The Sound of Temptation: A Standalone Second Chance Forbidden Romance, page 37
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” I correct him and he looks up. He looks startled when we make eye contact and looks away quickly.
I stifle my sigh of frustration and turn back to Nadia.
“The fame or notoriety I can do without, but to have the chance to paint for a living, I’d love it. It was a dream when I was a kid. I work two jobs and only teach that class on Saturday mornings, but I would love to be able to teach more and paint more. Also, I know people like looking at my art, but have no idea if anyone would actually want to buy it.”
“I’d pay for a portrait. In fact, I would love to be your first commission,” Nadia says.
I wave her off. “You don’t have to pay me. I’d love to paint you.”
“Oh my God, you need to stop giving your art away. Let me be your patron. I’m made of money. My advisor told me to make a budget…and I was like, why?” She rolls her eyes and pops an olive into her mouth.
Penn drops her head into her hands with a loud groan. “Oh Nadia, what am I going to do with you?”
Nadia’s eyebrows draw together. “What? It’s true. I mean, Forbes told the whole world how much money I made last year, so it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Well, then how about you take some of that money and go down to Momufuku and get some of that Crack Pie,” Ryan drawls and comes to standing. I find their pairing so wonderful. Talk about opposites attracting. He has barely taken his eyes off her all night. And she can’t keep her hands off him.
“I don’t know how you stay so fit with the way you eat,” Nadia grumbles but takes his outstretched hand with a smile on her face.
“Anybody else want a slice?” Nadia asks the group.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Only the most delicious pie in the world,” Nadia gushes. “It’s just sugar and butter and salt and flour all gooey and delicious and addictive.”
“It was Loren’s favorite,” Penn says, her eyes dancing as if she’s remembering something wonderful.
“Carter and I had our monthly quota a couple nights ago,” Porsha says
“Beth and I will have some,” Dina says brightly.
“Get a whole one, Nad, I’ll make tea.” Penn moves to the kitchen.
They say their goodbyes.
“Is Chai okay?” Penn asks and stands to head to the kitchen.
“Oh, yes, I can help,” I offer and stand.
“No, sit, relax and I’ll be right back.”
“So, when’s the last time you saw each other before the other night,” Joe asks.
“Two years ago. In Texas. She painted me.” Carter says, his voice is flat, but has a combative edge. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, he’s leaning back, his phone in front of his face.
The prickle of unease makes my throat dry.
“She did?” Joe asks, sounding intrigued.
He nods, without looking up. “Blue piano and all.”
“Oh, I’d love to see it” Joe says.
“Oh, it’s at my studio.”
He finally looks at me and his eyes are bloodshot, as if he’s been crying, but completely dry. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Something has upset him. Badly.
“I took a picture of it. Here.” Carter hands his phone to Joe and my stomach clenches when I realize he’s been looking at it all this time.
I glance at Dina, but she looks as lost for words as I feel. Her eyes are clouded with worry and darting between him and me.
Joe gasps, but it’s not awe in his eyes when he looks up at me. It’s pity, but then, he catches himself and smiles, but it’s thin and doesn’t reach his eyes.
I feel like being stripped naked. I painted it for him. It’s ours. Now that we’re not - or can’t be - what we were in that picture, it feels wrong to share it.
I glance around the room and am grateful that Jack and Porsha are engrossed in conversation and oblivious to what’s happening here.
“Wow, Beth. This is incredible. And huge. You paint those other ones so fast. This must have taken a long time,” Joe says but his eyes are tinged with concern and he’s looking at Carter who’s staring at the floor now that his phone isn’t in his hands.
Carter just looks at me, and his expression is blank in way that makes my gut twist.
I’ve had enough of whatever is going on with him and clearly he doesn’t care who sees.
“Carter, what’s wrong?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he says, but the dour cast to his voice tells a different story.
“Joe, Dina - I have this great book on the history of Crown Heights in my library, I’d love to show you,” Penn says and Joe blinks at her in confusion before he smiles and stands.
“I’d love to see it, lead the way.” His exaggerated eagerness is nearly comical. But when he smiles reassuringly at me before he curls his lip at Carter, I want to cry.
“What’s the matter? Did you have a fight?” Jack scoffs, and drops down on the couch next to Carter, scoops a handful of almonds from the bowl in front of him and pops one into his mouth.
