Craving Perfect (15 page)

Eddie collapsed into the chair and buried his head in his hands. “She’ll always choose you over me. Always.” He spoke into his hands, not looking up at me.

My voice cracked, watching him. “That’s so not true.” I swallowed. “None of this is true.”

Eddie looked up at me and laughed. I hated how it cracked open and echoed like a slap, invading the room.

I took a step back, wrapping my arms across my chest, holding the pieces together. How could Kathryn confide in Eddie about our parents, about something so personal? Why not me? Why couldn’t she talk to me?

Suddenly, my anger turned to rage. There wasn’t enough air in the café, in the building, in the whole city. I had to get away, especially from Kathryn. I had to get far away.

I spotted my wad of keys on the table next to the couch. Carlos must have left them there for me.

Carlos.

For a moment, I thought about running after him, but I didn’t know where he lived.

And that didn’t seem right.

I didn’t need Carlos to take care of me. It’d be too embarrassing.

My nostrils flared.

Without another word, I darted across the room and grabbed my keys, knocking over old newspapers left on the table.

“Where are you going now?” Eddie called out behind me.

“What do you care?” I snarled over my shoulder. Tears streaming down my face, I stormed through the door. “Tell Kathryn she can go ahead and set fire to the place for all I care. I never liked her stupid pillows anyway!”

“Wait!” he yelled, but I was halfway out the door, my head spinning with confusion and blind rage. I was unstoppable.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself inside Goldie’s Gym, although I barely remembered the drive.

I stormed past the front desk, flashing my member badge, even as the Front Desk Guy glared at me. “We close in thirty minutes,” he blurted.

I dared him to stop me too.

And I kept on walking. If he saw the tears streaming down my face, he didn’t say. For once I was glad to be one of The Unnoticed.

I pulled my ASU baseball cap lower on my head, the maroon one I always kept in my glove box. Too bad I didn’t keep a pair of running shorts and shoes. My boots, unfortunately, would have to do.

With my chin lowered, I headed straight through the empty weight room to the new treadmill. Only one other person used the aerobic machines, and he was too focused on his newspaper and peddling his bicycle to care about me—not that he would.

I dropped my purse to the floor with a heavy thud and stepped on the new treadmill. I had to get moving before I changed my mind, before I started to overanalyze everything or, worse, weaken. My decision seemed so simple, so perfect. So quick. An easy out. And it worked once before. Why not again?

If this were a normal day, I’d have started the treadmill at a leisurely three miles per hour and then gazed around the gym for a long look at Max.

Not tonight.

I started the treadmill at five miles per hour. I knew that I’d need to run at least that fast to get to where I was going.

My heart pounded hard before my finger pressed the control panel.

Still angry, I reached down and jabbed my thumb against the UP arrow.

Six miles per hour.

Strangely, my legs and calves didn’t burn, not like the last time. I licked my dry lips and increased the speed to seven.

Not much longer now.

I wanted to run as far away as I could.

I jabbed the UP arrow again.

Eight miles per hour.

The fastest I’d ever run in my entire life. My heart thumped unevenly as my breathing rattled, raspy and jagged, inside my head, silencing everything else.

The room began to spin. I closed my eyes for balance. I couldn’t fall; I refused to fall.

“Faster, Grace, faster,” I prodded myself, breathing heavy through my nose and mouth. “You can do it. Faster, faster…” I muttered between breaths. “Come on! You’ve got to run faster.”

I opened my eyes and looked across the room. My angry reflection stared back at me in the mirror beneath fluorescent lights, my nose as red as a beet. The ends of my hair swung behind my neck. I barely cared about the sweat beading on my forehead. Any moment and it would drip into my eyes.

The tension began to fade from my face, my shoulders, even my hands. I let myself smile as the room began to fade to white and gray, before it turned as black as liquid coal.

Despite my smile, I ached inside. A warm tear rolled down my cheek over all the dried ones as I ran straight into a black mist.

Finally, I let my bottled anger go.

“Would someone please tell me who the hell Grace is?” said an annoyed voice so close to my face that his breath stuck to my cheek. “I’ve been hearing this name all day. Even from Callie!”

“Don’t ask me,” muttered a woman’s voice.

I smiled before my eyes had a chance to crack open.

