by Alyse, Jade
She ambled up the stairs slowly, sensing that she’d made an ass of herself. But she wouldn’t call Brandon and admit her own defeat.
He should’ve been here anyway. He would’ve kept me in line.
She’d simply crawl into bed with him, curl up in his arms and pretend like the night never happened. She would then, for damn sure, separate herself from the Lamberts as much as humanly possible. Although their house was beautiful and they were charming - well, Lamb was charming. Bellamy stared too often; idle ogling over her face, as though he were questioning her place in the world. And his brooding disposition caused far too much tension in his sculpted jaw line. And what the hell was his purpose in life? Aside from pursuing women, spending his father’s hard-earned money, and existing languidly on cruise control? He rarely made appearances at his father’s charity events, and when he did, he made such a mockery of the whole damn thing, that it became embarrassing to anyone within twenty feet of his wake. All he needed to do was spend a weekend in Helen Chandler’s care to set him right.
No. No, that wouldn’t work. He’d probably challenge Helen, too. He’d question her whole existence for his own amusement, steal glances at her just to get her blood boiling. And not in the sweet and charming way that Brandon Greene had managed to pull off a few years ago.
Natalie stood in the mirror. Droplets of freshly splashed water rounded like dew on the balls of her cheeks. She felt a little better. For what it was worth, she could chalk up her experiences that night as something she could learn from. They were simply different, right? Just different. And a little dysfunctional. Maybe. But her husband always felt pressed to remind her of her need to overanalyze everything - including people. She could hear his voice in her head. She exhaled, smiled sheepishly at herself, and glared at her reflection once more. Bags pooled under her eyes from sleepless nights. Or was it too many lucid dreams? Her hair hung loosely around her face like a mane, creating shadows along her cheeks. She’d made an effort to curl it for the dinner, but she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to present herself that way.
She pushed away from the sink and reentered the hallway. She would take her time returning to Lamb and Celia in the hearth room. Ambling on the tips of her toes, she allowed her eyes to roam. They stalled on a portrait hanging over a mantle in what appeared to be a spare bedroom. Her gaze propelled her feet forward, inside the room, cool and shadowed by a cornflower blue light, streaming in from a parted curtain. Behind an acrylic medium, of gentle, wide-swept brushstrokes, was the image of a woman: goldenrod skin, russet hair, almond-shaped hooded eyes. Haunted eyes. Ample bosom.
Idling herself there before the painting, Natalie felt spellbound, as though some immediate sense of recollection had struck her with paralysis.
“Delphine.”
The sound of Bellamy’s voice startled her, and she exuded a well-controlled shrill that sent sharp chills shooting up her arms and through her heart. Turning around swiftly, she met his eyes, as he heedlessly leaned against the doorjamb for support.
She swallowed thickly. “Pardon?”
“Delphine.” He sauntered toward her slowly, exhaling in a revelatory way. “My mother.”
Something in her chest thumped. “Oh.”
She didn’t feel it right or necessary to delve any further. She wasn’t sure he’d tell her anyway.
Standing beside her, he looked up toward the painting. “I’m not even sure if that’s what she actually looks like.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...I painted that when I was quite young. Maybe eleven or twelve. She’d been dead for six years at that point. I only have a vague memory of what she actually looked like.”
She gazed up at him, willing him to finish. A speck of untainted moonlight, flickered in his eyes. She imagined a young boy sprawled out on the floor with a canvas and a paintbrush far too big for him to hold. The idea that he could accomplish something like that, from memory no less, left Natalie aghast.
“Cancer.” He cleared his throat. “It was quick...or so I’m told. I just remember being at the hospital with my nanny at the time. My father was...well...I don’t know where the hell he was...”
“I’m sorry, Bellamy.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t bother me. But how would your husband feel if he knew that you were standing in my bedroom?”
“DO YOU PRACTICE YOUR ALOOFNESS, OR DOES IT SIMPLY COME NATURAL TO YOU?”
His words echoed angrily in her ears on the drive home. They’d stood outside of her car, her door ajar. She was readying herself to step in and gain a little air. Inside, her heart was desperately pumping. Outwardly, she stared at him with indifference, piecing over his face with her eyes. She concluded that he was quite aware of how attractive he was, and he used it to his advantage. She imagined the number of women who’d fallen victim to that fucking arrogant smirk and those eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me perfectly fine.”
“Thank you for dinner, Bellamy.”
“I made dessert, too. But I’m assuming you’re in a rush to get home to your husband.”
“Yes, I am, actually.”
“Because you love him.”
“Because dinner is over, and it’s late. Foreign concept?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t say much of anything worth memorizing.”
Then, she sank into her car and drove off.
Aloof? Who the hell was he to call her aloof? She’d spent a number of years, perfecting a disposition that worked for her; in most situations she remained cool, calm and collected. That’s what Brandon loved about her. Since when was a reserved and relaxed way of presenting herself a bad thing?
He didn’t say it was a bad thing. He was just making an observation. You’ve been making observations about him all week.
That was fair. But it still didn’t give him the right. She was their dinner guest for Christ’s sake! What happened to French decorum?
