Color of Forgiveness
Read Color of Forgiveness Online
Authors: Madeleine Beckett
Madeleine Beckett
COLOR OF FORGIVENESS
Published by Madeleine Beckett at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Madeleine Beckett
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet
usage, without written permission of the author.
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the hard work of this author.
The author published an earlier serialized
version of this story online with different characters as
Color
of Loneliness
under the pseudonym Exquisite Edward.
To my hubs and dear son who endured my crazed
rants, my hysterical tears and my occasional running through the
house like a fool in my Tweety & Sylvester PJ’s when my brain
actually worked and I got hit with the occasional idea.
I can’t give enough thanks to my beautiful
team of girls that helped me with this venture: Viola, Pam, Jana,
Naomi, Dawn, and Liz. And a special shout out to Betty’s beautiful
eyes.
CHAPTER 8
TANGERINE, UNEXPECTED
CHAPTER 15
CERULEAN, CONTENTMENT
CHAPTER 16
DAFFODIL, ANTICIPATION
Previously…
Myra stares at her for a moment. She coughs
and clears her throat again, shifting her weight from one foot to
the other. “And you are?”
“Oh, sorry I’m being so rude. I just woke
up,” the supermodel says, laughing softly. “I’m Sabrina. His
wife.”
Myra gasps as her heart thunders in her
ears. Her eyes widen as her gaze drops to a massive cluster of
platinum and diamonds glistening ominously at her from the woman’s
left ring finger. Sabrina’s finger. Sabrina. His
wife
.
Myra’s stomach rolls; she feels faint. She
can’t breathe. “Wife?” she says with a heavy breath, her voice
barely above a whisper.
“Technically ex-wife, but we're working on
that,” Sabrina says with a small smile as she stares down at the
ring on her finger.
Myra gulps for air as she swallows down the
urge to be sick. She has to get out of here. She has to get away.
Her eyes stay fixated on that ring as she stumbles backwards down
the stairs. She turns and runs towards her car. When she hears the
door close behind her, she startles as tears begin to burn hot in
her eyes.
Her hands shake as she grasps the steering
wheel. How could he not tell her he was married? How could he have
an ex-wife – soon-to-be-wife again – and do all those things he did
last night? How could he make her feel the way he did? Make love to
her. Make her care for him. What kind of a man would do all of
those things knowing he had
her
waiting on him at home?
She bends forward, grasping her stomach as
she blows out heavy breaths. The more she thinks about it, the
clearer things become. This has to be the big secret he’s been
hiding from her. He ran out on her yesterday morning because he had
his beautiful
wife
waiting for him at home. He used her for
his pleasure and then ran. He’s a cheating lowlife just like Trent.
She feels so stupid for telling him what happened with Trent. He
probably laughed to himself over that since he had plans to do the
exact same thing.
Her face drops into her hands as she sobs.
But she sits up and quickly wipes her eyes on her sleeve because
she knows she can’t stay here in front of his house crying over him
when his wife probably just slipped into bed and curled up next to
him – he does like to cuddle. That thought brings on another round
of sobs.
Sniffling, she looks back at the house.
Every instinct tells her to run. Running she can do well. She just
needs to leave this stupid town and that broken down house. She has
nothing tying her here. Maybe she could go back to Philly. That way
she could be near Susie again. Staring at Dylan’s house, she starts
the engine.
But another, smaller part of her tells her
not to run. It tells her to stand up for herself and confront him
like she should have with Trent. Confront Dylan and tell him that
he can’t treat her like that.
She picks up the hem of her sweatshirt and
scrubs it roughly across her eyes. Slouching in her seat, she chews
her thumbnail as she stares at the front door, still trying to
decide what to do.
If she confronts him and he did get back
with his ex, he’ll just deny that anything happened between them
anyway, making her look foolish. And it will break her heart even
more.
She feels so weak. She doesn’t have the
strength to face him. What good will it do anyway?
Quickly wiping her eyes again, her hand
reaches for the gearshift, her foot lightly touching the brake
pedal. She puts the car in drive, her decision made.
Run.
CHAPTER 1
Dylan stirs in his sleep vaguely aware of a
soft voice murmuring in his ear. A hand gently runs through his
hair; he groans and stretches and tries to lean closer into the
soft caresses. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards slightly as
he visualizes the sexy, brown-haired beauty he feels touching
him.
A deep, throaty hum resonates in his chest
when warm fingers gently tuck his hair behind his ear, tickling
it.
“Baby?”
His eyes snap open.
“Baby, I’m so sorry to wake you, but there’s
some woman named Myra at the door. She said she won’t go away until
she sees you.”
With his eyebrows scrunched tightly
together, he stares up in astonishment at Sabrina. What the fuck is
she doing here? He thought those were Myra’s hands touching him.
His mind scrambles for a few seconds, desperately trying to figure
out what the hell is happening. Almost immediately, the events of
yesterday slam into him. With a quick shove, he pushes Sabrina away
from him, almost knocking her to the floor, and jumps off the
bed.
