Come Together (14 page)

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Authors: Jessica Hawkins

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Adult, #contemporary erotica, #contemporary romance series, #debut, #romance series, #complete series, #50 shades, #Fiction, #Romance, #new authors, #Series, #Erotica, #New Adult, #Drama, #Contemporary Romance, #third in the series

BOOK: Come Together
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“Um, earth to Olivia.”

“Sorry,” I murmured against his lips.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” I said. “I’m here.”

“Are you sure?”

I had promised to try not to hide anything from him, and I didn’t want to. But the moment was perfect right then as the sun disappeared behind the buildings around us. I didn’t want it to end. I smiled and touched his cheek. “I had the best time too. I’m good.”

He pulled me from the wall, and we continued on to the apartment. When we’d arrived and were boarding the elevator, he cursed to himself.

My heart leaped. “What?”

“I just realized something that pisses me off,” he said as he swiped his card to the penthouse.

“What?” I asked again, but in a whisper. I wrung my fingers together, unsure of how much more I could handle.

He jutted his chin at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re pissed?”

He laughed and kissed me between the brows. “Honeybee,” he said softly, “I’m not going anywhere. Quit bracing yourself for bad news.”

My shoulders slackened slightly as the elevator slowed. We exited, and he unlocked the door to the apartment.

“Well?” I asked impatiently as I tailed him to the bedroom.

“Oh. I’ve never taken you out on a proper date. You know, picked you up, driven you to dinner. Kissed you on the doorstep.”

I laughed on an exhale as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the closet hamper.

“Due to the nature of our relationship,” he continued, “I’ve skipped over the entire courting process. So we’ll have to make up for that. Olivia Germaine, would you let me take you out tomorrow night? Anywhere you like.”

“Surprise me,” I said, scrunching my nose at him. “Also, is walking around shirtless something you do often? It makes it hard to concentrate.”

“I’m thinking no shirts allowed would make a good rule.”

I reached out and wrapped myself around his warm skin, careful not to touch the darkening bruise near his abs.

“I hate this,” he sighed, ghosting a hand over my bicep. “I hate that he got to you before I did. Did I hurt you last night?”

“No,” I replied, thinking that he’d handled me perfectly the whole night. “Your dad was pretty upset though.”

“Where do you think I got my temper?” he asked. I tilted my head back to look up at him. “He sits on a few boards, one of which focuses on domestic violence.”

“He’s scary,” I said. “Like you.”

He laughed just as my cell phone rang. I rolled my eyes and tried to pull away.

“Ignore it,” he said, kissing my forehead.

I wanted to, but I knew I couldn’t; not with all the things going on in my life. I detangled myself from his arms.

“Who even has your new number?” he asked.

“Just Gretchen, my dad and Bill.”

“Bill?” he asked as I rummaged through my bag.

“I e-mailed it to him.”

“Why?” he asked irritably.

“Like it or not, we’re going to have to be in touch.” I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Olivia?” My mother’s panicked voice came through the line, and I paled instantly.

“Mom? What’s wrong?” I felt behind me to sit at the edge of the bed.

“What’s going on?” she cried. My heart sank when I realized from her hysterical voice that she’d been drinking.

“Please calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, young lady. I just spoke to Bill, and I just, I just don’t believe it. Tell me he’s mistaken.”

“Mom, please, it’s very complicated – ”

She gasped. “So it
is
true? You cheated on him?”

David crouched at my feet, and my eyes slid to his. He held my knees, and I put my free hand over one of his.

“Yes,” I said, holding David’s gaze. “It’s true.”

“How could you?” she screeched, and I snapped the phone away from my cheek. “I raised you to be a lady, not a slut!”

David’s hand squeezed around my leg.

“It’s not like that,” I said, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “Things with David are serious.”

“That’s outrageous. How can you be with another man when you love Bill?”

David wiped away my tear before I realized it was there.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I know this is hard for you to hear.”

“It’s just nonsense. You stop this immediately, and go take care of your poor husband. That poor, poor man.”

“Mom, I want to be with him.”

“With who?”

“With David!” I exclaimed.

“How could you cheat after you saw what I went through?”

“Dad didn’t even cheat on you!” I cried. “It’s in your head!”

“This is all his fault. Your father did this, always pampering you. He spoiled you, and now you only know how to be selfish.”

“There’s another side you haven’t heard,” I said as more tears escaped.

“You’re selfish,” she slurred as if she hadn’t heard me, “and you’re going to ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Running off with some letch who can’t keep his hands off a married woman.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Oh, Bill told me everything. Bill deserves better than this. He deserves better than you.”

I choked back a sob. “How can you say that? You’re my mother!”

“Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed. I’m horrified that after everything I went through, you could turn around and do that to a husband who’s always been there for you. You’ve not only hurt Bill, but you’ve hurt me too. Just like your father, never cared about anyone else. I don’t want to speak to you again until you’ve worked things out with your husband.”

“But, Mom, I’m not – ” I pulled the phone away and stared down at it. “She hung up on me.” I didn’t cry over my mother; it was just something I didn’t do anymore. So I was confused when I set the phone down, put my face in my hands and burst into tears. The bed dipped with David’s weight and he lifted me onto his lap, where he rocked me back and forth, whispering comforting words in my hair.

“My mom . . . doesn’t . . . love . . . me,” I sobbed.

“Oh, baby,” he said, clutching me to him.

I looked up at him suddenly and searched his eyes. “This will get better, won’t it?” I asked. “Easier?”

“Yes.” He paused, stroking my hair. “But until it does, you have me. Let me have some of the hurt.”

