Invisible Love Letter (21 page)

I
needed a day to think
, so I dropped Lyra off at school and continued to drive. My mind clouded, I drove aimlessly through the LA traffic. With no destination in sight, I let traffic control where I drove. When my thoughts felt claustrophobic in my tiny car, I found my way toward my spot on the beach.

I parked, discarded my flip-flops, and walked through the cool sand. The beach was vacant in the cool December weather. I sat down and rested my head against my knees. I cried, laughed, and cursed into the ocean. My chest ached from the recent events. Weston had written that song about our love and the daughter he’d never get to meet when all along she’d been in his vicinity. Jeremy had loved me, despite all of my flaws. He’d been by my side through the dark days, but I’d lied to him for my own personal gain.

“I knew you’d be here.” Weston sank onto the sand next to me. “I called your office and Stacy said you had taken a personal day. I guess you're upset about the song.”

“No.” My eyes never moved from the crashing waves. “It's a beautiful song, Weston.”

“How's Jeremy?”

“Don't.” I hated that my voice wavered.

A few seconds passed before Weston spoke again. “You only come up here when things are too much. What is it?”

I hated that he knew me like no one else. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“I left Chelsea.” Weston dropped that on my lap.

“Don’t—”

“I don't want to be with her, Em. I have always loved you. I’ll forever love you. We've grown so much. We’re older and wiser. We can finally be together now. The record label is here, my studio is in LA, my life is right here again. I promise I won’t ask you to move across the world to be with me. I’m not going anywhere. This time around we can chase your dreams, too.”

A lone tear fell. I caught it with my left hand and my ring glistened up at me. My life had turned into an utter mess. “Stop.” I shook my head. “Please stop. I can’t. We can’t—”

“I love you.” Weston moved closer. His hand reached for my face. I leaned into his tough-skinned palm and wept. “And I know you love me, too. I see it in your eyes. It’s magic. Our love is pure magic, and you don’t get that kind of magic twice in a lifetime.”

“Our love is messy and ugly.” My lips quivered.

“Messy is good. You don’t need to be perfect all the time. You don’t need to make sure everything is in place. So what if our love is messy and imperfect? When everything is perfect, you miss the moments in between.”

I cried harder and Weston brought me to his chest to comfort me. “Don't do this to us,” he pleaded. “I know you love me. If you want me to quit Pointless Statement, I will. If it reminds you of your parents, we can change it all. For you, I'll do anything. I can't lose you twice, Emilia. Please.”

“Weston, please stop.” I pushed off the sand and stood. I swiped my hands against my jean shorts, then wiped my soaked face.

“Emilia, give me strike one back. I’ll leave it all for you.”
Strike one, you’re a musician.

“
I made a promise to Jeremy. He proposed and I said yes. I love him. I'm going to marry him. I promised him.” I turned and walked towards my car, but Weston’s hand laced around my elbow and twirled me towards him. “You made me promises, too!” he growled before he yanked my body towards his. His lips crashed over mine. His tongue swirled in my mouth, his hands entwined in my hair, and at that moment all was forgotten.

But it was only a moment.

I pushed off his chest, my lips swollen from his kiss. “Why do you make it impossible to breathe? You can't do that to me. You can't tell me all this now! I got over you!” I slammed my fist on his chest. “It took me years, but I moved on. I’m in love with another man. A good man! Leave me alone.”

I yanked away from Weston’s body and ran back to my car.

J
eremy's truck
was parked in his driveway and a wave of relief washed over me. I sprinted out of my car and ran towards his house. Any other time I would have opened it with my key, but he had asked for space.

I rapped my hand on his front door until I heard movement behind it. Jeremy pulled the door back. He looked exhausted, worn out, and like me, broken.

“I'm so sorry,” I cried.

His arms opened up to me. I leaped into them and cried into his chest. Jeremy kicked the door closed, then scooped me up by my legs, and brought me to the couch.

He was my solace.

