Chapter Six
I wake up screaming and drenched in sweat. I’m back in the barn. The smell of hay is so powerful, I can feel hives forming on my skin. Knowing Not-Charlie could strike at any moment, I search for a hiding spot. I find a corner, slink to the floor and pull my knees to my chest. Seconds later, the lights come on and I find I’m in Gavin’s bedroom, stuck between the dresser and the wall. Gavin rushes to me, and picks me up off the floor and carries me to the bed. I collapse into his arms, weeping. Whispering soothing words, he strokes my hair as I cry. When the sobs finally subside, he whispers, “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”
I can’t keep doing this. To either of us. The nightmares aren’t going away, and he deserves to know about the craziness on the other side of the bed. I wipe the tears from my eyes and tell him the whole story. Lorenzo’s warnings, Not-Charlie attacking me and later kidnapping me. I go into detail about what happened in the barn, bawling as I replay it in my head. He holds me tighter when I describe Not-Charlie’s brutality. He’s trying to be supportive but he can’t hide the anguish on his face.
“Gavin, I made it out,” I say, seeing how he is affected by the story. “You couldn’t have done anything to protect me. This insane sequence of events was set in motion when Ash died. Before that. When Ash got in bed with fucking drug dealers. Even if you had been there every second, something would have happened. At least it’s over now. I’m finally free of the curse that was Ashton Preston.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m so proud of your bravery and courage. You’re a survivor, and I’m in awe of your strength. But you were alone. If I had been there with you, we could have faced this together, and I promise you I never would have let anyone lay their hands on you. But I was thousands of kilometers away. I left you vulnerable.”
Knowing that nothing I can say will change how he feels, I continue with the story. For the first time, I tell the whole truth about Lorenzo, finding the money, and my meeting with Carlos.
“You sat down with a guy from the Mexican drug cartel? By yourself?” he asks.
I rub my cross between my finger and thumb. “It was the only way this would be over. I couldn’t keep looking over my shoulder.”
His body tightens around me. His soft, cradling embrace turns into a constricting squeeze. “You are the most daring, mad woman I’ve ever met. I’m afraid to ever let you out of my sight. You’re going to run off to try to slay dragons or something.”
“Dragons may be less intimidating,” I say. “I may have looked calm and collected, but I was scared shitless.”
“Lily, I don’t think you know what it means to be scared shitless.” He kisses my neck a few times. He shifts under me and clears his throat, making me giggle.
He moves my hair so it covers my neck, shielding him from temptation, then rests his chin on the top of my head. “All it took was my sexual torment to get you to smile.”
I gently elbow his stomach and wiggle my ass into his lap. “You’re not the only one tormented here, buddy. When can I go see your doctor friend?”
“Stop that,” he says as he slaps my butt. “You have an appointment next week. We can behave until then.”
“That’s so far away,” I whine.
He reaches between us and adjusts himself, making me snicker. “Subject change,” he says. “Thank you for sharing with me. Do you feel better?”
“Yes, I do. I’m just not sure why I keep having these terrors. I’m finally free from it all. From Ashton, from the drama, from that life. I don’t understand why I’m still having nightmares. My subconscious should be throwing a party, not freaking out.”
“You won the war, but what you went through was still traumatic. It takes some time to get over that. Even after all these years, I still struggle with what I witnessed in Afghanistan.”
I lay back on the bed. “You don’t talk about it much.”
He pulls the blanket from the end of the bed to cover me and then leans against the headboard. “No, I don’t. I’ve been through a lot of therapy, but it doesn’t make it less painful. I host a group of fundraisers in January for veteran’s causes. It’s probably the toughest time year for me because … I immerse myself in it for the cause and it ends up swallowing me whole. The rest of the year, I try to keep it tucked away.”
I nod. I know there aren’t really any right words to say.
