Mind Over Matter (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Four months later...

One finished album. One new book halfway complete. Life moved on, changed, inching towards a new milestone. Four months of moving on. Again.

But as always, there was unfinished business to attend to.

Nicole smoothed out her bridesmaid dress with shaking hands. She looked in the bedroom mirror, her eyes apprehensive, her brow furrowed. None of it had to do with the way the buttercream yellow of her dress complimented her skin, or the way the yellow rose in her hair sat cradled by loose curls. She wanted to smile, because honestly she looked beautiful, just as Jackie knew she would in this color. She looked like spring, like new beginnings... but the past was still coming for her nonetheless.

Travis walked into the bedroom then, mercifully interrupting her thoughts. He smoothed his black hair back from his forehead, and avoided her plaintive stare. His tie hung around his neck waiting to be done, but the rest of him was dressed to kill. Immediately she plastered a smile her face, a habit she'd cultivated since the day he said that he would try, that he would stay with her in spite of himself because he knew his jealousy had helped push her into Gabriel’s arms. Still, he avoided looking at her when he went to the mirror, seemingly preoccupied with his tie, rather than with the stress of the coming day.

She'd grown accustomed to him being right next to her and yet light years away. She'd grown accustomed to winning him back slowly, one unsure smile and one wavering glance at a time. And she'd grown accustomed to not sleeping through the night, worrying about the next day, and trying to push thoughts of the last time she saw Gabriel from her mind. Even those silent thoughts felt like a betrayal. The way they would flush her skin with heat and make her fingers itch to call him, to fix everything that felt broken in her world, in her heart.

Call him
again
, that is. She'd already tried to call him, many times, but accepted long ago that she was a coward. She knew the sound of his voice would consume her. She wouldn't be able to bear the idea that he might turn her away, that he meant what he said. She couldn't bear the fact that she still cared so much about Travis. Breaking his heart broke hers in a way she hadn't expected it to, as if she'd confirmed she really did love him after all. Even though he now looked at her like she was a tightrope and the safety net had been snatched out from under him, she couldn’t bear to walk away.

Slowly but surely she'd begun to touch him again. He barely flinched when she touched his tie, guided him to face her, and started to tie it.

"You look so good," she said softly, smoothing the fabric against his chest. She wondered if her smile would ever curve without a hint of guilt, if she would ever fully meet his eyes and not find hurt and anger there.

"Thanks." He licked his lips, and she recognized the brief pause as he assessed whether to say his next words.

"You look beautiful, Nikki."

It was a double-edged sword. To compliment her was to tell the truth, to mend the cracks in their relationship. Yet, she could see the effort it took to say something nice to her, to go everyday weighing and measuring his words, knowing that saying nothing would hurt as much as calling her a lying bitch.

For weeks he barely said a word to her. She slept on the couch and watched the sun come up because she couldn't sleep. She made him breakfast he wouldn't eat, and cried herself into a ball when he left for work. She didn't deserve to cry in front of him, to pluck at his conscience when he was the only one truly free of guilt in all of this.

Unless you count falling in love with a girl he knew was in love with someone else heart and soul. Then pushing her to cut ties with him when you realized you couldn’t compete—

Immediately she bit her tongue, as if she actually said the words aloud. It was a thought that she hated, because it always came to her defense when she couldn’t take blaming and hating herself anymore.

Nicole felt more than saw the soft peck on her forehead. She heard herself say “thank you,” but before she could kiss him back Travis was turning away, his reflection walking out of the room. And she was relieved. The rush of air escaping her lungs was as inescapable as this day.

Just one more day. One last punishment. She would see him again and then it would all be over, right?

She blinked once. Twice. Then she put on her biggest, brightest smile. No tears today, not unless they were for her sister and Ian basking in their own happiness.

***

And across town, Gabriel, forever in sync with a girl he'd given up on moved over to let Nuke into the cab, the same thoughts racing through his head. Tension filled the seats, a quiet he knew was in deference to him. This was the first time in months Gabriel would come face to face with Nicole, though a day hadn't gone by where he hadn't thought of her and their last time together.

Last
times
...

He almost smiled at how backwards his mind could be. His thoughts were supposed to be brooding and tortured, but he couldn't help but replay the images of her, naked and slick with sweat, moaning his name, moaning for mercy. Even though his heart clenched at the realization he would never have that again, his body still had some catching up to do. He shifted in his seat subtly adjusting the cursed excitement he would have to pretend didn't exist. A cursory “hi” for the sake of Jackie was all he was willing to muster for her little sister.

This time it wasn't a hoax he'd imposed on himself. This time he was fucking done with her. And he was going to prove it.

The cab turned the corner, down a not-so-familiar street, and Gabriel pulled out his phone to briskly tap out the message:
Waiting out front.

