Foolish Me Page 17

  I slid out of him, gripping the base of my cock. Thank God I’d at least had the presence of mind to use a condom. I stripped it off, rolled onto my back, and knotted it.

  “Don’t go.” Wills reached for me.

  “Just gonna get a washcloth.”

  “Don’t go,” he repeated, and I dropped the condom over the side of the bed. He wound his fingers through mine and held on.

  “Okay, but let me check you.” With my free hand I reached across him to switch on the lamp.

  “’M fine.” Wills was sprawled in wanton abandon on the bed. A frown furrowed his brows at the sudden light. I climbed over him and angled my body so it was between him and the light, and the frown vanished. “Missed you. Missed you so much.”

  His body was covered in love bites—on his abs, his pecs, his neck. I turned him over, and there were purple marks on his ass and shoulder blades, his inner thighs. Fingerprints were starting to bloom on his hips.

  I parted his asscheeks to examine his hole, afraid I might have torn him. He wriggled under my touch and sighed voluptuously. As angry and as out of control as I’d been, I’d taken the time to prepare him, and while he was a little reddened, he was otherwise okay.

  “’M glad I’m home.”

  “So am I.” I turned off the lamp and pulled the covers over the two of us. My emotions roller-coastered the other way. I turned on my side away from him and curled in on myself.

  Why hadn’t he called? If the battery died in his cell phone, there were stores all over the place where he could have bought a replacement, and if he couldn’t find the right battery, there were public phones, not to mention phones available in every single hotel. There was even Western Union, goddammit!

  Whatever the reason, the fact of the matter was that, in four weeks, he’d made no attempt to contact me, to let me know he was alive and well. Why? Didn’t he… didn’t he love me anymore?

  Tears began spilling down my cheeks, and I stuffed a corner of the pillow in my mouth so he wouldn’t hear my sobs.

  “Babe?”

  “Go… go back to sleep,” I managed to gasp.

  “’Kay.” But he rolled toward me, wrapped his arms around me, and wouldn’t let me go. I stopped crying. His breathing was deep and regular, and I knew he was asleep.

  “I love you, Wills,” I whispered. Was this the only time I’d ever be able to tell him how I felt, while he was sleeping?

  I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, so I dried my cheeks on my pillow, settled back against him, and hoped I’d be able to sleep without dreaming.

  Chapter 15

  I WOKE abruptly, alone in bed, my face wet with tears. This was the worst nightmare ever because it had started with my lover coming home to me. I rolled over and buried my head in my pillow.

  But then I heard the shower running, and singing, something Wills usually did in the shower. He was home. He was really home. I nearly cried with relief.

  The illuminated dial of the clock radio read 3:44 a.m.

  Frowning, I turned on the bedside lamp, stacked the pillows behind me, and sat up. What the fuck was Wills doing taking a shower at this time of the morning? I didn’t like the only explanation I could come up with.

  The water shut off, and after a few minutes, Wills came out of the bathroom. I recognized the Carpenters’ song he was humming… “We’ve Only Just Begun.”

  A towel was wrapped around his hips, but each step revealed the long line of his thigh, and drops of moisture clung to the dark hair that feathered over his pecs. The marks I’d put on his body had darkened as I’d suspected they would. One, almost weltlike, bisected his diaphragm—how had I done that?—and I felt guilty.

  And then I got pissed. I had no reason to feel guilty. I wasn’t the one who hadn’t called for four fucking weeks.

  He paused when he saw the lamp on and me sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry I woke you, babe.”

  “You were in such a rush to wash my touch off your body?”

  “You know if I didn’t have to go to work, I’d lay around the house all day with your scent on me.” Wills didn’t seem to realize I was angry with him all over again. Had he even realized I’d been angry to begin with?

  I focused on the first part of his statement, ignoring the last part, and glared pointedly at the clock. “But you don’t have to go to work for almost another three hours.”

