by Megan Noelle
“No, that’s not at all what I’m trying to say.”
“What are you trying to say then?” Corey moved next to me and scooped me up into his arms making me squeal.
“I’m saying you don’t have to run on home. That maybe if you ask real nice I’ll let you stay the night.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. I couldn’t deny how great it felt to have his arms wrapped tight around my spent body. It felt even better to have my arms wrapped around his neck, staring deep into those incredible blue eyes.
“I’m not going to stay the night.”
Corey’s smile quickly dropped but his brow went up in question. “Why not?”
“Because staying the night says more about what this is than I want.” My chest tightened at my words. I could deny it all I wanted but I knew deep down I wanted to be there—I just couldn’t trust myself.
“No, it might also say it’s midnight and you don’t want to take a cab back this late.”
Corey’s tone was even but his eyes were pleading with me.
“I went home much later the first time.”
“Yeah, well that’s different.”
“Not really.” I placed a kiss on his lips and forced my legs down from his grasp.
“You’re really going to go home right now?”
“Not right now. The cab isn’t here yet.”
“Don’t take a cab; let me drive you home.” “You’ve been drinking, Corey.”
“Dani—“ He was desperately trying to find ways to keep me around longer. I couldn’t let him know just how tempting the idea was but that went against everything I wanted—hot, sweaty, un-attached sex. Everything was great as it was, but staying overnight, even if just for one night, would mess up everything. Lines would blur. Emotions would come into play. That wasn’t what I needed anymore. What I needed was exactly what I had, regardless of what I wanted. I loved this and I had no doubt if I gave in too much this incredible man would turn into none other than a certified toad just like the rest of my ‘Prince Charming’s had.
“I’m calling a cab but I will see you later.”
He blew out a defeated sigh, pulling a shirt over his perfectly sculpted chest. What a shame.
“At least let me pay for it this time, Dani.”
I shook my head before the words were out.“I don’t need you to pay for me. I can just as well take care of myself.” With my purse hanging on my shoulder I headed for the door. Corey’s strong arms suddenly were linked around my waist, in a vice like grip. The only way I was getting away from him was when he decided I could.
“Why do you feel the need to be this independent, Danielle? It’s okay to let others take care of you sometimes.”
The words hit a nerve. Without knowing anything else about me he managed to guess part of my past issues without knowing better. I felt myself lock up inside, the way I did whenever I thought of my past. Over the years it’s been one crappy experience after another and I wanted nothing more than to run from it as fast as possible.
“Just leave it alone.” My voice reflected the icy feelings buried deep inside. Corey twisted me in his arms to face him.
“What’s wrong, Dani?” He searched my eyes for the reason for my sudden wall. “You can tell me.”
The blues of his eyes shone with the heartfelt meaning of the question. For just a moment I longed to tell him everything. Spew out the past hardships and let someone else bear the weight of it the way I continued to. But I just couldn’t do that right now. I needed nothing more than someone to take away the pain in the only way I could trust a man to do. Satisfy my physical needs as a way to come down from a stressful day or take my mind off my problems. To include him in the deepest parts of my life was the one thing I feared most.
“I don’t want to tell you; I want to go home.” With that I pulled his arms off me and stormed out of his place to wait for my cab; away from his welcoming eyes and comforting arms.
* * * * In my past I’ve had relationships with several different men. Sometimes the relationship lasted a couple months and others much longer. They all cheated on me, lied to me and/or made me feel like nothing more than a fool for believing the words that so easily spewed from their mouths. Turner, Jasper and Robbie were simply mistakes. Isaac however, was my first New York boyfriend after having my heart ripped out by Oliver, the guy I’d thought was my first and only love.
Isaac and I’d met when I was 19 and broke up 3 years later which was just long enough to cause permanent damage. The relationship was terrible and the hold he had over me was poisonous. There was nothing about us as a couple that was worth holding on to—yet that’s exactly what I did. I had never before felt like such trash as I had on Isaac’s arm, but I had been so absorbed in him. It made my skin crawl just thinking about all I’d gone through. The only good thing about our relationship was that it was over. Isaac stole away the confidence already dwindling inside of me after the assault on my heart from Oliver. With Isaac I felt as though I couldn’t breathe when he wasn’t around; I was needy and vulnerable. The only time I felt content was when I was near him but even then, things were horrible. We fought constantly, egged each other on with volatile amunition. When I finally broke away from it I felt free but my confidence and independence were seriously broken.
Oliver was on a completely different level of personal pain but he wasn’t even the first man that broke me. That honor went to my father; the one man a girl should be able to rely on, but he ended up being the first to show me I couldn’t trust the opposite sex. Those were two topics I wasn’t ready to face yet; not in my mind and definitely not with someone else. After I came home from Corey’s, I immediately passed out and when I awoke the next morning the first thing I did was submerge myself in a hot bath. Even with candles lit around me and calming music filling the small space, nothing eased the tightening in my chest when I thought about the men that had broken me.
