Drunk more than he was sober those first few days. But, that was unfair to Gabby. To all of them who worried about him. Besides there wasn’t enough liquor on the island to drown out his father’s disapproval.
Or, make him forget her.
In the bars, on the beach, working on Alex’s boat, Gina was always there in his mind. Still is. A constant reminder of his misery that never seems to dull.
His fingertips trail over the curved lines. A permanent souvenir from his rare impulsivity. Yet no regrets. He chuckles to himself as he steps onto the tile and lets the steam loosen his throbbing muscles. And, an excellent way to deflect the flirting from the over-friendly girls participating in Alex’s snorkeling excursions. One look at the tattoo and their wandering hands would fall back to their sides. Perfect, because no matter how gorgeous or aggressive or seductive they were, none of them compare to Gina.
His body tightens, hard as always with need for her. God, he fucking misses her. He grips himself, flicking his wrist to try and lessen some of the pressure, yet increasing the burn even more. Aching for the only woman who owns his heart.
No comparison to her touch on him. Her delicate hands caressing him until he almost explodes. Her rebellious laughter before little moans of pleasure overtake her humor. Her teeth sinking into his skin, marking him with proof that she’s his.
His eyes fly open. But she’s not. Never was. Never will be. Because he can’t give in to everything he’s ever wanted without hurting her more than he already has.
Damn. He can’t do this. The release leaves him even emptier than before when it’s not inside of her. He yanks the knob, his body jerking at the sudden frigidity engulfing his flaming skin as icy water pours down his chest.
He grabs a towel off the rack, warm from the heated bars. Another perk of living in a luxurious penthouse, which he’s a dumb ass for ever coming to in the first place. He moved out of the mansion for her. So she could heal without having to deal with the animosity between them. Focus on getting better without him getting in the way.
Or maybe it’s the other way around. Barely able to keep his distance from her now, he’d fucking crumble in a heartbeat if he saw her gorgeous face. If he touched her cashmere skin or heard the smart ass teasing in her silky voice.
Yet she never moved in. Should have known she’d be too fucking stubborn to accept Shae’s generous offer. Now she’s back in her townhouse, her mom and her husband taking care of her. Exactly the way it should be. Exactly what he wants. And still feels like fucking shit nonetheless.
Regardless how many times Shae tells him that Gina loves him, even she can’t deny the truth. He acts like a fucking stalker, but doesn’t give a damn. He has to know, to make sure she’s okay. And, Richard’s always there. Just like he knew the man would be. Never left the hospital, keeping vigil over her for weeks. Visiting her every day once she moved to the rehabilitation facility. Practically living with her again.
All the proof he needs to confirm he can’t be the one who smothers any chance of their reconciliation. It’s what her parents want. What her friends want. Maybe even her. Because as much as she swore she was going to divorce Richard, she never signed the papers. Never told him their relationship was over. Never completely unpacked, or let go of her old life. Holding back from giving herself to him completely because she still loves her husband.
Which is great. God damn fucking perfect actually. He’s fucking thrilled how happy she must be. He tosses the rumpled terrycloth onto the counter. Time to get his head out of his ass and get to work.
An hour later, Nick’s laughter greets him as he steps inside the house from the garage. It’s been a long damn time since his friend has sounded so content.
“I’m serious.” Shae’s soft laugh mingles through her humorous tone. “They broke the kitchen table, the shower door in the guest bath, and then Nathan fell out of the hammock and chipped his tail bone. The doctor told him no sexual activity for at least six weeks. He blames Carrie.”
“Of course. Only she would injure her husband trying to christen every room in the house.”
He chuckles too at the source of their amusement. Missing Carrie more than he realized. “Damn newlyweds.”
Shae’s face lights up at his voice coming from the hallway, and she reaches out for him as he walks up.
“Good morning.”
After brushing her cheek with a kiss, he drops down into a seat across from them. Ten chairs surround the huge table yet she cuddles next to Nick, his huge hand entwined with hers resting on his thigh. A picture of pure happiness. Just like he knew they would be once they trusted themselves and each other. If only he could’ve been so fucking lucky.
“Are you going to join us?”
He shakes his head at her bowl of yogurt heaped with blueberries. Too much healthy goodness for one meal. “Nah, I ate already. I’m good.”
“But, Marta’s keeping pancakes and bacon warm for you.”
“Well…” Unable to resist that temptation, he shrugs, feigning disinterest. Both of them know he’s a fucking faker. “I guess maybe I could…”
“Good.” Her eyes widen as big as her smile, and she jerks up, her belly bumping the table. “Oh! I forgot to get the maple syrup for you.”
Orange juice sloshes over the rim of her glass, and Nick reaches for her elbow to steady her. “Jesus Christ, sweetness. You scare the shit out of me when you do that. I thought you were having a contraction.”
“I’m fine.” She leans toward Max and winks. “He worries too much, doesn’t he?”
Laughing at her attempts to conspire with him, he holds up his palm. Fuck that. No way is he ganging up on Nick with her. He’ll never win that argument against his boss. “Just watch that thing, okay? You’re dangerous whipping it around everywhere.”
