Beautifully Awake

harder.

“Yeah, and ... I will see you in a few minutes, unlock the door for me.” End of discussion.

Sierra thundered through my unlocked apartment door and crashed straight onto my bed. “What did that Dr. Fucker do to you?” Sierra was pissed.

“He didn’t do anything, it’s what he didn’t do, Sier.” I finger combed my damp hair and squeezed my forehead, rehashing our conversation for the umpteenth time. “He wouldn’t let me explain, he didn’t even want to hear my story, my truth.” My face was going to be raw if I wiped my tear soaked cheeks one more time. “He just sat in that courtroom and listened while Derek Reed made me look like I cried fucking wolf.” Fury resurfaced and sizzled. “Chase was so angry, Sier, he told me he wanted the bastard’s head on a platter for humiliating me in front of the whole town.”

Sierra sighed so deep, her belly looked like a basketball. “Um Lil … then where is he, why isn’t he here?”

“He dropped me off and ... just left. Said he had an early meeting with his best friend. I don’t know if that means he’s leaving for New York or Boston, or if Asher’s coming here.” I picked at what was left of my nails. “Something just wasn’t right. He was ... distant.”

“That doesn’t sound right. Look, I might not be his biggest fan, but that’s just because he’s freaking selfish about sharing your time. The guy’s been up your ass for weeks. I can’t believe he would leave you like this, in this state...” Sierra paused to really look at me. “…this completely fucked-up state of mind you’re in.”

“Thanks, Asspuck.” My lips curled up slightly. “You here to make me feel better or worse?”

“Oh thank fuck, was that almost a smile? Because seriously, Lil, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with you when I first walked in. You looked like you needed some sort of IV. Xanax, or vodka, something.”

“Nice, real nice. And you call yourself a best friend. You think I’m screwed up ... well, just so you know, you’re not that far behind.” We both truly half smiled. Then we proceeded to rehash every word of my conversation with Chase until exhaustion lulled us under.

When the sun beamed through my very open drapes, I reached for my glasses and peeked at my clock. 8:46 AM. I smelled the coffee. Thank god for Sierra.

“That decaf?”

“Good morning to you, too. And ... hell no! I wouldn’t do that to you.” She handed me a piping hot cup.

“Mmmm.” The piping liquid burned going down, reminding me I wasn’t dreaming. Yesterday wasn’t just a really long, really bad dream.

“What’s on today’s agenda? We have a shower to plan, you know.” Distraction was Sierra’s go-to plan. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

Her plan had merit, so I decided to suck it up and rally. It was the least I could do for the world’s best BFF, who dragged her very pregnant butt out of bed to comfort me. “We do, don’t we?” I grabbed my laptop and sat on the couch. “Let’s work on the menu, figure out what you want to serve.”

“Yay, sounds good to me.” She found her iPad deep in her purse and sat next to me. Sierra’s bag made my monstrosity look like a change purse. “But you pick the food. The thought of anything food related this early in the day makes me want to hurl.”

Her grossed out expression cracked me up. “I thought your morning sickness was over.”

“It is … as long as I don’t think about food.” Okay. “Besides, drinks are more fun. The shower’s early enough for mimosas, right?” She didn’t appreciate my eye roll. “What? I’ll be eight months by then. I can totally have a sip. A little champagne’s not going to hurt. It’s probably healthy. Just ask your doctor-” She stopped herself midsentence and scrunched her face, looking like a deer in headlights.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to tiptoe around me. I’m not going to lose it at the mention of his name.” I hope. “Anyway, today’s about you, not me. Okay? And to answer your question, I think mimosas sound perfect … for everyone but you.” She pouted and I laughed. “Come to think of it, see if they have a Krug Ambonnay or something that sounds like that. It’s really yummy.” I was surprised I remembered the champagne label from Asiate.

“Fine, but I’m totally having a sip. Hmm, I can’t wait.” Sierra rubbed her round stomach.

“Fine, one sip,” I deadpanned.

“Hear that, sweet girl? Aunt Lili said we get to have a glass of champagne at your party.”

What happened to a sip? She was too damn much, but watching her talk to her unborn daughter was too freaking adorable. I wanted that one day.

We got to work diligently researching our menus.

“Holy shit! Lili, do you have any idea how expensive that champagne is? When the hell did you drink that?”

“Um ... when Chase took me to New York, he ordered two bottles for us.” You know, the most amazing night of my life.

“Two bottles! Holy shit, you said he had some money, but come on, who spends fifteen thousand dollars on champagne? I’m all for a little splurge, but that’s insanity!”

Holy shit, she was right. Fifteen thousand dollars on a drink. And for no real reason. That was insane.

“Let’s be honest, Lil, doctors don’t make that kind of money anymore. Brain surgeon or not. Think about it ... freaking personal driver, two sick apartments, a bazillion dollar shopping spree that you said yourself he treated like a stroll through Target. What did he do, win the lotto or something?”

I never really thought about it.

“I ... I don’t know. His family has money, I think. Or maybe it’s from whatever device he invented or his company in Boston.”

“He owns a company? He invented shit? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about any of this?”

“Because I’m not really sure.” Suddenly I was … embarrassed. And not over yesterday’s courtroom debacle, or how the secret of my rural disaster betrayed Chase’s trust. I was ashamed that I couldn’t answer a simple question about this man, a man I’d grown to trust. I was an open book now, yet he was still a mystery.

“Not really sure?” she rightfully questioned. “I get he’s ridiculously hot and all, and I can only imagine how sick the sex is, but you can’t screw twenty-four, seven. So what the hell do you two talk about? Owning a company and being stupidly rich seems relatively major to me.”

Good question.

“You’re right. I know. But he doesn’t talk about himself that much. He hasn’t really told me anything.” God, I sounded pathetic. Now I was the one who was nauseous.

“And there lies the problem, girlfriend. No communication.” Sierra wasn’t a lot of things, but blunt was not one of them.

17 Bruised

Sierra left sometime in the late afternoon after we finalized the menu, spoke with the florist and picked out the favors. Her power of distraction worked to my advantage. I wasn’t wallowing. Completely. But, it didn’t stop me from checking my phone every five minutes. I was crawling into bed when the damn thing finally chimed.

Busy w Ash in NY.

Take Monday off. -CC

I stared at the mobile device in my hand, rereading his message. What happened to Xo? I was tempted to throw the damn thing across the room. All day I contemplated how I was going to react when he finally contacted me, but I wasn’t expecting blood-boiling rage. Beside myself. The tone of his text implied he wasn’t expecting a response back, as if he said everything he had to say. For real? Damn him. No, fuck him.

Yet all I wanted was him. I wanted us back. I wanted to feel the warmth of his arms around me. I wanted our intimacy.