Mended-Hearts

by Gordon, M. E.

  The closer he got, the more I backed away. I backed up until my back hit the wall behind me. I wasn’t scared of him, just intimidated by his size and the energy he was putting off.

  “Look what you do to me?” he said, when he got toe to toe with me.

  His hands hit the wall beside my face. I didn’t cower, I didn’t flinch, I stood there and gave it right back to him.

  “And what am I doing to you? Because I’m pretty sure I was only telling you about my parents, and I didn’t expect it, but I thought maybe, just maybe, you would open up and give me just a sliver of information about yours.”

  “That’s never going to fucking happen!”

  “Why? What is so bad that you can’t open up and tell me anything about your past? Look what it’s doing to us. Your past is tearing us apart. It’s--never mind. I’m not going to fight with you about this,” I said, holding my hands up in retreat.

  “Good, because I don’t want to fight with you either. My past is in the past, and that’s where it’s going to stay. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it. Mr. Secret Mysterious Playboy is back.”

  “No, not a playboy. Your mystery man, maybe, but I’m far from a boy,” he said, pushing up against me. His hard body was flush against my own cushiony one.

  “I don’t know. Sometime you act like a little boy not getting his way,” I said matter-of-factly. I refused to look up at him, glanced sideways, and acted annoyed.

  He hummed a deep throated response that just happened to tingle down my spine. I shivered as it made its way to the depths of me. The hand that was next to my face left the wall and snaked its way down between us before moving up the inside of my shirt. His thumb grazed my harden nipple, and I had to try with all my might to keep an agitated look on my face.

  “Would a boy do this?” he said, grabbing hold and molding my breast to his hand.

  I had to lick my lips to keep them from drying out, but I didn’t lose my cool. I stared right into those sea blue eyes of his and shrugged. “It’s happened before.”

  “I see, and what about this--” His hand moved from my breast down to the waistband of my sweat pants. Slipping his hand between the fabric and my skin, he cupped my bare core. Shit, shit, shit, I can’t do it. I was always rendered useless when his hand was there.

  “I think I’m the only one who can do this, and I know, for damn sure, no little boy has ever made it this slick.”

  I gulped, trying to wet my mouth so I could spit out a smart ass remark but, apparently, all my wetness was concentrated in one particular location, and it sure as hell wasn’t in my mouth.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I snipped back.

  Two...hell, maybe it was three...fingers entered me. I gripped his shoulder for dear life and damned my hips for moving closer to his.

  “I think I just did,” he whispered in my ear.

  Chapter 17

  Nickolas

  I have to move on. That was the one thought that I kept making myself say over and over again. I was living in New York with only days until my big gallery opening. I knew that Elizabeth was sometimes only a street away, but I made sure to keep my distance. I followed her in the media. It was easy because they hadn’t eased up on her at all. If anything, it was worse than ever.

  Every other day there would be a new story about them breaking up or him cheating on her for some model or pop star. Deep down, I prayed that it was true but I, of all people, knew how the media manipulated things to their advantage.

  It was a random Thursday night. I was in the gallery, working on a few last minute things for the opening the next day. I was in the dark room messing around with a few different negatives when I heard the door at the front of the gallery slam shut. I thought I locked it. I put the negatives that were in my dish on the drying rack and headed out of the dark room.

  I grabbed a towel on my way to wipe my hands of the chemicals. As I came around the corner I saw a man looming near one of my pictures. It was a picture of Elizabeth. I’d blown it up, made it black and white. It was on a thick canvas hanging on the wall as soon as you walked in. It was my favorite picture of her. It was a little more than a head shot. She had her hand draped over her opposite shoulder covering her chest, her long hair was falling all around her, and her eyes were beckoning you to come closer.

  I’d taken that picture on Christmas, in her closet. She was beautiful then and always would be. Her skin was soft and, even though she would hate that I thought this, I loved the way I could melt into her. She wasn’t hard or breakable. She was like coming home to your comfy bed after sleeping on a rigid floor for years. I missed resting my head on her stomach and just lying there, feeling her breathe and hearing her heart beat within her chest. I couldn’t let myself think like that anymore. I’d moved on, I’d even dated a little. I was going in the right direction with my life, and I couldn’t keep looking back.

  “Can I help you?” I asked the stranger standing in my closed gallery.

  This guy really had some nerve. The figure turned to me, exposing his true identity. Oh, shit! It was Salvatore, and he looked pissed. Never in a million years did I expect it to be him. I gripped the towel at either end and pulled it tight, assuming I might have to use it as a weapon if he charged me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, griping the towel a little tighter.

  He stood for a moment then turned back to the picture of Elizabeth before glancing around at the other ones. He expensive shoes clicked and echoed in the large open room as he went from picture to picture of Elizabeth. Most of my gallery was of her, there were only a few with her face, the rest were close ups of different parts of her body. It could have been anyone if you’d never seen the curve of her back or the u shape of her side.

  “You still love her?” he asked, turning back to me.