“Why are you such an asshole?” Porsha glowers at him.
He glares right back. “At least I’m not sitting here pretending that this isn’t fucking weird.” He turns to look at me, his expression dispassionate.
He stands. “I’m going to smoke a joint. Porsha, you’re terrible company. But, since you’re the only one who hasn’t taken the hint that we’re giving them space, I’m inviting you to join me.”
“How anyone in the history of people has ever found you charming is beyond me,” Porsha says, but stands. She squeezes Carter’s shoulder and follows Jack out onto the small balcony.
The air pulses with tension and I know I wasn’t misreading that whatever he’s angry about has to do with me.
“Carter?”
“Yeah?” He responds like he’s preoccupied but, he’s just sitting there, staring at his hands. He’s hurting, I can feel it. I walk over and sit next to him.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly so that no one else can hear.
He leans over and presses his lips to my ear “I hate sitting across from you.”
My breath hitches, each word hitting my heart like an iron tipped whip, confirming my fears.
I lean back, needing to see the truth in his eyes. His eyes are green points of pain and possessive need and my lacerated heart slams against my chest.
I lay my hand on his arm and he shifts away from me.
It’s like a swift kick in heart. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, reeling from his demeanor.
“I thought I could do this, I can’t.” His voice is flat, his expression bleak and cold starts to seep into my chest.
“What can’t you do?” I ask, even though I know. I want him to say it.
His head is bowed, the dark waves of hair that crown it are a siren song for my fingers - they love that slide of the feathery silk between them. I reach for him, longing, yearning, foolishly forgetting that I shouldn’t touch him like that.
But he hasn’t forgotten. The sharp, swift shake of his head stays my hand right before it touches him.
“I’ll leave.” Tears cloud my vision but they’re not sad tears. I’m angry.
I stand, but before I can walk away, his hand clutches the hem of my dress.
“What the hell? What are you doing? ”I ask, my patience close to snapping.
His eyes remain locked on the fabric caught in his white knuckled grip. I’m starting to think he didn’t hear me, when he finally gives voice to his torment.
“You don’t understand. I need you too much. I want you too much. This is killing me, Beth.”
54
Carter
I can’t do this
Once I’ve said the words, I exhale in relief. I can see that they hurt her, but I’ve been dying under the weight of them.
I’ve known since the night of our helicopter ride. I can’t handle whatever this relationship we’re attempting to cobble together is. It could never be enough.
I thought about canceling today, but my mother would have killed me if I’d disinvited her. Now, I think that death would have been preferable to this torture
She sits down again, slowly as if she’s approaching a wild, wounded animal. If only she knew just how wounded I was…she’d wouldn’t come near me. I need her to know. So she’ll stay away.
“Carter, this is hard for me, too,” she says.
Anger at the gross understatement in that phrase robs me of my good sense.
“It’s not hard, Beth. It’s fucking impossible. This is hard.” I cup my cock through my jeans intending to shock and upset her.
The surprise or fear I expected is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s a flagrant flare of hunger as they fix on my hand.
Too late, I remember the sorcery those paradise blues are capable of. They ensnare, ensorcel, and enchant me.
My hand, as if doing their bidding, moves up my erection in a long, languid stroke.
Her eyes widen and come to mine.
“Do you miss this?” I ask in low whisper.
Her breaths come in shallow pants and her eyes glisten with tears. Her nod is as sorrowful as it is desperate.
I understand.
“I know the way I feel is wrong…but, Beth…baby, my heart fucking beats for you. Every song, every tortured note, every hopeful word, everything is about you. I thought time would make it better. But, it’s worse.”
Her hand skims her breast, her thumb pressing in on one of her peaked nipples before moving down her torso and coming to rest on her now spread thighs.
Her tongue moves over her plump bottom lip.
I stroke myself, unable to stop now that I’ve started especially when I can see that she wants the same thing.
“Those words you’ve written on your ribs, the same ones are painted on my heart. This feeling is for always.”
She blinks and a single tear runs down her cheek and her throat works hard. But she’s not crying. And her eyes are darkened and hooded by lust.
“Are you wet?” I ask her what I already know.
She nods.
“Say it,” I demand in a low whisper.
“Yes. Very.”