It’s her turn to laugh as Nick pulls her down next to him, kissing her temple. Good. His friend can take care of his wife, and he can get his own syrup and all the bacon he wants. Cinnamon sugar fills the air when he slides open the warming drawer. God bless Marta and her cooking talents. His stomach growls for the first time that he can remember in weeks, and his muscles relax a bit from the tension always gripping them. Feels good to be home again. The three of them just as much family to him as his own relatives.
Nick rolls his eyes and Shae giggles again as he sets the platter onto the glass top. No sense dirtying a plate when he’s just going to demolish the entire pile. “So, what’s on our schedule today?”
Not that he doesn’t know. The route has already been researched and every location swept and cleared from the itinerary Nick gave him yesterday. Shielding her from the precautions they put in place to protect both her body and her well-being.
"I have my pregnancy yoga class at nine."
Nick smirks at him about that destination. Fucker takes too much enjoyment in his suffering. Andy’s already warned him about feeling enormous and awkward around all those tiny women bending themselves into trees and dogs and other crazy shit.
“Your gut’s going to be so fucking huge from eating all that you’ll fit right in.”
“You know how much I love my little bacon baby.” Max pats his stomach, his abs already sore from his marathon of crunches yesterday. "Anything else?"
“I’m meeting with the designers to see the first sketches. We’ve added maternity clothes to the line." Her smile falters before her gaze drops to her spoon, slowly swirling the utensil through the white cream in her dish. “Then I have my appointment with Dr. Meyer.”
His chest tightens at her embarrassment. No shame in seeing the psychiatrist. Especially after everything she’s been through. Hell, he probably needs to see the doctor himself as fucked up as he is inside. “Perfect. Then afterward I’ll let you talk me into going to that cupcake place down the block from her office.”
The grin returns to full wattage, and she shakes her head at him. “I think it’s the other way around.”
He winks before shoving in another bite. Mission
accomplished. She’s back to her light-hearted self. “We'll see.”
“Come on.” Nick stands, drawing Shae up with him and wrapping his arm around her waist. “I’ll walk out with you.”
He swallows his last bite and follows them outside, striding around the back of the SUV just as Nick cups her face. Giving them privacy to say their good-byes, he shuts out their murmurs of love. A bitter reminder of the words he'll never get to say again.
After she climbs in, Nick pushes the passenger door shut and nods to him. A silent message confirming his boss’ trust in him to keep her safe.
She twists in her seat, adjusting the seatbelt over the curve of her belly. “Andy’s wonderful, but I’m glad to have you back too. I feel very safe between the two of you.”
“He’s a good guy. I’m glad you like him.”
“I do. Except that he doesn’t like doughnuts. That makes no sense to me.”
A chuckle bubbles in his throat from her shocked tone. The addiction won’t die even when she’s trying to be healthy. “Well, then I’m really glad I’m back. I didn’t want you to go into sugar withdrawal or anything.”
She squeezes his forearm as it rests on the console between them. “Me too. I missed you.”
Her hand slides to her lap and she twists the rings on her finger. A nervous tic signaling she has something else to tell him. Something he’s not going to like.
“Since Renata is leaving to go back to Brazil, Nick and I are going to check on Gina later and make sure she’s doing okay on her own. You’re welcome to come with us if you want.”
Heat flames his body at the unexpected mention of her name. Fuck yes he wants to go with her. He’d fucking crawl if he had to. Sweep Gina up and bury his face in her neck. Let her lavender scent wash over him before he lays her back on the silky sheets and shows her everything she means to him.
He blows out a deep breath trying to calm his dick and his heart. Shae’s intentions are as hopeful and innocent as her voice, but her attempts to reconcile them won’t work. He can’t let them.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“You guys need to talk. Maybe you can figure--”
“No.” Her head droops down at his harshness. He’s a fucking dick for hurting one of his best friends. Maybe because he’s in so much pain himself.
“I’m sorry.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel, matching the squeezing in his chest. “But you know I’m trying to do the right thing. Which is the absolute worst fucking torture I’ve ever endured. I have to do what’s best for her and that includes not seeing her.”
A sad smile crosses Shae’s face as she nods. For as much as she wants to fix this unfixable problem, she knows too well the sacrifices that need to be made when you’re protecting the person you love. “I just want you to be happy too.”
Not possible. “I know. Thank you.”
Funny how open he can be with her now after all they’ve endured. Almost like with his sister. The pain too much to try and pretend anymore that he’s got his shit together. And, grateful she doesn’t hold it against him for being a weak ass pussy.
“Have you given any more thought to moving back in?”
Constantly. The comfort of his old life beckons to him all the time. Yet, the memories just create an illusion of happiness that can no longer be sustained. Living with them, especially after the baby comes, would only remind him of everything he can’t have.
“The penthouse is okay. I’ll probably hang out there for a while.”
“We really do want you to come home. It’s not the same without you.”
He parks in the closest spot near the building and performs a quick scan of their perimeter. All clear except for the lone paparazzi about ten feet from entrance. “All right. I’ll think about it.”
She accepts his promise with a huge smile that entices a grin of his own before he climbs out of the vehicle and strides to her side. He’d be fucking lying to say it doesn’t feel good to be wanted. With his hand on her elbow, he tucks her against him and guides her toward the gym.
