Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
Jordana
I woke to darkness. My limbs felt warm and loose, like I’d been baked into a pie. The sheets smelled piney and fresh, and the blankets were heavier than usual…
Wait, what?
I pushed the comforter back, blinking sleep away. I was in someone else’s bed.
Gavin’s bed.
And the space beside me was empty.
I never fell asleep in men’s beds, even drunk. I’d learned long ago it was a mistake. It always led to more emptiness.
But this time I had, and where was Gavin? Had I thrashed in my sleep? Driven him to the couch? No, he didn’t own a couch yet.
I hoped I hadn’t scared him off.
I fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp. It cast a dreamy pool of light. Beside it stood a fresh glass of water, which I drank down.
It was thoughtful of him to leave the water, but without his presence, the room looked surreal. Tripods and lighting umbrellas surrounded the enormous bed, like statues waiting for a signal to come alive.
Tiptoeing over the cables on the floor, I found my robe and slipped it on. My watch said it was 2:26 am.
Floorboards creaked as I ventured down the hall. I wasn’t sure if I was looking for Gavin, or looking to leave. I half-expected to trip over him in the living room, but then stopped short.
The big monitor glowed in the dark. A silhouette sat in front of my face, black and white, twice as large as life. My head was thrown back, my curls fanning out in wild disarray.
A border appeared, cropping the image to my lips, moist and parted. My jaw, pointing upward. My throat, tense and arched. As Gavin’s fingers danced across the trackpad, the lights became lighter, and the darks, darker. My skin shimmered, shadows graying out to charcoal-smudged silver.
I barely recognized myself. What he did with the raw material — it was gorgeous. Art.
The floor squeaked as I approached, and Gavin turned. He wore headphones and a hooded sweatshirt. A surprised smile lit his eyes.
He took his headphones off, but kept his hood up. It seemed to signal: Distance. Caution.
“Did I wake you?” His voice had a sexy, late-night gravelly lull.
“No. Do you always work this late?”
He lifted a large mug. “Often.”
I stayed where I was, balancing one foot on the other. “What are you listening to?”
Another smile flickered in his eyes, but his posture was guarded. “Music you wouldn’t like. Loud, screamy metal. Helps me stay focused.”
I couldn’t stand the distance between us. But it hit me: this might be the first time he’d had sex since his marriage ended.
He probably wanted space.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I’ll get my stuff and leave you to work in peace.”
“Wait. You think I—” He tipped his head. “Come here.”
I crossed the living room to join him.
“Do you want to leave?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Good. I don’t want you to either.”
His arm looped around my waist, and I leaned against him. So this was how cuddling felt. I had no idea how to do this sweet after-sex stuff, but with Gavin, I liked it.
“Look at yourself.” He pulled up a full-body shot.
Black satin pooled around me. My eyes shone like stars. My curves were marble, polished by his camera, but my eager smile was completely human.
“Damn, you’re talented!” I gestured at the screen. “You make me look so glamorous. Larger than life.”
“I’m just working with what you gave me.”
He clicked to a new image. He’d caught me writhing on the bed, my mouth open mid-laugh, my nose wrinkled.
“Ugh, I look weird.”
Gavin tugged one of my curls. “You are weird.”
“What?” I pulled away, surprised.
“You are. In a good way.”
“Well, so are you.” I nudged him. “Weirdo.”
“I think I’ll make this the cover.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“It’s great. It’s very you. This is what you look like all the time. You just don’t know it.” He winked at me.
“Shut up!” I was laughing now, as hard as I had in the picture. I pressed my forehead into Gavin’s hair. “Just delete it.”
“Too late. I already sent it to my publisher. They needed a headshot.”
“Stop. You’re not allowed to make me laugh and cry like this in one night.”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t think of an answer.
When I looked up, the curve of my breast filled the screen. I was pinching my nipple, dark and ripe.
“You’re beautiful.” Gavin zoomed in until every goosebump on my skin was visible. He sharpened the contrast. My breast looked like a sloping mountain to climb, crowned with the pebbled peak of my nipple.
“Really, this is all you,” I said quickly. “That could be anyone’s boob up there. I did nothing.”
“Ohh, no.” Gavin pulled me close, his eyes glowing above a heavy coat of stubble. “You make my job easy. I barely have to retouch these. It's all you.”
His hand swept up to cup my breast. Tugging back his hood, I buried my fingers in his hair. It was soft and messy and begged for me to pull. Finally, I could touch him with no restraints…
As our lips met, a ringtone split the air. My phone, chiming from my purse on Gavin’s red camp chair.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to get that?”
“No.”
“It’s two-thirty in the morning. You sure it’s not an emergency?”
