Merritt gripped her phone. The article was dated that day. That afternoon!
Merritt raced through the possibilities. Surgery? Brain damage? She saw Avery’s body in the dim light of the Jupiter Hotel. Avery had wanted her. For one delicate moment between orgasm and sleep, Merritt had been perfectly happy. Her heart seized with tenderness. She had planned on being angry at Avery for years, but not forever. Somehow she imagined they would always reconnect. At another reunion perhaps, she would see Avery at a distance, hesitate for a minute, then walk toward her, time slowing around them. I didn’t think I would see you again, she would say. And Avery would open her arms. Merritt, I missed you.
Merritt’s hands were trembling so much it took her several seconds to search for directions to the Extended Stay Deluxe.
“What about we paint the whole floor blue?” Alex was at her side again. “And then we get one of those projectors—”
Merritt stood up and grabbed her shop keys off a hook by the cash register. “Don’t touch anything. Lock up and get out of here. You. Cassie. Now.”
“You’re going to let me close the shop?”
Merritt was already running for her truck.
Rush hour had slowed the city to a crawl, and Merritt beat her palm on the steering wheel. She had missed Avery so much. The realization hit her like a wrecking ball hitting a load-bearing wall: It might be too late. She thought she had time to be angry, but what if she didn’t? Merritt prayed as she pulled onto I-84. If she’s okay, I’ll do anything. She would sell the hardware store. She would drive down to California, to some dusty-stucco, barred-window barrio. She would work construction like she did when Uncle Oli died. She would get a burner phone and eat from the mini-mart. She would live in a hovel. If only Avery was okay, she would give everything up. She offered a silent prayer.
* * *
She realized how foolish she was when she reached the Extended Stay Deluxe. Avery had said she was staying in room 1313. Doubly unlucky. But Avery was in the hospital. Maybe she’d been airlifted to Seattle. She wouldn’t be at her motel on Airport Way.
Chapter 14
In fact, Avery was in her room at the Extended Stay Deluxe, pressing an ice pack to the side of her face. Despite Greg’s protests, Venner wanted her back on set in the morning. Thirty-five days, he kept yelling, as if they had gotten an extension on building Rome. She limped over to the window. The hotel was only two stories high. From her vantage, she could see a row of parked cars, dying arborvitae, and beyond that the runways. She leaned her forehead against the glass.
For a moment she had lain on the pavement, staring into the blue sky and wondering if that was the end. Would her fans decorate a shrine in her honor? Would Merritt be sorry? Avery had guessed not.
Now she lay back down. The bed had been uncomfortable before. Hitting the pavement on Macadam Avenue had not improved it, but she fell asleep anyway. She wasn’t sure if she woke an hour later or a day. She knew she regretted waking up. Outside her room, footsteps hurried down the hall. It was probably Venner coming to harass her. She pulled a pillow over her head. The expected pound hit the door.
“Go away. I’m dying,” Avery called out.
“Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
“It’s too late. You can’t save me.”
“It’s not too late.”
The voice was muffled but tense. Avery pushed the pillow off her head.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Merritt.”
Merritt! She was here. Avery leapt from the bed. It hurt the second she moved. The room was a mess, clothes everywhere. The bed was wrecked. Her body was still encased in irradiated-green spandex. She grabbed her robe off the floor and opened the door.
Merritt, of course, looked great. She wore black tuxedo pants and a loose white shirt unbuttoned to reveal the slight swell of her breasts.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were at the hospital.” Merritt said. Her face read disapproval.
“How did you find me?”
“You told me your room number. Thirteen thirteen. Extended Stay Deluxe. Doubly unlucky.”
Avery’s voice quavered. “Come in.”
“Where’s Alistair? Why isn’t he with you?” Anger had drained Merritt’s face of color. She looked like an Armani model on a mission of retribution. Her hair and eyes so dark. Her face white and taut, shadows visible beneath her cheekbones.
“Working,” Avery said.
“That’s bullshit. What the hell is he doing? You’re just here? In your hotel?”
