Incendiary (24 page)

Grabbing an umbrella, I open it, concealing Georgie as I help her out, once she’s unbuckled Bryn and has her safely in her arms. This is a shitty shield, but I’m working with what I have. Georgie agreeing to spend time with me was my biggest obstacle. Everything else in the way is a minor irritant.

Once inside the house, Bryn makes an unidentifiable sound and Georgie smiles, her eyes lighting up. Sitting on the sofa, Abby crosses her legs. I smirk at her, acting on my impulsive playfulness.

“What an unusual position for you.”

She lifts a brow, knowing I’m about to fuck with her, but takes the bait anyway. “Which is?”

I lock my hands together, palm-to-palm. “Legs closed.”

“Really, Sloane? Slut-shaming is beneath you.”

“A slut can’t shame another slut,” I retort, then immediately regret my words when Georgie’s face falls. Abby glares at me. She really likes Georgie and is quite protective of her. Popping to her feet, she goes to where Georgie stands in silence like a lost little kitten, who’s attempting to protect a tinier kitten.

When Georgie drops her gaze, Abby sends me another dirty look but keeps her mouth shut, placing her hands on each of Georgie’s shoulders. “Sloane wants to pull his foot out of his mouth and beg your forgiveness, Georgie. Let him grovel while I take Bryn.”

She clutches the baby and shakes her head in denial. As she sways with Bryn, she displaces Abby’s hands.

“I swear, I won’t go any farther than the first bedroom.” Abby points over Georgie’s shoulder. “Right down that very small hallway.”

I hold my breath, wanting the small modicum of trust, undeserving though I may be.

Another moment passes before Georgie gives the barest of nods and hands the baby over to my aunt. She digs in the pocket of her shirt and hands Abby a pacifier.

“It’s okay,” Abby soothes. “I promise.”

Georgie’s brows draw together in a frown, her gaze flickering between Abby and I. “Okay,” she mumbles.

Nodding to Abby in silent dismissal, I watch as Georgie follows my aunt’s every move. Once I hear the door close, I expel a noisy breath of relief that Georgie didn’t change her mind and walk behind her, aching to touch her. I keep my hands to myself, not wanting to repeat my loss of control like earlier. From her reaction, she resented my invasion of her space. Sucking her nipples and tasting the milk was unplanned, but oh so sweet.

Just the thought makes my cock rock hard. Fuck, even if we were still what we once were to each other, it isn’t as if I could fuck her. She’d still be healing from childbirth. The physical part of our relationship is over. I have to move on with my life. I can’t understand how I’ve gone from the biggest man-whore alive to not wanting anyone but Georgie
. Is this what real love is?
Only wanting one woman, despite the circumstances.

“I didn’t eat breakfast,” I tell her, to get my mind off getting into Georgie’s pussy and my feelings for her. “I’m starving. Are you?”

“I ate cereal while Bryn was sleeping,” she answers, still not looking at me. Tension radiates from her body. One pitiful glance toward the hallway tells me she’s still scared I have a trick up my sleeve regarding our daughter. I pull her into my arms and kiss her mouth. She doesn’t stop me, but she also doesn’t respond. Cradling her head at her nape, I smile at her.

She stares at me.

“Why did you name her Bryn?”

“You loved your mother and you lost her far too soon.” She shifts her weight. “I thought about naming her Stefanie Bryn. It…I thought that would be too painful for you. Her full name is Bryn Stefanie McCall. That way, we, I mean
I,
honor two women who are so important to you. I wanted her to have a connection to you, in case she never met you.”

I tighten my hold on her, speechless at her explanation. Taking her by the elbow, I usher her toward the back door, where a white wicker and glass table is already set beneath the covered porch.

While Georgie studies the walkway leading to the canopy of trees, I remain silent in the perfectly private setting. The day is already warm, although a tiny breeze blows periodically.

Allowing her to consider her surroundings, so she’ll feel more at ease, I don’t rush her. Once she turns toward the table, I hold out her chair. When she sits, I uncover the silver dishes and reveal bagels, cream cheese, and fresh strawberries. A decanter holds orange juice and a silver pot contains coffee.

Before I pour her a cup of the steaming black liquid, she shakes her head.

“I’m nursing, remember?”

I study her tits. “How the fuck can I forget?”

She smiles, but it isn’t good enough for me. I want an actual laugh from her.

“I can’t have caffeine, is what I mean,” she clarifies.

At one time, she wasn’t focused worth a fuck. Now, all her concentration is on the baby. She’s always needed something else besides Crowell and drugs to fixate upon. I gave it to her.