“The only people who would call me this late are Corey or my mom,” I muttered. “I’m not giving either of them what they want.”
Gavin exhaled. “The first one, I’m on board with. But ignoring your mom?”
“I guess you have a different relationship with your mom than I do.”
He smiled ruefully. “We get along well. So yeah, if she called at two-thirty am, I’d pick up.”
My phone rang again, and I growled in frustration. Gavin cleared his throat.
“Fine.” I stalked toward my purse. “I’m doing this for you, Gavin Lockwood.”
“I’m honored.”
The phone had stopped ringing by the time I pulled it out. Notifications lit up the screen.
Corey had texted at 11:35: My place. Now. He’d called twice, around midnight. I quickly deleted the notifications.
There were seven calls from my mother, including the most recent ones. This was a lot, even for her.
“My mom,” I said. Corey didn’t deserve a mention. “I suppose you’re going to tell me to call her back?”
“Hey, I’m not telling you what to do.” Gavin turned to his monitor. “I’ve got work to do, kitten. Join me or make a call, whatever you want. You’re a big girl.”
I glared at his lean back, clad in the black hoodie. More than anything, I wanted to retreat inside our beautiful bubble.
Pacing between cardboard boxes, I stabbed the phone with my finger.
“Jorie!” my mom cried out. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling for hours.”
Her voice knotted my stomach. I hadn’t noticed how much I carried that feeling until Gavin fucked it out of me.
“What’s going on?”
“Your father, that’s what.”
I sank into the camp chair. “The divorce?”
“If it were only that,” my mother intoned dramatically. “If it were only that.”
I waited. She waited. Gavin tapped at his keyboard, editing a photo of my eyes. They were wide and shining, halfway between overwhelmed and overjoyed.
I drummed my knee, where a thread hung from my robe. “What happened, Mom?”
“He’s fathered another child. With his mistress.”
“What?” I bolted upright. “When? How old is this kid?”
Gavin turned from the monitor, but I fixed my gaze on the blank wall beside his bookshelf.
“It hasn’t…arrived yet. That woman is seven months pregnant. And he said it wasn’t an accident. This child is wanted. Planned for.”
“You talked to him?”
“Yes, he called. He wanted me to hear it from him.”
“Asshole.” The word forced itself from my throat.
“Jorie! How dare you speak that way about your father?”
“That’s what he is!” I choked up, like when I’d tried to say no to Corey. I was determined to speak now. “Don’t you agree? Look what he’s done to you. To us.”
“I assure you, I’m hurting more than you are,” my mother said stiffly. “And I’m not using coarse language to describe the man who provided for us.”
I stared at my lap, barely seeing the blue gauze of my robe and my naked legs.
Footsteps approached. My cheetah coat was draped around me. A hand squeezed my shoulder, brief but firm.
Gavin retreated to his workstation, giving me space. But I felt witnessed, and it gave me the strength to go on.
“Mom, you don’t need Dad.”
A brittle laugh burst from her. “I have no money. No skills. What else am I good for?”
“You have skills.” My voice grew stronger. “You can sew, choose clothes—”
“I am never going back to that. Never working with my hands again. I’m past the age where I can make money with my face. What do I have? What have I got left?”
“Yourself.”
“Well, that’s nothing.”
“Mom, listen—”
“Never mind, Jorie. I’m going to take a Xanax and go to sleep. You should go to sleep too. Being up this late wreaks havoc on your looks.”
She hung up.
The phone dropped to my lap. I huddled inside the coat.
“Jordana?”
My name, from Gavin, cracked my stupor. I threw off my coat and sprang up, heedless of my phone falling to the floor.
“Goddammit!” I shrieked. “Dammit, dammit, dammit!” I kicked one of the boxes.
“That fucking bastard! That selfish…careless…turd! No wonder he keeps sending me lawyer career bullshit! He controls everyone around him, he lets them down, he tries to ‘provide’ for them so he can stay in control, but now he feels guilty because he’s starting a brand-new family, that fucker! ”
I hurled the coat across the room. Gavin looked stunned.
I’d screwed up. Exploding like this, losing my grip — Gavin would never speak to me again. He’d kick me out. I cared too much, and when I cared about things, I lost them.
“I’m sorry,” I panted.
“It’s okay.” He took a step toward me.
I covered my face with my hands. “You must think I’m crazy.”
When he didn’t reply, I gulped. I lowered my hands.
Across the obstacle course of boxes, the monitor’s blue glow lit his worried eyes.
“You’re not crazy, Jordana. You’re angry. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I would really love to believe you,” I muttered.
Gavin raked his fingers through his dark hair until it stood on end. “Let’s sit.”