Unbearable (The Port Fare Series)

by Sherry Gammon

  I sat down next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “I know you are, Tess. I know you are.”

  Chapter 31

  Tess

  I tucked Booker’s gun into the new purse Lilah gave me. While the purse wasn’t one I would have picked with its bold orange color, it had a great side pocket, perfect for storing the Glock. I headed downstairs, not wanting to be late.

  We had no news on Garen yet. I hated leaving the safety of Seth’s house more and more each day, but I didn’t want to become a hermit either. I still struggled to reclaim my life.

  A heavenly scent filled the air before I reached the bottom step. Seth stood at the stove creating another masterpiece, if the smell were any indication. Living here had its perks.

  “Perfect timing.” Seth smiled and set an omelet garnished with a dollop of sour cream on the bar. I parked my hungry butt on the stool. He handed me a fork and stood next to me with a paper and pen, waiting for my review. “Remember, don’t spare my feelings,” he said.

  “Seth, will you stop already?” Maggie came out of the laundry room with a couple of shirts in her hand and some socks. She still wore her pink flannel nightgown, along with a pair of fuzzy slippers. Quite the contrast to Seth with his black pants and white chef’s jacket. “Tess, you don’t have to evaluate everything you eat.” Her eyes narrowed on Seth, who set the paper down. “She’s not going to want to eat here anymore if you keep doing this.”

  Maggie shook her head and went upstairs. As soon as she was out of sight, Seth picked up the pad and pen again. “She’s grumpy because she didn’t get enough sleep last night. She used to just get loopy, but ever since she got pregnant she gets like that.” He gestured upstairs.

  “Is she not feeling well?” I asked, biting into the incredible omelet. I wondered if he ever made anything that wasn’t delicious.

  “Leg cramps. Doctor said it was normal. She and Lilah were out shopping for the nursery all day yesterday,” he said, yawning.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t get much sleep either.” I took another bite. “Oh, and five on presentation.” He liked me to grade the food not only on taste, but presentation also, five being the highest mark.

  “I massaged her legs to help alleviate some of the pain,” he explained, eagerly writing down the five. “I worked for the MET for a number of years. Lack of sleep doesn’t faze me.” He yawned again.

  “I can see that.” My voice weighed with sarcasm.

  “I mean I don’t get ornery like some people. I just get sleepy,” he assured me. “How about the taste?” He pointed to my plate. “I think I went a little heavy on the Aged Gouda.”

  “Aged . . .?” I looked at him, completely lost

  “Cheese. This has four different cheeses and crab meat.” I had to swallow my grin. I found the seriousness he and Booker put into cooking hilarious. “Here.” He handed me a slice of cheese. “Taste this and tell me if you think the same taste overpowers the omelet.”

  Again, I held back my laugh as I bit into the cheese and instantly knew what he meant. “You’re right. The omelet is a little heavy with this.”

  As he feverishly wrote, Maggie came flying down the stairs. “You’re not going to believe this. Look outside. Hurry.” My first thought was of Garen. Somehow he’d found me. My heart pounded against my ribs. Then I noticed the huge grin on Maggie’s face.

  Seth rushed to the window and pulled back the curtains. “Is that a . . . It is. Booker got himself a Jag.” Seth’s face lit up like a Christmas tree as he turned to Maggie.

  “Jag as in Jaguar?” she asked. Seth nodded.

  “Go easy on him, Mags. Don’t take your bad mood it out on him,” Seth warned, heading for the door.

  Maggie stomped her foot. “I. Am. Not. In…” She stopped, and exhaled loudly. “Okay, I’m a little ornery, sorry.” She kissed Seth’s cheek before turning to me. “But Book is so getting harassed for this. I mean, seriously. A Jaguar!” She waved me to follow and we both slipped on our boots and coats. Seth went out in his slippers and chef’s hat, but no coat. Maggie grabbed it for him. “Men,” she grumbled.

  Seth and Booker circled the car like two hungry tigers waiting to pounce as we walked down the driveway. “Here.” She tossed Seth’s coat at him. He caught it, but didn’t put it on.

