by Ava Claire
I didn’t regret being honest and telling her about Sophia. It was freeing. For the first time since I fell for Megan, I felt like I could breathe, and stop waiting for the bomb to go off. But I didn’t fully appreciate what hearing the truth would do to her.
“I know that you care about me. I just need to rewire my brain.” Her lips brushed my neck, and my eyes rolled back in my head. Each lick pushed me closer to the edge, to saying fuck it and fucking her.
I brought my trembling hand to her back and stroked up and down. She stilled, purring her delight.
“I want you,” I said, after I was sure I could say something besides, ‘take off your clothes’. “After your apartment—” A moan rippled through me, and I swore she smiled against my skin. “But the next time I make love to you, I want there to be no doubt in your mind.” There was no mistaking her tongue clucking in disappointment, and she rearranged herself. She wasn’t playing fair. She was in the perfect position, aligned with my cock. She swirled her hips tauntingly.
My phone shuddered to life in my pocket, and she eyeballed me with a smirk. “Saved by the cell.”
She shifted to the cushion beside me, leaving one of her legs draped on my thigh. There was something so casual and relaxed about it that just felt right. Inevitable.
I glanced at my cell and accepted the call. “Lisa? I thought you weren’t waking up before 9AM, even for me.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” she said, the groggy lilt in her voice cluing me in on the fact that she wasn’t fully awake yet. “I’m just walking in the door. Apparently Missy wanted to talk to you, and she called me for some reason? She said you were preoccupied.”
My erection glowered at that statement. I wish. “I’ll find her.” I hung up and leaned in, planting a kiss on Megan’s temple. “I’ll be right back.”
I eased the dressing room door closed, found a PA that knew where Missy was, then headed to makeup. The door was wide open, so I walked in. Missy was alone, perched in the leather chair, staring at her reflection. Her expression was pensive, but it evaporated when she saw me. Her cheeks flushed and she nearly stumbled from the chair.
“C-Cade!”
Stammering? Missy Diaz didn’t stammer. The reason why dawned on me and my mouth twitched uncomfortably.
Oh right. The kiss.
“You needed to see me?”
She nodded slowly. “I wanted to talk to you...” There was a definite dot, dot, dot. I felt it, like something was coming. But she said nothing.
“Okay?” I repeated, just as slowly. I walked to the side, perching on the edge of the counter. “What did you want to talk about?”
She picked at her nails, then flicked her eyes up to the mirror. “Your interview this morning was fantastic.”
“I try,” I said with a smirk. “I know how to turn on the charm when necessary.” I’d meant it as a joke, but it fell flat, considering our history. Missy’s lips pulled downward into a familiar scowl.
She swiveled her chair to face me. The scowl was gone, but the ghost of it was still in her eyes. “I’m well aware of your...charm.”
I could have shrugged it off. Asked her to get on with it, and been on my way. Instead, I bit the bullet. Today was about new starts. Apologies and beginning again. “Look, if I ever did or said anything—” I stopped. There was no if. I did do or say something. I flirted with her, then totally dismissed her. To top it off, the next time I saw Missy, I’d moved on to Megan. “I know that I hinted that I was attracted to you, then shut you down and pursued Megan. That was shady as hell, and I apologize.”
I watched her intently, not paying attention to anything else. Something about her gaze was predatory. Or maybe psycho was a better word. Like she could snap at any moment. Tear my throat out.
She looked down at her nails again. What the hell was she looking at? They were colorless. Blank. Just like the look on her face when she tilted her eyes back up to me. A weird smile curved her lips. “You know what? Let’s let bygones be bygones. That kiss we shared last night meant nothing. And it’ll never happen again.” Her accent seemed especially intense when she said ‘kiss’ and ‘shared’. Rounding out every syllable.
My brow furrowed at her wording, but I shrugged it away. She kissed me, but at the end of the day, it was semantics. The important part was that we were moving past it. “Glad to hear it.”
She craned her neck toward the doorway. That weird smile expanded, devouring half her face.
