Breathing Wisteria Page 14

  “There was a plan?” She snorts, and I smile wryly.

  “I’m kind of making it up as I go now.”

  “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”

  “I didn’t have a choice, Charlie.” My voice is slightly too insistent, because only forty-eight hours later, I’m not entirely sure that’s true.

  “Did he get the papers?”

  “He did.”

  “How is he?”

  “Don’t worry about him, let me worry about him.” Campbell’s voice is stern, and I’ve had just about enough with his attitude.

  “This is hard for me, Cam. I know your first priority is Flynn, but this is hurting me too.”

  “You made your decision and now you need to stick to it. Going back and changing your mind is only going to hurt him more, you need to remember that.” There’s a pause and I hear Simon’s voice in the background. Cam sighs and his voice softens. “I know this is hard, Wyatt, but it will get easier and one day you’ll be looking back and wondering why you ever doubted yourself.”

  “I love him.” My voice cracks and my throat tightens as I force the words out, knowing that’s not what he wants to hear.

  “If you love him, you need to be strong enough to do what’s right for him.”

  The bed creaks under me as I roll over, desperate for some sleep.

  It’s been four days since I forced the world’s eyes on us.

  Four days of lies.

  Four days of hiding.

  Four days of regret.

  My mind never stops racing and I haven’t been able to sleep properly since this all happened. Since before that, if I’m completely honest.

  My phone starts vibrating on the side table, and when I reach over and look at the screen, the picture Flynn took of us that first night we reconnected is lighting up the screen.

  I reject the call, knowing that I can’t risk talking to him and try to ignore the pain that ricochets through me, but it’s useless.

  I’m simply going to learn how to live with it until the moment comes that I can breathe again.

  Flynn

  Seventeen days.

  Seventeen fucking days since I’ve seen her. Smelled her. Tasted her.

  Divorce papers landed on my doorstep thirteen days ago and it’s been a complete and total shit show ever since.

  Paparazzi out the front of our building scavenging for the best photo, story after story about what supposedly happened between us and I’m so ready to be fucking done with it all.

  The amber liquid in my glass swishes as I bring it to my mouth and swallow it down in a single gulp, slamming it back down on the bar.

  “Another,” I demand.

  The bartender looks at me questioningly, but he must see something that warns him off because he moves away and starts pouring my drink.

  I look over my shoulder and take in the dive bar I found my way to tonight. A row of sad, drunk bastards line the bar, and to my left, there is a group of wannabe bikers playing pool. I snort into the fresh drink that has been handed to me as I watch them. A bunch of pussies who would probably piss in their pants if someone started something with them.

  Some poor asshole is on stage singing and being ignored.

  I remember playing that same stage, being overlooked in exactly the same way.

  Ah, good times.

  “I remember the first time I saw you up there.”

  Her voice sets my nerves on edge and I have to suck down my drink just to keep from saying something I would regret.

  Moving on my barstool, I pull my phone out of my back pocket and place it on top of the bar before I turn to face her.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Aw, why so blue, sugarpie?” She smirks at me. “No, actually, scratch that. I know exactly why you’re so glum.” A laugh falls from her lips. “Such a shame that horrible story broke, but I have to admit, I thought she would stick it out longer. I didn’t expect her to give up on you so soon. I guess whoever spread the story did you a favor.” She shrugs. “She was never going to be around for the long haul.”

  “And you would be, I suppose.” My tone is derisive, and I make no effort to hide it.

  “Oh, honey, I don’t want you anymore.” She lifts the wine glass she has been cradling to her mouth, taking a tiny sip. “I came to my senses and moved on.”

  “She told me what you did, you know.”

  The glass stills midway to her mouth before she shrugs and places it back on the bar. When she looks at me this time, all humor is gone.

  “When you guys started planning the interview straight after our little chat, I figured she had opened her big mouth.” She waves a hand around, waving me off. “It’s not a big deal, Flynn. I wanted something, and I went after it. She called me on it and I followed through. It’s not my fault if she can’t handle the heat. It wouldn’t have been the last time her name was dragged through the mud if she stayed with you.”

  Every one of my pulse points are pounding painfully and I have to grip the bar to keep me on my barstool.

  “Only because assholes like you don’t consider the truth an important part of any story. But, no.” I shake my head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  I see her in the corner of my eye. Her hands that had been playing with her glass, freeze, and her entire body becomes rigid.

  “She told me how you threatened to accuse me of raping you if she didn’t leave me. How you told her you would destroy my career, my fucking life, if she didn’t do it.” I stop, unable to continue. My hands are shaking as the rage I felt that night returns. “What kind of bitch are you?”

  My question is met with silence. A single beat that allows doubt to worm its way into my consciousness.

  I shouldn’t have worried.

  “Me?” she hisses. “What about you? I waited for you all of those years and you led me on, you son of a bitch. All of those exclusive stories. The smiles. All those times you just happened to brush up against me.” The soft lighting above the bar gives her an almost ethereal quality that is such a contradiction to the venom illuminating her eyes. “You made me believe you wanted me and then you just tossed me aside when she came along.”

