by J. C. Cliff
I’m so overcome with fury over the way Stryker talked down to me today too. I let him get under my skin. I don’t know what kind of head games he’s playing with me. He’s hateful and off his rocker one moment, and the next he’s all sweet and tender, full of sexual charm. It’s as if he can’t figure out how he feels about me.
I close my eyes and steal a moment’s silence, searching for a little solace, but find none. To add insult to injury, he’s infringing upon my mission trip, and it doesn’t sound as if he’s going to back away from it.
I think I’m going to need a drink—several drinks, actually. I stomp into the living room, the mission trip eating away at me. With each step I take, the vexation seems to grow hand-over-fist, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it to the wine bottle in time. On my way to the kitchen, I lose it, and I wind up hurling my purse across the living room in a fit of rage. My purse whizzes by Celia’s head, almost knocking down one of Graham’s prized antique guns displayed on the wall. I’d venture to say he’s rolling over in his grave right now at my careless action. The man collected hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of antique firearms. It was more than a hobby of his; it was an obsession. There are so many guns in this house I could probably outfit an army.
“What the hell?” Celia half-screams in surprise at my outburst. She’s never seen me lose my cool like this before. Of course, it feels like I’ve never been this angry before either.
Seething with fury, I ignore her, as I’m still on a personal mission to get some much-needed alcohol. I march into the kitchen, yank open the refrigerator, and pull out an opened bottle of wine.
“Valerie!” Celia bellows behind me. “What’s the hell’s going on?”
I ignore her still, pull out the cork, and bring the glass to my lips. I waste no time in tilting it back to take a large swig of the cool elixir.
“Valerie!”
I swallow the alcohol with an unladylike gulp then turn around, waving the bottle of wine around in front of my friend.
This is my trip. Mine, dammit! There’s no way Stryker could’ve known about my trip to Panama, and I don’t think he would’ve booked it just to be spiteful or to try his hand at getting back with me. Would he? It has to be sheer coincidence, doesn’t it? Regardless, I don’t need him there, complicating my life.
“I hope you got insurance on my ticket to Panama,” I bite out, then knock back another large swallow of wine. “If I back out, you’ll get a refund, right? Because, I have to tell you, I’m not ready for this. I mean, it’s pennies for either of us. Hell, I’ll just reimburse you for the cost. That’ll keep it simple.”
Celia looks stunned, not knowing how to take my mood. She nervously inches forward, and asks, “Val, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t deal with the memories, and the one-year anniversary coming up.” The excuse of a lie rolls off my tongue with ease. “I just can’t do it.” That much is true.
“I don’t think you can get a refund,” Celia responds apprehensively. “I think there has to be a medical emergency or something in order for you to back out.”
“Does mental illness count?” I ask with ire. “Either way, it looks like you’re going to have to cancel my flight.” I’m not up for being barraged by Stryker’s sexy ways at every turn, along with all the memories that will surface, dredging up the past, while I’m trying to focus on the mission at hand. Because that’s exactly what is going to happen. He’s going to turn my soul inside out and upside down then toss it aside.
“What’s wrong, Val?” Celia asks carefully, studying me with great concern. “Are you having another panic attack? Is that the problem? You know you can bring your anti-anxiety medication, right?”
I laugh out loud, but nothing is funny. I take another drink then wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. Celia lifts a brow, my actions taking her off guard. I ignore the look on her face.
“Yeah, drugs… sounds like a great idea.”
“Stop it, Valerie,” she demands. “This isn’t funny.”
I know she’s innocent in all this, but her vexation with me has me taking my aggression out on her. “I know it’s not funny.” I lean forward and sneer. “This is some serious shit, and I want out.”
Celia’s manicured hands cover her chest in a way that lets me know I’m freaking her out. “I know you’ve been nervous about this trip, but you need this. I’ll be by your side the entire time, I promise. You’re going to be fine.” She takes a cautious step forward, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Honey, it’s time you start living. You need to get on with your life. It’s what Graham would’ve wanted for you.”
I shake my head. “Celia, I can get on with my life perfectly fine, right here in Raleigh. I don’t need a trip out of the country to do that.”
Her forehead wrinkles, her eyes flicking to my almost gone bottle of wine before she settles on my gaze, softly asking, “What happened today, honey? Was your new job orientation too much for you? Did something bad happen?”
“You could say that.”
“You don’t have to take that job, you know. It’s not like you need the money.”
“I know. I just….” My hands clench into fists, waiting for the alcohol to infuse my veins, but the anxiety is still too thick. It flows through my bloodstream like an infection; there’s no getting rid of it. “I just don’t think I can make this trip. I need to back out.”
Valerie eyes me suspiciously, her voice wary. “What aren’t you telling me? I’ve known you for far too long to not see when something else is eating at you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been saying how this trip would be good for you. You were excited about being able to help others again. You said it gave you something to look forward to. What’s changed?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, breathing through my escalating anxiety. “Nothing’s changed. I just don’t want to go, all right?” I half-yell in aggravation. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Exasperated, I push past Celia, with my bottle of wine in hand. “I need to go get changed.” I abruptly end the conversation, leaving her gaping at me in confusion as I take off to my bedroom in a huff.