“Megan! Didn’t hear you come up.”
My chest tightened, like the whole building had collapsed on top of it.
Missy did hear. That was what the shared a kiss emphasis was about. The weird smile.
She knew Megan was there the whole time.
My heart stalled in my chest, my limbs heavy as cinderblocks. Somehow, I forced my body to turn.
Megan’s face was red with fury. Her whole body shook, like a volcano was erupting inside her.
Lisa stepped into view and without a word, Megan stormed past her, down the hall.
I blazed toward the door, wanting to go to Megan, explain that it wasn’t what it sounded like, but Lisa blocked my way.
“Lisa—”
She held up a hand to stop me. Her voice dripped with venom. “Just let her be, Cade.”
Chapter Sixteen
Megan
I didn’t realize I was home until my apartment door thudded behind me. I gasped, clutching my chest like the Boogeyman had leapt out of the darkness, ready to drag me to hell. I wasn’t sure he could create anything more horrific than standing in the doorway and hearing the man who loved me kissed another woman. The same man who swore that I was the only one. That he wouldn’t break my heart.
My chest throbbed, my hand still pressed against it. I felt like my heart was beating right out of my chest, the pulpy tatters of it bleeding between my fingers. Cade didn’t just break my heart. He shredded it.
My throat was on fire,so I launched to the cabinet, fumbling for a glass. I filled it with water and brought the rim to my lips. I gulped it like I’d just run a marathon, or had spent days in the Sahara and by some stroke of luck, stumbled on an oasis. That’s what me and Cade were. An oasis. My escape. I could see it, damn near feel it. But when I got too close, straining for it, it disappeared from view, leaving me hollowed out and empty.
I didn’t realize that I was trembling until my shaky fingers nearly dropped the empty glass to the floor. I could picture the crystalline shards glittering up at me with their jagged edges. Pieces that would never go together again. Like my heart. I was filled with all sorts of metaphors. They say love is the great inspirer, and nothing gets the creative juices flowing better than a broken heart.
Writing prompt: Describe a time someone you loved more than anything; more than you sensibly should have loved, shat all over your hopes and dreams.
Probably not appropriate for a third grade class.
The overwhelming urge to drink, to not feel, yanked at my insides, and I turned to the fridge. There wasn’t enough Moscato left to fill a wine glass halfway. I threw it back and eyed the sherry I hardly used.
Okay, that would be a bit much.
I dropped the empty Moscato bottle in the recycling and ignored the helpful voice that reminded me that the liquor store was just around the corner. As much as getting shitfaced drunk appealed to me, going to school in the morning with a raging hangover didn’t. And calling off wasn’t an option. If anything could make me feel better, it was my students.
I dropped onto the futon, the old springs protesting. I lowered my back down, kicked off my Chucks, then laid there like a plank.
It was still and quiet.
I almost wished Joe and his girlfriend were going at it across the hall, because it wouldn’t be quiet for long. My thoughts were going to start ripping me a new one in 3...2...
What did you think would happen? You had Cade Wallace pegged from the moment you saw him. That much was true. He looked like sex wrap
ped in Armani. You couldn’t help but stare at the man. His towering height, the muscles that wouldn’t quit, the breathtaking smile that promised pillow shredding sex. The deep green eyes that made you feel like you were the most beautiful thing God had ever created. The best part was that he knew that he made women melt. He knew that his charisma reduced anyone that had the pleasure of setting their eyes on him to a stammering idiot. I wasn’t immune to his charms, or the charms of men I’d fallen for that were just like him. Beautiful men who thought their shit didn’t stink. Men who played with hearts like they were toys instead of living things that could be broken.
But he’d said things, done things that caught me off guard. That whole ‘you know me better than anyone’ thing, at the premiere, for one. He’d been looking at me all night like he was on the edge of asking me to go home with him, but instead, he’d looked at me with such vulnerability. Like he was chained by something, and just wanted to be free of it.
