Relief floods my system at the doctor’s words. “Thank you for letting me know. Can I talk to him?”
“No, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t even be calling, but he insisted. He’ll be in the hospital ward for a couple of days, so I don’t know that he will be at visitation on Sunday. He says he loves you though. I have to go now.”
The line goes dead without me even being able to get another word in. Fear for Tucker, relief that he’s okay and sadness that I won’t be able to see him all conflict and war with each other inside my heart.
I wait for the anxiety to come, but it never does. I don’t even feel a trickle of an impending attack. Tucker’s robbery may have triggered this condition, but he would also be the antidote. Because I had to get better, for his sake. Had to be solid and together.
I got in my car and drove home, feeling stronger than I had in months.
CHAPTER 15
CHARLOTTE
Eight Months Ago
Monday’s are usually terrible all around. They’re loud and overload your senses with their alarm clocks, traffic and schedules. Your body didn’t even really adjust to the lazy weekend routine, and now you’re throwing it back into the boxing ring of corporate America. It’s like trying to fit in a day’s worth of sight-seeing on the worst day of jet lag.
For me, Monday’s were a mixed bag. I was usually tired from my drive out to SCI Mahoney, and sad about missing Tucker. Days after a visit were the worst kind of emotional hangovers. But I also loved my job. So, like I said, mixed bag.
Today was a good Monday. Mostly because I was on a Tucker high. I’d watched him receive his college diploma yesterday. Watched as the smile spread across his face and he looked renewed, a man who had accomplished the impossible. I was always proud of him, but yesterday the pride had suffused my body, as if I were swimming in a pool of Tucker’s self-esteem.
Each time I had a crisis at work today, I just pictured his face as they handed him the degree. Beaming and looking down at me, sitting in the small crowd, with such love on his face. We were going to get through this. We only had a couple months left to go.
I unlock my black Jeep and hear the honk of the locks as they click open. Four months ago, I would have walked with my key pointed out like a knife in my hand, scanned the parking lot for anything suspicious. Now? I am confident and commanding as I clack across the pavement in my heels.
I’ve been working with a new therapist, someone referred to me by a close colleague, and she’s incredible. She’s helped me loads more than the last one, and I haven’t had an attack in nearly two months. I’m going to be so mentally strong by the time Tucker comes home that I’ll be able to give Professor X a run for his money.
The short drive home to my condo is peaceful as I listen to James Taylor on the radio.
“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain …” I sing along, humming the tune to myself as I pull up in front of the cobblestone curb.
“Hello, Charlotte Ann.”
The blood in my veins freezes as the hairs on my neck stand at attention. She wouldn’t.
Turning, my mother stands besides my door on the small stoop. I want to get back in my car and pretend she was never here. But she’s seen me already.
“Mother.”
She’s tried to reach out before in the last few years. Calling, texting, emailing. I had to change all of my modes of communications just to stop her from harassing me. It was always the same.
“We need to talk about that man. Although man is too nice of a word.”
She always wanted to discuss Tucker. How she could get me away from him, how we could ruin his life. It made me want to hurl the contents of my lunch onto the sidewalk. Or on her.
“I have nothing to say to you. Just like the last time you decided to show up. Or the three times before that. You’re parenting, right? Your definition of the word is so screwed up. It always has been.”
My mother wipes a non-existent speck of dirt from her white coat. “I’ve only ever wanted the best from you and for you, Charlotte Ann. I didn’t raise you to marry some low-down common criminal. Stop punishing yourself by trying to punish me. Be done with this charade already. File for divorce, testify against the monster so he never gets out of prison.”
All I can do is laugh. She’s so delusional that even she has to realize the humor in this. “Give it up, mother. Tucker, my husband, is getting out in a matter of months. He’s more of a man than anyone I’ve ever known. He’s bettered himself, learned from his mistakes and will be a better part of society than you ever could. No wonder Dad left you.”
My father has finally seen her vicious, evil ways after all of this time. About a year ago, he’d served her papers and moved to Vermont, buying a quaint home in the woods and still working as a freelance journalist. We’d been in touch, but only as much as we’d ever been. We’d never been close when I was younger, and he was a virtual stranger to me now. But it was nice to know I had an ally if I ever needed him.
My mother’s eyes are the color of her soul, black and sparking with hatred. “Your decisions haven’t just ruined your life, they ruined mine. My entire family are a bunch of failures, you and your father both. I sacrificed everything for you two, tried to get you to your fullest potential. And yet look how you both turned out. Lazy pieces of crap without nothing successful to show for yourselves.”
Her words stab my heart, because even though I hate her, there is always the little girl inside of me who seeks her mother’s approval. But it’s so small, so insignificant nowadays that I can shove it back down and let my true emotion for her shine through. Indifference.
“Stay out of my life. Leave my husband alone. I am happy and you can’t stand it. Because you’ll never be happy. You never have been. Or else you wouldn’t have tried to manipulate everyone around you and take pleasure watching them fall instead of soar. Goodbye, mother.”
I push past her and stick my key in the lock, eager to escape her.
“You’ll regret this. That thief will crush you, ruin your entire world. If you choose him, watch out.”
