No Simple Sacrifice Page 24

  Understanding walloped.

  He was suffering…just like I was.

  I could feel his despair. The lost roaming of his heart…

  He looked up several times—and when his head tilted up, I smiled. Stupidly, I believed he felt me near. One time he even stood, as if something called deep inside his body—and even more stupidly, I ducked my head, busy with nonexistent things in my bag. When I finally peeked again, he’d sat back down, focusing even harder on his phone.

  I thought about texting him. Just to say hello…and to witness his reaction to it. But with aching resolve, I resisted. What would that have accomplished, except to make him pull out more hair…perhaps even go full-on Jesus with that beard?

  I had to let him go.

  And Drake, too.

  We all had to move on. Make this crap a part of our pasts instead of letting it dictate our futures.

  If that meant playing first-class chicken right now, so be it.

  I turned and headed back toward Bloomingdale’s.

  By the time I tugged on the ornate brass door, my head throbbed—encouraged by the tension in my neck, from forcing myself not to glance back.

  * * * *

  Three hours later, I walked back into my hotel room with a bellhop who grinned like a madman. He was in for a big tip, helping me haul a dozen Bloomingdale’s bags out of the car and upstairs. At least one of us was happy. Three dresses, four skirts, five blouses, a pair of pajamas, one amazing new pair of shoes and a lot of unmentionables later, I was still searching for a single zap of what Margaux called the shop-’till-you-drop contact high. Well, I was ready to drop—but the high I’d gotten from my Fletcher Ford sighting had set an impossible bar to beat.

  Okay…high wasn’t exactly the right term.

  Unsettling was a better fit.

  Ground shaking. Another good one.

  Wishing for the power of teleportation. Sure as heck fit, too.

  But would I have traveled next to him…or far away? So much of me still yearned for the first. I trembled, remembering how the deepest core of my being longed to run to him, hold him. He’d looked as lost as I felt—and we were both to blame for it. He’d stopped communicating, but so had I. So many messages still sitting in my drafts folder. So many texts that had been doused by the delete key. So many times I’d punched in half his phone number—

  And Drake’s, too.

  Had they both done the same?

  Maybe.

  Probably.

  We were all equally to blame. And now…things were just too far gone. Hearts were too bruised…too afraid. There wasn’t anything to be done about it. No sense in rehashing things.

  Or so I’d thought, until sending the bellhop on his way—and entering completely into my room.

  There, on the desk, rested a cut crystal vase filled with a stunning bouquet of yellow tulips. I reached for the card in the arrangement with trembling fingers. Nervously tore it open.

  I felt you today, like the sunshine that’s been missing from my world.

  F

  Fletcher.

  I broke down, a complete mess of tears—right before reality zapped in. He knew I was in Chicago—as well as where I was staying. Forget butterflies in the stomach. Mine was suddenly filled with bats, excited and screaming, battering me from the inside out with giddy cartwheels and somersaults.

  No.

  I still couldn’t go back there. If the card had carried two initials, F and D, then maybe yes. But I’d come to grips with the fact that a relationship with one would never be the same as with both. Our puzzle had three pieces. Three necessary parts. It was the only way we’d ever be complete. They’d taught me that months ago in Las Vegas, making me shake my head at the irony of now, that I was the one most adamantly upholding it.

  I put the card on the table with pained deliberation. What now? I sure couldn’t sit here and gaze at those flowers, that was certain.

  Perfect resolution, a drink at the pool bar. I needed—needed—to relax, and an icy margarita was the first-class ticket to that destination. After getting into my newly purchased bathing suit—a light pink one-piece in a modest style with swirly cut-outs at the waist—I grabbed my smart pad for some poolside reading.

  The air was still sultry as I settled into the lounge chair. The swimming area was located next to the hotel restaurant’s patio, so guests could order drinks and food by the water too. I chose a chef’s salad and that coveted margarita and finished every last bite. I hadn’t been eating well for—well, at least four weeks. During my shopping trip, I’d learned I was down one whole dress size.

