New Title 7 (12 page)

"God I missed you," he breathed. Though I barely heard him over the music, his words were unmistakable, crystal clear as they went straight to my heart. 

"I—missed you too." My tears moistened his shirt as I pressed my cheek against him, felt the
tap-tap-tap
of his heart.

"Why did you invite me here? Who's Jessica?" I asked.

"I didn't invite you, I asked Jessica to. She's a friend of my mother's."

"Then where have you been? I thought you abandoned me."

"No." Brief laughter. "I'd never leave you, Mia. You know better than that."

"Then
where
have you been?"

He hesitated.

"Brandon?"

"See anything different about me?" he asked, striding two steps backward.

"Uh, your costume?"

He cracked an amused smile. "No. Don't I look healthier to you? Maybe more energetic?"

"I always thought you had plenty of energy, Brandon." Boy was that ever true. And I had the bump to prove it.

"Look at my face, Mia. Look and tell me what you see." His usual sun-kissed complexion glowed as faint blush colored his cheeks. Similar coloring graced his neck. He appeared healthy and refreshed.

I questioned him with my eyes.

"I underwent a heart transplant over two months ago, Mia. Now do you understand?"

Oh yes.
I never realized how ashen his face was before. Compared to his current appearance, he used to look somewhat sickly.

Finally it hit me. It sank in that Brandon's life was saved.

"Oh my god, I can't believe it. You have a new heart? Seriously?"

"Seriously." A grin spread on his face.

"But how?"

"About three weeks after you were hospitalized, I got a call from my doctor saying they found a heart for me. Even though we weren't on speaking terms, I think my dad pulled some strings."

"I'm sure he did. Brandon, your dad wants you to live—whether you two get along or not." I paused, debating on how I should proceed. "How have you been aside from the surgery?"

"Great, except for missing you."

"I mean what about your moods?"

"Oh, that. There's something else I haven't mentioned yet."

"What is it? Did something happen?"

"Not really. I moved back home with my parents and I uh,
did
have some issues, saw a psychologist partly because I promised. Then my shrink recommended I sign up for in-patient treatment, so I stayed in the psych ward until my doctor notified me about the heart."

I nodded. "Did you get a diagnosis or anything?"

"Yeah." His darkening expression wasn't a good sign.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Are you
sure
you want to know?"

"I think."

"Alright. I have—what
they
call—narcissistic personality disorder. Medication doesn't normally help but since I'm also bipolar, they prescribed an anti-depressant, mood stabilizer and anti-psychotic meds. I'll give you a few minutes to let that sink in."

"Oh. Okay."

"Ready? I told my doctor that porn featuring rape arouses me. Telling another person was the hardest thing I've ever done."

I swallowed.

"My shrink hopes intensive therapy and meds would help me get over my, uh, deviancy."

"Has it?"

"Those urges are still there, I can't change that. But they're more in the background instead of being first and foremost in my mind. It's easier to control since I started the meds."

"Good. That's really great, Brandon."

"Isn't it?"

"Yes. It's awesome."

"That's not all," he said. "I have one more diagnosis."

"What?" I hated to ask.

"
They
say I have antisocial personality disorder, which means I have sociopathic tendencies. Supposedly."

Though I already saw it coming, his frank revelations scared me, made his condition much more real.

"Have I scared you off yet?" A wry smile.

I faked a chuckle. "No. It's okay. I'll be fine." My answer was also fake, because it
wasn't
okay and I
wouldn't
be fine. How would Brandon treat the baby? What would happen if our son got colic and cried all the time?

How would he handle that?

"You don't look like you're okay," he said.

"I will be—eventually."

"You just need some time, right?" He gathered me into his arms.

"Yeah, time." I closed my eyes.

"Take whatever time you need. I'll be here." He kissed the top of my head. "My angel, I still love you."

* * *

W
e left the party.

Hand-in-hand, Brandon and I strolled through the neighborhood. I'd asked him how he found my father's address for Jessica's invitation. He only said it wasn't hard to figure out.