I’d done it.

When I could finally focus, it was like looking at the world through the wrong side of a peephole.

One blink and then two till I saw them clearly—two sets of perfect eyes peering over me.

“Callie?” Max’s voice turned softer. “You did it again. You ran too fast and you fell.” His tone was that of a concerned father scolding a child for riding her bike on the wrong side of the road.

“And why are you wearing your work clothes?” Alexandra asked. “
Hello
?” Her eyes bugged out a little. Clearly she would have been less surprised if she had found me inside the lion’s cage at the Phoenix Zoo.

“Good thing I hadn’t left or you could have cracked your head open this time,” Max added as he tugged me upright by my left elbow.

My forehead throbbed with tiny bursts of white light but, other than a headache, I was fine—at least that’s what I told myself. How could someone like Callie Collins be anything else?

“Are you absolutely sure we shouldn’t take you to the emergency room this time?” Max asked.

“Quite sure,” I said, staring down at my arms and legs, flexing my fingers, waiting for my vision to clear. It was like breaking free of a cocoon.

And I definitely was back inside Callie’s body again, all slim, tanned and perfect, not to mention the perfectly manicured fingernails with the long white tips and the obscenely large diamond engagement ring. I was back.

I’d rather have the luxury of Callie’s problems than Grace Mills’s life any day. At least in this life I could
look
perfect.

But then I looked up at Alexandra. “What are you doing here?” Last time I’d left, only Max had followed after me.

Alexandra smirked at me, not bothering to hide a hint of frustration. “Looking after you. It’s my job. Remember?”

“Where’s my purse?” I sat higher.

Without blinking, Alexandra handed me the black clutch underneath her arm.

I took it from her. “Thanks.” I unzipped the pocket and found my handwritten note to Callie. It was still folded into a tiny perfect square, just as I left it. Before I changed my mind—again—and hopped back onto the treadmill, I ripped the note into six tinier pieces.

“Why’d you do that?” Max asked, grabbing my arm as he helped me stand.

“I don’t need it anymore.” Strangely calm, despite obvious stares from other curious members, I walked toward the trash can next to the drinking fountain in front of the mirror. I tossed the pieces inside.

“What was it?” Alexandra asked Max.

“A grocery list.”

Alexandra didn’t bother to hide the roll in her eyes as I walked toward them for my shoes dangling from Alexandra’s fingers.

“Let’s just get out of here.” I slipped on my right shoe and then the left. I’d made my choice. Now I planned to live with it.

Max sighed. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”

I couldn’t sleep. I was staring into my second cup of coffee when Elena found me seated in the kitchen.

The only other noise inside the house was the steady
click-click
from the old stove clock’s second-hand. It was after eleven o’clock and I was anxious for Grace’s phone call.

“Good night?” Elena broke the silence.

“What?” I looked up at her. She hovered in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

“Your date with Grace. It was that good?”

I swallowed. “Why do you say that?”

An amused grin spread across her face. “’Cause you’re smiling to yourself?”

My hand dragged over my mouth as Elena shuffled closer in her blue slippers and bathrobe before reaching for a glass drying in the sink.

I turned, cleared my throat, and then scratched the side of my head nervously. “It was fine.”

Elena chuckled. “From the way you’re squirming,
hermano
, I’d say it was more than fine. She smiled at me from the opened refrigerator, a milk carton in her hand.

I looked down at my hands, feeling my cheeks flush. It was really embarrassing when your little sister could make you blush like a teenager. I drew back a steadying breath. “Okay, it might have been better than fine.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the bruises around my eyes. “But something’s wrong?” It wasn’t a question.

I shook my head. I wasn’t about to tell her about Eddie. “Why do you say that?’

She exhaled, still studying me. “Just a feeling.”

I smiled at her but turned away and sipped from my cup.

Elena pulled back a chair. It scraped against the linoleum. “I want details,
por favor
. And you’re not leaving the kitchen till you tell me.” She cupped her glass between her hands and leaned forward.

Cornered.

I stared across the table into Elena’s eyes. They were like human truth serum. I sighed. “What do you want to know?” I stalled some more. Too bad Elena got stuck with me instead of another sister. I wasn’t exactly the type for a lot of conversation, especially when it came to my dates. But this was different. We both knew it.

