The Solitude of Passion

by Addison Moore

  Lee runs water into a vase and plops the flowers inside, plastic wrap and all. Stacks of mail create mini skyscrapers all over the dining room table, along with various baby toys, diapers, and blankets that lie strewn about like pastel confetti. A week ago I offered to hire someone to come and help out, but she wouldn’t hear it—said she doesn’t like the idea of strangers in her home. Can’t say I blame her.

  “Where’s the princess?”

  “I’d say right here, but I doubt you’re talking about me.” Lee gives a quick wink as she takes me by the hand. The kitchen opens up to the family room, and she leads me over to the U shape couch with a bassinette situated on the far end.

  “Wake up, angel,” she sings, hitching her hair behind her ear, looking desperately beautiful in the process. “We’ve got company.”

  “How did it go last night? Catch some Z’s?”

  “Are you kidding? This child doesn’t believe in sleep. If you lie to me and tell me you can’t see the dark circles under my eyes, I’ll never speak to you again, Shepherd.”

  A soft laugh rolls through me. Of course, I can’t see them. Lee is immaculate, but I hear report, day after day, that Stella is a bit of a night owl—sleeps just fine during daylight hours apparently.

  Lee picks up the baby and presents her to me like a trophy. She nestles in my arms for a moment before curling into me. Stella doesn’t bother to open her eyes, just squirms a bit and lets out a muffled grunt. Her fine blonde hair blows like feathers with the slightest movement, her cheeks each their own splash of pink.

  “She smells like heaven,” I say, lifting her slightly toward my face—baby powder and fabric softener with a touch of her own special sweetness.

  Lee and I get comfortable on the couch, same routine every single night for the past two months. Lee doesn’t seem to mind. She hasn’t evoked the restraining order yet, so I keep coming. She places her head on my shoulder and looks down at Stella while I kick off my shoes and stretch out my legs across the giant ottoman.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap,” I whisper. “I’ll hang out with Stella. We’ll watch a movie.”

  “Trying to get rid of me?” Lee coils her arms around mine and gives a squeeze. “I’m not leaving. I’d never fall asleep, what with all the partying going on down here.” She clicks on the television, and some old comedy I didn’t care for the first time around greets us. “Nothing good is ever on,” she whispers, relaxing her curves into me. I can feel her chest cushion against my arm and close my eyes a moment, memorizing how it feels. “I guess that means you’ll have to entertain me.” She dots my nose with her finger.

  “I got a group of investors to look into Townsend for you.” I give the beginning of a wicked grin. Lee has wanted to get investors involved for a while, and for whatever reason, Mitch held back. She asked me to look into it a few weeks ago, and I’ve been dying to surprise her all afternoon as soon as I got confirmation.

  “You did?” Her face explodes with wonder like a kid on Christmas morning, and it warms me that I was able to supply the gift. I’d gift the world to Lee if she let me.

  “I’ll put together a proposal for you,” I offer. “It’ll take a few months before they want to meet with the board. You might want to groom Colton for the occasion. Tell him there’s a six pack involved if he behaves—maybe throw in a stripper just to be safe.”

  “I wish Colt was more into the working end of the business.” She pulls in tight and snuggles up to my shoulder. “Speaking of which, Mom and I just had a long conversation. She wants to be a silent partner. She said when I’m ready, she’s making me the president of Townsend Enterprises.”

  Her cheeks fill in a deep shade of burgundy, her eyes electrify a clear sky-washed blue.

  “Well, hello, Ms. President.” I lock my gaze over hers. “You have all the fire you need to do this. I believe in you, Lee. You’re going to make Townsend the name it was meant to be.”

  “Thanks”—she lowers her lashes—“but without you, I couldn’t have paid the electric bill.” She wraps a long finger around a loose strand of her hair. “I still feel bad I’m cannibalizing so much of your time.”

  There’s something honest and humble about Lee. Deep inside I know she believes in herself. Life just caught her off guard, that’s all.

  I pat her on the knee. “Go to sleep. I’m going to take care of Stella for you tonight.”

