by I. T. Lucas
“You’re a good dancer,” she said after he twirled her expertly.
“Thank you, I took classes.”
“Naturally.”
“Meaning?”
She smiled. “Victor Turner has to excel at everything he does. For you, it’s either not dance at all or dance like a pro. There is no middle.”
He executed another twirl, then pulled her into his arms. “True. Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
“I’m glad.”
Victor held Bridget pressed tightly against him so she couldn’t look into his eyes and guess his thoughts.
He could excel at many things but not at this. Not at love. He could fake it, tell Bridget he loved her too, and it wouldn’t even be a lie, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. Turner wished there were as many words to describe love as there were to describe the weather. Cold, chilly, or nippy, or wintery, or windy. It could be frosty or frigid or icy. Each term held a slightly different meaning.
But there was only one word for romantic love.
Fondness and the like were good to describe friendships, but not the feelings between a man and a woman, or two men in Junior’s case.
Arturo Junior had no problem feeling love. As troubled as the young man was in other areas, it was obvious that he’d loved Xavier and had planned to spend the rest of his life with his partner.
Bridget pushed back a little and looked up at him. “What are you thinking about? I can almost hear the gears in your head spinning.”
“I was thinking about Junior and how much he loved his boyfriend. No wonder he was bent on vendetta. I would have been too.”
She grinned happily, no doubt taking his words to mean that he loved her. “I’m a doctor, so saying that I would kill someone to avenge the loss of a loved one is so wrong, but I would. At least I think so. I don’t know if I’d have the stomach to actually carry it through.”
“I hope you’ll never face such a dilemma.”
They’d already danced to the sounds of several songs, some slow, some fast when it occurred to Turner that only a week ago he would not have been able to carry on like that. If he kept going, Bridget would start suspecting that he was off the meds.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather sit the next few songs out.”
“Sure. You should have told me that you were tired.”
“I like dancing with you.”
“We can rest a little and dance some more later.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Turner felt like a fraud. He needed to come clean instead of keeping the pretense and hiding his decision to quit the chemo from her.
Chapter 60: Bridget
“Where are you taking me?” Turner asked.
Bridget had insisted on driving them to By Invitation Only, claiming that Victor was too tired after the long flight and she didn’t trust him behind the wheel.
It was true, but only partially. She had a surprise for him.
“You’ll see in a moment.”
He glanced out the window. “It looks like we are going to my apartment.”
Damn it. The guy was too shrewd for his own good. “Now look what you’ve done. You ruined my surprise.”
“Which is?”
She cast him a sidelong glance. “It won’t be much of a surprise if I tell you. Patience, my dear.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not easy to surprise me.”
“I know. Could you be a sport about it and pretend for five more minutes?”
“I don’t see what’s the point, but I’ll humor you.”
“Thank you.”
Sometimes the guy was such a dry stick. Oh, well, no one was perfect.
“I’ll even close my eyes.”
That was nice of him. “Just don’t fall asleep.”
“I won’t.”
That remained to be seen. Flying first class, he’d had a comfortable fully reclined seat to sleep in, but the question was whether he had. The events that had preceded the flight had probably left him in an agitated state.
Knowing Victor, Bridget suspected he’d been busy replaying every move and action in his mind and trying to figure out if he could’ve done anything differently.
Fortunately, he wasn’t snoring by the time they reached his building. “Unless you agree for me to carry you in, you need to open your eyes.”
His eyes still closed, Victor chuckled. “Watching a tiny thing like you carry me inside might give the security guy a heart attack. I can’t have it on my conscience.”
She sighed. “So you know where we are.”
“Obviously.”
“But do you know why?”
“You want to show me something Ingrid had done?”
“You guessed it.”
It was good Victor didn’t have an immortal’s sense of smell, or he would have known she was up to something.
“Close your eyes,” she said as they reached his door.
“As you command.”
Using the key Ingrid had dropped at her office, Bridget opened the door, and led Turner inside. “Okay, you can open them now.”
Hesitantly, Victor opened one eye and then the other. “It’s done.”
“Surprise!” Bridget clapped her hands. “Do you like it?”
They’d agreed not to take peeks during the renovation and let Ingrid do her thing uninterrupted. As always, the interior designer delivered and then some.
“I don’t recognize the place.”
“Is it good or bad?”
“Good.” He turned in a circle. “It feels so welcoming. Homey. I want to check out the couch.”
She took his hand and tugged. “I have a better idea. Let’s check out the rest of the apartment first.” Meaning the master bedroom.
Victor’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Lead the way.”
Even the hallway was beautifully decorated with framed art hanging on the walls and sconces bisecting the space in between every two pictures. Earth tones galore, and yet Ingrid had managed to preserve some of the contemporary feel by using a light palette of colors and fixtures that were not overly ornate.