“What the fuck?” he croaks, his voice still
thick with sleep. “What’s she doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
He barely registers Sabrina’s sarcastic
drawl as he charges for the bedroom door and barrels down the
hallway. Still half asleep, he stumbles and hits his shoulder
against the wall causing a string of mumbled curses to fly from his
lips. By the time he gets to the front door, the gravity of the
situation starts to dawn on him. Myra is here. Myra met Sabrina.
Shit is about to hit the fan.
With his heart pounding and panic spreading
from his scalp to his toes, he flings open the door.
“What’s going on?” he shouts hoarsely. Then
his dark brows furrow as he inventories Myra’s swelled, bloodshot
eyes, her bright red nose and splotchy cheeks. Her face crumples
and his heart immediately twists painfully in his chest.
He swallows hard. “It’s not what you
think…”
Her crumpled expression disappears, replaced
with narrowed eyes and thin lips. “It’s not? Is that or is that not
your ex-wife?”
His eyes widen. How much did Sabrina tell
her? He blows out a heavy breath, pissed at himself that he didn’t
take a second to ask Sabrina exactly what she said to Myra before
he charged out here.
“Well, yeah, but…”
“And you didn’t think it was important to
tell me that fact?”
“Well, you have an ex too so—”
“Ex-
boyfriend,
not ex-
husband
…
there’s a big difference.”
“Not really. The only difference is a piece
of damn paper.”
Myra gives him an ominous glare. Quite
frankly, it frightens him a little. “Sorry,” he adds quickly.
“Did you leave my house yesterday because of
her?”
“Yeah, but—”
“You make me sick, Dylan.”
“Listen,
please
let me explain…”
“Dylan? Is everything okay?” Sabrina asks in
an innocent voice as she sidles up next to him and slips her hand
possessively around his bicep.
Dylan wrenches his arm away from her and
practically snarls when he begins speaking. “Sabrina, get the…” his
voice trails off when his eyes focus in on Sabrina’s lack of
clothing. His mouth drops open. “What the fuck are you wearing?
Where are your goddamn clothes?” he yells, not able to believe what
his goddamn eyes are seeing right now. How did he miss Sabrina’s
bare legs and tits hanging out? It was because he was in such a
damn hurry to get out here to Myra. Then he glances down at himself
and gulps. He’s wearing what he slept in… a pair of black boxers,
and nothing else.
Sabrina merely smiles at him coyly and
shrugs her shoulders.
There’s a motherfucking shit storm brewing
on his front porch, and he’s got no damn clue how to outrun it. He
swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his throat dry as
fuck as he begins to realize what this must look like to Myra.
He levels an angry glare at Sabrina. “Get
back in the house and get your fucking clothes on.” He takes in a
deep breath and turns his attention back to Myra. “I need to talk
to Myra… in private.”
Sabrina makes an annoyed huffing sound
before she turns around and walks back into the house. Dylan steps
out onto the porch and closes the door behind him.
A gust of frigid air hits his bare skin, but
he ignores it. Instinctively, he reaches a hand out towards Myra
just wanting to touch her, ground himself to her in some way. But
his heart drops into his stomach when she blanches and takes a
small step back. Slowly, he drops his hand to his side and clenches
it into a fist. He has to say something. He has to do something to
try to fix this fucked-up mess. But all he can seem to do is grind
his teeth together. How can he even begin to explain this shit to
Myra?
“You better start telling me what’s going
on…” Myra says before her voice falters. “I… I can’t… how could you
do this to me?” she asks, her voice breaking on the last word,
before she quickly wipes her eyes with her coat sleeve.
He wants to touch her so fucking badly that
he can hardly stand it; the urge almost overwhelms him. Taking a
small step towards her, he forces himself to keep his hands at his
sides and drags in a ragged breath, causing his lungs to burn from
the frosty air. “I have so many things I need to explain…” he says,
staring off in the distance behind her as he tries to come up with
what to say next. He doesn’t even know where the hell to start.
Turning, he looks at the door behind him,
his gaze darting to the windows to see if he can see Sabrina. Even
though he doesn’t catch sight of her, he knows she’s right there
lurking close, hanging onto every damn word they’re saying. Another
gust of wind hits his practically naked body causing a shiver to
run through him. A rash of goose bumps breaks out on his skin.
Looking back down at Myra’s angry expression
and tear-filled eyes, panic starts to settle in because he can’t
talk to Myra right now with Sabrina listening and with him standing
in only his boxers freezing his fucking ass off.
“Well?” she says.
“I, uh… look, this isn’t the time or the
place to talk about this especially with
her
here,” he says,
motioning his head towards the door behind him.
Myra completely ignores him. “Did you sleep
with her?” she demands, her eyes holding a fire in them.
“What? Fuck no. I swear on my damn life
nothing happened. We’re divorced for fuck’s sake.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well, it does to me. I can’t believe you
think I’d do that shit especially after, you know…” Quickly
glancing behind him, he drops his voice to a whisper, “…
us
.”
“She’s wearing your
shirt
, Dylan.
You’re in your
boxers
. What am I supposed to think? I’m not
stupid.”