Violet Addiction (11 page)

The drive back to the villa was once again awkward. Peiro hummed to a song on the radio, while I studied the passing scenery a little too hard. I felt as though I was wound tighter than a piano wire, ready to snap. Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of the villa, and I made a hasty escape from the car. Peiro followed me to the front door. While I wanted to step inside and slam the door shut in an attempt to escape any further embarrassment to myself, I also knew I owed Peiro more than that. He had been nothing but a gentleman over the last few weeks. Screwing him then running wasn’t a thoughtful compensation for his kindness. I also cared for Peiro, in what capacity I wasn’t sure, but there was enough affection growing inside my heart for him that I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Violet,” Peiro whispered so quietly I almost missed it. “I hope you don’t run from me, Tesoro, but I understand you might need some time. You have your reality to get back to in America and perhaps unfinished business with a friend…” He somehow knew my feelings for Cain were more than simple friendship, but he was considerate not to call me out on it. “But you should know that I would very much like to be a part of your reality, your future. I’m a patient man, Violet, and you still have some healing to do. I have no plans to go anywhere though, so I’ll be here when you are ready. I value our friendship and would very much like to see you again. Perhaps lunch tomorrow?”

I hesitated a moment at the door. “That sounds nice, and thank you,” I murmured. I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for. The picnic? The great sex? His understanding? His patience?

“You’re most welcome.” He leaned forward and I welcomed the gentle kiss. His lips caressed mine, his tongue barely a tender caress against mine before he slowly pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Peiro turned back to his car, and I took the moment to close myself away inside the villa.

The first thing I did was check I hadn’t missed my pill over the last few weeks. It was still a relatively new part of my morning routine, easy to forget, especially when I wasn’t sexually active, nor had I had any intention of being sexually active, until Peiro. Happy to note I hadn’t missed a single day, I showered, somewhat reluctant to wash away Peiro’s scent from my skin. My body ached in the most delicious way, and a small part of me that hid behind the shadows of fear and painful memories, wished that I was not alone. I wished I was still in Peiro’s strong embrace; his masculine beauty and exciting lure washed away the darkness that seemed to take root and flourish when he wasn’t around. Under the spray of the water, I realized my fingers were once again stroking the amethyst jewel that hung from my neck. Cain, the very thought of him brought the familiar pain back to my heart. Unfinished business indeed. I simply couldn’t entertain the thought of a future with another man when my heart still demanded a future with someone else.

As I quickly dried myself off and pulled on a pair of cotton lounge pants and cami, I glanced to my cell phone which sat where I had left it on the bedside table. Eleven missed calls. I rarely managed one call every couple of days from Harry, how on earth had I missed eleven in a few short hours. I picked up the phone and noted three were from a familiar number. Not one I kept stored in my phone, but one I knew by heart regardless. Home. The other eight missed calls were from Harry. Reluctant to introduce my home troubles into my healing space, I called Harry.

“Fucking hell, Violet, I was ready to send out the National fucking Guard. Where the hell have you been? I told you to take your fucking phone with you when you went out!”

I bristled at Harry’s angry growl. “I’ve been on vacation, recuperating without the continual interference of annoying managers.” Harry took a long breath and I recognized it as something he did when he needed to compose himself.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just became panicked when I couldn’t reach you. You need to come home.”

My brow furrowed as I tried to towel dry the ends of my still dripping hair. “I’ve still got another week left.”

“Violet, it’s your mom.” The towel stilled at the ends of my hair. “She passed away last night. You need to come home, sweetheart. Your dad needs you here right now.” Thankfully the bed was right behind me, so when my knees gave way, the soft mattress caught my fall.

“What?” I barely managed to breathe out.

“I’ve already booked you a flight; you leave in three hours. I’ll organize a car to pick you up. Pack your things quickly, and I’ll meet you at the airport when you get home.” The phone line went dead, and I was left in a daze of disbelief and confusion. My mom was dead. The words didn’t sound right, they didn’t feel right. How did she die? Was she in an accident? Was my dad okay? The thought of my father snapped me to attention. My dad needed me. I hastily threw my clothes into my suitcase and found it difficult to close the zipper, the disarray inside threatening to spill out. Finally, I did a quick sweep of the villa, realizing I was bound to leave something behind in my haste. Then I locked up my temporary escape from reality and stood on the footpath waiting for the car Harry would have organized. I didn’t have time to be sorry I was leaving. I didn’t have the capacity to regret not being able to say goodbye to Peiro. I was on auto pilot and had only one goal in mind, get home.

