A 21st Century Courtesan
Page 25
“What do you need from me now, Valentine?” he asks quietly.
“You've already given me more than I expected. Everything you've done for me over the years. Talking with me today. Loving me.” I stop, smile at him. “I love him, Enzo,” I say, my voice so soft I can barely hear myself.
He nods, smiles a little, is quiet for several long moments while he sips his cappuccino. “I won't see you after this, Valentine,” he says.
I look at him, at his handsome, lined face. The sincerity and sadness in his dark eyes.
“No.” I smile at him once more, even as new tears fill my eyes.
He grasps my hand again, holds on, his fingers warming mine.
“Remember that I loved you, Valentine, if you remember nothing else.”
“I'll remember everything, Enzo, all you've done for me.”
“No. There is no need. I do what I want. I am a self-indulgent man; I know this. And all of that, it is not important. I think you understand now what is.” He pauses once more, sets his cup down on the saucer with a small clink. “Go to your young man, Valentine. Have a life. Have love.”
He stands, and I can hardly bear to see him go. Yet I can't wait another moment to call Joshua.
Enzo takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and kisses it carefully, his lips warm and dry. Sweet. My heart is breaking, and so full at the same time!
“Be well, my Valentine.”
“Enzo. I'll miss you!”
He smiles, a real smile this time, even if the sadness lingers at the corners of his eyes. “No. No, you won't.”
I watch him walk away, two women turning to admire his elegant form as he strolls down the street as if he doesn't have a care in the world.
I pull my cell phone out of my purse with shaking hands.
Joshua.
I dial, wait the endless moments for the phone to make the international connection. My pulse is a hammer in my veins, threatening to break me.
Please answer …
“Joshua Spencer.”
My heart lurches at the sound of his voice, and it takes me a moment to find mine.
“Hello?”
“Joshua.”
“Valentine?”
“Joshua!”
And then I'm crying, so hard I can't speak. He'll be angry with me, I'm certain, and I can't blame him. Oh, God, what if he doesn't want me, after all I've put him through? After what I've finally discovered?
“Valentine, calm clown. What is it? Where are you? Are you okay? Talk to me.”
“Joshua … I have so much to tell you.”
“Then tell me.”
I can picture his face, his hazel eyes, his dark lashes. I can imagine the intensity of his beautiful features. I can't stand it that he's so far away.
“I'm so sorry, Joshua. That I had to go away. That I was so confused. I didn't mean to be melodramatic. But… I think … I think I understand now.”
“What do you understand, Valentine?” His voice is soft, uncertain.
“That I love you. I love you. That it's all that really matters.” The tears are coming so hard now, I can't see. It doesn't matter. All that matters is how I feel, Joshua's voice on the other end of the line. “God, I love you.”
“Valentine. God damn it.” I hear his voice break. “I need to be with you. I need to hold you.”
“Yes, I need all of that. I need you. I finally get it. I get that I need you, and that it's okay. I'm not so scared anymore. Because I finally believe it, Joshua. I believe in love. I believe I can have it, that it's real. That it means something. That it carries its own power. But, Joshua … what if I don't do it right?”
“There is no right way. That's one of the ideas you have to let go. There is no perfect relationship. There are no perfect people. We all just flounder around and hope everything turns out okay. I don't expect you to be perfect. I just expect you to be you, to be true to your feelings.”
“I think I finally can be. I think I've finally figured out a way to integrate all of those parts of myself we talked about. I know where to begin, anyway. I need to begin by trusting myself. Trusting how I feel about you. Trusting that love can get me through. Can get us through.”
“It was so damn hard to let you go, Valentine, but I knew I had to. That you really did have to figure some of this stuff out for yourself. Tell me what's happened. I need to know.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, take a deep breath. “I found … faith. In some ways, it's as simple as that. There's more, but that's the most crucial part. We can talk about the rest when I see you. I can't wait to see you. I want to love you, Joshua. I want to accept that you love me. And I do. I believe it.”
“Valentine …” His voice is gruff with emotion. I've hurt him so much.
“It's still hard. The old stuff hasn't entirely gone away. You've helped me so much, even though it's taken a while for me to absorb it all, and I know I'm not done yet. But I want to be with you while I do it. Is that…” I have to stop. I can hardly stand to ask him, to hear his answer. “Is it okay with you? Can we … Joshua …”
“Valentine, I love you. Come to me. We'll do this together. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Just come to me.”
“God, Joshua. I love you.”
“I love you, baby.”
How is it possible that I have this? That somehow I've come full circle, only to end in a better place than I started? But this is my new reality. Impossible. And yet, here it is. Love. The one intangible thing in my life. The one thing I've always yearned for, even if I never knew it.
He loves me. And I love him in a way that is so powerful, it makes anything possible.
“Joshua, I love you so much. And I need you. Not just anyone, not just an escape. But you?”
I know what I have to do. And I know what I want. And for the first time, these things are one and the same. I'm finally able to let the past go. To move beyond it. And to truly live. To truly love. To find myself, on my own and with this amazing man. His love for me, my love for him, redeems me as nothing else could.
For the first time in my life, I am no longer flying without a net.
“Come to me, Valentine. I can't wait.”
“I'm coming. I'm coming home.”
Epilogue
THE SUN IS SETTING in a blaze of fall glory outside the windows of our home. It used to be Joshua's home, but over the last year it has become mine, ours.
