Waking Up (47 page)

“Sweetness.”  A little buttering up never hurts, right?  Shit, my mouth is dry.  Grabbing a glass, I fill it with water, downing the whole thing before I can start.  She watches my every movement and I pray she doesn’t think I’m trying to come up with an apology.  It will kill me if she thinks that because this is so not that.  Guilt and unease are eating me up.  I know she’s going to hate me and I still can’t stop what has to be done and I hate myself for it, but in caring for her, I know this needs to be done.  And I hate that, too.  

She takes a step toward me.  And another one.  No.  No, don’t do that, Adriana.  Don’t soften toward me.  You don’t know what’s coming.  You have no idea the words about to come from my mouth.

“Sweetness,” I start again, stopping her in her tracks.  “I know you want to hear me say I’m sorry.  You want me to say I was out of line and that I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, but I can’t.  I won’t.”  The gasp falling from her lips and the hurt flashing in her eyes nearly buckles my knees, but I force my spine to straighten and tell myself to be strong.  This is for her.  No matter the outcome— this is all for her.   She tries to walk around me and I gently grab her upper arm.  I don’t try to turn her, but I lower my voice.  “Please hear me out before you walk away.”  I hear the pleading, the desperation, in my voice.

“I don’t think I want to hear anything else you have to say, Tucker,” she says, turning back to me.  Her voice is angry, hurt.  I knew it would be, but I thought she would let me explain.  I thought I meant enough that she would let me explain.  “You think because we fucked a few times you know me so well you can tell me how to feel about a man I have loved since I was six years old, a man I still love and always will.”  I flinch at her words and the raising of her voice.  

She just made a classic mistake.  She didn’t tell me to leave.  Had she done that, I would have packed and left.  Instead, she screamed in my face, threw insults at me.  Now she has a fight on her hands because— well, I have a problem controlling my temper.  Is it a problem?  Yeah, it is.  Should I get help for it?  Probably.

“Fucking you,” I throw back at her, “had nothing to do with what I said to you, Adriana.  Hearing you talk to your dead husband in the shower had everything to do with it.”  I spit the words out.  I never meant to tell her I overheard, but I’m hurt that she keeps throwing Alex in my face and I can’t think when I’m hurt.

“Y-You were eavesdropping on me?” she asks incredulously.

Her attitude is pissing me off.  Doesn’t she get it?  Everything I’ve done has been for her.  How the hell is she so Goddamn blind?

“I followed you into the bathroom to tell that if you regretted what happened between us, I would leave.  I didn’t want to be further pain for you.”  Another gasp falls from her lips.  Is that the only sound she knows how to make?  “Hearing you talk to Alex made me realize two things.  One, at night when I thought you were talking to your friends, you were actually talking to him.  And, two, you’ve been enjoying hanging out with me as much as I’ve been enjoying hanging out with you.  Apparently, that scares the shit out of you.  Here’s some news for you— it scares the shit out of me, too.”  My voice is rising now and I can’t help it.  I want to keep my cool, but she gets under my skin.

“So now you know how I feel, too?”  She’s huffing at me, fire burning in her eyes, challenging me.

“Someone has to pay attention and report back and God knows your friends aren’t allowed to.”  Murder flashes in her eyes, but I keep going.  “Jesus, Adriana, you said it yourself, the first time they truly talked about Alex was the night I showed up.  Why weren’t they allowed to mourn him?  Huh?  Oh, that’s right.  Poor Adriana couldn’t handle it.  Couldn’t even handle hearing his name.  So no one else was allowed to mourn or say goodbye either.  They couldn’t say goodbye to the man they loved because you couldn’t.”  I know I’m pushing her hard, making her face emotions she may not be ready to, that may make her hate me, but someone has to get her to finally live again.

“You’re a cruel bastard, Tucker Stavros.  I never said they couldn’t say goodbye to Alex.  I…”

“But, how did you act when they tried talking about him?  How have you been since he died?  I heard what you said to him this morning.  You said you tried not living to be closer to him.  You left your friends here watching you die.  They lost him and they lost you, too.  They were losing you every day.  Wake up, Adriana.  Alex died.  Not you.  You’re still here.  You’re alive.  You’re surrounded by people who love you.  People who want to be involved in your life every day.  Stop pushing them away.” 

“Fuck you.”  Boy, she’s clever when she’s pissed.  She’s going to have to come at me with better than that.

