Conspiring (10 page)

If I had known that asking to go to the wedding with him would have led to this craziness, I would have never done it. I could have never foreseen the repercussions of asking. Again, I just wish that if he has decided to end it, he would have the courtesy to tell me. This is what is burning me up more than anything. The thought of him having found someone else is running a very close second.

When the clock finally hits five, I gather my things into my bag. Worthless today, that’s what I’ve been. In fact, being worthless today has made me actually a tad thankful to still have Tina. As little as she seems to do correctly if I had a new paralegal, I would be training her this week. I’m thankful for a familiar face who knows me well enough to know to stay away from me when I get in this kind of mood.

As I walk out of my office, I glance down at Tina who has a pained look on her face. I can tell she’s not sure what to say to me. She probably thinks I’m a time bomb ticking waiting to go off and she means not to be the trigger.

“Have a good night,” I mumble as I walk towards the elevator.

She quickly replies, “You, too, Ms. Johnson.”

I do want to have a good night, but that is so dependent on a certain someone who won’t return my phone calls. It’s too early to go to Joe’s. I know I said I needed to stop the whole stalker thing, but I decide I’ll drive by Bradley’s office just to see if he’s there. He’s not.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide to go to his place. If he’s there, I’m just going to go to the door and bang on it until he answers.

A wave of relief floods me when I see that silver Nissan in his parking spot. I whip my car into the closest space available and practically run to the elevators. I can feel my stomach starting to churn. My lack of appetite means there is no food to vomit, which is a good thing. My body is warming, and I can feel the blush coming over my skin.

I knock when I reach his door and wait.
Nothing
. I knock harder.
Nothing
. I put my ear up to the door to see if I can hear anything. I don’t understand why his car would be here, but he wouldn’t be here or at work.

“Bradley, please talk to me,” I plead to the door. I’m unable to control my sob as tears trickle down my cheek. I’m leaning into the door because I want so badly to be close to him. My hand is on the door like it should be on his chest. I feel my knees getting weak. My heart is breaking. “Please.” I can barely talk through my sobs. “I need to talk to you, please, Bradley.”

I slide down his door and sit on the floor, falling apart in total despair. I have never been so emotionally attached, so vulnerable, and so hurt. I have one of those out of body moments where I can see myself sitting on the floor in front of an apartment of a guy who has crushed me. It’s like I’m not myself, but a bystander watching this pathetic girl. I don’t like what I see,
weakness
. I hate that I’ve let him do this to me.
Get yourself together, Veronica Johnson
.
Now
.

Wiping my tears with my fists, I climb up to unsteady feet. I touch the door, knowing it’s the last time. I’m done. I can’t do this. I can’t beg for him. No, I
won’t
.

Walking back to the car, I realize that I deserve better than
this
, better than Bradley Banks. Who cares how successful, sexy, and good in bed he is? I got a very good taste over the weekend of what I do deserve. I was stupid to let Ian drive out of my life Saturday. He was exactly what I needed. Like a precious gift placed in my life at the exact right time. The thought of him is the only thing that has made me happy all day.

I open my car door. I didn’t even lock it, which is very unlike me. I don’t even know who I am these days. My world has been rocked to the core. I slump into the seat, and stare blankly at the steering wheel pondering what to do.

Do I go to Joe’s tonight? Do I just go home and soak in a warm bath, eat ice cream, and wallow in this depression? Do I call Ian? He did leave his number for me. The next thought brings a smile to my face. Do I call Ian and ask him to meet me at Joe’s? My voice is hoarse from my crying as I laugh out loud at the vision of Bradley seeing me with another man. What better way to show him what he’s missing than for him to see me with someone else?

Chapter 9

I grab my phone from my purse, swipe to unlock the touch pad, and search for the number that Ian programmed into my phone Saturday. I smile as I think back to his sweet note but also at the thought of him making all this pain and anguish disappear with that sexy husky voice of his.

A gush of confidence overtakes my otherwise gloomy demeanor as I wait for him to answer. It only rings twice before I am relieved to hear his voice, “Hey, pretty girl.”

His voice alone is enticing and causes a radiating pang to travel from my ear to places that yearn for him to fill again. Add the sweetness factor, and I practically melt in the seat of my Mercedes…in Bradley’s parking lot. Internally, I rejoice at the irony of this situation and how far I’ve come from a week ago. A week ago when my entire life revolved around Bradley, a man who at best, was my man whore. I gave so much of me to him and got nothing but fantastic sex in return.

Yet, in such a short span of one week, I’ve been shown that I can have it all: great sex, a sweet man, and most of all, someone who will take care of me. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed that until Ian.

“Veronica, are you there?”

How is it that he has a way of making me so speechless? “Hey.”

“Everything okay?” He sounds concerned. Why does this still surprise me that he is caring? I shrug realizing it’s that my subconscious is thinking maybe it’s all too good to be true.

I swallow as I let the words sputter from my mouth, “I was gonna see if you had plans tonight.”

