If I Break #4 Shattered Pieces

by Portia Moore

  “It’s something that Calvin always planned on doing for you but other things took his attention. Christopher would have done it if he had the means, and it only makes sense that I do what they would carry out if circumstances hadn’t intervened.”

  She looks down at the floor her expression fighting between pained and ecstatic. A moment later she marches toward me and grabs my hand. She looks up at me as if seeing me for the first time, her eyes pierce through mine before she stands on her toes and presses her lips gently against mine.

  I freeze. I didn’t expect this reaction. She pulls back looking me in the eyes before leaning in again and this time when her lips touch mine, I pull her closer. She tastes like mint with a mix of the wine she had earlier. Her hand travels up my chest and to my hair as her fingers comb through it. It’s happening so fast, and I can feel the blood rushing through my body, but I pull away.

  “I don’t want you to feel obligated to do this,” I tell her and she looks at me almost offended but then a slow smile spreads across her face. She slowly takes a few steps away from me and pulls the dress over her head. She’s standing in front of me and my chest feels like a train is trying to escape it. My composure isn’t anywhere near as strong as I thought it would be.

  “I want my husband to make love to me.” Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes hooded, her expression so seductive, but her tone is the most innocent thing I’ve ever heard. She’s like the white rabbit—unknowingly leading me down the hole—but it's she that doesn't know how deep the hole goes or how hard the fall is going to be. I tell myself it’s the wine, but I can’t help myself from walking toward her. I should feel guilty but when I kiss her neck, the moan she gives me in response keeps me going, and I’ve never craved someone as much as I’ve craved her.

  “Are you sure?” It takes all of my strength to stop and I ask, giving her one last chance to back out.

  “Stop being so uptight.” She teases as she starts to undo my pants, and when she says that it unleashes every reservation that I’ve had. I pick her up and kiss her how I’ve wanted to kiss her since the day we stood in that shower, before she realized it was me. I kiss her the way I wanted to yesterday, when she sat mesmerized at my feet. Her taste is addictive, her touch almost healing. The look on her face when we become one, unimaginable. As I go deeper inside of her I feel as if I’m falling into deep ends of water, and I’m afraid because for the first time in my life I’m in unchartered territory. This feeling is foreign; not being completely in control, knowing the outcome of this may not result in the best circumstances for us. This could cause problems. It will cause problems, but I fix the problems… I’ve fixed Cal’s, I’ve fixed Chris’s, and I’ll fix this. They need me; it’s not the other way around. They’ll understand.

  They’ll have to.

  Lauren

  Was last night just a dream? Hazy memories of lips on my neck, stomach and other places that throb run through my mind. Fingers touching, as if they were given a road map to each secret place on my body. When I open my eyes I don’t see the high vaulted ceilings I saw last night, and my back isn’t stiff from doing all sorts of wild things on the hardwood floors. Could it really have been just a dream?

  It had to be because in real life I wouldn’t seduce Collin. The restrained, calculating, perfectly put together Collin didn’t unleash himself and remind me of his counterparts more than I ever thought possible. He didn’t help me come apart time and time again in the space he bought for me to open a gallery. No that didn’t happen. It couldn’t have. But when I look over and see the white dress from my dream neatly folded on my dresser, I catch my breath.

  It did happen.

  I hear the shower running and swallow hard. How did I get from there to here? That wine must have been super strong. No, I can’t blame it on the wine.

  I was lonely, and I wanted him. Is that so wrong? I wanted my husband’s touch, his kiss, to feel him inside of me. Am I a bad person for that? Shit, I feel like this is déjà vu again. I cautiously get out of bed and walk over to the bathroom door, which is closed. I listen to the water running, and open the door to see the shower is clouded with steam. I’m apprehensive as I open it this time. I’m almost shaking with nerves at the thought of it opening and it being another person. Instead, the door opens for me.

