Holly Madison (Sins of the Father, 2) (25 page)

Damn.

I park, climb out, slam the door behind me, and engage the alarm.  I hike the stairs leading to my unit and see Tristan sitting on my stoop, his knees pulled to his chest and his head dangling low, defeated.  He looks like a tortured god.  That is until he hears me.  His head lifts and his eyes shoot up to meet mine.  His don’t look all that happy.

His stare makes me nervous.  I stop when I get to him. The entire time, I keep my wits about me.  I don’t break the little staring contest he initiated.  Instead, I tell him, “You’re at the wrong house.  Shawna doesn’t live here.” 

In one swift motion, he’s on his feet and I’m in his arms.  “What the fuck, cupcake?”

I put my hands to his chest, pushing him back.  I insert the key, push open the door, and walk in.  Tristan follows.

I chuck my purse on the couch, sling my keys on top of that, and turn to face him before planting my hands to my waist.  I don’t hesitate to tell him exactly what. The. Fuck. 

“Curtis and I were out to dinner last night.  Or we were until I saw you coming out of the Ugly Mug.”

Tristan’s face cringes when it dawns on him that I saw him with Shawna.  “Holly, I can explain that.”

I raise my hand, palm out in a ‘don’t even go there’ fashion, and tell him exactly that.  “Don’t EVEN go there.”

“Please give me a chance.  There really is a good explanation for what you saw.”

“I’ll bet.  I’m just done caring what it is.”

“It isn’t what you’re thinking,” he tells me.

“Don’t care.  I need you gone.”

As Tristan stalks towards me, I feel a bit of my resolve slip.  “Don’t.  I saw you hugging her in the middle of Tryon.  You made me look and feel like a damn fool.”

“Never my intention,” he states.

I laugh
—
full-on, body-rocking laugh
—
in his face.  “No?  You looked awfully fucking comfortable doing what you were doing with her.”

His voice lowers.  “Please listen to me.”  There was a pause, and then he repeats, “Please.”

“What’s the point, Tristan?” I hiss.

“Because I swear to you that it’s not what you think.”

“I don’t fucking care!” I scream in his face.

“Well, I’m going to need you to fucking care!” he screams back.  He lowers his voice once again and mutters, “This is very important, so I’m going to need you to listen.”

I open my mouth to interrupt, but the look in his eyes tells me that it is best not to, so I slap my lips shut and allow him to carry on.

“I’ve joined an N.A. group in town.”

I hear the words, but the surprise must be evident on my face because Tristan goes on to say, “Yeah, cupcake.  I found a great group when I got back into town.  I meet up with them twice a week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Never got around to it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.  Anyhow, Shawna also joined N.A.  Her first meeting was yesterday.  She asked me to have coffee with her when we left, so I agreed.  I planned on telling you all about it, but you refused to answer your damn phone.”

I feel my mouth go tight and my shoulders hunch just a little.

“Yeah, I was surprised.  Didn’t really expect to ever see her get her life straight, but she has.  She’s got herself a good job and been clean for over a month now.  Found herself a nice guy who helped her through it and stuck by her the entire time.  We talked about you and how I don’t plan on fucking this thing up.  She was really happy for us.”

He takes a step in my direction.  I take one back, so he stops and, instead, continues to talk.  “She wishes us the best and wants to apologize to you for being a bitch that night. I told her that it was all my fault and that I straightened it out with you.  Then I told her what happened later that night—“

“Can we not go over what happened later that night?” I interject.  I never want to think about what I walked in on Tristan doing with that other woman ever again as long as I can help it.

“Sure, babe.”

I nod and encourage him to finish, seeing that I can tell that he isn’t done just yet. 

“I want you to come to a meeting with me.”

Wow!
  I was NOT expecting that.

“I want the woman I love to see the amazing group of people I have grown to support and in return be supported by.”

“Am I allowed to go?”

He checks his watch.  “Yeah, you’re allowed,” he smiles.  “There’s one in twenty minutes and I would love for you to be there with me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Okay.  Let’s go.”

Tristan takes two strides, closing the distance between us and taking me into his arms.  “Thank you.  Thank you for believing me and being so supportive.”  He bends his head, lightly touching his lips to mine.

“I love you,” I exhale.

“I love you too, cupcake.  I want you on the back of my bike.”

We walk into the meeting just as people are filing in and finding themselves chairs.  Tristan, holding my hand, guides me to a seat and kisses my cheek just before heading to the podium in the front of the room. 

