Didn't Mean To Love You (Serendipitous Love Book 2) Page 15

  Groaning, I carefully lowered the picture, propping it against the wall so that the back was facing out. “Where’s the damn packaging, Rod?”

  “On the counter.”

  I shuffled through the thick brown paper on the counter, searching for something that would tell me where the pictures had come from. When I found the packing slip, I scanned it for the purchase date.

  Just over a month ago, billed to Vivienne Lambert. I dropped the slip onto the counter, massaging my temples. There was no way I could keep a gift like this from her, but… how could I return it without being awkward?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roderick trying to sneak over to look at the picture again, and I grabbed him by the back of his collar, tugging him away. “Show some respect man, she’s your boss.”

  “I know, and I will be at work early tomorrow.”

  I shook my head, pushing him back into the living room as I picked up the picture to place safely in my bedroom. Obsessing over that could wait until later.

  “Alright, I said, re-entering the living room and pulling the XBOX controller from Rod’s hands. “It’s time to do another progress check, since you’ve got free time to play video games.”

  Roderick scowled, but he was paying attention. “Alright. What’s up?”

  “You still doing alright on the job with Viv?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not running her nerves into the ground?”

  “Nah, man. Viv likes me. She says I work hard.”

  I nodded. “Good. You got a test date for your GED yet?”

  “Yeah. It’s gonna take all day, but I’m scheduled.”

  “Okay… good. You been looking at colleges?”

  “Already picked one out.”

  I pulled my head back as a smile spread across my face. “That’s good man. So… you really are serious, aren’t you?” I asked, leaning back into the couch cushions.

  He shrugged, but I picked up on the smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  “What about this girl you’ve been seeing… you serious about her?”

  I got another hunch of his shoulders, but he was having a harder time maintaining a serious expression.

  “Okay, I won’t push. You can keep it to yourself. Just… make sure you’re using condoms dude, ‘cause you can’t have a girl and a baby moving in here.”

  “I know. We’re… we’re being careful.”

  “Good. I’ma let you get back to your game.”

  I handed him back the control and headed to my room.

  “Hey… Carter,” Roderick said, turning to look at me across the back of the couch.

  “Yeah? What’s up?”

  “Thanks, man. For… letting me come up here with you, looking out for me. I appreciate it, for real.”

  I grinned, giving him a two-finger salute. “Hey, that’s the point of having a brother, right?”

  He returned my salute with a nod, then turned back to his game. I closed the door behind me to tune out the sound of him killing zombies or whatever he was doing, so I could focus on how to handle the delicacy of returning the picture to Viv. I even texted Simone, and didn’t get a response, which didn’t surprise me, because it was late, and pregnancy had been kicking her butt. She was probably asleep. Finally, after spending an hour coming up with crazy solutions, all of which led back to her probably being pissed, I decided to just approach it head on, and be honest. So I texted her.

  “Hey Viv. I got this print you ordered for me, I’m assuming as a gift. I don’t know if it would be weird/creepy for me to keep it, but I didn’t want to return it to you with no explanation or to be misinterpreted. I know this is awkward, but… please tell me what do.”

  Too late, I remembered that Roman had told me that she and Simone were having the equivalent of an adult sleepover, and had undoubtedly spent a good part of the night clowning me.

  Shit.

  I was using my phone to google how to delete a text message from somebody else’s phone when her response popped up on the screen.

  “It was intended as a gift, so please accept it as such. I do not think that is weird/creepy at all. Consider it something to remember me by :) — Frenchy.”

  Okay, so she was in a good mood, and she had actually sent back a response. But… what did I say back now? I couldn’t leave it up in the air. I knew enough about women to know that you always make yours the last response, you never leave them hanging.

  But what the fuck do I say?

  It was weird between us now. I didn’t want to say anything too overtly affectionate, but I also didn’t want to seem dry.

  “Thank you, I will. I hope you’re doing okay.”

  That worked. Simple, but it left the door open for a little more.

  “I am. Thank you for asking. You? — Frenchy.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m okay too.”

