Authors: Jodie Becker
“I did,” he said solemnly, hating her for every lie she
forced him to utter.
“I came here to make amends. To win you back. You ignored me
so I had to give you something that showed you how I felt.”
Max drew a blank. “I…”
Katrina smirked. “The red underwear. I masturbated with it
on so you’d remember what we shared. Smell my desire and remember I wore that
pair the first time we fucked.”
Max’s eyes widened even as disgust curdled in his stomach.
He should’ve known. Bridget was a pure cotton girl, nothing overtly sexual. “I
got them.”
Katrina sucked in air through her nose, lips pursed. “I love
you more than life. I know what I did wrong years ago. I was too insecure. I
accept those women you fucked before, it was just for work. I can forgive you
for fucking those other women, but
this
, this I can’t accept.” Katrina
leaned closer toward Bridget, hand fisted in Bridget’s hair, a hateful snarl to
her lips. “Did you enjoy fucking my man, bitch?”
Bridget pressed her lips together even as a whimper broke
free.
A chill washed over his flesh and hot anger settled in his
chest at the futility of the situation. “Katrina,” he said sharply, pulling her
attention away from Bridget. “Tell me, what can I do to make this up to you.”
“Tell her. Tell her you don’t love her. You love me.”
“She doesn’t compare to you, you know that.”
Her nostrils flared. “But you wanted to protect her.
From
me?
”
He turned his attention to Bridget, hoping she saw all that
he truly felt in his eyes. He loved her and would do anything to see her safe.
“Come on, she can’t touch what you and I have. No one can.”
Katrina straightened, her eyes lightening with hope before
suspicion narrowed them. “She wouldn’t love you knowing that you have sex with
women for a living. I accept that about you and I love you still.”
“I know.”
“I’m loyal.”
“You are. It was stupid of me to let you go. Forget about
her. We can start over.”
Katrina nibbled her lower lip, her gaze flickered about the
room. “Yes. We can do that, but first we’ve got to tie up loose ends.”
Max edged closer, watching the knife slide farther away from
Bridget. Relief threatened to take his legs out from under him, but he had to
remain strong. He couldn’t give up his game. Not yet. “Then we can leave this
all behind.”
Bridget’s eyes widened as Max glanced at her then tipped his
chin to the side, mouthing “move”.
Katrina’s focus sharpened on him, just as he turned his
attention back to her. A crazed gleam entered her eyes. “You’re tricking me.
She has brainwashed you.”
He knew he’d stepped over some invisible line. Adrenaline
and terror coalesced and he lunged for the knife even as Katrina raised it to
deliver a killing blow. Tackling her, he brought Katrina to the ground. Burning
filled his arm and he looked down at the angry slice along his biceps. They
battled for the knife. Spittle hit him in the face as she screamed all types of
hate at him. Sweat made his palms slick as he struggled to bring her under
control. The knife slipped out of her grip and skidded away.
Katrina kneed him in the nuts. Air exploded from his lungs,
agony hitting him like a freight train. He rolled off her, his mind screaming
at him to grab her. She scrambled for the knife as Max forced himself to his
feet. Half bent over he grabbed the first thing available, a heavy vase filled
with flowers. He straightened and hurled it at Katrina’s back. It hit her head
with a solid
clunk
and she went down like a sack of bricks. He hobbled
up to her and kicked away the knife. She didn’t even move. She was either
unconscious or dead.
He hurried over to Bridget and found her hands held together
by handcuffs. Quickly searching for the key on Katrina, he returned to unlock
Bridget and hauled her into his arms, holding her close, relief rocking his
frame. Bridget shuddered once. Twice. Then burst into tears. It stabbed him
right through the chest and made his heart bleed. He patted her hair and
whispered words of reassurance and love.
He looked down at the woman who’d threatened Bridget and
silently promised she’d never do so again.
* * * * *
The next hour was spent giving statements. Cathy was arrested
and Bridget felt as if she was living in a horrible dream. Snatches of music
filled with tragedy and misery resounded in her ears. She wanted to block it
out. Of its own volition, her gaze sought out Max as he was seen to by a
paramedic, his features earnest as he spoke to the officer. As though sensing
her stare, he paused and turned toward her. She caught his look of despair
before she snapped her head away. Her heart hurt and she pressed her hand over
it.
