in a needy manner. Feeling surprisingly shy, she clasped her la-
pels to secure her robe more tightly around her.
With pursed lips, Enrique swiftly unloaded Christopher’s
suitcase, garment bag, and carry-on, and Chris artfully shook his hand, slipping him a wad of cash while simultaneously sipping
his coffee. Many things could be said about her agent, but one
fact was undeniable: he was one smooth cat.
Enrique slammed the door as he left, and Steph nearly had
to peel herself off the ceiling.
“Chris…I can’t believe you came all this way. I’m only
here for three more days.”
“Actually, I reserved one of the bungalows for afterward. I
175
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
was hoping you’d change the dates of your flight home since you
don’t have a job till the week after. You can show me around.”
Christopher reached out and smoothed her presumably insane
bedhead. He moved in for another kiss, and she flinched involun-
tarily. His baby blue eyes narrowed.
“You don’t want to do that. I have morning breath. Let me
freshen up.” She giggled nervously, batting her eyelashes. He
nodded and picked up his coffee cup, moving toward the balco-
ny. Steph zipped into the bathroom and locked the door, her
mind racing. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, and she leaned
over the sink wishing for the first time in her life she had a paper bag to breathe into. Her temple throbbed slightly, and she immediately yanked out her migraine medicine. What the hell? Was
this just nerves? She’d just made it clear to Phillip the night before that she was with Christopher. Now he was her in front of
her, and she felt like a nervous school girl. She was glad to see him—relieved actually. She’d been ready to sleep with him
when she left London less than a week ago. But somehow when
she looked at him, it was like looking at a stranger.
She thought about her mom singing “Dreams,” her vibrato
sounding like a musical theater version of Stevie Nicks. The
haunting melody echoed in her ears. She couldn’t remember the
words, but the song was full of dark weather imagery. Storms
always made her think of Phillip, and that was something she
knew would be true on her deathbed. She thought hard about the
song’s lyrics. She remembered it said something about having
and losing something.
Or someone.
Steph tossed cool water on her face. Loss was one horrific
theme in Steph’s life, but she knew this wasn’t just something
that happened to her. More times than not, she played an active
role in “losing people.” She knew she pushed them away. She
had predictably and systematically sabotaged all of her relationships. Hell, she used to even refer to herself as sociopathic, like 176
RAGE
the term was some sort of gold star to proudly display on her
chest.
One of the things she’d really grown to understand about
herself since she’d started dating Christopher was that she had a pattern of acting out with anyone who cared about her and
pushed their boundaries with her. She’d done it with her own
family, most painfully with her own mom. Guilt about that was
the reason she’d continued to work for her dad at The Sound
Wave far longer than she should have. Then of course there was Pace, her college frenemy with benefits. He’d made a valiant
attempt to get close to her, and he’d never stood a chance. And
Kevin Wiley, but that had been a mistake in the first place…she
should never have let her guard down with a hipster social
climber like him. Last, but most soul-wrenching, was Phillip.
Even thinking his name actually stung. She felt anxiety
creeping back in that he’d been gone this morning when she’d
awakened. He’d stayed with her until she slept and then walked
away. At her request. She popped open her bottle of Xanax and spilled it on the floor. She wanted to scream and break the mirror in front of her. She’d asked him to leave her alone. She’d told
him it was over forever. He’d simply bent to her will. Her fuck-
ing obnoxious, megalomaniacal will.
And now here was Christopher, and she could feel herself
starting down the familiar path away from his affections. He re-
ally was perfect on paper—a fusion of masculine virility and a
thoughtful, challenging presence Cedric usually provided for her.
He balanced her…tempered her. And what the fuck was she try-
ing to do? Shove him away because of what?
Everything felt different since she’d talked to Phillip. But
what had changed, really? Phillip now knew about the baby. So
what? He knew she hadn’t slept with Clive. And? She was glad
they’d resolved these issues, but the fundamental discord be-
tween them was still there, like the pregnant elephant in the
room.
177
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
She shook her head with fierce determination. She had more
than an element of control over this relationship with Christo-
pher and it was a really decent relationship with a very good man.
She looked at her reflection, her own resemblance to her
mother squeezing her heart. Steph knew her cold feet made
sense. Logically speaking, so much had happened in the past few
days that it was hard not to feel like a war-torn refugee. Things were finally out in the open after ripping old wounds asunder
and she had some long overdue closure with Phillip. It made
sense that all the wedding drama had stirred up hurt feelings and grief. Her responses were oddly appropriate. Poor Cedric had
finally cracked after all this time, and his chastising her now had put Mom on her mind. That was cathartic and sure to be healthy.
But Christopher was a separate issue from all of that. He was the right guy. She needed to relax and let things play out the way
they were meant to.
She swore as she struggled to get the tangles out of their
hair. Sand continued to appear around her like raindrops. After a few minutes of trying to get a brush through her hair, she jumped back in the shower. She told herself she and Christopher would
go out into the sunny weather, eat a huge breakfast, and forge
boldly ahead.
Phillip paced back and forth near the tiny Chapel of St. Pe-
ter. It