I had been secure in my belief that guys were scum, and I needed a man as much as a fish needed a bicycle (thanks, Irina Dunn) or whatever single woman anthem I stuck on repeat. But deep down, I wanted to break those chains. I wanted to believe that I could fall in love and it not end in catastrophe. I wanted to find the guy who proved me wrong.
Tears built in my eyes, but I held them hostage. Not this time. I was expecting this. That’s why I fought the attraction so vigorously. Underneath the optimism and hope, I knew I’d end up back here.
It didn’t make me feel better. Not at all.
I propped my head on the arm of the futon. The metal frame wasn’t the most comfortable, but with the burn in my throat, the sting of tears, and the relentless knots in my stomach, the dull ache at the back of my head was in good company.
I spotted my phone. Usually Leila would be the person I called. I’d let myself cry a little, trash talk the guy a lot, and she’d tell me that someday I’d find the guy who deserved my awesomeness. Even if I didn’t fully believe that, I’d hang up the phone feeling a little better about the situation. That’s what BFFs were for. To threaten harm on men that broke hearts and bring the glue to help put it back together. Usually the glue came in the form of terrible movie marathons, Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know”, and copious amounts of booze.
But Cade made things complicated. Not only because of their brief flirtation and the very real torch Leila used to carry for him, but the fact that I hadn’t even told Leila that we were even dating. Or whatever we had been doing. After I had given her such a hard time about falling head over heels with a man that had women on constant rotation, I was in no mood for the pointed silence, considering I was now smack dab in the same situation.
Well, not the same. Jacob Whitmore had taken on a client and his mother to prove his love to Leila. Cade was kissing other women, proving I was right all along.
My phone hummed and I snatched it up, wondering if by some cosmic power Leila had known that I needed someone to vent to, but it wasn’t my best friend. The number was local, but I didn’t recognize it. Since it wasn’t Cade, and I just wanted some noise besides that static in my head, I answered it.
“Hello?”
A light, bubbly, vaguely familiar voice answered. “Hi, this is Lisa.” As if she saw the frown on my face, she elaborated. “I’m Cade’s assistant.”
My mouth fell open in indignation. He couldn’t get through, so he made his assistant harass me?
“Don’t hang up.”
“Give me one good reason not to,” I growled, clenching and unclenching my fists. It was supposed to calm me. Stretch out my tight muscles. It only stoked the rage in my chest. Adrenaline coursed through me like acid and I really, really wanted to punch something.
“Cade didn’t kiss Missy.”
And just like that, the fight drained from me. More than the fight. All the energy was sucked from me in an instant, and I slumped back in the couch, feeling so tired I could barely move my lips. “W-What?”
“I mean he did kiss her.” Her words stumbled over each other. “But he didn’t kiss her.”
I closed my eyes so tight I saw stars. If hanging my head wouldn’t cost precious energy that had suddenly gone into short supply, I would have done it. That or massaged my temple with a heavy, irritated sigh. But being pissed was a lot of work, and I was so tired. Tired of being hurt. Tired of punishing myself. But most of all, I was tired of this pointless conversation. “Goodbye, Lisa.”
“Wait!” Her shrill demand made me wince. “Just let me get this out. I know you care about him. And he cares about you—”
“Is that why he kissed some chick, but he didn’t kiss some chick?” I blinked, finding the spark. I fanned it into a flame. “If I never see or hear the name Cade Wallace again, it will be too soon. Who but a heartless asshole fucks someone, claims he cares about them, then runs out and kisses someone else the same night?” I left out the part where I kicked him out. It was irrelevant. Real love didn’t flick on and off like a light switch. “I’m hanging up.” But I didn’t. There was that annoying tickle of hope. The unwelcome, painful optimism.
“So this is what happened.” The phone picked up a rumbling, crackling sound, like she was shifting. Getting comfortable—because this was about to get good. “Missy came to his room—”
“Oh, I already like where this is headed,” I said sarcastically.
