Then I grabbed my bags and left without another word. Tears blurred the short drive to the airport but I didn’t give a damn, and I didn’t care about all the concerned looks I got inside the airport. You’d think people had never seen a heartbroken woman before.
When I caught my connecting flight in Chicago I was still teary eyed, but tipsy, and by the time the plane landed in Toronto, I was drunk and angry and fueled by angry chick rock.
It was the perfect start to the weekend.
Davis
Drunk.
I had gotten rotten stinking drunk, and the hangover I would have tomorrow would be well deserved. The bottle of Jack, my second, hadn’t done a thing to dull the ache pounding behind my eyes or inside my chest. My vision was blurry as hell, which was fine by me because every time my eyes focused, they saw the airplane ticket and convention bag. Magenta had been planning to ask me to go with her.
To Toronto.
And I screwed it up.
Goddammit I screwed it up!
I should have given her more time. Been more patient. I knew she was coming around, I could feel it in the way she made love to me. The way her green eyes went soft when they looked at me. Hell, she’d even put on sexy lingerie because I wanted to see it. And she’d looked so hot, so fucking beautiful I hadn’t been able to resist taking her right there in the kitchen. And then she said it.
I love you.
That’s where the trouble began, because I freaked out and convinced myself that it was the heat of passion, the intensity of the orgasms that made her say something she otherwise wouldn’t.
Oh how fucking wrong I was.
The look on her face when she saw the divorce papers would haunt me until the day I died. Her green eyes were light and icy, barely a hint of green to be seen against the backdrop of her even paler skin. Magenta had been shocked. Gutted.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I eventually passed out on the sofa sometime after midnight. That one tear sliding down her cheek even as she fought with every ounce of willpower she had to keep the others from me, it haunted my dreams the whole wretched night.
“No,” I groaned as those images crystallized again in my mind’s eye.
“You think he’s dreaming of her?” I recognized that voice, but I couldn’t place it.
“Sounds more like a nightmare. Maybe he realizes what he’s lost.” That was Vivi. I knew her sassy tone anywhere.
One eye popped open and then the other, darting left and then right and back again, spotting two, no three figures looking down at me. “Ladies. What the hell are you doing watching me sleep?”
“Oh settle down. We’re all happily married,” Vivi said dismissively. “We’re here to help you stay that way too.”
“It’s too late.” If I’d given Magenta a few more days, maybe even a week the outcome would’ve been different. Now it was ruined.
“No, it isn’t. You’re still married and she still loves you,” Trish insisted, sounding like my own personal cheerleader.
“Did she say that?”
“Of course she didn’t,” Vivi huffed. “That’s not Magenta. She doesn’t say the words, she does the deeds. You think she tells us how she feels about us, how much she appreciated my awesome friendship? Of course she doesn’t but she is here in all the ways that matter. She buys my books and leaves reviews and sends photos of random hotties for inspiration.”
“She tells her tattoo customers that I have the exact right treat to soothe the pain from their body art,” Trish said with a smile.
Maddie sighed and grabbed my hand. “She calls sometimes just to talk to Max, treats him like their friendship is separate and he loves her for it. She buys lingerie at my shop and I don’t even think she wears it.”
Vivi laughed. “I wish I could go without a bra and look like that.” She gave her chest a little shake and the women laughed.
“No kidding. Another baby means I’ll never be able to go braless without being self-conscious about it,” Maddie admitted.
“She wears them,” I said, a little too loudly, but good lord I needed them to stop. “All of them and I thank you Maddie, from the bottom of my heart.”
“You’re welcome,” she beamed. “You have to go after her,” she insisted, her expression now fierce.
“You can fix this.” Vivi looked at me, her expression serious. “I think I know what you were trying to do but you had to know that wouldn’t work with Magenta.”
I nodded because what else could I say? “I messed up.”
“Fix it!” The echo of three determined women had me on my feet in seconds. “Keep going. Shower, we’ll take care of everything else.”
I looked at the women, faces and bodies so different but expressions now identical and shook my head. “You three are scary as hell and you have my gratitude.”
“Thank you,” Trish said, beaming a smile my way. “Now, go!”
A quick glance behind the women showed that the ticket and badge were still on the table, taunting me. But then I knew exactly what I had to do. “Thanks again, ladies.” I took off down the hall and stepped into a steaming shower, washing off the stink of booze and day old pizza. The more I thought about it, the better I felt about everything.
Ten minutes later I was dressed and ready to tackle my mental list that started with changing my flight. “You’re still here.”
Vivi rolled her eyes. “We said we would take care of everything and we have. Your flight leaves in two hours. We didn’t book you a hotel because we’re hoping you end up in Magenta’s bed.”
“And we upgraded your badge so you can go everywhere Magenta can. Good luck,” Maddie said and stepped in to wrap her arms around me, squeezing me tight.
“Thank you, Maddie. Vivi. Trish.”
“Thank us by bringing Magenta back. Happy.” That’s exactly what I wanted and I nodded, accepting the packed bag Trish held out for me. “Your passport is on top.”