  Booker mouthed, not enough sleep? to Seth. Seth nodded and laughed, though he tried to cover it with a cough.

  “I saw what you said, catman.” Maggie shot him a nasty glare. He mocked fear by stepping back and blocking his face with crossed wrists.

  “Nice car. Jaguar, right?” I asked with a wink.

  “It most certainly is.” He practically glowed. “Like the color? It’s called Satellite Grey Metallic.”

  “I would have called it gun metal,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought, too. In fact, that’s why I picked it.” He ran his hand along the hood.

  “Don’t touch the paint job.” Seth took the edge of his chef’s coat and wiped off Booker’s fingerprints.

  “I am not going to be ridiculous like you and my grandfather were over the silly Aston Martin.” Booker leaned against the hood.

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. He didn’t mean it. The Aston Martin is not a silly car.” Maggie rubbed Seth’s back dramatically. Seth rolled his eyes.

  “Didn’t you once say you were a simple man with simple tastes?” Maggie asked. “I hardly call this simple. This is a blatant display—” She stopped. “Okay, I’m going to go back inside and get some sleep before I alienate all my friends and family.”

  Seth gave her a quick hug. “If your legs bother you, let me know. I’ll come massage them.” She gave him the okay sign as she made her way inside.

  “Six more months, my friend.” Booker slapped Seth on the back. “We’d better get going. I have a phone conference at ten,” he said to me.

  “What? Wait. I want to take it for a spin,” Seth said, his voice bordering on hysterical.

  “I’ll get my purse.” I jogged inside and grabbed some workout clothes. I hadn’t done yoga in forever and my stiff back protested when I woke this morning. I hoped to squeak out some time later today to go downstairs to the gym.

  Seth came in as I left, his coat still in his hands. His lips were blue. Mag’s right. Men. Booker held the car door open for me and I slid onto the warm seat.

  “Seat warmers are standard in Jags in Upstate New York,” he beamed. “Pretty sweet, huh?” He ran his hand over the dark gray dashboard.

  “Very. And you’re closer to me now.” I leaned over and kissed him. “Convenient.”

  “Keep that up and I’ll let you drive it later.” He kissed me back. “Yup. You are definitely driving this later.”

  “I didn’t know you were going car shopping after you dropped me off.” I turned up my seat warmer.

  “I wasn’t, but on my way home I happened to drive by the car lot again. I stopped just to look and, well, they had this Jag with only seven thousand miles on it. It’s practically brand new.” He glanced at me. “The guy was a master salesman. He had me at hello.” He chuckled and pressed a button on the dash. “He even gave me fifty dollars for the POC, sight unseen. I was in the truck when I bought the Jag, but when I brought the POC in an hour later to pick up the Jag, his face turned a little green.”

  “Fifty? Can’t believe you got that,” I snorted softly. “I thought you were getting a Lexus.”

  “Yeah, right, after your Cole comment?” he said drily.

  “Didn’t they have a convertible on the lot when we drove by yesterday?” My personal favorite.

  “They did, but convertibles aren’t very practical for Upstaters.” He gestured to a snow bank to make his point.

  “Oh, right. Yet another good reason to move to Cali.”

  As promised, they replaced the heater in our office. The place was toasty warm when we arrived. Between not having worked yesterday, and our trip to see my family, we were really behind. We worked at a fever’s pitch all day. Booker orde
red in lunch so we wouldn’t have to stop. By five-thirty, I was spent.

  “Hey, handsome.” I slid his rolling chair back and slumped onto his lap. I wrapped my fingers up in his hair. He grinned lazily. “I was hoping to get some yoga in after work. Do you want to come downstairs with me?”

  “I do enjoy your Downward Facing Dog.” He nibbled on my neck. It didn’t take long to get lost in a kiss.

  I pulled back first. “You’re never going to win that bet if you keep kissing me like that,” I said, breathless.

  “I’ve been thinking about that stupid bet,” he grumbled. “If I lose, you win, so what’s to stop you from doing whatever it takes to sabotage me? Seriously, those lips of yours are a secret weapon.”

  “Then by all means, we shouldn’t kiss.” I stepped away.