  “If I go in early and work through lunch, I should be able to catch up on most of the paperwork that piled up while I was away, and I’ll be able to leave early.” He took out clean underwear, dropped the towel, and stepped into his shorts.

  “Really? You’ll come home early?” My anger evaporating, I watched hungrily as he finished dressing.

  “Theo, I’d be home early today if I had to walk over Mr. Vincent to get here.” He repeated what he’d said on Valentine’s Day, and he came to me and kissed my ear.

  “You would?” I didn’t know what was so special about today, maybe just the fact that he was home and we were together again, but what did it matter? I hugged him. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a prick. I’ll make us Cornish game hens with apricot, port, and balsamic sauce, acorn squash, and… and biscuits?”

  “That sounds great.” Wills gave a wan smile. He didn’t like squash, but I couldn’t resist wanting to punish him just a little bit for what he’d put me through. “Look, why don’t you go back to sleep?”

  “Okay.” All the nights of broken sleep caught up with me, and I lay down and pulled the covers over my shoulders. “Have a good day, Wills.”

  “You too, babe.” He turned off the lamp, patted my ass, and walked out whistling that Carpenters’ tune.

  I ROLLED over and reached for my lover, as I had every night for the past four weeks, but the place beside me was cold and empty.

  I bolted upright, then sagged back on the bed and sighed with relief as the events of the previous night came back to me.

  Wills was home. He’d had to go to work early, really early, but he was home. We’d talk this evening, and things would be back on track. I couldn’t go through another four weeks like this.

  I sat up, blinked at the light coming through the part in the curtains, and pushed the hair out of my eyes. The clock on Wills’s night table read 11:57 a.m. I was still a little tired, but that was the best night’s sleep I’d had in four weeks.

  I went into the bathroom and relieved myself, then studied my image in the mirror above the sink as I washed my hands. Aside from a little whisker burn around my mouth, my body was unmarked. Well, I hadn’t given my lover much opportunity to get his hands or mouth on me.

  There were dark circles under my eyes, and I looked a little gaunt. Not only had I not been sleeping well, I hadn’t been eating well either.

  Dinner. I seemed to remember saying something about making Cornish game hens with apricot, port, and balsamic sauce, and Wills had promised to come home early. I wasn’t sure how early “early” was, but I’d better hustle. I’d have to go to the butcher to get a couple of nice hens and stop at the liquor store for a bottle of port.

  There were a few things I needed to do at home first, though: shower, change the sheets on the bed again—kind of like making a fresh start—pick up the clothes that had gotten flung to the four corners last night, feed Miss Su and myself breakfast…. No, I grinned ruefully, it would actually be lunch.

  I’d better clean off the wall where I’d had him first last night too. Our hands had been locked together on either side of his head, and he’d sprayed his climax all over the wall.

  Yeah, I made him come pretty damn hard that time, I thought smugly.

  For the first time in four weeks, I felt more myself. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. Another Carpenters’ tune came to mind, and I whistled as the water pelted down on me. We did have a lifetime to share, and at dinner I was going to make sure Wills knew I was aware of it.

  WILLS MUST have taken care of the clothes before he’d left for work. His suit was s
et aside to go to the cleaners, his suitcase had been emptied, and the shirt he’d torn off himself was in the trash. Who’d have thought he could inflict that much damage on an article of clothing?

  With one less thing to do, I’d gotten my shopping done, and now the radio played softly in the kitchen. I had preheated the oven and was just putting the game hens into it when the buzzer for the downstairs door sounded, and I jumped and nearly spilled the hens onto the floor.

  “Phew!” I caught the pan in the nick of time and slid it onto the rack. Then I closed the oven door, wiped off my hands, and went to the foyer to thumb the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Uh… I have a delivery.” The voice was male.

  “For?”

  “Um…. No name. I was just given this address. I’m from Carnations and Roses and Orchids, Oh My.”

  “Flowers? They’re probably for the ladies downstairs.”

  “No. It says three on the delivery slip.”

