Wilde For You (The Wilde Sisters Book 3) (14 page)

Since she didn’t have babies to care for at home and the delivery had gone exceptionally well, the doctor allowed Sage to go home the next day, as long as she promised to rest, drink plenty of liquids, and take care of herself.

The first thing Sage did when she walked through her door was scoop up her cell phone from the floor and check her messages.

None.
Not even from Luke. Definitely odd. Usually her phone vibrated out of control and rang off the hook at the worst times. She had an automated message that connected callers to her email, website, and Twitter accounts. She always called her clients and prospective clients back within hours, and was terrified her punctual reputation would be ruined after twenty-four hours with no phone, but no one had called. Or texted.

Picking up her iPad, Sage logged onto her email. Twenty-nine messages. And all but three were spam. Deleting the ads for penis enlargements, tummy tucks—she had second thoughts on opening that one—and auto warranty extensions, she clicked open the message from Delany Jones, whose wedding Sage had been working on. The ceremony was scheduled for Columbus Day weekend, just five weeks from now, and Sage had a lot of last minute details to organize with Delany and her fiancé Josh Ferguson.

The young couple’s budget had no limit, courtesy of the bride’s orthopedic surgeon father. After typing a quick reply suggesting a meeting time and place for later next week, Sage sent the email off and opened the next two messages.

Potential clients. Perfect. She replied with her usual message and hit Send. She’d left her September calendar open, not knowing when the twins would arrive, but October through the following summer were fairly full. Sage needed to keep busy.

She grew tired fast, and realizing she hadn’t even sat down since entering her condo, she slid out of her flip-flops—her feet were still swollen, but she’d be back in her Manolo Blahniks soon—and opened her fridge.

Nothing. She turned on the tap and got herself a glass of water, gulping it down as if she hadn’t had a drink in months. Not good.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Sage sat down on a barstool and pulled the fruit bowl closer. Brown bananas. Gross. She preferred hers bright yellow with a tinge of green. As soon as they grew spots, she chucked them. Rayne always gave her hell about wasting food and told her to put them in the freezer for making smoothies or banana bread.

As if.
Opting for an orange instead, Sage used her awesome pregnancy nails to puncture and peel the sweet fruit. Peeling and eating suckered the life out of her, yet she managed to drag her deflated body to her room and fell to her bed the same time her eyes closed.

For four days Sage slept, getting up only to pee, drink water, and rummage through her cabinets, finding nothing but canned soup, crackers and a chicken teriyaki Lean Cuisine in the freezer. If she wasn’t sleeping, she was thinking about Luke. Cuddling her pillow tight, she reminisced about the good times they had in her bed and his and couldn’t help to smile when imagining the wicked grin that showcased his lips when he was thinking dirty thoughts.

She imagined him hot and dirty and sweaty fighting fires, rescuing people, saving buildings from total destruction. That’s what Luke Riley did. He saved buildings and people. Now that Sage had delivered the twins, she didn’t need rescuing from a chair, more than capable to stand on her own two feet. She didn’t need him to rub her swollen kankles or feed her in the middle of the night.

Sage could return to being free and independent and focused on her work. She texted her sisters—otherwise they’d show up at her door—and emailed her new clients, setting up appointments for Saturday.

Knowing she needed to shower and get to the store, Sage rolled out of bed and turned on her bathroom faucet.
Maybe a bath.
She brushed her teeth as her tub filled, found her neglected razor, thankful she could finally bend over to shave her legs, and dumped a gallon of Sweet Pea bubble bath under the stream of hot water.

The room began to smell delicious and the mirror started to fog. Sage dipped her toes in the hot, bubbly water and slowly sank to her neck. Pure bliss. She washed her hair and rinsed it under the faucet and took great care in weed-whacking the hair off her forgotten legs.

When the bubbles dissipated and her fingers and toes turned to prunes, she looked down at her stomach.
Ick.
Gone was her tiny waist and flat belly. Gone were the tiny soccer-kicking, piano-playing babies causing a ruckus on her bladder. Gone was her outie belly-button and in its place was a pile of skin and fat. No one told her she’d feel so disgusted with her body. Women with newborns gushed about their babies, complained about sleepless nights and sore nipples, and she ignored them, knowing she wouldn’t have to deal with any of those issues.

Sure, she heard mothers complain about never getting their bodies back, but they blamed it on the kids. Not having enough time in their busy schedule, being too tired. Problems Sage wouldn’t have to face.

Averting her eyes from her droopy boobs and belly, Sage hefted herself out of the tub and dried off. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants—not the ones she wore pre-pregnancy, but from her earlier months—a sports bra to suck in her aching chest, and an over-sized t-shirt. The baseball cap and sunglasses should be enough to disguise her until she found something more suitable to wear in public.

Getting in and out of her car was much easier now, and she managed to zip through the grocery store, tossing in fruits, vegetables, and Greek yogurt. She’d be dammed if she didn’t get her body back before the Jones-Ferguson wedding. There would be potential high-end clients at the rehearsal and wedding and Sage knew the rich preferred to work with chic, young women. She’d wear her size two navy Armani suit in five weeks and even order a pair of Spanx if necessary.

It took her three trips to bring in all her groceries, and her body ached like she’d run a marathon. Feeling flushed, she opened a water bottle and drank. She was nearly halfway through the bottle when her doorbell rang. Sighing, Sage picked up her phone, expecting a missed text from one of her sisters. She was very clear, telling them she needed some time to herself and would call or text them when she was ready. Thyme took the rejection personally and had hoped now that the babies were home that Sage would be at her house every day to play with them, but it was too much, too soon. Thankfully Rayne understood and made Thyme promise to give her space.

The doorbell rang again. “I’m coming.” She groaned and opened the door, rolling her eyes before she saw who stood before her.

