His for the Summer: 50 Loving States, Florida Page 11

  “And that?” she asked. “Not letting me touch you there? What was that about?”

  Fuck…not this. He’d hoped to never have to tell her.

  But he knew he couldn’t keep this part from her. No, he had to confess it all.

  “Cera, I was born with a heart defect. One that made me pretty much unadoptable and kept me from doing a lot of things that could have gotten me out of the Lower Ninth. Like playing a sport, or even studying too hard, because I was always landing in the hospital right before a big test.

  “But I’m good in a room and I’ll organize the fuck out of any group or deal you throw at me. Running your dad’s high school drug ring was pretty much the only thing I could do well back then. The hours were good, and if I had to do some time in a hospital, that was all right because I had a well-organized crew to keep things running smoothly until I was out. That was how I discovered early on that I had what turned out to be superior managerial skills. Plus, I didn’t really give a fuck about whether I lived or died, so I guess you could say the job was low-stress. Not too hard on my crappy heart.”

  He rubbed his scar through his shirt. “When I say everything changed that night, I mean everything. I barely made it out of your neighborhood before blacking out. And when I woke up, it was two days later. The doctors told me I’d pretty much received a “Hail, Mary.” My heart had completely crapped out, but miraculously a donor had shown up. Get this, the same night, some black kid came in with two gunshot wounds. One to the head and one in his leg. So he was brain-dead, but his heart was a perfect match for me. And he’d registered as an organ donor…”

  The look that came over her face then, told Gus what he’d long suspected. “You got your brother to do that, didn’t you?”

  She nodded slowly. “I’d seen this documentary about donors in my Driver’s Ed class. Told him it was the least he could do. I think he only did it to shut me up. And then my dad’s lawyers advised him to go along with the organ harvest after Bruce was declared brain dead. They said he’d need stuff on the record. To make him look good in court.” Her lips twisted in a sour remembrance. “Not that it helped. They still gave him life with two counts of child endangerment, since it was one of his deals that my brother got killed trying to carry out.”

  Gus, lowered his eyes, knowing she wouldn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. That night had saved his life, but it had ruined hers.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all that happened to you, baby. But your brother—he saved my life. I got his heart inside my chest now, and that’s the only reason I’m standing here in front of you now. Fifteen years later, hoping we can figure out a way to get past what happened when we were kids and be together.”

  This time he didn’t dare to hope. In fact, he kept his expectations low, bracing himself, for her to yell or worse. He’d be totally okay with her slapping him across the face. It was nothing less than he deserved. After all he’d kept from her.

  But she didn’t yell. Or hit.

  Instead, her entire face crumbled. Tears running down her face as she said, “Oh my God. I am idiot. I was in love with you. So in love with you. But you’re a monster.”

  “No,” he said, splaying a hand across his scarred chest. “Not a monster. Just a man trying to find a way to be with you.”

  “You lied to me,” she sobbed. “Forced me to prostitute myself. For what? To prove you weren’t Tavo Martinez from the Lower Ninth Ward anymore? To prove you were better than me? So much better that you could get me to do whatever you wanted with me? To me?”

  “No, no…” he said with a shake of his head. Proving himself better than the street rat he used to be had been part of it. That much he couldn’t deny. But he hated how dirty she made it sound. Like what they’d had together had been all about him trying to get one over on her.

  “You made a choice,” he reminded her. “I made the offer. But I didn’t force you to take it.”

  He’d wanted her to stop crying and his wish abruptly came true. The inconsolable sadness in her eyes was suddenly replaced by blazing anger.

  “Really? Really, Tavo—or Gus—or whatever you’re calling yourself these days. You think I chose to be with you? What choice did I have?” she screamed at him. “What choice did you give me?”

  “What? You rather I let you get kicked out of your place. Leave you living on the streets?” he roared back, spreading his arms wide. “Because that’s where you were headed. That’s where you would have ended up, if I hadn’t stepped in. Yes, I’m Gus Benton now, and I’ve made a lot of myself. I know that. But I also knew all you would ever see me as is that kid I used to be. So I did what I had to do to get you the help you needed and finish what we started fifteen years ago. I’ll apologize for a lot of things, baby. I’ll beg your forgiveness if that’s what it takes. But I ain’t never going to apologize for doing for you, Cera. And I ain’t never going to say sorry for doing whatever it took to keep you safe.”

  She stared at him then. Mute for long moments. Like she was truly trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth.

  Then she snatched up the red dress from the floor.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she said, her voice quiet with rage as she yanked the red dress on, covering her naked body.

  “Cera, that’s not how I want this to end,” he said, reaching out to her. “Please just let me…we can figure this out.”

  But she shoved past him, her face set and resolute. “I’ll pay you back.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back. I don’t care about the money.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” she screamed at him, her voice breaking. “If it’s the last thing I do on this earth, I will pay you back.”

  “Cera, no…”

  Gus was known as a smooth talker in his circle, but for once, he didn’t have any clue what to say. Or how to fix this.