  “I’m not falling for that, Salvatore. I also don’t want another broken nose, so why don’t you just leave? If you’re here about the pictures, she already gave me permission, so I’m not taking them down.” I stood my ground across from him.

  “Do you still love her?” he asked again.

  “I don’t understand what you’re asking. Do you want me to say no, because I hate to break it to you, I can’t say that. I’m just trying to move on--What--what do you want from me?” I asked, pointing to myself.

  If he wasn’t here to bust my balls for having naked pictures of his girl up on my wall for the world to see, then I had no clue what he could possibly want with me.

  “She really cared about you--I bet she could again,” he said over his shoulder before turning to look at me. I was so lost. I narrowed my eyes on him and attempted to read him. He stood there like a statue, solid and well-dressed in his suit.

  “As I’m sure you know in your line of work--” he started.

  “Ex-line of work. I’m done with anything having to do with Fame. I paid my dues, and I’m free of them now.”

  “Like I was saying, I’m sure you know what demons can hide behind a handsome face and lots of money. You also know that if those demons get out, they can hurt the people you love--in my case, the only person I love.”

  “I don’t know what you’re asking me, but I’m not going back to Fame to cover your shit up.”

  “They’re getting close to my secret, if not already on it,” he said in an even, eerie tone.

  “I’m sure the media will be on your side, just like they were when they found out you almost beat a man to death. Even Elizabeth got over that. I still don’t see what the world sees in you. All I see is a man trying his damnedest to keep the monster caged up. I can see it in your eyes. The need to yell and hurt people, must run in your blood.” I said it only because he was pissing me off the longer he stood in my gallery.

  “I need the name of your boss.”

  “I don’t work there anymore. I told you that.”

  “Fine, you don’t work there anymore. I still need their name.”

  “Can’t do that.�
�

  “I think you can,” he challenged.

  “If I could, I just might, but I don’t want to end up in a shallow ditch. Besides, once I left they changed everything. I have no way of contacting them and, even if I did, what makes you thi--”

  “You can have her.”

  “What did you just say?” I took a step toward him and shook my head in disbelief because I was pretty sure I just heard him say, I could have her. “She’s not a fucking toy you can pass back and forth when you’re tired of her,” I yelled at him.

  He stormed toward me faster than I thought possible for someone of his size. I held my ground and, when he got in my face, I saw the monster behind his eyes rattling the cage. He turned red and the veins in his neck pulsated with anger. “Don’t you think I fucking know that? I’m doing this for her, not you--not me, but for her.”

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind, dude. Back the hell up,” I said, pushing right back.

  I stood there eye to eye with him before he finally took a step back, shoved a hand in his hair, and turned away from me.

  At first, I was confused then everything started making sense in my head. He had a past. I knew that. But there was one thing Natasha had told me, that at first I didn’t believe but now--now that he was standing in front of me, telling me he had the worst kind of demons in his past, I believed her a little more.

  I blurted it out the minute it crossed my mind. “You killed someone.”

  Salvatore spun around on his heels, one hand covering his mouth, the other firmly planted on his hip. His eyes widened. He dropped his hand from his face and pointed at me. “What did you say?”

  I was torn between running for the door, punching him, or calling nine-one-one. To think Natasha was right was as bad as it got. He didn’t officially say that he killed someone but the look on his face gave him away.

  “Nothing,” I replied. I wanted to know more, but I didn’t want to end up on his hit list. Even if he hadn’t killed someone, he’d done something horrible. I had to find out what it was and warn Elizabeth before something happened to her. “So what do you want from me? I can’t give you what you’re asking for, and Elizabeth won’t talk to me, so I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do.”

  “After tonight, she’ll talk to you. All I’m asking you to do is what you promised her, that you’d be there for her when I fucked up. She’ll be at your gallery opening.”

  With that, he turned and walked out the door, not a glance or another word out of him.

  What the hell is he going to do that’s going to make her talk to me again? I didn’t know and, right then, I didn’t care because the more I saw of him, the more I realized that she was better off without him. Salvatore was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing I wanted was Elizabeth to be near him when he went off.

  Chapter 18

  Elizabeth

  We’d had a run-of-the-mill fight. A misunderstanding. A hotheaded argument. It ended the way all our arguments ended, with me on my back and him over top of me, apologizing for acting like an ass, because he knew he was. Or me saying I was sorry for being stubborn and jumping to conclusions.

  Unfortunately, this particular misunderstanding started a divide between us that I didn’t think was possible. With every day that passed after I told him about my parents, he became more distant. Slowly at first. He’d stay in his office. The day trips for work were turning into two-and-three day trips, and, as the weeks went on, he just wasn’t the same. He wasn’t my Spencer.