“How did you find my passport?”
“All that matters is that we found it,” Vivi said with a knowing grin. “Bring us back some souvenirs. Photos of hot tattooed guys are allowed.”
These women were nutty and I could see them taking over the role played by Aunt Mae and her friends today, crazy old meddling ladies. And just as I was grateful to Aunt Mae for her interference in keeping me and Magenta married, I was grateful for their meddling.
Though I would never tell them that in a million years. A guy had to have some pride. Besides, encouraging them would only make them meddle more.
I spent most of the flight going over what I would say on the off chance Magenta let me close enough to talk to her. The other half of the flight was spent searching for thank you gifts for the ladies and by the time I landed I felt good about one of those things.
The convention center was bigger than I anticipated and I spent nearly two hours walking around the venue trying to get a glimpse of Magenta and coming up empty. There were hundreds of pale skinned women with vibrant hair and tons of tattoos and not one of them was her. Yet.
I decided to try patience, strolling up and down each aisle in hopes that I would bump into her and maybe she would smile at me. Maybe she’d even be happy to see me. By the time I made it to the far side of the convention center near the stage, I began to lose hope. She could’ve have left early or decided to go someplace else in case I followed her.
Dammit, that thought chafed.
As I drew closer to the stage the noise grew louder, the sound of people talking through microphones pulled me over to where there were TV cameras and lights set up and aimed at a stage. Finally I stood beside the stage where half a dozen artists were bent over different models, lost in their work.
Then I spotted Magenta. She was wearing her trademark black jeans and plain white tank top, black bra strap showing because she never worried about details like that. Her head was bent over the model, deep in concentration and I allowed myself to just watch her. In her element, fully focused on t
he task at hand, she looked even more beautiful.
A loud bell sounded and the artists lifted their heads and stepped away from the models, each of them wearing relieved smiles. I moved near where Magenta stood on stage until she saw me. “Hi.”
“Hey,” she said tentatively, gripping my shoulders when I grabbed her waist to help her off the stage. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes looked happy to see me but her body language was wary. Standoffish. From her folded arms to the skin pinched between her brows, her body language screamed “stay the hell back”.
“I came here to support my wife. And to apologize. And beg. And to tell you how much I love you, Mags.” She didn’t say anything but she hadn’t walked away yet so I kept going. “I love how pissy you are before you’ve had your first cup of coffee. I love your smart mouth and your sharp tongue too. I love how dirty your mind can be and how you’re not afraid to let me see it all. Please, just tell me it’s not too late for us.”
Magenta’s green eyes were soft and sad but otherwise I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Which I hated, but then, she smiled. “It’s not too late, Davis.” That sexy shy smile was a triple shot of tequila straight to my dick and I took a step closer, grabbing her hands in mine. “But I’m kind of in the middle of something important right now.” She pulled a hand free and slid her fingers through soft red waves with a sigh, nodding to the stage behind her.
“Of course. I just…wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me afterwards.” She smiled softly and my heart leapt out of my chest, eager to nestle back into her delicate grip. “Good luck, Magenta.”
“Thank you, Davis. I’m glad you decided to come to Toronto.”
“Me too, babe.” She turned away and squealed when I grabbed her by the waist, helping her back on stage where the other artists had gathered with a tattooed silver haired man holding a microphone.
I watched her closely, unable to believe I’d just had her in my arms and she hadn’t kicked me in the nuts or told me to get the hell away from her. Yet. It wasn’t quite the reunion I was hoping for on the plane ride from Belle Musique, but I had one thing going for me.
The night wasn’t over yet.
Magenta
Davis came.
Those two words kept pinging in my brain from the moment I saw him, though if I was being honest, it was even before I spotted him. I felt the air change, electrify and heat up, sure signs that Davis was nearby. But I ignored it and focused on inking my model since that’s why I came to Toronto. Only when the work was finished did I turn to face the crowd and my gaze slammed right into a familiar blue gaze that sent my heart racing faster than the INDY 500.
The convention had been a success as far as I was concerned, well the weekend anyway. I connected with some old friends in the industry, met a few new ones and even got a line on a few shops around the country that might have a spot for a talented artist not looking for anything permanent. But somewhere between the first day of the convention over drinks with some old friends and late last night, I decided to stick around Belle Musique for a while. To fight for Davis.
For us.
Somehow I managed to remain on my feet throughout the awards ceremony, mostly by forcing my gaze to stick on the audience at large, rather than the big sexy blond peering up at me like I was something terrific. Thankfully, it wasn’t an event that required us to smile or be gracious, because all of my effort was focused on not letting my knees buckle or start doing backflips that Davis had showed up.
That had to mean something, didn’t it?
I thought so, but as the third place winner, Jonny Ortega, was announced I began to have my thoughts. What if Davis had only showed up to support me like he said? Or to tell me that he loved me too but there was still some reason we couldn’t work. His eyes were full of love, big and blue and bursting with awe. It made me feel like the woman he saw and I liked it. A lot.