  And then she was gone. Walking out into the night, without so much as a backward glance. Leaving Gus in the hotel room to stew for a very long time about all the things he should have done. All the things he should have said.

  But now it was too late.

  21

  “I’m going to pay you back.”

  “Cera, I don’t want your money. I only want your love.”

  “I’m going to pay you back.”

  “Cera, you’re worth more to me than any amount of money.”

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Cera, I’m down on my knees, and I’ll stay here until you understand how not about money or even my stupid pride this is, baby.”

  “Earth to Gus. Come in Gus!”

  Gus turned from the window to discover Max in the doorway of his spanking brand new office.

  “Max,” he said, struggling to tread out of the murky waters of his mind. “What are you doing here?”

  Max came further into the office. “I’m dropping in unannounced to visit my little brother. That’s what I’m doing here,” he answered with no contrition whatsoever. “But I think the real question is what are you doing here? Donna out there says staring out that window has become your new past time.”

  He should care that unlike Hank, his office assistant, Donna, didn’t seem to know better than to go around talking about her boss’s personal business. But Max was Max. Still easily able to get women to give him what he wanted, even with the custom Cartier wedding ring now adorning his left hand.

  Also, he couldn’t bring himself to care. About Donna. Or anything other than all the things he didn’t say that night in Santa Fe.

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “I don’t want your money, Cera, all I want—all I’ve ever wanted from you is your love.”

  He went back to staring out the window. At the white, garden house estate in the distance. Lucky for him, the first high rise Sorley had been designed to look a lot like the Benton Las Vegas, with the executive fleet of offices banked on the twentieth floor, as opposed to the bottom floor as they were at the Sorley New Orleans. That m
eant he could look at the property every day from his office window. Whenever he wanted, for as long as he wanted. Look, and keep trying to come up with a configuration of words that would have kept her from walking out that night.

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “What do you want from me, Cera? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

  “So that’s the estate you just bought,” Max said, coming to stand next to him.

  “Seriously, Donna has a really big mouth, Bro,” Max answered his questioning look. “Plus, I think she’s bored, because all you do is stare out the window all day.”

  “The Sorley Miami grand opening is on track,” he answered, his voice a dead monotone. “What else do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know. Some sign that you’re not having a really quiet nervous breakdown? Because why else would you buy a two-hundred-year old estate when you already have a South Beach apartment? And when you haven’t even bothered to get guest chairs for your office. By the way, am I going to have to pull the therapy card out again? Because I thought we talked about this back in New Orleans when I agreed to you coming out here by yourself.”

  They had talked about this. And Gus had meant to start working on his inability to deal with more than the very bare minimum of furniture in a room.

  But then Cera had come back into his life, and for a while, he’d thought he was getting better. That she was helping him get better. He’d even thought about asking her to go furniture shopping with Leo, as Hank had been hinting to him for ages.

  Then Santa Fe happened.

  And now, here he was in an office with only a simple desk and one wooden chair. Clad in Prada but living like a monk. Making his big brother nervous.

  He wished he could tell Max he was fine. But…

  “I have bigger priorities than office furniture these days.”

  “So you’re still butt hurt over Pru 2: Miami Boogaloo?”

  “Christ, Max, how many times do want your nose broken?” Gus asked him between clenched teeth. “Because if you ever call her that again, I’m going to punch you.”

  “I’d actually be cool with that,” Max answered, clapping him on the shoulder. “At least I’d know you were still alive in there.”

  “I’m still alive, Max,” he assured him. Which was true, even if only barely. He was still breathing, just never without thinking of her.

  “I’ll pay you back.”

  “Cera, please don’t go. I can’t breathe without you, baby.”

  “So…what was in the envelope you got from her this morning?”

  Fucking Donna. He was seriously going to have to consider firing her. But he told Max the truth. Mostly because he was the only one in the world he could talk with about this stuff. The only other person he knew carrying around a shitload of baggage underneath a pretty façade.

  Max had managed to unpack that baggage with Pru. But in Gus’s case…

  “She sent me back the August cashier's check, and a personal check on top of that. Everything left from the June payment, plus two thousand. Nearly every non-rent dollar from her first check at her new job. She barely left herself enough to live on.”

  Gus let his head fall against the window’s cool glass. Hating himself. Hating what he’d done. Hating that he couldn’t fix it.

  He must have presented a pretty miserable picture, because instead of coming back with yet another unhelpful quip, Max gave his shoulder a brotherly squeeze. And then they both stood there for several moments, looking at the building Gus had just bought.

  “You know,” Max said eventually. “I came in here with a vague plan to get you to try to punch me. Snap you out of this Morrissey impression you’ve had going on all August. Pru said it wouldn’t work, but hey, you know me.”

  Gus snorted and shook his head against the glass. Yeah, that sounded like a Max plan. “Pru was right, that would not have worked.”

  “Huh…” Max wagged his head back and forth. “Right. Wrong. Who’s to say?”

  “I’m to say, Max. And I’m telling you it wouldn’t have worked.”

