Crazy Love (31 page)

“Explain this.” He practically slapped her in the face with the piece of paper. Vi flinched away, but snatched it from him. I watched the color drain from her face.

“You read my email?” The level tone of her voice spelled trouble for tall, dark, and furious, but he seemed too wrapped up in his own indignation to notice hers.

“‘…I won’t lay
another
amorous hand on you…?’”

“Dashul…” she started. Her voice was firm and unafraid.

“What happened on Tybee? Did he kiss you?”

She gripped her hair with both hands. “Do you really want to hear this?

“That fucking little prick. You won’t have to worry about him touching you again. I’ll break every one of his fingers, and he’ll never paint again.” He stormed toward the door, and Violet chased after him as if she weren’t wearing peep-toe stilettos. I was sure she’d twist her ankle, but Sistah must have been born and bred in those mothers because she caught up to him at the door.

“Stop, Dash!” She grabbed his arm, and he shrugged her off, heading outside into the night air. Violet shot me a desperate glance, and we both followed.

All the smokers were outside huddled together for a breath of ‘fresh air,’ and their collective heads snapped up in unison as I shouted.

“Dude! Orange is
so
not your color.” It was my attempt to be supportive. He glared at me as if I’d just pissed in his mint julep and continued toward his Hummer.

Violet called after him, “Dash! Come back here and talk to me!”

He spun on her. “No. Enough is enough, Violet. I have put up with an intolerable amount of shit with regards to your ex-husband, and now he’s following us to Charleston. It’s about time he learned his place. I will not tolerate his laying hands on you.”

He opened the door to his vehicle and was about to climb in when Violet shouted “I kissed him!”

The collective gasp from the crowd was sheer brilliance. I nearly shouted ‘ta da!’ Dashul’s square jaw clenched as he slammed the door and came around the car toward her. Without a moment’s hesitation, I shoved her behind me.

“You did what?” His voice was quiet and low. She pushed past me, though I tried to pull her back by her sleeve.

“I kissed him. It just kind of happened.” Her cheeks bloomed red, and Dash’s eyes flashed murderously. I saw him pull back. Ohmygod, that oaf was going to backhand her! My hand shot out, and I grabbed his thumb, pulling back on it with force. I don’t really know what happened next, but my head throbbed and I found myself lying on the concrete, blinking at the stars. Violet cried out and slapped him hard on the cheek.

“You asshole! I can’t believe I was going to settle for a piece of trash like you,” she hissed going in for a second slap. Her diamond ring scratched him when she made contact. He snagged her hand, and his hand came up as if to hit her. That’s when Miss Gay Savannah, Countess Chardonnay, stepped between them, towering over Dash. Her voice dropped an octave.

“Oh, no, you didn’t.”

Finding the strength, I forced myself up onto my elbows in time to see the grand dame haul back and slug Dash so hard he spun around and fell back against his overpriced gas guzzler. He slid down the side of the passenger door, glassy- eyed. Violet yanked off her diamond and chucked it at him, nailing him on the forehead and leaving an impressive gouge. A standing ovation erupted amongst the smokers. Violet knelt beside me, dabbing at my lip.

Flicking her still lit cigarette at his crotch, the Countessa had the last word. “Nobody lays a finger on Jayse Monroe at my club!”

Just before my smack down with Jayse, I’d spent some of my therapy session discussing him. The self-destructive turn he’d taken was eating at me like an aggressive form of cancer. He and I had bonded instantly when I answered an ad on the Craig’s List for a roommate. We both had the same snarky humor. I was self-depreciating, and he was a narcissist; it was a match made in hell. I’d voiced my concerns to him, and he’d shit all over me. He was fronting, and I was so over it, I could scream. Jayse was like family, the kind you want to have, not the one forced upon you. Fighting with him made me feel isolated. Though I tried hard to act like it didn’t bother me, I felt like he had cast me aside.

