Because You Love Me (Falling for You, Book Three)
Read Because You Love Me (Falling for You, Book Three) Online
Authors: Ava Claire
Because You Love Me (Falling For You, Book Three)
Ava Claire
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Copyright © 2015 Ava Claire
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The Falling For You Series
Because You Want Me (Falling For You, Book One)—May 29
Because You Need Me (Falling For You, Book Two)—June 26
Because You Love Me (Falling For You, Book Three)—July 24
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E-book License Edition Notes
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Chapter One: Penny
I
’ve only been rendered speechless three times in my life. The first time was fourth grade, at West Walker Middle School. It took no effort to conjure up memories of disinfectant, the nasty bubblegum flavored fluoride, and sheer terror.
When I tried out for the solo in fourth grade chorus, the opening line of ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’ poured from my lips, unbroken and free. I’d expected to croak since the audition was performed in front of the entire class. When that didn’t happen, I figured,
at least I won’t be picked on for butchering the opening
. I was floored when I saw my name typed on the space beside ‘soloist’ the next day.
I spent every night until the concert practicing. Perfecting. The big night came.
Showtime.
I cowered when I looked out in the sea of faces, many of which I recognized because usually, they held sneers and disgust if they bothered to notice me at all. My chorus teacher, Megan Woods, had hair like a raging inferno and a glare to match. It struck fear into anyone that dared to talk out of turn in her class. She looked over at me, a smile in her green eyes, and gave me the nod. I knew what to sing. The notes swam in my throat, but I didn’t let them go. Sweat dripped down my forehead, but I was too scared to breathe, so wiping my brow was out of the question.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and what came out was my worst nightmare realized. It only lasted ten seconds, but I managed to crack every single note. If the audience wasn’t filled with parents, I knew laughter would have risen as loudly as the rest of the chorus jumping in, putting me out of my misery.
The second time I was speechless was standing beside the lockers at the Red Door Club. The tall, dark haired, perfect male specimen had strolled from my dreams into reality...and he was gazing at me like
I
was the mirage in the desert. Like he’d always dreamt about finding a woman just like me.
After disappointment and heartbreaks; Marshall, my ex, and all of his betrayals still fresh in my mind, I quickly picked up the role that began the minute I let my sister talk me into that ridiculous dress and coat my face in makeup. I pretended I hadn’t been ready to bolt and forced my spine as straight as I could. I looked into that man’s devastatingly green eyes and acted like I could take him or leave him, when all I wanted was to just leap into his arms. The kicker was when I stopped playing the role and was regular, can’t-shut-up-and-be-pretty-Penelope and let him see me, he stuck around.
Number three? I was in the thick of it, watching my boyfriend, my Xander, hug his ex and look at her with the same awe I’d seen when we first met.
The party spun on around us. My sister’s wedding planner, Aga, had lived up to her reputation. Every flower was perfect and fragrant. Every table seemed specially curated. The food melted in my mouth. The drinks were dangerously delicious. The energy was infectious, and with Xander at my side, even the most intolerable relatives were a breeze.
I didn’t know that my big sister had a special treat for me.
I ripped my gaze from Xander and his ex. I finally got to see the jaw-dropping beautiful Jenna with my own eyes. The first woman he ever loved. Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect everything. How could I stack up to that?
All the words I wanted to say were lodged in my throat. My first choice words would have been for my sister. Victoria’s face had been so smug and victorious ten seconds ago when she introduced Jenna. I saw the joy bleeding from her eyes now, her smile a distant memory.
If my world wasn’t collapsing around me, I would have found my sister’s 180 hilarious. Was complete obliviousness a key part of the Robertson’s DNA? How did she see this all playing out in her mind? She’d make her grand reveal and I’d rush to her, arms open wide, filled with gratitude? For someone that had just told her partner how much she loved him, she had a shitty grasp on this whole ‘love’ thing. And then there was me, standing there, mouth agape, like I hadn’t seen all the signs from day one. I met him at a sex club, he offered me thousands of dollars to play pretend, and now I was stunned that he’d been playing me all along?
I turned from Victoria’s blue eyes. I couldn't take the shame that was melting into pity. My other option wasn’t much better—I’d really breakdown if I looked back at Xander and saw guilt. I decided to go with an old standby. I did what I had always done.
I ran.
My sister called my name. The warm baritone of Xander’s voice followed me too, but I didn’t stop. Penny had officially left the building.
I loosened my grip on my tears and they wasted no time racing down my cheeks as I bobbed in and out of smiling guests and exhausted waitstaff. My vision was completely blurred and all the beauty I’d gushed about all day was now a soggy mess. Somehow, I found my way to the lobby and dashed to the curb. Panting, terrified, and not sure what I was afraid of, I started waving my arm like today would be the day that-
My arm froze mid-flail as a cab zipped right to the curb. It had to be a sign. I yanked the door open and dove inside.
The driver smiled at me. The gap between his front two teeth would have been endearing under normal circumstances, but at the present moment, it was just keeping him from the task at hand.
“What a beautiful dress-”
“Penny!”
Xander’s voice was much closer than I was comfortable with.
“Union Square!” I blurted, punching the door lock button, just in case.
The driver glanced past me and I could have kissed him when he didn’t ask any questions. We shot onto the busy downtown street without another word. I wanted to sigh with relief, but there was another action next in the queue. An action that was a terrible idea.
Everything told me not to look back. Nothing good would come from looking back. I even dug my nails into my palm, trying to give myself something else to feel. Anything but regret. Anything but sadness.
