Shameless (10 page)

He laid his palm against her cheek and she fought the urge to turn into it, accept the comfort he offered.

“Just tell me what you want.”

She was terrified of what she wanted, terrified of what he wanted. “I don’t know.”

He tipped her face until their eyes met. “That’s a lie. You know exactly what you want. You want me, right here, right now.”

She tried to shake her head, to deny his accusation, but he held her firm.

“If Eric weren’t in the picture, would you consider it?”

She didn’t know how to answer that question. The idea of making love to her ex-husband would have seemed inconceivable just twenty-four hours ago, but now, she couldn’t deny it was tempting. It had been five long years since she had taken her satisfaction in someone else’s arms and the throbbing between her legs, coupled with the quivering sensation deep in her belly, told her that was five years too long.

“Why haven’t you made love to your fiancé, Sierra?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. It was a betrayal of Eric’s trust. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is it because he can’t?” he asked gently.

Her eyes shot to his, shaken by his insight. She tried to shutter her expression, but it was clear that she was too late. He already knew the truth.   

He sighed, his hands slipping to her shoulders. “You are the sexiest, most passionate woman I have ever known, sweetheart. Why would you agree to marry a man who isn’t able to satisfy your needs?”

She shrugged her shoulders, unable to acknowledge the truth. The thought of making love to another man after Trey seemed distasteful.  Being with Eric made it easy. She didn’t have to force herself to live a lie, pretending her fiancé was someone else when they made love. She could slip between the sheets alone, getting lost in her fantasies, her memories.

“Okay, forget about Eric. What about the men before him? You must have dated after the divorce?”

She was embarrassed to admit the truth. No other man would ever compare to Trey, in or out of bed. “I didn’t have time for dating. I was working fourteen-hour days trying to start the foundation.”

“Part of your job is to rub elbows with high society to raise money for your cause. Are you telling me men didn’t ask you out at these benefits?”

She laughed. “After every benefit, I’d get dozens of calls from men willing to donate to the cause if I’d agree to have dinner with them.  A few even offered an obscene amount of money if I’d sleep with them.”

He took a step back, his hands fisted at his sides. “You’re kidding me, right? Please tell me you’re kidding me.”

She smiled, taking perverse pleasure in the tortured look on his face. After his admission about the night she left him, turnabout was fair play. “It’s true. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not.” He grinned. “Hell, I might consider it myself if I thought I stood a chance.”

She pushed against his chest, causing him to stumble backward. She laughed at his dramatic antics. Given the fact he weighed twice as much as she did, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to budge him had he not been willing. Their shared laughter triggered a flood of memories.

They had spent so many years together, laughing, loving, having fun, until it all fell apart. He frowned. “Hey, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Let’s get down to work, Trey.” She grabbed the leather book and slipped behind the safe barrier of his desk.

“Sure, whatever you say.” He took a chair across from her and propped his booted feet up on the opposite end of the desk. “Bring that book over here; I
wanna
see what you’ve got.”

She considered her options: continue to live in denial or acknowledge the truth. She came around the desk and sat on the chair beside him, passing him the book. “Okay, but don’t expect too much. I just thought it might help to get the juices flowing.”

He chuckled, stroking his chin as he leered at her. “Baby, I’m willing to bet your juices are already flowing.”

“Shut up.” She thrust the book at him, catching him in the gut with the rounded edge.

His smile fell as he turned the first page. “Shit, I think I’m going to need a drink to get through this.”

She drew a deep breath. “Don’t even think about it. We had a deal, remember?”

He leaned forward, bending over the book. “This is amazing, Sierra. Wow.” He whistled under his breath.

She watched him rake a hand over his hair, a gesture she knew he only resorted to when he was feeling unsettled. “If it’s too much, we can...”

“No.” He took the sheet music out of the book and walked toward the piano.

She watched him settle in behind the baby grand piano, taken with the striking vision. The instrument was positioned in front of a wall of windows that took advantage of the westerly views of the magnificent gardens and rolling hills that seemed to stretch for miles beyond the panes of glass. The sunlight shone through, making his black hair reflect a shade of blue that mirrored his eyes. She held her breath as she waited for his skilled fingers to caress the keys, knowing it would be sweet torture to listen to him sing her words back to her. She had written the song only days after she left him, when she was still raw, agonizing over the state of her life.

She listened, enraptured, his velvet voice wrapping around her like a heavy cloak.

