Authors: Violetta Rand
I’m overwhelmed that Macey’s needs match my own. Every inch of my body is alive to her touch. She finds her release a third time, sapping my energy. My hot seed spills inside her—another piece of my soul forever given over to her. After several minutes, I recover, roll onto my side, and pull her against me. She’s short of breath, slick with sweat and our sex. She nuzzles against me then, leaving a trail of kisses up my neck. My skin prickles, my cock standing at attention.
“Again?” She raises her head, staring at me in amazement.
“A mind of its own.” I grin, knowing I could ravish her all night. But I don’t want to make the wrong impression. I’m after much more than her perfect body. I want to own her heart and soul, too. I caress her arm, hoping she’ll relax so I can address the many important issues we have left to discuss. So much has happened and I don’t know where to start.
At the beginning,
I remind myself. “Tell me you’re happy.”
She shifts, supporting her head with her hand so she can see me. “Deliriously so.”
I instinctively reach for her nipple, tweaking it until it puckers. She recoils, a smile playing about the corners of her lips. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“With you…”
She follows suit, caressing the tip of my shaft. I playfully slap her hand away. “Is that all you ever think about?”
“Touché.”
“Ah—smart enough to yield when you know you’ve lost the game.”
“Is this a game, Joshua?” Her joyous expression fades.
“No games,” I assure her, cupping her cheek. “I owe you so much, starting with an apology for ever doubting your loyalty.”
She swallows. “What do you mean?”
“Certain facts have come to light…”
She pulls away, sitting up. “You mean…”
“Let me clarify—you and Bishop never did
anything
together. Julia drugged you.”
“What?”
She’s justifiably pissed off. Her whole body stiffens, and her gaze grows dark. “What did that crazy bitch do?”
“After I left for the club, she raided Bishop’s medicine cabinet. She laced your wine with Ambien. That’s why the two of you passed out on the couch. She staged you.”
“Is this based on pure speculation?”
“No,” I say. “She’s confessed to everything.”
Macey scoots off the bed, visibly shaken. Then she starts pacing. I knew this would happen. “Out of nowhere she just pops over and declares her guilt?” She stops, crosses her arms over her chest, and gives me a challenging look.
“Not quite.” I sit up now. “Bishop called last night and asked me to come over. He explained everything and showed me his pill bottles. Apparently she even stole one of his prescription pads.”
“My God.”
I sit on the edge of the mattress, planting my feet on the floor. “Everything is going to be all right now.”
“Is it?” she rumbles. “I lost ten days of my life because of her—my relationship and job—nearly my sanity.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what it feels like being accused of something you can’t remember doing? Bishop and I were so ashamed while we tried to piece together what we could remember. Only after we inspected our underwear did we finally realize we didn’t have intercourse. But that didn’t alleviate half the guilt and grief I felt. I was convinced something happened. And you…” The pacing commences again. She picks a vase up from her dresser, then slams it down, whirling around to face me again. So angry—so unbelievably vulnerable. “You never gave me the opportunity to explain myself—to apologize—to do anything but accept whatever judgment you passed. Oh, Joshua.” Tears spill down her cheeks.
I start to get up, wanting to comfort her.
“No!” She waves her hand at me. “Coming over here and seducing me doesn’t make things better—it complicates them more. I spent days trying to manage the pain of being without you. And where is Julia now?”
“With Bishop.”
She scowls. “Doing what?”
“Preparing for rehab.”
“Rehab?” she repeats incredulously.
“She’s a drug addict, Macey. And severely depressed. Blame me. I was too wrapped up in my own life to take notice of the change in her.”
“You mean too busy fucking my brains out.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Don’t tell me what to say or think.”
“Macey.” I get up and rush to her side. “Stop.”
“Rehab? I get drugged and she gets slapped on the wrist. What kind of justice is that? I’m thinking jail time—a little public humiliation is the dose of reality that bitch deserves.”
“That’s just rage talking, Macey.”
She sucks in a breath. “Maybe it is. But you never gave me a chance to get angry until now. Why didn’t you call last night? Why didn’t Bishop call?”
“Because we wanted to handle the situation discreetly. Making this a public case will victimize more than just you and Bishop. Think about her parents and great-aunt. Bishop’s family, my
family…reputations
are at stake.”
“How convenient,” she spits. “Macey the stripper doesn’t have one—so fuck me.”