“Touch yourself,” I urge, the devil in me taking over.
Her eyes dart to the hall where my mother and Joe disappeared.
“No one’s coming, do it,” I reassure her.
“Okay,” she whispers. Her chest heaves with a huge inhale before she closes her eyes and slides a hand under her skirt.
I almost come when her arm starts to move.
“Carter,” Her sobbed moan is a command and my hands itch to obey.
Her head falls back, exposing the long column of her exquisite neck, that birth mark right in the center of it is calling my name.
I burn with jealousy at the hand that’s stroking the place that used to be mine.
“Have you fucked anyone else?” My voice is a snarl.
“No.” Her moan is quiet, but fierce.
“Don’t you want to know if I have?” I ask and her eyes fly open, the blue blazing hot and fierce.
“I don’t care. Stop talking,” she says through clenched teeth. And even in my agony, I can’t suppress my chuckle.
Her hand is moving furiously, her breaths coming quicker. Mere seconds later, her knees snap together and her back arches off the couch.
Her face contorts in a wondrous exhibition of the pleasure she’s found and it sends me over the edge.
I come in my pants like a schoolboy. But there’s nothing juvenile about the blistering ecstasy that renders me blind for the seconds it takes to run its course.
I open my eyes to find her laying back, eyes closed, face flushed. But I’ve already cooled down
I thought I was equipped for this.
I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my whole life.
This road will lead me straight to a hell I won’t survive. It’s going to hurt. But I already know that pain is an excellent teacher. It succeeded in teaching me lessons that common sense, moral compasses, and love all failed to. I know what I have to do. “In every way I can, I love you. But, I don’t think we should see each other like this, again.”
55
Beth
Done
“I see him,” I call to Dina over my shoulder.
She groans and sits up. “I thought he was four minutes away.”
“It’s been four minutes,” I remind her.
She stands up slowly and with a deep sigh, grabs the handle of her carry on and heads toward me. “I’m so tired, Beth. I should have stayed here.”
“And leave your dad to spend Christmas Eve alone?” I grab the handle of her luggage and hold the door open for her. “You’ll be home and in your bed before you know it,” I say as we make our way down the sidewalk to her waiting Uber.
I tug my coat’s belt tighter and tuck my chin against my neck to try and shield my face from the icy wind.
“I wish you’d come with me,” she says once we’re settled in the back.
Winsome is the last place I want to be right now. “I couldn’t leave Joe…”
“Is that who all those presents under your tree are for? I can’t believe you still have all those gifts under your tree.” Dina says as we leave my building.
“I’m waiting for Carter to go on tour before I take stuff over to his family,” I admit.
“You’re still not talking to him?”
“I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about this, I’ve been on the road so much,” she gives me a pained smile.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket and I pull it out to check the caller ID.
Annoyance shoots through me when I see Fiona’s name on my screen. “Nope.” I say and hit decline.
It starts to ring again. I decline it, again.
She calls right back. “Answer it, Beth. It’s important” Dina says and I nod. That’s what I am afraid of.
I take a deep breath and accept the call. “Hello?”
“Beth,” she wails my name and then jagged, wrenching sobs fill my ear. My stomach lurches and my heart knocks against my chest. “Fiona, what’s wrong?” I ask and hold my breath, my heart already starting to ache from the film reel of disastrous possibilities that rush through my mind.
“Your father, he left me, “she croaks and I sag against the seat of the car.
“What happened?” I demand
“He’s gone.” I wince and pull the phone away from my ear when her sentence is followed by the trumpeting, watery sound of her blowing her nose.
“You’re getting a divorce?”
“No. He’s dead. He had an aneurism. He’s gone.”
My heart stops beating for a full three seconds. “No,” I gasp and Dina grabs my hand.
“Beth?”
“Yes, ”My voice is hoarse, my throat thick and my words come out as a whisper.
“I need you to come home. I know you are mad at him. But, I can’t do this alone. There are strangers in my house, I have no idea what they’re doing.” She sounds completely bereft and I swallow the scream that’s building and force myself to answer her
“Of course, I’ll come.”
“Oh, thank God.” She starts to sob again, quietly this time and there’s a helplessness and relief in her soft sobs.