  “You’re welcome to come in.” He smirks and stands back for me to come in. I let out a small sigh of relief because I am not prepared to be attacked or shouted at for what happened last night. As I step in the shower, I’m immediately enveloped by warmth, and it melts my apprehension away. I sit on the bench in the shower opposite of him, and we’re both quiet.

  “Good morning.” He smiles, but it’s almost bashful—a look I’ve never seen on him.

  “Good morning.” I wear my own shy smile even though we’re both sitting in front of each other completely naked. If I didn’t imagine what we did last night and it’s all real, we’re beyond being bashful. I rest my head back on the tile and let the water drip down my skin. The sound of the water is relaxing and calming, but what I really want to hear is his voice, for him to say something.

  “Yesterday was interesting,” he says, his voice serious with only a hint of amusement. I fight myself from letting out a nervous chuckle and swallow my nerves instead.

  “Was it?” I ask back through barely veiled sarcasm, mimicking his usual tone. I wish there wasn’t so much steam, that I could look at him better, not that if I could see him it could cause me to read him any more accurately. I want to know what he’s thinking‚ but according to him he’s an open book. Suddenly it’s like my wish is granted, and he appears through the steam and my eyes drink him in, every perfect curve on his body, solid muscle, sculpted and hard. Even after all of these years, I fall in lust with him all over again when I look at him. I pull in a much-needed breath when he kneels between my legs and pulls me so that our chests are touching. Our heartbeats pulse against each other, mine speeding like horses trotting and his steady. He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses the inside of my wrist, while his eyes stay on mine. My heart rate is climbing higher and higher as his fingers trail up my thighs. This feeling is familiar, the rush of it, the suspense, the teasing. His lips crash into mine and he doesn’t let them go. A wave of heat passes through me, and I feel like I’m tumbling through time again, one year, two years, three years... I’m lifted up and my body is pinned to the wall of the shower, his body pressed against mine. His mouth is kissing my lips, down my neck and stomach. I’m lifted and pushed higher, and I gasp when I’m on his shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” I laugh as I grab his hair holding on. He looks up at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Trust me,” he says before his tongue dives inside of me.

  “You’re going to…” My thoughts drown out. Words slip from my mind as his arms lock on both sides of me and my hand digs into one of his arms, while the other digs into his hair. Emotions and memories collide and crash against each other. I feel high, on a drug that I haven’t had in such a long time. The feeling in the pit of my stomach starts to spread throughout my entire body. It’s all so eerily familiar. After all the time that’s passed, should I still feel this way? Is this regressing? Is this a good thing? It hits me all at once, throws me over a cliff, I’m light-headed, I’m weightless…

  When I come down literally and figuratively, he lifts my chin so our eyes are locked, and I feel anxious, excited, nervous like he’s a stranger but knows me in the most intimate ways possible. I catch my breath, and a smile stretches across his face and with it, my heart does the same.

  “I want to know you.” I run the tip of my fingers lightly across his chin. His eyes squint a little at me, and I realize how ironic my statement is. “You know what I mean,” I giggle feeling my cheeks heat up.

  His lips rest against mine, they’re light and strange and familiar at the same time. “I’ll tell you anything.”

  “Anything?” I ask. It’s almost too easy.

  He�
��s inside of me.

  “Everything?” I ask breathlessly.

  He pulls back from me searching my eyes, and for a moment I think he’s irritated, but it’s a flash that disappears in an instant.

  “Who are you, Collin Scott?” I fight through a moan.

  “Crestfield,” he says before covering my mouth with his.

  A beast let out of its cage. I wonder if that’s what I’ve done. The seemingly refined man who wears meticulously put-together suits, well-mannered and well-spoken, reserved, is a complete beast in bed. It seems so contradictory, it was supposed to be different. I thought he’d be careful, slow, and attentive. That’s how he was when he made love to me on the floor of the space. The space for my gallery, the gallery he bought for me, it’s still surreal to think of it. But here, in the shower and in our bed, there is no more carefulness, nothing unsure about his movements in any way. He’s wild and completely sure of everything. No quiet confidence, more like screaming. It reminded me so much of Cal but different in so many ways.