“
Todo
. Everything,” she prodded, leaning forward on one elbow.

After a long inhale, I proceeded to give Elena the details of my day with Grace, switching between Spanish and English, and conveniently leaving out the part when my world cracked open the moment I kissed Grace in the Desert Java. Not that she couldn’t already tell. Whenever I didn’t provide enough description, like what we ate and what Grace wore, she chided me in Spanish.

She watched me with a curious smile that said I told her nothing surprising.

“She’s everything.” The words came easily. “I’m in love with everything about her.”

“What are you saying, Carlos?” she teased.

I smirked but the words tumbled out. “I can’t wait to see her again.” I leaned back in my chair, thinking about our kiss, the taste of her skin. Then I sighed heavily. “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough.” My chest tightened from wanting. If Eddie hadn’t busted in, there would have been more than kissing.

“Careful, Carlos. You’ve only had one date.” Her eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t you think you’re going a little too fast?”

I blinked and tried to focus on Elena, mostly because her words surprised me. She was the reason I finally worked up the nerve to talk to Grace. “Don’t ask me how. I just
know
, Elena. You don’t have to tell me I’m crazy.”

Elena’s expression softened some more. “Tell me something I don’t know. I could see it in your face before you said a single word.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“And miss an opportunity to watch you squirm?”

I exhaled, just as the kitchen phone rang, startling us both.

I reached behind me. “Hello?” I said. For an instant, my heartbeat quickened, expecting Grace’s voice.

But the voice on the other end was anxious. “Is this Carlos?”

I sat higher. “Yeah?”

“This is Grace’s sister, Kathryn Mills.” She paused, like she had to steady her voice. “Look, I’m sorry to call so late, but is Grace with you?”

An hour after turning perfect, I started behaving like Grace Mills again.

Figures.

I was suffering from mental jet lag and just needed a little time to get used to my new digs, especially since I’d planned to stay, well, forever.

I sat alongside Max in his car. “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he told me when he pulled up to my building. The doorman bolted from the lobby to open my door. “We’ll go to
Chocolat
.” He even said it with a French accent.

I cringed a tinge. “Okay.”

“And wear that hot mini I love.” He winked.

“Mini? You mean, like
boots?
”

Max’s brow furrowed. “No, I mean like
dress
.” He leaned close enough so that his breath brushed my nose. “But feel free to wear your black boots anytime. The ones with the killer heels.” His tongue dragged across his lips.

I swallowed, hard. I’d never known a guy who knew so much about women’s fashion. “Sure,” I said numbly. I owned a mini dress? And high-heeled boots? With my legs? But then I blinked, remembering. I had
Callie’s
legs now, and you could pretty much wear anything with legs like that.

I should have been more excited about an evening at a trendy place but when I looked sideways at Max in his Mustang, listening to his clothing advice, I found myself wishing he had dark features, an easy smile, and said things that made me less anxious, not more.

But then I blinked again and tucked away my Carlos memory as I fumbled inside my designer purse for my condo house keys that I wasn’t sure if I owned or rented. But Callie’s purse alone probably cost more than my car payment. It didn’t look like one of those cheap knockoffs that Kathryn liked to find at swap meets.

Car?
Did Callie own her own car? Of course she must…

When I found my new keys, I held them up, dangling a door key and a car key in front of me. It was hardly the wad o’ keys that I used to lug around. I smiled at them as they clinked together. The car key was gold plated and looked expensive. It glistened back at me in the sunlight.

“Everything okay, Cal?” Max caressed my knee and I jolted. At least I knew I was ticklish.

I turned to him, lowering my hand. “Everything is perfect.”

Carefully, I leaned in closer for a kiss. He reached his hand behind my neck and pulled me closer, jamming his tongue in my mouth. It took a second or three to get used to his kiss, but I forced myself to enjoy it. I’d get used to that too, if it killed me.

Max pulled back, satisfied with himself. “Bye, babe.” His eyes locked onto mine, telling me he needed more. And soon.

I swallowed, hard. I hoped that my eyes answered his but mostly I felt the need to bolt. Without another word, I climbed out and Max sped away from the curb just as soon as the doorman closed the door.