  “That is good to know. Really. Good night, Carter. — Frenchy.”

  “Good night.”

  “Sit up straight. We are at the dinner table, not in a pig sty.”

  I stopped chewing and rolled my eyes. Of course it did not matter to my father that after a long day on my feet in the kitchen at Guilty Pleasures, I was tired. It was irrelevant — to him — that he and my mother had popped up in the middle of the week for a surprise visit, interrupting my own dinner plans of a bottle of wine and the italian sausage calzone now getting cold on my counter, both consumed in a hot bubble bath, with my headphones in my ears. What was important, apparently, was that I used proper posture at my tiny dining room table, with me and my parents the only guests in attendance.

  “Leave her alone, Martin, she is at home,” my mother said, smiling at me from across the table.

  My father snorted. “So it is okay to be a slob at home? I did not realize. Perhaps I should no longer be berated about my socks on the floor, non?”

  The cheerful smile slid from my mother’s face, quickly replaced by pinched lips. She opened her mouth to speak, but I raised a hand, waving her off. “It is okay, Mère, I do not mind sitting up. Although, I am unsure how Père is able to notice my proper posture — or lack thereof— anyway, since he has barely even looked up from his Blackberry long enough to enjoy the meal he insisted I cook.”

  I ignored the looks of shock from both of my parents as I drained my wine glass, then reached for the bottle to pour myself another glass of the $200 Bordeaux my mother had placed in my hands on the way in.

  “I think you’ve had too much,” my father said, his voice low and measured as he spoke.

  My nostrils flared. “Au contraire, Père. I assure you, I’ve not had nearly enough. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. The wine was a gift for the hostess, correct? Since that unlucky, involuntary person is me, I will drink the whole bottle if I wish.”

  “Se taire, fille, you will not speak to me this way.”

  “Then do not speak to me as if I am a child,” I countered, ignoring the fist he slammed on the table.

  “Then do not act as one, chéri. Complaining of emotional exhaustion — from what, might I ask? Because we emigrated you here to work, to make a living, not to exhaust your emotions.”

  I didn’t respond, jabbing instead at a stray morsel of food on my plate.

  My mother’s gaze bored against me, and when I did not look up, she drew in an audibly sharp breath. “Merde,” she muttered under her breath. Then louder, she said, “Let me guess… the neighbor?”

  Running my tongue over my teeth, I finally looked up, nodding as I looked between them. “But no fear, mère et mon père, there is no scandal this time. No need to banish me to another country just for a little broken heart.”

  “Banish?” My mother recoiled, as if she’d been slapped. “Vivi, you make it sound as if it was a punishment!”

  I snorted. “Was it not? I get taken advantage of, and the first thing you do is pack me up and ship me away.”

  “For you protection, Vivi,” my father chimed in, strain evident in both h
is face and voice. “Thierry Girard was infamous for his exploits in the French financial markets, both lawful and criminal. We were trying to get you away from that! While you were using my credit to decorate your new American apartment, journalists and photographers knocked at our doors, requesting comment on your status as Girard’s mistress. Dieu merci that this was ten years ago and not today, where some website would be dragging your reputation through the mud and people with cell phone cameras would be stalking you on your walk to work.”

  I swallowed hard, then took a deep breath, finishing my glass of wine in one gulp before I spoke. “I did not know.”

  “Really?” He asked with a snort. “Is that why you are impertinent enough to speak to me as if I am the gardener? Morgan, do you see? We have raised a child who does not recognize or appreciate even half of the things we have done for her. The best schools, designer wardrobes, gourmet snacks for playdates, luxury cars for her to destroy while learning to drive… Perhaps we have done too much, if she has so much leisure time for the collection of romance and hurt feelings.”

