Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) (28 page)

T
his performance couldn’t come
to an end fast enough to suit him. Tonya was fawning and preening like he was singing to her and it sickened him. It was bad enough he had to sing this sacred song, but to have to look her direction during it was repulsive.

At least the birthday girl was enjoying it, and that’s what mattered. Her father, not Tonya, was paying him. So as long as he could get through this song then sing Happy Birthday, he could get out of here knowing he’d maintained his professionalism. The sooner this night was over, the sooner he could get to sleep, meet with Dr. Beckett tomorrow, then get rid of Tonya for good and finally claim the woman he loved.

It was that last thought that was getting him through this performance,
had
gotten him through dinner with John and Stacy. That same thought would get him through the next few days until he could hold her in his arms and smell the skin right below her ear.

He winked in the direction of the guest of honor, and went into the last chorus of the song. It was then he noticed Tonya turning elsewhere. Michael wondered what could possibly grab her attention away when she was making such a public show. He shifted his line of sight toward the door just as a charcoal-gray coat topped by coffee-colored hair swirled in the vortex of the closing door.

Tori?

No, she wouldn’t have cause to be here, besides, he saw her everywhere, in every dark-headed woman who passed—in his dreams, in the clouds, and even the steam pattern of the shower. Always her. Sure, it wasn’t really Tori, but a prickle of unease crawled up his spine and settled in his chest just the same.

Finally finished for the night, he could pack his equipment and get to the hotel for some much-needed rest, but rest wouldn’t come easy. Something was weighing heavy on his spirit but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

W
alking
out of that bar with the shattered pieces of her heart in her Coach bag was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Seeing Michael sing to that woman, Tonya, meant she wasn’t an ex, the announcement wasn’t an error, and the love bite was his.

Tori hated to admit she heaved twice before ever leaving the parking lot. She told herself it was something she ate and nerves, that it had nothing to do with him. The harder she tried to believe that, the more reality bit down. It was the razor-edged teeth of betrayal sinking into the bloody muscle of her heart. She gave in to tears all the way home, and again through the night. But with the first rays of sunshine kissing the waves, she packed it all away—heartache, pain, betrayal, all of it.

Tori would give them their proper due, because she understood that ignored emotions didn’t lose their bite. They had to be respected. The difference was, she owned
them
; they wouldn’t own her. The benefit of doubt had been extended, and crushed under the weight of overwhelming evidence to the contrary; now, she would move on. Not eagerly or even happily at first, but she would put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.
Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.

This wouldn’t be the last broken heart she’d suffer, but she would continue to manage. With a new outlook, she donned her gear and went for a run. It cleared her mind and gave her perspective. After an hour, she was back home and standing in the steaming shower. She indulged in one last pity party, spoke aloud as if she weren’t the sole occupant of the room, and dried off while shedding the past, so to speak.

“You could’ve had it all, Michael. It was yours for the taking, but you chose otherwise. I can only blame myself for telling you I would be there when you were ready. I see that now. That was like permission to do what you wanted then come crawling back. But that’s not how this is going to work. I don’t blame you, but I must release you. For myself and for you. Goodbye, Michael.” As she spoke the last words, she towel-dried her hair with one hand while raising the finger of the other to write his name in the steam on the mirror. After a brief pause, she swiped it away with the blade of her hand, and stepped into her new reality.

Taking a page from Erika’s book, she sat down with a cup of coffee, a pen, and a legal pad and made a list of all the things she needed to get going on and the phone calls to be made. She had meetings today to start down the road to the retail shop, which was a huge step forward and a bonus as it would occupy much of her time. She had even come up with the perfect name for it, and Erika agreed.

Just because Tori compartmentalized emotions well didn’t mean she was cold-hearted. It still hurt like a bitch, but she vowed not to give another man control over her moods.

She picked up the phone and scheduled another appointment for Friday. After ending the call, she underlined the first thing on her list and penciled in the date and time next to it. BECOME A MOM.

She threw herself into the business and paperwork and lawyers and accounts and everything she could to get the ball rolling—anything to live the illusion that time was moving faster and Friday would come sooner than three days.

Back in the bedroom, she pulled the box she bought before her trip from its hiding place under her bed. She opened it and folded back the tissue paper so she could stroke the buttery-soft fabric of the onesie she bought for her
maybe baby
.

“Come Friday, if we’re lucky, I’ll be on my way to meeting you.”

M
ichael’s
first meeting with Dr. Beckett yesterday was enlightening. It gave him much to think about and a new pair of glasses through which to view things. The good doctor said many of the same things that John had, but they were the things he could never hear too much. It solidified his choice to file charges and a civil suit. It strengthened his resolve to make Tori his own and brightened the dark mood that had hung over him like a cloud since the other night.

He’d just left the property attorney, had the papers and check in hand to remove Tonya from his house and his life, but he had one more stop to make before heading back home, finally.

Once inside the boho jewelry boutique, he zeroed in on exactly what he was looking for—a rounded, narrow platinum band with a recessed, floating solitaire. It was the kind that a girl could wear while lifting weights and not get snagged. The his-and-hers bands that matched were also rounded with only recessed gems. Lucky for him, the engraver was in house and it took him less than an hour to complete his request.

