KIRSTY DALLAS

Copyright © 2014 Kirsty Dallas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

While writing this book I broke out in a sweat on the odd occasion. Not an ugly man sweat with saturated pits, but a delicate perspiration on my brow. One day I even kicked my toe on the corner of my desk and it bled, causing me to cry (just a little). I wrote this book and literally gave it my very own BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS, so don’t steal it... Quote it if you wish, tell your friends about it, create shit-hot trailers and teasers (I love those), just please, DON’T STEAL IT!!

Cover Image

Photographer—L G Abraham

Graphics Designer

Graphics Covered

Dress

One Night Stand

Cosmetic Artist

Angela Prothero

Editing and Formatting

Ami Johnson

“Violet Addiction”

Written by Beau Maynard and Kirsty Dallas

Performed by Beau Maynard

For those who have fought and won, and especially those that are still fighting.

Somebody once said we never know what is enough until we know what’s more than enough.

—Billie Holiday

I’ve always craved things that destroy me; things that make me forget the worthlessness that fills my veins. In the end, the poisons I consumed in an effort to feel numb killed me. Some have described death as a bright light, a peaceful acceptance, as their soul is drawn to another world so humbling it fills you with a love unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. There was no bright light in my death though, but perhaps I wasn’t destined for the angelic beauty of heaven. No, my short lived life had been played out with so much sin and excess that there would no doubt be a special cage in hell with my name on it. In my death, I felt and saw nothing. No warmth, no cold, no light, no darkness, just nothing.

As I lay on the stiff white sheets of an unknown hospital bed, the past several days of my unconscious existence were no more than a foggy swirl of dreams and distant voices. I now longed for that empty void of death. He hadn’t been here when I awoke. He was always with me when I woke from a bender that would put most celebrities to shame. He always made sure I was safe and protected. He was always beside me, ready to carefully palm my shame and self-loathing into his gentle hands and bring me back from the brink of darkness. This time was different though; this time I was alone when I awoke. He was gone, and I felt the weight of his loss like a missing limb. Cain, the light to my darkness, the poetic music that was a constant feature to my days and nights, but that music was now silenced. I shouldn’t have been surprised; I had always known that his perfection was too beautiful for my world. I had long ago reconciled myself to the belief that Cain Everett would be nothing more than a moment of love and warmth that would eventually escape my darkness. Part of me was grateful that he had finally found the good sense to leave. Another part of me was broken, irrevocably and agonizingly broken.

My eyes fluttered closed, trapping the tears beneath the darkness of my eyelids as I recalled the first time I had ever seen Cain, or more like heard him.

Cain possessed a gift unlike any other. His hands were crafted by angels, created for the ebony and ivory keys of a piano. The beauty that fell from his fingertips was breathtaking. The day I met Cain I was drawn to the sweet sound of Pachelbel’s “Canon In D Major”, mind you, I had no idea what it was called at the time. Harmony and joy echoed through the empty school theater, the fluent sounds filling me with an awe and wonder that drew me forward from the shadows I had sunk into as I listened to him play. As if lured forward by the Pied Piper himself, not even a thick wall as wide as the oceans or as tall as the skies could have prevented me from reaching him. Finally I stood right behind him, close enough to reach out a hand and feel the warmth of his lean body. I didn’t though. I couldn’t. I had fallen into an immovable trance, captured by this boy and his precious musical gift. When the music ended on one lone, soft note, the boy turned around to face me, as if unsurprised by my presence. I opened my mouth to say something, but my mouth was an empty cavern; no words left my lips. In an attempt to gather some sort of composure, I closed my mouth and stood a little taller, my shoulders pushed back, and my chin lifted defiantly. The corner of this musical boy’s mouth tipped into a small smile, and I noticed his beauty. His intelligent, soulful eyes were a cool blue, his cheek bones were high, and his bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top one. His hair hung long enough to drop into his eyes, and as he watched me, he raised a hand to push the wispy dark blonde locks aside. No words were exchanged; we simply watched each other with wary curiosity, as if our souls had been drawn to this moment and were peacefully becoming acquainted.

After a long moment, the boy finally spoke. “If I had known playing this piano would make a beauty like you appear, I would have done so long before now.”

I should have rolled my eyes and snorted at this teenage boy’s softly spoken seduction, but truth be told, his words were a smooth caress to my heart, and I wanted nothing more than for him to continue talking. He leaned back against the piano, his eyes raking over my body shamelessly. His gaze wasn’t exactly filled with the usual male desire other boys looked at me with, I could see the interest there, but this boy was looking at me as if I was something more than an attractive blonde haired girl. He seemed genuinely intrigued by my presence.

“I’m Cain Everett,” he murmured with a small smile. Cain seemed like a strong and unusual name; it suited him perfectly.

“Violet Trivoli,” I answered in a whisper.

“Violet,” he spoke, as if testing the sound of my name off his lips. “Pretty,” he purred.

I dragged my eyes from his far too intense gaze and took in the grand piano behind him. It was used for school productions, and I had only ever heard Mrs. Whitlock, the school’s history teacher, play it. As far as I was aware, it was off limits to students.

“Do you play?” Cain asked.

I shook my head as I took a few tentative steps past him and reached out to touch the smooth, cool surface. It was such a beautiful instrument that could create such a beautiful sound. I loved the piano even though I could not play.

“No, but I like to sing,” I found myself saying. When I realized what I had said, my eyes widened with horror. I had only ever sung in the shower or in the privacy of my bedroom. I wasn’t even sure if I was any good; I just knew I loved to do it. Cain’s smile was blinding, filled with an excitement that had me immediately nervous. He turned on the bench, facing the piano’s keys.

“What do you like to sing?” he asked.

I chewed on my bottom lip, anxiously caught between wanting to tell him and wanting to run and hide.

“I like Ella Fitzgerald,” I finally blurted out. Cain seemed a little surprised with my answer.

“Do you know “Dream A Little Dream Of Me”?”

I nodded. I knew everything by Ella, word for word. I listened to her repeatedly in the quiet seclusion of my bedroom, singing along with the jazz great, every word from every song until I knew them all by heart.

Cain’s fingers settled on the keys. “Sing for me.”

I froze, my heart thumping so hard it was almost painful.

“No one else is here, Violet. It’s just you and me. Anyway, I showed you mine; now it’s your turn to show me yours.” His eyes danced with mischief.

“I might suck,” I blurted out.

Cain smiled. “And you might not. But in the end, who cares?”

His words, though casual and without malice, broke my heart. I had long ago accepted that in my world, there were few who cared. Besides my dad, there wasn’t really another soul who appeared to care about me. I glanced nervously around the room, noticing the gaping loneliness the empty theater carried. There was no one there to see or hear me. And why should I care what one lone, strange boy would think? I gave Cain a short nod and licked my lips as he began to play the familiar tune. I took one deep breath and exhaled, blowing my nerves out into the air, leaving only a mild fluttering in my stomach. Then, I sang. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see Cain’s reaction. If he laughed, I would be mortified, but somehow I knew that even if he wanted to, he probably wouldn’t. At first glance, he didn’t seem like the other boys in school who snickered and teased mercilessly, without care or thought for the person on the receiving end of their jibes. Cain carried a peaceful charm that suggested he not only had manners, but a brain as well.

As always when I sang, I pictured myself standing under the spotlight on a stage in a long elegant dress, my long blonde hair swept up into a sophisticated style, my hands tenderly caressing the microphone before me, a piano at my side my only accompaniment. The audience was cloaked in darkness; the only people that existed were me and the musician by my side. I forgot all about my pitiful existence: my drug addicted mother, my dad who buried his heartache in the bottom of a liquor bottle, and the squalor and poverty we lived in due to my mother’s endless cycle of addiction. I sang away the sorrow of an empty life and imagined myself having it all. Beautiful clothes, an elegant home, money…love. When I finished, I opened my eyes to see Cain standing, astonishment etched into his handsome features. Again we were captured in a silence that spoke louder than any words.

“That was incredible,” he finally whispered. “You’re incredible.” No one had ever used those words to describe me; I was ordinary and poor.

I shrugged awkwardly. “I’m just a girl who likes to sing,” I muttered. Cain’s head tilted to one side, the corner of his mouth tilting into a confident smile as he considered me.

“And I’m just a guy who likes to play the piano.” He reached forward and grabbed my hand, tugging me gently out of the school theater.

“Where are we going?” I asked a little nervously. It was the first time a boy had ever held my hand. At sixteen, I had most definitely noticed boys, but I had no interest in entangling myself romantically with one. It was not through lack of interest. With long blonde hair, a slim build, generous breasts, and dark green eyes, my body and looks drew many interested gazes. Coming from a home like mine though, you tend to protect your pitiful existence. So I turned myself into a closed book that no boy dared to open. They called me frigid, they called me crazy, they called me poor, but as long as they never called me theirs, I would be okay.

“We’re going to be late for class. I’m walking you to yours.” Cain glanced over his shoulder at me and winked, making my heart skip a beat. “After that, who knows? They say the sky is the limit, but you and me together, baby, maybe we’ll reach the fucking heavens.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but from that moment on, I learned to never doubt Cain Everett.

Ten Years Later

“Cain, where are my shoes?” I shouted, shoving clothes aside in an effort to locate my crystal strapped lavender heels. “This place is a fucking mess,” I whispered under my breath as I hauled my heavy suitcase off the floor and onto the bed.

“Perhaps if you tried putting your clothes away in the closet you might find some kind of order and maybe your shoes in there,” Cain said with amusement in his voice. He strolled into my room and began picking clothes up off the floor, throwing them onto the bed in a halfhearted attempt to help me find my all-important shoes.

I had plenty of other shoes to choose from, but I wanted this particular pair for tonight, and when Violet wanted something, Violet got it. Yes, I was stubborn, arrogant, and spoiled, but after growing up in the bowels of hell, I figured I deserved it. I glanced at Cain, and my breath caught. As always, he was incredibly handsome, almost beautiful in a masculine way. He wore a suit, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He hated wearing suits but the intimate bar we were playing in tonight was very exclusive and demanded a certain appearance. Cain’s shoulder length hair was pulled back in an almost messy bun—or bro-knot as he preferred to call it—the wispy strands that had fallen loose pushed back behind his ears. His face held a light scruff of hair as he hadn’t shaved in the last week. Thankfully, his incredible good looks allowed him to get away with the lack of grooming. Cain was tall, his shoulders wide. I always felt he had the body of an athlete, a swimmer perhaps, but the only sport Cain ever indulged in was jogging and the occasional work out in hotel gyms.

From under the bed, he pulled out a pair of elegant lavender shoes, his long fingers that most definitely did not belong to that of an athlete, holding the crystal straps.

“My lady,” he crooned.

I almost screamed in delight as I snatched them from his hand, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Kisses like this were familiar where Cain and I were concerned. Kisses to cheeks, foreheads, hands, and on a few occasions, necks, were allowable. Kisses to the lips were another story. In the twelve years we had been friends, we had never once crossed that line. We both wanted to; it was there in the thick layer of sexual tension that constantly cloaked us. I, however, refused to share my pitiful gene pool with someone as perfect as Cain. I would never taint him with the horror of who I was. I was nothing, whereas Cain was everything. I don’t know when I had accepted the notion that I was as meaningless and worthless as a speck of dust on the wind, but if you hear it often enough, you tend to eventually believe it. And when such words came from the mouth of your very own mother, you have no choice but to accept them. Cain knew the entire sordid truth that was my pathetic excuse for a family. I had tried in vain to keep it a secret, but Cain was one determined soul. And once he had decided he wanted to know me, the real me, including the shameful truth of my home life, he was like a bull out of the gate, charging right into the ring and through the front door of my childhood house. There, he was confronted with a nightmare, a tale written into the walls, floor, and furniture of my home; a tale of poverty, destruction and addiction. Cain had seen my family at its best and at its worst. When Cain had taken my hand and dragged me from the school theater that day, he had never let go. Eventually we had surpassed the clumsy moments of teenage affection for each other, we had moved past the adult wants and needs, and settled into a friendship that was treasured beyond the demand for intimacy.

I slipped on my shoes and fastened the little buckle behind my heel. As I stood and smoothed out the cool satin of my dress that fell over my body like a sheet of glossy water, Cain admired me in the form of a long look, from head to toe and back again. He didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction over what he saw.

“You clean up all right,” he said with a wink, stepping into my body. “Tie me up, baby.” He lifted his head and I grabbed his tie, twisting and tucking it under his collar. When I was finished, I ran my hands down his strong arms and stepped away.

“Alright, handsome, let’s go show these pretentious elitist snobs of Macy’s what jazz is really about,” I said with a smile. Cain took my hand and led me from the hotel room. We always shared a room, though we always had separate bedrooms to afford us some privacy. The only rule in place, we didn’t bring our conquests home. If I needed the indulgence of a man’s company for the evening, I went back to his place and vice versa. Even with our casual need for tender moments with other people, it didn’t stop Cain and me from showing affection for one another. Holding hands, chaste kisses, and harmless flirting were commonplace and a part of who we were; it felt wrong not to touch. As we stepped onto the elevator, Cain pressed the button that would take us to the ground floor. I checked myself in the mirrors that surrounded us, parting my red lips to make sure I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth. My bright violet hair had become an image synonymous with my onstage presence. It was striking in such a way that it turned heads, both male and female. I liked the attention. Once upon a time I had tried to hide from the judging eyes of others, but now, I adored it, thrived off it. Tonight I had left my hair out in a tumble of perfect purple twists and curls, hanging to my waist. My dress was also lavender, skin tight, and backless. I looked every bit the violet temptress I portrayed on the stage. As much as I revered the attention my looks and voice received, when the door to mine and Cain’s room closed with us safely behind it, the persona was left outside. It was then I slipped into the comfort of worn jeans and a t-shirt. My hair would end up in a messy twist at the back of my neck, my face free of makeup. Only then, behind that closed door did I truly feel myself, and I hated it. That girl was trash; she was shy, pitiful, tragic, and lacked confidence. It was those moments I struggled with and quite often numbed with a few lines of coke and a bottle of whiskey. Drugs were my safe place. In the soaring heavens of intoxicated bliss, my feelings and emotions were masked behind the illusion of happiness and invulnerability. It had been two nights since the lady of vice had filled my veins in the form of a quickly snorted line in the semi-privacy of a hotel toilet stall. Our sound technician, Loui, had scored me a gram of powder from one of the hotel’s valets. In an attempt to hide the drug use from Cain, I opted for a public restroom in the hotel rather than in the privacy of our own room. Cain knew I partook in drugs; he was often the one scooping me up at the end of the night and tucking me safely into bed. He didn’t like it though—he hated it—but had long ago given up on lectures and silent attempts to draw some form of guilt out of me. Instead, he watched me warily, making sure I never pushed too far or partied too hard. Out of respect for Cain, I never indulged in front of him and even tried to keep it somewhat of a secret. I was delusional to think Cain wouldn’t notice my discreet moments of use. He always noticed. My chemical induced high was proof enough, and by now Cain knew it well. Still, he held his tongue and always tucked me into bed when I finally crashed back down to earth.

As the elevator drew to a gentle stop, Cain reached for my hand once more. “Okay, baby, let’s go let the angels hear that beautiful voice of yours.”

The crowd before us was painfully conservative; barely a pompous double finger applause broke the muffled silence of the exclusive bar. We had played here before, so we knew what to expect. Cain sat before the piano, his eyes always on me. With a wink, he began playing The Beatles “Yesterday”, though we had molded the ballad to our own soft and slow jazz number. That was our thing, taking contemporary songs and giving them our own personalized jazz flavor. Some songs embraced a more mainstream pop sound, the jazz influences subtle, others were strong jazz numbers with hard piano strokes and a little more sultry seduction in my voice. We had well and truly pissed our manager, Harry, off when we had refused to record our music, but it had quickly become apparent to make it in the music industry we needed to spend time in the studio. With a little help from YouTube and social media, our music slowly bled out into the world, and we garnered a reputation for being a “must see” gig. We traveled far and wide in an effort to deliver our music to our fans, and we spent as little time as possible in a recording studio. It was more often than not a grueling schedule, but it was the path we had chosen and neither of us ever regretted it. We craved live performances. With a stage and audience the atmosphere was ever changing and diverse. The energy from a live performance filled me with a natural high that I hungered for almost as much as the chemical high from cocaine.

I gazed across the quiet, intimate audience before us as I sang, barely able to see beyond the bright lights that trailed across the stage, shining on Cain and me. Forever grateful for the invisibility the lights offered me, I poured my heart and soul into the slow melody. When the song finished, Cain did not stop playing, instead leading straight into Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life”. A small smile kicked up the corners of my mouth as I continued singing, though my gaze was now focused on Cain. I moved around the piano to sit beside him, dipped my hand under one of his arms, and stroked his chest as he continued to play effortlessly. Cain’s eyes dropped to half mast, welcoming the feeling of my hands on him. He dropped an intimate kiss to my exposed shoulder as he continued to play till the final note. As soon as Cain’s hands were free, he took my fingers from his chest and pressed a kiss to the back of them. We shared a moment, a look of longing and love, a mutual moment of need that would never be shared, before I stood and resumed my place on the other side of the piano. It was so easy to love Cain, yet such a painful reminder of how he deserved someone better than me. My mood quickly shifted to somber, but I maintained the cheerful charade on stage. Cain knew though; he could see the self-loathing in my eyes as plain as I could see the worry in his. We had three sets to complete tonight, and between each one, I washed away the pity party with a shot of whiskey. By the time we finished, Cain physically forced me back to our hotel room as if he too could sense the destructive urges prickling under my skin. I disappeared to my bedroom, locked the door tight, and scrambled through my bags for my hidden stash. There was always one somewhere, lying forgotten at the bottom of a bag or wrapped in my expensive hose. Worst case scenario, I would call Loui and he would go in search of something to take the edge off. Loui only ever indulged himself at parties, but he always made sure I had what I needed, whenever I needed it. If Cain realized just how efficient Loui was at providing for my habit, he would have had him sacked a long time ago. After twenty minutes searching, I found the wicked dust in a small container in my cosmetic bag. Thank you, I silently whispered, to who I don’t know. I carefully laid out two lines on the bathroom vanity, rolled a twenty dollar bill from my purse, and inhaled the powder one line at a time. I knew the drug had yet to take effect, but I was already beginning to calm. I sat back on the toilet seat beside me and allowed the elixir to give me the detachment I craved. My night had started so carefree and bold, my need for drugs and alcohol practically non-existent. All it took were a few errant thoughts to scatter that calm façade to the wind.

I missed the blissful, invincible feeling that came with my first line of cocaine. There was nothing quite like that high, that incredible feeling that the stars were not only reachable, but mine to own and possess, showering me with their infinite beauty. As time went on though, to reach that high, one line became two, two became four, and now it seemed nothing could help me maintain that euphoric feeling for more than a few minutes. I sat on my bed, surrounded by pages of scrawled pen, straight from a mind swirling with emotions too intense to silence. I just wanted that voice muzzled, that horrid noise from within me that screamed the sordid truth of my weakness and self-hatred. Why couldn’t I just forget, just let the hatred go and move forward like any normal person? I hated the reality of who I was so badly; I just wanted to fall asleep and disappear into a vacuum of emptiness. I couldn’t sleep though, one of the less appealing side effects of blow. I had been lost in my cocaine stupor for almost eight hours now, and all I wanted to do was rest, but the drugs in my body wouldn’t allow it.

“Baby,” whispered a sorrowful voice at my side. I turned my head to see him, my angel, Cain. He knelt at my side and reached for the glass in my hand that had slipped and spilled amber liquid onto the bed. He carefully and methodically cleaned the mess that surrounded me, while I watched him through eyes filled with tears. When finished, he scooped me up into his strong arms and walked me to the bathroom where he stripped me bare and led me under the heated spray of the shower. My legs were trembling and tired, but Cain helped me stay upright. My brain felt foggy and disjointed, unable to hold a single thought for more than a moment. I blew out a long breath of exhaustion and tucked my head into Cain’s neck, finding a measure of comfort at the familiar feeling of him under my lips. I kissed the warm, soft skin there, my tongue darting out to taste him. Cain groaned loudly, his arms a solid and sure presence around me. As I continued to kiss and lick at his skin, I possessed no thought beyond the calm relief his body gave me. When I realized he was still fully clothed with me under the shower, I dropped my hands to lift his shirt.

“Violet, no,” he murmured. There was no real conviction in his words though.

My hands reached for the strong muscles of his chest, feeling the life that radiated from this man before me. My head tilted back, and when Cain glanced down at me, I went to my toes in an effort to get my lips to his. At the last moment, Cain angled his head away, and the kiss landed chastely on his cheek. My hands became more fervent in their exploration of him. I needed more, skin on skin, his body on mine, in mine. I needed it like I needed to breathe.

“NO!” Cain demanded, turning me until my body was pressed against the tiled wall behind me. He held my hands in his, trapped above my head, and his knee pressed between my legs in an effort to hold me up.

He was rejecting me, and I had expected it. So, why did it hurt so much? Nobody could love the imperfection that was me, least of all someone as perfect as Cain, but oh how I yearned for it.

“Not like this, Violet,” he said in a gentler tone.

My eyes squeezed shut; the shame of what I had tried to do dragging me into the pits of self-despair once again. All Violet Trivoli was good for were quick fucks in the shadows; no man could ever love me.

“And don’t you dare go back there either,” Cain whispered as if hearing my thoughts. He turned off the water and pulled me from the shower stall, wrapping my body in a towel. Sitting me on the end of the bed, he proceeded to dry my hair, all the time whispering words like, ‘you’re too good for this, Violet’, or ‘you shine too bright for this kind of life, Violet’. I felt like a child, a hopeless, worthless child under the caring hands of an angel. Eventually Cain helped me into panties and a shirt, then pulled me back into the bed, tucking me tightly under the sheets. I closed my eyes as the first tear fell, tears of shame and guilt. The warmth of Cain’s body wrapped from behind me—his arms tight, his chest firm against my back, his legs tangled around mine—we couldn’t have gotten any closer if we tried. Then he began humming. My entire body sagged with relief, the sound of Ella Fitzgerald’s “Dream A Little Dream Of Me” reverberating through Cain’s chest and into my body. Nothing comforted me quite like this song; nothing drew me from the depths of the cocaine blues like Cain’s love. With his hands stroking warmth back into my body, I was finally lulled into sleep.

I knew I was awake and no longer cushioned within the sweet embrace of sleep when I rubbed my irritated nose, only to pull my hand away and find blood. Oh shit, I internally groaned. It wasn’t the first time my nose had bled after a bender. I had snorted my nostrils into oblivion a number of times over the years. I was alone in my bed, grateful that Cain wasn’t here to witness the result of the abuse on my nose. With a tissue shoved against my face to catch the crimson drops, I staggered to the bathroom, my head throbbing painfully, my stomach rolling with unease. One steaming hot shower later, a little cream under my nostrils, and I could pass as a human again. The evidence of my solitary binge from the night before was gone, swept away like it never happened, thanks to Cain. On the bedside table sat a single lavender iris. It was Cain’s calling card, the only type of flower he had ever bought for me. He claimed it reminded him of me, delicate yet bold. I pushed open the door to my room and stepped into the living area. Cain was on the couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table, a guitar in his lap as a gentle strumming wafted through the room.

The piano wasn’t the only musical instrument Cain had managed to master. Several years ago, frustrated he couldn’t haul a piano everywhere we went, Cain bought two Gibson acoustic guitars. A bet was made, who could learn a song first: me or Cain. I gave up after a week. Cain though, in a month, he was playing Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl”. Since Cain had won, I owed him a week’s worth of foot massages, which I did with more than a little belligerent moaning. I didn’t do massages; I was more than happy to receive them, but I didn’t give them out.

Cain continued to play as I wandered quietly into the room, my hair hanging in wet tendrils over my shoulders. I went to speak but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That will be for you, sweetheart,” Cain murmured, his hands not halting for a moment as he continued to play. I wasn’t sure of his mood; he seemed calm and relaxed, but there also seemed to be an underlying current of tension which wasn’t unusual following one of my benders. I opened the door to find a hotel employee waiting on the other side, a tray full of food before him. I stepped aside so he could enter the room, and Cain dropped his guitar and handed the employee a tip. My eyes meanwhile were riveted to the steaming covered dishes, bacon and eggs if my nose was correct.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” I moaned, lifting the lid off a plate and digging the fork in. I looked up to see Cain standing before me, an amused look on his face. He wasn’t as pissed off as I initially thought. “What?” I asked, stuffing food unceremoniously into my mouth.

“Actually, you haven’t told me in a while. I think I need reminding.” He crossed his arms over his chest; the shirt he was wearing pulled tight, and my eyes instinctively dropped to his toned body before returning to his face. He looked a little too smug for my liking.

“Cain Everett, I love you more than this bacon.” I shoved the bacon between my lips and groaned as the crispy, salty meat flooded my mouth with flavor. “I wish to revise that statement, almost more than this bacon.”

“Violet, you can’t do that to me,” Cain growled, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Do what?” I asked a little confused. Surely he knew I was only joking. Of course I loved him more than the bacon.

“You can’t eat like that in front of me.” He collapsed onto the leather couch, snatching up his guitar once more. I glanced at the egg speared at the end of my fork then back to Cain.

“What? I chewed.”

Cain laughed. “Those little moans and groans you make when you’re eating are hot as hell and make me so hard I could hammer a nail into a wall with my dick.”

I laughed, spluttering egg back onto the plate before me. I was used to Cain telling me how I turned him on; I had seen the evidence hidden behind the fabric of his pants too many times to count.

“You need a cold shower,” I mumbled. I thought I heard him mutter something about that not fixing it but chose to ignore him. This is what I did best, ignored Cain’s attempts to turn my body into a flaming erogenous zone. His touch was enough to launch my heart into flutters, and his words could completely melt me. I blindly ignored it all. “When do we have to leave?” I wondered out loud.

“Harry has a gig lined up for us in Phoenix in two nights, then we are off the hook till New Year’s.”

Harry was our agent and had proved to be a very good one. He was a ruthless businessman and great at marketing both himself and his artists. He had also auctioned Cain and me off to the highest bidder for a New Year’s Eve gig with all proceeds going to a foundation for homeless kids. It had become a tradition of sorts, this being the third year we had done such a thing.

“Where are we playing for New Year’s?” I asked with a grin, hoping, no praying it was in New York. It had been almost seven months since we had last played in what Cain and I now referred to as our adopted home. We each had our own apartment in New York, and it was about as far from my home in Seattle that you could get. And the further away the better. Seattle might have been where I grew up, but it was as far from a real home as you could get.

“Vegas.” My smile dimmed a little. Vegas wasn’t a bad place to play for New Year’s; it was, after all, the city that never sleeps, Disney Land for adults if you will. And oh, how I loved to party. I was just hoping for a little more time in New York. “Harry promised after Vegas we could take some time off and do a few local gigs in New York. We can actually unpack our suitcases and stay a while.” My smile returned. I perched myself on the arm of the sofa, and Cain tugged on my braid. “I’m going to head out for a bit. I need to finish my Christmas shopping. Wanna come?”

As much as I loved shopping, I knew I would be too jittery and paranoid to survive the holiday season crowds, and I didn’t want to ruin it for Cain. I had finished my Christmas shopping a month ago. Since my family consisted of two, holiday shopping rarely took more than one trip to the store.

“Shall I bring you back some cheesy fries?” he whispered. Even though I was stuffing my face with bacon and eggs, as he spoke, my stomach growled noisily at the mention of my favorite post party snack. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He laughed. Cain planted a chaste kiss to my forehead before shoving his feet into a pair of Converse sneakers and grabbing his wallet and room key. “Behave,” he called as he left the room.

I knew he didn’t mean his parting command in jest. Cain truly wanted me to behave myself, and more than anything, I knew he wished I had accompanied him. At least then he could keep a close watch on me. Cain also loved sliding his hand into mine and tugging me from one shop to another. It was something normal, almost domesticated, an indulgence we rarely submitted to. I wasn’t normal though, and I most certainly was not good enough to fill the domesticated void in Cain’s life. I sighed as the weight of silence descended on me like a ton of bricks, the thoughts of inadequacy filling me to the point of despondent pain. My appetite suddenly gone, I placed my half eaten breakfast back on the tray. After an hour, my hands began to shake, and my leg bounced in an urgent tempo as my thoughts raced from one negative notion to another. Things were getting bad, and I was going to need a timeout soon. Much to Cain and Harry’s frustration, I refused to go to rehab, claiming I had a handle on my addiction. You couldn’t really call it an addiction, since I had it under control. When the binges became too frequent and my body struggled during the hours between a hit, I cut myself off and detoxed. I could go months without a drop of whiskey or line of coke, so it was no addiction. The fact I was inevitably lured back to punish myself with drugs and alcohol should have proved my complete lack of control. But I could pretend I was in command of my mind and body with the best of them.

I picked up Cain’s guitar and strummed a few useless cords. Maybe Cain would put in a call to one of the bevy of beautiful women I knew he had available to him in this city. Cain was always painfully discreet about meeting up with women to satisfy his more carnal needs. In fact, I never saw him with other women, and he never spoke about them. I knew he had women readily available wherever we went though. Some of them were repeat offenders at our gigs; the familiarity with which Cain looked at them and spoke to them was easy to see. It made my stomach curl to think of him with others. It was wrong of me to feel that way; Cain was not mine to feel any ounce of possession over. I tossed the guitar to the side. What I needed to do was figure out a way to make up for last night. I had yet again dragged Cain into my merciless world of drugs, and he had again reverently cared for me and protected me from myself. I knew he was angry this morning over my drug use last night, but as usual, he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t try to make me feel guilty or less worthy of his friendship because of it. I wanted to give Cain a night of laughter, a night where he didn’t have to worry about me. I wanted to give Cain the joy he deserved. My eyes, which were currently darting around the empty room with nervous anticipation, landed on the closed door to my bedroom and an idea crept into my mind. With a small smile, I pushed the tray of food into the hallway outside our hotel room door and disappeared back inside to prepare for a night of diversion.

I was floating in the warmth of the hotel’s indoor pool, my ears submerged so that all I could hear was the occasional muted bubble or pop of my liquid bed and my own breathing, slow and deep, as I relaxed into the sensation of weightlessness. It was late in the afternoon and the pool was empty other than myself, the winter’s chill in the outside air most likely forcing hotel guests into the cozy warmth of their rooms. I smiled at the thought of Cain who would soon be following a string of clues to my whereabouts. He had sent me a text when he was on his way back to the hotel, so I had known when to put my plan into action. A sheet of paper on the floor behind the door to our room had strict instructions.

Dear Music Man,

To find your treasure you will follow the clues.

#1. For this treasure hunt, you will need to bring a treat. Check where we eat.

—V

At the small dining table in front of the large glass windows to the balcony sat a bottle of Balcones Whisky and two glasses, along with the next clue.

#2. Take that pretty head to the place you lay your head.

He would then go to his room, and on his pillow, would find his next clue.

#3. Now don’t get stressed, but check the place where you get dressed.

To which I could just imagine his amused gaze crossing to the closet where his suitcase was shoved within, his shirts and pants hanging. On the door to that closet, he would find a stick-it note with this next clue.

#4. The next place you need to look is where you will find a book.

P.S. bring this bag but don’t peek inside

Hopefully he wouldn’t peek because it would ruin the hunt. If he played the game by my rules, he would pick up the bag that sat by his feet and leave our room to find the hotel’s book store, where he would find a note for him waiting with a middle aged lady whose eyes twinkled with glee when I had explained my little treasure hunt and left her with the next clue.

#5. You are almost there. Just one clue more, go to the elevator with the sun above its door.

There were four elevators in this hotel, each with a painting hanging above its doors. The elevator that would bring Cain to me had an impressive scene of the sun rising from behind a mountainous snow-capped range. The doorman by that elevator had strict instructions to hand Cain the note with his last clue.

#6. If you wish to claim your gold, find a place where the water’s not cold.

With a little luck, his eyes would move to the chrome framed buttons on the elevator, and he would press G1 which would take him down to the pool. A small giggle escaped my lips. The five shots of whiskey I had already indulged in over the last couple of hours weren’t what my body truly craved, but it was a good enough substitute. Suddenly, the calm waters were disturbed with a torrent of water that covered my face and sent me spluttering beneath the surface. As I found my way above the rippling water again, my eyes cleared. I took in the laughing form of Cain, his shoulder length hair plastered to his head, his shoulders bare, and eyes gleaming with unbidden excitement.

“I do believe I found my treasure.” He chuckled.

“I do believe you nearly drowned your treasure.” I laughed, splashing water in Cain’s face. He turned back to the side of the pool and levered himself up to grab the whiskey and glasses. My eyes discreetly ran the course of the muscled planes of his sculpted back and balked a little when I realized he was only wearing his boxer briefs.

“Cain! You do realize there are swim trunks in that bag you brought down with you.” He winked at me from over his shoulder as he poured us both a drink.

“Oh really, I didn’t notice.” A loud bark of laughter escaped my lips when I realized he was clearly lying. Never a man to be embarrassed by his body or lack of clothing upon it, Cain handed me the glass of dark golden liquid. “Here’s to treasure hunts and the pot of gold awaiting me at the end,” he said cheerfully, clinking his glass against mine. I didn’t miss his eyes which dipped to the swell of my breasts barely breaking the water. I drank my whiskey without pause, handing my empty glass back to Cain. “I can see I have some catching up to do,” he said with a teasing lilt in his voice. I shrugged and moved back through the water, putting space between me and the far too tempting man. My resolve to leave Cain alone always weakened under the influence of alcohol.

“Did you finish your Christmas shopping?” I asked, making sure the conversation stayed on a ‘safe’ topic.

“I did.” Cain poured himself another drink and threw it back easily before placing his glass beside mine and sinking into the warm water to face me. “Come home with me for Christmas.” My eyes fluttered shut, and I drew in a deep breath. Cain asked me the same question every year. Spend Christmas with him and his family. It was such an appealing prospect that the need to say yes tugged at my heart, and the word almost spilled from my lips. Cain’s family was close; his mother and father had a strong and seemingly unbendable marriage. His sister was the eldest sibling, happily married six years next spring with two beautiful children. His brother, two years older than Cain, was also happily married, no children yet, though not from lack of trying. Cain’s family was perfect and mine was not. Regardless of the lure to spend Christmas surrounded by such happiness, the only time I saw my mom and dad was for the Christmas holidays, and I would not let them down, even if they had let me down too many times to count.

“You know I can’t,” I said simply.

“I know you can. We can spend Christmas with my family and stop over at yours a night or two on our way to Vegas for the New Year’s Eve gig.” Having Cain spend any more than a few minutes around my family was a big ‘hell no’. Over the years I had always sheltered him from the disappointment that were my parents. When my mom was high, she was a great mom in the eyes of a naive little girl. She danced, sang, laughed, and played games. But as soon as she fell from that high, she developed a spiteful and mean tongue. As she had grown older, her mean and spiteful tongue seemed to follow her through her highs as well. As for my dad...well, my dad was more like a puppet on a string for my mother’s amusement. He drank, a lot, and I think it was mostly in an effort to deal with my mother. When Mom’s cruel words broke her little girl’s heart, my dad would step in and do his best to pick up the pieces. He would sit with me in his lap and hum gently as he stroked my back in an effort to comfort a child who was too young to understand her mother’s addiction.

I couldn’t understand why my dad never left. I could only assume he didn’t have the backbone to stand up to her, and that left a bitter tinge in the love I had for my father. Their relationship was one I couldn’t begin to understand, and I would not spoil the perfection that was Cain with their shameful existence.

“Come on, Violet, it’s me. There are no secrets between us. I know your family. You love them and that is enough for me, regardless of what I think of their poor parenting skills,” Cain growled.

I didn’t want to talk about my family. I didn’t want to talk about Christmas. I held up my hand to stop him; he was being a Debbie Downer, and my head, already throbbing for release in the form of a few lines of cocaine, didn’t need to be berated with emotions I couldn’t control right now.