“Are you ready for the master bedroom?” Bridget paused in front of the closed double doors.
“Should I close my eyes again?”
“I didn’t see it yet either. Should we both close our eyes?”
“If you want to.” From his tone, it was obvious he thought the idea silly.
“Nah, let’s just go in.” She depressed the handle and pushed the door open.
“Wait.” Victor caught her elbow. “I want to carry you in.”
“That’s silly.” She giggled as he lifted her anyway.
“What better way to test the new mattress’s bounciness than dropping you on it.”
Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck. “No one is dropping anyone. I’m not letting go.”
“Fine. More weight means more bounce.” Holding her tight, he leaped onto the beautiful four-poster bed, turning mid-air to land on his tush.
Pretty impressive for a forty-six-year-old human on chemo. It seemed the side effects were finally lessening.
“Thank you.” He kissed her.
“For what?”
“Pushing for this makeover. It’s perfect in a way I couldn’t have envisioned. I tried to make the place look less sterile for you, I even had Brian, my media specialist and a man of exquisite taste, come and spruce the place up a bit. But you saw the results.”
“You mean the few pillows and a blanket he threw on the couch?”
Victor grimaced. “Yeah, that was Brian’s work.”
“But you asked him to do it.” Which she thought had been incredibly sweet. He’d wanted his apartment to look nice for her.
“Well, to be honest, he suggested it, along with the wardrobe makeover.”
Bridget laughed. “That explains so much. At first, you seemed so uncomfortable in these clothes, as if yo
u were wearing a costume. But now you own the look, Mister Suave.”
“You think I'm suave?”
“Indeed, and so very sexy.” She lowered her voice and batted her eyelashes. “I think we should put this bed to the test.”
Victor dropped back on the bed, pulling Bridget on top of him. “Kiss me, pretty lady.”
Chapter 61: Bridget
Bridget cracked her eyes open and lifted her arm to check her watch. Crap, it was six-thirty in the morning. They’d overslept.
“Victor, wake up.” She shook his shoulder.
Last night had been a night to remember. Turner’s vigor and stamina were back. Even as tired as he’d been after his long flight, he’d made love to her for hours. She’d lost count of the orgasms.
No wonder he was sleeping like a dead man.
“Victor, we don’t have any clothes here. You need to get back to my place and change.”
He mumbled something and turned around, presenting her with his very fine posterior.
She sighed, debating whether she could fondle him a little to wake him up. But then one thing might lead to another, and before she knew it, they would be making love again. But regrettably, there was no time for that.
“Victor, you said you had a morning appointment. You’ll have to cancel.”
Groaning, he turned around. “Is there a chance Ingrid left a welcome home basket with coffee in it?”
“I doubt it, but I’ll check the kitchen. In the meantime, get dressed.”
He groaned again.
Not surprisingly, the kitchen was devoid of any food products. The cabinets were new, and even though the fridge wasn’t, it was empty.
She padded back to the bedroom. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing there. We can stop on the way at a drive-through Starbucks.”
Victor finished buttoning up his shirt. “No time. I need to get back, grab a one minute shower, change, and leave right away.”
“I’ll make coffee while you shower.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They spent the drive home in silence, not because they were awkward with each other after last night’s marathon sex session, or because they were too spent to summon the energy.
Well, maybe Victor was.
Bridget’s excuse was more mundane. She had a hard time starting the day without a toothbrush and without a cup of coffee or two. With only a drink of water from the bathroom faucet, her mouth felt disgusting, and she wasn’t in the mood to talk.
She should’ve planned this better. Except, the sex should have happened before the dinner date, and the trip to the renovated apartment should have been just a short visit, not a sleepover.
Back at her place, Victor rushed into the shower while she kicked off her sexy high-heeled shoes and padded to the kitchen to make coffee and a sandwich to go for Turner.
He ended up taking both to go.
“Drive safely,” she called after him. “It’s better to be late than getting into an accident.”
He waved a dismissive hand and blew her a kiss goodbye.
With a sigh, Bridget headed to the bathroom to finally brush her teeth. It was a shame he’d scheduled a morning meeting instead of a morning cuddle with her in bed. She’d missed him when he’d been gone, especially at night when the bed felt big and empty and cold without him in it.
Soon, they would be moving into his apartment, and Bridget didn’t know how she felt about it. Getting used to living outside the keep, away from her family and friends, wouldn’t be easy.
On the other hand, it was exciting.
A new beginning. After all, she would be coming to work every day, so it wasn’t as if she was saying goodbye. It was a good thing.
She should start packing their things.
Wrapped in a towel, she entered the walk-in closet and looked at the clothes hanging in neat rows, hers on one side, Victor’s on the other. Two suitcases each should suffice.
Victor hadn’t had time to unpack, and the suitcase he’d taken with him to South America lay open on the floor, its contents spilling out. It had probably unnerved him to no end to leave it like that. Victor liked his things organized.