He draws figure eights on my bicep. “Do you think it would be helpful for you to see someone? My parents died at the same time I came back from Afghanistan. I thought I was right as rain, but I wasn’t. Mason dragged me kicking and screaming. I hated it at first, but in time I learned to appreciate it. My time with Dr. Sparks changed my life. Helped me come to terms with some issues I just couldn't let go of.”
I shrug. “I’ll think about it. I’m not opposed to therapy, but I also think I may just need a little time.” I look up at him.
“Where were you tonight? Why weren’t you in here?”
“There’s no way I could sleep in this bed with you naked and be able to control myself. I’m a gentleman, but dear God, woman. You test me.”
I smile, loving every second of it.
“So are you going to get dressed, or do I have to go back in the guest room?” he demands.
“Fine. I’ll get dressed if you get some ice cream.” I do my best to mask my big smile. While I don’t want him to be tortured, I love that he’s pining for me.
Em didn’t pack chaste pajamas. Everything is lace and satin and designed for minimal coverage. I take a pair of boxers and sweatshirt from Gavin’s drawers. We climb back into bed and eat ice cream while he tells me embarrassing stories about Liam and James. As usual, he makes me laugh so hard, I’m distracted and don’t realize how much I’ve eaten until I’m about to explode. This is my favorite part of us.
We sleep past noon and then lie in bed and read. He reads The Economist and The London Times, while I read a trashy romance. He pokes fun at my choice of reading material, but every once in a while I catch him reading over my shoulder.
It’s Sunday, and tomorrow Gavin has to go back to work. I want to relax and enjoy him before we have to return to the real world fraught with demands and deadlines. By two, my stomach is growling so loudly that neither one of us can ignore it. I’m craving pizza, so we decide to get dressed and venture out. I’m eager to take the Tube, but Gavin wants his car for work, so we take a taxi to the garage he was storing it in while he was gone.
“A Range Rover?” I say when he pulls the car of its parking spot. “This is not at all what I expected. I figured you had a sports car. Something flashy and not practical.”
“I have a sports car. Several, in fact, but having a sports car in the city is silly. Too much traffic. Too many bad drivers. It’s brutal on the transmission. What’s wrong with a Range Rover?” He sounds a little offended.
“Nothing. You’ve just surprised me, that’s all.”
He turns on the MP3player, and Phish blares through the speakers. This also takes me by surprise. Phish is stoner music, and Gavin hasn’t shown any signs of being a stoner. Granted, I like Phish and I’m not a stoner, but I’m the exception, not the rule. Is there a side of him I don’t know? It gnaws at me a little. We know so much about each other, but there’s so much that’s still a mystery. I feel the whirlpool of doubt starting, and I do my best to shake it off.
He turns the volume down. “Sorry about that. I find listening to Phish keeps me calm during traffic. Otherwise, I go insane and have the urge to smash things with my Rover.”
We arrive at Saporitalia, a quaint restaurant with wood-fired pizza that smells to die for. The host seats us, and I look over the menu. I feel Gavin watching me, but I pretend not to notice.
When the server comes to take our order, Gavin hands her his menu, then looks at me. “You order, and we’ll split it.”
My hands cover my stomach. “Gavin, I’m not very good at splitting. I end up eating it all.”
“Just order wh
atever you fancy. Whatever you don’t eat, we’ll have for later.”
Easy for him to say. His pants will fit fine tomorrow. I order a four cheese pizza, a pasta Bolognese, and fried eggplant.
“Could we get that for take-away, please?” Gavin requests.
The server nods and leaves.
“You don’t want to stay?” I’m surprised. I thought he wanted to go out.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages. “I think I need to take you home.”
I cock my head. “Why?” I ask, totally confused.
His focus remains on his phone. He never looks at me. “I’m not sure. But when you’re ready to tell me, you will.”
I don’t take his bait. I’m not even sure what I could say that wouldn’t make me sound like a psycho. We’re quiet as we wait for the waiter to return.
After Gavin pays the check, the server hands us two bags filled with Styrofoam containers and we go back to Gavin’s flat. Once inside, he pours some wine and starts a fire in the living room.
