I Love My Healed Heart: 4 Book Box Set/Omnibus (Erotic Romance) Read online

  The End of Part 3

  David Sucks.

  Flashback

  A Sunday, Early In Summer

  (the day he ripped my heart out)

  David pushes his hair away from his eyes, then takes my hand again. Sweating, panting, joggers pass us as we walk under one of the beautiful stone bridges in Central Park. “I don’t know how they do that, in this humidity,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I have no idea. That would entail more self-discipline than I have.” We walk until we get to a pond… or is it a lake? I can never remember how big a pond has to be before it graduates. “Oh, look! A turtle. Awww, how cute. See, he’s got the right idea. What’s the hurry?” I smile at the little guy, and he blinks once. I’ll take that as approval.

  David stands behind me and puts his arms around me. I lean into him, my back against his chest. He squeezes tightly and rests his chin on me, watching our little friend over my shoulder, our cheeks touching.

  “I think we should see other people,” he says into my ear, as if he’d said, What a beautiful day.

  I stiffen. It takes me a moment, because I am not sure I heard what I just heard. My heart stops and I choke, “What?”

  “I think we should see other people,” he repeats and gives me an extra squeeze, for God knows what reason.

  I am stunned, so I don’t pull away yet, because the way this just happened is throwing off my grasp with reality. Oh. Okay. I’ve got it now. “I’m sorry, what? What are you talking about?” I say and jerk away from his embrace to turn to face him. The turtle jumps off the rock he was resting on, landing in the water with a kerplunk, behind me.

  “Let’s not make a scene, Jess.” David says, holding his palms out to me and stepping back.

  “Nobody cares! Look around!” He doesn’t need to, because he knows. He just said that because he wants to save himself the drama. Fine. I turn away and start walking fast in the direction of nowhere. I don’t know where I’m going! I need to think. I can’t think. My head is spinning. What is happening? This is the worst feeling. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me.

  “Jess!” He catches up with me and tries to take my hand, which is swinging pretty wildly.

  “Don’t! David, don’t… please. I need a minute to think. Just give me a minute, so I can think. I can’t…” I spin around and look at him. He doesn’t look as upset as I need him to. “Where did this come from? Are you seeing someone else? Is that what’s going on?”

  “No. Not at all. I just think that people aren’t meant to be monogamous, and maybe we should see other people.” He shrugs and reaches out to touch me.

  I recoil like he has a disease. Which he does. It’s called asshole. “You don’t think people are meant to be monogamous?” I ask, incredulously.

  He takes a breath, looks at his Converse sneakers then back to me and says, “No. I don’t.”

  “Do you think you could have told me that before you asked me to move in with you?” I ask, my eyes rounded with shock. I turn around in a circle, my hands on my head, trying to figure out why this is happening. I can handle this, what he’s telling me, as long as he hasn’t cheated on me. “You really haven’t slept with anyone? Tell me the truth, David. Please don’t lie to. I can’t take it.”

  “No. Of course not,” he says gently and this time successfully takes my hand in his. He pulls me to him and I let him, but I am screaming inside. “I’m sorry, Jess. I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  “Let’s go home. We’ll get some food. Nothing has to be done right now, okay?” He says quietly. Does he feel my heart pounding?

  “Uh-huh. Okay.”

  “Great.” He releases me, takes my shaking hand and leads me to home. Our home. During the walk, we are silent. I’m almost glad he’s got my hand because if he hadn’t, I’d probably stop in the middle of traffic. Not out of a desire to kill myself, though. I’d stop simply because I’d forget to keep walking. My mind rifles over and over again through the past few weeks, trying to find clues I must have missed. He’s come home later than he said he would, but not that much later and only once or twice. He’s been as affectionate as ever. If anything, we’ve been having more sex than usual. I can’t think of anything that would make him want to break up. He hasn’t said that word yet, but that’s essentially what this is. I don’t think he’d say it aloud. That’d be too brave.

  Wait. I look at him. Do I think my boyfriend’s a coward?

