by Renee Dyer
Another tear falls down her cheek and I wipe it away this time. I can see that she isn’t finished. I let her calm down again.
“I tried talking to him. Apologizing for kissing him. He told me he understood that I got wrapped up in the happiness of talking about Alex. That he should have stopped it. He understood me using him. The horrible thing is, I could see in his eyes that I hurt him.”
I pull her into my arms and give her all the comfort I can. My broken Adri. She’s trying to find her way.
“Aww, girl, you’re becoming a novel over here. Beautiful girl living in the sticks meets a movie star.”
“Oh God, stop,” she laughs. “We’re readers not writers for a reason. That is a terrible story idea.” She’s giggling as she says it and I’m happy to see her mood shifting.
We head back to the guys and Tucker has a plate ready for Adriana. He’s eying her intently. I want to hug him. Not only for giving her joy today in letting her talk about Alex, but for thinking enough of her to let her off the hook when she kissed him and now for making her food when she hasn’t eaten.
And for knowing that she wasn’t okay and that’s why I had her in the other room. I’m liking him more by the minute.
Chapter Twenty Four
Adriana
“Alex. Why can’t I see you tonight? Are you punishing me, baby? I’m sorry. So sorry. Please, baby, please forgive me.”
I’m trying with all my might to bring forth an image of Alex, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make it happen. I’m panicking. Oh God, what have I done? Have I lost him completely?
“God, please give him back to me. Please. I need Alex.” I hear myself begging, but I don’t care. I need to see Alex. To see his face. Tell him I’m sorry. Let him know I’m not moving on. Not replacing him. He needs to know I love him. I’ll always love him.
I close my eyes, try my last ditch method of summoning Alex’s image. I picture him in his gray UNH t-shirt, his sandy blonde hair and green eyes with his smile that I love so much. With my eyes closed, I can see him so clearly. I don’t want to open my eyes because I’m afraid he won’t be there.
I don’t feel him again tonight. I worry that I drove him away when I agreed to let Tucker stay.
“But I did what I thought you would do,” I say, keeping my eyes closed. “Please, Alex. I need you to hear me. I don’t know what happened today. Why I did what I did. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Tucker knows that, too. Please be here when I open my eyes.”
Slowly, I open my eyes and he’s there. He’s faint and shimmery, but he’s there. I want to scream, “Thank you, God,” but I’m afraid he’ll go away.
“Hey, baby. I needed to see you tonight. I’m so sorry.” My hand absently runs circles over the letters on the t-shirt on the bed, but in my mind I see myself running circles over his chest. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I miss you so much. Talking about you. Remembering you calling me Adri for the first time. It did something to me. It’s no excuse. I know that, baby. I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough. He knows I regret it. He knows I won’t touch him again. He won’t touch me either.”
Saying the words hurts me. Hurts me because I know I’ve hurt Alex by touching Tucker and hurts me because I want to touch Tucker again and can’t. I can’t hurt Alex like that again. He’s my heart.
“I love you more than anything, Alex. Not having you beside me every day sucks. It just sucks, baby. I’m sorry I lost my way. Please don’t leave me anymore. My heart can’t take it.”
Staring at his boyish grin, I can’t help but try to run my hand across his cheek. I have to stop the sob that wants to break free when my hand goes right through the image breaking up his handsome face. Oh, Alex. If only you could understand how much I miss you. How hard this has been for me.
“I heard Bruno Mars’ When I Was Your Man today and it made me think of you like it always does. I know it seems like a weird song to remind me of you, but it does every time. Makes me think about when you were you here with me before you left.”
Before he left. That word again. Will I ever be able to say die to him?
“Do you remember how you used to send me flowers all the time, trying to make me pick a favorite kind? I have a secret for you. I couldn’t pick a favorite. They were all my favorite because of your reaction. Do you remember what you would do when you would come home or to the studio and see they were delivered? You would send flowers to make my day, but you would be the one with a smile on your face, beaming from ear to ear. You would pick me up in your arms and spin me around until I was laughing.”
I wipe at the tears that are falling. These aren’t tears of sorrow. These are happy tears. Remembering wonderful moments that I had buried since Alex left me so I wouldn’t fall apart. But, now, I feel a little stronger. Just enough that I can let a few memories in and still continue to breathe.
“Everywhere we went you held my hand. In the car, the mall, walking along the beach, at friend’s gatherings. I can’t think of a place you wouldn’t hold my hand. You even held my hand while we watched TV sitting together on the couch. It made me feel so wanted. Like you were showing everyone I was your girl. I loved that you did that. I miss that more than I can ever explain.”
What I would give to hold his hand now. Feel the warmth of his fingers twined around mine. Feel his thumb rubbing along the top of my hand.
“What about the parties in college when we started dating? Not that you didn’t bring me to lots of parties when we were just friends, but it all changed when you finally admitted you loved me since we were kids. You walked us straight through the door into the middle of the party and started dancing with me whether there was music to dance to or not. I was so embarrassed the first time you did that because I knew everyone was watching us, but every time you did that, I fell in love with you all over again.”
