Clinched Page 7

  “Lexi, how old are you?”

  “I’m five! My birthday was October first.”

  “You did such an amazing job. Even if you don’t win, you should be so proud of yourself.”

  “Thank you,” she says shyly.

  “All right. Ice cream,” Tristan speaks up. “There’s Moo’s Creamery over in Larchmont and it’s only about a mile from our home. Where do you live?”

  “I actually live in a loft apartment on Larchmont Boulevard above the hardware store.”

  “Perfect. Did you drive?”

  “I took a cab.”

  “You can ride back with us. Mason brought his own car in case he had to leave.”

  We walk out of the library and into the parking garage. The lights beep on a gorgeous four-door truck. When we get closer, I see it’s a Ford Raptor. The truck is midnight blue with black trim. The windows are tinted dark and the tires are black on black. You don’t normally see this type of vehicle in LA—usually it’s Porsches and Ferraris, cars that draw attention and scream wealth.

  “Wow! Your tires are almost up to my chest,” I say out loud, making Tristan and Mason laugh. Mason’s smaller vehicle beeps and it’s more of the type of car I’m expecting. A BMW of some sort but still a four-door like Tristan’s truck.

  Tristan opens the driver door and turns the truck on. Then he walks around to the passenger side and opens the back door, lifting Lexi up into her booster seat. He opens the passenger side door for me and I stare up for a second wondering how in the world I’m going to get into this truck without making a fool out of myself. I look down and notice the only step is coming out from under the door Tristan put Lexi into.

  “How about I ride with Mason?” I glance back at his low to the ground car.

  Mason throws his head back laughing and Tristan shakes his head.

  “Tristan! Be a gentleman and help the lady in. It’s not her fault you’re trying to overcompensate with your tall as hell truck!”

  “I don’t need to overcompensate for shit,” Tristan exclaims. “I’m not the one buying a fancy foreign car to impress women.”

  “You know what they say…big truck, small dick.” When Mason says this, I turn around to hide my smile and make sure Lexi didn’t just hear that—luckily the door is closed.

  “You’re just mad because my truck will run the hell over your little car.”

  “When it works! What does Ford stand for? Fix or repair daily!” Mason chortles and Tristan rolls his eyes.

  “Well, you better hope your car never breaks down because you know what BMW stands for…breaks my wallet!”

  I listen to the two men throw digs back and forth about each other’s vehicles for a couple minutes until there’s a knock on the window followed by it rolling down.

  “Hello! Ice cream is waiting!” Lexi doesn’t wait for an answer before she presses the button to roll the window back up.

  Both guys smile, shaking their heads, then Mason says, “You heard the princess. Ice cream is waiting.”

  I’m about to head over to Mason’s car, hoping he’ll give me a ride, when I feel strong hands grab hold of my waist. I jump forward in shock, screeching a little, and turn around defensively.

  Tristan throws his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry. I was just going to help you up.”

  I take a few breaths in and out to calm myself while Tristan eyes me curiously, waiting for me to say something, for me to give an explanation as to why I just freaked out over his simple touch.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  He quirks up a brow in a way that tells me he thinks my answer is utter bullshit, but I don’t give him anything else, so he lets it go.

  “Come here and I’ll help you up,” he says softly.

  I walk in front of him, face the passenger seat, and wait for him to hoist me up. This time, when his hands find my waist, I’m prepared for his touch. He leans in and I can smell his cologne. He doesn’t smell like a woman. No, he smells like a mixture of sandalwood and citrus, and for some reason it reminds me of winter in Georgia when I was growing up.

  “Are you sniffing me?” he asks, amusement in his voice. I turn to look at him only to find his face is less than six inches from mine. His hands grip my waist a little tighter and I can feel his hard front against my back.

  “No,” I blurt out.

  “Yes, you were. I heard you inhale.”

