by Celeste, B.
That warehouse was where she felt closest to her parents. It was the only reason I didn’t try arguing with her about going, even if it pissed me off. She wouldn’t have listened to me if I forbid her. We both knew I didn’t have that kind of power over her. I didn’t want to.
“You have no proof. And even if you did, which is not fucking likely—” I stepped even closer until he could feel the anger ripple off me like radiation I hoped he burned from. “—it won’t matter anyway. You tried destroying the Saint James name so no one would believe a word they said. That’s exactly what’s going to happen to you.”
The laugh that came from him was dry and weak. False bravado like he thought he could fool me into thinking he wasn’t scared. I knew better. Richard Pratt was shitting his pants because those files would put him away for a long time. Money transfers. Phone records. Witness accounts. Audio. Video. Everything he thought he could fight by blackmail was going to take him down.
When Dallas and McAllister had brought Pratt’s businesses to my attention, I’d asked the question that the Saint James trial hadn’t answered. It was the same one that I knew Della had wondered but refused to verbalize. “What did Pratt have on Anthony to get him to do his bidding?” After both men looked into it, they realized…nothing. Pratt had nothing on Anthony, but the man I’d once called my closest friend hadn’t known that. He was willing to do anything for his family, even if it made him into the person he never wanted to be.
All for Elizabeth and Della.
“You’ve made too many enemies,” I stated, my own lips quivering from the smile I’d plastered onto my face. I didn’t want him seeing what I knew he’d done to Anthony, and to Della by default, make him think it changed me. He wanted it to. The Dick wanted me to be angry and lash out, but I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction, even if I did want to make him bleed.
“Your girl is going down,” he growled.
I didn’t believe him though.
Because my girl was the strongest person I knew.
Chapter Eighteen
Della
The hand reaching out to me was one I hadn’t seen in years, which was why I launched myself directly toward the open arms of the softest person I knew. Right before I made contact with my mother’s warmth, she said, “I told you to be better, sweet Della” and before I could tell her I was trying, she disappeared.
Bolting up in bed, I listened to the loud drumming of my heart as I took slow, deep breaths. I hadn’t realized I was crying until I swiped my face, feeling the damp cheeks that the backs of my hands were greeted with.
Curling the comforter closer around my body, I glanced at the time on my phone screen and blew out a breath. I hadn’t been asleep for more than three hours, but sleep would definitely be evading me now.
One glass of water later, I was standing at the doorway of my spare bedroom staring at the line of painted canvases that were resting against the back wall. Each one held different positions of the same ballerina slowly standing from the original bent over position I’d painted her in. I knew the easel held the final piece of the collection, a collection I named “Color Me Pretty”, except the dancer was standing tall and facing forward and her features…I hadn’t drawn them yet.
I walked over to examine how far I’d come the night before, when I’d decided to work on it to help me wind down after my last final, realizing shortly after I’d sat down to paint that I wasn’t in the right mindset to finish the series. I was tired, spent, and focused only on what my final grades would be. If it weren’t for Ribbons’ class, I wouldn’t have even stressed about it. But I’d barely passed the midterm exam and failed a few smaller quizzes that had come after. The paper we had to submit in person felt like a final send off between us, but I wasn’t sure if the weeks of effort and research I’d put in was even worth it for somebody like her.
Potential, I’d scoffed to myself. Hadn’t she told me she thought I had it once? That was worse than hearing half the things the tabloids said about me. They talked about my body and attitude, not my inability to learn or be successful as if I were hopeless altogether.
At two in the morning, I’d found myself walking into my bedroom and digging through my closet for something that I hadn’t held in my hands in a long time. Making my way back into the spare room, gripping the purple compact mirror that my mother always kept in her purse, I opened it and exhaled softly.
The girl staring back was tired, bags under her eyes, chapped lips, and flushed cheekbones. Looking from the glass to the paint I’d saved on my palette, I dipped my brush into the cream color I mixed and studied the mirror again.
It was four a.m. before I’d bit into my bottom lip and shadowed the sharp jawline and cheekbones heightened by weeks of hunger and physical activity before stepping back. I’d somehow gotten paint on my sleep shirt but didn’t care as I took in the final product in front of me.
She was…beautiful. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I grabbed my phone and lifted it to the painting before snapping a photo and texting the only person I wanted to see it.
He responded instantly.
Theo: Almost as stunning as the real thing.
I blushed and reread the text again before replying. What are you doing up?
Theo: Running
I double checked the time and shook my head, knowing he got up to work out early but still judging him for it. How many times had he told me he wished I would have waited and gotten more sleep? It seemed pointless to bring up how he rarely did the same.
Theo: What are you doing up?
I laughed at the irony of the question. I couldn’t sleep. Nightmare
The three bubbles I expected to see pop up didn’t appear at all, making me frown as I stared at the screen. A few seconds passed before I started typing something out, only to be stopped by three taps on the front door. Body locking, I stared at the door like someone was about to burst through it.