My shrink, Dr. Wilson, seemed to find my relationship with Jayse mere entertainment. The Doc was a mind-blowing contradiction. She was a tiny slip of a woman with a sweet sounding voice, but she was rough as sandpaper. Not one for those touchy-feely methods, she was a straight shooter, perhaps too much so. It wasn’t uncommon for her to flat-out roll her dark eyes while I was talking, and I often wondered where the hell she got her medical license. She had been especially short-fused with me today.

“Alright, alright. Let’s skip the thirty minute conversation about Jayse’s problems. He doesn’t pay my bill. Let’s talk about you, Annie.”

I shrugged. “School’s good. Work’s okay.”

She went for the jugular. “How are things with Sam?”

I uttered a surprised laugh. Then I took a huge breath. “He asked me to move in.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I told him I’d think about it.” She looked at me like she wanted to smother me with a couch cushion. My meetings with her often had this aftertaste. It was a bit like having a friend who had no choice but to listen to me…and who got paid to remind me of it.

“Do you love him?” She folded her arms and dared me to lie to her.

I huffed. “Of course. I told you so.”

“Well then, what’s the problem? What are you afraid of?” she snapped impatiently. Normally I would have chewed her out and called her an unprofessional bitch, but I was feeling a bit fragile. My brother had texted me. He said my mom had borrowed Gram and Gramp’s silver bullet camper and didn’t bring it back last weekend as promised. I wondered if she was in Reno yet.

“I…I’m not sure. I guess I’m afraid that these feelings I have for him will fade. That the more he gets to know me, the less he’ll like me.” My voice cracked a little on the last word. Dr. Wilson exhaled with obvious exasperation and ran her hands through her short dark hair as if she were trying to keep her brain from exploding.

I thought back to the week after I told my grandparents about Travis touching me. My mom showed up at my school and told me that she loved Travis too much to make him leave. She couldn’t let me come home again. I cried all day thinking I was being kicked out on the streets…wondering if my grandparents would take me in. Wondering if I’d have to leave my school and my friends and move to live with them.

Later that afternoon, Mom came back and said that Travis told her to ‘keep her fucking princess.’ He left her. Consumed with relief, I remember thinking my terror was over, and I was overjoyed that I got to stay. Looking back, it might have been a blessing if I hadn’t. Instead, it was another two years before I ended up with my grandparents, and I’d spent a lot of that time raising Becca and Dylan. But the fact that Mom’s go-to place was to kick me to the curb followed me like a shadow. Jesus! I was her baby. She carried me
inside
her, and she just used me like a bargaining chip against my dad and then tossed me aside like a used tampon.

“Maybe I’m afraid I’m unlovable.” I added, forcing myself to meet her eyes. The look on her face when I said it told me I’d struck a chord.

“You are far from unlovable, Annabelle. But I want to answer your other concerns: yes, these feelings will fade and yes, the more he gets to know you, the more he’ll get tired of your shit. That’s the natural progression out of the honeymoon phase. But that’s normal and healthy, believe it or not.”

Our time was up right after that. I can’t say I felt any more at ease after than I had walking into her office. I went home and got ready for the gallery opening and ran into Jayse on my way out. I tried to keep it casual, but it blew up in my face almost immediately.

All the way to Sam’s, I rewound and replayed my fight with Jayse, fighting the menace of threatening tears. It wasn’t the first time we’d resorted to name calling in the past few weeks, and most likely wouldn’t be the last. Sure, he’d pissed me off and hurt me, but I refused to mess up my make-up because of that little shit.

I parked my car across from the Lowden Building. Sam’s new place was impressive in every way. With over twelve hundred square feet of renovated space, his condo was nearly as big as any house I’d lived in. Blonde wood floors, white painted brick walls, and corrugated metal ceilings made it the kind of place I had always dreamed of owning, but never really believed I’d set foot in. I nodded at the doorman and climbed on the elevator. By the time I set foot inside his building, I was jonesing like an addict for the kind of therapy only Sam Beaumont could give me.

