Crazy Love (21 page)

“Things could be a lot worse, Sam. Everyone
wanted
to claim you. I never knew my father. I don’t remember him at all. He paid his child support, but never even tried to see me. My “mother”… well…” she scoffed, and the way her delicate features twisted for a moment chilled my blood. “She’s probably the single most selfish human being on the planet. I practically raised my brother and sister all by myself. I could have ended up on a milk carton or knocked up and calling the cops from the trailer park every Saturday night. There were times when I was headed in that direction. But I chose to use my childhood as a template for what
not
to do. As it is, I ditched my sister and brother to save myself.”

My stomach fell as I listened to her. More tragic than her country ballad-style childhood was the frank way she laid it all out on the table. Her voice trembled slightly when she brought up leaving her siblings, but otherwise, she held herself proudly and without apology, chin up and shoulders back. I wanted to borrow her strength, her self-assurance. I was envious of these qualities and wished I could tap into them. And more than that, I felt the driving urge to unburden her so she never needed them for herself again.

“You’re so courageous, Annabelle.”

She sighed and turned back to her beer at my words, but I leaned forward and gently tilted her chin so that we were facing one another again. “It’s the truth. Learn to take a compliment.”

“I’m not courageous. I did what I had to do to survive.” She sounded wispy and a bit breathless. Her skin practically hummed under my fingers and those amazing eyes of hers had a glassy, heavy quality that made me want to pay the check and take her home.

I was unable to stop myself as I stroked her cheek with my thumb. “Is there a difference?”

She turned away, focusing her attention on her food. I nearly cackled out loud when she shoved a napkin in her cleavage as a makeshift bib to protect her gown. Watching her dig enthusiastically into the bar food reignited my appetite. We mowed down on wings for a couple of minutes in complete silence. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence, unlike any experience I’d ever had with another human being. I rarely feel compelled to fill quiet with words, but most people seem to have a compulsion to do so. My motto? Only say something if you have something to add, not just to hear yourself talk. Annie seemed to lean toward my way of thinking.

Eventually, she turned to me again, her brows knitted in contemplation. “Have you ever heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?”

“Sure. In Sociology and Psych 101. Dealing with base needs like breathing, food, and shelter before you can worry about loftier needs like self-esteem and morality.”

“Right. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get a handle on the lower rungs of the pyramid. Some might call that a disadvantage, but I think it’s given me a deeper appreciation for what little I do have because of it.”

“I follow you. I have rich white boy problems.” I chuckled a bit in a self-depreciating way, and her lips twitched as if concealing amusement. She bit her lip which was wildly arousing and continued.

“I believe that life is one-fourth genetic, one-fourth luck, one-fourth willpower, and one-fourth focus.” She stated, her conviction unwavering. “Being out of balance can completely screw up your equilibrium. I guess sometimes you have to overcompensate in the last two categories to keep your life on course while it’s careening down the side of the mountain.”

I nodded, rolling her philosophy around in my head and trying it on to see how it fit. She pulled the napkin from her cleavage and wiped her hands with it.

“Alright. You’ve got me sold. I think you missed your calling. You should have gone into business, Annabelle.”

“You’re an easy sell, Sam,” she teased, and I was about to put my arm around her when the front door swung open and no less than twenty people shouted Trip’s name in unison. Trip gave the room a halfhearted wave and took a seat at the bar accepting a high five offered by the bartender.

Five months sober or not, Trip still defaulted to his second bar rule. I let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck.”

“Shit.” Annie was out of her seat and at his side in a New York minute. I followed and quickly took the stool next to him in time to hear her ask, “What are you doing here, Trip?”

