Skin Like Dawn (21 page)

“Bellamy.” 

“I guess that’s a no.” 

She readjusted.  “That’s a ‘none of your damn business’.” 

“Ouch.” 

“For the record, there’s only one person who has ever made me feel...not like myself.” 

He cleared his throat.  “Brandon.” 

“Yes.” 

“And how do you feel when you’re with him?” 

She didn’t want to answer; that was clear.  But, she couldn’t avoid the question altogether: she’d never been asked such a thing.  How the hell was she even supposed to answer a question like that?  And would it even make sense?  Her brain went tumbling down an expansive lane of memories, dawdling on shoulders to embrace the good over the old.  In the beginning, she felt nothing for him.  Nothing.  She took note of his height, his jet-black hair and bright blue eyes, his youthful charm and stream of arrogance running beneath the surface.  Brandon Greene always knew what he could offer the world and the women who worshipped him.  Or girls, rather.  They were all immature in their approach; ogling him from afar, leaving creepy messages on his door or car.  And then, there was Sophia.  Sophia Baldwin with her tightly wound flaxen curls, huge tits and her pixie-like face.  She didn’t believe that he was capable of loving or appreciating someone as much as he appreciated that girl.  No matter how fucked up their relationship was.  But then he proved himself worthy, seemed earnest in his approach, understood her better than anyone else.  His protective, loyal nature was a part of what made him so great.  And she was in definite need of stability.  And his love.  His love.  Paramount.  Love from Brandon David Greene, often mistaken for suffocating infatuation, was something that she couldn’t live without.  

She opened her eyes, gazing into the blank space ahead of her.  “Needed.”

“Ah.” 

“Have you ever felt needed, Bellamy?”

“Not particularly, no.  I much more enjoy traipsing across the earth for my own personal enjoyment.  Not for others’.” 

“I see.” 

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” 

“Never said it was.  Would you like some more wine?” 

“Please.” 

She took his glass and sauntered back into the kitchen.  The song changed again.  Something slower this time.  Reaching into the refrigerator, she attempted to prevent her hands from trembling again.  

She returned to the couch, handing him his glass as she sat back down.  She refused to think of how strange it was to have him sitting opposite her.  She only returned her head to the cushion, and pretended that he wasn’t there.  

“I hope that the question wasn’t too invasive.” 

“No.”  She thought of calling Brandon then, just to hear his voice.  “It wasn’t.” 

“Okay.” He drank slowly.  She could feel him slipping away from her, right through her fingers like sand.  He was far more focused on his glass of wine than her, gazing downward into it, as though it held all of the answers that he was too afraid to ask.  

“I’ve loved Brandon so long, that I don’t know what it feels like to...” But her voice trailed off.  He looked up at her.  Embarrassment buzzed at her cheeks, and she refused to look in his direction.  

“I’ve made this awkward for you.” 

“No.  You haven’t, I promise.  Even if it kills me to admit it, you’re right.” 

“About which part?” 

“The part where about my...filter.  I have a filter.  And it’s been set in stone for years.” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

He returned his eyes to the glass. 

“It’s frustrating, really,” she continued.  “I sent him an email, explaining all of my feelings toward him.  All of them.  But I’ll never for the life of me be able to express them to him in person.  Never.  I could let him go halfway across the world without ever letting him truly know how I felt. And it baffles me.  It fucking baffles me that I can’t even express myself to the one person who matters more to me than anyone else ever will.” 

“That’s a bold statement.” His eyes were closed.  

“It’s the truth.  My husband has the ability to provoke a part of me that I’ll never be able to verbalize.  And I...I put it in a fucking email.  How childish is that?”

“Very.” His voice was husky and low now.  

“I mean, how could he marry a person like me, exactly?  I told him how much I loved him, yes, but I left out a few things.  Important things.  Goddamn it...if he only knew.  He’ll want to discuss everything about that email when he returns.  And I’m not sure if I have the heart to have a conversation like that...” 

Bellamy didn’t respond.  He was now breathing a little heavier, with the almost-empty glass of wine, settled in his lap.  He must’ve been far more tired than he originally let on.  

Ha. 

She giggled, but the humor never reached her eyes.  She’d crawled into a cavern of her mind, huddling in a fetal position in the corner, shivering from the coldness of it all, rocking back and forth like an invalid on the cusp.  Her eyes reached outward, but never settled on anything in focus.  “I’ve put him through so much.  So fucking much.” 