Reaching my room, I try not to slam the bedroom door behind me, but I fail. The pictures on the wall rattle. This time, I wince at the sound, and then I set the wine bottle down on the nightstand and promptly flop onto my bed. God, how did my life get so messed up in such a short amount of time? I grab my special candle then curl up into a ball. I cradle the glass and bring to my nose so I can inhale its scent for comfort. It’s about the only thing that gives me security. So many incredible memories, all from one fragrance.
I really wanted to open up and tell my deepest, darkest secrets to my best friend, but for some reason my inner voice was stopping me. My mother always told me if I ever wanted to keep a secret, don’t let it spill from your lips in the first place. That’s the only sure way to keep confidentiality, because you never know when someone might turn on you, or accidentally let something slip. You only have to let your secrets spill once before you wind up strictly adhering to this rule, best friend or not.
But dammit, I really wanted to confide in Celia earlier, but I stalled. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my best friend about Stryker. I don’t think she could digest the knowledge that my ex-lover would be in Panama with me while I’m dedicating a new clinic in my late husband’s name. If I back out of this trip, it’ll crush her.
I love Celia, but the fact is when it comes to my personal life, especially after Graham died, it’s as if Celia made it her life’s mission to look after me like a parent. All the loyalty she had for Graham, she seems to have passed on to me. She was so close to Graham, so protective of him that she’d come off almost obsessed with him. Graham swore he never had sex with her, told me she wasn’t his type, and I believed him, because I saw the way they interacted together, and there was zero chemistry between the two.
Their relationship was hard to describe. I think Graham was
her mentor of sorts. Even though they weren’t related, at times they acted like siblings, taking funny verbal jabs at one another. It was strictly years of friendship and business between them that enabled this type of camaraderie.
I can definitely see how Celia was enamored with Graham. He exuded power, intelligence, and had charisma in spades. I’m not going to lie; it’s some of the reasons why I was drawn to him. Of course, with him being handsome as sin, highly attentive to me, and very supportive of my needs, how could I not have fallen for him? Plus, he came to me in a time when I needed him most.
Oh, how I miss my little boy. My lungs constrict for a brief moment, and I find myself gasping for air. I’m beginning to wish I took one of my anti-anxiety pills instead of chugging down this bottle of wine. Alcohol has never helped calm me. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. I shake my head in sadness, missing the life I once had. Things were much simpler then. Now, everything is so upside down.
I guess I’ve always been okay with Celia mingling in my business, because I know she means well. It’s not like I have much of a life to meddle in anyway. I also know she loves me, and to be honest, I couldn’t have survived the past twelve months without her. But sometimes she runs interference when a man asks me out on a date. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, or if I’m supposed to stay single the rest of my life, but when it comes to other men showing an interest in me, she either guilts me by saying it’s too soon, or she somehow chases them away. I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. Her eccentric behavior bewilders me, because she didn’t have a problem taking me to a high-end shady massage parlor.
I’ve always put up with her quirky and controlling ways, mainly because sometimes I think she’s right about me dating. It most likely is too soon to let another man into my life. I know she’s only looking out for my heart, but at some point, she’s going to have to let me live again. She has to realize nobody could ever replace Graham.
Graham was like a knight in shining armor when we met, and at first, I thought he was rebound material, because I wasn’t sure I could ever love another the way I did Stryker. He was so kind, gentle, and patient with me, showing me that indeed it was possible to not only love again, but trust as well. You can’t put a price on trust. You just can’t.
CHAPTER 18
~ Valerie ~
A small knock sounds at my door, and I let out a resigned sigh, knowing I’m going to have to explain myself to Celia. “It’s open,” I call out. I look to the door as she enters. She’s wearing a frown, her regal features expressing nothing but sisterly concern. She sits down on the side of my bed and tilts her head to the side to meet my gaze.
“You know, I think I’ve figured it out. I just realized you haven’t been acting right since last Saturday night,” she says softly, her eyes flashing guilt.
“Gee, I wonder why,” I mutter sarcastically, glaring at her out the corner of my eye. “Celia, I love you, but who the hell takes a girlfriend out—her first night out after a full year of emotional recuperating, mind you—to a hoochie spa?” I arch a brow at her, irritation lining my voice. This is the first time I’ve been able to talk to her about that crazy-ass night without wanting to kill her.
Her lips twitch, and I know she’s trying to suppress a grin. “I like that name, Hoochie Spa.”
I roll over on my back to face her fully, incredulous disbelief vibrating off me in droves. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What?” she asks, snapping her head back as if she truly doesn’t know.
“Ever since you’ve moved in with me, you’ve been acting like a sex-starved cougar. Have you always been this way? I’m really concerned for you,” I tell her in all honesty. I don’t ever remember her acting this way before she moved in, but maybe I was too busy being a wife and mother to even care what she was doing in her afterhours. “Your behavior,” I say, “is not normal.”
She looks at me a little sheepishly, and then confesses, “I suppose if I’m honest, I think sex has always been an outlet for me. Maybe even a hobby?” Guilt lilts her voice.
