Maybe It's Fate, page 23
The clanging of weights startled me awake. I rubbed my face to clear the sleep away and looked at my watch. It was after eight, and I figured Cutter was in my garage, taking his anger out with some lifting.
“Some guard dog you are,” I said to Scout as I stood. He didn’t bother to move as I made my way toward my garage. I opened the door, surprised to find Antonia instead of Cutter.
She stood at the heavy bag, punching, slapping, and kicking it. Without saying anything, I went over and held it for her, to give her a solid, unmoving target.
Antonia screamed and hit it again and again. Tears streamed down her face as she whaled on this bag as if it had hurt her somehow.
Each hit had to hurt. She wasn’t wearing gloves, and I suspected her knuckles were splitting open. But also, I imagined each blow felt good and was somehow cathartic. This was the perfect way for her to release her anger, the rage she felt inside. Her friend had left her, and no matter how well you prepared for it, the gaping wound left behind would take a lot of time to heal.
Antonia stopped. Her chest heaved, a combination of exertion and crying.
“She’s gone,” she said, her breathing labored.
“I know.” I felt it safe to move, so I stepped out from behind the bag and reached for her hands. Her knuckles were red and likely bruised, but the skin hadn’t broken. “I’m going to put some cream on them.”
I went to a cabinet where I kept a Bluetooth speaker, a small refrigerator full of water and sports drinks, and every other necessity I needed when I was out there. I found the ointment and took it back to Antonia, who hadn’t moved.
She looked utterly defeated. Her shoulders sagged, and she slouched. The hazel eyes that I couldn’t get enough of looked lifeless.
I applied the ointment to each knuckle carefully. “You might bruise.”
“I don’t care.”
This much I knew. After I finished, I contemplated throwing the ointment toward the counter because I didn’t want to let go of her hands. Sadly, I did the right thing and walked away from her.
My timing was horrible, but that was what I got for staying out of the dating game for so long. Also, my flirting game thoroughly sucked. I’d started the second I could with her, but it had taken Miriam and the others to tell her the dinner we’d had was, in fact, a date.
Short of asking her to be my girlfriend, like the boys at school did, I didn’t know what else to do to get my feelings across. She already knew I liked her, but did she understand how much? Did she know I wanted to be there for her?
Was I a fool for thinking she didn’t need time to grieve her previous relationship? Probably, but patience had never been my strong suit.
I lingered at the counter, unable to face her with the myriad of thoughts running through my mind. I heard her breath hitch, a choked sob escaping before she could stifle it.
The sound shattered me.
I turned just as her legs gave out, her body crumbling to the floor. I was there before she hit the ground, my arms wrapping around her, pulling her against my chest. She trembled violently, her fingers clutching at my shirt as though she were drowning and I was her only lifeline.
“She’s gone,” she whispered, her voice breaking, raw with agony. “I don’t know how to do this without her. I’ve never done this life without her.”
Her pain was palpable, suffocating. I held her tighter, my fingers threading through her hair as I rocked her gently, murmuring words of comfort that felt hollow even to my own ears. I wanted to take her pain away, to breathe life back into those hazel eyes that still looked so vacant.
She looked up at me, her face streaked with tears, eyes searching mine as if trying to find something to anchor herself with. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering.
Time stood still. I could feel the thud of my heartbeat, heavy and insistent, as she leaned up, her lips brushing mine softly at first, a question, a plea.
And then she kissed me again, harder, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. Her desperation was palpable, a storm crashing through her, and I was caught in its wake, powerless to resist.
“Antonia . . .” Her name came out as a rasp, half a plea, half a warning, but she silenced me with her mouth, her lips insistent, bruising. Her body pressed against mine, warm and trembling, her need igniting something fierce and primal inside me.
“Please, Weston. Help me forget.”
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the padded bench, never breaking the kiss. Her fingers slid under my shirt, her touch hot and urgent, her nails dragging across my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
She needed this—needed me. And I was powerless to deny her.
I laid her down, my body pressing against hers, fitting perfectly, like she’d been made for me. Her back arched, a breathless moan escaping her lips as I kissed my way down her neck, tasting the salt of her tears. Her skin was soft, electric. Every touch, every movement a spark that threatened to consume us both.
Her fingers gripped my shoulders, holding on like she was afraid to let go. Her hips moved against mine, a desperate rhythm that shattered my restraint. I groaned, my mouth finding hers again, our kisses fierce and consuming, tongues tangling as we lost ourselves in each other.
She was fire and need, raw and beautiful in her vulnerability, and I wanted to give her everything, to take away her pain, even if only for a moment.
Our clothes fell away, piece by piece, barriers dissolving as skin met skin, hot and slick. Her body arched beneath mine, her breath ragged, her eyes locked on mine, pleading, needing.
I whispered her name, my voice breaking, my hands caressing every curve, every hollow, memorizing the feel of her, the taste of her. She responded with a fierceness that took my breath away, her body moving with mine, meeting every thrust, every touch with an intensity that left me reeling.