  “Whatever. The point is, I’ve decided to go with a new tack. What do you need from me to help you out with this situation, Little Bro? Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

  Gus was about to answer that there was nothing Max could do. Nothing anyone could do. But then an idea occurred to him. One that made him lift his head from the glass.

  “Actually…” he said. Then he told Max his plan.

  22

  “Cera…Cera wake up!”

  Cera woke up, her left cheek glued with drool to a sheath of grant applications.

  “What the…” she said, raising her head.

  She found Gus smiling at her, his eyes lit with immeasurable fondness, despite the grant paperwork stuck to the side of her face.

  “When you didn’t show up at the office for our lunch date, I figured you must have fallen asleep grading papers again,” he said, holding up a cup of coffee.

  He then peeled the application off her face, and pressed a white cup with a green logo into her hand. “Guess who just signed a deal to get a major brand kiosk installed on our bottom floor?”

  “Congratulations, honey!” she cheered, taking a sip. One sugar and lots of cream. Just the way she liked it. His thoughtfulness made her heart as warm as the brown liquid currently giving her the caffeine boost she so desperately needed.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You’re a saint for bringing me this.”

  He held up a white paper bag with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Hank brought over some sandwiches. Want me to feed it to you like the old days?”

  “No, thank you,” she answered as she moved a few stacks of papers aside to clear some space on her desk. “I’m still getting used to the sensation of actually seeing my hot boyfriend as I eat.”

  Gus threw her a disgruntled look as he laid the sandwiches out on paper plates, which he produced out of nowhere.

  “I knew you’d say that,” he grumbled. “I tell you, baby, some days I think you’re only in this for the eye candy.”

  “Gus, honey, you know that’s not true,” she answered with a cheeky grin. “Obviously I’m in it for Hank’s gourmet lunches.”

  Gus just chuckled as he took a seat across from her. “I’ll take it.”

  “But seriously, thanks for bringing me lunch,” she said

  “And the coffee,” he reminded her. “You really needed coffee.”

  “And the coffee,” she added.

  “No problem. It’s one of the perks of you working right up the street from me.”

  After buying this building, she’d been shocked to find out it was literally down the block from the Sorley, which would be opening next month.

  She loved the old stone estate, but the location was turning out to be one of the best things about her new job. Gus often stopped by between meetings to either have lunch with her or steal a kiss. Sometimes more than a kiss.

  “This is so nice,” she said with a happy sigh.

  “Yeah,” Gus agreed, his dimples flashing as he threw her a sexy smile. “I just wish it was real.”

  Cera frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  Gus looked up at her over his sandwich with that same look of regret and sorrow she remembered from Santa Fe.

  “I just wish we could really be together like this. I wish it wasn’t a dream.”

  “But it isn’t a dream.”

  But of course it was. The sandwich in her hands suddenly turned into sand. Streaming through her fingers before she could so much as take a bite.

  Then she woke up. Again.

  This time in a classroom.

  And instead of a grant application, there was a piece of first grade homework stuck to the side of her face.

  With a few blinks of her tired eyes, it all came back to her. She’d recently landed a position at an elementary school in Liberty City, subbing for a Special-Ed teacher on maternity leave. And though it wasn’t the permanent
position she’d hoped for, she’d welcomed the challenge of teaching a classroom of special needs children.

  And at least she’d gotten the job on her own, with no interference from a certain “mysterious benefactor” who turned out to be a big old lying ghost from her past.

  However, waking up meant she didn’t have an office at the old estate garden house. She hadn’t bought it. Which meant Gus wouldn’t be stopping by with the over-the-top sandwiches Hank made for them every day.

  Not that she wanted him to. She hated him, and never wanted to see him again.

  Except apparently in her dreams. Where he showed up on a near daily basis.

  Stomach grumbling, Cera grabbed her brown paper bag lunch and pulled out a decidedly non-gourmet sandwich.

  Did he ever dream about her the way she dreamed about him?

  Cera shook that question from her head, chastising herself for even asking it.

  Don’t let him haunt both your dreams and your waking thoughts, she told herself.

  Then she finished her lunch with one hand while grading papers with the other. When she was done, it felt like it was her thoughts of Gus that she was throwing away when she crumpled up the brown bag and chucked it into the nearest wastebasket.

  You’re paying him back, she reminded herself as she walked out of the classroom and locked the door behind her. That’s all that matters.

  And she was literally paying him back. She’d just sent him the August check back, along with a personal check for what was left from the June money plus $2000. Absolutely every non-essential dime she had made since starting this job two weeks ago. It would barely make a dent in her debt, but it was a start.

  That was probably why she couldn’t stop thinking about him, she decided as she walked down the hallway. Not because she missed him—that would be crazy after what he’d done. It had to be because she was so determined to get on with her life.

  Yeah, yeah, that had to be it, she thought as she walked out of the brown brick building.

  She was so busy trying to convince herself, that she nearly walked past the woman leaning against the flagpole without seeing her.