“Cain, Christmas is the only time I see my family, and you haven’t seen yours in months. I’m sick of the sight of you anyway; I need a break.” We both knew I was joking. I could never get sick of seeing Cain. He flicked water in my face.

“Fine, but I’m dropping you off Christmas Eve and picking you up first thing on the twenty-sixth; that’s all the time I am giving you with them. Even that will be enough to turn you into an emotional wreck for the next month.” He wasn’t being mean; it was a simple fact. Being around my family did break my heart and drag my already worthless hide down even lower. I brushed off his comment and allowed my legs to float up to the surface, kicking water in his face. “Oh, it’s like that is it?” he yelled, lunging for my foot. I almost managed to laugh before being dragged under the water. When he allowed me to rise, I did so with a mouthful of water which I promptly squirted right into his face. Cain laughed before tackling me under the water yet again. When our need to laugh and breathe overcame our need for a watery revenge, we floated back to the side of the pool where Cain filled another glass of whiskey. It would have been much nicer with a couple ice cubes which would dull the burn from the liquor and allow a stronger aroma and flavor. It was an expensive bottle that didn’t deserve to be drunk with such little respect. When Cain knocked back the whiskey without offering me one, I gave him a pout which he quickly laughed away.

“You’ve had more than enough, baby. I need to catch up, remember?”

I shrugged. The warmth of the liquor had done its job for now, but I knew I would need more soon, or else my jittering limbs would become more obvious. In a brazen moment, I allowed my body to float back into Cain’s arms. He slid them around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I began to sing “The Christmas Song”. By the chorus, Cain had joined me, and that’s how I knew the whiskey had broken down his first wall of inhibitions. Cain didn’t sing often, even though his voice was a masterpiece and was more than passable for our high paying gigs. He often joked that he didn’t want to outperform me, but I knew for all his confidence and ego, Cain was nervous about singing in public. We sang “Jingle Bells”, “Winter Wonderland”, and “Let It Snow” before I felt Cain’s lips press to my shoulder in a tender display of affection.

“Cain,” I whispered, my far too gentle plea for mercy lost under his masterful lips that trailed a line of kisses up the delicate arch of my neck. I barely noticed the scorching comfort of his hands that had risen to rest directly below my breasts. His tongue softly lapped at the water that dripped down my neck, and my entire body broke out into scorching warmth that reinforced the need to stop the insanity before it went too far.

“Violet, just let go,” Cain murmured. The heat of his whiskey soaked breath sent shivers through my body. “This is meant to be, baby, you and me. You gotta stop fighting it. Please just let me love you the way you were meant to be loved.”

For a moment, the thought of just letting go was all too tempting. The idea of never having to fight my need for this man made my entire body thrum with the desire to let fate take control, my miserable past or tainted present be damned. Cain’s teeth took my ear lobe in a gentle bite, and his hands rose to my breasts, skimming over the taut peeks, causing my body to jump with need. “I know you want this as much as I do.” He had no idea how much I wanted this, how my body sung for his. His hands played me with such expertise. But I wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t cross this line, and my want? I could easily allow another man to play my body with fumbling negligence, which would at least take the edge off my so called needs. Cain wanted more than I could give him; he wanted love. How on earth could I give him love when I couldn’t even hold a handful for myself? I slipped out of Cain’s hands easily. He didn’t try to hold me in place, physically or figuratively. Cain knew I could never be pressured into an intimate relationship with him, and he would never force one upon us. I ducked my head under the water, and when I came back up, I noticed that Cain was doing the same. When he finally reappeared, he avoided my gaze studiously. Oh great, awkwardness, just what I needed as my body began to quiver with the need for something stronger than alcohol.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” Cain finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. Guess those shots caught up to me faster than I thought.” While I appreciated his attempt to break the awkwardness, his words also stung, as if he needed to be inebriated to be with me in that way. The sudden panic in his eyes told me he had just realized what he had said.

I snorted loudly and obnoxiously. “I’m always telling you that you’re a lightweight who can’t hold his whiskey.” I smiled, even though forced, and I was proud to say Cain bought it, relief evident as his body relaxed against the side of the pool. He reached for the whiskey and poured us both another shot.

“Alight O’ mighty and powerful woman of the amber gold, since I have caught up, let’s race to the finish line.” And race we did. My recollections of stumbling beside a laughing Cain back to our hotel room were vague and incoherent. The heavy and dreamless slumber that followed the fumbling walk back to our hotel room was barely a blip in my memory.

“What do you mean he’s been arrested?” I squealed as Harry navigated the heavy L.A. traffic.

“I mean, he’s been arrested. Liberties temporarily removed following a purported investigation or crime. Motherfucker…” Harry’s voice trailed off under a volley of impressive foul words as he swerved around a slow moving vehicle. Harry spoke English, Spanish, and was fluent in blasphemy, so it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard from him before. However, I had never heard the words ‘Cain’s been arrested’ nor did I ever expect to hear them. Cain was the good guy, mischievous, fun, sexy with somewhat of a devious mind, but he was not a criminal.

“What did he do?” I said with a slightly panicked voice. We were supposed to be playing for a rather large audience tonight downtown, and I couldn’t do it without Cain. I mean, he was a rather integral half of this two person gig.

“Fuck if I know. He just asked me to come bail him out.” Harry cast me a quick sideways glance and smiled. “And he asked me not to tell you he had been arrested.”

My eyes widened. “So you not only told me but asked me to accompany you to the station?” I was a little surprised that Harry had betrayed Cain’s confidence in such a way.

Harry just shrugged. “I figured he must be embarrassed…and after the incident in Texas, when Cain locked you out of the apartment in nothing but a towel, I figured you would enjoy a little pay back.”

My incredulous look morphed to a genuine smile. “Harry, you’re the best.”

Harry grinned; his eyes steady on the traffic pulling to a stop before us. “Promise me you’ll get rid of the fucking photo, and we’ll call it even.”

I laughed. I knew which photo Harry was referring to. Last New Year’s Eve, Harry had overindulged in scotch and ended up on his knees, kissing another client by the name of Jimmy J on his bare ass. I had the photographic evidence stored on my laptop.

“I guess we will just have to see exactly how mortifying Cain’s situation is,” I replied with a smile.

Two hours later, Harry had signed several documents, had paid a small bond with his platinum credit card, and we had spent an agonizing hour sitting in a putrid foyer, watching a less than savory looking man pick his nose and a scantily clad hooker scream the injustice of having the fifty dollars she had received for a blow job confiscated. Cain’s offense was relatively harmless; he had taken a drunken dip in a nice warm fountain which just happened to be situated on private property. He would most likely pay a small fine and get away with a slap on the wrist. Not nearly embarrassing enough to warrant giving up Harry’s damning photo. The sound of a familiar voice from the hallway to our right caught my attention. I turned and blinked once, twice. My hand reached blindly for Harry as my eyes remained focused on the vision before me.

“Harry, I need your phone.” I whispered quickly. Harry brushed off my grabbing hands.

“Why, what’s wrong with your phone?” he grumbled.

“I left it at the hotel, and if you want me to make that picture of your lips on Jimmy’s ass disappear, you will give me your phone right now,” I hissed. Harry’s phone was immediately placed in my hand, and I quickly stood and flicked it to camera mode.

“Smile!” I sung loudly as Cain stepped from the dimly lit hallway and into the bright room. The shocked look on his face was priceless, but the sharp look of annoyance directed at Harry was even better. I tried really hard not to laugh, honestly I did. But I laughed, long and loud. Before me stood Cain, dressed up in a fox suit onesie, his hair disheveled, eyes screaming hangover and exhaustion. The police had failed to explain Cain’s state of attire during his inebriated swim.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cain grumbled as I handed Harry his phone.

“I will delete the ass kissing photo the moment that one reaches my email,” I murmured.

Harry was already busy sending Cain’s post arrest picture.

“Harry, if you don’t make her stop, I will, and it won’t be pretty!” Cain groused as we drove back to the hotel.

“You’re delusional if you think she’s going to listen to me.”

I was trying really hard not to laugh, but every time I glanced in Cain’s direction, the giggling would start again, and the giggling would lead to uncontrollable, almost pee-worthy laughter.

“I asked you not to tell her,” Cain mumbled angrily. He was pouting, tired, and humiliated, not unlike how I felt after my drunken hotel lock out last year. I smiled at the thought of just how great this payback was, along with thoughts of Cain in his fox onesie gracing the front of my holiday greeting cards this year.

“She owed you from Texas, and I had an ass kissing picture I needed to make disappear.”

I took a few deep calming breaths, forcing my laughter to abate. I was sitting in the back of the car, directly behind Harry. When I dragged my eyes off the passing scenery to look his way, I caught sight of Cain once more, and the giggling started all over again.

“That’s it!” Cain yelled as the car pulled to a stop for a set of traffic lights. Cain had no sooner jumped out of the car before he was climbing into the back with me. The look of determination on his eyes had me reaching for the release button on my seat belt. It sprang free, but before I had a chance to reach for the door handle, Cain had grabbed my arm. “Oh no you don’t.” He pulled me across the leather seats of the car while I tried to protest through my fit of laughter. The warmth of Cain’s body covered mine, then before I could manage to wiggle free, he was tickling me. I screamed loudly.

“Keep it down, kids. People are going to assume something fucked up is going down,” muttered Harry, using the electronic controls to roll my window up. “Or fucking up and down, if you catch my drift.” Cain used one hand to cover my mouth and the other hand to tickle my ribs. I wriggled and squirmed as he showed me no mercy.

“I’m going to pee!” I screamed when his hand finally slipped away from my lips. Ever so slowly Cain drew away from my body and sat up, allowing me to find some composure. He glanced down at me as I lay across the back seat, my feet in his lap. He was smiling. Cain did that better than anyone I knew, took his anger and turned it into happiness.

“At least I had clothes on,” he whispered, pulling me to sit upright.

“I would say we are now even,” I said a little breathless, my body hard up against Cain’s. I lowered my head to his shoulder, and he took my hand in his.

“Until next time,” he promised with a kiss to the top of my head.

“What are you smiling about?” Cain asked as we dragged our luggage through the airport.

“I’m just thinking your new Cookie Monster onesie is almost as cool as the fox one,” I confessed. Cain smiled, the blue costume stuffed back in the gift bag he had taken it out of only moments before. We had decided to exchange Christmas gifts at the airport, since we were both headed to our own rental cars and would not be seeing each other again until the twenty-sixth of December.

“Are you ever going to let that day go?”

I shook my head. Cain’s fox suit onesie arrest had taken place three years ago, and ever since, for Christmas and birthdays, I had always included a onesie of some kind with his gifts. The Cookie Monster onesie now joined the illustrious list of zebra, crocodile, Batman, unicorn, and teddy bear.

“There are still hundreds of different onesies available for me to purchase,” I explained.

“At least the blue will go with my eyes.” He sighed. Cain helped lift my suitcase into the trunk of my rental car before leaning against the driver’s side door to stop me from climbing in. It was cold; the sun had set a good couple of hours ago, and while I could barely wait for the blessed heater inside the car, I also found myself reluctant to say goodbye to Cain. “Please reconsider,” he whispered, his intense gaze holding me still and silent. He was so close I could feel the warmth seeping from his body to mine. I wanted to step into those arms and press myself in the safety of Cain’s embrace. It didn’t matter what I wanted though; what mattered was what Cain deserved, and that certainly wasn’t me.

“Don’t be silly. Everything has been arranged; my family is expecting me. I’ll see you in two days.”

Cain sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Okay, but call me if you change your mind and want to leave sooner.”

I stood on my toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but Cain had other ideas. His arms captured me tightly, and his soft lips fell to mine. A kiss to the lips was forbidden, and even though he kept it chaste, nothing more than a whisper of a touch—there one moment, gone the next—it still left my lips tingling with warmth long after he pulled away. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered.

“Merry Christmas,” I breathed as I watched him head for his rental car on the opposite side of the lot. Dragging my gaze away from his retreating form, I climbed in the car and drove out of the airport. I was home, and rather than excitement and exhilaration, I felt anxious and scared.

I stood on the doorstep to my family home, my heart beating in my chest as if I had just run a marathon. The two lines of coke I had done in the front of my car only fifteen minutes ago no doubt contributing to that race. My palms were sweating, and I put my bags down to wipe them on my jeans. I idly played with the necklace Cain had slipped around my neck back at the airport. It was my Christmas gift, a deep amethyst diamond in the shape of a tear surrounded by clear cut diamonds. Exquisite and unusual, apparently just like me. I smiled at his underhanded attempt at a compliment. He knew telling me I was beautiful or perfect wouldn’t be accepted, so instead he chose words that I could receive without an automatic rejection. I rapped my knuckles on the front door which was promptly answered by my dad. He actually looked good, which surprised me. His eyes were clear. He had put on enough weight to give his cheeks shape and put a cuddly pudge over the top of his belt. His head of curly blond hair was receding and grey, making him look a few years older than the fifty-seven he had recently turned. He was a bear of a man, tall, wide shoulders, and legs like tree trunks. I always thought of him as my very own big, cuddly teddy bear.

“Pumpkin,” he said with something surprisingly akin to pride in his voice. He pulled me into his arms, and I hugged him back, always loving these moments of sober clarity that my dad offered me. He was far more affectionate and emotional than my mother, and I was ashamed to say that I found loving my dad far easier than loving my mom.

“Hey, Daddy, you look great.” My words were honest and full of encouragement. He did look absolutely wonderful, better than I had seen him in a long time. My father’s affection for liquor meant more often than not his meals were of the liquid variety. The fact he looked so good could only mean Mom was doing well, more than likely sober. My father’s health seemed to mirror my mom’s. Perhaps we could enjoy one of those scarce moments of a relatively normal family Christmas. My mood swung about, happiness seeping into my heart. Dad took my bags and led me into the house that was just as I remembered it, perhaps a tad cleaner though, another sign that my mom was sober. My eyes danced quickly over the familiar surroundings before I stepped through the doorway into the kitchen. My mother was leaning against the door that led to the back yard, a cigarette hanging from her lips. In stark contrast to my father, she looked terrible, which caught me completely by surprise. The sight of my healthy father and the clean home had lulled me into a false sense of security. My heart plummeted at the sight of my mom. Her cheeks were sunken and hollow, her eyes cloudy and distant. Her skin was blotchy, her fingers unconsciously scratching at an exposed sore on her arm. This was possibly the worst I had ever seen her.

“Hi, Momma,” I whispered with disbelief. I cast my dad a worried frown, and his look was pleading, asking me not to make a big deal of it. The room was filled with an awkward silence, my mother choosing not to answer me. It was well into the evening, Christmas Eve, and I noted dinner hadn’t been started. “You want me to help get dinner started?” I offered, moving around the familiar kitchen. I knew it well, having made most of my own dinners here since I was a child.

“I ordered takeout, should be here soon,” she waved off my offer with a hoarse voice. At least we were eating, I thought wryly. My mother’s glazed eyes looked me up and down, and I wondered what she saw. From the bitter curl of her lip, I assumed it was not pleasant. “When did ya get in?” she asked, drawing back another long inhale on her cigarette. My dad disappeared, most likely to deposit my bags somewhere and give us a moment of privacy. To be honest, I felt far too vulnerable without his presence and hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long. My mom was stoned; I could see it in her eyes. On what I had no idea. My mother’s drug of choice depended on price and availability. She would consume anything from marijuana to heroine, unlike me who had a special affinity with cocaine. From the look of her, I would say my mom was currently under the influence of heroin or meth.

“About an hour ago, Cain and I had to sort out rental cars then we went our separate ways.”

“Huh,” my mother said. “You still with that boy? That’s a surprise.” Her words unfortunately didn’t shock me. It was no secret that the Everett’s were a family of wealth and prestige in this town, and it had always astonished my mother how Cain and I managed to find a friendship when our worlds were so different.

“You got a tree,” I said, ignoring her jibe at my relationship with Cain. I had noticed the Christmas tree in the living room on the way to the kitchen. It was small and sparsely decorated, but it was a tree, and the fact that someone had gone to the effort to put it up was touching. We rarely had a tree during my childhood much to my youthful dismay. My mom shrugged and stubbed out the cigarette in a potted plant on the window sill that had seen better days. I guess if I was being used as an ashtray I wouldn’t want to live either.

“Your father picked it up yesterday. I told him not to be stupid, we can’t afford it, but he said it would make you happy. So…” she waved her hand in the direction of the living room, “hope you’re happy.” I wasn’t. I was far from happy, but for some reason I didn’t want my mother to know that. It felt as though giving her that kind of information would give her some sort of power over me. As it was, she already held enough power over me, the power to turn me into a dejected, beaten down dog with nothing more than a few simple words. The front doorbell chimed and my dad called out that he would get it. I quickly escaped the kitchen to join him, pushing away his wallet as he tried to pay the delivery guy who stood on the other side of the door, eyeing me up and down with a little surprise. I guess he didn’t expect anything from within this house to appear so ‘together’. Luckily he couldn’t see beyond the clothes, hair, and makeup to the girl beneath who was very much not together.

“Violet, don’t be ridiculous. You’re the guest; we will pay for it,” my father quietly argued.

“Dad, don’t talk crazy. You and Mom are putting me up for a couple of nights. The least I can do is cover dinner.” I handed the bewildered delivery guy a fifty, which covered a substantial tip, then followed my dad back to the kitchen. From the look on my stoned mother, funds would be tight, perhaps even nonexistent right now. Maintaining a drug habit was a luxury most users couldn’t afford. My dad quickly pulled plates and utensils out of the cupboards and placed them on the table, while my mom watched from her perch at the door. The frigid outdoor air blew in, and I was grateful I hadn’t taken my coat off.

“Come on, Diana, close the door and come sit down,” my father encouraged my mother.

Begrudgingly she joined us. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and a feast of Chinese sat before me now, but my appetite was painfully absent under my nerves. As my mom fiddled with a napkin, I took the opportunity to closely inspect her. Her eyes were so lifeless, seeming to hold nothing but pain and sorrow within their deep orbs. Her skin was blotchy and sagged, as if the weight of the world was actually pulling her down towards the ground, beginning with her sad eyes and ending with her down cast, mournful lips. Her hair was stringy and bleached into a yellowing blonde, her body shockingly emaciated. Was this my future that I looked upon, I wondered with shame.

“You look wonderful, honey. The music business is obviously agreeing with you,” said my father in an attempt to shake off the tension that surrounded us. It was odd to see my mother so obviously gripped in one of her fazes of unapologetic addiction while my father beamed with unfamiliar life. Usually when my mother was deeply entrenched in drugs, my father was washing away his own misery with alcohol. My father was also, if anything, painfully submissive. He never did anything without my mom’s approval or input. Right now, he felt like the man of the house, as strong and powerful as his physical appearance.

“It is. Cain and I have a big concert in Vegas for the New Year. Harry held an auction where people could bid for the performance. There were five clubs bidding with large sums of money. I believe the final bid was somewhere around $85,000, with all the proceeds going to a homeless shelter back in New York.”

“Why New York? There are homeless kids everywhere,” my mom snapped, completely disregarding the magnitude of what we had accomplished.

“Then I guess it doesn’t matter where the money goes, as long as it goes to people who need it, right?” I calmly answered. My mom seemed to bite back a retort as my dad fidgeted nervously. Now this response from my father was familiar.

“So, how are you both doing? Are you still working down at Barney’s?” My question was obviously aimed towards my father. I knew that Mom wouldn’t be working right now.

Dad nodded and smiled proudly. “Yeah, I’ve got two young fellas working under me. They’re good under a hood; they’ll make good mechanics.”

“That’s awesome, Dad. Do you make them fetch your coffee?” I nudged him playfully, and he laughed a big, hearty laugh that caught me by surprise.

“Course I do. What’s the point of having lackeys working for you if you can’t boss ‘em around a little?” I laughed at his easy humor, but the moment was crushed under my mother’s spiteful eyes, and an awkward silence descended over us. My father cleared his throat in an attempt to alleviate the unease.

“How ‘bout you, Mom? You still getting a few hours at the store?” Last I had heard, Mom was packing shelves a few hours a week, but that was months ago, and from the look of her, I doubted she would find herself sober enough to work a minute, let alone a few hours.

She shook her head with disgust. “Got fired eight weeks ago, thank Christ. Like stocking shelves was my fucking dream job.” She chased her food around her plate with no real intent on eating it.

“Try and eat something, Mom. You need to keep your strength up.” If looks could kill, a knife would have pierced my heart and ended my warm beating life instantly. I knew broaching my mother’s health was dangerous, but she looked so sick and frail I couldn’t help myself. Regardless of her bitter disposition, she was still my mother, and for that alone I would always love her, no matter how much she hurt me.

“You wanna go there?” she hissed.

“I don’t want to go anywhere, Mom. I just want to have a nice dinner with you and Dad. It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m just glad to be here.”

“Glad to be here?” she snapped incredulously. “This is the only time we see you. Twelve months to the day was the last time you graced us with your presence. It’s clear that visiting your mom and dad is the very last thing you want to do, but for some reason you turn up on our fucking door step, demanding food and a place to stay.” Her words were sloppy yet filled with poisonous barbs that bit into my heart.

“I’m not demanding anything, Mom. I was hoping that, as your daughter, you might allow me a night or two in my old room. As for food, well, as always I will pay my way and then some. You will feel no ill effects financially from my visit.” I remained calm even though every fiber of my being wanted to scream and shout at the insanity and injustice of her words.

Mom pushed up from the table, her chair landing heavily on the floor behind her. “Don’t you dare come into my home and speak to me like that, like you’re too good for me. I don’t need your fucking handouts. I’m not a child. I’m your fucking mother and you damn well better start treating me with a little respect. All I’ve ever done is provide for you, give, give, and give, and what do I get in return? A smart ass little bitch who thinks she’s too good for me.” She was screaming, spewing unkind and careless words that broke the dam of anger and bitterness too easily.

I stood slowly, my eyes pinning her down as she paced around the small, dated kitchen. “Provide for me? Do your words come from any thought process, or do you simply vomit hate straight from your heart?” My father stirred anxiously, sending me a pleading look to let it go. I wouldn’t, not this time. I was sick to death of my mother blaming me for every poor decision she ever made. “The little you did provide for me was so fucking damaging and pathetic I wouldn’t even shame myself by bringing my own junkie friends into your home.”

My mom screamed with rage, “You fucking whore.” The words seemed to snap something in her brain, her rattled composure shifting to an evil, knowing smile. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s where you get all your money and pretty clothes; you’re a whore for that Everett boy, aren’t you?”

My mouth fell open before I had the good sense to clamp it shut.

My father stood abruptly. “Linda, that was uncalled for,” he snapped angrily. My eyes darted to my father who had rarely stood up for me and protected me from my mother’s ugly remarks. His sharp voice in a house more accustomed to his quiet submissiveness seemed to catch my mother by surprise, too. She looked at him as if he had physically hurt her, and with a narrowed gaze and thin lips pressed tightly, she stormed from the kitchen. With trembling hands, I took a small step away from the table, away from my father who stood looking as forlorn as I remembered, nothing like the laughing, easy going man he had been only moments before.

“I didn’t realize my visit was going to cause you such an inconvenience. I apologize.” I pushed my shoulders back and turned to leave the kitchen. My bags were, thankfully, sitting on the vinyl recliner in the living room. I gathered them quickly before escaping from the house of painful memories and hatred. I didn’t stumble once in my haste getaway; however, my father’s voice did stop me just before I opened the back door of my car.

“Violet, wait a moment, please,” he called, huffing in his own haste to reach me. I put my bags on the back seat before turning to face him. I opened my eyes to ask what the hell was going on, but words failed me in that moment. “I’m sorry about your mother,” he said, taking control of the conversation.

I tried to shrug it off with a nonchalance I did not feel. “It’s no less than I’ve heard before.” Dad rubbed his head in what appeared like an attempt to soothe a headache. “Are you okay?” I found myself asking. He was such a big, powerful man, but right now he seemed so fragile, so lost. He kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk before raising his head to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t do a very good job of protecting you as a child.”

His apology caught me by surprise. While I knew it was owed to me, I still hated the despondent sorrow in my father’s voice. “You did the best you could. You had to look after Mom, and to be honest, I think she needed you more than I did.” The words weren’t meant to be vindictive and mean, but the tightening in Dad’s shoulders told me they would leave a mark on his heart.

“No, pumpkin, you needed me more, and I wasn’t there for you. My punishment is having to live with that knowledge, but I’ll be damned if I let her hurt you anymore.” He gave me one of those small, humble half smiles that turned my giant father into a big soft teddy bear. “I’m proud of you, Violet. I’ve watched you grow and make something of yourself over the years. From nothing, pumpkin, you built a world and made yourself the queen of it, and while it made me a whole lot proud, I guess it also made me a whole lot ashamed, too. You made me want to be a better person, and I hoped your mom might feel the same. But, as you can see, it just made her worse. She’s jealous, jealous of my love for you, jealous of my sobriety.”

I couldn’t believe my mom would be jealous of my dad loving his daughter. That was just absurd; surely parents loved each other and their children equally?

“I’ve been sober six months. It’s hard living here with your mom, like that. But the way you looked at me tonight was worth it.”

“Why don’t you leave her, Dad?” I found myself asking him. His gaze moved to the clouded sky above us, and for a long time, he said nothing.

“Because she wouldn’t make it on her own; she needs me to look after her.” His words broke my heart. “She’s not strong, and right now she’s probably at her worst.”

“Maybe she needs to learn to look after herself,” I whispered.

My dad chuckled, though it was without humor. “Your mom was never much for looking after anyone or anything, especially herself. Despite all the viciousness and hate she holds inside now, she never used to be like that. She was full of love, adventure, excitement; damn, she was beautiful.” My dad’s eyes appeared wistful and far away as he recalled a memory of my mother that I had long forgotten or perhaps had never known. “The drugs poisoned her, pumpkin, took away that light she used to carry inside her and turned it into darkness. The problem is I love her too much to ever leave her, even if leaving her was or is the best thing for me, or at one time, for you too. I couldn’t do it for all the money or possessions in the world.”

And there it was, a love so strong it was destructive. It was my one biggest fear—what if Cain never let me go? Would this be us in years to come, loving each other right to our own miserable deaths? The thought clogged my throat with emotion.

“You need to go, pumpkin, and never come back.” Those final words were like a nail in my coffin. A tear slipped over my lashes and down my cheek. “You are better than this, and you don’t need her hate dragging you down. Go spread those wings and fly and leave all this ugliness far behind you.”

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I understood my father was just trying to protect me, but the other part of my mind felt the rejection all the way to center of my being. It hurt and my defense mechanisms clicked into place, creating a firm wall of ice around my fragile heart. I gave a short nod, unable to use my brittle voice in that moment. I turned to open the driver’s side door of my rental car.

“Do me a favor and send me a postcard from your shows. Barney made a space for me at work for pictures and stuff. I’m supposed to pin good stuff to the board, and to be honest, there ain’t much good stuff here anymore.”

The dejection in those words made me pause. With a backwards glance, I saw the emotion on my father’s face clearer than the sun. I turned into his arms that accepted me without hesitation or question. He held me tightly and neither of us spoke, everything we needed to say said with a simple embrace. With a final shuddering breath, I pulled away from those sheltering arms, climbed into the car, and drove away from the curb, not offering a single glance back. My heart had been shattered tonight; the taut family string that pulled in a tug-of-war between love and hate for so many years had finally snapped, and I suddenly felt as though I was floating weightlessly in a dark chamber that offered not even so much as a slither of light. Instead of feeling freedom from the rotten, binding family ties, I felt lost and completely, utterly alone.

I needed to feel numb, and I knew exactly where I would find it. Dan Connors had been dealing in this part of town since high school. He always had blow, and his door was always open. So, at nine o’clock on Christmas Eve I found myself standing before him as he leaned back in a dirty leather couch, his greasy hair slicked back, beady dark eyes staring down his hawk like nose as he took me in from head to toe. The appreciation in that violating gaze was not unusual. I was more than aware that Dan found me attractive, and as a teenage girl I used that attraction to shamelessly flirt my way to a quick fix. Now though, both of us were older and perhaps in some ways a little wiser. Dan pulled a small bag of white powder from his back pocket. From my own back pocket, I retrieved the money I had stashed there and started counting through it.

“You look good, Violet,” he murmured, still looking at my body as if it was a naked delight he was about to defile.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “Eight ball?” I asked, nodding to the small bag. Dan nodded as the held the bag between two fingers. Just a quick glance at the innocuous powder told me it was one eighth of a gram, an eight ball. I pulled one hundred and fifty dollars out of my small wad of cash and handed it to Dan. I had bought off him enough in the past to know that his blow was always of high quality and worth every cent. Dan went to hand me the bag, his opposite hand reaching for the cash in a mutual exchange, however, when he didn’t readily release the bag of cocaine, I gripped the money in protest.

“The powder is good, Violet, the best. Price has gone up recently.” I rolled my eyes, not even attempting to hide the dealer’s effort to extort more money out of someone who was clearly desperate for a hit.

“How much?” I snapped, not at all in the frame of mind to play these games. His eyes darted to the cash in my hand.

“That…” then his eyes darted to my crotch, “and that.”

“Not a chance,” I snarled. Dan grinned and pulled the bag of coke from my fingers, leaving the cash in my outstretched hand. “Not a problem. Goodnight, Violet, and Merry Christmas.”

My eyes widened with hate and revolt. Did he seriously think he could play this game with me? I turned in a huff of indignation and stormed away, opening the front door with enough force that it slammed into the wall behind it. Stomping out onto the front porch, I reached the first step before I paused, fury and sorrow clogging my throat. My heart was pounding so hard it was all I could hear. I needed the drugs so bad my body trembled with want. I clenched my eyes shut and visions of my family rocked my thoughts. My mother’s sneering and knowing gaze, my father’s sorrowful, heartbroken plea asking me to leave. I just needed to forget for a while, silence the memories. When I realized I was tugging at the necklace Cain had given me as I thought about what I was going to do, I felt sick. Somehow I managed to push all of my thoughts away, and releasing the necklace, I turned back towards Dan’s home. He was smiling in victory as I pushed the door shut and leaned against it. “A BJ, condom on,” I whispered. Dan shook his head incredulously, and my stomach lurched at the thought of having sex with this man. He surprised me when he spoke though.

“You better suck like a fucking vacuum, sweetheart, cause I don’t normally wear a jacket for my bitches.” Some relief flittered through my mind when I realized I wouldn’t have to sleep with him, but putting my mouth on him wasn’t a reprieve. I was still lowering myself to the exact level of pitiful woman my mom had accused me of being. Walking towards Dan was like moving through sludge, my steps slow and heavy. He spread his legs wider as I reached him, allowing me to drop to my knees, secured between his own. Dan placed the bag of cocaine on the couch at our side so I could clearly see it, a reminder of my reward. Then he produced a condom from god knows where and unbuttoned his jeans with far too much enthusiasm. As he pulled his already hard cock from his pants, I closed my eyes, hatred for myself reaching an all-time high. Never in my life did I think I would reach such a level of desperation. Their fault, I thought. My mother’s spiteful words and father’s rejection led me to here and now. Hatred burned through me with such fierceness it frightened me. Hatred for them, hatred for Dan, hatred for myself, so much hatred I stunk of it. Without another thought, I did what I had to do to make that hatred go away.

A distant pounding roused me to wakefulness. It was a slow rousing though, like walking through fog towards a muted sound that was both irritating and painful on my throbbing head. My eyes opened then shut. More pounding accompanied with shouting. My eyes opened again and this time stayed open as I took in my surroundings. I was naked, in an unfamiliar bed. A quick scan of the room reminded me I was in a hotel, alone. My stomach revolted when I recalled the past forty-eight hours. I had bought my cocaine from Dan, met his demands, and left like the defiled whore I had become. After securing a room at the only hotel I could find open so late on Christmas Eve, I had proceeded to snort enough cocaine to get an elephant high, then scrubbed my body raw under the heated spray of the shower in an effort to clean my skin that had been tainted in such a way it would never be clean again. Christmas Day had been a blur of more drugs and a text to Cain who had been relentlessly calling and texting for most of the day. I told him I was fine and to stop bugging me on Christmas. I was assuming the holiday had passed by now, whether it was morning or night I had no idea, but the realization that I was supposed to be meeting Cain at the airport this morning had me rocket out of bed.

“Last chance, Violet. If you don’t open this fucking door, I am going to knock it down!”

I stopped in my tracks when I realized it was Cain pounding on my door. I grabbed for a towel that lay on the floor and secured it around myself before pulling the door open. My eyes automatically watered at the sight of him. He looked frantic, his hair a chaotic mess, his eyes wide with panic.

“Fuck, Violet, you scared the shit out of me,” he gasped, pulling me into his body for a hug that bordered on painful. “I knew something was wrong. You weren’t answering your phone. I called your parent’s house, and your dad was vague. When you didn’t show at the airport, I lost it, Violet, clear out fucking lost it.” He pulled away from me, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, and his brow creased with worry. When his gaze reached my face, his hands moved to my cheeks, holding me steady. “Shit, baby, what happened? What’s going on?” The worry in his voice pushed me over the ledge, and I broke down into a sobbing mess. Cain kicked the door closed and pulled me to the bed, sitting me firmly in his lap as his arms secured me to his chest. He held me like I might disappear, as if his very arms alone could hold me together. “What do you need, baby?” he whispered.

“I want to go, and I don’t ever want to come back,” I managed in a broken voice.

Cain nodded against the top of my head. He then set me aside and began methodically working his way through the room, collecting clothes and belongings off the floor. Although his eyes held anger and disappointment when he took in the evidence of my drug use, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped me dress, even brushed my hair and twisted it into a messy bun at the back of my head. Sliding my sunglasses over my puffy, glassy eyes, he pulled me to my feet and led me from the hotel room, leaving no evidence of my solitary party for the hotel staff to find. He was taking care of me, just like he had always done.

We caught a later flight to Vegas and checked into a hotel. Our conversation was limited, almost confined to monosyllable words or short nods, or a brisk shake of the head. I was loath to try and act normal right now, and Cain seemed to get that. Later that night, as I lay with my head in his lap, watching National Lampoon’s Vacation, which for the first time ever I didn’t find funny, Cain’s fingers toyed idly with my long, violet locks.

“Talk to me, Violet,” he whispered. I didn’t answer him immediately, I didn’t even know where to start or what to say.

“I can’t,” I finally murmured. His body seemed to tense, but he didn’t move.

“After this show, you’re going home, to New York.” The stiffness in my body melted at the thought of being back in New York. “You’re going to get help, Violet; you’re going to check into a facility where you can get better. I can’t stand by and allow you to destroy yourself like this anymore. I’d drag your ass there this moment if I thought I had a chance in hell of getting you to put off the New Year’s gig.”

“The concert is more important than me, Cain. It’s raising money for people that need it, and there isn’t a thing you could possibly say to make me change my mind.” Cain was quiet for a moment.

“To be honest, you are far more important than a damn concert, but I know it’s important to you. So, we’ll do the concert and January first we’ll check out and go home, then you’ll check in. I’ll get Harry to find a reputable place.” I nodded again. I wasn’t stupid; I knew I needed help this time. There was something different about my binges. They had become almost desperate, violent in their intensity to make me forget. “Tell me you’ll do it this time, Violet?” Cain’s voice was tight with emotion. “If not for yourself, do it for me.”

I reached for his hand that lay almost protectively on my head. I linked his fingers with mine and dragged them around my body and under my head using them as a pillow of sorts.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I confessed. And I honestly would. I simply couldn’t refuse Cain.

