The Big Fix (17 page)

I finally looked him, really
at
him. What I saw there upset me more than anything so far. Fear. He was afraid of what I was going to tell him. He thought—

“No! It’s not like that … Billy, I never would have … you
know
you’re the one—”

I thought I saw a tiny amount of relief in his eyes. Would he understand? Would
I,
in his place? The one thing I knew, as cowardly as I was feeling at the moment, was that I
had
to tell him what had happened. I couldn’t compound my wrong by lying about it.

So, I started at the beginning. Took him with me through the wedding and the reception, explaining, as dispassionately as I could, my thought processes, trying to make him understand how I could possibly think he would do such a thing. I, of course, didn’t go into detail about my encounter with Mark, other than that it had happened—that would be cruel, not to mention incredibly stupid.

I finished up my painfully long soliloquy with, “And then, when you came in”—I hurriedly wiped the tears from my face with a corner of the pillow—“and I realized what I had done…” I couldn’t go on, not without sobbing, and I wasn’t going to lay that on him.

He’d held himself still and granite-faced the whole time I was talking. “Thank you for telling me,” he said at last, in a quiet monotone.

I was starting to panic. He looked so stunned, so emotionally … not there. I had to—“Billy, I love—”

“
Stop.
” His voice was harsh. “Do
not
tell me you love me. Not now.”

I drew back, shrinking into myself like he’d backhanded me. “I—I—am so very sorry.” I was crying openly, unable to hold it in anymore. “You have every right to be mad—”

“Oh, I’m mad.” His eyes frosted over, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking toward the front door.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I said quickly. Probably too quickly. But, God, I would hate myself even more if what I’d done caused a rift between Billy and Mark.

“Don’t be stupid, Ciel. Of course it was,” he said, voice rock hard.

“No, I told you—he thought I was mad at you, that I was questioning my relationship with you. I—stupidly, I know—
let
him think that, but only because I thought he was
you.
I was trying to goad you into telling me it was you, to make you come clean. It was part of the game I idiotically thought we were playing.”

“Ciel, none of that matters. What matters is he betrayed me. Even if everything you say is true—and, don’t worry, knowing how your mind works, I believe your story—even so, he should have, at the very least,
waited.
”

My sobs were coming faster and harder. He finally gathered me in his arms, holding my head close to his heart, stroking my hair, not saying anything.

When I still didn’t stop, he lifted my chin and kissed me, not at all gently. Fiercely. Possessively. I responded—I couldn’t not respond to Billy, it seemed—and it made me feel all the more shame. I pulled away.

“I … I need a shower,” I said.

A look of bleak understanding fell over his face, followed by stony determination. He stood, and pulled me along with him, not stopping until we were in my upstairs bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I asked, though it was becoming more obvious by the second.

He yanked open the shower curtain and turned on the water. The spray was still cold when he lifted me and put me under it. I stood there as he kicked off his shoes, sputtering as the water hit my face. He stepped in and reached for my robe. Stopped himself.

“May I?” he said, with a forced calmness.

I nodded, standing there like a mannequin.

He pulled the robe off me and dropped it on the floor next to the tub. I was trying very hard not to shake, but the water was taking a god-awful time to warm up. I wanted so badly for this night never to have happened.

Billy found my bottle of body wash and squirted way more than I usually used onto his hand. He started with my back, working his way down until he got to my feet, then turned me around and continued, methodically replacing the aroma of Mark with the scent of cucumber melon bath gel. He saved the center of me for last, and by the time he got there I wasn’t shivering anymore. Not from the cold, anyway.

I held on to his biceps to keep from toppling over as he let the now warm water cascade over me, washing away the last bit of foamy gel.

“Your clothes … got wet,” I said inanely, my voice small.

He pulled the black henley over his head and dropped it, sopping, on top of my robe. His jeans took more effort, but they, too, eventually came to rest on the wet pile.

Naked, he took my hands in his and looked into my eyes, hard. “I should have told you I wouldn’t be at the wedding—that part was my fault. But I have to know—did you really think he was me?”

