Bent not Broken

by Lisa De Jong

  I jerked my keys out of my pocket, grateful that I hadn't brought anything that I had to go back for—it was only my heart and my pride I'd been leaving behind. And I was pretty sure I wouldn't be getting those back for quite some time.

  Bonnie's look of disgust and her exclamation pull me back into the present. “Ugh...How could I forget? William. What a little perv!”

  I shake myself my heartbreaking memory and another unpleasant one takes its place. “I know. I think I may have inadvertently offered him a challenge too,” I say with a grimace.

  “What do you mean?”

  I hadn't really wanted to acknowledge what had gone down in the ballroom that night, so I hadn't told her yet. Even now, I recoil with the retelling. There is just something so off and so creepy about him. I conclude with telling her that he'd used about every medium to contact me over these last few weeks. The only place I was safe was on Facebook and that's only because he didn't know I was on it.

  “Shit, Cel,” she says with an exhale, “why didn't you tell me sooner? Did you forget what he pulled with you when y'all were kids?”

  “No, of course not,” I reply more calmly than I feel. “I didn't want to make it more real,” I admit with a shrug.

  “Here, try these.” She thrusts my black peep toe stilettos with the zipper on the heel. “These are badass and go perfectly with the rocker chic look you've got going on.”

  Bradford was taking me to a concert tonight. I was a little surprised at first, but he said he was representing the band and had been planning to go for a while. Of course, I jumped at the chance to hang out with rock stars and enjoy some music.

  “Ooh...yes, these are perfect,” I coo.

  “So, back to Don Douchebag,” I snicker. Oh, her nicknames are the best! “Seriously, Celeste, what gives? What are you going to do about him? I'm thinking you need to go ultra-bitch mode on him.”

  “I'm not sure yet. I'm afraid if I go 'ultra-bitch mode' he'll see that as a challenge too. If I try to reason with him, he'll see that as a weakness. Either way he'll hone in for the kill. I'm thinking my best move here is to continue to date Bradford and ignore him.”

  As I'm putting on my second heel, I hear Adrian enter and the wrestling and vying for his attention commence. I grin at how much my boys adore him and stand to take myself in. My hair is big and sexy, and I've done the smoky eye thing again. I turn sideways to take in my backside. I have to remember not to bend over in this thing. The black dress, which is more like an oversized t-shirt, barely covers my behind. It's simple but says so much with its v-neck, fringed sleeves and fringed bottom hem. I'd wrapped a silver chain belt around my waist. I throw on my silver bangles and hoops and spin around to face Bonnie.

  “Whatcha think?” I ask.

  “I wish I were as tiny as you because this sweater dress is to die for,” she says, her voice muffled. She peeks out of my closet and does a double take. “Damn, woman. You look hot! I'd totally switch teams for you. If I didn't like di—”

  “Yeah, OK, I get it!” I yell, willing her not to finish that statement.

  “—ck...so much,” she finishes quietly.

  We exit the bedroom and enter the family room still laughing over her response to my look. My eyes search the room for his and land on his beautiful blues almost immediately. He's frozen in place with Finn dangling from one ankle behind his back. Hair disheveled, clothes askew, taut abdomen showing, he's never looked sexier or more undeniable. I want him so bad it physically hurts. As soon as I realize that my face probably shows all of this and more, I reroute my gaze to take in the room. Pillows everywhere, ottoman pushed out and over, three little t-shirts thrown here and there. Everyone freezes and follows my gaze.

  “Sorry, Ma,” Paris pops out first. “We'll clean it up.”

  “Yeah, Mom, our bad,” Finn screeches.

  “Adrian, you may want to release Finn. It sounds like he's depleted his oxygen reserve,” I kid.

  “Yeah, Adrian, lemme go,” Finn squeaks out.

  Adrian spins around sending Finn's shaggy brown hair and appendages flying out and says, “Finn? Where did Finn even go?” This immediately results in some pained laughter on Finn's part, and I just stare in wonder at them both. Then Adrian stops and bounces up and down a few times, causing Finn to spurt with laughter, which immediately causes me to laugh. I feel Bonnie elbow me in the back.