  “What are you thinking?” His body is stretched out over the bed and completely magnificent.

  I smile at him and roll on my back to look at the ceiling.

  “Nothing.” I lie holding a smile from spreading across my face by trapping my bottom lip between my teeth. The light from the window is shining in on us, highlighting his face, and his smile is beaming, his hair is messy, and he looks so much like Cal but wearing a smile like Chris that it’s scary. This man with so many faces, I have to remind myself who’s staring back at me.

  “You can tell me anything, Lauren.” He smiles softly, his tone more serious sounding and more like the man I’ve gotten to know these past few weeks.

  “Can I?” I ask teasingly. His hand slides down my waist, and he pulls me over to him, but just beside him, not on top. Our faces are only inches apart, but he doesn’t kiss me. My heart speeds up, and the prickles travel up my spine, in a way that only he can do. A way that makes me excited and anxious but nervous—they way one feels on a roller coaster seconds before the giant drop happens.

  “You’re safe with me.” His words cause my chest to tighten. They’re heavy and serious when I’ve been trying to keep the moment light and playful. His words grab my heart and squeeze it. I bite my lip and hold in the sigh that’s trying to get out because there was a small part of me that believed that this was just about sex—a request for intimacy from me that he wanted fulfilled—but the way his eyes are looking into mine, it seems deeper than that and more real than that. It’s unexpected and terrifies me, but it’s exactly how I feel right now and a part of me hates myself for it, especially when he wraps me in his arms and it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time. The little spot inside my heart is growing and the voice inside my head I drowned out last night and this morning is saying that I should feel guilty.

  “Good Morning.” When I see Raven sitting in the living room with Caylen, I feel my cheeks heat up. It’s closer to early afternoon than morning.

  “Good morning.” I give her and Caylen a quick kiss. “What time did Collin leave?” I ask grabbing a juice from the fridge.

  “About a half hour ago. That man sure can wear a suit,” she laughs and I can’t help but join in.

  “He can, can’t he?” I joke sitting down at the table in the kitchen and she joins me.

  “How did last night go?” She has a knowing smile on her face, and I try my best to contain mine.

  “It was great. Really great.” I go for an honest answer, but I regret how solemn my voice sounds.

  “Well, tell me about it.” She seems excited for me, and I appreciate that from her because I know this situation is extremely worrying to her. I go through the details, well the PG-13 ones.

  “Wow, a gallery space,” she exclaims, this time genuinely excited.

  “Yeah, I know. I was so shocked.”

  “That’s fantastic, sweetie.” She squeezes my hands.

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Of course, I think it’s great. When is the last time you’ve done a painting?”

  “Wow, at least two maybe three years,” I sigh sadly.

  “A drawing?” she asks, and I shrug embarrassed.

  “Other than a doodle here and there, about the same,” I say and she frowns.

  “Lauren, you used to love it. I can’t believe it’s been that long!”

  “I did, I still do. It’s just life got in the way…” I trail off knowing it’s still not an excuse.

  “Well, that’s changing, right?” She gives me an encouraging nudge.

  “Yeah, I hope so.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, her expression scrunching up in worry.

  “I don’t know. When I think of all the work that comes along with it…” I admit.

  “It’s all good work though!”

  “Absolutely.” I agree.

  “Then what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing's wrong.”

  “Lauren, I know you better than that and I know that something is wrong.” She says sternly.

  “I-I just wonder if it the right time with all that’s going on,” I shrug.

  She nods slightly in understanding. There are a few moments of silence. “So Collin…” she starts, and I fight myself from rolling my eyes. “It was a big decision for him to purchase the space for you. And he’s working quite a bit… where?" she asks and I laugh.

