The Tango (9 page)

Settled at my parents’ the next night, I got a text.

R: How are you? Better I hope?

V: I thought I was getting a phone call.

R: Sorry, it’s noisy here.

I hesitated, not wanting to ask, but did anyway.

V: Where is here?

R: Home. Family over.

V: Oh. Well why are you talking to me?

R: Because I miss you.

My heart filled instantly
.

V: I miss you too. You and your family sure do get together often.

R: Yeah we are close. What are you doing?

V: Taking numbing amounts of Vicodin, eating chocolate and watching cheesy romantic movies. You know every girl’s dream.

R: So you are lying when you say you miss me?

V: Yes.

R: Ouch.

V: Sorry, they say chocolate is a good substitute for sex, so I’d say I’m breaking your rules.

R: You will be punished.

V: Can we please keep the punishments to your club? I never want to go to The Barracks again.

R: I know. I regret taking you there. I was angry. But we had a little fun :)

V: That wasn’t fun.

R: No?

V: No.

R: What was it?

V: Indescribable.

R: Agreed, I think about it every day.

V: What do you think about?

R: The way your hips curve when you wrap your legs around me. How beautiful you are when you come. I love the shape of your mouth.

V: Will I ever get you alone again for more than an hour?

R: Yes, I promise.

V: Good, I hope so.

R: I wish I was there now with you wrapped around me, kissing every inch of you that isn’t bruised.

V: What’s stopping you?

R: Well for one, I don’t think your parents would appreciate the things I want to do to their daughter.

V: Silly me.

R: Soon.

V: I’m sure you’ll be in touch.

R: Shut up.

V: I’ll wait patiently for your next cryptic text.

R: You’ll pay for that.

V: I’m counting on it.

R: Now it’s going to be worse.

R: Goodnight.

V: Goodnight.

An hour later, he wrote back.

R: Now I can’t stop thinking about your legs.

V: :)

By Monday of the following week, I felt amazing. I had stopped my meds, and though I still had a set of stitches in my face and the side of my neck pinched and itched at times, I was able to move around freely and without pain. I decided to make a house call to Rhys. We hadn’t spoken every day on the phone, but he’d made sure to text me or call me at least once a day. He seemed to have the bedtime of a ninety-year-old and I constantly made fun of him for it. He seemed distracted and I knew he was busy catching up on the work he had missed when he was at the hospital with me. He had shown the club a few times, and though his schedule was full, he always seemed to end his night with me with a phone call or a text telling me how much he wanted to see me. It seemed pretty obvious that we both wanted to resume what we had started.

Meanwhile, my mother held me hostage, refusing to let me join the online world on my laptop to look for new listings to show. Although, I’d secretly found a few on my phone. She was constantly checking on me and it was starting to drive me up the wall. She refused to let me leave the house.

I’d had a few nightmares, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I’d had a moment or two in the bathtub alone at my parents’ where I was filled with sheer terror, so much so that I couldn’t move. I managed to make it through the first one, but had to call my mother the second time, making an excuse for her to come in and talk to me. Seeing her soothed me, though she could sense she was in the room for much more than handing me some shaving cream.

Fucking clown mask.

It was if he knew what the scariest mask to terrorize a person with was and pre-ordered it to make sure I would never forget an already terrifying event. Then again, they’d left me for dead. The stupid sons of bitches didn’t stop at my house, either. Hours after they attacked me, they were caught two neighborhoods over. The one who raided my house was shot dead by the homeowner who had a gun, and the one who had used the knife on me was arrested after the man held him at gunpoint until the police arrived. He would never be getting out of jail. He was a convicted rapist and was wanted for several other crimes, including my home invasion and attempted murder. I dreaded the day I had to face him in court, but that day wasn’t today.

I didn’t want the therapy my mother suggested. I wanted to deal with it and get over it. I wanted to resume my life, not dwell on it.

It had only been a week, but I was dying to see Rhys, to touch him. I was nowhere near ready for the physical activity he could put my body through, but I damn sure would take him up on the making love in his bed he had promised me. I needed to be with him, to feel him, to know he was real.

I stopped at the store first and smiled as I carried my packages up his seven billion stairs. I knocked on the door excitedly, knowing he was home from work because I saw his car in the drive. With a plant in one hand and cucumber bath salt in the other, I was ready to resume some small sense of normalcy. I just wanted to see him, to thank him for being there for me, for my mother.

Fuck it, I loved him. I wanted to see him because I loved him. It was way too soon to confess this and I understood that, but I was in love with Rhys.

He opened the door and two sets of grey eyes peered back at me. Rhys looked devastating in his work suit, holding a toddler carbon copy of himself wrapped in an oversized towel. I looked at the baby who was opening and closing his hand at me in hello. I had no idea what my expression was.

He had a son. I was sure this was his son.

His expression was one of utter shock at me darkening his door. He sure had not expected it to be me. I stood there completely dazed.

“Down, down, down, Da Da, down.” I looked at Rhys who was clearly struggling with his words. He looked at his son then at me and started to open his mouth when I stopped him.

“You weren’t ready to tell me…then. I understand that.” Tears blurred my vision as I studied his beautiful baby who was struggling to get away from his father, making “eh, eh” sounds. I watched him squirm as Rhys held him tightly in his towel, trying to keep him warm.

