Stay With Me (2 page)

“Well, I said that I would come
,
and I don’t go back on promises.  I also like honesty, especially from someone that I’m in a relationship with,” I hiss, and he cringes at my venomous tone.  I wouldn’t have minded going to the wedding, in fact, it might actually be fun.  Only now, I have to come up with something to wear.

“Look, babe, I can’t take it back, but I do feel bad.  I should have known you would go
;
you always try your best to make me happy.”  He slides his hand over mine and interlaces our fingers.

“You’re damn right I do.  Now, no more lies,”  I say with resolve in my voice.  That’s one thing I’m not going to tolerate is lying.  Matt lied to me so many times about, well, everything.  I’ve been an open book for Donovan, not holding anything back, but I don’t feel like he is doing the same for me.  I wish he would let his walls down for me.  I just pray I’m making at least a crack in those barriers.

“Okay, no more lies.”  Donovan crosses his heart, just like a kid would do, and it makes me giggle.  I can’t stay mad at him long; he’s too cute when he does things like that.  Once again, the distraction wins out, and I turn my attention back to the iPod.  I can only take so much rock from the 80’s.  I slide through again to find Nickelback.  I love this band.  I lean my seat back and listen to Chad Kroeger’s raspy voice belt out,
“Burning it to the ground and having a fistful of whiskey that makes me bat shit crazy.”
  I make a mental note to buy tickets next time they come to town.

“Hey, are you hungry? I stop at this little diner every time I go home.”

“Sure, sounds great.  Just hope it’s not too far away, I might waste away to nothing before we get there,” I joke, trying to make the mood light.  The tension from just a few minutes ago is still lingering.

“God knows I don’t want that to happen.  Then you might lose that perfect ass,”  Donovan banters back and winks.

“So, where is this diner?  I am actually pretty hungry.”

“Off Exit 36.  It won’t take long.”  I notice that we are only two exits away, and I feel the rumble in my stomach.  I try to listen to the music to take my attention away from my hunger pangs.

By the time the last song plays Donovan is pulling off to the exit.  Long car rides and a hefty dose of stress will give you one monster headache.  I dig into my purse and grab my ibuprofen.  I down two of them with a shallow of my water.

“This place has been here since I was a kid.  I think most of the same people still work here,” Donovan says as he pulls into the parking lot.  I’m surprised at the amount of cars that are here; it’s three in the afternoon, way past lunchtime.  

He gets out and opens the door for me, always the Southern gentleman.  I glance at the diner.  It’s shiny silver, reminding me of chrome, with a large sign that’s flashing “Danny’s Diner” in red neon lights.  It looks like something straight out of the fifties.  

Donovan offers me his hand and helps me out of the BMW.  We walk in, arm in arm, through the big red door, and I feel like we step into a timewarp.  Pictures of Elvis and Buddy Holly are plastered all over the walls.  The black and white checkerboard floors have a glossy sheen finish and the bright red booth stick out, catching my attention.  A woman wearing saddle shoes and a poodle skirt greets us in typical Southern drawl and shows us to a booth in the back.  I slide in, leaving room for Donovan to sit next to me. “Heather will be right with you,” she says with a bright smile.  

“I told you this place is awesome,” Donovan says as he hands me a menu.  I look through it and find that all the items are named after famous people from the fifties and sixties.  “I always get the same thing here,” Donovan says.

“And what’s that?” I ask, as I scan the extensive menu.  For being such a rinky-dink place, I didn’t think I’d have a hard time deciding.  Is the food named after the celebrity because it was their favorite?  Or is it just random?  I lay the menu down for Donovan to show me what he’s talking about.

He points to a picture of a huge burger called the Ritchie Valens “La Bamba” burger.  “This one.  It’s really spicy, and it’s so good.  It has jalapenos and green chiles on it.”  

“Okay, works for me”  I shrug and close my menu.  “I like it hot.”  I wink.

Donovan looks at me with lust in his eyes and licks his bottom lip.  “Allie, you don’t have to tell me.  I already know this,” he leans in and whispers in my ear.