We eat in silence. Georgie goes out of her way not to look at me, which I change the moment we’re finished and she puts her chin in her hand.

“Lift your head. I want to see your eyes.”

She follows my order and after a heartbeat, asks, “Why are we here?”

“I woke up with you on my mind. I wanted to spend time alone with you.”

“If only I could be so lucky,” she mutters. “I’ve always had to share you.”

Her assumption can’t go unanswered. “That isn’t true. Once I took your virginity, I didn’t sleep with another woman until we separated.”

Even though she stays silent, the hurt and anger on her face shames me. Since I can’t undo my sex spree in Europe, I change the subject.

“I’ve attempted to contact the detective, but he’s no longer with the police department. The case has been reassigned.”

She narrows her eyes. “Have a fucking expert look into the recording.”

“Stop with the goddamn language.”

“Fuck you. Because, dickhead, I don’t fucking see what the fuck’s so hard about getting public fucking records. The fucking case is international,” she storms, using her language to piss me off.

I slam my fist on the table. “You opened your fucking mouth and talked.”

She flips me off and I scowl at her. Neither of us will back down from an argument, so I switch gears again. “The DNA results are back. My attorneys have scheduled a hearing to present the new evidence.”

“Right. DNA. From only the four men I fucked? Or you, too?”

“I didn’t agree to those accusations against you. It was supposed to be only
one
man.”

“One man, four men,
ten
men, it’s all lies, so go fuck yourself.”

“Georgie—”

“Save it, Sloane. One minute you think I’m the worst bitch on the planet. The next you’re all regretful and want to claim me. Make up your fucking mind, asshole. Do you hate me, mistrust me, or desire me? Do you even know?”

She keeps me in knots, so I don’t fucking know if I’m coming or going. “If the charges are dropped, you and I go our separate ways. My see-sawing treatment will never again have to confuse you.”

Her eyes widen, and she draws in a shuddering breath. Chin wobbling, she bows her head. “Is this our goodbye, then?” she whispers.

Jesus, is it?
Goodbye
sounds so permanent. But I’ve always known we’d go our separate ways. Didn’t I? We aren’t meant to be together.

Are we?

“This
is
our goodbye, isn’t it?” she guesses, when I don’t answer. She jumps to her feet. “Bye, Sloane.”

I stand too, moving fast to stop her hasty departure, and I wrap her in my arms. She stiffens for a moment before she sags against me.

“I love you,” she reiterates quietly. “I love you so much and I was so miserable without you.”

Slowly, her arms encircle my waist, her one small gesture giving me a fucking head rush. I start to dance with her, swaying to an internal beat that breathes life into me. She can’t sing, but her body is graceful in motion. I grab her hand in one of mine and use the other one to clasp her waist.

Stepping back, she smiles at me, and I hum. Adoration gleams in her eyes, pure but sure as fuck not simple. My fingers move from her waist and go to her face. I caress her skin.

“Georgie.” Her name is a chant on my lips. She consumes me. She always has and she always will. “You’re my inferno. You’ll always burn inside of me.”

The words resonate in my head. Lyrics, though I have no melody. She doesn’t care. She believes in me and my abilities. She stills, waiting for me. I brush my jaw on her hair. Breathe in her vanilla scent.

“Your amethyst eyes are the mirror to all that we share.”

They’re gorgeous. My soul. My conscience. My air.

I twirl her around and finish the verse. “You’re the only girl who’ll ever own me.”

A hot breeze catches the croon and carries it away, a whisper in the wind that will echo inside of me way after Georgie and Bryn are long gone.

“I’ll give you half an hour for you to dress Bryn,” Abby announces, as she arrives to help me out for the day. She holds up a baby sling. “We’re going on an adventure.”

An adventure? Not knowing what to expect, I hesitate. “I prefer hiding in this suite, than facing the world.”

“Absolutely not,” she snaps, interrupting her greeting to Bryn. “You can’t let a few assholes bring you down.”

“Did Sloane take the car seat out of the Nissan when we got back from the cottage yesterday? If not, I can’t go anyway. Bryn won’t be safe. Unless you’re driving that car.”

“I have a car seat for her, so come up with another argument.”

“I’m tired.” I didn’t sleep at all last night and have barely eaten after Sloane returned us to the room, kissed the top of my head and told me goodbye. I wish he never would’ve returned. Though I hoped every day he’d come back, I’d gotten used to his absence.

Depression is rapidly descending. The only thing I talked to Abby about was my OB mentioning a two-week check-up. I never scheduled the appointment before my release from the hospital. With all the craziness going on, it still isn’t a good idea, although I still don’t feel back to myself one hundred percent.