“Hey…” It was evident we were the last people he expected to see. His color was high, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Why don’t we find someplace else to be?” Annie suggested. If there were any doubt in my mind that I was smitten with her, she abolished it with this one easy sentence. With the exception of Violet, Annie was the first woman who’d held my interest for more than a couple of hours. One might argue that I’d been hanging around the wrong women and likely be correct. But I was beginning to make peace with the fact that happenstance and fate factor largely in my life. I’m far from religious, but I couldn’t help but feel like I’d been sequestered by forces beyond myself until this moment in order to fully appreciate Annabelle’s uniqueness.

“I’m pretty sure I belong right here. I appreciate your concern, Angel.” His self-depreciating smile felt hollow.

“Come on, Trip. Tonight isn’t worth blowing five months over. Let’s get out of here.” I rocked my shoulder into his. He glanced at me doubtfully.

“I should have told you right away. That night.”

I shook my head at him. My words were firm. “It’s done. Let it go.”

“Here’s your coffee, Trip. Sure you don’t want a little Irish in it?” The bartender asked, handing him a to-go cup. Annie’s surprised expression mirrored my own.

“I’m sure. Keep the change, Paul,” he replied and stood, lifting his cup to his lips.

“Well. I feel like an asshole.” Annie put a hand on her hip, and her relieved smile lit up the hazy bar.

“Don’t.
I
would have assumed I was ordering a double.” Trip replied. “The limo is waiting for me out front. Are you ready to go home or…” Trip’s unanswered question hung above the three of us like a cloud. Her eyes flicked to me and back to Trip. He seemed to ask ‘are we continuing this charade, or can we call it a day?’

“Sam knows.”

Trip nodded. “Good. I’ve kept enough secrets from him to last a fucking lifetime.”

“You go on ahead. I’m gonna drive him home.” She made a point of not looking at me when she said this. I exchanged a long pointed look with my brother.

“Alright.” Though Trip didn’t smile, that one word of his was loaded with amusement.

The bright morning sun seared through my closed lids. When I lifted my head from the pillow, the pain was overwhelming, like someone sticking icepicks into my brain. I rolled over with a groan and covered my head with the other pillow that smelled exactly like Anabelle. I groaned even louder as the details of the night crashed around me like marching band cymbals dropped from the ceiling.

Once we got back to my car, she took my keys and climbed behind the wheel. She informed me we were going to her place. She claimed she’d decided I shouldn’t be alone and I wasn’t about to argue with her. When we arrived at her apartment, we could hear the familiar sound of Jayse once we entered the building.

“Shit. I thought he was spending the night at the hotel. Maybe we should go to your place.” Annabelle frowned as we ascended the stairs.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Jayse is cool,” I murmured. Frown lines marred her perfectly sculpted face as she unlocked the door, and we stepped into a chorus of male voices shouting “Annie!” Dale and four additional members of Noteable were sitting around the kitchen table doing shots. After no less than six attempts to refuse, I was coerced into drinking two shots of Hot Damn and two shots of Absolut Citron. By the time Annie dragged me away into her bedroom, I was stumbling.

“Unzip me.” She demanded and I grinned like a fool as I helped her out of her gown. To my surprise, she
was
wearing a bra underneath, but I couldn’t understand what the purpose of it was based on the tiny amount of material it contained. Matching black panties (the kind you could see through, praise God) were the only other things standing between me and her naked body. And for some baffling reason, it freaked me out a little.

Before I knew what was happening, her hands were in my hair, and her lips locked on mine. The ferocity of her kisses left me struggling to breathe. This wasn’t at all how I pictured our first kiss, and believe me, I
had
pictured it many times. I wanted to take my time…to savor the taste of her. As it was, her teeth clanked against mine and I thought I tasted my own blood.

She’d pushed me back on the bed and flipped off the lights. Then she was on me again, straddling me and grinding against me. I pulled away from her lips gasping for breath and her bra hit me in the face. I snatched it off and tossed it aside, and her hands went straight to my fly, tugging on my pants. Seconds later she had the zipper down, and my pants around my ankles. Her aggressiveness was hot, but more than a bit disturbing. The little blood left in my brain sounded warning sirens. Something was off here, and I needed to slam on the brakes.

