by M. C. Adams
He leaned over and silenced her by pressing his lips against hers. She melted. Her heart settled on a feeling that was neither love nor lust. She desired a change — to alter the course of her life in a way that would once more coincide with Britt’s. She couldn’t risk losing him again. She needed to find a way to make this work.
Their kiss ended. He pressed his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Lex.”
Her heart devoured his words, while her head toiled with the concern that he had returned to her only after having fallen from his pillar. He was a shell of the man he had been. Now a broken creature, he shared her wounded soul.
The change in Britt was more than she could swallow. She yearned for the man she once knew. Worse than her life falling apart was watching Britt’s life shatter before her. “I’ve always loved you, Britt. I always will.”
He kissed her again. Each time their lips met, it felt more natural. Resisting every urge coursing through her body, Alexa diverted her attention to Britt’s missing leg. It was too early, too soon, but the doctor within her pushed forward. “I need to see your leg. Please.”
The grimace he wore conveyed his dismay.
“Please,” she repeated.
Reluctantly, he pulled up the leg of his left trouser and displayed his healing stump. A below-the-knee amputation. She crouched down and scrutinized the scar. It’s healing well. Her glance returned to Britt’s agitated face.
“We’re getting you a prosthesis. You’re ready for it. The scar is healed enough now —”
He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Lex, not now. Please.” He pulled her face close to his once more. This time she let herself fall into his embrace, and the two found themselves tangled in one another’s arms. Lips, hands, and fingers moved across skin as they rediscovered one another. Alexa’s body came to life, with tingles erupting throughout her sensitive places as Britt suckled her flesh until she moaned. Their reunion sparked a new energy within her. She longed to feel him inside her again — to be touched there. She gave into him instantly, and they made love on Britt’s bed. It was different than before, in part because of Britt’s new challenges. But there was more. Every touch felt more intense. He was more aggressive than she remembered. He had been so tender, his kisses so gentle.
Now, Britt moved with animal instinct. His lips pressed hard with purpose, and his teeth nipped her skin impulsively. It was a confusing mix of pleasure and pain. Alexa felt herself behave more direct and forceful as well, her inhibitions unrestrained.
After ravaging one another, they collapsed on the bed. Britt drifted into sleep. Alexa lay there wondering. This intensity was so different than what they had known, but somehow it seemed right. We share a core of pent-up aggression now. The hostility that allowed me to kill Jamar, the hostility that I embraced and allowed me to kill the others — Britt shares that with me now.
Her lungs let out a long, deflated sigh. How twisted we have become. He harbors the same internal hatred, but Britt never had his revenge. Alexa contemplated their differences. Maybe it’s better if Britt never has the opportunity for vindication. Succumbing to that urge makes the dark inside even darker. I did things I never would have thought possible.
She rolled over and admired Britt sleeping. He looked beautiful and peaceful and immaculate. As much as she loved him, and loved the opportunity to have him back in her life, she would easily forfeit their glorious reunion if it would make him whole again. She examined the rumpled sheets piled on the bed where Britt’s leg should have been. God, I would have given him up forever if I could have saved his leg. If I could save his soul from the darkness of revenge, I would give my own life. Instead, he was broken just like her, and once more they understood each other.
Too tired to mourn another moment, she closed her weary eyes, and they both slept.
CHAPTER 39
Britt made the bed and breakfast his temporary residence, while Alexa stayed at her carriage house. They spent several hours together each day. She scheduled an appointment for him with a prosthetics specialist. In a stubborn moment of self-loathing, Britt canceled the appointment. He had no desire to recover.
She found his diffidence intolerable. Not only had Britt suffered physically and emotionally after the incident, his business began to suffer financially. It was another sore subject he didn’t speak to her about, but she caught subtle details in his phone conversations before he slipped out of the room.
Determined to pluck him from his dismal state, she tricked him into attending a second appointment with the prosthetist. The clinic was on the path they strolled regularly, and she stopped him at the door. “It’s time, Britt. You have to start walking again. It’s ridiculous that you roll about in that chair all day like you’re helpless, when you could be walking and running and independent again.”
He winced as she broached the subject, wounded by her words. He never spoke of his leg. “You brought me here on purpose? Knowing I wasn’t ready?” His expression contorted from a look of hurt to the wide-eyed fear of a child on his first day of school.
“You’re here because you are ready,” she pressed, grabbing the handles on the back of his chair and pushing him into the office before he had the opportunity to counter. “I push you because I love you.”
In spite of his initial hostility, Britt tried multiple prosthetics, including sports models for running and more standard models for everyday life. Once upright, the muscles in his thighs flexed, and she recognized the chiseled physique of the athlete she remembered. When he was able to take a few steps on his own, she saw the life return to his eyes.
He spent hours each day in physical therapy while she put her time into her clothing collection. It took half of the fall semester for Alexa to design and finish thirty-seven separate pieces that she combined to form fifteen distinct outfits. Now, she wanted to show them to the world.
She began with a phone call to Jeff Huggins. His sister worked as a buyer for a national department store in New York City. She had worked with designers for years. Moreover, she knew several of them on a personal level. Jeff gladly gave Alexa his sister’s contact information. He asked her about Britt. His tone seemed overly inquisitive, and Alexa tried her best to move past the subject politely.
