“I’m so sorry, Thom,” Deanna murmured against his shoulder. “I acted like a total ass tonight.”
She kissed his shoulder, and he turned over gathering her in his arms. “How long have you been here?” he asked, nuzzling her soft curls.
“I came in after you fell asleep. I wanted to be close to you, but I was afraid you were too angry to let me sleep with you tonight.”
“My sweet girl, I could never be that angry with you.”
Deanna ran her fingers through his hair enjoying the feel of the long, silken strands as they brushed against her face. “I’m still your girl?” She searched his beautiful blue eyes hoping that he really had forgiven her.
Thom cupped her face and smiled, his thumbs caressing the velvety skin of her cheeks. “You will always be my girl, Deanna. Always.”
Chapter 25
Nigel patiently stirred the eggs, sprinkling in bits of cheddar cheese, and crispy bacon along with a generous helping of cubed ham. He turned the heat down to let the gooey concoction bubble and simmer slowly and glanced over at the London Times spread out on the table. He was anxious to sit down and eat his substantial breakfast while skimming over the latest world news. As he popped two slices of bread into the toaster he heard someone clear their throat and turned around to see who it was.
“Well, well,” Maggi Atwell drawled. “Isn’t this just a heart-warming domestic scene?”
Nigel huffed and turned back to the toaster. “I must be asleep and in the throes of a horrible nightmare,” he retorted.
“Ouch,” Maggi smirked. She opened the refrigerator and began to rifle through its contents. When she closed the door Nigel was staring at her, his mouth tight with distaste.
“Why haven’t you disappeared? Surely you’re nothing more than a bad piece of meat or something equally unpleasant I ate before going to bed last night,” he said, frowning at her.
Maggi breezed past him, wearing nothing but one of Nick’s shirts which barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, and sat at the table, opening a section of the Times.
Nigel walked up to her and snatched the paper out of her hands.
“That’s no way to treat a guest. Nick’s guest in case you hadn’t figured it out.” Her gaze traveled over his bare chest and she smiled lasciviously. “Are you cold or just excited to see me again?”
Her leering grin made Nigel want to cover his chest with the section of newspaper clutched in his hand. The bitch knew how to push his buttons every time. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he snapped. “The only thing you excite is my revulsion.”
“Lame, Nigel, very lame.” Maggi studied her nails, turning her fingers this way and that, making Nigel’s pulse race with anger. She looked up at him, her expression smug. “I’ll be spending a lot of time here. Nick and I have become very close.”
“Poor sod,” Nigel said and turned back to his scrambled eggs.
“Who’s a poor sod?” Nick asked as he strolled into the kitchen. He pulled Maggi up out of her chair and hugged her tightly, kissing her soundly on the mouth once, and then a second time.
Nigel shivered with disgust at the intimacy between the two. Nick obviously had no idea what an evil viper Maggi Atwell was, and it was obvious that she had already sunk her venomous fangs into the unsuspecting bloke, filling him with her poison. “Shit!” Nigel thought angrily. He would be forced to look for another place to live and he liked it here.
Nick released Maggi and walked over to Nigel to peer over his shoulder. “Smells delicious, mate.”
Dumping the eggs onto a plate, Nigel handed it to Nick. “It’s all yours. I’m sure there's enough for two.” He pointed to the toaster. “Two slices of toast as well so bon appetite.”
Nick watched curiously as Nigel gathered up the Times and left the kitchen with a nod to him and Maggi.
“Wasn’t that nice of him, babe?” Maggi said. She snatched a piece of the fragrant concoction and put it in her mouth. “Mm, lovely.” She led Nick to the table and coaxed him to sit down. “I’ll butter the toast and get the jam out of the fridge.”
“Get another plate, lovey,” Nick said while scooping up a forkful of the steaming, aromatic eggs.
Maggi set a plate containing their buttered toast on the table, along with a jar of marmalade and settled into Nick’s lap. “There’s no need for another plate,” she smirked and spooned a helping of eggs into Nick’s mouth. While he chewed, Maggi placed his hand between her thighs, moaning when his fingers found their mark. “Why don’t we make this meal into a champagne brunch?” she whispered in Nick’s ear. “I saw a bottle in the fridge we can crack open.” She wiggled against his hand and giggled, “I think you can guess what's for dessert.”