I nodded and nuzzled into his chest again, taking a deep whiff through a runny nose. When I imagined Bill calling and telling her everything, explaining my selfishness, I cried harder.

“Hey,” David said softly, separating us by my shoulders to look at me. “We’ll not only make it through this, but we’ll come out better for it. We have something strong, baby. Stronger than all the bullshit.”

Do we?
I wondered.
Can love alone overcome everyone and everything – even ourselves?
“I hope so,” I murmured, wiping the wetness of my tears from his bare chest. The words ‘slut’ and ‘letch’ rang through my ears, a perfect pair. But the blows were softened by the man who held me. Though I wanted nothing more than to stay there, he picked me up off his lap and disappeared into the bathroom.

Oh, what a mess I’ve made. Bill is heartbroken and blindsided. I’ve lost friends, and now maybe even family. And what will my dad say when I see him next weekend? Why have I done this? What have I done? Is it worth it?

I looked up at a noise. David was leaning in the doorway looking concerned as he watched me in only his underwear.
He’s worth it.
For him, I would give up everything
. My body tensed at the unbidden thought. I had this strange feeling that he meant more to me than anything ever had, even though we’d known each other for such a short time. If I hadn’t known before, I knew now: I was desperately in love. It was a kind of love I didn’t recognize, a kind of love I’d fended off my whole life. As I stared at him, this man who filled the doorway, I felt . . . cold, stark fear in my gut.

He walked over and pulled me off the bed. He kneeled in front of me, and I gripped his shoulders as, one at a time, he lifted my feet to remove my tennis shoes and socks. Next, he pulled down my pants, taking my underwear with them. He rose, and I lifted my arms so he could pull my t-shirt over my head and unfasten my bra.

“Step,” he said, and I did, leaving the pile behind. He guided me into the bathroom by a hand on my back.

The bath was luminous, with overflowing bubbles and soft candlelight. The thought of David owning, dusting off and lighting candles for me made me smile.

“I’ll be back, but you get in,” he instructed.

I did as he said, easing in one limb at a time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a bath, and I’d forgotten how healing it could be. I sank down slowly and let the bubbles swallow me. I heard, rather than saw, David return.

“Last thing,” he said, waving a bottle of red wine. I sat up and watched as he poured it into a glass, handed it to me and walked away.

“You’re not getting in?” I asked, sniffling back a rogue tear.

He turned. “I haven’t kept my hands off you since the moment you got here. You need some time alone.”

“I need you.”

“I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“Please?” I asked.

He shifted on his feet. I was beginning to notice that he was prone to do so when he was fighting himself.

I gave him my best, most exaggerated pout, preying on the indecision in his eyes. “Please,” I whispered.

He nodded and pulled down his underwear. My pout vanished instantly and was replaced with a smile.

“Like what you see?” he teased.

I splashed him, laughing as he, in one quick movement, submerged himself in the water across from me. His long legs hit the back of the tub behind me, and he broke down the bubbles between us. His hands found my ankles, and he circled them in his fists before running his palms along my calves.

“I don’t even know your mom’s name,” he said.

“Leanore.”

“She still drinks, I gather.”

“I don’t know how often. We don’t talk much. Last time I brought it up, she got angry and said she wasn’t an alcoholic because she only drinks when she’s stressed.”

David sat forward and placed his hands on the outsides of my thighs. His gaze narrowed, and I knew what was coming. I’d heard it before, mostly from Bill. Lectures on how I needed to be there for my mom, to help her through the hard times. How she deserved more from me because she was my mother, and family was always first.

“Olivia,” he started sternly. “I’m sorry that she called you a slut.”

I nodded. “Heard that, did you?”

“It’s not true.”

I shifted against the back of the tub and looked down into the bubbles. “I know.”

“Look at me.”

I met his gaze, and his grip tightened on my legs. “What you did – what we did – does not make you a slut.” He took a tentative breath. “Does she call you names often?”

I shook my head. “She’s more of the passive aggressive, cold-shoulder type when she’s sober.”

“I see,” he said. “That’s not necessarily better.”

I shrugged. “I’m tougher for it.”

“You keep people out. Because of her.”

I looked away, my mind blanking.
I keep people out?
“You think I’m cold.”

“Cold? Baby, no. Why would you say that?” He flattened his hand on my chest and said, “You’re warm. So warm that you make me warm. I can see you’re hurting from all the things you carry inside.”

I put my hand over his and squeezed. “Bill thinks I’m cold.”

“He doesn’t know shit. But it doesn’t matter anymore what he thinks. What I think is that you take it all in, and you keep it there. You have to let it out at some point. You can’t shut down with me like you did with him.”

“I won’t hide,” I whispered.

“Don’t tell me what I want to hear. You will hide, and I will continue to find you. But you have to promise to try. You trust what we’re doing here, don’t you?”

I bit my lip. “It won’t happen overnight, but I’m taking small steps every day. And yes, I’m terrified of this, but there’s no one else I would take those steps for. No one at all.”

His answering smile was goofy but proud, for which one of us I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care, because he looked happy in that moment. All because I said I would try to open up – and when a smile like that was my reward, it made me want to.

I inhaled a steady breath and closed my eyes. “
I didn’t really understand how bad things were between my parents until the last year that we all lived together. Dad told me later that I usually slept through their big, blowout fights.”

I leaned my head back against the tub and kept my eyes closed as David massaged my ankles. “She didn’t drink often, but it became more frequent that year. One particular night, Dad was really late and he hadn’t called. He’d stopped allowing alcohol in the house, but I guess she had some secret stash because before long, she was drunk.

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