Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zander
L ast night as I lay on the bed beside Scarlett listening to her soft snores, I tried to imagine myself as a dad. While those visions filled my mind, they were slowly accompanied by what it might be like to be a family. Not just co-parent with Scarlett but live under the same roof…all the time. People do that, don’t they? Even if they aren’t a couple.
Then my thoughts turned slightly more selfish. Scarlett is a beautiful, sexy woman. I think I’d go crazy living under the same roof without being able to touch and kiss her. Everywhere. My touch, the physical stuff is all I’m capable of. And I know it wouldn’t be enough for someone like Scarlett. Not only that, but she deserves all of it. If I loved her body, she would deserve the love from my heart too. I don’t know that I’m capable of loving again.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep last night. Visions of what got us in this predicament in the first place replayed through my head on a loop. Her answering the door with no bra and nipples begging for attention didn’t help my focus. I’d love to devour them with all my senses again…my eyes, my touch, and to taste them on my tongue and hear her sexy moans slip from her parted lips.
When she eventually stirred from sleep in the early morning hours, I told her to call me if she decided she wanted to see my house. I know I offered her my guest room, and I hope she accepts it logistically. But realistically…what have I done? What special brand of torture have I thrust upon myself?
I’m staring out my home office window and thinking of how hard this will be. Physically, I will have to control the desire I know will ultimately surface. Beyond that, I haven’t stayed or lived with another woman since Vivian.
But Scarlett isn’t Vivian. We aren’t in love or getting married. Speaking of Vivian, I still have no idea why she called a couple weeks ago. There’s nothing more to say. She left me. She was a runaway bride…with my best friend. I’ve not spoken to either of them in four years and two hundred eighty-three days. But who’s counting? I’m not going to break that streak now. Blocking her number was the right move. I told Dad it was five years, but I know down to the day how long ago it’s been.
From my office window, I can see the long drive up to my house. The house is on a hill overlooking the ten acres of land I own. I built this place for Vivian and me. It has more space than we ever needed. I get to see the sunrise from here, and the most beautiful sunsets with their vibrant pink and fiery-orange hues. At least, I could see them…before.
I don’t see them much anymore. I’ve thrown myself into long nights at High Road. I gave up on my artsy side. That part of me died when Vivian ripped my still-beating heart from my chest. We hadn’t been living here long before that impossible day. I’d had the house built before we were engaged. But it was still with her and our life together in mind. My photography business was making bank, and my creative juices were flowing. And I still painted.
Capturing memories through a lens and holding a paintbrush used to be my dream. A dream I had the opportunity and chance to live. It’s hard to remember that side of me. I wonder if he even still exists underneath the rubble of my cold, shattered heart.
My gaze flicks to the painting of Scarlett in her dress I just painted right before I learned our night together resulted in an unbreakable tie. I stand and walk over to where it’s still on display on my easel. This is my first one in too many years. I trace the brushstrokes of where I painted her bare back. Scarlett Shepard managed to chisel through the iceberg of my heart. That means I need to keep it under lock and key if I hope to not have it burn to ash.
The sun is beautiful…a source of life, but if you get too close, you’ll burn up. And if I’ve learned anything about Scarlett in the brief time I’ve known her, it’s that she is the sun. For so long I’ve said I have no heart left, but that wasn’t true. It’s cold and frozen, some pieces have chipped away, and it may be buried. But even catching a glimpse of Scarlett has it thawing and clawing its way to the surface as I live and breathe. If she ever hurt me, I’d be incinerated. Nothing left to save. I’d do well to remember that.
My thoughts are interrupted by my security system alerting me to movement by the garage. I run a hand through my still-damp hair. I showered about thirty minutes ago. Scarlett called right before to let me know she wanted to come out here.
I leave my office after casting one last glance at the painting. I quickly close the door behind me before heading to the front door. I can see her silhouette through the frosted glass and my heart kicks into overdrive. Stop it, Zander. I can’t believe I’m having to berate myself right now.
Upon opening the door, she turns from where she was taking in the view of my property and faces me. Clear blue eyes meet my dark ones. Her nearly black hair falls past her full breasts in soft waves. She wears a denim jacket over a cream-colored dress. It stops right above her knee. Her lips are painted a soft pink, and they part as she speaks.
“Hi. I hope you weren’t too busy,” she says.
“Not at all. Please, come in.” I gesture for her to come in and step back to allow her entry.
She spins in my foyer, taking in the kitchen behind us and the living room to the left. My house is very airy and open…lots of natural light pours in from my floor-to-ceiling windows. I watch as she appreciates the space as an interior designer. Her gaze eventually lands on my fireplace.
“Zander, your house is amazing. How long have you lived here?” she asks.
“Six years,” I answer, shoving my hands in my pockets as I watch her admiring the space I’ve called home for the better part of a decade and wondering what she truly thinks with her eye of interior design.
“Did you build, or buy already built?”