They hurried through their meal, anxious to finish what they had started at the breakfast table over Nigel’s tasty scrambled eggs.
A pretty waitress set a plate heaped with food in front of Nigel and asked if he needed anything else. He asked for another cup of tea with plenty of milk and sugar, digging into the hot food as soon as she walked away. After giving his breakfast to Nick, he went to his room to put on a T-shirt and left the flat hoping to find a place to eat and read his newspaper in peace. It was unbelievable that his new mate had fallen under Maggi’s spell. Even more unbelievable was his own misguided pity for her during their stay at Glaston Hall. If Maggi had shown more concern after he told her that Deanna overheard them having sex, he wouldn’t have grown to hate her. Instead of owning up to her part in the sordid affair, she had laid all the blame on him. There was no doubt that Maggi had shown her true colors. It sickened him to think that he actually had sex with the self-centered bitch. The food suddenly lost its appeal so Nigel laid his fork down and took a long drink of the hot, milky tea, his stomach roiling and burning with distaste at his stupid, irresponsible mistake.
The damage was done and it was impossible to ignore the many hurdles he faced to win Deanna back. He was confident that she had lied about her feelings for Thom; the truth was in the kiss they shared at the club. There was no doubt in his mind that she still loved him. But would that be enough to lure her away from the blonde knight who had ridden up on his white steed and spirited her away? It was hard not to get discouraged when he thought of the weeks Thom had spent with Deanna, biding his time before making his move. He must have gained her trust by treating her kindly. He couldn't fault Thom for that, except that it was Deanna who hadn’t been able to resist the loving, patient bloke who eagerly lent an ear when she needed to talk and almost certainly catered to her every need. He should have been that kind of man for Deanna, but he had been too bloody terrified of losing his heart to her. Fear had made him cruel and selfish. It would serve him right if she stayed with Thom but it would break his heart. Despite his misgivings he wasn’t about to surrender now. He loved Deanna: with every breath he took, with every beat of his heart, and with every fiber of his being.
Chapter 26
The day had been unusually hot, even for August. The foursome lolled on the thick grass drinking tepid wine from a goatskin that Jayson’s father had brought back from Greece a few summers back. The music was good, the wine was potent, and the fun was free so no one complained.
Towards the end of the concert, after the sun had gone down and the stars shone brightly in the clear, English sky, Jayson dug in his knapsack and pulled out two podgy, overstuffed joints. Each was bursting at the seams of its cheap rolling paper, and there were tiny greenish-brown twigs sticking out like insect legs. He lit the first one and passed it to Deanna. She inhaled deeply and let the acrid smoke fill her lungs before exhaling it into the night air. She passed the smoldering joint to Thom and laid back on the grass to study the stars. Thom slid his hand under her head and lifted it, covering her mouth with his while gently blowing smoke between her lips. She wondered briefly what her parents would think if they could see her now and laughed, forcing the smoke out like a blast of steam.
“You’re wasting good shit,” Thom teased, grabbing her for anot
her kiss without the pungent smoke.
Deanna clasped his head and pulled him closer, savoring the taste of wine and marijuana on his mouth. The music was so loud they could feel the bass drum vibrating through the rough ground and into their bodies as Thom pressed her down against the velvety blades of grass. He pulled back and gazed at her, his eyes twinkling like the stars in the inky black sky. “I love you, Deanna.”
She stared into the neon blue depths of his eyes feeling as though she could see his beautiful and noble soul tucked neatly into a space right below his heart and silently prayed for his patience and understanding. She wanted to love him the way that he deserved to be loved but needed a little more time to sort out her feelings. Although it had been months since the break-up with Nigel and her tragic miscarriage, her emotions were still whirling and spinning with hurricane force. Pulling Thom down beside her, she snuggled closely against him while they smoked the rest of the joint, drifting away on gentle waves of drug-induced serenity.
Hours later they lay tangled in the bed sheets, sated and muzzy from lovemaking, wine, and weed. Deanna yawned and stretched like a cat while Mims mirrored her movements from her makeshift bed on Thom’s pillow. “I’m going to make coffee, do you want some?”