Velvet box in pocket, check in hand, and sunshine in his heart, Michael took a deep breath and entered his house where he knew he still had to confront Tonya before he could get on with the perfect proposal for Tori.

The first thing he noticed as he entered was Tonya, lounging on the couch with a cocktail like she didn’t have a care in the world. He pivoted away from her, went to the kitchen, and slapped the check and papers on the granite surface. Producing a pen, it joined the papers with a hollow thwap. “I’ve got your check, so, write the letter.” When she failed to obey, he added, “Come on, let’s get these signed in front of the notary so I can file them today. Then, you get your check, and I get my life back.”

Tonya shot off the couch with purpose and stalked over to the counter, snatching up the papers and looking them over. “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” She slammed the papers back down, went to the table and grabbed the newspaper off a stack of about twenty or so. Thrusting it at him, she crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side. “Does that mean nothing to you? Is this dark-headed bimbo so important, you’re going to give up everything? What unholy power does she have over you, Michael?”

Michael was so engrossed in the thoughts swirling around his head at the sight of their wedding announcement it took him a while to register the full scope of what Tonya was saying. His mind locked on to the possibility that Tori had read this and didn’t know it was not his doing. Even so, she was levelheaded and wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d highlighted Tonya to Tori, so she would speak to him before believing this, he hoped. That’s when it hit him,
dark-haired, dark-haired, dark…

“How the Hell do you know what Tori looks like?” Michael had never punched a woman but damned if Tonya wasn’t trying to break that lifelong streak.

“Oh, please, take it down a notch, your outrage is giving me a migraine, besides, she won’t be there waiting for you after I sign these like you think. It’s not too late to change your mind and get back into my good graces.”

“How. Do. You. Know. What. Tori. Looks. Like?” There was a lead ball in the pit of his stomach at Tonya’s words. A sense of impotence was creeping in, while waiting to find out what kind of trouble this witch had stirred up. The satin-lined box in his pocket started to feel like an anchor pulling him down into despair when it was such a source of pure joy not five minutes ago.

Tonya trailed a blood-red nail along the black granite until it arrived at a folded piece of paper. She clutched it in her talons and turned to him, sneering, “Your little whore, although she isn’t so little, came by the other day and left this for you.” She flipped it toward him between her fingertips, and then pulled her hair to the side. “I also showed her this little gift from you; she wasn’t too happy about it, either. One might even say she was downright heart broken. Tears sprang into her mousy little eyes and she couldn’t stumble away fast enough.”

What?
That’s the only word his brain seemed to know at the moment, while his mouth knew none.

“So, you see. There is no reason to follow through with this. We might as well be together,” she leaned in close, “because she doesn’t want you anymore.”

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk, and all he could see was blackness seeping into every corner of his life. Without Tori, what was there? She was the light, and he felt like Tonya just unplugged the sun, plunging him into eternal darkness. Surely, Tori could understand the announcement and Tonya owning half the condo, right? But could she understand the mark he left on her neck when he thought Tonya was Tori?

She had to, there was no other option, not for him. Tori was reasonable and diplomatic. He could explain this, all of it, and she would weigh it and everything would work out. Michael retrieved the papers from the counter and snatched Tonya’s purse from the chair. He thrust her bag at her chest and gave clipped commands, “You. Car. Now. And don’t say another word.”

Michael loathed being trapped in the car with her but he didn’t trust her to show up on her own. Luckily for his frazzled nerves, she sat in the passenger’s seat stewing over being thwarted and kept her mouth shut.

Inside the office, the atmosphere was charged between them but the silence was heavy. The scratch of the pen as she angrily penned the letter and scrawled her name was the only sound he could hear and it was sweet music. Once the papers were signed and the notary went to get the log book, Michael handed her the check. “I want you out of my house and my life by the time I get home tonight, and don’t ever bother me again.”

“Go ahead and enjoy your petty victory Michael, but it’s as hollow as your heart and as empty as your bed will be. Your precious little Tori is done with you and you’ll be all alone with no one.” She rose before leaning in and gut-punching him with her next words. “And you want to know the real kicker, you did it yourself Michael, not me. The wink while singing the words I
don’t wanna miss a thing
, seemingly to me, while your thick little mouse watched horror stricken from the door, that is what broke her, not me.”

While walking away, Tonya turned back one last time before she disappeared through the glass doors, “You sit there and let that sink in Michael, I’ll catch a cab.”

And just like that, his world imploded. Reasonable or not, how could he explain all that away? Shit, he couldn’t, but he wasn’t just going to give up either. Michael left the office numb and in a trance, heading for the hotel.

In a zombie-like state, he shuffled through showering and loading the car with everything he needed. He would go through with his proposal, try to explain, beg if he had to. And, if, or rather when, she said no, he would return to the darkness and exist as a shadow of who he was when he was bathed in her light.

T
he last few
days weren’t easy ones to get through, but she managed, and she was proud of herself for that. Michael was still front and center of her mind, or this other man, Florida Michael, was. Somehow, she had managed to separate them into two distinct individuals. It was the only way she could cope with the things that had happened since she returned home.

Tennessee, or Wingman Michael, was a beautifully flawed, perfectly imperfect individual, who added a certain flavor to her life that was missing.
That
Michael managed to give her back something she thought lost to her. He was sacred and would always hold a place of honor in her heart.
That
Michael had branded his name on her soul, never to erode away.