Pretty Lies, page 21
He thought about that.
Everything his father said.
“A lot’s changed,” he said.
“Has it?”
Cory sighed. “Yeah.”
How could it not?
Della changed everything. His new normal would now include her because he didn’t even consider anything else. Wasn’t that entirely different?
Off to the side, an item he’d hung on the wall caught his attention. The scuffed, worn leather with all its buckles and pins and patches it had gathered over the years made a weight settle on Cory’s shoulders. His father was right where Luis was concerned. It would be best if the guy stayed gone. If the Chicago Outfit caught wind of him anywhere, he’d be a dead man. He already was, really.
But the past was a bitch. And the two of them had never been done.
Everybody else wanted all of this to be finished—it should be. For it all to be over. He knew the truth, though.
“It’s not over until it’s over,” he told his father. “There’s still unfinished business. We should be ready for that when it happens.”
“It never ends.”
Well …
It was their life.
They wanted it.
“Are you good?” his father asked.
Cory headed for the direction of the bathroom. “Yeah, Dad, I’m good.”
•••
The bathroom door wasn’t even closed. Della sat in the bucket chair beside the clawfoot tub, a cigarette dangling from her fingertips while she stared at the black tiles on the wall. In the doorway, Cory watched her.
He wasn’t the only one who liked silence when his mind decided it was time to overthink something to death and back.
With one leg drawn up so her foot could rest on the edge, Della had set her chin atop her arm lying across her bent knee. Her other leg hung over the edge of the chair, bare toes grazing the floor. Those bloody clothes of hers had made a pile in the middle of the bathroom. She had used his white cotton robe to cover her naked body but hadn’t bothered to tie it at the middle.
Flicking the ash from her cigarette to the small to-go cup of coffee that she’d picked up from the place down the street, Della’s shoulders lifted and fell with a heavy exhale. Cory didn’t doubt she had a lot of things on her mind considering the current weight of his own.
“That is not an ashtray,” Cory noted.
Della’s attention finally drifted away from the wall. “You don’t smoke enough for me to use something more appropriate.”
“Neither do you.”
“That’s fair.”
That pack of emergency cigarettes was nearly half gone, now, though. Not just because of Della, but for him, too. Cigarettes became far more appealing when something stressful was involved. That was just a fact.
“It’s on my face, isn’t it?” Della asked. “I didn’t want to look.”
Cory leaned against the doorjamb, his bicep acting as the cushion to keep him mostly comfortable. “The blood?”
“Yeah.”
“A bit of spatter.”
Across her forehead—dotting her eyelids. She must have wiped at a spot near the corner of her mouth because a line of blood had smeared upward at the very edge like a morbid smirk. Nothing too bad. He’d seen much worse. Hell, he had walked out of situations looking far worse than she did. That didn’t mean this was any better for her. Taking a life was still taking a life. It was harder when that life once belonged to someone who meant something to the person who pulled the trigger.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” she whispered.
The floor took her attention away from him.
Cory hated that.
“But are you? Are all of us?”
Della glanced back up. “What?”
“You’re talking about Jennika, right? You missed her—didn’t see her until it was too late. Yeah, but so did the rest of us. None of us were looking at her because why would we? She hadn’t given us a reason to. Was she unstable? A little. Fuck, so am I. That’s not always a reason to distrust someone, babe. We all missed her. Not just you.”
She dragged in a rattling breath.
Cory felt it all over.
His words were the truth. No doubt, she knew it too and wouldn’t deny it. At the very same time, it didn’t make things much better. The reality was still right there staring both of them square in the fucking face.
Mistakes had been made.
They paid for them.
Did they come out on top? Maybe. Look at all they sacrificed for it.
“Not just her,” Della muttered, giving him a smile that didn’t feel entirely true. “I missed a lot more than just her. It was everything she was doing, too. Everything she had done. I thought … well, what’s it fucking matter what I thought about her, right? Bitch is ashes, now.”
“It matters because it does—your heart wants an answer. Your brain might have to accept you’re never going to get one that satisfies you. That’s where you decide whether or not it’s worth it to keep giving it energy and attention.”
Her smile was real, then.
And beautiful.
“You really do say all the right things when it counts, Cory,” Della murmured.
“Do I?”
“Even when it hurts.”
Right.
It was a learned gift.
Cory decided to say some more things that were both right and true. Things he’d been waiting to say because life and business and everything else just seemed to keep getting in the goddamn way at every turn. He’d thought it might be selfish to focus on his feelings and what happened between him and Della while the rest of the world burned around them. It seemed so little in the grand scheme of things how he’d managed to fall entirely in love with this woman across from him.
Except it wasn’t little at all.
It happened so easily. A part of him thought like it was always meant to be, man. And shit, maybe it was. Because he couldn’t imagine beginning or ending his days anymore without this girl on his fucking mind.
Wasn’t that crazy?