Some said our love would never last, I guess they were right.

‘Cause no matter how much I love you, I can’t continue this fight.

I’m losing myself in all this sadness and despair,

Not able to recognize who I am and too tired to care.

You’re never here, I’m always alone,

I long to hear your voice when I pick up that phone.

I dial, then hang up, too afraid to say hello.

I can’t find the courage to ask when you’ll be home.

Are you there with someone else, sharing your dreams?

I hate to admit that’s how it seems.

I still ache to feel your touch, your arms around me,

But I lay here alone, that’s not how it was supposed to be.

CHORUS

You promised to love me a day after forever

Yet here we are, always apart, never together.

How can we go on, living this lie?

It’s time to admit the truth; it’s time to say good-bye.  

You were my first love, my life, for so many years

You were my saviour, my hero, the one who dried my tears.

How can I go on and live my life without you?

Yet, I know that’s my only choice, what I have to do.

Don’t try to convince me or beg me to stay,

‘Cause I’m not strong enough to stay another day.

I’ll never regret a moment we’ve shared,

I can’t even regret the soul I bared.

REPEAT CHORUS

You gave me the strength to face my fear,

And you forced me to look in the mirror.

It’s because of that strength I can walk away,

Because of that strength, one day, I’ll be okay. 

Trey dipped his head on the last note, struggling to find a voice that had never failed him. It felt like someone was grinding broken glass into his chest, piercing his heart. When she walked out on him, he was blinded with pain and rage. He wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting him. It never occurred to him she was hurting as much, maybe more. 

He thought back to that day five years ago when he watched her walk out the door for the last time. Every hope and dream he had for his future left with her. He was broken, defeated, and lost. When the waitress knocked on the door to ask if she could bring him anything, he invited her inside, needing a distraction from his dangerous thoughts. She was a nameless, faceless body to take away the pain. She was the first woman he’d been with since he laid eyes on Sierra more than a decade before.

Unfortunately, losing himself in her hurt more than it helped. It made him realize there was nothing that could take away the pain, not a willing body, a double shot of Jack Daniels, or sold-out concert tour. The pain of losing her was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Sierra slipped in beside him on the bench. “Are you okay?’

He was not an emotional guy by nature; many said he was too strong, detached to a fault, but with this woman, he’d always bared his heart. “No, I’m not okay.” He took a shuddering breath. “I’m definitely not okay.”

She put her hand on his knee. “Let’s start with that.” She grabbed a notepad and pen from the top of the piano. “Write about what you’re feeling.”

He looked at the blank piece of paper, terrified. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” She stroked his back. “Okay, start by telling me what you’re thinking.”

“I was thinking about the night you walked out on me,” he whispered, looking at the hand that rested on his knee. Her engagement ring winked back at him, reminding him that she now belonged to another man.

“Go on.”

“I was thinking about her.” He hated to say it, hated to remind her, but it was time for full disclosure.

She withdrew her hand, resting it in her lap. “What about her?”

“I don’t remember anything about her. I just remember how I was feeling when you walked out. I wanted something to take the pain away, so I turned to her.”

She shifted her body until she was facing him. “Why didn’t you ever write about our break up?”

He shook his head. “No way. It was too raw, too painful. I had to pretend I was fine with it. That was the only way I could go on.”

“Maybe now’s the time to face it, together.” She picked up the pen and handed it to him.

He scribbled the first thing that came to mind.

Please, baby, just say you’ll give me one more chance.

She glanced at him, refusing to meet his eyes. “That’s a good start. Keep writing. Don’t think about it. Just write.”

She was right; he had been over thinking it, trying too hard to make it work.

I’ll do anything to make up for the mistakes I’ve made.

He wasn’t thinking about whether it fit, whether it was lyrical, whether it would strike a chord with fans. The only person he cared to impress was her. He was writing it for her, to her, about them. If it became a hit song, so be it. If it helped him get over his writer’s block, great. But if it helped him to win her back, that meant everything.

I lie awake thinking about the past, the way it used to be. 

She looked at him, her eyes searching his.

The time for empty promises had passed. Now, he had to show her how much she meant to him.

He scribbled furiously, waiting for her reaction. It was like writing a letter to her, pouring his heart out as she watched, waited, critiqued.

I can’t go on this way, living without you,

Self-medicating, hating who I’ve become.

She touched her fingertips against her lips to conceal the tremble. “Trey, I...”