  Birds chirped in the trees. Kids played in the pool. Patrons at the restaurant clattered silverware. The sounds blended into an oddly soothing din, lulling me into a peaceful nap.

  Until one sound exploded from everything else like a bullet.

  A voice. At the outside bar.

  Resonant and rich. Commanding but calm. Velvet mixed with low thunder.

  I bolted upright.

  Drake.

  I knew it before even fixing my stare on him. Though I had the eerie telepathic connection with Fletcher, Drake’s voice was what always shot straight to my soul, filling my aching heart with his effortless strength.

  I anxiously scanned the diners, swiftly zeroing in on his dark spiky hair, bent toward the center of the table as he conversed intensely with his lunch mate—who, thankfully, was a man. I couldn’t dwell another second on the nausea that hit even from the contemplation of seeing him with Janelle again.

  I wasn’t off the hook for unease, though.

  He looked angry and tense and—just as much a mess as Fletcher. His scowl belonged on an ogre—and not the cute CGI green kind, either. Even his assigned waitress approached with caution, though his friend seemed unfazed by his sour mood. Friend? The more I studied them, the more I noticed their physical similarities. Was that his younger brother, Henry? But his family lived in another state. Maybe Henry was here visiting.

  Or had been sent to check up on his out-of-sorts sibling.

  Of one thing I was certain—the dark mood hadn’t dampened the man’s hotness. In khaki cargo shorts and classic Vans with no socks, his legs were just as dark, chiseled and powerful as I remembered. His V-neck T-shirt hugged his biceps tightly.

  Instinct drove me to rub my legs together, remembering what it felt like to be under that muscular body. After giving the waiter an order for a second drink, I had to pivot my chair away from the restaurant—a sanity-saving move. While Drake didn’t appear as disheveled as Fletcher, he was clearly angry and tense—and most unnerving of all, not even trying to hide it.

  That last recognition made me curl a hand against my chest. The clutch in my heart was almost violent now, perhaps worse than it had been a month ago.

  I waited until Drake and his companion left the restaurant, almost an hour later. The wait wasn’t in vain. Ogling Drake in surreptitious glances gave me hope for better dreams tonight.

  At last, I packed up my things and headed back to my room—though was stopped by my name being called across the lobby.

  By a woman. In a thick Russian accent.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  My nerves gave up the ghost as my stomach bottomed out. I turned, feeling every painful inch of my lips as they squeaked into a smile.

  “Mama…Papka?”

  Sure enough, my parents rushed forward, drowning me in a cloud that smelled of fruitcake, coffee, breath mints and bread. Mama had baked so many loaves over the years, she surely sweated the stuff now. They both cupped my face, bussed my cheeks and smoothed my hair. I was so stunned, I just stood and let them.

  “Wh-what are you doing in Chicago?”

  “You have to ask?” Mama retorted.

  Papka chortled, reminding me of the nights he filled watching 80s sitcoms. “We came to celebrate your birthday with you, Natalia. You shouldn’t be alone on your special day.”

  “In such a strange, dang
erous city.”

  “Chicago is hardly a strange place, Mama. I spent the first part of my life here, remember?” There was bitterness in my voice. I felt bad for it—a little. Perhaps even less when Mama’s lips pursed in disapproval.

  “Of course I remember. Don’t be so sassy all the time.”

  “Sorry.” It was filled with every drop of contrition she’d wrung. “It’s just been a long week.” A long month.

  “Is it so wrong for parents to want to be with their daughter on her birthday?”

  “Well, no. I’m just…surprised.”

  Mama threw up her hands. “That was the point!”

  I tugged my pool robe tighter. If they saw the cut-outs in my bathing suit, major birthing of kittens would commence where we stood. “How did you even know where I was staying?”