When my cries faded, he pulled me away from his chest. His chocolate eyes gazed deep into mine. “We need to talk.” His lips were pressed in a straight line and his eyes were hooded.

“O-Okay.” My voice was weak and raspy.

“I don't know how to say this. I have spent the last twelve hours wondering why you’ve never spoken about Lyra's father, why you never told me about Weston. And then I realized you never had a chance to get over him.”

“That's not true.” I shook my head rapidly.

“Let me finish.” Jeremy held my hands and kneeled in front of me. “I began to think about how we met and how I showed up at your house after Lyra was born. I became your safety net. I'm the consolation prize here. Your life with Weston is too similar to your parents, and I understand why you chose not to say anything about him or about Lyra. But, Emilia, when he was singing that song last night. I walked away and then I turned back to watch you. As angry and hurt as I was, I stopped to see your reaction. You have
never
looked at me the way you looked at him.”

“That's not fair.” I bowed my head in shame. “You’re not my safety net. Please, Jeremy.”

Jeremy lifted my chin and forced me to look at him. “Do you still love him?” His eyes filled with tears.

“I love you.”

“Be honest.”

“I gave him my heart a long time ago.”

Jeremy waited a few minutes before he spoke. “You have a child with this man and you’ve never said a word to him about his daughter. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't mind waiting for you, Em, but I don't want to be the second choice.”

“You’re not.”

“Shh.” He shook his head to stop me from speaking. “I’m going to stay at my brother’s place for a couple of weeks. I want you to take this time and think about what you want and make a decision once and for all. If you want to be with him, Emilia, then be with him, but make a choice.” Jeremy swallowed and then spoke in a clear, crisp voice. “He has the right to know about Lyra.”

Jeremy leaned in and kissed my cheek before he walked out of my life.

J
eremy had been gone
for ten days and I was more confused than ever. I had to tell Weston about Lyra, but how? How do you tell a man you loved—no,
still
love—that you kept his child from him for the past four years?

I was alone.

In a dark hole.

I called in sick and took off work the first week, then worked from home the second week. I couldn’t face the world. But after much soul searching, I decided today was the day. According to Stacy, Weston was in town and his schedule was clear, so I dropped Lyra off at Pre-K and sat in my car for a good twenty minutes until I had the courage to pick up the phone.

“Hello?” Weston answered after a few rings.

“Hey…” My voice was weak and shaky. “We need to talk … Can we meet up? Maybe grab lunch?”

“Yeah, I'm at the Ritz Carlton downtown. Everything okay?” Weston asked.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

I pulled into the valet and waited for the attendant. Gripping the steering wheel, I stared at my engagement ring; I’d never given it back to Jeremy. I twisted it off my finger and shoved it into an inner pocket of my purse. All that was left on my hand was the ring Weston had given me a lifetime ago.

After I’d applied an extra coat of lip-gloss, I sent Weston a text message.

Me: Meet me in the lobby?

Weston: There are paparazzi all around, but I have a suite. Room 2308 Come on up.

I
stepped
out of the elevator with my heart clenched inside my chest. Each footstep pulled at my lungs. Each breath was hitched. I stood before his door, my stomach tied in knots as my fingernails tapped gently. The faint noise sounded like a jackhammer in the quite hallway.

“Well, hello there,” he greeted when he pulled the door back.

My courage to tell him he was a father seemed impossible when I looked at him. His hair was damp, his face freshly shaven. His jeans hugged around his waist and an Elephant Room T-shirt covered his torso. I had the exact same shirt; it had been his at one point, but mine was hidden deep in my closet in a box I refused to open.

“Come in.”

I walked in and looked around his suite. The walls where painted white, modern furniture were eloquently spread out throughout the bedroom, and a touch of green was splattered in the art décor. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Soda? . . . Liquor?” Weston added the last as a joke.

“No, I’m fine.”

“So what's up?” Weston led me to the dining area that was connected to the living room.

