Forbidden Temptations (Tempted Series Book 2) (11 page)

“I’m sorry A, I wish I was wrong,” I whisper.

“I’d feel it!” She demands through her tears as she lays her hand over her stomach. She looks at me, her eyes pleading with mine to tell her what she wants to hear. “No,” she whimpers. “No. No. No,” She shakes her head violently.

I take her into my arms, her fists clench my shirt as she sobs against my chest. I cry right along with her as we mourn the child we never had a chance to know, the child taken from us, the child that will forever live in our hearts.

I took a deep breath trying to sanction the brave girl I once appeared to have been. I smoothed down the oversized sweater I wore which I had paired with black leggings and tucked a few loose tendrils of hair behind my ears. I stared at the wooden door, chewing on my lip, debating if I was about to make a huge mistake.

My knuckles rapped against the door loudly as the girl I missed so much began to surface. I dropped my hand to my hip and waited impatiently before ringing the bell. Maybe it was a mistake coming here, clearly this was God’s way of telling me to walk away. I was about to do just that when the door swung open and Anthony’s whole body filled the frame.

“Hi,” I said nervously as his eyes did a full scan of me, starting at my eyes, and working their way down to my shoes. Did I mention I was happy I squeezed my swollen feet into these cute suede ankle boots? It was completely worth the agony.

He leaned casually against the door shirtless, his heavily tattooed arms stretched over his head hanging onto the doorjamb, and I started to inspect his chest for other tattoos. I forced my eyes from the soft dusting of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his sweats and met his stare.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“Can I come in…please?” I asked him as my fingers twisted the hem of my sweater. He didn’t answer right away, just looked at me in that lost way of his and then his eyes softened like they usually did for me. He dropped his hands, opened the door wider, and stepped aside.

I stepped inside thrown off my axis by the familiar scent of his cologne. It was funny how one particular scent could bring back so many memories, both good and bad. After he went away, I bought a bottle of that very same cologne. I sprayed my pillow so I’d never forget the way he smelled when he held me at night.

He closed the door and turned around so we were facing each other. There was a time in our lives when we couldn’
t stay silent around one another if someone paid us. Yet here we were
, so quiet we could hear each other’s breaths. You would think after three years of being a part we’d have so much to say to one another.

“How’s the baby?” He asked hoarsely then cleared his throat to level his voice. I loved that he broke the ice with a question regarding my sweet baby boy. Another man wouldn’t have done that, another man would’ve been bitter.

“He’s good. My mom is watching him,” I said, smiling.

Anthony shoved his hands inside the pockets of his sweatpants and nodded. “That’s good,” he responded tearing his eyes from me.

“I came here to thank you,” I said, wishing he wouldn’t look away from me. “I don’t think I could’ve gotten through child birth without you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve,” he lifted his head, our eyes meeting and I swear there was the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. “You did good, Reese’s. Real good.”

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it not able to trust my voice. That name, that silly name, it broke my heart to hear him say it now. I missed the times he’d whisper it against my ear. The most intimate moments and the most heartbreaking all ended with that word.

“You want something to drink? I don’t have much but I have water and beer,” he asked, tipping his chin towards the kitchen.

I shook my head.

“The teddy bear…” I managed to say.

“Just throw it out, I know you probably have a dozen of them.”

“I loved it,” I cut him off.

He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair as he glanced around the room before focusing back on me.

“Why are you here A?” He asked, his voice sounding full of pain.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I couldn’t stay away,” I continued, taking a step closer to him. It was so easy to fall back into old patterns. I just had to reach out, wrap my arm around his neck, and pull him until his body was flush against mine.

“You need to stay away,” he stated, surprising me by not taking a retreating step back.

“Is that what you tell yourself? You need to stay away from me?” I asked, sincerely wanting to know the answer.

He shook his head a little.

“No, it’s not,” he exhaled sharply before continuing. “I tell myself you’re better off without me. That every lie I told you, every tear I made you cry was worth it because here you are, standing in front of me, free of my baggage and me. You’re still standing, A, you survived,” he smiled, a sadness showing on his handsome face. “All the hurt, all the pain, it’s all a part of the past now. I tell myself you’ve survived every fucking bad thing that has happened to us and I’m so proud of you.”

Tears well in my eyes and I looked away from him. He surprises me though, walking towards me and taking my hands in his, squeezing them gently.

“I said some pretty cruel shit to you, did some fucked up things, hoping you’d hate me,” he started, and I looked up at him.

“When are you going to realize I could never hate you?” I shook my head, biting on my lip, hoping I could stall my tears. He stared at me for a moment, releasing one of my hands to brush his knuckles along my cheek. I closed my eyes at his touch, savoring the moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt him touch me in such an intimate way.

“Baby, listen to me,” he whispered gruffly, forcing me to open my eyes. I blinked away the tears clouding my vision, letting them fall down my face. His hands went to work, wiping them away with his thumbs. “You need to move on, get on with your life,” he said leaning his forehead against mine. “You need to forget about me.”

A sobbed escaped me as I shook my head in defiance. He cradled my face, his hands holding my face still as his watering eyes pierced mine.

“Forget about me, A. Focus on that baby of yours,” his voice trailed off, and I lifted my hands to wrap my fingertips around his wrists, holding onto him for dear life. “Be the best mom you can be. Give that little boy the best life you can, keep him away from all this bad shit, raise him to be a man who can hold his head high.”

“Anthony …” I whimpered.