“Fuck me.  Why?  Because you don’t like what I have to say?  Because I make you feel again?  Because I know a secret you can’t tell the people closest to you?  What is it, Adriana?”  She finally looks at me, tears brimming in her eyes, and I get it, I see it.  It hits me like a punch to the gut and as much as I want to let up and simply hold her, I can’t.  I said I was going to be the bad guy no matter the outcome and I need to finish this.  “It’s all of those things, but most of all, it’s because I make you feel like I did last night.  It was me you were feeling last night, Adriana, not Alex.”

I know how this is going to hurt her and using his name is deliberate.  “It’s my name you were screaming, not Alex’s.  It’s my body you were clinging to, not Alex’s.  And it was my dick filling you, stretching you, that made you orgasm and want more this morning.  You still want more.  I can see it in your eyes, Adriana.  Alex can’t put his dick in you anymore.  He can’t fill you, possess every crevice until you feel like you’re being devoured from the inside out.  I can and it’s time you accept that.  Accept that you deserve this.”

I trace my finger along her jaw, feel the shudder that runs through her body.

The scream that barrels from her throat jolts me, stops me dead in my tracks, and I almost don’t catch her as her body goes limp and she drops before me.  Holding her to my chest, I realize she’s more broken than I thought and I may have just shattered her.

What did I do?

“Adriana, I’m so sorry.  I thought I was helping.”  I repeat that over and over as I rock her back and forth.

We stay like this, I don’t know how long, but her cries subside and a chuckle escapes her throat.  Great, I’ve officially made her lose her mind.  Hazel eyes, red rimmed and puffy, peek up at me.  The pain I see in them slays me.  I would give anything to take it away, take back everything I said.  “Don’t apologize, Tucker.”  How can she say that?  She’s a sobbing mess because of me.  Because I pushed too hard.  Her fingers come to my mouth, maybe knowing I’m about to speak, protest her words.  “You were right.  I stopped living.  I wanted to die.  I wanted to be with Alex.  A lot of times, I still do.  Now you know both of my secrets, Tucker.  I have to get ready to go photograph Bridezilla now. So, if you’ll excuse me?”

I can’t move.  I simply stay motionless as she steps out of my arms and walks from the room.  Adriana admitted to me that there are days that she wants to be dead so she can be with a dead man because she loves him that much.  While she was in my arms.  It hurts too much to get up and chase her.  Does she even want me to?

I thought I was helping her.

Did I make things worse?

A tear slips down my face and I make no attempt to wipe it away.  I don’t know if the tear is for my pain or hers.  All I know is there is no shortage of pain going around this morning.

Chapter Fifty One

Adriana

I want to go back downstairs, stand up to Tucker, tell him to mind his own business and stop trying to “help” me.  Who the hell does he think he is anyway?  My hurt from his words quickly turned to anger when I got to my room and saw my red swollen eyes.  I have to photograph a senator’s daughter’s wedding in a few hours and I look a mess.  Damn him for picking now to put me through the emotional wringer.  But, what would I say to him that wouldn’t cause a bigger fight and probably cause a lot more tears?  I don’t have time for that right now.  

Grabbing my clothes and ironing board, I try to distract myself until I hear Tucker close his door down the hall.  Finally.  Feeling like a kid who doesn’t want to be caught, I quietly open my door and tiptoe down the stairs.  In the kitchen, I quickly heat up some water and grab two tea bags, mom’s cure for puffy, cried-out eyes.  Just have to make sure to keep your eyes closed.  I made the mistake once of cracking an eye open a little and it burned like a bitch.  No time to chill them today.  Scurrying back up the stairs, I close myself in my room, get comfy on my bed, and start my ten minutes of eye therapy.

              ***************

Grateful for Alahna waiting for me in the driveway, I don’t feel the need to make any excuses to Tucker.  He’s standing at the island staring me down, those blue eyes piercing through me.  I don’t know if I want to punch him or strip him down and I’m not sure what pisses me off more.

“Be back around 6:30.”  It’s all I can say to him because I have nothing nice to say and I was raised with manners.  Mom would be so proud of me.  I rush out of the house feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

Jumping into the van, I throw my purse onto the floor and slam the door.  It’s unnecessary, but I need to take some of this aggression out on something.  Alahna raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.  She backs out of my driveway and starts going over our checklist.  It’s our typical routine, but I can’t focus.  I’m too amped up to give a shit about the spoiled bitch we have to deal with today.  I let Alahna go through the list, barely hearing what she says, nodding when it seems appropriate.  I want to be helpful, but all I can think of is the things Tucker said to me.   My anger isn’t dissipating; it’s growing the more I think about everything.