  “Let’s not get hasty.” He pulled me back. “I have a better idea. If I win, I’ll give you the prize money. You can use it to buy whatever you want. A new car, maybe.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. You already know I only made the bet to keep from getting lost in a physical relationship with you right away,” he reminded me. “And I’m a guy, so there’s no way I want to lose, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “If you’re sure, then I’m in.” I snuggled in closer.

  “I’m sure. Besides, if I don’t have your help with the bet, I’m a dead man.” I bounced on his shoulder as he laughed. “I love you, Tess.” He stroked my cheek.

  I kissed him softly. “And I you.”

  “Why do you need me to watch you do yoga anyway? You’re carrying the gun in your purse, right?”

  “Despite my stupid remark yesterday about not needing you to protect me,” I said sheepishly, “I feel safer with you, if anything for an extra pair of eyes.”

  “I wish I could, but I have a dinner meeting at seven in Syracuse, remember?” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I need to leave in half an hour.”

  “That’s right. I forgot.” I frowned.

  “You can come with me if you want. I’ll even let you drive the Jag,” he tempted.

  It took me all of a nanosecond to agree. “Yes!” I gave him a quick kiss and hurried out to straighten my desk.

  Ten minutes later his cell phone rang. “Hey, Brent. Tell me you found him,” I heard him say. Brent was one of Booker’s buddies who’d been working on tracking Garen down. “You did?” I jumped up and ran into the office. Booker looked at me, all smiles. “Dead? Are you sure?” My heart leapt. Dead meant Garen was forever out of my life. I should’ve felt guilty for thinking that, yet I didn’t, not even a little. Booker said yes and okay a few more times, and asked, “Are you sure?” before hanging up.

  I broke down in tears. Booker pulled me into his arms. “It’s over, babe. All over. Garen’s dead.”

  I emptied my soul of all the fears I’d carried around with me for years. No more looking over my shoulder. No more worrying about opening the door and finding Garen there, waiting to kill me. Free. Finally free of the putrid sickness named Garen. I cried so hard my body shook. Booker held me tight, stroking my hair and reassuring me.

  “What happened?” I asked wiping at my tears several minutes later.

  “That phone call was from my buddy Brent from the Port Fare PD. Seems Garen was over in Buffalo. The clerk recognized him from the flyers.” Book handed me another tissue. “The clerk, a nineteen year old sophomore at UB decided to be a hero and confront him. He told Garen he knew who he was and was calling the cops. The ballsy clerk produced a gun from under the counter, which is totally illegal, but we won’t go there. Garen’s seen on the tape begging the kid not to shoot him, claiming he’s innocent and that you were some sort of psycho chick, bent on destroying his life. Thankfully, the clerk didn’t buy it. Garen jumped him. They fought over the gun and it went off, killing Garen.”

  “How fitting he died committing an act of violence.” I stood and paced across the room. “It’s over. It’s finally over. No more hiding. No more fearing every little sound.” I turned to Booker as he came closer. “I’m free. It’s as if this huge weight’s been lifted off me.” I jumped into his arms. “I’m completely free.” Booker cinched his arms around my waist and spun me in a circle, then set me down. I wrapped my hands around his jaws and kissed him soundly. “I’m free.”

  “Yes, you are.” He hugged me tight. I broke down on his shoulder again, still purging the pain, sorrow, and fear that consumed my life for far too long.

  “Pull it together, Tess,” I lectured myself.

  “No. Let it out,” Booker encouraged. “After all you’ve been through, you deserve this moment.”

  “Thanks.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting into tears yet again.

  “We need to head to Syracuse,” he said, grabbing his briefcase and putting a couple of files inside. “We can talk more about this on the drive over.”

  Syracuse. I completely forgot. I didn’t want to be trapped in a car for over an hour each way. I wanted to run down the streets, shouting.

  I needed to do some yoga. “Would you mind if I didn’t go? Now that I no longer have anything to fear, I’d really like to do some yoga.”

  “How are you going to get to Seth’s after? I won’t be back until late, probably close to ten.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “I don’t have time to drop you off.”

