Rendezvous (14 page)

“It was a good while before he came back out Miss. Bentley,” Maddie adds.

“I see, and did you by chance get a look at this man?” I ask as a puzzled look crosses both of their faces.

“Didn’t you Miss?” Maddie questions.

“No, actually, I was feeling sick last night and retired early. I was asleep long before the party ended. Actually it was in full swing when I went up and took my shower. As you can see I was even too tired to bother with drying my hair,” I say pulling on the ponytail. “So again did you see what he looked like?”

“Oh my goodness...I didn’t even think to. I mean I just assumed that he was…well that you invited him. Perhaps we should inform your father. I don’t think he’d be pleased to know someone was in your bedroom while you slept.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I don’t know how long he was in my room, but I can assure you nothing happened. Well aside from him leaving me a gift,” I say while holding up the box.

Suddenly the conversation turns from worrying about an intruder, to excitement over what’s in the box.

I open the lid and remove the bracelet before handing it to Mrs. Anders to clasp. Once she has it secure on my wrist, I’m bombarded with questions about the man who left it for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about Tristan, but neither woman relents until I give them some gossip of my own. I divulge what happened the night before out on the terrace and that I suspect it may have been him, though the only person who can confirm those suspicions is my father and he’s nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 13

Tristan

For a moment, everything was perfect. I had Bentley back in my arms. Then something spooked her and she took off like a bat out of hell. It was like she was fighting with the realization that it was me with her. I know she wanted me, I could feel the desperation in her kiss, so I can’t for the life of me understand why fuck she is still running.

I resign myself to that fact that whatever we had just started we won’t be finishing, at least not tonight. I spend the next couple of hours drinking with Cage and deciding what the fuck I should do when it dawns on me that her Christmas present is still in my jacket pocket. Luckily it didn’t drop out when she took off.

Making sure that no one is paying attention, I go upstairs and check each room until I come to one that is locked. I figure that one is likely Bentley's. When you’re in the military, it’s almost guaranteed you’ll pick up a few special talents. One of mine is being able to move without being seen or heard.  Another is being able to pick just about any lock under the sun. Being careful to not to make much noise, I quickly open her lock.

I close the door as I enter the room and look around. I expect her room to look like the rest of the house, posh and over-decorated. Instead, I find it be complementary to Bentley’s personality. The only thing that sticks out is the extra-large poster bed that is definitely a step up from the full-size one back home.

I don’t know what to expect when I approach her, but I am not prepared for the little shock she delivers. It’s the last thing I’d expect and it goes against everything I know about her, yet here she is with her arms wrapped tightly around my bundled up Marines t-shirt. This girl is a fucking conundrum draped in an enigma. Nothing about her makes any sense.

I sit down on the edge of her bed and watch her sleep. I’m not sure what she was dreaming about, but judging by the whimpers escaping her, it doesn’t sound pleasant. Something comes over me, a fucking need I thought I had curbed and instead is back with a vengeance. I whisper things in her ear I have no business saying, but she needs to hear. I want her so fucking badly. I need to remember what it’s like to get lost inside of her, and I tell her so.

Before I getting up from the bed, I place a kiss to her forehead, then one against her lips. I watch her bury her face into my shirt to her as if she’s holding on for dear life. Then I lay the box down beside her and sneak back out of the room.

I had every intention of seeing Bentley this morning, but that was before my whole fucking world got flipped upside down. It went from something that should have been fucking wonderful to a goddamn nightmare, and here I am standing at a terminal on Christmas morning trying to get any goddamn flight available.

Cage called me sometime shortly after midnight. No one knows what happened; she just fell. I’m waiting on a progress report as I sit in the airport. The doctor says she suffered a stroke and that she’s non-responsive, but that was three hours ago. My Aggie is sitting in a fucking hospital bed while I parade around like some fucking Romeo. As I sit here waiting for the flight, everything from the past few days bombards my thoughts. Knowing I won’t be making it back to Bentley’s, I send Marco a text.

I don’t give him an explanation, I just tell him I won’t be there. It’s better this way, if Bentley knew…fuck! Bentley will know as I left her gift by her side. She will know I was there.