  She’s a fucking psycho, that’s the only explanation for the line of bullshit she’s spinning.

  “We fucked. Once. I never gave you a second thought after that.” I lean toward her and level her with a scowl. “These delusions you chose to believe have nothing to do with me. You’re fucking crazy.”

  “I am not crazy!” She slams a hand on the bar and I watch uneasily as my phone jumps on the hard surface.

  “Did you tell her you would accuse me of rape, or not? I want the truth, Giselle. You got what you wanted, you’ve ruined my life. The least you can do is tell me the truth.”

  “Oh my God, yes, okay? Yes, I told her I would tell everyone you raped me, does that make you feel better?” she sneers. “I watched poor little Wyatt’s heart break right in front of my eyes and it was delicious. The way her chin quivered when I told her she couldn’t have you either.” Giselle’s eyes glaze over, and a small smile plays across her lips. “She told me no one would believe me, but I assured her they would. That my reputation in this industry is stellar, and if I said that you had held me down and forced yourself on me, your hand on my neck choking me, then people would believe it. And if not…” She shrugs. “There was always the photos I had doctored up of my ‘injuries.’” She giggles as she makes air quotes, but as quick as the laugh appeared, it’s replaced with a vicious glare. “God, I can’t believe she told you the truth and then she still left you. What a bitch.”

  “She didn’t leave me.”

  “Look who’s delusional now.” She scoffs. “She dumped your ass in front of a pack of photographers. You know”—she waves a teasing finger in front of me—“you should really thank me for showing you her true colors.”

  “She didn’t leave me. We just wanted you to think she did. So we could get this
.” I reach across the bar and pick up my phone, turning off the recording and quickly emailing the file to Campbell. “You made it difficult, I’ll give you that. Wyatt was supposed to do this, but when you wouldn’t take her calls we had to change our plans, file fucking divorce papers to draw your evil ass out.” I grimace. “I’ve been trying to stumble across you for two weeks now. I was actually beginning to think we had gone through all of this bullshit for nothing, but I should have had more faith in your assholishness.” I shake my head with a sneer. “You were always going to track me down so you could gloat. What would have been the good in your fucked-up plan if you didn’t get to see me suffer firsthand?”

  Giselle is staring at me, her face frozen in a mask of horror and I force myself to take a moment to enjoy her comeuppance.

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “What am I going to do with it? Campbell is probably emailing it to every entertainment news network as we speak. We are going to make sure everyone hears it, so they all know what a deranged bitch you are.” I stand, eager to get out of here and far away from her. “Your career is over, Giselle. Wyatt and I win.”

  Then I turn and walk away, ready to go and get my girl.

  Wyatt

  Three weeks ago…

  I lean back on my stool and a small sigh slips past my lips as I stare at the canvas in front of me. It’s beautiful, I’m objective enough to see that. The darkness of the last few weeks is lifting, and some lightness has made its way onto the canvas. My art has always been a reflection of my heart and I’m relieved to see, as well as feel, that I am coming out on the other side.

  All of this Giselle bullshit has only made Flynn and me stronger, our commitment more fierce. We are going to make this work, I’ve never been more certain of anything. It’s as though the hand that has been squeezing the life out of my heart for all of these years has finally lost its grip and I can finally breathe easily again.

  I move to pick up the canvas when I’m startled by a low whistle of appreciation from behind me.

  “You are talented, I’ll give you that.”

  I turn and my stomach drops when I see Giselle standing in the doorway. Squaring my shoulders, I stand and turn to face her. My hands land on my hips and I can feel my eyes narrow,

  “How did you get in here?” I know for a fact Zane is out front and Connor is standing guard out back. There is no way in hell either of them would let Giselle anywhere near me.

  “Sweetheart, I can get in anywhere I want. Everyone has a price, and I am more than willing to pay. The owner of this building was surprisingly amenable to my offer.” She smiles, but it fails to reach her eyes and the result is one of menace. “I wonder if you’ll be as open to my proposition.”

  Clenching my teeth, I step away from my easel, trying to figure out how quickly I can get all of my stuff out of this art studio. The dream art space that Flynn rented for me only weeks ago, the one that earned him the blow job of the decade, has suddenly lost its sparkle.

  I move toward the cubby at the rear of the studio that holds my purse. “I’m not leaving him. I thought that would have been clear after your last pathetic attempt at blackmailing me.”

  “Oh, but I think you will, Cherry.” She spits the name out with venom. “And let me tell you why.”

  Ten minutes later, I am standing shell-shocked, watching Giselle’s retreating form, wondering how anyone could possibly be so evil.

  But if she thinks I’m going to roll over and let her malicious ass get what she wants, she doesn’t know me very well.

  She’ll figure it out soon enough, though.

  I pace the room anxiously, waiting for Flynn to get here. My fingers twisted in the oversize t-shirt I was sleeping in when I got the call, I’m waiting for this whole nightmare to finally be over. Campbell’s last message said he would be landing forty-five minutes ago and there’s a high chance that there will be a hole in Charlie’s rug by the time he gets here.