Nuke turned to him then and asked, "You gonna be okay with this?"

Gabe's jaw clenched involuntarily before he forced it to relax so he could smile congenially. "Why wouldn't I be?" Nuke gave him an unsure glance and Gabriel sighed in answer. "This day isn't about me or Nicole. This is about Jackie and Ian. I can deal for one day, for our good friends."

It sounded good. Convincing, even.

"So you bringing this chick has nothing to do with making Nicole jealous?" "Nope."

Gabriel's eyes were glued to the window, waiting for her to come out. Angie, he'd learned, took for-fucking-ever to get ready. Against his will he found himself comparing her to Nicole, who would risk bodily injury rather than keep him waiting for a night out...

Give me twenty minutes tops...

His mind drifted back to the night he came to visit her and celebrate the band’s new record deal. She'd gotten ready with time to spare, and as usual, never looked less than stellar. He knew today would be no exception. So his response to Nuke's question was obviously a lie. Angie was there to remind him the torch he still carried could be dimmed. Angie was there to bring him back to reality when he knew seeing Nicole again could tear him apart. Especially since he knew through Chase — by way of Trish — that she was still with Travis. If Trish had figured out Nicole and Gabriel had slept together, he had yet to hear about it. And the rest of the guys, save Nuke and Chase, were as clueless about Nicole as they had been when he'd cheated on Marta.

Just as well. He was tired of the sidelong glances, the masked pity. He'd swallowed bitterness this go-round, not the remorse and guilt of the past. This time he'd done everything right, and all he'd gotten to show for it was one unforgettable day and a pretty girl who meant nothing to him, coming down the steps of her apartment building. She smiled and waved at him, her lean curves and dark hair set off by a subtle tan and a wine colored strapless dress. Another model, another gorgeous girl who would serve as a Band-Aid for a while until he got bored. Then he'd move on to the next one. That was his fate, and this time he'd accept it with an insatiable appetite, like any rock star worth his salt.

"Hey, sweetie!" Angie enthused. She slid into the cab in a huff, the smell of her perfume following her. Something citrus-like, with a hint of flower. Nothing like the lilacs that lingered on his pillows long after Nicole had gone.

"Hi, Nuke," she offered in passing, but before Nuke could respond in full, her focus was on Gabriel's mouth. When she kissed him, her lips lingered, claiming all of his attention. It was the antithesis of Nicole's approach. Nicole... who would always be mindful of the guys, who was always more than just a girlfriend, or friend with benefits. She'd always been an honorary part of the gang. And her kisses put fire in his veins. She always made him want more than he could get in that moment, made the anticipation for the time he could get her alone almost unbearable.

He welcomed Angie's safe brand of sexuality. He could put up a wall and she'd never have the right tools to scale it. She'd never be anything like Nicole.

From the corner of his eye he could sense Nuke's disapproving glare, but this time he ignored it with a smile on his face. He didn't have time to care anymore. He'd taken Chase's advice and decided once and for all to move on.

Now all he had to do was prove that he had by getting through the day ahead...

Chapter Seventeen

Nicole watched Trish's reflection watching her as she smoothed out her dress for what had to be the twelfth time.

"You look great, you know? So, why are you being so fussy?"

"I'm not being fussy," Nicole argued absently. She was rubbing a hand over the stubborn flesh of her lower abdomen. There would never be enough crunches in the world to make it completely flat like Trish's, would there?

"I'm just going to skip ahead to the part where I ask you if you talked to him yet, since that's obviously what all the fidgety-ness is all about."

Nicole actually gave Trish a look that managed to beg and warn her all at once to shut the hell up. "This is Jackie's day. I'm not going to turn this into another opportunity to have an angsty conversation about Gabriel." She turned back to the mirror and rifled through her purse for her lipstick. "Frankly, it's really old and tired. There's more to life than him and the brief period we were together."

Trish's audible sigh ruffled her feathers, but neither of them said anything else about Gabriel. For better or worse, she was right. It had gotten old. The pining and nervousness, her friends wondering what they were thinking when they broke up, and watching their every interaction for signs they would realign themselves on a path to love and reconciliation. All of it was just silly and childish after nearly two years worth of time apart.

Unless you count that one night...

She was too tired to push away the memories. So she closed her eyes and let the images come unbidden. For just a moment...

She was on top of him, dancing to a beat only they could feel and hear. His breath was in her ear as he pressed her down beneath his weight, and thrust all of his passion into her. The sound of his moan was desperate and clear, as if he were falling apart and she was the only thing that would piece him back together when he came. She could feel his sheets twisting in her fingers and between her teeth as she willingly screamed for him the way he ordered her to. The taste and smell of sweat, the exhale and shudder of their breaths were caught in their raw throats. And then there was the touch of his skin under her fingertips, and the way his fingers interlocked with hers, like his eyes did as she fell, and fell, and fell...

