Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  “Mmm...doesn't sound like someone has moved on so much as someone is trying to move on.” I lean in and run my fingertip down the front of his shirt. I jerk my finger back and shake my head a little. What am I doing? Who is this woman? “Adrian, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. Please let me pass. I just need to go get my head together.”

  “What do you mean 'get your head together'?” I look up and watch his brow draws together. He reaches out and runs his fingertips over my gathered brow. His folded hand rests on my temple and neither of us says a word for a minute. “I don't want to hurt you, Celeste. I never wanted to hurt you. I care about you too much.”

  “I care about you too, Adrian. I care about you so much,” I admit. Again I feel tears spring to my eyes. This time they don't stop though. They spill over and he catches them with his thumbs. I feel his hands grasp the back of my head as he tries to clear my tears. I close my eyes and lose myself in his touch. Feeling his calloused fingertips move over my skin is at odds with his gentle caress. “I don't know what to do,” I whisper.

  “What do you mean? What to do about what?” My eyes fly open and he startles at what he sees there, what I can't hide anymore. I feel his grip intensify. “I don't know what to do either, baby. I'm trying to move on.”

  All those little fissures that have been hanging on by a thread splinter and cause my heart to crack. It's a slow breaking, which I now deem worse than a fast one. “What if I told you I don't want you to move on?” I whisper brokenly.

  His eyes slide to the side of me and his hand moves to hold the back of my neck. “Don't, Celeste.” His voice is as rough as the hand that grips me.

  “Don't what, Adrian?” I feel myself being moved to him even as he tells me no. I lay my forehead on his massive chest and breathe deeply. His scent further intoxicates me. God, I'm an addict. I crave the smell of him.

  “When you breath me in like that...” I barely hear his whisper, but I hear it.

  “What?” I ask as I tilt my head a little to the side to peer up at him. “When I breathe you in like that what?” I repeat.

  He bends his head slightly and places his lips on my forehead, kissing me softly. “I want you. I want you so damn much,” he murmurs against my forehead.

  I tilt my head back further even though he has a firm grip on my neck. I lick my lips and glance at his to see a little smile resting there. “I still know what you taste like,” he tells me. I almost come undone. “I still hear the sound of your voice saying my name when you were turned on.” Oh. My. God. I swallow hard and inch up a bit on the tips of my toes.

  “Celeste?” Oh my God! “Hey, are you in here?” I hear Farah call. I freeze as does Adrian.

  “Stay here for a few minutes,” I tell him.

  “I'm going to have to,” he murmurs darkly. I bite my lip at that piece of information. “I'll…uh...see you later.”

  “OK. Later,” he agrees.

  ****

  FINISHING WITH THE auction—what used to be my favorite part of this event until it kept me from exploring what was going on with Adrian and me—I head off the stage and move into the crowd. I haven't seen Adrian the whole time. Trust me, I looked. My eyes continue to scan the crowd as I look for him. Realizing that I'm absolutely famished, which is probably yet another reason I felt the champagne so quickly, I move over to one of the waiters and ask for a plate. When I finish speaking with him, I look back into the room and see Bradford headed my way with a huge grin on his dimpled face. I smile a small smile. I'm afraid I may have led him on a bit earlier. I'd better fix that.

  “Celeste, I have to tell you, you looked gorgeous up there,” he states unabashedly. At my expression, he quickly apologizes. “Sorry for being so forward, but really you have to know that I couldn't take my eyes off of you.” He gives me a half grin. I can't help but smile back at him. He seems so different from this set. Stating exactly how he feels, smiling at me, not holding back—these are not things our crowd are known for.

  “Bradford, I trust you're having a good time,” I reply, hoping for a friendly, not flirty, tone.

  “I wasn't until you took the stage,” he tells me. Uh oh! Danger, Will Robinson!

  “I was just about to head over and get a drink to go with my dinner that I forgot to eat earlier,” I say.

  “Oh, I'll walk with you,” he says amiably.