Theo: Make sure to check the peephole
Make sure to check the—
Grinning, I walked to the door, tossing the phone on the counter and did the exact opposite of what he told me to. When I opened it, I was met by Theo’s disapproving but unsurprised scowl. “What did I just tell you?”
He didn’t get to scold me any further before I was on my tiptoes and tugging his face down to mine until our lips brushed. I stepped back the same time he moved forward, closing the door behind him, and locking it without breaking the kiss. One of his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me tighter into his body while I rested my hands on his broad shoulders.
Drawing back with a smile on my lips, I looked up at him and saw a similar curve to his own mouth. “When you said you were running, I thought you meant in your home gym.”
He chuckled, smoothing hair out of my face before plucking my bottom lip with his thumb. “Found myself needing fresh air. It’s quieter this time of night.”
“Morning,” I corrected.
“Same thing.”
“Not when I’m up and you tell me that I should still be asleep,” I pointed out, eyeing him with the expectation of his argument.
“What was your nightmare about?”
My lips parted for a second before closing. I didn’t normally dream of my mother. At least, it wasn’t the first thing my mind liked tormenting me with. And her looking at me like she’d been disappointed? It punched a hole in my heart that still ached. “My mom,” I answered quietly, collecting my phone from where I’d tossed it and powering it off.
He came up behind me, gipping my shoulders with his masculine hands, massaging them until my head dipped back onto his chest. “I won’t push, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
A hefty sigh escaped my lips. “That feels nice.” Closing my eyes, I eased into his touch as he worked out the tension that had built up over the past couple of weeks. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It was just…sad. It’s one thing to dream about dancing or the stuff that’s happened, but seeing my paren
ts makes it harder when I wake up and they’re not here.”
I was sure he was nodding, but I didn’t look. Instead, I absorbed the soft kiss he planted on my head before squeezing my shoulders and adding more pressure. “I get it, Della. You haven’t had one about her in a while.”
I’d told him about the other dreams. Not always after they happened, but he found out whenever I was extra quiet on the days we saw each other. Which, for the most part, was daily now. He’d given me some space to study for finals, but always showed up to make sure I was fed and happy. Even though I always wanted it to lead to more, it never did.
“Study,” he demanded when he saw me staring at him with my lip between my teeth and not so innocent thoughts lingering in my eyes for him to see.
“Yes, Daddy.”
I grinned thinking about the way he groaned when I called him that. Not surprisingly, he hated it. It probably would have been funnier if my father hadn’t once been his best friend, or if he weren’t so obsessed with the repercussions of our changing relationship. It didn’t stop me from getting a rise out of him when I could, though.
“Can I see your painting?” he asked out of the blue. My eyes cracked open as I looked up at him, already seeing him watching me carefully as he waited for a reply.
I reached down and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers and leading him toward the room where the paint was still strong in the air. I probably shouldn’t have loved the smell so much, but I did. It calmed me in a different way.
Theo didn’t let go of me as he stopped and stared at the paintings along the wall, noticing how each one held something strong—an emotion in the way her arms were held high or her body was twisted. When we walked over to the easel to see the final piece, a small breath escaped him. It was hard to watch him study the most intimate thing I’d created. The woman’s face was undoubtedly mine, looking pained and saddened, but freed. The cheekbones, collarbones, and narrowed waistline were the same ones I’d seen in the mirror. The light blue eyes that had darkened with every meal I missed stared back at me, but not in a taunt.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he murmured, focusing on my face. “What are you planning to do with these?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Truthfully, I hadn’t even planned on painting so many. But the first one felt like a step in a direction I hadn’t gone in some time. Then the second one happened. The third. By the fourth one, I knew the collection would have five, and the fifth would have to be the finale that I deserved. The one where I looked out into the crowd with my head held high and my body in the proper position, without flinching or breaking contact from those who stared back and judged my form.
Something broke in my chest, and a wave of ease filled the crevices that once suffocated the organs inside. “I thought about selling them, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. So, maybe I’ll keep them. For now, at least.”
“The fact you painted them is powerful,” he told me, cupping my cheek with his palm before giving me a genuine smile. “You should be proud.”
“You always tell me that.”
“I won’t stop.”
Wetting my bottom lip, I try coming up with a sane response to that. The thumping of my heart said more than my words could because I was beyond them when Theo was like this. “Why are you always so…”
One of his brows quirked.
“Perfect?”
He grinned. “I’ve been called many things before, Della, but never that.” Dropping his hand from my face, he looked me over from head to toe before suggesting, “Want to try getting some more sleep? I need to jump in the shower, but I can meet you in bed after.”
The thought of a naked Theo West only a room away had me unsettled. It wasn’t the first time he’d used my shower. Shortly after getting Ramsay, the dog had peed all over him and he had no other choice but to jump in and use my “girly soap” that made him smell like me. I didn’t think he minded as much as he said because he always told me how much he loved the way I smelled like strawberries when he held me against him. Dallas had to bring him clean clothes that day, meeting me at the door with a smile on his face like he thought more was going on. I didn’t correct him, didn’t give him any indication one way or the other.
