“Why?”
“Because I had to know the end of the story before I could tell it. I went to Lulu’s parents’ house last night. I went to apologize and thank them for her beautiful life. I had to ask forgiveness for her death. I couldn’t let it go until I admitted I’m partly responsible.”
I see Gavin’s eyes cloud with tears and I move off the opposite couch to sit next to him, lacing my fingers in his as he continues.
“Her parents didn’t even know who I was. I told them, and explained the influence Lulu had on my music, and how much I appreciated her and used her to make it great.”
Gavin trails off but I stay silent, giving him the space to finish.
“I told them the whole truth. Her dad told me he’d sue me for everything I have. Her brother punched me. And her mom cried like her heart was breaking all over again.”
“Gavin, it’s not only your fault. It was Lulu’s choice. She was the addict.”
“But you know I blame myself for enabling her. And now they blame me, too. When I was on my trip, I promised myself I’d tell them what happened. And take the consequences.” He fingers his bruise from Lulu’s brother’s hand. “Then I came to find you. But when I pulled up to the restaurant, and I saw you there, in Lulu’s dress—”
“Wait. You saw me? You came?” A new wave of fury builds inside me.
“Yes, and then I kept going. I went to Tyler’s place. I couldn’t stand to see you looking like that, like Lulu was there, accusing me all over again.” Gavin’s face crumples and I wonder how many times a person can break before there’s no mending them.
Just as suddenly as my anger came, it drains and I wrap my arms around Gavin’s shoulders. I pull him close and feel his tears as they rain on my shoulders, his body wracked with silent sobs.
“We can fix this,” I whisper. I feel his body relax against mine. “We can’t change what happened with Lulu, but we can fix us. Gavin, when I met you, I thought you were reckless and irresponsible and broken.”
“I am.” His voice is hoarse and choked.
“No. You’re healing and feeling and alive. You’ve got a whole lot more in you and no amount of broken can take away your ability to keep growing.”
Gavin lifts his face to mine, searching my eyes for some answer. When he finds it, he says it out loud.
“You believe in me.”
“I do.”
“Do you believe I’m not a monster? That I never meant to hurt Lulu? That I just needed her too much?”
“I believe you’re fallible. We all are. But you’re not ruined, Gavin.”
He wraps his arms around me tightly, squeezing with an intensity that takes my breath away. When he finally releases his hold, his mouth reaches for mine, needy and raw, pulling me into the fantasy that I’ve built every day since our first contact.
I break away. “Wait.”
Gavin stills and watches me.
“I have to confess something to you. Last night, when you were at Lulu’s parents’ house, I thought you didn’t want me. And a whole lot of ugly things. And when a guy I’d dated asked if I wanted to meet up, I said yes.”
Gavin pales. “You went out last night? With someone else?”
Now it’s my turn to hang my head. “I’m an idiot. I thought you didn’t want me. I thought I had no claim on you, and you wanted no claim on me. And so I—”
“Stop. Beryl. I don’t want to hear this. If you’re with someone else, just tell me. But don’t think I’m not going to fight like hell to change your mind. To deserve you.”
“Gavin, nothing happened.”
His eyes light with hope.
“I mean, not nothing-nothing. I got wickedly drunk—which I’m still paying for this morning—and pretty much threw myself at him, but he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of the situation. He put me to bed and didn’t touch me.”
Gavin frowns. “You ran. Just like me.”
“Yeah, I guess I did. Only my kind of running doesn’t require a passport. I feel like such an idiot.”
“You said you felt like you have no claim on me. That’s not true. You’ve got my heart in your hands and I want you—deeply, totally—as part of my life. And no one else’s.”
“You want me?”
“Yes. Beryl, you’re a gift. I’d say I want you as my girlfriend and my lover and my friend, but more than anything, I just want you. Will you be mine?”
I smile at the quaint question that’s stamped on Valentine’s Day candy hearts. But no other question makes sense.