“I need to tell you something.” The last time I saw Weston it had been at the beach. All of our communication since then had been via email. I placed both hands on the table to steady my nerves.

“Where's your engagement ring?” Weston eyes locked on my hands and then flew up to meet my unsteady gaze.

I twirled the ring he’d given me. “Huh?” I looked down at my fingers. “Oh…” I swallowed. “Jeremy left.”

He stepped forward. “You guys aren't…” He shook his head slightly.

“At the moment, no. But that’s not what I’m here to tell you.”

Weston stalked me like his prey. His eyes changed with a blink. “I'm going to kiss you.” He lifted my chin with his fingers, desire clear in his eyes.

“Weston…”

“Push me away if you want, Em, but I had a taste of you on the beach and it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy my hunger for you. I want to hold you. Taste you. I want to be wrapped in your tantalizing scent.” He pushed my hair away from my shoulder and kissed a trail up my neck.

Focus, Emilia.
But it was impossible. Weston’s love was like a tornado; it ripped through my heart and left shattered pieces along the way. I was helpless against the storm.

“I’m not going to let you get away again,” he whispered.

I held back a sob. I wanted that too, I wanted that with him. All of him.

Giving in to my own desire, I threw my arms around Weston. Our lips locked with one another, frantic with need for the years they spent apart. Weston’s hands trailed down my spine and hooked around my legs. He lifted me by my thighs and placed my bottom on the cool glass table. His body invaded the space between my legs. My hand played at the hem of Weston’s T-shirt for a brief second before I lifted it over his rigid abdomen. The man I’d known before was a boy compared to the man who stood before me. Weston had packed on twenty pounds of pure muscle.

I pulled my lips away from his to admire his core, chest, and arms. My fingernails grazed his chest and towards his tattoo that covered his left pec and continued down towards his arm for a half sleeve. The black tribal tattoo encircled his smooth tan skin. The word
Yellow Gel
had been inked to his skin permanently. I traced each letter over his heart. It was another invisible lover letter.

“Yellow gel,” I whispered.

“It’s always been you.”

Weston's hands left the nape of my neck to trail over my shoulders and down my back. As they arrived at the hem of my T-shirt they tugged, but I moved my hand to block him from lifting it any higher. My body wasn’t the same twenty-one-year-old body he knew; the stretch marks on my stomach weren’t visible, but the skin had stretched. Weston pulled away from my lips and regarded me quizzically, his eyebrows scrunched together. “I don’t have the same body you remember,” I muttered.

“No, you're more beautiful now than I remember.”

His hands moved to lift my shirt again, and I allowed him to slide my chiffon blouse over my head. His eyes landed on my ample bosom. His fingers gently traced the outline of the lace material of my bra, and my nipples pebbled, pushed against the cotton fabric.

Gasping for air, I let Weston undo my bra. The cool air that circulated the room hit my bare chest like an icicle. Weston leaned down to capture a heavy breast in his mouth. His hands fondled them as his tongue lapped from one nipple to the other. When I felt I was on the brink and could no longer take it, Weston dropped to the floor in front of me.

“Lay back,” he ordered.

I saw the fire that burned in his eyes. I reclined on the cold glass table. Weston wrapped my legs around his shoulders and hitched my skirt up. He shifted my panties to the side and brought his lips to my core. I sucked in a breath as his tongue slowly slid up the center. The warmth from his mouth, the sensations he caused, was enough to stop all movement of my lungs. I grabbed his hair and pulled as he swirled the tip of his tongue in sweet circles. Heat built in my stomach, ready to explode into a full-blown fire with each movement he made. His fingers dug into my thighs as he licked faster, harder, and within a few short minutes, he had my body convulsing. I cried out his name as tremors took over my body. Weston stood. A sly grin appeared on his face and then his tongue slid across his upper lip.

God, he was fucking perfect.