He lit up when he opened the door, welcoming me with a knee knocking kiss. As he pulled me against his chest, I instantly felt like a million bucks. “Hey, baby. You look mighty fine tonight.”

It was hard not to immediately argue with him. I suppose years of being called an “ugly mutt” couldn’t be erased by a few weeks of being treasured by a good man. Make that a
phenomenal
man.

“Hungry?” He led me into kitchen and poured me a glass of wine. My continuous obsession about when the other shoe would drop had caused more insomnia than usual, so I was hyped up on energy drinks and horny.

“Not for food,” I spat out, and he shot me a sly smile. He looked completely at home surrounded by the custom cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless appliances. I tried not to obsess about Sam’s natural air-brushed perfection. When I did, I ended up twisting my hand behind my back like a child who’s just done something naughty. Even if I’d spent a month with a fairy godmother in a room full of wands, I couldn’t have come up with a blue print for a guy more perfect for me. These too-good-to-be-true moments put me on edge.

“I want you to eat something. It’ll help you get more rest if you fuel your body,” he insisted, lifting a plate of fruit and cheese from the counter. It was a sweet gesture, though I knew he hadn’t been the one who prepared it. He’d been way too busy with his mystery project to do anything domestic.

Sam led me into the open living area, and the open shutters pulled my eye to the windows and the inky view of the night sky over the river. He had one of my rubbings hanging near the fireplace, and I tried not the cringe every time I saw it. It wasn’t one of my favorites, and I planned to make him a new one; but I wasn’t sure how that’d go over.

We cozied up on the sofa, which was fast becoming a routine for us. I’d been spending a lot of nights here since he moved in. We drank our morning coffee on the balcony overlooking River Street. It was an incredible spot for people watching or viewing the boats and huge container ships as they passed by on the Savannah River. It’s where I first told him I loved him.

“Are you ready to see your picture?” Sam drew my attention back to the present when he picked up the plate and held it in front of me. I took two pieces of cheese and choked them down. Seeing a life sized painting of myself was the last thing I needed tonight. His worried frown illustrated for me just how well he’d grown to know my tells. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just really worn out. Ready for spring break. Just you, me, the sand and the sun.” I rested my head on his shoulder, and he pulled me tighter to him.

“Actually...I thought we might go somewhere else for the week.” I looked up at him as if the answer would be written in that blue gaze. “Do you have a passport?”

“No…”I sat up and stared at him. “I don’t even know how to get one. Why?”

“I want to take you to Paris.” Stunned, I must have gaped at him long enough to make him uncomfortable. His smile faded, and he looked nervous.

“No.” I shook my head, but I didn’t back away from him. “It’s too much, Sam.”

He beamed at that and set his wine glass down. He intertwined his finger with mine and pulled my hand to his lips.

“It’s not too much. It’s just right. A day of travel there and back. We’ll have a whole week for you to commune with the dead.” Flustered, I opened my mouth to explain myself, and he moved in for an argument abolishing kiss. Touched by the idea that he wanted to fulfill my fantasy, I placed a hand on either side of his face, and seconds later, my body responded full force. My hands wandered, and he broke off the kiss.

“Shit. We have to go soon. Give me five minutes.” He stood, regret oozing from him.

“You can’t take a cold shower in five minutes.” I joked, trying not to stare at the bulge in his trousers. Inside I was relieved. The dismissive way he blew off my objection had me deep in thought. I should have been backing him into the bedroom for a quickie, but instead I was awash with relief.

Sam vanished into his room, and I wandered through the condo, sipping my wine. I paused to look out of the window at Talmudge Bridge which was majestically lit. Then I went into the kitchen to pour a second glass of wine. Sam claimed to understand why I needed time to decide, which I found impressive since I certainly didn’t understand it. On paper it was simple; I loved him and he loved me. My priorities had done an about-face. I’d started blowing off my study group, so I could watch him spar at the gym. In my defense, he and Randall were a hell of a lot more fun to look at all bulging and sweaty than my spindly study-group boys.