Temptation Page 16

  He swallows a bite of egg and says, “Jacob’s going to drive you to the airport.”

  “You’re not taking me?” I ask, surprised.

  “I want to,” he promises. “But I can’t. I have some important stuff to do for work. A couple of people are supposed to be stopping by.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says and I know he means it.

  I swig down the orange juice and wipe my mouth on a napkin.

  “It’s fine, really,” I say with a smile. “I’ve got to go. I’ll miss you.” I love you, I want to add but I don’t.

  “I’ll miss you too,” he swallows thickly. I kiss him long and deep. His stubble itchy against my hands.

  “Bye,” I say breathlessly, putting my forehead to his.

  “Bye,” he echoes.

  I don’t want to go. “I’ve really got to go.”

  “Stay,” he begs.

  “Tempting,” I admit. “But my mom would kill me.” And she will if I don’t show up. My plane hating mother will be on the first flight out here to beat me if I don’t get off the plane when I’m supposed to.

  “Well,” he grins as he speaks, “you’re no good to me dead.”

  “I guess I’m not.”

  He kisses me again and follows me to the elevator.

  “Bye,” I say again as the doors close. He waves.

  And I kick myself.

  Why didn’t I tell him I love him? What’s stopping me?

  ***

  Jacob is waiting in the garage with the Porsche already running. Like most Londoners he doesn’t have his own car, so when Siva asks him to babysit me, as I call it, he uses Siva’s car. When he sees me he gets out of the car and grabs my bags, putting them in the trunk.

  “Thanks,” I say, climbing in the car. I’m still beating myself up over not telling Siva I love him. Why haven’t I been able to find the words? “You really don’t have to do this,” I tell him honestly. “I can take a taxi. I don’t mind.”

  Jacob waves his hand. “It’s no problem. A friend of Siva’s is a friend of mine.”

  Jacob climbs in the car and pulls out of the garage.

  “Are you happy to be seeing your mother?” he asks to make small talk.

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling as I think of my mom. “It’s been a long time. It’ll be good to see her.” I should’ve gone back for a visit way before now, and I feel bad I didn’t, but at least I’m finally doing it now.

  Jacob nods at my words. “Siva will miss you. You’ve been … you’ve been good for him. He’s different now. Good different. He’s … happy.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  “He is?” This shocks me for some reason. I mean, I’ve noticed the difference in him, sure, but I wasn’t positive anyone else had.

  “Very.”

  I sit back against the seat, smiling wistfully to myself.

  Jacob continues on to the airport. It’s early and traffic is light. The sun is beginning to rise, staining the sky.

  My heart races as we near the airport.

  “Jacob,” I plead.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “Turn around,” I beg.

  “What? Did you forget something? You’ll miss your flight,” he warns, hitting the blinker so he can turn around.

  “Yeah,” I say, going with that excuse, because it’s kind of true. “I forgot something very important.”

  I pull out my cellphone and call the airport to change my flight to a later one.

  The rest of the way back to the flat I smile.

  I’m going to tell Siva I love him. I have to.

  ***

  Jacob pulls back into the garage and parks.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell him, the stupid, silly grin still plastered to my face.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he says, picking up his phone.

  “Thanks.” I dash out of the car and to the elevators.

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach making me feel weightless. Excitement courses through my veins. This is it. I’m finally going to say it.

  The elevator soars upward and with it my heart.

  My heart thumps madly in my chest as the doors slide open. I walk down the hallway and am about to insert the key when I notice the door is slightly ajar. I push it open with a smile on my face. “Siva!” I call, hoping he’s still home, but the not closed all the way door has me confused. Did he leave in a hurry? “Siva!” I call out again coming into the foyer. I stop when I reach the living room.

  “Siva,” I gasp as my heart tears in two. “No,” I cry. “No, no, no!” He has his arms wrapped around a pretty brunette. She’s obviously comfortable with him, too comfortable, her lips plastered to his, and her hands all over his body. “Siva,” I whisper his name as the tears course down my face. I walk backward toward the door, with my hands up like I can physically ward off what I’m seeing.

