Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Gabby
My phone rings, startling me. I’ve been lost in my painting world, splattering glorious bold colors onto the paper. With my hands a mess and my brush in hand, I ignore the call but when the cell rings again, I wipe my dirty fingers on a rag and carefully lift the phone.
Rhonda’s name flashes on the screen. I left the gallery when my shift ended earlier and came home to paint.
“Hello? Rhonda? Is everything okay? Do you need me to come back in?” I ask.
“Nothing’s wrong. I have the most exciting news. Your first painting sold!”
I scream. “Oh my God! That’s amazing!”
Rhonda chuckles. “Wait until you hear for how much.” She told Gabby a number that blew her mind. “Now go celebrate!”
I disconnect, my heart pounding in excitement.
In the two weeks during which I’ve worked there, I found myself confiding in my boss.
We discuss everything. I admitted why I left my parents’ home and my need to apply for a job to make money of my own.
We talked about my degree, museums and the fact that I am a closet painter, hiding my work from my parents.
The first time my mother caught me with dirty fingernails, she forbade me from indulging in my frivolous hobby.
Rhonda convinced me to bring some pieces by the gallery for her to see, and my sister took a day trip from her Long Island home to drop off canvases I already painted and stored in Penelope’s basement.
Rhonda fell in love with my work. I would have thought my boss was being kind, except Rhonda never hangs anything in her place of business she doesn’t believe in.
The next day, my modern contemporary art was framed and hanging in a small corner.
And today it sold.
I run for the bathroom and take a quick shower, aware I can’t get rid of all the paint on my hands but knowing Maddox won’t mind.
Smiling at the thought, I dress in a pair of fitted black running shorts, a purple sport bra, and a lightweight jacket.
Casual clothes I like wearing when not working or painting.
After grabbing my keys, I rush to my car, turned on the engine and drive toward town. Although I’ll share my news with my grandmother and Penelope later, Maddox is the first person I want to celebrate with.
I’ve been staying with him for a total of three weeks and things between us have been…
almost perfect. From the routine we fell into as a couple to how in sync we are when it comes to music, action-adventure movies, and documentaries on television.
Neither of us is overly attached to social media, me because I don’t have friends I want to check up on, and Maddox only looks out for his younger brother and the business page for the bar.
If only I didn’t catch him deep in thought on a few occasions.
Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and find him staring out the window or on the terrace, looking out at the horizon.
I have to call his name a few times before it registers I’m speaking to him.
Those moments make me wonder what’s bothering him.
Am I suffocating him by living in his house… and now sharing his bed?
Yet, it’s hard to imagine he feels smothered when he can’t get enough of me. He often wakes me with his mouth on my sex, his tongue almost bringing me to orgasm before I register it isn’t an erotic dream. Once I’m awake, he finishes the job, making me scream his name as glorious bliss overcomes me.
At night, I’m only too happy to return the favor, and I try, but he always pulls his cock out of my mouth, refusing to come down my throat when he needs to be inside me when he comes. His words, ones that I take to heart.
Maddox also taught me new positions, and I have to admit I have two favorites.
Sitting over his face while he devours my pussy and makes me come with his tongue licking my clit.
And after, he positions me on my hands and knees and slams into me from behind, hitting that elusive G-spot and causing me to see stars as my orgasm shakes my world.
But my ultimate favorite sexual thing between us happened this morning.
And it’s what convinces me Maddox is as invested in our relationship as I am.
Instead of waking me with his mouth, I came to with his warm body on top of mine and his cock poised at my entrance.
Once I was awake, he slid into me ever so slowly, gliding in and out, his chocolate-brown gaze never leaving mine.
In his eyes, I saw warmth and caring mixing together as our bodies connected.
Then, he pulled me to a sitting position, his legs bent beneath him and positioned my legs on either side of his body.
Still joined, he was as deep as possible inside me, filling me so there was no way to tell where he ended, and I began.
We were one as he began to lift his hips and I rocked in unison to his movements.
He held my stare, refusing to let me look away as we built higher and higher, climaxing at the same time. I have no doubt he made love to me and felt the emotions rushing through me. His awed expression revealed his raw emotions, too.
