A Flawed Heart (25 page)

He looks into my eyes with an intensity that I’ve only seen
in the eyes of his son. He places a firm hand on my shoulder, commanding my
attention. “Eileen was my
person
…my
favorite
person. Every day
with her was a gift. If you and Jason have found that in each other, then you
need to hold on to it. No matter where you are in life when love finds you, it’s
worth holding onto. Some people never find it—and if you have, then you should
never let it go.”

He’s saying everything that I’ve been feeling these past few
weeks. My love for Jason feels so deep and so real, and I never want to let it
go.

“There you are.” I hear a familiar voice say.

Jason approaches us; the light from the hall shines at his
back and illuminates his gorgeous form as he moves out of the light and into
the darkness. He’s clean-shaven, and dressed in a pressed, white shirt with a
thin, black tie and black dress pants. His tattoos peek up above his collar. I
gasp at how handsome he looks. My skin prickles upon his approach, every fiber
of my being cries out for his touch.

Daniel turns to him and extends his hand for his son to
shake it. Such a formal gesture demonstrates a clear understanding of the
strained and distant relationship he has with his son. Jason stops short in
front of his father and for once his eyes rest on someone other than me. He
doesn’t reach out to return the greeting and his face shows no readable
emotion. Daniel begins to lower his hand. Disappointment in his son’s lack of
reciprocation is evident and he takes a deep and labored breath. I echo his
disappointment.

Daniel’s defeated sigh morphs into a gasp as Jason opens his
arms and embraces his father. Daniel stands rigid and then folds his arms
across his son as he hugs him back. I see his form tremble in the moonlight and
feel my eyes well with tears.

“Hi, Dad.”
Jason says.

Daniel begins to laugh, pats Jason’s back, and takes a step
back to grip his son’s shoulders.

“Hello, Jason. It’s good to see you. I’ve just been spending
some time with this lovely young lady here.” He gestures toward me with his
arm.

At last, Jason’s eyes meet mine. He licks his lips as his
eyes roam my body from head to toe, and then he takes a step toward me. I place
my hand in his outstretched palm and he brings my fingers to his lips and
kisses my knuckles, his tongue darting out slightly to taste my skin.

“More than lovely,” he says, so that only I can hear.

He winks at me, and then turns back to face his father. “Dad,
this is my girlfriend, Claire. Claire, this is my father.”

I look at him with confusion. “Jason, we’ve met.”

“I know that you’ve met before, but we weren’t together
then. You’re important to me, and I’d like to introduce you.”

I smile and shake my head. Daniel extends his hand again,
this time toward me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Claire.” There is joy in his
crystal eyes.

“You guys, it’s starting.” Lydia claps her hands together as
she darts out onto the patio and drags her father back inside the hall.

I begin to follow but am held in place by Jason’s grip.
“Wait, baby.
I haven’t seen you all day.”

He threads his hands into the back of my hair and devours my
lips with his. His tongue slides against mine and I feel him squeeze my ass as
he consumes me with a fevered kiss. I pull him closer to me, knowing that we
should go inside, but not able to tear myself away from the man I love. Daniel’s
words ring in my ears as I try my best to show Jason how much I love him with a
kiss.

“Ahem. Uh, guys?” The baritone of Ben’s voice pulls me out
of the ecstasy of Jason’s touch. “Sorry, but uh, we should really go inside.”
He stands in the doorway and I barely recognize him without his standard cargo
pants and t-shirt on.

“We’ll be right there,” Jason answers, but his eyes are
locked on mine. His jaw flexes as he speaks.

I see Ben walk away in my peripheral vision. I’m cast under
the spell of Jason’s sea green gaze. I can’t look away from him, and I don’t
want to. He leans in and kisses me again, and then drags his lips to my ear. “I
love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

We enter the showroom, and I’m taken aback. Although the
works of many artists are displayed here, Lydia’s sculptures are unmistakable.
They stand out, not because of a particular technique or look, but because of
the subject matter. All of Lydia’s sculptures are replicas of
us—
Jason,
Kat, Ben, myself, Daniel…and Eileen.

