Work of Art ~ the Collection (89 page)

Eventually, he gives me a break and takes the spool as we sink down to the sand and lie back to watch the delicate structure of nylon, rods and fine line dance back and forth with the sea wind.

I watch his focused expression as the sun falls over him. He knits his brow and purses his lips as he tightens the spool.

“Can I ask you something, Max?”

He glances at me and nods. “Sure. What is it?”

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

“No.”

“Aren’t you curious what she has to say?”

“Look, Ava, there’s nothing she could say that would change anything. I knew it from the moment I saw her again. All of the ways she toyed with me and messed with my head when we were involved came back like it was yesterday.

“I was here waiting for years, and I got nothing from her, and it tore me apart. Now, I’m finally getting myself together. I’ve found real happiness with you. I realize it wasn’t her I’d been waiting for, but the idea of being in love—the idea of letting someone into your heart and trusting they will still love you even after they look around.”

“After they look around?”

“Yeah, at the mess and all the dark stuff inside your head. But with me—hey, have you ever seen those shows about people who hoard crap in their homes?”

“You mean those whack jobs that have piles of stuff everywhere so they can’t sit on the furniture or even get through the rooms?”

“Exactly. That is how my head and my heart felt—so damn crammed full of garbage and crazy ideas that I couldn’t even see straight. Then I met you, Ava, and you started clearing paths through all the crap. Like one of those people on the show that comes in and calmly helps clean out everything that isn’t needed. And because of you, more stuff gets cleared out all the time.”

“Can you sit on the couch yet?” I tease.

“Work with me, this is a metaphor.”

“Okay, soooo we’re clearing the crap.”

“And I’m stronger for it. And that’s one of the reasons I love you.”

“I’m your crap clearer. Max, you always say the most romantic things.”

“But here’s the point, smarty. Why in the world would I open the door and let Chloe drag her old messed up crap back in my world?”

“Well, you have a point there, and your visual is really driving it home. You’re right—just keep that door closed, boyfriend, and you and I can make out on that couch we’ve cleared off.”

He grins and narrows his eyes provocatively before he winds the line around the spool and brings the kite lower.

“So, since you brought up making out, how about some hot tub fun?”

I stand and brush the sand off my shorts. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“But first, you need to grab it.”

“Out here on the beach in front of everyone?”

“No, the kite, sexy. I’m reeling it in—when it gets low, grab it.”

I blush, but no grabbing is necessary. The thing sails out of the sky and lands gently in my arms.

“Perfect,” he sighs.

We turn and head back to the house with the sun on our backs and the wind pushing us forward. His fingers lace through mine, and for that moment, I have a brilliant few seconds where I actually believe everything’s going to be all right.

Later, as more elaborate plans are abandoned, our evening consists of takeout and a forgettable movie. Exhaustion hits us both, and we fall into bed around eleven. Sleep takes me quickly, but at some point in the night, I stir and realize something’s off. I reach for Max, and instead of warm skin, my hand passes across his pillow, cold in his absence. I open my eyes.

“Max?” I whisper.

As my eyes adjust, I see him on the balcony facing the ocean, and I watch him. Every once in a while, he paces across the wood planks, runs his hands through his hair, turns back toward the water, and grabs the rail. He looks like an animal trying to figure out how to break out of his cage. With each pace across the balcony, he looks more tense.

I can’t watch him any longer. I rise, wrap the throw from the foot of the bed around my naked body, and step outside.

“Max?”

He looks at me with a forlorn expression. “I woke you.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing . . . everything.” His expression is haunted.

Where’s my beautiful man who believes our love is bigger than any tornado swirling around us?

I step closer and run my hand across his shoulder. It’s all there, right under my fingertips—my impending departure, Chloe’s reappearance, and the deafening echo of his abandoned heart—woven into a heavy weight pulling him down.

I understand his agony. I’m an ordinary girl whose parents left my life and never came back. Those scars are inside me like the rings inside a tree that mark the years.