  “It’s not what you think!” he cries out, looking heartbroken once he disentangles himself from his leggy companion. But I don’t believe him. The brunette wears a triumphant look. I climb in the elevator. “Sloane!” he yells, running toward the elevator as if to stop the doors from closing. I avert my face trying to hide the tears. The last thing I hear him say is, “Fuck!”

  My heart drops to the floor and down to the garage, down to the core of the earth, down, down, down it goes. It might never be seen again.

  I rub to the Porsche and tumble inside.

  “Go! Go now!” I scream desperately at Jacob and smack his arm. “Go! Go! Go! Now!” He peels out of the garage going fast. But not as fast as the tears falling down my face.

  I bite my lip in an effort to quiet the sobs, it doesn’t work.

  Finally, curiosity gets the best of him and Jacob asks, “What happened?”

  I can’t answer him for a moment. I smack my fist against the leather seat. “He … he … he was with another woman!” I scream, the words sounding heartbroken, because it’s exactly what I am. I feel like someone shoved their hand through my rib cage and ripped out my heart. That someone being Siva. “Why?” I bury my face in my hands. “I was going to tell him I loved him. But … oh … am I glad I didn’t.” My whole body shudders. “Just get me to the airport.”

  Jacob says nothing. He seems as shocked as I was.

  He pulls up to the gate, gets my bags out, and turns to me with his hands in his pockets. His blond hair shines with highlights in the morning light. “I am sorry, Sloane. I didn’t know. I swear it.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I say, taking my bags from him.

  He gives me a sad smile and then I surprise us both by hugging him.

  “Bye, Jake,” I say with a shaky smile.

  He smiles back. “Bye, Sloane.”

  ***

  I’m sitting at the terminal my plane is supposed to take off from when something catches my eye.

  The set of the shoulders, the hair, the clothes.

  No, he wouldn’t dare. I leave my bags and march across the way to the small café. His back is to me.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss as menacingly as possible.

  Siva turns. His violet eyes glimmering. With tears?

  He wipes his face. “I thought you were gone,” he admits. He has a Styrofoam cup full of steaming black coffee in front of him.

  “I changed my flight before I came back to tell you …” that I loved you, I stop myself, my mouth snaps together with an audible pop.

  “I wanted to explain before you left.”

  My mouth forms a narrow line. “I don’t think there’s anything you need to explain, Siva. You cheated on me.” I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal, even though it’s a huge deal.

  Siva’s hand slaps the table making me jump. “I did no such thing,” he growls. “Alexa—”

  “Alexa? Is that her name?” I sneer.

  “Yes, that’s her name,” he says and his teeth are clenched. “She works for me,” he explains. “Nothing more.”

  “I’m not cozy with my
co-workers,” I say with venom. I’m really trying to fight my tears though. I keep picturing Siva and the pretty brunette doing the horizontal tango. I hate it hurts so much.

  Siva growls. “That’s why I fired her.”

  “You fired her?” I ask, and I hate how small my voice sounds.

  “Yes,” he says vehemently, “she was out of line. I’m sorry you had to see.”

  “More like sorry you got caught.” I laugh mockingly. I’m not letting him off easy. I know what I saw.

  “No,” Siva hisses. “Never, Sloane. Do you hear me? I would never do that.”

  “It looked like you did,” I whisper.

  “Exactly,” he says indignantly, “looked like. You don’t know what you saw.”

  “Oh, yes I do. Little Ms. Perfect Alexa had her hands all over you and her lips far too close to yours. As in on yours.”

  “Dammit, Sloane,” he crows. “Listen to me. Please, I’m begging you. Begging you,” he repeats. “Please listen to me. Please believe me.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because I love you,” he admits on a whisper.

  “What?” I gasped and sat down in the chair across from him. “W-What did you say?”