And no other answer will do. “Yes.”
“Then as much as you are mine, I am yours, plus a million. I’ve trusted you with my home and my dog and my secrets and my shame, and now I want to trust you with my life and my love.”
I raise my chin and give Gavin an imperious grin. “Then I accept this challenge! I shall be the one for The Gavin Slater, singer of songs, moistener of panties.”
Gavin laughs loud and hard over this, pure joy pushing through his anguish. “Girlfriend, come here. We’ve got to make up for lost time.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Gavin leads me upstairs and I know what’s waiting for me—a massive white cloud of a bed, with my side and his. I see his pale blue T-shirt draped on the bed and I give him a questioning look.
“It smells like you,” he explains, looking sheepish.
“I was wearing it because it smelled like you,” I say, and let him pull me close and pull my T-shirt over my head. My jog bra has smashed my breasts into a uniboob and I’m sure my pits don’t smell that pleasant, but Gavin’s on a mission.
My shorts hit the floor and I balk, knowing my vintage-2006 granny panties don’t typically inspire lust. But Gavin’s eyes glide across my skin, sending pricks of sensation across my body as he undresses me and then lets me undress him.
Reality is so, so much better than my imagination.
I peel off his shirt and feel his skin, cool to my touch but solid beneath my fingertips. I roll his jeans down over his hips and find the vee in his torso that drove me wild in photos I stared at for too long.
I see reckless tattooed beneath his collarbone and trace it with my tongue, following the backward letters as they reach his throat, kissing my way up his neck and stubbly chin. When my mouth reaches his lips again I hear a rumbling sound of pleasure, and he pushes me back on the bed, his body covering mine, his whole weight bearing down on me.
“Beryl,” he pants, his mouth inching down my chest, finding my nipple and teasing it between his teeth. “Promise me. No more running.”
“I promise.”
“Anything that’s wrong—we can fix it. As long as we run toward each other.”
“I will.”
“I will, too.” And then I lose myself to the sensations Gavin draws from my body, the sweet and the gentle and the sharp and the hard. His hands roam my chest, my hips, my legs, and I open to him, pulling him closer.
His hand finds my center and I feel him gentle, exploring the edges, asking for permission. I give it. His mouth stays hot on mine, his tongue stroking me as urgently as his fingers. I urge him deeper, my hips bucking against him.
And then he finds it—that switch, the catch he said he’d find and touch and take to turn me on and send me up to a crest of pleasure. My back arches and I ride the first wave, feeling weightless even as he presses harder against me.
I curl my legs around his, locking my knees behind him as I bring him closer. I want him every way I’ve imagined and more, and this time what’s real makes everything sweeter and stronger.
Gavin stops. He presses a firm kiss on my lips and reaches for a foil packet in the bedside table. He rolls it on and I know this is new—of course I snooped in that drawer and there were no condoms there. He planned for this. He wants me.
The thought makes my heart soar as Gavin settles above me, positioning himself. His pale blue eyes pierce my hazel eyes, forcing every stray thought from my mind.
“I w
ant to be a part of you; I need you to be part of my life,” he says, and I answer him yes again.
He drives into me and I cry out, gripping his shoulders as he plunges, filling me to overflowing. I wrap my legs around his hips and draw him closer, wanting to erase the lines of our skin where one person ends and another begins. I’m flying.
I stretch my body to embrace his rhythm, feeling him hot and hard and so good that I can hardly stand it. I feel his ferocious need pouring into our connection, I grab his ass and pull him closer, tilt my hips to take him deeper.
My body tightens as another orgasm rips through me and Gavin’s growl becomes a roar. I cling to him as we fly past the furthest edge, a high beyond anything I’ve experienced. His eyes are wild and I can tell he’s flying, too, his body uncoiled, unfurled to a thundering pleasure.
We collapse in a heap, sated, still joined, our breath hot on each other’s skin. I feel his pounding heartbeat in his chest, smell his sweat-slicked skin and kiss his neck to taste it.