  “Where Cal worked.” I can’t help how my chest tightens when I say his name. I have tried to shut him out of my mind and my thoughts. I have tried to ignore the tightening sensation in my chest when I think of him. Raven’s hand slides across the table and takes mine; emotions that I’m trying to hold in the pit of my stomach revealed in the cracks of the stone face I’ve been trying to hold.

  “How are you doing with all of this? Really?” she asks.

  “I’m fine.” I take my hand from hers and quickly gulp the remainder of my juice, hoping to also swallow the emotions trying to rear themselves up.

  She eyes me with disbelief. “Really?”

  “Yes.” My comment is hard and short and from the small sigh she lets out, I hope she’ll drop it.

  “Okay,” she says with only a hint of snippiness before she stands.

  “I think I’ll take Caylen for a walk,” she announces huffily before leaving the kitchen area. She scoops up Caylen and heads to her room. I stare at the half-empty glass of orange juice and wipe away the two tears that fall from my eyes into it.

  Chapter Six

  Collin

  I should have counted on this to happen. He’s impulsive, selfish, and completely unreasonable. It’s not a surprise that he’s gone quiet but that he’s been so successful at doing it, that does surprise me. I knew there would be a risk in being with Lauren, but Cal has to know that without me being his ally, he’s more impotent than Chris is. I’m the reason why he knows when Chris will take over, why he knows as much as he does. For him to shut me out, to not talk to me is laughable. He is childish, temperamental, and rash and this is the reason he can’t be the boss he so badly craves to be.

  “Nothing yet?” Helen’s voice echoes in my ear.

  I shift in my seat and try to concentrate more, but there’s nothing. I haven’t heard from him since that night when Lauren chose me.

  “I know you’re there, Cal. I know you’re upset, so stop behaving like a child and talk to me.” I mentally shout at him in my head.

  “I just need more time,” I tell Helen when I tune back in with her in our session. Her face is blank only wearing her usual neutral smile, but I can tell that she’s curious as to why this is taking so long. I’m sure the wheels are turning in her head coming up with a theory for it all before she’s even spoken to me.

  “Okay.”

  I’ve been tuning in trying to reach him, but I’ve had no success. I thought he’d at least try in our sessions to cooperate remembering that we’re on the same team, but again I’ve given him too much credit.

/>   “Calvin, I understand you’re upset, but I told you when this happened with Chris that it was inevitable. Lauren is lonely and she loves us. I know you’re not happy about us making love…”

  “Making love?” his voice cracks through my skull.

  Finally, he’s talking, that’s the first step but from his tone, I can tell this conversation isn’t going to be civil.

  “You’re such a fucking pussy.”

  “She loves us… You’re delusional. Lauren doesn’t love you or Chris. Though he’s further up the totem pole than you are.” He laughs condescendingly.

  “Right. She loves you, Cal, just you,” I reply unable to contain my sarcasm.

  “You’re supposed to be the ‘logical one’, but now since you’re in the driver seat you aren’t thinking straight. You know it’s me she loves, who she wants, who she’d choose.”

  I let out a deep breath. “It isn’t about choosing, Cal and you know that. How many times do I have to explain this to you? We are inevitably going to be one, not three, one… she loves us not just you.”

  “You think because you read my daughter Harry Potter and got Lauren a place for her gallery—that was my idea in the first place—that she’s falling for you? You’re a pathetic shitty fill-in for me. Everything you know about her is because of me. You’re worse than Chris— you’re a parasite.” I hear bitter laughter in my ear. “No, you’re a fucking psychopath. You mimic emotion because you don’t feel it. You don’t even have your own personality. You’re a knockoff of Dexter!”

  I swallow hard, knowing that this is what Cal does. He gets underneath people’s skin by insulting them, taking away their power by causing them to react emotionally. I’m just not used to him directing his insults at me.

  “You have every right to your opinion Cal, but you forget that we’re on the same team… and I’m the coach, you’re just a player…” I probably shouldn’t have added the last part, but he’s so snide sometimes that I just want to retaliate back.