Hometown Girl (6 page)

“Why are you and your dad on the outs?”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would know the whole story.”

But he wasn’t sure. He still hadn’t a clue who she really was. “I know one version of it. I haven’t heard yours.”

“I went to school, got the degree my dad wanted me to get, but I kept up on my art and minored in it. He was okay with that since he thought it could help my knowledge of marketing. When I graduated and decided to pursue my art and not take the job he’d had waiting for me at his company, he all but disowned me. I still hear from my mom and my sister, but I haven’t seen my dad since graduation.”

“That’s gotta be hard.”

He shrugged, but she saw more in his eyes than he would ever say.

“Are you happy doing what you’re doing?”

“Very. I’m doing pretty well income-wise; most of my work now is by commission. I’m exactly where I want to be when it comes to my work. I thought that once I started making a name in the art world, once I proved to my dad I wouldn’t be a starving artist all my life, he might have a change of heart. He hasn’t.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“I don’t have much of a choice. It’s ultimately his decision since I’m not about to spend the rest of my life working at a job I hate to please my father. What about your parents?”

“You know my family—we’re probably the most boring family on earth. But then, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. There’s no drama. They seem happy enough with what I’m doing with my life, but my mother would be happier if I settled down.” She shrugged. “I think she’s bored and wants grandchildren to spoil. She’s probably going to be waiting a long time if she’s expecting me to provide them. My brother doesn’t seem like he’s in a big rush either. He goes through women almost as quickly as you do.”

“As quickly as I did. I’m turning over a new leaf, remember?”

“We’ll see.” But she wouldn’t bet next month’s rent on it.

“Maybe he just hasn’t met the right one.”

“It’s hard to meet the right one when you’re too busy picking out the next instead of getting to know the one you’re with. Still, he seems happy enough. Not that a big brother would tell his little sister he wasn’t happy.”

“But you’d know.”

“I hope I would.”

“My sister knew something was up with me this morning when she called. She has that annoying little sister radar. I had to get off the phone quick but she still knew.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not in the least. I think you’d like each other.”

“I like her already.” She watched his reaction and he didn’t blink an eye. He was still completely clueless. She looked at the remains of her lunch—all this talk of Mel had killed her appetite—and pushed her plate toward Simon. He’d always eaten whatever she and Mel were unable to finish. They used to call him the human garbage can. “I’m full, do you want the rest?”

He picked up her huarache and for a second, she thought she’d seen a spark of recognition in his eye, but then it disappeared. Simon shook his head and finished off her food in three bites. It was good to know some things never changed.

“So where’s it gonna be—your place or mine?”

She didn’t think Mel would use her key at Simon’s place—at least she hoped Mel wouldn’t. “I suppose your place is safer.”

He leered at her, a hot-heart-stopping-bad-boy-oh-what-I’m-going-to-do-to-you leer. “I’ll untuck the sheets.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Elyse opened her eyes and stared at the top of Simon’s head while he kissed his way down her body. Her heart raced, her breathing was choppy, and everywhere he touched sent shockwaves through her system. Damn, she had no idea how long he’d been at it. From the way her body hummed with sexual tension, probably a while. She’d never known she didn’t need to be awake during foreplay for it to be effective, but then she’d learned a hell of a lot this weekend.

“Simon?” It sounded like half groan and half plea.

He raised his head, brushed her stomach with his stubbled chin, and grinned. “Good morning, beautiful.”

“God, I could get used to waking up like this.”

He slid over her, kissing his way back up her body, the room just beginning to lighten. “That’s my dastardly plan. I want you as addicted to me as I am to you.”

“I think it’s working. You’re like a drug. I can’t seem to get enough of you.” No one had ever made her feel so much—so vulnerable yet so safe. So unsure of their relationship, but then when he wrapped his arms around her, she knew in her heart that with him was where she belonged. She kissed him and hooked her legs around his hips. “Protection?”

“Got it covered.” He stared into her eyes as he joined his body to hers. “I’ve just been waiting for you to wake up.”

“I’ve been waiting for you forever.”

“We’re together now. I want to be with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Elyse looked away, bit her lip to keep from asking him to promise, and settled on praying what he said was true.

She’d always thought she’d been in love with Simon, but she never knew love could be like this. And now that she knew how it felt, she couldn’t imagine losing what they had, what they could have, what she’d always dreamed of having with Simon. She had to tell him, for her own sake if not for his. She’d tell him tonight before dinner.

She put all that in the back of her mind and just concentrated on making love to Simon. All the while ignoring the premonition that this would be the last time he’d look at her the way he did right at that moment. He held her gaze, his so open, so full of love, so giving, it shattered her ability to distance herself. He drew her up and sent her flying, almost against her will. She wanted to make this last forever, and it was over all too soon.

She curled against him while listening to his heartbeat slow to a normal level as his hand traced her spine.

“Are you okay? You seem a little down.”

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile and looked at him. He wasn’t buying it. “Okay, I just don’t want this morning to end. I have to get up and go to work.” At least that was the truth. She dragged herself out of bed. “I need to get going.”

Simon stood and put his arms around her. “Okay, you shower and I’ll fix breakfast, because if I join you, you’ll definitely be late for work—if you make it at all.”

The smell of bacon frying greeted Elyse when she stepped out of the bedroom. She followed her nose to the kitchen, and Simon met her with a kiss and a cup of coffee.

“I hope you like scrambled eggs.” He dished them out and set them on the table while she found his silverware drawer and got the utensils.

Simon sat and she checked the table before turning back to the refrigerator—she always put mayonnaise on her scrambled eggs. She had a thing for deviled eggs, and, well, if you added mayo and mixed it all up, it was the next best thing. She sat down, put a dollop of mayo on her eggs, and started mixing.

* * *

Simo
n took a sip of his coffee and watched Fitz in his kitchen. She fit there. She looked great with her feet tucked under her, so domestic, so casual, mashing mayo into her eggs. He’d only known one person who did that—his kid sister’s best friend, Elyse.

His blood froze. Thawed. Then boiled. “Trouble?”

Her hand stilled, and guilty eyes met his.

With great care he set his cup on the Formica table and stood slowly, his knees catching the chair. The sound of the legs scraping the floor shattered the companionable silence, and he stepped back until his ass hit the counter. “You.” His breath came out in harsh gasps.

Elyse dropped her fork, splattering mayonnaise across the table. She had that patented the-jig-is-up look he’d remembered seeing so often when she and his sister had been caught in one of their nefarious pranks—usually aimed at him.

“Simon. I can explain.” She raised her chin, her face white, and stood slowly like an arthritic old woman.

He held up his hand to stop her. “Was this another prank you and Mel dreamed up? Is that what this was? You thought it would be great to trick me into taking your virginity. Was that guy Dave in on it?”

“No. I didn’t even know where you worked. I was just as surprised to see you as you were to see me. The only difference was that I remembered you.”

“Oh come on, Elyse. You and Mel have been best friends since kindergarten. You’ve always been inseparable. Do you really expect me to believe she never told you where I worked?”

“You actually think I’d trick you into going to bed with me?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I gave you ample opportunity to ask me who I was. You never did. How is that my fault?”

“I was trying to be nice, trying not to hurt your feelings. I guess the joke’s on me, huh? I bet you and Mel had a great time chatting about it. You just couldn’t wait to tell her, could you? Good one, Trouble. I didn’t suspect a fucking thing.”

“I didn’t tell Mel anything. How could I? How could I tell my best friend I just slept with her brother—a man I’ve known my whole life—and he didn’t even remember me?”

“You were always like a little pesky sister to me.”

“Don’t even go there. I am not, nor have I ever been, like a sister to you. Believe me, I’ve never confused you for my brother. I’ve felt a lot of things for you, Simon. Sisterly was not one of them.”

He held his hands against his head to keep it from exploding. “I can’t believe I slept with my sister’s best friend. Congratulations, Trouble. You certainly got me good this time. I’m sure you and Mel will have a good laugh, huh? It’s one for the record books.”

That was an understatement. She’d played him—played him right into his bed. Oh, God, the things he’d done with her, to her, and still wanted to do. He was so fucked. She’d probably go straight to Mel and, as usual, tell all. He took the chair and flung it across the loft. “I think you should leave.”

Elyse shifted then hugged herself—she looked pale and brittle and walked past him like an octogenarian, looking anywhere but at him. She grabbed her purse and beelined it down the stairs.

Simon went to the window and stared out over the bay. He heard the door slam and watched her run to the end of the pier before doubling over. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to go after her. He’d stepped back from the window and was about to lose the battle when she straightened, and hurried the rest of the way to the ferry. He watched her as she stood in line with her arms wrapped around herself. He watched her board. And he watched her float out of his life, taking his heart with her.

* * *

Elyse ran until she made it to the end of the pier and doubled over in agony. The stitch in her side was nothing compared to the pain of what felt like a knife piercing her heart. God, she’d been such a fool. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. A lot of good her lifetime membership to the National Honor Society did her—she was an interpersonal relationship failure.

She forced herself to slow her breathing—hyperventilating and passing out was the only thing that could make this disastrous situation worse.

Elyse gathered the rest of her strength, waited until the gray spots dancing before her eyes disappeared, straightened, and then limped, dry-eyed, to the ferry.

Her trip home was a blur. She took the ferry to Wall Street, the #2 train to the A-Train, then spent an interminable amount of time slogging her way through what seemed like an endless number of stops uptown to 181st Street.

It took her total concentration to keep from breaking down in tears every time she remembered the horror in Simon’s eyes when he recognized her. That moment ran on a continuous loop through her mind, and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

She knew it would end badly.

She knew she’d be hurt.

But she never guessed how devastating it would be—to her, to him.

She hadn’t known she’d hurt Simon. She never meant to hurt him; she never thought it was possible. If she had known, she’d never have made love to him.

She climbed out of the subway and blinked in the bright sunlight. It should be pouring down rain and thundering to match her mood—not the perfect day it was. The cloudless blue sky mocked her. Hell, there was even low humidity—it was a freak of nature, just like her and Simon.

She found herself staring into the open freezer of her corner market—not quite sure how she ended up there—and tried to erase everything from the time she walked into Simon’s kitchen, well, everything after their last kiss, from her memory. She wouldn’t want to forget that or their first kiss, or anything in between the two.

Obviously her mental delete button wasn’t working, so she put back the single serving of Chubby Hubby she’d been holding for God knows how long, and tossed two quarts of Ben and Jerry’s into her cart.

This disaster called for some serious comfort food. After all, she was stocking up for her first broken heart sob-fest. She ticked down her mental list. Movies—check. Tissues—she strolled the paper aisle and grabbed two boxes of Puffs before she found the candy aisle and grabbed every piece of dark chocolate the store carried. Still, she had no real comfort food. Hmm . . . she tossed in a few cans of Campbell’s Chicken & Stars soup and called it good. If she needed anything else, she’d have to rely on take-out.

She slogged her way to the checkout. The weight of guilt and pain crushed her, making it feel as if she were walking through quicksand. The tears that threatened to fall were getting more and more difficult to ignore.

The clerk shook her head and took one look at Elyse and her purchases. “Bad morning?”

Elyse nodded. “You have no idea.”

“You forgot to get something to wash all this down with. Can I run and grab something for you?”

“Coke?”

The girl smiled. “I’ll be right back.” True to her word, she came back with a twelve-pack.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. And remember all men are idiots. If it was meant to be, he’ll come back to apologize for whatever it was he did.”

Elyse nodded, unable to say anything more. It was all she could do to stifle the sob that threatened to escape.

The closer she got to her home, the harder it was to keep the floodgates up. By the time she unlocked her door, she lost whatever grip she had on her emotions and sank to the floor of her studio apartment, pushed the door closed, and let the tears fall.

After five minutes of digging through grocery bags, pulling out tissues, and stuffing chocolate into her mouth between sobs, she remembered the ice cream.

Elyse picked herself up, took the five steps into her kitchen, and put her ice cream away. All the chocolate she’d eaten wasn’t helping the sick feeling she’d had ever since she saw the recognition and disgust in Simon’s face.

She grabbed one of the Cokes hoping it would help settle her stomach, plucked the stack of the movies and a box of tissues off the counter, and tossed the lot onto her bed before stripping.

Her phone rang. It was Mel, so she let it go to voice mail and crawled into bed wearing one of her oldest, threadbare T-shirts before realizing it was one of Simon’s she’d saved all these years. Shit. Wouldn’t you know her favorite shirt would be one of his. She rolled over and let the tears flow.

* * *

Sim
on sat at his easel, pulled off the sketch of Elyse done in the style of Picasso, and set it beside the one he’d done in the style of Salvador Dali. Definitely not his best work.

He finally gave up. It wasn’t helping him get over her any faster, if at all. His art had always been his outlet; it never failed—until now.

He rose stiffly from his stool. He’d been working since he closed the bar in the wee hours of Sunday morning. He thought it was Monday morning, but then he wasn’t sure. He needed to find out though, because he had a meeting with Pete at the Crow’s Nest at noon and it was almost eleven. He looked out the window. Yeah, definitely eleven a.m. He just hoped it was Monday and not Tuesday.

Simon took a swig of old coffee that had gone cold hours ago, scrubbed his hand over his bristled chin, and turned to the sculpture he’d worked on until his arms ached and his head swam. Yeah, it was of her too.

Last week he’d gone to his favorite junkyard looking to lose hi
mself in the possibility he saw in every piece of metal. All he saw was Trouble. A piece of a car’s undercarriage was the exact shape of her hip as she slept beside him in the dark. A black piece of flashing looked like her hair draped over his pillow like silk the first time they’d made love. The old window symbolized something—now he couldn’t remember what the hell it was. Oh, yeah, the glass distorted the image of everything beyond it symbolizing time. He sat down hard. Shit, this piece probably sucked too.

A knock sounded at the door and he ignored it. There was no one he wanted to see. The knocking continued for a few minutes and stopped just before the door squeaked open and slammed shut. Shit.

He turned and watched his sister walk into his studio. He tamped down the urge to strangle her. “Come to gloat, Mel?”

Mel stopped, hands on hips, hair coiled on the top of her head with lacquered sticks holding it in place, wearing a pair of jeans shot with holes that looked as if they were about to fall off, and a see-through top that showed off a diamond-studded navel and what he hoped was the top of a bikini. “I came over to see if you wanted to play hooky and go to the beach with me. Are you sick? You look awful.” She looked around his studio. “So, wanna tell me what I’m supposed to be gloating about?”

He rushed her and bent down until they were nose to nose before he yelled. “You know damn well what!”

“Back off, bro.” She pushed against his chest with both hands. “Now calm down and tell me what’s tied your dick in a knot.”