I turned around anyway.
Xander was standing in the middle of the street, oblivious to traffic. His crestfallen expression slipped away from me until he was nothing but a speck, and then he was nothing at all.
I slowly wheeled back to the front, slouching against the cracked seat cushion. My phone hummed in the beaded bag strapped to my wrist. It was either my sister or Xander, and I didn’t want to speak to either of them.
I swiped at the tears that stole their way onto my cheeks. “Could you take me to Yerba Buena Gardens instead?”
The taxi driver nodded, flying down the street like a bat out of hell. If catching a cab the old fashioned way was rare, and a smiling driver was downright optimistic, then a ride where I wasn't gripping something, anything, because I was in fear of my life, was impossible.
But all kinds of impossible things were happening. I wasn't squeezing my eyes shut, praying I arrived at my destination in one piece. I squeezed them shut because I didn't want to catch my reflection by accident. I thought I'd come so far, that I wasn't that fearful little girl, so terrified to speak up. I thought I was okay with just being Penny. After all, I was the strong woman who sat my parents down and told them I wouldn't be going to an Ivy League school because I'd picked a women's college with an awesome teaching program on the other side of the country. I was the woman who graduated with a 4.0 with the next phase of my life, teaching, ready to go. I was the woman who camped out in the principal's office during my lunch and after school until I finally caught him sneaking in one afternoon. The woman who demanded answers for why he was cutting special education development from the budget. I was the capable, kick ass woman I saw reflected in Xander's eyes...
A tear splashed onto my cheek. I couldn't get a hold on my emotions. That's why I couldn't stay at the reception for one more minute. I'd breakdown, body shuddering sobs and all, and that's what everyone would remember: Penelope Robertson, wailing and ruining her sister's otherwise perfect wedding.
I sucked in a breath and raised my chin, just in time to come eye-to-eye with the driver. Everything in me seemed to stand on edge. I could do what needed to be done, find the confidence to hold my own when the situation called for it (usually), but looking a complete stranger in the eye? That was another story. But this man had a soulful gaze. It didn't pin me in place. It didn't judge.
"I'm Tommen." His voice was smoky and rich, as deep as his dark complexion. "My friends call me Tom."
I chewed on my nail, only briefly tempted to do the dismissive 'Nice to meet you!'. "I'm Penny."
His smile broadened. "What a beautiful name-"
"For a beautiful girl?" I finished, sarcasm dripping from every word.
"I was going to say, for a beautiful woman," he finished with a peevish smile. There was no flirtatiousness in his words. He wasn't expecting me to blush and accept the compliment. He was just being genuine.
I dropped my eyes immediately, picking at the beads that adorned my bag. "It's just the dress, I'm sure. I'm not usually this glamorous."
His laugh filled the cab like the perfect song coming on Pandora, just when you needed it. "It has nothing to do with your dress, though it is lovely. Your beauty is in your tears."
I reflexively wiped my cheeks. I flicked my eyes back to the man, expecting to see some glimmer of a joke in his brown eyes. "What?"
The smile dimmed on his lips, but I saw the warmth radiating in every line and wrinkle on his face. "Anyone can take pain and snuff it out. Distract themselves from it. Rise above it. But many people are too afraid to cry. Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that crying is weakness. But it takes strength to let it go. To be vulnerable." He glanced at me in the mirror, his expression solemn. "I'm not happy that you're sad, but I feel honored that you've shared your tears with me."
I opened my mouth and shut it as he pulled to the curb. I peered out the window and saw the museum and signs pointing toward the gardens. I pulled out my fare and pressed it into his hand.
He glanced at the money, his eyes widening. "This is too much-"
I slipped out of the car before he tried to pass any of it back to me. "Thank you, Tom."
I teetered my way toward the grass, Tom’s words echoing in my ears. Strength to let go. Powerful words, but I didn’t feel very strong. I felt weak. I felt alone. I thought what Xander and I were building was real. I thought I’d finally found my person. Could I have been wrong?
I leaned on a bench to pull off my heels, not ready for the answer to that question. I closed my eyes and inhaled deep as I planted my feet on the cement. When I opened them, I didn't care that everyone else but me was dressed for a day on the grass. They were lounging on blankets, nose in books, and eyes on their phone screens. A few of them even perked their eyes in my direction. I ignored the looks, sinking my toes into the grass. I found a shady spot beneath a tree and staked my claim. The corset made lowering myself to the ground an awkward process, but I did it slow and quite ungracefully. Finally down to my knees, I leaned back and focused my eyes on the sky.
Watching the clouds drift in and out of the branches, I sighed and whispered, “Strength to let go” and let the tears come.
“H
ey mister! You can’t stand in the middle of the street!”
On one hand, I knew that admonishment was meant for me. I felt the warmth of the sun battling it out with the chilly breeze that tossed my tie over my shoulder and rattled my bones. My teeth were on edge with every new horn blast that blared in my direction, or string of expletives that irritated cabbies hurled out the window as they swerved around me.
On the other hand, I was in some state of shock. Frozen. Sure his words were meant for someone else. I wasn’t ‘mister’. I was Xander Wade, one of the most powerful men in the city. Hell, during the reception, half the men clamoring for a minute of my time would have gladly thrown in their wife to seal the deal. Yet standing in the middle of the street, watching Penny’s cab fade into the traffic, I didn’t feel very powerful. I felt like I’d been, we’d been, chugging along, headed somewhere spectacular when a runaway train slammed into us.