I had visited the day spa the day before; my dark roots were gone, replaced with the flawless lilac that had become an extension of my very being, my twisted ends bouncing just above my waist. I wore a black dress that spilled elegantly to the floor, sparkling with crusted crystals on the bodice; a slit from floor to hip gave a long tantalizing view of my leg that was finished with a sparkling five inch black heel. The teardrop amethyst necklace Cain had given me for Christmas was the only jewelry I wore. With a long inhale, I raced the coiled twenty dollar bill along the line of white powder on my bathroom vanity. Once again, Loui had come through for me. Once again, Cain had no idea and would no doubt be sorely disappointed if he knew, but I needed it tonight. I wouldn’t have been able to make it through an hour, let alone an entire set without a couple of lines. I was feeling destructive right now, and that combined with the cocaine was a messy and dangerous combination. I carefully cleaned away any signs of the powder from my nostrils and drank the last of my whiskey.

“Violet, you ready?” Cain knocked on the door. I slipped the empty bag of cocaine into a can of Mountain Dew and threw it in the small trash bin.

“I’m ready,” I sang as I pulled the door open. Cain’s lips turned up with approval as he took in my appearance.

“Stunning as usual. How about me? See what I did here?” He turned and pointed at his hair that was twisted into a tidy, artful knot at the back of his head rather than its usual messy coil.

“Wow, brushed your hair and all. This is a special night.” I laughed. He held out his elbow, and I graciously accepted it. As he walked me out of the room and to the elevator, his eyes darted almost discreetly to mine. I knew what he was looking for, and I knew he saw it instantly.

“Violet,” he hissed angrily.

“Cain, unless you want me detoxing on stage and completely losing it, I needed to. It was my last time, by the way. It will see me through tonight and tomorrow, well…” I shrugged. “I’ll probably start getting sick and jittery soon after that, and by the time you get me to a rehab facility I’ll be a complete mess.” Cain sighed as he took my fingers and linked them through his. He didn’t say anything, and I knew he was mad. His anger was different this time, no longer threaded with disappointment, but instead an intense frustration. It was only a short ten minute limo ride to the exclusive club, Diamond Jazz, who had paid top dollar for our attendance tonight. It was a three hour set that would finish with a midnight countdown, broken into thirds with half hour breaks between each. The club was enormous and glamorous, maintaining an old world elegance of the 1950’s. A little more than three hundred guests had paid for the intimate concert tonight. Tables and chairs adorned the front half of the club right in front of the large stage where a grand piano and microphone sat. We were offstage at present, peering through the heavy red curtain to the audience which was still being seated. Cain’s hand ran a lazy course up and down my exposed back, soothing both of us.

“Hey,” said a deep gravelly voice from behind us. We turned in unison to see a stocky waiter holding a tray with tumblers full of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a nice looking man, strong and powerful with mischievous eyes. “I’m Ben; I’ve been instructed to make sure the band gets whatever they need tonight. I’m going to be hanging around back here.” He pointed to a makeshift backstage bar. “So, if you need anything, just call out.”

Cain took the drinks he offered. “I’m Cain, this is Violet,” Cain said briskly, handing me my drink.

Ben smiled as he looked me over. “Just as beautiful in person. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ben’s words were clearly for me, and Cain rolled his eyes as his hand rested possessively on my lower back.

“Thank you, Ben,” he said, thoroughly dismissing the waiter. Ben wasn’t perturbed though, gifting me a cheeky wink before he walked away that had me smiling. Cain drew in a deep calming breath.

“I’m sorry,” I laughed, “but he was sweet.”

“Not the word that came to mind for me,” he grumbled.

“Well, you’re sweeter if that makes you feel any better.” He barely managed a smile as his hand dropped from my back and he took a step away. The distance was no more than a few feet, but it felt like miles. Something had changed, Cain was different. Behind his eyes was restlessness and anger. I didn’t have time to exam it further.

“Ready?” he said, nodding towards the stage. My heartbeat rocketed up a notch, the usual pre-show nerves settling into my stomach like a thousand butterflies. The blow and alcohol didn’t help one little bit, filling my veins with a little extra synthetic enthusiasm. That combined with the natural adrenaline was enough to make me bounce with giddy fervor. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! The room erupted into a blanket of glittering confetti. As I took in the splendor of the moment, I was dragged into an unsuspecting embrace. And even more surprising were the lips that fell to mine in what I expected to be a chaste kiss, but quickly developed into something more. It was the first time Cain and I had indulged in such a kiss, his tongue wickedly caressing mine. His hands were gripping the sides of my head tightly as he almost forced his will on me. The kiss was relentless, filled with years of pent up emotion and longing, and something else…desperation. Cain had managed to not only take my breath away, but brought the world to a sharp, grinding halt. I saw nothing and heard nothing outside of Cain’s kiss. When he finally pulled away, allowing me a much needed breath of air, his gaze bore into mine with an intensity I found frightening. I wanted to climb inside his mind and hear his thoughts, which I’m sure were chaotic in that moment. The turmoil and fear in his crystalline blue eyes was confusing and anxiety began to churn away in my stomach. With reluctance, he pulled away, resumed his place at the piano, and began playing “Auld Lang Syne” like he hadn’t just kissed the ever loving life out of me. It took me a moment to find my composure and fall into the song that Cain was already well into. We wrapped up the concert with one last number, Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good”. It was an explosive ending to a perfect performance, the audience standing and applauding with a passion that left my heart soaring.

Now, sitting at the backstage bar that was being enjoyed by the staff who had finished their shift, Cain was laughing and celebrating with Loui and Jason, our lighting guy. They were surrounded by a group of women, laughing loud enough to show the men their ample interest; the feathered yet not so subtle touches also a dead giveaway that the boys would kick off their new year in warm beds. Meanwhile, I was fighting off an imminent crash. Along with the jitters and racing heart, my thoughts and emotions were all over the place following Cain’s somewhat angry and desperate kiss. When a beautiful young woman placed her hand brazenly on Cain’s knee and leaned in to whisper seductively in his ear, I quickly looked away, jealousy surging through my body without mercy. A glass of whiskey was pushed my way by an unsuspecting hand.

“You look like you could use this,” purred a familiar voice. I turned to Ben who sat beside me, his place behind the bar now relinquished.

“I think I need something stronger than that,” I whispered. Ben’s brows shot up, quickly replaced by a confident smile. He leaned forward and I caught a whiff of his aftershave, a musky male scent that I wasn’t particularly fond of. Cain never used aftershave, and over the years I had become accustomed to the clean, natural, earthy smell that was synonymous with Cain Everett.

“I can help you with that if you like,” Ben whispered softly in my ear. My eyes fluttered shut, his claim bringing me some relief. No doubt noticing the need in my eyes, he pulled a phone from his back pocket. “I have a friend who can deliver. I just need an address.” He looked at me expectantly.

“Here?” I shrugged.

Ben shook his head. “Not at my work place. And I live too far out of town, so he won’t deliver there.” I glanced at Cain who had at some stage shrugged off the woman’s wandering hands; he didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention. For a moment I entertained the thought of walking over to him and leaning into his embrace that I knew he would never reject. He would take me, hold me and never let me go. But then thoughts of my mother and the endless battle with her drug addiction that had been my father’s life too, I couldn’t do that to Cain. Regardless of our earlier kiss and his less than cautionary open affection for me lately, I knew I would never take that next step with him. Cain would be better suited to spending the night with little miss brazen hands. He would follow our rule to the letter and go back to her place, no overnight visitors allowed in our room. Meanwhile, it left our room empty and available. I nodded to Ben and gave him the hotel details.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered from behind Cain, right into his ear. He spun around just as Ben pulled me away. A lingering gaze over my shoulder made me wince, the outrage and desolation was not only in his eyes but in his taut body. I turned away, unable to bear the foreign anger that radiated from him at this moment. I felt his eyes on me all the way to the stairs that led us away from the stage, and not once did I dare look back. That terrifying anger and disappointment was stronger than I had ever felt before, and right now I wasn’t strong enough to cope with it.

“This is Flip,” Ben said easily as we approached a tall, handsome, young man leaning casually against the wall within the hotel’s foyer. His hair was shaved short, dark lashes framing pale green eyes. He was quite a stunning man, but easily more than a few years younger than me.

“Flip?” I wondered out loud.

Ben laughed. “Yeah, his real name is Philip, but somewhere along the line we got lazy and just started calling him Flip.” Flip held out his hand, and when I placed my much smaller one in his, he surprised me by raising it to his lips for a chaste kiss. The hunger under the dark fringe of his eyelashes was anything but chaste. For the first time in my life, I felt nervous around a man, or in this case, men. Bringing two strange males back to my room was definitely not the smartest thing I had ever decided to do. They both seemed friendly enough, but their overt attention had alarm bells screaming in my head. As usual, my need to get stoned outweighed any sensibility I might have possessed.

Once we reached my room, I began to pace nervously. With the door closed and the two men making themselves comfortable in the living area, the room felt too small. I felt trapped. As soon as Flip opened his small backpack to show off an array of powders, pills, and crystals, my nervous tension disappeared. My old friend stared inoffensively at me from within the confines of a clear, plastic bag.

“How much?” I immediately asked.

“Nothing, beautiful, this is my New Year’s gift to you. We just ask you allow us to stay and party.” Ben’s warm smile was easy and could almost pass for harmless, if his gaze hadn’t dropped to my breasts. I was more than happy to party with others, though with two strange men I was a little more hesitant.

“She doesn’t even know us, Ben. You’re probably freaking her out.” Flip’s gorgeous green eyes moved back to mine; no breast gawking for Flip. “If you would prefer to party alone, just point out what you want. It’s on B.” Ben cast Flip a surprised look, and Flip laughed. “What? You told the lady it was on you. You gonna go back on your word now?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Asshole,” he chuckled. “Whatever you need, sweetheart, my treat.” Ben waved his hand at the backpack.

Their good humor and teasing helped me relax a little. A little company on New Year’s would be nice. Cain probably wouldn’t be back until late the next day, and I didn’t really want to be alone right now. Lines were cut and I inhaled my first, the drugs sinking into my body like a warm and comfortable blanket. More whiskey, more powder, and my distant, uncaring void was found. My eyes fluttered shut as I enjoyed the feeling of power and beauty that absorbed me. Music was playing loudly, and the TV was on in the background. Flip and Ben were laughing and teasing. I stood and began to sway, the music wrapping around my body. I felt so light and free, like nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me. I was in my happy place, far away from my reality. Another line, another shot of whiskey. When my eyes flickered open, I wondered when I had drifted off to sleep, and for how long. I was no longer in the living area but sprawled out on my bed, my dress discarded as hands caressed my body, too many hands. I didn’t want those hands on me, yet I couldn’t find my voice to object. My body betrayed the unease I felt as I automatically arched into the touch. My eyes slipped shut again, and when they opened I was completely naked, bare and cold, as hard hands turned me to my hands and knees. While a hard male intrusion speared me from behind, a hand on my cheek brought my attention to the body in front of me. “Open, beautiful.” Ben stood there, naked and aroused. It caused me to wonder who was enjoying my body from behind, but when my lips parted to ask the question, his smooth, hard member slipped into my mouth. “Good girl.” The touches, thrusts, and moans passed by in a blur of incoherent confusion. Suddenly, the body at my backside was gone, and Ben had disappeared from in front of me, but before I could feel any relief, Flip appeared before me, his manhood jutting into my face. I barely noticed the sliver of light that pierced the darkness of the room. All movement had stopped and I turned my head to take in Cain’s form in the doorway. The look on his face slammed hard into my chest, yet my mind did not comprehend the emotion. He stared at me for the longest time, and while I wanted to call out and ask him for help, my tongue felt thick, my throat dry, words completely eluded me. The shock in his eyes was palpable, and his mouth hung open, his own words also lost in that moment. With a curled lip and look of clear disgust, he slammed the door shut and I was once again alone with the two men. With an unprepared and indelicate force, my body was invaded once more from behind. My mouth slipped open to protest, my words once again silenced as Flip slipped his length onto my tongue. I coughed as he pushed hard and deep. “Breathe through your nose,” he commanded, his words demanding and callous. A single tear escaped the corner of my eye as my body continued to be used. Whore, whispered through my mind. I was once again using my body to buy the drugs it sought, and that said body betrayed my inner turmoil as it exploded with an orgasm under the hands of these two strangers. The shame, the abject horror of what was happening, and how far I continued to fall tainted me further. Surely I had hit rock bottom by now. I couldn’t imagine how I could fall much further. I had shred every ounce of humanity I could possibly ever possess.

“Open your eyes, Violet.” The voice held such command I almost opened them, the voice familiar yet not. I was too tired, so very tired, so very sick, so very empty. I was exhausted, but even in sleep I didn’t feel restful. My unconscious mind stirred with anxiety and unease. Something hurt, everything hurt. So much pain. I shied away from awareness and retreated to the safety of darkness. I tried to ignore the way my body ached, my skin flaming with so much heat and sensitivity I wanted to scream, yet I couldn’t find the energy to open my mouth. Fear of the unknown had me crawl back into the cushion of unconsciousness, ignoring the vocal command to do the opposite.

When I opened my eyes again, it was with groggy difficulty. My eyelids protested heavily, flickering open once, then falling shut again. I floated into an abyss, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, images in my mind lazy and blurred. I was curious about the time, hungry, and I needed to pee. My body gradually roused me, and I tried to open my eyes again. The light speared my vision like a painful arrow, and I groaned under the onslaught of a too bright room. I always went to sleep with the blinds drawn, preferring to sleep late into the morning. Cain had a habit of pulling them open and forcing me to face the ungodly hour of sunrise. It was a game to Cain, to prod the beast that dwelled under my skin before a reasonable hour, and today, my head pounded with ungodly persistence. I was not in the mood to play.

“Pull the damn blinds closed, Cain,” I managed through lips that felt thick and dry. God, my mouth was dry, so dry I wondered if I would find sand on my tongue.

“Violet?” The whispered voice, however familiar, was not the one I was expecting.

“Harry?”

“Oh shit, honey, let me call the doctor.” Doctor? I forced my lids open once again, and my eyes watered under the bright light. “Shhh, just relax. You’re safe. You are in a hospital now. You scared the shit out of me, Violet. I swear to god, as soon as you are well enough to sit on that ass of yours, I’m gonna flip you over and spank the ever loving shit out of you.” Despite the confusing circumstances and heavy pain that seemed to rest in every part of my body, I smiled. I tried to open my eyes again, and this time it wasn’t quite as difficult. Around the watery vision and bright light, I managed to take in my surroundings.

“Hospital?” I murmured. Just then a middle aged man with a head of thick, grey hair and almost comical bushy grey eyebrows entered the room. He wore a white coat, two pens in the front pocket. His smile was warm and concerned.

“Miss Trivoli, nice to have you back in the land of the living.” I attempted to laugh, wondering just how damn big my bender had been, when my effort was brought up short due to the pain that lanced my chest. “Rest easy, Miss Trivoli, you’ve had a difficult week.” Week? The doctor began to check over my body with obvious concern.

“Week?” I said in a husky, unpracticed voice.

“I’ve been told you were brought in by a young man named Ben, no last name. You overdosed. I am going to take a look at your chest if you don’t mind, Miss Trivoli.”

“Violet,” I said, my thoughts far from my name.

“Violet.” The doctor smiled gently.

“What’s wrong with it?” I wondered as his hands carefully pulled the gown down to check my chest. I was so confused; the fact my breasts were suddenly exposed to the strange doctor and cool room barely registered.

“You were resuscitated, twice,” he explained as he gently pressed my abused ribs and chest. “We did chest compressions. It took quite some time, and to say you are lucky is beyond measure.” Obviously satisfied with whatever he was seeing, the doctor carefully put my gown back in place and pulled the starched white sheet up high.

“I’m Doctor Willis. I worked on you when you were first brought in and have been monitoring you since. We were able to revive you, obviously, and you’ve been in a coma since then, which was probably for the best. Your body was able to carefully and slowly repair itself somewhat naturally. It also meant you missed the painful period of detox, where you would have been in a considerable amount of discomfort.” The doctor stepped back, and from behind him Harry stepped forward. I wondered why Harry was here, and where exactly was Cain?

“We’re going to monitor you for another day or so, and if everything seems okay, we will let you go. However, I recommend you head straight to a rehabilitation clinic.” Doctor Willis gave me an apologetic smile. “I am sorry to be so blunt, Violet, but I don’t see many patients come back from this. You were clinically dead for three minutes, and it took your body six days to wake up. That kind of toll on the body usually comes with lasting consequences which we won’t know of immediately. You’ve been given a second chance, don’t throw it away.” I rubbed my head as I nervously wondered what the hell had happened. My skin felt dry and actually dirty, maybe…salty? “We haven’t been able to do more than sponge bathe you this past week. The detox had you perspire quite a lot, which is normal. You will likely find your skin covered in the residual toxins that your body pushed out, as well as a fair amount of salt. We’ve been pumping fluids back into you, but you will need to drink plenty of water and try and get some food into your stomach. You’ve lost a lot of weight in a very short period of time.” The doctor became quiet and what should have been an uncomfortable silence ensued. I was too busy allowing the doctor’s words to sink in. I had OD’ed? I had died?

“Thank you, doctor,” Harry murmured, which was obviously the doctor’s cue to leave. With a cordial smile, he made a hasty retreat from the room. I glanced around the small private hospital room, taking in the stark decorations. A couch sat against one wall with a discarded blanket on one arm. I guess Cain had been sleeping here. Cain…he would be so pissed at me. Harry’s mouth opened to speak, but I beat him to it.

“Where’s Cain?” My manager shifted nervously; it was an odd look on him. Harry was never nervous. “He’s gone for Starbucks, hasn’t he? So typical. Missed my grand entry back into the land of the living.” My voice was scratchy, and Harry must have noticed, grabbing a glass of water and helping me raise my head to take a long sip. While I drank, my eyes shifted to Harry’s. He was doing his damnedest not to look at me. “What?” I finally asked as he lowered me back to the pillow.

“I’m going to find you a clinic, Violet. I don’t care if it leaves me broke, but I won’t let you do this to yourself anymore.” He was angry, and if Harry was angry, Cain would be livid.

“You sound like Cain,” I said, smiling.

“Yeah, well, he said something to that effect when he phoned me six days ago. Mind you, he didn’t offer to pay, but his words were something along the lines of, ‘I’ve had it, get her into a clinic or I will kill her myself’.” Harry laughed, nervous again. “Shit, he would crap himself good and proper if he realized you actually did fucking die.”

My brow furrowed with confusion. “Where is he, Harry?” I asked, a small amount of panic jolting through my veins.

Harry sighed deeply as he ran a hand down his tired looking face. It was then I noticed his clothes were rumpled, his hair mused from sleep. I glanced back at the couch then once again to Harry. He had been sleeping there, not Cain.

“I couldn’t tell you where he is at this moment, honey. All I can tell you is he is not here nor has he been all week. I received a phone call at some ridiculous hour New Year’s morning. He was furious; I could tell because he was so calm. You know the eerie sort of oh-crap-you’re-in-for-it-now calm that only one pissed off Cain Everett can do? Anyway, he said he was done. He wasn’t prepared to watch you destroy yourself and him in the process.” My mouth opened to say something, but the words were lost with disbelief. “That very same night I get a call from this very hospital telling me you’ve been dumped here, and I arrive five hours later to be told you had died, twice no less!” Harry’s voice was starting to rise with obvious panic as he recalled the ordeal. “I tried to call Cain, but his phone is dead, and I mean like dead, no voicemail, nada. I called his parents and all they would tell me is he needed a break and he would contact me when he was ready to talk. They also told me they didn’t know where he was. I told them it was an emergency, I told them you were in hospital, and they sounded sincere when they told me they didn’t know how to reach him.”

My hand automatically rose to the pendant that should have hung from my neck, but clearly didn’t any longer. Cain had left me. My breathing grew rapid as panic threatened to overtake me.

“Violet?” Harry was blessedly distracted from his little rant.

“My necklace,” I wheezed out. He spun around and fumbled through a pile of bags and clothing sitting on the floor by the couch.

“They took it off you in the emergency room, but I’ve got it here.” He was quickly back at my side, the amethyst diamond hanging from the simple white gold chain. I pulled it away from Harry’s fingertips and held it to my chest that was hurting for a whole different reason now. “Ahhh, honey, I promise I’ll find him,” Harry whispered. “He’s just having one of those tantrums Cain is prone to. As soon as he finds out what happened here, he’ll come charging in to save the day.”

I shook my head. God, I wanted that more than anything in the world, but as it stood right now, Cain had escaped. He was free of me and my tainted soul.

“Don’t tell him, Harry. Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Harry gave me an incredulous look. “He would want to know, Violet.”

I clenched my eyes closed tightly. “I don’t want to guilt him into coming back. He’s pissed and he has every reason to be. You told his family I was in the hospital. They’ll tell him, and if he wants to know more, he’ll contact you. Until then, promise me you won’t say anything.” After a far too long silence, in which I held Harry’s dominant stare, he finally gave me a small nod. I closed my eyes with relief and tried with everything I had to fight off the tears that were building under my lids. “Just find me a clinic; I want to get better, Harry.”

“Okay,” he said with a long, drawn out sigh. “I’m gonna go make some calls. There is a rehabilitation facility out near Vegas that has a good reputation, one of the best actually. They’re discreet and they’re strict and they have a track record better than any thoroughbred race horse.”

I nodded, my eyes still closed. I heard the withdrawal of Harry’s footsteps and the gentle click of the door closing. Enveloped by silence and privacy, I let the tears go. Like the opening of the flood gates, they emptied from a heart that deserved no less. He was gone and I should have been happy because this is what I had hoped and prayed for, yet it hurt so bad. Someone once told me crying was not a sign of weakness, but simply someone who had been strong for far too long. My last remaining fragments of strength had been Cain Everett, and with his loss, I was now vulnerable and weak. Suddenly the death that had unknowingly brushed by my door only days before was welcomed, in fact, I longed for it. For not the first time in my life, I cursed my parents for giving me this pitiful existence. It was easy to point the finger of blame, for in my mind, they created me, they gave their child front row seats to a family production of hopelessness and addiction. They gave birth to my piteous life. Cain was free from drowning in my pathetic existence, free to spread his wings and fly. Meanwhile, I fell into the dismal depths of loneliness and despair. I tumbled into darkness so thick and endless it must surely have been hell. I sank into the long, agonizing battle that was recovery.

Sometimes you have to fall so you can learn to stand back up. Falling is hard though; it’s scary and it’s painful. Standing back up is somehow worse. For weeks I did nothing more than go through the motions. I accepted the tumultuous feelings that wracked my heart and soul, not having the energy to fight with them—anger, fear, despair. Each sentiment took its turn at destroying me from the inside out, then I slowly, ever so freaking slowly, built myself back up. One small piece at a time, with the help of therapists and other ‘guests’ at the Hope Built Rehabilitation Facility in Las Vegas, I rebuilt myself into something I just might one day be proud of. Not today though, today I was brooding and pissed off. I didn’t understand why, but some days are like that. After many months of rehabilitation and more counseling sessions than one could poke a stick at, I knew better than most that some days were just more difficult than others. Today shouldn’t have been difficult, not here, not now, in this lap of luxury. I shouldn’t have had a damn thing to be brooding over. Atrani was an exotic slice of heaven on the southwestern coast of Italy. A small town of cobblestone alleyways, picturesque gardens, and traditional buildings, nestled against a gorgeous coastline. Atrani was like an antique getaway with the modern luxuries I still demanded. I was no diva, but I liked to be comfortable, and after the months I had spent in a rehabilitation facility with shared accommodations, I wanted the quiet peacefulness of my own room. And it had to be pretty! I had no idea Harry owned a house in Italy, sneaky bastard! But the moment he had walked me out of Hope Built, I had asked him to find me somewhere to vacation; I needed a break. I needed time to recoup. While my body and mind had mostly healed under the watchful eyes of doctors and therapists, my heart was still in pieces. Harry had suggested his vacation house without hesitation. It was a small two bedroom villa with tiled floors and a peaked ceiling. It was modern and glamorous, with an air of romance about it. And it was only a short walk to the beach. As I lolled lazily on a deck chair on that said beach—though I’m sure in Italy they have a much more fanciful name for a deck chair—my eyes settled on the pristine water before me.

My red bikini showed off my new, fuller figure. I wasn’t a large woman, but during my recovery I had been under the strict guidance of a nutritionist who made it her lifelong goal to see me gain no less than twenty pounds before I left. My breasts were fuller, which I liked, my hips were curvier, and my tummy was no longer sunken in. I guess you could say I had a pot. Some women might take offense to such a body, but I took none. I knew I had been underweight and unhealthy when I entered the Hope Built program; now I was healthy, well, at least my body was anyway. My mind was a work in progress, but it was definitely better. My heart…it was broken. I’m not sure if it would ever be whole again. Not a single day passed where Cain wasn’t in my thoughts, and that frustrated me to no end. How were you meant to move on from someone when you simply couldn’t let them go? When your thoughts refused to give them up? Cain knew I had been in the hospital, and he had contacted Harry soon after I settled into Hope Built. He didn’t want specifics; he just wanted to know if I was alright. Harry had told him I wasn’t alright, but I would be. He had kept his promise and never told Cain the extent of my fall from grace. Cain had obviously been satisfied with Harry’s vague interpretation of my stability and health, as there hadn’t been a peep from him since. I wasn’t angry at Cain for leaving; I had pushed him to leave and had no one to blame but myself. His moving on to the life he deserved was a good thing, but it still hurt. Human emotions were tricky like that.

Feminine laughter to my right caught my attention, and I tactfully eyed the three women who sat drinking pretty colored drinks from swanky glasses. Alcohol was on my no-go list. My addiction to cocaine seemed to go hand in hand with alcohol, and there was no way I was going to tempt that fate for the want of a pretty, sweet drink. I unscrewed the lid off my water bottle and took a ‘take that’ gulp of water, before roughly screwing the lid back on and tossing it to the sand at my side. Deep masculine laughter accompanied the cocktail swarming women. I cast another inconspicuous look and took in the form of a tall, muscular man in a pair of cargo shorts and tight fitting shirt. He was laughing with the women in an almost cordial manner as he briskly walked by. He raised his head, and my heart skipped a beat as steady dark brown eyes settled on mine. He had the classic features of an Italian. His skin was touched with an almost golden-like hue, a dark stubble dusted his jaw line, his dark hair finger combed off his forehead. He was definitely a few years older than me, perhaps even as many as ten, but he was far too handsome to warrant an age-gap protest. Oh yeah, he was easy on the eyes, and unlike the almost casual pleasantries he had exchanged with the women beside me, his gaze turned intense, his smile seductive as he approached my deck chair. I really needed to find out the Italian term for that.

“Buon giorno, signorina,” he purred as he slowed his pace. He was quite obviously Italian, his accent falling in a beautiful cadence from his lips.

“Buon giorno,” I replied in a calm voice that did not betray my racing heart.

“E 'una bella giornata per la spiaggia.” He had me now; my Italian was reserved to hello, goodbye, and how fast I could pull up Google Translate on my phone.

“English?” I shrugged helplessly.

“Americana?” His eyes lit up.

“Si,” I replied, realizing that I did, in fact, know more than two words in Italian. Did bruschetta count? Because that would make it four, I thought proudly.

“Beautiful day for the beach,” the stunning stranger said with a thick Italian accent.

“It is. It’s been like this for three weeks now. I assume this is normal and you locals are used to it though; you probably take it for granted after all these years.” To my surprise, Mr. Tall, Dark, And Handsome squatted down beside me.

“I’ve learned not to take anything for granted in this life, Tesoro,” he crooned, holding out his hand. “Peiro Marchiano.”

I took his much larger hand in my small one, but rather than shake it, Peiro took the back of my hand to his lips and gave my skin a gentle kiss, his eyes never leaving mine. I almost sighed out loud. He was quite the charmer. He didn’t hold a flame to Cain, but he was certainly a nice distraction.

“Violet,” I said with a sigh.

Peiro reluctantly let go of my hand. “So different,” he whispered, his eyes taking in my appearance.

I barely managed not to squirm under his scrutiny. I would have found his inspection almost rude if there hadn’t been a reverence to his gaze. My hand instinctively went to my hair. Everyone found the striking shade of purple a little bedazzling, and I had to remind myself that it was no longer purple. I had the color stripped out during my rehabilitation period. It was now my own shade of pale blonde. Boring, plain Violet now owned this body; fun, daring Violet was nothing more than a distant memory. My smile fell a little at the thought. Dying my hair back to its original color was the last step in the program. Accepting me for who I was rather than some onstage persona was the last thing I did before checking out of Hope Built and stepping onto a plane to Europe.

“Ahhh, mi scuso, Tesoro. I apologize; that was rude of me.” He actually looked ashamed. “Italian women are darker; you are very fair, like il angelo.” I had no idea who Angelo was, but I hoped it was a woman. “Angel,” Peiro confessed. He smiled when he saw the surprise on my face. Another man approached Peiro from behind. He looked stressed as hell.

“Mi scusi, signorina,” he offered me from over Peiro’s shoulder before carrying on to say something way too fast and way too foreign for me to have a hope in hell of understanding.

“Scusi, Tesoro,” Peiro said politely before standing to face the little balding man who seemed to be in the middle of a nervous breakdown. As they exchanged words, Peiro’s composed yet commanding voice seemed to calm the man, and before long, he smiled enthusiastically and gave me a quick murmured goodbye before scampering off the way he had come. “I apologize again, business has a habit of following me.” Business? I looked Peiro over. He looked too casual and playful to be a businessman.

“What do you do?” I brazenly asked, figuring it wasn’t rude because he had brought it up.

“Hotels, Tesoro,” he said simply.

Hotels? Before I had a chance to inquire further, Peiro knelt at my side once more.

“Would you have a drink with me this evening?”

My heart thudded uncomfortably in my chest. This was the first time anyone had invited me to drink with them since leaving rehab. This is why Harry had wanted to come with me, but this is exactly why I hadn’t allowed him to. I needed to handle these situations on my own, without panicking.

“I don’t drink,” I quickly said, getting the words out before they became locked inside. Peiro cast a glance at my water bottle.

“Is that just for show?” he asked, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” I clarified.

“Buono, Tesoro. That’s good. Perhaps I won’t be ridiculed for being the only Italian in Italy who does not enjoy wine.” I found myself unable to respond, still in a mild panic attack. Peiro’s eyes softened. “How about breakfast, tomorrow? I could meet you somewhere.” He was giving me the option to set the terms which gave me a small amount of relief. A part of me was intrigued by the man before me and viewed the chance encounter as a possibility to allow another part of myself to heal. I told him of a small café in town I had visited several times over the past week. Peiro knew it well. “Eight?” Eight was kind of early for me, but I found myself ignoring the thousands of reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this, and nodding instead. “Meraviglioso,” he beamed with a thoroughly pleased smile. “Until then, Tesoro.” He took my hand and kissed it once more before taking his leave.

What the hell had I just done? I’d never been on a date before, ever! Cain didn’t count because I never considered eating out with Cain a date. Casual sexual conquests were just that, casual. No dinner, certainly no breakfast. And furthermore, I didn’t even know this man. Peiro, who did hotels for a living. What the hell did that mean anyway? I rubbed my head.

“Yesh,” I whispered. “Maybe I should have brought Harry.” As my eyes found the ocean once more, I noticed my brooding mood before meeting Peiro was now absent. My heart still ached at even the scarcest thought of Cain, but I felt a little more at peace than I had before. Perhaps breakfast with Peiro wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Perhaps an Italian distraction was just what I needed.

I had never had trouble dressing before. Old Violet either wore glamorous gowns and seductive heels for the stage, or jeans and a shirt. Atrani, at this time of the year, was too warm for jeans, and breakfast at a local café didn’t warrant a fancy gown. And the thought of meeting Peiro had me nervously channeling my inner girl. I wanted to impress him. Finally I opted for a strapless blue dress that fell to my knees and a pair of sandals. My hair was brushed into a ponytail, and I finished the ensemble by adorning the necklace Cain had given me last Christmas. I wore it everywhere; it felt wrong not to. It was as if I could take a small piece of Cain Everett everywhere with me. As I stepped from the house onto the cobblestone path before it, the sunlight and warm air seemed to carry away my woes. It made me forget, for a short time, that I had another life in another place, that one day I would have to return to. Once in town—and what consisted as town was a short walk, lined with small businesses; no shopping malls or burger joints here—I nodded a polite hello to the few familiar faces I passed and some of the not so familiar faces. Everyone was so nice here, so cordial and open. When I rounded a corner, my body came to a shuddering halt when I took in Peiro’s tall, dark form waiting out front the agreed café. He was dressed casual again but still managed to command an air of importance. Most likely, the two men in suits who laughed easily with him and shook his hand before moving away helped give him an aura of someone significant and powerful. As I strolled forward, his gaze centered on me, and his smile almost stopped me in my tracks.

“Bellissimo angelo,” he murmured as I approached.

“Morning,” I said awkwardly, feeling a little small and insignificant at his side.

“I hope you are hungry.” Peiro smiled, took my hand, and led me into the cafe. It was odd holding hands with a virtual stranger, but I was reluctant to pull my hand away, not wanting to cause a scene and finding a small measure of comfort in his touch. I had never had a problem touching Cain. The memory of Cain threatened to shift my mood from nervous contentment to nervous moping. I pushed the thoughts away and listened to Peiro as he gave me a quick rundown on the town’s history as we were seated in a private corner by the front window. Peiro talked cheerfully in Italian to a well-rounded older woman who had approached our table.

“Would you allow me to order for you?” Peiro asked.

I nodded gratefully, knowing it would be difficult for me to handle the language barrier. I had managed to stumble my way through my first visit here with pointing and hand gestures. Every time I had visited since, I had asked for the same thing. Next time I went on vacation, I was going to an English speaking destination. Coffee was brought to our table as we sat in companionable silence, me taking in the cozy surroundings, Peiro taking in me. When I finally gathered the courage to look back in Peiro’s direction, I noticed his eyes on my hand which was currently wrapped around the amethyst diamond that hung around my neck like a safety beacon. I somehow unwrapped my fingers and smiled.

“Do you often vacation alone?” Peiro asked, no doubt fishing for my story.

“This is my first vacation, so I guess I vacation alone. I’ve traveled a fair bit for work, but that was never alone and it was work, so I guess it doesn’t count.”

Peiro looked surprised. “And I thought I was a work-a-holic. What is your job?”

“I’m a singer.” My smile faltered for all but a moment. “Well, I was a singer, but things have changed. When I go home, I’m not sure what I’ll do.” Much to his credit, though looking intrigued, Peiro didn’t push for more information. “And you do hotels,” I stated, swinging the attention off myself. Peiro grinned and it was a mischievous smile that, of course, reminded me of Cain, but I chose to ignore that thought.

“Hotels is but one of the things I do,” he said, that mischievous smile now a little naughty. Choosing to ignore that too, I glanced around the café. “I hope you don’t make it a habit of eating with strangers, in strange places, Tesoro.”

I shook my head. “No, this would be a first. What does tesoro mean?”

Peiro blushed under his olive complexion. “It is a term of affection. It means treasure.”

The food was delivered to our table, giving me a reprieve from the gob smacked silence that had descended over me. Peiro had called me tesoro the first time he had seen me, taking the liberty of gifting me, a stranger, with an exquisite term of endearment. But I was nobody’s treasure.

The sound of Dr. Brightman’s calm and resolute voice filled my head: When you meet someone who leaves a mark on your heart and soul, that, my dear Violet, is truly a treasure. You are no doubt treasured by many; it’s time for you to recognize that worth. It was hard to recognize any worth for a woman who willingly filled her body with poison and whored herself out to acquire that said poison. Everyone makes mistakes, Violet. The line that separates those who fall and those who fly is being able to learn from your mistakes. Which will you do, fall or fly? Dr. Brightman of the Hope Built Rehabilitation Facility was a walking, talking recitation of all things prophetic and meaningful. When I had told him he should write a book of quotes, he had proudly produced a small book from his desk, his name easily recognizable on the front cover along with the book’s title: Building Hope’s Foundation—A Quote a Day. I smiled at the memory and at the thought of his book in my suitcase back at the villa.