  That Tuesday Night

  I haven’t told Amber and Nicole about what happened two days ago. I went to work yesterday and today, but I barely remember anything from it. I haven’t eaten. I’ve hardly slept. The Bitch has been in France on business, so at least I had that little break from the universe. Break. Break. Breakup. David still hasn’t said it… breakup. I want to say it, but he’s being so nice. A text comes through on his phone. I look over at him as he checks it and puts the phone back down. I wonder, does he think we can go on like this? Does he notice I’m a shell of myself now? Does he think we can see other people while we live together? I know I should ask him, but my tongue is dry.

  “Do we have any wine, David?” My voice is barely a whisper, from the couch.

  “Yeah. Let me get you some, babe. I have to go take a dump first,” he says from where he sits at the desk. He gets up and walks to the bathroom as if it’s a normal night.

  “Okay.” I watch his exit and silently hate him. I picture a vortex appearing in the toilet that reaches up and drags him off to another universe, where I don’t have to see him again. Wait. That’s not cool. We can work through this. This is just a phase. Relationships hit bumps all the time. At least he didn’t cheat on me. Maybe he’s just getting freaked out, since we’ve been so happy…

  But I hear a voice inside my gut whispering, check his phone. I’m not the type of girl who checks a guy’s phone. I don’t read diaries, either. I look at his phone, sitting where he left it on the desk. It gets larger and larger as I stare. My eyes dart over to the closed bathroom door. I become very aware that time is of the essence. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m up, walking to the desk and snatching up his phone. I open the text message conversations, quickly. I feel a hot flush rush through my body. Hurry, Jess, Hurry.

  I see names in this order: Melanie, Bob (his boss), Thomas (his best friend), Jess (me). I look at the name Melanie, a name I don’t recognize. It’s also the name on the text that just came through. The one he didn’t answer. I start to sweat. My heart pounds so hard, I’m terrified it will explode.

  I click on her name to read: Is she still there?

  Is who still there? Is she asking about me? Why wouldn’t I be here? I live here! I look at the bathroom door. Feelings of violence boiling inside of me, I scroll to find this conversation that happened on Saturday:

  David: I’m going down on u in my mind right now.

  Melanie: Mmmmmm. Feels good.

  David: Why aren’t u here?

  Melanie: Because your girlfriend is there.

  David: She’s just left for yoga class.

  Melanie: Oh, really? ;)

  David: Yes, really.

  Melanie: I’ll be right over.

  David: :)

  With all of my strength, I throw the phone at the bathroom door. It makes a loud thud and bounces to the floor, thanks to the stupid protective, rubber cover. “Are you fucking kidding me!!!???”

  “What the…” David comes out of the bathroom, zipping his pants.

  “You told me you haven’t slept with anybody! Who the fuck is Melanie? I can’t believe it.” I repeat that last sentence several times, holding my head in my hands and pacing.

  “Jess. Calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re being crazy,” he says, approaching me with his hands out. He stops a safe distance from me, though, smart asshole that he is.

  I glare at him. “Has anyone ever calmed down when they were told “Calm down”?! NO!”


  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “You slept with her when I was AT YOGA, David. That is what’s going on! You’re a lying fucking jerk bastard dickhead liar! THAT’S what is going on. I can’t believe it. I knew it in my gut that you were lying, that you must have slept with someone else – and I didn’t believe it! I’m such an idiot!”

  “Did you check my phone while I was in the bathroom? That’s an invasion of privacy,” he says, his tone accusing and wronged.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!!??”

  “Sorry. Calm – I mean… take a breath. Breathe Jessica, breathe. Your face is really red.”

  Hearing the word breathe reminds me of yoga; of being Zen and going with the flow of life. Is this life’s flow? Me getting cheated on and lied to, by the man who says he loves me? I collapse onto the couch and sob. This is the worst feeling I’ve ever had. Ever.

  He admits it, now, to me. I think my crying like this must have gotten through to whatever decency he has inside him. I nod as I listen to the confession. When he finishes, I stand up. I pick up my keys, my bag, my phone and then walk numbly out the door. I’m wearing green pajama shorts, a white loose t-shirt, and no shoes.

