Stone in Love (18 page)

They talked until the water turned luke warm, and Lindsay was ready to get out. Ireland looked at the empty hook on the back of the bathroom door. “Where’s your robe?”

“I left it at Charlie’s.”

“I’ll get mine.” Ireland handed Lindsay a towel and stepped into the bedroom.

Drying off, Lindsay heard Ireland unzip her luggage. She wrapped the towel around her chest and tucked in the end.

Ireland returned with a plush, teal–colored robe and held it open for Lindsay to slide in her arms. “You think you can walk unassisted?”

Lindsay nodded.

“I’ll go pop some bread in the toaster for you.”

Lindsay piled her hair into a bun and toddled down the hall, plopping down at the kitchen table.

Ireland arranged two slices of plain wheat toast on a plate and set it in front of Lindsay. “You need to get something in your stomach.”

“Thank you.” Lindsay sipped black coffee from the mug that Ireland had poured for her.

Ireland unplugged the toaster and cleaned the crumbs from the counter. “What are you going to do, Linds?”

“About what?”

“Charlie.”

“What’s there to do? I told you—it’s over between us.”

Ireland wiped the trail of crumbs into the palm of her free hand. “I don’t think it is.”

“Meaning?”

Ireland walked across the kitchen to the trash can, dusting off her hands. “In my personal opinion, I don’t think him … interfering, as you put it, with your career is a good enough reason to drop him forever.” She moseyed to the other end of the kitchen, grabbing the broom from beside the fridge.

Lindsay started getting dizzy again, watching Ireland go back and forth. Her elbows on the table, she massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “He betrayed me.”

Ireland leaned the broom against the counter and stood at the opposite end of the table. “He also loved you.”

Keeping her head in her hand, Lindsay gave Ireland a sideways glance. “If that were true, he wouldn’t have gone pulling strings behind my back.”

Ireland sat and intertwined her fingers on the table. “He was trying to help you the best way he could.” She wrinkled her brow and turned her head to one side. “Something doesn’t add up. There has to be another, deeper reason why you’re so upset with him.”

Lindsay’s head throbbed. “Can you get me a Goody Powder from the medicine cabinet?”

“Sure,” Ireland said, and circled around.

Ireland’s suggestion replayed in Lindsay’s mind. Maybe there
was
something, perhaps subconsciously, that was adding to her anger. Though at the current moment, she had no idea what it could be.

The pounding in her head canceled out her thought process and she laid her head on the table. She would consider it again later … when it didn’t hurt to think
.

Chapter Twenty

Night after restless night passed by. It’d been less than a week since Charlie had last seen her, but it felt like an eternity.

He tried, but couldn’t make sense of what she’d said. Where had she come up with this nonsense about his alleged high–society lifestyle? He didn’t wave his money or achievements in front of her like a flag. He wasn’t even a member of a country club, for cryin’ out loud.

Besides, he’d worked hard to earn every penny he ever made, which made this even more bizarre. He would expect that she’d be proud of him for his work ethic, when it was such a top–priority for herself.

Now he understood who the fortune–teller was referring to when she’d predicted loves lost. What was it she’d said? Something about old burdens renewed. That described Charlie perfectly, since he’d suffered heartbreak before, but nothing nearly as painful.

Lying awake in the dark, the outline of the large photo above his bed caught his attention. He flipped on the light and took the canvas picture off the wall.

Sitting on the end of the bed, he studied it, hoping to discover a flaw that he hadn’t noticed before: crooked teeth, big ears, some wrinkles around the eyes maybe. Anything to validate that she wasn’t as perfect as the image in his mind.

As expected, there were none to be found. Why couldn’t it be as simple to lose her, as it had been to let her inside his heart?

Closing his eyes, he traced his finger along Lindsay’s face. The bumpy texture of the canvas beneath his touch was imperceptible. Instead, he felt the silkiness of her skin, remembered the smell of her spicy perfume. The girly pitch of her laugh resounded in his mind.

