The second she opens the door, she lets out a startled gasp. “Luke.” She hugs herself, her face flushing. “What are you doing here?”
I pull out my gift, extending it toward her. “I was going to have them delivered, but then I thought ‘I’m right next door, might as well save a few bucks’.”
She clears her throat. “Thank you.” Coco takes the flowers from me and after a moment’s hesitation, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.
It takes everything I’ve got not to push her for more, not to pull her into my arms and show her what we’ve been missing out on for far too many hours.
Still in nothing but that red bikini and a see-through white cover-up, she places the envelope on the counter and crosses the kitchen to turn on the tap. After she’s found a vase, she places the roses inside, except for one. That one she brings to her nose, inhaling deeply.
“Why black?” Her gaze flicks up to me.
“You don’t like them?”
“I love them. They’re beautiful. Unique.”
“Like you.”
She looks away, her smile hidden by the flower. “I’m not all that unique, Luke.”
“Sure you are. So unique I can’t even begin to describe how.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” She laughs.
A chuckle rumbles through my chest and I can’t help but smile back. My face betraying the hardened demeanor I’ve held onto for so long.
Coco places the rose next to the others and walks over to the kitchen table, setting the vase in the center. As she fiddles with them, I watch her, wondering how it’s possible for me to change as much as I have in a few short weeks.
She brings it out in you, Luke. She always did. That has to be a good thing. After all the bad something good has to happen. It’s your turn.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why do you keep sending me black roses. Aren’t they, like, morbid or something?”
“Not unless you want them to be.”
She raises both eyebrows and crosses her arms. So I sigh and rake my fingers through my hair. At the risk of sounding like a cheese ball, I ready myself to tell her what she wants to hear. “I didn’t even know they had black roses until a few years ago.” My mind briefly wanders to that day back in New York when my stupidity got the better of me. We’d been on tour with the band and I’d left Shannon at home with Ray and pregnant with Mariah. I’d only recently broken up with her sister, but it was hard to let go of something I’d grown use to. Drunk and high, I’d tried to kiss Sheila and I’d never felt so guilty.
“I didn’t even know they were real until that night at The L. Dash thought it was…never mind.”
I swallow hard, trying to get the image of her with him out of my mind—the way he had her plastered to the wall, hands all over her. Her enjoying it. It’s an image I haven’t been able to release for the past few days. An image I want to shatter forever.
“Either did I. I was buying flowers for Shannon and…well, it’s a long story. But I wanted to give you ones that had meaning.”
“To teach me a lesson.” She smirks and I grin back, but shake my head.
“To make you think.”
She nods slowly. “What do black roses mean?”
“They signify death.”
She scrunches up her nose and I reach forward, pulling a petal off one of them and stroking it between my finger and thumb. “Black roses symbolize death. But death isn’t always a bad thing.” I clear my throat. After the hell I’ve been through, it’s hard to believe those words just left my mouth. “I mean…especially when it means the end of a bad thing. And the beginning of something better.” I look up at her. She’s staring at me, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth. “I can think of a few things better than what we’re both doing right now. Living the way we are. Seeing things the way we do.”
If someone had asked me a month ago if I was ready to move on, be with someone else, I would have told them ‘hell no’. But then we started hanging out again. And, for the first time in years, I started to see you as so much more than just the girl next door. You’re smart and beautiful. You’re compassionate too. And that’s not just lip service. You really are. You care about people when you don’t have to. You’re there for the people who need you, you always have been. You were there for Sheila after she left home all those years ago, after….everything. And you’ve been here for me.”
Her hand grazes mine and I reach for her, more than ready to seal a deal I’m not even sure I’ve made yet. But as my head inches closer to hers, she stops me, a hand on my shoulder.
“Luke, I can’t.”
I suck in a breath. “Why?”
“Because I have to be there for Dash too.” She shakes her head. “I can’t do this to him. He—we…this is so complicated. And I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
As much as I want to groan or laugh or do anything to make her see how crazy she’s being, I just smile instead. “You didn’t pull me into anything. I came willingly. And for me, Coco, that’s saying a lot.”
“It’s just that he needs me. We’ve been together so long…”
I nod and clamp down on the inside of my cheek. “I’ll bet he does. I’ll bet you’re real good for him. But is he good for you?”
She doesn’t answer so I decide to change the subject.
“Aren’t you going to read the cards?” I pick up the envelope and hand it to her.
Her face brightens and she takes it from me tearing into it. I stare intently watching every millisecond of her reaction. Hoping the words will mean as much to her as they did to me when I picked them out.
Coco clears her throat and holds up the first card. “Number eight. You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” She glances up at me for a split second. Just long enough for me to know that she knows they’re more than just words on a page. “Dr. Seuss said that?”