I had never been to a funeral before. I had almost instigated my own, albeit a few years early for my liking, but I had never known anyone who died before. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were virtual strangers to me, their eagerness to avoid my messy family life apparent in their absence from my life. So, no, I didn’t have the extended family and friends that might introduce a child or young adult to the pain that accompanied death. My fingers played nervously with the hem of my black dress, my gaze downcast. I knew the church was excruciatingly empty. My mother had garnered few friends in her unfortunate life. On one side of me sat my father, his new suit stylish and wrinkle free. It bothered me that the first suit he had ever worn was to his wife’s funeral. I reached over and took his massive hand in mine, holding it tightly. He gave it a gentle squeeze, his eyes not straying from the closed casket before us. On my other side sat Harry, his nasty foul language and sometimes abrupt business persona on hiatus; he was on his best behavior today. He gave me a small, sorrowful smile when I cast a nervous look his way. I took no notice of the few people who had quietly spilled into the vacant pews behind us. I didn’t even bother to listen to the kind and forgiving words the minister had to say. Instead, I wondered where my mom was. She wasn’t the best mother, she wasn’t even that good a wife, and I bet she struggled to make a noteworthy friend. Would she go to heaven or hell? I had never given much thought to the finality of death and the ever after. My mother had died four nights ago from a drug overdose. Her body wracked with copious amounts of poison that had stopped her heart, much like my own. The difference being, someone gave me a reprieve, a second chance, and never had it been more painfully obvious than in that moment, I had been spared. Perhaps my life was worth more than I realized, that someone or something outside the law of natural science picked me to have a second chance. No tears fell when I looked at the coffin my mother lay in, but as soon as my gaze moved to my stricken father, the tears tumbled over my lashes. He was so completely and utterly heartbroken, and his pain was my pain. I looked away, trying hard to find my composure and strength for the sake of my dad. I had barely realized the funeral was over when Harry gave my arm a gentle tug, forcing me to rise to my feet. My dad didn’t move though.

“Daddy,” I whispered.

“Just give me a few minutes, pumpkin,” he quietly pleaded, his eyes still glued to the casket. I gave him a small nod as I followed Harry from the church. With my gaze focused on the ground, I didn’t notice the figure I almost bumped into once outside the church.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, giving a quick, apologetic look to the person who stood before me. In that moment, my heart thumped loudly and painfully. The world around me disappeared, the sights, sounds, and smells gone. It was as if a higher being had moved me to this place and brought everything else to a grinding halt, everything except me and him. Lost for words, I allowed my eyes to finally convince me that this was real, that Cain Everett was, in fact, standing before me. The power this man had over my heart became glaringly obvious in that fraction of time. My reaction to him couldn’t be normal. It made my feelings for Peiro pale in comparison. Speechless, I simply stared. He hadn’t changed at all, his hair pulled into a scruffy bun, his striking blue eyes a little shocked as he took me in. He wore a stylish black suit over his tall athletic body.

“Violet?” he asked in disbelief. I found myself unable to answer, and thankfully, Harry came to my rescue.

“Cain, you’re looking good, my man.” He clapped Cain on the shoulder. Cain didn’t give Harry as much as a sideways glance. “Okay, Violet sweetheart, I’ll just wait over by the car.” Harry had given my father and me a ride to the church, neither of us were much in the mood for thinking past one foot in front of the other.

“I didn’t recognize you,” Cain whispered, his eyes taking in my long, naturally blonde hair. It had been a long time since it had been anything other than purple. My figure was slightly fuller, I was sober, so yeah, I wasn’t surprised he didn’t recognize me.

“I wasn’t expecting you here, thank you for coming,” I said, appreciating the fact that he made the effort.

“Of course I would come,” he whispered. “You look great,” he said, still looking me over, his eyes lingering on the diamond at my neck. “Different, but in a good way.” I shifted nervously under his gaze before noticing his mom and dad standing in the background. I almost cried when they offered me their familiar smiles mixed with a twinge of sorrow and regret. I glanced back to Cain whose eyes no longer roamed over the unfamiliar girl before him. Now his scrutiny had settled on my most likely blood shot eyes. “What the fuck am I saying, Violet. I’m so fucking sorry.” He pulled me into his arms like I had never left. His arms were familiar, warm. He smelled just the same, he felt like my shelter from the storm, he felt like home. I didn’t try to hold back the tears any longer. I cried, not only for the loss of my mother, but for my father’s heartache, and for the loss of a treasured friendship. I cried for the loss of so many years hating myself and my family. So many mistakes I couldn’t take back; I could only learn from them and move forward. After the longest time, I drew away from his hold and carefully wiped my eyes and nose with a tissue.

“I guess you still bring out the crybaby in me,” I murmured. Before Cain had a chance to respond, a pretty redhead stood alongside him, and in a subtle show of ownership, she took his hand.

“Hi, I’m Annabelle. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said with a genuine smile. Her hand awkwardly patted my shoulder, and when I glanced at that hand, I noticed the very extravagant, shiny ring on a very important finger. I followed the length of her arm back to her face. She wasn’t familiar, I was fairly sure she wasn’t part of Cain’s family, and if she was, the holding hands thing bordered on weird. Cain rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Oh,” I breathed, recognition dawning on me. They were engaged. The realization slammed into me like a ton of bricks, and I took a hasty step away. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I thought if I moved away it wouldn’t be real. Cain’s eyes held a world of regret, but nevertheless, this was the girl he had moved on to. This was the girl I had pushed him towards.