“Thank you so much, Jeff, for bringing Britt and me back together. I never would have thought it was possible.”
Jeff chuckled. “I figured you were still stuck on the guy. I tried all my best moves on you, and you just shied away from me. I guess some guys have all the luck.”
He was flirting with me the day of my surgery! She had suspected as much. “What can I say, Jeff? It was never really over for Britt and me. It never will be.” It felt good to finally admit the truth after struggling a whole year to push him out of her heart.
“I understand, Lex. Best of luck to you both. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Jeff’s sister proved an invaluable resource. She had enough connections in the city that after four phone calls, Alexa had a meeting with a coordinator for a prominent winter fashion show featuring upcoming designers when a last minute spot opened up. Most of the designers were from New York fashion schools, and they were first-timers all around; however, the show was known for attracting a small crowd of celebutantes, well-known designers, and buyers alike.
Alexa became ecstatic as her new life materialized. She had only four weeks to prepare. The time lapsed in fast forward, consisting of romantic trysts coupled with Britt and moments of solitude toiling behind her sewing machine. She worked hard to keep some distance between them. She needed breaks of reality to maintain her senses and ease the transition. While she worked dutifully, Britt managed his company via teleconference. She kept her work out of his sight, waiting for a final reveal. He went solo to his physical therapy sessions working with the prosthesis, not allowing her to see his progress until she had to leave for New York, three days before the show.
She invited him to the carriage
house to meet Gray. He eyed the cat sitting on the couch when he first entered the room. Britt set down the cane he had been using and walked across the room on his casual prosthetic without falter and scooped Gray into his arms.
“Oh, Britt! You walked perfectly! How could you keep your progress from me like that?”
He flashed a grin and gestured to the numerous garment bags lined up across the room. “I guess we all have our secrets, Lex.”
She hadn’t realized before the resemblance the garment bags bore with the body bag in the back of the van in Versailles. Her shoulders slumped. Yes, Britt. We all have our secrets. She licked her lips. I have to tell him. But she lost her courage and diverted her attention to the clothes inside the bags. “Will you help me load the bags into boxes for shipping?”
His eyes stayed on the cat. “My friend here and I don’t get a peek first?”
She waved her finger in his face, interrupting his glance. “No, sir. Not until the show.”
His fingers stroked Gray’s ears. “All right. Looks like Gray and I are headed to New York.”
While loading her boxes to be shipped, Alexa received a call on the relatively new cell phone tucked into her Fendi clutch. The screen read: number unavailable. It wasn’t the Crackerjack phone, but she wondered if the unlisted number could be Mike. Both bewildered and excited, she answered.
“Hello?” Her voice quivered in trepidation. She heard heavy breathing on the other end of the receiver, but no response.
“Hello?” she repeated, this time with a sense of eagerness in her voice.
“Hey, Poppy girl.”
“Mike!” she gasped. Her heart flooded with emotion as her eyes filled with tears.
“Had to check on you — make sure you were doing okay.”
“Yes. Yes, Mike, I’m doing fine. How are you? Are you well?”
“I’m all right. They’ve kept me pretty busy since you left. Got me working with a couple of young’uns, still wet behind the ears. One of ‘em didn’t last too long. . . .” His voice trailed off.
Her mind veered back to the body bag, suspecting that was what Mike was referencing. Her insides shuddered momentarily, followed by instant relief that it wasn’t her body in the bag.
“You have a new man in your life,” he continued.
“No, Mike. He’s not new — he just found his way back to me, that’s all.” The joy contained within each word was tremendous, and she knew Mike could appreciate it.
“Good. I needed to know that things went right for you, Poppy girl.”
Alexa pictured Mike’s watery eyes, his face warm and red with sentiment. It was the same emotional state he developed when he talked about Lily. Lily.
“Mike, how’s Lily?” she had to ask. She knew he had a tendency to equate her with his daughter.
He paused before he answered. “I’m here to see her, Poppy. I took some time away, and I’m in Atlanta to see Lily. She’s gonna be married soon, and I just wanted a chance to see her before the wedding. I’m not sure how it’s gonna go. . . .”
“It’ll be fine, Mike. It will be joyful and sorrowful all at once. It will be emotional; you both will cry. But in the end, it will all be fine. Trust me. I’m someone who just had my lost love return. It’s all I could have ever hoped for. She wants to see you. I’m glad you’re going.”
“Yeah, I’m glad, too. It’s about time.” He let out a long, drawn out sigh. Then his tone became serious. “I want you to know something, Poppy . . . the two sons-of-bitches that took your man’s leg got what was coming to them. I guarantee you that. I know a couple of the guys who worked that case. . . . Anyway, I just thought you should know. That’s all.”
Alexa hesitated. Yes. Of course he knows everything. She rolled her eyes to herself and smiled into the receiver. If only I could let Britt know, but that would mean telling him everything. Her throat tightened. We’re so close now. Telling him could change that.
“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it. I’d like to see you again, when the time is right. You could meet Britt.”