“Have you any other plans today?” Peiro’s voice disturbed me from my thoughts.

“I’m not one to plan, even on a working day, Peiro. My vacation is blissfully plan free.” Peiro smiled and the gesture seemed to whisk away the air of authority and made him look quite youthful. “Perhaps you might allow me to show you around; I could be your tour guide for the day?” Good common sense screamed stranger danger, but I had never been a woman who listened to good sense, and I was already indulging in an intimate breakfast with the virtual stranger who did hotels, amongst other things.

“My good sense is telling me this is a horror movie in the making,” I quietly grumbled, which only encouraged Peiro’s smile to broaden.

“As much as it would be my pleasure to have you all to myself, I realize that’s not responsible of me. We will stay in public places, around other people. It will give ourselves a better chance to get to know one another.”

I found myself nodding and almost winced at my stupidity. I was that crazy female, the one that screamed when she should have remained quiet, and ran when she should have stayed still.

“Bellisimo, we will make a day of it.” Peiro clapped.

With a little luck I’d still be alive at the end of it.

When Peiro said a day, he meant a whole darn day! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We visited some of Atrani’s most treasured locations. A church built around the tenth century; the gorgeous building was entrenched with so much history you could almost feel it prickle under your skin. I was accosted with thoughts of how much their walls had seen and heard, how many stories they could tell if only they could speak. We did an easy walk to the Torre dello Ziro, a fortress that overlooked Atrani. The building was flanked with strongholds and turrets, the ruins again holding a wealth of history and intrigue. Peiro’s deep voice rumbled with warmth and fondness as he related the story of Joan the Mad, the illegitimate daughter of Henry’s illegitimate son. At the tender age of twelve, she married Alfonso Piccolomini, Duke of Amalfi who left her widowed, the mother of two, and at the reign of an empire that was in financial ruin at the time. The poor woman fell into the arms of her butler, much to the disgrace of the dead husband’s brothers, so they did what any decent brothers-in-law would do; they imprisoned her in Torre dello Ziro. Here, she and her children starved to death, or if you believe more bloodthirsty accounts, they were slaughtered.

“Why is history shrouded with such awful stories,” I sighed.

“Times were different then, a beheading here and little torture there was quite acceptable. I guess we must be thankful we were born in less difficult times. Now our worries are consumed with crashed computers and lost mobile phones.” Peiro chuckled.

“Hey, if I lost my cell phone, I’d be a shell of a woman,” I argued playfully.

“I would like very much to see you again,” Peiro purred as he stopped at the door to my villa. Now he knew where I lived. I guess I was as good as done for. Harry would be so mad at the lack of safety for myself. “But, I will leave that up to you. If you wish to see me again, you can find me at the hotel down by the beach where we met, just ask for me at the front desk.” Peiro didn’t offer a kiss, not even a hug. “Sleep well, Tesoro,” he murmured before walking away.

I pushed open the door to the quiet villa, and once inside, I quietly clicked the door shut and turned to lean against the cool wooden frame. Now that I was alone, I was able to allow my thoughts to quietly settle. Unfortunately, they settled into the familiar melancholy that seemed to sit like a heavy cloud on my shoulders. Being alone in this kind of silence reminded me all too well that Cain was gone, and that I was, in fact, alone. Peiro had a way of making me laugh and a roguish smile that made my heart flutter. Thoughts of Cain were few and far between while I had been in Peiro’s company. My own struggles over the past several months somehow seemed lighter, easier to accept, or perhaps easier to ignore; I wasn’t sure which. For some reason, finding friendship with Peiro also made me feel guilty. I felt like I was betraying Cain, but there was nothing to betray. My mind could easily rationalize that it was an absurd reaction, but my heart demanded my loyalty to the only man I had ever truly cared for. Then there was the underlying perception that a man like Peiro was far too good for a damaged girl like me. He was sophisticated; his designer clothing, careful grooming, and his sturdy confidence exuded wealth. He would never befriend an ex-junkie who had accidentally almost offed herself. The ringing of my cell phone sitting on the kitchen table broke my tumultuous thoughts.

“Damn it, Violet, I’ve been trying to call you all day,” snapped Harry.

“I’m on vacation, Harry, leave me alone.” I sighed as I collapsed into the leather sofa.

“Well, I had to go through someone telling me how you had died several months ago; that kind of shock never leaves a person.” I immediately felt bad for having worried him. “I just wanted to let you know the villa is available for another four weeks now. My sister decided to take the kids to Disneyland instead. Why the fuck she would want to punish herself, I do not know, but, whatever. If you want to stay a little longer, you are more than welcome.”

I had already been in Atrani for three weeks, and I was supposed to be leaving two weeks from tomorrow. I opened my mouth to say I’d keep my current flight and see Harry in two weeks, but something made the words halt. A thought of Peiro flashed through my mind, and the idea of leaving so soon actually made me a little sad. I had only just met him. He meant nothing to me, we barely constituted a friendship, but I thought I might have wanted one with him.

“A little more time would be wonderful, thank you,” I said instead.

“Are you sure? I thought you’d be bored by now. Have you started moving around the furniture yet?” I laughed. Moving furniture was something I did to break the monotony of long periods of time living out of hotels. I glanced at the furniture in the living room that I had, in fact, moved twice now.

“I haven’t touched the furniture,” I lied.

“Fucking liar,” he laughed. “Okay, I’ll change your flight and email you the new details.” Harry paused for a moment, and I could tell whatever he had to say next wasn’t coming easily. “Everything okay?” He finally settled for. I knew he wasn’t asking about the villa or the weather.

“I’m doing okay, Harry,” I quietly confided.

“Great, glad we got that settled. I’ll talk to you later.” He promptly hung up. That was our Harry; a man of many words when it suited him, a man of brisk business the rest of the time.

Two days later, I stood just inside the foyer of a beautiful, exquisite hotel, situated right on the shoreline. Massive archways along the beachside teased with the promise of pristine blue waters just beyond. The marble floor beneath my feet was cool even through my sandals. It wasn’t sticky though, so why I had become rooted to the spot the moment I had stepped inside was beyond me. I was compelled to come here with a sense of urgency. I had a little over three weeks left of my vacation, not nearly enough time to build a friendship with the handsome Italian stranger, but something was tugging at me, commanding I see him again. Now that I was here, I was terrified, and apparently stuck to this spot. Two women from the front desk several feet before me had noticed my entry, and now watched me with undisguised concern and confusion. When one of them reached for a phone, her curious eyes set on me, I panicked. They probably thought I was some crazy nut job westerner, and she was calling security. Obviously unable to go forward, I turned to retreat and ran straight into the wall of a solid chest.

“Oh crap,” I whispered. “So sorry.” Before I had a chance to politely side step and escape, a large, warm hand caught my upper arm.

“Tesoro, please tell me you’ve come for me and not a room,” Peiro purred. I looked up into the stormy dark eyes of the Italian. He was stunning, dressed in an expensive grey suit, his hair brushed off his forehead.

“Yes… I mean, no.” He looked a little confused. Could you blame him? “Yes, I came to see you, but then I thought I might be interrupting you, you might have been working, which quite obviously you are.” My eyes quickly raked over his powerful body hidden behind his powerful suit. “Perhaps we can do this again another day, when you are not so busy.” I quickly suggested.

The corner of Peiro’s mouth lifted into a smile. “You would like to bump into me then try to stammer your way out of spending time with me?”

It took me a moment to realize what he meant. “No!” I said, startled. “I meant, maybe we could do something, other than bump into each other, another day.”

He was now brimming with laughter. “I believe you bumped into me, Tesoro.” I opened my mouth to argue and realized my argument was baseless, because I had bumped into him. Peiro chuckled and the wonderful sound fell over me like a warm blanket. He put his hands carefully on my shoulders and turned me around. “Welcome to my hotel,” he whispered in my ear. He tried to nudge me forward, but I had become glued to the ground, again.

“Your hotel?” The words came out like a squeak. Smooth, Violet, I internally berated myself. “You do hotels,” I whispered his words from the first time we had met. “Holy shit, you own hotels!” I squeaked again. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest at my back. He was laughing at me.

“Actually, my family does hotels. My grandfather owns a few, and my brothers and I work for him, taking care of the business. He’s eighty-two now, not a young man, so I do the traveling and make sure everything is running smoothly. Apparently, I have a good rapport with people.”

“Buongiorno, signor Marchiano,” said a hotel valet who walked by us. His smile was friendly as he gave me a polite nod.

“Buongiorno, Filippo.” He went on to speak in Italian with the employee for a few minutes before a gentle hand to my lower back encouraged me to move forward. This time I managed to step further into the hotel.

“Rozalia, I will be unavailable for the rest of the day, would you phone Luciano and tell him I will call later tonight?” The woman behind the counter smiled and nodded, her eyes drifting to me for only a moment before turning to the task at hand. Peiro continued to lead me towards one of the giant archways that led to the beachside of the hotel.

“If you are busy, I don’t mind doing this another time,” I tried to argue.

“I am not busy,” Peiro said with an air of nonchalance. “The hotel is not going anywhere. The calls I need to make are international and are usually conducted at night to allow for different time zones.” We followed steps down into a luxurious poolside area, filled with tropical plants, a long, well stocked bar, which I studiously ignored, and more of those cozy deck chairs.

“What do you call a deck chair in Italian?” I wondered out loud, needing to put this mystery to rest. Peiro gave me an arched brow which clearly meant he had no idea what I was talking about. “These,” I put my hand on the back of one. “In America, we call it a deck chair; it doesn’t sound fancy enough for you Italians, so what do you call these?”

He chuckled as he pushed my shoulders down, forcing me to sit in the chair. “Sedia a sdraio.” God, I loved listening to that. I could sit and listen to the man speak in Italian all day long. I wouldn’t understand a word, but I’d be happy. “Or in English, chaise lounge, or deck chair.”

“Well, it sounds better with an Italian accent,” I murmured.

“I will be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

I sat under the warm sun, taking in my surroundings. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, and the pool was virtually empty. I would imagine most guests would prefer to carry on down the stairs to the immaculate beach below. Even I felt the draw to the natural wonder of the glass like water and warm sand beneath my feet. “Here you go,” said Peiro with that confidence he seemed to wear as easily as his immaculate suit. He handed me an icy glass filled with a red icy liquid. I simply stared at it, my heart suddenly thumping a painful assault in my ears. “Cranberry juice with crushed ice,” Peiro explained, no doubt thinking a woman freaking out over a drink was a tad unusual. “You like?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m not sure. I’ve never had cranberry juice before.” I took a sip and was pleasantly surprised by the rich fruity flavor. When my eyes rolled and I moaned with unbidden fruity desire, Peiro chuckled.

“I take that as a yes.” He sat down on the deck chair opposite me, looking completely at home in the tropical surroundings, while wearing a business suit. “I would go change, but I don’t want to miss spending time with you.” My nervous gaze darted to his, and he smiled, still looking as self-assured as ever. Peiro loosened his tie and my eyes followed his actions that, though quite innocent, suddenly seemed completely erotic. I imagined him carefully peeling away the layers of that suit and wondered what strong, handsome physique would lie beneath. I barely noticed my tongue dash out to wet my hungry lips. When I noticed the pleased look in Peiro’s eyes, I was fairly sure he knew what I was thinking, and somehow I forced my gaze onto the safety of the pool beyond. Only it wasn’t so safe either. My eyes came to rest on a tall, young, athletic man stepping from the pool, water sluicing down his bronzed skin which was in plentiful view as he wore only a tight, red pair of Speedos. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I tried to find somewhere to look that wouldn’t completely mortify me. I felt tongue tied, uncertain, clumsy, and inexperienced all at once. Hell, I felt like a damn lost teenager again. I wasn’t sure if Peiro felt the awkwardness wafting from me, but he gave me a reprieve for which I was grateful for. He carried the conversation, telling me his entire life story without a single hesitation. He was thirty-eight years of age, had divorced two years ago, and had no children. When he had told me his grandfather owned a few hotels, he actually meant several, staggered around the world which included three in the U.S. Peiro was wealthy, obscenely so. While he had been nothing but forthright and honest with his background, I had been like a closed book. I knew it wasn’t fair. This was quickly developing into a one-sided friendship. Dr. Brightman had been quite adamant that the steps towards friendship were paved in truth and honesty. He didn’t suggest I walk around town telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry my past. Mind you, Harry knew it better than most. But small and honest details about my life were required to build the relationships I was sorely lacking. The need to give Peiro something, just a small piece of the real me, sent words I didn’t think I was ready to say to the tip of my tongue. My fingers had attached themselves to the amethyst diamond I constantly wore around my neck, my gaze on the sparkling blue water of the pool. My thoughts were tangled with past, present, and future.

“The man who gifted you something so beautiful must be quite significant in your life,” Peiro quietly noted. I turned to look at him, confused by his statement. His dark gaze was on my necklace. I managed to release the amethyst and smiled with a small nod.

“What makes you think a man gave it to me?” I wondered.

“Only a man would buy something so exquisite for a woman.” He watched me, no accusation or anger in his eyes, merely a curiosity which I couldn’t blame him for.

“My best friend gave it to me last Christmas,” I explained.

“A stunning amethyst diamond for a stunning girl called Violet, very appropriate.”

I nodded. That’s how Cain was; his gifts were always carefully thought out and always appropriate. Now memories of Cain tumbled into a moment that was supposed to be Cain free.

“We had a falling out shortly after he gave it to me,” I went on to explain, the words spilling out like an overfilled cup.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Surprisingly, Peiro’s eyes held a sincerity I wasn’t used to seeing in my world, especially from virtual strangers. “True friendships are hard to find in this world, to lose one is difficult.”

I nodded in agreement, a tightening in my chest causing my throat to thicken with emotion. “I’ve spent the last six months in a rehabilitation facility for drug addiction,” I suddenly blurted out. Way to go, Violet, of all the snippets of truth and honesty you could give this handsome, strange man, you decided to go with the Mac Daddy of them all. I didn’t want to see Peiro’s reaction to my words, so I put my head down and continued on, “Cain and I had been friends since high school; he plays piano, and I sing. We’re a jazz duet. We do covers mostly, and we’ve made good money and achieved a lot of success in a short amount of time. Cain’s always been there for me, always helped me and cleaned up the messes I made. This time though, he wasn’t there. I hurt him pretty bad, and he left. So, our manager, Harry, got me into a rehab facility. I was there roughly six months. When I got out, I decided I wasn’t quite ready to face reality yet, so that’s why I’m here, on vacation.” Peiro was quiet for such a long time I finally drew on the courage to face him. I glanced nervously across the small gap, expecting to see disgust, pity, loathing. His face was a closed book, his eyes fixed on the pool. I could almost envision him standing, politely excusing himself, and walking away. I would never see him again. Wow, I had completely screwed up another friendship, yet again. Why couldn’t I get this right? I mean, what was so difficult about relationships that the only one I seemed able to maintain was with my manager?

“I have to admit, I am curious how someone, who was a so called friend, could leave you when you needed him most,” Peiro finally whispered. My gaze darted to his. “People make mistakes, Violet, and you don’t abandon friends when they need you the most.”

“I spent years pushing Cain away while at the same time holding him close. Our friendship was not equal, and it hurt him.” I would protect Cain and defend him until my dying breath. Peiro nodded, but it seemed like an action meant to pacify me. I could still see the disagreement he held in his eyes.

“The strongest of us are not those who wear their strength on the outside for all to see, but those who carry their strength inside and fight battles others know nothing about.” We stared at each other, our eyes locked in a moment of understanding and acceptance. For the first time in my entire life, I felt something unfurl inside me. It was as if my heart, weathered, beaten, and hardened over years of self-degradation and hurt, unexpectedly softened just a little. In that fragment of time, in a foreign land, under the blossoming friendship with a virtual stranger, my heart finally began to heal.

I had one week left of my vacation, and I was studiously ignoring the count down. The last few weeks with Peiro had been life affirming. He had systematically woven his way into my life, carving himself a permanent place in my heart. We had done little more than innocent touches and chaste kisses and a whole bunch of talking, but today, I had woken up with a new craving. I wanted more…no, I needed more. I needed to once again feel an intimacy I had long been without. The need and want was there, but so was an anxious fear. I had never had sex that wasn’t messy, angry, and fast, and I had not had sex sober, ever. My last experience with a man ended up being an uninvited duet, a night that would forever mark my world for all the wrong reasons. The need to feel normal and experience something so personal and profound drove me to a pre-dawn run, a long cool shower, and several wardrobe changes. Peiro was taking me on a date, but he hadn’t told me wear. I’d finally opted for a yellow spaghetti strap sundress and flip flops with pretty yellow daisies on them. As I paced the living room, waiting for Peiro, I wondered how on earth I managed to lose my virginity without having a panic attack. Oh wait, I was stoned. I barely remember the night…or afternoon…or morning. Would I need a condom? Shit, I didn’t have any condoms. Wasn’t that the guy’s responsibility? I was on the pill and had been since my first medical exam in the rehabilitation facility, but that didn’t mean that I shouldn’t still take precautions when having sex. My track record in this department had been sorely lacking, and the relief I felt when I was cleared of any unsavory contagions because of my messy sexual attitude was overpowering. I swore from then on I would always protect myself first and foremost.

The loud rap at the door made me jump, then I fumbled with the door knob for what seemed an eternity before it swung open, and Peiro stood before me in all his Italian glory. He wore a casual button down shirt and cargo shorts, his olive skin warm and inviting beside the lighter fabric of his shirt. I barely caught myself ogling him before I diverted an obscene amount of attention on gathering my shoulder bag and locking up the villa.

“Bello Tesoro,” Peiro murmured, snaking a hand around my waist and gifting me with an unexpected kiss, not chaste but not entirely forceful either. Just a tender press of his soft lips to the corner of my mouth. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one hungry for more of a connection.

Peiro drove us down the coast, a winding road with fields and flowers on one side, rocky outlets and sandy beaches on the other. The drive was filled with a quiet tension, nervous sideways glances, and trivial passing comments only occasionally breaking the awkwardness that had suddenly grown between us. After twenty-five minutes, Peiro steered the car into a small parking lot and unpacked the picnic lunch he had prepared. I followed him down a rocky path to the beach below, my gaze hovering on the crystal clear ocean before us, the light from the sun bouncing off the water in a show of shimmering beauty. Italy was, by far, one of the most beautiful places I had ever been, and I had been to many beautiful places. Somehow that beauty I had experienced at another time in my life was shadowed with the darkness of inner chaos and drugs. For the first time in all the years I could remember, I felt at peace, and with that peace, my eyes saw things differently. Colors seemed brighter, sounds seemed crisper, and calm blanketed me with warm, nurturing hands, promising shelter from the things that once hurt me.

With a blanket spread on the sand and the food carefully spread out before us, I sat. The quiet tension had followed us from the car, and as I scrambled for something to say that might relieve the unease, Peiro finally broke the silence.

“I looked you up on the computer last night,” he confessed. I stilled, wondering what awful picture he might have seen or what awful story he might have read in the back pages of some cheesy and scandalous magazine I might have made that night. Cain and I were painfully discreet and reticent when it came to our privacy. We weren’t celebrities, but we were known well enough in the entertainment circuits that an errant picture here or there might end up in a magazine somewhere. “You have an extraordinary voice, Violet; you are amazing.”

I was clumsy with compliments; I always had been. It used to be because I didn’t feel worthy of them, but now it was because I had no practice in dealing with them in the way any normal person might. I stumbled through an awkward thank you and it felt inadequate, but before I could find anything more to say, Peiro spoke again.

“You are an intoxicating woman, Tesoro, and I find myself reluctant to say goodbye to you when you leave in a week. I was thinking…” His words trailed off, his gaze just as distant as he took in the ocean before us. Finally, he turned his attention back to me. “I thought perhaps we could remain in contact. I visit America often for business, we could see each other, perhaps you might come back to Italy again soon.”

I wasn’t sure what Peiro was asking for. A long distance relationship? Casual encounters? Friendship? “Like pen pals?” I asked. Peiro smiled and the action seemed to alleviate the seriousness of whatever he was trying to convey.

“I was thinking of something more, Tesoro.” More, four simple letters, one little word, one big connotation. I wasn’t sure if I wanted more. “We could take it slow, see what happens.” My nod was stiff and hesitant. Peiro sighed and stood up. “Let’s go for a swim,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. I didn’t move, instead my brain short circuited, and I sat in frozen silence as I watched him push the shirt from his shoulders, revealing a stomach of rippling muscle and tanned, olive skin. As his hands went to the button of his shorts, he glanced at me, a mischievous smile playing on his features. “Are you coming, or are you just going to watch me?” He pushed his shorts over his hips and my breath caught. His legs were long and muscled, his ass…perfect. Dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, Peiro seemed completely oblivious to his almost nudity. I fisted my hands in an effort not to reach out and touch his statuesque perfection. “You coming?” he asked as he turned for the ocean, giving me a completely unobstructed view of his wide shoulders and taut backside. I nervously stood as Peiro dived under the water.

“Screw it,” I murmured a little breathless, pulling the knee length spaghetti strap dress over my head. I was left wearing a cute pink bra and matching boy short panties. Peiro was a gentleman, not turning to watch my approach, and only gave me his attention once I was submerged to my neck. The water was perfect, taking the edge off the heat of the day.

“Beautiful, talented, and brave.” Peiro chuckled.

“You didn’t expect me to follow?” I wondered.

He shook his head. “I hoped,” he offered, before swimming in from the deeper water until he was standing before me. He carefully pushed a few errant blonde strands behind my ear. “I was on the beach that day for a time out. I had fired an employee that had been stealing from the hotel. It is one of the more unpleasant tasks I have had to do, and I needed a few moments to clear my head. Instead of clearing it, I found it consumed with an angel with pale hair, green eyes, and the sexiest red bikini I have ever seen. Or maybe it wasn’t the swimwear I found so appealing. Perhaps it was the beauty that lay beneath it.”

Unable to keep my hands to myself any longer, I brazenly reached a hand behind his neck and pulled him down to my lips. Peiro didn’t object, but he kept his hands by his side. The kiss was gentle, too gentle. The warmth seeping from his flawless skin beckoned me closer.

“If you don’t touch me, I’m going to embarrass myself by climbing your body like a horny teenager,” I whispered. Peiro laughed as his lips sought mine again, and finally, thankfully, he pulled me into his body. My legs wrapped around his waist, bringing my core in line with this manhood, which stirred appropriately beneath his boxer briefs. The kiss grew more urgent as I opened my mouth, and Peiro’s tongue slipped inside, tasting me, urging me on. I rubbed my body shamelessly against his, and the long moan it drew out caused me to smile under his kiss. My body was begging for his hands, his touch, but Peiro kept himself painfully in control. I wanted him to lose that control, I wanted to ignite a flame within him that would consume me with passion. My last encounter with a man, two in fact, had left me scarred with one of the worst moments of my life, and I wanted that memory washed away. I grabbed Peiro’s hand which had been hanging on to one cheek of my ass tightly. I encouraged him to hold my breast, which he did with a hungry growl.

“Tesoro, you will weaken my resolve,” he breathed as he trailed kisses down my neck.

“I don’t want your resolve, Peiro.” My hand dropped between our bodies to rub at the rigid, firm length of him. “I want this, inside me, while your mouth is on my breast.” I was a sexual woman, and while every sexual encounter I had to date was under the influence of drugs or alcohol, I found myself still bold in my sobriety. My words seemed to break Peiro’s control as he wrenched my bra down under my breast and began to lick and gently nip at my nipple. His other hand pushed aside my underwear and his fingers quickly found my entrance, skillfully exploring me while discovering which touches truly set me on fire. I carelessly fumbled with Peiro’s own underwear, freeing the length of him and positioning him at my entrance. Peiro didn’t object or disappoint, but simply thrust deep inside me. A gasp escaped my lips as he pumped into my body, his lips at my sensitive nipples, just as I had asked. His big hands on my ass pulled me against his body, creating a friction that made my skin tingle with awareness, my legs clenching tighter around his waist. My hips rose and fell with his, my hands gripped his shoulders, and with my head thrown back, I came quickly and loudly. Peiro followed close behind, his face nestled into the crook of my shoulder and neck as he did.

The tumultuous sexual experience seemed to settle back into calmer waters and with it came a deafening silence and harsh reality. What had I just done? This vacation was supposed to a time of healing. I was supposed to have quit sexual meetings in public places with strangers, and yet here I was, in public, having just had sex with a man I barely knew. Unprotected sex, sober sex. Suddenly, the need that had wracked my body moments before folded in on itself, and I was left feeling as dirty and tainted as ever. “Shit,” I whispered as I pulled away, forcing the intimate grip on our bodies to release.

Peiro looked up at me with gentle eyes and a lazy smile, but as soon as he saw my face, the smile was gone. “Tesoro?” he whispered.

“Shit, I’m sorry. God, what have I done?” I groaned as I pulled my underwear back into place.

“Violet?” Peiro tried again as I turned and made a hasty retreat from the water. Under mutterings of whorish behavior and casual encounters, I pulled my dress over my body. It clung to my wet skin and the fabric was transparent. Angry and embarrassed, I folded my arms across my chest in an attempt to protect my modesty, which five minutes ago had been forgotten under the violence of lustful need. “Violet!” Peiro demanded. His firm hand gripping my arm got my instant attention. “Settle down, Tesoro.” He raised his hands to my cheeks. He looked frustrated, painfully beautiful, but frustrated. “You are not a whore. Cazzo, don’t say such a thing.” Cazzo, fuck, Harry had taught me that one, and in an inappropriate moment, I almost smile as I realized I knew an Italian curse word. Peiro’s thumbs gently pushed away tears I hadn’t even noticed had fallen. “If anyone should be angry with themselves, it is me. I should have had more control, but it seems where you are concerned, I have little.” A small smile lifted one corner of his delectable mouth. “I didn’t even use protection, Mi dispiace. I’m so very sorry, Violet.” The smile was suddenly gone under self-admonishment.

I took a deep breath which hitched with emotion. “No, it’s my fault. I was the one ready to climb your body and mount you like some shameless hussy.” Peiro leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my lips, far too chaste considering what we had just shared.

“You are no hussy, and I am clean. And if you are worried about pregnancy, I will take you to a doctor immediately.” His words were so clinical, I felt awkward and embarrassed. I’m sure I blushed.

“Birth control was something that the doctors at the rehab facility insisted upon, and they also gave me a clean bill of health.” Peiro watched me closely, his gaze curious. Finally he gave a short, swift nod.

“Then whatever is going on in here,” he placed a hand over my heart, “and here,” his fingers moved to tenderly stroke a path across my forehead, “we can work on.” He stepped back and gave me some room which I really needed right now. “Whatever impression I gave you, Tesoro, I am not a man who regularly whisks vacationing women to make love to them in the ocean. I find myself somewhat lacking in restraint where you are concerned.” Peiro gave me a mischievous smile as he pulled his shorts on over his still wet legs. “And I meant what I said, Violet. I am glad I met you and I don’t want this...” He waved his arms about between us. “Whatever this is, I don’t want it to end when you leave.” I still didn’t know what I could offer Peiro outside of this vacation. Friendship, maybe. A relationship, I wasn’t sure.

The drive back to the villa was once again awkward. Peiro hummed to a song on the radio, while I studied the passing scenery a little too hard. I felt as though I was wound tighter than a piano wire, ready to snap. Finally, we pulled to a stop in front of the villa, and I made a hasty escape from the car. Peiro followed me to the front door. While I wanted to step inside and slam the door shut in an attempt to escape any further embarrassment to myself, I also knew I owed Peiro more than that. He had been nothing but a gentleman over the last few weeks. Screwing him then running wasn’t a thoughtful compensation for his kindness. I also cared for Peiro, in what capacity I wasn’t sure, but there was enough affection growing inside my heart for him that I didn’t want to hurt him.

“Violet,” Peiro whispered so quietly I almost missed it. “I hope you don’t run from me, Tesoro, but I understand you might need some time. You have your reality to get back to in America and perhaps unfinished business with a friend…” He somehow knew my feelings for Cain were more than simple friendship, but he was considerate not to call me out on it. “But you should know that I would very much like to be a part of your reality, your future. I’m a patient man, Violet, and you still have some healing to do. I have no plans to go anywhere though, so I’ll be here when you are ready. I value our friendship and would very much like to see you again. Perhaps lunch tomorrow?”

I hesitated a moment at the door. “That sounds nice, and thank you,” I murmured. I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for. The picnic? The great sex? His understanding? His patience?

“You’re most welcome.” He leaned forward and I welcomed the gentle kiss. His lips caressed mine, his tongue barely a tender caress against mine before he slowly pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Peiro turned back to his car, and I took the moment to close myself away inside the villa.

The first thing I did was check I hadn’t missed my pill over the last few weeks. It was still a relatively new part of my morning routine, easy to forget, especially when I wasn’t sexually active, nor had I had any intention of being sexually active, until Peiro. Happy to note I hadn’t missed a single day, I showered, somewhat reluctant to wash away Peiro’s scent from my skin. My body ached in the most delicious way, and a small part of me that hid behind the shadows of fear and painful memories, wished that I was not alone. I wished I was still in Peiro’s strong embrace; his masculine beauty and exciting lure washed away the darkness that seemed to take root and flourish when he wasn’t around. Under the spray of the water, I realized my fingers were once again stroking the amethyst jewel that hung from my neck. Cain, the very thought of him brought the familiar pain back to my heart. Unfinished business indeed. I simply couldn’t entertain the thought of a future with another man when my heart still demanded a future with someone else.

As I quickly dried myself off and pulled on a pair of cotton lounge pants and cami, I glanced to my cell phone which sat where I had left it on the bedside table. Eleven missed calls. I rarely managed one call every couple of days from Harry, how on earth had I missed eleven in a few short hours. I picked up the phone and noted three were from a familiar number. Not one I kept stored in my phone, but one I knew by heart regardless. Home. The other eight missed calls were from Harry. Reluctant to introduce my home troubles into my healing space, I called Harry.

“Fucking hell, Violet, I was ready to send out the National fucking Guard. Where the hell have you been? I told you to take your fucking phone with you when you went out!”

I bristled at Harry’s angry growl. “I’ve been on vacation, recuperating without the continual interference of annoying managers.” Harry took a long breath and I recognized it as something he did when he needed to compose himself.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I just became panicked when I couldn’t reach you. You need to come home.”

My brow furrowed as I tried to towel dry the ends of my still dripping hair. “I’ve still got another week left.”

“Violet, it’s your mom.” The towel stilled at the ends of my hair. “She passed away last night. You need to come home, sweetheart. Your dad needs you here right now.” Thankfully the bed was right behind me, so when my knees gave way, the soft mattress caught my fall.

“What?” I barely managed to breathe out.

“I’ve already booked you a flight; you leave in three hours. I’ll organize a car to pick you up. Pack your things quickly, and I’ll meet you at the airport when you get home.” The phone line went dead, and I was left in a daze of disbelief and confusion. My mom was dead. The words didn’t sound right, they didn’t feel right. How did she die? Was she in an accident? Was my dad okay? The thought of my father snapped me to attention. My dad needed me. I hastily threw my clothes into my suitcase and found it difficult to close the zipper, the disarray inside threatening to spill out. Finally, I did a quick sweep of the villa, realizing I was bound to leave something behind in my haste. Then I locked up my temporary escape from reality and stood on the footpath waiting for the car Harry would have organized. I didn’t have time to be sorry I was leaving. I didn’t have the capacity to regret not being able to say goodbye to Peiro. I was on auto pilot and had only one goal in mind, get home.

I had never been to a funeral before. I had almost instigated my own, albeit a few years early for my liking, but I had never known anyone who died before. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were virtual strangers to me, their eagerness to avoid my messy family life apparent in their absence from my life. So, no, I didn’t have the extended family and friends that might introduce a child or young adult to the pain that accompanied death. My fingers played nervously with the hem of my black dress, my gaze downcast. I knew the church was excruciatingly empty. My mother had garnered few friends in her unfortunate life. On one side of me sat my father, his new suit stylish and wrinkle free. It bothered me that the first suit he had ever worn was to his wife’s funeral. I reached over and took his massive hand in mine, holding it tightly. He gave it a gentle squeeze, his eyes not straying from the closed casket before us. On my other side sat Harry, his nasty foul language and sometimes abrupt business persona on hiatus; he was on his best behavior today. He gave me a small, sorrowful smile when I cast a nervous look his way. I took no notice of the few people who had quietly spilled into the vacant pews behind us. I didn’t even bother to listen to the kind and forgiving words the minister had to say. Instead, I wondered where my mom was. She wasn’t the best mother, she wasn’t even that good a wife, and I bet she struggled to make a noteworthy friend. Would she go to heaven or hell? I had never given much thought to the finality of death and the ever after. My mother had died four nights ago from a drug overdose. Her body wracked with copious amounts of poison that had stopped her heart, much like my own. The difference being, someone gave me a reprieve, a second chance, and never had it been more painfully obvious than in that moment, I had been spared. Perhaps my life was worth more than I realized, that someone or something outside the law of natural science picked me to have a second chance. No tears fell when I looked at the coffin my mother lay in, but as soon as my gaze moved to my stricken father, the tears tumbled over my lashes. He was so completely and utterly heartbroken, and his pain was my pain. I looked away, trying hard to find my composure and strength for the sake of my dad. I had barely realized the funeral was over when Harry gave my arm a gentle tug, forcing me to rise to my feet. My dad didn’t move though.

“Daddy,” I whispered.

“Just give me a few minutes, pumpkin,” he quietly pleaded, his eyes still glued to the casket. I gave him a small nod as I followed Harry from the church. With my gaze focused on the ground, I didn’t notice the figure I almost bumped into once outside the church.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, giving a quick, apologetic look to the person who stood before me. In that moment, my heart thumped loudly and painfully. The world around me disappeared, the sights, sounds, and smells gone. It was as if a higher being had moved me to this place and brought everything else to a grinding halt, everything except me and him. Lost for words, I allowed my eyes to finally convince me that this was real, that Cain Everett was, in fact, standing before me. The power this man had over my heart became glaringly obvious in that fraction of time. My reaction to him couldn’t be normal. It made my feelings for Peiro pale in comparison. Speechless, I simply stared. He hadn’t changed at all, his hair pulled into a scruffy bun, his striking blue eyes a little shocked as he took me in. He wore a stylish black suit over his tall athletic body.

“Violet?” he asked in disbelief. I found myself unable to answer, and thankfully, Harry came to my rescue.

“Cain, you’re looking good, my man.” He clapped Cain on the shoulder. Cain didn’t give Harry as much as a sideways glance. “Okay, Violet sweetheart, I’ll just wait over by the car.” Harry had given my father and me a ride to the church, neither of us were much in the mood for thinking past one foot in front of the other.

“I didn’t recognize you,” Cain whispered, his eyes taking in my long, naturally blonde hair. It had been a long time since it had been anything other than purple. My figure was slightly fuller, I was sober, so yeah, I wasn’t surprised he didn’t recognize me.

“I wasn’t expecting you here, thank you for coming,” I said, appreciating the fact that he made the effort.

“Of course I would come,” he whispered. “You look great,” he said, still looking me over, his eyes lingering on the diamond at my neck. “Different, but in a good way.” I shifted nervously under his gaze before noticing his mom and dad standing in the background. I almost cried when they offered me their familiar smiles mixed with a twinge of sorrow and regret. I glanced back to Cain whose eyes no longer roamed over the unfamiliar girl before him. Now his scrutiny had settled on my most likely blood shot eyes. “What the fuck am I saying, Violet. I’m so fucking sorry.” He pulled me into his arms like I had never left. His arms were familiar, warm. He smelled just the same, he felt like my shelter from the storm, he felt like home. I didn’t try to hold back the tears any longer. I cried, not only for the loss of my mother, but for my father’s heartache, and for the loss of a treasured friendship. I cried for the loss of so many years hating myself and my family. So many mistakes I couldn’t take back; I could only learn from them and move forward. After the longest time, I drew away from his hold and carefully wiped my eyes and nose with a tissue.