We step closer and Jason squeezes my hand. I can only assume
he’s as shocked as I am at the exact likenesses. The beauty of the way she
views us is astonishing. A bust of Ben laughing, Kat looking off into the
distance thoughtfully as she often does, Daniel gazing at Eileen who has her
nose buried in a bouquet of lilies. The expressions on their faces are so
life-like and so
beautiful.
I bring my hand to my mouth in awe as we
walk through the hall, silently admiring Lydia’s phenomenal artwork
.
I
feel Jason tug my arm toward him and my eyes fall on the likeness she has
created of Jason and I.

It’s the largest of the four sculptures, capturing our
bodies from head to knee. Lydia has sculpted us to look like mirror images of
each other, in the same position but with different and distinct features. In
the sculpture, I’m looking into Jason’s eyes and he’s looking into mine.
Beneath our profiles, our hands are joined. As I look closer, I see she has not
sculpted the details of our fingers. She has left the clay relatively
untouched, so that it looks like we are connected at the wrist. It seems odd to
me, and I look to Jason for clarity.

“Do you see?” he asks.

“See what?” I shake my head.

“Look.” He points his finger and traces the negative space between
our bodies, beneath our connected hands. It’s the shape of a heart.

I smile at the sweetness of this—of the way that Lydia sees
us—bound to one another by love. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to find
Lydia. Jason embraces her and lifts her off the ground. The smile that spreads
on his face is one of complete pride.

“Do you like it, Claire?” she asks.

“Like it? I can’t even
begin
to describe how stunning
this is! It’s beautiful, and I’m so touched.” I pull her into an embrace.

“You’re not just a friend to me, Claire. You’re my family,”
she whispers.

The emotional moment and the crowded room overwhelm me. I
press the back of my hand to my forehead and feel the sweat that has risen on
my skin. I grip onto Lydia’s arm to steady myself.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “Jay, I think she needs some air.”

Jason is at my side in an instant, and his arm is at my
back. “Babe, are you okay? Do you feel sick? Are you having an attack?”

“No. No, I’m fine. I just—I need a minute.”

“Take her for a walk,” Lydia directs.

Jason takes my hands in his, and I follow him as he fights
through the crowd and back out into the main hall. We sit down on a bench
together and he brushes the hair from my face. He grabs my pills from my bag
and hands one to me.

“Just relax,” he says in a soothing voice.

I take the pill, and Jason strokes his calloused hands up
and down the length of my back. The rhythm of his movement against my dress
calms me, and I take a few deep breaths and feel like myself again.

“I don’t know what happened. I haven’t had a panic attack in
so long.”

“You must have just been blown away by my sister’s kick-ass
sculpture of us. I know I was.
All of them, really.
She’s so fucking talented. Are you sure you’re okay now?”

“Yes. I’m a little thirsty, though.”

“I can fix that.” He stands and pulls me up off the bench. “Come.”

I follow him out of the hall and through a dark doorway. He
leads me down a narrow corridor that doesn’t seem to be meant for the public.
The dark gives way to light as we enter a small kitchen. He stops in the
doorway and keeps me shielded behind him as he looks both ways. When he’s
satisfied the coast is clear, he darts into the kitchen with me trailing behind
him. My heels click against the linoleum floor as Jason grabs a bottle of
something I can’t see and two champagne flutes. He deftly swerves around
countertops and appliances until we approach a steel door, and before I know
it, we’re outside in the crisp, October night.

He turns to me, and a grin spreads across his delicious
face. “I want to show you something.”

We walk hand in hand and the wind moans through the streets.
My heart pounds in my ears. After a long walk we arrive at Jason’s rehearsal
space.

The main hall of the building is deserted. The usually
sunlit windows look as if they are speckled with the orange glow from
streetlamps. Views of the city have been replaced with our distorted
reflections, the red of my dress and the white of Jason’s shirt contrast
against the darkened windows.

We step inside the elevator and Jason pulls me into him. He
kisses my neck, and my icy skin catches fire with his touch. I sigh as his
hands slide down my sides and rest against my thighs. I part my lips, asking
for him to kiss me, and he does. His hand cups my chin and he squeezes his eyes
shut. The passion he feels for me is evident in his expression and the way his
lips dominate mine. I want to satisfy my craving for his touch. I grip his tie
in my fist, and pull him even closer just as the elevator dings.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks.