  “I love you, Sloane. You’ve had my heart ever since I saw you in that church. You’ve captivated me, my own little witch.”

  “Siva,” I gasp. “Don’t say that.”

  This is too much.

  “Why?”

  “You hurt me,” I blurt and the tears start up again. I want to believe you.

  “I know, Sloane,” he says, looking sad, “but I didn’t mean to. I swear it was all her. She’s been making her intentions clear and I did nothing to thwart it, which was my fault. I didn’t expect that to happen.” He laughs to himself. “Love is a weakness. Look what it has done to me.”

  “Love is not a weakness,” I say vehemently. “Love is worth fighting for. Fight for me, Siva. Fight for us.” I reach across the table and grab him by the shirt. I’m surprised by the amount of passion I have left in me. I’m mad and I’m hurt but it doesn’t change my love for him and love makes us do funny, stupid, things.

  “I am!” he yells in the café. I’m sure we have the attention of everyone now. “I’m trying, Sloane! I’m trying! But what if I lose you! It won’t have been worth it. I’ve never loved someone. Never. You’ve bewitched me. I don’t want to lose you! I’m fighting! Fighting hard!” His shoulders shake. “Please believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “I believe you,” I say. I can see the truth shining in his eyes. “But I’m hurt, Siva. What I saw? I can’t erase it. Words don’t take it away.”

  “I know,” he sighs.

  They call for my flight.

  “Siva, I’ve got to go,” I sigh.

  “No,” he pleads, shaking his head.

  “I’ll be back Sunday like was planned. I need to think about some things. About us. About my life.”

  He hangs his head. “I understand, Sloane. But I do,” he promises.

  “You do what?”

  “Love you.”

  “I really have to go,” I warn him.

  “Is there any chance?”

  “Chance for what?” I ask.

  “That you’ll love me?”

  “I’m already there, Siva. I have been for a long time.”

  His mouth opens and I can hear his breath hiss out in a gasp.

  “Goodbye,” I tell him, standing.

  “I will see you Sunday?” he asks, afraid I won’t return.

  “I’ll be back,” I vow.

  And I mean it.

  “Sloanie!” cries my mother as I come down the escalator.

  “Mom!” I say, tumbling into her arms when I reach the floor and almost knock her down.

  “Oh, Sloanie, I’ve missed you,” she breathes in relief. She smells just as I remember. Like the earth and flowers and mom. I pull away to take in my mother. I’m sad it’s been years since I’ve seen her.

  Her brown hair is cut off at her shoulders and unlike the last time I saw her, the brown strands are streaked with gray giving it a mousy appearance. Lines are around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before. Her glasses hang from a beaded strand around her neck.

  “Sloane, have you been crying?” she asks, assessing me.

  I know my eyes have to be red and puffy. “Uh, yeah. Siva,” I explain.

  “Ah,” she hums in understand. “Are you and him?” She waggles her eyebrows.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “And Mom, I’m crazy about him but … I have some things to think about.”

  “Don’t we all,” she says, leading me out of the airport and toward the parking garage. “But, Sloanie, don’t go and have a midlife crisis on me. You’re far too young.” She slings her arm across my shoulders.

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen, yet.”

  My mom shakes her head. “Oh, Sloanie, where is that accent from? You sound like a cross between a Southern gal and the Queen of England.”

  “Well,” I chuckle, “I did grow up in the south and I now live in London. It’s bound to have rubbed off on me.” I smile. God, it’s good to be home. I didn’t know I’d missed it so much.

  She unlocks her silver Acura TSX and pops the trunk. I heave my suitcase and bag into it. The car rumbles to life and before I know it we’re out in the afternoon light and it’s blinding.

  “Ow,” I groan, squinting my eyes and digging my sunglasses out of my purse.

  “It’s only a little sun, it’ll be good for your skin. You’re too pale,” she reprimands.

  “I’m not pale,” I defend, “you’re too tan.”

  She tsks her tongue.

  “Well, how does it feel to be back in Savannah?” she inquires.

