Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(74)

“It’s a paid leave—”

“It’s a leave nonetheless, and if they can survive without you for a few weeks, it might occur to them they can survive without you, period.”

“Or it might occur to them that I’m too valuable to lose at all. Jesus, Mother, thanks for the vote of confidence. I can take care of myself.”

“You can, darling, I know you can.” She took my hand and patted it. “And I’m very proud of you too, but Drew is exceptional. Between the two of you, you’ll have the life I’ve always wanted for you. Security and comfort. There is nothing more valuable in this life than to be free of struggle. You and Drew make excellent partners in that capacity.”

“Business partners,” I muttered.

“Perhaps, but a partnership nonetheless.”

I thought of Cory, heard his words in the bank, the way his hand sought mine, to entwine our fingers. A merger, not of money or assets, but…something else.

“Speaking of which, I do hope you’re not still living in that beach house, away from Drew?” Mother clucked her tongue. “A crack in the armor. One little fissure, that’s all it takes, Alexandra, before your rock-solid union becomes riddled with chasms.”

“I’m moving back in with Drew a week from Friday. After the engagement party.”

“That day can’t come soon enough. I hope you sell that house after you’re married. Or rent it out for a tidy sum. I hear the rentals in that area are through the roof.”

I smiled to myself. Yes, astronomical at one dollar per month.

“There’s a lovely smile, darling.” She patted my cheek. “What do you think of tulips? I’ve always loved tulips. Not plumeria. Dear lord, when your father and I are at the timeshare, we’re besieged. Fiji is covered in them. I like the desert flowers much better. Which reminds me, we’re leaving on Thursday for Palm Springs. Be back on Sunday.”

I nodded. “What about roses?” I admired a vibrant bouquet, offset with baby’s breath. “What about bright red, in-your-face roses?”

“Don’t be silly. Your wedding colors are violet and cream. And red roses are too…”

“Passionate? Fiery?”

“Yes, both.”

“What if I like passion, Mother? What if I want that instead of security or comfort. What if I want fire?”

My mother made a face, touching one velvety bloom, her expression strangely thoughtful. “The moment a rose begins to fade, it loses its beauty. Passion. It fades. And fire…Fire burns out, leaving nothing but cold ash.” She turned to me, looking me in the eye. “Remember that, darling. It burns away and if you don’t have the solid ground beneath your feet, it will burn you too.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven


Alex

I returned from my appointment to find Cory in the backyard, sanding the dresser. He wore only a wife-beater tank and jeans, and I had to stop and admire him from the kitchen. His body, my god. Sweat glistened on the tanned skin of his shoulders and arms, ran in the lines of his muscles, and gave the tattoo on his left shoulder a silvery sheen. The tattoo looked liked a Dios de Los Muertos figure—a beautiful woman but with her face painted like a skull, shrouded in and an elaborate wreath of flowers and swirling colors.

I drank my fill of him and then ventured outside. “How’s it going out here?”

“Getting there,” Cory said. He was crouched on his heels and blinked up at me in the later afternoon sunlight.

“Can I help?”

Cory eyed me up and down in my designer skirt and blouse. “You’re not exactly dressed for it.”

“This is the latest in refinishing couture, didn’t you know?”

“Can’t keep up.”

“I’ll go change and maybe order some dinner?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Or do you have another hot date at Vic’s?”

He shook his head in a charmingly sheepish manner and said, “I could eat.”

“Good.”

We ate and sanded furniture and talked and laughed, and overall had a wonderful time. It was so easy to be with him, even with our intimate history lurking between us. There was no awkwardness that night, only a pleasant collection of hours that I was certain would lead to a peaceful, dreamless sleep. For both of us.

Instead, later that night, I sat up in a bed, sucking in a breath in readiness for a scream. I choked it back, and squeezed my eyes shut against the horrible blood-soaked images of the nightmare. I hoped Cory was doing better and crept into the living area to see.

He was awake, his license exam materials spread out over the low coffee table as he had studied after dinner. ESPN, on mute, flashed on TV, but he wasn’t watching. He stared at nothing, his face haggard and drawn.

He met my eyes and scooted over. I sat and leaned against him.

I think we both were asleep in moments.

#

I fit so perfectly against him.

Like a puzzle piece.

My groin presses against his hipbone, and gently, carefully, I grind against him.

Just once. Twice. Three times. I’m going to wake him if I’m not careful.

But oh, god…I need…

His eyes open. I don’t have to say anything. I don’t have to feel ashamed.

His hand moves down, between my legs, under my panties, his fingers slip inside…