Would he mind if she unpacked for him?
There was no reason he should. She’d handled his briefs and socks before, adding them to her laundry. He’d never voiced any objections. If she found anything that seemed like business-related material, she wasn’t going to look at it, just leave it on his desk in Julian’s old room where he’d set up shop.
Bridget got dressed, had another cup of coffee, and returned to the closet to take care of the unpacking. Some of the clothes went into the laundry basket, some into the dry-clean bin, and those which he hadn’t used went back on the hangers. She left the few pieces of equipment that were at the bottom of the suitcase on the floor next to it, then moved them to one of the shelves.
Now that everything was organized, she would have an easier time packing for the move.
The last item was Turner’s toiletries tote, which Bridget took with her to the bathroom. Toothbrush, toothpaste, a couple of unused disposable shavers, deodorant and aftershave.
That was it.
Bridget looked at the items lined up on the counter, wondering what was missing.
Duh, there was no shampoo and no conditioner.
Bridget smiled. Obviously, Victor had no use for those.
But there was something else that should’ve been there and wasn’t. His medications.
Perhaps he’d put them in his laptop bag. It made sense. The bag was a carry on item while the suitcase went into the belly of the plane. Humans needed to keep their medications on hand.
Except, she had a nagging feeling that Victor hadn’t.
Bridget opened the drawer where he kept his pills and took the containers out. To find out, all she had to do was to look at the date he’d gotten them, and multiply dosage times the number of days he should’ve been taking them, and then count the number of remaining pills and see if the numbers corresponded.
They didn’t.
Turner had stopped taking them exactly nine days ago.
Chapter 62: Turner
Turner knew he was in trouble the moment he entered Bridget’s apartment, and not because he was so perceptive.
Right there on the coffee table, his pill containers were lined up in a straight row like a jury who’d already found him guilty and was just waiting to hear the judge’s sentence.
The judge sat on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes blazing with fury.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
“I was trying to summon the courage, but it seems I’m more cowardly than I thought.” He put his laptop bag on the kitchen counter and walked over to sit next to Bridget on the couch. “Let me explain.”
She dropped one of her arms to wave him on. “Please do.” The arm went back across her chest.
“I couldn’t function while taking these drugs. They made my brain foggy, they slowed my reflexes, and they killed my sex drive. I had to stop, or I would’ve gone insane.”
“You’re aware that you have no chance of going through the transition while you’re sick, right? Even if you’re a Dormant, it won’t start until you get healthy.”
As she turned to look at him, her eyes were no longer full of fury, just sad. Which was much worse. “You know Roni’s transition was delayed because he was sick. He only transitioned once he was healthy enough to endure it. You’re a rational man, Victor. I can’t understand why you expect irrational results.”
“There must be another way. I can’t deal with the chemo.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I can’t. Foggy brain means mistakes, and I can’t afford to make them. Lives are at stake. Besides, if I kept taking the pills, I would be dead now. I would have died in that alley Arturo Junior was dragging me into. My reflexes and agility would’ve been impaired, and I couldn’t have overpowered him.”
; As he’d expected, that gave Bridget pause.
She nodded. “Then I’m glad you stopped taking them. But you need to resume the treatment. Finish all your current jobs, and don’t take on any new ones even if they are from old clients you don't want to lose. Tell them you're booked or something. Stay in bed if you need to, but get healthy. I need you to live.” Her voice quivered, and the tears that had misted her eyes started spilling down her cheeks.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into his chest. “I really don’t want to, but I’ll do it for you. I’ll wait until my schedule is clear, send Alice on a much needed paid vacation, and have you take care of me while the chemo sucks the life out of me.”
She sniffled. “You make it sound so terrible.”
“Because it is.”
“I wish there was another way.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks.
“There might be. Let me try an induction before I restart the chemo. You said it yourself. Every case is different, and no two Dormants transition the same way. It might work for me despite the cancer. It’s worth the try. If it works, it will save me unnecessary hardship, and if it doesn't, I’ll at least know that I have no choice and have to suffer through it.”
Bridget looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want you to ever again hide things from me, or lie to me. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
“If you ever do that again, I’m going to kick you out and never let you back in again.”
“Understood.”
With a sigh, Bridget untangled herself from his arms, then took both of his hands in hers. “In the spirit of full disclosure, there are no guarantees the chemo will work, but you didn’t stick with it long enough to evaluate if it has done you any good.”
That was his main fear.
What if all it had been in vain?
What if his brilliant plan to escape the Grim Reaper had been flawed from the start because he hadn’t known transition was not possible while the body was sick?
What if the treatment he dreaded wasn’t even an option?
Unforeseen factors had the potential to derail every good plan, and regrettably, he couldn’t control and manipulate nature or fate’s design for him.