I’ll be slightly closer to Malibu, I might try to stop by Jamie’s after—for a quickie, since I know he’s working on pre-production on the movie from his home office. His production team was supposed to have met him out there for a morning meeting. If I get to go by, hopefully they’ll be gone.

  I’m so selfish.

  “Wylder?” a voice I’d rather not hear at this moment says from my right. “I thought that was you.”

  I turn and give Tatiana Marcus an odd, forced smile. This is definitely going to be a bit of what I’d like to call an awkward moment. Sadly, my profession never came up in our short acquaintance.

  “Hey,” I say with a wave.

  She brushes my greeting off and pulls me into her arms instead for a completely inappropriate hug—especially at a workplace.

  “Why are you being so formal?” She purrs into my ear, then backs away and says loud enough that I’m sure a few people hear, “When we’ve been practically naked together in a Jacuzzi.”