Avery caught her reflection in a mirror by the door. There were women who were beautiful enough to salvage this moment, women who could play refugees and one-armed assassins and still come off looking glamorous. She wasn’t one of them.
The fright of the crash hit her again. She’d gone down. Then Alistair was kneeling over her. Venner asking if she could see. Then sirens. An ambulance. Alistair was muscling Dan Ponza away, saying, Get off her. Then they were at the hospital. A technician took a few X-rays. A kind-faced doctor with a gray goatee shone a light in her eyes. Then Venner was saying, I think that’ll play really well on local. Venner had dumped her off in her hotel room with a curt, You better be ready tomorrow. Thirty-five days! A publicity stunt! She’d thought she was dying.
Of course Alistair had tried to cheer her up. He had brought her a box of Pop Beads, which appeared to be a children’s activity comprised of little plastic beads that clicked into one another so you could make necklaces. Why? she had asked. To cheer you up. It had taken an hour to convince Alistair she wanted to suffer alone.
Now Merritt glared at her in consternation.
“Look at you. You’re wrecked,” Merritt said. “It’s exploitation. Is this all going to be on film? Is this part of the finale?”
“Merritt.” Avery sat down on an ottoman, her shoulders slumped. Her whole body hurt. “I know you’re mad, but I can’t do this today. I just can’t.” She knew she couldn’t play the gorgeous assassin, but she was supposed to play the bouncy housewife. OMG, the crash was so cringe-worthy! But she didn’t have any bounce in her. She looked up at Merritt, who still stood by the door with a look of consternation on her face. “I was in an accident. I feel like shit. I have to be back at work tomorrow. I can’t—” Avery rested her head in her hands, rubbing her temples.
Merritt hated her. Venner was pissed. Greg and Alistair were working overtime to make up for the delay in filming. Her elbow was swollen. She’d accumulated scratches that would scar and her mother would insist on one of Dr. Miter’s chemical peels. She knew even moving on to the next city wouldn’t fix the hole in her heart.
“And I’m sorry about everything. I really am.” Avery felt miserable. She’d been so excited to see Merritt at the reunion, and now everything had gone so much worse than she could have imagined. “I didn’t want any of this, but I get that you don’t believe me. I wish I’d given you a reason to give me the benefit of the doubt, but I know I haven’t. Any other day, I’d want you to be here, even if it were just to yell at me, but you can’t yell today. Please. I know you’re mad, but I can’t take one more thing. Today you just have to go hate me someplace else. I can’t take another hit.”
She closed her eyes.
She didn’t hear Merritt cross the room. All she knew was that suddenly Merritt was kneeling behind her ottoman, cradling her gently against her chest.
“Baby,” Merritt murmured. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sweetie, don’t think I meant that. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at them. Why isn’t someone here with you? Why aren’t you at the hospital?”
It felt like a dream. She could smell Merritt’s cologne: cedar and sandalwood. Merritt lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bed. When Merritt set her down, Avery clung to her.
“What happened?” Merritt asked.
“I didn’t know about your building,” Avery said. “I really didn’t.”
“Not the building. You. You’ve got blood in your ha
ir.”
Damn. It could get worse. She had so much hair, and now she was a walking biohazard, but Merritt held her, then placed the lightest kiss on her forehead.
“Sweetheart,” she murmured.
“We were doing the bike ride. Me, Al, DX. I was just following DX, and she went off course and onto this ramp. She was on a BMX bike. Who does stunts in the children’s hospital fun ride?”
“Did you have a BMX bike?”
“A big cruiser.”
“You can’t do jumps on a cruiser.”