  Tired of staring at the walls in the living room, I head into the kitchen to make a coffee. Not because I want one, but because I need to have something to concentrate on other than the clock.

  I have just taken the milk out of the refrigerator when the pounding on the front door starts and I drop the carton, watching the creamy liquid spread across the floor.

  Choosing to believe that Charlie will forgive me for the mess, I turn and sprint to the door, yanking it open.

  Before I can speak, I’m pushed backward and pressed against the wall. Flynn’s mouth crashes to mine, his tongue teasing, as he kisses me fiercely. His hands cup my face, holding me in place, and when we finally break apart, he sweeps his thumbs over my skin, gently tracing the slope of my cheekbones.

  “Did you get it? Is it over? Did you really get it? She confessed?” My words are expelled in a rush.

  “I got it.” The heat of his lips kisses a line along my jaw. “She confessed, it’s over,” he whispers against my skin before he suddenly pulls away.

  “Why the hell weren’t you taking my calls?” He grips my thighs and lifts me until my legs wrap around his waist and we’re nose to nose.

  “Because you would have tried to talk me into coming home, and I would have let you.” I pepper his face with kisses. “Cam was right, we needed to be away from each other for it to work.”

  “I disagree, and now, I think you must be punished.” He bites down on the juncture where my neck and shoulder meet, and I can’t control the groan that escapes.

  “Promises, promises.”

  I really should know better than to antagonize the beast, because the next minute I’m lifted up, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, and the sting of his hand on my ass is all I can feel.

  On second thought, antagonizing the beast is kind of fun.

  I lift my chin slightly and our mouths are only an inch apart. I can feel his warm breath dance across my lips, and I don’t think I have ever been more desperate for the taste of him.

  He dips his head, breaching the space between us and I have what I want. His tongue sliding against mine, his mouth devouring me.

  He begins to walk, and I feel like I’m floating, too wrapped up in the sensations of him and me together, to worry about something as mundane as how I’m getting from one spot to the other.

  I expel a tiny moan when he breaks our connection, and my hands slide into his hair, ready to pull him back to me and finish what we started.

  “Where’s your fucking room?” His voice is pained, and it forces my eyes open, to see that instead of taking the turn at the end of the hallway that would take us to my bedroom, he has brought us to the kitchen.

  “Other way.” I tap his chest and nod toward the way we just came.

  “When will Charlie be home?”

  “She’s not coming back, she’s in Seattle on business.”

  My breaths are coming fast and hard and I note with delight the way his eyes fall to my chest.

  “Then this will do.”

  Before I can question what he means, we’re moving again and my ass is unceremoniously dumped on Charlie’s tiny kitchen table, causing it to wobble slightly. We both pause waiting to see what will happen, but the table steadies underneath me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “If we break her table, we’ll have to replace it,” I warn.

  His hands are sliding up my thighs, dragging my t-shirt up until his thumbs are tracing along my panties. So close to where I need them. But not nearly close enough.

  “I’m rich, I’ll buy her twenty fucking tables and it’ll be totally worth it.”

  He says this with a smirk that is just begging to be kissed. So, I do.

  Deep and hard and perfect.

  His tongue is meeting mine, stroke for stroke. One hand has my panties pulled to the side, a finger circling my clit in a way that has my knees tightening against his hips, while the other has my ass in a grip that I’m sure will leave fingerprints tomorrow.

  My hands wander to his je
ans, almost lazily until he pushes his cock against me, and I feel how hard he is.

  Suddenly, my movements are almost frenzied as I desperately open his jeans and free him, his cock pulsing in my hand, the tip an angry red. I move my hand, jerking him off a couple of times, loving the feel of him.

  How long has it been since I’ve had my hands on him?

  It will never be this long again.

  He groans into my mouth and I slip my hand around to his ass, pulling him to me. There’s a bereft moment when his fingers leave me and I scoot myself forward, almost unconsciously seeking his touch, only to be rewarded by the broad tip of him as he slowly enters me.

  I’m so wet, and the room is so quiet, that all I can hear is the sound of him thrusting into me. The force of each movement rattling the table and eliciting a grunt from him and a small moan from me.

  His head is tucked into my neck, and he still has one hand on my ass, dragging me to meet him every time he slams forward. The other hand snakes up under my tee and finds my breast, tweaking my nipple in a way that creates a deep thrum in my clit.

  It’s the perfect storm of sensation and I’m so close to coming, hovering right on the precipice, when he drives himself into me, burying himself so deep that it tips me over the edge, and I come with a resounding scream.

  He lets loose with an almost feral grunt. One that has my fingers digging into his hips, trying to bring him even closer. I feel him filling me up as he comes, his breath harsh and ragged in my ear.

  As I cling onto him, waiting for my breath to slow and steady, a small smile plays across my lips and I mark this down as a promise kept.

  Three months later…

  The small pergola is exactly the same as it was all those years ago. The bloom of the wisteria beautifully woven around the wooden beams, creating an intoxicating perfume that lingers in the air.

  I stand on the periphery of the group, thankful that my arrival has gone unnoticed. Grateful I have this moment to quietly observe the people I love as they wait to witness a moment I was too scared to dream of for so long.