By the time she made it back home, all the lights in the house were off. She found Brandon splayed across their bed, on his stomach, fully nude, and breathing heavily. When she giggled, he stirred softly but did not wake. She loved him more, just then, watching him as she undressed herself. So much so that it hurt. All of the absurdity between them in recent months dissipated right at that moment; he was her home. She couldn’t fathom another love. He loved her irrevocably.
She crawled onto his muscular back, pressing her bare breasts into his skin. She momentarily closed her eyes, feeling his chest rise and fall. He was at peace. Kissing every nook and cranny, she’d periodically part her lips, allowing her tongue to carve invisible lines on him, until he stirred to soft groans.
Rolling onto his back, he took her by the hips and pulled her body toward his as his lips collided with hers.
“Hey, you.” His voice was raspy and his eyes were still half-closed, but a gentle smile push his cheeks upward.
“Hi, baby.” She kissed him again, deeper this time. His groan grew deeper too, causing her skin to prickle at the sound of him.
“Sorry...I fell asleep.”
“I noticed.”
“How was dinner?”
“Nothing special.” She pushed her lips into his neck, settling there, relishing in the taste of him. “I couldn’t wait to get home to you.”
His eyes grew wider. “Is that so?”
Raising her head to gaze down at him, she nodded slowly, pecking his bottom lip languidly. “Always.”
In one fluid movement, she was on her back and he was filling the space between her thighs. She breathed his name, giggled at the luck she’d found with this man, and reached up toward his face.
Then, an unwilling tear trickled down her face. His expression furrowed in concern as he caught the tear with his finger. “Hey, hey. What’s this about? You’re going to get laid soon, I promise.”
“You’re just...everything. You’re everything to me, Brandy. I’m so fuc
king lucky, I can’t stand it.”
He kissed her, rapturously, plowing the length of his tongue into her mouth, as the hum of his eager groan vibrated against her lips. He seemed propelled by some emotion that he could not express, and she tasted it in him. The familiarity of his smell and his warmth drove her insane, sparking a craving for him that had been missing for months.
Months! Damn it. Seems so irrelevant now, doesn’t it, girl?
They made love for hours, and did not seek rest until the first splash of sunlight spilled into the room. It was only then that he curled his hot, glistening body around hers, and closed his eyes.
“Get some rest, baby,” he whispered. “Aren’t you glad you got knocked out by my flying beer bottle?”
She chuckled, but did not move. Her body was far too weak and sensitive. “Dear God, I rubbed my forehead for weeks, thinking that a knot was still there. Well played, sir.”
Then, they quickly fell under.
A day or so later, Brandon boarded a plane to New York. While he was in the air, she took to a laptop in the house and wrote him a lengthy email, unedited and raw, expressing several of the thoughts and feelings that she was too afraid to tell him in person. After all of the years and memories between them, she was still fearful of his presence in her life. She was still the seventeen year old girl who was far too intimidated and scared to admit anything revelatory to him. But now...now...she was willing to admit what he meant to her and why. Everything.
When he landed, he called her. “Jesus Christ, Tallie.” He’d been crying; she could hear the tears in his scratchy voice.
She cried too. “I just had to. I filter myself too much. I need to stop doing that, yes?”
He agreed, told her that he loved her and that he couldn’t wait to come back home.
When she returned to work, Zuly was waiting for her. “You look different.”
She smiled. “How so?”
Zuly narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing. “I don’t know. You just do.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.”
“So, Brandon’s gone for a week, eh?”
She nodded. “I’m miserable already. I hate sleeping without him. I don’t manage well at all.”
“Never took you for the clingy type, but it makes sense. How about I come over a couple of nights this week and we watch movies for a little while. You know, just so you don’t feel completely alone?”
“Yes, please.”
“Great. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to invite a friend, too.”
“No problem. Who?”
“Bellamy. Bellamy Lambert.”
ESME & THE ACQUIESCENCE
BRANDON CALLED TO CHECK IN ON HER JUST AFTER LUNCH, but she was already in motion, setting down a much quieter passageway four floors up. Phone pressed to her ear, she felt enraptured by the soothing sound of her husband’s voice. It’d only been a few hours and she missed the smell and feel of him. She realized that it had been the first time they’d been apart in months. He was in a cab with a couple of the creative directors from his team, headed back to the hotel to debrief and change for dinner.
A few nurses gazed at her quizzically as she walked past them swiftly. “How do you think the meeting went?”
“Just the first of many, so I’m not quite sure. My coworkers seem to think it went okay. Our client is the daughter of a major food brand. If we nab this campaign, we could get more products. No pressure or anything.”
She stopped in front of Lamb’s office, rapping gently against the door. She winced at the sound of blaring car horns and shouting coming from his end. “Baby, you’re great. You’re creative. The way you put those storyboards and ads together so quickly is incredible. You remember the conversation we had the night you came over to my dorm before Christmas break to study for exams?”
He chuckled. “Yea, how could I forget?”
“Well, you must remember me telling you that I could see you doing this in your future. All you had to do was concentrate, and you’d be great.”
“Jesus. Now, it’s our future.”