She breathed in, breathed out, and told herself she would be alright. It was like coping with a panic attack. All she had to do to get through it was remind herself this was the present and she was going to be alright. Even when Gabriel's smiling face flashed before her closed eyes, she held onto the chant. The past was the past. His smiles, his tears, and the feel of him just holding her the way a friend would; it didn't matter now because the past was the past.

Even though she told herself this, sometimes it was those images that hurt most of all. The tenderness he used to show her, the love and sweetness wrapped up in even the dirtiest of their deeds.

But those moments were just fragments from another life. She opened her eyes, and stared her reflection down while she applied the simple shade that brought out the natural pink hue of her lips. The past was the past, was the past.

She blinked hard, put her mask back on, and followed Trish out as if Gabriel's name had never entered her mind. That determined smile was in place and didn't falter. Unless you counted how Jackie and Ian made her tear up as they exchanged their vows, rings and sealed it with a kiss.

Or when she looked over Ian’s shoulder and her gaze connected with Gabriel’s before he turned away.

After that, though, her mask of happiness was back in place. She watched her sister and brother-in-law dance their first dance to Heatwave’s “Always and Forever”. She danced with her nephew, twirling in her dress as he twirled and clapping as he thrust his arms in the air, stomped his feet at odd moments and grinned up at his adoring Auntie Nikki. She did the Electric Slide and the Macarena, and drank three glasses of champagne while she laughed and remembered the old single days with Jackie and the bridesmaids.

Travis wasn't by her side for much of the night. At least, not the way he would have been if they were the couple they used to be. He didn't feel like dancing the whole night the way he would have. He didn't have much to say to her, so he talked around her, to whatever group happened to be around them at the moment. It hurt to see him as he truly was. Clever, funny in that deadpan sort of way, laughing and being appreciated because he didn't have to be cold or guarded. It hurt to see that genuine, beautiful smile directed at everyone else but her.

But nothing hurt as much as making her way through the reception hall to pee, coming out of the bathroom, and finding the man she'd been avoiding leaning against the wall watching the festivities. Their eyes met as she was coming down the hall that led back into the fray of partiers.

What did one do in a situation like this? Could she just nod, say “hello” and push back through the crowd? Would it even be possible to do that much? He must hate her after all she'd done, and she still wasn't well versed in "wounded-ex" protocol. Not when it came to this man.

She had to take another deep, cleansing breath and remind herself this wasn't about him and her. This was a celebration of true love and true commitment, not another opportunity to mourn the opposite. And it was bound to happen that they would be near enough to each other to talk. He was a friend of the family, he wasn't going away, and the least she could do was be kind to him. If he wasn't willing to reciprocate, well then, that was only what she deserved. She wasn't going to be a coward. That's what had caused so many messes, so much heartache in her life: cowardice.

She involuntarily scoped out the party when he turned away from her. He'd gone back to watching his current girl-of-the-week dance with some other male guest. Travis was nowhere to be seen. He might have gone out to make a phone call. There was a project he was working on that required a lot of after-hours attention these days. It was part of the reason she didn't see much of him anymore. Aside from him blatantly avoiding her by hiding out in his favorite bar.

She took another deep, shaky breath and made a beeline for him.

Quick and short. Like pulling off a Band-Aid.
“Hi” and “Bye” and little else in between...

"Hi."

The word came out awkwardly, a croak of sound from her lips. It managed to be both too loud and wimpy-sounding at the same time. Not smooth at all. But it had the desired effect. He acknowledged her existence, however begrudgingly, as she cleared throat.

"Nicole," he said with a nod. He took a sip of his champagne and went back to his spectator sport. She tried to ignore the sexy grin that spread his lips at the sight of his new girl swaying seductively. She was ready to turn away, to run after tossing out a pleasantry that she would barely wait for him to answer.

"How've you been?" he asked her suddenly.

Huh. A question. One he expected an answer to by the looks of his waiting glance. That was unexpected. "I've been..."

Miserable. Lost. Half whole.

"I've been good," she managed, still confused that he'd care, let alone bother to ask. "Doing alright, I guess. Just working on the next book. Looking after Preston here and there," she said, motioning to her little nephew, the ring bearer. "Just trying to stay busy."

He nodded. "Same. Busy, busy. Looking forward to touring now that the album is done."

"That's good. That's great. I'm really happy you're doing well. And I can't wait to hear your new music."

"Thanks."