“I did, Billy. I swear I did. I never would have—”

He pulled me into his arms. “Shhh. It’ll be okay.”

Chapter 16

Billy was gone from the guest bed when I woke up, giving me a moment of panic until I heard him in the kitchen. I went to my room for something to put on and was surprised to see the bed stripped down to the mattress. Sheets, pillowcases, and bedspread were nowhere to be seen. Ditto my dress, underwear, and bra.

I checked the bathroom. The pile of sodden clothing was also missing.

I dressed hastily in a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants and went downstairs to find Billy at the stove, scrambling eggs. His eyes were guarded, but otherwise he seemed to be his usual cheerful morning self.

I thought we’d maybe weathered the storm. We’d slept in my guest room. Well, kind of slept. Mostly, we’d put a great deal of effort into proving we couldn’t get enough of each other. He’d seemed determined to wipe any trace of Mark from my consciousness, and I was equally determined to prove he had nothing to worry about on that score.

Heck, I had more than enough worry for the both of us.

“Hi,” I said.

“Cuz,” he said with a tiny bow of his head. “How many pieces of bacon would you like?”

“Two,” I answered automatically, not really giving a damn about bacon. I wandered closer to the stove and leaned back against the counter. “So, I notice my bedspread and sheets are gone…”

He shrugged and kept pushing the eggs around the pan. “I threw them away. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you some more. Bra and underwear, too. I don’t expect you want me to replace the dress.”

Okay. I could understand his actions. “No, I don’t need another dress like that one.”

He scraped the fluffy yellow eggs (they looked much better than when I cooked them) onto two plates and added strips of bacon. Not looking at me, he carried our food to the dining table. I followed him with forks.

“Juice?” he said as I sat, sounding like a waiter.

I let out a breath through puffed cheeks. “You’re still mad.”

“No, I’m not.” He sat, started to take a bite, then pushed his plate aside. “Okay, I am. Damn it, Ciel, you should have
known.
”

“How? How could I know for sure? You’re a damn good adaptor—when you’re wearing someone else’s aura,
nobody
can tell it’s you unless you allow it. I assumed you were going for complete realism.”

He looked at me wryly. “That’s just it. How could you think I’d be
Mark
?”

“Why wouldn’t you? We all cover for each other. You know how seriously Mark takes his job—I assumed if one of you had to stay and finish the assignment, naturally it would be him.”

“I wasn’t asking that, and you know it. I meant how could you think I’d be Mark for
you
?”

“Geez, Billy, it’s not as if you haven’t offered. I mean, the other day you were ready to sweep me off my feet as Jackson Gunn!”

“Yeah, and
that
would have been fine. I knew it wouldn’t mean anything to you. Hell, I’ll be happy to wear Hugh Jackman for you, or Daniel Craig, or that guy you like on the
Vampire Diaries
—”

“Ian Somerhalder? Don’t bother. You look enough like him as it is,” I said, trying desperately to lighten the moment.

He lifted one corner of his mouth. Halfway there?

“The point is, I know you don’t feel anything beyond a passing lust for any of them. If I were going to pretend to be Mark for you—and that’s a damn big ‘if,’ because, trust me, I’m not that big an idiot. Anyone else, fine—but let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I lost my freaking mind and did it. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have thrown in something to crack your impression that he’s perfect?”

He seemed to be loosening up, now that he was letting it out. When he saw I wasn’t going to argue with him, the barest hint of humor appeared in his eyes.

“Hell, I would have given him Limburger breath, if I thought it would kill your crush. At the least. And probably a really tiny dick.”

That surprised a laugh out of me. I clamped my mouth shut, but the giggles kept coming.

Billy reached across the table and took my hand, his eyes finally forgiving me. “
Now,
Ciel. Tell me when you’re laughing. I couldn’t stand to hear it when you were crying.”

My heart full, I declared it openly to him for the first time. “I love you.”

His face relaxed, the tension he’d been holding at bay gone. “Told you so,” he said with a wink. “Eat your eggs before they get cold.”

*   *   *

Billy left me to my own devices after breakfast. He had a client of his own to meet with back in Manhattan.

