All that Matters (Family Matters Book 2)

by Liana Key

  "Yes, of course. Go," I directed graciously and I pulled away sharply. "Go." And I turned away, fixing and straightening the computer desk that Cassian had fallen on to.

  My mind was in a complete flap. I sat for a few minutes, well ten in the end, allowing Marcus enough time for a getaway. Then I locked up, drove home, undressed. But strangely, I didn't want to shower, didn't want to wash away his scent. I laid on my bed in my underwear, devoid of common sense and with no one to turn to. I could hardly talk to my parents, or Stefan. He would be infuriated at my behaviour, already he believed Cassian and I were a distant memory. I couldn't speak to Helene, she would banish my friendship to the woods, knowing I was cheating on my fiancé. Who I needed, who I wanted, was Cassian. Cassian, not Marcus. What had happened to me?

  Marcus had got down on one knee, a ring box produced from his pants pocket when he brought me home after a movie and dinner date. It had been several weeks after what I would call the 'storage room kiss' where Cassian and I had fucked quickly in the dark and then he'd come to my apartment at my request. I wasn't sure what had possessed me to invite him around, perhaps it was because Marcus had been away at a work conference, was spending three nights in Seattle.

  I had turned on the coffee maker, grabbed two cups from the cupboard and when I'd turned around he was at ground level. At first I thought he'd dropped something and was on his hands and knees looking for it, but then he fumbled in his pocket, cleared his throat and raised the blue velvet case. I'd blinked, my eyelashes fluttering uncontrollably, as he said the words I'd once hoped would have been spoken to the twenty year old me by Theo. "Paola Carson, love of my life, will you marry me?" I felt ridiculous hovering over him while he was knelt before me on my less than clean kitchen floor, and urged him to stand.

  "Marcus Haynes," a southern accent suddenly appearing in my repertoire, "why, are you sure you want to marry me?" And I laughed joyously, as he picked me up and swung me around.

  "Never been more sure of anything," he said, kissing me. Then he dropped me down, saying, "See what you think of this?" I nervously opened the case, unsure of what his jewelry taste was. For all my designer preferences, the jewelry I wore was minimal, my way of thinking if I couldn't afford the best, or quality, I would settle for none, rather than a minuscule carat. In other words, if I couldn't have a decent sized diamond, ruby or sapphire, I'd rather go without. But the ring was perfect. A hexagonal shape diamond, elegant in its simplicity. It was as if he knew me better than I realized.

  "Oh my, Marcus Haynes," I said, still in that absurd accent, "I do believe you've just made me the happiest girl in the world." And I tried it on my finger.

  "Is that a yes, then?" he shyly asked.

  "Yes. That's a yes from me," I said, now mimicking the X-factor judges. He picked me up again, twirled me, kissed me deeply and took me to my bedroom.

  Marcus was a skilled lover in the bedroom, a man who had "been there, tried that." He was adventurous, playful, sexy. But I couldn't help but compare our love making with Cassian's, so wrong I know. But there was something about Cassian's innocence, his willingness to learn, his desire to please me, that I knew I would never forget.

  Marcus' olive skin and lean muscle was a turn on and he had an eagle tattoo on his back, which originally I was unsure of, but which I came to realize should hardly bother me as I only saw it when he paraded around shirtless. We stopped at my place more than his, which annoyed me a bit, but he lived with a roommate, which was sometimes uncomfortable. I didn't feel like I could be myself around there. So after the engagement there were hints about whether we should move in together. It made so much sense, both for convenience and financially. I was a little hesitant to give up my independence, but my mother kindly pointed out that getting engaged and eventually married would mean just that. Several times after saying yes and accepting the ring I had panic attacks, maybe not official ones, but moments where I would say "Oh my god, do I have to spend the rest of my life with this man?" And the smallest things like his inability to fold laundry properly, his habit of leaving used earbuds on the vanity and his dislike of seafood irked me to the point where I despaired at fifty years together. But then there would be a magical moment where he would bring me a bunch of tulips, bring me a cup of herbal tea in bed after a frantic love making session or brush my hair for me and my heart melted and thought fifty years was not long enough.