“Cain, it’s been a long while, son,” came the gruff familiar voice of my father from behind me.

“Mr. Trivoli, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cain said as he reached out to shake my father’s hand.

“Thank you, and thank you for coming, your family too.” My dad smiled in the direction of Cain’s parents, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You ready, pumpkin?” Dad took my hand and I held on so tight I had no doubt the circulation would have stopped. He didn’t flinch or pull away though, instead he held on just as tight. Obviously both of us really needed that connection right now. He guided me away from Cain and his pretty fiancé, and I somehow managed to keep my head held high and my shoulders back.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward much,” murmured Harry as he opened the car door for me to slip in. As we pulled away from the church, I was proud of the fact I didn’t once look back. Meanwhile, my heart, which had begun a slow and methodical process of healing in Italy, was once again broken.

“What happened between you and the Everett boy?” my father asked from over the hot cup of tea he raised to his lips.

We were sitting on the front porch of my family home, only having buried my mother the day before. The house was eerily silent without her presence. It didn’t bother me; her presence had never brought me much in the way of happiness, but my father’s lost gaze as he wandered from room to room did bother me. I shrugged, not wanting to bring to life the memories of Cain.

“When do you start back at work?” I asked, not answering the question.

“Barney told me to take as much time as I needed, but I’ll go back in tomorrow most likely. I need the distraction.” Dad stood up and stretched. “Maybe you should think about getting back to work soon, too. It looks like you need a distraction about as bad as I do. Goodnight, pumpkin.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead before heading inside. Dad knew most of what had happened over the last several months. He knew about my overdose; he had cried when I told him. He knew about rehab, he knew about my escape to Italy, but he didn’t know much about what had happened between Cain and I. Obviously, he saw what he needed to in my face though. I needed a distraction like I needed to breathe.

Thoughts of Cain with his fiancé on his arm filled my every waking moment. It was easy to imagine myself slipping into ignorance under a line or two of cocaine, and the thought terrified me. I shivered under the weight of those thoughts. The battle to slip into old habits was a constant war within me, and some days, I wondered if it would be easier to just give in. Of course it would be easier, but life wasn’t meant to be easy. The real rewards came with being strong enough to fight and strong enough to win.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind me. I jumped off the porch railing and spun around to find Cain standing alone in my front yard. His hands were shoved into the pockets of worn, tattered jeans, a grey shirt molded to the athletic curves of his body, a dark colored flannel over the top.

“Hey,” I replied, proud of how steady I kept my voice.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping in. I just wanted to see how you and your dad were doing.” I moved to the porch steps and sat on the top one.

“Dad’s just gone to bed.” I glanced at the space beside me. “Would you like to sit down?” Cain’s response was to climb the short staircase and fold his tall body down beside me. “How’ve you been?” I asked after a short silence.

“Okay, I guess. Moving forward.” Obviously, he was engaged. “And you?”

“Same,” I replied with a shrug.

“Harry said you were in rehab. If I had known, I would have come to see you.” My emotions were torn with a sliver of anger for him leaving in the first place, especially when Harry had told his family I was in the hospital. He hadn’t even tried to contact me and that hurt like a knife to my heart.

“Sober seven months and counting,” I whispered. “So, are you living back here?” I went on, quickly changing the subject. I didn’t want to talk about myself. My recovery, my journey, it was mine, and even though a part of me wanted to share it with Cain, there was another part of me, the angry part of me, that wanted to keep it from him. Cain ran a hand through his shoulder length hair; it was almost a nervous motion.

“Yeah, I guess.” Cain had always sworn that as much as he loved his family, he would never move home. Home for us represented dead ends and monotony. I was surprised he was back.

“Are you working?” I wondered out loud. Cain chuckled, it was an uneasy sound, not exactly happy.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he said with a huff. I glanced at him with an arched brow. He knew me better than that; I would absolutely laugh. Cain rolled his eyes. “I’m working in an accountant’s office.” I just stared at him, unable to create an image of Cain in an office. He shifted nervously. “I’m just answering phones, filing, shit like that, but I’m thinking about going back to college. I’m not sure what I really want to do, guess I’ll figure it out when the times comes, but this job is paying the bills for the time being.”

“You’re a secretary?” I couldn’t even manage to laugh, the notion completely horrified me. Cain was a born musician, his love was music, his passion was music, his life was music. To be or do anything else would be a tragedy.

“Hell no, I’m not a secretary,” he grumbled.

“You answer the phone, file…do you do photocopying and fetch coffee for the other staff?” I said it as a joke but the embarrassment on Cain’s face told me he did, in fact, do all that, and most likely other more menial office tasks. My mouth had fallen open as I flat out stared at him in shock.