I clear my throat, attempting to shove the memories of that time back to hell where they belong. “Built it.”
Her blue gaze finally lands on me once more. “It’s great.”
I nod in acknowledgment. “It might be a little too bachelor-like for you, but we can change some things to make it feel homier if you want.”
She shows me a tight smile before answering. “Are you sure about me…us staying here some? I don’t want to impose.” She drops a hand to her flat abdomen.
“You’re carrying my child for heaven’s sake. Having you stay here isn’t an imposition. It’s practical,” I grit out a little too coldly.
I instantly regret my tone and choice of words when she seems to shrink in on herself. I want them here so I can help her and be there for our child. My offer is sincere, I just need to make sure the wall stays firmly in place to separate us, but I didn’t mean to make this sound so impersonal…like a business deal.
She swallows hard and I swear her bottom lip quivers. I move forward to comfort her but stop when I realize how confusing that would be.
She chews the same lip for a heartbeat. “Can you show me the rest?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
I give her the tour of my twenty-five-hundred-square-foot house. I have two other guest rooms to choose from, but I show her the one closest to mine and how it’s big enough for a crib and a rocking chair along with the king-sized bed and other furniture it already houses. It has its own bathroom and walk-in closet.
When we reach my closed office door, I feel the need to keep this one room private…just for me. “This is my personal office, and it stays closed. This is the only room I prefer to stay that way. The rest of the house is fair game. Make yourself at home,” I say, hoping she doesn’t think I’m some weirdo hiding who knows what.
She nods. “Of course. I understand,” she says as she stares at the door handle.
We move further into the house, and I show her the master suite. I may be a bachelor, but being a former artist, I can’t stand clutter and things being in a state of disarray. My bedroom is neat and almost as cold as my heart. The bed in here isn’t the same one from when Vivian was here. It was a bit dramatic, but I lit it on fire…outside away from anything else it could touch obviously.
No, the bed in this room has been slept in by yours truly—alone. I don’t bring women here to hook up. This house has already been tarnished enough, I never wanted to add more. But Scarlett and the baby…that’s different. It’s not like she’ll be in here in this room with me anyway.
I watch her blue eyes roam over my room and land on my bed with its dark gray comforter and black sheet and pillows. No hint of a woman’s touch anywhere, because there isn’t. She does find a picture hanging on my wall. To my surprise she walks over and touches the frame. Then she turns her blue gaze on me.
“It’s beautiful and tortured all at the same time, like the artist,” she says as she pulls her hand away and crosses her arms.
I swallow, not entirely sure how she knows I took it, but I don’t comment. She walks past me and exits my bedroom. I glance at the picture I took right after my failed wedding day. I was sitting on the porch and a storm rolled in from the west. I watched the brilliant flashes of lightning and heard the booming thunder. I grabbed my camera and started snapping.
I had one of the images blown up that I felt represented my emotions at the time and I framed it. It’s on my wall as a reminder of a place I never want to end up again. She described it well—it’s both beautiful and tortured. But most storms seem that way.
When I leave my room to find her, she’s down the hall and back in the kitchen. “Will it work for you? The room, I mean.”
She faces me while leaning on my kitchen counter. “It would more than work, but this isn’t something you need to do. We can figure something else out,” she says.
This time I can’t quite make myself stop. I walk closer and tip her chin up. “I won’t make you stay here, but this can work if you don’t overthink things.”
“What does that mean, Zander? What happens when I start dating again? Or if you decide to date, or at the very least decide to bring someone home from time to time?”
The very idea of another man touching her, especially while she’s carrying my child makes me angry in ways I have no right to be. I clench my teeth at the thought and drop her chin from my grip.
“I don’t date, Scarlett. But as far as a ‘hook-up,’ if that’s what you’re implying, I wouldn’t parade someone in and out of here in front of you or our child.” I hope I’m making myself clear. I don’t really hook up with women as it is. On the rare occasion I have, it’s never here. But I sure as hell wouldn’t do it in her presence. And I wouldn’t subject a child to women popping in and out. Thoughts of another man with her or my child aren’t pleasant either. But I have no control over what she will eventually choose to do with her personal life if it doesn’t put our child’s well-being at risk, and that’s not something I think she’d ever do.
She stares at me for a few heartbeats and finally speaks. “My first appointment with Dr. Ray is in two weeks. How about I bring my stuff and stay a few days then? We can see how it goes.”
“Sounds fair,” I answer.
She blinks a few times and then smiles. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks, then. Thanks for the tour.”
She turns to leave, but I wrap my fingers around her delicate wrist. “You’re leaving?”
“I am. A client called and I need to get back to Franklin. I’ll be in touch, don’t worry,” she says as she pats her abdomen. It’s in that moment I can picture how beautiful she’ll be while pregnant and what a great mom she’ll be too.
I watch her as she gets in her car and drives away leaving me alone with images of what could be, if only I had the courage. I notice the sky is clear today. I hope it stays that way with my little sunshine.