  Feeling my cheeks heat up, I try to pull away from him so he doesn’t see the evidence of my embarrassment. “That’s it! I’m going with Mason.”

  I try to get out of his hold, but before I can, Tristan lifts me up by my hips and plops me onto the seat before slamming the door closed.

  Six

  Tristan

  Charlie showed up late to the library and I almost bit her head off. I was so focused on her hurting my daughter, I didn’t even notice her puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks, the telltale signs that she’s been crying. She gave me some bullshit excuse about having a rough day when it was clear whatever is going on is more than simply having a shitty day. I know she called in sick to work, but she doesn’t look sick—she looks sad as fuck.

  While she was talking to Lexi, I heard her voice breaking, heard her choking up, despite trying to remain strong for my daughter. I saw the tears silently falling and her trying to hide them. I watched my daughter wipe them away and offer her ice cream to make her feel better. I don’t know what’s wrong with Charlie, but it’s obvious, whatever it is, it’s something huge, and it appears she’s dealing with it by herself.

  Not to mention the way she freaked out when I grabbed her waist to stop her from going to Mason’s car. Something tells me this woman has an invisible sign dangling from her neck that reads handle with care.

  The five-minute drive to Moo’s Creamery is filled with Lexi telling us what kind of ice cream she wants and which mix-ins she plans to get. After she lists ten different items, we negotiate she can have three. She then asks Charlie how many she plans to get. When Charlie tells her she’s a plain vanilla kind of girl, my daughter asks if she can use Charlie’s mix-ins!

  Charlie cracks up and the sound of her laughter has me smiling. It’s the first time I’ve seen her genuinely laugh. I sneak a glance at her sitting next to me and notice she’s back to wearing a bit more makeup like the night at the club. While I prefer her more natural, the woman is beautiful. Luscious breasts with an ample amount of cleavage peeking out of her low-cut sweater, a curvy ass I want to grab a hold of, and fuck, those thick thighs men dream about holding onto during sex. Add in her rain forest colored eyes, that whether she’s laughing or crying hit straight to your soul, and her thick wavy hair that would wrap nicely around my fist. And don’t even get me started on her pouty lips I want to nibble on. This woman has me imagining shit I have no business imagining.

  And all that is just on the outside. I don’t know her well enough to speak as to what type of person she is on the inside. However, the patience she’s already shown for my daughter as well as the way she praised her artwork and told her she’s an artist, speaks volumes. For the first time in a long time, I find myself wanting to get to know a woman. Wanting to know more than just her body.

  “What?” she asks when she notices me glancing at her.

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her honestly.

  She grants me a smile, and I find myself grinning back, but then the next words out of her mouth have me laughing out loud. “Too bad you can’t afford me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I challenge through my laughter, and she rolls her eyes at me.

  We pull up to Moo’s but the place is closed. There’s a sign on the door that reads they’re closed while at a family reunion.

  “Well damn,” I say.

  “Oh no! How are we going to make Charlie happy?” Lexi asks.

  “Oh, it’s okay.” Charlie laughs, but it comes out forced. She turns in her seat to face Lexi. “You forgiving me for being late makes me happier than any amount
of ice cream ever could, sweet girl.” Then she turns back to me. “Thank you for letting me see Lexi. It made my day so much better.” Tears well up in her eyes but she turns away from me before they spill over. She opens her door, and after a second of staring down, she jumps out onto the ground and looks up at me, smiling triumphantly.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Lexi asks. Charlie opens Lexi’s door, and using the step I installed for my daughter, steps up so she can talk to her.

  “I live on this street. I just wanted to tell you again how beautiful your picture is, Lexi, and I want to thank you for sharing it with me.” She reaches over and gives Lexi a kiss on her cheek. “It was really nice to meet you.”

  Lexi pouts, realizing this is goodbye, but her manners quickly win over. “It was nice meeting you too.”