  So I was laying on the bed, not doing anything, not looking at my phone, not watching tv, not listening to music. Just lying and wondering what the hell had possessed me to answer Cassian's text which had just been a simple: I'm in the neighborhood. What was a woman called who jumped up at the beck and call of a man, a whore, a slut? Is that what I was? If I had ignored it, Marcus and I would probably be strolling along the beach right now, talking honeymoon locations or wedding cake flavors. But no, I was stretched out on my bed, my fingers moving to touch the place Cassian's tongue had been, remembering the look of distaste as he'd first licked me, the way he laughed and went in a second time. My fingers moved rhythmically, knowing just how much pressure I liked, my mind casting to his golden hair, his firm chest, his love-me eyes. I panted, I writhed, my stomach muscles tensing as I wished it was he finishing me off.

  I longed to text him, longed to know if he was hurting, whether the punch had caused him any serious damage. And as I thought about it, I asked myself why wasn't I thinking of Marcus, of the hurt in his eyes, the justified anger at his fiancée allowing another man to lick her pussy. Why were my sympathies not with Marcus?

  My phone rang and I sat myself up, seeing Marcus' name on the screen.

  "Marcus?"

  "Hey babe." Then silence. Followed by, "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing." Bringing myself to orgasm while thinking of my sweet boy, the one you punched.

  "I love you babe," he said, "but I can't think straight."

  Panic shot through me initially, but then a calm. I couldn't control his feelings, his thoughts, only my own.

  "Babe?"

  "Yes?"

  "You hurt me," he said. "I'm asking all sorts of questions. Can I trust you? Do you still love him? Do you love me?"

  "I understand," I said, dazed, waiting for the worst, waiting to be dumped. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry?" His voice was agitated now. "What? Sorry for hurting me? Sorry for cheating? Sorry for lying to me?"

  "All of the above," I said, "though I don't believe I lied to you." But fuck, I had.

  "Lying by omission," he said.

  "Well, if you insist," I said, "though that's no different from your story of your failed engagement, which I have never learnt about." Oh that was rich of me, now putting the blame on him. It was one of my areas of expertise, playing the blame game. Growing up with Stefan as a younger brother I doled out plenty of blame on him. Being Daddy's princess and pumpkin, and Mama's big girl, I let Stefan take the fall for many childhood situations. I only had to bat my big brown eyes at Daddy and Stefan would be the one in trouble.

  In fact Marcus had been particularly mute about any details concerning his failed engagement, the only information I had gleaned was that it had been a four year relationship and her name was Emma. Other than that I had nothing. And up to this point I hadn't ever given it much thought, wasn't overly concerned about it. But now I decided to throw it in his face.

  "Yes, I guess secrets work both ways don't they," I said high handedly. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." A sudden burst of superiority spilled forth.

  He immediately became defensive. "It can hardly be compared. That relationship was over three years ago and we haven't been in touch since."

  "So you say," I said in a relaxed manner, now having no idea where the conversation was headed, but only knowing Cassian was not the main focus.

  "Look babe, the past is the past. I don't want to bring up all that," he sighed. "Not now."

  "As you wish," I said, feeling I now had the upper hand. "Why don't you call me in the morning th
en?"

  "Babe?" His voice now seemed small, far away.

  "Yes?" It was something I realized I'd picked up from Cassian, he always spoke a crisp, clear yes.

  "We're gonna be all right aren't we?" Now he was the one pleading.

  "I think so, Marcus, I think so." And I fingered the ring on my finger and went to shower.

  CASSIAN

  I might have been semi awake, but when the knock on the door came followed by Jakey, Raff and Magdala charging in like a herd of elephants, I was suddenly sitting up in an instant. Jakey had a grin on his face as he came and sat on the bed, taking a close look at my face, Magdala was ranting, "When did you get home? How long have you been here?" She jumped up and sat on the bed.

  Jakey laughed openly, "Oh my God, look at you." And on closer inspection, "that's going to be a decent shiner!"

  "How are you?" Raff asked, kinder, more caring, standing over me.

  "So you got caught out?" Jakey laughed again.

  "What happened Cash?" Magdala asked in frustration, and she touched my face, her fingers rubbing over the bump above my eyebrow. "Would someone tell me what's going on?"

  I gathered that she'd been home for awhile, but because my car wasn't home, she didn't think I was.