I hadn’t wanted to.
“Want to watch a movie instead?” I bargained, uneasy about falling back asleep after the last time.
He didn’t seem appreciative of that idea, eyeing me with disapproval. “I want you to try getting some rest. You look tired, Della.”
I frowned. “Gee, thanks.”
I swore he rolled his eyes, but I couldn’t be sure because he turned on me the same time his eyes had moved. “Don’t pretend you don’t know I think you’re beautiful regardless.”
“Beauty is relative.”
“Get your ass in bed, Della.”
“One movie.”
“Della.”
“What about that action one you mentioned wanting to see? The one set in World War Two?”
He sighed.
“Please?” I added despite myself.
A palm swiped down the front of his face and I knew he was going to agree. Reluctantly, he nodded once. “Give me ten minutes.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I would make it twenty. You kind of smell.”
He swatted my butt and grumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out, but I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes when he pulled away and pointed toward the couch. “Ten,” he repeated.
“Fifteen,” I called out after him.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that the second he was beside me on the couch, he pulled me over and rested my head on his thigh like we’d done before. With one hand in my hair, the other taking the remote from me, he turned the TV on and…
Put it on Mysteries at the Museum.
I’d almost told him right then and there that I loved him. I loved Theo West, and not just as little Della. I wasn’t sure the love that consumed my chest and soul could be put to words in the way they deserved.
When his grip tightened on me, I wondered if he knew. If, maybe, he felt the same way. Instead of asking, instead of just ripping off the Band-Aid, I remained quiet.
We watched the show in silence.
I was ruffled awake with a pair of lips against my temple and a blanket being positioned over my body. Murmuring something, I reached out and grabbed a warm arm, cracking my eyes open as Theo slid his phone into his pocket.
“I need to get going,” he told me softly.
It took me a minute to sit up and realize the apartment was bathed in sunlight. “What time is it?” He was probably late to work considering it was a Friday morning, not that it mattered since he was his own boss.
“A little after eight.”
“Can’t you skip work today?” I sounded pitiful and went as far as debating on giving him a puppy dog look in hopes he’d stay.
He didn’t. “I’m meeting with someone in an hour and I need to get home to change.”
My shoulders dropped. “Dallas?” I had no reason to fish, but he hadn’t been forthcoming about the phone calls I knew he’d been exchanging with somebody. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, I just wanted to know what was going on because I didn’t like being kept out of things that usually had to do with me. If they didn’t, he’d tell me. Vent. Get angry. He never apologized for it and I never asked him to, even if his bad days were trying when someone at the office pissed him off.
“Not Dallas.” He bent down and pecked my lips, not lingering long. “I need to go. Would you like to get dinner tonight? I could get Abigail to make reservations somewhere.”
“Denny’s doesn’t need reservations.”
He chuckled. “If you want Denny’s, that’s where we’ll go. I can come over around seven if that works for you.”
I pushed off the blanket he’d put on me and stood, stretching my sore muscles from how I’d been sleeping. I couldn’t complain though. We�
�d fallen asleep watching television and Theo only had the corner of the couch. He had to have had a kink in his neck at the very least. “Seven works for me. Tomorrow I’m going out with Lawrence and Tiffany to celebrate finals being over.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to add that. It wasn’t like we had plans. “I know we don’t have anything scheduled, but I figured—”
“It’s good to know where you are,” he said with a shrug. “And I’m glad you and your friends are going out. I have something to go to tomorrow night anyway.”
Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I watched him walk around the couch. “Is it Flamell?” He stopped walking and turned to face me within a second. “The person you’re meeting with today?”
He eyed me suspiciously. “How do you know Flamell?”
Squirming under his penetrating eyes, I admitted, “I don’t. But his name was always showing up on your screen when your phone rang. Or I assume it’s a guy.”
“You assume it’s a guy?”
Why did he look so angry all of a sudden? I hadn’t meant to strike a nerve or throw an accusation. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, Theo. I’m saying that I’m not ruling out the possibility that Flamell could be a woman.” Although, I really, really hoped it wasn’t.
He took a large step toward me, eating up the distance between us. “And why would a woman be calling me?”
The best my stupid mind could come up with was, “Why would a man be calling you all hours of the night?” Turned out that was the wrong thing to say.
“Why would a woman be calling me, Della?” That time, his tone was hard. Offended. I wasn’t sure how to respond, only making the tendons in his neck strain. “I don’t even know why you’d think that. Flamell is somebody I’m working with on something important. That’s all.”
I sighed. “I didn’t think it was a woman, I…”
He waited, jaw ticking.
My cheeks were on fire. “I don’t know what to say, Theo. I swear I didn’t mean to upset you, but it isn’t like we’ve discussed this. For once, I’m using my brain by not assuming anything.”