  We move toward the bar and I chance a glance over at the ballroom. Everyone is having a great time. Spending lots of money, I hope. Who am I kidding? I'm looking for Adrian. We really need to finish our conversation or whatever was happening on the balcony. I'm about to turn back to Bradford because he's just asked me a question when my eyes fall upon Adrian and Doppelgänger. They are tucked away in the tiny hallway that leads to one of the kitchens. She is pushed up against the wall and he is...devouring her. I'm pretty sure that's probably how I looked on the back porch a few months back. Her leg is up around his hip. His hands are on her ass. She is clinging to him and holding on for dear life, which is pretty much what you do when Adrian's kissing you.

  And that's that. A fast break. It overwhelms me, and I almost crumble with it. I close my eyes and sway a little. I feel Bradford grab my elbow. “Celeste, you OK?” he asks in a worried tone.

  My eyes snap open. They still haven't come back up for air. I glance down and look around at the floor as I try to recover from having my heart ripped out while surrounded by hundreds of people. “Oh, yeah, I don't know what that was,” I tell him. “I did forget to eat, though.”

  “Come on, honey. Let's get some sustenance in you,” he tells me. I glance at his hand on my elbow and then at his smiling face. I feel myself smile a little at his kindness and that kindness suddenly makes me wary.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask.

  He looks a little taken aback. “Well, I'm...uh...a friend of your brother's.”

  I tilt my head a little and repeat, “Yes, but why me?”

  He shifts a little and seems slightly uncomfortable. Feeling like I'm on to something, I don't relent. “Why me?” I repeat.

  “Well, I guess I feel like I know you.” His thoughtful eyes shift to my shoulder, and he moves a lock of hair from my shoulder. “Louis told me a lot about you.”

  “Oh. Really?” I relax a little.

  Meeting my eyes again, he says, “Yeah, and what he told me coupled with what I've seen tonight has made me...more intrigued than ever.”

  I swallow hard. He's a good-looking man. I didn't miss the fact that I wasn't the only one checking him out earlier. “Intrigued?” I ask as I start moving toward the bar again.

  “Yes, intrigued. As in I've been wanting to meet you for a while now.”

  “Oh?” Once we reach the bar, he asks what I'd like to drink and motions for the bartender to order my drink.

  “Yes, I'd really like to get to know you, Celeste. I was going to try to play it cool,” he says with a laugh, “but I guess I'm not good at that. I'm more the see something—or someone in this case—and go out and get it kind of guy. But I know you've been through a lot, so I wanted to give you time.”

  “Give me time before what?”

  “Making my intentions known, asking you out on a date, asking you out on a second date...I think you understand where I'm going,” he tells me.

  “Oh.” I've got nothing else at the moment. I haven't been asked out on a date in...in over fifteen years.

  He frowns at me. “I see I've scared you a bit. That's exactly what I was hoping to avoid.”

  “No, I'm not really scared of going on a date with you. What's scary is the realization that I haven't been on a date in over fifteen years. I don't even know how to date.”

  He blows out a deep breath. “Well, that's easy enough. I'll say something like...Celeste, how about I pick you up for dinner and a show? And you'll say something like...'That sounds like fun.' See? Simple.”

  I grin at him and his comforting nature. That actually does sound like fun, especially
since Adrian has his tongue shoved down what-her-face's throat. “Well, since you've got the first part worked out, when and where will you pick me up?”

  ****

  I'M PACKING UP some of the nicer decorations that I want to recycle for another event when I sense a set of eyes on me. Hesitatingly, I glance over my shoulder and find a slumping William staring at my backside. I straighten up quickly and frown at him.

  “What's wrong, Celeste?” he asks with a slur.

  “What are you doing in here, William?” I counter.

  He sits up a little, rakes his hand through his unruly blonde hair, and lazily moves his stare up to meet my eyes. “Just getting it together before I head out.”

  “Oh, well, you could've let me know you were in here.”

  Quirking his brow at me, he asks suggestively, “And ruin the show?”