“Guess he was a bit of a romantic.”
She giggles and flips to the next card. “Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you. Bob Marley.”
She splays her hand across her chest. “Really? Bob and me? I can totally see that.” I toss the rose petal in her direction and it floats down onto the counter top.
She laughs, picking up the last card—my favorite of the three. Maybe my favorite one yet. I stand up straight, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her read it.
Her gaze flits over the card and she rests it down on the counter, without looking at me.
“You’re not going to read it out loud?”
“What’s the point? You already know what it says.”
She walks past me and I grab her hand, holding on tight in case she tries to pull away. “Those aren’t just words, you know. And I’m not doing this to win some kind of prize. As far as I’m concerned you and me are inevitable. We’ve always been and we’ll always be. We may have missed out on a few years, but a few years don’t have anything on a lifetime.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Coco
I flip on the lamp and pick up the card for the hundredth time, even though I know the words by heart now. It’s from The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis and like Luke said, they’re not just words. I wish they were. I wish it were that easy.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
I hold the card over my chest and let out a deep sigh. I have to talk to Dash tomorrow. I have no idea what I’ll say, but we need to figure thi
ngs out. After my night with Luke, I didn’t hear from him for two days. And to be honest, it kind of made me feel like an idiot. Like I’d just walked away from something incredible and right into something predictable. Heartbreaking and predictable.
But, once again, Dash had his reasons. I can’t be mad at him for jumping at an opportunity to audition for another band. Ever since Roscoe Gold broke up he’s gone from one band to the next trying to find his groove, craving the success and camaraderie he had with Ross, Luke and Ryan—a brotherhood he’d otherwise missed out on. I’ve always encouraged him even though I wished he’d find something more productive to do with his life and I never made him feel bad about it. I’m not about to start now.
I shove Luke’s card into the top drawer of the night stand, wishing I could lock it away forever. Then I flip off the light and drift off to sleep, the image of gray eyes and a crooked smile never too far from my mind.
The door is slightly ajar when I arrive and it immediately has me on high alert. It isn’t like him. It usually takes five minutes for him to even answer it. There were even times when I had to trek down the block to call from a pay phone and trudge back up. In the middle of the winter, at that.
I called Dash a few times before I left and didn’t get an answer. So I just left him a message to let him know I was coming over. It pissed me off that he didn’t bother to answer the phone or call me back to acknowledge he’d gotten my message but, like always, I made my way across town anyway.
I push the door open and call out his name, not expecting anything in return and not being let down in that regard. A sweet aroma meets me. One I’ve never smelled before. I slip out of my shoes and continue my way into the dimly lit condo on cautious feet.
“Dash?”
The television’s not on, the living room is actually clean and what the hell kind of music is he playing? My heart is tripping over itself as I make my way toward his room and just before I step into the hallway, I consider my options.
I could go back there, walk into the unknown and possibly something that might change my life permanently or I could walk out the door, never look back and always wonder. I choose the first. Not because I’m thrilled at the idea of being heartbroken, yet again, but because I came here for a reason. To have an important conversation about our future. To make sure, once and for all, that I’m choosing the right man. Not the man who makes me fantasize about how perfect life could be, but the one I know thoroughly, the one I’ve built a life with, the one I’ve stuck by all this time.
I take a deep breath and keep going, clutching my bag to my side. I normally leave it on the coffee table, but in case my heart’s about to be busted, in case I have to run, I don’t ever want to look back.
As I approach his room, I notice it is where the source of most of the light in his place is coming from and when I drop my gaze, I notice something that knocks the wind out of me. Rose petals. Red ones. They’re scattered all over the floor, a trail of them leading up to his room door. And the music I couldn’t place before I now realize is jazz. Miles Davis to be exact.
I reach my hand out to push open the door, then pull it back quickly. I’m not sure I’m prepared for what’s on the other side. Not sure I can handle anymore drama. For six years, I’ve been through every emotion possible with this man. I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve screamed. If I open that door and see what I’m imagining, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
I set my jaw and brace myself for the inevitable.
When the door swings open, it’s like the wind has been sucked out of my lungs. My pulse whirs and I bring my fingers to cover my mouth.
The trail of rose petals cover almost every inch of Dash’s bed. Groups of candles are lit in each corner, burning so bright I can feel the heat from where I still stand in the doorway and some kind of sweet incense smolders away in the plant pot by the window.
“Hey, babe.”
I snap my mouth shut and shake my head.
“You okay?”
I nod, blinking the moisture from my eyes. “Dash…”
He abandons his post from the foot of the bed and meets me at the doorway. Taking my bag he leads me across the room and places it on the dresser.
“What is this?”
A soft kiss lands on the underside of my ear. “It’s a celebration.”
