Finding Love's Wings (35 page)

"Why then didn't you come to me? Or even Vincent or Trinity, for that matter?" I ask.
 

"I should have come to you first. I reacted on impulse in an attempt to protect you and to give you the freedom you needed from her. I received the pictures last week Tuesday. EN pounced the moment I offered the story. In exchange for the story, EN agreed to paint you in a positive light. As soon as the contract was signed, they went after Layla to force her confession." He begins to pace. "I had intended to tell you. But within two hours of me submitting the images, Layla was telling you about it at the premiere. I had expected her to sit on it, wait until the last minute, or at least go running to her team of people."
 

I don't respond for some time. I'm pondering my next move. I want to be able work this out in my head before I start babbling like a moron. If he received them last Tuesday, that means that Chanty waited until then to send them off to Tyson. Was she waiting for some type of blackmail opportunity? Well, to be honest, that was obvious. But why now? Why not right after it happened? What changed?
 

"I would like to be able to talk to Chanty about all of this. I don't want to hear the gory details, but I need to know why in the hell she waited so long to send them to you. There were at least six weeks between the time it happened and Tuesday last week."

He nods at me and then looks to Cami. She nods at him and I pull away from her.
 

"Wait a goddamn minute!" I'm angry now. Furious. I turn to Cami. "You knew all of this?"
 

"Yes." Her response is quiet, shaky.

For fuck's sake, is everyone conspiring against me now? Tyson didn’t talk, and Cami knew and didn’t tell me. I feel betrayed.

“Look, it wasn’t intentional.” I glare at Tyson, he continues before I can say anything. “Originally Chanty had no intention of releasing the pictures or video to anyone. Personally, I think she wanted to use them to blackmail Layla. But a week or so ago, Chanty overheard Layla discussing a pregnancy, and from the conversation she concluded that Layla was talking about herself. She heard what Layla planned to do." He goes back to pacing. I'm pretty sure I know what Layla's plan was. "Layla wanted to use the pregnancy to trap you and at the same time blackmail the men. I am pretty sure that you don't need me to outline what she expected to gain from you and from the blackmail."

Shock. Pure, unadulterated shock is all I can feel in this moment. I’d known almost instantly, the night she told me, that the baby isn't mine. But if she hadn't told me about the story too, if she'd told me about the baby under sweeter, more intimate circumstances, I would've been blindsided by the situation. Would have fallen to bended knee. By the time I came to my senses and realized the truth, it might've been too late.
 

I grab the pack of cigarettes off the table, light one, and walk over to the railing. Look down at the beach. It is so quiet out here, peaceful. Completely at odds with the turmoil inside me.

I want so badly to be angry at Tyson for not coming to me first, but I'm taken aback by his desire to protect me. I haven't felt anything like this for years. When my mom died, my whole world changed. I never realized how much I leaned on her until she wasn't there to lean on any longer. For the last ten years, despite my friends, I've felt lost and alone in the world.
 

When Layla came along, I was hooked at first. I thought I'd found someone who could relieve that loneliness. I would bend over backwards for her. But I quickly saw that the emotions were all on my side. She was colder, detached. Our relationship seemed to take a long time to kindle. For as long as it took to kindle, it took a matter of minutes to fizzle out. I realized she never had feelings for me. It was all an illusion. Even when I was with her, I'd always been alone. I had started to think I'd always be alone.

But hearing what Tyson and Chanty have done to protect me makes my heart ache. For the first time since my mom's passing, I feel like I have a family in Tyson.
 

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention and my heart starts racing. I know it's because she's behind me. I feel her tiny hands on the small of my back. I flinch. I'm tempted to be comforted, but I know if I don't nip this in the ass now, it will eat me alive.
 

"If you ever keep something from me, something as important as this, I swear..." Words fail me. I quickly realize that the jealousy I feel is nothing compared to what it would be like without her in my life.
 

"Tristan, I didn't withhold anything deliberately. Yes, Tyson and I talked. Yes, I knew about him sending in the pictures. But in all fairness, I gave you ample opportunity to ask me about it, to find out from me who it was. I wanted Tyson to be the one to tell you because I knew that if I told you, your anger would be directed at Tyson." She pulls her hands off of my back, and the lack of contact has my emotions soaring. "And believe me, Tristan, I would much rather have you angry at me for not telling you than have you mad at Tyson for what he's done. That man will do anything to protect you, including risk his own life for you. He is devoted to you and only you. I'm sorry if that conversation made you jealous earlier; it was never my intent."
 

"That's the other part you guys were talking about?" I ask her.
 

"Yes. It was the reason I was touching his shoulder, it was the reason I was so close to him. If I've ever given you the impression that I was flirting with him, or with anyone else, I'm sorry. It's not something I would ever do intentionally."

Sweet Jesus, it's official. I've crossed over the asshole line. She has given me no reason, none whatsoever, not to trust her, and here I am, getting jealous of something that doesn't exist.
 

"Tristan, I can't not talk to Tyson, not when your relationship with him puts us in such close proximity. You have to understand this. It’s you." She places her hands back on the small of my back and I feel her start to stroke up to my shoulders and back down to my waist. I grab her wrist to bring them around front. Catching my intentions, she embraces me in a bear hug. Her touch is electric. It's almost like hitting delete on a long script and all I can think about is her. I can't think about everything that’s just been brought to my attention. It's me?
 

"Tristan, you are all I want. But you have to be patient with me. I've never done this before."
 

My shoulders slump and I cover her hands with mine. My heart feels like it's expanding and contracting at the same time. I want to express the inexpressible. I want Cami to know and understand all the feelings roiling around inside me that I can't name. I want her to know that I love her and trust her deeply.
 

