Written By Fate (8 page)

“Dom, I can’t be seen in public with you. I can’t live in
your world but I can’t ignore what my body’s screaming. I don’t know how to
give this a chance,” I tell him honestly.

“What’s so wrong with my world? Why can’t I flaunt you and
pamper you? I’ve worked hard to live this life--what’s wrong with sharing it
with someone?” he asks and squeezes my hand again.

“Nothing, nothing's wrong with sharing it--you should. I
just can’t. I’m sorry. I don't want to be flaunted. I don't mind pampering
though,” I giggle. Gross. I seriously just giggled. Releasing my hand he rolls
to his side and brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheek and lips. “Tell me
why.”

“Answer this first. Do you know Charlie Hollingsworth?”

“From California, the senator?” he asks and my heart sinks.

“Yes,” I answer quietly.

“Of course. We mingle at the same parties occasionally. I
know his son.” He seems proud but he doesn't know it’s just torn us apart.

“I see. I can’t date you publicly,” I say and look away from
him. “I think maybe I’d like to head home now if you don’t mind,” I say
blandly.

“I don't understand, Clara. What does Charlie have to do
with anything? You have to tell me,” he pleads quietly. Turning back to him I
stroke his face and give him a small smile.

“I was a kept woman once, Dom. I’ll never go back to that.
If you want to casually date, and by that I mean grab a slice or see a movie in
Blacksburg, I’m willing to do that, but no yachts, no planes, no galas or
events. And absolutely no mentioning my name. I don't want the tabloids
photographing me or writing about me,” I instruct. He frowns at the offer and I
know we’re done. I push off the cushion and stand before tugging him up too.
Wrapping my arms around him I hug him tight and soak in his smell and the feel
of him before letting him go. “This was a really nice night. Thank you,” I say
and weakly smile.

Surprisingly, he doesn't question me further or push in any
way. The boat docks thirty minutes later as we finish our conversation about
how he met Miller and how funny the guy is. The ride to the airstrip and the
flight back are quiet but he finds ways to touch me tenderly every few minutes.
It’s torturous, because I want it but shouldn't. Our silence isn't strained,
it’s comfortable and during the drive to my house I find myself snuggling into
his side wishing he was just your normal guy-next-door.

“Clara,” he calls quietly after walking me to the door.
“Will you finish my tattoo?”

“Sure. We probably need three more two-hour sessions,” I
tell him and stand awkwardly in front of him waiting. Finally I can’t stand the
tension between us. Pushing up on my toes I grab his neck and pull his face to
mine. “Please kiss me goodnight, Mr. Napoli,” I breathe. He doesn't hesitate,
fulfilling my request. Our lips dance together gently but intensely. It’s a
farewell kiss. A goodbye kiss. A kiss that screams this is the end of something:
sad, salty, and sweet. Our lips linger together as our breath mingles, neither
one of us wanting to be the first to let go. Finally I let go of his neck and
the arms at my waist drop and hang limply at his sides.

“I’ll have my assistant call and make an appointment,” he
mumbles.

“All right.”

“Goodnight, Clara.”

“Bye, Dom.” I turn to open the door but stop. “Do you want
the Princeton gear and dress back?” I call over my shoulder.

“Nah, I’d never wear it.” He laughs. “Looks better on
you...the dress too.” He winks before folding into the backseat of the car. I
wave, unsure if he’s looking or not, before heading into the house. It’s dark
and silent. Taped to the fridge is a note from Sawyer. He’s not home. I toe off
my boots and push the shoulder straps of the dress down, letting the gown slip
off me, landing in a red puddle at my feet, and in nothing but my undies I walk
upstairs and crawl into bed. What a clusterfuck.

I stare at the ceiling and curse the day I met Daniel
Hollingsworth. Ten months after our engagement I’d been sick for a week and
felt miserable. I confided to Amanda how awful my life was. She spent the day
with me and, witnessing my vomit attacks, asked if maybe I was pregnant. The
idea had completely thrown me. I was only twenty-three and Daniel and I weren't
married. This would be bad news. She bought a test, I took it and, turns out, I
was having a baby. Like a brick in the face I realized I couldn't bear to bring
a child into his world...so I bailed. I left him a note telling him I was
staying with Marg and to give me space. I had nothing and felt desperate. I’d
pawned the engagement ring, netting me five thousand dollars--not even close to
its value--and hid at Marg’s for days.