  Charlie closes the door and steps up onto the sidewalk, waving at me before walking away. I watch as she walks farther and farther away—stunned at how quickly we went from spending more time with Charlie to her saying goodbye.

  There’s a knock on my window and then my door swings open. “Tell me you didn’t just let that woman walk away, again!” Mason accuses.

  “The ice cream place is closed and she lives on this street,” I say as way of explanation.

  “What the hell does that mean? We can go somewhere else, get ice cream from the store. Tell me you at least got her number this time,” he says incredulously.

  “No, when she saw the place was closed, she practically bolted.”

  “So, go chase her!”

  “Yeah! Go get her, Daddy!” Lexi agrees.

  I rip my seat belt off and hop out of my truck, running after Charlie, but she’s already gone. I walk past several stores, trying to remember which store she said she lived above. When I get to the hardware store, I’m almost positive I remember her telling me she lives here. I press the button on the intercom to be buzzed up several times but there’s no answer. Maybe she said she lived near it? I step back out onto the sidewalk and look around. Almost every business in Larchmont has an apartment over it. She has to be somewhere around here, but as I walk by the surrounding places of business I don’t see her anywhere.

  Turning around, I walk back to my truck. Mason is standing next to Lexi’s door and both of them are watching me. I shake my head. I can’t believe I just froze! I let her run away without even attempting to stop her. It’s been so long since I’ve dealt with a woman on a more personal level, I didn’t even think. The goodbye just happened so quickly.

  “She’s gone,” I say as I jump back into my truck.

  “I knew you were out of the game but damn, man.” Mason shakes his head incredulously.

  “I just froze. One minute I was saying the place is closed and then next she was saying goodbye to Lex and walking away.”

  Mason chuckles. “That sounds like the making of a chick flick. The woman who got away.”

  Just as I’m about to push Mason out of the way to close my door, Lexi yells, “She’s over there!”

  I look over to where Lexi is pointing and see Charlie walking out of the corner store.

  Shoving Mason out of my way, I jog toward Charlie, calling her name. She stops in her tracks and I almost run into her from behind. She turns around to face me, her brows furrowing and her nose scrunching up in confusion.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” That’s when I notice her nose is red again from crying, her checks are shiny from the fresh tears, and the eye makeup she was wearing is now smudged.

  “You were crying, again.”

  She averts her gaze but I step closer, gently taking her chin between my fingers, and forcing her to look at me. There are so many questions I want to ask. So many thoughts running through my head. I want to know what has this woman so sad, why she is so often in tears, but right now on the street corner isn’t the time. The way she practically ran tells me she’s closed off. So instead of saying what’s on my mind, I say, “We’re going to get ice cream from the store. C’mon.”

  Without giving her a chance to argue or come up with an excuse to tell me no, I take her hand in mine and pull her toward my truck. Opening the passenger door for her, I lift her up into the seat and close the door. Mason is standing there with a knowing smirk on his lips.

  “Shut up.”

  “I didn’t say shit.” He lifts his hands in surrender.

  “You’re thinking it.”

  “I was just thinking I have a date tonight, so you’re on your own after all. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Mason walks over to his car and gets in, revving his engine and peeling out. I get into my truck, and Charlie and Lexi are chatting about art.

  “Ice cream party at our place?” I ask and both girls agree.

  Seven

  Charlie

  We stop by the grocery store to grab ice cream and all the fixings Lexi insists we need then head to their house. When Tristan found me, I was coming out of the store with a bottle of vodka hidden in a brown bag planning to drink my sorrows of today away. Because I left with him, the bottle is still in the bag on the floor of the truck. I’m not entirely sure spending the evening with Tristan and his daughter is the better choice, but it’s probably the healthier one.

