Written By Fate (13 page)

Reckless

I’m definitely in a funk. Ever since the wedding I've been
paranoid and have become hyper vigilant about being aware of my surroundings
and who might be lurking around. Dom has not sent flowers, he’s not called, and
he hasn't made his final appointment for his tattoo. Things between Sawyer and
I are strained at best. I’ve hurt him too many times and we both know I chose
him for the wrong reasons. He’s distant and moody, like me, and I can't bridge
the gap between us. It’s terrifying.

To think that in mere months I’ve lost two men I love seems
impossible, yet here I am, living with one who loves me for me and my daughter,
too, and pining for the other, who doesn't fit into my world at all. Even my
Wednesdays at the school with the chorus kids don't brighten my spirit lately.
I’ve officially fucked myself. True to Dom's word, no pictures from the wedding
surfaced of me and my name wasn’t mentioned. It must have been his last act of
generosity towards me because there were definitely lots of flashes going off
that evening. I silently stalk him once in a while on the internet, checking
out pictures from various functions he attends then quickly delete my internet
history because I’m sure Sawyer would be pissed. Sometimes I open the jewelry
box and let my fingers graze the diamond butterfly pendant while memories flood
my mind.

I’ve been restless. My days consist of going to work, being
a mom, directing the chorus, and more work. Our age-old routine seems dull and
boring lately. June feels like a lifetime ago. Everything's as it should be. We
both go to work. We have dinner as a family, we help Allie with her homework,
and attend school functions together. I couldn't want anything more out of
family life. I shouldn’t want anything more. This is what I’ve strived for.
Sawyer’s considerate of my wants and needs. He adores Allie and he is
definitely affectionate and thoughtful. Still, everything feels wrong,
off...fake. And it’s my fault. I furiously clean the shop or the house to keep
my mind from dwelling too much on the choice I’ve made because I should be
happy with it. For Allie and Sawyer, I have to be happy with it.

“Clara. Come sit,” Sawyer calls. I scrub the stain on the
countertop a little harder.

“In a minute,” I mumble as I continue scrubbing vigorously.

“Clara,” he calls again a few moments later. I ignore him
and continue my chore.

“Goddammit. Stop cleaning!” His hand covers mine, stilling
my movements. “Just chill out,” he says softly. He tugs me away from the
kitchen so I follow him to the living room and try not to fidget as we snuggle
and watch some TV together.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say a little too brightly.

“You’ve been cleaning non-stop for weeks...and you don't
clean,” he says knowingly. I grumble under my breath at his stupid observation.

“Spring cleaning?”

“Clara. You’re restless,” he states.

“I’m fine. I definitely not restless,” I fire back
indignantly.

“You’re unhappy,” he says flatly. “With me.”

“Sawyer, I love you. Don’t push this,” I say rather
defensively. He sighs before turning off the TV and standing.

“I don't know what to do to fix us,” he exhales dejectedly
and walks away. Well, shit, him and me both. I listen as his footsteps stomp up
the stairs and his door opens and closes. God help me because I’ve seriously
screwed up. I’m not sure there is a fix this time.

And that’s how, eight months after swearing to Sawyer that
I’m all in, I’m currently thirty thousand feet in the air on my way to Miami. I
left him a note saying that I needed a week to think things through. I’d kissed
Allie in the middle of the night, set the note on the counter for him, and
caught a red-eye flight. Impulsive, YES. Irresponsible, SURE. Necessary,
PROBABLY. Going to end badly, most likely. Does any of that matter to me? No. I
decided that I can't please everyone so this week my only goal is to please me.
I’m a selfish cow but I can’t seem to help it.