I watch him peering around the room at everyone.  He looks amazing.  Better than he’s ever looked.  Healthy and happy, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes that I hope never goes away.  I am stunned by his beauty.  It’s as if I am seeing him for the first time.  My heart swells with pride for him and everything that he has accomplished with getting clean and sober.

Once he is done giving everyone in the room an acknowledgement with his eyes alone, he adjusts the mic in front of him, finds me, and smiles a big, gorgeous, heart-stopping smile.  I reward him with one of my own in return.

Tristan clears his throat and, with a look of deep purpose, announces to the room, “Hi. I’m Tristan, and I’m an addict.”

We’ve all congregated over at Jim’s house for our weekly Sunday dinner.  Mom has been coming along with us ever since last Christmas, when we all converged on the Holt house for ham with all of the fixin’s.  I have noticed that she and Jim have been getting extremely close lately, and oftentimes, I find myself wondering if it would be weird that something might come out of this whole thing for the two of them.  Every time, I come back to the same conclusion
—
totally weird.

Mom is in the kitchen with Jim, packing up the leftovers from dinner, while Tristan, Braden, Jake, Curtis, and Juice all clean and load the dishwasher.  Every other weekend, they get kitchen duty.

Emma, little Lexi, who is giggling and bouncing on Olivia’s lap, Charlena, Claire, and I are all enjoying a glass of wine while Jett runs around, declaring, “I am He-Man!” and doing so wearing only his He-Man underoos.  Claire has apologized profusely over the months for Jett’s need to strip down to his underwear and wave his imaginary sword. 

Whatever.  He’s adorable.

The house is alive and full of what I can only describe as unadulterated happiness.  I don’t think my mom and I have ever had this.  So much love in one place.  They are offering it to us on a silver platter, and it is ours for the taking.

The men and Mom all start to file into the living room. 

“Yo, kid!” Juice shouts.  “You better not be wiping your dirty little ass all over the couch.”

“Eat my nuts, clucksucker!” Jett hollers back.

“Jett!” Claire reprimands and then says, “My god, I’m so sorry.”

Tristan moves to where I am sitting on the couch huddled with the ladies.  He takes my glass of wine, places it on the coffee table in front of me, and sets my hands in his, lifting me from the comfort of my spot.  After he slides my hair off one shoulder and twirls it in his fingers, he lets it lie and cascade down my back.  It has gotten longer over the past few months
—just
the way he likes it.

“Honey, is everything okay?” I whisper.

“No,” Tristan whispers back, his soft eyes scanning my face in a way I have never seen him look.  Something close to it a few times, but never quite like this.  Beautiful.

“You’re scaring me, T,” I go on quietly.

“I don’t want to scare you cupcake,” he responds immediately but just quiet enough so only I can hear him.

I suck in a breath and release it in relief.  His hands release mine as he brings them up, cupping my face. 

“You’ll tell me if anything is wrong, right?”

“Yep,” he says on a smile, and his hands slide down my neck to my shoulders then back to mine, wrapping around them in a firm grasp.

“Tristan, hun, I don’t understand what’s going on.” 

He holds my gaze while he lets go of one hand and slides it into his pocket.  My eyes slant down as my breath hitches when I see that, in his hand, he holds a small, black box.

A ring box. 

My free hand shoots up, covering my mouth.  He gives me one of his stunning smirks, opens the box, and removes a simple solitaire diamond ring
—
the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.

“Holly, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met.  You are beautiful, smart, funny, and sexy as all get out.  Most of all, you’re determined, strong, and you love harder than you get in return.  Every day, I fall more and more in love with you.  And let’s face it
—
you have one hell of a right hook.”

 My vision has gone blurry as I smile. 

“Marry me, cupcake.”

I blink at the tears that start their trail down my cheeks and look at the ring he is holding between his index finger and thumb.  I can’t breathe.

“Cupcake?” he whispers.  “Please tell me that you will keep my bed warm at night, have my babies, and spend every day for the rest of our lives gifting me with that drop-dead gorgeous smile of yours.”

“Yes,” I whisper so quietly that I’m not sure he heard me until I see his smile spread across his face. 

He slips the ring on my finger, his arms go around my waist, and he lifts me off the floor.  I throw my arms around his neck and hold on tight, taking in this glorious moment and hoping that it never ends.