“The second place winner is, Magenta O’Malley!” I blinked because I thought I heard my name, but the words hadn’t register. “Mags, girl, get over here!”
It was the sound of Anya’s voice in the microphone that finally pulled me out of my deep thoughts. I blinked again to let my eyes focus on something other than the blinding lights and the sea of people and turned my focus to Anya. She waved me over and I walked to her, letting her pull me into her embrace.
“I think we’ve finally stunned Magenta, folks! You’d think she hadn’t one a few of these already,” she joked and the audience whistled and laughed along.
Anya was right, I shouldn’t have been surprised, but this time I was. There were some really great artists with creative new techniques on the stage with me, and I didn’t think I stood a chance. “Thanks, guys.”
Anya hugged me and whispered a sweet, “You kicked ass today, doll,” in my ear before handing me a check for thirty grand. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
I gave her a strange look. “I don’t think I know those kinds of places.” I would put a few grand in the bank and invest the rest the way I did with most of my competition winnings.
“Well find them so you can make that big hunk who can’t take his eyes off you, buy you whatever your weird little heart wants.”
I laughed and took my spot back on stage while they crowned a newbie the winner. Trey X was a good artist, and he was only twenty years old. I knew our paths would cross again in the future, so I didn’t bother to wait with the hordes to offer congratulations. I had big strong firefighter waiting for me.
Making my way down off the stage, I took the long route to get my nerves and my thoughts under control. Davis was here, in Toronto. For me. To say it fell in line with my own recently updated plans would be an understatement, which is why I needed a few moments on my own.
“Hey.” His big body stopped my forward momentum until I nearly ran right into him, spanning my hands across his chest to avoid bouncing backwards.
“Hey. Let’s go to my room?” Davis stepped back and gestured that he would follow me, sending my heart into a rat-a-tat-tat beat that made it impossible to hear any of the sounds around me. Inside the elevator, Davis was behind me, too close with his hands on my hips. His touch was light but the heat imprint singed my flesh as the elevator climbed up. We were both silent, lost in thought and wondering how in the hell this day would end.
I walked in with Davis following close behind me, all I could feel was his heat and the charged atmosphere his presence always caused. He let out a low whistle. “Nice room. The conference sprang for this?”
I nodded. “They did. I’m a bit of a draw, I guess you could say.” And now we were reduced to small talk. I hated small talk. It was worse than cold, awkward silence. “So. You’re here.”
He grinned, and his shoulders relaxed now that he realized I wasn’t going to kick him out. Yet. “I am.”
“Why?”
He blinked and confusion settled on his beautiful face. “I told you I came here for you. So we could talk.” A long frustrated breath escaped out of him as both hands ran through his thick hair. “I’m here because I love you, and I’m not letting you get away.” His blue eyes held a challenge. A dare.
Run or stay.
The options stared me down like some big bully, daring me to go with the easy option, the one I inevitably chose when shit became too complicated. Too messy. “I guess that means you don’t want to divorce me?”
His lips curled up into a lopsided smile and he shook his head, one stray wave falling across his forehead. “No Magenta, I don’t want to divorce you. Not ever. Haven’t you been listening, I’m trying to keep you.”
“Keep me?” That sounded nice, hell it sounded a lot better than nice. It sounded near perfect to me.
“That’s right, tough girl. I love you and I plan to keep you.” He walked to me, one hand and then the other cupping my face, thumbs brushing gently against my skin like I was precious. Delicate.
God it felt so good to be held by Davis again, but my panties were already soaked an
d if I didn’t step back, we’d be naked and humping before anymore words were spoken.
“Davis.” His name came out tortured and anguished because stepping away from his touch was hard. “We have to talk.”
“Right.” Hiding a grimace, he adjusted that rock hard snake in his pants and took a step back, hands up in the air and a smile on his face. “This will sound like an excuse, but it was my Mom’s fault. She told me this story about the guy she’s dating and how she wasn’t sure she was ready to move on from my dad even though she had, so I did what Harris did to her.”
Was he drunk, or was I having a stroke? “Explain.”
“He walked away and told her to call him when she started to miss him. And she did miss him so I thought if I gave you the divorce you thought you wanted, you’d see that we would be miserable without each other. It was stupid and I’m sorry, Magenta.”
It took an extra minute to process what he just said, but when I did, I had to laugh. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Seriously, Davis.”
“Clearly.” He wasn’t as amused.
“But you were also right.”
“I was?” That shocked look that crossed his face was priceless.
“Yeah, you were. I did miss you.” I sucked in a deep breath and let it out as I worked up the courage to say the words on the tip of my tongue. “I didn’t like waking up without your arms around me, or your morning wood poking me.” His deep laugh eased some of the tension in my chest. “But your timing really sucked. I wanted you to come here with me so we could have a few days together and I could tell you that I wanted us too.”
“Wanted?”
Accidentally On Purpose: An Accidental Marriage Boxset Page 61