“What is it with you Mitchell sisters?” she asks.
“Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Piper replies.
“You all go after the rich and famous ones. What makes you think you’re any better than the rest of us?”
“First of all, I’m not going after anyone,” Piper says. “And you don’t know anything about my sisters, so why don’t you shut the fu—, uh, just shut up about it.”
I’m amused, and slightly impressed, that Piper is censoring herself in front of Hailey.
“Mama, poopy,” Hailey reminds her.
“Just a minute, baby.” I hear movement and then I have to concentrate to hear her growling whisper. “It was you he was with last night, wasn’t it? Do you really think you’re good enough for him? You dress like a pauper. You have that thing on your nose. It’s so last decade. You’re just so . . . normal. You realize Mason Lawrence can have anyone he wants, right? Why do you think he would choose someone as plain as you? Unless of course you’re fucking him. Are you fucking him? It won’t last, you know. He’ll use you up and throw you away just like all the others. He’ll go through all of his little fan girls until he realizes who he needs to be with. The mother of his child. He will do anything to make Hailey happy. And Hailey wants her Mommy and her Daddy. And as soon as she’s old enough to ask for it, he’ll give it to her. He does every time. So go have your fun, but know who he’ll end up with in the end.”
“He’ll obviously want to be with you because you’re such a great mom,” Piper deadpans. “Cussing and talking the way you do in front of your daughter; you should win the Mother of the Year Award. How proud you must be. You don’t even realize what you have, do you? You don’t realize it because instead of seeing her as a gift, you see her as a tool to getting what you want. I feel sorry for you, Cassidy. For you and your pathetic life. Now run along and pretend you’re a mother who actually cares that her daughter messed her pants.”
I’m stunned by their exchange. I’m enlightened by Cassidy’s admission. I’m encouraged by Piper’s declaration. She thinks children are a gift? Perhaps it won’t be so hard to forge a bond between them after all. But before I can process all of this information and get out of the way, Piper rounds the corner smacking right into me.
“Ooof.” I put my hands on her arms to keep her from falling.
She looks up at me bashfully. “Uh, did you hear any of that?” she asks.
I give her a confirming nod. “Pretty much all of it. I was coming back to rescue you from Hurricane Cassidy. But apparently you didn’t need my help.”
Her eyes fill with regret. “I’m sorry I said those awful things about your kid’s mom. I shouldn’t let her get to me like that.”
“Are you kidding? Everything you said is true.” I look her straight in the eye. “And everything she said is not. I hope you know that. I told you last night, you were the first date I’ve had in years. There hasn’t been anyone else, even in passing. Those things she said, she said them to scare you away. I had no idea that she’s been waiting for me to get back together with her. I promise you that will never happen. You were the first woman I’ve wanted to be with since Hailey was born. You’re the only woman I want to be with.”
I both see and hear her sigh of relief. Her eyes soften. She believes me.
I realize my hands are still on her arms and she has goosebumps; the fine hairs prickling my fingertips. It’s not cold in the hallway. It must be me. She’s reacting to my touch. Better yet, she’s making no attempt to pull away from it. Now may be the right time to ask her out again. While we have this connection. This fire that’s coming from her and going straight to my groin—right through every bone in my body—and directly to my goddamn heart.
“Piper—”
“Is everything okay back here?” I’m cut off by Jarod, who is eyeing my hands on her arms with disdain.
She backs away, putting too much distance between us and my hands fall down to my sides, heavy with emptiness.
“Everything’s fine, Jarod. We were just heading out to the table.” Piper walks away, glancing back at me over her shoulder with sympathy, as if she knew what I was about to ask and Jarod ruined the moment. That look—does it mean she would have said yes?
Jarod glares at me before going back to his duties.
Fucking waiters and their bad timing.
chapter fifteen
piper
He was going to ask me out again at brunch yesterday. I know it. I could sense it; feel it in his touch. Lying here in bed, I can still feel his fingers on my arm. First, holding me up so I didn’t fall when we collided, then brushing lightly against my skin as we spoke. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying when all my focus was on those inches of my flesh that were touching his.
However, I’m glad he didn’t ask. I would have said no. I’m only here for a few more weeks. And once I leave I’m not coming back. What would be the point in going out with him again?
I had another dream about him last night. I find it strange that ever since I saw the face in the crowd, the face that should have me fighting demons every night in my sleep, I’ve had more good nights than bad. More dreams than nightmares. More hope than despair. But I know my dreams are just that—dreams of what could never happen. I could never have a real relationship with a man. I could never be with someone without the ugliness of my past destroying any shred of a bright future. My fate has been sealed. My destiny shrouded in a darkness I can never overcome.
I reach my hand out and place it on the vacant pillow next to me, for the first time in my life, mourning every what-if and could-have-been. I reach down into the very depths of my soul, looking inwardly around every nook and cranny to see if there is any small part of me—just one little piece I think I can give to him.
I touch my lips. I remember the fire he set in my body and the shivers he sent down my spine when he touched them the other night. The memory of it has my fingers wandering into my panties, something I’ve done sparingly over the years and only to release tension. Never before have I touched myself while thinking of a man. Never have I let my fingers circle my clit while envisioning another person. Never have my fantasies gone so wild that I find myself moaning at the very thought of him.