  “Too hot,” I admit.

  She laughs. “It is hot,” she agrees. She pats my leg. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you.”

  “It’s weird being back here,” I tell her. “I’ve grown so used to London this seems so …”

  “Foreign?” she remarks with a smile. “I’m sure it does. Are you hungry?”

  “Uh … yeah,” I say, and my stomach rumbles in agreement. I hadn’t realized I was hungry until she asked.

  “Good,” she says cheerfully, “I made biscuits and gravy.”

  “Yum,” I moan. “I’ve really missed biscuits and gravy.”

  My mom laughs, getting off the highway, and turning on the back road leading to her neighborhood.

  “Now, I’ve made some changes …” she warns and bites her lip.

  “Changes?” I raise a brow. “What kind of changes.”

  “I painted the outside and I redid the guest room,” she explains. The guest room, meaning my room.

  “Oh,” I say, a little surprised, but I understand. I didn’t expect her to leave everything the same after I packed up and left. It’d be odder if she did. “Mom, I’m sure it looks great.”

  “It’s different,” she warns, and turns into the driveway so I get the first look at my childhood home.

  The once white one-story house with red shutters is now a pale blue house with orange shutters and an orange front door.

  “It looks great,” I tell her, even though I’m freaking out on the inside.

  “You really like it?” She lights up, so there’s no way I can disappoint her.

  “Yeah,” I say excitedly. It’s an adjustment from the old, for sure, but not necessarily a bad one.

  “Oh, good. I was worried,” she confesses, and hops out of the car with the energy of a twelve year old.

  I grab my suitcase from the trunk and go inside. The living room seems unchanged. So at least there’s that.

  Old plaid couch, green recliner, wooden coffee table, pale green walls, and it still smells the same. Like dogs and my mom’s garden.

  Right on time three little Lhasa Apsos come running at me.

  “Hey Mo-Mo, Mollie, Maddie,” I say, petting each dog. They lick and sniff my hand.

 
“I told you they missed you,” my mom says from her small, sunny yellow kitchen.

  “Oh, please. They probably think I’m a stranger.”

  My mom comes in and says in her gooey, I’m-talking-for-the-dogs voice, “Oh, we’d never forget our big sister. Never.”

  “Mom, they’re dogs,” I chortle.

  She gasps in mock outrage. “They are my companions,” she hisses.

  I throw my hands up. “World, I give you the crazy dog lady.”

  My mom harrumphs and marches into the kitchen. “I thought you wanted gravy and biscuits,” she cajoles.

  “I do,” I say, following her and grabbing a plate.

  “Then stop poking fun of your mother and eat,” she warns, fixing herself a plate.

  I laugh. “I’ve missed you, Mom.” More than I realized now that I’m here.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “I missed you too until ten seconds ago.”

  We sit down at the little table to eat our lunch. We’re about halfway through when the doorbell rings.

  “Can you get that?” asks my mom.

  “I’m home less than an hour and you already have me answering your door?” I joke as I do as I’m asked.

  I open the door to find a good-looking guy, a little older than me, standing at the door holding a flat of flowers.

  “Sloane, is that you?” he asks in shock. He has a strong jaw, tan skin, brown eyes, and brown hair turning a blond color from exposure to the sun.

  “Uh … yeah,” I reply, confused. “Do I know you?”

  “Nate. Nate Harrelson. We went to school together. I was a grade ahead of you. I run my parents’ garden nursery now,” he explains.

  “Right,” I say slowly, the puzzle pieces clicking together. I’m going to kill my mother. “Why don’t I take those from you?” I ask, holding out my arms.

  “I usually take them around back,” he explains with a shrug.

  “Oh, okay.” I step aside and hold the door open for him.

  “Nate,” my mother sing-songs, in false surprise, confirming my thoughts. I want to groan but I resist. Although, I do narrow my eyes in calculation at my mother. She opens the backdoor and lets him outside, kind of like a dog, I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of my lips.