Last Heartbreak (10 page)

"
K
ia
. Talk to me. Is everything okay?" Graham asks as we weave our way through throngs of people in Madison Square Gardens. Trystan Scott packs the house.

I didn’t expect hearing Trystan singing to affect me like this.

We went backstage for just a moment to meet him. Lori was so excited to meet him, she ran across the room and hugged his leg—much to the chagrin of his larger than life bodyguard.

Trystan was, of course, instantly charmed by her and asked if she’d like a private performance. When he pulled out his acoustic guitar, Lori just about died from pleasure. As he began to sing directly to her, my past collided with deadly precision into my present.

I shove the memories back, refusing to let them show. I’m not weak.

Forcing a smile, I answer, "I'm fine. I just need to freshen up a little. The heat in this place!" I fan my face, pretending I'm feeling flushed.

The look on his face says he doesn't buy it. I need to get away and freak out in peace. I don't want Lori to see me lose my shit, and it's coming. I can feel it. My low-cut neckline is choking me, and the air feels too thick, but I smile. "Why don't you and Lori find your seats, and I'll be there in a bit."

Graham frowns. I don't wait for his answer. I run to the closest ladies' room.

I splash cold water on my face, but it's not working. My hands are shaking, and I'm hyperventilating. I can't stand still. I shake my arms out, but nothing works. Dammit! It's been so long since I've had a panic attack. Parker, I need Parker. I fish through my purse and grab hold of what used to be my only link to rationality. I dial the number that has often made the difference between sanity and the ledge of a high-rise building.

The phone picks up after the second ring. "Midtown Crisis Call Center, Carol, speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Carol, is Parker available?"

I bite my nails, waiting for her to put me through.

"Who may I say is calling?"

It takes me a few moments to remember my alias, it's been so long since my last call, but I blurt out, "Anna. Tell him it's Anna."

There's a pause and Carol's voice comes back on the line. "I'm sorry, Anna, but Parker isn't on call tonight. I'm here to listen if you want."

Awh, crap!

"No, that's okay. I'll call back tomorrow." I end the call and crumple to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest, and letting the pain take over. I rock back and forth, tears streaming down my cheeks.

It hurts.

I hear a distant banging and someone calling my name, but the sound is so far away. All I see is blood. All I hear is the horrible sound of tires screeching and the impact of metal colliding solidly with metal.

"Kia, I'm here. Shhh! Please, baby, talk to me. Stay with me. What's wrong?" I hear words of comfort, but they barely create a ripple in the expanse of my pain. Her death is my fault.

"I should have died, not her. I'm a bad person."

Someone grips my chin roughly and pulls me out of my stupor by twisting my head up. "Never say that. Ever."

"It's true." I blink away the tears. A pair of black-framed glasses slowly comes into focus through my veil of tears. He'll run away if he knows what I did.

"She's gone, Graham. I miss her so much. She never did anything to hurt anyone." I cough up a loud sob and dissolve into more tears, but this time, my tears are an outlet instead of a weight dragging me into the dark. Graham sits next to me on the restroom floor and wraps an arm around me. He rocks with me, back and forth until I've stopped crying.

"Kia, I know you don't want to talk about what happened, and that's okay. Let yourself feel the loss, but you are not a bad person. You made a nine-year-old girl's dreams come true tonight. Every day you make my life better. You make Lori's life better. I've never seen her so happy. We love you, Kia."

I wipe tears with the backs of my hands, wishing for tissues. I rest my head on Graham's shoulders. "I love you guys, too. By the way, where is Lori?"

"I left her with Stark, Mindy, and a bodyguard. She's in good hands. It's you I'm worried about—I saw you flip out in the dressing room and then you took off on us. It seemed like the song set you off, somehow. I failed you yesterday with your dad, but I won’t fail you today. Please. Let me help."

"Graham, no. Don't do that to yourself. You could have lost your job. My father is my problem. And besides, you were there for me. I felt it in here." I place my palm over my heart "Those little touches helped me. They made me feel like I wasn't alone against him. For once, I had an ally. A very cute ally, who looks hot in Grahamy Panties."

We both laugh and I swear there's nothing like an outburst of laughter after a bout of tears.

"Are we ready to go back out now? There's a little girl out there who's dying to see the concert with you."

I push myself off of the floor and look at myself in the mirror. I need to be stronger. I need to get it together. There's a little girl out there who's having the best night of her life, and I'm not going to ruin it for her. Determined, I focus my attention on Lori and block everything else out. I fix my makeup, and we make our way to our front row seats.