  "So, spill," Jakey smirked. "What the fuck happened?"

  "What the hell is going on?" Magdala now yelled.

  "Magdala," Jakey calmed her, leaning over and patting her back, "take it easy."

  "Did you get in a fight? Who hit you?"

  "Do you need more ice?" Raff offered. It was all so frantic, everyone talking at once, I could feel the headache coming back. I reached to the bed stand for more Advil, and swallowed two, without water. Raff returned with a substitute ice pack, a bag of frozen corn wrapped in a towel and a glass of water. I took a long drink, rearranged my pillows behind me, not wanting to even move off the bed, held the ice up to my eye.

  "Please tell me what's going on," Magdala appealed in a softer voice. "I seem to be the only one who doesn't."

  Raff put his arm around her and she rested her head on him for a moment. Raff looked at me, and I suddenly couldn't find the words, didn't know how to explain the mess I was in. He seemed to sense my dilemma, and calmly said to Magdala, "Paola's fiancé hit him."

  Jakey laughed loudly before Magdala could respond. "Did you know she was fucking engaged, man?"

  But Magdala was still grasping with Paola. "Paola? Your old boss?" I assumed she meant old as in previous, not old as in age. "From Assisi?" There was genuine puzzlement on her face.

  I nodded to answer her question, then said, "No I didn't," to answer Jakey's.

  "So why is her fiancé hitting you?" she asked, still clueless.

  For some reason Jakey decided to step in and do the explanation. "Baby girl," he said, "Cash has..." He paused and I wondered how he was going to describe the relationship, crudely or sensitively.

  I didn't trust him and interrupted, "I've been seeing Paola for awhile. Or I had been," I said quickly. I took the ice off my eye, thinking it wouldn't be making a difference now.

  "And today he screwed her and got caught," Jakey laughed again. It's like he was loving my misery.

  "You mean you were seeing her? Like a girlfriend?" Her face looked incredulous.

  "His lover," Jakey butted in again, smirking.

  "Yes," I said, glaring at Jakey. "We...we...were together for awhile, but then broke up. She met someone else.

  "Someone her own age," Jakey interjected, with another hearty laugh, so enjoying this.

  "Fuck, Jakey!" I shouted. "Just let me finish, for fuck sake." I looked at Magdala. "I love her, like love her so much, but she said it would never work."

  "So, you were seeing her for like how long? Since you started working there?" She still seemed confused.

  "Yes, a year I guess," I tried to sound casual, but it had been exactly thirteen months.

  "And you never thought to tell me?" It wasn't an accusation, it was hurt, sadness at never being told.

  "It's not that I didn't want to tell you Magdala," I said, trying to make her understand, to placate her, "it's just that it was so complicated. Only Jakey knew."

  She glanced at Jakey, who said, "I guessed at it, but he swore me to secrecy." God forbid that he should be implicated in this, the coward. Again I gave him a long, cold stare.

  "Was she the one you came back from Hawaii for? Is that why you left early? You went away with her?" I could tell she was trying to piece things together in her mind. I nodded. "And what?" She looked at me, "And now what? You just started seeing her again? You're having an affair with an engaged woman?" Her tone changed, it was now derisive, scathing.

  "I didn't know she was engaged!" I defended, but no one seemed sensitive to my situation.

  "And her fiancé caught you? Like physically caught you?"

  I sighed. Why must they know details, every fucking detail?

  "Yeah, were you like in the middle of it or what? And where were you?" Jakey was incessant with his questioning.

  "We were in her fucking office," I said loudly, fixing my eyes on Jakey. "I'd already fucked her against the wall. She was on the desk," I said now giving him a play by play, "her legs were spread, I was squatting down, my mouth was on her...You got the fucking picture?" I said sarcastically. "And in he walked."

  Jakey laughed hysterically. "Oh man, you should've locked the door!" Even Raff was laughing I noticed. But Magdala wasn't. She got off the bed, her stare was so fierce that I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

  "You fucking disgust me," she spat vehemently. "I don't even know you Cassian Strauss."

  Her face was so severe, so full of hate, that I panicked.

  "Magdala?" I tried to correct it, "Magdala, I didn't mean it like..."