“I guess you still bring out the crybaby in me,” I murmured. Before Cain had a chance to respond, a pretty redhead stood alongside him, and in a subtle show of ownership, she took his hand.

“Hi, I’m Annabelle. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said with a genuine smile. Her hand awkwardly patted my shoulder, and when I glanced at that hand, I noticed the very extravagant, shiny ring on a very important finger. I followed the length of her arm back to her face. She wasn’t familiar, I was fairly sure she wasn’t part of Cain’s family, and if she was, the holding hands thing bordered on weird. Cain rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Oh,” I breathed, recognition dawning on me. They were engaged. The realization slammed into me like a ton of bricks, and I took a hasty step away. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I thought if I moved away it wouldn’t be real. Cain’s eyes held a world of regret, but nevertheless, this was the girl he had moved on to. This was the girl I had pushed him towards.

“Cain, it’s been a long while, son,” came the gruff familiar voice of my father from behind me.

“Mr. Trivoli, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Cain said as he reached out to shake my father’s hand.

“Thank you, and thank you for coming, your family too.” My dad smiled in the direction of Cain’s parents, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “You ready, pumpkin?” Dad took my hand and I held on so tight I had no doubt the circulation would have stopped. He didn’t flinch or pull away though, instead he held on just as tight. Obviously both of us really needed that connection right now. He guided me away from Cain and his pretty fiancé, and I somehow managed to keep my head held high and my shoulders back.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward much,” murmured Harry as he opened the car door for me to slip in. As we pulled away from the church, I was proud of the fact I didn’t once look back. Meanwhile, my heart, which had begun a slow and methodical process of healing in Italy, was once again broken.

“What happened between you and the Everett boy?” my father asked from over the hot cup of tea he raised to his lips.

We were sitting on the front porch of my family home, only having buried my mother the day before. The house was eerily silent without her presence. It didn’t bother me; her presence had never brought me much in the way of happiness, but my father’s lost gaze as he wandered from room to room did bother me. I shrugged, not wanting to bring to life the memories of Cain.

“When do you start back at work?” I asked, not answering the question.

“Barney told me to take as much time as I needed, but I’ll go back in tomorrow most likely. I need the distraction.” Dad stood up and stretched. “Maybe you should think about getting back to work soon, too. It looks like you need a distraction about as bad as I do. Goodnight, pumpkin.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead before heading inside. Dad knew most of what had happened over the last several months. He knew about my overdose; he had cried when I told him. He knew about rehab, he knew about my escape to Italy, but he didn’t know much about what had happened between Cain and I. Obviously, he saw what he needed to in my face though. I needed a distraction like I needed to breathe.

Thoughts of Cain with his fiancé on his arm filled my every waking moment. It was easy to imagine myself slipping into ignorance under a line or two of cocaine, and the thought terrified me. I shivered under the weight of those thoughts. The battle to slip into old habits was a constant war within me, and some days, I wondered if it would be easier to just give in. Of course it would be easier, but life wasn’t meant to be easy. The real rewards came with being strong enough to fight and strong enough to win.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice from behind me. I jumped off the porch railing and spun around to find Cain standing alone in my front yard. His hands were shoved into the pockets of worn, tattered jeans, a grey shirt molded to the athletic curves of his body, a dark colored flannel over the top.

“Hey,” I replied, proud of how steady I kept my voice.

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping in. I just wanted to see how you and your dad were doing.” I moved to the porch steps and sat on the top one.

“Dad’s just gone to bed.” I glanced at the space beside me. “Would you like to sit down?” Cain’s response was to climb the short staircase and fold his tall body down beside me. “How’ve you been?” I asked after a short silence.

“Okay, I guess. Moving forward.” Obviously, he was engaged. “And you?”

“Same,” I replied with a shrug.

“Harry said you were in rehab. If I had known, I would have come to see you.” My emotions were torn with a sliver of anger for him leaving in the first place, especially when Harry had told his family I was in the hospital. He hadn’t even tried to contact me and that hurt like a knife to my heart.

“Sober seven months and counting,” I whispered. “So, are you living back here?” I went on, quickly changing the subject. I didn’t want to talk about myself. My recovery, my journey, it was mine, and even though a part of me wanted to share it with Cain, there was another part of me, the angry part of me, that wanted to keep it from him. Cain ran a hand through his shoulder length hair; it was almost a nervous motion.

“Yeah, I guess.” Cain had always sworn that as much as he loved his family, he would never move home. Home for us represented dead ends and monotony. I was surprised he was back.

“Are you working?” I wondered out loud. Cain chuckled, it was an uneasy sound, not exactly happy.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he said with a huff. I glanced at him with an arched brow. He knew me better than that; I would absolutely laugh. Cain rolled his eyes. “I’m working in an accountant’s office.” I just stared at him, unable to create an image of Cain in an office. He shifted nervously. “I’m just answering phones, filing, shit like that, but I’m thinking about going back to college. I’m not sure what I really want to do, guess I’ll figure it out when the times comes, but this job is paying the bills for the time being.”

“You’re a secretary?” I couldn’t even manage to laugh, the notion completely horrified me. Cain was a born musician, his love was music, his passion was music, his life was music. To be or do anything else would be a tragedy.

“Hell no, I’m not a secretary,” he grumbled.

“You answer the phone, file…do you do photocopying and fetch coffee for the other staff?” I said it as a joke but the embarrassment on Cain’s face told me he did, in fact, do all that, and most likely other more menial office tasks. My mouth had fallen open as I flat out stared at him in shock.

“Annabelle’s father owns the firm. I didn’t even have to apply. It’s convenient.”

“Annabelle?” I wondered out loud, not recognizing the name at first. Again Cain’s gaze became sheepish as he looked my way before quickly averting his gaze. Annabelle, the fiancé.

“Have you set a date?” The idea made me feel nauseated.

“Not yet. Belle has been pressuring me to commit to a date. She would have us married tomorrow if she could, but I’m worried we’re moving a little fast. It’s still the honeymoon faze…you know.” I had no idea. I had never been in a relationship. They had honeymoon fazes? I thought that was for married couples.

“It’s only been seven months; you barely know her,” I offered.

“I’ve known Belle for years; she’s a family friend.” I thought I knew Cain better than most, but I didn’t know this Annabelle which only proved I didn’t know Cain as well as I assumed I did. The fact he even had an affectionate nickname for her stung. I had never been anything but Violet, or on occasion, baby.

“How come I’ve never heard of her then?” I was angry there was a part of Cain I didn’t know.

He just shrugged. “It’s not like you spent a lot of time hanging out with my family, Violet.”

I looked away from him, ashamed of the truth in his words. I never felt good enough to be a part of Cain’s family. They accepted me, never looked down on me or treated me with pity, and I repaid them by avoiding them like the plague.

“So, what about you, where are you working now?”

“I sold my apartment in New York, but Harry said when I’m ready he has somewhere for me to stay, he has a few gigs lined up when I’m ready. I’m not sure what I want to do though. I’m not sure that I’m ready for that environment yet, and definitely not on my own.” I glanced at Cain who looked a little too miserable for my liking. I hated seeing Cain’s sorrow; I always had. When Cain was sad, I was sad, as if my emotions were connected directly to his. I somehow managed to find a smile. “And there isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to be a secretary.” That broke the sadness for a moment, his own smile breaking the misery.

“I don’t know, I think you’d look great in a tight skirt, heels…” His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the exposed skin of my thigh. It was a warm night, and I was wearing shorts that showed off the nice tan I had acquired in Italy. Before his eyes had a chance to really appreciate my new tan, he looked away with a sharp curse. “How’s your dad doing?” he asked, changing the subject.

“He’s completely and utterly shattered, but I think he’ll be okay. He’s been sober quite a while now. The house is clean, and he’s got a good job, friends. Even though he loved Mom like no other, she had him chained to a life he didn’t want anymore. As callous as it sounds, her leaving has released him. He can get on with his life now.”

Cain abruptly stood. “Is that what you think of me and you?” he suddenly demanded. I was shocked into silence for a moment. We had been talking about my mom and dad, not Cain and I. But when I thought back over my words, I realized it was exactly what I had thought of Cain and me. I’m not sure if that’s how I still felt though. “Jesus Christ, Violet, even after all that therapy you no doubt endured, you still think of yourself as a worthless piece of shit.”

I stood up, feeling overwhelmed by his larger presence as he hovered over me. I took a step back onto the porch. I wanted to scream at Cain and tell him to fuck off like a childish teenager with a broken heart. Instead I drew on the Yoda like meditative techniques Dr. Brightman had taught me. A long deep breath in—relax, find that calm place, and breathe out—angry vibes gone. Once composed and in control, I turned my gaze on Cain, who stood fuming at the bottom of the steps, and smiled.

“I learned a lot in therapy, approached many subjects that hurt to think about let alone talk about. I see the value in myself now, but as any therapist will tell you, overcoming many years’ worth of self-degradation is a constant work in progress. Yes, at one time I saw myself as trash, not unlike my mother, but now, well, let’s just say I’m nothing like my mother. I may have her addictive personality, but I am stronger than her. Maybe I needed to let you go to realize that.” Cain seemed at a loss for words. “I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be here. Dad has already subtly suggested I get back to New York; I think he’s tired of my nagging already. I might not get to say goodbye, so I wish you all the best with the wedding. Annabelle seems…” Like the perfect suburban wife I used to think you needed. “Nice. Take care, Cain Everett.” He didn’t respond as I made my way inside, closing the door quietly behind me.

I leaned back against the wall between the door and window, allowing my trembling body to relax. Saying goodbye to Cain was meant to give me the peace I sought after, but it didn’t. It just turned the aching in my heart into a wide open hole. I don’t know how long I stood there, but Cain’s car had long since driven off. I wondered if I shouldn’t ask Harry to book me on a flight back to Italy. I missed Peiro. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day he had dropped me back to the villa after our beach romp. He probably thought I had ran, and in a sense, I had. I had run home to be with my dad when he needed me, but I hadn’t called him to let him know what had happened. At least when I was with Peiro, Cain’s loss seemed just a bit more bearable. Using Peiro to fill a gap wasn’t fair though, and that’s what held me back from calling him. I needed to confront my reality, get my life back on track, and figure out how to deal with the unfinished business my heart seemed reluctant to let go of. And I needed to do it without the leverage of a handsome, foreign distraction.

“Violet, how the fuck do you find anything in here?” grumbled Mya as she tripped over a boot sticking out from under my bed. I glanced up from my desk and smiled. Mya was adorable, a pint sized, twenty-two-year-old rocket with a foul mouth. She was Harry’s niece, so I guess the mouth shouldn’t have surprised me. It just sounded odd coming from the tiny, dark haired sprite whose gentle doe eyes automatically made you assume butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. It melted all right, under a large vocabulary of profanity, and a wit that was second to none. She was smart, like scary smart. As an aspiring surgeon, she was attending college, her eyes set on adding an MD or DO to the end of her name. The best part about living with Mya, she didn’t drink. She didn’t party. She didn’t do anything except study. She helped keep me out of the scene I was so terrified of falling back into again. I had been sober ten months now and things were going okay. Harry had indeed found an apartment for me in New York. It wasn’t fancy; apparently I couldn’t afford fancy. My money had begun to rapidly disappear during my stay in the rehab facility, and Harry had sold my own apartment to help fund my therapy. The spontaneous six week trip to Italy sure didn’t help my cause either. Mya shared the apartment with me. She was a great roommate; she was clean, quiet, and even though a little odd and quirky, she was great to have around. Mya kept me curiously grounded.

“So, Harry can’t make it tonight so I’m gonna be your whip bitch.” I looked up from the email I was half way through sending and raised a brow. I was still nervous about being left alone in places where my vices were within reach, so Harry or Mya would normally accompany me to gigs. I would have to take that next step one day soon though. I needed to know I was strong enough to live my life without a chaperon.

“Whip bitch?” I asked

“Your warden, slave, go-fer, helper.” Mya grinned at me. “Your wing woman. I think it’s about time you dusted off that lazy ass of yours and got laid. After your gig, I’m finding you some man candy to get crazy with, or if you’re reluctant to get back in the saddle or have doubts about your sexuality, we can find you a woman to experiment with.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. This commandment of sexual expertise coming from the only twenty-two-year-old virgin I knew.

“I don’t need a man or a woman to get crazy with. I have help with that, and it lives in the drawer directly to your left.” Mya looked at my bedside table thoughtfully.

“Maybe that’s what I need,” she thought out loud.

“Mya, you are not losing the big V to a big V,” I mumbled as I sent my email.

“Why not? It would cut out all the nonsense, all the bullshit that comes with relationships and sexual encounters. No awkward and inexperienced fumbling around the sheets, no embarrassment on my part. Clean, easy, and efficient, I wouldn’t even have to make him breakfast the next day.” I would have laughed were it not for the serious look on her face; she was actually considering this.

“Mya, your virginity is a precious gift. It’s sacred. You need to take special care of it and gift it to someone who will treasure something so significant, someone warm, not electronic.” I began flicking through my wardrobe for something to wear tonight. The gigs I played these days weren’t quite as exclusive as the ones Cain and I had played. The bars were a little rougher, older. Hell, we had played for an over sixties cigar bar last week that held an audience of five, and that included Harry. I was lead singer in a band of four. We performed jazz, but it was different. The music didn’t seem to contain the same passion and beauty it did when I sang with Cain, and it was all traditional, old school jazz which I loved, but didn’t feel the same passion when singing it anymore. Maybe I was losing my love for the only thing it seemed I was good at doing. The thought of being reduced to a menial job, stocking shelves or answering phones, made me shiver. From magnificence to boredom in the blink of an eye, like Cain. Just the thought of Cain hurt my heart. Even after all this time apart, I still ached for him. I had finally bitten the bullet a few weeks ago and called Peiro. Hearing his voice was like plastering a band-aid on an open wound. It covered the pain temporarily, but it didn’t make it disappear entirely. Peiro hadn’t made any suggestions that we see each other again. I think he was waiting for me to take that step. He needed me to come to him, free of the burden of a broken heart. He needed all of me, not just the fragments I was willing to share with him. Even though Cain had moved on, I still couldn’t bring myself to completely let him go. I had no idea if he was married now; I hadn’t heard from him since the night I left him standing on my porch.

“How did it happen for you?” Came Mya’s voice, breaking through the haze of thoughts which had made me forget where I was for a moment.

“Huh?”

“Your coveted virginity. How did you lose it? Was it to Cain?” Some days I wished I hadn’t told Mya about Cain. On one of my bad days, while battling the need to forget my past under a bottle of whiskey, or better yet, a line of coke, Mya had sat on my bed with me and simply talked. While she had told me her battle of being a geek at school, apparently being gorgeous didn’t help her one little bit, I had confessed the inability to move on from my one true love. I had reached a point where I could say that out loud. Violet, the girl who once thought she could never love, had in fact loved deeply…and she had lost that love.

“No, it wasn’t Cain; we were never intimate.” That surprised Mya and rightly so. How could I have spent so many years in love with someone I had only shared one real kiss with? “I gave my virginity away to some asshole in a dimly lit hallway behind a bar. I’m pretty sure his friends watched, too.” Mya gasped. “It was awful, it hurt, and it made me feel like a whore. He brought me a drink afterwards, so I guess that was my payment. I was stoned, I was stupid, and if I could go back and do it all over, I would, but I can’t.” I glanced at Mya as I pulled a dress from the closet. “So I do the next best thing and encourage women like yourself to treasure the one thing you can only give away once. Do it with a warm body, one who will hold you afterwards, one who will make you breakfast in the morning.” I kicked off my slippers and began to unbutton my jeans before pushing them over my hips.

“Fuck, Violet, couldn’t you have waited for me to leave the room at least?” Mya growled as she jumped up and raced through the doorway, slamming it closed behind her. I laughed. She was seriously going to have to get over her aversion to nudity if she wanted to lose her virginity one day.

Ella Fitzgerald’s “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” filled my ears. The buds attached to my iPhone rarely left my ears these days. I was so scared I was losing my passion for music, I listened to it non-stop. Curiously though, the music still soothed me like it always had, whisking me away to a time when women expressed their beauty through exquisite dresses and elegant hairdos, and men were, for the most part, gentleman, and bars were dimly lit, smoky rooms where everyone danced and enjoyed the moment of freedom from everyday worries, rather than drag their woes to the bar with them. I could easily close my eyes and see Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong playing for an intimate crowd, the love of music etched into their blissful features. A tap on my shoulder drew my attention, and I pulled the buds from my ears.

“Five minutes,” said Neil with a stern frown. I nodded as he moved back across to where the other three members of the band stood waiting to perform. Neil was the guitarist and the glue that held us together, the spokesman so-to-speak. He was well suited to the position being an arrogant prick and all. From Neil’s point of view, I was the washed out, ex-junkie whose time had passed. It irked him to no end that I was, in fact, the reason people came to our gigs. People knew me, people came to see me, not him. Ricky gave me a wink. Ricky was the drummer and he was gorgeous, flirtatious, and very happily married. Michael played the trumpet; he was overweight, smoked like a chimney, and he loved his music. His knowledge of the jazz greats was as good as my own, if not better. They were good guys, they were good musicians, but after two months I still hadn’t been able to mesh with them. On stage, we were textbook perfect, but we didn’t have that something special that made a band stand out from the rest.

Mya held her hand out to me, her eyes never leaving the laptop in front of her. I handed her my iPhone and stood, smoothing out my dress.

“Break a leg,” she murmured, clicking away on the keyboard.

I was a little nervous tonight; the room we were playing for was bigger than any we had played before. The guys were also nervous, and I think their anxiety bled into mine, making it sharper than usual. The hotel was an upscale five star establishment, with high polished granite counters, sparkling white polished floors, and contemporary furniture that seemed so exquisite and expensive I was afraid to touch anything. The ballroom had been booked for a charity event, and the guests would be mostly made up of high society snobs and politicians. It wasn’t our usual gig, and I wondered how on earth Harry had secured it for us. Ricky gave me a genuine smile, and Michael reached out to take my hand, most likely in an attempt to soothe his own nerves rather than mine. A shot of whiskey would really help about now. I cursed the inner monologue that I still fought with on a daily basis. The bright lights that lit up the stage thankfully drowned out most the audience, and I fell into an easy rhythm which years of performing allowed me. The music was soothing, yet painful. It felt wrong to perform with anyone but Cain. When our first set was over, I escaped to the side of stage where Mya handed me a bottle of water, yet again not looking up from her laptop.

“You killed it, kid,” she said while her concentration remained solely on the computer screen.

“I'm a star, and the audience loves me... and I love them. And they love me for loving them and I love them for loving me. And we love each other,” I crooned as I plonked myself down beside Mya.

“You really need to stop quoting Chicago. It’s creepy and makes you look like all you do all day is watch movies; people will think you don’t have a life.”

I shrugged. “I do watch movies all day, and I don’t have a life.”

“You don’t need to broadcast it.” I glanced at the computer screen. It was full of equations, numbers, letters, things that made my head hurt.

“Miss Trivoli, Senator Grey asked me to bring you this, courtesy of him.” The waiter before me carried a glass of whiskey on a serving tray. My eyes were glued to the amber liquid, the familiar taste that burned away my nerves and fears on the tip of my tongue as if I had already taken a sip. I glanced nervously at Mya who didn’t appear to have even noticed the waiter. She was my buffer, she was the girl who glared at the would-be suitors and groupies who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves, she was supposed to be my vice deterrent, and she appeared completely oblivious to the current vice sitting within reaching distance.

“Umm, would you thank Senator Grey for me, but I don’t drink alcohol. I would love water though.” The waiter didn’t blink, he showed no reaction whatsoever as he withdrew the offering before me.

“And I’ll have a cloudy apple juice,” said Mya at my side. The waiter smiled before retreating into the backstage shadows, and I glared at Mya. I gave her the glare that she was supposed to use to fend off any possible corruption. “What?” she asked with a furrowed brow and a sideways glance my way. “Your eyes are making me cold, go away.”

“You were supposed to tell him to go away. What if I had of been tempted to take the drink?”

Mya pushed her laptop away and turned to face me. “All right, soul sister, here’s the deal. You need to stop using Harry and me as buffers and take control of your own damn life, as non-existent as it is.” She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating. She was too small and angelic to pull it off. “You didn’t take the drink just now. Did you want to?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” I agreed.

“Because I was here sitting beside you?”

“Partly.”

“Or because you are too smart and too strong to allow yourself to travel back down that road.”

“Maybe,” I admitted in a quiet voice.

“Exactly. It wouldn’t have made any difference if I was at home, wrapped in my snuggly, studying without all this blasted noise.” She slammed her laptop closed. “You don’t need a fucking buffer anymore, Violet. You are too freaking good for that. Time to put on your big girl panties, lady. I’m going home.” She stood and walked away. She just walked away, no hesitation in her stride, no backwards glance.

“One water and one cloudy apple juice.” The waiter was back. I took the drinks and set them down. Grabbing my iPhone, I sent Mya a text message.

So much for getting me laid.

Her reply chirped back so fast I hadn’t even had time to put my phone down.

Michael would do anything to get in your pants. U don’t need me.

I sighed. I would rather go home and enjoy the pleasant buzz of my hand held orgasm.

“Come on, Violet, let’s go celebrate. That gig was awesome! We’ll even buy you virgin Bloody Marys,” Ricky begged. I pulled my coat over my shoulders as the guys loaded the last of our equipment in the van.

“Next time, I promise.” The second half of our performance had gone flawlessly, painfully boring, but flawless nevertheless. No one else had offered me a drink, and I felt in control. As Mya had said, I was too strong to head back down the path that had offered me nothing but pain, interrupted by the drug induced moments of buzzing energy that accompanied a high.

“Forget her, Ricky, we’re out of here,” Neil called from the driver’s seat of the van. Yep, no love lost there. I knew he was more than happy to party on without me. Ricky gave me a quick hug before jumping in the vehicle that had already begun to roll away from the curb. I pulled my coat tight around my neck as I stood alone on the footpath in front of the hotel. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to call a cab. I was going home, alone. It was a cool evening; it would have been nice to think I was going home to curl up with the warmth of a man. Better yet, it would have been nice to walk back into the hotel and score a hit. Just one line, one little last hurrah. My eyes flickered shut under the need, and my body tightened with the lingering memory of how good it felt to let go of all control.

“Violet?” My closed eyes sprung open with surprise. Before me stood Peiro, dressed in a grey suit much the same as the one he wore on the day I first met him. His hair was brushed off his forehead, and a day’s growth of dark stubble highlighted the curve of his jaw. He didn’t smile though, if anything, he looked worried. What the hell was he doing here? My brow furrowed.

“How did you get here?” I wondered. He smiled, adding that youthful playfulness I knew he carried under the business persona.

“I do believe it began with a consummation of love between a man and a woman.”

I snorted loudly. “Not here, I mean here.” I opened my hands to gesture to the street around us.

“Oh, well, this one begins with a taxi ride which took me to a plane…”

“What are you doing here, in New York?” I laughed. Peiro took a tentative step forward, his smile still in place.

“I had business here. I am only in town for the evening. I was going to try and stay away, but after seeing you perform, I needed to see you up close. You have an exquisite voice, Tesoro, a true angelo.”

“You saw me?” I whispered.

Peiro nodded towards the hotel I had performed in. “I did. I made a wise choice in recommending your services for the fundraiser.”

My mouth dropped open. “This is one of yours?” My eyes darted to the opulent hotel.

“It belongs to my family, so I guess it is partly mine.”

“You booked us for tonight?”

“No, I simply recommended you and your band to the event planner.” I stared at Peiro in stunned silence. “I must admit, Tesoro, I am finding it difficult to wait for you. I am trying to give you the space you need to find your way, but I want so very much to touch you, to make you mine.” My mouth remained agape. “You will catch flies,” Peiro quietly joked. I took a small step forward, and the heat of his body enveloped me. While my heart ached for another, my body craved touch and affection.

“Come home with me,” I murmured. It was Peiro’s turn to look shocked. “Just for tonight, please.” His shock turned to disappointment which he quickly hid under his usual playful smile.

“Do you think one night would be enough for me to have my fill, Tesoro?”

“I just need to feel again, Peiro, something is missing in here.” I pressed my hand to my heart. “I feel empty. I just want to feel something again, even if it’s for one night.” Peiro raised his hand and placed it over mine.

“I don’t think it is me that is missing from here though, Violet.” I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. Peiro’s warm, soft lips covered mine, a whisper of a kiss. “But I foolishly find myself prepared to take whatever you can spare me. You are quite addictive, and I find myself willing to do anything for a brief moment of your warmth.” His hand enveloped mine before pulling me toward the valet service. A sleek grey Lexus was pulled to a stop before us, and Peiro held the door open for me. The drive to my home was filled with me giving directions and Peiro concentrating on the unfamiliar streets. Before I knew it, he was standing in my messy room. A wealthy man of such sheer perfection was standing in my modest and incredibly untidy space.

“I wasn’t expecting guests,” I muttered as I kicked my clothes aside in an attempt to find some space on the floor. Peiro took possession of my hand, halting me from my halfhearted attempt to make the mess disappear. His fingers tenderly ran the course of my cheek.

“I am glad you weren’t expecting anyone,” he whispered before kissing me. Any chance to be embarrassed by the disarray of my room was lost under Peiro’s passion. He didn’t give me a chance to regret inviting him into my home, no chance to back out, though if I had said no, he would have stopped in a heartbeat. Instead, he carefully disrobed me like I was a priceless piece of art, his hungry gaze soaking up every inch of skin, his gentle hands memorizing every curve. When he laid me on my bed, he licked and kissed every inch of me before entering me with one long, smooth thrust. He moved like a man worshipping the woman he loves, showing me how he felt with actions rather than words. I clutched at his shoulders as he thrust into me with demanding strokes, his movements becoming almost desperate, and when my body finally exploded with delightful tingles, Peiro followed close behind. Once my racing heart had slowed, the reality of what I had done began to creep in, turning my warmth to cold. This was wrong, leading Peiro on like this. I wanted to want him with all my heart, but it just wasn’t there. He was handsome, rich, playful, compassionate, everything a woman should need and want, every woman accept me.

“Don’t think, Tesoro, just feel,” Peiro murmured, wrapping his body around mine. I fell asleep wrapped in guilty warmth. I’d worry about tomorrow when it came.

When tomorrow did come, it was with a loud pounding on the apartment door which I ignored. Peiro was still beside me, fast asleep. He looked so relaxed and unassuming. I smiled and closed my eyes with every intention of going back to sleep when the door to my bedroom swung open.

“Holy shit,” whispered Mya. I glanced at her as she carefully shut the door, while she remained in the room. In a pathetic attempt to shield mine and Peiro’s nudity, she raised a hand to her eyes. Somehow she managed to tiptoe to my side of the bed without falling over the mess that covered my floor. “You got laid? Who the fuck is that?” she hissed.

“Not Michael,” I whispered.

“Fair enough, I know it’s not Cain because he’s currently in our kitchen,” she said sarcastically. I bolted upright, the sheet slipping down to expose my breasts. “Shit, Violet,” Mya’s eyes clamped shut.

“You do realize you have them as well,” I snapped. “What the hell do you mean Cain is in our kitchen? Cain doesn’t even know where I live!”

“I have no idea how he found you or why he is here. What I do know is that he’s as boiled as an owl.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I asked as I quickly found some clothes on the floor to pull on.

“Drunk, blind, rotten drunk!”

“Cain’s here?” came a husky voice from behind us that made us both stop in our tracks like a pair of guilty school girls.

“Apparently,” I nervously confessed as Peiro slowly sat up.

Mya tried valiantly not to look at his naked perfection.

“What time is it?” Peiro asked.

“A little after eight,” Mya answered, still averting her gaze even though the really good stuff was hidden behind a sheet.

“La maledizione, I have a ten o’clock flight. I have to get moving.” Mya glanced at Peiro just as he stood, the sheet finally falling away to reveal the perfection of his olive skinned backside. Mya squeaked in terror as she quickly exited the room. I tied my hair up into a messy ponytail.

“I’m sorry about this. I haven’t seen Cain in months,” I quickly explained. Peiro knew most of this though. Our conversations had grown more intimate and honest with distance. It was easy to talk to him about things like Cain when he wasn’t physically here.

“I know, Tesoro. This is something you need to deal with, and I have a flight,” he said as he quickly dressed in the suit he had folded over the back of my chair. He left his shirt untucked, his tie hanging freely around his neck. “I’m just going to use the bathroom before I leave.” I nodded and left Peiro to take care of his bathroom needs while I smoothed down my crinkled shirt and left the bedroom.

My heart was thumping like a jackhammer by the time I navigated the short hallway and entered the large living space. Mya stood with her backpack on. It was Sunday study; she would be gone all day. My eyes moved to Cain, who was indeed boiled as an owl. He was disheveled, his hair a tangled mess around his shoulders, his face holding more than a weeks’ worth of stubble. He was as striking as ever, even in his chaotic disorder.

“Cain?” He went from moving hurriedly around my kitchen, collecting what I think was the ingredients to make pancakes to perfectly still in the blink of an eye. He slowly turned to face me. It was difficult to judge his emotions; he seemed almost frantic. When his gaze moved to a figure behind me, I knew Peiro had made his entrance.

“I need to get moving if I want to make my flight.” Without an ounce of shame or hesitation, Peiro took my hand and gently tugged me forward, pressing a heated kiss to my lips which I automatically responded to. “Parleremo ancora presto, Tesoro,” he murmured. Once again, I had no idea what he had said, apart from tesoro—treasure.

“I’m off to study group,” Mya muttered, moving to the door at the same time as Peiro. Once they had both quietly escaped the apartment, I turned back to face Cain. He looked furious, which made me furious. What the hell did he expect of me? He was as good as married, and I wasn’t allowed to move on?

“How did you know I lived here?” I demanded.

“I didn’t realize it was a secret,” he scowled.

“It’s not, not from you anyway. I just prefer that certain elements of my past don’t know where I live.”

Cain’s eyes softened ever so slightly. “Harry told me. I had to bribe him; he didn’t give the information willingly.” I moved cautiously to the kitchen and sat on one of the stools as Cain went back to making himself comfortable in my home.

“You look like shit,” I admitted.

“I don’t ever recall telling you that you looked like shit following one of your benders.” He pushed a glass of juice my way before helping himself.

“You didn’t have to tell me, I knew it.”

Cain snorted. “Well, suffice it to say that I am more than aware I look like shit. Annabelle told me as much several days ago.” I cringed at the mention of Annabelle, and my eyes dropped to his left hand. No ring. “We’re not married, yet.” Cain confirmed when he noticed my gaze. “Though now that she is pregnant I guess I’ll have to remedy that immediately.” I think I stopped breathing. “She’s about eight weeks along and wants to keep it. Fucking hell, I’m not even able to commit to a date to our wedding, how the fuck am I going to cope with being a father?” He began mixing the pancake batter a little too vigorously in his anger. My head was a whirl of chaotic thoughts, and my heart was hurting.

“You don’t want children?” I somehow managed to ask through a voice tight with emotion. I don’t know what I was more upset about, the fact that Cain was having a child with someone else, or the thought he might not want them, ever. I wanted children. There was a time when I didn’t, when the thought of passing my toxic lifestyle onto a child sickened me, but now…now I wanted kids. Lots of them. Cain didn’t answer right away, instead he focused every ounce of his concentration on the pancake mix. He swayed a little as he stood there, the smell of alcohol strong.

“I don’t want Annabelle,” he eventually confessed. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, if I didn’t have the need for oxygen, I probably wouldn’t have breathed. “Do you have blueberries?” he asked with a nonchalance that would have suggested we were talking about how ridiculous Justin Bieber’s latest album was and not his impending future. It wasn’t like Cain to place such little value on something so important, and now he had a child to add to the mix. He needed to snap out of this and deal with the consequences from the choices he had made, much like I had to do in rehab.

“Why were you with her if you didn’t want her?” I snapped.

Cain gave me a pissed off look. “She was safe,” he growled.

“Safe for you, but what about her?”

“She got what she wanted.” Cain slammed the pancake batter down so forcefully it splattered over the counter. “She’s wanted to fuck me; she got that and then some. I got safe, a girl who wasn’t going to snort away her life and piss away her future. I got a girl who I wouldn’t have to be afraid of finding dead on some fucking bathroom floor, a girl who I knew I wouldn’t find in bed while two men took turns fucking her!” His words were filled with so much venom I actually slipped from the stool and onto my unsteady feet. I was bombarded with the memories of that night, each one lancing my heart and opening up the slow healing wound.

“How dare you,” I growled.

“How dare I? While you were having the fucking time of your life, I was living a fucking nightmare!” Cain screamed.

“The time of my life…” I laughed, and it was a bitter, painful sound. “Were you even there?” I wondered out loud. “If you can call feeling so empty and worthless that I wanted to die the time of my life, then yeah, I guess it was. Being chained to drugs and alcohol, making choices dictated on how I got my next score, whoring myself, being raped, if you call that the time of my life, then it was a fucking blast!”

“What do you mean raped?” Cain’s voice was one of sheer terror.

I snorted as a tear escaped. “Oh, you were there for that epic moment of my life. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when you allow two men to take advantage of you for a single hit.”

“Motherfucker, those men in Vegas? They raped you?” Cain’s eyes held nothing but fury and panic now.

“I took them back to the hotel, they had promised me some blow, we partied, I was high as a kite, and I never said no, but I never said yes; I was incapable of making that decision in the state I was in. And if I had been sober, I would never have done something like that.”

Cain shook his head in disbelief. “I should have done something; I shouldn’t have left you. I was so angry, I was so tired of you being so destructive, and I was terrified the day would come when you would party too hard and something bad would happen. I was so fucking scared of losing you that I walked away. It’s my fault I didn’t protect you.” His voice had trailed off.

“Its fine, it’s all in the past, forget about it.” I wiped angrily at another tear that slipped free.

“It’s not fucking fine. Violet baby, I’m so sorry.” I turned to face Cain. He had moved out of the kitchen and stood right before me. His eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and it pained me to see him so vulnerable and hurt.

“Don’t be sorry, Cain. It wasn’t your fault; it was my poor decisions that led to that.”

“I was supposed to look after you,” he whispered, the back of his fingers brushing away my tears. His touch reminded me of my need for him, and I moved away, needing to put distance between him and those thoughts. I leaned against the wall by the balcony windows, glancing over the street below.

“I was an adult that should have looked after herself, Cain. I became too comfortable with you doing that job for me, and I think I forgot how. I won’t lie; it hurt me when you left, but I was destructive, and if you hadn’t left, I would have eventually destroyed you, too. Once on my own, I was forced to start looking after myself.” I hadn’t noticed Cain was close again, now leaning on the wall beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. He had lost weight. His shirt hung off him rather than molding to the muscular curves I was used to.

“I have to say, I’m pretty conflicted right now, baby. I hate that you were alone, I hate what you went through, all of it.” His gaze met mine. “But look at you now. You were always beautiful, but now, you’re glowing.” He pushed a lose strand of hair behind my ear.

“And you’re going to be a daddy,” I quietly reminded him.

His hand dropped away and fear filled his eyes again. “What am I going to do?” he whispered.

“The right thing; it’s what you do best.”

He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. “Who was that?” Cain asked after a short silence.

“Mya? Harry’s niece, she’s weird but lovable.”

“The foreigner, Italian if I have my accents right.”

I nodded; I had assumed he meant Peiro but was reluctant to give him that piece of my life. “Peiro, I met him when I was in Italy.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not…I mean, we’re not.” I fumbled for words. “He’s giving me space.”

Cain chuckled. “So, sleep overs only.”

“No,” I snapped, irritated that Cain was putting Peiro into the casual category, yet that’s exactly what I had done. “He cares for me, a lot, but he’s concerned that my heart isn’t in the same place as his.”