He lays a blanket on the floor and sets up a fireside picnic. He pats the place on the blanket next to him. “Come sit. Eat. Relax. Maybe after a glass of wine, you’ll want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
He serves me, tapas style. He brings out a dozen appetizer size plates and gives me a little bite of everything. Just like I like it. When he’s done, he turns on some music that I can’t quite place. It’s an orchestra, but it doesn’t sound classical. I ignore the food as I focus on sounds and look out the window. We have a great view of the park all lit up for the Winter Wonderland festival. That gives me something to look at when I’m avoiding Gavin’s gaze.
His fork clangs when it hits his plate. “Okay, now I know something is wrong. You’re not eating,” he states.
“What are we listening to? It sounds like Led Zeppelin mixed with an orchestra.”
“That’s what it is. The London Philharmonic plays Zeppelin. It’s one of my favorites. Perfect dinner music.”
“I never would have guessed you’re a Zeppelin fan.” I pick up a slice of pizza but put it down before taking a bite.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For the record, that isn’t a bad thing. I’m excited to learn all there is to know about you.” He takes a sip of his wine.
“Isn’t it weird?” I fiddle with a fork as I keep avoiding Gavin’s eyes. “We’re so close in some ways, but not at all in others. I mean, sure, we’ve proven we can handle tragedy well. But are we a good match for just a typical Tuesday night?”
He sets his wine glass down. “Where is this coming from? I think you know me better than some of my best mates. No, we haven’t had a typical dating experience but we were trapped together in a flat for five bloody days. I think we’ve learned more about each other than most people learn in a year of dating. Truly, Lily, I respect your feelings but I just don’t follow this at all.”
I twirl a string of pasta around my fork. “I’m sorry. This is out of left field...”
“Luv, we have a level of trust that is beyond compare. At least that’s how I feel. That’s how good relationships are built. Don’t spoil that because you don’t know my shoe size.”
“Which is?” I ask. I’m not sure why I need to know. It’s not like I’m going to buy him shoes or anything but knowing is important to me.
“Twelve and a half… Do you feel better now?” He smirks. “You need to get out of your head.”
I don’t know how to respond. The rest of the meal is tense because my head is still somewhere else. He doesn’t push me further, and I’m thankful.
After we clean up dinner, Gavin goes for a run. I’m not sure why I feel so unsettled. He hasn’t done anything wrong. Quite the opposite. My time with him has been a dream. So why am I full of doubt?
I’m four thousand miles from home and staying with someone I know intimately on many levels, yet he’s still a complete stranger. What if this completely backfires? What if we can’t stand each other once we spend time together? Real-life time where we have to negotiate, compromise, and empty the dishwasher. What if he doesn’t separate his whites from colors? Hell, he probably doesn’t even know how to do laundry. What if he doesn’t cover his dish before putting it in the microwave and then leaves the splatter to get crusty and gross? What if I want to kill him after a week?
I call Em for support. As I dial, I walk to the window and notice it’s finally stopped raining.
“Hey there, Schmexy girl. How’s London?” she says.
Grabbing a throw blanket I find draped on the sofa, I wrap myself up and go onto the terrace. Sitting on the chaise lounge, I pull the blanket tight around me. “Em—”
“Oh. This isn’t a check-in call. This is a panic-attack call. Shoot. What’s the crisis?”
“Why the hell did I come all the way to London with someone I barely know? Yeah, we’ve been through a lot but do I know him well enough to stay here with no return ticket? How nuts is this?”
“Wow! Estrogen overload,” Em declares. “First of all, you do know him. Hell, even I know him well enough to know you two are perfect for each other. He’s the exact opposite of Ash and one hundred percent what you need. You’ve got your panties in a bunch over nothing. Stop being such a chick. The man read you Jane Austen while you were in a coma, for Christ’s sake. Jane fucking Austen. When he read Mr. Darcy, I swooned, and I hate Austen. That man loves you and would do anything for you.”