All Max sees is my leaving to chase a once-in-a-lifetime dream. But through this experience, I’m determined to make us stronger and break the cycle of abandonment that has damaged us. He doesn’t fully believe yet that my love and devotion will bring me back to him, but I know without a doubt it will.

“You’re so wound up. Your head’s filled with dark thoughts again, isn’t it?” I ask gently.

“Yes,” he admits.

“Oh, Max. Why don’t you let me help you? Come lie down and I’ll rub your back.”

His head drops, but he nods.

As we step inside, I pull the covers all the way back, and after pulling off his PJ bottoms, he lies on the bed on his stomach. I sit on the edge of the bed and rub his shoulders. They’re so tight, I have to work hard.

“You need to let go of whatever you’re worried about. Take a deep breath.”

As his back rises and falls with each breath, I gently rake my fingers through his hair and make soft circles down his sculpted back, over his hips, and down his thighs. He sighs contentedly, so I do it several more times before working on his shoulders again. He turns and looks at me. “You can’t be comfortable working on me from that angle. Why don’t you get up on the bed?”

I climb up and straddle him. The throw I’d wrapped around me gets in the way and I peel it off as I settle over him. I work my hands slowly up his back, pressing gently along either side of his spine.

“I’m sorry for all you’ve had to deal with these past few weeks, Max. It’s understandable that you’re freaking out. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with.”

“I’m trying, baby, I’m trying,” he murmurs.

“Well, let me help you.” I lean forward and gently kiss the base of his neck. My breasts skim his back. “I love you so much, and I want to help you however I can.”

“Oh, Ava.” He shuts his eyes tightly and sighs. I can’t tell if this makes him feel better or worse, until I notice the pain etched across his face. So I rub his shoulders again and get lost in the warmth of his skin and the powerful strength of his muscles, despite his very tender heart just below.

He groans.

“Good?” I ask.

“So good. Don’t stop.”

I shift and lean into him, my thighs moving over his hips. I can’t help myself from being distracted when I’m this close to him.

He shifts his hips and sighs. He’s on to me. In a slow movement, he turns, easing over carefully so I don’t fall off. When he’s on his back, he pulls me into his arms and skims his lips up my neck.

“I’m not done,” I insist.

“No, you’re not,” he says. “But now we’re changing course.”

His lips find mine, and every part of him is pressed against me. I sense the quiet fire about to engulf us.

“What. You didn’t know what you were doing to me?” he asks in a low voice as he presses the evidence of his desire against me.

I touch him with heated intentions. “I was trying to calm your mind, not get you worked up.” I’m secretly pleased he wants me even in his dark moments. It’s a darkness that makes me want to shine around every one of his corners. I want to give him light.

“This does calm my mind. I need this,
really
need this.” We fall into each other in the tug and pull of love before surrendering to our hunger completely.

I burn as his lips move over me.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers against my feverish skin.

I wonder for a moment if he doesn’t understand the depth of my love, that in my darkest moments I’ve prayed for guidance so we can fulfill our destiny to be together.

“I love you
more
,” I say, as I spread my legs and beckon him closer.

His agony lifts and he gives me a wicked smile.

He pushes into me, and I arch my back and sink my nails into bare skin.

“Damn, Ava!” He pulls almost all the way out, and then pushes back in again.

I lose myself as each thrust comes harder and faster. I wrap my legs around him and hold on for dear life. I need it hard, as if his force will knock the fear right out of me.

In between thrusts, he twists my nipples, and rakes his teeth along my neck. “You
are
more, Ava,” he growls.

“Yes,” I chant as I tug his hair so his head arches back and our wild eyes meet.

He responds passionately, sweeping me into his arms before he pushes me into the mattress with his powerful hips. His expression is fiery, and the hard raw fierceness of us is just what he needs right now too.

When I feel the rumbling deep inside, I let it roll. I thrash and moan and beg him to never let me go. He watches me with wonder and the deepest satisfaction reflected in his eyes. I hope he understands that for me, it’s him. It will always be him.

Right before his final thrust, he pauses and presses his lips to my ear. “You’re all I want, Ava, you’re everything.”