Thom shook his head and rolled over, pulling the sheet up around his neck. Mims licked his hair, and he batted her away, groaning a little with the effort. Leaving the comfort of their warm bed, Deanna slipped on her robe and lifted Mims off of Thom’s pillow, cradling the cat’s fuzzy body against her chest. While she waited in the kitchen for the coffee to brew, she heard a roaring sound outside of the flat. She hurried to the front window and peeked through the shutters just as Nigel eased his gleaming motorbike against the curb. He lowered the kickstand and pulled off his leather gloves before dismounting the bike. He hesitated for a few seconds then sauntered up to the door to ring the bell. Deanna jerked back from the window, pressing her hand over her heart which was pounding like a jack-hammer against her ribcage as though it was trying to shatter the bones. Panic stricken and unable to move, she listened to the doorbell buzzing persistently until she wanted to cover her ears and scream for Nigel to get away from her door.
“Are you gonna answer that?” Thom called down from the landing. “It‘s probably Nigel.”
“You knew he was coming over?” Deanna shouted angrily. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“We’re working on a song together, love. It’s called “Beyond the Darkness.” I told you about it last week, remember?”
It made no difference whether she remembered or not, he should have mentioned this to her yesterday. His casual indifference made her feel like he had arranged a surprise visit from Nigel just to see how she would react. That made her blood boil and her hackles rise. “Stay cool, Deanna,” a little voice in her head advised as she stalked to the door and pulled it open, avoiding Nigel’s unreadable sunglass stare.
“Oh, uh...hi, Deanna,” he stammered.
He gawked at her in a ridiculously annoying way that could only be described as “gobsmacked.” The disgusting British slang term made her feel like searching the bottom of her slippers for something gross and slimy. She almost laughed at how perfectly it suited Nigel's silly expression as he fidgeted with his leather gloves.
“Hey,” she muttered and stepped aside to let him in.
Thom was standing on the stairs holding a bath towel, waiting for Nigel to come into the living room. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Deanna can get you a cup of coffee or tea if you like.”
“Deanna can get you a cup of coffee or tea if you like.” She imitated Thom’s simpering tone silently. What had Nigel said at the club last Thursday? He said that Thom had threatened to bash his face in, yet Thom's suddenly acting like the two of them are as thick as thieves. He must not see Nigel as a threat anymore. If he only knew what the egotistical bastard had done to her at the club. He definitely wouldn't be kissing Nigel's ass like some pathetic...
“Deanna?” Nigel was waving at her, trying to get her attention. “Someone’s knocking on the door. It's probably Alistair. He called and said he was on his way right before I left my flat.”
“Lovely,” she said with a saccharine smile, its bitter aftertaste coating her lips and making her want to gag.
Alistair greeted her with a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek. He picked up his guitar case and joined Nigel in the living room. They both thanked her profusely for the tea and biscuits she served after Alistair’s arrival. When Thom finally joined them, she excused herself, taking Mims out to the garden for some fresh air, reluctant to go back inside until Thom informed her they were leaving for a meeting with Andy Trent. Grateful for something to do after Nigel’s unforeseen visit, Deanna tidied up the flat. Thom called to tell her he had invited the lads over for a game or two of cards, and asked if she would mind making his favorite dish---spaghetti with spicy meatballs---promising to make up for his last minute request. She assured him it would be no problem. What was the point of being angry and refusing to make him and the guys a simple meal? Did it really matter that she had been forced to play hostess to Nigel, feeding him chocolate biscuits and tea while smiling like a demented Cheshire cat to hide the hollow, wretched sensation in her gut? What about Nigel’s behavior? He was acting as though his attack on her at the club had never happened. Even so, she felt his eyes follow her every move as she attempted to look busy in order to avoid unnecessary contact with him. Did Alistair notice the pathetic little drama being played out by the two of them? God, she hoped not.