“Stop, wait…hold up,” I murmured, finally fisting her hair to pull my tongue free of her vice-like mouth. By the light of the streetlamp outside her window, I could see concern on her face.

“What’s the problem?” Sounding slightly out of breath, her voice was hushed and anxious. “Oh. Don’t worry. I’ve got condoms.”

“No. That’s not it. I’m…I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I stammered, fumbling in my drunken state to articulate my reluctance. “I mean, it’s a great fucking idea…but...”

“But what, Sam?” Annie climbed off of me and pulled a pillow to her chest to cover her perfect bare breast. The fifteen year old boy in me was kicking and screaming, but a man had to listen to his instincts. Mine said this was too good to be true. Too much too fast. Tonight was not the night.

“Annabelle…” I slurred, “I like you.”

“But…” She drew the word out sarcastically, and it was obvious she was furious.

“But I would kind of like to slow down a bit, if it’s all the same to you.” She jumped up off the bed and yanked open the dresser. I pulled myself up on my elbows and watched her toss on a big t-shirt and boxers. Somehow she looked even sexier like that, and I wanted to tell her it was all a joke. The gentleman in me, killjoy that he was, wouldn’t allow it.

“I’m sorry.” I said lamely, preparing to launch into an explanation that I hadn’t even fully thought through.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she snapped and zipped out of the door. I lay awake a while longer, trying to decide if I should go to her and if I did what I would say to her. I tried to work out why I’d backpedalled, but I was far too drunk and too tired to stay awake long enough for that.

So by the light of day, I wracked my dehydrated brain for something to say to her. Every option sounded lame and decidedly un-masculine. Then the reality of my life-altering discoveries from the night before crept back into the forefront of my mind, and I knew I had other issues that needed my attention.

Finally, I found the constitution to drag myself out of the bed and stumbled into the living room. Jayse and Dale sat on the couch drinking coffee and wearing mud masks that made them look like Jim Carrey. On the television, Faye Dunaway was doing her best Joan Crawford impersonation, shouting at Tina to not use wire hangers. Gaping in greenface, the two men seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see them.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Jayse drawled. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Where’s Annabelle?” I managed, as my eyes shot around the room.

“It’s Sunday. I imagine she’s at The Marketplace.” Jayse replied, standing and flouncing off to the kitchen, his red kimono robe trailing behind him. “Coffee?”

“You’re too kind.” I replied, following him to the kitchen.

“So…” Jayse began, “How are you feeling? No offense, Sam, but you look a little green.”

“That’s funny, I was about to say the same about you.” I replied and then greedily sipped the searing liquid. It burnt my tongue and the roof of my mouth, but it didn’t slow me down.

“Wacka, wacka, wacka.” Dale called from the couch, smiling appreciatively. “Speaking of which, it’s time to rinse this damned thing off.”

As Dale vanished into the hallway, Jayse turned back to me. He managed a serious expression underneath his cracking visage. “Is everything cool? Annie was on the couch when I came out this morning.”

“I have no idea. Last night was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.” I replied, collapsing into a kitchen chair. The site of empty shot glasses and half-drunk bottles of schnapps made me instantly regret it.

“Listen…” Jayse began, sounding apprehensive and unsure of himself for the first time since we’d met, “Annie’s got more baggage than Virgin Airlines. She requires patience. She’s high maintenance and not in a ‘buy me that diamond studded nipple clamp’ kind of way. If that’s biting off more than you can chew, just do the both of you a favor and exit stage left.”

Three times I began to reply, and three times I stopped short of speaking. If anyone was worth exploring my limits with, I was certain it was Annabelle. But the hurricane that was my life was trashing its way through Savannah, and there was no need to drag her into my maelstrom. The irony that I, not Trip, was the family fuck-up nearly made me laugh out loud. I did smile in a way that seemed to disturb Jayse.