“So, we packed a naked David Gandy in our bags?  Is that in case the bride wants to run?”

“Wait, what?”

“I knew you weren’t listening to me,” Alahna says.  “What the hell is going on with you, girl?  You’re in freakin’ la la land over there, muttering under your breath and I swear you’re going to rub a hole through your shirt.  What has you all worked up?”

What has me worked up?  Did she just ask me what has me worked up?  I don’t know why her question infuriates me, but, like a bomb waiting for its trigger, that was mine.

“You want to know what has me worked up? I’ll tell you what has me all worked up.  Tucker fucking Stavros, that son of a bitch.  He walks into my life, makes me start feeling things that I shouldn’t be, gets under my skin.  Then he has the audacity to tell me I’m angry with Alex… me, angry with Alex.  And, he said I wouldn’t let you guys say goodbye to him, that you couldn’t mourn because of me.  He eavesdropped on me talking to Alex.  He had no right to do that.”  The words are leaving my mouth so fast that I’m not paying attention to what I’m saying.  “He told me my problem is that he makes me feel, that I don’t like that he can fill me when Alex can’t anymore.  Can make me want him when Alex can’t.  Who says that kind of thing to someone who has lost their husband?  I let him take me to my and Alex’s bed.  Oh God, to our bed.  And when I woke up with him, I saw his tattoo.  He has 6-25 on his back.  I never asked him what it meant.   6-25, I told him what that date meant to me and he said nothing.  And I never asked him either.  Why, you ask?  I’ll tell you why.  Because he looked so Goddamn gorgeous sitting in my bed looking rumpled and fuckable, I lost all train of thought.  And, I had a towel, a damn towel, wrapped around my head making me look terrible while he looked like a sex god.  I had to run like a scared little girl to my bathroom so I couldn’t ask him, again.  I thought I’d worked up the courage to face him, but Noooooo that wasn’t the case.  I walked out of my bathroom, right smack into a naked Tucker.  Tell me, Alahna, what woman can resist a naked, Tucker, huh?  What woman?  He keeps breaking through my walls and he said nothing.  Then, I hid in my room… hid until you got there today because I didn’t want to face him.  I skipped to the end of Stealing Harper.  You know how that book tortures me, but I can’t stop reading it.  It’s my personal hell, but my own therapy, too.  I needed to read that to take my mind off him for a while.  He just—just– ahhh! I don’t know.  I took him in when he needed to run away from the world and he… he just pisses me off.  I say nothing because I was raised with manners.  Damn my mom and her good manners.  Just once, I want to be the bitch that goes off and screams like a lunatic.”  Throwing my arms around my chest, I slump against the seat with a full pout on my face.

Holy shit.  That felt great.  I haven’t gone off in forever.  Not really.  Not even after Alex died.  I just keep bottling everything up.  I don’t know how my head hasn’t exploded yet.  Turning to peek at Alahna, I’m surprised by the big grin on her face.  What the hell is she smiling about?

“Weeeellll, that was an impressive rant and luckily we have time to touch on all those subjects, but, first things first.  Please tell me that his downstairs is as impressive as the rest of him.”  I don’t even have to ask to know she’s talking about Tucker.  A blush creeps up my neck and into my cheeks.  My rant plays back in my mind.  Shit.  I confessed to sleeping with him.  I nod not able to find the words, embarrassment making me mute.

“Oh, no. No clamming up now.  Details, baby girl.  Is he hung?  How many O’s did he give you?  Does he know how to work it?  Please tell me the fantasies I have of that man are not going to be ruined.”

Jealousy runs rampant, a need to slap my friend coursing through me.  I force my hands under my legs. Alahna shouldn’t have fantasies about Tucker.  She’s married to Preston, my best friend since first grade, Preston.  What would he think of this?  I try to tell myself fantasies are normal, everyone has them and Tucker is a movie star, but it doesn’t help.  He isn’t mine.  
You want him to be.
  No, no— it can’t be. 

“Okay, just tell me how many times you guys did it.”  Jesus Christ, she’s not going to let it go, is she?