  I turn slightly to take in her frown. “What?” I ask.

  “Stop gawking,” she whispers.

  “I know. I'm sorry.”

  “So, Adrian,” Bonnie pipes up, “what's been going on with you?”

  “Oh, the usual.” He grunts as Finn's small fists start pummeling his back. He makes like he's going to drop him and swings him around to catch him, putting him on his feet. We all laugh as Finn staggers around dazedly.

  “Mom, I'm drunk!” Finn declares.

  “Finn, you don't even know what that means,” Archer says, not hiding his big brother disdain.

  “Yes, I do too! I took a gigantic gulp out of the communion wine once. My head was all cloudy!” Finn yells back.

  “Oh my gosh, Finn! At least you'll have something for your next confession,” I joke and then switch mom gears immediately. I clap my hands. “All right, boys, just make sure you get this mess cleaned up before I get home,” I manage to say rather sternly.

  We head into the kitchen, leaving the kids to exact destruction on my house.

  “So, Adrian how stoked are you about the big gig at the House of Blues?” Bonnie asks as she plants herself at the bar.

  “Very. It's gonna be cool. I've been going there my whole life. Never thought I'd play there.”

  “You guys are so talented and hot! Of course, you're playing there!”

  Adrian laughs. “Well, we're just opening, but it's still gonna rock.”

  I've busied myself with making drinks for the boys' pizza night with Adrian. I've managed to get myself out of pizza night for the last few weeks. It's just too straining to be around him. I miss him. So much. I have to remind myself that Bradford is nice. Bradford is cute. Bradford won't annihilate my heart.

  “Cel, what do you say?”

  I start at the mention of my name. “About what?” I ask.

  “About us all going to support the guys at the concert. Do you think Bradford would like to go?”

  I glance at Adrian and can't get a read on him, except for the slight tightening of skin around his eyes. “I'm not sure, but I'll ask.”

  I turn around to put the pitcher of tea back in the refrigerator and hear Adrian grunt which is followed by a swift, hard verbal response. “Celeste, go change.” I gasp and spin around. Bonnie starts laughing hysterically.

  “What? You want me to change my dress? What's wrong with it?”

  “First off, it's not a dress. It's a t-shirt pretending to be a dress. Second off, I just saw the bottom of your ass when you bent over. Go change. Now.”

  I take a deep breath, but even with my effort to try and calm myself, I feel my eyes shooting sparks at him. Bonnie slaps the countertop, diverting our attention. “Well, with that telling, yet Neanderthal, comment I'm going to go. Garner is picking me up in a little while.” She moves around the bar and kisses me on the cheek. “Have fun tonight! Tell Bradford hi for me. And do everything I would do.”

  I give a stilted laugh despite my anger, “Love you, Bonnie. Thanks for your help. I'll call you tomorrow.”

  Bonnie turns to Adrian and whispers something in his ear. I see his eyes widen a bit, and he gives an impatient little laugh. She squeezes his arm and then throws a mischievous little smile at me.

  After Bonnie shows herself out, I finally feel calm enough to address his command, “I'm not changing. I temporarily forgot not to bend over. It won't happen again. I promise.”

  He folds his arm across his chest. Is he trying to intimidate me? “You're damn straight it won't happen again ‘cause you're changing.”

  I grit my teeth and keep my voice contained
since the boys are in the next room. “I'm NOT changing. And you have no right to tell me to change anyway. You have no right to anything about me. And while we're on the subject of rights and wrongs, I really don't like the way you've been talking to me lately. You're either mean like you were at the park, distant like you've been every other time I've seen you, or overbearing like you are now. I don't like it, and you need to remedy that immediately.”

  He just stares at me for a minute like I've lost my mind. “You are clueless. Do you have any idea how many men are going to try and have a go at you?”

  Of course he ignores my comments about his behavior. “That's ridiculous. No one's going to mess with me. I'll be with Bradford anyway.”