Clearly, she’d expected me to say no. And why wouldn’t she? A wash of shame washes over me as I recall how I spoke to him that last time. He deserved it, but now that those are the last words I’ll ever say to him, I regret them.
In the years after my mother left, he only tolerated me. But, it was more than my mother had done. When she left, he could have sent us to my grandmothers. He didn’t because we were his children. Whether he liked it or not. “I’ll take the first flight I can get on. I’ll send you the details.”
“He loved you,” Fiona says in a wavering voice.
“No, he didn’t. But, it’s not his fault,” I whisper and I hang up without saying goodbye.
I know better than anyone that we aren’t masters of our hearts. They want what they want. Knowing does nothing to ease the sharp sting of my heart tearing at the seams because his couldn’t find anything in me to love. But I know it tore at him, too. He wanted a child he could love, too.
“I’m so sorry,” Dina says softly.
“Thank you.”
“I can stay.”
I shake my head. That is the last thing I want. “No, I’ll be home in a few days, you go ahead.”
We don’t speak on the way to the airport. We hug at the curb and then, I climb back into the Uber.
As soon as I’m alone, I start dialing another number and then put my phone down abruptly when I realize I’m calling Carter. He’s all I want right now. But…I can’t. Instead I text Nadia, and ask her to tell him. I know he doesn’t think of Drew Wolfe as his father, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is. That thought is like grease on the wheels on my grief and a wave of anguish, one hundred feet high rolls over me. Tears I’ve been holding in my heart since the first time I realized my father didn’t love me pour out of my eyes and I don’t try to hold them back. I need to get this out of my system so I can focus on what is coming next.
56
Carter
Making sure
“Are you sure this is a good idea? You didn’t have to bring me.”
I glance down at Porsha and smile through the knot of tension in my gut. “No, I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t come, I’d be dealing with Penn all by myself.”
“I don’t think she likes me.” She whispers and glances over her shoulder to where Jack and Penn are in line.
“No, she’s just wary of everyone.”
“Yeah, okay. And are you sure Beth won’t mind that I’m here”
“I’m not sure she’ll even notice.” She called Nadia with the news that her father died. When I heard, I felt as much grief I would feel for any distant relation who died. But when Penn asked if I wanted to go the funeral, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
I stifle my sigh of frustration and turn back to Nadia.
“The fame or notoriety I can do without, but to have the chance to paint for a living, I’d love it. It was a dream when I was a kid. I work two jobs and only teach that class on Saturday mornings, but I would love to be able to teach more and paint more. Also, I know people like looking at my art, but have no idea if anyone would actually want to buy it.”
“I’d pay for a portrait. In fact, I would love to be your first commission,” Nadia says.
I wave her off. “You don’t have to pay me. I’d love to paint you.”
“Oh my God, you need to stop giving your art away. Let me be your patron. I’m made of money. My advisor told me to make a budget…and I was like, why?” She rolls her eyes and pops an olive into her mouth.
Penn drops her head into her hands with a loud groan. “Oh Nadia, what am I going to do with you?”
Nadia’s eyebrows draw together. “What? It’s true. I mean, Forbes told the whole world how much money I made last year, so it’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Well, then how about you take some of that money and go down to Momufuku and get some of that Crack Pie,” Ryan drawls and comes to standing. I find their pairing so wonderful. Talk about opposites attracting. He has barely taken his eyes off her all night. And she can’t keep her hands off him.
“I don’t know how you stay so fit with the way you eat,” Nadia grumbles but takes his outstretched hand with a smile on her face.
“Anybody else want a slice?” Nadia asks the group.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Only the most delicious pie in the world,” Nadia gushes. “It’s just sugar and butter and salt and flour all gooey and delicious and addictive.”
“It was Loren’s favorite,” Penn says, her eyes dancing as if she’s remembering something wonderful.
“Carter and I had our monthly quota a couple nights ago,” Porsha says
“Beth and I will have some,” Dina says brightly.
“Get a whole one, Nad, I’ll make tea.” Penn moves to the kitchen.
They say their goodbyes.
“Is Chai okay?” Penn asks and stands to head to the kitchen.
“Oh, yes, I can help,” I offer and stand.
“No, sit, relax and I’ll be right back.”
“So, when’s the last time you saw each other before the other night,” Joe asks.