  “Your friend Claire told us. I called her yesterday to see if she had gift ideas for you, and she apologized for sending you out of town on your birthday. She thought she’d spoiled some family plans.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I did not tell her we hadn’t heard from you in a week.”

  “Sorry, Mama.” My shoulders hunched and I shivered. Management still had the air conditioning cranked like it was midday.

  Unbelievably, she let it go. “Not a worry now, eh?” she chirped instead. “We got the idea to surprise you here!” She preened, looking like the first mother on Earth to ever devise such an idea.

  I hoisted a half-hearted fist pump. “Yaaayyy, Claire,” who would’ve found herself the target of a hit job, had she not just purchased my wardrobe for the next two weeks. This was Chicago…

  “Are you angry, Natalia?”

  “Of course not.” It wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t pissed. Not completely, anyway. “Just taken off-guard. I’ve been fighting a headache all day because of the humidity, and I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  She clicked her tongue, grasping my chin in one hand in order to scrutinize my face from at least five angles. “Bah. You work too hard at this job of yours.”

  “Mama—”

  “You should find a good man to settle down with, and—”

  “Mother. Stop!”

  Her hand plummeted. So did her jaw. Then Papka’s—and mine.

  I’d never burst out like that at either of them. A tight squeak erupted from Mama. And Papka…

  Was he actually getting ready to smile?

  I couldn’t wait on that answer. Had to redirect the moment. Now. “I-I can’t do this right now,” I stammered. “Please, just—” I grabbed up a hand from them both. “I am glad you’re here. I’m just in a foul mood and it has nothing to do with you. I apologize for my disrespect.”

  “That’s better.”

  I should’ve expected Mama’s smug tone, but it stung anyway. As I got older, that effect seemed to worsen. Papka made no move to interfere. He stood there like he always did, anything to avoid Mama’s bull’s-eye on his forehead. Yes, even if that meant standing by when the woman went off on everyone else in the world as an outlet for her own frustrations.

  “Well, I was just on my way up to my room to check on emails and take a shower. Why don’t we meet for dinner later tonight?”

  “If that’s what you would like, dear. It’s your day.”

  I smiled hugely to allay the laugh that threatened to burst. The last time my birthday had been about what I liked, I’d been eleven years old.

  I decided to indulge in a bath instead of a shower. It was my day, after all. While filling the tub, I replayed every single event from the past eight hours. Seeing Fletcher on the street, then Drake right here in the hotel, had done things to me…torn things open inside. Being a good soldier, gritting through and bearing it, wasn’t an option. I was riddled with wounds—especially now, with my parents here, throwing the hugest obstacle to my men right in my face.

  My men.

  Would I ever stop with that nonsense?

  Could I?

  Right now…no.

  I missed them so much. I missed the confidence they’d helped me find in myself. I missed the reassurance and boldness they’d showered on me. I missed Drake’s stern voice and growling sensuality. I missed Fletch’s devilish grin and wicked humor. And yes, I missed their hard, sinful bodies…and what they let me do with them. I missed their flesh swelling for me and mine yielding for them.

  I missed everything about them.

  I needed everything about them.

  They’d changed me. Rearranged me.

  And now, they were the only thing that would complete me.

  Even thinking about my family didn’t change that. My concerns about it all…suddenly seemed so ridiculous. Mama, Papka, and everyone…they were important. They always would be. But their approval—or lack of it—wouldn’t change my love and commitment to them.

  Or myself.

  They weren’t ingrained in me anymore.

  Even our short exchange in the lobby had me reevaluating everything about them, and their presence in my life. Perspective was decision’s strongest ally. Seeing them here, so far away from the familiar surroundings of their neighborhood, made me behold them in a completely different light. I could see their antics from a strong, independent woman’s point of view—the woman I was when doing the job I loved, not the child they’d managed to keep in her rightful place for so long.

  It was time to grow up the rest of the way.

  Time to make the choice that now seemed so clear.

  Be with two men who adored me, accepted me and lifted me up no matter what, or maintain ties to the nonstop judgments of a world from hundreds of years ago?