“Is it?” Cain asked, his voice sounding more tired than I had ever known it to be.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “What did you have to bribe Harry with?” I finally wondered out loud, carefully changing the subject.

“He’s booked us for a gig next month, big function for the opening of some swanky gallery downtown.”

My heart raced with excitement. “What do you mean he booked us, there is no us,” I asked, even though I was quietly thrilled with the thought of singing beside Cain again. With a long, drawn out sigh, Cain pushed away from the wall and made his way to the door on the other side of my apartment.

“There will always be an us, Violet. And there lies the problem for both Annabelle and Peiro.” Cain pulled the door open.

“What are you going to do?” I murmured, not really wanting to know the answer, but needing to.

“I’m going to do the right thing. It’s what I do best, remember?” With a tired, sad smile, Cain left.

A week can pass quickly when your thoughts are turbulent and lost. What felt like no longer than an hour or two of lying on my bed in a chaotic vortex of confused emotions turned out to be an entire day. When I forced myself to get up and actually participate in life, I did so in a numb state which turned seconds into minutes and minutes into hours, all of which skipped past me at a rapidly unnoticed rate. I hadn’t called Peiro and he hadn’t called me. I found myself staring at my phone for long hours, almost willing it to ring. Why hadn’t he called? Probably for the very reason I hadn’t called him. I had unfinished business; my heart was still holding on with greedy little fingertips to something I could never have. What was Cain up to? Did the wedding have a date now? He was going to be a father. That word kept ringing through my mind over and over like a tormenting bell that wouldn’t let up. He belonged to another in a way I could never comprehend. Now was the time I was supposed to move on, take a deep breath, and leave the heartache of something completely unattainable behind. So why the hell couldn’t I do it?

It was on a Friday night as I sat watching The Notebook, tears fresh on my face, when an epiphany hit me. Peiro was right for me; he was handsome, successful, smart, funny, but as right as all that was, it didn’t equate to love. Sometimes, things that look good and feel good aren’t necessarily what you need. Sometimes souls are simply drawn to each other, like Noah and Allie in The Notebook. Sometimes those souls are ripped apart and for one reason or another, different paths are taken. New people come along and sometimes those people help fill the gap in your heart, but they don’t ever fill it completely. They are adequate substitutes and nothing more. Life is too short to be lived in the grey area of passable and average. Life is meant to be lived with bright and vibrant colors, with words like extraordinary and passionate. Peiro wasn’t ‘the one’. I wished he was, but he wasn’t. He had become a good friend who was a convenient distraction to bury my broken heart into, but he wasn’t my forever. It was a weight off my shoulders to realize that. I had lost my forever; my soul mate now belonged to another, and that would be my pain to carry. I wouldn’t force a good man like Peiro to carry such a burden. While I worried myself almost sick about calling Peiro to tell him, the conversation went blessedly better than I imagined. In fact, my rejection didn’t surprise him in the least. His acceptance made my sorrow for not wanting him more intense.

“Tesoro, I always knew, from the moment you spoke, there was heartache within you. It was my choice to see if I could replace that hurt; you don’t have to be sorry.”

I was crying, again. “But, I wish I could love you the way you want me to. It would be so much easier,” I sobbed.

Peiro chuckled, the sound was soft and gentle. “Life is never easy, my tesoro. Hearts are delicate and complicated things. We need to do what is right for them.”

“You know,” I sighed, “this would be much easier if you were an asshole.” When he laughed this time, it was loud and almost carefree.

“But then we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you wouldn’t have given me the time of day.” The conversation ground down to a long awkward pause. “Good bye, Violet.” It was the end, that moment of finality that was always daunting and difficult.

“I don’t want to say good bye,” I whispered.

“Then say mi mancherai.”

“What does it mean?”

“Just say it, mi mancherai.” He pronounced the words slowly, and I carefully said them back.

“Così come ho, as will I, Tesoro.”

It had taken some highly skilled detective work to find out what mi mancherai meant. ‘I will miss you’. I already did; my heart that had been half filled was once again empty. I had done the right thing, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“It’s just a rehearsal, right?” Mya asked as she watched me from the doorway with a confused look on her worried face.

“Uh-huh,” I murmured as I riffled through clothes. I already had my lucky jeans on, but I was having trouble finding my lucky shirt.

“So, you could theoretically turn up in sweats and it wouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be silly,” I scoffed. “Ohhh, there you are, you beautiful thing,” I said in a sing song voice, pulling the top from a hanger. I quickly pulled my worn t-shirt off, which had at one point belonged to Cain. I could acknowledge that wearing it was difficult and really didn’t help with the whole healing heart and getting over my long lost love thing, but like the diamond amethyst that hung around my neck, I simply couldn’t bring myself to give it up. Mya glanced away with a blush when she spotted me in my half-dressed state. I suddenly stopped and observed her as she shuffled nervously, trying very hard not to look at me. When her eyes did roam back, they dropped to my lace covered breasts. “Why do you always get so shy around me and freak out when I get changed?” She looked to the open doorway as if she were ready to bolt.

“I don’t freak out,” she grumbled.

“Yes, you do. You went to an all-girls school, you must have seen a naked girl or two. And let’s not forget you are also a girl with your very own girly body. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She looked back, and I noticed her gaze once again drop to my breasts, only this time I saw something other than embarrassment in her eyes, which she quickly hid by squeezing them shut.

“Tell me when you’re dressed,” she huffed, turning her back on me.

“Mya, are you a lesbian?” I suddenly gasped with clarity. Mya sprung around to face me again, eyes wide open and a deep shade of red in her cheeks. “That’s why you get so uncomfortable when you see me in my underwear.”

“Normal people don’t fucking strut around a communal living space in just their underwear!” Mya snapped, but I didn’t miss the fact she hadn’t answered my question.

I grinned. “We are not in a communal living space right now; this is my private room. You’ve been secretly checking me out all this time.”

Mya rolled her eyes. “You wish.” I forced my grin away and sighed, knowing this wasn’t exactly a moment for laughter and teasing.

“So, you’re gay?” I gently asked.

Mya shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Do you prefer the idea of a man’s body or a woman’s body?”

She glanced at my breasts again. “I’m not adverse to your body.”

“Wow, this is…” I struggled for words. “This is huge. I guess you will need a device to lose your virginity to after all,” I pondered. “But we need to find you a hot momma to help.”

Mya shook her head furiously. “You are out of your ever lovin’ mind. Violet, are you fucking high?” As soon as the words escaped Mya’s lips, I saw the panic in her eyes.

I waved my hand with nonchalance. “Trust me, if I was high you’d know.” I gave Mya an understanding smile. “I’m right though, aren’t I? You’re gay.” Doing her best to look anywhere but at me, she shrugged.

“I guess, maybe. I’ve never really met a guy I want to be with in that way.”

“But you’ve met a girl you want to be with in that way?” Mya’s eyes caught mine briefly, and I suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Kind of.”

“Is she a lesbian?”

Mya ran a hand nervously through her dark hair. “I have my doubts.”

“I don’t want to sound like an arrogant goober, but are we talking about me?” After a long moment of silence which clearly spoke volumes, Mya finally nodded.

“Cripes,” I said with a little amazement, collapsing to my bed.

“I don’t suppose you are bisexual?” Mya mumbled, and I found myself trying to suppress a giggle. This was a delicate situation that didn’t need me doing or saying anything that might embarrass Mya.

“I’ve never had the inclination to be with another woman.” Mya’s shoulders drooped a little. “I’m sorry,” I quickly added.

“It’s alright. I honestly expected you to say that.”

“You really don’t want to take on my mess anyway. My heart and head are pretty screwed up right now.”

“Is that why you are making such a fuss over your clothes?” I glanced down at the top I currently held in my hands. Feeling a little self-conscious now at being half naked in front of Mya, I quickly pulled it over my head. It was a lilac bat wing top that hung off one shoulder. Cain had bought it for me for my birthday last year.

“Yeah, I want to look pretty for the guy I hurt, and subsequently sent running into the arms of another which he is betrothed to and having a baby with. Like I said, I’m a little screwed up right now.” Mya sat down beside me.

“At least my infatuation is most likely nothing more than an attraction to a physical characteristic that stimulates the hypothalamus, causing elevated heart rate, perspiration, and a general feeling of sexual arousal. I mean, it has to be that because there is no way I would ordinarily want someone this messy.” I stared at Mya trying to decipher what she had just said. She was doing very well at ignoring my inquisitive gaze. “You, whatever you have going with Cain, it’s bigger. You’ve known him long enough to know all his faults, you’ve been with enough men to know what you are physically attracted to, and still, you want him.” Her dark doe eyes landed on me. “Are you really going to wear that?”

I glanced back down at my top. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s very…purple.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled a boot out from under the bed. I felt Mya’s eyes on me while I finished dressing. I wasn’t sure if it was all in my head just knowing she was gay, or if Mya’s walls of perversion had suddenly broken down and she was now brazenly checking me out. I turned, one hand on my hip.

“So, how do I look?” Mya raised a brow, blushed, glanced away then seemed to gather some unknown courage before she turned her dark eyes back on me.

“I guess I would prefer you took it all off,” she murmured.

I gave her a wink. “You can do better than me, you little geek.” Mya rolled her eyes. The word ‘geek’ had once held a wealth of hurt for Mya. It was a word the kids at school had used in cruel brutality on her, but a few months ago I started buying her shirts. The first one read, “Geek is the new Gangsta”. A week later I gave her another shirt which read, “I am Queen Geek in search of my Minions”. This went on over the next month before her birthday, where I presented her with a final shirt which read, “I am a geek and proud of it.” Her attitude towards the word had changed exponentially. Now she seemed to preen under the affectionate term. I had taken something ugly from her life and turned it into something beautiful. I only wish someone would do that with my mess. Take the name Cain and turn it into something less raw and heart-wrenching.

“Break a leg,” Mya said as I left the apartment.

So many lyrics are about love or loss of love, and singing those songs made looking at Cain difficult. So I tried in vain to keep my gaze on the empty seats before us. This weekend we were performing together for the first time in over ten months. Saying goodbye to my temporary band mates hadn’t been difficult, but right now my stomach was twisted into uncomfortable nerves, all over singing with someone I had been singing with for almost half my life. However, as soon as Cain began playing, I fell into the warm comfort of something that was so familiar it made me feel like a bag of rubbery bones. The song I was singing right now was about love of a different kind, the love of jazz, and it made me feel like a fifties jazz starlet as I moved around the grand piano.

“And all…that…jazz!” I belted out the final words, and Harry jumped up from his position before us, applauding with enthusiasm.

“About fucking time you two got your shit together,” he called out as he walked away. I gave Cain a bemused look, and he grinned with a raised brow.

“It’s like nothing has changed,” he said smiling. That brought my momentary good mood plummeting back to earth with a heavily weighted thud. The truth was, so much had changed. “Are you going to ask me?” Cain finally said with a sigh.

I took a drink from my bottle of water and shrugged. “Ask what?” I asked, feigning innocence. I had actually been dying to ask him, but I was terrified of the answer. I didn’t want to know if he was married. I didn’t want to know when the baby was due. I wanted to live in a bubble where I could pretend there was no Annabelle, no baby, no heartache.

Cain shook his head as he stood from the piano. I stubbornly moved away and sat on the edge of the stage, watching the hotel staff in the distance as they moved about, preparing the room for another function tonight. Cain sat down beside me, so close his shoulder touched mine. He had gained some weight and was looking more like the Cain I knew so well. His shoulder length hair was gathered into its usual messy man-bun. He was wearing a tight fitting grey shirt with a long sleeved thermal underneath to keep him warm as the New York winter crept closer, and a pair of jeans, ratty and worn in a delicious way. He looked perfect, as usual. Would I ever look at him and see a fault? I doubted it.

“You know, if it wasn’t for you, I would have done the wrong thing. I needed you to remind me that I’m not that guy.” I felt sick to my stomach as he spoke, but I needed to put on a brave face. Letting Cain go had been the right thing to do, it was still the right thing to do. He needed to be with Annabelle and give her and the baby everything he had to offer. I wasn’t about to make that more difficult for him.

“You would have done the right thing regardless of what I said, that’s who you are, Cain.”

He shook his head. “I was so messed up, so close to making the biggest mistake of my life, Violet. It took you to open my eyes, and that’s the funny thing; my life has always had more clarity when I’m around you. You kind of put everything into perspective.” I wanted to fall to pieces. I wanted to curl into a ball and sob like a baby. Instead I sat a little taller and tried hard to ignore Cain’s warm presence beside me. He gave me a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “Ask me, Violet,” he said in a low voice.

“Fine,” I threw my arms in the air a little dramatically. “When’s the wedding, and can I bring a date?”

He laughed at me. Laughed! The gall of him.

“There is no wedding, Violet. I am not marrying Annabelle.”

I was breathing a little heavy, trying hard not to turn into an emotional mess, so it took me a while for his words to make their mark, and when they did, I went still.

“Why not?” I asked, more than a little startled.

“I had to do the right thing, and that was to not marry Annabelle. I don’t love her and never did. She was a distraction, and it was wrong of me to string her along like I did.”

“W…what about the baby?” I stammered.

“Bringing a baby into a loveless marriage is wrong, Violet. I’m more than able to be a good father, to provide for my child and Annabelle without marrying her. Marriage is sacred, Violet, it is for people who love each other.”

“So, you are just going to live together?” I wasn’t sure what Cain was trying to tell me. Was he still with Annabelle?

“No, we aren’t going to live together. I told you, I don’t love her. We haven’t settled on what we are actually going to do or where we will live. I want to be close to my child; I want to be there for both of them. Annabelle is a good person, she will need my support, and I want to give that to her. But we mutually agreed that it would be for the best if we did it in the capacity of friends only.” I sat in stunned silence for a long time before another nudge to my shoulder caught my attention. “Just out of curiosity, would you have brought Peiro as your date?”

It took me a moment to realize what he was asking. I shook my head slowly. “I’m no longer seeing Peiro, not that I was ever really seeing him. I’m not sure what you would call what we had. Maybe a distraction, like Annabelle was for you. I guess I would have asked Mya to be my date since she seems to have a crush on me. I have no doubt she would have obliged.” It was Cain’s turn to be shocked.

“Mya is gay?” I nodded. “Wow, does Harry know that?”

“I have no idea, but I think it’s a recent revelation for Mya. She’s young and a little confused about her sexuality.”

“And she has a crush on you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I’m quite the catch.”

His eyes softened as he looked my way. “You are more than a catch, Violet. You’re a damn prize.”

I am pretty sure I blushed all the way from my toes to my nose, and when the back of Cain’s finger gently brushed my cheek, I shivered under the touch.

“Is Annabelle alright?” I wondered. I was honestly concerned; she didn’t deserve to be promptly shoved aside because Cain had finished playing with her.

“Belle and I were never really happy together. We are both able to admit that. When she got pregnant, we both panicked because we knew we didn’t have a strong relationship, and neither of us was brave enough to admit it. Annabelle is happy with this decision.” I shivered as his hand continued to caress my cheek. “What are we going to do about this?”

Even though it seemed a vague and ordinary question, I knew it for what it was. Cain and Violet, we had history and the potential for a future, but there were so many questions and worries floating around in my head. He was going to be a father to another woman’s child; the pang of jealousy I felt over that was substantial. My addiction was still a day to day battle. Would Cain be willing to be a part of that? And then there was the ever present snide voice in the back of my mind that still whispered thoughts of contempt and self-loathing. I still wasn’t sure if I was good enough for Cain, but I wanted to be, and for the first time in my life, I considered that maybe that voice was wrong. I could be good enough.

“I’m not asking to put a ring on your finger, Violet, not yet anyway.” My gaze jumped to his. “I’m asking that we no longer fight this. I’m tired of fighting it. I’m not someone who walks away easily, and when I did, it broke me. I’m not going to do that again; I simply couldn’t. I want to help you fight your battles. I want you to let me in, Violet.”

I nervously rubbed my sweating palms on the legs of my jeans. I wanted to give Cain what he was asking for, but what if I screwed up? What if I slipped and fell with my sobriety? I couldn’t drag him down like that again; it would destroy both of us. We could end up like my parents, so desolately in love. “You are not your mother, Violet. You are your own person, strong, independent, and able to accomplish anything. Don’t let her fate dictate yours.” The wise words of Dr. Brightman played through my mind. They encouraged me, filled me with the strength I needed.

“I guess,” I began with a deep breath, “I owe you a chance. God knows you gave me so many.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Violet, and if you don’t want this, then we move past it and get on with our lives.” There was a little anger behind Cain’s words, something I was more than familiar with. He was a passionate man whose temper sparked easily but fizzled just as fast. With that thought, he sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I just don’t want you doing this because of some misplaced notion that you owe me.” That’s not at all why I wanted to be with Cain. My need for him was much more selfish.

“Cain, the very first time I saw you, I was drawn to you in a way that scared the ever loving crap out of me. I’m not that scared little mouse anymore though, and I want to give us a chance to see how our relationship could grow because I’m selfish and don’t want to share you anymore. You are mine, so I hope you know what you’ve signed on for, buddy.” With that Cain smiled; it was a smile I had witnessed thousands of times during our friendship, full of excitement, relief, love. He grabbed my cheeks and held me steady as his mouth descended over mine, catching me completely unawares just like his passionate kiss on New Year’s Eve which seemed like a lifetime ago. That kiss was more aggressive though, more desperate. This kiss was more like a pledge, slow, deep, tender, and when Cain finally pulled away, I was left feeling dizzy and breathless.

“Guess we better wrap this up, because in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never had the pleasure of taking you on a date. I can’t wait another day, and I don’t want to give you the chance to say no.” Cain jumped up and dragged me back to the piano, his hand holding mine as if he was afraid I might run the moment he let go. The funny thing was, I didn’t want him to let go, I wanted him to hold me tighter, because somewhere in the back of my mind I was terrified I was going to lose him again, and that was something I simply couldn’t relive.

“It isn’t where you came from; it’s where you’re going that counts.”

—Ella Fitzgerald

As it turned out, I never said no to the date, but we didn’t go on one either. A panicked phone call from Harry had Cain racing from our rehearsal to fill in for a pianist in another band Harry managed. We hadn’t been on any dates yet, but over the past week we had spent a ridiculous amount of time texting each other and Cain had become a regular fixture in my and Mya’s apartment. We had also spent most of that time avoiding the topic of the ever present elephant in the room: Cain’s impending fatherhood. Currently, he was sprawled across the couch with the TV remote in hand, flicking repeatedly through the channels with a lazy indifference only a male could achieve.

“How do you know if the program is interesting or not if you don’t pause long enough to check it out?” Mya grumbled as she shoved her books into her worn backpack.

“I’m looking for something,” Cain murmured.

“Like what?” Mya snapped. She had been a little snappy with Cain since the moment I had introduced them. I think she was a touch jealous, and as much as it upset me to upset Mya, she needed to know I was most definitely off the menu where she was concerned.

“Don’t know,” Cain sighed, “but I will when I see it.”

Mya rolled her eyes none to subtly. “I can’t handle all this excitement. If his channel surfing doesn’t blow up the TV, it will blow up my occipital lobe.” Mya left in a huff that made me smile. She wasn’t really pissed at Cain, I could tell she actually liked him, jealousy aside. She tried not to laugh at his ridiculous jokes and teasing humor, but I spied her, more than once, giggling uncontrollably as she left the room.

“What the hell is an occipital lobe?” Cain wondered out loud. I shrugged, because I really had no idea. Something in the head I assumed.

“You hungry?” I asked as I finished wiping down the counter and wandered over to stand behind the couch. Cain flicked off the TV and looked up at me with a mischievous grin.

“Starving,” he said in a low voice that implied he was, in fact, starving, though not at all for food. I raised a brow while my eyes developed a life of their own and began an appreciating evaluation of his body. He was looking messy and tattered and, as usual, spectacular. His jeans were well worn with a hole beginning in one knee. His feet were bare, his hair loose, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He was clean shaven for a change. His full lips tilted up in an easy smile that also suggested his hunger wasn’t for food.

“Maybe you can cook then, cause I’m hungry too,” I said teasingly. Cain’s hand reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me over the back of the couch. I squealed loudly and Cain made an ‘uff’ sound as my full weight landed heavily on him.

“Damn girl, you’re heavier than you look,” he groaned, trying to reposition me somewhere more comfortable.

I slapped at his chest. “That will teach you for dragging me over furniture like some Neanderthal.” Cain gently brushed my hair back from my face, and the intimacy of the position we were in became abundantly clear. I was sprawled over his warm, strong body, his knees parted to allow my hips to press against his groin, which apparently had also noticed the closeness of this position.

“So,” Cain whispered.

“So,” I echoed.

“Let’s make out.” Cain smiled and my lips parted for a retort which was hastily silenced under Cain’s masterful mouth.

We had found ourselves sneaking many kisses over the last week. Sometimes they were quick and chaste, other times they were long and passionate. This kiss was filled with hunger and need. Cain’s hands held my hair back, and from his prone position, he led the kiss. His tongue lapped at mine, tasting, testing. With a final nip to my lower lip, his kisses left my mouth and trailed a path down my jaw and to my neck. Warm hands caressed my shoulders and back until they finally found a home on my ass, where he pulled me against the hardness between us. We both sighed simultaneously at the contact. Eager to feel the softness of Cain’s skin, I tugged at his shirt, but in this position I wasn’t going to get far at removing his clothes.

“Violet,” Cain whispered in my ear. “I wanted to do this right. I wanted to take you somewhere special.” He kissed my neck again. “I wanted to feed you; I wanted to show you romance; I wanted to seduce you like you were born to be seduced.” Soft lips nibbled at my ear once more. “Then I wanted to make love to you until neither of us could move anymore.” As if guided by a force outside of my control, I ground my hips against Cain, the friction causing a shiver to possess my body. With a strong tug at my hair, Cain pulled me away to look in my eyes. “I’ve never wanted anything so bad,” he whispered.

“I don’t need you to seduce me, Cain, I’m already there.” That was all it took, a sentence spoken from the heart. Cain rolled, and with the movement, I found myself falling into a heap on the floor.

“Owww,” I groaned.

“Shit, sorry, Violet,” Cain said, though the chuckling suggested he was far from sorry. When he reached out his hand, I grudgingly took it, giving him my best stink eye which only made him laugh harder. Rather than pulling me to my feet, I was promptly settled over Cain’s strong shoulder.

“Damn it, Cain, you’re going all Neanderthal on me again,” I screamed.

He strolled easily to my bedroom, kicking the door shut as he entered. “I can’t have Mya seeing you naked; it would ruin the poor girl.” He carefully slid me down his body until my feet were once again on the floor. We paused for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, and obviously finding what we needed to proceed. I reached for Cain’s shirt at the same time he reached for mine.

“Me first,” I demanded.

“Tit for tat, baby, and I’m a gentleman, so ladies first.” Cain dropped his hands and stood perfectly still before me. Unable to wait a moment longer, I removed his button down shirt. When I went to grab the hem of his undershirt, his strong hands circled my wrists, stopping me. Cain tsked me softly and shook his head.

“You aren’t playing by the rules, Miss Trivoli.” Pushing my hands to my sides, he finally let them go. “My turn, and if you break the rules again, I’m going to punish you.” He ended his words with a playful nip to my bottom lip.

I had seen Cain playful, but never in the bedroom, never like this. This was new and exciting; it was also a little bit scary. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if he became bored with me? What if he changed his mind about Annabelle?

“Whatever’s going on in here to make that smile disappear, stop it,” he commanded with a kiss to my temple. “I’ve been waiting a long time to make you happy, Violet. It’s about time you let me.” With a gentle tug, he pulled my frumpy sweater over my head, leaving me in a cami and sweat pants. The lust in his eyes flared as he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. It was Cain’s turn to break the rules as he reached for my breasts. I took a step back, a teasing smile on my lips.

“Uh, uh, uh. I do believe that is breaking the rules, Mr. Everett. Do you want to be punished?” Cain’s smile was far too wicked and sexy.

“Strangely enough, I do.” He reluctantly dropped his hands though, and I stepped back into his personal space.

My fingers gripped the bottom of his shirt, and I lifted it over his head. Cain wasn’t what one would call heavy with muscle, more lean and athletic. With wide shoulders, smooth skin and maybe not quite a six pack, more like a three pack. I was going to have to count them…later. My hands ran down the course of his stomach, those muscles clenching under my touch.

Gently brushing my hands aside, he reached for my cami. “My turn,” he breathed as he quickly lifted it over my head.

Cain had helped my drunken and stoned ass into the shower enough to have seen me naked, but the way he looked at me now was as if he was seeing me for the first time. His hands imitated the path my own had taken on him. With a featherlight touch, his fingertips ran down my chest, over my breasts, and finished at the top of my sweats. I reached for the button of his jeans, and one by one, popped them open. I was too greedy and impatient to go slow though. Pushing his jeans off his hips, I helped Cain step out of the offending clothes, leaving him in a pair of blue boxer briefs that matched the color of his eyes. His erection was tenting proudly, and Cain made no effort to hide his desire for me. With equal impatience, he slid his fingers into the waistband of my sweats and pushed them down my legs, taking my underwear with them.

“You cheated,” I gasped.

“Feel free to punish me,” he groaned from his position kneeling in front of me. Cain kissed my hip, his hands holding the sides of my thighs as if he let go he might fall. When he gave me a little shove, I didn’t have time to be surprised or offended. I landed on the edge of my bed with a small huff, and Cain’s hand followed me down, pushing me to my back. “You’ll have to punish me later though, I’m starving.” Hooking my leg over his shoulder, Cain leaned forward and licked my most tender parts. I should have been embarrassed, it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. His mouth teased my inner lips, nipping and lapping at my body as if it was a delicacy laid out for feasting upon, and my heart pounded harder. I tried to keep my eyes open and watch Cain, after all, it was the most erotic moment I had ever experienced, but the surge of desire that engulfed my body was like a tsunami of pleasure, an unstoppable force of nature that forced my eyelids closed. When two fingers slipped inside me, I almost launched us both off the bed. “Fuck it,” groaned Cain. “I can’t wait.” He pulled away from me, pushing his boxer briefs off as he did. “Please tell me you have condoms somewhere close by.” With my head still floating in an abyss of desire and carnal pleasure, I pointed to my bedside table. Scrambling further onto the bed, I laid back down, ready for Cain to finally make love to me. My body thrummed with urgent need and I pressed my thighs together in an attempt to soothe that ache. When I realized I had been lying alone for a little too long, I glanced over at Cain, and what I saw caused my entire body to flush with embarrassment. In one hand he held my vibrator, in his opposite hand, lube. I groaned loudly and covered my face as mortification set in. “I’m just going to sit these here,” he whispered. I caught a glimpse of him placing the tools of every woman’s trade on the bedside table. Then he grinned, and it was wicked and naughty. “We are gonna play with those later, baby.” I didn’t attempt to come out from the protection of my hands until Cain’s weight settled over me, and he gently pried my hands away. “Do you have any idea how hard it makes me thinking about you using that?” He ground himself against me to prove his point.

“If you think I’m giving you a firsthand peep show, you are sorely mistaken.”

Cain laughed against my lips. “Oh no, baby, you are never using that on yourself again, but I have every intention of using it on you.” I didn’t get a chance to object, as Cain began rubbing the silky smooth hardness of his cock through my lower lips. My eyes rolled back in my head under the onslaught of feelings and emotions. We had definitely breached the friendship zone now, and it was more than I could have ever dreamed of. With a slow, gentle yet firm thrust, Cain entered me, one agonizing inch at a time. I wanted hard, I wanted fast, but I also wanted this moment to last forever. When he was finally fully seated inside me, all movement stopped. Cain’s soft lips teased at mine, gentle kisses, so loving and slow. Cain encouraged me to wrap my leg around his hip, and while stealing long, wistful kisses, he began to move once more. It was unhurried at first, a constant rhythm that never faltered, sure and strong thrusts which pushed my orgasm higher and higher. While one arm was braced beside my head, holding himself steady above me, his other hand traveled the curves and valleys of my body, starting at my neck, stopping to tease my nipple then dipping lower until he was able to smooth his expert fingers over my sensitive clit. “Do you have any idea how many times I fantasized about you beneath me?” he whispered, so close his breath mingled with mine. “All I ever wanted was for you to be mine, Violet.” With his confessions, his tempo increased. “I’m not letting you push me away anymore.” I moaned loudly as he used his thighs to raise my buttocks, forcing himself deeper. “I’ve tasted you,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve been inside you,” his next kiss was hard and demanding, “and I’m not letting you go,” he snarled fiercely. When he pulled away to breathe, I pushed at his shoulders and Cain rolled us until I was straddling him. I leaned back and rested my hands on his thighs, and Cain’s hips rose to meet my downward thrusts. His hands, which had been holding my hips in a tight, viselike grip, moved to my breasts which he cupped and pinched with just the right amount of pressure. Watching Cain watch me was so intense and erotic that I felt my inner walls around his cock begin to flutter. Whether feeling the rippling sensation or seeing the growing moment of free-fall in my face, Cain’s hand lowered to my sensitive clit. It took no more than a few gentle stokes before my orgasm fell over the precipice it had been perched on. Cain’s following orgasm was ripped from his body with a satisfied growl. Breathing heavy, Cain pulled me forward, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. My body felt like a wet noodle. My legs trembled around his hips as my heart pounded so hard it echoed in my ears. “My Violet,” Cain whispered, his voice once again low and gentle.

“I think I like this Neanderthal side of you,” I admitted, and Cain’s body shook with laughter. With my body still blanketing his, he reached for the bedside table.

“It only seems to come out around you; you bring out the beast in me. Now, introduce me to your friend,” he said with a wicked smirk and my vibrator in hand.

Cain and I spent the entire weekend wrapped up in each other, literally and metaphorically. We were cocooned in a world where nothing could touch us, enjoying an affection we had never allowed ourselves to express before. Like all bubbles though, ours finally burst in the form of a phone call from Annabelle. She had scheduled a prenatal scan and wanted to let Cain know so he could book a flight home. Just the thought made me feel ill, and I had no intention of accompanying Cain on this one. Cain, however, had other ideas, and his Neanderthal side came out to play when he went ahead and booked a flight for me too, without asking! I refused to be a third wheel on an event as special as seeing your child in the womb for the first time. Awkward much? So Cain arranged for me to spend my first night with my father. He would spend it with his own family and accompany Annabelle to the appointment the following day, then spend that night with me and Dad.

Now, I once again stood outside my father’s door, the third time in a year. I hadn’t been home this much since I had left. Before I had a chance to knock, the door was flung open, and I was dragged into my father’s warm hug. His body was so much softer than it had ever been before; he’d managed to put on even more weight.

“I missed you, pumpkin,” he said a little gruffly before drawing away.

Dad looked good, but I could still see the sadness in his eyes. He missed Mom. For all her faults, he loved her and that was something I could finally understand. Being apart from Cain had felt like my heart was being constantly shredded with sharp, cold knives; the only reprieve coming in the form of sleep and the gentle distraction of a stranger. Even though my mother had been a destructive force in our house, I understood my father’s love for her. You can’t help who you fall in love with, and now he was alone.

“Who’s been feeding you, old man? You keep growing like this, and I’m going to stuff you in a Santa suit next month and make you crawl down the chimney.”

Dad chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t fit.” He dragged my suitcase inside, closing the door on the winter chill.

“You painted,” I said with more than a little surprise. The usually drab grey walls were a pale shade of blue and new carpet finished the makeover. The furniture was the same, but it was neat and tidy. Running my finger as inconspicuously as possible over a shelf to my side, I noticed there wasn’t a speck of dust.

“I did, thought the place needed freshening up. I went with blue. It’s your mother’s favorite color.” His eyes welled with unshed tears as he looked my way. “Was her favorite color. You hungry?” He blinked away the tears and hurried to the kitchen.

“Not really,” I murmured. My stomach was still in knots over Cain’s appointment with Annabelle tomorrow. I wasn’t exactly dealing with this whole baby business as gracefully as I would have liked.

“I’d offer you coffee, but if you’re anything like me, it will have you bouncing off the walls all night. You want some hot chocolate? I’ve got marshmallows.”

“How could I possibly turn down chocolate and marshmallows?”

Dad began making himself busy in the kitchen while I sat quietly and watched him. His grey hair was a mess, and his clothes were rumpled; even with the slight disarray, he seemed to be doing well, almost happy even.

“So, Cain knocked some bird up, and you’re along for the ride,” my father said, shocking the hell out of me.

“How do you know that?”

Dad gave me a wink. “I work on Nancy’s Volvo.” I rolled my eyes. Nancy was the town gossip. Nothing got past the woman. I actually admired her skill at acquiring information and delivering it to the masses. “So, what’s the story? I heard they called off the wedding? Is it because of the baby? Are they going to wait until after it’s born?”

I pretended to inspect the pink polish on my nails and tried for as much nonchalance as possible. “Cain and Annabelle have come to a mutual decision to end their relationship, but they both want to do what’s right for the baby, so Cain is going to be as involved as possible. He’s going to make a wonderful father; he was always good with kids.”

Dad handed me a warm mug of hot chocolate and pushed an open bag of marshmallows into the center of the table. I took two and dunked them into the warm liquid.

“Huh.” I took a sip and eyed him from over the top of my mug. I could almost see the cogs turning in his mind. He pinned me with a hard stare. “Does this have something to do with you? I don’t want to upset you and cause any friction, but if there is something going on with you and Cain that is distracting him from his duties as a husband and father, maybe you guys should take a break.” Dad’s words shocked me, so much so it took a good few minutes before I could talk.

“I had nothing to do with their breakup. In fact, I only learned about it a little over two weeks ago.” Dad nodded, mollified by my answer, but I needed to tell him that Cain and I were embarking on a relationship. Cain was coming to stay tomorrow night before we flew back to New York, and I didn’t want to tip toe around our relationship with my father. “We are kind of seeing each other now though,” I added quietly. Dad carefully placed his hot chocolate down and those grey eyes that were once filled with a constant haze of alcohol were clear and astute. “Cain never really loved Annabelle, and when she got pregnant he was torn between doing the right thing and,” I shrugged, “I guess doing the right thing. He could have stayed with her, brought their baby into the world, got married, had an unsatisfying marriage that most likely would have ended in divorce, which would have done their child more harm than good. Instead, he and Annabelle decided the best course of action was to call off the engagement and maintain a friendship so they could welcome their child into the world with hearts full of honesty rather than lies.” Dad remained quiet and I became nervous under his still contemplation.

“You realize you’re going to be a third wheel in their relationship. Regardless of what they have or don’t have, they will have a child together. They are bound together by that for the rest of their lives.” Even though I had already taken this into consideration, hearing it out loud stung my heart in ways I never thought possible. I nodded as I took a sip from my drink. My throat was tight with emotion; forcing the sweet liquid down took a lot of effort.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Annabelle’s family are good people. Her mother is very conservative in her ways; they will be disappointed.”

“You know them?” I asked a little surprised.

“We’ve all lived in this town our whole lives. I don’t know them well, but well enough to know they were excited about the prospect of welcoming Cain into their family.”

Somehow, that made me feel worse. The thought that Annabelle and her family were genuinely nice people, who would all be impacted by Cain’s decision to ultimately leave her for me, made my stomach even more unsettled. What was I doing? This suddenly seemed like such a monumentally wrong choice. I felt as though I was dividing a family.

“Do you know much about surround sound systems?” The sudden change in subject almost gave me whiplash. At my confused look, Dad explained, “I bought one. Haven’t got a clue how to set it up though. Want to help an old man?” I was fairly sure I wouldn’t have a clue either, but the chance to distract myself and spend some quality time with my father was too good to pass up.

