Shelter You (30 page)

“Kiddo, you okay? You look miles away.” I snap out of my daze and turn my head to face my father.

“Yeah Dad, I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” He has a look that says he doesn’t believe me but he lets it go and gives me a small smile.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says to Gavin and I. They both move to get up. I join them but decide that I need a moment alone.

“You guys go on ahead. I have to use the bathroom.”

Gavin, picking up his jacket and putting it on, says, “Are you sure, Elle. We can wait for you?”

“Yes, Gav, I’m sure. I’ll give you both a call tomorrow.” I hug and kiss them both and, as they leave, I head to the bathroom. I walk in, go to the sink and splash some cold water on my face. I dry myself off and take a look in the mirror. I barely recognize the reflection. Looking back at me is a woman who is very different from the woman I used to be. Dark hair that used to be blonde, little makeup where there used to be more, conservative clothing where there used to be young trendy fashion. I mean, I don’t look like a nun or anything. I actually look good, but it’s certainly a far departure from what I looked like two years ago. I take one final glance in the mirror and turn to leave the bathroom. It’s definitely about time for this day to come to an end.

Excerpt from Desperation of Love

Book #2 in the “Of Love” Series

Available Now!

By

Alice Montalvo-Tribue

Prologue

I don’t want to open my eyes this morning. To face the day after the beauty of the night before seems almost cruel. Keeping my eyes firmly closed, I try to shut out the memories of my past. They always seem to surface at times like these, overshadowing the moments of joy. Being the product of divorced parents is never easy, but when you spend the majority of your childhood being used like a pawn in a vicious chess game, it’s kind of hard not to be at least a little screwed up. On top of that, add the feelings of abandonment that I’ve struggled with for years and now I’m nothing but a mess. Here I am, 32 years old, and you’d think that I’d be over it by now. You’d assume that I’d be smart enough to understand that I shouldn’t let my issues and my parents’ ugly relationship affect me. Well, I’m not that smart, and for as long as I can remember, I have single-handedly sabotaged every relationship I’ve ever had with a man. It’s not that I don’t long for something more, for the kind of love that could last a lifetime, I do. But the paralyzing fear of ending up broken and alone is enough of a motivator to keep me rooted in solitude. My need for self-preservation has become greater than my need for love. It’s not even that I’m afraid to date, I date all the time. I take what I can for as long as I can get it and then I move on. I dated Mark for seven months. That is a new record for me. But when he started pressuring me for more of a commitment, I began to push him away. He knew what I was doing and thought that the best way to combat my commitment issues was for us to move in together. Dumb suggestion on his part. That was the last nail in the coffin for me. Much like my best friend, Elle, I made a decision to close the door on romantic relationships. She had endured a traumatic experience that resulted in many physical and emotional scars. That’s why it was so gratifying to see her walk down the aisle toward Victor last night. Her path to love gives me hope that maybe I can get out of my own way long enough that I might be able to experience it one day. I sincerely doubt it, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to hope.

When I finally decide to open my eyes and face the day, I’m blinded by the sun shining through my drapes. The bright rays are doing nothing to ease my hangover. I partied with reckless abandon last night and I have the headache to prove it. I turn my back toward the window, trying to block the potent morning rays and what I encounter sobers me up pretty quickly. In all honesty, I’m stunned to find the figure of a man lying next to me. A man that with one look can send me spiraling out of control. I knew from the moment I met Alex Garza that, given the opportunity, he would cause nothing but trouble for my heart. I fought a good fight but ultimately he’s gotten his way and somehow has ended up in my bed.
Fuck
!

Chapter 1

Four months later.