It’s another four hours before I pull into the hospital parking lot. I already have her room number so don’t stop for directions. This isn’t my first time here. Walking into the tiny room, I’m instantly overwhelmed by all of the machines beeping and humming, and of the tubes connected to her. Watching her lying in that bed reminds me of Bentley’s attack last year. It also pushes Bentley back to the front of my mind…remembering that she came upon Marco in this very same position.

I sit there for what seems like hours holding her hand. A nurse comes in a few times to check on her. Apparently she woke up sometime during my flight and is now just resting. I speak briefly with the doctor, who informs me that they reached her very quickly and there are no signs of permanent nerve damage. Even knowing she’s okay doesn’t stop the gut wrenching pain I feel. I want so badly to fix this, to take her home. I should have been here with her. I hadn’t missed a holiday with Aggie in I can’t even fucking remember how long, other than when I was overseas. She’s my fucking rock and when she needed me most, I wasn’t there.

I refuse to leave the room even after visiting hours. The doctors didn’t bother fighting me on it; otherwise I’d be locked the fuck up because I’m not going anywhere. Though at some point in the night I must have dozed off and am jolted away by her stirring.

“Tristan? What are you doing here, sweet cakes?”

I hated that nickname as a kid. She called me it one day after catching me sneaking one of her sticky buns, and it stuck. Now though, I know it’s just another way of her letting me know she loves me.

“Where else would I be, Aggie? I’m so sorry. I should have been here with you. I should have been at your side. It should have been me taking care of you,” I say, hoping she will forgive me.

“You were exactly where you were supposed to be. I may be older now Tristan, but I can still take care of myself. That girl of yours, that’s where you need to be. She needs you more than I do.”

I shake my head, my guilt consuming me and eating me fucking alive. “No Aggie, she doesn’t. She’s doing just fine. She’s started a whole new life, and she finally found the family she so desperately needs. She doesn’t need me; you need me.”

Except that isn’t true and my heart refuses to accept that lie. I don’t know how happy Bentley is in her new life or how well she’s doing without me. But I know for a fact that Aggie doesn’t really need me. She’s never needed anyone. But I need her. I don’t know what the fuck I would do without her. She is my rock, the one person that keeps me sane, and the only person for whom I would walk away from Bentley.

Aggie has a way of seeing right through me. She never fails to know whenever I’m lying. “You don’t mean that. I know damn well you didn’t spend all of these months searching for her, doing what you thought was necessary to protect her, just to walk away, Tristan. You may be able to fool yourself into believing that, but don’t try pulling that shit with me. I’m not blind. You forget I know you better than you know yourself,” she chastises.

“I’m not leaving you, Aggie, and Bentley would understand that. Maybe it’s just fate. Maybe she and I are only ever meant to have moments. I can’t imagine any two people meant to be together, having to jump through this many fucking hoops, so maybe this is how it’s meant to be.”

“Don’t you dare go sappy and sentimental on me, young man. You know that’s complete bullshit. Get your head out of your ass, and go get your girl. I’m not going anywhere. Haven’t you learned that by now? It will take more than a hiccup to knock this old lady out. Now get your ass up, and get out of here.”

I laugh as she scolds me while trying to hold onto her pride. The simple truth is not being here for her, leaving her in this hospital bed alone, is something I would never do. I’d never leave her side knowing she isn’t one hundred percent. Even if the doctors clear her, there’s no way of knowing if she’s going to have after effects, and if the stroke caused damage they might have missed. So as much as I love her stubbornness, I’d never walk away from her in such a state.

Bentley

Christmas came and went and I never heard from Tristan again. I guess maybe it was his way of saying good-bye. I finally wore Marco down and he confirmed my suspicions that it was Tristan that night. I thought that would leave me with a sense of contentment, but instead I find myself more confused.

I checked in with Dante. I thought maybe he returned to Florida, but he hasn’t. In fact, it doesn’t look like he would be returning at all. From what Dante said, he moved his stuff out of the house he rents and left no forwarding address with Dante, though he retains his partnership in the gym.

It’s like suddenly everything is upside down. I try reaching out to Jacob but I never receive a response and Cage no longer uses the number I had for him. So that is it...he’s gone. Now I know how it must have felt for him when I left. New Year’s Eve is tomorrow and I’m meeting with Sarah to go over the photos she took for my cover. I’m not in the mood to do anything with the book, but it is now or never.