His response was to show up in the middle of the night and
drag me back to our house, all while lecturing me on what’s appropriate and
what’s not. I would not leave him. It’s not acceptable for someone like me to
leave someone like him. He would happily support me but we didn't have to have
a relationship outside the public eye. I was young and scared shitless.

Three days later I was informed that we were having brunch
with his parents at the country club and that it was time for me to perform
appropriately. He led me to brunch reminding me to play nice in front of his
parents and friends. When he realized I wasn't wearing the engagement ring he
lost it and become slightly physical with me. When he found out I’d pawned the
ring, well...it didn't end well. I showed up bruised and broken on Amanda’s
doorstep, sobbing.

I blow out a breath and close my eyes, willing the memory of
Daniel and that day away, before falling asleep.

“Darling, where’s your engagement ring? You can’t show up
at the club without it. What would people say?” He squeezed my elbow harshly as
we descended the marble staircase to the foyer. Panic seized me as I tried to
formulate an appropriate response.

“I... I don't have it,” I explained.

“What do you mean you don't have it, Jade?” he roars.
“Where the fuck is the ring?”

He bellows at me and I cower. “I hocked it, Daniel. IT’S
GONE,” I shout back. His fingers dig into my shoulders--no doubt leaving
bruises--before he starts violently shaking me. “You HOCKED IT? YOU HOCKED THE
FAMILY RING?” he screams, shaking me more. I snap my eyes closed and pretend
I’m anywhere else. His hands release my shoulders abruptly and as my eyes snap
open I feel weightless and lose my balance. Stumbling to find my footing I miss
the next step and tumble. His hate-filled eyes watch every hit to the cold hard
stairs that my body takes. My hands protect my head but I’m helpless to do
anything more before I crumple at the bottom in a pile of skin and bones. Pain
surges through me. The baby. Fuck. The baby.

I scream myself awake, out of breath. Sweat drips down my
back as I suck in ragged breaths to steady myself. Eight years later and I
still can't escape him.

Butterfly Diamonds

After a weekend of me throwing myself into my work, Allie
came home happy and excited for music camp in a few weeks. Her cheerfulness and
enthusiasm were hard to ignore and Sawyer, Allie, and I fell effortlessly back
into our normal routine. Sawyer never asked about my date with Dom but seemed
content that he'd disappeared. I didn't offer up any more information. June
slipped into July and yesterday Sawyer dropped Allie at music camp for another
week away. I was really looking forward to her regular day camp when she
returned. This being away crap wasn't for me. I like my little girl home every
night. She requested Sawyer drop her off because I'd made too much of a scene
the last time. I protested violently to her idea but in the end they teamed up
against me and won.

“Did she say she loved me?” I whine to Sawyer the moment he
steps foot in the shop. He chuckles and blatantly lies to me. “Of course she
did, love.”

I pout because I know he’s full of shit. He looks over the
book before sauntering back to me and hugging me.

“I don’t like overnight camp,” I complain, making him laugh
again.

“Well maybe we should go out, take your mind off of it,” he
suggests.

“I guess,” I huff. I’m really being unreasonable and I know
it.

“We could see a movie?” he tries again.

“Mmm... yeah. Okay,” I give in, earning me a heart-warming
smile from my favorite man. Sawyer prepares for his first appointment while I
clean up my station. I’m light on appointments today and plan on getting some
errands done. My back pocket vibrates. I fumble with the phone trying to remove
it from my pocket and finally manhandle it into submission to check it.

Dom: How’s my favorite lady?

I smile at the screen. Dom’s been sending random texts here
and there since he left. They’re usually short, always sweet, and I never know
when they’ll come. The man doesn't give up easily and he sure knows how to keep
my interest sparked, I’ll give him that.

Decent. Where are you?

Dom: Miami. It’s hot.

Huh, who wudda thought?

Dom: Har har smart ass

Business or pleasure

Dom: business my dear, always business.

All work and no play...

Dom: Makes Dom a dull boy.

See you soon handsome

Dom: Not soon enough.

His appointment is in five days and I find myself looking
forward to it. I think about him often and lately I started dreaming about
him...really good dreams, too. The secret texts we share always put me in a
good mood and I feel I’ve gotten to know him better through them. He’s not
Dominic Napoli the ruthless mogul, he’s my Dom, funny and thoughtful. Tucking
my phone back in my pocket, I resume cleaning before heading out.