My hips begin to move involuntarily as I spread the wetness around, making my fingers glide soft and easy over my hard nub. My mind goes back to the night he protected me; spooned me until I fell asleep. I imagine him brushing my hair aside and tracing my tattoo before placing his lips on it. I imagine his lips and hands traveling down my body, softly, slowly and gently like no others have ever done. I slip a finger inside of me, pretending it’s his. I think his name might even escape my mouth in a breathy moan when my thighs tighten, my belly clenches and I spiral down into a shuttering orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Then without thinking too much about it, I pick up my phone.
Me: Was there something you wanted to ask me yesterday?
He texts me back immediately and I break into an enormous smile, so sudden and unexpected it hurts my face.
Mason: Yes. I just wasn’t sure you were ready to be asked.
Me: Today is a new day.
Mason: Okay, then. Will you go out with me on Saturday?
Me: Yes.
I throw my phone down and head into the bathroom.
When I emerge from my shower, I hear commotion downstairs. I throw on a t-shirt and yoga pants and head down to see what’s up. I’m just off the bottom step when squeals of laughter fill the air. I look over to see Griffin giving Hailey a piggy-back ride around the living room.
My heart thunders. Where there’s Hailey, there’s Mason.
In two seconds flat, I take inventory of my appearance. Hair—wet. Clothes—frumpy. Makeup—none. I spin on my bare feet and attempt to make a mad dash upstairs before I even have a chance to think about the fact that he’s seen me at my worst before. He’s seen me at the gym. He’s watched me shatter in front of thou
sands of people, sweaty and broken. He’s witnessed me drunk and disheveled. So why, in this moment do I care if he sees me like this?
“Hey, Princess.”
I hate that name. I want to walk over to him and shove it right back down his throat. But somehow, he’s made it seem more of an endearment than a putdown. The way he says it, I realize it’s the same tone he uses when addressing his daughter.
I protest anyway, on principle. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to call me that anymore.”
“Okay, then. Hey, sweetheart.” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes. I roll them despite the fact I love the way the word rolls off his tongue. My mind flashes back to the first time he used it. When I was drunk and having a nightmare in his arms. Then again at the hotel when he was comforting me. I can remember every single time with indisputable clarity. When he says it, it’s not condescending like the way some men, and a few women, say it. He’s sincere. Assured. Confident.
I feel the heatwave across my face and chest as I recall the fantasy I had just a short time ago. Oh, my God. Was he here? Was he in the same house, just down the stairs even, when I was coming to the thought of him?
Skylar appears from the kitchen, carrying a happy Aaron in her arms. I look at her with him. I look hard, as if seeing them together for the first time. I realize I’ve pretty much ignored the baby while I’ve been here. I’ve made excuse after excuse not to be around him. Skylar has stopped asking if I want to hold him. I stare at her with him, watching as Griffin swoops in to kiss her cheek on his way by, swinging Hailey as she makes excited noises. It’s a freaking Norman Rockwell painting. I want this. I want this so much my heart hurts.
But deep down, I know I can never have those things. The happiness. The sense of well-being. The joy.
They all died with my spirit five years ago. I can’t get them back. Charlie can’t get them back—Lord knows she’s tried. What makes me think Mason can help me feel them again? In only two short weeks, no less. I re-think my text earlier. I shouldn’t have sent it. I was in some weird state. Some alternate post-orgasmic reality where I thought I could be normal.
“Good,” Skylar says, placing Aaron in his bassinet, turning on the mobile of dancing bears hanging over his head. “You’re both here.” She goes to stand by Griffin’s side. “We need to talk to you.”
Oh, hell. She’s going to try and set us up. My eyes glance at Mason, who, by the look on his face, has no idea why he’s here. Skylar’s never been one to interfere. Baylor—she’s the meddler. She wants everyone’s lives to play out like one of her sappy romance novels. But Skylar, she’s always pretty much left me alone. I can feel it coming, though, percolating up out of her as if it’s been festering inside her and must come bursting out.
I sigh and wait for my sister to embarrass me.
What comes out of her mouth, however, doesn’t make me blush after all.
“We’re postponing the wedding,” she says.
I look between them. They have nothing but love for one another. Their wedding is all they can talk about lately. It’s nauseating, to tell the truth. So what on earth could keep them from going through with it? “What? Why?” I ask.
“I’m not ready. It’s too rushed. I’m only doing this one time and I want it to be perfect.” She leans in close to Griffin and gives him a squeeze. I catch a fleeting look from him that tells me he’s not completely on board with the postponement. “The dress designer called yesterday. Piper, you know we’ve had issues with the dress for weeks now. Well, it’s not going to be finished in time. I love that dress. And the church, well, when we moved the date a few months ago, we picked the only date available.” She sighs. “I don’t want to get married on a Thursday.”
She twists a lock of her hair. She’s nervous and it makes me wonder why.
“When will the dress be ready?” I ask. “Surely Griffin or Gavin can pull some strings and get you a weekend wedding. Who says you even have to get married in a church. Why not here?”