My knee bounced in a rapid tempo that was better suited to my hazy days full of cocaine. I fiddled with my fingers anxiously, my gaze darting over everything around me but not really seeing anything. My thoughts were chaotic and troubling. Today was a bad day. I had woken before my dad. The sun was barely breaking the distant horizon as I pulled on my sneakers and shoved a woolen beanie over my bed head. I had barely slept a wink all night, and I couldn’t stand the trapped sensation my old bedroom was giving me. I needed to get out and run. Now, it was nearing lunchtime, and I was sitting on a park bench overlooking the perfectly manicured lawn before me. The trees were bare, autumn and the nearing winter taking its toll on the foliage. Cain would be arriving at the doctor’s office with Annabelle in the next hour and would be seeing his baby for the first time. My heart was presently tied in a knot and volatile thoughts of hopelessness and loathing were consuming me. No matter how far I ran, those voices in my head couldn’t be silenced today. Annabelle didn’t deserve to lose Cain’s love to me. I was nothing; she had a good family, a decent family. She wasn’t an ex junkie who had whored herself for a hit. Why would Cain give that up? He couldn’t give that up. My eyes darted to the bar across the street for the thousandth time. Being a weekday, it was quiet, most of its patrons wouldn’t arrive for another few hours, when the working day drew to an end. God, how I wanted a drink, but even more, I wanted a hit. I wanted that hit so bad I ached for the blessed relief of cocaine, just a line to take me away and help me feel something other than this bleak worthlessness. Maybe a drink would replace the urgent need for the fickle white powder. Just because I used mostly when I was drinking didn’t mean I had to. I could have just one drink. Just a small nip of whiskey to help take the edge off and allow me to relax. Before I could talk myself out of it, my feet were moving, and I crossed the street, strolling into the almost empty bar. I had been here before, once or twice when I was younger. It hadn’t changed. It was dimly lit, and the air held the musty scent of beer. The furniture was dark colored and aged, the leather on the bar stools worn in places. In the far corner, sat a pool table, lit by a flickering florescent light. A jukebox sat beside it, playing Bon Jovi’s “Living On A Prayer”. Two men sat at the bar, two stools separating them, yet they were talking to each other. A man and woman sat at a booth by the pool table. The woman’s eyes lifted to mine as I walked in. I knew that look well; that glazed emptiness in her eyes that immediately told me she was high. I wasn’t here for that, even though my body screamed for it with such an urgent demand that I shook.

“What can I get you?” a young man behind the bar asked. He would have been my age, a little on the gangly side with thick, dark hair that hung over his eyes. His lip was pierced, and he played with the hoop in his teeth as he waited for my order. When he pushed his dark hair back off his eyes, I spied another piercing in his eyebrow. He didn’t look anything like the bartender from Vegas who had taken advantage of me, yet I still felt nervous as I sat on a stool at the bar.

“Jack on the rocks,” I murmured, handing him a twenty. He poured the drink and took my money. He handed me my change then moved back to the opposite end of the bar where he watched an ice hockey game on the TV. I sat and stared at the whiskey, willing myself to push it away. Leave now, Violet, while you still can. I glanced at my cell phone sitting on the bar beside me. One o’clock, Cain and Annabelle’s appointment time. I clenched my eyes shut in an effort to force away the thoughts and feelings that bombarded me. When that didn’t work, through eyes filled with tears, I grabbed the glass and brought it to my lips. After eleven months of sobriety, the amber liquid hit my tongue like an old lost friend, a warm one at that. I didn’t stop at a sip; I drank the glass dry before quietly placing it down in front of me. After a few long, deep breaths, I glanced to the bartender whose eyes caught mine.

“Another?”

I nodded. He once again filled my glass and gladly took my money, leaving me alone as soon as he was done. The second drink I sipped slowly, savoring the taste. I’d had better. I’d tasted some of the smoothest whiskeys this country had to offer, but this drink was like stumbling out of the desert and taking my first sip of water. Not perfect, but needed and crucial to my very survival. As my body began to warm and relax, my raging thoughts began to quiet and dissipate, giving me the much needed freedom I yearned for. Four glasses later, I was finally feeling good, just like old times.

“Another two beers, Malcolm,” called a female voice from beside me. “Hey,” she added as she glanced my way.

“Hey,” I replied. The bartender, Malcolm apparently, served her up two long necks before moving back to what I was beginning to assume was the holy grail of ice hockey.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the woman said, her words only slurring slightly.

“I was born here, but I live in New York now,” I explained. Under sober conditions, I probably wouldn’t be quite so forthcoming with a complete stranger, but I was creeping into the pleasantly buzzing stage of inebriation where I felt completely at ease.

“I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” she sighed wistfully. “My name’s Georgie, that’s my husband, Drew.” She nodded towards the man who sat alone at the booth by the jukebox. “You look familiar; don’t suppose you went to West Field?” The name of my high school rang out like a loud bell in my ears, and it took me a moment to focus my attention back on Georgie, memories of my troubled teenage years bombarding my senses.

“I did,” I whispered.

“Violet, right?”

Georgie nailed my name; however, she wasn’t the slightest bit familiar to me. That wasn’t surprising though. I had done my best to coast through school with my head down, disregarding my peers, and paying little to no attention to the goings on around me. I had grown up poor, and in the urban kingdom that was my school, poor scraped the bottom of the food chain. I nodded, letting Georgie know I was, in fact, Violet.

“I knew it!” Georgie screamed, bringing the attention of the entire bar our way, all four of them. “Come say hi to Drew. I was a year behind you, but he was your year. I’m sure you’ll remember him. Andrew Scott, you two were probably friends.” I didn’t tell her there was no chance of that. I had only one friend in school and that was Cain. Georgie practically dragged me from my chair, and I grabbed my drink as I followed her across the bar. “Drew, you remember Violet, don’t you?” Drew pulled his unfocused gaze from his drink and squinted as he tried to place me. Not surprisingly, I didn’t remember him.

After a long, awkward moment, he smiled. “Violet, I remember you. You got hammered at Jed Dyson’s graduation party and clocked that bitch Samantha O’Malley!”

I winced, not one of my finer moments. It was during my senior year of high school that I discovered my love of the white powder and Johnny Walker. Jed Dyson’s party, though as hammered as Drew had just mentioned, was still a fairly vivid memory. Samantha O’Malley was a complete and utter bitch, but punching her for putting her nasty mouth on Cain’s was a crazy moment for me, and I didn’t like to do crazy. Drunk, stoned, not a problem. Crazy was not in my vocabulary. It was also the very first time Cain got a glimpse of my true feelings for him, and as angry with me as he had been, he later confessed he liked my possessive streak. I slid into the booth opposite Drew and Georgie, who continued to bombard me with memories, most of which were not mine. After Georgie had slipped away to the ladies room for the third time and came back, discreetly wiping her nose, I knew they had some blow. While Drew spent the world’s longest time selecting songs on the jukebox, I played nervously with the rim of my glass. What I would give for just one line. With the whiskey now playing havoc with my senses and equilibrium, it would even me out. Just one line would straighten me up and put me in a nice happy place. One line would nudge away my drunken haze. Just one line.

“Georgie, would you or Drew know where I could score some dust?” Georgie had been jabbering on about her parrot, Bernie, but at my question, she went quiet and still. With a nervous glance around, she gave me a small nod. The bar had a few more patrons now, but everyone was busy minding their own business.

“Here.” She pushed a small, clear bag filled with at least a half a gram of coke across the table, and I met her hand to discreetly make the exchange. When I tried to give her some cash, Georgie flat out refused with a vicious shake of her head. “For old times.” She smiled. “For Samantha O’Malley, she gave me a hard time in school. It was awesome seeing her go down that night.” I fumbled my way through an awkward thank you before grabbing my things and making a hasty retreat towards the back of the bar. Instead of heading for the ladies room, I set my eyes on the exit sign at the end of a long hallway and flicked up the lock before pushing it open and stumbling into the cool afternoon air. The sun was still up, but only just, casting long shadows across the dirty back alleyway. Slamming the door closed, I sagged against the side of the building and took a deep breath of air that was tainted by the scent of garbage. I closed my eyes and slid down the wall until I rested on my haunches. Then slowly, I looked down at the small bag clenched in my fist. Tears pooled in my eyes as I threw my head back and thumped it against the wall at my back.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck.” Like a slow building eruption of pain, an ugly sob spilled from my lips, then the first tear fell. I was so fucked.

I had no idea how long I sat there in that dirty, dark alley, but the vibration of my phone under my fingertips caught my attention. With my eyes still glued to the unopened powder lying in my palm, I answered it.

“Hello.” My voice was rough with abrasive and painful emotion.

“Fuck me, Violet, how many times in one fucking life does one tiny little woman have to scare the ever loving shit out of me?” Harry’s less than amused voice filled my ear. “Where the fuck are you? Cain’s about to have a fucking aneurism. He’s been trying to call you for hours.”

I glanced around and realized the sun had truly set. It was also incredibly cold, and the dampness from the concrete beneath me had seeped through my clothes.

“Fat Joe’s,” I whispered.

“Who the fuck is Joe?” Harry snapped impatiently.

“It’s a bar.” That seemed to silence him.

“You okay, honey?” His voice had lost all anger in a heartbeat.

“No,” I admitted.

“I’m going to hang up and call Cain, so he can come and get you.” More tears fell as I clenched my fist in an attempt to make the cocaine disappear. It was just too tempting.

“Please don’t,” I whispered. “He’s going to be so disappointed in me.”

“Honey, he’s out of his mind with worry, and you could never disappoint Cain.” Harry wasn’t even swearing anymore which meant he was beyond worried.

“Yeah I could, Harry. He already left me once.”

Harry let out a long sigh. “I’m calling him, Violet. Don’t you dare move either; he’ll be there soon.”

Harry hung up, and I let the phone slip from my ear and clatter to the ground. I still held the cocaine in my hand, afraid if I opened my fist I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. There was enough there for two lines, two lines that would allow me to escape from the emotions I was trying to ignore. The problem was it was nothing but a temporary escape that also came with its own form of pain. The kind of pain I wasn’t sure I could survive again, the kind of pain I didn’t want to put Cain through again. He deserved so much more. How could I be so selfish? This was his day. He saw his child for the first time, and I had to go and ruin it because of my own insecurities and childishness. One hitch in the road and I run for the nearest bar. God, I was pathetic. The sobbing that tore from my chest made me feel even more pitiful. A buzzing from somewhere close by broke through my weeping, and I realized my phone was ringing again. With cold clumsy fingers, I picked it up.

“Hello,” I sniffled.

“Where are you, baby? I’m at Fat Joe’s and I can’t see you.” I could hear the worry in Cain’s voice.

“Out back, alleyway,” I whispered.

“Don’t move,” he commanded me. I wasn’t about to; I was pretty sure I couldn’t anyway. I was freezing, my body trembling with the onslaught of sorrow and the icy cold air. Snow was weeks, if not days away. A cloud of mist formed in front of my lips when I breathed. As my body fell from the alcohol induced high I had forced it into, the cold invaded my limbs.

A thump at the door beside me made me flinch and then he was in front of me, his eyes tormented with worry. “Are you hurt, baby?” he said with panic in his voice, his thumbs brushing away my tears.

“Please get rid of it,” I sobbed, forcing my clenched fist towards him. My fingers were clasped so tightly it actually hurt as Cain forced them apart. He hesitated for only a moment when he saw what had been in my hand. “I didn’t take any. Just get rid of it, please.” At my begging he grabbed the small bag and left me to throw it in the industrial sized garbage bin that sat across the alleyway from us. Then he was kneeling back in front of me again, concern on his beautiful features.

“We need to get you warm, come on.” He took my hand to help me stand, but I’d been sitting, unmoving in the cold for too long. My muscles cramped, and my limbs throbbed with the effort. Not prepared to give me time to work away the pain, Cain scooped me into his arms, and I didn’t fight it. His warmth was too precious to deny.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered in his ear.

“Shhh, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“I’ve been drinking, I nearly snorted away almost a year’s worth of sobriety, and I ruined your day.” I listed the reasons I was sorry.

“We all slip from time to time, baby. What matters most is how you stand back up. You didn’t ruin my day, but you did scare the shit out of me. We can talk about that tomorrow when you’re warm and sober.” He placed me carefully in the front seat of the car which I realized was actually my father’s. Pulling the seatbelt across my chest and lap, he gifted me with a chaste kiss to the forehead before closing the door. The drive back to my father’s was quiet. The warm air from the vents were all pointed in my direction, but I still shook, the cold so deep in my body I thought I’d never be warm again. The shame from what I had done was so all-encompassing I couldn’t bring myself to even glance Cain’s way. Once back at my dad’s, ignoring my protests, Cain carried me into the house.

“Damn it, pumpkin, you trying to give your old man a heart attack?” my dad huffed.

“I’ll get a bath started; she’s freezing.” Cain carefully placed me on the sofa then disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Dad knelt before me, and his big, oil stained hands covered mine.

“Please don’t do that again, Violet. I’ve already lost one woman I loved. I don’t think I could survive losing another.”

Guilt, piled upon guilt, piled upon guilt. So much guilt, I felt smothered, my breath coming in wheezing gasps.

“Settle down, pumpkin, take a few big, deep breaths. You’re okay now. We’re gonna get you warm, you’re gonna have a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow you’ll dust yourself off and battle another day.” He cupped my cheek. “That’s what we Trivoli do best; we’re fighters.”

I looked into my dad’s worried eyes and wondered how many times he had taken care of my mom when she was like this. My mom, for all her faults, had been a fighter too; she bounced in and out of rehab more times than I could remember, but in the end, the poison won. I wasn’t my mother though. I was stronger than her.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I promise it won’t happen again.” I felt like a little girl apologizing for breaking my mom’s favorite wine glass.

“Don’t be sorry, honey, and don’t promise me that. I broke sobriety twice, and it’s still a daily battle. Just promise you will keep fighting, honey. That’s all we can do in life, and the mistakes we make along the way are proof we are at least trying.” Such beautiful, simple words. Keep fighting, try harder, and learn from the mistakes. I needed to be better, for my dad, for Cain, but most of all, for me.

“Come on, let’s get you in the bath.” Dad stepped aside so Cain could pull me to my legs which were still trembling. The bathroom was only a short walk down a narrow hallway though, and as much as Cain wanted to carry me, I forced myself to walk. Once behind the closed door, Cain helped undress me with an impersonal care that I both adored and hated. It was the tender care he had always picked me up with, but we weren’t that Violet and Cain anymore; we were something more. Once seated in the tub, Cain scooped up water and poured it over my shoulders.

“Is it a boy or girl?” I whispered through my heartache.

“It’s too early to tell.” He kissed my temple. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay.” With deep breaths, I fought away the tears. I had to find a way to deal with this jealousy. Every time the thought of Annabelle growing large with Cain’s baby inside her crossed my mind, a small piece of my heart broke away. I was terrified the day would come when there would be nothing left but crumbs. Eventually the shaking in my limbs smoothed out into stillness, and Cain encouraged me to step from the cooling water and into the embrace of a warm towel. He dried me off and helped me step into pajama bottoms. The top he pulled over my head was his old black shirt with “Piano Man” in bold white font across the chest. “I love you in my clothes,” he quietly confessed before guiding me to the kitchen, where my dad waited with a bowl of steaming soup. My stomach wasn’t interested in the food, but to appease the men who were so carefully tending to me, I ate every drop. I remained silent while Cain and my dad murmured through a soft and inconsequential conversation. As soon as I was finished, Cain guided me towards my bedroom. The electric blanket had already been turned on, and I melted into the warmth of the sheets. When Cain’s firm chest pressed against my back, I snuggled into the comfort of his presence. Sleep came swiftly, pulling me rapidly from the chaos into a place of calm.

The lurching of my stomach had me waking like a bullet out of a gun. I leapt from the bed and slammed my way through the two doorways that separated me and the bathroom. Emptying the contents of my stomach was a messy business, and as soon as I realized Cain had followed me, I tried to push him away. It was like trying to move a mountain though. Once I’d finally stopped gagging, a warm washcloth was placed in my hand. I collapsed on the cold tiles beside the toilet.

“Everyone okay in there?” came my father’s voice from the other side of the door.

I groaned with embarrassment.

“All good in here, Mr. Trivoli. Violet’s just saying good morning to the shitter.”

Dad chuckled. “Wonderful, as soon as you’re done, I need to say good morning too; otherwise, Mrs. Wicker next door is going to be screaming at me for taking a leak in her garden again.” Cain and I laughed. “And I told you to call me Garrett.” My father’s footsteps retreated in the direction of the kitchen. Cain spread some toothpaste over my toothbrush and handed it to me.

“You don’t like my morning breath?” I asked with a sheepish smile.

“I’m not fond of your vomit breath,” he answered with a charming grin. “And now that your mouth is occupied, I can talk without you interrupting me.” I gave him a raised brow and he shrugged. “What can I say, I hate being interrupted.” I began brushing quickly, with every intention of thwarting Cain’s attempt to keep me quiet. He pinned me in place with a serious and determined look on his face. “There is to be no guilt,” he said sharply. “If anyone in this room is to feel guilty, it’s me, Violet.” This is the point I would have interrupted him. Damn toothpaste. “I’m the one who used a woman to replace another which inevitably got us into this unusual situation. I love you, Violet.” The brush stopped and my heart did a peculiar little flip. “I have always loved you, and my reason for going to Annabelle was to numb my aching heart. Now both you and Annabelle are paying for my stupidity.” I began brushing again, needing to get my oral hygiene finished so I could partake in this conversation. “Annabelle is heartbroken because she wanted what you and I had. When she realized that wasn’t going to happen, it was too late; she was pregnant and that changed everything. And you are heartbroken because you have to stand by and watch another woman carry my child.” Oh yeah, that reminder hurt. It stung so bad, my eyes filled with tears. “Can you spit so I can hold you or something?” he asked quietly. I jumped up to the sink, spat, and rinsed quickly before sinking back down to the floor beside Cain. Gentle fingers caressed my cheek. “Seeing my baby for the first time yesterday was pretty damn amazing.” His whispering voice was full of awe as my first tear fell. “The only thing that could have made that day better was you. My baby, our baby, in here.” His hand left my cheek to rest on my stomach. “I can’t change the past, Violet. I can’t go back and get a do-over. So help me God, if I could, I would. Instead, I’m trying to do what’s right, I’m trying to be what Annabelle and the baby need and give them what I can, and I’m trying to be what you need and give you what I can. One day, it will be our baby in here, but for now I’m going to love you like no other, and I need you by my side, baby. I can’t do this whole father thing on my own, and even though Annabelle is the biological mother of our child, you are going to play a pretty important role in his or her life, too.”

“I’m sorry,” I breathed, wiping away my tears.

“I told you, no guilt.” Cain’s eyes narrowed, and he tried to look menacing which he actually pulled off rather well.

“If I wasn’t such a mess, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Cain shrugged. “Everything happens for a reason, right? We’re on the path we are meant to be on for one reason or another, to make us stronger, more humble, more grateful.” He waved his hand around with nonchalance. “Anyway, I love you just the way you are, and I wouldn’t trade the Violet Trivoli who sits before me now for all the perfectly, neat, pretty packaged lives in the world.” My heart did that funny little flip again.

“You love me?”

Cain rolled his eyes. “You know I do.” He pulled me into his lap. “But I’m going to tell you every chance I get anyway. And do you know how I know you love me?”

I considered him for a moment. “Because I gave you the last of my cheesy fries last weekend?”

He chuckled before kissing my cheek. “That, and…” He took a deep breath. “I let you go and here you are, back in my arms.” He kissed me on the lips this time, his warm breath tangling with mine. “And you let me go down on you,” he added with a wink which made me blush. A bang on the door made us both jump.

“Sorry, kids, I went out to use Mrs. Wicker’s garden and discovered it’s freezing out there. Not a chance in hell I’m dropping trou when it’s zero degrees outside.” I climbed off Cain, and he tugged on my arm.

“Didn’t you forget something?” he asked. I glanced at the toilet. Nope, I’d flushed. Washcloth was rinsed, toothbrush back in the toiletries bag. With gentle fingers, he forced my gaze back on him and he seemed a little disappointed. “I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words; that last cheesy fry screamed love, even if you can’t say it.” He shrugged and went to walk away, and I realized he had been waiting for me to tell him I loved him. I pulled on his hand and dragged him forward for a kiss.

“I want to say it, but if I say it now, you’ll think I’m only saying it because you asked me to.”

Cain mulled over my words. “Okay, baby. Ball’s in your court. Spring it on me when I least expect it.” With a final lingering kiss, my dad thumped on the door once more.

“I’m not a young man anymore, kids, leaks spring way too easily to deny this kind of need.”

“TMI, Dad,” I said as we left the bathroom. He raced in behind us.

“Eggs and bacon?” Cain asked.

The glazed over look of hunger in my eyes obviously said it all. And just like that, my guilt was placated, for now. Like Cain had said, everyone slips. Now was my chance to show everyone I could pick myself back up and stand a little taller, a little stronger. Now was my chance to prove myself.

“So fucking beautiful,” Cain murmured at my mouth, his teeth gently grazing my bottom lip before he kissed me long and hard. Cain had never been afraid of a little PDA. As friends, he was always eager to hold my hand and had hugged me often. Since we had officially become a couple, he took the liberty of bringing my world to a halt with mind blowing kisses often. It was his way of reminding me where I stood in his life, and I think he was making up for the last twelve years of indecision and built up sexual tension. His hand stopped at my ribs, just shy of cupping my breast.

“Cut that shit out. You’re mauling her right in front of my nephews. My fucking sister is going to beat the shit out of me for your R rated show.” Harry stomped past us. Cain smiled against my mouth before reluctantly pulling away.

“We got bored. We’ve been waiting for twenty minutes.”

Harry stopped and turned to face us, a shocked look on his face. “You’ve been sucking face outside my sister’s place for twenty fucking minutes?” he growled.

I couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s appalled look.

Cain scoffed. “Of course not, I’ve only just got to her face. I spent the last fifteen minutes paying homage to those beautiful breasts.”

Harry looked like a fish out of water until Cain started laughing.

“You dirty little fucker, next time you get arrested, don’t bother calling me. I’ll leave you there to rot.”

We followed Harry into his sister’s house. It was Thanksgiving and we had planned on spending it alone, just the two of us, but Harry and Mya wouldn’t hear of it. Since we were spending Christmas with our families back in Seattle, this was a pre-Christmas celebration with the one man who had gone above and beyond for both of us. Harry was a foul mouthed bulldog who had a nose for business and music, but to me and Cain, he was a friend first and foremost.

“Janie, I’m here, and I’m sorry about the porn in the front yard,” Harry called out as we entered the house. A set of identical gangly, dark haired twins paused in their wrestling to glance in our direction.

“We saw,” laughed one of the boys.

“He’s got technique,” giggled the other.

“Fabulous, my balls are as good as gone,” Harry said sarcastically, walking away, leaving Cain and I with the teenage boys who untangled themselves off the floor.

“I’m Lucas,” said the one wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt with a skull on the front. His hair was black as night and styled over his eyes in an emo fashion.

“I’m Levi,” said the other, who was a more conservative version of his brother, in shorts, a blue surf brand shirt, and neatly cut, dark blonde hair. Apart from their different styles, they were identical in every way, height, weight, eyes, and lips.

“Levi was hoping for a little girl on girl action tonight. We heard Mya has a crush on Violet.”

Levi slapped Lucas on the head and the wrestling began again. Cain chuckled as he drew me away from the living room.

“That was a little disturbing,” I murmured.

“They’re teenage boys. I was one once, or have you forgotten.” Cain was mischievous now, but as a teenager, he was mischief times a thousand.

“I haven’t forgotten, and you better pray you and Annabelle don’t have a boy. It will come back to bite you on the ass.” Cain stopped walking and turned to give me a quick hard kiss, his tongue delving deep into my mouth.

“Don’t worry, baby, if I don’t get a boy this time around, I plan on trying with you until I do.”

I shook my head, my mind a little foggy from the wicked kiss he had planted on my lips. “What if we only produce girls? We might end up with a minivan full of them.”

Cain winked at me. “We might as well keep going and get ourselves an entire roller derby team then.”

“Janie, Kyle, I’d like you to meet Violet and Cain,” Harry introduced us as we walked into a large kitchen that was full of warmth and the wonderful smell of turkey. Mya sat at the kitchen table by Harry, showing him something on her phone.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you. We were beginning to think Harry made you both up,” said Janie, Harry’s polar-opposite sister, as she moved forward to shake our hands. She was petite with curves and a head of dark curls. She had a gentleness about her with a genuine smile. She looked like a modern day Betty Crocker, the complete opposite of Harry, with his dark smooth hair and immaculate business suits.

“The fact he has friends at all is pretty astounding,” teased Kyle as he also shook our hands.

“Fuck the both of you,” growled Harry.

“Watch your language while you are in my house, or I will divest you of those balls.” Harry’s little sister pinned him with a serious stare.

Harry held his hands up in surrender. “It’s disturbing you want anywhere near them; you’re my sister.”

“I wouldn’t touch the disgusting things. I’d get Kyle to cut them off.”

Kyle offered Cain a beer, and he politely declined. He didn’t offer me one, and I wondered if Harry had forewarned them.

“I’m not touching Harry’s balls.” Kyle grimaced. “Harry told us you don’t drink, Violet. Would you like something else? We have Coke, orange juice, water?”

“Orange juice would be fine,” I said as I arched a brow Harry’s way. He smiled and winked back at me.

“Cain?” Kyle asked.

“Orange juice will be fine, thank you, Kyle.”

I leaned into Cain and whispered in his ear, “You can have a beer. I can drive. You don’t have to not drink because of me.”

Cain kissed my forehead. “I don’t want a beer. And what kind of a man makes his woman drive his drunk ass home after dark.”

I snorted loudly which caught the attention of everyone in the kitchen. “Sorry,” I blushed.

Janie and Kyle gave us a confused smile over our private conversation. Harry and Mya, who knew us better, completely ignored us, turning their attention back to their phones.

“It’s not the eighteen hundreds, Casanova. I can drive a car after dark. And believe it or not, women can vote, too.” Cain silently chuckled into my hair. “Thank you,” I said, taking my drink from Kyle.

Cain took his with a polite nod before leaning into my ear again. “I don’t care if I sound like an antiquated old fart. I’m a man who takes care of those I love, Violet, and I honestly have no desire to drink alcohol.”

With Cain’s staunch presence and easiness around strangers, the night went mostly smoothly. Whenever conversation fell into a lull, or more often than not, into an argument between siblings—both older and younger—Cain was there to quickly redirect it. When we left a little after ten, I was surprised blood hadn’t been shed. Between the lesbian jokes the teenage twins not so subtly directed to a fresh out of the closet gay woman, and Janie’s mortification over Harry’s potty mouth, it was an interesting Thanksgiving, to say the least.

We had my apartment to ourselves. Mya was spending the night with her family even though the look she gave me was one of desperation and pleading as we left. Her family was still adjusting to her recent confession that she was gay. Her parents seemed to be accepting it well enough, and the boys were accepting it in their own warped way. The time spent together would be good for them all, so I didn’t offer her the escape I knew she was searching for.

Later that night, I lay in a contented, post orgasmic bliss, the muted light of my lamp casting a warm glow across my darkened bedroom. I was stretched out, completely naked on top of my tangled sheets. Beside me sat Cain, also naked as the day he was born. Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong serenaded each other in the background with “Dream A Little Dream Of Me”. Tossed carelessly on the bed beside Cain was an array of Mya’s paint pens that she usually reserved for her woeful attempts at art. Right now they were being used for a different kind of art. One of my legs was stretched out before Cain, and from my ankle to hip, he had painted the keys of a piano. His fingers stroked the false keys lovingly, probably with a little more devoted attention than he normally would. He sung softly, the words spilling from his lips in perfect harmony. Cain had a beautiful voice, wasted with the vocal silence he preferred in front of a piano or with a guitar in his lap.

“You’d really have a roller derby team with me?” I whispered.

Cain’s lips twitched with amusement. “Baby, I’d have an entire damn league with you.”

I smiled as he resumed singing. “What if we have kids and I slip again?” I wondered out loud. It was a real fear, having grown up in a house where syringes were left lying in the kitchen sink and alcohol filled the fridge and cabinets. The thought of inflicting the same desolation and fear I had grown up with on my own children terrified me.

“I honestly don’t think you would, but if you did, I’d be there to pick you up and dust you off and stick you back in the kitchen where you belong.” I reached up and slapped his arm, hard. Cain laughed and leaned over me, forcing me back on the bed. “I’m here to protect you, Violet, even if it’s from yourself. When we have children, it will be when you are ready, and you won’t slip; I won’t let you.” He kissed my lips, barely a feather touch before resuming his place before the leg piano. “You know, I think if they taught all boys to play piano this way, the world would be full of budding musicians,” he mused.

“You are quite the ideas man,” I said sarcastically.

“I am, aren’t I?” His smile lit up a place inside my heart, the same place that always felt a warm glow whenever Cain was near. He eyed my body with a hunger that made my pulse race. Leaning forward he dipped to one breast and licked around my nipple before slipping the dusty brown peak into his mouth.

“Again?” I whispered breathlessly.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “I don’t want to break you, so I’ll just play for a bit.” He resumed his loving attention to my body, turning me into a panting mess of lustful woman. Finally, he rested his forehead on my stomach, breathing heavily.

“You won’t break me,” I said with a smile.

“No, I won’t.” The seriousness in his eyes forced my own smile away. “I won’t break you, I won’t bend you, I won’t even bruise you, Violet, and that’s a promise. I’ll spend my entire life putting you on the pedestal you belong on.”

I ran a finger down his cheek. “Where’s that coming from?” I asked him. The mood had been light, teasing, and suddenly he appeared heavy with emotion.

“I just need you to know that I would never hurt you, and I won’t allow you to hurt yourself anymore. You are in my hands now, baby, and I’m going to handle you like spun fucking glass.”

“I banged myself up pretty good in the past, and I came out the other end mostly intact. I’m stronger than I look, you know.” I loved his devotion to keeping me safe, but I had defeated my demons on my own this time. I wasn’t a wilting flower in need of a man to coddle me.

“You are the strongest person I know, Violet. I’ve seen you at your lowest, I’ve seen your tears, and I’ve seen your hate for yourself. And you beat it, but I’ll be strong for you on the days you can’t be.” Taking my hand, he placed a kiss on my fingertips. Tears gathered in my eyes before one rolled carelessly down my cheek. Cain reached forward and wiped it away, and without a word he took hold of a red Sharpie and nudged my legs apart to lie between them.

“If you think for one moment I am going to let you draw anywhere near that region of my body…” My voice was rough with emotion.

“Shhh, I’m saving that region for a midnight snack. Be quiet for a moment.” He began writing on my stomach, most of the words too small under the dim light for me to make out. ‘In your smile I saw pain’…‘shade of Violet’… poetry perhaps? I sighed and laid my head back while Cain stopped and pondered something before he started again. If I wasn’t so tired, physically and emotionally, the pen on my skin might have kept me awake. All worry of how easily it would rub off in the morning disintegrated into carefree background noise. While Cain amused himself with his body art, I drifted to sleep.

I stood in front of my mirror, back in my old bedroom in Seattle. It was Christmas Eve, and we were having dinner with Cain’s family at a restaurant downtown. I was nervous, not only because the last time I had seen Cain’s family was at my mother’s funeral, but also because Cain’s ex, Annabelle, and her parents would be there. If that wasn’t a recipe for awkwardness, I don’t know what was. Cain’s parents hadn’t realized I was accompanying Cain for dinner, and they had already gone ahead and invited Annabelle and her family. Cain had offered to cancel, but I wanted to be the mature, emotionally intact girlfriend I knew I had dwelling somewhere within me. Dad was coming with us which I was grateful for; he could be my buffer. I fiddled with my jacket and pulled my beanie down a little lower to cover my ears. It was snowing outside, and I hated to be cold. Cain handed me my gloves, and I slid them on, my eyes never leaving the scared green eyes staring back from the mirror.

You can do this; you are a beautiful, intelligent woman. He loves you, not her. You can do this.

The mantra played over and over in my head, but my stomach was still a mess of butterflies. Cain’s arms slipped around my waist, and his head perched on my shoulder.

He turned his lips to whisper in my ear, “My heart beats for you and you alone, Violet; it always has. No matter what, remember that. And if you want to leave, just say the word, okay?” I appreciated his reminder of who I was to him, but it didn’t smother the flames of jealousy.

Wrapped up in as many layers of warmth I could comfortably wear, we all left for the restaurant.

“Hi, sweetie, how you doing?” Cain’s mom jumped from her chair to embrace Cain with a big warm hug. Everyone else was here and seated. Awesome, nothing like a fashionably late entrance to the most uncomfortable night of one’s life to make you feel a little ill. “Violet, you look radiant,” his mother moved to give me a hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Everett, merry Christmas.” Cain’s mom was the female version of her son, beautiful features, blue eyes, blonde hair. Dressed in her typical highly fashionable and expensive clothes with a layer of an expensive scent, Channel No. 5 if my nose was correct, Mrs. Everett was a stunning woman. She was also kind, considerate, wise, everything my mother hadn’t been. While Mrs. Everett began fussing over my dad, Cain’s father moved to stand in front of me. He was a stout man with a greying mustache and thinning grey hair. His eyes were gentle, his smile affectionate. I had always liked Mr. Everett; he made me feel curiously safe much like his son did.

“Hi, Vi honey, merry Christmas.” He kissed my cheek. “I’m sorry if this is awkward for you. We’ll do our best to make sure you’re comfortable, okay?” Mr. Everett was the only person who had ever taken to calling me Vi, and he was probably the only person I would allow to get away with it. For me, the name Vi conjured up images of an old, cranky elementary school teacher who owned too many cats and had a grudge against everyone. Coming from Mr. Everett though, it was like an affectionate cuddle of my name; it made me feel cared for.

“Thank you, Mr. Everett, I’m fine, dinner will be fine, I’m sure everything will be fine.” Had I really just said fine three times in as many seconds? Mr. Everett gave me a knowing smile before shaking my dad’s hand and guiding us towards the table. Then my eyes turned to take in the gathering. Cain’s brother and sister and their respective families sat at one end of the table, while the other end was occupied by unfamiliar faces, and Annabelle. She looked stunning, her curls falling softly around her face, her big brown eyes gentle and unassuming. Her hand rested on her slightly protruding stomach as she stood to hug Cain. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep the smile on my face and not throw up. Beyond the image of Cain hugging Annabelle was a bar. The temptation couldn’t have been more palpable. I clenched my dad’s hand which I had grabbed with quiet desperation at some point. He squeezed my hand back as he drew me towards the unknown group, strategically placing me between himself and Cain, who quickly wrapped his arm around my waist, taking the burden of one struggling female from my dad.

“Annabelle, Mary, George, I’d like you to meet Violet and Garrett Trivoli.”

“It’s good to see you again, George, Mary,” my father said, shaking their hands politely. Deciding it would be easiest to just follow his lead, I also put my hand out, and it was accepted with only a moment’s hesitation. Annabelle’s parents seemed reserved but cordial, then I turned to the one woman who had the power to destroy me. I could clearly see, even though Cain assured me their separation was a mutual agreement, the sorrow in her eyes as she watched him at my side. When she turned her gaze my way, she didn’t even attempt to hide her scowl.

“You look beautiful.” The words came out without filter or thought, for she did, in fact, look beautiful. It seemed to catch Annabelle by surprise, and Cain took advantage of her silent shock by steering Dad and me to the opposite end of the table, where three seats had been saved between his siblings and parents. I sat stiffly, my eyes drifting the length of the restaurant to the bar, wishing I could grab a whiskey to ease my nerves. My dad’s sturdy presence at one side and Cain’s at the other helped fill me with resolve though.

“Nothing says merry Christmas like dinner with your boyfriend’s family and his pregnant ex-fiancé, right?” Cain’s brother, Samuel, murmured across Cain. “And since you can’t get royally tanked, I guess I’m just going to have to use my wit and humor to keep you smiling.” He gave me a wink before picking up a bread stick and placing it in his sister’s glass of wine just as she was taking a sip.