  In my lap, I clenched my hands into fists so tight that my nails bit into my skin. “You act as if I am nothing. As if I’ve done nothing. I maintained impeccable grades throughout my years of schooling, no tutors. Excelled at every extra-curricular I was given. Received top honors at university. I have never been arrested, never touched an illicit drug. I live off the salary I earn from the successful business I’ve built. This apartment? I paid for, furnished from my own pocket. And before you say this is only because I am your child, given the privilege to work in your business, please recall that I was hired on merit. I am no spoiled princess, living off my family’s name. I was no “daddy’s little girl”. My childhood was not one of hugs and kisses from you, or sitting on your knee. Since I was a little girl, you have pushed and pushed, demanded hard work, and every single time, I have met, and exceeded the challenge. Do not misrepresent me as some foolish girl only getting by on a pretty face.”

  “Ah, so you are not a simpleton after all, there is some fire there. Very good. But, appreciate who stoked that flame in you, hmm? Do you think you cultivated this intrepid spirit on your own? Non. We could not have you running around, a beautiful, free-hearted girl with no sense. Because you understand that’s what you would be had we not demanded more?”

  “Martin. Enough.” My mother rested her hand on my father’s, quieting his rant. I reached for my water, desperate for something to soothe the fire burning in my chest and on my face because of my father’s harsh words.

  “Vivi.” His voice was noticeably softer under my mother’s influence, and I looked up, clutching the icy cold glass to my chest as the condensation pruned my fingers. “I do not mean to upset you. I love you, but I have no patience for this foolishness. The affairs, the nose piercing, those pictures… you are a brilliant girl, yet you are ruled by emotion instead of your brain, and this is something I do not understand.”

  I pressed my lips together in an effort to calm my trembling chin, then shook my head. “I do not need your understanding, papa. Only your love.”

  “You have it.”

  “Do I? Your way of showing it is foreign to me. It seems to me that I am such a disappointment in your eyes that I cannot afford the extravagance of making mistakes, or having my heart broken, or heaven forbid, being sexy and having fun. I am young and healthy, it is what I should be doing. If I am being otherwise responsible, I do not see the problem. If you are not okay with my life… it is not my problem, not anymore. I am thirty years old… I cannot live under the shadow of your expectations forever.” I barely held in a laugh at the irony of me declaring myself an adult, when this whole conversation was started by me throwing a tantrum like an over-tired toddler.

  “I am sorry, Vivi,” my father said, coming to kneel beside my chair. When I turned to face him, he took my head in his hands and kissed my forehead, then both cheeks. “You are right… perhaps I am expecting too much of me in you. Please, mon trésor, do not ever doubt that I love you. You and your mother… you are what I live for. Comprendre?”

  I nodded, giving up on holding back my tears as he pulled me into his arms. I stayed there for a long time. This was such a rare occurrence that I didn’t want to let go, but as usual, my parents were only stopping through as they jet-set around the world. When they left, I was not sad. I was very, very full, happier than I’d felt in the entire month since the loss of my friendship with Carter.

  — & —

  Mid-afternoon the day after my parents’ visit, I was jolted awake by someone knocking at my door. Still groggy, I dragged myself out of bed, and went to the door, lifting myself up on my toes to see through the peephole.

  Carter!

  “Just a moment,” I yelled, suddenly very awake, and aware that I was very naked. I ran back to my room, where I pulled a tee shirt over my head and yanked on a pair of yoga pants, then returned to the door.

  Oh my.

  I knew that absence supposedly made the heart grow fonder, but… was there an equivalent for the throbbing between your thighs when you came back in contact with someone who used to make your body feel very, very good? His shoulders seemed wider, he seemed taller, his skin smoother, his face more handsome than it had been just a week ago. Like I was seeing him as he was before everything went wrong.

  Carter just stood there for a moment, staring, before a smile began to play at the corners of his mouth.

  “What is so funny?” I asked, placing a hand on my hip.

  He pointed up to my hair, finally breaking into a full grin. “You’ve got a wine cork in your hair.”

  My eyes went wide, and my hands went immediately into my hair to find and remove the cork. “What can I say, it was a wild night,” I said dryly, chuckling as I tossed it between my hands. The truth was that I’d uncorked the bottle while I was sitting in the bed, already half-asleep. I passed out before I had a single glass of the sure-to-be-ruined wine. “So… did you want something?”