The words that’d once been foreign to her came back into
focus. Max was a porn actor. It explained the odd hours he worked and with that
knowledge brought a sense of betrayal. Agony pounded behind her eyes and she
pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. She tried to hold back the tears.
Sucking in a ragged breath she tapped her fingers, attempting to keep her
herself from falling into a black abyss of sadness. Desperately she focused on
notes of Bach. Her fingers running over them on her thigh. The notes turned to
a composition filled with loss and anger. Energy poured from her fingers and
she wanted to write it down, to remind herself of what she felt. Then and now.
Something moved in her peripheral and she turned her head to
find Max had settled across from her, his features worn and wary. Bridget felt
both a surge of happiness and sorrow at the sight of his beautiful face. The
bandage stood stark against his tan skin, reminding her how dangerous their
situation had been. Notes drifted away.
“It was never Gillian and you knew that.”
Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes.”
Fire burned her lungs. “You would’ve let me charge Gillian
for harassment knowing it was Cathy-Katrina.”
Max held out a hand and she reared back. “No. I wouldn’t
have let it get that far.”
Her lips stiffened, a snarl hiding deep within. “You let me
think this stuff was because of me when it was you. You and your lies.”
Max’s chest expanded slowly and held, a pale wash touching
his skin.
“Well?”
He spread his hands as if he had nothing to hide. “I didn’t
want to worry you.”
“She tried to
kill
me.”
His lips whitened at the corners. “Yeah and I’m sorry as
hell I ever met her.”
“Is she your ex-girlfriend?”
“No. No, never. She was just some girl I had a one-nighter
with,” he said on a grimace.
Bridget licked her lips and gathered her courage to utter
the next question. “Is it true? Are you a porn actor?”
Max’s features dropped and her heart followed suit.
She lurched to her feet, even as he did so. He reached for
her and she waved him off, backing away as if his very touch would make her
shatter. Broken glass filled her lungs and a deathly chill raced over her skin.
“Babe, please.”
“Don’t. You don’t get to call me that.”
She didn’t want to look at the agony on his face. He lied to
her. But she had to know how deeply those lies went. “Did you make love to
other women while you were w-with me?”
He hesitated and she felt something tear apart in her chest.
“Oh my God.”
Max’s face tightened, his eyes pleading with her. “Since
Bryce OD’d I haven’t been with anyone else but you.”
“But before that you had?”
“It was just work.”
“You had sex with other women while you kissed me.
Touched
me?”
He rubbed the back of his hair and inhaled unsteadily. She
wasn’t going to feel sorry for him. “I’ve been faithful since we made love.
That must mean something?”
“But for how long, Max?”
His gaze darkened and she knew even he didn’t know.
“How long?” she whispered.
“For as long as I could.”
An ice spear stabbed her right through the chest. The air
grew thick with acrid emotions. “For as long as you could? You would’ve done
things with other women and left me none the wiser?”
Anger raced across his face. “
No.
I didn’t know what
to do. It’s my job.”
“It’s your job? Was having sex with me work too?”
He glowered. “No. Being with you has been more than just
sex. You know that.”
“Do I?” A thought occurred to her and she cupped her mouth,
dismay dropping her stomach. “You had unprotected sex with me.”
“It broke. I didn’t intend for it to happen. I wouldn’t
willingly put you at risk.”
“But you have, haven’t you?” Her stomach roiled.
His skin paled. “I don’t know.”
Bridget wanted to slap him. To rage at his callous actions,
but she remembered him stopping to ensure they were protected even when her
drunken mind wanted to feel him naked inside her. How could she have been so
stupid? “How could you
lie
to me? To expose me to things without my
knowing all the details?”
“I wanted
you
, but I knew you wouldn’t have someone
like me. I was going to cross the bridge when I got there.”
“Well the bridge has burned down. What are you going to do now?”
He rocked back as if she’d hit him. “Don’t say that.”
Bridget ignored the tears that crawled up her throat. “What
do you want me to say?”