“Da Da, down!”

“God, he’s beautiful,” I said, his tiny hand opening and closing it at me, “just like his father.” I looked at Rhys, still struggling with what to say. “What’s his name?”

“Bryce,” Rhys whispered, opening the door further, ushering me inside.

“Kind of a moot point now, don’t you think? You clearly weren’t ready to invite me into this part of your life.”

“Violet, I was. I really was.” I nodded just to be agreeable. I would never really know if that was the truth. I didn’t want to argue with him and scare the baby, and to be honest, the fight had left me. Once again, I found myself in love with a man who was a stranger to me.

“I’m just the crazy lady on the porch with her heart in her hand looking completely idiotic with a plant…again,” I said, setting it down with a humiliating chuckle. “I brought you this, too.” I shoved the bath salt into his hand and he struggled to grip it while he held a wiggling Bryce to him.

“Don’t, don’t go. I can’t come after you. And it will kill me if I can’t. Violet, you mean…so much to me. Please don’t go.” The pleading in voice caused my eyes to well with tears, but I couldn’t trust him.

“Da Da, down!” Bryce was no longer happy with the situation and grabbed the bath salt out of his hand and threw it on the floor behind them.

“How do I know this is what you really want, Rhys? You never even told me. I lied about a situation, you omitted a whole person.” I couldn’t help the amount of hurt I felt. I knew I was openly crying and felt the tears burn the stitches on my face. He took a step toward me with his squirmy bundle tight in his arms.

I took a step back and shook my head. “No, you kept this from me. I can’t stay.” My eyes wandered to Bryce, who had tilted his body toward me with his arms out, opening and closing both his hands. His eyes pleaded for me to take him and free him from his father’s arms. I studied his sweet cheeks, the dark curly hair still damp on his head. I was taken with him. He was the mirror image of the man I loved. I kissed his hand and addressed him. “I would love to hold you, sweetheart, but it’s cold.” My voice was shaking. I was going to blow. I turned quickly, walking down his first few steps.

“Violet, please stay. There was just never a good time. The way we met, I needed time to—”

“I get it. I really do get it. I can’t tonight. Not tonight, okay? I’m trying to be cool here. I’m upset,” I held my chest, “and I don’t want to scare him.” I turned on the steps, my eyes swimming as they slammed into his. He nodded. “Take him inside, Rhys, it’s cold.”

“Please answer when I call,” he said, watching me walk down the steps. I walked to my car, a shaking mess. I thought we were becoming closer, but what the hell did I really know? I had no idea what the man was like in his everyday life. I was his sexual partner. We fucked, and we did it well. In that way, we were compatible. I still hadn’t learned much about him since our one day alone. He’d kept me at a distance this whole time. The more I thought about it, the more I realized why he did things the way he did. Always a text once a week, rarely twice, and always when it was convenient for him. He was a single father. Everything began to click as I thought it over.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

All of it made sense now, the texts instead of phone calls, the need to constantly leave for family gatherings. His family was his son! God, he had a beautiful baby boy. But where was the mother? Was she still in the picture?

Rhys was a father. That had to be why he wanted to sell the club. He wanted to wash his hands of that part of his life. It was understandable, and actually, I loved that he was doing it.

I was so blinded with lust and my own agenda, I hadn’t realized he had his own. He was done with the life. He was leaving it and I had just begun. It made perfect sense for him to keep me away. He didn’t know me well enough to introduce me to that part of his life. He was being protective, as he should be. And at the same time…I was pissed.

I made it to my home in record time. I walked through the house with a broom in hand, checking closets out of pure paranoia. Once I was sure I was alone, I set the security code and called my mother.

“Are you insane? What the hell are you doing at home alone!”

“Well, Mom, when a woman grows up and gets a job—”

“Don’t you take that smart ass tone with me, young lady! I’m coming over.”

“No, Mom, I want to be alone.”

“TOUGH SHIT!” The line went dead in my hand, and as soon as she ended the call, I jumped as it rang in my hand.

Rhys.

The bitter bitch in me let it ring. I had suffered because of
my
unfortunate circumstance. Not that having a baby was unfortunate.

That baby. God, he made beautiful babies.

I popped a bottle and poured.

I had been busted in the same fucking way. This was irony at its finest, an unexpected house call that led to the discovery of a family member dwelling in the home that wasn’t expected. I voiced the end of my internal rant, screaming at my missed call.

“Sound familiar, asshole? Now you can sit and think about how your intentions were nothing but good and you were doing the right thing and are now being punished for it! Maybe I should fucking make you call me madam!” I chuckled as I poured more wine. What a fucking week. I downed the first glass and poured another.

He sent a text.

I was pissed. He shouldn’t have.

R: Please talk to me.

V: Oh, this situation is so familiar. Shall I ignore you for weeks and only demand sex when I see you?

R: That’s not very fair.

V: No, it’s not. My husband was half dead when I found him on the floor after our night together. You never really let me tell you that. I rushed him to the hospital to make sure he stayed alive—although between you and me, I could be a millionaire now if he hadn’t survived—but hey, them’s the breaks and that’s the wine talking.