Despite my freak-out, we all enjoy the concert. My heart is still very much bruised, but seeing how that little girl’s eyes light up seeing her hero on stage helps heal my inner wounds. Graham stands by me the whole time, holding me close. The three of us sing songs and dance together. We feel the way I've always imagined a family should feel.

The lights dim and Trystan sits on a stool, holding his guitar. The crowd goes wild, but everyone goes quiet when the sound of his acoustic guitar strums out the ballad he sang to Lori in his dressing room. Graham stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Are you okay?"

I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck. "I am now. Just hold me. Please."

He pulls me close to his chest. "Happy one-month, non-date anniversary, Kia. I love you." He rests his head on top of mine.

"I love you too, Graham. No weirdness?"

"No weirdness."

We slow dance, swaying from side to side until a little person tugs on our hands, wanting to take part in our moment. Graham picks her up, and the three of us slow dance together.

W
e take Stark home first
, then Mindy. As the driver helps her out of the limo, she pauses, lingering in the doorway.

“Come up with me, Kienna?”

“I can’t. I need to help Graham with Lori and her loot.” We’ve only been in the limo a few minutes, but it’s been long enough to lull Lori into a deep sleep. She's curled up on the seat, her head resting on Graham's lap, comfy and safe. He’s absentmindedly stroking her hair, untangling her messy curls with his long fingers. Mindy studies them a moment, a guarded expression on her face.

“Another time, then,” Mindy says finally, accepting the driver’s hand and shutting the door behind her.

The driver returns to the car and we head for Graham’s apartment. His head tilts back, resting on the headrest, and his eyes close. It still amazes me how in sync he and Lori are with each other. I steal a couple of moments to observe the affection between father and daughter, and it makes my chest ache.

The limo comes to a stop, startling Graham from his half-slumber.

In a groggy voice, he says, "I'll carry her up, but could you grab her souvenirs for me?"

"Sure."

Graham and I head over to Lori's bedroom. He gently nestles her in her bed, taking care not to wake her as he removes the day's clothes and slips on her pajamas. Her little body is limp, but I can tell she's in that comfy numbness between slumber and wakefulness. I deposit her stash of concert goodies on the chair by the door and tiptoe out of the room, pulling the door almost shut behind me. Before I make my way to the living room, I hear a tiny voice reluctantly waking.

"Cracker?"

"Yeah, baby girl?"

"I forgot to say my prayer."

"I think you can skip one night. God is a Trystan Scott fan, too. He'll forgive you."

"No, I need to say a prayer for Mommy."

I stop in my tracks and press my back against the wall in the hallway, making sure neither of them can see me through the cracked door to her room. I shouldn't listen in, but curiosity gets the better of me. I need to know what happened to her mother. Where is she and how could she abandon such a perfect little girl? How could she abandon Graham?

Graham's soft voice is filled with tenderness when he replies. "Okay, Crab Cake. Make it quick. I think she may be getting ready for bed, too."

"Thanks, Cracker. Dear, Mom. Today was the best day of my whole life. I think I'm in love—for real, this time. His name is Trystan, and he's a man, not a stupid boy who steals my Pokémon cards like Toby does all the time. What a child!" Lori huffs, and I hear Graham stifle a laugh. I have to press a hand to my mouth to make sure my giggle doesn't escape. "Anyway, I am SO marrying Trystan. Oh! I forgot to tell you about Kia. She's the coolest, Mom. We rode in a limo, and she got us backstage passes and front row seats. But that's not what makes her so cool. I like her because she makes Graham happy."

Lori yawns and I hear the sound of a small kiss, followed by Graham's voice. "I think that's enough for tonight baby girl. Say goodbye to Mom and then it's bedtime."

"Goodnight, Mom. I love you, wherever you are. Goodnight, Cracker, I love you, too. Best. Night." Lori lets out another huge yawn. "Ever."

Lori's voice weakens on that last word, letting slumber reclaim her tiny body. Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, I put my feet in motion, and I tiptoe toward the living room. For a brief moment tonight, I got to experience being part of a loving family that shares special moments together. Better yet, moments made even more special because you share them with people you love. Seeing Graham with his daughter reminded me of all the times that my father wasn't there for me. All the special moments in my life when he was absent, cold, or indifferent. The times I received a slap instead of a hug.

The couch dips next to me and a thumb gently trails a damp path along my cheekbone.

"Hey, what's all this? I thought we finished with tears for tonight."