He admitted his lack of courage to invite me to see him. That's why he lured me to the party under dubious circumstances.

I started getting tired and paused to rub my lower spine. "My back's killing me." 

"I live right up this street a few houses away. Shall I gather you up and carry you?"

I smiled.

"You want me to, don't you? You want me to be your
dark
knight in shining armor. Mia, my sweet, your wish is my command." He tipped his Stetson hat, then scooped me into his arms and weightlessness followed.

"By the way, I like your costume."

I snorted, laughing. "Thanks. I couldn't think of anything better."

"It's perfect. Nothing like a pumpkin covering a pregnant belly. It goes along with being fruitful—and
multiplying
." He winked.

Beaming as he cradled me, Brandon continued toward his parents' estate, swaggering along as if I weighed nothing. I had my arms locked around his neck. Being close to his lips and breathing in the scent of his aftershave made me crazy.

God
. He smelled so good and looked so amazing, I wanted to abandon caution and let him fuck me right here on the street. Fuck me hard and rough like he used to... 

My lips found and pressed his. Brandon halted to return my kiss, his mouth slowly devouring, feasting with sweet vengeance. My tightening embrace deepened our kiss and I widened my mouth to hungrily accept his snaking, caressing tongue. Faint growls began in his throat, surged louder as the intensity grew.

We were making out so heavily that my lips throbbed while his tongue tasted like blood. Yet we continued harshly kissing, unable to stop. Noisy moans eluded our lips whenever they slipped to allow a moment's breath.

And he cradled me the whole time.

Brandon attempted to walk, intent on getting me to his house no matter what. Off and on he paused to indulge me with sexy kisses. This frenzied, erratic pattern continued until we arrived.

Probably took us three hours to walk a single block. Somewhere along the way, his Stetson hat disappeared.

The Levine mansion resembled a bloated chateau from the French countryside. Stained glass doors, beige shutters and hipped roofs embellished each section while one side formed an angle near the cul-de-sac driveway. Petite gardens framed an impressive row of parked sports cars.

My teeny, shitty car would never fit in.

Wow. No wonder he's so—spoiled.
I knew he was rich but actually seeing it drove the point home.

Small disks surrounded a flagstone path to light our way. Right here, Brandon released me from his arms and we detoured to a backyard resort. Stone steps trailed to a pool with a center fountain and glowing turquoise lights.

"Here we are." He removed his half-mask, fully revealing his sparkling eyes. He stole my hand and dashed toward the fire pit. Thrilled to be with him (not to mention the thrill of being in a place like
this
), I giggled, foolish and drunk on high society and its opulence.

Four loungers were arranged before the pit. Brandon dropped on a chair and yanked me to his lap. His fingertips lightly traced the length of my arms as he reclined. I relaxed against him while watching the stars.

Serene with the soft trickle of water, chilling with the distant howls of coyotes.

"I love you." His breaths came faster, heavier as his fingers followed my arms, shoulders, stroking so softly I could barely feel the warmth of his touch. He squirmed, slid a hand in his slacks to fumble with his hard-on, rearrange his junk.

"Sorry I'm moving so much." His breath caught.

"It's okay," I laughed. "Move as much as you want."

"What I really want is to fuck you."

"Then fuck me." I surprised even myself.

"Don't tempt me—we really need to talk. Not that I'm usually one for talking, Christ knows I'd much rather fuck. But this is important."

"What?"

"I want you to move in with me. Here in my parents' house."

I grew quiet. Ambivalent.

"Mia, don't be afraid. Don't be afraid of
me
. Nothing will happen to you here."

"But it's such a huge decision. What if your parents don't want me here? They don't know me."

"I've already discussed it with them. My dad wasn't happy with the idea but eventually gave in. Mom was okay from the start."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I've been going to therapy so I'll be good to you. I'll be good to our baby." His hands slipped to my tummy.

"I don't know. We haven't seen each other in months."