  I smirk and turn back to finish with my last box without bending over.

  “Actually, I've been wanting to catch up with you. You don't come out to the country near as much now that Tripp's gone.”

  “It's hard, William, being a single parent. I have a great deal to take care of.”

  “That's what I was hoping I could help with.”

  “What's that?”

  “You and the kids. I was hoping to help around your house.”

  I should've never given him an opening. “Oh, no, William. That's not why I told you that. I'm fine really.”

  “Adrian's help is enough then,” he practically sneers at me.

  I spin around and pin him with my glare. William never says anything in passing. He's made this remark for a very specific reason. “Adrian has been a great help, William.”

  “Yeah, but he does spend an awful lot of time with you and the kids. Is that really necessary?”

  “They adore him.”

  He shifts his head slightly to the left and then back to the right. “Yeah, I bet they do,” he grits out between his teeth.

  Losing my patience, I snap, “What is that supposed to mean? What's your problem, William?”

  He springs out of his chair and advances toward me and I resist the urge to tuck tail and run. He's always had this effect on me. I delight in the fact that I'm able to hold my ground. “My problem, Celeste, is that Adrian is bad news. He's up to something with you and the kids. I just know it.”

  “Yeah,” I spit out, “he's up to taking them where they need to go, caring for them when they need it, listening to them tell about their day, making sure they feel loved and cherished—”

  William cuts me off as he reaches me and grasps my elbow, “You don't want to get smart with me, Celeste. You have no idea what I could do with that smart little mouth of yours,” he warns me.

  “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Of. Me,” I grit out. I have every reason to fear his father and mine, but I refuse to fear this slimy bastard.

  He drops his hand quickly and immediately looks contrite. “Sorry, babe. That guy just pushes my buttons. Always has.”

  “You barely know him.”

  “What I know, I don't like.”

  I shake my head at him a little. “William, you should just go. Do you need me to call you a cab or something?”

  “No, I can handle that. I'm just upset about this whole Vanessa thing.”

  I guess the Vanessa thing he was referring to was the fact that he repeatedly and flagrantly cheated on her and just expected her to get over it. Vanessa thought that what was good enough for him was good enough for her, and she started fooling around until she found someone who actually loved her.

  “I'm sorry about your marriage, William, but that's still no excuse for your behavior.”

  “You're right.” He hesitates briefly, reaching out to run his fingertip up my arm. It is soft and directly contradicts the touch I'm yearning for. “I had a little too much to drink and was already in a pissy mood. I apologize.”

  “It's fine, William. I really need to get going, though. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

  “Of course, Celeste. Shall I walk you out?”

  “No, Farah and I are leaving together. I'm good. Thanks anyway.”

  He leans in and kisses my forehead but only briefly because I quickly but subtly move my head back and turn back to the box. “Goodnight then.”

  “Goodnight,” I return.

  I hear him moving toward the door, and I turn to watch his retreating frame. This is not good. This is so not good. I’m on his radar now. Just like back when we were growing up. An involuntary shiver makes its way up my back. I'm afraid I may have just gotten myself in a little bit of trouble.

  Seven

  The Trouble with Men

  “SO, WHAT YOU'RE saying is Adrian is going to babysit your children while you go out on a date with Ole Miss?”

  “Yes, Bonnie. For the fifty-eighth time, Adrian and I are trying to get past this whole attraction thing. Part of us doing that is dating people. I especially need to date because of that little threat hanging over my head if you'll recall.”

  It had been a couple of weeks since the soiree. Bradford and I had been on our awkward but sweet first date. And Adrian and I had had our strictly awkward conversation about the lines of our “relationship”. I still cringe when I recall it.

  We'd all been hanging out for a while now. It was really neat to have expanded my social circle to people I actually enjoy hanging out with, even fit in with more so than any of my usual crowd. I love the Dog Tags. Each and every one of them is unique and awesome in his own way. They had all been in the Marine Corps at one time or another, hence the name, and have an enviable sense of pride and loyalty and honor. They rock it out and have a ton of groupies but aren't disrespectful or entitled. Determined to make it on the local music scene, the band works hard but still plays hard.