“Exactly. So don’t fuck it up.”
He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that email you sent me all day...”
Her heart jumped to her throat. “Really?”
His voice was hushed. “It just made me wish that you could tell me these things when I’m standing right in front of you. Not when I’m across the country and can’t hold you.”
Lamb opened his office door and smiled. She smiled in return and raised a finger to halt him as she entered his office.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
“I miss you like crazy.” He laughed as though the audacity of it seemed foreign to him. “I keep going back to my hotel room, thinking that you’re going to be waiting for me there. I need my family here. I need you here.”
Lamb returned to his seat and picked up a book while she leaned against the wall, staring at him.
“Brandy, you’re killing me right now.”
“The only highlight of this week will be my parents driving down to the city in a couple of days. And Mark and Joanna are taking the train over from Boston.”
“See? You’ll get to see your family. Send me pictures and tell them I miss them dearly. I have to go, baby. Call me when you’re finished with dinner.”
“Will do. I love you, Natalie.”
“Love you more.”
She silenced the call, stowed the phone in her pocket, then smiled at Lamb once more.
“What can I do for you, my dear? I have a seat.”
“Actually, I’m kind of in a hurry, Lamb, I’m sorry. I was just wondering if your son was coming in a some point today? I haven’t seen him and I need to speak with him.”
Lamb’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced over his shoulder to a small calendar tacked to the wall. “I think he stepped out to lunch with a couple of my partners an hour or so ago. He should be back any minute.”
“Fine, I’ll wait here.”
“Oh, no need, my darling. His office is two floors down.”
Natalie projected a confused countenance. “Why would he need an office here?”
“He didn’t tell you? He owns a share of the hospital with me.”
TOO MANY FUCKING REVELATIONS, she thought as she descended a couple of floors in the elevator. One of the nurse’s aides was staring at her. It was probably because of her agitated fidgeting. But she needed answers, damn it, and she needed them now.
She stopped by the nurses’ station to inquire, and not long after she realized that she was on the Oncology level. She shuddered as she listened to the nurse’s instructions almost distantly.
Down to the end of the hallway. Three more doors. Make a left. Then a right. Then another left. Room 703.
Meandering down the hallway on her tiptoes, the sound of heart monitors beeped slowly in her eyes. The smell in the air was nauseating, but she pressed on, clutching her belly. She nearly collided with a patient, who had patches of missing hair and skull exposed, and her cheeks flared with embarrassment. She was sure that at any moment, someone would stop her and inquire about her haste. Three deep breaths later, she slowed her pace until she stopped in front of room 703, with the sound of lowered voices looping in her ears.
She tapped the door a few times, but no one answered. The voices continued, with giggling now too. She knocked again - no answer.
Throwing her mama’s manners to the side, she entered unannounced to see a tawny-skinned woman sitting on his desk with the majority of her thighs exposed. Her slender waist, plump ass and ebony coils made her one of the sexiest women that Natalie had ever seen.
Poking his head around her body, Bellamy grinned. “Mrs. Greene, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Save it. I’d like to speak with you in private for a moment. If you’re not too busy.”
Bellamy gathered to his feet, fastening the buttons on his navy blue blazer. “Natalie Greene, this is my good friend, Esme Martin.
She just flew in from Los Angeles this morning. Esme, this is Natalie Greene, my father’s pet.”
Eyeballing Bellamy, she extended her hand in Esme’s direction. “Nice to meet you, Esme.”
“Likewise.” There was an intonation of confidence in her breathy voice, lit impeccably by her well-natured tenor. “So, you’re the girl who saved Pierre’s little grandson. The girl who speaks Spanish fluently, but refuses to?”
“News travels quickly across state lines.” Natalie and Bellamy’s eyes locked together seamlessly.
“All in good fun.” She slid off of his desk. “I’m gonna head down the hall and grab a cup of coffee. Ping me when you’re done, Guillaume. Natalie, until we meet again.”
Natalie smiled politely, and Bellamy nodded curtly, his expression now unamused. And once the door was closed, he returned to his seat, and gestured for her to sit in one of the leather armchairs opposite him.
She arched an eyebrow. “Guillaume?”
“My middle name. Do you have a problem with that, too?”
“Of course not. But I do have a problem with finding out that you slept with my friend.”
Clasping his fingers together in front of his face, he attempted to shield an appeased smile. “Oh? Which one?”
“This is not a pissing contest, Bellamy.”
“Of course it isn’t. My pants are zipped. Are yours?”
She grunted with disgust and rolled her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “Why didn’t she?”
“I was with you for hours the other night and...”
“It didn’t come up. I’d forgotten about it, actually. It was a long time ago.”
“How long ago?”
“It doesn’t matter. It happened. I can’t dwell on things that I no longer have control over.”
“So, you’re not denying it?”
“No, why would I do that? And it’s not what you’re even mad about. That’s not why you’re sitting in my office.”
“Oh?”
He nodded slowly. “You’re mad because I was invited to your house.”
Chuckling haughtily, she flopped back in the seat. “I’m not mad at all. I’m simply here to void out whatever invite Zuly may have given you.”