But I’m still young, still na?ve when it comes to men, and I’m trusting him not to hurt me and believing in what I see.
Which is why I wonder if those off-moments are about something else. He mentioned our many differences, but I think living together proves how compatible we are. Besides, his lost-in-thought moments began after my grandmother left.
After I asked Annabelle about my parents and my grandmother replied, they assume you’ll tire of this independent stand you’re taking and come home. That comment caused Maddox to stiffen and pull into himself before he walked Anabelle to her car.
I don’t know and haven’t pushed him for answers but maybe I should. Holding things in can’t be healthy for a relationship. Penelope told me as much when I confided in my older sister.
I pull into the lot for The Back Door. It’s nearing cocktail hour and both the dinner area and the bar tables are full.
I pause by the hostess stand. “Hi, Sheila.”
“Hi, Gabby.” The hostess, menus in hand, smiles at me, then leads a couple to one of the only empty tables, and I proceed to walk to the bar.
A heavy crowd fills up the space. Cal, Eddie and Vanna, another bartender I met in the last few weeks, are all working. Before I check out the office, looking for Maddox, I stop at the bar entrance.
“Vanna, have you seen Maddox?” I call out.
“He’s sitting over there.” The bartender, a cute woman with short spikey hair topped with pink, tips her head toward a cocktail table where Maddox is, along with the owners, Zach and Remy.
I nod. “Thanks.” I start through the crowd, making my way to the table where they all sit.
Maddox catches sight of me first, a genuine grin lifts his lips, relieving my earlier anxiety.
With that worry out of the way for now, my excitement returns and I quicken my step. “Guess what?” I ask before I even reach him, unable to wait.
“Tell me.” He rises to greet me.
My gaze sweeps over him, once again knocked on my butt by how well-built and sexy he is. And from the way he stares at me approvingly, I know he’s all mine, and I push my worries aside.
“The gallery sold one of my paintings!” Without waiting, I throw my arms around his neck and he returns my hug, lifting me off the ground as he embraces me.
“I’m so damn proud of you,” he says, his voice husky and gruff in my ear. “I knew you could do it.”
At his words, my heart slams hard inside my chest. It isn’t that I need his approval but receiving it from anyone is rare.
Sure, my grandmother always gives her blessing.
Annabelle loves me and would do anything to compensate for my parents’ lack of caring and support.
But coming from Maddox, as with Rhonda, I know the sentiment is genuine.
Rhonda thinks I have talent.
Maddox believes in me and that means everything.
“When I heard we could find you here, I didn’t believe it,” a familiar and unwelcome voice says.
I jerk in surprise and my stomach twists with dread.
“My mother,” I whisper in Maddox’s ear.
He doesn’t release me or react, doesn’t allow me to jump back and put distance between us, not that I’d try. He slides me down his body, letting me feel his strength, keeping one arm firmly around my waist.
I draw a deep breath and turn to see my parents, along with Preston and my grandmother, standing in front of us.
Maddox draws me more firmly to his side, staking his claim and being in my corner. It’s all I’ve ever wanted from someone important in my life, and here he is, sensing my need and stepping up to provide it.
This is it. Time to stand up for myself, or my life will never be my own.
Since Preston’s visit to the bar, my parents turned suspiciously silent.
No more voicemails or texts. I had a feeling they were biding their time until ready to strike.
I tried to convince myself that I was ready for any upcoming confrontation.
After all, what more could they do to hurt me?
They already cut me off financially, and there was no emotional connection in any of my childhood memories.
I pull my shoulders back, facing my mother. My father stands by his wife’s side while my grandmother leans on her colorful cane, no doubt waiting for the fireworks. Annabelle winks at me, confirming my suspicions.
“Who told you where I was?” I ask my parents, then turn my gaze to Preston. “Was it you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” My father lets out a huff of annoyance. “What does matter is that the entire country club is talking about you slumming at this bar, cleaning dirty glasses and serving alcohol.” The disgust in his tone is evident.
Maddox grips me tighter but remains silent. He’s trusting me to handle things, and I’m grateful.
“The only thing that tells me is someone in your crowd was here too, which makes any comment about this establishment hypocritical,” I say.