  Part of this playing hard is their weekly football game they play every Saturday in Audubon Park. It attracts quite a crowd probably more so than their shows really. I mean, how could it not? Ten shirtless, hot guys running around the park, oblivious to their surroundings, enjoying their freedom, playing football with abandon—there is nothing better than that.

  It was a couple of days after the soiree at one of these games during half time that Adrian pulled me aside and decided to talk to me about the balcony incident. This conversation was vastly different from our first. Rather than apologize or worry that I would do something rash like throw him out of the boys' lives, he set me straight. I was mortified. I was crushed. I wanted to crawl in a hole.

  I had been cheering our boys on alongside Bonnie and the other girls when we took the lead right before half time. I cheered for the guys and leaned in to the girls to start gabbing about girl stuff when I felt myself being wrenched from my chair. Startled, I looked up to see Adrian looking over at the girls, not at me, to tell them he needed a minute with me. I could feel, not see, the same startled look from the girls. This was a new Adrian and one I didn't much care for. No, that's a lie. It turned me on. I'm pretty sure anything and everything about him turns me on. Aw...and he'd put his shirt back on.

  After Adrian made his apologies to the girls, he tugged me along until we were standing in between his motorcycle and my MINI. He didn't get to ride his bike often because he was usually hauling my boys from one place to another. But when he did—wow. It was...wow. I was distracted by those thoughts, so when Adrian cleared his throat and gave me that look, I asked, “What?”

  “What do you mean 'what'? It was a pretty simple question, Celeste,” Adrian replied bitingly.

  He'd never snapped at me like that before. I flipped my hair over my shoulder, pushed my sunglasses up on my head, folded my arms across my breasts, and stood up a little taller. “Adrian, why are you being rude to me? I just lost focus for a minute. Could you repeat your question, please?”

  He took his fingers and bridged his nose with them before running his hand through his damp hair. “Celeste, are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  “No, why would you ask me that? Just ask m
e what you wanted to ask me,” I snapped back. Now I was getting irritated.

  “I just did. So for the third and final time: are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  “No, I'm not trying to drive you crazy. What are you talking about?”

  “Balcony. You. Me.” He glanced around. “Almost going at it. Again.” He raised his eyebrows at me.

  “Oh. Well, I thought we were just going to forget that happened.”

  “Forget it...forget it happened?” he asked me incredulously.

  “Well, yeah. Like last time,” I seethed. Why was he bringing this up? Why did we have to rehash this issue?

  “I can't forget it. I can't forget you. Damn, woman. I—” I knew it. I knew he felt the same way. Maybe he'll listen to me in the light of day, so I make a hasty decision to lay it all out for him now.

  I grasped both sides of his shirt and fisted my hands in it, automatically pulling him closer. Tears were already swimming in my eyes when I whispered, “I saw you making out with her right after we had our...moment. How could you, Adrian? I was thinking maybe we could—”

  He cut me off this time. “Thinking we could what? Are you insane? My uncle...”

  “Chip? What about him?”

  He shook his head at me. “Nothing. Nothing. Look, nothing is going to happen between us. Do you understand? It's no good.”

  I tightened my hands in his shirt, swallowed the huge lump in my throat, and forged ahead. “Adrian, I think we could be good together. I think we're crazy to deny how we feel about each other. I think what's going on here is more than—”

  “I'm with Jennifer now. I'm happy with her.” He said this while he simultaneously unfisted my hands, dropped them, and backed away from me.

  My gaze flew to the ground. I cleared my throat and leaned against my MINI. Finally, I dared a glance back up at him. His look shifted so quickly, but I could've sworn it'd said regret—regret for hurting me, or regret for not returning my feelings? I honestly didn't know. I blew out a breath. “I have to go. Will you make my apologies to the girls, please?”

  “Celeste...sure, I'll tell them,” he agreed.