“Who knew, right? It wasn’t even that big of a jump.” It was all so not gloriously tragic. “When I came to, it looked like I had fallen off a curb. DX didn’t even know what happened. She thought my chain broke. Alistair tried to tell me I was okay, but then Venner swooped in and started yelling about how my pupils were different. I was having a stroke. ‘It’s a brain bleed,’ he kept yelling. I thought it was real. I was so scared.” She clung to Merritt, thinking as she did that she should let go. This was too much desperation. She should have accepted a hug and pulled away, not clasped Merritt like she was drowning. But Merritt felt so good, and Avery felt so safe in her arms. “It was everything flashing before my eyes. What if I couldn’t walk or I couldn’t think, and I lost everything, and I…I never got to see you again? And Venner let me be scared. He loved it, and later he said he just wanted to make it look good for the camera because it gave us more drama. You’re right. It’s all fake. The show. The accident. God, none of it’s real. I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry I left.
I’m sorry I never called.
I’m sorry my company stole your building.
“Have you gotten out of this outfit? Has anyone looked you over?”
Avery had tried to squirm out of her green suit, but it hadn’t been easy to get in and out of it pre-bicycle-crash. It wasn’t worth the pain of extricating herself now.
“It’s too tight.”
“You really should.” Merritt’s voice was full of concern. “Do you want to wear this again?”
Avery laughed. “Do you even see where they put the logos?”
A copy of the Global Body Biscuit logo—a world with a bite taken out of it—covered each of Avery’s nipples. Avery thought Merritt’s eyes lingered.
“I’ve had those biscuits,” Merritt said. “I think this is false advertising. They weren’t nearly so—” Merritt stopped herself, but she smiled too.
This was who they had been at sixteen, Avery thought, teasing each other, talking dirty, letting their eyes meet over an insinuation they both understood. If only she’d had the courage to be bolder when they were kids and everything was still possible.
“I have a pocketknife. I could get you out of that thing. I’ll be careful.”
Avery loved the seriousness in her dark eyes. “Okay.”
Very carefully, Merritt pulled the neck of Avery’s suit away from her skin and sliced the tip of a tiny pocket blade through the fabric. The green spandex pulled apart faster than Avery would have liked, as though she’d been squeezed into a suit that was half a size too small. She wished she had Merritt’s long bones and angular frame. Avery looked away, wincing at the thought of Merritt examining her.
“I’m a mess,” Avery said. “Don’t look.”
“How could I not look?” Merritt said, and Avery thought she heard just a touch of awe in Merritt’s voice.
Merritt offered Avery her hand and helped her out of the rest of her suit. They stood together: Avery naked, Merritt clothed. Avery remembered their night at the Jupiter Hotel, and she felt a whisper of hope. Merritt examined her carefully, first lifting her hair from her shoulders—delicately, without touching her skin—then smoothing her hand gently down Avery’s arms and turning her around. Her touch was so gentle it felt like a warm breeze, but everywhere Merritt touched her and everywhere Merritt looked, Avery felt the pain of her crash fade away.
“Baby,” Merritt said again. “Ah, sweetheart. You’re all bruised up and scraped. I can’t believe they didn’t take care of you at the hospital. I’m going to run you a bath.”
Merritt disappeared into the bathroom. Avery heard the water running. A moment later Merritt returned.
In the tub, the warm water stung for a moment, and then Avery felt her muscles relax. Merritt knelt beside her and gently smoothed a washcloth along her shoulders and across her cheek. Avery longed for Merritt to release the cloth and touch her everywhere.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Merritt said.
“You’re not. You won’t.”
Finally, Merritt let the cloth swim away. She dipped her hands in the water and ran them through Avery’s hair, her fingertips massaging Avery’s scalp and untangling the matted curls. Avery thought it was the most delicious sensation she had ever felt. She could lay there forever. That was a feeling she couldn’t remember: wanting to stay.
What she did remember were all the times she had run her hands through Merritt’s silky hair. Lying by the river or in Merritt’s bed. She had loved the way Merritt shifted under her caress, like a cat arching to be petted. It had sent a shiver of electricity through her. Now, as the sweet ache of arousal replaced the pain of her crash, she thought, Did I turn her on? Was that what Merritt’s reluctant sighs had been about? Was that why it had seemed like she courted Avery’s touch, laying her head on Avery’s thigh or stretching her arms above her head so that Avery could not resist the urge to draw her fingernails down Merritt’s lean back? Was that why sometimes she had also shaken Avery off and paced away, her face taut?