“We’re getting out for a couple of hours today. I’m going stir crazy only assisting you in this room.” She starts for the door, but when I don’t move, she huffs in exasperation. “Georgie, honey, the way you’re locking yourself away isn’t healthy. I know you’re afraid but we’re all scared. Sloane most of all. For the first time in his adult life, his music isn’t front and center. Even when he was ruining his life with drugs, not a day went by where he wasn’t composing or writing or practicing.”

She hugs me and we hold onto one another for a minute, lost in a world of uncertainty.

“He’s brave,” I tell her.

“He’s just a man, Georgie. You have to remember he isn’t some god.”

“To me he is,” I say quietly, pulling away from her. “Is he perfect? No one is. He has an addictive streak. He’s a womanizer. He holds fucking grudges. But he
is
brave. Not because he fights and is rowdy, but because he finds the courage to face what life tosses at him.”

I think about some of my favorite poets, unsure if I should offer a quote or not to better express what I’m feeling. Their words are so much more eloquent than mine.

“Do you know who Ralph Waldo Emerson is?”

Abby’s eyes widen in shock before they narrow. “Yes, but literature isn’t my thing,” she says breezily.

Rocking back on my heels, I shift my weight. “Oh.”

“Well, what about him? You brought him up and now, I’m curious.”

“Do you know he was into Transcendentalism?”

“Fuck, I can’t even spell that. What the fuck is it?”

“It’s really, really deep. But it’s a belief that wraps nature and religion into fundamental values about the universe and our responsibility to it and ourselves.”

Her mouth drops open and I bite my lip. “I m-mean, I think.”

“Okay,” she says, “but how does that relate to Sloane?”

“It’s…I was going to quote him—Emerson, I mean—but I got off track. Sorry.” Shame burns through me, and I turn away. “I’ll come with you. It won’t take me long to get Bryn and I ready.”

Abby huffs out a breath. “Okay, hun.”

Swearing never again to attempt an educated discussion and uncertain what to pack for Bryn, I shove several outfits into the huge baby bag along with a dozen diapers, baby wipes, powder, lotion, soft toys, pacifiers, blankets, and burping cloths.

When she sees the bulging bag, Abby screeches with laughter. “Where the hell do you think we’re going and for how long? You’re hilarious, Georgie. We aren’t going on a fucking vacay, girl.” Shaking her head and still laughing, she ignores my glare and assists me in putting on the sling and fastening Bryn into it. “Now, come on, and be quiet.”

Bag on shoulder, my baby secured against me, I tip-toe behind Abby. We make it to the front door before we hear Rand’s and Jaeger’s voices echoing from a nearby room. Nosy, I pause to hear what they’re talking about, but Abby jerks me outside.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she encourages, glancing over her shoulder and leaving the door ajar.

I step outside, still amazed at the tents concealing the driveway, right to the end of the road. Helicopters whir overhead. The upcoming release of the DNA results has them clamoring around again.

She yanks the diaper bag from me as I slide into the back seat of her Aston. The center console runs from the front to the back, with room for only four passengers, so the baby seat in the back looks completely out-of-place.

Wasting no time, Abby screeches off like we’re making a great escape as I secure Bryn in her seat.

It surprises me that the first stop is my doctor. Abby parks behind the office, where building security awaits us at the back entrance. They usher us to the fifth floor via a service elevator. Dr. Shelby’s nurse allows us entry through the door the practice’s physicians use.

“I didn’t mention Dr. Shelby so you can get me an appointment,” I tell her, once we’re alone. Abby has Bryn, and I’m on the exam table. “How did you know who my physician was?”

“Please, girl. Everyone you’ve been associated with in the past months is now known to the public.”

“I shouldn’t have come here. Why didn’t you ask him to make a house call?”

Abby scoffs. “Because you need to get out of the house. The media has figured out my trail is cold. It leads to nothing. I go to my condo for a few items and return to Rand’s. Go shopping. My daily therapy. Maybe, meet a guy to fuck.” She shrugs. “They don’t want me, they want Sloane.”

“Or me,” I snap.

“Yesss, true. But I’m under the radar. As long as you’re with me, you are, too.”

We’re in and out of my appointment in ninety minutes. We head to Abby’s condo, where she swears she only wants to pick up her camera. It’s a lot of trouble getting Bryn in and out of her seat, so I opt to wait in the car. True to her word, Abby isn’t long.

“Where to now?” she asks, still in her allotted parking spot, looking into her rearview mirror and applying lipstick.

