redeeming cupid 01 - struck by eros (22 page)

I should have let go the first time I had the opportunity to hand Len’s heart over to Lauren. A woman who wouldn’t have to change to make him happy. Instead I held on because I was afraid to let go. I screwed up all our lives. Once again, I had been selfish to protect what I thought I wanted. To protect myself. To hell with anyone else involved.

“I screwed up royally.” I wiped a smudge off the picture’s glass and sighed.

Letting Len go, knowing we were over for good, for real, hollowed my chest, hurt my heart, tore apart my soul, but not for the reasons that it should. Letting Len go meant admitting Cupid knew me better than I knew myself. It meant admitting I may actually have deeper feelings for Grayson than I wanted to acknowledge. It meant admitting in the end, I was going to end up with the type of man I fought to free myself from.

The thought of being with Grayson, allowing myself to fall in love with him, scared me. But the thought of being without him, missing from my life—that scared me even more.

I climbed the rest of the stairs and stepped into the laundry room, where I stripped off the ruined blouse and tossed it in the garbage. It didn’t bother me to get rid of it. The old-fashioned silk had been another item bought to please Len. Something I knew he would approve of. I had a closet full of clothes I bought to please Len. A house full of color-coordinated and color-coded organized baskets to please Len. A life so changed I didn’t recognize who I was anymore.

All to please Len.

After slamming the lid on the garbage can I went into my bathroom. I turned on the light and ran my hand over the smooth granite counter. The empty counter. No face creams or hairbrushes or open tubes of toothpaste. Nothing except for Len’s clock. His way of making sure I made it to places on time. Before Len, I didn’t have a schedule to manage, or places to rush off too. Life had been carefree and easy.

The illuminated numbers reminded me how much I missed that life. I grabbed the cord on the clock and yanked. The lights dimmed, faded, and the numbers and blinking dots vanished.

It felt so damn good. I stared at my cat-who-ate-the-peacock smile and knew what I had to do next.

The medicine cabinet was next. Stripped the shelves of my face creams, vitamins, anything that had been tucked away out of sight, and dumped them all over my bathroom counter. I pulled the towel off the towel bar and draped it across the shower door. I messed up the bathroom, destroyed the organization and created chaos. Claiming the bathroom as mine once again.

I took back a part of myself that was stolen from me.

The bathroom forgotten, I went into my closet and stared at the rows of color-coordinated clothes hanging neatly on the racks, baskets of scarves and purses arranged neatly on the shelves, and shoes organized by height, color, and style. Everything meticulous.

And completely wrong.

The baskets were first as I pulled them all from the shelves, creating pile after pile of brightly colored accessories on the floor. I yanked clothes from the hangers, tossed them on the floor, piled them on the dresser, and created a system I could live with. I shuffled shoes on the shelves, messed with Len’s system.

And it felt fucking fantastic.

Filled with an energy I hadn’t felt in two years and clad in nothing but a bra and panties, I ran downstairs, not caring if the neighbors saw my glorious nakedness, and trashed the place. Tore through the house like a tornado through a trailer park. Bins that had taken Len weeks to perfect were dumped in the middle of the room. I found all my hidden art supplies and covered the coffee table with them, hiding remote controls and magazines under the sketchbooks and charcoals.

This wasn’t Len’s house, it was mine, but I had been living like a houseguest for the past two years. No more. I loved my mess, my unorganized way of living. I let him take that away from me, let him transform me into a Donna Reed wannabe.

I tipped, emptied, spilled every bin, every shelf, every bit of Len left in my home. And then I laughed. I laughed at how good it felt to be free. To be me. To be happy.

Comfortably plopped down in the middle of the mess of my own making, I enjoyed the feeling of calm that enveloped me. And for the first time, I let myself think of Grayson as something more than a major inconvenience. Allowed myself to imagine a future with him. Faced the scary feelings I felt for him. Love. Plain and simple. I loved Grayson.

Loved the man who wasn’t put off by my off-color vocabulary. Who kept up with my verbal barbs. Who stuck with me no matter how many times I mucked things up. Who had never once expected me to be anyone other than Noel.