“Two years ago. In Texas. She painted me.” Carter says, his voice is flat, but has a combative edge. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, he’s leaning back, his phone in front of his face.
The prickle of unease makes my throat dry.
“She did?” Joe asks, sounding intrigued.
He nods, without looking up. “Blue piano and all.”
“Oh, I’d love to see it” Joe says.
“Oh, it’s at my studio.”
He finally looks at me and his eyes are bloodshot, as if he’s been crying, but completely dry. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Something has upset him. Badly.
“I took a picture of it. Here.” Carter hands his phone to Joe and my stomach clenches when I realize he’s been looking at it all this time.
I glance at Dina, but she looks as lost for words as I feel. Her eyes are clouded with worry and darting between him and me.
Joe gasps, but it’s not awe in his eyes when he looks up at me. It’s pity, but then, he catches himself and smiles, but it’s thin and doesn’t reach his eyes.
I feel like being stripped naked. I painted it for him. It’s ours. Now that we’re not - or can’t be - what we were in that picture, it feels wrong to share it.
I glance around the room and am grateful that Jack and Porsha are engrossed in conversation and oblivious to what’s happening here.
“Wow, Beth. This is incredible. And huge. You paint those other ones so fast. This must have taken a long time,” Joe says but his eyes are tinged with concern and he’s looking at Carter who’s staring at the floor now that his phone isn’t in his hands.
Carter just looks at me, and his expression is blank in way that makes my gut twist.
I’ve had enough of whatever is going on with him and clearly he doesn’t care who sees.
“Carter, what’s wrong?” I demand.
“Nothing,” he says, but the dour cast to his voice tells a different story.
“Joe, Dina - I have this great book on the history of Crown Heights in my library, I’d love to show you,” Penn says and Joe blinks at her in confusion before he smiles and stands.
“I’d love to see it, lead the way.” His exaggerated eagerness is nearly comical. But when he smiles reassuringly at me before he curls his lip at Carter, I want to cry.
“What’s the matter? Did you have a fight?” Jack scoffs, and drops down on the couch next to Carter, scoops a handful of almonds from the bowl in front of him and pops one into his mouth.
“Why are you such an asshole?” Porsha glowers at him.
He glares right back. “At least I’m not sitting here pretending that this isn’t fucking weird.” He turns to look at me, his expression dispassionate.
He stands. “I’m going to smoke a joint. Porsha, you’re terrible company. But, since you’re the only one who hasn’t taken the hint that we’re giving them space, I’m inviting you to join me.”
“How anyone in the history of people has ever found you charming is beyond me,” Porsha says, but stands. She squeezes Carter’s shoulder and follows Jack out onto the small balcony.
The air pulses with tension and I know I wasn’t misreading that whatever he’s angry about has to do with me.
“Carter?”
“Yeah?” He responds like he’s preoccupied but, he’s just sitting there, staring at his hands. He’s hurting, I can feel it. I walk over and sit next to him.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly so that no one else can hear.
He leans over and presses his lips to my ear “I hate sitting across from you.”
My breath hitches, each word hitting my heart like an iron tipped whip, confirming my fears.
I lean back, needing to see the truth in his eyes. His eyes are green points of pain and possessive need and my lacerated heart slams against my chest.
I lay my hand on his arm and he shifts away from me.
It’s like a swift kick in heart. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, reeling from his demeanor.
“I thought I could do this, I can’t.” His voice is flat, his expression bleak and cold starts to seep into my chest.
“What can’t you do?” I ask, even though I know. I want him to say it.
His head is bowed, the dark waves of hair that crown it are a siren song for my fingers - they love that slide of the feathery silk between them. I reach for him, longing, yearning, foolishly forgetting that I shouldn’t touch him like that.
But he hasn’t forgotten. The sharp, swift shake of his head stays my hand right before it touches him.
“I’ll leave.” Tears cloud my vision but they’re not sad tears. I’m angry.
I stand, but before I can walk away, his hand clutches the hem of my dress.
“What the hell? What are you doing? ”I ask, my patience close to snapping.
His eyes remain locked on the fabric caught in his white knuckled grip. I’m starting to think he didn’t hear me, when he finally gives voice to his torment.
“You don’t understand. I need you too much. I want you too much. This is killing me, Beth.”