We moved together, a perfect, desperate rhythm, her nails digging into my back, her cries muffled against my shoulder. She shattered in my arms, her body trembling, her name a broken whisper on my lips as I followed her over the edge.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing, our hearts pounding in sync, our bodies tangled together. I held her close, my fingers brushing through her hair, whispering words of comfort, of promise.
She buried her face in my neck, her tears dampening my skin as she clung to me, her body shaking with silent sobs. I tightened my hold, vowing to never let go, to be her anchor, her safe place. I could never replace Miriam, but I could be Antonia’s next person.
I kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her swollen lips, whispering her name like a prayer. “I’ve got you, Antonia. I’m not going anywhere.”
She sighed, her body softening against mine, her fingers tracing circles on my chest. “I need to go.” Antonia moved away and walked across my gym. As much as I wanted to watch her every move, I didn’t because I needed to brace myself for what she would tell me next. Reluctantly, I turned to face her. She was focused on putting the rest of her clothes on.
“Antonia?” Her name came from my lips softly and probably with a hint of desperation.
“I’m sorry, Weston.”
I nodded and looked at the ground. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m a big boy. I knew the consequences.”
Unable to continue to sit there, I stood and grabbed my shorts off the floor. I slipped them on and went to the refrigerator, then grabbed two bottles of water. I took one over to Antonia and then retreated to my corner, giving her space.
She wiped at the tears that still fell. As much as I wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t. I didn’t think my heart could take the rejection. At least not today. Today, she had been through the wringer, being there for a friend’s last life celebration, and now this. From the day I saw Antonia across the court, I’d wanted to be with her. Now that I had, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted her. I’d known it from the first time I saw her.
I should’ve said no because she wasn’t in the right frame of mind. Because her need for me was out of grief. Having sex with her was a way of helping her forget her pain and not remembering me.
I should’ve said no.
“Did you drive down?”
“No, I walked,” she said as she shook her head.
“I’ll drive you back.”
“That’s not necessary.”
I finished the bottle of water and crushed the thin plastic into a ball. “It’s not safe at night,” I told her. “The kids drive up and down the road at high rates of speed, and there isn’t anywhere to step off the side of the road.”
She looked at me, and I hoped she understood the message—the kids had already lost their mom; they couldn’t lose her too.
Antonia finally nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’ll grab my keys.” I went inside, grabbed a sweatshirt, and went into the kitchen to get my keys. When I came around the corner, Antonia was sitting on my couch, and Scout had his head in her lap. I stood there, resting against the archway.
“Did your wife live here?”
“No. I bought this house after the divorce. She’s been here, though, and helped me decorate.”
“Are you one of those men who has throw pillows on their bed?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah, although when I was married, we did. It would take five minutes just to crawl into bed. Do you have them?”
She met my gaze and smiled. “Full disclosure, I pile them on the free side of my bed.”
“Smart thinking.”
This easiness between us was nice, despite the awkward encounter in the garage, and I wished she could see that we had something between us. I also wished she could see how well she fit in my house, even though her ever being here longer than a handful of minutes would be unlikely. She was now a single mom of two.
When she didn’t move from the couch, I asked, “Would you like a tour?”
“That would be nice.” Antonia stood, and I spread my arms out.
“This is the living room.”
She laughed, and it was music to my ears.
I showed her the kitchen and the dining room, then walked down the hall to the first bathroom, the spare bedroom, which was used mostly by my parents, and finally my room. I’d never been more thankful that my mom made me clean my room and make my bed every day when I was young. I would’ve been rather embarrassed if my underwear was on the floor.
“Do you read?”
“I do. Mostly conspiracy-type stuff and wartime books. You?”
“Romance,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to start a library at my place but never got around to it. Maybe I’ll do it at Miri’s.”
“Come here, let me show you something.”
We walked down the hall to my office. I opened the door and flipped the light on. Both walls had built-in bookshelves. One side was nothing but novels, while the other side held my trophies, baseball memorabilia, and some news articles I had framed.
“Wow.”
“These were here when I bought the house. As soon as I saw the room, I knew I’d buy this house.”
“You really were famous,” she said as she looked at my baseball collection.
“I was something.”
She went to the bookshelves and trailed her finger along the spines.
“Help yourself,” I told her. “I have a very easy library system.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
I shrugged. “Just tell me which one you’re borrowing, and I’ll try to remember.”
Antonia laughed again. I liked hearing it, but deep down, I knew she didn’t want to be here. Not in the way I wanted her here.
I held my keys up. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, and I turned toward the door, only for her to reach for my hand. “What happened—”
“Please don’t say it was a mistake.”
“Okay, I won’t.” She took a deep inhale. “But it probably shouldn’t happen again for a while.”
My heart sang with anticipation. A while wasn’t never, and I could live with that.
Chapter 29
Antonia
After dropping a capful of bubble bath into the filling claw-foot tub Miri had in her bathroom, I undressed and stared at my naked body in the mirror.
