All through the drive, my senses were only claimed by the flashing images of all the mistakes I’ve made. The mistakes I’ve made in how I love Alan. The mistakes I’ve made with everyone in my life.
I pull into the carport, grab my bag, and somehow manage to get into the elevator. I look at myself in the mirrored squares, and it’s a strange thing that I should look normal, exactly as I always do, and yet there is nothing comfortable or familiar left inside of me.
I hurt the man I love. I hurt my best friend, and yes, Neil is my best friend. I didn’t realize it when we broke up, but it is painfully present inside of me today.
Inside the condo, I drop my bag, and without turning on the lights I go to my bedroom. I rummage through my drawer for my mobile phone, flip it open, stare at it and start to shake.
It fully sinks in at this moment. It didn’t completely have the feel of realness before now, though it probably should have and I don’t know why it didn’t.
Alan called for a year after I left New York. Ten hours and not one message. Nothing. Not a single call. I should have stayed and fought for him. Even if it bloodied us and even if it hurt too much and even if it ended this way.
The End
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Continue the Half Shell Series with the final book, The Girl Diamonds and Rust(April 2015), and read more of the Parker Saga with the first book of the Sand and Fog Series, Broken Crown(June 2015).
Enjoy one of my current contemporary romance releases:
The Girl on the Half Shell
The Girl of Tokens and Tears
The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (Releasing April 2015)
The Signature
Rewind
One Last Kiss
One More Kiss
One Long Kiss (Releasing March 2015)
Or you might enjoy one of my historical romance releases:
When the Perfect Comes
Face to Face
Love’s Patient Fury
Love me Forever (Releasing Summer of 2015)
PREVIEW: THE GIRL OF DIAMONDS AND RUST
Available April 2015
We lie together, lightly touching and kissing. We’re both spent, but I sense beneath the surface we both are still raging within. The feel of Alan is everything I remember and everything that haunts me.
“We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together in bed, love,” he says on a husky whisper. “Get used to the idea.”
I turn in his arms so I can see him. His eyes are midnight black, guarded, but richly alive with his love for me.
No longer able to meet Alan’s dark gaze, I roll over in his arms. His lips touch the base of my neck, gently. His body turns into me. I feel his fingers in my hair. Then his lips.
“I love you. We don’t have any shit standing between us this time. You just have to want it. I’ll make this work, however you want me to.”
My gaze locks on my ring, my simple gold band on my left hand. My emotion drained limbs tense. The quiet inside me vanishes.
“I’ve got to go,” I whisper, barely able to push the words past the lump in my throat.
I pull from his arms, climb from the bed and gather my clothes. My shaking hands make feeble attempts at securing my clothing back into place. Why did I do this? How could I be unfaithful? What power does Alan have over me that I could forget everything good in my life just to screw him in the pool house? That in a flash, everything inside me is turned upside down. That the strongest impulse I can feel raging through veins is to trash my marriage and go back to Alan?
Alan sits up, and settles on the edge of the bed. The room fills with heavy silence.
“What are you doing, Chrissie? Where are you going?” he whispers, his raspy voice with an edge of anger again.
I continue to move, numb-like, around the room dressing. The lump in my throat is strangling and I can’t look at him because if I do I won’t ever be able to say and do what I have to.
“I have to go, Alan.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers, his voice raw. He crosses the room, stopping my hands, stopping me. “You’re not walking out that door until things are resolved between us. Not this time, Chrissie.”
“I love you,” I whisper, almost unable to push the words out of me. “I always will. I don’t think that will ever change.”
I lock gazes with his intense black stare. His face changes in a flash from passion kissed to anger. Then panic. “Always will? What the fuck are you trying to say to me, Chrissie?”
I struggle not to drop my gaze. I step back from him and continue tidying my clothing.
His hands garb my arms again. “What the fuck are you saying, Chrissie?”
I twist out of his hold. I quickly step back. If I stay too close to him, I will crumble. I have to get out of this room and away from Alan. Soon…or I will crumble…
My fingers tighten around the doorknob. “You’re too late, Alan. I’m married.”
And quickly, before he can answer, I slip through the door.
PREVIEW: BROKEN CROWN
Available June 2015
I shut off the shower deciding not to call Chrissie. I dress for an excursion on my bike. Traveling the rural splendor of the United States on a Harley is one of the few things left in my life I still enjoy. The decision this time has nothing to do with savoring the scenery. The days it will take to travel from New York to California will give me a chance to back out if sanity decides to return. The call ahead of time will do neither of us any good if I decide not to see her.
I sink down onto my bed to make two phone calls. I tell my assistant to clear my calendar for the next month. I hang up as she bellows every reason why that isn’t possible. Then I call the garage to get my bike ready.
I tuck into a backpack only what I need for the journey to Los Angeles. I almost leave the bedroom when I recall the lump in my sheets. Tucking the bracelet into my pocket, I reach out a hand and shake the body in my bed. “You need to get dressed and get the hell out of here, love. I’m going to California. If you’re a whore, I’d like to pay you first. If you’re a nice girl, leave me your number.”
The brown-eyed beauty sits up, pulling with her the blankets to cover her naked flesh. Morning after modesty, another farce since my memory isn’t so dim that I forgot what we did last night. Those pouting red lips smile.
Ah, Boston bred. The girl isn’t ruffled by any of it.
Smoothly charming, she says, “I’ll bill you. Though it’s often considered a blurry difference, I’m not a whore. I’m your attorney. One of your divorce attorneys. I brought the finalized settlement contracts, and though you missed our meeting, I waited ten hours in this apartment for you to return to sign them since your ex-wife has an irritating proclivity to change her mind. I thought it best we jump on the offer and settle it fast since you didn’t have a pre-nuptial agreement. When I tried to explain, you jumped on me. I thought what the hell, it’s been a slow day and I’m earning five hundred bucks an hour for this. Why shouldn’t my job have an occasional perk? You have been interesting. I’ve never been laid by a man who holds an infinity band while he fucks me. I think it’s better I don’t tell you the things you mumbled. I’ll only warn you that you should be relieved it’s covered under attorney/client privilege since my meter ticks until you sign those documents. The contracts are on the dresser. Please sign them so I can shower, dress and go. It’s Saturday, in case you don’t know what day it is, and I play racquetball at six. That I didn’t expect you to know. It was a subtle attempt to speed you up in the signing.”