“Luke.”

He didn’t respond but fixated his hazel eyes on her. Slowly, he dropped his gaze to her belly, clenched his jaw, and then brought his death glare back to her face. “You’re not pregnant anymore.”

“Uh, no.”

“You had the babies last week.”

“Four days ago, yes.”

“And you didn’t call me? Send me a quick text to let me know you’re all right?”

“I didn’t know I had to.” Guilt found its way past the spare tire around her waist and clenched her insides.

Luke shook his head, walking past her—uninvited—into her living room.

“Would you like to come in?” she mumbled.

Luke drew both hands up his face and clawed at his scalp. “I don’t know what the hell to think anymore.”

“About?”

The death glare returned. Sage had plenty of time to think while lying in bed and resting. And dreaming. Her dreams she couldn’t control. They were sensual and Luke starred in every single one. But her daydreams when she tossed and turned also starred Luke. And that made Sage mad. She didn’t want to think about him. Didn’t want to want him. Didn’t want to need him. He messed with her head and messed with her goals.

“You seriously have to ask? I thought we cleared a few things up at Brian’s lake house.”

“Yeah. That we’re friends and I don’t owe you anything more than that.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t call your friends when you went into labor? When you had the babies? I expected to be on your calling list.”

Friends?
Sage didn’t have any. The only person she called was Thyme. The only people who visited in the hospital were her sisters and Brian and Claire, but they were like family anyway. And they didn’t come to see Sage, they came to see the babies. Thyme and Grayson’s babies. There was no one Sage would have called.

Except Luke. But she couldn’t. Calling him would have made their friendship…more. Besides, she didn’t have her phone on her.

“I didn’t bring my phone to the hospital.” And for a few hours she didn’t even miss it. Granted she was undergoing the most intense, gruesome pain she’d ever experienced in her entire life at the time, but still. Very un-Sagelike.

“Bullshit. That thing is glued to you.” Luke nodded to her left hand, still clutching her phone.

Sage tossed it on the coffee table. “I didn’t bring it to the hospital. Seriously.”

“And if you did, you would have called me?” Luke snorted. He shook his head and paced the small living room. He stopped at her mantel and picked up a drawing Maddie made for her a few weeks ago. “Let me ask you something.”

Sage swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t like the interrogation or being made to feel guilty.

“When you were young, did you ever color out of the lines?”

“What?”

“I bet, even when you were Maddie’s age, you had every detail planned out in your artwork. You never made mistakes or colored out of the lines.”

Sage shrugged. “I’ve always been a decent artist.”

“No.” He set Maddie’s picture back on the mantel and crossed over to her in two angry strides. “You make these crazy-ass rules in your head and follow them to perfection. It’s not artistry, it’s dysfunction. You never allowed yourself to live, to break free from the lines and be spontaneous.”

“I didn’t know being a planned, organized, neat person was cause for a Dr. Phil segment.”

“You don’t get it, Sage. I care about you. A lot. And so do your sisters. We know you’re strong as hell and can run the world on your own, but we want to be there for you. With you. I want that. But I can’t force you.” Luke lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach out for her and quickly pulled back.

“You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve always been honest with men. I told you up front that I didn’t want a relationship. I’m not some delicate flower who has gone into mourning. I wanted sex. We had sex. You wanted friendship, I tried to give that to you. I’m content with my life, Luke. It’s you who doesn’t seem happy with it.”

“It’s pretty ironic.” Luke laughed. “You preaching honesty. Not once have you been honest about your feelings. You hide behind your spreadsheets and schedule every minute of your day to avoid feeling…anything.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She hated the tension in her chest, the anchor in her belly, the tightening in her throat. He was completely wrong. She didn’t keep busy to avoid anything but boredom.

“I’m not asking for a lot, Sage. To be here for you. That’s what
friends
do.”

“It’s always about
you
and what
you
want.” Heat rushed to her face, annoyance took over her mouth. Men didn’t tell her what to do, what to think or what to feel. She wouldn’t let Luke start bullying her around either. “You always have to be the hero, swooping into someone’s life and saving them. Either from a fire or from an abusive relationship or from…something. I’m not a damsel in distress who needs saving and that pisses you off.”

“I recognize the same fear in you that I’ve seen in my brothers and sisters. We’re all afraid of something. You need to figure your fears out on your own.” He walked slowly to the door and pulled it open, standing in the doorway with his back to her, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world were on them. “When you finally realize you don’t have to go at this alone, I’ll be there for you,” he said as he left.

Sage wished he hadn’t closed the door quietly behind him. She really wanted to slam it in his face. How dare he come into her house and accuse her of not knowing how to be spontaneous. Hell, she’d been having planned spontaneous sex for years before he came along.

Even more determined to lose the baby weight and get back in the swing of things, she stripped on her way to her bedroom and yanked on a pair of running shorts. Low-rise was in, so she didn’t concern herself with the straining elastic that wouldn’t stretch over her muffin top. Keeping the t-shirt on, she pulled on a tight elastic headband to keep her bangs out of her eyes, laced her running shoes, and searched for her earbuds.

She thought she’d use them while in labor, but it all happened too fast. Finding them in the front pocket of her bag, she clipped the buds around her ears, found her phone, selected her running music, and jogged out the door.

Ten minutes later, Sage was back. Maybe running days after giving birth wasn’t such a good idea. She logged on to the In
Motion website and looked for the yoga schedule. Six a.m. with Rayne. Perfect. Even though she was seven months pregnant, Rayne still taught a few classes at her fitness center. Yoga would be a good way to get back into a workout schedule. In a few days Sage would add Pilates, and then Zumba. Hopefully within a week she’d be back to running her daily 5K. Anything to keep her mind off her body.