It’s the first time she’s threatened me in the last two and a half years. And she sounds serious.
I don’t give her the satisfaction of a response as I slam the door in her face. But her words echo in my head for weeks.
CHAPTER 16
CHARLOTTE
After the week I’ve had, I think I deserve a glass of wine.
Or maybe twenty tequila shots.
Which is why I’m glad Jackie dragged me out tonight. We typically do something every weekend, what with her living her single life and husband in jail. But tonight, one of the first Friday nights of Tucker being out of prison, I should be with him. Going on a date. Having wild monkey sex. Or maybe even just cuddling.
But no. Here I am, drunk as a skunk, perched on barstool next to my best friend at our favorite bar downtown.
We’ve been coming to Hunger N Thirst so much in the past two years that everyone knows us. We have assigned barstools. And every single bartender knows our drink order. A glass of whatever dry white wine they’re pouring for me, and a Moscow Mule for Jackie.
But tonight. Tequila was needed.
“He blames me. Blames me for everything. The ash-hole.”
I recognize I’m slurring, but I really am not concerned. I need this. Plus, six tequila shots will send your worry complex right out the window.
“God, he sounds like a prick. And he hasn’t even met me yet! Who doesn’t want to meet their wife’s bombshell best friend?!”
We stick our heads together and giggle before taking large sips of our regular drinks.
“You ladies are really tying one on tonight, huh?” Chad, our regular bartender, places his hands in front of him and leans onto the bar.
Chad is cute, one of the bearded, man-bun types with plenty of charisma and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s hot. I’ve tried to convince Jackie to go for him a time or two, but she’s always refused.
>
I point at him. “Chad, you’d sleep with me, right?”
Tequila makes some girls clothes fall off. For me, it unleashes every dirty thought I shut up inside my head.
Chad chuckles and eyes Jackie. I think he has a thing for her. “Is this some kind of invitation, Charlotte?”
I pat his hand and give him my best seductive smile. “You wish. But no, I’m a married woman after all. But … we’re just talking about how my husband doesn’t want to fuck me.”
Jackie spits her drink clear across the bar, and there are definitely about twenty other patrons now staring at us. I think I might be talking too loud.
“Whoops!” I giggle and lay my head on her shoulder.
“Someone just fuck this girl. PLEASE! So I don’t have to!” Jackie gives a mock huff, as if her job as a best friend is so hard.
It only makes me explode into giggles.
I’ve never been the drunk girl at the bar. In fact, I can count on three fingers the number of times I was even tipsy before I met Jackie. But she lets me be me, and she encourages me to be more. Which is why I feel like I can let loose around her.
“Alright, ladies, I’m officially cutting you off.” Chad swipes our drinks and goes to close out our tabs.
We boo and heckle him from our seats like an umpire who’s just made a terrible call.
“Yeah, yeah,” he lays our checks down. “Go home and sleep it off.”
We drunkenly sign our tabs and hop down as gracefully as we can from our stools. Which ends up with both of us almost face planting on the floor. Jackie and I giggle the entire walk home, where she drops me on the doorstep of my condo.
“You sure you’ll be okay walking the rest of the way?” I say into Jackie’s shoulder as I hug her close.
“You mean the three minutes it takes to walk to my apartment? Yes, I’ll be fucking fine, Mom.” She teases me and pinches my butt.
“Now go get laid. Just rip your clothes off and attack you husband!”
I may just take her advice.
When I unlock the door to the condo, the entire place is pitch black. I’m about ten feet in when I trip over my work bag in the hallway.
“Oh, shit,” I go down swinging and turn myself so I land flat on my back.
And then I start to laugh.
Halfway through my giggle fit, someone starts flicking on the lights until the hallway bulb is burning bright in my eyes.
“Char, what the hell?”
Tucker stands over me, his hair mussed and his shirt non-existent. All he has on are a pair of sweatpants, which ride low on his hips. And I get to see the expanse of his new body for the first time. Ripple after ripple of hard muscle moving under his smooth olive skin. My mouther starts to water.
“Are you hurt?”
I realize I must have been staring at him in silence for too long.
And that makes me laugh. “Where did all of your clothes go?”
Tucker shakes his head, confused. “Where have you been? You smell like the floor of a bar.”
I nod enthusiastically. “I might have been there!”
And he turns up his nose. “Get yourself upstairs. And maybe shower. I can’t be around you like this.”
I pull myself up into a sitting position and remove my uncomfortable work flats. “You can’t be around me ever.”
He turns around from where he’s stopped at the end of the hallway. “What did you say?”
I stand up, whipping off the casual maroon cardigan I wore to the office today, leaving me in only my jeans, white tank top and bare feet.
I’m apparently feeling bold. “You heard me. You can’t even come up and sleep in the same bed as your wife! You won’t even look at me. Let alone kiss me.”
I laugh, whipping my tank top over my head and feeling the air bud my nipples inside my bra.
“What does a girl gotta do to get fucked around here?”
Tucker walks to me, picking up my sweater off the floor and holding it up against my body, as if to shield me from his eyes.
“Alright. I think you’ve definitely had one too many. Let’s get you upstairs.”