“I sure as hell hope you use a lot of protection,” I advise, giving her a contemptuous glare.
She cracks a grin, dismissing my anger. “Actually, my sex life isn’t as bad as you think it is. I have pretty high standards, you know.
“Yes, I know,” I reply dryly.
She rolls her eyes at me, before she explains, “When Graham and I lived in Georgia, I had one partner in all that time, and now that I’m here in Raleigh, I have acquired a steady man.”
I nearly gasp at the knowledge. “Why didn’t I know about this? And why haven’t I met this man? We’ve known each other for almost six years, Celia. Why has this been such a secret?” I ask, my voice expressing more hurt with each question I ask. I’m kind of troubled about her years of secrecy, and it must show on my face, because she elaborates.
“Honey, it’s not what you think. I belong to a BDSM club. It’s something I’ve never told you about, because I didn’t think you would’ve understood.”
I quickly nod, wholeheartedly agreeing. “I think you could be right about that. I don’t understand.”
She chuckles at me, and then slips her hand into mine, giving it a light squeeze. “You are a little southern belle, aren’t you? It’s one of the first things Graham fell in love with, your southern elegance and old-fashioned innocence.”
I relax, my body sinking back into the comfort of my bed as I return her soft smile. I call to mind how Graham always called me his Little Southern Belle. I loved the endearment.
“I guess you could say Graham didn’t want me to tell you. He didn’t want you curious about my lifestyle. He loved the simplistic and sweet intimacy you both shared.”
“He told you that?” I ask, embarrassed he discussed our bedroom life with Celia.
“I can see you thinking, so let me just ease your pretty little mind, okay? Graham never discussed with me what happened between the two of you behind closed doors. He simply warned me.” She shrugs. “He would’ve been so upset with me had you wanted to explore that lifestyle. He loved keeping you on a pedestal, loved treating you like a fragile china doll.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.” But I do find it endearing Graham loved me for me, so much so that he never wanted me to change. “So why did you take me to that spa? And if you have a steady man, why did you feel the need to go too? And how long—”
Celia places two fingers over my lips to shush me as a wry smile forms on her perfectly plump lips. “I took you to that spa, because you’d been stuck inside your head for too long, and I thought it would do you some good to take a walk on the wild side with no strings attached. As far as my man is concerned, we’ve agreed we can see others. It’s only when I step into the BDSM club do I let him own me. Plus, he’s been out of town on business for the past two weeks, and I won’t see him for another month. I didn’t have any prospects and was in a desperate way.”
“Ohh-kay,” I drawl out. “That might be too much information, but you do realize you can do those sorts of things at home, right? And for much cheaper, I might add.”
“It’s not the same. It’s more exciting and taboo to visit the Local Edge.” She arches her finely plucked brow, adding, “Don’t you agree?”
“Ughh,” I groan aloud at her sex-starved mind. “Are you kidding me? Is this your way of asking me if I made good time and use of your money?”
“Well… did you?” she prompts.
“It’s none of your business what I did or didn’t do,” I say with annoyance, “and you have to know it really messed with my head. To say I was caught off guard was an understatement. You putting me in that situation without telling me what I was walking into was not cool.” My eyes narrow into a condemning glare. “It was revolting and offensive.”
She casts her head down in shame, frowning. “I’m so sorry. Graham was right. You do have a pure soul, and I don’t know what I was thinking.” Peeking up th
rough the strands of her fallen hair, she solemnly asks, “Can you forgive me?”
I nod, silently telling her I forgive her, because even though I’m not into her kink, there was no way she could’ve predicted my masseuse was an ex-lover. I was so upset that night I bolted out of the Local Edge, not caring how she was going to get home.
“The receptionist told me she called you a cab, and that your eyes were rimmed in red, full of tears.” She pauses, unsettled worry creasing her brow. “I truly am sorry.”
“I know. I forgive you. It’s behind us now.” I pat her hand to give her some reassurance. “Just don’t ever do something like that again.”
“You do know Graham would want you to go to Panama, right?” she asks, changing the subject. “He’d want you to be there for the dedication and ground breaking ceremony of the new clinic, honoring his name.”
“I know.” I swallow hard, feeling a tremendous weight of guilt creeping back onto my shoulders. “Graham would be so proud, and the local people are counting on me to be there.” The last trip I had taken to Panima, Graham wanted me to donate thousands of dollars to have a new clinic built in our name. I’m finally in the right frame of mind to honor his wishes.
I sigh in reluctance, tamping down the dreaded knowledge that Stryker is going to try to push through all my personal boundaries. It’s one thing to run into him on occasion, but it’s something else entirely to be stuck with him in another country, forced to work together day in and day out.
“You look exhausted,” Celia comments, interrupting my thoughts. “How about you take a nice hot shower while I warm your dinner? Maybe you just need a good night’s sleep, huh? Things will look brighter in the morning after some much needed rest, okay?” I nod, because it won’t do any good to argue with her. She smiles down on me, giving my hand one last squeeze, then gets up. “I’ll have your dinner ready for you when you come downstairs.”