All I wanted was to forget all the crap in my life and be a girl that believed in love again. Was it too much to ask for the chance at a normal relationship? At 25-years old, was I already destined to be one of those bitter old women? Screaming bah-humbug at any young couple in love at the park; busting out in a deep laugh when I heard someone say I love you, as if they’d just told the funniest joke? That seemed too tragic to be a reality but the scars left on my heart, felt as though love itself was the tragedy. No longer was I open to a world of sunshine and rainbows. I wanted to submerse myself in my work and only let men close enough to satisfy my sexual needs. That was all I could commit to anymore.
The next few hours I spent having a pity party and letting my losses from the past flood out in tears. My heart wondered why I wasn’t enough and where I’d gone wrong. How had I continued to let all those disasters into my life and yet never had enough strength to walk away? Now there I sat, a broken woman; left as an empty shell, numb to regular emotions—thanks to the selfish pricks I’d once encountered.
By noon I was dried off from my bath and curled up in my favorite oversized chair. The TV was on some Style network show that droned on in the background. My phone rested on the armrest and buzzed incessantly with the many messages from Corey. Ranging from ‘hey, what’s up?’ to ‘I’m sorry about what happened last night. It wasn’t my place and maybe it isn’t my place to say this either, but I’m worried about you.’ All his messages went unanswered; I was too busy self-loathing to respond to anything he had to say.
I considered sending Corey a text saying: the person you are trying to reach is emotionally unavailable at the moment. She promises to call you later, when she’s done feeling sorry for herself. But something like that made me think Corey would end up coming to console me. Which was the last thing I wanted—right?
The TV continued on and the tears fell without regret, for hours. When my phone rang I was sure it was Corey calling to check in again. I nearly broke my phone trying to answer it fast enough when I saw it was Gabriella calling.
Gabby had come int
o my life towards the end of my prison sentence with Isaac. She was the only person that helped me see things a different way than anyone else in my life. Day-after-day she loaded me with inspirational sayings to help me see the light again. While I thought it was normal to cry constantly when in love with someone she informed me that it indeed was not. She made me see I wasn’t forced to stay in any relationship and then of course was the ever-classic: you deserve better.
Just thinking about that brought around another round of tears. All my life, I’ve heard the saying and even used it for myself and for others. Sometimes it just seemed the easiest thing to say. It was a default setting—not a reality.
You deserved better; I deserved better.
After years of being caught up in shitty relationships; I’d wondered if that was true. Had I really deserved better? When people knew about my family life growing up and would tell me ‘you didn’t deserve that,’ I’d wanted to know why. What had I done in my life that made me not deserve a father that broke promises like they were going out of style? Why did I deserve better than a mother that loved her drugs more than me? What if all along I was the sole reason my parents became the way they had? What if my appearance into their lives was why my dad walked out on us; which was then the cause of my mom using and abusing.
In that case I’d gotten what I deserved. Simple as that.
At least that was the way I used to think about things before Gabriella came into my life. She was full of spirit and handed out hugs the way some handed out coupons to draw in a crowd. With her help I was able to get out from under the suffocating rock otherwise known as Isaac and “find myself.” Well, at least until the next jackass came along and messed things up.
Gabby had done so much more than just show me a better life, she had given me a place to live and set me up with a job at the growing woman’s magazine where she’d worked. Ever since then we became inseparable; she was my rock and my reason. By some crazy twist of fate, I was those things to her as well. During all my brokenheartedness, I greatly needed her by my side. She’d cry with me and laugh with me; that girl truly knew how to turn my frown upside down. I’d simply have to make do with a phone call to get myself out of my funk.
“Hey you,” I said into the phone in the most upbeat tone I could muster.
“What’s wrong?” Apparently it wasn’t good enough.
“Oh it’s nothing.”
“Come on, Danielle Hamilton—I know you better than that.”
A laugh-sob combination escaped me. “I’m just homesick is all.”
“I miss you too, babe! Not that I believe that is all that’s troubling you, BUT I actually called because I have something exciting to tell you. That is, if you want to hear it.”
“I’d love to hear it.” If anything could take me out of my mood it would be something that made my friend smile.
We spent the next couple hours on the phone as she informed me all about her new boyfriend. She filled me in on all the details from how they met, to when he’d left her place after their first sleepover. When she pressed me for details about the guys in town, I decided to leave Corey out. Whether we were friends or just benefits—I wasn’t in the mood to dissect our situation yet. It was extremely difficult to say goodbye and hang up the phone. Especially, when she made comments for me to hurry up and do what I came there to do, so I could get home to her.
Home —had always been a foreign concept to me. Sure I’d always had a roof over my head and even felt loved in places I’d lived. None of them though, made me feel at home. My hopes of a home died right along with the dreams of my mom getting off drugs and my dad coming back. Maybe someday I’d understand the meaning of the word but I didn’t hold onto that thought too much.
When I got off the phone with Gabby I felt better and decided it was probably best to respond to Corey before he sent a search party out for me.
Sorry for being MIA today but I’m okay. Don’t worry about last night—we’re fine.