  No-brainer.

  But what if I was too late?

  I rose from the soapy water, mind spinning on a viable plan. To regain their love, I had to put myself out there. I had to take a risk—a big, scary, perilous one—but I at least needed to try.

  At the very least, I had to insist that Drake and Fletcher mend their friendship. I could live if they moved on from me, but I refused to accept the responsibility of destroying a precious friendship like theirs. They had something rare with each other and they needed to find their way back to that—with or without me.

  I dried off, tucked the towel around me then padded back into the main room to retrieve my phone. I had to burn this courage while the fire was hot.

  Quickly, I went to work on composing one text message. Then a second.

  Here went positively nothing.

  Or absolutely everything.

  * * * *

  I’d left no room for questions or debates in the texts. They were to meet me for dinner in the hotel restaurant, right at seven. If they showed up, my plan would move forward. If they didn’t—

  I didn’t allow myself to entertain that option.

  I’d taken extra care with my appearance. After blowing out my hair, I brushed it to a luxurious shine then let it fall loosely around my shoulders. My makeup was subtle but dramatic enough to emphasize my big eyes. The sales assistant at Bloomingdale’s had insisted I get a cocktail dress—‘just in case’—and now I was thankful she had. I slid the navy blue strapless sheath over my hips and reached behind my back to pull up the zipper. Simple jewelry and strappy heels finished off the outfit.

  I checked myself in the mirror one last time, took a deep and encouraging breath, then headed for the lobby. Mama and Papka were chronically early for everything, so I predicted they’d be waiting when I stepped off the elevator. The entire interaction with Drake and Fletcher would take place in their presence.

  Exactly what I hoped for.

  My parents needed to see me for the woman I was, not the one they wanted to mold me into. Once they had the facts, they could accept me or turn me out. I was equally prepared for either choice.

  Yep. As predicted.

  They stood beside one another like strangers, stiff and stoic, impatient looks on their faces. Had I ever seen them hold hands? Even smile at each other? Had they ever really been happy or in love with each other?


  “Hi.” It was all I could manage when I walked up. Another new revelation—without the chaos of the family all around, I had no idea what to talk about with them.

  “That dress is so short, Natalia.”

  That took care of the conversation dilemma.

  “Thank you, Mother. You look lovely, as well.” I used dulcet tones, almost oversweet—but her insults weren’t going to affect me anymore.

  She sucked in a breath, having the decency to appear a tad embarrassed—for a second. Quickly, she had the head snapped up, the shoulders popped back and the regal air returned in its place.

  I was tempted to giggle at her grandstanding—but that was the second my neck tingled.

  The revolving door turned, revealing one of the most flawless men God had ever created. Fletcher was breathtaking, now without a crease where it shouldn’t be, wingtips gleaming as he took wide, confident steps. His light gray suit only accentuated his tall, lean build—and that piercing blue stare, sparkling even brighter as soon as it locked with mine.

  “Well, do you want to eat here? You got all dressed up. Perhaps you’d like to go out, but I don’t know. The streets are so dangerous. Even in a nice neighborhood like this, there could be hoodlums and—”

  “Mama.”

  “What? Natalia, what are you looking at?”

  “Excuse me for one moment, please.”

  I walked over to where he stood, frozen in place as I approached.

  “Tolly.” The way he said it, rough and warm and intimate, warmed my heart and sizzled into my veins.

  “Hello, Fletcher.”

  “I got your text.”

  “I see that.” We grinned together at the obvious. “Thank you for coming.”

  The door began another rotation—dumping Drake into the lobby as it passed by.

  I straightened my stance, preparing for the angry demeanor I’d witnessed at lunch. It never came. Instead, he halted in much the same way Fletch had, rendered motionless except for his stunned blinks. His eyelashes were so dark and thick they seemed sooty. The angels had laughed the day they’d given those to a man instead of a woman—though I was sure as hell never saying that to his face.