“I have soccer practice from seven to nine.”

“Oh. Who do you play soccer for?” That explains his body.

“I’m on scholarship with Georgia Tech,” he breathes into the phone.

The age gap between us briefly bothers me. I knew that he was younger than Bradley, but I didn’t expect him to be younger than me. Honestly, I don’t really care how old he is. He already strikes me as more mature than Bradley, and I barely know him. What I do know is that I will do anything to see him again. “What’s your last name?”

Ian laughs. “Hmm, not the reaction I expected, but okay. Sanders.” His voice drops, and I can only imagine that if he were standing in front of me the effect he’d be having on me with those hooded eyes and his light, sweet touches. “You? You’re Veronica what?”

“What reaction did you expect?” There is a pause. Was I supposed to act impressed that he’s still in college, or maybe I was supposed to stroke his ego about the soccer scholarship? Who knows? I quickly add, “And it’s Johnson.”

He exhales into the phone, “I don’t know what kind of reaction I was expecting. I don’t have plans after practice. Do you still want to get together?”

“Yes, do you want to meet at Joe’s, say nine?”

“Well. I’m not sure Joe’s is the best place. How are you feeling by the way?”

I furrow my brows, confused as to what the problem would be with Joe’s? “My cough is better, but no appetite still.”

“Good. What about I meet you at your house after practice? You need to eat. I could bring you some soup or something.”

“That’s a long way for you to have to come. I’ll be fine.”

“Veronica.” I love the way he says my name. Not condescending or arrogant, but sweet, sexy, and full of desire.

“Yeah?” I whisper.

I hear him drag in a breath. “Let’s be real. We both know if we meet at Joe’s we’ll still end up at your place. And if you can’t even eat or keep food down, is it such a great idea for you to be drinking?”

He’s right. I can’t drink. I would love to show Bradley if he’s there that I’m with him but in a way that would be obvious that I was just trying to make him jealous. I need to quit thinking about what Bradley would think or do. I need to quit thinking about him, period. “You have a point. So you’ll come by after practice, then?”

“Yep, it’s a date.”

The next few hours are going to be torture for me. They will be all the foreplay I need. “I can’t wait.” I can’t wait to lose myself, all of this worry, and all of this confusion in him.

Since I hung up with Ian, I have been in a better mood. When I got home, I immediately stripped out of my pant suit and heels. When I was deciding what to wear, the thought occurred to me to wear the outfit Ian picked out for me on Sunday, those cheerleader shorts and that Carolina girl shirt.

I climbed into my bed and wrapped myself in my comforter like a small child, huddled into a ball. The combination of the crying, the emotions, and knowing that I probably have a long night ahead of me made succumbing to my fatigue even easier.
What better way to pass time than to sleep it away
.

I can’t believe how tired I really was when I wake up at eight. I set up my computer on the love seat with a hot cup of tea, and start to catch up on the work I didn’t do today; a good distraction from the anticipation of tonight.

Not even thirty minutes later my doorbell pings, causing me to jump. It’s too early for Ian. This is when I hate living alone. I don’t like being here by myself at night, even if it isn’t completely dark yet.

A mental list is playing in my mind of who it could possibly be. I peek through the hole holding my breath. My heart is beating so hard I can hear it. I let out a breath of relief when I see Ian standing there holding bag full of what I assume is food.

I unlock the door and open it, excited, but puzzled. “You’re early.”

He raises an eyebrow while he eyes me up and down. “Are you complaining?” His lips curve into a smile.

His inspecting gaze reminds me of my outfit. That smile makes me think he must like it. I’ve not been able to take my eyes off of his since I opened the door. I am transfixed on him. “No. Not at all. You just scared me. I wasn’t expecting you for at least another hour.” I extend my arm to invite him into the foyer.

There is a silent, ferverish current between us, at least for me there is. He walks in and heads towards the kitchen. When he reaches the table at the end of the foyer, he mumbles something. I can’t understand what he said, but he seems frustrated. This is not how I thought tonight would start. He seems completely unaffected by me. This is awkward. I just want to kick him out, and go back to bed, swearing off all men.

He drops the bag carelessly, turning to me. In one stride my body is thrust back into the door. The greedy need between us is like the gravity of the earth. You know it’s there, and no matter how much you resist it, you can’t deny it. You can’t avoid it. You ultimately are pulled down, grounded. When his lips crash into mine, it’s just as I had hoped. All my worries, all my fears, and all of my confusion are gone in an instant.

His hand fists through my hair as he pulls me in closer, deepening the kiss. Like the struggle of tug of war, I push him back, and immediately wrestle his gray shirt off of his hot, toned soccer physique. This is different than the last time. It’s less mind games and more hunger, more need.

He barely stops kissing me as he mirrors my action. He swiftly pulls my shirt over my head tossing it in our path on the way to the bedroom. Breathlessly, he groans, “Do you know how hard it was for me to dress you in this Sunday?”