What was happening?  Was she talking to herself?  Her voice felt powerless, drowning in the sound of the music, bleeding from the stereo.  

“I could’ve called it off.  I should’ve called that wedding off. The whole fucking thing.  Put him out of his misery for loving a girl like me.  What kind of bride panics five minutes before she’s to walk down the aisle?” 

Bellamy’s breathing was quite audible at this point, and his head had slumped over with exacerbated fatigue.  She reached over, took the glass from his fingers, and placed it on the table.  He didn’t move.  

She stared at the potent liquid, missing the splash of its crisp, fruity taste on her tongue.  “He should have never fallen in love with a girl like me.  So fucking foolish.  Now...where do we go from here?” 

She reached for the glass, sneaking a glance in a sleeping Bellamy Lambert’s direction.  He looked far less strained, more relaxed.  She felt squeamish at the sight of the vulnerable side of him.  She wasn’t sure that she liked it...or deserved it.  And Minnie Riperton’s “Take a Little Trip” echoed in her brain.  

Pressing the glass to her lips, she had all of the intentions in the world of quelling her anxiousness.  Desperate actions and trembling hands prompted her to taste the wine, swirl it around in her greedy mouth and swallow it.  “I’ve sacrificed so much for that man.” 

Then she swallowed again.  “My heart.  My body.  I was a med school student, for Christ’s sake.  And I...I gave it up.  Just like that.  Everything I’d worked for.  Everything.” 

She took another sip as a tear slid down her cheek.  “But I love him.  I’ve always loved him.  I’m consumed with him.  Brandon fucking Greene.” 

She replaced the glass on the table.  Bellamy shifted into a position more comfortable for him.  She licked her lips, gazing at him through hooded eyes.  “What are we supposed to do?  Is this how it’s supposed to feel when you...?” 

Don’t finish that statement.  Don’t fucking finish it.  Remove yourself from the room.  Leave it all behind.  Be smart, girl.  Be smart.  If not for you.  For Harper.  For the baby. 

She gathered to her feet, body weighed down to numbness, and another tear slid down her cheek.  “Resistance grows tiresome.  I’m sick of it.” 

And she left the room. 

JUST LIKE THE WATER

SHE AWOKE AND HER HEAD THROBBED.  She sat up quickly, sliding through a recourse of events in her head.  She couldn’t remember a number of details; but one thing stood out very clearly: she’d left Bellamy sleeping on her couch.  

Untangling herself from her sheets, she reached for the first pieces of suitable clothing she could find, nearly tripping over a few pairs of Brandon’s leather loafers, scattered about the floor.  Infantile sunlight was peeking through the parted curtains over the bed, splashing onto her skin aggressively.  

She ran a script of things to say to Bellamy as she fussed with her hair; a campaign of sorts, petitioning against the judgement of her foolish actions and whatever the hell might’ve fallen out of her mouth.  

She was just to the door, when she heard her cell phone ringing on the nightstand.  Scrambling back across the bed, she reached for it, pressed the “talk” button and moaned into the receiving end.  

“Jesus, baby, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” 

Dear God, the sound of her husband’s voice.  She’d always been a sucker for the sound of it over the phone.  She melted into bed for a moment to savor it.  

“No, you didn’t.  Hi, baby.  What time is it over there?” 

“Ten-thirty.  I figured I’d catch you before you hopped in the shower.  Is this a good time?” 

“Of course.”  She hastily wiped the sleep from her eyes.  “I’m just tumbling out of bed.” 

“God, what I wouldn’t give to be tumbling in it with you.” He’d lowered his voice.  “At any rate, I just wanted to be the first one to say, ‘Good Morning’...as always...” 

She instinctively patted the empty space next to her on the bed and sighed.  “Good Morning, Brandy.  What do you have on the agenda today?” 

“Well I’m on break right now for a coffee and regroup.  We’ve been sucking up to the clients since eight this morning.  I ducked around the corner.  I have half a mind to grab a cigarette pack or two from the newsstand across the street.” 

“You better not! I want you happy and healthy and in one piece when I return.” 

“And ready to discuss that email you sent?” 

