Bent not Broken (294 page)

“I've had too much to drink,” I blurt out. “This is the first time I've been out, and...I was just having fun but started feeling lonely, and I had too much to drink.” So, about one-third of that statement is true. I had only had one glass of wine, and I did not feel lonely. I can't tell him that though. Best he think I'm inebriated and missing my husband rather than know the truth of the matter—I want him for my very own.

He pulls his hands down over his face and massages it for a second. Blowing out a deep breath and intoxicating me with his essence a little bit more, he insists, “Yeah, and pig that I am, I took advantage of all that.”

“You're not a pig. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t be any further from that if you tried,” I protest. “And, to be honest, I really needed to be kissed. So...thank you.” Did I really just thank him for kissing me?
I. AM. SO. PATHETIC!

He scrunches his face up a little bit. “So, we're good then. No, uh, awkwardness?” He asks me with a look of disbelief crossing his features.

“Of course. I'm not one of your simpering groupies. I promise not to stalk you and demand any more kisses,” I joke. None of what I said sounds funny, though, so we just kind of stare at each other for a couple of awkward beats.

His hand comes up and the look on his face tells me he's going to console me or something. I pull back a little. I can’t let him feel sorry for me after that. Not to mention, if he touches me again, I may actually beg him to never stop. He lets his hand drop before putting them both in his pockets and rocking back on his heels a little. When he does this, he, unfortunately for me, draws attention to his nicely toned pecs. “You ready to come back inside then?”

“Umm...I just need another minute. I'll be right in, OK?” I give him a small, albeit shaky, smile.

“OK,” he agrees. He makes his way back to the door before turning back to tell me, “See ya inside.”

“Yep,” I lie. The second the door snaps closed, I yank out my cell phone and fire off a text to Bonnie and Farah telling them that I got a cab and would talk to them tomorrow.

There's no way in hell I could go back in there, and I punctuate that thought by hitting my lock button. I snicker—a lock button—if only it were that easy for me.

Two

This Isn’t Going to be Awkward at All

I WAKE UP to the sound of a lawnmower. I'm typically an early-to-rise person—with three rambunctious boys usually running around, waking up early is the only way to get any quiet time. And as amazing as my boys are, oh, how I love my quiet time. Sounds like I won't be getting any of that this morning.

I laugh as I recall my and Adrian’s argument over my yard. I’d always taken care of it because I was extremely particular about how it was done. When I became a single parent, I’d mentioned to Adrian that I needed to hire someone to manage it, which made me cringe when I thought about how they would surely butcher my wildflowers and the fragile plants that were in need of some extra TLC. He said that he’d be happy to do it. I insisted that he didn’t have time for that. Adrian argued that I was OCD when it came to my yard and he knew how I liked it and that that was that. He’d been taking care of it ever since.

He's not supposed to mow my grass until next Saturday. I know this because I know every single solitary detail of his schedule. I've memorized it over the last year and a half although it wasn't really that hard to do considering a great deal of his schedule revolves around my sons.

Since my husband passed away, Adrian has become a fixture in my boys' lives much to the chagrin of my husband's parents and brothers. You see, Adrian had the misfortune of being born to the middle son—the one who clamored to be noticed and appreciated. Most of the time, the notice Adrian’s father had garnered was embarrassing, of course, and the family had cut all ties to him. Unfortunately, the sins of the father had trickled down to include Adrian, but I’d never seen any proof of his supposed black sheep reputation.

But none of this matters to me because Adrian has been an absolute angel to my boys. No one, on either side of our families, has stepped up the way he has. Never once have I had to ask him to do anything for us or with us. He integrated himself into our lives seamlessly and without any prompting or invitation.

At first, it worried me a little. I knew his reputation wasn’t that far from his father’s. I didn't want the boys to get too attached to him just to have him drop out of their lives when something better came along or when he decided to start his own family. It became quickly apparent, however, that he had no intention of letting my boys know what life without him would be like. I was impressed, which is also why I completely suck. By attacking him, I've probably ruined one of the best things that has ever happened to us.