“I am now.”

We untangle ourselves from one another, and walk down the
hall toward Jason’s studio. He searches for his key and opens the door.

“Wait here.” He returns quickly, holding a balled up piece
of fabric, which I assume is a blanket. He carefully wraps the champagne bottle
and the flutes in the blanket and hands it to me. The bolt clicks shut as he
turns the key again, then leans his shoulder against it and grins at me.

“Why do we need a blanket?”

“You’ll see.”

He throws his arm over my shoulder, tucking me against him,
and we walk away from the studio toward a steel door that reads “Stair B.” The
stairwell is dimly lit and Jason ascends the stairs rapidly and elegantly. I
take careful steps behind him in my high heels. We reach a landing, and are
confronted with a steep and rickety ladder, which leads to hatch in the
ceiling. Stenciled on the hatch in white letters are the words “Roof Access.”

“I don’t think I can climb this,” I say shaking my head in
refusal. Fear of my ever-present clumsiness overrides any fantasies of being
with Jason on the roof.

“Sure you can.”

He takes the blanket from me and places it on the floor
beside him, then bends down on one knee and looks into my eyes. I forget to
breathe and cannot speak. I’m lost in Jason’s gaze. His eyes hold a million
untold secrets, and I want nothing more than to know what he’s thinking right
now. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but then grins and
looks down. I feel his hands begin to caress my calf, and then I realize what
he’s trying to do. My shoes are removed from my feet, and I feel his breath
against my knees. A sudden rush of desire courses through me as I envision
Jason’s head buried between my legs.

He stands and smiles. I can’t describe how sexy Jason looks
in his dress shirt with my strappy shoes dangling from his hand.

“Up you go.” He gestures for me to climb the ladder.

“Shouldn’t you go first?”

“Oh, definitely not.
I’ll be able
to keep you safe this way. And I’ll get a much better view.” He grabs a hold of
my ass.

I swat his hand away and begin to climb. I unlatch the hook
on the hatch and flip it open. Jason pushes me up and I crawl out on to the
roof. I stand there barefoot and blink my eyes as they slowly adjust to the
dark. I begin to discriminate shapes, and smile at what I see. The entire
Manhattan skyline is visible from here—the Chrysler building, the Empire State
Building…all of it.

He rises out of the hatch and places my shoes in front of me
so that I can step into them.

“Aidan and I used to come up here to get drunk and write
music, but he hasn’t come up here in forever. We don’t have yards in Brooklyn;
roofs are the next best thing.”

There
are empty beer bottles and a million cigarette butts, so it’s obvious that
someone uses this place. Jason sweeps the garbage to the side with his foot,
positions the champagne bottle between his knees, and twists the top. I watch
how the muscles in his forearms flex as he wrestles the cork from the neck of
the bottle. Champagne spurts out, and he fills the flutes. He hands one to me,
and then spreads the blanket. He lies down and places one hand behind his head
and eyes the space next to him.

I lean back next to Jason and snuggle into his warm, hard
body. My eyes drift upward and I gasp. I can actually see stars punctuating the
sky. They twinkle and
shimmer,
and I feel as if I
could touch them if I reached my hand out far enough. The moon is a delicate,
silver sliver on the horizon.

“I haven’t seen the stars since I was in Savannah.” A sudden
pang of homesickness pricks my heart. I miss the summer nights of my
childhood…catching fireflies with my dad…my mother’s voice. My chest turns to
lead and the pang becomes a steady pain and a fugitive tear escapes my eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.
I just miss my family.
Talking to Daniel—seeing Lydia’s sculptures—and now this beautiful sky. I don’t
know. It all makes me miss my mom…and my dad.”

“We can visit Savannah anytime, babe. We can go for
Christmas,” he offers.

I nod and brush the tears away, feeling silly for getting so
emotional. I finish my champagne and Jason does the same, then he places our
empty glasses on the roof.