I feel my face flush from his comment, and I nudge his side as I see our waitress, Heather, walk up to the table.  She’s younger than the rest of the staff, but just as perky.

“Hi, guys.  I’m Heather,” she greets us; then she gets a good look at Donovan.  It’s the same reaction every time: girl sees him, girl gets flabbergasted and can’t speak, Donovan waves it off.  Her mouth hangs open
,
and the same flush creeps onto her cheeks as it does any other woman.

 “
I know, honey.  He’s beautiful
,” I think to myself, even chuckling about it.  I’ve gotten used to these responses from women, even some men, when it comes to my man.  His bedroom blue eyes, the dark brown hair that hangs on his forehead, and the amazing rock hard chest you can see even when he is dressed are all just a few reasons eyes follow him everywhere he goes.  I’ve learned to accept the fact that he’s going to get eye fucked regardless of where we go, so it doesn’t bother me anymore.

“Hi, Heather.  We are actually ready to order,” Donovan says with a panty dropping, perfect white smile.

“Uh, sure, what can I get for you?”

Donovan spouts off our order, complete with a Coke for each of us.  She feverishly writes it down, takes our menus and walks off to place our order.  Donovan gives me a puzzled look when I start laughing.

“Oh, come on.  You honestly didn’t see the way she was looking at you?” I playfully roll my eyes at him.  How can he not know he’s the sexiest man in Atlanta, if not the whole state?  “She was totally undressing you with her eyes.”

He gives me a sexy, crooked smile.  Yeah, he knows, and I believe it strokes his ego a little, but he really isn’t interested.  I can see it on his face when he gets those looks, and it makes me feel better about our relationship.  Just knowing I can trust him . . . well, with the exception of the wedding news, is good for me.

Chapter 2

Donovan slips his arm behind my back and rests his hand on my hip.  I snuggle against his chest and close my eyes.  I inhale his scent, a mix of his Issey Miyake body wash and the love we made this morning.  I open my eyes and glance up to find him looking down at me.  I reach up and kiss his lips lightly.  “You know, it’s hard being so close to you and not be able to have you,” he whispers so only I can hear him.  His words make a direct hit to my libido, making me squirm.  His chuckle is throaty and deep, making me want to take him on this table right now.  He’s always so damn distracting.

“So, tell me more about this wedding we’re going to,” I ask, trying to get my mind off of straddling him and getting arrested for crude behavior in public.  Heather comes with our drinks, stealing a glance at Donovan.  

“
Yep, he makes my panties drop, too, girl,
” I think to myself.

“Gabe’s a good friend of mine from school; we grew up together,” Donovan says after he thanks our waitress.  He went to the most prestigious, as well as most expensive boarding school on the East coast, St. Paul’s School for Boys. It also happens to be in Atlanta.  I don’t even think you can attend if your parents don’t make at least two million dollars a year.  He has shown me pictures of himself wearing the St. Paul’s uniform, a navy blue blazer, khaki pants and a striped tie.  He was so handsome, even as an awkward teenager.  “He’s marrying his girlfriend from Harvard, Stacey.  I’ve meet her a couple of times; very sweet girl.”

“Why does Gabe’s name sound so familiar?  I know I’ve heard it before.  Have you talked about him lately?”

“Only in passing.  The reason you know the name is because Gabe’s the owner of Vanderbilt Enterprises.”  He doesn’t even bat an eyelash, but my mouth drops.  Gabriel Vanderbilt is Atlanta’s wealthiest business owner, and a very smart one at that.  He owns businesses all over the world, including construction companies, factories, and even accounting firms.  I read that he’s worth over sixty-five million dollars, which isn’t bad for being twenty-nine.

“Well, great.  I’m going to the wedding of a mogul and I have nothing to wear.  I think you need to take me on a shopping trip before we get to Savannah,” I playfully scold, suddenly excited for this unexpected wedding I’m attending.

Donovan laughs and says, “Of course, babe.  I think I owe you at least that.”

“I take it this is a formal affair?”
I wonder where in the world I can find a dress for such an event on short notice.
 