Since my muscles are screaming at me from all the dancing I did before my humiliating faux pas, I gingerly roll myself out of bed and stretch. How in the world am I going to look him in the eye this morning? Why is he even here? It would be different if the kids were here to act as a buffer, but they are at the family compound this weekend.

I go over to the vanity and yank my toothbrush from the holder as I stare myself down in the mirror. What was I thinking? I shake my head and watch my unkempt black hair cascade around my shoulders. I'll deal with that mess in a second.

I shove the toothbrush into my mouth and start scrubbing vigorously. Squinting my eyes at my dreadful reflection, I level with myself. Thinking I would fulfill the only real desire I've ever felt and kiss the only man I've ever truly been attracted to, I threw myself at Adrian. My husband was attractive and I loved him, but we'd grown up together, and he was more my best friend than anything else. This was different. I wanted Adrian with every fiber of my being and had since I'd first met him a few years back. I was so ashamed at the way my body reacted to him back then, but I’d quickly realized that I had no control over the physical pull I felt toward him. However, I could try to control my actions and thoughts; and I had been so very good at it too.

I roll my eyes at myself. I blew that last night, though. It was that damn outfit that Bonnie and Farah convinced me to buy and wear for my first night out. I thought back to the fitted, collared halter-top and scary-short short shorts. I'd paired that outfit with some tall espadrilles, and I'd felt incredibly sexy. I never felt sexy. I felt cute sometimes, other times even pretty, and usually stylish. But never in my thirty-seven years had I felt sexy. I thought about how I saw myself in the mirror before I left last night. I had left my raven hair down and in soft waves that fell about midway down my exposed back. I'd made my dark brown eyes extra smoky—something I'd only experimented with in the privacy of my own boudoir but never had the guts to leave home wearing. My dark skin contrasted quite nicely with the all white outfit and gold bangles and hoop earrings. Yeah, I'd been asking for trouble.

It'd felt so good to be dressed up and shirk my responsibilities for the night. That's what it was—I wanted him and I had felt sexy and free—a lethal combination. Yep, that's all it was. I was acting purely on physicality last night.

OK. Now that I know how I'd allowed myself to veer terribly off course, how do I go about explaining that to Adrian? That admission would be mortifying. Although, I'm pretty sure how I feel about him physically is no longer a mystery after those two kisses last night. I take a deep breath and push it out forcefully. He'd have to be utterly oblivious to not have realized how my body responded to his last night.
Why, oh why, does he have to be off limits?
I ask myself for about the thousandth time.

That's good. I roughly run the brush through my hair. Just admit that you’re physically attracted to him and that it can go nowhere and that you're sorry you're such a floozy and that you will control yourself from now on.

I give myself a bright smile, toss on my glasses, and grab my fluffy white robe that will cover my silky pajamas.
Here goes nothin'.

****

I STEP OUT onto my back deck and immediately see him heading away from me with the push mower. He towers over it so he has to hunch himself over to maneuver it. Of course, his hair is saturated with his sweat, making it look almost black. At only eight in the morning, a sweltering heat is already upon us. Usually, Adrian takes his shirt off when he is working outside, but he's left it on today. I can't help but wonder if he's protecting his virtue around me.
Great!
His camel brown shirt is not too far away from being as wet as his hair. I watch as his back muscles extend and stretch as he works. Who knew mowing grass could be so hot?

When he nears the fence, he turns to head back toward the house. As he turns, his gaze meets mine and he gives me a glorious smile. I let out a deep sigh. With my heart beating in my throat, I return it with one of my own. We can do this. We can get through this.

He kills the mower right then and there and starts making his way toward me. I watch as the boys’ dog, Shaggy, enthusiastically greets him by jumping on his leg and trying to lick him in the face. Adrian rubs him down and coos at him for a minute, simultaneously delaying my curiosity and prolonging my pain. I’m loath to have this conversation, but I’m also dying to get it over with.

I swallow hard and move toward the patio table. This is good. This is our ritual. Every other Saturday, Adrian brings us coffee, and we sit and enjoy it while he takes a break. This is, however, our first time since I attacked him. I cringe and not just a little.