Hot, wet tears start to stream down my cheeks, and I realize that the last time I remember crying was at my mother's gravesite as they lowered her casket into the ground.

"Cami."
 

She slides around me, an expectant look in her eyes. "Yes, Tristan?"

I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "You asked me the other night about my tattoo."
 

I hear her intake of breath and I look into her beautiful blue eyes as I pull her in front of me. There is an undeniable trust and devotion that I’ve never seen before.
 

"She called me her little dragon. My mom." I pause, just a second. "When I was a kid, she told me the story of Beowulf and Grendel. I fell in love with the dragon in that story and I was more upset that the dragon died. She taught me to fight for what I believe in, no matter what. One of the things she said when I was about twelve was that there was a dragon inside of me, begging to be set free."
 

I look at Cami then. Her eyes are warm yet sad. She understands, better than I could have hoped, what it means to be telling her this story.
 

I continue. "She said that one day that dragon would be set free. Free to protect, to defend, and to guard the woman I love. At the time she told me all of this, I thought she was crazy because I was twelve and girls still had cooties." I laugh a little. "As I grew older, though, the story stayed with me. When I reached my senior year in high school, I felt that she was right. I felt as though the dragon was fighting to be freed.
 

“When my mother died, my dragon was released. A piece of him went with her." I turn my back to Cami and lift my shirt. I don’t explain. I don’t have to. If she is looking for it, she will see it.
 

I feel the warmth of her touch run along my spine up to where the spine of the dragon stops. Her hand pauses, and I hear her small sob as she traces it.
 

Starting at the top of the dragon's spine is a V. She traces the line of the inside of the right wing up and around to the inside of the left wing and back to where she started. The heart is complete.
 

"It's on fire," she breathes.
 

From the inside of the bottom, blending into the browns and oranges, are flames. There is a raggedness to this part of the wings that gives them the appearance that something is missing. The detail is so subtle that, unless it's pointed out, no one would know.
 

"The space matches up with that of my own heart. When my mom died, I thought I had lost everything I ever knew of love." I turn around and embrace her. "Until I met you."
 

I stroke her cheek – "When I touch you," – I kiss her – "when I kiss you," – I look deep into her eyes – "when I look into your eyes, the sparks fly, the electricity ignites, and my heart swells.

"When I decided to finally get my tattoo, everything in my life seemed so surreal and mythical. Very little made sense. I spent all my time in Hollywood. I had no time for myself. At one point, I felt myself slipping away. Away from who I was and who I am. My tattoo brought all of that back. Brought me back to my mom, back to my roots. Out of the clouds and back onto solid ground. It brought forth my sense of reality, self-preservation, and safety. When the tattoo was done, I vowed that no matter what I would stick to three things."
 

I hold up my finger. "One, I would look to my mother within myself when things went wrong." Another finger comes up. "Two, I would never let my life get away from me like that again, and three," – I add another finger – "I vowed to protect everyone and everything I love."
 

I take a deep breath. "The night I found out about the story, I put my hand over my chest and begged my mother for a sign. Something that would set things right."

Cami looks on the verge of tears.
 

"My sign came. And when it did, it was you, in LAX."

She gasps. "What do you mean, me?"

"I saw you. In the first class lounge. Then on the plane to Honolulu. I followed you from the plane into the Honolulu airport." I stroke her cheek lightly with my index finger. "Then finally, after I thought I'd lost you for good, you strode into Blu."
 

She doesn’t respond right away but stands there, looking at me.
 

"I would never have paid any attention to you whatsoever if it hadn't been for these." I reach around her shoulder and gently trail my finger along her wings. "This is my sign."

PART THIRTY-THREE

“Lunch is here," I hear Tristan say through the bedroom door.
 

"I'll be right there," I say back.

Until Tristan told me about his dragon, I hadn’t realized that I'd felt incomplete when it came to him. His story stirred emotions deep down inside that are so foreign to me that I'm not sure how to take them. But the resounding sense of completeness overshadows any level of doubt I had about how I feel.
 

Knowing this makes the jealousy that he felt over my conversation with Ty a little harder to handle. I've never given him a reason to not trust me. But I have to remember that he's been scorned pretty bad. I know now that I need to be mindful of my flirtatious side, a side that has been a part of me for so long.
 

Couple that with a serious jealous streak in Tristan and we will have further issues. However, I'm confident that after today we will be able to work through it, no matter what.
 

I finish with my shorts and t-shirt and head for the door. But before I open it, I hear Tristan.
 

"No, I'm not mad at you. Though I wish you would've come to me sooner. But all the same, I understand and appreciate why you did what you did."

I assume he's talking to Tyson. I don't want to interrupt.
 

Tristan continues, "Are Leroy and Sasha on their way over to Tahiti with the helicopter?"

"Yeah," Tyson says. The rest of his answer is muffled and I can't make it out.

"Great, thanks," I hear Tristan say.
 

Sensing that their conversation is over, I open the door. Tristan's back is to me, but I can see Tyson and the smile that spreads across his face when he sees me. I can see now why Tristan gets worried about flirting.
 

Tyson's smile alerts Tristan to my presence, and he turns toward me. The smile on his face is even bigger and wider than Tyson's.
 

"Hey, beautiful," he says, and I'm pretty sure that I blush.
 

"Hey beautiful yourself."
 

He chuckles. "That's become our greeting, hasn't it."

I laugh. "I suppose it has."

Over Tristan's shoulder, Tyson's still smiling, but he's shaking his head.
 

"Ready to eat?" Tristan asks me, and I nod.
 

"You guys enjoy your lunch and I'll see you both in a bit," Tyson says.

I shake my head. "You know, Tyson, you can join us for a meal once in a while."

Tyson smiles and heads toward his room. "I've got a couple things to do. Besides, you two look like you need some time alone."