“That you forgive me. Bridget, I know I fucked up. But give
me a chance, I love you and—”
“
Don’t
you say that. You don’t
ever
get to say
that. You don’t even know what love is.”
“I know what I feel for you is real. I know you’re the best
thing that ever happened to me and I’m only truly at peace when I’m with you.”
“It’s all about you isn’t it? If I was the best thing that
ever happened to you, you wouldn’t have lied to me. You wouldn’t have put me in
danger. You…you wouldn’t have let me slip through your fingers.”
Music shrieked in her head and she twisted around and
stormed away from him. She stumbled back to her house, the music in her ears
sharpening to a composition of betrayal. Leaning against the front door, she
swallowed hard. Tears glazed her vision as she was eviscerated by desolation.
One leaked past her control and she covered her face with both her hands and
wept as silently as possible.
Chapter Sixteen
Max’s stomach ached with hunger but couldn’t stomach the
idea of eating. Nothing he ate would stay down and he knew it was because of
Bridget. He couldn’t sleep at night and he ran until he couldn’t take it
anymore. He’d lost pounds and people noticed. He hadn’t seen Bridget in the
weeks since they’d broken up, the only thing that comforted him were her gnomes
in the front yard. She was around and that meant he still had a chance. His
first day back at work made him feel a level of self-disgust he’d hadn’t felt
in years. He refused to perform, much to Vane’s annoyance. Another shoot was
set up, and Max stood in the set room, watching them angle the lights and shift
furniture.
Demi sat on a velvet settee, her gaze shrewd. She wore
nothing but a corset that cinched her waist, her red pumps catching the light.
After a moment she approached him and Max stiffened. He didn’t want her to
touch him. Hell, he didn’t want to touch any of the women here. He wanted only
one and she wouldn’t speak to him.
“Looking a bit pale there, Max,” she said by way of
greeting.
Max merely grunted.
Demi dropped her hands onto her waist. “You know, something
about you is different. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were lovesick.”
He wanted to snarl at her and instead brought his acrid
emotions under control. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just
trying to get back into the routine of it all.”
A brow tipped up knowingly. “Viagra will solve those
erection issues you’re having.”
“I don’t want fucking Viagra,” he growled.
Demi laughed and Max glowered. “Who is she?”
“No one you know.”
“I didn’t think she would be. Found out what you do, huh?”
“Yeah.”
She hissed. “Tough break. It’s never easy doing what we do.
But I guess it’s over now then.”
Max’s eyes narrowed on her, hating the feeling of despair
she pulled to the surface. That sickening churn in his gut returned to full
force and made the thought of being with another even more unpalatable. He
didn’t think he could do this, but now he knew. It was over. He couldn’t fuck
another woman when his heart belonged to Bridget. He twisted away from her and
stormed from the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Away from here,” he threw over his shoulder.
He marched into Vane’s office and slammed the door. Vane
jerked upright at the sound, his eyes narrowing as he took one sweep of Max.
“Make it quick, I’m on a business call.”
“I quit.”
Vane didn’t reveal his thoughts by sound or action. He spoke
into his cell. “I’ll call you back.”
Max waited tensely as Vane dropped the cell onto his glass
desk and folded his arms. “You quit?” Vane repeated dubiously.
“Yes. I can’t do this anymore.”
“You have a year left on your current contract.”
Skeletal fingers skated down his spine. “Then I want to pay it
out.”
Vane’s eyes widened then he laughed. “You’re not going to
pay it out. You still have to make up the cost for what’s her name,” he said,
clicking his fingers.
“Her name was Venus,” Max bit off.
“A bit on edge there aren’t we? I don’t care what her name
was or of your magnanimous act to ‘save’ her,” he said using finger quotes.
“The issue here is your performance. You’ll get over it.”
“I’m not going to get over it. I’ve run my course and I’m
done.”
Vane’s lips thinned. “You’re not done until I say so.”
“I am done and you’re just going to have to accept it.”
“I can sue you—”
“Then sue me! I don’t fucking care. I am sick of being your
puppet. I want a real life now and not this endless parade of pussy. I had
something before this and I’m not going to let the best thing that ever
happened to me slip away because I didn’t have the balls to let this shit go.”
He turned away and stalked to the door, his hand was on the
knob when Vane spoke softly, “You’ve already lost her.”