What I’d initiated with Weston was very out of character for me. I couldn’t recall the last time I had done something so brazen and reckless. It was one thing to be impulsive, to live in the moment, but to use a man I knew liked me for sex was something I never should’ve done.
Except, I enjoyed it and wished the circumstances had been different, because I couldn’t tell whether my heart was there with him or if it was my emotions getting the best of me.
Regardless, leading him on wasn’t an option.
Neither was forgetting.
We’d crossed a line, and it was going to define us moving forward. I knew we’d have to talk about it, because burying it under the rug and acting like it never happened wasn’t the way to live.
My fingers trailed down my neck, ghosting along the marks his stubble had left. I welcomed the sting that came with the roughness, showing me that I was truly alive in the moment and not lost in my grief.
The path of red skin continued over my collarbones and breasts, bringing the vision of him holding me, his head on my heart, while I took advantage of him. He’d let me use him, likely knowing my head wasn’t right.
“So get it right, Toni. Nothing is stopping you.”
Miri had created a little oasis for herself in her en suite bathroom. She’d painted the walls mauve, added white beadboard halfway up, and wallpapered one wall with pink, yellow, and blue flowers.
She had removed the stand-up shower and replaced it with a claw-foot tub she’d found online or at a resale store. My dad and brother had installed it while Miri put in new tiles.
This was where she’d come to relax at the end of the night. Where she’d soak away the bad and soak in the good.
Before I slipped into the aromatic water, I lit the candles in the corners, turned my music app on, and connected my phone to the speaker.
The hot, bubbly water danced over my skin. I closed my eyes, rested against the cushion, and sighed heavily. A nice bath at the end of the night was something I could easily get used to. My penthouse had a stand-up, two-person shower, and my bathroom lacked life. There was nothing romantic or even friendly about the space, unlike Miri’s.
Opening my eyes, I took in the room again. Of all my times in here, I’d never thought of the bathroom as romantic, but it was. This was where you and your lover spent time together, washing away the negativity of the day so you both went to bed with a clean heart and mind.
I closed my eyes again and imagined Brendan at the other end of the tub, but he wasn’t there because Brendan would never get into a bath. He would’ve balked and said soaking in a tub was a waste of time.
Weston was there, though, with his arms resting along the top of the white tub. He had a devilish smile across his lips and his eyes on mine. He’d put his heart on the line for me tonight when he didn’t have to. He didn’t need to do most of the things he’d done since I arrived in town, but he’d done so because he was a good man.
“A good man who wants to spend time with you, knowing you now have two kids,” I said aloud.
“Because he likes you.” Miri’s words filtered through my mind. I relaxed at the sound of her voice. My tears were instant, falling freely down my cheeks and into the water. My already-broken heart chipped a bit more, knowing I’d never hear her talk to me again or see her smile. How everything between us was nothing but a one-sided memory. There had always been her version and mine, but now I’d only have ours—the way I remembered every moment of our life, friendship, sisterhood.
Promise me you’ll find love.
My eyes shot open. Those were the last words from her. Miri always loved making me promise to do things for her and holding me accountable. But this time was different. She wanted me to be happy and knew deep down that Brendan wasn’t the one to do that. She could always see he was a temporary fixture in my life. Looking back, I would’ve liked to see this as well because I probably wouldn’t have given him four years of my life.
My last words to her, the ones before she closed her eyes and waited for death to come, were “I promise I will.”
Yet another promise I’d made to her and wouldn’t be able to bring myself to break.
The ringtone on my phone shrilled, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls, startling me. I reached for a hand towel to dry my hands and then for my phone. Weston’s name appeared on my screen, and I froze. This wasn’t a text message but a phone call. He wanted to speak to me. My index finger hovered over the screen, waiting for me to make up my mind.
On what was surely the last grating sound, I finally swiped to answer. “Hello?”
“Hi, Antonia. It’s me, Weston.”
I smiled at the corniness and felt sort of giddy that he would introduce himself.
“Hey. What’s up?”
Weston sighed. “I didn’t want to go to bed without clearing the air.”
“Oh?”
“What happened with us tonight . . .” he started, and I felt my heart drop. In the lack of afterglow, thanks to me moving away from him right away, I wanted to tell him that we shouldn’t have done that, but instead I’d told him we couldn’t do it again for a while because I wasn’t ready to shut the door on him yet. Although I didn’t figure that out until after I’d said what I said.
Weston sighed again. “I know you’re going through the unthinkable right now, as well as having a recent breakup, but I wanted to be clear about how I feel. Tonight, I should’ve walked away, but I couldn’t. Mostly out of fear I would hurt you. Instead, I took a chance, knowing damn well the odds were not in my favor. I like you, Antonia. A lot. And I don’t plan to stop or go away until you tell me to take a hike.”
His words, while a bit all over the place, put a grin on my face and gave me a smidge of hope, longing, and desire, but I suspected that was a holdover from earlier.