I haven’t seen him since the morning after Victor and Elle’s wedding when I found him in my bed. The sad part is that I can’t even remember the events of that night. I know I partied and got drunk, well wasted, really, but the moments that led up to me waking with Alex are all a blur. And I sure as hell don’t want to ask
him
what happened. So, I did what any self- respecting woman would have done in my situation. I snuck out…
of my own house
. I did the walk of shame out my front door, slid into my car, and drove to my friend’s house, where I hid out for the remainder of the day. He called me several times that day but I let every call go to voicemail. I just couldn’t face him, and I made sure to avoid him over the last few months. He eventually gave up trying to contact me, but I knew my luck wouldn’t last forever and now he’s back.

Victor and Elle finally found a house that they love, right on the beach, and moved in last weekend. This left Elle’s little cottage empty, and since Alex is Victor’s only brother and they are going into business together, opening up a recording studio, it only makes sense for Alex to move into it. He gave up his apartment in New York and is moving to town this weekend. I’d been hoping to stay far away from him, but Elle insisted that the four of us go out to dinner tonight to welcome him to town. She basically backed me into a corner. If I decline, I’m afraid that she might suspect that there’s something going on between me and Alex.  I also don’t want Alex to think I can’t sit through a meal with him especially when he’s done nothing wrong.

That leads me to now, sitting in my car, in the parking lot of the restaurant where we’re all supposed to meet up. Elle sent a text a few minutes ago, letting me know that the three of them are waiting for me inside, yet I can’t move. I’d never admit this to anyone but the thought of seeing Alex again is attacking my system with an overload of emotions. A part of me is actually excited to see him because I’m very attracted to him, but I’m also cautious because I don’t want him to know how he affects me. More importantly, I’m just plain embarrassed for getting trashed, bringing him home to do God knows what, and then bailing immediately afterwards. It wasn’t one of my better plans. Under normal circumstances, I would have no issue with a one night stand. I might’ve even embraced it. But this is different. This is my best friend’s brother-in-law, and it’s all just a little too close for comfort. I’m going to have to see this guy and be around him for years to come, and it’s best to just put that night behind us.

Stalling for time, I pull down the car visor and check my makeup in the small mirror. I wore my hair down tonight, in loose waves cascading down my back and framing my face. My make-up is minimal, with only a light coating of bronzer, nude lip gloss, a bit of mascara, and a light brown eye shadow, which makes my blue eyes a little more vibrant. Confidence is definitely not something I’ve ever been lacking. I may not be a supermodel, but I can stare in a mirror and be pleased with the reflection staring back at me. Maybe my assurance comes from the fact that I’m an only child. My parents struggled for years to have a baby, trying everything from holistic medicine to in vitro fertilization. When they finally had me, they were so ecstatic that they spoiled me rotten. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a brat or anything, but my parents never let a day go by without telling me how beautiful I was. They always said how proud they were, and there was little that I wanted that I didn’t eventually get. When my luck ran out, it was a hard lesson that I learned. The one thing I really wanted as a child didn’t happen. I wanted my parents to stay together, but no matter how much I begged, cried and fought, nothing would save their marriage. When they went down, they did so in a blaze of glory, dragging me down with them and putting me through a horrific custody battle.

The sound of an incoming text message brings me back to the present. I pull my phone from the center console and see that it’s from Elle.

Our table is ready. Are you almost here?

I guess it’s now or never. I can’t keep them waiting all night. I quickly type out a reply.

In the parking lot, be right in.

Exiting the car, I straighten out my black and white shift dress. It hits just above the knee and, paired with my black heels, it makes me look taller than my normal five feet four inches. The sound of my shoes clacking on the pavement matches the increased rhythm of my heart. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve hung out with Alex on several occasions, up until the night of the wedding. We even made out a couple times. In fact, the night we met at Elle’s house, we had a hot and heavy make out session on her couch, not that I would ever admit that to her or anyone else. And when I was a complete and total wreck while Elle was hospitalized after being brutally beaten by her low life ex boyfriend, Alex was there to comfort me. And I let him. I’ve never been one to show weakness. I learned early on that the only way to survive in this world is by exuding nothing but strength. That’s why I lift my head up, straighten out my back, and square my shoulders as I enter the restaurant. I look around for Elle but I don’t see her in the small waiting area. I open my purse and pull out my phone to call her. 