With my shoulders pulled back, I walked toward the lobby and my brand-new life.

I had two choices: Feel sorry for myself or enjoy second chances.

As I squinted toward the shiny glass doors and my perfect reflection, I decided to enjoy.

What was not to like?

I was definitely digging my new closet, which could have had its own zip code.

After I took another luxuriously, embarrassingly long shower, I stood inside my new closet with a towel wrapped around my head. And not one of those cheap towels either; it was the kind with at least a million thread count that you never saw at Sears.

I sighed happily as my eyes scanned the racks of clothing. There wasn’t a stitch of clothing over a size two.

Size two!

I used to think that size was for reserved only for department store mannequins and Hollywood actresses with nicotine issues.

In my old closet back above the Desert Java, most of my clothes were either faded, blue, or cotton. Most of the time I’d cut off the sewn-on tags, not because they itched my skin like a thousand red ants and were made of material not found on planet Earth, but because of the truth they revealed. And I’d never tell the size either. Not on purpose.

“Well,
that’s
all going to have to change, Grace,” I told myself, pulling out a skin-tight, red-linen dress from a velvet hanger. It was not a mini, but it was mini enough. I whistled when I eyed the price tag that still hung from the sleeve. “Total car payment!”

I studied my slender frame in the full-length closet mirror, the dress pressed against my chest. My reflection left me breathless. It still didn’t seem possible. The dress was as thin as I was.

I blinked once, twice, and then a third time just to be sure before I finally inhaled with the understanding that I would wear a dress tonight that could barely wrap around a flagpole. And I would look absolutely stunning.

Quickly, I slipped on the red dress. It slid like silk over my shoulders and hugged me in all the right places. There were no bulges or buttons that strained to close. No broken zippers. The dress fit like it was custom-made, which I supposed it probably was.

But then my eyes rose to my face. I’d forgotten one itsy, bitsy detail…

Make-up. Face paint. Gunk. I was clueless about the whole cosmetics thing.

And I was embarrassed to admit that other than a little mascara and lip gloss, I was a complete novice. In that department, I usually had Kathryn’s help—

Kathryn…

I pushed her out of my mind too.

Standing in my new bathroom, I picked up bottles of something called Baked Bronzer and Afterglow Blush that sat alongside the sink. Make-up had never been my thing, not that anyone noticed.

Would anyone notice now? After all, the bar would be dark. And why would someone as gorgeous as Callie Collins need to bother with make-up? If only I had known the phone number of the nice girl who did my make-up at the TV station. Maybe next time I could offer to pay her for some private lessons.

“Callie?” said a voice from outside my bedroom door.

Startled, I turned to find Max leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a pair of black pants and an untucked pale green shirt. He held a black leather jacket and dangled a key—my house key—from his forefinger. He looked me up and down as if I were ice cream.

My body froze. For months, I had wanted him, dreamed of him, ached for him to notice a speck of my existence. Now that I had him, I’d lost my nerve. What was wrong with me?

He pocketed the key and tossed his coat on the king-size bed as he crossed the room. The same smoldering smile he had when he left me earlier spread across his face. It was enough to jumpstart a freight train.

In three steps, he held me in his arms, not before unwrapping the towel from around my head, letting my hair drop to my shoulders. His eyes wanted me, that much was clear, although the bulge below his waist made his intentions pretty obvious.

He drew an audible breath and then began to nuzzle the side of my neck with his nose. “Jeez, I’ve missed you,” he whispered as his fingers began to peel down my zipper.

My voice cracked. “But…we just saw each other a couple of hours ago.”

Max chuckled and proceeded to nibble my earlobe.

My eyes closed as I inhaled him. He smelled like musk and soap and hair gel. There was no denying his touch burned my skin in a good way. But when I closed my eyes, it wasn’t Max that I saw, not exactly. Still, it would be so easy to sink against him and let myself go completely. It had been so long…

But then the tip of his tongue traced the side of my neck and I giggled. I pulled away, embarrassed. And uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t we get going?” I said to fill the silence.

Max’s nostrils flared, just before he tossed me onto the bed. An avalanche of decorative pillows fell to the floor.

Max didn’t answer. He proceeded to kick off his shoes and unbutton his shirt.