  “Oh. Okay, hold on a second. I’ll be right down.” I wasn’t about to let a stranger into the house. “You wait here, puss.” I didn’t want to take a chance on Miss Su running out onto the street, so I closed her in the apartment.

  There was a world of disgruntlement in her “mrrow,” which I could hear through the door, and I laughed and jogged down to the first floor.

  I checked before opening the door. It wasn’t just Vince having lived in the house that had rubbed off, or Wills always being supercautious. It simply paid to be careful.

  The deliveryman’s image was distorted, but he was young, probably a high school senior or college freshman, and he held a long, narrow box, the florist’s logo in elegant calligraphy across it.

  Curious, I unlocked the door and opened it. “You’ve got a delivery for me?”

  “It’s for the person who lives in the apartment on three.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Uh….” His smile seemed a little nervous, and he thrust a clipboard toward me. “Would you sign here, please?”

  “Do you have a pen?” I assumed he was new at the job, considering his age, and dismissed his nerves to that.

  “Sure. Sorry.”

  I scrawled my name on the line and gave him back the pen and clipboard, along with a five-dollar bill for a tip. He flushed, handed me the box, and mumbled, “Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well… uh… have a nice day.”

  “You too.” I closed the door and went back upstairs, frowning as I let myself into the apartment. “Look, Miss Su. Someone sent me flowers. Who do you think it could be?”

  I didn’t have johns anymore. The only person I could think of who would send me flowers was Wills, but why? Our first anniversary was still a couple of months away. Maybe to make up for not calling for four weeks?

  Miss Su didn’t voice an opinion as she followed me into the kitchen. I removed the ribbon and dropped it to the floor for her to play with, then opened the box, parted the tissue paper, and caught my breath.

  Nestled among the leafy ferns and baby’s breath were a dozen plump, long-stemmed roses. Red, for true love.

  I had no doubt now that the roses were from Wills. He’d gotten similar ones for our buttonholes for New Year’s Eve. I picked up one rose carefully, avoiding the thorns, and brought it to my nose, closed my eyes, and breathed in its intoxicating scent. I’d always loved roses. Ma had a garden full of them.

  There was no need to hunt for something to put them in. At the lower end of the box was a sterling silver vase. I took it out and ran my fingertips over its cool surface. Elegant Jacobean swirls and curlicues were etched into its sides, and I sighed happily. A man who made a gesture like this was definitely worth keeping.

  Tucked in between the stems was a little packet of granules that would keep my roses fresh. I tore off a corner and emptied the contents into the vase, added water, and arranged the ferns and baby’s breath. Then I rummaged in a drawer for scissors to snip the ends of the roses.

  “He loves me, he loves me not.” I smiled to myself as I put each rose into the vase. “He loves me, he loves me not.” I frowned when I came to the last two. “He loves me, he…. Stupid kids’ game.”

  Well, it didn’t mean anything.

  I’d leave the roses on the kitchen island for the time being. I wanted to admire them as I prepared dinner. Later I’d put them in the dining room so we could enjoy them while we had dinner. I pictured us holding hands across the table, gazing into each other’s eyes, maybe feeding each other bites of the game hens. Finally we’d take the roses with us into the bedroom, where their delicate fragrance would scent the air while we made love.

  I rummaged through the box for the card and finally found it, a small white envelope buried under the green tissue paper, and I couldn’t wait to see what he had written.

  My lover really was a romantic. In the card he’d given me for my birthday, he’d written, “Only you, Theo. For all of my life it will be only you.” In the box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day was a heart with the words, “My heart is yours completely….”

  I smiled and stroked the envelope—delaying the gratification—pressed it to my lips, then slid my thumbnail under the flap to unseal it and took out the card.

  Once, twice, three times I read the words, growing colder and more numb each time.

  The other shoe had just dropped with a vengeance. He’d cheated on me.

  I’m sorry. Forgive me. I was a fool.

  No, Matheson, I was the fool. A blind fool.