  “You’re spending the night?” She looks amused, but the color in her face deepens as if maybe she wants this on some level. I wish I knew. I wish I could read Lee like a book, turn the page and see what the future holds for us. Either way, I plan on being there for her as a friend.

  “Right here on the couch.” I hold up a hand to demonstrate my platonic intent. Not that I wouldn’t cop to wanting her if she asked—if she wanted me, too. “I can leave before morning. I just want to give you a chance to recharge your batteries.”

  Stella starts to whine and flex in my arms, so I pull her in close and dip a kiss over her tummy.

  “You’ll watch her for me all night, huh? I wish, but I don’t have any bottles filled.” She takes Stella and lifts her shirt. I try not to look as Stella latches on, but I catch the low, full circle of Lee’s breast, her pale skin that’s never seen the light of day, and it stirs me. She tosses a blanket over Stella, and I relax again. “Still hurts like hell when”—she gives a slight gasp—“she starts. Everything’s so painful.” Lee lands her head back on my chest, and I readjust, so she can use me like a pillow.

  This is the new norm, Lee and me. Our friendship reinstated to pre-Mitch levels. Those electric stolen moments have intensified, increased in volume and number. It still catches me off guard, though. I’ve always believed it was going to be Lee and me until Mitch injected himself into the picture, snatched her from underneath me then cut me off like I had the plague.

  “You’ll never guess who I got a gift from.” Her eyes close with fatigue.

  “Who?” It takes everything in me not to press a kiss over the top of her head. It feels natural. The warmth radiating from her body pulls me in until my cheek washes over her hair.

  “Viv.”

  A groan escapes from deep in my chest. It physically pains me to know she’s pestering Lee.

  “A gift huh?” I’m more than skeptical. “Like what, firearms?”

  “No,” she says, batting my stomach playfully. “Two pink dresses.” She gives a quick glance. “What happened between the two of you? Can I ask?”

  “Yes, you can ask.” I take a deep breath. “She ate me for breakfast. The end.”

  “Oh.” Lee suppresses a smile at the thought, most likely because she knows Viv is more than capable.

  Lee and Viv were never friends. No real reason I can pinpoint other than it would be like pairing a kitten with a bear.

  “So what brought you together?” Lee blinks up trying to hide her viral curiosity. “There must have been something in the beginning—you married her. Was it pure animal lust?” She bites down on her lip, but a squeal of laughter manages to bubble through.

  Viv was a wrestler in bed—a dominatrix who longed to castrate someone. I got out just in time with my body and soul intact.

  “Not lust.” I look down at her. Our eyes magnetize, and I can feel the powerful pull between us, inescapable as oxygen in a fire. “Lust is what I have for you,” I whisper.

  Crap. It’s like I can’t control my mouth around Lee.

  Heat rinses over my face, spreads throughout my body like a bona fide nuclear meltdown is taking place. Here they are—my true intentions laid out like a deck of cards, exposing my hand. It’s up to Lee to determine if it’s good or bad. I wouldn’t blame her if she kicked me out, told me to never come back.

  Lee reaches up and cradles the back of my neck with her cool fingers. She pulls me down just shy of her lips and hesitates. My lips part in anticipation. I close my eyes never wanting to open them again without tasting her first. Lee brushes over me with a barely there
pass of the lips. I’m not one to ignore an invitation, so I press in—sealing my mouth over hers then delving into the holy of holies and swiping my tongue ever so softly until she meets me with her own. I kiss her back, longer, much stronger than she most likely anticipated. Lee strokes her tongue over mine in smooth clean swipes that hold the flavor of strawberries and wine. She dives in deeper, probing me, telling me she loves me with the warmth of her mouth in an exchange that feels like a slow sweet eternity.

  My arm glides around her waist, and I bump into Stella. I forgot she was nursing, and this arouses me on an unnatural level. I keep my lips conjoined with Lee’s. There’s no way I’m stopping. I’ve waited my entire life for this moment. All those years of worshiping at the altar of Lee Middleton and finally a victory kiss—a sober, heartfelt testament of my affection for her.

