Ten Reasons to Stay ((The Risky Hearts Duet) Book 1) Page 14

  “Hmm?” I asked, drunk on peace.

  “How people grow apart.”

  I raised a brow in question.

  “Sam… the friend I told you about… we were inseparable growing up. And now, I probably wouldn’t be able to recognize him if we crossed paths.”

  “What happened?”

  He stared out at the lake. “Nothing, if you can believe it. Life. Something like that.”

  I nodded. “I can.” I’d had plenty of childhood friends who had come and gone. Some I missed, others I was glad were gone. It was strange knowing someone at a certain moment of their life. Holding that piece of them forever within my heart, knowing who they were then was most likely not who they’d become.

  “This place… it just brings back so many memories. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until now.”

  I tried to see the lake through the same eyes. My childhood was simple. My parents were still alive. Probably working on a crossword puzzle on the back porch, sipping on coffee. I visited them twice a year. Called them as often as I could. But I didn’t miss my childhood. I rarely ever reminisced. Not for any specific reason other than I liked the pace of moving forward.

  The bare branches rattled on the knotted oak nearby. They reached out like hungry fingers, thrusting forward for sunlight. Thoughts swarmed in my head…

  Aren’t we all searching for sunlight? For that warmth from the brightest touch that lets us finally breathe?

  “Come here,” he said, tugging on my hand. He was hungry for me again. I could tell by the low growl that prowled beneath his words.

  My heart was taffy. The pulling and padding of texture. My feelings easily manipulated, soft and pliant, waiting for the right touch.

  His touch.

  He pulled me closer until I was straddling his lap. His lips were against my forehead, his kisses mixing in with his quiet words. I wove my fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck.

  It was too easy, being with him.

  His fist was in my hair, his tongue tangling with mine in a slow-burning, twisting kiss. Fire lived in his gaze, licking wildly around his pupils as his hand slid under my shirt, over my bra. Such a juvenile move, but it didn’t lessen the flames rising in the pit of my stomach. He could touch me in the simplest way, and I’d melt the same each time.

  We made love, slow and sensual. Laughter filling every pocket within the moment, our souls dancing to the heat we created. I felt young with him. Like everything we did was the first time all over again.

  The next day, when the unseasonable warmth had sneaked away, leaving us with New York’s biting chill, we found ourselves curled up beside the fire in the living room. He’d wrapped us in a cocoon of blankets, an empty bottle of whiskey somewhere on the floor beside us. We laughed like high schoolers, swapping stories of adolescent hiccups and triumphs.

  Cole wasn’t as demanding in high school as he was now. He was shy. Reserved. He kept his nose in the books until he fell for his high school sweetheart. They dated for about a year before she broke it off unexpectedly, leaving him confused and upset. He later learned she had been seeing a guy on the football team behind his back.

  Though he played the part of the hard businessman, if you peeled back his skin, you’d find a sensitive soul. There was more to him beneath his surface. A heart as soft as mine.

  I, on the other hand, was every bit the typical rebellious teenage girl. I’d sneak out and go to parties. Had kissed lots of boys. Drank more than I should. Even dabbled with the pot scene for a bit. I just needed to get it out of my system. One of those situations where I’d been overwhelmed by all the freedom, so I overindulged.

  “I don’t want to leave,” he said, holding me tight against him.

  It was nearly time to go. Jack’s flight would get in soon. I was already pushing it by staying longer than I should.

  “We have to,” I said, not moving despite my words.

  He gave a pathetic sigh. “I don’t like that,” he said, pointing to something behind me.

  I tilted my head, seeing my bags by the door upside down.

  He kissed my throat, and I giggled from the sensitive touch. Grabbing my glass of water, I took a sip, and some of the water spilled past my lips, onto my shirt.

  Sexy, Corinne. Leave it to me.

  He shook his head, blotting at the mess, chuckling. I was laughing so hard I could barely sit still.