That was the shit his brother and father tried to make him understand when Cory couldn’t comprehend how a man could love and fuck and keep the same woman for the rest of their lives. But he did now—he understood everything now.
He was the wind ripping them around and around until they couldn’t breathe. She was the rain keeping them soaked to the bone and feeling alive. Everything between them became the storm. It kept building and building until the pressure finally let go and here they were.
“Bloody or not,” Cory said, pushing away from the doorjamb to enter the bathroom, “you’re still perfect to me. That’s what matters.”
Della’s head popped up, and he felt her gaze following him as he worked in the bathroom. He turned on the bathtub and plugged the drain. Grabbing a cotton hand towel from the pile on the counter, he wet the cloth before coming to kneel in front of her.
He took his time.
One swipe, then he washed the cloth out.
More blood disappeared.
Della sat patient and quiet.
“We’ll burn your clothes,” he said.
“I liked that dress.”
“I’ll buy you three more.”
She grinned. “Yeah?”
“And Birkins to match.”
“Wow, pulling all the stops, huh?”
Cory’s gaze snapped up and met Della’s dark stare. She stilled all over when he dragged the warm washcloth over her cheek one last time to get rid of what blood remained. “Pulling nothing, babe. It’s what it is.”
“Cory—”
“I love you. I don’t know how to say it, so I’m just going to say it. I can’t make it amazing because it just is, you know? Yeah, I could wait until it’s a better time, but I’m fucking tired of waiting to tell you this. I’m sorry it came close today. It won’t happen again. And I love you, Adella Costello … far more than I should.”
Her chin quivered, and he didn’t move when her fingertips glided over the line of his jaw while the two of them stared at one another.
“That’s a terrifying thing,” she said.
“I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“Nope.”
Della laughed. “Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I do love you?”
Cory smiled full-blown. Couldn’t have hidden it if he tried. Someday, he’d tell her how much joy it brought his very black soul to hear her say those words.
“Tell me. Tell me everything. I don’t think you know how much I enjoy hearing you talk.”
Or maybe she did.
“I hated what I thought you were, but I fell in love with the man you couldn’t help but be with me.”
“Because you make me a better one. A better man.”
“Or are we just a disaster waiting to happen, Cory?”
“The better question,” he returned, “is are you willing to find out?”
Della leaned in for a kiss. He let her take it as he tossed away the bloodstained washcloth. Her kiss was a good enough answer for him.
He found everything he was looking for in the skim of her lips against his and then the taste of her on his tongue. She tasted of tobacco and her. Heat and temptation and fucking perfection. That’s always how she was to him. He couldn’t stop himself from moving closer when her fingernails danced over his biceps and down his shoulders. Crouching slightly over her in the chair until her back was flush with the curved back, only then did their kiss slow.
She smiled. Her lips curving against his own grinning mouth. All teeth and stained lips and happiness. He wanted her to do that more often. Smile, that was. Too many things had given her every single reason to cry lately but not him. He wouldn’t be something else that hurt her. She would only ever smile with him.
“Do you think … this is all over now?” she asked.
Her words tickled his skin.
The urge to taste hers was strong.
“Almost,” he told her. “But I don’t want you to worry about that shit anyway. What’s left isn’t something you need to handle. I don’t want one more thought in your head about people who only did you wrong. All you need to do now is be happy. Nothing else is important. Let me take care of the rest. Whatever you want, I’ll do it if it means you’re smiling. That’s kind of the deal between you and me now, huh?”
Her glittering gaze teased him. “What, that you’ll do anything for me?”
“Yeah, Della. Exactly that.”
I know,” she said in a breath. “That’s the terrifying part I mentioned earlier. Because the only thing I really want is for you to stay. Right now. Later. I get fucking clingy, and if we’re really doing this fucking thing together then—”
That was enough for Cory. Now she was just overthinking. He kissed her again just to shut her the fuck up. He figured it probably wouldn’t be the last time, but there wasn’t any need for nonsense tonight. They were fine. Everything else would work itself out. The last thing they needed to pick apart was what they had together.
It worked.
“Don’t fix shit that isn’t broke,” Cory said, kissing her quickly between each word. “You want me to stay?”
Della nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then, I’m staying.”
Cory’s gaze dropped between them, and he thoroughly enjoyed the view. The robe had fallen open around her curves, and she wore nothing under it. “And unless you tell me you want something else other than me, I’ll be very good to you while I’m here.”
The way her breath caught in her chest had him leaning in for another taste of her lips. She gave it to him, willing and sweet and already greedy enough to let him do whatever he wanted to her. That’s how fast things could switch between the two of them. A word or a look. The promise of something sinful sent both of them chasing it together.
That better never change.
“You’re all I want,” she told him.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Then, he’d give her exactly that.