“That, Alex, is why I can’t hear that song without thinking of you. Bruno may have lost someone for not treating them right. But you– you were perfect, baby.”
That’s why today with Tucker never should have happened. My heart is still completely with Alex.
I smile at Alex’s image, the tears falling faster. Seeing his smile, I wish this once I’d envisioned him with a different expression. Disappointment, anger, anything but the smile on his face. If he were really here in front of me, he wouldn’t be smiling at me after what I’d done. Then, again, if he were here with me, this would have never happened.
Alex’s image shimmers more and fades away as I beg for more time with him. But, I can’t hold onto it. In a moment, he’s gone. His smile, his eyes, his hair I loved running my fingers through. It’s all gone and I feel emptier than ever.
“Goodnight, baby,” I choke out before the sobs take over.
Another night of crying myself to sleep starts. The hurt in my heart feels like it will never heal and I don’t know that this t-shirt will ever dry from my tears.
Chapter Twenty Five
Tucker
What a clusterfuck today was. Not that there weren’t amazing moments. Kissing Adriana was definitely amazing. Life altering. I don’t know that I’ll ever want to touch another woman now, but not being able to ever touch her again means I’m ruined. Life is going to be lonely from now on.
Jesus, she felt good in my arms. On my lap. Her lips, so soft and enticing against mine. I knew I should have stopped what she started, but I’m just a man. A man who felt like he had been starving for years and was finally offered forbidden food. She was delectable. I could have kissed her for hours, savored the feeling of her body pressed against mine. The warmth that spread through me had nothing to do with being turned on.
Adriana makes me feel. Makes me care. And I need to keep that to myself. She made it clear that she regretted what happened. It was a mistake. She was wrapped up in her memories. She was thinking about Alex when she kissed me.
She was kissing Alex. Not me. Alex.
Groaning, I lay back on the bed. My chest hurts. I’d like to say it�
�s heart burn or indigestion, but I know it’s pain from knowing that Adriana wasn’t kissing me today. She was using me to feel him. It’s been tearing at me all day.
I’ve wanted to run back to Vancouver since it happened, but I told her I’d stay. It’s only because of that that I’m here.
I thought I’d be the one to hurt her. I never thought I’d be lying here in a dark room, praying for sleep to avoid the gaping hole she blew open in my heart. I’ve always kept a wall around it, but somehow she walked right through.
While sleep eludes me, I think back on the day, trying to stop thinking about her in my arms, her lips on mine, her legs wrapped around me. But the more I try not to think about it, the more I do.
Knowing she’s in a bed a few rooms away from me isn’t helping. I want to go to her. Be with her. Even if I only get to hold her. I’d settle for that. I’d settle for any contact I can have.
Contact. A simple word to say, but so hard to actually obtain.
I know I have to stick to my word. I told her I’d be better. But, the rest of the day was hell on me. I vaguely paid attention while she showed me around the house. My mind kept going back to her lips. I couldn’t focus on anything else as she spoke. I could tell she was proud as she told me about her house, but all I saw was her mouth.
Craved her touch, her kiss. I couldn’t keep my attention on her words no matter how I tried. It’s not to say I wasn’t impressed by the beauty of her home. But it hurt me as she showed me the rooms that were meant to be filled with the children her and Alex were meant to have.
I could picture their children. Beautiful little girls with strawberry hair and hazel eyes just like their mom and golden skinned boys with blonde hair and green eyes. I envisioned Adriana playing tea party and putting the girls in dresses, fixing their hair. Envisioned Alex teaching the boys how to play football, baseball, whatever sports they wanted to play.
I could see Adriana with her stomach swollen with his child even more gorgeous than she already is. Alex knelt before her, hands on her, kissing around her stomach, talking to the baby inside while she stares at him with love.
It threatened to drop me to my knees because, yet again, I was on the outside looking in. As she talked about the rooms that were supposed to be nurseries, I saw how it hurts her still. Cripples her. I was busy thinking of how much I would love to see her stomach rounded with my baby and she was lost in her pain of never having his baby.
My heart shatters knowing I will never be what she wants. I may be what she thinks she needs to help her mask her pain, but I know I’m too selfish of a person to be used like that. What is so wrong with me that no one can love me? Why am I never enough?
When she stopped outside her bedroom door, my heart stopped and then started racing. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in there. Could I handle being in the room where I know she sleeps without getting turned on? Could I see her bed without wanting to throw her on it?
She turned to look at me and I saw fear in her eyes and I knew that I didn’t want her to open that door. She didn’t want to open that door. I didn’t know what her reasons were and I wasn’t asking.
“I think this is where the tour ends and I’m famished. How ‘bout you?”
The look of relief that washed over her face is instant. I felt like I overcame a small hurdle here, but her face folds again as we walk by a couple of the nursery doors heading back toward the stairs. She tried to mask her feelings, but her eyes gave it all away. They told me that showing the house opened many old wounds.
Still, I couldn’t touch her– hold her, as I wanted to. She needed comfort and I couldn’t offer that because I told her I would be better. I had to watch her ache for her husband, for the children she could never have with him, and I could do nothing about it.
It sucked.