  “That’s right. We drove here together.” I sat in a chair in front of his desk. He tugged the curtains closed and it sparked my memory.

  “Wait. Lilah has to pick up some curtains around six-thirty at the shop just around the corner. I bet she’ll give me a ride to Maggie’s.”

  “I know she will. Check and make sure that’s still a go.” While he finished getting ready, I called Lilah from my desk. She was more than willing to pick me up, and since Cole had to work late, she offered to take me to dinner to celebrate my new freedom.

  Booker rushed out of his office as I hung up. “I have to go. Are you coming?”

  “Lilah’s going to pick me up. Are you sure you’re okay with me not going?” I slipped my arms around his neck.

  “Yes. Go enjoy your sweaty yoga,” he teased. “I’ll stop by Seth’s on the way back.” He gave me a quick kiss and left.

  I straightened the office and then made three phone calls, all extremely important. One to my mom and dad, and one to each of my siblings. After I hung up, promising to call them each again later, I grabbed my workout clothes and stepped into the bathroom to change.

  When I came out, I wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 32

  “You alone?”

  Startled, I stepped back. “What are you doing here?” No answer. I moved cautiously to my desk and gathered my purse from the drawer. I slipped my clothes inside and repositioned Booker’s gun on top. Ridiculous, really. It’s not like Nikkolynn was a threat, but her demeanor bothered me. I glanced up at her again as she stepped closer to me. Her face was red and tearstained. She’d been crying.

  “So w-where’s Booker?” she stuttered. She hugged herself tightly, her purse wedged under her arms.

  “He left for the day.” The phone rang. I didn’t answer it. The office was officially closed. The answering machine could get it. My yoga time dwindled fast.

  “Is he at home?” she pressed.

  “No. He has a meeting in Syracuse.” I pushed my purse handle onto my shoulder and walked past her to the door.

  “So, are you and Booker officially together?” she asked.

  I angled back to her. I guess having run for the past four years, I’d grown weary of cowering. Or maybe I felt empowered because Garen was dead. Whatever the reason, I’d had enough of Nikkolynn. “Yes, we’re together. I love him.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Has he asked you to marry him?” She snugged her purse tighter.

  “No. We’ve not discussed marriage. When do you leave for New York?”

  She ignored my question. “I still love him.” Tears welled in her hazel eyes. “I kee
p hoping he’ll change his mind and give me another chance, but I’m starting to give up.” She wiped her nose with her hand.

  My heart softened. “Nik, even if he doesn’t marry me, he’ll find someone eventually. You really should go to New York and start over.”

  “I came to the same conclusion earlier today. In fact, I bought my plane ticket to New York already. I decided it’s best to leave town right away. Start over . . .” She burst into tears.

  I patted her back and let her cry. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll find someone who will make you just as happy, you’ll see.” The poor thing continued to cry for several minutes.

  She took a deep breath. “Loving him is like a disease, you know. And there’s no cure,” she said dramatically. I’d have laughed at the cliché if she didn’t look so sad. “But you’re right. It’s time to move on.”

  I held open the door and she walked out and to the elevator. “I’ll tell him you stopped by,” I said as she pressed the button.

  “No. It’s probably better you don’t. My flight leaves tomorrow. It’s time.”

  I nodded as the doors groaned open. She stepped one foot inside and stopped. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said, her eyes fluttering to keep back the tears.

  “Once you get to New York, things will be much better, Nikkolynn. You’ll see.” She slipped inside the death trap and nodded weakly as the doors creaked to a close.

  I hurried down the stairs to the basement. I only had fifteen minutes left. Bikram yoga was out. No way would the basement heat up before Lilah came. I’d have to do a hard and fast routine. Time for a little of my Lindsey Stirling addiction. I fished the CD from my bag.

  “We meet again.” I jumped back at the sound of a man’s voice. I hadn’t expected to find anyone in the gym. A tall, nice looking guy approached from the treadmills, a brown towel around his neck, his hand extended. “Judging from the look of confusion on your face, I’m guessing you don’t remember me. My name’s Devin. I’m the patent lawyer on the third floor.” He shook my hand. “I dropped some forms off for Booker to look over back in October.”