Michael opened the passenger door for me and I slid into the sleek leather seat. “Don’t worry about Becky,” he said. “She’s always been overprotective. She never knew her father, and I was the only consistent male figure in her life. Becky just doesn’t want to see me get hurt.”
I didn’t answer, and Michael and I didn’t talk anymore about it. We went back to his apartment, made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was wonderful, as usual, but somehow I couldn’t shake my sadness. Because I knew that I was living on borrowed time, that someday I was going to lose Michael Reynolds, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing I could do about it.
Chapter 16
By the end of the weekend, I was back in my happy world, a world that only consisted of Michael and me. But I would have to re-enter the real world – at least for a few days. Michael was leaving Monday morning for a conference and wouldn’t be back until Thursday.
“What am I going to do without you for four days?” I pouted on Sunday evening.
Michael laughed. “It’s three and a half, and I’ll be counting down the minutes.” He paused and said in a sexy voice. “And you’d better be here when I get back.”
Michael was always making me romantic dinners. Maybe I could surprise him, do something special. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I could buy sexy foods, like chocolate covered strawberries or truffles. I remembered the mousse Michael had made the first time he cooked for me, the first night I ever spent at his apartment. How we had alternated kissing and eating, how it had finally ended with me being fucked on top of the kitchen counter…
Yes, something rich and chocolaty would definitely be on the menu. His apartment was already romantic, with the beautiful view of the river and the elegantly styled rooms. I’d get some candles and turn down all the lights, then slip into the red lingerie he’d given me.
He isn’t even gone yet and you’re already planning his return! I knew I would be counting the hours until he got back.
I used the time that Michael was away to study like crazy. It was so difficult to think about school when all I wanted was to spend every minute with Michael. As much as I hated that he was out of town, it gave me the chance to catch back up on schoolwork and reading.
By the time it was Wednesday, I wanted to see Michael so badly that I thought I was going to lose my mind. I could barely concentrate during class, and when I got to the hospital I just hoped they would give me the most mundane task so I could zone out and fantasize about surprising Michael tomorrow.
Nurse Evie very happily told me I was going to be collecting the dirty bed sheets, since one of the orderlies had called in sick. I really disliked Evie. Still, at least I would be alone and not forced to talk to her.
So when I heard her page me about halfway through my shift, I groaned in annoyance. What now?
I hurried to the nurses’ station; Evie had an odd expression on her face.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone even.
“So this lady showed up a few minutes ago.” Nurse Evie gestured to a woman who was standing about ten feet away, reading one of pamphlets from the rack on the wall.
“Okay,” I said, even though I wanted to say, Why the fuck would I care?
“She said she needed to speak to you.”
“Huh?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah, I asked her why. She said she needed to talk to Dr. Reynolds’ girlfriend.”
I felt the color drain out of my face.
Seeing my reaction, Evie said angrily, “No use in denying it. Your face says it all.”
“Why should I have told you?” I shot back. “It’s my personal life, my business. It’s not like you’re my friend.” Shit. Why did I say that? I didn’t need to give her more reasons to make my life miserable.
Her face turned a deep crimson. “Well, she said she needed to talk to you, that she’s his ex-girlfriend. Her name is Abigail.” Evie paused. “Maybe you two can share romantic stories,” she said sarcastically.
I turned away from Evie, forcing myself not to say anything else to her. I didn’t want to go talk to Abigail, but I couldn’t stand there forever, with my back to Evie.
“Abigail?” I said coolly, walking towards her.
The woman turned around, and, after looking me up and down, a superior smile broke out on her face.
It was true that I wasn’t dressed to impress. Michael was out of town. I had thrown on jeans, a black knit top and sneakers. My hair was in a ponytail and I had no makeup on.
So what. That doesn’t give her the right to act like she’s better than me.
I jutted my chin out, trying to portray a confidence that I didn’t feel.
Of course, Abigail was gorgeous. She was tall, blond, huge tits, bright blue eyes and the kind of full lips women try to emulate with injections. I wasn’t so sure about the boobs, but the lips were real. No trout-pout for Abigail.
“What do you want?” I asked flatly, arms crossed over my chest.
Abigail smiled, but it was devoid of any friendliness. “I wanted to check out Michael’s newest piece of ass for myself.”
She’s trying to push your buttons. Michael isn’t like that. Remember, she’s the one who cheated on him.
So instead of saying anything, I burst out laughing. At first it was fake, meant to show Abigail that I was not a piece of ass and obviously our relationship was much better than hers had been with Michael. But the stress of everything that had happened lately, combined with my irrational fears of a future without Michael, quickly turned my fake laughter into real – albeit borderline hysterical – laughter.
I finally managed to wipe the tears from my eyes and catch my breath. Abigail was looking at me like I’d just grown a second head.
“You done?” she asked, her tone nasty.
“Yes, it’s just that what you said really cracked me up.” I giggled. “Maybe that’s what you were to Michael, but my relationship – not that it’s any of your business – is nothing like that.”