Gavin turns his mouth to mine, a starving man sated. He kisses me gently, as if I’m a precious object that he is the first to discover. I close my eyes and bask in his warmth, feeling his lips touch my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, and the tip of my nose.
“Beryl.”
“I’m glad you said that. For a moment there, I think you made me forget my name.”
I feel laughter rumble in his chest as he pulls back, releasing me from beneath the delicious weight of him. “You made me forget everything. Except you. And now I’ll always remember the way you felt around me and beneath me.”
“Don’t say that. You make it sound like ancient history.”
“My mistake. You’re my past, present, and future now.” Gavin’s genuine smile echoes mine.
“And you’re mine. If you don’t watch out, I think I might just go all fangirl on you after that performance.”
“So long as you let me repeat it.”
“Yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Even though I arrive after ten, my workday feels like it stretches on forever. I debated calling in sick so I could spend the day in bed with Gavin, but responsible-Beryl wrestled New York-Beryl to the ground and gagged her.
Instead, I’m here, and I’m beyond frustrated that I can’t go out with my newly minted boyfriend tonight because of the charity committee meeting with Greta.
It seemed like such a good idea a week ago.
Dan’s in a buoyant mood and tells me I’ve got a four-day weekend coming up—if I think Joel is ready to take care of Aleah for the weekend, I can take July fourth and fifth off to go home to Eugene for a visit.
There’s a catch. He’s going, too.
“I’m not sure I can afford it,” I say. I still haven’t touched the money from Peter’s first check, and I’m not sure I want to.
“Come on, it’s been more than a month. And you know Eugene is way nicer than the humidity here.”
“That’s your excuse? The weather?” I give him a stern look but can’t help but smile. He’s grinning like a little boy with a foot-tall ice cream cone.
“Well, maybe there’s a certain dark-haired, hazel-eyed beauty who looks an awful lot like you.”
“Let me think about it,” I say. I don’t want to leave New York now that Gavin’s finally back. At least not right away. Speaking of which…
“I should tell you, Gavin Slater’s back in town.”
“When did he get in?”
“Yesterday.”
Dan looks at me closely and my blush gives me away. “Your mom said some secret admirer sent you to the spa for your birthday. Any chance that was Gavin?”
Again, I can’t lie to him. “A pretty good chance.”
“Anything I need to know?”
“We’re, uh, well, when we had to talk a bunch, when I was getting his place sorted out, we sort of …” I trail off. It’s hard to explain to Dan, and I’m afraid he’ll be angry that I’m involved with one of Keystone’s clients. I wasn’t even sure how to tell my mother, and I know that the instant Dan hears about it, she’ll know it, too.
“Spit it out, Beryl. Are you seeing him now?”
“I guess. I mean, yes. We are.” I push a few papers around on my desk, afraid to look at Dan’s face for a reaction. “Please. Before you say it’s unprofessional, I never intended, I never tried to do this. It just happened.”
Dan nods. “I’d give you the lecture about being careful and taking it slow, but I think you already had a pretty rude awakening with that Peter guy. I hope Gavin’s good to you, and good for you.”
“I think he is. I think he’s—changing. Not being the crazy rock star who trashed his place.”
“I hope not. So what’s on your plate today?”
I tell him I have Joel busy washing windows for two clients and that I’m heading to the James’s apartment to finally organize their baby’s room.
“Oh? I didn’t know they had a child.”
“That’s the weird thing. They don’t.” I tell him about the ridiculous number of parenting books and the extravagant nursery, which is painted in green and decorated with a gender-neutral pond theme—frogs, ducklings, fish, and dragonflies. “Want to know the weird part?”
“I probably don’t, but tell me anyway.”
“They have two big dressers in the room. One’s full of pink little girl clothes. Lots of ruffles. The other one’s full of baby blue clothes with trucks and sailboats and stuff.”
