redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (21 page)

The hostess led her to a quiet table for two in front of the window and handed her a menu. Lauren put it to the side, pulled out a compact mirror from her purse and reapplied her lip-gloss, mopped run-away eyeliner form the corner of her eyes, and pushed one side of her hair behind her ear. She settled in her seat and read her menu, but her gaze kept wandering to the sidewalk outside.

A figure passed by the window and Lauren straightened in her chair, head high, shoulders pulled back. Len? My heart sped with anticipation. The door chimed and we both turned our attention to see who joined the party. Len walked in, looking even worse than he had on the jogging path in a rumpled shirt and pants with wrinkles that would put a raisin to shame. He stopped at the hostess stand and asked her something. She ran her finger down the list, probably looking for my name, then shook her head. Len checked his phone, and then stepped back outside.

My phone vibrated in my purse. I ignored it. The ringing stopped and he stepped back in. The hostess led him to an empty table across from Lauren. Just like before, he didn’t even notice her, even though she sat in his line of sight.

Once seated, Len buried his head back in his phone and ignored the world around him. How was I going to get him to stop thinking about me, and notice the pretty lady sitting to his right?

Lauren took a long look at Len, stood up, and headed to the bathroom, moving past me on her way. I hopped off my stool and followed her in. She already thought I was a stalker, might as well make it a reality.

She was washing her hands at the faux marble sink. I closed the door and leaned against the dark wood, blocking her exit. “If you want Len to notice you, you’re going to have to take the first step.”

She turned away from the sink and walked to the paper towel dispenser. “I had a feeling you’d be here tonight.” She dried her hands and threw the wet towel in the trash. “What do you suggest I do?” Annoyance coated her words.

“Tell him you remember seeing him at the jogging path today. That you wanted to talk to him, but he ran away before you could.” I grabbed her shoulders, my eyes drilling into her eyes, and issued a command like a general to his troops. “Make him notice you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Sit down. Join him. Flirt. He’s alone tonight.”

“He might be waiting for someone.” She looked down and fidgeted with the gold bracelet on her wrist.

“He is. Me. But I’m not coming.” I turned her toward the door and gave a small push in the direction that would lead to her destiny. “He’s out there waiting. Alone. It’s now or never.”

Lauren smiled, but it was shaky and unsure. After a deep breath and a last look in the mirror, she left to entice the man of her dreams. I snuck out the door and returned to my perch at the bar. Fingers, nose, and toes crossed that Lauren could pull off the impossible. She either smoothed her skirt or wiped off her sweaty palms, I couldn’t tell which, and approached Len like a brave little soldier. She tapped him on the shoulder.

Startled, he looked up, his phone momentarily forgotten. They engaged in a few moments of conversation and then Lauren gestured to the chair across from him. Len nodded and she took a seat. Lauren kept up a steady stream of conversation, but Len had his phone back in his hand, checking it every few minutes. He refused to focus on her or what she said.

Len raised his phone to his ear and my purse started vibrating once again. I wanted to bash my head against the bar. Lauren looked back at me and frowned. I pointed to Len and made the universal sign of talking with my hands. She turned back and tried once again to catch his interest, but after a big, old, fat nothing from Len she slumped in her seat.

My fingers were clenched so tight I expected drops of blood to fall into my lap. Len was blowing his only chance to be with his perfect match because of his obsession with me.

“Excuse me.” The bartender reached over my head for an overpriced bottle of cabernet. His fingers skimmed the surface of the dusty bottle, tipping it over, where it proceeded to roll in slow motion. “Watch out,” he yelled as the wine toppled to the bar, shattered, and soaked the front of my shirt with big, red splotches.

Everyone in the bar stopped their conversation and looked in my direction… including Len. He hopped up from his chair and headed over, my game of hide-in-the shadows ruined by my Carrie-at-the-prom moment.

Time for the backup plan. A plan I had hoped I wouldn’t have to deploy.

The overly apologetic bartender grabbed a towel from under the counter and began wiping away at the growing red stain on the front of my white silk blouse. I stopped him before he touched my breasts, took the towel, and blotted at the liquid that covered my arms.