“I’d like that.” His voice became anxious again.
“Mike, go see Lily. See Lily now. And thanks for calling.”
“Bye, Poppy.”
After dropping off her boxes, she headed to the airport to catch her evening flight. She left two days early to fit the models and finish any last minute details. Britt would arrive the day of the show. She used the flight to New York to hash out a plan to confess her European escapades to Britt in a manner he might find palatable.
After a half hour of reliving the horror of it all, she feared it was a worthless venture. After Jamar, how could I discuss Castro or Ivan in a way he would ever find acceptable? How can I expect Britt to understand everything I’ve done? I’m not sure I understand it myself. Distraught, she ordered a vodka soda. Although the vodka compelled her to keep the truth hidden from him forever, she resolved to tell him. No amount of planning in the world could make those words bearable.
CHAPTER 40
Her two-day prep time was a flurry of activity. Several models had been switched due to schedule changes and nothing fit properly on the replacements. She spent hours measuring and performing alterations. In spite of the incidents thrown her way, everything came together the afternoon before the show. Britt called from the airport as Alexa grabbed a cab back to her hotel. He came earlier than she expected.
She arrived in her room to find that Britt had beaten her there, and Gray was with him. They both sat sprawled out on the bed.
“Surprise, Babe.” Britt’s voice was calm and coy. He seethed confidence.
That’s the Britt I remember. She bit her lip as she undressed him with her eyes. Her hands went to Gray, prolonging her desire for Britt. She plopped onto the bed and pressed her face into his belly. The cat purred loudly. Mmm, so soothing.
Britt reached his arms around her stomach and tugged her toward him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.
“I thought we could have a romantic dinner tonight to celebrate your big day.”
“You mean celebrate before the big day? Isn’t that a little supercilious?”
“No. Not in the least.” He smiled his come hither smile that had won her over years ago. It was nice to see him playful and seductive. It had been too long. She had feared he lost that part of himself.
“When’s dinner?” she asked, sliding her hand under his shirt.
He pulled her close, pressed his lips to hers, and then whispered into her ear, “After we shower.”
She followed him to the shower, where they peeled each other’s clothes off and slipped inside. There was a bench that allowed Britt to sit comfortably. Alexa straddled him and began moving up and down rhythmically. She shifted to turn backwards but Britt stopped her, clutching her toward his chest.
He pulled her forehead into his and vertical crevices formed between his eyes. “It has to be like this, forever, Lex. You can’t just leave me like you did before. You said it was best for me, like you were trying to save me, or something. You have no idea. I needed you. I won’t let you push me away again.” He held her so tightly that his arms stifled her breath.
She nodded repeatedly until her whole body was moving up and down, her hips gyrating against his pelvis until they climaxed in unison. Afterward, Alexa dressed in a red silk, one-shoulder dress with an uneven hemline. The shoulder fabric covered the scar on her collarbone perfectly.
Britt put on a handsome gray suit. The two headed to dinner across the street at a pricey French restaurant for a five-course meal. Indulging in French champagne, Alexa was tipsy before they got to course four.
Everything was so familiar between them again. She felt whole and safe. She stared at the candlelight flickering on the table and reached out with both hands to feel its warmth. Levende lys. Just like their night together in Paris.
Britt stood and reached for something from his jacket pocket. It was a jewelry box. He fumbled with the lid. He was reciting s
omething to her about love lost and love regained, but the candle warmth distracted her, and she pulled back her hands before she burned them. Beyond tipsy, she had slipped into a state of drunkenness and strained to make sense of his words. She cocked her head to one side.
Britt leaned toward her and opened the box. A beautiful gold and ruby necklace lay inside. She reached out with one hand to touch it. The other hand rubbed the scar on her neck nervously. Oh, Britt you can’t afford this. Her mind swam as she tried to decipher what was happening.
“I’m so happy, Lex. I’m happy for you and me and — just happy. You’re getting back on your feet. I’m getting back on mine. I just wanted to celebrate things right. I wanted to give you something beautiful.” He took the necklace from the box and unfastened the clasp. “It’s a choker, to cover your scar,” he mumbled. “You’re always touching it. I know you’re self-conscious about it. I know what that’s like.” Britt motioned to his prosthesis. “Now when you reach up to touch it, you’ll touch this necklace instead. Something beautiful and happy.” He smiled briefly.
Unsure how to respond, Alexa pulled up her hair and let him put the necklace on her neck. He sat down at the table and beamed at her. He was right. The necklace covered the scar perfectly. She loved it, but it made her uneasy. Covering her scars, her battle wounds, felt like covering up the truth. Her stomach churned. She was hiding so much from Britt. She had to tell him the truth now. She gulped down what was left of the champagne in her glass as the fourth course made it to the table. “Britt, the necklace is beautiful. I love it. I love you. Nothing is more important than having you back in my life.” She paused and sank her teeth into her lip. “But I need to tell you what happened during the time we were apart.”
He reached out a hand across the table. She touched it reluctantly.
“You’re not going to like what you hear, Britt.”
“Then don’t tell me, Lex.” His voice was suddenly stern.
“I have to.”