I check into the Hilton, toss my shit on the bed, turn my
phone off, and crash for a solid eight hours. After waking and lazily lying in
bed for another hour, okay, two, it's three in the afternoon on Friday and I'm
starving. I order room service and rent a movie to occupy my time while I
debate whether or not I can actually go through with my plan. Deux opens at
nine. I have no idea if Dominic will be there then but the rags reported he'd
be in Miami this week so I assume it’s for work. If I go and if he's
there...then what? Will he talk to me or throw me out? What if he's there with
someone else? Do I have the balls to approach him? The questions swirl in my
head and make me dizzy as I try to imagine every possible outcome and prepare
for them all. At eight I shower and dress. My brown hair is now a deep purple.
It looks black mostly but in natural light or the dim lights of a club it glows
a sort of eggplant color. I twist it into buns above my ears and slip into the
backless black dress I brought before slipping my red cowboy boots on. After
lining my eyes with kohl, applying mascara and coating my lips with cherry lip
gloss, it's just after nine. I stare at my reflection for a long time before
deciding I look good enough. Snatching my clutch from the counter I head out.
As I make my way through the lobby my phone chirps it’s text message alert.

Amanda: Where R U?

Why?

Amanda: Sawyer’s going ballistic

I needed some time away to think

Amanda: CLARA

I know!

Amanda: Sort your shit out and get home

Trying

Amanda: You know I love you

I know, thx.

The line to get in is already long and instantly I'm
irritated. If I don't get in soon I'll lose my nerve. After mentally kicking myself
a hundred times and almost jumping out of line twice I'm next to get in. The
bouncer smiles seductively at me and I coyly wink and bat my lashes in return.
Like magic he unclips the rope and ushers me inside. Sometimes having a vagina
is a good thing.

The bass vibrates the floor and lights strobe rhythmically
with the music. Deux is two floors and huge. A shot girl stops next to me.
"Want one?" she shouts, gesturing to tubes of liquids in various
colors.

"Three!" I shout back. I hand her thirty bucks and
tell her to keep the change. They are sticky sweet and just strong enough to
take the edge off. I shoot all three in succession and set the empty tubes on a
vacant table. Leaning against the wall I scan the club. No Dominic. I head
upstairs and find an empty corner to stand in as I search for the tall, dark
man who consumes my dreams and drives me insane. The only place I can’t make
out is the VIP lounge. Another shot girl saunters by and I grab three more
shots of liquid courage from her. Skrillex blares from the speakers. I close my
eyes for a moment as my buzz starts to take hold of me. Opening my eyes, I keep
them trained on the VIP entrance and move to the middle of the dance floor. No
reason I can’t enjoy myself while I'm here. I feel pleasantly loose as I start
swaying my hips, bouncing and dipping to the music. Daft Punk comes on and I
let the music take over completely, arms in the air, hips rolling, ass shaking
and a shit-eating grin on my face. A few different men try to dance with me but
I twirl away from them, content in my little bubble of release.

A chill rushes through me and I stop dancing and turn in a
circle slowly looking for him. I can feel his eyes on me. I don’t know how but
I know he's watching. After finding nothing I shake off the feeling and start
dancing again. The song cuts off abruptly and Alex Clare's “Too Close” starts.
Odd choice for club music but I stay on the floor and dance anyways, I love
this song. People, not liking the song choice, filter off the dance floor until
there's only a small crowd left. I tag two more tubes from a passing girl, down
them, and hand the empty tubes back to her. The song’s ending morphs into “Seven
Devils” and that chill rips through me again. As I dance in a circle I freeze,
rooted to the floor, as my eyes crash into Dom's. He stands forty feet away,
smirking, on the VIP stairs, looking dashing as always. I grin back and start
dancing like the women who performed for us on his yacht slowly, deliberately,
and seductively just for him. The rest of the club ceases to exist as I move
for him. He does not approach me and I don’t move towards him. I let him watch
from afar. People start crowding the floor as I move. Men are whooping at me
and making lewd gestures but I ignore them all, focusing only on the face of
the man I came to see. I want him to want me. I want him to choose me, forgive
me, love me. As the song rolls to a close a stunning blonde, immaculately
dressed, appears at Dominic's side. I stop moving and watch as his grin widens
at me before he twists, grips her at the nape of the neck, and kisses her hard.
My stomach drops and before their kiss ends I'm downstairs and running for the
exit.

I push through the crowd, blow past the bouncer and sprint
down the sidewalk, not slowing until I'm a block away. I refuse to cry. My eyes
well with tears but I sniffle them all back. I'm buzzed and amped up with too
much emotion so I wander around South Beach for a while until I can't walk any
further. Collapsing on the beach, I watch the vast ocean before me ripple and
lap the sand at my feet while I throw myself the pity party of all pity parties
until well after two in the morning. Exhausted and dejected I schlep back to
the Hilton, close the blinds, strip off my dress, crawl under the covers, and
pass out.