“To drop off something for him to wear on Mornin’ 365,” Lisa continued, as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “They got to talking about Cade’s military service. Apparently, Missy’s dad was in the military too. They had a moment. Not a romantic moment,” she added quickly, like she could see me scowl. “You just have to understand—Cade carries around a lot of guilt about that time in his life. About Sophia.”
A fluttering spun in my stomach. The look on his face when he talked about his time in the military, when he told me about Sophia...it was a shame so tangible that it reached behind my ribcage and squeezed my heart.
“They may have gotten close—”
“Too close, obviously,” I muttered.
“But she kissed him. He told her he was seeing you.”
I’d digested all her previous words easily, chewing them and swallowing. But her last couple of sentences were lodged in my throat. They wouldn’t go down. I couldn’t except it, even though my heart was already doing backflips of glee.
I don’t know how much time passed, but it must have been a lot because Lisa cleared her throat and poked at me. “Did you hear me, Megan? I said—”
“I heard you,” I cut in, barely hearing myself because my voice was so hoarse, strangled.
“So this changes everything, right?” Lisa sounded nearly as excited as my old, stupid heart.
I licked my dry lips. “Thanks Lisa, but it doesn’t change a thing.” I disconnected the call and stared at the screen in a daze.
I lied. It changed everything.
The pieces of my heart were already being gathered, Scotch tape ready to reassemble it.
Chapter Seventeen
Cade
I was so over this ‘give her space’ bullshit, but Lisa kept singing that tune, like it was a concept as obvious as the Earth being round.
“Cade Alexander Wallace,” she said, her tone nearly identical to my mother’s when I was approaching the danger zone. “You are not to contact Megan under any circumstances!”
The cab bumped to a stop at the curb outside of Whitmore and Creighton. I glared at the skyscraper. If I couldn’t talk to Megan without ripping the fabric of reality, I could at least have words with my publicist. Some very angry words. “If you say the words ‘give her space’ again, I’m gonna lose it, Lisa.”
“I know it’s hard—”
“Please,” I scoffed. “You have no idea what this is like.” I regretted my dismissive comment before the last drop of acid fell from my lips.
There was a guy that Lisa loved back home. They grew up together and had fought like cats and dogs just as long. After
their last fight, he gave her a little too much space...he moved to the other side of the country and hadn’t contacted her since.
The stronger Lisa appeared when something reminded her of him, the more I knew how gutted she really was. She knew exactly what this sense of loneliness felt like. Powerless to make the pain go away.
“I’m sorry, Lisa.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her words scalding hot. “You’re always a dick when you’re angry. Just channel that anger into something productive.”
“Oh, I’m already halfway there,” I said bitterly. “I’m channeling it where it belongs.”
There was a definite pause before she spoke. “Where it be—oh my God, you’re not at Whitmore and Creighton, are you? Don’t go see her. You’ll say something you regr—”
I ended the call. The last thing I needed was someone trying to talk me out of the one thing I could do to bring me an iota of happiness.
It had been a week since ‘Morning 365. I could remember forcing a smile, then glancing at a monitor and seeing Megan’s face. Her sign. I had told Megan about the man I was; about Sophia. Then Missy turned a stolen kiss into an atomic bomb that laid waste to what I was trying to build with Megan.
I paid the cabbie and stepped out into the sun, not even acknowledging the paps that shouted my name. I had tunnel vision. Nothing mattered, nothing existed except for the rage that wrung my stomach and tightened the noose around my heart.
The doors receded, and I maneuvered through the junior PR execs, headed to the office of Missy Diaz. Her door was open, her assistant babbling on about some business lunch.
Missy’s office was as cold as I expected. All black furniture and bone colored paint on the walls. No pictures, no sign that this room was for anything but work. Just a desk, a highly uncomfortable looking love seat , and the woman herself. She was perched in a high back executive chair, looking down on her assistant like Satan glaring down from his throne of corpses. Dark, I know, but as far as I was concerned, in my twisted state of mind, they didn’t make them any more evil than Missy.