  “Um… yeah. Roman and Simone said they’ve been trying to call you… she went into labor about an hour ago.”

  I gasped, bringing my hand up to my chest. “What? Are you serious! My goodness!” I turned and headed back into my apartment, wondering what in the world I’d done with my phone. “Don’t just stand there, you are letting the cold in from the hall. Come in, and close the door!”

  Carter hesitated, and I could see the uncertainty playing on his face before he finally did step in, closing the door behind him. He hovered there, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants as I dumped my purse on the counter, looking for my phone.

  It was one of the last items to fall out, and it was so dead that it didn’t even immediately respond when I plugged it into my kitchen charger. I groaned, remembering that it had been low when I left work the previous evening, and my parents’ surprise appearance at my door had disrupted me from making sure it ended up on the charger.

  “So, tell me what happened, is she doing okay, will the baby be here soon? How did she look?” I asked, leaving the phone in the kitchen and motioning for him to follow me into my room.

  “Um… I don’t know how she looked,” Carter said, stopping at the door to my bathroom as I pulled out a brush to tackle my hair into a bun. “I haven’t been to the hospital.”

  I paused, with the brush in midair. “Really? Why not?”

  He shook his head. “I uh, I don’t do hospitals. Spent way too much time in them when my dad was sick.”

  “Oh. That is understandable,” I said, nodding as I finished fixing my hair. “You never told me what was wrong with him.”

  “Prostate cancer. He was in treatment a long time, then that stopped working,… then hospice care… So, yeah, no hospitals for me unless I’m on the gurney.”

  “I see. I’m very sorry you went through that.”

  Our eyes met in the mirror, and he tried to force a smile, but it turned into more of a grimace. Unsure of what to say next, I occup
ied my mouth by brushing my teeth while he updated me on Simone’s status, as relayed to him by Roman.

  After I’d washed my face, he followed me into my room, hovering near the door while I pulled out weather appropriate clothes for the snow that had been falling for the last few days. I yanked off my tee shirt, and was pulling the straps of a bra over my shoulders when I realized that I’d just stripped half-naked in front of Carter.

  Clutching the bra to my chest, I slowly turned my eyes to where he was, simultaneously disappointed and relieved that he was turned toward the hall, resting his shoulder in the doorframe. It was an incredibly strange feeling. On one hand, I was glad he was respectful enough to recognize my oversight when I did not, and not take advantage of my absent mindedness. On the other hand, I think a little part of me was almost disappointed that he was able to resist, when just a little over a month ago, he could not keep his eyes off me.

  Shaking both thoughts from my head, I dressed quickly, then tapped him on the shoulder to let me pass, so that I could retrieve my phone from the kitchen.

  “Thank you for coming to let me know,” I said, restocking my purse as I stood at the counter. “I do not know how long I would have slept, or how long it would have taken me to realize I was without a phone. I would have never forgiven myself for not being available for Simone.”

  He smiled, and damnit, warmth washed through me with the strength of a tropical storm wave. “Yeah, I kinda figured that. I was a little scared you weren’t gonna answer for me and I was gonna have to just shout it to you through the door, but I manned up,” he said with a chuckle. “But nah, seriously… It was no hassle. It’s what friends do, right?”

  I returned his smile, then nodded. “Yes. That is what friends do.”

  — & —

  Is one night of uninterrupted sleep simply too much to ask?

  A yawn overtook me as I trudged to the front door, cursing whoever was interrupting my plans of turning in early. Roderick had tried his best to convince me to come to Urban Grind with him, insisting that I just had to dance with him at least one time. But, I had other things in store for myself. The idea was that by going to bed at ten, with my alarm set for eight the next morning, I could get a full ten hours of sleep to make up for the week I’d spent staying up late and waking early. But, that plan was out, thanks to someone banging on my door at midnight with what seemed to be increasing persistence. I groaned at who I saw on the other side of the peephole.