Heat spreads slowly from between my legs out through my
limbs, kindling a fire low in my belly. The rough hands feel so good as they
rub my flushed skin. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," I murmur sleepily. Hands slide along my
body fondling me. It feels incredible. My legs spread and warmth slides in and
out of me. Moaning, I will myself to open my eyes and snap out of the all-too-familiar
dream but I can't. My skin tingles with pleasure. He smells so good. It feels
so good, so real. Gently he makes love to me until I shatter around him. Crying
out my name as he comes I moan with pleasure. "I love you, Dom," I
mumble in my sleep.

Sunlight rapes my eyes and makes my hangover feel twice as
intense. Squinting, I slowly open my eyes. "What the shit," I grumble
at the wide open blinds. "I know I closed those..." I continue
talking to myself. Groaning, I roll out of bed and violently close the
curtains. I crawl back in bed and yank the covers over me. Drifting back to
sleep my heart leaps out of my chest. I throw the blankets off me and gasp. I'm
in nothing but a men's white tee shirt. I scan the room frantically. My dress
is crumpled on the floor where I shed it. My boots haphazardly strewn near the
door. The underwear I know I went to bed wearing are on the floor next to the
bed. Folded neatly on the desk is a sweatshirt...a Princeton sweatshirt. I gape
at the scene before me realizing that Dominic was here, in my room. I didn’t
dream it...it happened. Holy shit. Holy fuckity fuck.

I stumble out of bed to the sweatshirt. A note card rests
next to it, reading: “Brunch. 10. Downstairs.” I twist around to the alarm
clock. It's nine-thirty. I skip the shower, choosing instead to quickly wash my
face, brush my teeth and hair, and tug on the sweatshirt and a jean skirt.
Sliding on flip flops I grab my clutch and dart out the door at ten. I rush
into the restaurant and scan the room for him. The host appears out of nowhere,
startling me. "Meeting someone?"

"Uh...I...maybe...yes, Dominic Napoli." I fumble
with my words, still scanning the room.

"Ms. Lord?” He smiles and I nod. “We're expecting
you...this way." He ushers me to a table at the window. An empty table.

"Mr. Napoli said to order whatever suits you." He
drops a menu in front of me and walks away.

"What are you up to Dom?" I grumble to myself
before slamming my forehead on the table in frustration. I order brunch hoping
that Dom will arrive at some point. I force myself to eat slowly giving him
more time to arrive but by the time I’m done it’s nearing eleven-thirty and
he’s nowhere to be found. Giving up, I flag the waiter down and ask for the
check.

“Mr. Napoli’s taken care of it,” she says with a smile. I
give her a weak one back and leave. Deciding I can’t stand to just sit in my
room, I figure maybe I should check out South Beach during daylight hours. The
sidewalks are bustling with people of all walks of life. Restaurants are full
and music spills out into the streets but it does nothing to take my mind off
last night. How did he get into my room and why did he bother after purposely
making a fool out of me. I prepared for every imaginable scenario but the one
that happened. Overheating in his sweatshirt I pop into a boutique and pick out
the hottest little bikini I think I can pull off. I change into it in the
dressing room, leave his sweatshirt on the dressing room bench, and bring the
tags to the register to pay. It’s sunny and almost eighty degrees out, and I
feel much cooler in the bikini and jean skirt as I walk further down the strip.
I eventually settle on the beach, unable to ignore the lure of the ocean any
longer. I shimmy out of my skirt, lay it flat and pile my clutch and flip flops
on top of it before lying down on my back in the warm sand and letting myself
enjoy the sunshine. Hell, maybe I’ll even get a little tan.

I arrive back to my room at four with a healthy glow from
the sun I soaked up on the beach. I drop my stuff on the floor and scoot to the
bathroom to relieve myself. As I'm headed to the bed I notice there’s a large
white box on the dresser. I slide the card out from under the ribbon and read,
“Up for round two? Lobby. Eight. Enclosed is everything you’ll need.”