As he walked out the door he said, “Limburger.”

“What?” I said, perplexed. “You want me to get you some cheese?”

He shook his head. “That’s our new safe word. If you ever need to know it’s me, ask if I want some cheese. I’ll say ‘Limburger’—that’s how you’ll know for sure.”

“Okay. Limburger.” I supposed it was better than “tiny dick.”

I was hoping the drive would give his anger toward Mark a chance to cool, but I hadn’t brought it up again, not wanting to strain our fragile rapprochement. When he came back, we were going to put our heads together and figure out the best way to deal with the Jackson Gunn situation.

The first thing I did after he left was reach for my phone. I doubted Billy would appreciate it, but I had to explain things to Mark. I wasn’t looking forward to it a bit either, but confession was apparently good for the soul. Besides, in the immortal words of my dad, if you make a mess, you clean it up yourself.

Mark didn’t answer, so I left a message to call me when he got a chance, hoping my voice hadn’t cracked as much as I feared it did, frankly grateful for the reprieve. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him.

I showered again, put on clean clothes, and dug out fresh sheets for both beds, wishing it were as simple to tidy up my conscience. That was when I noticed the small, still-damp velvet case on my nightstand, and my heart tried to exit my body through my mouth. Was
that
Billy’s surprise? Surely he hadn’t intended to …

But no. What it was clamped around my heart more than any ring could have. It was a small brooch, made of diamonds and white gold, shaped like an open parachute. The folded note in the case read:
Congratulations on facing your fears. Stick with me, Ciel—I’ll never let you fall.

He must have had it made after my first ride in his plane. I felt the tears prickle again. Aw, crap. Why’d he have to be so thoughtful? And how could I have been so
stupid
? Had I wanted to have my cake and eat it too so badly that my brain had come up with the perfect scenario to achieve it without guilt? Man, I
sucked
at being a girlfriend.

I tucked the beautiful pin away in my top dresser drawer. It was too fancy for jeans and a sweatshirt, and besides, I didn’t deserve to wear it. Not yet. But I was determined to fix that.

At loose ends, I decided to walk to the grocery store. It was a hike, and I didn’t need all that much, but it was something to do. I had to keep busy.

Mark was at the door, about to ring the bell, when I opened it to leave.

“Is he gone?” he said, his face giving away nothing.

I tried to remain as calm—outwardly, anyway—as he seemed. Nothing was going to slow my heart down, but he didn’t have to know that. “Yes. He has a client to see in New York.”

He nodded once. “May I come in? Or would you rather talk in the park?”

The patch of green across from my condo wasn’t big, but it did have a bench and a statue, so maybe it qualified for that designation.

“It’s nice out,” I said, pleased my voice didn’t shake. Not being in the place where I’d thrown myself at him might be best, all things considered.

The bench was empty, so we sat, not looking at each other. There was a squirrel scolding us from the other side of the statue, apparently irritated that we’d dared invade its territory.

“So,” I finally said, “about last night…”

“Ciel, before you start, you need to know something.” He turned to me. Even smiled a little, maybe trying to reassure me. “I don’t play games. I wouldn’t have taken you to bed if I didn’t intend for there to be something between us. I’m not a fling kind of guy. Even if I were, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

This was going to be worse than I thought.

“Mark, I have to tell you—”

“That you feel bad about Billy? I understand. You think I don’t feel like shit about it myself? He’s my friend.” Mark ran a hand through his short hair, obviously frustrated at the situation.

“No, I wasn’t going to say that, exactly. I mean, I do, but…” I trailed off, looking away, hoping for an infusion of courage.

“Look at me, Howdy.” I did. His eyes were still gentle, but his voice was firm. “If you’re going to try to tell me you were only using me because you were mad at Billy, that it didn’t mean anything to you—don’t. I know better. You’re not that kind of person. Last night, in that bed with me, you were where you wanted to be, and it wasn’t with Billy.”

“Mark, last night I thought I
was
with Billy,” I blurted.

“What?”

Okay, guess he
hadn’t
figured it out.