The next morning I step into the coffee shop where Sarah and I are meeting and take a seat. She’s running late so I decide to check my networking on my tablet. My heart damn near skips a beat when I see a post from Tristan wishing me a Happy New Year. After two weeks of radio silence, I’m not sure what to make of his message. I spent these past two weeks convincing myself that Christmas was just a fluke, a way for him to say good-bye. If that’s the case though, why bother leaving me this message? Damn him! Three measly words and he has my heart doing somersaults. I click his name and wish him well before checking for any clue as to his whereabouts. There's nothing except the one message for me.

I click the tablet off as Sarah plops into the seat across from me. She always looks so damn cheery. Normally its contagious, but today I just want to sink into an abyss. As much as I would love to get lost in my own head, I can’t since my brain is trying to keep up with her talking a mile a minute. She’s going on about the photos and how hot the models are as she hands me the folder with the pictures.

There, lying on the top of the pile is the perfect picture. As usual, she knew exactly what I wanted. It’s the
who
though that leaves me flabbergasted…how the hell could she have known? I listen as she talks about how sexy he is as I stare at the glossy paper. She’s right; Tristan is fucking gorgeous. In the photo, he’s sitting up on an unmade bed. His hair is a mess and looks like he’s just been thoroughly fucked. The dress shirt he is wearing is unbuttoned and hanging at the sides, his tie is still around his neck but loosened. His pants are unbuttoned and unzipped, with one hand cupped beneath the fabric. His legs are spread and bent so his toes curl into the sheets. It looks like a still from a porno, and damn if it doesn’t make me hot.

I buy the rights to every shot she took of him. I don’t want to share him, and have no intentions of it, especially if this is the last piece of him I ever have. Before leaving, I question how he ended up on the other end of her camera. Much to my surprise she tells me how she contacted him after getting his info at a signing, and how he convinced her that he had to be on this cover.  I couldn’t understand why he would want this cover so badly though, until she told me she slipped and mentioned the cover was for me. There is a little part of me that burst for joy hearing that, though now it seems of little consequence.

I send the image I want off to my graphic designer who informs me I’ll have a draft a couple days after the New Year. I suppose that is a good thing since it’s the only thing holding me back from hitting publish and putting myself back out there.

I’m not sure I’m ready to rejoin the book world, yet, somehow I allow Marco to convince me into attending a signing a few towns away next month. Some bullshit kink-fest revolving around romantic reads and ravishing rendezvous. I signed up to get him off of my ass, but the truth is I don’t feel like throwing myself back into all of that shit again. Don’t get me wrong, I love my fans and I love to meet them, but I’m just not ready to plaster on another façade and pretend like I’m not miserable as shit. But hell, I’ve come to live by the motto: Suck it up, buttercup! So sucking it up is exactly what I will be doing.

While trying to get more details on the event, I reach out to a few people who I’ve grown close to who will also be attending the event. Obviously it will have a Valentine’s Day theme, but it won’t a typical signing. It is a first of its kind…sidekick soiree’ that will be used to highlight the assets of some of the hottest cover models. The intention is to show them a little love, and hopefully help them land a few covers. There has been a huge hullabaloo over women going to the signings just for cover models, so I don’t figure this event is going go over all that well. Nor does it help that several of the attending models will be dressing up to play the part of cupid.

I do get a sadistic kind of glee at the idea of some hot muscled up guy walking around in essentially an adult diaper, waving around a fake bow and arrow, while sporting large feathery wings. If nothing else, it’s worth attending just to get pictures. The models attending are being kept a secret so no one will know just who or how many will be prancing around shooting women with their love sticks. Regardless, it should definitely be entertaining.

As promised, I receive my cover on the fifth, and it’s sexier than I could’ve possibly imagined. My designer is a fucking genius. After working her magic, I’m left with a cover that is not only worthy of him, but worthy of the sextastic story it portrays. He is downright lickable, and fuck if I won’t be fantasizing about him just like that. I send her my approval as well as my praises. It is going to be revealed at the event next month so I’m having it made into a full size banner.