  “Jessica!” he calls out. I keep walking. He runs down the few stairs I’ve descended, stands in front of me and puts my favorite sneakers on the step below me. Seeing them hurts my heart, but I don’t know why. “You can’t walk around barefoot. It’s not safe.”

  I don’t say anything. I don’t meet his eyes. I don’t punch him in the throat, although I want to. Instead, I silently slide my feet into my shoes, with his help. Then I walk past him and down the rest of the stairs… and out the door. I never go back.

  When I knock on Amber’s door, Josh answers. He takes one look at me and stands to the side to welcome me in. “Amber!” he yells, his voice worried.

  “Yeah, honey?” she calls back and steps out of the bathroom, wearing sweats and a tank top, holding a toothbrush with fresh toothpaste on it, ready to go.

  One look at me, and she runs over, hands Josh the toothbrush, and engulfs me in a huge hug. I cry on her shoulder and can feel her motion to Josh to give us some privacy. He tiptoes off to the bedroom as she leads me to the couch and grabs the tissue box on the coffee table to hand it to me. I blow my nose into it, my shoulders shaking with tears. “I’m going to get you some wine, honey. I can call Nicole, too. Do you want me to?” I nod, tears falling.

  Alone, I stare at a figurine of a small fairy, wearing purple, and try to catch my breath. I hear her pour the wine, send the text, in the other room. I’m so thankful for my girlfriends. When she returns and hands the chardonnay to me, she puts her hand on my knee and listens to the whole story. When Nicole arrives, I tell it all again, and the three of us go over every detail of every moment, trying to make sense of how this could happen. How could he have thought it was okay to do this to me. How anyone can do this, to anyone…

  I sleep on the couch at Amber’s and Josh’s. Within a couple days, Amber finds me a cute little shoebox apartment to move into in the East Village. It feels like home. I pay movers to pack up my place for me, with David’s help. I don’t want to go back there. I want to move on and be strong.

  I know that this thing with David had to end, and that’s why this happened. I could never be truly happy with a man who could do something like this to me. If we’d been together for ten years, and he had one slip, and was sorry, etc. I could have probably gotten over that. There would have been time and love spent, and it would have happened for a good reason, probably. But this? The way he did this shows me, he’s just not my guy.

  He is so not my guy.

  I Love My…

  Destiny

  By Sabrina Lacey

  Contents

  1 The Next Morning

  2 At Bryant Park

  3 An Hour Later

  4 Lunchtime

  5 Last Show of The Day

  6 Seven Minutes Later

  7 Epilogue

  Present Day

  The Next Morning

  Even though it’s Saturday, I have to work. I’m riding the why-is-this-so-ridiculously-crowded subway up to the zoo formerly known as Bryant Park. I want to be in bed, but I am The Bitch’s bitch during the organized chaos that is New York Fashion Week. Kill me now.

  This is my fourth year at the magazine and that means it’s my eighth Fashion Week season, which means I’ve had more than enough time to get it through my thick skull that I must take good care of myself, to survive the intensity and the pressure. The first two years, I did not know this. I plodded through on a diet of Red Bull, potato chips and parties, and was punished. Since then, I have hammered it into my stubborn brain with duct tape, barbed wire, silly putty and super glue, that if I don’t get sleep, and lots of it, during Fashion Week… I will die. That’s the deal. Get sleep, or keel over in front of all those beautiful people – preferably on a stage where they will worship my collapse as the next best thing.

  Last night I was home by ten…on a Friday! I left Amber and Nicole at Tipplers, when I didn’t want to go – when we were still having a great time – so that I could be home for a beautiful night’s rest.

  After all this wonderful self-knowledge and discipline, did I sleep well?

  No.

  How could I? After the shocking Mark/James, email/text, duel date-offer conundrum, I couldn’t get my mind to shut the hell up! I tossed. I turned. I must have peed fifty-seven times (the extra glasses of water and wine didn’t help). I tried everything. I mean everything! I tried to read myself to sleep. No. I tried to watch Law & Order reruns. I’ve seen them all, so they’re now my late night lullaby. Still no. I tried meditating, but I don’t know how… so that was a bust, too.