Her skin warmed when his eyes held hers, deep and penetrating. As if he was searching for something, for her. They'd always been such beautiful eyes. Molten chocolate to her nearly black-brown. How had she ever found the strength — or was it stupidity — to turn away from this face? How could she have seen these eyes filled with tears that matched her own, seen love in them, and now stand here as if it were all a dream? Making small talk. Seeing him so guarded and cool, where once there'd always been warmth and kindness that could so quickly turn to fire and need.

"Gabriel..."

He looked down at her with an ironic cocktail of disdain and nonchalance, as if she were an annoying fly whose presence he'd come to accept. "Yeah?" was all the encouragement he seemed willing to muster.

"I-I... I just wanted to say... you..."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and she swallowed and choked on her own spit. She coughed, sputtered and looked away from the chocolate of his eyes.

"I just wanted you to know I'm glad you’re here. That you look really nice," she managed to say through the blaze of heat that covered her skin. "It's good to see you again, doing so well."

He did look so good. His hair was an inch longer than when she'd last seen him, truly shaggy now, but still that glossy, chestnut brown that shown healthily in the evening light. A five o'clock shadow of stubble graced his chin. She was unused to it since he usually preferred to be clean-shaven, but it didn't take away one iota from his beautifully chiseled face. It didn't hide the indent in his chin, the one she kissed sweetly so many times before. It seemed nothing could have made him look less than the image of her fantasies, especially when the ruggedness of his shaggy hair and stubble was the perfect contrast to how handsome he was in his black, tailored suit. The tie had long since been abandoned and the top buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone. She could see the black cord of his necklace and a peek of the silver pendant. Her eyes were powerless against the sight of his coffee and cream-colored skin and her tongue skimmed the roof of her mouth, remembering how it tasted.

"So do you," he said to her surprise. Her eyes snapped up to his, to the soft smile that graced his lips. He'd just given her a compliment, she realized.

She glanced down, gave the skirt of her buttercream yellow gown a nervous tug and swish. "Thank y—"

"In fact, you look almost as good as the last time I saw you," he whispered. "You remember the last time we were together, right?"

It took a second for the words to register, for the heat to blaze hotter on her skin and then pulse like a heartbeat encasing her body.

"You looked really pretty coming on my cock, sweetheart. Begging me not to stop fucking you while Travis was waiting for you to come home."

She nearly fainted when he smiled at her, the full, heartbreaking smile that still made her pussy pulse despite the vicious truths he spat at her.

"Does he know I came inside his girlfriend?" he asked softly, leaning over to speak directly into her ear.

She wished she could say she was paralyzed by shock, but that wasn't it. Her body shivered with revulsion at his words; it knew better than to stay put and take this abuse. But the nearness of him, the scent of him, his voice... It was like a vital spark she'd deprived herself of. It was like—

Punishment.

She'd been emotionally flaying herself since the moment he'd told her to leave and go back to Travis. And now she stood and took more well earned punishment from Gabriel, the man she loved, even now.

"I'll take the dirty look he's shooting me right now as a 'yes'.” He pulled back just enough to look at the side of her face. "Did you fuck him that night, too?"

She didn't dare meet his gaze, didn't dare validate the awful question with a response. Of course, he knew the answer anyway. He knew her so well.

"No, you wouldn't have done that, not sweet little Nicole Langley."

He gave her a soft chuckle, the evil twin of the sweet laughter she remembered. She would have given anything in that moment to hear his genuine laugh again, not this pained and bitter shadow of it.

"So how did he find out?" he continued. "Did he smell me on you? Or maybe he just recognized that well-fucked look you have when I get done with you, little girl—"

"That's enough!" She ripped herself backwards, knocking into someone passing by. She bit her trembling lip and looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Travis was there turning his blue eyes into daggers that would have pierced Gabriel's flesh, if it were physically possible. He started to approach, then looked at her and stopped, waiting. Waiting for her to prove the loyalty he doubted since the day she screwed up her Gabriel Robert’s purge.

"I never meant to hurt you, Gabriel. I don't know what to say or do to make it up to you..."

He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes take a languorous dive down the length of her shaking body. He took his time lifting his gaze from her open toe stilettos, up her exposed calves, her bare knees, the full skirt of her dress, the generous curve of her hips and breasts. His deep brown eyes practically licked the bare skin of her décolletage and neck, until he was staring her dead in the face, daring her not to understand what his look meant.

"I know how you can make it up to me, if you're really sorry. But I don't think Travis would appreciate the only kind of apology I'll accept from you."

She wanted to be sick. Because she couldn't look away. She couldn't deny that even though she was angry, hurt, and shamed before him, she was also hungry. Starving to turn his nasty smirk into a smile of approval and desire. She wanted to make him swallow his words and beg her to finish what he’d started. God, when was the last time she'd been touched, or looked at with anything other than thinly veiled disdain by the person she was with?