“I want you to come before the tub fills,” Cory explained when he grabbed Della’s wrists and pinned them over her head to the wall with one hand. His other? Dipping between her already wide thighs. She had no shame with him, and he fucking loved it. He got her hot enough that she didn’t care if he knew how bad she wanted it. That got him off every single damn time. “On my fingers, and then give me a taste, yeah?”
Her tongue peeked out to wet the seam of her lips when his fingertips ghosted over the soft heat of her sex. If she wasn’t entirely bare, then she was neatly trimmed like right then. Her hips jerked forward when he found her clit and flicked his fingers against it.
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
His fingers moved lower to find where she was wet and silky. The longer he waited, teasing with soft strokes and the occasional flick the more she trembled and the harder she tried to stay still. Under his control, he thought she was always at her best.
Almost in control.
But not quite.
It left her wild.
“Hmm?” he asked. “Yeah, this?”
She nodded once. “Yeah, Cory.”
His fingers sunk into her cunt; her responding moan had his dick aching in seconds beneath his jeans. Fuck. Her legs widened more, and her tongue flicked out to strike against his lips when he leaned in close enough. Every twist of his fingers along her inner walls had him so fucking happy he was going to spend the next hour plus getting his dick massaged by those. When he treated her right, her body gave him everything he wanted and more in return.
“Be louder next time—if the fuckers next door move out, I’ll be able to buy the whole damn floor.”
Della grinned. “Make me.”
He would.
He did.
In the bathtub after it filled, while her body was hot and flush from the water and covered in bubbles. He put her on top and made her ride him until he exploded because there was nothing quite like the sight of her ass bouncing in the water against his cock to make him lose all sense of life, really. And then he held her back against his chest with an arm locked around her so that he could grab her throat while he teased her clit until she was screaming his name loud enough for his neighbors down the hall to hear.
Every time she came, he wanted her to do it again. Right then. Later. In the fucking morning. As long as she was on his dick, or sitting on his face while she did it, then he was a happy fucking boy.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
Didn’t want to.
There was something viscerally attractive to him about the way Della looked when he fucked her. Something about how she looked with his hands on her, and his marks left behind. How she moaned and whined and asked him for more.
All of it was a drug.
He didn’t mind saying he was addicted, but he didn’t need any kind of help for it. She was his greatest temptation and his biggest prize. Each time he was seduced in between her thighs, he always found something wonderful.
Why on earth would he stop?
TWENTY
THE BEAUTIFULLY tragic thing about time?
It did, in fact, keep moving forward.
Those who moved with it—even when all they really wanted to do was curl into a ball and hide away from the world—were the strong ones. They all had moments when the grief caught up, and it hurt to breathe through the pain, but it was all one day at a time. From one to the next. Again and again. That was strength. A kind of strength that a lot of people didn’t understand or mistook it as something else.
Passing a look down the street at the line of homes before she pushed open the front door to her parents’ place, Della let out a sigh into the cold air. It felt appropriate to bury J on a mid-Autumn day like this one. With gray clouds overhead letting just a little bit of sun through. While the leaves were still changing colors on the trees, but the wind hadn’t picked up enough to rip them from the branches.
Nothing was dead yet from the cold.
Sweater weather, she used to tell her brother. Pumpkin spice season. She could still hear the way he used to laugh, see his signature grin form when he replied, “Girl shit, man.”
He wasn’t wrong. He still used to like her lattes, though.
Just before she stepped into her parents’ quiet home, that last look at the street had different memories bubbling to the surface of Della’s mind. Of her brother, of course. All the times they played in the front yard or when he chased her down the front steps after she stole his iPhone before her parents bought her own. Trick-or-treating when they were little.
God.
Shit was so much easier then.
Less complicated.
For a minute, Della would give anything … She would give it all to go back to that time with her brother for one more minute. But that wasn’t how life worked, and sometimes, one had to say goodbye to the people they loved sooner than they expected.
That’s what today was about.
Burying her brother.
Tightening her grip on the gift bag in her hand, Della shoved the thoughts aside that had made her eyes water. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to feel anything today, but rather … she didn’t want to cry. The nights leading up to J’s funeral had certainly seen more than enough of her tears, so why add more when she could do something more for her brother?
Something better?
She wanted to celebrate his life.
Not grieve his death.
Not today.
“Ma?” Della called down the hallway beyond the foyer. “You up?”
She sent up a quick prayer that today was a better morning for her mother than the last couple. It was a toss-up. Some days, Chloe made an effort to not get lost in the new, ever-present sadness in her heart. Other days, she tried to drown in it all. Della didn’t wonder why or feel any bitterness about her mother’s grief … she never wanted to lose her own child. She couldn’t imagine what this was doing to her mother. She did wish she could help more often, though, but sometimes that just couldn’t be helped.
It was the nature of her current life. The new responsibilities on Della’s plate where her father’s business was concerned kept her running from one side of the city to the other just so that every single fuck working under the Costello family knew who was in charge now. And the bitch wore heels when she arrived. Nonetheless, she made time for her mom.