He wanted so badly to forgive her. All she’d have to do is ask. He held out hope that she wouldn’t be so cruel on a regular basis. Either way, he would risk it. His heart had been bruised and battered before. He wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

On Wednesday, he decided, he would drive to her apartment after she got off work. It would be awkward. A lot of indirect eye contact. Then, the conventional nice–weather–we’re–having exchange, and finally the ice would break.

The question was: Would they fall to their doom, into the frigid waters below?

* * *

Lindsay had gone back to work on Monday, as scheduled. For a moment, she had considered calling it quits at Surfside. The offer still stood for her at North Charleston Emergency Care. She decided against it. Job–hopping wouldn’t be very appealing on future resumes. Besides, she was happy where she was.

At first Ireland’s plan was to stay in town only for a week or two. She was missing crucial lessons in her photography classes in New York.

Lindsay tried convincing Ireland that her absence from school would cause setbacks, but Ireland wouldn’t budge. “Not until I see you and Charlie patch things up,” she would say.

Meanwhile, Lindsay was regretting her behavior. She’d taken Charlie’s chivalrous and thoughtful nature for granted.

A question occurred to her: What if Charlie had little, or no money, but the same personality? Would she be as quick to push him away? She wasn’t sure.

Going through the daily motions became a huge task. She arrived late for work all week and misplaced several patients’ files. By Wednesday, when she’d worn two different shoes to work, she decided to take Ireland’s recommendation.

The only way to fix this was to swallow her pride and admit to Charlie she was wrong. The time had come to talk face–to–face.

* * *

That evening after work, Lindsay showered and primped, becoming as visually–satisfying as possible. Her hair and makeup were set with a steady hand.

When she finished, she checked herself in the full–length mirror behind her bedroom door. There she found a yellow sticky note: “I knew you’d see Charlie tonight. Why do you think I put this here? Hair appointment at six, then nails. Good luck, kitty. Love, Ireland.”

In her anxious state, Lindsay hadn’t given poor Ireland a second thought. She’d arrived at her empty apartment rehearsing in her mind what she’d say to Charlie. Good thing Ireland had left that note—Lindsay would have panicked when she realized her friend was missing … if it occurred to her at all.

Lindsay closed the door to the apartment and started down the outside stairs. In the dark, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She’d expected it was another second floor tenant, but couldn’t make out his face in the dark.

This wasn’t the first time she’d thought how cheap her landlords were for not installing sufficient lighting.

Instead of staying on the right side of the stairway, the shadow headed straight toward her.

Could it be Charlie coming to visit her? Maybe they were having the same thoughts all along.

As the figure came closer, she realized his frame was much smaller than Charlie’s. Her adrenaline ran wild with fear. She kept her eyes on the stairs, afraid to look him straight on. As the man closed in she tried to side–step him, but he moved in the same direction, blocking her. Again, she moved to the side, and so did he.

“Excuse me,” Lindsay said in a husky tone, trying to conceal her terror.

The man cast out a roguish laugh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want some of this.”

Lindsay lifted her head. “You jerk! You nearly scared me to death!” She pushed Asher’s chest, and he stumbled down the steps.

“Watch it, bitch!” Asher yelled, dusting himself off. “This is a hundred–dollar Michael Kors shirt.” He inspected each elbow. “And look,” he held it where she could see, “you made me rip a hole in it.”

“That’s what you get.”

“Damn!” he said upon further inspection. “I’m bleeding too!”

The red fluid spewing from his elbow had pooled onto his white button–up.

“Will you shut up already.” Lindsay grabbed him by his good elbow. “I don’t want my neighbors to hear.”

She yanked Asher up the stairs and unlocked her door. “Follow me.”

She switched on the kitchen light. “Sit down.”

Asher sat at the kitchen table, holding his wounded arm. Wincing, he squeaked like a mouse.

Lindsay shook her head as she searched through the medicine cabinet.

How inconvenient is this? Being held up by a pretty–boy, white in the face from a little scratch.

First aid kit in hand, Lindsay pulled out a chair in front of Asher and sat. She dropped the box on the table and removed the plastic wrapping. “You know, two women lived together and never needed to open this.”

“Shut up,” Asher said under his breath. His tone was more gentle as he awaited personal treatment.

“What do you want anyway? Your sister isn’t here.” Lindsay opened a bandage and unwrapped an antibacterial wipe.