Len stormed over, eyes pinched into tiny, dark slits. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, pulled me from the seat, and dragged me through the front door. He twisted me so I faced him, his eyes blazing. “How long have you been sitting there?” His words held an anger I had never heard from him before.

“Long enough to ruin a perfectly fine piece of silk.” I dabbed at the wine-blot test on my chest, refusing to look at him.

“Is this a game to you?” He paced back and forth on the sidewalk, ignoring the passerby, who dodged him to avoid being mowed down. “Some sick way to torture me?”

“I’m not playing a game. You weren’t supposed to see me.”

He stopped in front of me and I looked up. His face red with heat. “We had plans to meet here tonight.” He sounded impatient, irritated, irate.

“I had a change of heart.” I focused on cleaning off the wine and not on the heart I was about to crush. Smash. Destroy.

Anger shook his body and propelled him into my personal space. “Were you going to call me and cancel? Or just let me sit and wait?”

The door opened with a jingle-jangle-jingle and we both turned toward the sound. Lauren walked through the door, head down, refusing to look in our direction.

“Lauren,” I called out, hoping I could still make the connection. She hiked her purse up on her shoulder, turned, and shot me a look that could have killed Al Capone. Then she walked away from the drama, from me, and once again from Len.

Another opportunity fell through the crater.

“Do you see the woman who just walked away?” I grabbed his chin and forced him to watch Lauren cross the street. “What’s wrong with you? She sat with you, tried to start up a conversation, and you ignored her.”

“I don’t know her.”

“Because you haven’t even noticed her.” I threw the red-stained towel on the closest patio table and surrendered with an I-give-up gesture of my hands. “You’re too focused on me. On us.”

Len grabbed my hand and pulled me close. “I only have eyes for you.” He rubbed his thumb over my cheek. “You’re who I want. Who I need.” His words sounded like a recorded message.

Realization burst through me like a rocket to the moon. Len would never see Lauren for who she was, who she could be to him. Not when he held the smallest bit of hope that we could be together. Not when I refused to take the step needed to push him in the right direction.

Not when I continued to be selfish, self-centered, and self-involved.

I hadn’t wanted our relationship to end like this, but like everything else since Cupid shot me, it wasn’t my choice.

I stepped back, needing distance between us before I spoke. “Len, I don’t want you to call me, or text me, or come see me anymore.” I sucked back the sob that tried to escape. Not because I was letting him go, but because I was hurting someone I used to love. “We’re through. I’ve moved on with Grayson. I love…” I stumbled over the word, but forced myself to finish the sentence that would end the cycle of suck. “I love him.”

He closed the small space between us, rage turning his face into something ugly and twisted. I didn’t back down. “You said you would never love him, that it was just sex.”

I hoped Lauren could heal his heart after I stomped on it for good.

“Hearts are fickle.” I shrugged.

“Grayson,” I called, knowing by the way my heart fluttered and my body pulsed he waited around the corner.

He stepped out from behind the brick building. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his face expressionless, except for his eyes. They searched mine for an answer to an unspoken question. A question we didn’t have time to figure out the answer to.

I reached my hand out and waited for the comfort and strength I needed from his touch. He placed his hand in mine and a familiar heat rose through me. I used it to illustrate my final point. Pulling Grayson close, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and kissed him deep.

When we separated, I willed myself to turn around and face Len. “My heart does not belong to you, and yours doesn’t belong to me.” I stepped closer to Grayson, leaned against his chest, needing him at my back to get through the rest of my speech. “Grayson is my perfect match. It’s time for you to find yours.”

None of my words were lies.

I pointed down the sidewalk, in the direction that Lauren had gone. “You need to follow Lauren, chase her down, and see if she’ll give you another chance to get to know her.”

Len unleashed his full arsenal of anger, face redder than a ripe strawberry. “I’m not interested in anyone else. And after you, I’m not interested in another relationship.” Len pushed me away from Grayson and punched him in the chin. Grayson toppled but didn’t fall. Len turned and walked away without a word.