"That's because I was busy getting better, getting my life on track and healing. Not only do I have a new heart, I have another chance. My heart's changed in different ways and I'm trying hard to keep myself straight. Knowing you're here will make everything worth it. Just you
being
here will help me."

Gently he massaged my sloped stomach. When our son kicked his hand, Brandon's laughter echoed.

So happy, happy. Following the next step would make perfect sense. Who was better suited to help me raise my son? No one, least of all Tina Acton.

"I'll think about it," I told him.

"That's all I ask. I'll be the best husband to you and the best father to my son."

"Husband?"

He squirmed again. "Well maybe some day, Mia, if it's okay with you."

"We'll see."
Move slowly and proceed with caution.

"I understand. I'll be patient since I've already put you through too much."

My memory didn't recall the things Brandon referred to. Those
things
were buried.

"Whenever I think about it," he quietly added, "I feel like slashing my goddamn wrists. But maybe that's the booze talking. I drank a lot earlier."

"Then don't think about it. Please."

"I won't. I shouldn't even mention it."

"No you shouldn't."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop!" I leaped from his lap. "I
don't
want to hear it."

"Okay." He straightened and raised his palm. "I've just been thinking certain things for a while, but I'll shut up. You can calm down." His gentle eyes reminded me everything was alright. Everything would
be
alright.

"I feel like an idiot," I confessed.

"You're not an idiot, Mia.
I'm
the idiot." He drifted over to hold me.

He released a sigh before his lips closed on mine. Arching my neck to meet his kiss, I slipped my hands to his ass. He kissed me harder, his mouth and tongue coaxing, demanding a response. I gave it to him while receiving what
he
was willing to give.

"
Mmm
." He whimpered needing more, searched beneath my shirt to grope my breasts. He groped with mounting urgency while pressing into me, gyrating his pelvis and hardening further.

He groaned, begged to fuck.

"What if we wake up your parents?"

"We won't. Dad's playing doctor somewhere in Dallas while Mom's comatose from tranquilizers." He backed me to the edge of the pool. "You know what they say, when the cat's away the mice will play."

Brandon fell sideways in the pool while clutching my hand, tugging me after him. Water splashed as smelly chlorine permeated my nose and gave me a buzz. I glared with accusation.

"I couldn't resist." His devious grin broadened. "I
would
say I'm sorry but you don't want me to. Remember?"

I splashed him in revenge. He sipped in air and returned the gesture by bombarding me with splashes. Every chlorine-infested drop felt like stinging ice. 

Squealing, laughing, we continued our childish game and wished this night could last forever.

There
was
a way.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" He bobbed in the water.

"I'll move in with you."

He threw his arms around me. "I won't disappoint you.
I swear it
."

I clung to his drenched shoulders as coyotes bayed a mournful, troubling chorus.

I
had misgivings about getting my things from Dad's. I didn't want to face him or Tina and have to answer nosy questions. There wasn't much stuff anyway because I hadn't bought anything in a while.

But Brandon insisted on fetching my things.

As we gathered my few possessions into a kitchen trash bag, I avoided Dad's sharp stare. Tina had—thankfully—disappeared in the bathroom. I chalked it up to an overly spicy Mexican feast the night before, judging by the left overs in their fridge.

"Are you sure about this?" Dad asked when I took a break in the hallway. I sat on the floor while Brandon crossed his arms and leaned against the opposite wall.

"I'm sure. Me and Brandon discussed this all night. I know what I'm doing."

"Sure you do." Dad's footfalls pounded as he left.

"Don't worry about him," Brandon said. "You're over eighteen. You can do whatever the fuck you want."

"I just wish he'd trust me for a change. I haven't made a bad decision yet."

Not for the most part...

* * *

B
randon and I were seated at the oak table in his parents' kitchen.

I'd never seen such a nice kitchen.

The round table was high enough to conceal my tummy and the window gave a view of the backyard. The crystalline pool seemed close enough to touch.