“I’ll always love you, A,” he admitted. “Until my dying day,” he vowed, his tears finally falling. “But we’re over baby and it’s time we both realize it.”

“What about you?” I managed through my sobs.

“What about me? I’m going to do the only thing I was ever any good at doing.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered, knowing he wasn’t being fair to himself. He sighed heavily, pulling away from me, his eyes trained on the coffee table. I looked in the same direction and saw the gun that rested on the center of the table. The tears stopped falling, and I told him the only truth I’ve ever known – he was better than this life.

“You’re good at loving me,” I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arm around his neck. “You’re so good at loving me.”

“Yeah, I am,” he agreed, his hand resting on my hip. “But that’s not enough, A. It’s not just you and me it’s that boy of yours too.”

I froze for a moment. “Is it because he’s not yours? That I had a baby by someone else?” I asked, holding my breath as I awaited his answer.

“Reese’s you could have a tribe full of kids for all I give a damn. I’d love them all simply because they were a part of you,” he reassured me as he shook his head. “When you told me you were pregnant with our baby, I remember thinking to myself how I had to get out of this mess. I wasn’t going to have my kid become a victim of this lifestyle. I would’ve searched high and low for an out, just so I could give our kid a shot at a decent life,” he looked down. “Your son deserves no different than our baby did.”

“Anthony…” I tried to find the words to reason with what he was saying.

“Don’t, A. You know better than anyone I’m right. Think about it, was growing up as Victor Pastore’s daughter all it was cracked up to be? Did you suffer because of the choices your father made?”

I was robbed of everything that had ever mattered because of my father’s choices. Throughout my entire life, my childhood, my teenage years, even my adult years I had never had the normalcy others had. I couldn’t have friends over and the few that did were forbidden to be around me after Val died. I had one beautiful thing, and that was Anthony’s love but the mob took that too. Our beautiful baby that never had a chance, ripped from me. The only thing I had left was my son, he was the only thing not tainted by my father’s business.

I looked at him sadly, surrendering the fight I had been battling for over a decade, the fight for everything we meant to each other, the fight for us. He saw the light fade from my eyes and gave me a slight nod.

“Let’s sacrifice this thing of ours for that boy of yours,” he whispered, as we stared into each other’s eyes. I couldn’t look at him anymore, I couldn’t look into his eyes and see how much he was suffering, how much he was sacrificing for my son.

I dropped my face into my hands and sobbed uncontrollably. How was I going to forget him? Forget every kiss, every touch, every goddamn I love you?

I felt his arms envelope me as he pulled me against his chest. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and just held onto me as I cried. I wondered for a moment if I’d ever again feel as safe as I did whenever his arms wrapped around me.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, him holding me, me crying into his chest. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or hours but when it ended, it felt as if it was too short a period. He pulled back, his hands cradling my face and stared at me as if he was memorizing every single feature of mine. His thumb brushed along my lip, tracing back and forth while he battled his conscience and his heart. In the end, his heart won because his mouth fell over mine in the most bittersweet kiss he ever placed on me.

I knew all those
years ago nothing would come close to making me feel the way I did whenever Anthony kissed me. Even when he was kissing me goodbye he made me feel like he cherished me. I believed
him when he said he’d love me forever, his actions speaking louder than his words. I hope he knew I felt the same way.

I angled my head, giving him better access to devour my mouth. The thing about kissing someone goodbye is you don’t get a second chance to do it right. In that moment you have to put everything into one kiss and that’s exactly what we did. The last several years, everything we had gone through, everything we had felt for one another entangled in this kiss.

I savored his taste.
I memorized the way his teeth felt scraping against my raw lips, the gentle lap his tongue took across them to soothe the sting. I didn’t want him to take away the sting, wishing I would always feel the burning sensation that prickled against my sensitive flesh as a reminder of my Anthony.

His mouth left mine and kept going back to press butterfly kisses against my lips before dropping his hands to my shoulders and taking a retreating step backwards. I swallowed as I dared to meet his gaze.

“Let me grab a shirt and I’ll walk you out,” he said gruffly. I nodded wiping my cheeks with the sleeves of my sweater. He turned around to walk into his bedroom and that’s when I saw the ink taking up his entire back

The shocked gasp that escaped my mouth caused him to look over his shoulder at me. The instant he saw my face realization set into his features and he closed his eyes.

“Turn around,” I demanded, softly.

He sighed, his shoulders went lax, and he dropped his head. I took a step closer and stared in awe at the beautiful artwork covering his skin. There were beautiful clouds drawn across his shoulder blades all of them shaded in hues of gray and blue, almost matching his eyes. Through the clouds there are rays that shoot down the center of his back like rays of an eternal light. The year two thousand five looks as though the rays illuminate the numbers. My eyes travel down to the center of his back where there is the letter A written in a familiar handwriting. My first thought is that my eyes are playing tricks on me but when I take a closer look there is no denying it. The A inked onto his skin is a replica of the A I scribe every time I sign my name. Just when I thought there were no tears left to cry, I feel my eyes fill with water as realization dawns on me. I push back the tears and force myself to continue my perusal of the intricate tattoo he has forever etched into his flesh. There are flames that begin just beneath the waistband of his sweat pants and travel wildly, vibrant oranges, yellows and reds, all depicting an inferno as they make their way to the A. The year two thousand ten scribed between the flames of hell. I reach out and trace the A with my index finger, feeling him flinch at my touch. He gathers his bearings and remains completely still as my fingertip continues to trace the A. My eyes fixate on the two years, two thousand five was the year it all began for us, and two thousand ten was the year it ended.