  “Exactly what I'm worried about. Don't you care what he thinks of you? What's he going to think of you looking like that?”

  My mouth drops. No he did NOT just go there. I open my mouth to respond but he abruptly walks past me to enter the hallway. “Where are you going?” I'm spoiling for a fight now.

  “Let's continue this conversation somewhere else, yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah, let's,” I agree vehemently.

  My heels click-clack as I stomp after him and follow him into the laundry room. I enter the room and spin to see him closing the door behind us. “Celeste, I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just telling you that that 'dress' is gonna get your ass in trouble. If you had any idea...”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Any idea of what?”

  “Nothing.” He rearranges his face to a more pleasant look and gives me a little smile. “I guess I went about it the wrong way. Let's try this...Celeste, will you change your dress before you leave?”

  “No.”

  His face falls from his patronizing little smile. “No?”

  I give him a slanted smile and raise my eyebrows. Fighting with him is fun. I don't know that I've ever fought with anyone except Bonnie. “Yeah...No.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and places both his hands on his hips. “No,” he repeats, seemingly in awe of my refusal. He's probably used to us women just doing whatever we're told. I laugh a little at this realization. I've had my fill of being told what to do. “There's nothing to laugh about here. If you only understood that I'm trying to protect you. This is for your own good.”

  My blood boils at this comment. “If you had any idea how often I've heard that line , you'd never say that to me again.”

  “What do you mean?” He furrows his brow in concern.

  “Everything that anyone's ever done for me or to me has been for my own good, Adrian. Except it never turns out for my benefit.” I bristle as I realize that he's starting to treat me like every other male in my life. “You know, Adrian, I thought I knew you. I liked how you were different toward me. Not like all the other overbearing men in my life. Now, I wonder if this is the real you. Just like the rest of our Hebert men—arrogant, misogynistic, self-serving—”

  “Misogynistic, self-serving? Do you have any idea what I've done for you? No, I guess you wouldn't, would you? The point was to protect you from all that shit.”

  “What are you talking about, Adrian?”

  His voice is back to dripping with venom. “Nothing. The only thing I'm talking about is that fucking dress, and the fact that you're not leaving here in it.”

  “This conversation is over. Get out of my way.” I start to walk past him, but when I do he grabs my arms and guides me back to the wall. “Adrian, what—”

  Adrian runs his hands up my arms and shoulders until they grasp both sides of my neck to tilt my head back so that I'm staring straight into his arctic blue eyes. I immediately start trembling, and it's not with fear. That whiskey-laden voice drips with passion. “Celeste, I'm begging you not to leave here looking like that. You look gorgeous, babe, but I can't sit here all night wondering who's hitting on you, who's imagining moving that scrap of fabric over to get a glimpse at what is...”

  “What is what?” I breathe heavily.

  “What is underneath it all?” His brow wrinkles, and I feel his hands tighten their pleasurably painful grip. “What is underneath it all?”

  “Just me, Adrian, just me,” I breathe. “That's all.”

  “So everything then. Just like I thought.” He removes one of his hands to run it up the back of my thigh. My eyes widen and I swallow hard.

  “That's not a good idea,” I whisper. His hand wraps all the way around my thigh, his fingertips coming to rest along the crease of my left cheek. My thigh pulses with fire.

  “Why not?” His fingertips tease back and forth a little. Even though it’s a light touch, it feels like his calloused fingertips mark me.

  My voice is strained. “Why not? Look at us. We can't even have a civil conversation for everything that has passed between us, and you want to further complicate it. What you're doing will further complicate matters.”

  His hand stills. He exhales loudly and lets his head drop on my chest. “You do this to me. I don't act like this. That day in the park, watching you cross and uncross your legs. Throwing your hair over your shoulder. Laughing without a care in the world. Cheering me on like it was your favorite thing to do! It killed me. Killed me. I've never wanted a woman the way I want you. Never.”

  His words rain down on me like fiery drops of lust. I close my eyes and rewrite that memory. I thought he was just being an ass, but his unexpected anger was because he was yearning for me. I bite my lip, open my eyes, and shake my head. “It's just because you can't have me, Adrian. I'm nothing special.”