  “You’re adorably clumsy,” he said, trying to still my shoulders. “Why don’t you take it off. I can throw it in the dryer for you.” His smile was coy.

  “Nice try,” I said, swatting at him as he tried to lift my shirt.

  He frowned.

  “I’ve already stayed too long,” I said. “The driver is outside waiting. I have to.”

  He tugged on my hand when I stood. “Stay.”

  I smiled. This was becoming a habit of his. This time, though, maybe because of the alcohol, or maybe because of the high from being with him, I listened without that gutted feeling and indulged him.

  “Why?”

  He sat up. “Because we’re good together.”

  I kissed his hand that held mine. “We are. But I still have to go.”

  I slipped back into my jeans and sweatshirt, then reached for my coat. He walked me to the door, but then pulled me against him, kissing me fiercely.

  “I’ll miss you,” he admitted.

  My stomach tingled. I didn’t say it back. I was too afraid to.

  And then I left.

  Chapter 19

  Corinne

  It had been two weeks since we’d been together at the farm.

  I tried not to notice the distance I felt brewing between Jack and me. It was subtle at first. Trivial things I barely noticed. Like how we’d barely speak over breakfast, lost in our own thoughts. The hugs grew less and less. Eye contact became a rare treat. When I first realized it, it jarred me how easily it happened. How neither of us reacted to such a stark change.

  And then the nights grew later.

  He’d sometimes come home smelling like booze. It never used to bother me… the malt on his breath… but that had been because he’d curl up next to me and kiss me awake. Sometimes we’d make love. Other times, we’d laugh as he told me about his night and all the silly things he and his friends had done.

  Now, I’d wake to find him sleeping on the couch, a blanket half covering him, still wearing the clothes he had on the night before.

  When had this space creeped in between us? This monster of time that had taken large hands and pushed us apart? Even though we still occasionally had sex, it felt different, like there was something wedged in between us.

  More like… someone.

  Two someones… to be exact. Or maybe more, on Jack’s part. I didn’t know. Didn’t know him, anymore.

  One morning, a week before New Year’s Eve, he appeared in the doorway of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth. I was startled by his presence, so used to my normal routine that didn’t include him.

  He chuckled. “Scare you?”

  I turned the faucet on, spit, and then smiled at him. “Yeah. I didn’t hear you come in last night.” Or any other night.

  He put his hands in his pockets, sucking in a breath. “I didn’t want to wake you. The boys kept me out again.”

  “You guys are going to kill your livers,” I stated, smoothing moisturizer over my face.

  “Hey, listen… I was thinking,” he said, skipping over my comment. “Why don’t we host a small New Year’s Eve party? We can invite our friends. Show the place off a bit. It could be nice.”

  There was something off in how he said it. Not to mention the fact he hated house parties. Especially hosting them.

  I turned, nose scrunched, as I studied him.

  “What?”

  “I just… since when did you like having parties?”

  He cut his eyes away from me. “I don’t… I just thought… you like them.”

  I waited.

  “I
just…” Sorrow pulled his shoulders forward, and that softness I used to feel toward him spread over my stomach, warming me to him. “I’d like to do something. Together, for a change.”

  “Okay,” I said, stepping toward him.

  He wrapped his arms around me. It ached to realize his touch felt foreign and lost to me. He seemed to feel it, too, because he held on longer than usual, almost as if he was scared to let me go.

  “I miss you, Corinne. I miss this,” he said against my hair.

  My face was tucked against his neck. He still smelled the same. Like cinnamon and wood. Oh, how I wished we could go back. I could tell him no. Beg him to think of us. But we were past that. Probably had been from the moment I took him back all those years ago.

  The truth was, I didn’t think Jack could ever be fully faithful. He craved attention. Craved newness. Which was the only reason why I went ahead with the open marriage. I thought maybe it would help. Maybe even bring us closer.

  In reality, all it did was open scarred wounds and expose all our flaws.