“Back to Rand’s.” I feel so exposed out in public.

“Wrong answer. Now, we go for lunch and shopping.”

“Are you insane?” Bryn jumps at my raised voice, so I scowl at Abby’s profile and lower my tone. “No fucking way. Someone is bound to see me and all the measures you took to keep me out of sight at the doctor’s office will be for nothing.”

“Yes, I admit there’ll be a slight risk, but you haven’t done anything but live in misery for days. What’s the most that can happen to you?”

“Eggs can be thrown at me. I can be called names. I can have cameras shoved in my face. I—”

“Hold your head up, for God’s sake. Your only crime is being in love with Sloane. That’s it. There’s no age allotted to when we fall in love. You tell that to any fucker belittling you.”

“A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is
brave
five minutes longer,” I quote and smile at her confusion. “Emerson. His words. That’s what I was getting at this morning.” Hoping to ease my rising tension, I rub my temples. “I’m not a hero and I’m not brave. I—”

“You are.” She twists completely around in her seat, resting her elbows on the shiny console. “If an asshole is mean to you five years, you have to be stronger for five years and five minutes. You’re strong, you survive. You’re weak, you die. Life’s just a game. The last man standing is the one with the most endurance. I know you’re upset because Sloane left the band, but this is his opportunity to find himself. He needs this. Whether he knows it or you believe it. This is
your
chance to find yourself.”

“Who are you?” I ask softly. “Have you ever thought about that? If I look too deeply inside of myself, I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Maybe…” Maybe, Mom and Kiln will be right about me.

Abby leans toward me, extending her body as far as possible, and reaching out to clasp my hand. “Who am I? I’m Abigail Mason, who’s afraid to fall in love again. The one time I did, it ended in heartache for me and for him. I hide behind excessive shopping and sleeping around. I’m a party girl, with nothing but time and money. But I’m
me
.”

Out of all the women who’s ever been around me, Abby is the only one who lets me be me without judgment. She’s the only one who’s ever been so open and honest with me. Lindsey watched over me, imparted wisdom here and there and listened to my heartache over Sloane, but I never knew anything about her. Grandma always had an agenda. And, Mom…Mom just hated me.

“How many relationships have you been in? Maybe, I need to know how not to fall in love.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she smiles. “Most of us have no control over who we love, babe. I’ve only been in one
‘relationship,’
” she admits, using air quotations. “I’ve dated guys for six, seven, eight months. I’ve had sex with other women. But I’ve only been in love once.” She no longer meets my gaze, and I suspect who it is she’d fallen in love with. As she starts to turn around, I call her name. She doesn’t answer until she’s facing forward once again in the driver’s seat.

“It’s my dad, isn’t it? You fell in love with him.”

“He loves your mother, Georgie,” she tells me, gazing at me through her rearview mirror. “I was never a threat to their relationship. I never told him how I felt, but I didn’t consider Cassandra. Your grandmother didn’t accept my apology and she refused to let me talk to your mother. I felt responsible for the turmoil between you and her. If I hadn’t been with Parnell, your mom…I don’t know what I’m trying to say. But, yes. It was your dad.”

“Do you still love him?”

She shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Opening her purse, she takes out a lacy handkerchief and dabs at her eyes.

“Hey, you know what? It’s just what you said. We don’t choose who we fall in love with. My dad had become completely distracted with me, but he’s a nice guy. I’m sorry it ended for you the way it did. Not because my parents are involved. You deserve happiness, too. Who knows? Dad might grow a spine one day and realize he’s staying with Mom more out of fear of my grandmother than any lingering love for my mom.”

Though I doubt it. Just as the thought crosses my mind, I hear Abby mumble, “Doubtful.”

I giggle, and she laughs, too.

“You’re sliding into a deeper funk the longer you’re locked away,” she begins after a few minutes of silence.

My turn to mumble, “It’s worked so far.”

“We’ve become party poopers with the heaviness of this conversation. We can’t go back to Rand’s house so mopey and sad. So no shopping. Just lunch. Aren’t you tired of looking at those four fucking walls?”

“It’s sixteen walls,” I counter, to be difficult. “Bedroom, closet, sitting room, and bathroom.”

“Splitting hairs, Georgie,” she sniffs, then backtracks. “No lunch. Just shopping. I have a date tonight and I have to have this panty set from
La Perla
. You may want something, too.”

“How am I supposed to get it?” I retort crossly. “With my fucking looks?”

“If anyone could pull that off, you can. You really need to talk to Sloane about money and credit cards. It’ll give you some independence.”