Graham extends an arm and wraps it around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. I snuggle up to him, curling my legs underneath me and wrapping my arms around his slender waist.

"It's been a long day. I'm tired, and I guess seeing Trystan again brought back stuff I try not to think of."

"Kia, I want you to stay here tonight. I have this horribly uncomfortable pull-out couch you can sleep on, and I'd love to make you burnt French toast in the morning."

I lift my head off of his shoulder and look up, resting my chin where my cheek had been only moments ago. His jaw is stubbly, some patches darker than others, making the angles of his face seem sharper, older, more solemn than the carefree, lighthearted man I know.

"Please? Stay?"

"Your offer is hard to turn down."

"So that's a yes?"

I nod.

Graham unwraps his arm from around my shoulders and pushes himself off of the couch. He leans down and drops a small kiss on the top of my head. He disappears down the hall and comes back into the room minutes later, carrying a stack of folded sheets and a pillow.

"I've put stuff out for you in the bathroom if you want to freshen up before bed. I also put out some sweatpants and a t-shirt for you to wear. Probably more comfortable than what you're wearing now."

I feel worn out, but I feel better knowing I don't have to face this alone. In the shower, I let the hot water wash away the day's events, letting the bad memories run down the drain and clinging to the happy ones. I shake my head when I notice my choice of shampoo and body wash. It's either Hercules men's body wash—unleash the Greek hero in you—or Unicorn Bubble Gum Magic, a tear-free formula providing ultimate princess indulgence.

Twenty minutes later, I curl up on the pullout couch and fall almost instantly asleep. Sometime during the night, a small body climbs in and cuddles next to me smelling of fresh strawberries.

T
he sound
of pages flipping pulls me out of my sleep. Well, that, and the enticing smell of coffee. I stretch, feeling every sore bone in my aching body and something very pointy pressing into my back.

Another flip of a page.

I rub my eyes, trying to blink away the morning blur. Graham is sitting at the small dining table, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his pajama bottoms and glasses. His hair sticks up in crazy angles. He flips another page of his newspaper and sips his coffee. Whatever is pressing up against my back shifts to push harder. I turn to see Lori, spread-eagle, taking up three-quarters of the pullout couch, her heel pressing against my back. I shift again and everything hurts. I may have underestimated the value of a good mattress my entire life.

"Morning! Sleep well?"

I sit up and place the pillow on my lap. "I feel like a truck hit me."

"It's Tiny Ninja over there—she karate chops at night. I should have warned you about that. You didn't have to put up with it, though. You could have sent her to me instead."

I look down at Lori, still sleeping soundly, despite our conversation. Her mouth is wide open, emitting the faintest snore. "Nah. It's okay. It felt good to chase her bad dreams away."

I push off of the bed, the mattress springs creaking loudly under my weight. I still feel the ghost of every single one of those metal daggers poking into my ribs and hips. "I'm buying you one of those memory foam mattress covers. I know it's rude to complain, but that pull-out couch is awful!"

"Worst ever, I know. It's the best squatter-repellent ever. I've had many Stark-free nights thanks to that pullout couch. It's uncomfortable enough that he's still living in his parents' basement, the last thing I needed was for him to start camping out over here until he makes his first million on YouTube." He takes another sip of coffee and puts his mug down. He leans back in his chair and grins. "Are you planning on making it a habit of sleeping over? If you do, I'll have to notify the long list of women who've made prior reservations."

The idea of spending more time here is appealing. "You'll just have to inform them that I have dibs."

"Yes, you do."

I tuck my thick, messy hair behind my ear. I don't even want to consider what I look like right now. I walk over to the kitchen and grab the extra cup Graham set out for me on the counter. I fix myself a cup of plain, regular brew coffee with milk and take the seat in front of him. "So. What are our plans for today?" I can't remember the last time I had plain coffee. The taste is bitter and wonderful all at once.

Graham folds his newspaper and drops it to the floor. "Well, seeing as it's still our one month non-date anniversary weekend, I was thinking of inviting you to a glamorous evening of RPG at it’s best. Lori plans to sleepover at a friend's house tonight, so we're free to hang out as late as we want."

"No curfew? That sounds—"

"Like teenage rebellion?" His eyebrows waggle mischievously.

"Totally. So what's RPG?" I take another sip of coffee, remembering not to moan in front of Graham.

"Well, let's just say you'll have an evening packed with unexpected surprises and adventure."

"Sounds exotic."

"Oh, it is."