A response came within a minute of the text being sent.
I’m glad you’re okay—know if you need anything that I’m here for you, Danielle. Always.
I didn’t respond but held the phone and message close to my heart. Despite every reason telling me not too, I believed him.
* * * *
When Sunday afternoon rolled around, I headed over to my Gram’s for dinner with my unopened bottle of red wine. One thing I learned quickly while growing up with my grandma—never show up to her house emptyhanded.
The house smelt incredible—just the way I always remembered growing up. The mouthwatering smell of pot roast, mashed potatoes and Gram’s homemade gravy lured me into the kitchen. Sunday dinner was always an event in the house where my Grandmother insisted on dressing nicely. She wore a pair of jeans that sat high on her hips and fit her legs with no added flair. Paired with that was her deep red short-sleeved sweater and a couple of her favorite gold bracelets.
Even without the reminder of how Sunday dinners were I still remembered to dress to her expectations. I selected my gray dress pants and navy V-neck wrap around top. My hair had been a mess earlier that day from my extremely long bath and my inability to properly brush through the wet tangles left it a disaster. After taking a look at it in the mirror I gave up, yanked and pulled until it lay in a French braid down my back.
“You’re late,” My Gram said pulling me from my thoughts.
“Nice to see you too.” She ignored the attitude behind my comment. Sitting on the island in a little dish were tons of green olives—one of my favorite snacks. My fingers found a couple and popped them into my mouth. “It smells delicious,” I added to soften the tension.
Gram turned to face me; hands at her hips, lips pursed. This was her classic ‘you’re in trouble’ face. She looked great for her age but this stance seemed to add an additional 10 years to her.
“We need to talk, Danielle.”
Uh oh. Full name—never a good sign. “So let’s talk.”
She blew out some of the steam that was locked inside her. “I got a call the other day from Francie Kinds.” Gram paused, waiting for me to understand whatever that meant.
“How nice.” The name meant nothing to me. I kept that part to myself. Gram tended to take things of that nature personally if she believed you should know what she was talking about.
“Emily’s mother.” She spit out, not hiding her irritation. Emily. Emily… Emily who? The tension around her mouth and eyes tightened more than I thought possible.
“The Emily whose wedding you’re planning!”
Oh, duh! “Yes Gram, I know who she is.” Well…at least I do now.
“Well now that we are on the same page, her mother Francie called me.” 3 more olives made their way into my mouth.
“You mentioned that.” Wasting no time, I popped the cork and poured myself a much needed glass of the red wine.
“She said Emily was so pleased with how the meeting went for her wedding consultation.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” This time my tone was genuine, I loved hearing people were pleased with my work. That alone deserved a great big sip of my freshly poured wine.
“Francie also mentioned to me how excited Emily was that someone in a happy and successful relationship was going to plan the event. She mentioned something about good karma the way her mother had when I planned their wedding.” With that I choked on the wine and my grandmother’s face contorted into another classic look that said—I caught you.
“Forget to tell me something?” Her arms crossed over her chest and her toe tapped against the tile floor.
“It’s not like that; it was a joke.”
“OH I see. Now we’re just kidding around with some of my oldest clients.”
“That’s not what I meant, Gram. Where business is concerned I don’t joke around.” Part of me hoped she’d just let it go but I knew that was a long-shot.
“So why don’t you explain to me what exactly was meant by that.�
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“Well you know Corey—the owner at The Underground, right?”
“I do.”
“He was there that day before Emily and Benjamin came in for their consultation. I was going over our budget and noticed one of the biggest issues was how much we spend on champagne and wine—in addition to what we already pay them. So Corey was there to discuss that with me, about him taking care of the costs for me.” Then of course he ended up ‘taking care of me’ with a couple pretty incredible orgasms.
“You don’t think I haven’t tried talking about that with him?” The judgmental tone in her voice made me feel like a child. As if I had no idea what I was doing.
“I’m sure you have but I wanted to give it another shot. So anyway, he was there and thought it would be funny to play along when Emily jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Gram cocked an eyebrow at me. “What happened with the decision about the drinks?”
A grin spread over my face; I was sure she’d be proud of the arrangement we worked out. “Get this—we’re going to work on the ordering together and while the Inn will still do the ordering, the bar is now going to split the costs with us.”
Maybe it was a bit much of me to expect my Gram to jump up and down and congratulate me on a job well done. Would it have killed her to crack a smile for me, though?
“Oh yeah? How were you and Corey able to work that one out?” Her tone was accusatory and in that moment I felt like she wasn’t talking to me, but to my mother.
“We talked and came to an agreement.” She made no effort to hide her extreme eye roll as she moved back to the stovetop to start dishing up. “What?” I pressed on; her hand brushed me off but she should know better. The stubbornness that many complained was my worst quality was a direct connection to her. I wasn’t about to let the conversation go.
“Nothing.”
Except nothing wasn’t the end of the conversation. This was the beginning of what I assumed to be a heated argument.
“Why don’t you just say it.” My hands flew to my hips to challenge her.