My throat turned dry at the slow reveal of his hairless chest, one opened button at a time. And a nipple ring.

Wasn’t expecting that.

Breathing became difficult.

His hands reached for the button on his pants. Then the zipper.

I had to say something.

“But…but I’m kind of hungry,” I blurted out.

Conveniently, my stomach growled.

“See?” I winced, pointing to my stomach with relief. Unfortunately, make-up lessons weren’t the only lessons I needed, no matter who I happened to be. Protection, positions, pregnancy—all the
p
words nibbled around the edges of my mind. I at least needed a glass of wine.

“Hungry?” Max’s jaw dropped, along with his hands, like I’d just suggested drowning a puppy.

Slowly, I rose to my knees. “Yeah.” I said. “You do eat, don’t you?”

With a frustrated sigh, Max sat on the bed, his shirt still open from the impromptu striptease. He pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger and then said, “Yeah, well
I
do…but you don’t. Remember? At least, rarely.”

I half expected him to laugh at the absurdity of his statement. But he didn’t. He was completely serious.

“Well, I’ve got to eat
sometimes
.” I lifted off the bed. “Tonight might be one of those times.” I trotted back into the bathroom. Quickly.

“Okay, but don’t tell Alexandra…” he called after me.

I stopped in the doorway. “Don’t tell her what?”

“I think she mentioned once that she keeps a calorie diary for both of you.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Not kidding.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “And why would she do that?” Never mind that it was one of the dumbest things I’d ever heard in, like, forever.

“Um, ’cause she’s your personal assistant?” His eyes narrowed at me, as if assistants kept crazy calorie diaries for people all the time.

My arms dropped to my sides. I composed my expression. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

“Well, don’t forget that the camera adds an extra ten pounds.” Max’s voice trailed off in a
Don’t blame me, I warned you
kind of way.

My teeth clenched in a frozen smile. “I’ll try and remember that.” As if being one hundred and ten pounds instead of one hundred pounds would make me look enormous.

Some things were going to have to change around here. For starters, I would eat more than just on days beginning with
T.

“So you still want to get something to eat?” His eyebrow lifted.

I sighed heavily as I turned back inside the bathroom. “We’ll see.”
Make that, yes.
“I’m thirsty, anyway.”

Ten minutes later, I returned to the bedroom wearing my zipped up red dress and black heels. My hair? Well, all I did was run a comb through it. With my new soft natural curl, it looked like it had been professionally styled, in an ultra chic, cool messy sort of way. So unlike my old hair, which would have looked like I’d just put my finger in an electrical socket. “Ready?” I asked Max.

“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. He lifted himself heavily from the bed, one heavy leg at a time, never releasing his eyes from mine. Instead of an invitation, it felt like a warning. He watched me as he buttoned up his shirt.

My body stiffened.

“We could have had a lot more fun here.” He nodded at the rumpled bed sheets and fallen pillows.

My eyes lowered to my hands. They fidgeted with the clasp on my purse. Opening it, I pretended to hunt for something. Anything. Weirdly, Carlos’s face flashed in my mind. Again.

I just needed a little time to get used to everything.

“Ready?” I asked again, my eyes buried inside my purse as I headed for the door. My stilettos clicked like typewriter keys against the hardwood floors.

“I guess.” Max caught up behind me. “But I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I stopped, facing the front door.

“Okay,” he exhaled, more disbelief filling his voice.

I changed subjects. “So what kind of appetizers do you want to get tonight?” My insides swooned. A cheeseburger with fries sounded good, but I supposed that would have to change too—like to a cheeseburger and no fries. But who could seriously enjoy a cheeseburger without a couple of fries?

Max unlocked the bolt and opened the door. I ducked under his arm. “I really don’t know, Callie. We’ve never ordered anything but drinks at
Chocolat
. You know that…” He threaded his arm around my waist as we walked to the elevators.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” My stomach growled again. Besides an out-dated carton of soy milk and a jar of designer mustard, Callie kept nothing in her refrigerator.

“We can always dance off any extra calories,” he added, just as the elevator door opened.

“Dancing?” I turned abruptly. My ankles already wobbled in my six-inch heels. “Who said anything about dancing?”

Max gave me that look again. Like he was seeing me for the first time.