  Stella kicks, and I catch her tiny cold foot, warming it in my hand. This is what it would feel like to have a family. A wife. A baby. Not just any family. Not with Viv playing the spousal role—not with her satanic spawn.

  No. This is Lee.

  This is heaven.

  5

  The Wedding

  Eighteen months later

  Lee

  Kat and I hover over a picture of our parents—my mother with lemon-yellow hair, my father’s shock of white at forty. They wear clean, dutiful smiles. My father gazes at the camera with a daring twinkle, sharp angled cheekbones that neither Kat nor I were blessed with. My mother is stunning, almost arrogant in her beauty. She adorns herself with layers of gold glittering necklaces. Long, pink seashells dangle from her ears. My uncle managed to keep her collection intact, mostly costume jewelry. It was all tarnished and broken by the time I was twelve.

  “Funny how that happens,” Kat muses, pulling out a bucket of crayons for Stella from her kitchen drawer and enough coloring books to keep her busy until she hits her freshman year in college. “Every time some big event is on the horizon that picture hooks me.”

  In two weeks I’ll be married to Max. That’s the big event—the next big earthquake in our existence.

  “I know,” I say, running my finger over the photo, the paper is tattered and soft as velvet. “I wish they could be here. I wish a lot of people could be here.” I flatten the tablecloth with the palm of my hand, trace the woven border with my eye. “But then I guess if Mitch showed up, there wouldn’t be a wedding.” I blink back tears.

  “If Mitch showed up there would be a shootout.” Kat gives a gentle laugh while entombing our parents in the family album.

  “Any news on the baby front?” I ask. Kat and Steve are in full throttle baby making mode after a long hiatus.

  “I started.” She shrugs it off, pretending to pick at the chipped polish on her fingers. “It’s only been three months, and God knows I’m not in a hurry. If it doesn’t happen soon, I might take a year off. Steve and I are thinking of starting up the business again.”

  I make a face at the thought of them reigniting their printing business. It was lucrative the last time they ran it, but Steve was offered a position at Global Pacific as a software consultant, and the real job won out.

  “What’s the face?” Kat makes crazy eyes at me because she’s insane like that, plus she knows me too well. It’s impossible to keep my opinion to myself.

  “Nothing.” I twist the napkin until it’s thick as rope. “It’s just that the last time you did this you said it sucked dry your savings and nearly cost you the house. I’m just not sure why you’d think to go in that direction again, but I’m not saying a word.”

  “You, Lee Townsend, are judging me?” She raises her coffee in a mock salute.

  A wry smile pinches over my lips. I knew she’d go there eventually just not so razor thin close to the wedding.

  “That’s right.” I hold up my hands a moment. “Guilty as charged,” I whisper, glancing at Stella over at the other end of the table. “I’m marrying, Max Shepherd. A direction I never thought I’d go in, but, then again, Mitch isn’t here to protest the idea.” I slump in my seat. “Truth is, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Max. And if it weren’t for Mitch, it would have been Max.”

  “You ever share this with him?” Kat leans in with her eyes as dark as a summer storm, her smile dipped in grief all for me.

  I shake my head. “You know, it’s funny. Mitch and I never discussed Max. It was as if he was gone from the planet, as if their friendship never existed. And with Max, he’s sort of the opposite. He’s fine with me mentioning Mitch, and he usually matches me story for story. I don’t think Max felt the same level of hatred that Mitch did.”

  “That’s because Mitch is dead.” Her expression flattens.

  “Thank you for your blunt analysis.”

  “No, it’s true. It’s easier to like dead people. It’s a well-known fact. Besides, Mitch probably had the threat of competition. He probably didn’t want Max hanging around trying to steal you. And, well, Max doesn’t have to worry about that.”

  A dry laugh huffs from me. “Could be. But I don’t think Mitch was ever threatened. He just couldn’t get past what his father did. And with his dad six feet under he needed someone to blame.”

  Kat taps her hands over the table. “Water under the bridge.”