“Are they expecting two?”
“I don’t think they’re expecting any. I think they want a child, and they’re driving themselves crazy preparing.”
“I can relate to that,” Dan says, and my jaw drops in surprise. “Look, Beryl, you hit a certain age and it’s fish or cut bait. You either have kids or you let go of that dream. Sounds like they’re not ready to let go. I wasn’t.”
“You wanted to have kids?”
“Yes. I just never found the right person at the right time.” His voice is wistful and I wonder if he means my mom could have been the right person, if they’d been together at the right time. “But at least I have a pretty cool sort-of niece.”
“I’m glad you and my mom are …” I trail off, not sure how to describe their relationship.
“Me, too.”
I squirm, seeing a faraway look in Dan’s eyes. It looks like his vacation to Oregon can’t come soon enough. I change the subject. “I’m going to take in Peter’s donation tonight. To the Safe Haven Network.”
“Tonight?”
“There’s a committee meeting for their charity ball next month. Greta Carr called someone and got us both on the committee.”
“That’s great, Berry! Good networking for you, and a nice way to spend time with a valuable client.”
“I think she might become a friend.” I tell him how we’re planning to help with the event, which has refocused Greta on the Safe Haven Network instead of the party circuit.
Dan’s eyebrows lift in surprise. It’s clear his original impression of Greta is just like the rest of the world’s: skin-deep. “You never stop surprising me. You make a reckless rock star boyfriend material. You turn a shallow socialite into an heiress with a heart of gold.”
“I think you’re wrong, Uncle Dan. They always had it in them. They just needed someone to see it, too.”
***
When I finally get to the Steens’ apartment after the committee meeting, I’m beyond beat.
My strappy heels have grown teeth and gnawed a chunk of skin off my feet. The color-blocked silk dress à la Lulu is a wrinkled mess and my long necklace’s chain tangled in the hair at the back of my neck. I actually have to rip it off me.
I collapse on the Steens’ tufted sofa and wince. It looks like it belongs in a psychiatrist’s office, but the person who bought this horribly uncomfortable piece of furniture needs to get her head checked. My guess is a decorator picked it out solely for looks.
Gavin should be proud of me. I ass-te
sted every couch in the furniture store before I bought his. If you can’t flop onto a couch after a long day at work, what’s it good for?
The thought of flopping on Gavin’s couch—especially flopping on it naked, beneath Gavin—reminds me yet again that I haven’t talked to him all day. He knew I had the committee meeting, though, so I didn’t expect him to call.
I try his home phone but there’s no answer. I try the new mobile number he texted me this morning. Ditto. I leave a light-hearted voicemail and then decide not to pester him—he could be visiting his band mates or going out with friends after more than two months of self-imposed exile.
I’ve waited this long for him to come home. I can wait a little longer for our first real date. Besides, my plans kept us from going out tonight, not his.
Aleah whines to go out and I pry myself off the couch to change into shorts. I cover my blister with antibiotic cream and a bandage, then lace up my running shoes.
It’s just after dark but the park is still full of life—plenty of other twilight dog-walkers had the same idea. I consider getting Jasper but it feels like such a long walk from the Upper East Side to the Upper West, and my blister is bothering me.
If Aleah is annoyed by her short-lived walk, she doesn’t show it. She tries to give me an enthusiastic tongue-kiss when I remove her leash.
I pour food in Aleah’s bowl and pour myself into bed, feeling the tidal wave of emotions I’ve experienced today crash over me and pull me into a dream-laden sleep.
I’ll bet I snore like a jet engine.
Sorry, Aleah.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I’ve seen the video Gavin sent me a hundred times, but this time is different. This time, I’m watching in horror.
“Hey, Beryl. This is for you,” Gavin’s grin fills my computer screen. He moves to the bed and throws the guitar strap over his shoulder. “It’s called ‘Wilderness.’”
Tattoo Thief (BOOK 1) Page 22