It punched him square in the chest and he shook his head. “I
might’ve, but I can be a better person because of her.”
The door clicked shut behind him and he made his way to the
car. He sat in his vehicle and stared at the building that’d been his work for
almost a decade. As he started the engine, he silently said goodbye and drove
away. He thought of the words he needed to say to earn Bridget’s forgiveness.
He knew the step to leave his career was the right one and it left him without
a parachute, but he didn’t have an option. His love for Bridget surpassed his
fear and he was willing to battle for her. To prove to her he could be the man
she wanted. Needed.
As he turned into his street, his heart began to race. He
felt like a teen about to ask the popular girl at school for a date. Anxiety
built and along with that a frisson of hope. Nothing could stand in his way of
winning her back. As he neared his house, something didn’t seem quite right.
His heart shriveled in his chest and his lungs ceased to draw air. The gnomes.
They were gone.
He pulled into his drive and got out on unsteady legs. Every
lungful of air tasted bitter. Walking into her yard, he turned about in silent
dismay. This couldn’t be right. A sign stood by the letterbox and dread
weakened his muscles. He knew before he even looked at the writing what it was.
The words “For Sale” robbed him of breath and cut him through with such
intensity he had to press a hand over the pain in his gut. Swallowing back the
roar that wanted release, he stumbled back a few steps and twisted away.
Looking at the sky, he commanded for calm even as hope
snuffed out, never to come to life again. He trudged back to his house, a
surreal sense overcoming him. He’d quit and the woman he wanted most was gone
from his life. Everything had changed and he could only follow with it. He
swallowed at the ball of despair and sucked in a ragged breath. He would go on.
He’d said she made him a better man, and he meant it. Even if she was never
going to witness the change.
* * * * *
Bridget shut the door to her apartment and threw her keys on
the side table. Alex leaned out from the kitchen, the smell of pasta sauce
filling the air. “Hey.”
Bridget smiled. “Hey.”
“You got some mail today.”
Wandering farther into the apartment, she leaned against the
partition and scooped up the letters Alex indicated. Passing some small talk,
she flipped through the envelopes containing bills and paused over one clearly
written as a personal note. She instantly recognized the writing and a tremor
rocked through her.
“Are you all right?”
Bridget looked up and blinked. “What?”
“You look a bit upset,” Alex said with a concerned
inflection.
“No. It’s okay. I’m just going to read these in my room.”
Alex shrugged nonchalantly and returned to his cooking while
she wandered into her bedroom. The room barely fit the double bed it housed and
she settled on the mattress, the old iron frame creaking in protest. She missed
her stuff, but until she found another place, it would remain in storage.
Contemplating the letter, she was torn between self-preservation and yearning.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a single note.
Dear Bridget,
Over the months of knowing you, you have taught me that
some things are worth more than money. You reminded me what it felt like to be
in love. I had fooled myself into thinking what I did as a profession was just
like any other career. But deep down I knew it was something you wouldn’t
forgive easily. Perhaps that is why I kept it from you. I was falling in love
and wanted you to love me enough to see who I truly am when the time came to
reveal it. But by doing that I was betraying the trust you had in me.
You taught me how to laugh and brought happiness into my
life and all I gave you in return was misery. I am deeply sorry for that. I
want to be the man you need in life. The man who gives you and only you his
whole self, body and soul. And if you can’t find it in yourself to forgive my
careless and selfish actions, then I take away with me the knowledge that
knowing you has irreversibly changed me. I will forever be indebted to you and
will carry you always in my heart.
All my love.
Max
Lungs hurting, Bridget reread the words so carefully written
on paper. Each word was like a heartbeat. Stark with honesty and accepting of a
future without her. Prickles chased over her skin and music drifted through her
mind. She couldn’t see herself forgiving such a big betrayal but his earnest
words made her think and she couldn’t have that.
The letter fluttered to the ground and she stood. Pacing the
room, she couldn’t shake the music of sorrow and hope flying through her head.
She snatched up her cello, settled onto the bed and began to exorcise the notes
from her head. Just as she wished to exorcise Max from her heart.