54
Carter
I can’t do this
Once I’ve said the words, I exhale in relief. I can see that they hurt her, but I’ve been dying under the weight of them.
I’ve known since the night of our helicopter ride. I can’t handle whatever this relationship we’re attempting to cobble together is. It could never be enough.
I thought about canceling today, but my mother would have killed me if I’d disinvited her. Now, I think that death would have been preferable to this torture
She sits down again, slowly as if she’s approaching a wild, wounded animal. If only she knew just how wounded I was…she’d wouldn’t come near me. I need her to know. So she’ll stay away.
“Carter, this is hard for me, too,” she says.
Anger at the gross understatement in that phrase robs me of my good sense.
“It’s not hard, Beth. It’s fucking impossible. This is hard.” I cup my cock through my jeans intending to shock and upset her.
The surprise or fear I expected is nowhere to be found. Instead, there’s a flagrant flare of hunger as they fix on my hand.
Too late, I remember the sorcery those paradise blues are capable of. They ensnare, ensorcel, and enchant me.
My hand, as if doing their bidding, moves up my erection in a long, languid stroke.
Her eyes widen and come to mine.
“Do you miss this?” I ask in low whisper.
Her breaths come in shallow pants and her eyes glisten with tears. Her nod is as sorrowful as it is desperate.
I understand.
“I know the way I feel is wrong…but, Beth…baby, my heart fucking beats for you. Every song, every tortured note, every hopeful word, everything is about you. I thought time would make it better. But, it’s worse.”
Her hand skims her breast, her thumb pressing in on one of her peaked nipples before moving down her torso and coming to rest on her now spread thighs.
Her tongue moves over her plump bottom lip.
I stroke myself, unable to stop now that I’ve started especially when I can see that she wants the same thing.
“Those words you’ve written on your ribs, the same ones are painted on my heart. This feeling is for always.”
She blinks and a single tear runs down her cheek and her throat works hard. But she’s not crying. And her eyes are darkened and hooded by lust.
“Are you wet?” I ask her what I already know.
She nods.
“Say it,” I demand in a low whisper.
“Yes. Very.”
“Touch yourself,” I urge, the devil in me taking over.
Her eyes dart to the hall where my mother and Joe disappeared.
“No one’s coming, do it,” I reassure her.
“Okay,” she whispers. Her chest heaves with a huge inhale before she closes her eyes and slides a hand under her skirt.
I almost come when her arm starts to move.
“Carter,” Her sobbed moan is a command and my hands itch to obey.
Her head falls back, exposing the long column of her exquisite neck, that birth mark right in the center of it is calling my name.
I burn with jealousy at the hand that’s stroking the place that used to be mine.
“Have you fucked anyone else?” My voice is a snarl.
“No.” Her moan is quiet, but fierce.
“Don’t you want to know if I have?” I ask and her eyes fly open, the blue blazing hot and fierce.
“I don’t care. Stop talking,” she says through clenched teeth. And even in my agony, I can’t suppress my chuckle.
Her hand is moving furiously, her breaths coming quicker. Mere seconds later, her knees snap together and her back arches off the couch.
Her face contorts in a wondrous exhibition of the pleasure she’s found and it sends me over the edge.
I come in my pants like a schoolboy. But there’s nothing juvenile about the blistering ecstasy that renders me blind for the seconds it takes to run its course.
I open my eyes to find her laying back, eyes closed, face flushed. But I’ve already cooled down
I thought I was equipped for this.
I’ve never been more wrong about anything in my whole life.
This road will lead me straight to a hell I won’t survive. It’s going to hurt. But I already know that pain is an excellent teacher. It succeeded in teaching me lessons that common sense, moral compasses, and love all failed to. I know what I have to do. “In every way I can, I love you. But, I don’t think we should see each other like this, again.”
55
Beth
Done
“I see him,” I call to Dina over my shoulder.
She groans and sits up. “I thought he was four minutes away.”
“It’s been four minutes,” I remind her.
She stands up slowly and with a deep sigh, grabs the handle of her carry on and heads toward me. “I’m so tired, Beth. I should have stayed here.”
“And leave your dad to spend Christmas Eve alone?” I grab the handle of her luggage and hold the door open for her. “You’ll be home and in your bed before you know it,” I say as we make our way down the sidewalk to her waiting Uber.