  “You’re right. And I think you and Steve are going to do great with the printing business.” I try to muster all the enthusiasm I can for Kat and Steve’s financial disaster in the making. “Call me if you have any problems. I’m getting pretty good at putting out fires. I’ve learned more about the administration end of business than I thought possible thanks to Max. He’s an excellent teacher. It’s what made me fall in love with him—his strong attention to detail, especially when it comes to Stella and me.”

  “We won’t have a problem.” She knocks on the table. “So what’s with this exclusionary bachelorette party? Colton taking you to Vegas? Getting you smashed and bagging you himself?”

  “Please. It’s an unofficial bachelorette party. Besides, it’s kind of nice he’s the one and only guest. We’re watching movies.”

  “I know the kind of movies he likes to watch.” She rolls her eyes. Kat went through a Colt phase herself, only he wasn’t biting so it was mostly one-sided.

  “The only reason I agreed to it is because Max is out of town. And, I think Colt needs help with the psychological transition. Me seeing Max was one thing, but becoming his wife is like twisting a blade in Colt’s back.”

  Most likely his brother’s too but neither of us say it.

  On Friday night, a full week and a day before the wedding, I gird my loins for an evening of shenanigans and madness with my once upon a brother-in-law. I’m sure there’s hard liquor and porn in the lineup—in other words, a normal night at Colt’s. I’m hoping tonight will be less blow up dolls and penis straws and more watching a chick flick with what amounts to my ex-boyfriend.

  Colton lives in Janice’s guesthouse behind the castle-like Townsend estate. His den of debauchery sits a good half-mile away so he doesn’t feel like his “mommy” is watching over him.

  “Look at you!” I say, stepping inside with an armload of take-out. Colt’s house is spotless, the magazines all fanned out over the coffee table as if this were a dentist’s office, and the windows have nary a fingerprint on them. “This place is immaculate.” God, it’s neat as a pin, which only exemplifies the fact I live like a pig. Or maybe I’ve just forgotten what a house without a child in it looks like. No Barbie dream house, no layer of Legos covering the floor.

  “I can’t take the credit.” Colt swoops in with a kiss. I turn slightly and he outsmarts me, landing his lips square over mine.

  “Wow,” he winks, taking the bags from me. “We’re getting right to the action.”

  “That was an accident—on my part.” I shoot him a wry look. “What’s with the hygienic environment? One of your floozies finally call the health department? Is the FDA cracking down on those obscene desserts you’ve been rumored to serve?” />
  We make our way to the kitchen. The counters are strategically lined with beer bottles from around the world. A picture of a naked cantina girl stares back at me from over the sink.

  “Very funny,” he says, plucking out the Chinese food from the bag like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Truth is, I hate the upkeep around here so I’ve finally resorted to a cleaning lady. I assure you she’s a thing of beauty and most pleasurable to watch. If I throw in an extra fifty she vacuums topless. And now, that’s service with a smile.” He pauses and looks up at me with those twin emerald green eyes, same ones that Mitch took with him. Colt smolders into me a moment and my stomach pinches tight. “But I think you know I couldn’t care less about the smile.”

  A moment of silence bumps by as he bears into me with an intensity I’ve never seen before. He’s holding my attention, making my insides quiver, but it’s all for his brother and he knows it. I reach out and touch his cheek, his five o’clock shadow, rough as sandpaper. He’s got his hair slicked back just the way Mitch wore it. He’s lost his drunken playboy appeal and layered beneath that was Mitch all along.

  He waves a hand over my face.

  “You okay?” He plucks out a couple of champagne bottles and holds one up in each hand, a lewd grin brimming on his lips.

  “No thanks. I rarely take in the wine I sell, let alone down champagne for no good reason.”

  His cheek pulls up one side, no smile. “You’re right. Marrying Max is no good reason,” he says, struggling to pop the cork.

  I ignore his potshot and dish myself some food. “It’s nice to know you’re okay with this. I guess it’s an improvement from last week when you threatened litigation.”

  “Hey, I haven’t taken that off the table.” He bumps me playfully with his shoulder as he loads his plate.