In one swift motion, Weston had me off the table and in his arms. He strode through the living room and towards the bedroom. The California king bed sat in the center of the room. Weston placed me on the bed and tugged at the buttons of his pants. I gawked as he discarded his clothes and his erection sprang free. He was all man. Solid rock.

There were no words spoken as Weston slid my skirt and panties down my legs. His body moved between my legs as he aligned himself. His upper body lowered so our faces were close together.

“Hi,” I whispered and laced my hands around his neck.

Weston kissed the tip of my nose. “God, you're so beautiful.” It was the last thing he said to me before he sank deep inside. Weston took his time at first, slow and deep. My legs hooked around his waist as he set the pace. The ache deep inside me began to build again. I was on the edge, about to ask for more, when Weston flipped us over and sat up. His lips never left mine as I rode him. My release came first; I threw my head back and screamed as my body tightened. Weston drove into me and moments later he found his own climax.

We stayed in each other's arms, our legs tangled together as the hour passed. Weston drew on my skin as I rested my head on his chest.

My heart clenched.

I reminded myself why I was there.

I needed to tell him about Lyra.

Weston turned over and began to kiss my neck again, his lips tickling my collarbone. The ringing of his phone didn't even faze him as he continued to place feather-soft kisses down my shoulders. When it began to ring for the second time, I pulled the sheets down. “Are you going to get that?”

“No.” He moved on top of me to kiss my ribs. “I'm not done kissing your body. I have four years worth of kisses to make up for. I hope you're not planning on leaving this room anytime soon.”

I giggled and his tongue flicked my nipple, but my laughter was short lived when his phone rang again. “Answer your phone.”

“No. I don't have a manager, and the guys are probably still sleeping. And I know my publicist is busy at the moment.” He grabbed my thighs and wrapped them around his waist. His arousal grew by the second.

“You're an—”

Weston's hands gripped my ribs. “Say ass and I'll tickle.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” I laughed and threw my hands up in defeat. My laughter was cut short yet again when his phone rang.

“What the fuck.” He groaned and threw the covers off our bodies. Crawling across the bed, he slid his finger across the phone before picking it up. “Hello?” Though it was faint I could hear a female on the other side of the phone. “Chelsea, calm down. I'm not understanding you.”

I pulled the sheet over my body, feeling ashamed for what we had just done. Subconsciously, I was shielding my heart from what was about to happen. The female spoke again and in mere seconds Weston’s face changed. Frown lines creased on his forehead. This wasn't good. I sat up, my mind running a mile a minute, imagining everything that might be said on the other side of that phone call.

“Okay, I'll be right there.” His head dropped. “Chelsea, it's going to be okay, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

My heart tightened in my chest.

It was too late.

I bit the inside of my lip and kept my emotions in check as Weston said goodbye. He laid his phone on the bed, his head still low as he ran his fingers through his hair. Each second felt like an hour. Weston nodded his head as if he was talking to himself, then he met my gaze. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Hey . . . “ I rushed to his side, my hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Chelsea is pregnant.” His voice was weak. “And she's bleeding.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh, Weston…”

“What if I did this? What if leaving her caused her too much stress?”

I swallowed my own pain. “It's going to be okay.”

“I have to go to her.”

At that moment, I knew I would never tell him about Lyra. She would be my secret. He was getting a fresh start with Chelsea and I couldn't stop that from happening. “Go.” I prayed that my tears wouldn't fall.

“Em…” He cupped my cheek with his hand.

I shook my head slightly. “Don't say anything. We both know this thing with us would never work. We’ve been doomed from the start.” We both knew Weston would do the right thing and stay by Chelsea's side. Any hope of us being together was just that—hope.

“I'm sorry.” He brought his forehead to mine.

“Me, too.”

Weston kissed my lips once more, then moved off the bed and towards the bathroom. By the time he came out of the bathroom I was gone; it was easier that way.

I pulled out my cell phone as I waited for the valet attendant to bring my car around and sent Weston a text message.

Me: you'll be a great dad x.