A feather light touch at my waist sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. I recognize his familiar scent, a mixture of soap and his usual cologne, a combination that always intoxicates me. He inches closer, the feel of his gentle breath on my neck makes my eyes close.

“I’d almost forgotten just how beautiful you are.” The deep timbre of his voice makes my breath catch. I open my eyes and turn around so that we’re face to face. One look at him and my heart goes into overdrive. Clearly, I’ve forgotten just how handsome he is. He’s tall, at least 6’ 2”, and I have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. I do my best to look composed and unaffected, even though my body is betraying me. His light olive skin and honey brown eyes are warm and inviting and his full lips, which I’ve had the pleasure of tasting a time or two, make my imagination run wild. His brown hair is shorter than I remember, the top is spiked up a bit and the sides are shaved close. It’s a different look for him but he carries it very well. His dark green Henley is fitted just tight enough to hint at how ripped his muscles are, while his dark jeans fit like they were tailor-made. Simply put, Alex Garza is as mouthwateringly sexy as they come.

“Hi, Alex,” I say. He smiles and it radiates through me. It’s infectious and immediately calms my nerves. I can’t help but smile back.

“Ahh, there she is! You do remember me, huh?” He goads me and pulls me into a sweet embrace. If there’s one thing I can say about Alex, it’s that he’s always been kind to me. He’s the type of person that people just naturally gravitate to. I hug him back and say, “Of course. How could I forget you?” There’s only a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

He tilts his head and grins at me. “Do you want me to answer that?”

I’m really hoping we can get through this evening without reliving that unfortunate incident. “Not particularly, no,” I say, shaking my head. I immediately realize that in order to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, I’m going to need a buffer between us. “Where are Elle and Victor?”

“Elle’s in the bathroom. You know, baby on the bladder and all that, and Victor is paying the bar tab.”

“Nope, I’m right here. Hey, Shorty,” Victor calls, walking up to us. He’s taken to calling me Shorty lately since he’s so much taller than me. He looks every bit of the superstar that he is. His black shirt and jeans just scream designer. While Alex’s hair could be called messy, Victor’s is styled to perfection. Alex is ripped, Victor is toned. Victor is just a tad shorter than Alex, and his complexion is just a bit darker, but the fact that they are siblings is undeniable.

“Hi,” I say, giving him a hug. “How’s our girl?”

“Uncomfortable, but beautiful as ever.” He grins at me and I can see the excitement and happiness written all over his face. Elle is in her seventh month of pregnancy and every time I see her and Victor together, I know that this baby is going to be so loved. Victor somehow managed to bring Elle out of her shell, showing her the kind of happiness that she never thought was possible. Even though he was able to heal all of her emotional scars, she’s given him just as much in return. Love, peace, simplicity, and above all, a normal life and a family.

“It’ll be worth it in the end,” I say.

Elle is at Victor’s side before I can finish my sentence. “Say that when you’re eight thousand weeks pregnant and swollen.” She’s semi joking but more irritated than anything else. “No one is happier about this baby than me, trust me, but good God I’m ready for this to be over.”

We all smile, carefully biting back laughter because she’s just too cute. Even swollen and uncomfortable, Elle is probably the prettiest pregnant woman I’ve ever seen. Her adorable baby bump gets a little bigger every time I see her. She can complain all she wants but the truth of the matter is that she’s glowing and clearly happy.

Victor pulls her to his side and kisses the top of her head, soothing her in a way that only he can. “It’s okay, love, there’s not much longer to go now.” She wraps her arms around his waist and melts into him.

As sickening as they are, seeing them together always does something to me. A pang in my chest is filled with both joy for them and a hint of envy. The feeling of being in love is something I’ve purposefully never experienced.

“Alright, enough with the mushiness. Can we have dinner or what?” I say, eager to get this meal over with. The quicker I can escape Alex, the better I’ll be.