The wind picks up and I pull the blanket up to my chin. “What if we aren’t compatible?”
“You really think you’d have a better idea if you were compatible if you met under normal circumstances? Kind of like you and Ash? Remember, I introduced you at a party. He used to walk you to class, take you to dinner and tailgating before Cats games. You two had the quintessential college dating experience, and look how that turned out. Pull your head out of your ass! There’s no magic formula that’ll guarantee your relationship will work. All you can do is have faith. Which it seems you’re completely lacking. You’re looking for trouble, for flaws that aren’t there. If you keep this up, it’ll end in total and complete self-destruction. Stop sabotaging a good thing.”
Damn, she’s right.
“I’ll take the silence to mean you’re seeing the error of your ways,” she says smugly.
“You just love being right.” A gust of wind blows through, almost taking my blanket with it. I pull it tight around me, and take the phone inside, thinking I’ll get ready for a hot bath.
“Damn straight. Now listen and listen good. Gavin’s amazing. You deserve some fucking happiness for a change, so go be happy together. You have every reason to trust him. Enough with this bullshit. Call me tomorrow after you get your hormones in check.”
“Love you, Em.”
“One more thing. Gavin is not Ash. I know your asshole detector is busted and you can’t trust your judgment any more but you can trust mine. I can spot them a mile away and I know Gavin’s one of the good ones. You let Ash wreck you once. He doesn’t have the right to do it again. So don’t let the scars he gave you ruin your chance at happiness.”
After she hangs up, I turn the hot water on and digest what she said. Em’s always been the voice in my head that I wish I could ignore. A very foul-mouthed Jiminy Cricket. She doesn’t pull punches, especially when I’m screwing up. The last thing I want is to sabotage things with Gavin.
I thought I knew what I was getting into with Ash, but it turned out much worse than I expected. Even after four years together, I didn’t foresee how Ash would change. He was a narcissistic bastard the whole time we were dating, but he was fun, and he fawned over me because I was his shiny toy.
After we got married, I grew up and had to take care of his father. By that point, there was no room in my life for parties. My days were filled with physical therapy appointments, adult diaper changes and housekeeping. The playboy lifestyle got old. I needed more substance and less substance abuse. We were
no longer operating on the same plane and it all went downhill from there.
I mull it over in a long bath and climb into bed. I wake up an hour later when I hear Gavin turn on the shower. He left the bathroom door open a crack, just enough that I can see him undress. Damn, the man is sexy. Celibacy running has made his ass look even better than before. Maybe all the hormonal fretting is just me really, really, really needing to get laid?
Gavin catches me watching him. “Keep staring and I’m going to charge you admission.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I can’t touch, and you’re seriously going to deprive me of looking? That’s just cruel.”
He uses a second towel to dry his hair. “Doesn’t that just make it harder? To look and not touch?”
“I don’t know, Gavin. Does it make it harder?” I ask with a smirk.
He hangs up the towel and walks toward the closet. “Don’t put those thoughts in my head. I don’t want to have to go run another thirty kilometers.”
“Damn!” I quickly try to do the math in my head and fail. “How many miles is that?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t they teach Americans conversions when you learn math? Almost twenty miles.”
I give a low whistle. “Okay, I repeat, damn! You must’ve had all sorts of thoughts stuck in that handsome head of yours.”
“I did. I ran them off, and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s the only way I’ll make it at least another week without being able to touch you. Of course, seeing the way your eyes light up when you smile is doing a number on me.”
“I’m sorry my heart problem has become your problem.”
Gavin walks out of the closet, pajama pants slung low over his hips. “Lily, I want all of your problems to be my problems. I never want you to have to face anything alone again. I would gladly give up sex forever to know that you are safe.”
I lean over and kiss him, but my sweet kiss turns heated. I can actually feel sparks generated by our passion. My hands move from Gavin’s neck to his stellar abs. I run my finger along the top of his pajama bottoms.
When Fate Isn't Enough Page 6