“Wh—what kind of celebration? What are you celebrating?”
“Me.” He kisses my cheek. “And you.” He kisses my jaw. “And us.” He smashes our mouths together, devouring mine until I have to push him away to catch my breath.
“I’m sorry,” he says, still not letting go of me. “For everything. I’ve been a jackass the last few months. But I’ve just been so stressed about my career, you know?”
I nod and he treats me with one of his very rare smiles.
“But you’ve been like my rock through all of this bullshit. You listen to me when I bitch about it, you tell me to keep trying. Goddamit, Coco you’re like my good luck charm. I don’t even know what I’d do if it weren’t for you.”
He kisses me again and this time it’s much softer, reminding me of the days when we first got together. Of how he used to look at me like I was his entire world. How he’s looking at me right now.
“You and me are so fucking unlikely, but we’ve made it work, right? We’ve had our shit to deal with but we always figure it out, right?”
I nod again, because I’m actually speechless. Part of me wonders if I’m even awake right now.
“You’re probably wondering where all this is coming from.” He kisses me again then sits down on the bed, pulling me into his lap. “Remember that audition I went for the other night in Seattle? With the Jade Green Experience?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I fucking got it, babe. They hired me on the spot. Then they dragged me out to party until six a.m.” He laughs. “Jade is a piece of work. Wild as they all say she is. I know I’ve got my work cut out for me with that one, but it’s going to be so worth it.”
“I’ve never heard of them,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s because you don’t know good music—except, of course, for Roscoe Gold. They used to be indie, but they’re more main stream now even though they don’t have a label. They’re based out of New York, which is exactly where we’re going to be in a month. Are you ready?”
“For what?”
“We’re moving to New York. You, me and the city, baby. I know how much you love that city—and most of your clients are out there. That’s why we’re really celebrating. We both get to live our dreams. No fucking regrets.”
I climb off him and stand at the foot of the bed.
“You want this, right?” he asks, his expression tightening. “To be with me? In New York?”
“I…”
“Look, babe. I know things have been rough, but they don’t have to be anymore. I told you once before I was in this thing with you for life and I meant it.” He sighs. “About the STD test. I took it, like you asked. It was positive. But I swear to you I didn’t cheat. There have been times, plenty of times—I’ve been tempted, but I resisted. When I hurt you all those years ago, I felt like shit for it. I still do. And I just…I didn’t want you to think I’d done it again.”
“So you lied?”
He nods. “I know you’d never cheat. You don’t have it in you. You’re a better person than that. And I don’t even know what I was thinking accusing you the way I did. I guess it was just easier than admitting I’d hurt you again.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m fucked up, babe. I’m a fuck up. But I—I’m a fuck up who loves you. And I’ve never loved anyone before. You make me feel like…like I can do anything. I’ll still mess up here and there, but I’ll do it a hell of a lot less when I have you. You make me better and I just want to keep getting better. But…” He runs his hands over his face, then reaches out to slow my pacing. “Babe, just tell me. Let me know now if it’s too late. I know I’ve fucked up plenty and I wouldn�
�t blame you if—”
“It’s not too late,” I shake my head. “I’m just a little overwhelmed. I’m just not sure.”
“What can I do?” He pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. “How can I make you sure?”
I palm the back of my neck and stare up at the candle-lit ceiling. He’s gone through so much trouble, so much effort for such a small thing. Only it’s not so small. Not at all. For him it’s the opportunity he’s been waiting for. And moving to New York? I’ve thought about it for years, but I never thought it was something he’d be on board with. Then there’s Luke…
I push the thought out of my mind the second it enters. Luke isn’t part of this equation. This is between Dash and me. My long-term boyfriend, the one who noticed me all those years ago. The one who’s been with me ever since, despite how difficult it can be at times.
“You can choose the apartment,” he says. “Or maybe one of those brownstones so you can have that space you want so bad. An extra room to work out, one for an office. If we live close to Central Park I’ll even take up running with you in the mornings. You know, just to be safe.”
I laugh. “Yeah right.”
“You don’t think I can run?” he raises an eyebrow. “Remember I played football in high school.”
“And high school was a hell of a long time ago.”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do to make you happy, babe. As happy as you make me.”
His words are melting me. After all this time, Dash Martin is finally telling me what I’ve always wanted to hear him say. But for some reason I can’t bring myself to say yes and at the same time I can’t convince myself to walk away from it all.
“Is it okay if I think about it?”
His shoulders slump and he lets out a ragged sigh. “Sure. Just don’t leave me hanging too long.” His gaze shifts toward the rose-covered bed and his wounded expression morphs into a wicked grin.
Black Rose (Lewiston Blues Series/Black Family Saga Book 3) Page 18