  We pull up to a gated community which can’t be more than a mile from where I live. The gate opens, letting us through. Tristan pulls into a parking spot and turns the truck off. Whereas Larchmont Village gives off the feel of homely with a quaint country chic vibe, allowing people to stay in LA without the hustle and bustle feel of LA; Tristan’s condo development screams wealth and sophistication. Even the name of the community reads, luxury condominiums. The buildings are painted a harsh white with dark red doors. The grass and palm trees are cut neatly, and the luxurious fountains stationed in the entry way of each building look like they cost more than the entire worth of the apartment loft I’m renting. I lived many years surrounded by extravagance so I know without a doubt this condo is worth millions.

  Tristan grabs the bags and we head up the sidewalk. Lexi runs ahead and stops at the door. “This is where we live.” She points to the numbers on the door.

  Tristan unlocks the door and motions for me to enter first. I walk into the foyer and take my boots off, then assess the area. I’m shocked when I see their home is nothing like the outside. Just as beautiful for sure, but in a completely different way. The walls are a soft cream and the furniture is all dark wood and microfiber. There’s a huge flat screen television with a gaming console, and Lexi’s dolls and other toys are strewn throughout the living room. The place isn’t messy—it’s lived in. My eyes go to the walls where I see several framed drawings hung up one after the next.

  My heart feels like it’s being split open. This is what a home is supposed to look like when a child is loved, yet it’s nothing like the home my daughter was being raised in.

  Roughly eleven months ago…

  “Charlotte, I’m home.”

  I glance at the clock and see once again Justin’s home early. For the last several years he has come home at six o’clock on the dot, and now for the last several weeks he’s been coming home at all different times. My body and mind go into survival mode as I rush over to greet him. He’s standing in the foyer staring down at his cell phone. He’s in his usual three-piece suit, tie undone, and shoes that cost more than most people spend on their monthly mortgage. The first time I met him, he looked nothing like this. He was in a plain white t-shirt and cargo shorts. Nike sneakers, dirty from playing football in the grass. He was laughing and looked so carefree. When he asked me out I couldn’t help but say yes. His charisma sucking me in. I often wonder which man is the real Justin. If he even knows who he is.

  Over the years, I have begged him to take us away, to get away from reality for a bit in hopes of the man I fell in love with reappearing. I used to blame the stress of the business on why he treats me the way he does. It started off small. He would snap at me then apologize. At first, he would promise not to do it again. Eventua
lly he stopped making empty promises. Over the years, the abuse increased slowly. A push here, a slap there, until one day when Georgia was almost two, I woke up and realized I was in a physically and emotionally abusive marriage. The last year I have spent every day planning our escape. I know most people would judge me, saying I should have run the minute I snapped out of denial, but when you’re married to a man like Justin Reynolds, you don’t just walk away. You plan and then you run. Far. Because if he catches you, you’re fucking dead. There are no do-overs.

  “Hey, you’re home early,” I mention nonchalantly.

  “Is that a problem?” He looks up from his phone and glares at me.

  “Of course not. It’s just that dinner isn’t ready yet.”

  Justin bridges the gap between us and I flinch, afraid he’s going to hurt me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Charlotte,” he says incredulously. “Is there a reason I need to?” So, he’s in one of those moods, where he pretends he’s the perfect, caring husband.

  “No.” I smile meekly. Justin leans into me and gives me a soft kiss on my lips, and for a moment, I get sucked up in his gentleness until the woman’s perfume hits my nose and I step back remembering who it is I’m married to.

  “I’m going to finish dinner.” I turn to walk away and my head is yanked back, my scalp burning as my hair is tugged violently.

  “Do not walk away from me,” Justin growls.

  “I’m sorry,” I cry out, praying he doesn’t turn this into another beating. Two nights ago, when he came home mad about work—some business deal not turning out the way he wanted it to—he hit a couple of my ribs and they haven’t had enough time to properly heal yet.

  He pulls me toward the couch but stops when he almost trips over a couple of toys on the ground.

  “This fucking house is a mess.” He grips my hair harder then uses it to push me to the ground. I land on the toys, one of them digging into the swell of my back.