Abigail’s eyes flashed angrily. “Well, I see he’s lowered his standards,” she snapped, still intent on putting me down in any way possible.
Ignoring her slur, I said in an exaggeratedly polite voice, “Really, Abigail, can you please tell me why you’re here? I have a lot of work to do.”
“I want Michael back,” she said. So that was it. She wanted him back, and the first step was checking out – and potentially psyching out – the competition.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Michael is mine now.”
“We’ll see about that.” A faint smile played at her lips. “Michael really values his family’s opinion, and Becky had quite a few choice words to say about you.”
So that was how Abigail knew about me, had found me. His niece wouldn’t let it drop; she was determined that I wasn’t worthy of Michael but that Abigail was.
“Not to mention, there’s quite an age difference. Michael’s mature, and he needs a mature woman – like me. He’ll get bored with you soon enough. I don’t mind waiting,” Abigail said smugly.
Abigail’s words stung, but I couldn’t let her get into my head. So I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. “He may like mature women, but I don’t think he’s into cougars,” I said apologetically.
Obviously Abigail wasn’t a cougar, but she looked older than Michael, and if she was going to pick at me about my age, I was going to do it right back to her.
Abigail’s face turned a dark red.
Ha! I got to her.
She leaned forward. “I’ll have you know I’m only twenty-seven years old.”
“Really?” I asked, honestly surprised. “Must be all that tanning you do. Brings out the wrinkles at an early age.” I was being nasty, but she deserved it. And she really did look older than twenty-seven – but who knew if she had told me the truth? I would have pegged her at thirty-three.
“You’re a bitch, just like Becky said,” Abigail snapped.
“It was
nice to meet you, Abigail,” I said, turning to go.
I was halfway down the hall when I heard her call out, “It won’t be the last time you meet me, either.”
I just kept walking. I wasn’t really concerned that Michael would ever in a million years be tempted by Abigail. She was semi-psychotic, for Christ’s sake. They’d been apart for more than two years. Who comes up to someone’s workplace to intimidate the new girlfriend?
But I was concerned that Abigail was going to be a problem. A big problem. Stalking Michael, threatening me, adding as much stress to our lives as possible in the hopes that it would break us up and she could swoop in.
I sighed. I would have to talk to Michael about it tomorrow. He dated her for a long time. Surely he’d know how to handle her, how to make the Abigail problem go away. Right?
Chapter 17
I spent the rest of the day debating how to tell Michael about Abigail’s visit. But no matter how I played out the scene in my head, it didn’t go well. If I told him as soon as he walked through the door, our plan for a romantic evening would be ruined. Hearing what she had done was going to make him angry, and even if he promised to forget about it, it would be at the back of our minds for the rest of the evening.
But, if I didn’t tell him right away, waiting until the next morning, he might get pissed off that I would keep that from him, even if it was just for a night.
Thank God Maryanne was home when I got back to our dorm room. She’d know what to do.
“I need your help,” I wailed, slinging my bag on my bed and flopping down next to it.
“What happened?” she asked, a concerned look on her face.
“Abigail happened,” I said morosely.
“And Abigail is who? A nurse? A classmate?” Maryanne guessed.
“Nope, worse. She’s Michael’s ex. The last girl he seriously dated before me. The one he doesn’t like to talk about.”
“Oh, no, Lana!” Maryanne exclaimed. “Has she done something? Is she making a play to get Michael back?”
I quickly filled Maryanne in on meeting Abigail. “And the worst part is, if I tell Michael when he gets back tomorrow, it will put a real damper on the romantic evening I’ve planned. But if I don’t tell him until the next day, what if he accuses me of keeping things from him? I just don’t know what to do, MA!”
Maryanne nodded slowly. “This is precisely what Abigail wants. Cause a rift between you and Michael, increase the tension, stir up trouble.” Maryanne stood up and started pacing.
“Tomorrow, don’t say a word to Michael when he gets home. I doubt you’re planning to do much talking anyway,” she said with a smirk.
“The next morning, still don’t say anything,” Maryanne continued.
“But-“ I started to interrupt.
Maryanne held up her hand. “Hear me out.”
I nodded.
“I assume you’ll be spending most if not all of the weekend with Michael. That’s when you want to tell him. Bring it up as though you ‘almost forgot’ about Abigail coming up to the hospital.”
I shook my head. “He’ll know that’s bullshit, that I obsess about everything.”
“Okay.” Maryanne paused for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “So you say that you had every intention of telling him the second he walked in the door, but once you saw him all you could think about was fucking him.”
I laughed. “That actually is believable,” I admitted.
“When you finally do tell Michael over the weekend, just explain to him that every time you’re together you just want to be in his arms, not discussing the last girl who was in his arms. And – this is the most important part – he has to absolutely have no contact with Abigail. People who do shit like that want attention. If you and Michael don’t give her any, she will lose interest. Believe me.” Maryanne sat back down on her bed.
“And I won’t have to worry about him finding out Friday at the hospital. I looked at the schedule and that big mouth Evie isn’t on it.” I paused, thinking. “I suppose it could work,” I said slowly.