Feeling weighted down by a peculiar sadness, she threw out the Sunday newspaper, washed the few dishes left in the sink, and began looking through cupboards to gather ingredients for dinner. Without warning she began to cry. Her body reacted so violently to the overwhelming emotion her legs could not support her. She slid down the wall to the cool tile floor, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. She tried to wipe her face but the onslaught of tears was unrelenting, and she cried even harder. When she was able to pull herself up, Deanna stumbled to the couch and curled up on its soft cushions. Every inch of her felt hot and sore, but she couldn’t staunch the flow of tears that had been building up since her encounter with Nigel at the club. Crying out in frustration, she fought to get her emotions under control. She sat up and looked at the pillow Nigel had lounged against while he drank his tea and chatted with Alistair. Grabbing it, she pressed her face to the material and breathed in deeply. Why did she have to fight so hard to resist him? It was a never-ending battle, and she was emotionally exhausted. As she lay back down clutching the pillow tightly to her body, she remembered what her parents taught her about trust and respect: without those two key elements a relationship was doomed. Nigel hadn’t earned her trust or her respect, and it was doubtful he ever would. Loving him wasn’t enough to overcome all that had gone wrong in their woefully short relationship so why couldn’t she let him go? It was obvious that he only wanted her back because she was with Thom. What a blow it must be to his enormous male ego to see her with his band mate.
Despite her resentment towards the insensitive jerk, she couldn’t deny that it felt so right being in his arms at the club, kissing his sweet lips, relishing the feel of his hands on her face and in her hair as his body pressed close against her. Sadly, those feelings came back to haunt her only because she was clinging to the past...a sad, pathetic past that she had embellished and re-worked in her mind to give it an intimacy and a bond that had never really existed between them. The sex had been heavenly but what had Nigel really done for her except perform like a seasoned pro in bed? Absolutely nothing at all.
She knew in her heart and soul that Thom was the better man. Affectionate, kind, and caring to a fault, he loved her…really loved her. Why couldn’t she love him just as deeply? People loved and lost often many times before meeting the person they would spend their life with. Her relationship with Thom was real, not a sick, obsessive fantasy. Each day brought them closer together, and if she
chose to share her life with him, it would be a good, no, a wonderful life, filled with love, laughter, and emotional harmony. Forget running back to Phoenix like some silly, spoiled brat who didn't get what she thought she wanted. Her life was here in England with Thom McCordy. Sitting up, Deanna wiped her face with the soft material of her robe, tossed the pillow aside, and made her way to the kitchen. Although her fingers felt numb, and her hands behaved like foreign objects that didn’t belong on her body, she managed to get the spaghetti sauce on the burner and water boiling for the pasta. The garlic bread posed a challenge, and she dropped an entire stick of butter on the floor. Mims ran up and began licking it so Deanna left it there and took another stick from the refrigerator.
While the food simmered, she cleaned up what was left of the buttery mess and went upstairs to apply a bit of make-up and get dressed. After a cursory glance at her slightly puffy face, she returned to the living room where she sat with trembling hands folded in her lap, her mind fighting hard to get her body in sync with her emotional epiphany while waiting for everyone to arrive.
Chapter 27
Nigel slammed into the flat, flinging his leather gloves down and storming towards his bedroom. Nick stepped into the hallway, blocking his way. “Would you care to talk about it or would you prefer to carry on by destroying valuable property?”
“Piss off, Nick,” Nigel snarled, trying to push past his flat mate.
“Piss off? That’s fucking rude, mate.”
Nigel shook his head and leaned against the wall, running his fingers through his wind-blown hair. “I’m sorry, Nick. It’s just that…fuck! Bloody, sodding, fuck!”
Nick nodded and grasped Nigel’s shoulders. “C’mon mate, let’s have a drink while you tell me all about it.”
It wasn’t easy at first but soon Nigel was spilling his guts about the torturous evening spent at Thom’s flat, forced to endure hour after hour of being near Deanna while powerless to reach out to her and tell her how much he wanted and needed her in his life again. Just like the old adage “the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife,” Nigel felt the negative vibes swirling around him, suffocating and heavy. He wanted to slash through the miasma, grab Deanna, and take her away from all of the lies and deception to a place where they could face one another with raw, painful honesty. Abruptly, he leaned back against the chair and rubbed his face, startled to feel wetness on his cheeks. “God!” he groaned. He couldn’t believe that he was crying. Nigel rubbed the back of his neck and closed his eyes. Six years had passed since he had allowed himself to indulge in such childish behavior, and he was ashamed that Nick had been witness to it.
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