I tug my coat’s belt tighter and tuck my chin against my neck to try and shield my face from the icy wind.
“I wish you’d come with me,” she says once we’re settled in the back.
Winsome is the last place I want to be right now. “I couldn’t leave Joe…”
“Is that who all those presents under your tree are for? I can’t believe you still have all those gifts under your tree.” Dina says as we leave my building.
“I’m waiting for Carter to go on tour before I take stuff over to his family,” I admit.
“You’re still not talking to him?”
“I can’t talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about this, I’ve been on the road so much,” she gives me a pained smile.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket and I pull it out to check the caller ID.
Annoyance shoots through me when I see Fiona’s name on my screen. “Nope.” I say and hit decline.
It starts to ring again. I decline it, again.
She calls right back. “Answer it, Beth. It’s important” Dina says and I nod. That’s what I am afraid of.
I take a deep breath and accept the call. “Hello?”
“Beth,” she wails my name and then jagged, wrenching sobs fill my ear. My stomach lurches and my heart knocks against my chest. “Fiona, what’s wrong?” I ask and hold my breath, my heart already starting to ache from the film reel of disastrous possibilities that rush through my mind.
“Your father, he left me, “she croaks and I sag against the seat of the car.
“What happened?” I demand
“He’s gone.” I wince and pull the phone away from my ear when her sentence is followed by the trumpeting, watery sound of her blowing her nose.
“You’re getting a divorce?”
“No. He’s dead. He had an aneurism. He’s gone.”
My heart stops beating for a full three seconds. “No,” I gasp and Dina grabs my hand.
“Beth?”
“Yes, ”My voice is hoarse, my throat thick and my words come out as a whisper.
“I need you to come home. I know you are mad at him. But, I can’t do this alone. There are strangers in my house, I have no idea what they’re doing.” She sounds completely bereft and I swallow the scream that’s building and force myself to answer her
“Of course, I’ll come.”
“Oh, thank God.” She starts to sob again, quietly this time and there’s a helplessness and relief in her soft sobs.
Clearly, she’d expected me to say no. And why wouldn’t she? A wash of shame washes over me as I recall how I spoke to him that last time. He deserved it, but now that those are the last words I’ll ever say to him, I regret them.
In the years after my mother left, he only tolerated me. But, it was more than my mother had done. When she left, he could have sent us to my grandmothers. He didn’t because we were his children. Whether he liked it or not. “I’ll take the first flight I can get on. I’ll send you the details.”
“He loved you,” Fiona says in a wavering voice.
“No, he didn’t. But, it’s not his fault,” I whisper and I hang up without saying goodbye.
I know better than anyone that we aren’t masters of our hearts. They want what they want. Knowing does nothing to ease the sharp sting of my heart tearing at the seams because his couldn’t find anything in me to love. But I know it tore at him, too. He wanted a child he could love, too.
“I’m so sorry,” Dina says softly.
“Thank you.”
“I can stay.”
I shake my head. That is the last thing I want. “No, I’ll be home in a few days, you go ahead.”
We don’t speak on the way to the airport. We hug at the curb and then, I climb back into the Uber.
As soon as I’m alone, I start dialing another number and then put my phone down abruptly when I realize I’m calling Carter. He’s all I want right now. But…I can’t. Instead I text Nadia, and ask her to tell him. I know he doesn’t think of Drew Wolfe as his father, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is. That thought is like grease on the wheels on my grief and a wave of anguish, one hundred feet high rolls over me. Tears I’ve been holding in my heart since the first time I realized my father didn’t love me pour out of my eyes and I don’t try to hold them back. I need to get this out of my system so I can focus on what is coming next.
56
Carter
Making sure
“Are you sure this is a good idea? You didn’t have to bring me.”
I glance down at Porsha and smile through the knot of tension in my gut. “No, I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t come, I’d be dealing with Penn all by myself.”
“I don’t think she likes me.” She whispers and glances over her shoulder to where Jack and Penn are in line.
“No, she’s just wary of everyone.”
“Yeah, okay. And are you sure Beth won’t mind that I’m here”
“I’m not sure she’ll even notice.” She called Nadia with the news that her father died. When I heard, I felt as much grief I would feel for any distant relation who died. But when Penn asked if I wanted to go the funeral, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