Grayson rubbed at the red spot on his chin, his eyes narrowed. “Whatever makes you feel better, Len.” He spoke low so only I heard.

I reached up and touched his hand. “I’m sorry. You keep taking hits for me.”

He offered a half-grin. “Nothing a little ice won’t fix.” He fingered the edge of my blouse. “You’re covered in wine and look like you’re on the verge of breaking down. Let’s get you home before that happens.”

Grayson left me standing on the sidewalk, cold, miserable, and scared about Len’s future. Lauren’s future. My future. He came back with my purse and led me to my car, helping me into the passenger seat. He slipped behind the wheel, but before he cranked the engine he turned and looked at me. “I know kissing me in front of Len broke your heart, but it was for the best. I think he finally sees that there is no hope for you two.” He turned the key. “We’ll get it all figured out tomorrow.”

Tomorrow seemed so far off. A long space of time before we had another chance to connect Len and Lauren. Time to reflect, think, worry, and blame myself for this mess. One more night for Len to sink further into the deep, dark hole that slowly swallowed him. One more night of the total annihilation of his soul.

Grayson navigated Doris through the twists and turns to my house as I sat in the passenger seat, smelling of wine and looking like the blood from my ruptured heart had seeped through.

We pulled into the driveway and Grayson parked the car under the trees, then cut the engine. He walked around and opened the door for me. I sat there. Defeated. Grayson held out his hand. I took it. Lust trickled through our touch, not a sharp spike, but a slow burn.

We held hands to the front door, not saying a word. When we stepped into the house, he let my hand fall free and turned to face me. “When you told Len you loved me, did you mean it?” His eyes eager for my answer.

But it wasn’t an answer I could give him. Not tonight. Not until I knew Len’s soul was safe.

I shrugged and avoided his eyes, afraid he would find out the truth before I did. “I can’t give you the answer you want right now. Hell, I’m not even sure of the answer myself.” I looked up. “All I want is a hot shower, time alone to think, and my bed.”

Grayson frowned, leaned forward, and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “You’ll have to face your feelings eventually, but I’ll give you tonight.” He closed the door behind him without looking back.

I shut myself inside my house with a slew of emotions, a pile of thoughts, and a buttload of regrets. But Grayson gave me the space and time I needed to figure things out, and for that I was grateful.

I just hoped I figured everything out before we all ended up face first in the crapper.

Seventeen

Who’s Going to Clean This Crap Up?

I dragged my depressed butt up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to strip out of my clothes, wash away the horrible evening, so I could cuddle up in bed and forget tonight ever happened. At the tenth step, I stopped at my great-great-great grandmother’s portrait. My hands skimmed over her delicately painted face, a face that held many similarities to my own. Small, upturned nose. Deep-green eyes. Full upper lip. Unfortunately, that’s where the similarities ended.

She had married for love and stayed for the long haul. No chasing. No making the wrong choices. No picking the wrong man. She had been promised to another, but instead she followed her heart. To avoid spending her days in a loveless marriage, she fled. Ran away. Took her future into her own hands, and the gamble had paid off.

I tried to be like my great-great-great-grandmother, to take my future into my own hands. I ran from guys like Brad. Like Grayson. Like every man who had treated me like shit, tore my heart into a trillion pieces.

Instead, I ran to Len, a man I thought would make me happy.

A man who lived by plans and structure and organization. The complete opposite of the free-spirited, haphazard, land-of-chaos I thrived in. I had forced myself to be who Len wanted, to please him, to be someone who didn’t fit inside my own body. To be Len’s ideal woman. I made myself believe we were perfect for one another. But the truth was, we weren’t. Not even close. All to shield myself from more pain.

Another gamble that hadn’t paid off.

Even worse, I’d been so intent on not falling for Grayson I ignored all the signs that we were suited for each other. I pretended my attraction for Grayson only existed because Cupid forced us together, but in reality it had nothing to do with Cupid or his arrow. I was attracted to Grayson. Undeniably so. “Why can’t love be easy?” I muttered to the generations of people who had come before me, wishing they had an answer to that age-old question.