  I felt his lips hover over the pounding pulse in my neck, and I let myself fall into him like I used to. We made love with almost a fury. Possessive kisses and hungered touches that I’d longed for.

  When he was spent, he got up and headed for the bathroom.

  Cole always held me after.

  I felt dirty and ashamed for even thinking about that. Torn in half by the desires of two very different men. It scared me, realizing who I was becoming. A women with two lovers. Easily molding to their needs.

  My stomach turned, heart trembling as I tried to bite back the tears.

  “I’m going to call a party planner in a bit. One of the guys I work with recommended her. She’s supposedly a hot commodity when it comes to throwing a good party.”

  His words were a pin popping the moment. “We don’t need a planner,” I said, ideas already thrumming through my mind. I brushed the thoughts of Cole and Jack away with need to design. I would use lots of colors with a balloon drop at midnight. “I have plenty of time on my hands. I can handle it.”

  He was picking at his face in the mirror. “I know you can, Rinny. I would just rather use her. If I’m going to invite colleagues from work, I want to impress them, you know? They have influence over my career.”

  Every muscle in me stilled as shadows stretched between us, between our moment. He had to know that hurt me. He had to know I would obviously want to be the one to decorate. I gave up my career for him. Settled into the role of housewife like he’d always wanted me to play.

  And still, he wouldn’t let me take control.

  “Baby cakes?”

  I hated when he called me that. As if sweetening an endearing name would smooth over the fact he never really listened when I spoke.

  “Okay,” I said, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. I didn’t want him to see my tears—didn’t want to cry them either.

  Turning on the shower, I stood, staring at the sink. When did I become so mute, so accepting, in our marriage? Had I always been like that? I never questioned it before. I just went along with what Jack wanted, because it was what was expected from me. It was what I always knew.

  But I’d had a taste of something different.

  The question was… what was I going to do with it?

  With determination in my steps, I went back down the hall, nearly colliding with Jack as he came out of the bedroom.

  “Jesus, Corinne,” he said, grabbing my shoulders to steady me. “Are you okay?”

  He was checking my head where we’d smacked into each other.

  “I’m fine, Jack,” I said, swatting his hands away.

  He stopped, his eyebrows nearly touching with confusion.

  “I want to decorate the house.”

  “Corinne, I know, but—”

  “No,” I said firmly. “I mean it, Jack. I understand you want to impress your friends, but this is my home, too, and I can decorate. I will, okay?”

  Something like irritation flickered through his eyes. But ever the non-aggressor, he conjured a fake smile and patted me on the shoulders.

  “Okay, dear,” he said, lips tight.

  “Good.”

  And then I took my shower.

  Everything was just as I wanted it.

  I spent an entire week, countless hours, putting everything where I felt it should go. Multicolored lights were strung up all over the entire apartment. Some hung from the ceiling. Others were draped behind sheer curtains like jeweled stars. A large bag was fastened to the ceiling near the windows from where we’d watch the ball drop, the hanging string waiting to be pulled to release a hoard of confetti-filled balloons.

  There were eating and drinking stations, along with a photo booth I’d created from scratch.

  By the time the party rolled around, I realized I hadn’t even thought about what I’d wear.

  “That one,” Macy said, pointing to the black dress hanging on the door inside my closet.

  It was the same dress I wore that first night with Cole.

  A tingling excitement stirred in my stomach as the memories of that first night paraded within my mind. It was fitting, bringing in the new year with a dress that opened the door to a new me.

  I quickly changed into it, and then sat so Macy could braid my hair. She’d been in town for all of five hours and had already taken over the spare bedroom as if she’d lived here the entire time.

  I was glad she was here. Grateful for the one soul I’d know during the party other than Jack.

  “So, does Jack have any friends I should know about?” she asked, her fingers twirling through my hair.

  I was applying eye shadow. “None that I know well. He has a few he goes out with after work.”

  “Are they good looking?”

  “I guess,” I said, reaching for the mascara. I never paid much attention to Jack’s friends. Then again, I never saw them either.