Her heart shuddered.  She gathered to her feet, clearing her throat.  “Of course.” 

“Natalie.” 

“I’m serious.  We can talk about it for as long as you want.” 

“Good.  I didn’t very well last night.  I’ve read it at least four times.” 

“Brandon, really?” 

“Tal, there are so many things that I want to say.  I can’t wait to see you.” 

She smiled.  “The feeling’s mutual, Brandon.”  She slid down the stairs, careful not to allow the heaviness of her tired body to send her toppling down uncontrollably.  “I love you so much.  Can I call you on my way out the door?  I just want to straighten a few things up.” 

“Of course.  I might be back in the conference room by then, but I’ll definitely duck out to answer your call.”

“Good.” 

“I have on my calendar that you’ve got another ultrasound thingy with Dr. Gill today.  Is that right?” 

“Yes. At three.” 

“Okay, let me know what the doctor says about your progress.” 

“You know that I will.  Goodbye, my baby.  Talk to you soon.” 

She killed the line and slowly crept into the living to find her friend Zuly, lying on the couch with a blanket lapped over her.  

Natalie exhaled.  Looming over her, she shook her friend gently, rousing her just beneath full consciousness.  “Natalie?” 

“Hey, you.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing...considering that you’re in my house.” 

“I am?” 

Natalie nodded.  

Zuly slapped her forehead aggressively.  “Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night?” 

“Let’s just say that you and his little friend Esme were swapping stories about your lust for Bellamy.” 

She sat up, eyes enlarged.  “You’re kidding me?” 

Natalie chuckled.  “Nope.  Wish I was.” 

“Jesus.  And what did Bell have to say about it?” 

“He laughed, but I’m pretty sure he was a little embarrassed.” 

Zuly scoffed.  “Psh. Bellamy doesn’t get embarrassed.  Only more arrogant and more amused.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Do you mind if I grab a shower here?  I don’t have enough time to go home and change before work.” 

“Of course.  You can use our bathroom.  All of the girly bullshit you need is under the sink.”

She crawled to her feet.  “Perfect.  Thank you.”  Her eyes surveyed the room.  “Where the hell is Bellamy?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, the last thing I remember is him saying that he was going to the kitchen for water.  I was still on the floor when that happened. He said when he got back he’d help me to the couch and he’d sleep on the floor.” 

“That sounds awfully...selfless of him.  I guess the floor was far too uncomfortable.” 

Zuly laughed.  “Yea that and two girls drunkenly worshipping his dick right in front of him.” 

“Gross.” 

“I’ll say.  I’m assuming that at some point, he did help me get on the couch.  I’m not sure what happened to his friend, though.  Maybe they went somewhere to...you know...” 

Natalie suddenly felt queasy.  “Well...some of us would know better than others.  I need coffee.  We’re leaving for work in an hour.” 

GETTING TO WORK BEFORE HEAD NURSE WENDY CHEWED HER OUT, was her main priority.  But Zuly was still hungover, dragging her ass to the point where they were both almost twenty minutes late.  Head Nurse Wendy was standing by the nurses’ station, brows furrowed and pissed, drumming her fingers, as if she were counting the seconds in her head to painstaking accuracy. 

Natalie formulated an excuse in her head and she approached her supervisor slowly.  There was no way of ducking out early to make it to her doctor’s appointment today.  She was prepared to reschedule.  

Parting her lips, Natalie tried her best apologetic expression.  

“Excuse me, Wendy.  Can I borrow Natalie for just one second?” 

Thwarted by Bellamy Lambert’s unexpected appearance pissed off Head Nurse Wendy, to the point where she now had difficulty hiding her seething disdain.  Bellamy already had the tips of his fingers on Natalie’s elbow, gently tugging her away.  

Head Nurse Wendy expelled a breath.  “Certainly, Mr. Lambert.  I trust your morning is going well.  You owe me, Greene.  Come with me, Garza.  I’ve got a stack of paperwork with your name on it.” 

Tucking into an empty room a few paces down the hallway with her in tow, Bellamy closed the door behind him.  He appeared well-rested, but a day or two’s missed shaving gave him a dark shadow around his jaw.  He unbuttoned his blazer, revealing a crisp white shirt and bright blue tie underneath.  

She folded her arms across her chest.  “What do you think you’re doing?  I have work to do.”