  Pain tore through me, worse than anything I’d felt in my life—worse than when Poppa threw me out, worse than when I realized Franky didn’t care for me, only wanted me to trick for him. It ripped me apart, drove me doubled over to my knees. I covered my face with my hands as scalding tears poured down my cheeks.

  He’d told me and told me he loved me, that he didn’t want anyone else, until I’d finally come to believe him. How could the son of a bitch lie to me like that? He was probably laughing himself silly at my stupidity—I’d wanted to be loved by him so badly.

  Well, it didn’t matter what I wanted. Whether he’d let someone fuck him or he fucked someone, he’d promised, and he’d broken his fucking promise.

  And he thought a dozen fat roses would make it up to me?

  “Goddamn you, Matheson!” I howled. “I wish to God I’d never met you!”

  “Mrrow?” Miss Su nudged my arm, trying to get my attention.

  I had to pull myself together. He’d promised to come home early, although now I could see his promises meant nothing. I didn’t want him to see how his betrayal had affected me.

  No. Not. Fucking. Likely! I’d never let him see me like this.

  I rose to my feet and dried my cheeks on my sleeves, determined to hurt my ex-lover as much as he’d hurt me.

  I grabbed the vase and took it into the bedroom with me, cursing him under my breath. Miss Su followed me.

  “This is gonna get ugly, puss.” I yanked out the first flower, the vase tipping a little and spilling some water. “You might not want to stay.”

  “Mrrow.” Her ears pricked forward.

  “Okay. Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” One by one, faster and faster, I shredded each blossom, my grip on the stems driving the thorns into my palms, but those small pricks were nothing to the torment that big prick had caused in my heart.

  Sobbing for breath, I spotted the chain and charm I had given him. Apparently the fucker had stopped wearing it altogether. What I’d had engraved on the back didn’t matter, probably meant nothing to him, not a goddamned fucking thing.

  I picked it up and flung it across the room with all my might, then threw the vase after it, uncaring that the rest of the water spilled out, soaking the carpet, and that the vase put a hole in the wall.

  The miserable cheater would be home any time now, and I didn’t want to be there. I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed Tim. It rang a couple of times, and then he picked up.


  “Hello?”

  “Tim, it’s… it’s Sweets. I….” My voice cracked. “I need to see you. It’s important.”

  “Sure thing, babe. When’s a good time?”

  “Now.”

  He was quiet for a beat, and my heart lurched. Was he abandoning me too? But then, “Come on down to me. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “Thanks, Tim. I’ll order my ticket—” I swallowed. “—and e-mail you the airline and my arrival time.”

  “I’ll wait to hear from you. Are you all right, Sweets?”

  No. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay, Tim?” What could I say? I thought I was going to be one of the lucky ones, but I was dead wrong?

  “Okay, then, babe. Take it easy, and don’t get yourself killed getting down here.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, Tim. Bye.” I went into my office and turned on my computer, then logged onto the United Airlines site and found a flight leaving out of National in a little more than an hour. I booked a seat for me.

  “Mrrow?”

  I wasn’t going to leave my kitty with a man like my ex-lover. I made arrangements for her too before I e-mailed my itinerary to Tim.

  While I was waiting for a response from him, my gaze fell on the answering machine. I’d changed the greeting because Wills—oh, God, because he had asked me to. Jesus, I’d been so easy, so stupid.

  I stabbed the button, putting the machine into record mode.

  “Hi. You’ve got me.” I made my voice throaty, filled the words with intimacy and innuendo. “Now tell me what you want to do with me!”

  That would show him.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t even care.

  Well, maybe I didn’t care either! I’d go down to the basement and get a couple of cardboard boxes and start packing his things. I didn’t… didn’t want him here anymore.

  I paused in the foyer and stared at the wall. Now that I thought of it, there hadn’t been very much come to clean off it. Jesus. He must have been fucking his way through whatever building he’d worked in. Men, women—he was bi, it wouldn’t matter. How long had he been screwing them all? Had he even waited a week? A day?