  “Well, don’t be shocked if I try to snag me one,” she said, tying the end of my hair off. “I need a healthy dose of the D. I’m afraid cobwebs are beginning to grow.”

  I laughed.

  Her reflection was serious in the mirror. “You think I’m kidding?”

  I shook my head, laughing harder. “I’ve missed you,” I said, patting her hand resting on my shoulder.

  “Same.” She paused, soaking in the gentle moment. But like typical Macy, the moment came and went, because seriousness was never her forte. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to put on my sluttiest dress and best makeup.”

  “Okay,” I said, laughing as she headed out of my room.

  An hour later, we were standing near the bar, pouring ourselves drinks. Jack’s friends were loud. Their voices filled the large space, each competing to be heard over the other. Jack didn’t say much about my decorating, but I didn’t expect he would. He wasn’t big on details. Or compliments.

  “It’s amazing,” Macy said, taking in the scene. She had that ability… reading my saddest thoughts.

  I offered a smile. “Thanks.”

  As the hours passed, edging us closer to midnight, I found myself alone, staring out the window at the crowded streets below. Macy was in a corner, flirting with some accountant Jack met a few months back. Jack was standing in front of the television with some of his friends, taking bets on the people performing.

  I thought about Cole. Was he alone? He told me that, like Christmas, he wasn’t big on celebrating. He was too old to go out, and too busy to celebrate alone. I laughed when he’d said that. Knowing him, he was probably curled up in front of his TV watching the singers, sipping on a glass of whiskey.

  “It’s almost time,” someone behind me said. I moved to the string as everyone gathered around the windows. Jack stood beside me, a hand pulling me hard against his side. He was drunk. He was always more affectionate when he’d had a few.

  “Three. Two. One!”

  I pulled the strings, the balloons engulfing us as Jack leane
d over and kissed me. It wasn’t a deep kiss. Not the kind I wished to bring the new year in with. More like a soft, friendly kiss. A peck. No tongue.

  My phone buzzed on the table beside me as Jack disappeared within the crowd of his friends, calling out for New Year’s shots. I already knew who it was. My heart skipped a beat. Cole.

  Happy New Year, beautiful.

  He was breaking rules, but I didn’t care. I felt alone in a room full of people. Felt numb, until his words appeared across the screen.

  Happy New Year, I typed back.

  Holding the phone against my chest, I wandered off to the bedroom. Someone cranked the volume to the music. Glasses littered every surface. Macy had disappeared into the spare bedroom, probably getting her vitamin D infusion. Jack had just opened a new bottle of bourbon.

  I wanted to sleep. To dream. To think about this new year. Decide what I wanted out of it.

  Because, no matter what, things couldn’t stay as they were.

  Chapter 20

  Cole

  “I told the wife you’d be coming over for dinner this weekend,” Dennis said as he picked up his chilled glass of beer. The small bar was packed with men meeting up for lunch, baritone voices loud and rambunctious within the small space.

  My gaze flattened on him. “Dennis, you know I can’t. I have work.”

  It was a lie, but only a small one. Coming down from the holidays was a busy time, trying to catch back up to what was put on pause. I had multiple deals I needed to plan for. Numbers to look over. My work was spilling over into my personal time, like always.

  He chuckled. “You going to tell Sally that?”

  I sighed, caving, as a winning smirk snaked across his lips. It was always that way with him. He never took no for an answer.

  “Besides, she’s making your favorite.”

  I perked up. “Lasagna?”

  He nodded. “Mmhm.”

  My lips curved a little. “Well, I guess I can find time, but it will have to be later in the afternoon.”

  “Works for me.”

  After the waitress brought our food, silence crept in. I couldn’t stop thinking about Corinne and our time at the farm. It had been a few weeks since then, and all I found myself wanting to do was return to those moments when nothing else mattered but the smile on her face. I’d never felt so at ease. So laid back.