  Then I pulled out the big guns…the Magic Wand. Only problem was that I didn’t know who to fantasize about!! Every time I tried to focus, David’s dumb face popped up. “See, Jess? Two guys, huh? I told you we’re not supposed to be monogamous,” he’d say, which is such CRAP! Imaginary David and his crap-philosophy blocked my orgasm.

  Finally out of tear-filled frustration I cradled my Magic Wand like a teddy bear. It’s not as gross as it sounds. I always use my vibrator through my panties, which I clean with lavender laundry soap. Apparently that’s a jackpot combo, lavender and sexual frustration, because I passed out a little after 4:30 a.m.

  But I had the freakiest dream.

  In it, I was at the office - only there were a lot more employees, a lot more desks, and no cubicles. Everyone sat quietly working at their computers, faces expressionless, as they typed loudly away like when the world used typewriters. James took my hand, and moving slowly and heavily, as though we were in water, he walked me to the only empty desk, centered in the loft-style room. He lifted me up and onto the desk, shutting down objections with a kiss. His kiss stole my voice! When I tried to speak, only sounds came. I went quiet.

  He stood in front of me in between my legs as he pushed my knees outward and open. I anxiously waited. What was he going to do? Looking as hot and sexy as ever, he slid both his hands up my thighs and under my dress, in front of everyone. I pushed my dress back down only to have him pull it up again.

  “Show yourself. Lie back,” he ordered. “Put your feet up and spread your legs wide.” I did. “Touch yourself.” Nervously I searched the faces around us. Oblivious, they stared ahead; their tap tap taps collecting into a sort of exotic drumbeat soundtrack. I saw Amy among them. She didn’t look our way. She just stared ahead like the rest, and typed… and typed…and typed. “Touch yourself for me, Jess,” James repeated, his hands holding onto my ankles to give me moral support.

  Very slowly, my hand slid down between my legs and I touched myself through my panties just once before I drew my hand away, embarrassed. I looked to him, begging him silently to not ask this of me. Disappointed in me, he pulled his hands away. I missed the support, the way they felt, even though they almost felt wrong. I saw the bulge in his pants, and I didn’t want to l
et him down. Scared, I slid my fingers underneath my panties and felt for the first time how marvelously wet I was. Was I enjoying being on show like this? The danger of it? I tried not to look at the faces around the room, but I looked. Amy and I locked eyes. I gasped. She still typed with the others, but now her head was turned toward me. The look in her eyes took me by surprise. It was eager. She wanted to watch. She wanted me to be free. She wanted to know what that felt like vicariously, though me and my shameless act. The room began to shrink. The desks closed in on us.

  I wrapped all of my fingers around my pussy and cradled myself, laid my head back on the desk, my knees up and out. Underneath the lace I slid my hand into the folds of my tender skin, sought out my pulsing clit and stroked myself with the tip of a finger. I matched the rhythmic beat of the computer keys tapping around me. They typed faster, feeling what I felt, breathing as I breathed, as I caressed the slippery smooth skin tucked inside my small mound of pubic hair.

  More people reacted like Amy had. As they typed, they turned their heads one by one, to watch. They were waking up. I could see it in their eyes. I slid two fingers then, deep inside of myself, and their keyed drumbeat became louder. I locked eyes with one after the other as I teased my own body with light flicks before pushing my fingers inside again. Some people gasped and stood up. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the orgasm building within me, as more people rose and left their computers. I stroked and tormented myself, as they surrounded me writhing on the desk with them watching me moan. I came like this in front of them, as James held my ankles and repeated the word, yes.

  Spent and elated, I released myself from my hand, resting my arms by laying them at my sides. That’s when I felt James’ hot breath light me up again. He’d kneeled down to slide his tongue up and down me gently, slowly. I moaned as loudly and as long as I’ve always wanted to, and everyone watched us. I pushed myself into the heat and skill of his mouth, hungry for more. I was his slave, wiggling under his mouth as I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted. Let them watch. Let them see what it feels like to be free.