  “Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He runs his nose up my throat, scenting me as he goes. I lean my neck back, giving him more access even as my brain screams at me to run—not walk—out of this room. But when he says, “You're everything to me.” My head falls back even further and my eyes close again as I feel him slant his head and attack my jaw, throat, and neck with closed-mouth kisses. I hear myself moan and give myself one more little jolt to try to spare myself from this delicious torment that will only end in frustration.

  Adrian works his way back up my throat, but this time, it's his tongue that leaves a scorching path of devastation. I feel as though I've been flayed open and am just a quivering pile of nerve-endings. “Oh my God, Adrian, what are you doing to me?” I manage.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he murmurs against my throat. “You're driving me insane. We shouldn't be here. Doing this. Yet, here we are again. And I can't stop.”

  I shiver at his words and will myself to move. I feel his fingers twitch on my thigh, and I ache to bend my knees a little to help his fingers reach their intended destination. I would give anything to feel those fingers on me, inside me. “Adrian, I need—” Right about that time, I hear one of the boys shuffling around in the kitchen, complaining about starving to death. “Adrian, let me go,” I tell him. There's a double entendre to my statement and my eyes pool with unshed tears. He jerks his head back and pins me with his gaze.

  “All right, Celeste. I'll let you go,” he acquiesces. Yes, he gets it. I press my lips together hard, barely containing a pained moan that builds in my chest and threatens to erupt. He eases back but only slightly, dropping his hands and throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. I move toward the door and look back at him. He's braced himself on the wall and let his head fall forward. I pat under my eyes with the sides of my fingers to dry any escaped wetness. I exhale, stand up straight, and go out to check on my starving children.

  After I see to them, I realize Adrian still hasn't come out of the laundry room. I contemplate going to speak to him. Chickening out, I whisper to Archer to go and tell Adrian that I'm leaving.

  Securing the door behind me, I walk briskly to my MINI. I play with a couple of buttons and P!nk's “So What?” blasts through my speakers. “Perfect,” I snap. This will help me get out my pent up frustration before I meet Bradford. Bradford who will not twist me in these knots. Bradford who will not drive me freakin' insane. Bradford who will not cause me to lose myse
lf. Yes, Bradford.

  Eight

  This One or That One?

  “I REALLY WISH you would let me pick you up for our future dates,” Bradford tells me.

  I give him a small smile. He is quite gregarious, and I’m enjoying being with him. “I know you would like that, and I appreciate that. I think it's better this way until I'm ready to introduce you to the boys.”

  “So you told me all about them on our last date, and I can't wait to meet them. One thing you didn't do much talking about was you, though.” He gives me a half-smile. He's really adorable and sweet. I'm very fortunate he’s shown interest in me since he's quite different from my other “options,” which are, for me, non-options.

  “Umm...what do you want to know?”

  “Everything, anything that you're willing to share.” I take a sip of my Pinot Grigio and nod my head, collecting my thoughts. Bradford signals to the server, and he's quickly there refilling my glass.

  “Well, what do you already know?”

  He surprises me by not mincing words. “I know that your husband died relatively quickly after being diagnosed with cancer and that you haven't dated anyone. I know that your family is pressuring you into choosing someone to help you raise your children.”

  My back stiffens at this last little tidbit, and I raise my eyebrow at him. “Really? What do you know of that?”

  “Louis told me a little. I don't fully understand it, but I know enough to know that Louis is worried about you.”

  I nod my head a little, taking this in. “My family is very...protective. That's why Louis talked me up to you, playing matchmaker.” I nod my head as I begin to put the pieces together. “Makes sense.”

  “Well, I'm glad he did. Even if he did have a hidden agenda, I think it was a noble one.” He smiles warmly and reaches out to cover my hand with his. I glance at it and am immediately thrown to the all-too recent memory of another hand on another part of my body. It takes a mammoth amount of effort on my part not to pull my hand away.

  I give him a little smile. “Me too, Bradford. You're very nice.”