But I’d been such a bitch. Downright nasty.

I grimaced and my insides shriveled at the thought of the past month of crap I put him through. Yet, he’d stuck by my side, taking all the abuse I hurled his way. Grayson wasn’t Brad. He wouldn’t hurt me, leave me standing at the altar, or cheat on me. Grayson was Grayson, handsome, sweet, fun, and perfect for me.

I needed to tell him how I felt about him, no more hiding behind excuses.

I waded through the clutter on the floor in search of my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed Grayson’s number, my heart slowing a bit with each and every ring, stopping when he didn’t answer and flipping to voice mail. What I needed to say couldn’t be said over a machine. Grayson deserved to hear these words face to face.

Let’s hope I wasn’t too late.

I ran up the stairs, two at a time and threw on the first pair of paint-splattered sweats I found in the pile. I grabbed my keys, locked the door behind me, and hopped into Doris. I knew his address, but this was the first time I had an inclination to visit. My heart pumped at the thought of finally admitting what I had denied for so long.

Cupid was right. Grayson and I were the perfect match. Soul mates.

Eighteen

Ass Out of You and Me

My heart raced like Doris’ engine. Fast, little beats that counted down the moments until I did the one thing I swore I would never do…express something other than extreme dislike for my soul mate.

I pushed Doris to move faster, afraid I would lose my nerve at every red light. Grayson lived in a nice part of town, all high-rise buildings, historic shops, and upscale condominiums that overlooked the vast, beautiful ocean. His condo was a modern marvel made out of glass and metal. Large round windows sparkled with interior lights, offering a peek-a-boo glimpse of tastefully decorated interiors.

I parallel parked Doris, slightly nervous that the person in front of me would clip her bumper, but more nervous about the step I was about to take.

The walk up to Grayson’s door rattled my nerves more than the keys rattling in my purse. I was taking a huge risk. Grayson was Grayson. He was everything I shielded myself against. Everything I feared would ruin me. Everything I ever wanted in a man.

And despite all the reasons I could come up with to turn around and leave my foolish errand, I could think of a thousand more, which kept my feet rooted to the stoop.

Fear had driven me for the past two years, but I wouldn’t let it take Grayson away from me. I pulled open the door to Grayson’s complex and marched my way to the elevator. It felt like an eternity waiting for the doors to part. Once I stepped into that metal box, there was no turning back. The doors parted and I took a step, but couldn’t cross over the metal threshold. Is this what I really wanted? The doors started to close and I rushed forward, certain of the answer to my question.

It stopped at the third floor and I turned left toward his unit. One step closer to telling the man I loved I was his forever.

Grayson walked through his door, arm draped across the shoulder of the same dark-haired beauty from before. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he pulled her close, placing a kiss on her perfect head.

My heart had a myocardial infarction and my feet froze, too heavy to take the next step.

I forced my feet to move and managed to step backward, hoping to make it back to the elevator before Grayson and his date-of-the-day noticed. To run away. But that little bitch, Fate, had her dirty way with me, and Grayson and his mystery guest both turned in my direction before I could vanish like Casper.

“Noel?” There wasn’t a smidge of guilt in Grayson’s voice at being caught with another woman. Why would there be? Man-whores didn’t feel guilt or remorse or love.

The woman’s lips turned up into a perfect smile that showed her perfect teeth. “This is Noel?” She left Grayson’s side and walked toward me, hand held out like we were good friends.

I wanted to hold my head high, pretend that Grayson’s little sex-mate didn’t faze me. Pretend this situation wasn’t ten degrees past fucked up. I wanted to turn tail. To flee, but I couldn’t. Fleeing wouldn’t get me out of the situation. Wouldn’t allow me to confront Grayson about the piece of crap he was. Wouldn’t give me the satisfaction of walking out of here with the last word and the knowledge that I was right about him all along.

I ignored the woman approaching me, walking past her and straight over to Grayson, who hadn’t bothered to leave the comfort of his still-open door. The anger bubbled, simmered with every step, and when I finally got to him, the pot of rage boiled over the top.