I grab her arms, giving her a gentle shake. “I’m sorry I misjudged you. Sorry I didn’t trust you.”
Rage still shows in her eyes. “Did you see her?”
“I picked her up in Kingsville this morning.”
“What?” She wiggles out of my grasp. “You rescued her before you came over here? So there’s a hierarchy after all. The privileged few stick together. Then you show up and fuck me senseless, hoping I’ll accept whatever plans you made for Julia. Never mind my feelings. Never mind your obligations to me. I’m a victim. Not Julia Henderson.” She races to the other side of the bed, scooping my clothes off the floor. “Here.” She throws them at me. “Get dressed, Joshua. You know where the door is.”
“Baby…” I chase her down the hallway, but she disappears in the guest bathroom and slams and locks the door. I knock. “Open the door.”
“Go away.”
“Goddamnit, Macey. After everything we just shared.”
“Breakup sex means nothing.”
“That wasn’t breakup sex. Open the door,
now.
” I’m getting angry.
“I’ll stay in here all night if I have to.”
Emotions are running high. I’m tempted to break the door down. “Please come out,” I whisper, hoping a gentler approach will work.
“Get out.”
I retreat, returning to her bedroom. I heeded my mother’s advice, laid everything on the line, only to be kicked in the teeth. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Give up? Accept banishment from her life without a fight? I need time to think. After I’m clothed, I head downstairs. I want to destroy something—I clench my hands into fists, gazing up the stairs.
“I’ll be back, Macey.”
“I won’t be here,” she shoots back.
“If you aren’t, I’ll find you…”
I’m too upset to feel anything as I drive to Robyn’s house. Suddenly Joshua reappears, has sex with me, reveals too many secrets at once for me to process, then expects me to accept everything he and Bishop decided without question? Not in my world. I pull into Robyn’s driveway and shut off the ignition. When I look up, my girl is standing in the garage, waving. She looks so happy, so pregnant. So everything I want to be. I sigh and climb out of the car. The minute she reaches me, I start weeping.
“What happened?” She pulls me into a hug. “Joshua?”
“More like the first plague of the apocalypse,” I sniff. “Julia drugged me on Valentine’s Day.”
She pulls back, staring at me, astonished. “What?”
“With Ambien she stole from Bishop’s medicine cabinet. She drugged him, too. Used both of us so she could reconcile with Joshua.” I don’t hold back; I explain everything that’s transpired over the last three days. “And Joshua thinks rehab is punishment enough.”
“Depends on what kind of message you’re trying to send, Macey,” she says calmly. “If Julia is clinically depressed, time in county jail isn’t going to heal her. How many times do we see addicts get out only to fall off the wagon again? Jails are overcrowded, and there’s little to no funds left to provide proper care for inmates who need psychological help.”
“Since when did you become such an expert?” I half tease, knowing there’s truth in what she says.
“Since I grew up in a household with a mother who worked in a profession that deals directly with addicts and their innocent children.” She massages her stomach, loving her unborn child. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. But I can’t say I disagree with Joshua and Dr. Singletary.”
“We’ll agree to disagree,” I say, grasping her hand. “As for there ever being another chance for Joshua and me, guess I took care of that, huh?”
She nods, looking so sad. “Don’t live your life for anyone else, Macey.”
“I’m not.”
“Let’s go inside,” she says. “Dinner is on the table.”
“Where’s Garrick?” I ask. His truck is missing. “Working again?”
“Yes.” Every chance he gets. Once the baby comes, he plans on taking six months off—extended family leave.”
“I like the way your husband thinks.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like having two babies in the house at the same time.” We laugh and sit down at the table together. There’s chicken cacciatore and salad waiting. She serves me sparkling white grape juice in a crystal wineglass. “Cheers to everything your heart desires, Macey. You helped make my dreams come true—now may you get the same.”
“Salud,”
I say, clinking my glass against hers. I just sent my dream packing, and if I were him, I’d never look back.
By Thursday I finally figure out what to do. Being parted from the woman I love isn’t a goddamned option. I’m going crazy. My private and professional lives are suffering. My heart is broken. When I text or call Macey, she never answers. Silence is the worst thing I’ve ever endured. And I won’t take it much longer. I arrive at work early to talk to Glenda. Even though the last private conversation we had ended badly, I know she’ll help me. Especially when I reveal my plan.