I fell in love with the pool. Now I knew what the structure out in her back yard is. It’s as gorgeous inside as it is from the outside. The all glass surrounding keeps the light filtering in and she has trees potted in several areas giving it a tropical feel. I’ve always loved the water. Even growing up not seeing it much. It calms me.
I wish I could go for a swim with her, but I can’t. I can’t chance her seeing the tattoo. I hurt her enough today when I didn’t stop the kiss.
Why does everything come back to that damn kiss?
Lunch was tense. We tried making small talk, getting to know each other better, but it felt forced. I kept watching her stare at her plate like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. I know she’s embarrassed about what happened between us earlier. I want to tell her not to feel that way. Tell her how much I enjoyed it. How alive I felt. How turned on I was and that it took every damned bit of will power I had to stop, but I worry it will only make things worse... more awkward.
She keeps pushing her food around her plate, not really eating it. I’m doing the same. My normally massive appetite gone. The food has lost its flavor.
I thought after we talked earlier that things would be alright between us, but after the tour we seem to have run out of things to say. Not that I said much while I followed her room to room. I mainly grunted and added in oohs and ahhs where I deemed necessary.
I don’t know how to get back to the comfortable rhythm we had before, the easy banter that came naturally. I crave it now, but I fear we’ve lost it and it won’t come back.
For what feels like the thousandth time, I peek at her to see she’s still pushing her food around her plate, the sound of her fork scraping on her plate grating on my nerves. We’ve sat in here not eating, barely speaking for too long and I’ve had enough. I stand up, still unable to speak, and walk over to her.
Her eyes get large watching me walk her way. I can see expectation in them, but what she expects I have no idea and I’m in no mood to play guessing games. I promised her better and that’s what I’m going to be.
“You don’t seem very hungry,” I say, taking her plate and walking away from her. I hear her sigh, but I don’t have it in me to go back to her. If I did, she’d know. Know that she hurt me this morning and that’s unacceptable.
It’s not just my heart I need to protect.
I make quick work of clearing our barely touched plates and put them in the dishwasher hoping I can make a break for my room before she comes my way, but luck has never been on my side. Why should today be any different?
“Tucker,” she says, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear her. I don’t want to turn around, but I’m powerless to ignore her. I have to take a second. One second to gather the strength I need to not let her see the hurt in my heart over her rejection. Over her using me. She may not realize what she did, but I know. She used me to feel him today. The more I think about it, the more it sours my stomach.
As amazing as she felt in my arms, as right as it seemed, and as much as it felt like coming home having her there– it wasn’t. Her home is Alex even though he’ll never come home to her again. She’s not ready to accept that.
I need to accept that.
Pushing myself away from the counter, I put on my acting face as I turn to face her. I hate that, once again, she can’t look at me. That she’s gone back to being shy and feels the floor is more interesting than I am. I know that isn’t true. I really do, but I’m still reeling from this morning and can’t be rational at this point. Dammit. I’m thinking like a fucking chick. When did I grow a vagina?
Watching her wringing her hands, I realize in a couple days I already know her ticks, the signs that tell me when she’s nervous. I can read her body language. I’m too in tune with her and I need to pull back. She doesn’t want me. She wants me to be him. And I can’t do that. I’m not willing to do that.
I’ve gone my whole life not being loved by the person I wanted, needed, to love me. I can’t be someone I’m not. Even if she is the first women to make me truly feel anything. I can’t. Can’t be non-existent to her. A replacement. Someone to make her feel when she gets excited about remembering and then to
ss aside when it gets to be too much. A couple week jog down memory lane.
I want to be better than this. There’s that word again. Better. But, hurt has taken over and anger has seeped in. I want to be away from her and, instead, I’m standing here, waiting for her, yet again, to find her words.
I know grief is a bitch. I’ve lost people I love, too. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse. I imagine it’s very different than losing a parent. It’s a different love. But, right now, I want to shake her. At the very least, tell her to spit it out so I can go to my room and have a few moments of peace. Where I’m not constantly aware of her.
Aware of everything about her. Her hair, how it shines in the light and how the light changes the color from blonde to red. Her eyes, how they’re a different color every time I look at them. I don’t know if it’s because of her emotions or if I see her differently each time I look at her. Her lips, how I want to kiss them, claim them as mine. I’m drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Each time she speaks it’s pure torture, making me that much more aware of the perfection calling out to be kissed.
I can’t even start thinking about her body or my pants will start to tent making her aware of my roaming thoughts. I’m aware of everything about her. Every curve and how they move as she walks beckoning my touch. I’m aware of her voice and how it goes up and down when she’s excited or nervous or happy and even when she’s sad. And her laugh, that laugh rolls through my entire body, lighting me up like a fucking Christmas tree. Especially when she snorts. She’s my bliss.
And all I am is her camouflage.
I can’t take standing here in silence anymore. I’d like to say I’m above running away from her so she won’t feel bad, but I need to be away from her. I need this conversation over. If she’s going to rip my heart to shreds some more, I want her to get it the fuck over with so I can go lick my wounds in solitude.
Preferably away from her.