Tears flowed, tears of weakness that slid down my cheeks in long paths. Jealousy got the better of my brain and I slapped him across the face, hard.

Grayson’s head whipped to the side, then came back around, his hand rubbing at my lingering handprint. “Hello to you too, Noel.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “Mind telling me what you want?” His voice as guarded as his eyes.

“Nothing. I want nothing from you. Ever.” The anger blinded me and my voice shook as violently as my hands.

“Then why are you here?” His eyes turned pebble-at-the-bottom-of-the-ocean hard.

“I came to tell you I was wrong. That you were the man for me, but I wasn’t wrong. You’re not.” The tears tumbled even though I tried to keep them at bay. “I thought coming here would be the right thing, but…” I pointed to the woman standing down the hall. “I can see I interrupted one of your many late-night booty calls.”

Grayson leaned against the door, not even bothering to defend himself or try to soothe my broken heart. The silence was deafening and confirming and reeked of guilt.

I continued my tirade. “I destroyed Len for you. Crushed his heart and soul. I believed you when you said you would fight for me. Protect me. That you weren’t like Brad.” I gasped, sucking in air through my clenched teeth. “But you’re exactly like Brad. A liar and a cheater and so very wrong for me.”

Ms. Perfect-hair interrupted. “I think you’re misinformed about our relationship.”

Grayson shook his head and his face looked tired and resigned. “Gia, just let her believe what she wants.” He peeled himself away from the doorjamb and walked past me, to her. “It’s not like she’s bothered to get to know me in the past month. She likes to think I’m this horrible individual hell bent on hurting her, but she’s never really given me a moment to prove I am not like the assholes who screwed her in the past.”

He offered the other woman his arm and led her away towards the elevator, but before he entered he peeked his head out. “If you would like to have a civilized conversation, the door is unlocked. I’ll be back after I walk my
sister
to her car.”

He disappeared and the elevator doors closed, leaving me feeling like the world’s largest piece of shit.

The urge to slink back to my car, drive home, and pretend I never left my cozy, little place sounded like the best plan, but running away from the scene I had just caused wasn’t the mature thing to do.

Time to face my demons, both past and present, and slay those fuckers.

I walked into Grayson’s condo and my breath caught. The decorations were simple and understated, nothing like I expected. Instead of bordello flash or gigolo masculinity, I stood in a living room decorated in creams and beiges, an ebony, baby grand piano, and an expanse of windows that looked out at the inky Pacific. I wandered to the baby grand and picked up the sheet music from the stand.

The door opened and closed, but I didn’t rush to put away the sheet in my hand. Instead I used it as a security blanket and a reason to speak. “Do you play?” I asked when Grayson entered the room.

“Since I was six.” He words were clipped.

There were so many things I didn’t know about Grayson, so many things I never bothered to ask. Like did he have a sister? That question would have saved me from smelling like a large bottle of eau d’ shit.

“I’m sorry.” I placed the sheet music back on the top of the piano, but didn’t leave my spot at the bench.

He huffed as if he didn’t believe my sincerity. “You’re always sorry. It’s like you’re the star of your own sitcom most days. Bumbling through life, making mistakes, assumptions.” Grayson sat on the cream-colored sofa with a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want from me, Noel?”

I picked at the edge of my shirt, pulling at a loose thread. “I don’t know what I want. You? Us? Love?”

He let out a short, forced laugh. “You are the most complicated and confusing female I have ever met.”

I stood before I started to plead insanity. “When I saw you with Gia, with your sister, I just assumed you were on a date. You’ve been with her twice before. At the coffee shop and the college. It seemed like a natural conclusion.”

Grayson shot up from the couch and walked closer, I hoped he would wrap his arms around me, but instead he took a seat next to me on the piano bench. His fingers brushed the top of the keys, and then he began to play. The song was tortured, angry, and his fingers pounded out the notes, played each one to perfection. I moved to the couch and sat down, wanting to listen, to get lost in the melody, and pretend that tonight had gone as I imagined it would. I let Grayson finish playing.

When the final note faded, he turned and looked at me. His eyes were raw, filled with pain. “I have not slept with another woman since the night you entered my life.”