“Mornin'.” His liquid voice exudes the word. He has that accent that I find incredibly attractive—that delicious mix of southern and Creole.

“Good morning,” I reply. My own voice sounds raspy. I try to clear my throat quietly.

I sit down and motion for him to join me. As I reach to hand him his iced coffee, his hand darts out and our hands come to rest on the cup at the same time. My hand is under his so I can't jerk it away like I want when I feel the little jolt of energy bolt its way through me. This is bad. Very bad. I'd always had that forcibly dormant attraction to him, but now that I've tasted him and felt him, I doubt my ability to force it into a state of lifelessness again.

Ever so slowly Adrian's eyes work their way up my hand, my arm, my neck until his eyes meet mine, practically leaving the path to my face a smoldering cinder. Finally, he slowly removes his hand, releasing me. His next words seem to have to punch their way out of him. “This is why I'm here. We need to talk.”

I nod my head and agree, “You're right. We do need to talk. I'm so embarrassed about last night. I—”

He quickly cuts me off. “I need to explain something to you,” he says and shifts in his chair minutely. “Something I think you are aware of now, at least partially. I don't want us to be embarrassed by it. It is what it is. And we can either let it ruin us or let it make us stronger. I vote for stronger because I can't imagine my life without you or the boys.”

A vice tightens around my heart and my eyes fill with tears. I vote for stronger too, but can I be stronger? I look down and arrange myself in my chair. He's giving me a moment to collect myself. After a minute, I look over at him and murmur, “I don't want to ruin us either.”

“Good,” he replies immediately. “I think you figured out last night that I'm attracted to you. As in really attracted to you.” My mind starts to race.
He's attracted to me? Really attracted? And since when?
He seems to read my mind because he starts answering all my questions, even ones that haven't fully formed. “I have been since the first time we met. I was relieved beyond belief that you never seemed to clue in to that. I kinda consider myself a great actor now,” he brags with a chuckle. I love the way the skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles. “Three years of pretending that I didn't want you...it nearly killed me.” His profession nearly kills
me
. “Last night, when you reached out, I shouldn't have kissed you back. It was wrong of me and I'm sorry. I think you're attracted to me too, but I also think that we'd be crazy to act on it any more than we already have. My family...well, our family, would make things...umm...difficult, to say the least, if they ever found out. I just can't risk that. I can't risk losing y’all.”

Three years I've known him. I've never heard him say so much at one time, especially unsolicited. Suddenly realizing my mouth is agape, I snap it shut. I don't know how long I am entranced, but entranced I am. I shake my head a little to clear my stupor. “Adrian—” I begin.

He cuts me off again. “Celeste, I'm begging you not to kick me out of your lives. I’m not too proud where y’all are concerned because I don't know what I'd do without you. Can you forgive me? Forget about last night?”

“I don't think I can forget, Adrian,” I tell him honestly.

Blowing out a breath, he sits back and folds his arms behind his head. “I was afraid of that. Do you need time apart from me? I'll do whatever you want. I just don't want it to be permanent.”

I consider exactly how truthful I should be with him. He was so truthful with me. I owe him that much, don't I? “Adrian, I don't need time apart. You're my friend and you're amazing with the boys. They love you. I would never deny them your presence. I just...I just need us to get back to normal as quickly as possible. I...I am attracted to you. I have been for a while. But that's all it is—a physical attraction.” On these words, I see his eyes narrow ever so slightly. I turn my head quickly and vow, “But I promise to control myself.” I allow my eyes to find his again. “I don't want to lose you either.”

He studies me for a minute. Just as I find myself about to squirm under his intense gaze, he releases me. “OK, Celeste, that settles that. Back to normal. We'll both behave. This physical thing between us will pass. No harm, no foul. Right?”

“Right,” I say with a smile.

Standing up, he turns to go back to his mowing, but then he spins around and comes back to tower over me. My head flies up, my gaze searching. I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong, but he beats me once again.