“I came to retrieve my dad’s Freemason ring. You know—the one you and your big, bad boyfriend stole right off my finger.”

Lindsay looked at the nub of a pinky that remained on Asher’s right hand. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“For what?”

Was he being for real? The sarcastic smirk on Asher’s face said that he knew exactly what for.

Lindsay thought she was imagining what she heard next: The softest, most genuine–sounding, “Thank you.”

Tending to his wounds, Lindsay wondered what had brought about this sudden change of character. “Whatever. I know you don’t mean that,” she said, taping on the final piece of gauze.

“All done.” She crumpled the empty bandage packets in the palm of her hand.

Asher cupped his hand over hers, looking at her intently … almost affectionately.

“You can trust me,” he said.

She froze. The lustful look in his eyes was familiar … too familiar. The memories of that night flooded her senses.

Asher had driven her home from the bar and carried her inside. She’d been dizzy, barely conscious, lying on her bed. Asher’s fingers brushed against her chest. Her eyes heavy, she struggled to focus, realizing that he was unbuttoning her shirt.

She drew in a quick breath and pushed his hands away. “I’m okay.”

He’d looked at her with the same desire that night as he was at this very moment.

“Trust me,” he’d said, and placed his mouth over hers. At first his kisses were soft, but the longer it went on, the more frenzied they became. She’d managed to push him away from her lips, but he refocused on her chest, sucking, then biting like a starved dog.

“Stop it,” she’d yelled, and pounded her balled fist into his head. Sheer terror catapulted her into a sitting position.

“Fine,” Asher said, moving to the side of the bed.

She’d breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s your loss.” Asher ran a hand through his messed–up locks and straightened his tie. “What was I thinking anyway, lowering my standards? High–class men don’t fraternize with low–class women. That’s what Mother always told me.”

He glared at Lindsay. “What’d you grow up in? A doublewide?” He placed a finger to his jaw, correcting himself. “No, I see you as more of a two–bedroom, brick ranch kind of girl.”

“Go to hell.”

Asher swaggered to the bedroom door and placed a hand on the knob. That’s when she should have left well enough alone.

“You’re not used to not getting what you want. That’s the real issue, isn’t it, Asher? You can buy anything with your money—correction your
daddy’s
money—but you can’t buy me.”

The half–open bedroom door slammed shut, and Asher pounced on her before she could react. He straddled her, and she shielded her face, expecting a back–handed slap. “I beg to differ,” he said, gripping her wrists and pushing her arms up above her head. The struggle only lasted a few seconds.

Lindsay placed her fingers on her scalp, recalling her head crashing into the wooden headboard.

That’s where the memory ended. After that, all she could assume was that the worst had happened.

She trembled. Her heart slammed against her chest. How could she hide what she now knew? She looked at Asher’s hand covering hers and prayed he didn’t feel it shaking.

Her fretting didn’t last long. Charlie walked in.

Chapter Twenty–One

He hadn’t needed to knock. Asher failed to close the door all the way when he’d come in.

Lindsay hurried to Charlie, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Charlie. I’m so glad to see you.”

Charlie stood, arms at his sides. “What’s going on here?”

“Asher came to get his dad’s ring.”

Her eyes narrowed when she turned to Asher. “He was just leaving.”

“But, you still didn’t give it back,” Asher said.

“I’ll have to look for it,” Lindsay said sharply. “I’ll return it to your sister when I find it.”

Cradling his elbow in the palm of his hand, Asher thrust the chair backward and high–tailed it out of there.

Lindsay sighed in relief. “You came just in time,” she said to Charlie. “I have so much to tell you.”

“I think you’ve said enough,” Charlie said through tense lips.

“What do you mean?” Lindsay said, her voice breaking.

“At my house last weekend. Your little outburst.” He’d forgiven her for that, but now he was rethinking it. Especially after what he’d seen walking in to her apartment. How could she get involved with someone else so soon? Someone so … despicable.

Lindsay bowed her head. “I’m sorry for that. I was just on my way to tell you—”

“Not another word,” Charlie said holding his palm up. “It’s my turn to do the talking.”