I can't believe it's been a year. I can't believe what I've learned in that year with him. How happy we've been together. Not that every moment has been easy. But it's all been beautiful, even the hard parts.
I am a different person now, yet essentially the same, which is what Joshua was trying to tell me from the start, what Lydia reminds me of all the time, what Enzo told me in Rome: that who I am is good enough.
“Valentine,” Joshua calls from the bathroom, “you almost ready to go?”
“Almost.”
“Roy called. He and Carrie are meeting us there a few minutes early.”
“Okay, good.”
So nice to have friends in my life. Unbelievable still, sometimes. Carrie and Roy are good people; supportive, kind. Normal people. They've heard my story, the one I will tell in front of two hundred people tonight. And they're still my friends.
I pull my gaze from the window back to the mirror over the dresser. I look very much the same as I always have. Just happier. And my eyes are alive with excitement, with nerves.
I pick up the lovely, square-cut emerald Joshua gave me when I came home from Rome from a shallow bowl on the dresser, struggle to get the long, gold chain hooked. Joshua comes up behind me, takes the necklace from my fumbling fingers, and fastens the clasp, turns me around in his arms. I can smell the soap on him; his hair is still damp from the shower. I want to take him to bed right now. I always want him, but I love it when he's clean like this, with a fresh shave, making his face look innocent, sweet, except for that small scar, the wicked gleam in his hazel eyes.
“Do I look alright?” I ask him.
“Beautiful as always, baby.”
“But am I… presentable?”
“Don't worry so much. You'll be fine. You'll be wonderful.” He strokes my cheek with one fingertip, making me shiver. He always has that effect on me. No matter what else is on my mind, a lovely, momentary distraction.
“I've never spoken in front of a group before. And this is so important.”
“I know it is. But you'll be fine because it's so important to you.”
“This” is the first big fundraiser for my foundation, Lost Girls. We plan to open by next summer. A halfway house, a job training program. I've already made connections with two of the local drug treatment programs, been shameless in hitting up people I know in the film industry for donations, using my old connections, as odd as that seems. But it's been a way for me to turn the shit that was my old life into something positive. I even asked Deirdre. The witch surprised me by sending a check for twenty thousand dollars.
Joshua's invited everyone he knows, people he works with, people I've come to know. He's proud of me. I'm proud of me.
I lean into Joshua, breathe him in, feel the solid strength of his body beneath my cheek.
“I couldn't do this without you,” I tell him.
“Sure you could. You've always had the strength, Valentine. You just had to learn to see it.”
“I really want to make a difference.”
“You will. You're the right person to do this, after what you've been through. You're a survivor. That's part of your gift to them.”
“I feel like I'm finally doing something worthwhile with my life. I have purpose. And I have you.”
He squeezes my hand, warming me up inside. “Yeah, you do. You always have me. Always.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, kisses the back of my fingers, turns my hand over to kiss my palm, making me shiver.
He's watching me in that way he has that turns my entire body to liquid. His beautiful eyes are gleaming metallic in the amber light: malachite, gold, silver. He leans in, my hand still in his.
He says, his voice low, steady, “Marry me, Valentine.”
I am too stunned to speak. No one has ever said these words to me. I would never have expected them. Not from anyone else. But from Joshua, they sound exactly right. They sound perfect. My pulse is racing, my body lit with a pure, clean pleasure.
My throat is so tight with emotion, it's hard to speak. “I love you, Joshua. So much.”
“You know how much I love you, baby. Say yes.”
“Yes!”
We smile at each other, hugely, foolishly, and it is as though time has stopped and nothing else exists but the two of us in this moment. Together. The rest of the world, my worries about the evening ahead, fades away as he pulls me to him and kisses my smiling mouth. Sweet, lovely kisses. I can never get enough.
My world is perfect, somehow, despite my imperfections. That's what he's been teaching me. That love itself is perfect if we allow it to just be, despite how human we are, how flawed. That love can still flourish. And it does.
About the Author
EDEN BRADLEY has been writing since she could hold a pen in her hand. When not writing, you'll find her wandering museums, cooking, eating, shopping, and reading everything she can get her hands on. Eden lives in Southern California.
Hungry for more?
Read on for a sneak peek of Eden Bradley's scintillating new novel
Coming from Delta in November 2009
The Beauty
of
Surrender
Shibari, the Japanese art of erotic restraint, used for
centuries to create pleasure and beauty… Shibari is
a sensual and often meditative experience. A sexual
experience. And for some, it is necessary…
In two interweaving stories, The beauty of Surrender explores the ancient Japanese art of erotic restraint, Shibari, as two couples find pleasure in the ropes. In “Serving the Master,” Desmond Hale discovers through the beautifully innocent Ava Gregory that the ultimate satisfaction comes from unbounded love. And in “Soothing the Beast,” the private art dealer and expert dominatrix Marina Marchant finds the most exquisite pleasure in releasing her heart to a man strong enough to submit to her.
A 21ST CENTURY COURTESAN
Published by Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2009 by Eden Bradley
Delta is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Bradley, Eden.
A 21st century courtesan/Eden Bradley.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-440-33823-9
(ebook) 1. Courtesans—Fiction. I. Title. II. Title: Twenty-first century courtesan. PS3602.R34266A615 2009
813′.6—dc22
2008048043
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Praise for the Novels of Eden Bradley
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright