redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (8 page)

Len rushed past me, knocking me on my ass, on his way to confront Grayson. “You son of a bitch.” The third time I had ever heard him swear; it had to be some kind of record, and not one I wanted to be the cause of.

I rubbed at the sore spot on the back of my head where it had connected with the ground, scrambled to my feet, and wedged myself between the two men about to throw down on my porch.

“Nice mess you’ve got us in, Noel.” Grayson sounded more amused than pissed off.

Splat. Len’s fist hit Grayson right in the nose. Bone crunched, blood flew, and Grayson’s smile went MIA. He held his nose, leaned against the railing, pulled a handkerchief from his pants, and began wiping away the blood dripping from his nostrils.

To his credit, he didn’t fight back, which was good, because in a fight between Len and Grayson, my money was on Grayson.

“Len stop.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the porch swing and sat him down. “I think you broke his nose.” I pointed at Grayson, who worked at blotting the blood off the sleeve of his now-ruined shirt.

“That’s not all I’m going to break.” Len jumped up from the swing and went after Grayson again.

To stop any more blood from hitting the porch floor, I raced after him and snagged the back of his shirt. “Grayson, go.” There was a lot more pleading in my voice than authority.

Len turned. Hurt, anger, and betrayal stared at me through his darkened eyes. “Why are you protecting him?” He stepped back.

“I’m not protecting him, but battling it out on my porch won’t make things better.” I moved closer. “And it won’t change anything.”

Len’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, slid to my palm, and then entwined with mine. He gave my hand a slight shake to get my attention. I tore my gaze away from Grayson and focused on the man whose heart I smashed to smithereens. “Why did you do this to us?” His voice still hardened by anger.

“Yea, why?” Grayson spoke up from his permanent spot on my porch, and once again pushed me to answer the questions I wasn’t prepared for.

Questions I didn’t even know the answer to.

“I can’t explain why.” Once again I was being honest, a new Noel record. It was against the rules. The world couldn’t know there were people out there who manipulated their lives. “I wish things were different, that Grayson didn’t exist.” I leaned against the wood railing. “I never wanted to hurt you, I only wanted to make you happy.”

“Then forget about Grayson, about what happened.” Len grabbed my hand again. “I can try to overlook one indiscretion if you could promise me it won’t happen again. The trust would be broken, but we could always rebuild.”

I’d give anything to make that promise and be able to keep it. Walk away from Grayson, Cupid, the whole mess, but according to our boss, one soul mate can’t live without the other. Nope, the only way out of this Cupid-created catastrophe was a one-way ticket to Holy Hope Cemetery in a mahogany box.

Cupid had a sick sense of humor and a messed up idea of reality.

In my newfound need-to-be-honest-about-everything code of ethics, I knew I couldn’t make that promise. At least until I found my way free. I lowered my head, not wanting him to see the hurt my next words would cause. “That’s not a promise I can keep.”

“You’re going to continue to sleep with this asshole?” He pointed at the asshole in question.

If he only knew all the dirty details of my relationship with Grayson. Not only would I continue to sleep with him, but I’d be with him until death do us part. I swallowed over the lump in my throat and nodded my head.

He opened his hand and my fingers fell free. “You disgust me.”

Len turned his back on me, he wrenched the door opened and it slammed against the wood siding. He went inside, probably off to pack his stuff and get out of my life forever. His footfalls pounded up the stairs and then the bedroom door slammed, echoing through the house. The man of my dreams had just slipped between my fingers because of a man I didn’t want and a lifetime of indentured servitude I never asked for.

Anger started at the tip of my toes and erupted like a slow moving volcano, boiling through my veins, through my flesh, until I focused my rage on the only person left standing on my porch. Grayson—who sparked the match and set fire to all my hopes and dreams.

“Fucking happy?” I rushed forward, hands in tight fists at my side. “Did you get what you wanted?” Tears poured and I used his chest as my own personal anger management dummy.

He grabbed my wrists and held them tight. “Do you think I want to see you hurt?” His voice soft, like he meant what he said.

Nothing more than a trick. A slick trick to convince me he wasn’t evil.

I pulled my hands out of his grasp and tried to push him down the steps. “Then why did you come here? Why did you force me to come clean?” I wiped away the tears. “If you thought forcing me to tell Len about us would send me running into your arms, you were wrong.”

Grayson flinched at my hurled hatefulness. “Because you don’t belong with him, and he doesn’t belong with you. Noel, this is for the best.”

His words didn’t register. They didn’t sneak in to calm me, and they certainly didn’t make me feel better. All they did was cause that volcano of hatred and anger to bubble over the surface.

“Best for who? You? Because it’s not for me.” I shoved at his chest, propelling him toward the stairs. “Go. Just go. I don’t want you here.”

He removed my hands and pinned them down to my side, stopping any attempt to shove him out of my life and off my steps. “I’m not leaving. If I’m not here, you’ll find a way to patch things up, beg him to stay.”

Twisting my hands out of his, I stepped back. “Damn right I will. Now. Go.” I tried pushing him again, but his feet stayed glued to the porch.

I pointed to his Audi. “Get in your car, and get the hell out of here.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and turned my back on him, letting him know my lips were zipped. Conversation over. I had nothing else to say.

After a few moments of tense silence, his car keys rattled, and he placed his hand on the sore spot on my head, a soft touch. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He pushed off the railing and walked to the steps. “Sweet dreams, Noel.” His parting words before he bounced down the steps in his polished dress shoes, got in his car, and drove away.

The Audi disappeared down the winding road, taking the biggest problem in my life with it. My trembling hands touched the chilly wood railing, and I stood listening to the water roll over the rocks in my tiny front yard creek, but even the comfort that sound usually brought didn’t even begin to squash the hurt.

Garnering courage, I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second, pushed off the railing, then wandered into the living room, and sank into the deep, well-worn seats of the brown-leather sofa. My head flopped back and rested on a plaid throw Len had given me two Christmas’ ago because I had a bad habit of falling asleep during movies. Footsteps pounded overhead, drawers opened and slammed shut. Probably clearing out his things from our bedroom, getting ready to clear himself out of my life. My heart hoped he was just pissed off and slamming his way into our bed, but my brain knew it was worse. Much worse.

Where would he go? He had given up his apartment two years ago and moved in with me. The house and everything in it belonged to me, my inheritance when my parents passed away in a car wreck four years ago.

Len stormed down the stairs, a suitcase in one hand—my brain was right—a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. He marched through the foyer, not once glancing in my direction. I couldn’t let him leave without saying something, but what?

“Len, wait.” I caught up to him before he walked over the threshold.

But he didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t look my way. Didn’t bother to hear my promise that I would continue to fight for him. Instead he gave me a one-finger salute and yelled, “Rot in hell.”

Four swear words in one night. I think I might have destroyed my fiancé.

* * * *

Pounding at the door. Loud. Insistent. Annoying. My head rolled off the pillow and my body followed. I tried standing, but something had happened to my legs. Oh yeah, the tequila.

The room spun like I had spent all night on a tilt-a-whirl, and my stomach rocked-and-rolled to the beat of the annoying eighty’s music they always played at those parking lot carnivals. On my hand and knees, I crawled my way between the couch and the coffee table. My knees knocked into an empty bottle of tequila and sent it rolling under the couch, before they landed in the melted remains of a pint of Dulce de Leche. I stumbled into the foyer and collapsed in a heap in front of the door.

“Open up, Noel. I can hear you snoring.”

Grayson. Probably here to thumb his nose and chant nanny-nanny-boo-boo.

“Go away.” The lock clicked, knob turned and the door slammed into my head. “Shit.” I grabbed my dented noggin and managed to scoot far enough away to avoid another brain damaging assault.

Grayson strolled by and took in all my drunken glory. “Wow. You’ve never looked sexier.” And even though he sounded as angry as I felt, he knelt next to me and felt around my head to make sure my skull wasn’t damaged.

“Don’t want you here.” I pushed his hands away and crawled back to the living room, hoping he’d go away. When I didn’t hear him leave, I yelled, “How’d you get in anyway?”

Grayson followed me into the room holding a dirt-covered key. “Spare key buried in the flower pot at the front door. You told me about it one day at the motel.”

Note to self: no more momentary lapses of judgment after an orgasm.

He moved closer to where I had collapsed and bent down. “Want me to lift you on the couch?”

I looked at the soft leather cushions, then back at the hard wood floor. I really wanted back on the couch, but the thought of Grayson’s arms around me and the lust it would lead to repulsed me. The floor sucked, but I’d rather get splinters than accept any help from the manipulative bastard.

Grayson pulled the throw off the cushion and wrapped it around any exposed skin. He snaked one arm under my knees and the other around my back and lifted. The sudden movement caused the ice cream and tequila to mix, creating a lump of cement in my stomach that my body wanted to repel. Repel it did. All over Grayson’s black T-shirt.

If it had been me, I would have tossed me back on the floor and left me there, but Grayson just grimaced and lowered me on to the couch. He slipped the shirt off, wadded it into a ball, and used it to wipe his pants free of vomit. “There’s nicer ways to get me naked.”

An apology almost passed my lips, and then I remembered who I was about to apologize to and knew it wouldn’t be sincere. “Go somewhere and die.”

“Not until I’ve checked on how you’re taking the big break-up.” He picked a chunk of slimy gunk off his bicep. “Not very well I see.”

I flopped onto my side, which caused a tsunami of puke to roll through my insides. “Bucket,” I managed before my mouth filled.

Grayson grabbed my favorite margarita pitcher off the coffee table and handed it to me. I immediately filled it with something a lot less pleasant than lime and tequila.

The supposed-to-be-the-man-of-my-dreams plugged his nose and pulled out his iPhone. “Say cheese.”

I flipped him the bird.

He snapped the picture and held it up so I could see. “A reminder for the next time you screw up.” He admired his photography. “You’re literally green.”

“And you’re literally an asshole.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Thanks for stopping by, but you can leave now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’m sure you won’t drown in your own vomit. I’m not ready to see heaven yet.”

Figured he had an ulterior motive.

“Just prop a pillow behind my back and leave the bucket in arms reach.”

Grayson did the opposite of leaving and placed his posterior in my club chair next to the couch. The last person I wanted to spend my post break-up evening with was the only person who wanted to be around. He played with his phone for a few moments and then Chicago’s “Hard to Say You’re Sorry” blasted from the tiny speakers. He sang the words loud and proud.

“How long do you plan on tormenting me?” I yelled over his karaoke moment.

“Until you’re sober enough to work.”

“So, you’re planning on being here all night?”

“Is that an invitation?” He continued to tap the beat of the song on his leg.

The tequila-induced fog floating over my brain made it impossible to trade smart-ass remarks with Grayson. “Just go.” I added as much heat to my words as my rolling stomach would allow.

He didn’t move, so I turned my back on him, tucking the blanket around my shoulders, and snuggled in for the evening. The door didn’t shut, which meant he hadn’t taken the hint. I turned back, and Grayson stood behind me, watching me, something close to concern in his eyes.

And even though I was madder than Hades in heaven at Grayson, the fact that he came back and checked on me, doused a bit of that anger, taking it from a five-alarm fire to flames a backyard hose could extinguish.

But I wanted to be alone, to wallow like a pig in shit.

“I’m fine.” I stood up, proving I was semi-stable on my feet. “And you’re the last person I want helping me nurse my broken heart.”

Grayson smoothed out the creases in his charcoal grey dress pants, walked to the front door, and yelled, “Make sure you show tomorrow, I’m not getting punished because you’re nursing a broken heart.” Then left me lying in my own puke…literally.

“You deserve any punishment you get…indecent exposure to begin with,” I called out to get the last word.

The door slammed. And for the first time in two years I felt alone in my own home. Len wasn’t there to share popcorn or a silly movie or a private joke or a quick cuddle. His drawers’ upstairs were as empty as my heart.

One day, when the world stopped spinning and I wasn’t face down in a bucket of puke I was finding a loophole.

Seven

My Traitorous Who-Ha Wins Again

My 10:13 ding-a-ling rang out through the lonely room, the very fitting lyrics of Cupid’s ringtone blasting through the speakers. If the boss from hell thought I was working today, he could kiss my arrow-struck behind.