  I had no one to confide in. Gia was a car ride or phone call away, but I just couldn’t let her know that maybe she was right. I was certainly not giving her that satisfaction. I’d never hear the end of it. I couldn’t tell my brothers either--one, because they were both so busy with expanding their businesses, but two, because, I didn’t want them to worry. I was an adult. I could handle this on my own. I didn’t need my brothers coming to my rescue. So--I’d sit in Spencer’s huge condo and sulk instead. I knew it wasn’t very mature of me, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

  When Spencer was here, he was attentive to my “needs.” He’d lay with me in bed at night, but when I woke up, he’d always be gone. I’d find him on the couch or sometimes in his office asleep at his desk. It had been three weeks since I’d seen his genuine megawatt smile. He was distant and pulling away from me.

  As those weeks went on, he still gave no indication of why. So my mind went to that dark place. We were still attending our fair share of events but, unlike in the past, I let my mind wander and be suspicious of every single action he made. A friendly gesture, a kiss on the cheek, a gaze a moment too long in someone else’s eyes, I was seeing things I never noticed before. My mind was playing tricks on me.

  And I could only take so much paranoia before I completely lost my shit. The media didn’t help either. Every other magazine and gossip site was reporting that he was cheating on me or that he was seen with another woman. Things were getting bad, really bad, but I held my head up and acted like nothing was wrong.

  When I’d go to talk to him about it, he’d conveniently have to take a call or leave to oversee something. Other times, he’d stroke my ego, telling me I was being paranoid and that nothing was going to come between us.

  This wasn’t the Spencer I fell for. He was passive and not passionate about anything anymore. He stopped cooking, he stopped arguing with me, and he let me win battles I had no right winning. I’d been pushing him to argue back because I knew that we both got off on it, but he’d simply let me win. He’d comply and agree with me.

  Something was bothering him, making him pull away from me. He’d promised me he wouldn’t leave me, wouldn’t hurt me, yet he was whether he wanted to believe it or not. He was turning into someone I didn’t even know. I missed the demanding hot head. The sexy beast who could get my blood boiling in more ways that just one.

  Spencer was going to be gone almost a whole week, so I took that as an opportunity to spend time with Gran. Spencer had insisted on dropping me off and meeting Gran officially. He’d told me that he’d talked with her briefly at that infamous first charity event. He’d told her how impressed he was with her grandchildren.

  Gran opened the front door as Spencer and I approached it.

  “Hell has frozen over. My little muffin has come to visit me,” Gran said, holding her arms out to embrace me in a hug.

  I pulled back from her and turned to introduce Spencer. “Gran this is--”

  “I know who he is,” she said, eyeing him up and down.

  Spencer and I exchanged looks.

  “He’s the man who has captured my little muffin’s heart. Come on inside, it’s freezing out here.” She and I turned to walk back in the house.

  “I’m sorry but I need to catch a flight. I just wanted to make sure Elizabeth got here safely,” Spencer said, making Gran stop in her tracks.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were in a hurry.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Monroe, maybe another time we can sit and have a nice chat,” Spencer said acting dapper as ever.

  I frowned at him. He was putting on an act, and it was painfully obvious, to me at least.

  Spencer turned to me and took my hands in his. He kissed the back of them. “I’ll see you back in New York at the end of the week.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you,” he said, pulling me in and kissing me softly.

  “I love you too.”

  Gran and I watched as he walked back to the waiting car. That night I told Gran everything.

  “I don’t know, Gran. I don’t know how to get him back. You saw him tonight. That was not the Spencer Salvatore I know.”

  We were sitting by the fire, under a quilt on the couch.

  She shrugged. “It seems like he’s having a rough time dealing with what ever happened in his early childhood. And I thought he was a gentleman tonight.”

  “I know, but he’s acting like nothing is wrong, when clearly there is something going on. I’ve b
een racking my brain, trying to figure out what could have possible traumatized him so much that he’s pulling away from me. He’s acting like a robot.”

  It was true. My poor mind had come up with every disgusting, sad, and horrible thing that could happened to a young boy to make him protect his past to the point of ruining a relationship.

  Gran pulled me in a little closer and rubbed my back. “It sounds like he just needs time. Maybe, just like you, a memory has crept back to the forefront of his mind, and he’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

  My week with her reset me. It gave me hope that maybe this was just another obstacle that we had to get through.

  Spencer called every day and, although short and sweet, he’d tell me he loved me and tell me about new gossip he’d heard about the TV shows he knew I liked. He was meeting with producers out in LA that were interested in teaming up for a new restaurant opening.

  I came back to New York with a renewed, calm outlook on things. I was able to keep that calmness as I attended a few luncheons and charity events, and even spoke to a few reporters about said charity events. But with every day that he got delayed, the more anxious I became.

  It was a Thursday night. I knew he was back in town, and he was refusing to answer my calls. I was sitting on the couch in silence. He’d texted me, telling me that he was on his way home. So there I sat, fueling the flames that were sure to erupt once he walked through the door.

  I was going to tell him off. I was going to yell and make sure my point was understood. This whole nonsense about his past was tearing us apart, and I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted my hot headed Spencer back. I was so done with the robot version. I would do anything to keep him, because I loved him, because I still got butterflies every time he walked into the room, because I still felt the electricity when his fingers touched mine. I didn’t want to lose that. It was too precious to me, too important.