  But she was already moving towards the door. "Get out of here Cash. I don't want you living here. You're disgusting."

  "Magdala," I pleaded, "it's not like that. I love Paola, I love her." But my cries seemed weak, unconvincing.

  "Just get out of here," she came back towards me and was now pointing her finger. "You're a liar, you're a cheat, and I don't even know you anymore. Just get out of my house." She was close to tears now, her eyes welling up. Jakey took a hold of her. I got off the bed and came towards her. Shit, putting weight on my left leg hurt. He had kicked me harder than I realized.

  "Magdala," Jakey soothed, "hey." She shrugged out of his hold.

  "The whole lot of you," she declared, "you all think this is a laugh. You think this is funny." The tears streamed down her cheeks. "But you -" And she took hold of my shirt, pulled it, just like Marcus had done. "You, my brother, my big brother." She was crying now, and tears came to my eyes. "I don't know you. I don't even fucking know you. You're despicable...you're -"

  I put my arm out, around her shoulder, but she violently shrugged it off. "I mean it." There was no mistaking her intensity. "I want you fucking gone. Go fucking home." And she walked out, leaving me standing there with tears in my eyes.

  We heard her bedroom door slam, and Jakey went after her. I couldn't believe it. Raff and I went out too. There were raised voices from her room, but we couldn't make out the words. Within a minute Jakey emerged, shaking his head. I sat down at the kitchen table, head in my hands, tears in my eyes. I realized there was nothing worse than this. Nothing worse than Magdala hating me. I'd let her down, in the worst possible way. My sister, the person I loved more than anyone else in the world, wanted nothing to do with me. I'd broken her heart, and she was breaking mine.

  "She means it," Jakey said, putting his hand on my shoulder, he had nothing to console me with. "You should go home."

  I sat there, trying to absorb what had just happened, wiping my eyes. Then I broke. "No, you go fucking home," I yelled at Jakey. "You just made this worse, you and your fucking big mouth. Go on, get out of here."

  "Oh yeah, so easy to put the blame on me," Jakey snapped back. "I'm not having an affair Cash. I'm not the one who got beat up. Don'
t try and fucking blame me. This is all your own doing.

  "Get out," I yelled, all control gone, and I know my voice shocked him, because it shocked me too. Jakey looked shaken, and he doesn't shake easily. Raff put his hand on Jakey's arm.

  "Cash," Raff said, "just calm down."

  "Calm down?" Again a yell, almost hysterical. "You don't know when to quit do you?" My anger still directed at Jakey. "You just push and push, you don't know when to shut up."

  "Yeah, go on, just take it out on me if it makes you feel better," Jakey sneered. "You just don't want to admit you've fucked up. You've fucking lost control Cash. Fucking lost your mind over a woman."

  That was it, that was enough. I reached out to hit him, but he caught my arm, saw it coming a mile away. We had each other in a hold. Raff tried to intervene.

  "Cut it out you two," he shouted, coming between us. "Just stop this. This isn't about you two, it's about Magdala."

  And he was right. The issue wasn't with Jakey, that was just a digression, an avoidance of the true matter. Jakey and I released slowly, eyes not breaking contact. I felt sick, disgusted with myself. Jakey was right, I'd lost control, control of everything. Going to Paola today had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life. And I was going to lose Magdala's respect because of it.

  Raff slapped us both on the backs and said, "Right?" I gave a non-committal nod, and sat back down. "What are you going to do?" Raff asked.

  I shrugged. I really didn't have a fucking clue, but I said, "I have to fix it with her," and I gave a nod towards Magdala's room. Jakey went towards her room, knocked on the door, went in. Impulsively I got up and followed, and Raff followed me.

  Magdala was lying on the bed, curled up in foetal position, holding one of Cassidy's teddy bears in her arms, a brown colored one called John, which had been given to her by our Uncle Blaise's family. Jakey was sitting next to her, his arm on her shoulder. She didn't look up, even though she must have heard Raff and I come in. She was still crying, a sniff coming every now and then. It was agonizing to see, and it hit me hard to know I'd so fucked up. Jakey was whispering to her, stroking her arm, her only response was a sniff. I sat next to him, nudged him. He got up and we exchanged positions. I touched her hair, stroked it.