“Yeah, it is. Look,  I know I just threw this on you last minute, but I know this shop in Savannah where we can stop.  My stepmother goes there all the time and she spends a damn fortune.”  Again, Donovan’s tone grows cold when he mentions anything about Donna.  I guess I’ll figure out why when we get to the Callahan Estate.  

“Sounds good to me,” I assure him.  “So, you’re in the wedding party?  Are you the best man?”

“Actually, I am.  Like I said, we were really close growing up.  There were a few of us in the group that kept in touch through the years.  Gabe asked me last year to be in the wedding, so I told him I would,” Donovan explains.  It must be nice to still be friends with people from high school.  I couldn’t care less about the asshats in my graduating class, being that most of them called me a whore when I was pregnant.  They were some really immature kids that made my last year of high school pure hell.  Not that I’m bitter or anything, but it is what it is.  I think most of those girls that called me names are drug addicts or have two kids themselves now.  Karma’s a bitch.

“Did he tell you how many people are coming?” I ask, wondering just how people I’ll be rubbing elbows with.  

“I have no idea, I think Stacey told him like around nine hundred” he says nonchalantly.

“I don’t even know that many people, let alone invite that many to my wedding.”  

He laughs and nods in agreement.  “Gabe knows everyone.  He always knew where the parties were in high school.  He always knew people that would buy us beer. He’s always been like that way. I think that why his business does so well.  He’s a people person.”

Heather comes out of the kitchen, carrying a tray with our food and refills of Coke.  As she sets them down before us, my eyes widen at the size of the plate.  “I know I can’t eat all of this.”  

Donovan laughs. “Eyes bigger than your stomach?”

“Uh, yeah, obviously.”

“Is there anything else I can get for you lovely folks?”   

“No, thanks.  We’re good,” Donovan tells her, not really looking away from his food.  God, just like a man.  I look at her and smile.  “We’re fine, thank you,” I say to her.  Heather smiles and nods before leaving us to eat.

The food is incredible, no wonder there are so many customers.  My mom always said, “If everyone is quiet, you know the food is good.  No one wants to open their mouths unless they’re shoveling food in.”  

After we finish, which surprisingly I was able to clean my plate, Donovan asks for the check from our waitress.  As we wait for the bill to come, I can’t stop the words as they slip out.  “How did you meet Claire?”  I immediately regret that question.  I seriously need to think before I speak.

Donovan sighs and his body stiffens.  “Why do you insist on bringing her up all the time?  I told you, it’s done with.”

“Well, I don’t ask about her all the time, thank you,” I defend myself.  “I just want to know, that’s all.  You’re kinda vague with your past, and I just want to know more about you.  And since she’s a big part of that past, I feel like I can ask a few questions and not get the third degree because of it.”

“Fine,” he holds his hands up to surrender.  “You win.  I met Claire when I was trying to make beer money in high school.  I went around to people’s houses after school and asked if they needed help with yard work or side jobs, things like that.”  He exhales hard before continuing.  “I came to her house, did a few jobs for her, and she came on to me.  I was a horny teenager, what can I say?”

A lot of teenage boys try to make some extra cash so they don’t have to work at McDonald’s.  “That’s all I wanted to know.  Now, was that so hard?” I pat my hand on his thigh and I see his lips curve into a small smile.  

“No, not really,” Donovan grabs my hand and rubs his thumb across my knuckles.  Our waitress comes will our check, so Donovan pulls his wallet and throws a fifty dollar bill down.  When we get up to leave, Donovan catches our waitress.  “We don’t need any change, thank you.”

I guess when you have as much money as Donovan has, you can do things like tip the waitress a hundred percent.  I look at him and laugh as we walk out and hear Heather’s squeal of delight.

“You sure made her day a lot better,” I link my fingers into his, beaming from his generosity.  It never ceases to amaze me.  I used to think he was totally over the top, but I’ve come to learn that he isn’t flashy about his wealth.  He sincerely just wants to help people.  In fact, he even wants to open a medical clinic for people that are low income or have no insurance.  He’s not looking to make money; he just wants them to have healthcare and not have to worry about huge medical bills and expenses.  How could you not love a man with that kind of heart?