“Hey Shae! Over here! You look as beautiful as ever honey. Absolutely glowing.”
Slowing her pace, she gives the photographer the chance to snap a few shots. “Thanks, Tommy.”
Unable to let her polite nature make her an even bigger target than she already is, he tugs her away from the open area and into the studio. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
Crimson circles flame on her cheeks. “I know. But, he’s always so sweet. I’m sure he’s harmless.”
Not like the other ones who hound her, stalking her without restraint. But, for ten grand a photo, the prize remains too great for them to pass up the opportunity. He hates squelching her generosity but he can’t allow her kindness to get her killed.
Always trying to make his job as easy as possible, she chooses an open spot in the back row, clearly visible through the window. She gives him a small wave and fluffs her blanket over her mat, smiling in response to the lady next to her who leans in to talk. A familiar face in a class full of celebrities and socialites although he’s not quite sure which category the woman falls into.
An hour with nothing to do but think. Which is nothing but fucking dangerous in his mood. His hands scrub over his face. Maybe he should move back to the mansion. Shae’s due in less than two months, and he needs to talk with Andy about staying on permanently. One of them can lead the team to protect the baby.
He glances at her through the glass. Shae stands with the heel of her foot pressed against her other calf. No wobbling or swaying. He counts to forty before his phone pings. Pretty impressive.
Tapping the screen, his muscles tense at Dominic’s name popping up.
Enrique’s taking Renata to the airport. Gina will be by herself.
What the fuck? They’re leaving her alone. Thank fucking God he gave strict orders to notify him if that ever happened. His fingers pound the tiny keyboard. He wants to type he’s on his way. Even more, he wants to fucking be on his way. To take care of her. To give her everything she needs to get better. But he forces himself to hold back. To type what he should rather than what he wants.
Call the number I gave you. The nurse
A new message appears before he can finish.
False alarm. Enrique said Richard will be here soon.
Good.
It’s fucking anything but good. No matter how much he wishes it to be. And, it’s never going to get any easier. He blows out a deep breath, watching the instructor step between the stretched out bodies waving tiny sticks over their heads. What the fuck is this shit?
Shae’s hands rest on her bump, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. At least she’s getting something out of this fucked up shit. He shakes his head and focuses on his work, scrolling through the remaining messages. Somehow try to get back up to speed after being gone for so long.
The door to the workout room opens and the women file out. Some meander, balancing their bags, towels, and water bottles as they chat with each other. A few are slaves to their phone screens, catching up after being offline for a mere sixty minutes. Slow heat spreads through his chest when the exodus slows to a trickle. None of them are Shae.
He steps through the doorway, already searching the space behind the wiry man blowing out candles on a shelf lining the front of the room. “Where’s Shae Armstrong?”
The man’s eyes narrow at his inquisition. Probably thinking he’s some kind of psycho celebrity stalker. “This is a private class. Now, I must ask you to leave or I’m going to call the--”
The flame roars to an inferno. Wrong answer. “Where the fuck is she?”
He flinches at the threatening tone, and jumps back, knocking the votives together with the black snuffer in his shaking hand. Blue wax puddles on the wood, dripping over the edge like raindrops onto the wicker baskets underneath. “Sh-she went to the locker room. Then I saw her talking to some guy in the back hall.”
Fury pounds in his head. God
damn fucking son of a bitch. Someone scared her enough to make her leave. Without him.
“Is everything okay? What’s wrong? Wait!”
Ignoring the bewildered man’s cries behind him, he blows through the empty room to the other door. After jerking it open, he jogs down the hallway, his gaze flicking from room to room. All of them fucking empty. He pauses, straining to listen over the piped in fucking kumbaya music. Voices carry from the right, and he races toward the muffled argument.
Fucking motherfucker. Evan grips her upper arms, refusing to release her as she struggles against him. Scarlet streaks her face and she shakes her head at her former fiancé. Bastard who swore he loved her and then tampered with her test results to make her think she miscarried Nick’s baby.
Max yanks the handle but the door doesn’t budge. Son of a fucking bitch. Glass slivers scrape across his knuckles and down his arm as his fist drives through the window, and he reaches in and unlatches the lock. A sharp shriek escapes her mouth at the shards spraying through the air, crunching under his shoes as he runs toward them.
Evan’s wide eyes meet his before he yanks him off of her and shoves him backward, his flailing body toppling the decorative trees in the small waiting area. “Don’t fuck with me. Or I’ll finish what Nick started, and this time there won’t be anyone to pull me off.”
Letting the bastard fall to the ground, he twists back to Shae scanning her trembling body for injuries. “Are you okay?”
Her lips purse together and she shakes her head. “He said Carrie’s hurt. We have to get to the hospital.”
“That’s a lie.” Scrunching down, he meets her tear-filled gaze at eye level. “You know we’re guarding her too. If something happened, I would know. She’s okay.”
Evan pushes off of the floor and steps closer. "You can't trust him. He's in on it too. Nick’s just paying him to tell you--"
Truth About Tequila (Surviving Absolution #3) Page 15