Too soon, Merritt stopped and rested her hands on the edge of the tub, gazing at her seriously.
“Let me get you out of there,” Merritt said. “I should let you rest. Do you want me to call anyone for you?”
Slowly, Avery stepped out of the tub. Merritt steadied her. She held out Avery’s robe and wrapped it around her. But Avery didn’t want Merritt dressing her. She wanted Merritt to slide into the warm water with her. She wanted Merritt to make her forget all her bruises. She knew Merritt could, and the thought alone made her quiver.
“I should go,” Merritt said.
Don’t! This moment wasn’t supposed end with Merritt handing her a dressing gown. They were supposed to strip the coverlet off the bed. Merritt was supposed to kiss every inch of her body. She could almost feel Merritt’s fingers inside her. She had to seize the moment. She had to be like a Peruvian cowboy microchipping a jaguar…or something.
All Avery could manage was, “Alistair gave me a set of Pop Beads. He thought it would cheer me up.”
“Pop Beads?”
Avery nodded to the kit on the table. “But you can’t do them alone,” she said.
“Is it like drinking?” Merritt picked up the box. “‘Ages five to eight. Parental supervision suggested.’ Ah, that’s it. You might eat them.”
“Alistair’s weird. I don’t think he actually knows what people give each other for gifts.”
She could hear DX in the back of her mind. I told you to tie yourself to her bed, and you came up with Pop Beads? Merritt probably took her women to avant-garde plays. They probably crushed grapes with their feet and went to burlesque shows and walked around Merritt’s apartment naked with the windows open.
Merritt wore a rueful smile. She adjusted the lapels of Avery’s robe.
“I would love to make Pop Beads with you, but I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
But before Merritt stepped away, Avery mustered her courage—way more than it took to walk up a red carpet, more than it took to speak to audiences of hundreds, even a little bit more than it took to go out on the town with DX. Then she leaned up on tiptoe and planted a darting kiss on Merritt’s lips.
“Avery.” Merritt shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”
But she touched Avery’s wrist, and she looked like someone wrestling with a great dilemma. With one trembling hand, Avery reached up and caressed the swirl of Merritt’s ear. Merritt l
eaned her head into Avery’s hand. Emboldened, Avery cupped Merritt’s breast with her other hand, feeling the lace of Merritt’s bra over her hardening nipple. Merritt sighed like someone setting down a great weight.
“It’s okay,” Avery whispered. She wanted to say, I want you. Take me. She kissed Merritt again. This was the woman she wanted to be. Bold. Free.
“I can’t,” Merritt murmured.
Then their tongues were moving slowly against each other, the sensation lighting a fire of desire in Avery’s body. Avery stroked Merritt’s back, slipping her hands under Merritt’s shirt and trailing her nails down Merritt’s smooth skin. Merritt could have any woman, but Avery could tell that right now Merritt wanted her. Merritt was melting in her hands. Avery might be the plain girl from the high school dramedy, but if Merritt made love to her she would be someone better. A seductress. A femme fatale. A woman with jellyfish in her waterbed.
“I think we should do what we should have done the summer after senior year,” Avery said when their lips parted again. “Remember when we were kids? You could have a summer fling and you didn’t break up at the end of the summer; you just…understood that summer wasn’t part of your real life. You didn’t expect anything to last. No one got hurt because it was magic. It wasn’t real.”
“I never had that summer.”
Merritt leaned her forehead against the top of Avery’s head.
“Neither did I. So let’s have it now.” Avery spoke quickly, afraid the words would freeze up in her throat and, once again, she’d fail to ask. “I’m in Portland for thirty-five more days. Be my lover. No promises. No commitments. I know you aren’t going to go back into the closet.”
“I never was in the closet.”
“And I’m not going to quit King and Crown. But that night with you was…”
Worth the Wait Page 9