"Do people dress up for RPG?"

"Some do. Gives the evening more feeling, I guess."

"Okay, then. Count me in! I'll have to go home to get ready first."

Graham rises from his chair and heads for the kitchen. I'm still not used to seeing him in so little clothing, but I like that he feels comfortable enough with me to do so—and the view is pretty amazing. I wonder what it would be like to have him strut like that in my home? I like this feeling of playing house with him this morning, the comfortable normalcy of the situation. "Or, since Lori is sleeping over at a friend's house tonight, why don't you spend the night at my place? I promise my guest bedroom is way more comfortable than that pincushion you've got going there. And I could order you room service tomorrow morning."

Graham looks at me over the open refrigerator door, hesitant at first, but then his lips quirk up to one side. "Sure."

After breakfast and much running around, we get Lori packed and off to her friend's house. We manage to get to my place early enough to get Graham settled into one of my guest bedrooms and still have extra time to relax on my couch until it's time to go.

After my usual primping routine, I meet Graham, who’s sitting in the living room, waiting for me. He’s dressed like he normally is, in a nice pair of denim jeans and a graphic tee under his jacket, making me feel overdressed. I'm wearing a classic little black cocktail dress. Mid-thigh, tight in all the right places, and low enough in the front to showcase my attributes, it’s the perfect dress for every occasion, from casual to formal, but, in contrast to what Graham is wearing, I may have gone overboard. I'm not used to this. I'm a fashion trendsetter. I'm usually the one people look to when deciding what to wear.

“Hey, handsome! What are you doing?” I walk toward Graham and notice my e-reader in his hands. My face drops when he glances up at me with a wicked grin. Crap! He’s found my erotica.

“Nice.” He waves the device in the air. When his eyes scan my dress, his grin widens more. “And very nice. A little much for tonight’s plans, but I’ll score points with the guys if I show up with you dressed like that. Now, about this.” He waves the e-reader in the air again.

“Give me that. Don’t you know a girl’s e-reader is more sacred than her personal diary? Don’t touch my smut!” I laugh and reach for my e-reader, but Graham pulls it back from me to read out loud.

“His pulsating manhood throbs in my mouth and I feel his release slide sensuously down my throat.”

This is mortifying. My face flames up, and I yell, “Hand it over, Cracker! Now! It's for research okay?” I reach again, but Graham pulls it further away. I have no other choice but to climb over him to get my book-porn back. Graham is laughing so hard that his words are barely decipherable, and tears form at the corners of his eyes while he reads.

“Research? The salty, creamy taste of his cum? That's research? Jesus, Kia! What kind of study are you doing?”

He doesn't understand. It's not about getting myself off while reading. I hike up my skirt and straddle Graham’s lap, reaching for the device he keeps waving away from me. “Gah! Give it back!”

Graham keeps the device out of my reach.

“So, let me get this straight. You're researching the ideal man and your idea of Mr. Perfect is,” he clears his throat, adjusts his glasses and quotes the book once more, “eight inches of throbbing man meat?” He switches hands again and looks at me with a devilish grin. “Your standards are pretty high. No wonder you went on a man strike. You know that these are falsified measurements, right? There is no way a man can be,” he looks back at my book again, wiping a tear from the corner of one eye, “harder and bigger after his fifth climax?” Graham laughs harder.

I slump down on his lap, giving up the fight. It’s useless. I'm not about to explain to him the reasoning behind my recent BDSM reading. “You’re just jealous.” I push off from his lap and get up, adjusting my dress, which has ridden up quite a bit. Graham wipes another tear from his eye and sets the book down, catching his breath. He gets up and walks over to me, arms crossed over his chest.

“Of what, exactly, am I jealous? You’re swooning over fictional men or my own lack of cheesy reading material?”

“You're just jealous you’re not as well-endowed as… Dick.” That came out so bad. Maybe he has a point. Maybe my book is cheesy, but it's more than that. Graham bursts out laughing, bending at the waist and slapping his thighs.

“Dick? Eight inches of throbbing man meat is named Dick? That’s just priceless. We need to get you better books. And, FYI, I’m not jealous of Dick’s dick. I'm perfectly fine with what God gave me. Now, let’s get going. The guys will be waiting.” Graham winks, turns on his heels, and heads for the elevator.

“Um, maybe I should change into something a bit more casual? I'll be quick.”

Graham looks at his watch, “No time to change. You’re staying dressed just like that.”

Who cares about the dress code at this point? I grab my purse, and we head out.