Skylar and Griffin share another look before she turns her attention back to me. “Don’t freak out. I’ve already contacted Charlie to make sure she’s okay with it. She is, so you should be too.”
“You contacted Charlie? Why would you do that? What is she okay with? Just how long are you postponing the wedding?” My hand goes to my wrist and I start to fiddle with the thin leather straps of the bracelet. Whenever I think of Charlie, I touch it. Whenever I think of anything I touch it. Deep down, I know it’s just a silly symbol. But it has come to mean so much more. It represents the piece of me I no longer have. Once again, I’m grateful Mason found it on the ground next to me. I’ve only known him for seven weeks, but he seems to be taking care of me at every turn. I find myself reconsidering my reconsideration of our next date.
Skylar twists her hair again. “Two months.”
“Two?” I ask incredulously, looking between the three of them to see none of them are as bothered by this as I seem to be. “Two?” I ask again. I’m sure I heard her incorrectly. “But the dress is almost done. All she has to do is add the lace. How can that take two months? If it’s the church, you can just get married here like I said.”
She shakes her head. “It’s already done, Piper. We rescheduled it for July 7th. We had to call in a lot of favors, so there’s no way we are changing it again.”
I search my mind for reasons they may not have thought of. Reasons they have to marry sooner. I look over at Mason when I find one. “You have football. You’ll be too busy. Don’t you have to start practice by then?”
“Nope. We pretty much have the month of July off. I don’t have to report to training camp until the 30th.”
My eyes dart between all of them and then focus on Mason as my blood starts to boil. “You knew about this? You knew and didn’t say anything?”
“He didn’t know,” Griffin says. “He’s my best friend, Piper. I know his schedule almost as well as he does. This was all Skylar and me. I’m really sorry if it puts a crimp in your plans to return overseas. But I have to live with this woman for the rest of my life, and I’m damn well not going to start off by refusing to give her the wedding of her dreams.”
I calculate it in my head. Four months. That is how long I’ll be away from Charlie when all is said and done. Charlie. My rock. My touchstone. My very sanity. I start to panic. “I have to text Charlie.” I take the stairs two at a time, ignoring my sister calling out to say she’s made breakfast for everyone.
~ ~ ~
We’ve been texting for thirty minutes. Texting about random movie trivia. Then random music trivia. And now we’ve moved on to random book trivia. It occurs to me we obviously have way too much time on our hands.
Charlie and I work occasional jobs to supplement the money my parents send, but it’s a few days here and a few days there. We do all sorts of odd jobs, but mostly waitressing—something we both despise, and usually end up getting fired for punching out some asshole who grabbed us. It’s never in a classy place like Mitchell’s. It’s usually some dive bar that has a hard time keeping their help due to the unruly clientele. So we’ve learned to budget our money and make the most of what we have. It’s meant giving up a lot of things, like private bathrooms and a good wardrobe. But it lets us do what we want, when we want, and that’s all that matters.
Mason calls me Princess. His vision of what my life is like and the reality of it are two very different things. I’m sure he thinks we’re living in posh hotels, being waited on hand and foot by concierge service.
Charlie and I continue texting mindless drivel. We’re avoiding the conversation we both know we need to have.
Charlie: Soooooo…
My fingers pause. Here it goes.
Me: Yeah
Charlie: 2 more months, huh?
Me: I’m so sorry.
I feel terrible leaving her alone for so long. Then it occurs to me there is no reason I need to be here. The wedding is practically all planned. I could hop on a pl
ane and be back with Charlie tomorrow. I could return to New York in July. Excitement courses through me, right before my chest becomes heavy when I think of Mason.
I have to put down the phone with this realization. I can leave my sisters. My mom and dad. Maddox even. But the thought of leaving Mason, who I barely know, has my stomach clenching with hollow grief. I close my eyes and mentally trace the hard angles of his face.
No. Charlie is my priority. She is where my allegiance lies. We made a promise, a vow even. It was always supposed to be the two of us against the world. No matter what.
I ignore the ache that settles just behind my heart.
Me: I’ll come back. There’s no need for me to stay here. I’ll leave tomorrow and just fly back for the wedding in July.
I stare at my phone awaiting a reply. I startle when it rings and Charlie’s face pops up on the screen. I swipe my finger across the screen to answer it.
Before I can even say hello, she’s screaming at me. “You will do no such thing, Pipes. Your sisters need you there. Besides, I already have a ticket to Sydney. I leave tonight.”
Two emotions are battling in my head. Relief and sadness.
And then there’s the guilt. Guilt over the relief I feel that she’s not begging me to come back. Guilt over the small part of me that wants to be somewhere other than with her. And guilt over the fact that it’s because of a man. We swore we’d never let a man come between us. Never let a man weasel their way into our lives and then rip the rug out from under us like all men do. Eventually, they all do it. All relationships end. Death, divorce, boredom, violence. They all end badly.
I selfishly wonder if she’s moving on without me. We’ve never been apart for this long. “You’re going to Australia without me? What about, uh, what’s his name, Donovan? Is he going with you?”
Black Roses (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) Page 13