And that is all I need.

Chapter Fourteen / Captain Fantastic

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.

~Pericles

“W
ell, you can’t change your phone number. That’s the number MOMA and so many others have for you. You’d have to use a forwarding number prompt, which would defeat the purpose,” Dylan explains to Max, as we wait for our table.

It isn’t that crowded tonight at Firefly, but Max requests a special table in the alcove near the fireplace for our dinner.

“Did you block Chloe’s number?” Riley asks.

“Yes.” Max lets out a frustrated sigh. “But then she just calls from other numbers. I have to let every call, except people from my contact list, go to voice mail, and then I have to listen to all of them.”

“That sucks,” Riley says.

What Max hasn’t mentioned is that every time his phone rings, he tenses and his eyes get stormy. It’s wearing him out, but I don’t know what to do about it. Chloe seems to be a shadow following us everywhere. I keep hoping she’ll get the message and give up, but there’s no sign of her surrendering.

“Your table’s ready,” the maître d’ says, so we follow him to the table.

“Hey guys, let’s not talk about it anymore. This evening is a celebration dinner for your engagement. I want to focus on you tonight.”

“Sounds good to me. Dylan’s my favorite subject.”

Dylan takes her hand and she smiles.

“So, how were your parents about the news, man?” Max asks.

“They’re really happy. For a long time they wanted me to end up with one of those San Marino blue bloods, but over time, they’ve come to realize that Riley is the perfect girl for me.”

“Yeah, and they’ve insisted we have the wedding at their house,” Riley adds.

“Which means they’re paying for it,” Dylan grins.

“And I always wanted a garden wedding—so it’s perfect.” Riley glows as she explains the details.

Despite Dylan’s parents’ help, my resourceful girl is creating the website for a wedding dress designer in exchange for her dress, and one of the printers she deals with at work is insisting on doing her elaborate invitation design for next to nothing.

She’s thought of everything, and I’m reminded of the conversation we had at a mutual friend’s wedding last year. Riley had planned her wedding out long ago, which explains how she can move so fast with her plans. She will be a wedding force to be reckoned with.

“And the date?” I ask, so I can let the production company know right away about my schedule for that weekend.

“June fifth. You’ll be able to come, right? I mean, with your shooting schedule and everything?”

“Are you kidding? Nothing could keep me away.”

“Well, all of that is well and good, but I want to know the most important thing. Where are you going for your honeymoon?” Max teases.

“My vote was Maui to relax,” Dylan says.

“And I wanted Italy.” Riley smiles.

I laugh. “Two very different honeymoons. So, who won?”

Dylan winks at Riley. “We both did. We’re going to Maui right after the wedding, since we’ll probably be wiped out from all the partying, and then for our first anniversary, we’ll take a big trip to Italy.”

“Perfect,” Max agrees.

The waiter pops open the champagne, and as Max lifts his glass to toast our friends, I lift my glass without too much envy for what Riley and Dylan have. After all, they give me hope that a happily ever after can actually happen.

A couple of hours later, we wait in front of the restaurant for the valets to get our cars. Dylan’s car is the first to arrive. We share farewell hugs all around.

“Thanks, guys, that was so much fun,” Riley says.

“Our pleasure,” Max responds.

I’m delighted with how well they’re getting along. Riley has come to adore Max, and I think he feels the same, or is, at least, tolerating her well.

Right after they drive off, the valet arrives with Max’s car, and as I move to get in, the valet notices an envelope on my side of the windshield.

“Here, miss,” he says, as he hands it to me. I thank him and put it on my lap as I buckle my seatbelt.

“What’s that?” Max asks with an uneasy look on his face. The envelope is addressed to him. Before I can respond, he jumps out of the car and turns around, looking in all directions. My stomach turns.

He finally climbs back in and slams his hands on the steering wheel. “Damn!”

“What, Max?”

“It’s Chloe. She must be watching us. Damn!”

“This is from Chloe?” I cry out, holding it up by the corner, as if it’s about to explode.