Before he can take my elbow to guide me, I swat at his sweater barrier and knock it to the floor.
And then I start to unzip my jeans. “Come on, Tucker. What’s so wrong with me that you don’t want to see your wife naked? You’ve been home almost a month and you can barely look at me.”
He turns his head as I slide my jeans down and off. I’m standing in my plain white underwear and tan bra.
“Look. At. Me.” I bite out the words, the alcohol swimming in my system fueling me to anger.
I’m so tired of him sidestepping me. Of receiving no affection or love. Finally, after a few beats of silence and his back to me, Tucker turns around. His eyes drift down my body and he sucks in a breath. My ego puffs with pride. At least I know I still have some affect on him.
“I’m standing here … as your wife. Asking you, no not asking, telling you to have sex with me. I’m tired of this tiptoeing. I miss you. I’m horny. Make love to me. Please.”
He starts to harden in his sweatpants, and I see the large indentation of his cock. God, how I’ve missed his cock. After three years of being apart, all I want to do is have it inside of me.
“Char, we can’t …”
“Why the hell not?! We’re married, we’re not breaking any rules! And we’re human, Tucker! Please …”
The last word comes out on a choked sob. If he rejects me right now, I’m not sure how we get past this. I push my boldness and luck even further when I go to him, reaching out to stroke both his naked abs and his growing erection.
“Have sex with me.”
CHAPTER 17
TUCKER
She’s so drunk I can smell the tequila on her tongue. I shouldn’t be letting Char do this, but God, it feels fucking good.
It’s been three years since someone besides my own right hand has touched my cock. I thought about this moment way too often when I was lying in my jail cell. The first time I would make love to Char after I got out.
I’ve been holding off for weeks, not sure why I can’t get close to her. And I knew she was frustrated. But not this frustrated.
I’ve never seen Char even remotely tipsy. The closest I ever saw her get was the night she sprained her ankle at Camp Marsh and I gave her the bottles of red wine. She’d admitted to me then that she’d never had more than a drink or two a semester in college. So I definitely don’t recognize this drunk version Char.
Or this minx version Char. The woman I left was shy and quiet in bed, I used to have to bribe her with orgasms to get her to talk during sex. She would have never initiated fully, and she never would have so brazenly taken off her own clothes and thrown herself at me.
I clearly have no idea who my wife is.
This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea. She’s drunk. We haven’t talked about a thing yet. We’re not even sleeping in the same bed.
But I’m so turned on for her right now. I forgot about those beautiful, petite curves. All of that whipped cream skin. The way her mocha eyes melt when she’s aroused.
Couple that with her hands now snaking down my sweatpants and touching my cock, my engorged flesh …
“Holy fuck. Fuck, Char, fuck …”
She’s gripping me roughly, stroking up and down my cock and flicking her thumb at the sensitive underside of my head each time she reaches the top. I’ve gone three years without her touch, and I’m not going to last if she keeps this up.
“Char, slow down, fuck …”
She keeps up her pace, pushing up on her toes to kiss my pecs, my neck, nibble on my jaw …
Something akin to a electric jolt zaps down my spine and rockets through my balls. And then I’m coming, a sticky, hot mess on her hand and in my sweatpants. I gasp for air, shooting my hand out and grabbing for the wall to keep myself upright. The sensations of my release are more than my sex-starved body can bear.
Char pulls her
hand back clumsily, and I remember in the aftershocks of my climax that she’s wasted.
“Char …”
She’s not listening, but instead drops her unfastened bra and wiggles out of her underwear. I can’t breathe.
She’s so beautiful in the dark hallway.
“Make love to me.” She wraps her arms around my neck
“We shouldn’t do this.” I place my hands on her silky, toned hips to push her away.
“Make love to me.” Her eyes are so vulnerable.
“Charlotte, come on …” Despite my head, my heart and my body cant my hips forward, pushing into her softness.
“Make love to me.” She pushes up on her toes and I feel the words breathed against my lips.
Logic leaves me and I close the tiny gap she’s left between us, squeezing her tiny hips in my hands as I plunge my tongue into her mouth.
She smells so good, and tastes like tequila. I feel high, my hands trying to grab every smooth, toned body part as fast and as much as I possibly can. I turn us, our unit of togetherness, and slam her against the hallway wall. A picture rattles next to her head, crashing off its nail and to the floor. We never stop.
I’m breathing her and she’s devouring me. There are gasps and tears mixed into this kiss, and it feels like we’re moving heaven and earth. What started as horny, disjointed groping has turned into passion. We’re kissing each other as if our tongues might locate the other’s soul. She’s making my heart crack and ooze every feeling I’ve been holding in.
Before I know what’s happening, my pants are pooled by my ankles and we’re on the floor, Char straddling me.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” She chants as she takes my come-covered, once-again stiff cock in her hands and positions me at her entrance.
When she slides onto me, sheathing my hardness in her tight warmness, we both lose our breath. I wrap one hand around the back of her neck, the other massages the skin at her hip. She presses her nose against mine, our eyes intensely searching each others.
The Complete Captive Heart Duet Page 22