Six Months Later
Bridget sat in the dressing room, nerves biting at her
composure. She wiped her hands against her lavender dress, commanding her heart
to slow down. Tonight was the culmination of six months of hard work and she
hoped it was the performance she dreamed it would be. A knock on the door
brought her head up.
“We’re on,” Gillian said with a smile.
Bridget nodded and followed after the other cellists.
Hovering by the curtains, she looked out at the crowd and a frisson of panic
arced through her. “I can’t do this.”
Gillian rubbed her arm. “You can. You faced much worse
things than a crowd of people.”
Bridget’s smile felt wobbly. She knew that. She’d faced STDs
and avoided that bullet. Had stared down a stalker and the man who’d loved her
in ways she couldn’t imagine and hurt her just as deeply. In the last six
months, her friendship with Gillian grew and they put aside their petty
differences. Gillian had supported her when Bridget had to give her testimony
in court proceedings that saw Katrina-Cathy sentenced. Max had been present for
some of it and every time she saw him it was like feeling the despair of loving
him all over again. He’d looked at her as if she were the heavens to a sinner
and it made the ache in her heart almost impossible to bear.
She poured everything she had into her music and tried to exorcise
him from her soul, but she feared it was all too late.
The conductor tapped the podium and Bridget held her head up
high, this was her moment. She walked ahead of the two other cellists and found
her place at the front of a pointed seating arrangement. The crowd clapped as
they set up and she glanced over at the conductor. His nod was short and stiff.
She settled the bow over the strings and called forth notes
of the discovery of passion. Of love.
Max sat in the crowd, watching Bridget play her cello with a
look of painful ecstasy. His chest expanded with pride and the beautiful music
she made. Behind her, two cellists flanked her like servants to a musical
siren. This was Bridget’s first show of many. Her opus to passion. She carried
the notes with a gentle sway. The music sang its own tale, the two cellos
deepening as Bridget went high. The hands of a lover over a woman’s body. The
urgent beat of their hearts as passion overtook them. Goose bumps rose on his
skin as she played the intimate journey of their relationship for all to hear.
In the music he heard her love for him and he swallowed back the subtle rise of
desolation. Almost seven months and he still missed her. Still yearned for her.
She took the entire crowd with her, through the heat of passion,
to the bloom of love and finally the devastation of losing it. The notes were
slower, deeper. The cellos behind moved in tandem, cuts across the strings like
the shattering of someone’s heart. He felt her pain clearly as if he lived it.
Both misery and joy pulled at him. Sadness for the loss of her was eclipsed by
the joy of seeing the culmination of what she wanted as a musician. It was all
about her now, and he loved her all the more for her drive.
Finally the mood changed and Max held his breath. Would he
know how she felt? Her notes were soft in remembrance. A memory recalled and
thought of fondly with occasional dashes of sadness. Max dropped his head. She
had moved on and he knew it, but the last shriveled piece of hope fell away and
he felt no more.
The crowd cheered “bravo” as the last cellist stood and took
his bow. Max drank up the vision of her happiness, her eyes glimmering with
tears of joy. He silently wished her the best, then made his way out of the
stadium, leaving behind his broken heart.
* * * * *
Bridget didn’t know why she was here. Twilight cast long
shadows along the yard scattered with gnomes. In her hands lay a new gnome. He
was waiting for her after her performance with a rose in his hand and a dragon
tattoo on his chest. Max had sent her a gnome and a card wishing her well. It
didn’t tell her anything about what he was feeling, but focused all on her and
how deserving she was of her solo. It reminded her quite simply of the little
things she loved about Max. How he made time to learn about her. How important
he found little gestures. His quirky sense of humor.
Nibbling her lower lip, she got out of her car and walked up
the narrow path. She knocked on the door and waited. After a while the door
opened and the air stalled in her chest. He stood in a business shirt, his hair
slicked back, looking as if he belonged in a glossy photo shoot rather than
standing at the threshold to his house.
“Bridget?” he rasped, as if he wasn’t sure she really stood
there.
Bridget shook her head and cleared her throat. “Max.”
He raked a hand through his hair and glanced back into the
house before focusing on her. “What are you doing here?”
Her hands tightened over the gnome. “You were there last
night.”