“It will – but only if you don’t do anything to encourage her,” Maryanne warned. “I saw this show once about a lady who was being stalked by a co-worker. She got a new job but he just kept calling her. Changed her phone number but he got the new one. So he was leaving her these crazy-ass messages – at first, they seemed almost harmless. Begging her to give him a chance, to let him take her on a date. But when she didn’t respond, it escalated. He started saying he would kill himself if he couldn’t have her.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“She must have ignored fifty messages, screened all of her calls for over a month. But then, one day her phone rang, and she was so pissed off, so sick of him, that she picked up the phone and told him to go to hell. That was it. Nothing we haven’t all said to someone before.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The phone calls doubled? He started showing up at her house?”
Maryanne shook her head. “Nope, he fucking got a gun and killed her.”
“Yikes, so you’re saying you think Abigail is capable of murder?”
“Nah, I’m not saying that at all. Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. The moral of the story is, people like that want attention. They can’t feed their fantasy if it’s all one-sided. If Michael even acknowledges what Abigail’s trying to do, she’s likely to up the ante. You know, decide somehow in her fucked up head that Michael telling her to leave him alone means he still loves her.”
“But what if she shows up at his apartment?” I whispered.
“Call the cops.” Maryanne’s voice was deadly serious. “And if she shows up at the hospital, call security. And if she shows up at school, get the campus guard. You get the drift.”
“Now you’re really scaring me,” I muttered.
“I’m not trying to, but you need to be aware of the potential, and be prepared for anything you can think of.”
“Okay.” I gulped.
“But don’t think about it now. And that’s an order!” Maryanne said. “Michael comes back tomorrow. What are you going to wear? How did you decide to surprise him? I want all the details!”
I laughed. I could feel my shoulders start to relax. I hadn’t even realized I had been holding them tight all day. Maybe Michael will give me a massage tomorrow.
Maryanne suggested we open a bottle of wine. I still wasn’t sure where she got them – maybe from Toby? – but she seemed to have a bottle handy whenever she felt like a drink.
I wasn’t complaining. We were long overdue for a girls’ night. We stayed up until almost three a.m., long after two bottles were gone and we had decided it would be a good idea to open a third. I remember making a comment that Maryanne must have a hidden underground cellar with an endless booze supply, which sent us into fits of giddy laughter.
I was shocked that my tolerance for alcohol was so high. I used to be such a lightweight. Must be all the bottles of wine I share with Michael. But Michael and I never got drunk, and by the time I went to bed there was no denying that I was most definitely drunk.
When my alarm went off on Thursday morning, I didn’t even try to pretend I was going to get up. I turned it off instead of hitting snooze.
“Ugh,” I heard Maryanne groan from the bed on the other side of the room. “Make it stop.” But the alarm was already off, and within minutes we were both fast asleep.
###
I didn’t wake back up until around noon. Maryanne was still sleeping. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed two bottled waters, then went over to Maryanne’s bed and tapped her lightly on the shoulder with one of them.
“Wake up, drunky head,” I said wryly.
“Shit, what time is it?” She rolled over and smoothed her frazzled hair.
“You don’t want to know. Suffice to say we’ve missed at least two classes each.”
“Oh, well, I didn’t do the homework anyway.” She grabbed one of the bottles from me and downed about three-fourth
s of it. I did the same with mine.
“Yeah, I don’t think I missed anything important. At least I hope not,” I said worriedly. “But hey, it was worth it. We haven’t stayed up like that in forever!”
Maryanne smiled. “I agree, but we should have planned it for the weekend!”
“I’m actually not too hung-over,” I admitted.
“Me neither,” she said. “We must have slept it off.”
“Yeah. I think I’ll blow off my other class today since I’ve already missed two. I want to do some shopping for tonight.”
“I’ll come with,” Maryanne offered.
“Perfect! I’d love the company.”
We quickly got dressed, slapped on some makeup and headed out the door.
Chapter 18
We spent the rest of the day shopping. Maryanne was always in the market for clothes, and I just wanted some new casual outfits that were a little bit sexy. Sure, I loved my red lingerie and little black dress, but I couldn’t exactly lounge around his apartment or on the balcony in those, or go for walks by the river.
Maryanne talked me into buying a pair of ‘booty shorts,’ as she called them. Like the name suggested, they barely covered my butt. But they looked good, and Maryanne would never steer me wrong. She also picked out some t-shirts for me to try. One had a lace back and a lightning bolt in sequins across the front. I would never have picked it out for myself, but I had to admit that I liked it.
By the time we got back to the dorm, I only had a few hours until Michael was home. I grabbed my new clothes and headed to his apartment. It felt strange, letting myself in – even though I had a key I had never needed to use it before – but strange in a good way. Like this was our shared space. Maybe someday it really will be.
I got a shower and stood in a towel while I blow-dried my hair, using a round brush curling technique that Maryanne had taught me. When I finished, I had soft, loose curls and waves framing my face.
Dark Moon Page 11