Chapter 61
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Gabriel
I followed Otis to the deck. My dog had supersonic hearing and alerted me to Cleo’s return. A welcome reprieve from the drama in the rehearsal studio.
Eddie had some beef with Devin who had accused him of showboating. “You’re drowning out the vocals, man. I can’t even hear the bass over all that noise you’re making. Soft, soft, hard. Not hard, harder, hardest.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie said. “I know what I’m doing. You’ve been rushing the beat. You’re not even listening to me for the tempo.”
It escalated quickly until I finally told them both to shut the hell up. The music sounded like a trainwreck. We had a gig in two nights and a shitload of new music to learn. We didn’t have time for this bullshit.
I stopped outside the door when I heard Cleo’s laughter drifting from the kitchen and shamelessly eavesdropped on her conversation.
“By boat, you mean yacht, don’t you?” I heard the refrigerator door opening and then, “Jack, stop,” she laughed.
“If you want this art piece to be ready in time, then stop trying to entice me with champagne and debauchery on your party yacht.” Pause.
“That would be a terrible idea. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. ”
Jack, stop , I mimicked under my breath.
Who the fuck was Jack? And why was Cleo hanging out with guys who owned yachts? So much for living the life of a Bohemian artist.
I stepped inside. “Who’s Jack?”
Cleo startled and spun around from the open refrigerator. “Oh my god, you scared me. Why are you skulking around?” she asked, jamming containers of potato salad and pasta salad into the fridge.
“I’m not skulking around .” I unpacked the bags that were on the counter and shoved the cereal boxes and two more bags of Doritos into the cupboard then slammed it shut.
It wouldn’t even close all the way, that's how jam-packed the cupboard was.
We had enough Doritos to feed a small country.
“Do I have to announce myself every time I walk into the damn kitchen?”
“Wow. Someone is in a bad mood.” She hopped onto the counter with a carton of ice cream and a spoon. “Maybe this will cheer you up. Cherry Garcia. Your favorite.”
An old favorite , I guess because I couldn’t remember ever eating it.
She ate a spoonful and flashed me a bright smile that lured me right in.
I stood between her legs and coasted my palms over her thighs but stopped short of dipping my fingers under the hem of her little white cotton dress that barely covered anything.
She sucked in a sharp breath, the spoon suspended halfway to her mouth.
I stared at her bare shoulders, the puffy white sleeves hugging her biceps, and tried to figure out if she was wearing a bra under this dress.
I lifted my gaze.
Our eyes met. Hers looked greener today, offset by a bit of a tan and illuminated by the evening sun.
I flattened my palms on the counter on either side of her and leaned in. My lips parted and Cleo fed me a spoonful of ice cream. Cherries and dark chocolate. My new favorite flavor.
My tongue glided over my lips and I noted the way her eyes followed. I leaned in closer. Accepted another spoonful of ice cream. Her ankles locked around the backs of my thighs. “Who’s Jack?”
She dug her spoon into the ice cream, concentrating on the task as if getting the perfect ratio of cherry to chocolate was her sole mission in life. She jammed the spoon into my mouth. “A friend.”
“A friend .” It sounded like a dirty word coming from my mouth. Right up there with divorce . I pulled back and crossed my arms over my chest. “You were meeting him, weren’t you? On the red lipstick night.”
She laughed and unhooked her ankles. “Is that what we’re calling it? The red lipstick night?”
“Did you sleep with him?” I asked between clenched teeth because I swear to God if she’d slept with him that night, what hope did I have for a reconciliation?
Her eyes narrowed on me. “I’m not so sure that a guy who keeps condoms in his kitchen drawer has any right to question me,” she replied hotly.
“So you did sleep with him.” I pushed my hands through my hair. “And what are you talking about? I don’t have any condoms.”
“Oh no?” She shoved me away and hopped off the counter then yanked open the drawer next to the sink and pulled out a strip of condoms, dangling them in front of my face. “Then what are these?”
She tossed them at me. I caught them in one hand. Shrugged and threw them back into the drawer. “Not mine.”
“Right.” She slammed the drawer shut with her hip and spun to face me, her hands on her hips. “And you expect me to believe that?”
“Why would I lie about that? I don’t have a fucking clue how they got in that drawer, but they’re not mine.”
She gave me a skeptical look. “Yeah, okay,” she said in a tone that implied she didn’t believe me.
I was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Guess my word wasn’t good enough for her though. Got it. You left me and now I can’t trust a single word that comes out of your mouth . Message received.
Just for my own entertainment, I decided to throw some fuel on the fire.
“Why would I leave them in a kitchen drawer when I have a bedside table?” I grabbed the ice cream container and leaned against the counter to eat it. “Mm. Delicious. Want some?” I held out a spoonful, trying to tempt her.
If eyes could shoot daggers, I’d be on the floor writhing and gasping out my last breath. If the circumstances were different, I’d laugh.
I laughed anyway and that did it.
“I can’t believe you,” she gritted out. “First you desert me and then you have the audacity to flaunt your condoms in my face? When did you become such an asshole?”
“What can I say? Guess it just comes naturally. But you were the one who found the condoms so it’s not like I was flaunting them. Maybe I should have put a lock on the drawer.”
“God. I’m such an idiot.” She smacked her palm against her forehead. “I was so worried about you. Meanwhile, you were out there doing drugs and sleeping your way through half the female population without giving me a single thought.”
What the fuck? Did she really think so little of me?
“Yep, you’ve got my number. That’s what I was doing.”
Cleo glared at me. “So, how many girls have you slept with?”
It was the accusation in her tone that enraged me. Was this really the hill she’d chosen to die on?
“Half the female population. Obviously .” I should have stopped there but I kept going. “Why shouldn’t I have been having fun? Not like I even remember making those vows. So if you think about it, it didn’t really count as cheating.”
Her face fell and she blinked like crazy. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it again and turned away.
I didn’t mean any of it, but that was the thing about words. They could be used as weapons, and once they were out of your mouth, you couldn’t unsay them.
I threw the spoon in the sink and lobbed the empty ice cream container into the swing bin. Missed. Didn’t pick it up. Headed out the door.
Fucking pissed that we’d even had this conversation. That this was what our relationship had become.
Where were those two people from her notebook who had loved so fiercely and deeply? I couldn’t imagine those people having this argument.
“You are such an asshole,” she called after me. “I loved you so much.” Her voice cracked on the words.
I stopped on the bottom step of the deck and let her words wash over me.
I loved you so much. I loved you so much. They played on a loop in my head.
Cleo’s voice was low and sultry. Sexy, I guess. I don’t know, it just did something to me.
I knew the different tones of her voice.
Could read her emotions just by listening closely.
When she was happy or excited, her voice lilted.
Went flat and toneless when she was indifferent.
And when Cleo laughed, it was like listening to my favorite music.
My heart expanded like a balloon until it felt too big for my chest.
I loved to make her laugh. Hated that I’d ever made her cry.
When Cleo was sad or hurting, it made my heart ache. I wanted to fix whatever hurt her and take away her pain, not cause her more with my sharp tongue and wounded ego and insane jealousy and insecurities.
Maybe this argument started over condoms but I think it went deeper than that.
I rubbed my hand over my heart and retraced my steps.