“Anything you need at the grocery store?” I ask Sawyer on my
way out.

“Eh...deodorant and condoms,” he calls.

“Condoms, huh? You anticipating getting laid?” I tease.
Sawyer and I don't use condoms; I have an IUD and we’ve been together forever
and know each other's history, not to mention we both get tested yearly. He
must have a new love interest because I haven't seen Kylie around for weeks.

“Shut it. You asked. I answered,” he clips and resumes
tattooing his client. She giggles loudly at something he says and I wonder if
that’s his next lay. Gross, I hate tattoo tramps. They just think he’s a
badass, they have no love for the real Sawyer. I shake my head at them, leave,
and hop in my car.

By the time I get home and load my arms with the twenty or
so grocery bags--because like an idiot I refuse to make more than one trip to
bring them in--it’s nearing four. I struggle, teetering on my heels, to get
everything to the door, where there’s a box with a note waiting for me. I let
the bags from one arm slide off onto the porch, unlock the door and carry the
groceries into the kitchen before retrieving the box. I didn’t order anything
but it’s addressed to me. I grab a knife to cut the tape and open it. A card
rests on top of a smaller box that reads, “Don’t hate me. I saw it and knew it
was yours.” I put the card on the counter and open the white box. A stunning diamond-encrusted
three-inch Swallowtail butterfly attached to a long chain rests in it, and
attached to the wing of it is a smaller version. I’m speechless. It’s clearly
handcrafted, platinum, and I’m guessing those are real diamonds. It’s a
glittery, scaled-down version of my tattoo. Lifting it, I pull the long chain
over my head. The pendant rests just between the swell of my breasts. I dig
through my purse for my phone and call Dom.

“Napoli,” he says shortly.

“Dom, I’m speechless,” I coo into the phone.

“Clara?”

“Caller ID says yes,” I laugh.

“I didn't look. Sorry. Let’s try this again. Clara! So glad
to hear your voice,” he chuckles before murmuring something to someone else.

“I’m good. Did I interrupt something?” I ask, wondering if I
should have just texted.

“No of course not. I have time for you,” he says with
conviction.

“I just wanted to say thank you. The necklace arrived today.
It’s amazing. I love it,” I gush before I can think better of it. He lets out a
breath that sounds like relief.

“So you don't hate me?” he asks.

“Hate you?” I question.

“For spending my gross money on you,” he chuckles lightly.

“No, you idiot. I love it. Seriously,” I chastise teasingly.

“Good. It’s one of a kind and when I saw it I knew it was
made for you,” he says softly and my heart melts just a little.

“Well thank you. You shouldn't have, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I do have to get back to work though.” He
sounds distracted.

“Well quit lollygaggin’ and hustle,” I joke.

“Always a ham, my dear,” he says before hanging up. I listen
to the dead air for a moment making sure he’s really disconnected before
putting my phone down and staring at the sparkling pendant.

“Everything okay?” Sawyer's voice snaps me out of my daze.

“Huh? Yeah. Why?” I say, turning to face him.

“You were just standing there with your head down,” he
jests.

“Oh. I, ah. Dom sent me a gift.” I point to my chest. “I was
staring at it.”

Sawyer’s face clouds but quickly morphs to indifference as
he walks to me and inspects the necklace.

“I didn't realize you two kept in touch,” he says under his
breath.

“We don’t, really. He texts once in a while but that’s it,”
I share.

“Well this looks like more than some random texting.” He
drops the necklace back to my chest and moves around the counter furiously
unpacking groceries.

“Sawyer, I’m here. With you. What does it matter if Dom and
I text sometimes?” I touch his arm lightly to still his movements.

“It doesn't, Clara. The necklace is just a little much don't
you think?” He sighs.

“Maybe, but it is really pretty,” I gush, and Sawyer gives
me a small half-hearted smile and continues putting groceries away. Well, so
much for a nice night with my main man. Sawyer says we’ll have to wait until
tomorrow to see a movie because he’s suddenly too tired to go out. I tell him
that’s fine but I know he’s irked about Dom’s gift. Things had just finally
settled back into their good ways too. I try to convince him to snuggle me and
watch some bad cable TV but he blows me off, opting for his room instead, and
I’m left pondering how to bridge the gaping hole that’s forming between us.