I walk through the door, Eric Clapton blaring from the speakers. I swear the woman is stuck in the eighties.
“Good morning, Glenda.”
“Sir.”
I laugh, ready to put an end to this cold formality. “I’m a stupid asshole.”
She doesn’t respond, just keeps slicing lemons.
“I said I’m a stupid asshole,” I repeat louder.
“What’s that do for me or Macey?” she asks, pointing the paring knife at me.
“I want to marry her.”
She drops the implement, removes her apron, then rushes around the front of the bar. “Say it again.” She gazes up at me.
“I want to spend my life making her happy.”
I’m instantly pressed against her big boobs. She chuckles, pats my ass, then pulls away, a smile plastered on her face. “Did you tell
her
yet?”
We discuss everything over a cup of coffee. And I hope this is the last person I’ll have to explain myself to for a long time.
She shakes her head. “Macey has a bad temper.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “So do I.”
“Then you deserve each other.” She jabs me with her elbow. “So what’s this big plan and how can I help?”
How could I refuse Glenda after everything she’s done for me over the years? And now, hoping to make me feel better, she’s made reservations for us at the Omni Corpus Christi Hotel, in the presidential suite, a two-level 1,800-square-foot apartment with a private sauna and hot tub. And arranged for massages. I nearly choked when she invited me, knowing how much this set her back. I leave my car with the parking attendant and head to the lobby, then take the elevator to the eighteenth floor.
I knock on the door and she opens it, smiling. “Welcome to your home away from home, sweetie.” She gives me a crushing hug. “Get in here.” She yanks my overnight bag out of my hands.
There’s soft classical music playing in the background. There are at least eight bouquets of roses and dozens of candles burning in the dining room and living area. The drapes are drawn on the main balcony doors and I stare out the glass, mesmerized by the city lights and water. She joins me, offering me a chocolate-covered strawberry. I eat one, losing myself in the perfect mix of juicy sweetness. Then she gives me a glass of red wine.
“Are you wooing me, Glenda?” I take a sip.
She chuckles. “If I weren’t married…”
“I’m not sure about dating older women,” I joke.
“Listen, little girl, I know everything that happened between you and Joshua.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe you need to,” she says. “All these years you’ve held everything inside, and what good has it done you? The minute anyone of the male persuasion gets too close, you bolt or push him away.”
“Not with Joshua.”
“No?” she asks, her brow jutting upward. “Then why are you here with me?”
“Because it’s safe.”
Someone knocks on the door. Glenda answers. An attendant rolls in a service table laden with covered platters. She tips him and he leaves. I scoot closer, curious to see what she has planned for tonight. She uncovers all the plates, revealing grapes and cheese, bruschetta, fresh vegetables, spiced Italian meats, and a tray of bonbons. There are even two bottles of Dom Perignon. I pick one up and look at the vintage.
“Glenda!”
“What?”
“This is a thousand-dollar bottle of Champagne.”
She shrugs. “So?”
“What’s going on?” My suspicions have peaked at this point. “You don’t have this kind of money to spend. Please, send it back.”
“Instead of complaining, why don’t you go slip into something a little more comfortable? I believe there’s something waiting for you in the master suite bathroom.”
“Girls’ night, huh?”
“All right,” she says. “I left a few details out. Consider it a complete spoil-the-shit-out-of-Macey kind of night. Don’t fuss or worry about how I’m paying for it.”
When she puts it like that, her big smile warming my heart, I can’t deny her. She’s always enjoyed giving more than she does receiving. At Christmastime, she’s nuts. “I surrender.”
“Good.” She hands me my bag. “Go change.”
I walk down a long hallway, past a sitting room, and into the master suite. The bed is gargantuan, dressed with a silk comforter and matching pillows. Again there are candles burning and I smile, touched by her attempt to make me feel better. There are two dozen white roses on the dresser and I stop to appreciate the scent. I love flowers. Glenda knows that. I drop my bag on the bed, then go into the bathroom. There’s a Jean Yu gift box on the counter. How does Glenda know about one of the top lingerie designers? I open it, finding a forest-green silk chiffon bra and shorts. Underneath, there’s a matching half-robe.
My God.
Again my instinct is to march into the dining room and chastise her. But I made a promise. No complaining tonight. But in the morning…