“Sam!” she shouted. Across the table a little blonde haired girl giggled.

“Ava dared me to do it,” he said defensively.

“Oh charming, go ahead and blame it on your five-year-old niece. I apologize for his behavior in advance,” Cain’s sister, Abbi, said. Her husband pulled the bread stick out of the wine and proceeded to eat it. “Duane, seriously? That’s gross.”

Duane shrugged. “Bread and wine, just like at church.”

Cain chuckled as he filled a glass of water for me. The playful banter helped ease my nerves a little, until I glanced to the opposite end of the table and received the spiteful wrath of Annabelle’s now cold brown eyes. I didn’t blame her; she obviously cared for Cain, had been engaged to him, and was having his baby. He threw it all away for me. I’d hate me, too.

Between Dad, Cain, and his family, they all did a wonderful job of keeping me distracted, but eventually the need to just breathe without the heavy, spiteful gaze of Cain’s ex overcame me, and I used the ever faithful bathroom as my excuse to escape. Bypassing the bar without so much as a tempted glance, I almost ran down the short hallway that led to the ladies bathroom. It wasn’t until I locked myself in a cubicle that I felt my shoulders relax. I don’t know how long I simply stood there, taking long, deep breaths in an attempt to ease the tension from my body, but the outer door to the room opened and someone slipped inside. I took advantage of the location for my freak out and quickly used the toilet before stepping out to wash my hands. While I rinsed and dried, someone stepped from the toilet stall beside mine. And let’s just say, if there was a devil, he was having himself a Hallmark movie field day with my life just now. Annabelle washed her hands at my side.

“It’s true what they say; pregnancy turns you into a walking, talking bladder,” she mumbled. I wasn’t too sure how to respond to that. “I hate you for what you’ve done to me.” Annabelle saved me from finding a fitting reply; obviously she didn’t want small talk. “If you had just stayed away, he would have stayed with me and everything would be alright.”

“Cain and I go back quite a way, Annabelle. I would have always been the elephant in the room, and I’m not saying that to be cruel or vindictive, it’s just the way things are with us. We have a lot of history.”

She shook her head, her lip curling with distaste. “Yeah, but at least my baby would have a father.”

I put my hands on my hips, anger stirring under the layers of jealousy and anxiety. “You’ve got a father for your baby. Cain’s here, and he has every intention of supporting you and the baby, emotionally and financially.”

Annabelle matched my stance. “Do you honestly think bringing a baby into a broken home is the ideal way to start a child’s life?”

“Of course not, but your child will be born to two parents who love him and would do anything to protect him. He’ll be loved and provided for, and whether his mom and dad live together under one roof or separately under two roofs, that love won’t be any less.” I was panting with outrage now.

Annabelle’s shoulders slumped. “You know what really sucks about all this,” she said gruffly. Annabelle looked up from the spot on the floor that seemed to have taken her fancy and pinned me with a stare full of pain and anguish. “I could like you. I know you’ve had problems. I don’t know the full extent, Cain was very tight lipped about it all, but you actually seem really nice. Cain’s family seems to genuinely love you; his dad never hugged and kissed me like he did you.” She sighed. “You seem like someone I would be friends with under different circumstances.”

That stumped me for a moment, and when Annabelle started crying, I panicked. “Oh darn, don’t cry, that can’t be good for the baby.” I wrapped my arms around her, and she stiffened. “And we can still be friends. I really don’t have many friends, and we are going to be in each other’s lives, whether we like it or not. And I promise you, I won’t let anyone or anything ever hurt your baby.” Annabelle sobbed quietly. “And you’re going to meet someone who will make Cain seem like a speck of dust; he’ll be your everything and he’ll make you so happy. And I’ll need someone to vent to when Cain doesn’t pick his dirty clothes up off the floor or leaves the toilet seat up.”

Annabelle laughed. “He won’t leave his clothes on the floor; he’s too much of a neat freak.”

“I know. I’ll be the one leaving dirty laundry everywhere.” We remained wrapped in a tight embrace before Annabelle stepped away.

“I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me. How did we mess everything up so bad?” she quietly confessed.

“I wouldn’t say you messed everything up; you got something right.” My gaze lowered to her small tummy. “Everything happens for a reason, right?” She nodded and wiped away her tears. “And if it is any consolation, I am so green with jealousy over you I can barely see straight. You have a part of him that I don’t.”

Annabelle mournfully shook her head. “You will have this part of him one day, too.” We fell into an uncomfortable silence. “Do you really think it will be a boy?” Her question caught me off guard. “Before, when you were ranting at me, you said ‘he’.” I thought back and realized I had, in fact, referred to their baby as a boy. “I guess in another week or two we’ll know for sure. Oh, oh, oh, you have to feel this.” Annabelle’s eyes lit up, and she grabbed my hand, placing it on her tight little tummy. I was about to ask what on earth she was doing before I felt a curious little flutter under my hand. The door behind us swung open and Cain barged in, stopping still when he saw the two of us together.

“Everything all right here?” he asked nervously.

“Come here, you have to feel this.” I grabbed him and pulled him further into the bathroom. I went to shove his hand on Annabelle’s stomach and felt his resistance. When I glanced at his face, he was watching Annabelle warily.

“It’s okay; he’s yours, too.”

“He?” Cain asked, surprised.

“Well, Violet here seems to think so.”

Cain shot me a curious glance and I shrugged. “You better hope it’s a boy, a girl would run circles around you.” I pushed his hand towards Annabelle’s stomach then stood back and waited. I saw the moment he felt his baby; his eyes lit up with amazed wonder, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s our baby?” he asked in astonishment.

It stung, but not as badly as it had before. Annabelle nodded, a soft look on her face as she watched Cain’s reaction. I felt like a third wheel and would have quietly snuck off if they weren’t blocking the doorway.

Cain reluctantly withdrew his hand and took a step away. “You’re looking good, Belle. Is there anything you need? Did you get the money I transferred last week?” Annabelle palmed his question off with a casual wave of her hand, but I could still see the lingering sadness in her eyes.

“I got the money and everything is fine. I have another appointment on the sixth of January, the one I told you about. Will you be able to come?”

Cain nodded. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Annabelle cast me a nervous glance. “Would you come, too?”

I was so shocked by her question, I wasn’t sure if I could speak to reply. We all just stared at each other in a stifling silence. Finally, my brain kicked back into action. “You want me there? Won’t that be awkward?”

Annabelle laughed. “Any more so than this?”

“The doctor’s visits seem a little more personal and private than dinner,” I argued.

Annabelle moved towards the door. “I’d like you to come. As you said, you’re going to be a part of our baby’s life, too.” She glanced at Cain. “Do you mind?”

“I’d like Violet to be there,” he said without hesitation.

Annabelle nodded as if satisfied with his answer, then she quietly left the room, leaving a stunned and speechless Cain and Violet in her wake. We were both leaning against the white tiled wall, absorbing everything that had just happened.

“I thought she might have been back here kicking your ass.”

“You think she could take me?” I asked, feigning offense over his assumption.

“Not at all, but I know you wouldn’t hit a pregnant woman.” Cain’s arm wrapped around my neck, and he pulled me close. “I don’t know what happened, but I think it will go down in history as being a bathroom intervention of epic proportions. With the look Annabelle was giving you when we got here, I wouldn’t have put it past her to poison you. Then I come searching for the two of you and find you having some weird bonding moment.”

I laughed as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Trust me, no one is more surprised than me. She came in here, guns blazing. I gave her a piece of my mind, she cried, the baby kicked, and now we are apparently one bizarre triangular family unit.”

Cain turned to face me, pressing me against the wall. “You made her cry?” he whispered softly, his eyes teasing.

“No,” I said quietly, “you did. She cares for you, a lot. She’s scared, and I can hardly blame her. I was ruined when I lost you, and there was no lasting reminder growing inside me to prevent me from moving on.”

Cain’s eyes closed as if to shelter himself from the truth. “I know. I can’t even regret what happened because I have you and I’m going to be a father.” He opened his eyes. “I felt my baby move, and everything suddenly felt real. I’m going to be a dad. I could never regret anything that; it led us to here. I want to regret what happened to you, to us, but if none of it had happened, this wouldn’t have happened. I feel like the scum of the earth to be thinking this way.”

I kissed him which, thankfully, silenced him. “I understand and there is nothing to regret. The good times have been amazing, and the bad times have been a learning experience.”

He gripped either side of my head and kissed me. His tongue invaded my mouth, his hands tilted my head to offer him better access, and he pushed the evidence of his desire for me against my lower stomach. He only stopped when the door behind us swung open.

“Oh, s...so...sorry. I’ll come back,” stuttered an unfamiliar voice nervously.

“It’s okay, we were just leaving.” Cain grabbed my hand and pulled us out of the ladies restroom. Before I could walk back into the restaurant though, he drew me to a halt and buried his head in my neck. “I just need a moment to allow maxi-me to stand down.”

“Maxi-me?” I laughed.

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t mini-me,” he murmured into my neck with a chuckle.

I stood in Cain’s arms, wonder and surprise filling me. I had come so far since this time last year; so much had changed. It all just felt too good to be true. I was healthy, I was in love, but I was terrified of losing it all.

I was in my element, on stage, the lights shining brightly, sending the sparkling silver fabric of my dress into some glamorous form of a human mirror ball effect. Cain sat at the piano, his suit washing over his body like a black sheet of male perfection. Tied back in a neat bun, his hair was pulled away from his face, leaving those high cheek bones and piercing baby blues on show for the world to gush over. He currently watched me with an amused tilt to his lips. He knew how much I was enjoying this show. Our host was renowned rocker Jimmy Swivel, lead guitarist for Last Scream. We had played on his property three years ago for his wedding reception. Tonight we were back to sing for his daughter’s sweet sixteen. With the crowd piled too many rows deep to count, dancing and singing with a youthful vibrancy more levelheaded adults would be in awe of, I was having the night of my life. I had been nervous about playing here and for good reason. At Jimmy and Katie’s wedding, Cain and I had gotten ourselves royally drunk, and I had added enough cocaine to my system to fly to the moon and back. I had also found myself pressed up against a bathroom wall by Last Scream’s lead singer, Benji Flack, and screwed into an oblivious mess of lustful, screaming female. Not one of my finer moments, but few of my moments were.

After having finally sung our last set a little before midnight, Cain pulled me to the bar and ordered us both orange juices. The beautiful, young woman behind the bar gave Cain a mocking question with one perfectly arched brow. Cain shrugged and gave me a wink.

“How about we get crazy and have it on the rocks?” I rolled my eyes but grinned, while the not so impressed bartender poured our boring cocktails of orange juice and ice. Even though it was an underage party and we had been told that there would be no underage drinking, alcohol was plentiful and being passed freely around the mostly teenage guest list. There was nothing like an opulent, giant tent full of adolescent drunks to help reinforce my no alcohol policy. When a group of barely covered teenage girls stumbled to the bar and flirted in an embarrassingly shameless manner with Cain, I shook my head. Pulling himself free, he guided me away from the gaggle of giggling hormones.

“Thanks for the save,” he mumbled.

“Tell me I was never like that,” I sighed, watching the girls order sweet cocktails that were far too palatable and easy for a young woman to lose her inhibitions to.

Cain looped his arm around my neck and kissed my temple. “You were never like that.” He took a small sip from his drink. “You were much, much worse.” I thumped him on the chest with the back of my hand. Cain steered us towards Harry who, of course, had been invited. Harry was invited to everything, and I was beginning to think he was more popular than Cain and I.

“Did you know the female attendants in the bathrooms will give blow jobs for a substantial tip? Nobody throws a party like Jimmy,” Harry exclaimed with a grin.

I scrunched up my nose, more than a little disgusted, but not surprised.

“Cain Everett, long time, brother,” shouted a familiar voice from beside us.

I cringed, but I don’t think Cain noticed as he dropped his arm from my shoulders and gave Benji Flack one of those disturbingly complicated handshakes that were obviously part of some secret men’s club. He was a good looking man, his gorgeous body heavily tattooed, his hair shaved close to his scalp, dark brown eyes promising all sorts of naughtiness. “And, sweet Violet, it’s been too long, honey,” he crooned, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Cain was unaware of my one night with Benji, and I wanted to keep it that way. I pulled back, being sure to keep a slither of space between Benji and me.

“Looking good, Benji, no doubt all the success attributed to ‘Lost Cause’,” said Harry, clinking his beer against Benji’s in a congratulatory manner. “Lost Cause” was Last Scream’s single that released three months ago and was still hovering around the top of the charts.

“What can I say? I wrote a song telling all the ladies that I am, in fact, a lost cause, and now they want me even more.” Benji, never one to be bashful. He tugged on the hand of a beautiful, dark skinned woman who stood slightly to one side behind him. “Allow me to introduce Lisette.” The beautiful woman, who stood easily six feet tall with flawless, ebony skin and a head of carefully braided plaits twisted into mountain on her head, gave a polite nod. “This is Violet, Harry, and Cain,” Benji continued with the introductions.

“It is lovely to meet you all,” she purred with a thick French accent.

“Lisette is the latest angel to join Victoria’s Secret. She also plays the piano and is a big fan of yours, Cain.” Benji leaned in to whisper, none to quietly, in Harry and Cain’s direction, “She also loves to do things in threes, if you catch my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously and rather than being embarrassed or disgusted, Lisette giggled. Giggled! Benji gave Lisette a gentle nudge in Cain and Harry’s direction. Harry’s eyes lit up like a virgin on prom night, and Cain’s expression remained polite but neutral. He courteously began answering Lisette’s musical questions while Harry watched, open mouth and all. When a firm body pressed against my back, I knew immediately who the culprit was. “Now that I’ve got your guard dogs heeled for the rest of the evening, how about you and me go take a stroll down memory lane?” Benji’s breath stunk of cigarette and beer. Regardless of how handsome he was, I was not attracted to him. It must have taken a hell of a lot of alcohol and coke to get me in the mood last time we had been in this very predicament.

“I think the past is best left where it belongs, in the past,” I snapped. When I tried to take a small step away from the heat of Benji’s body, he grabbed my hand and pulled it behind my back, between our bodies, pressing my fingers firmly over the hard length of his obvious desire. I tried to snatch my hand away, but Benji held tight.

“I’ve got something to help get you in the mood. A few lines and my mouth on your pussy will have you aching for me in no time.” More than a little repulsed with his offer, I tried, once again, to step away. He was holding my wrist so tight, I knew it would leave a mark. I gave him my best you’re-going-to-die glare, prepared to follow it up with a barrage of profanity, when a strong, warm hand encircled the back of my neck. My gaze swung around to see a very pissed off Cain Everett standing before me, gently guiding me away from Benji and into his body. I went willingly, as if being drawn from the arms of the devil into the embrace of an angel.

“We okay here?” Cain asked through gritted teeth.

“Violet and I were just going to take a walk,” Benji said with a confidence that pissed me off. I have no doubt Cain felt the sudden rigidness in my body. His fingers rubbed the back of my neck in an almost soothing manner as he reached for my hand and raised it between us. His thumb rubbed my wrist in a comforting way, as if he knew Benji’s touch had been rough. Then he raised my hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back before glaring over my shoulder at Benji.

“I got the impression she wasn’t interested,” Cain said with a raised brow, his calm voice belying the anger I knew simmered beneath.

“Come on, Cain, stop playing the protective brother. Violet’s a big girl, and she can be with whomever she chooses. If she wants to go on a walk with me, let her.”

Fury raged inside me at his bold assumption that I would simply fall into bed with him. I guess my past behavior had left that kind of impression, and that just made me angrier. When I would have spun around to hurl a mouthful of verbal abuse in Benji’s direction, Cain’s hand at my neck held me steady.

“I can guarantee you that what I have for Violet is not brotherly love.” My gaze rose to Cain’s, but his eyes never left Benji’s. “Whatever you might have shared with her in the past, won’t be happening again. She is mine, and if anyone’s mouth is going to be on any part of her body, it will be mine.” Benji looked shocked. “We clear now?” Cain asked.

Benji raised his hands and nodded. “Sorry, brother, I didn’t realize that you guys had moved past the kindergarten crush. I wouldn’t indulge on someone else’s territory, unless invited.” Benji winked. “So, if you ever want to invite me, you have my number.” Before I could scream in outrage, Benji disappeared into the crowd, and Cain pressed his lips against mine. After a quick but desperate kiss, he pulled away, but one hand on the back of my neck kept us connected.

“I’m your territory?” I growled, albeit a little breathlessly.

“Benji’s words, not mine, baby.”

I shook my head. “What about all that throwing around the word ‘mine’, like some dog pissing on his favorite lamp post,” I huffed indignantly, trying to keep my voice down from the few lingering guests who were trying unsuccessfully to look as though they were ignoring us.

“Violet, you are mine just as much as I am yours, and if Lisette had put her hands on me just now, I have no doubt you would be rubbing yourself all over me in an attempt to reclaim your possession.” The thought of Lisette touching Cain brought with it a surge of jealousy, and I realized just how pissed off Cain was and rightly so.

“I’d probably drag you off to the nearest closest and climb your body like you were nothing but a jungle gym.” Cain’s eyes flared with interest. “Before you go getting any ideas, I need to pee.” The corner of his mouth tipped into a small smile. Over Cain’s shoulder, Harry was doing his best to keep Lisette’s undivided attention on himself.

“Let me walk you in case any other arrogant rockers try to stake their claim on you.”

“You’re still talking about me like I’m a bitch in heat,” I grumbled angrily. Cain kissed my temple in that comforting and loving way that melted my temper instantly.

“The dogs are all male, baby, myself included, and we are all reduced to possessive animals when in the presence of a woman as perfect as you.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, Mr. Everett,” I whispered with a smile. Cain found a bar close to the bathrooms and waited. While in the safety of a quiet stall, I let out a deep sigh, casting out the tension the run-in with Benji had caused. After a few deep breaths, a calming technique taught to me by the wise and wonderful Dr. Brightman, I took care of my body’s needs. As I fixed my dress, a gaggle of teenage girls entered the bathroom.

“Jimmy is so fucking sexy. I’m going to give him a blow job,” one of the girls sang. I instantly disliked her.

“He’s married!” another said, outraged. I liked this one.

“So, hasn’t stopped him from stepping out in the past,” said the first girl.

“Benji is a sure thing,” said another girl. “And trust me, he has a huge dick.” My brow creased with mortification. These girls sounded so young to be speaking so bluntly. I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to convince myself that I had been any better than them though. I was a seasoned coke addict by the time I was their age.

“Hurry up, I saw Cain Everett alone at the bar just now, and if I can’t have Jimmy, he’s a damn fine runner up.” The girls laughed.

“You are such a whore, Ricci.”

“Uh-huh, I came to terms with that years ago.”

“I heard Cain is seeing Violet,” said the one who had some resemblance to morals.

“So, she’s a has-been junkie hooker who fucked her way through life for her next hit. My mom said she grew up in a trailer park and her parents were junkies, too. There’s no way Cain would want forever with that skanky, white trash bitch. You never know; I could be his forever. I’m younger, hotter, and richer, just what a man like Cain Everett needs.”

I was mortified, but still managed to be irritated that her mother had gotten her facts slightly wrong. I had, in fact, grown up in a house, not a trailer park.

“Maybe he likes to fuck girls in the ass, and that’s why he’s doing Violet. She’s easy.” My hand clamped over my mouth before a stifled moan of horror could escape.

“Oh my god, Layla! Have you ever been fucked in the ass? It’s amazing and trailer trash whores aren’t the only ones begging to be mounted.” The girls all laughed and I stood frozen at the callous, disturbing conversation.

“Come on, let’s go see if Cain wants to mount one of us.”

The bathroom emptied just as fast as it had filled, and I pushed my door open, my stark, pale reflection staring back at me from the mirror. I was furious, appalled, and more than anything, shocked to the core that a teenage girl, who had never met me in her life, pinned me for what I had always assumed I was, trash. Worthlessness settled over me like a familiar blanket. Memories assaulted me, the despicable things I had done for a hit or men I had screwed while high. I was no better than the foul mouthed girls who had obviously so little respect for themselves. A loud pounding on the door caught my attention.

“Violet, come out now or I’m coming in.”

I quickly fixed my hair and strolled from the bathroom, trying my hardest to wear a confidence I didn’t feel.

“What the hell is wrong with girls these days…” Cain’s words died off as he took me in. Cain always had been and still was far too perceptive. “Violet, what’s wrong?” His voice gentled as he pulled me away from the bathroom. I cast a quick glance in the direction of a group of girls who stood by the bar, staring at me with both shock and a little too much haughtiness. Cain followed my gaze but didn’t say anything.

“Nothing, I’m just tired and sick of this pretentious crowd. I think I might head home, but if you want to stay…”

Cain’s finger covered my lips. “Don’t even say it. There is no way I want to be here without you, and there is no way I’d let you go home alone, even if I did want to stay.”

We caught a cab home and were barely through the door before Cain began kissing me with a passion I was coming to know well. His reverent worshipping of me and my body had taken me a little by surprise to begin with. Having never been in a long term relationship, I assumed the hunger for each other would be quickly quenched and replaced with quiet, slow loving. If anything, Cain’s kisses and need for me seemed to grow, not diminish. And my desire for him was just as strong as the first time he had ever touched me. Tonight however, I felt dirty, tarnished, and unworthy. I wanted to shower in an attempt to wash away the filth of my sins.

“Get a room,” murmured a sedate Mya who sat at her laptop in the dimly lit living room. Cain chuckled, and without a word led me to my bedroom.

“I just want to take a shower,” I breathed, pulling my head away when he would have kissed me. Cain paused, his penetrating eyes carving a path under my skin and right to my soul.

“Don’t let the actions of others dictate how far you’ve come, Violet.” His whispered words were loud in the quiet stillness of my dark room. I didn’t want to hear them though; it was easier to accept the flaws in myself. His hands gripped my cheeks, and his striking blue eyes held mine. “I won’t lose you to the indifference of others.”

I took a deep breath, taking in the clean and wholesome scent of Cain. No cigarettes clung to his breath like they did with Benji. There was no heavy stain of alcohol on his breath, just clean, pure Cain Everett. Perhaps my sins might be better cleaned away under the masterful hands of Cain. I pressed him hard against the door behind him, kissing him with a desperation that made me clumsy.

“Slow down, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

I took a deep breath and stepped away. “Strip,” I practically growled, and Cain smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You didn’t say please,” he purred. I arched a brow, and he continued to stand defiantly still.

“Cain Everett, if you remove your clothes, I will drop to my knees, take you in my mouth, and blow not only your dick, but your mind. So please strip.” I put a little emphasis on the please, but I didn’t need to. He had already ripped open his button down shirt, buttons pinging off in all directions, and I only had to mention the word ‘blow’. Once he stood before me naked, I took in the impressive length of his body, his desire for me standing proudly to attention. I felt a silent thrill at being completely dressed yet able to garner this response from Cain. I sunk to my knees, and as promised, took him in my mouth. He groaned loudly, followed by a heavy thump against the door. When I looked up, his head was rested back, his eyes closed. I took him deep and sucked hard.

“Ohhhh fuck, shit, fuck…me.” He was completely incoherent, and I smiled, allowing him to almost slip from my lips before taking him deep into the back of my throat once again. I repeated the action several times, sucking and licking. Suddenly, Cain grabbed at his hard, heavy cock and pinched the head, pushing me gently to one side. “Motherfucker,” he growled, evidently trying to stave off an orgasm. Once he seemed to have control again, he glanced down at my smiling face. He shook his head and pulled me up by my arms. “No time for that,” he said, turning me around and pushing me forward so my elbows were resting on the bed. Dragging my long dress up my legs and bunching it at my waist, Cain lowered himself and nipped gently at one globe of my ass. I was laughing at how quickly I had managed to make him lose control, quite pleased with my efforts as he pulled my G-string aside and began to stroke between my legs. I couldn’t stifle the amusement over his obvious desperation. My laughter quickly died though when he replaced his hand with his mouth, and my long drawn out moan joined our restless panting. “I don’t have the patience to love you like I want to.” Cain rose to his feet and positioned himself at my entrance, thrusting forward with a short but sure stoke. Once fully seated, he wrapped his hands around my waist and began pounding into my body hard and fast. His skin was like burning fire against mine as he leaned forward, his teeth nipping gently at my shoulder. “See, baby, you turn me into a fucking animal,” he growled, pushing me forward with so much force that I found myself flat on my stomach while Cain continued to thrust and retreat, the sweat from our bodies meeting at Cain’s chest and my back. He didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t alter his rhythm until I screamed into the bed, my orgasm tumbling through my body so hard and fast I didn’t have a chance to stave it off as Cain had done his own. This time, he followed, his own roar of satisfaction called out into the darkness of the night. When he finally collapsed over my body, I noticed the loud music coming from outside the door to my bedroom. I laughed and Cain groaned. “Damn, it feels good when you do that.” He moved his hips to accentuate exactly where it felt good. Rolling off me, Cain helped pull me up the bed and under the covers. After a long drawn out sigh, he dragged my back against his front and relaxed. “I don’t know what happened tonight or where you went in your head, but you should know, wherever you go I’m gonna follow.” I grabbed his arms and pulled them tighter around myself, as if Cain’s presence alone could fend off the feelings of worthlessness.

“I don’t want you to follow me there, Cain. My crazy is no place for you.”

Cain kissed the back of my neck. “Violet, you are my home, so if following you through your crazy leads me home, I’m gonna follow. Your crazy can live within the walls of my crazy, and we will be one big happy, crazy family.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue and I didn’t really want to. Cain’s words, as usual, fought back the hate that was a constant threat to my heart and sanity. If I was Cain’s home, he was most definitely the bricks and mortar that held us together.

My knee was bouncing in a cadence that put jumping beans to shame. Up, down, up, down, so fast my entire body shook with the nervous twitch. My palms were sweaty, and my stomach felt queasy. Never before had I felt so completely and utterly out of my comfort zone. The room was painted in a muted green with a few black and white canvases picturing innocent, sleeping babes. Information pamphlets on everything from baby transport capsules, hypnobirthing—which intrigued me but I definitely didn’t go near it—immunizations, and breast feeding hung from one wall. Speaking of breast feeding, a young mother with a newborn baby was proudly feeding her little bundle of squirming joy directly in front of me. I tried hard not to watch, unsure what the etiquette was in such a situation, but my eyes were constantly drawn back to the baby who suckled peacefully at his mother’s breast. Although a perfectly natural and beautiful vision, the thought of Annabelle feeding in front of Cain sent a now very familiar pang of jealousy through my veins. I shook my head, annoyed with myself and dragged my attention back to my phone that I pretended to be completely invested in, rather than freaking the hell out. The solid warmth of Cain’s hand lowered on top of mine, and he forced our fingers to entwine. Like all good gentlemen, he didn’t comment about the perspiration he had latched on to.

“I’m the single mother who’s going to have the life sucked out of her boobs; I’m the one who should be freaking out right now, Violet, not you,” mumbled Annabelle from Cain’s other side.

“I can’t believe you’re not uncomfortable with…this,” I quietly hissed back in her direction.

“Trust me, if they whip my legs into stirrups and start poking around down below, I will be anything but comfortable.” I just about swallowed my tongue, but Annabelle’s slight look of panic had me keep my mouth shut. “Really, that would be uncomfortable. If they do anything like that, would you both mind leaving the room?” She suddenly seemed nervous, and it didn’t seem right. Annabelle had been unusually happy about this entire situation since Cain and I had picked her up forty-five minutes ago. Her enthusiasm had been almost contagious, almost.

“Of course we’ll give you privacy. If you feel uncomfortable at any point during the exam, we’ll leave,” Cain easily murmured. Annabelle gave a satisfied nod.

“I can just wait out here if you like, even outside the building. I’m sure there is a café somewhere close by. Coffee, I really need coffee,” I rambled.

“No, you’re part of this team, Violet, and you are joining us in that room. Stop being such a baby.” A small bark of laughter escaped Annabelle’s lips. “No pun intended.” She shrugged at my incredulous look. “Having you here feels right. I’m okay with it, so you need to be okay with it, or you’ll pass your jitters on to my unborn baby.”

I tried hard to relax but was completely unsuccessful, and when a round faced, grey haired nurse stepped into the room and called Annabelle’s name, I just about passed out on the spot. Cain had to all but drag me down the long corridor and into the exam room.

“Oh, you’ve got an audience,” the nurse exclaimed, noticing Cain and I following.

“That’s the baby daddy and his girlfriend,” Annabelle said easily as she followed the nurse to a set of scales.

“You’re a surrogate?” the nurse asked, surprised.

“Good lord no, we’re…” Annabelle looked stuck for words.

“An unconventional family,” Cain helped. The nurse looked confused but not horrified.

“To each their own. We get all sorts in here, but as long as you love your baby, who am I to judge?” she said with ease. If I wasn’t already speechless, I would have been now.

The nurse went on to ask Annabelle a few questions about her diet, sleeping, cramping. Finally she had Annabelle climb onto the exam table, and we waited for the doctor. An Indian man with gentle eyes and a kind smile joined us, his white coat and stethoscope giving him away. He didn’t seem surprised to see Cain and me in the room; the nurse must have given him a heads-up.

“Annabelle, how are we doing today?” he asked with a low, calm voice.

“Nervous, I just want to know if everything is alright.” The doctor raised Annabelle’s top over her stomach, and I was compelled to look away and give her some privacy, but my eyes were glued to the tight round stomach that was definitely beginning to resemble a very pregnant woman.

“You’re just a little over twenty weeks, so we should get a good look at everything today.” The doctor squeezed what looked a lot like lubricant on her stomach. If he had applied it anywhere else, I would have bolted. He then began to run a smooth device around the skin of her tummy, watching a screen above our heads intently. After a little poking and prodding, he began to point things out. “There’s a hand,” he moved the device a little, “and another hand.” I couldn’t look away; my mind a tangle of disbelief as I came to the sharp realization that I was looking at a real baby, Cain’s baby. “Your baby looks healthy, two hands, two feet, ten fingers, and I’m fairly sure ten toes. Heart rate is perfect.” It was then I noticed the distinct sound of a rapid thump coming from a machine to Annabelle’s side. “Would you like to know the baby’s sex?”

“Yes!” we all practically shouted in unison.

The doctor laughed, and Annabelle smiled, her gaze settling on Cain who was gripping my hand so tight I’m sure the circulation had stopped long ago. I should have felt jealous at the tender expression they exchanged, but the fact he was holding me so tightly was reassuring, as if he needed me there, right at his side.

After a little maneuvering and muttering by the good doctor, he finally chuckled. “You have one very healthy baby boy.”

“Are you sure?” Cain exclaimed, his grip on my hand almost painful.

“That right there.” The doctor froze the video image and pointed to something that didn’t look anything what he was suggesting. “That is not a finger.”

A tear slipped down Annabelle’s cheek, and Cain released my hand to wipe it away.

“A boy,” she whispered.

“We’re going to have a son,” Cain replied, a little awe in his voice. This was the awkward moment I had been dreading. A moment where jealousy, disappointment, and fear rivaled with the utter joy of witnessing the growth of something so universally innocent and fragile. When Cain stepped back and engulfed me in a warm hug, Annabelle watched us with an unexplainable acceptance, and I knew I was about to join her with the tears.

“Think you’ll be able to handle another Cain?” Annabelle asked me as the doctor wiped away the goo from her tummy.

“I have some tricks up my sleeve,” I whispered, my voice tight with emotion. For a split second, I marveled at the continuing craziness that was my life. This baby had drawn Annabelle, Cain, and I together into a very unconventional family unit. I was healthy, sober, and precariously close to unparalleled happiness which made me realize this baby was not an inconvenience or something to be jealous of. He was to be treasured, and I’d be damned if I didn’t feel a connection to the unborn child.

“What do you think of this?” Annabelle asked, distracting me from the careful perusal of calming baby music CDs. Annabelle held up a tiny little jumpsuit designed to look like a minuscule tuxedo.

“I don’t think it will fit you.” I chuckled with a smile.

“Hilarious.” Annabelle smirked. We were shopping for baby supplies, just the two of us, me and Annabelle, alone. Annabelle had demanded a little girl time with me, sending Cain away to do whatever Cain does when he is effectively dismissed. He had graciously left me with his credit card, a kiss to my cheek, and a whisper to call if I needed anything. I have no doubt he saw the silent panic in my eyes as he dropped us off at the mall entrance. I have no idea what Annabelle was thinking by asking me to go baby shopping with her. Surely she had girlfriends she could so this with, even family.

“Why did you want me to come shopping with you?” I blurted out.

Annabelle looked outwardly calm at my question, but I still noticed a sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there a few moments ago. She shrugged. “I thought you’d be all happy to get your grubby hands on Cain’s credit card. We can visit that cute little lingerie store we saw on the way in, and do a little pre-natal baby shopping for ourselves.”

“I have my own money, but I’m not adverse to spending Cain’s. He owes me a hundred dollars from a bet he lost last month anyway. What I don’t understand is why you aren’t with your friends and family at such a special time. Surely your mom would like to be a part of all this.”

Annabelle turned away and for a moment I thought she was going to ignore my question. When she finally turned back to face me, all the bravado she had been wearing today was gone and in its place stood a fragile and scared girl. “I don’t have all that many friends right now, Violet. My parents are strict Catholics, and I was raised in a community of other strict Catholics, so as you can imagine, my being pregnant not only out of wedlock but to a man who has left me for another woman isn’t exactly a joyous moment for my family and friends. My mom and dad are supporting me as best they can, but they are embarrassed by me. Being a single mother isn’t the blissful, perfect life they had planned for me. They are trying and they haven’t tossed me out onto the streets, but I’m not about to push my luck.” She grabbed another cute little baby onesie off the stand; this one had a small hood with cute little teddy bear ears. “What about this one?”

I couldn't help but laugh. The hurt I saw in Annabelle’s face had me racing to embrace her in an awkward hug. “Oh shit, I wasn’t laughing at you. I swear it, Annabelle. It’s just that Cain has an onesie almost identical to that one.” I pulled back to look her in the eyes. “If you don’t buy it, I will. He’s going to love it.”

“Oh,” Annabelle stammered. “Okay, then.”

I sighed and released her from the affection I seemed so inept at giving. “I hate to put this so bluntly, but screw your family and their righteousness. You are going to make a wonderful mother, Cain is going to make a wonderful father, and I’m going to make a wonderful…other…mother.”

Annabelle’s sad eyes lit up. “Other mother, I like that.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying,” came an unfamiliar voice from behind us, “the jumpsuit is cute and all, but it’s highly impractical for a newborn. The hood can be dangerous when they are sleeping, and they’ll do that for the majority of the day for the first few months. It’d be better to buy it in a slightly larger size for when the baby is bigger and stick to warm, button up jumpsuits while the baby is little.”

Annabelle and I turned to stare at a man who watched us with a cute little girl swinging her legs in a stroller before him. He was a good few years older than both of us, with greying hair and warm hazel eyes. Older, but hot as hell in a Patrick Dempsey kind of way. He blushed at our silent attention.

“Sorry for intruding,” he said sheepishly. “But I made that mistake after Willow was born, bought the cutest outfits in threes. Shoes, hats, you name it, I bought it. I’ve got most of it at home, still in the packaging I purchased it in.” He automatically handed his daughter a sippie cup at her outstretched hand. “In fact, I’ve got a stack of stuff at home just sitting boxes, a crib, changing table, all sorts of stuff. I was going to give it all to Goodwill, but if you need anything, you’re more than welcome to go through it.”

Annabelle and I were apparently still speechless. It was me who recovered first. “Wow, that’s very generous of you. What if you and your wife decide to have another baby though?” The man rubbed the back of his neck, and an uneasy look crossed his features.

“My wife passed away not long after Willow was born. She had breast cancer and refused treatment so she could bring Willow safely into the world.”

It seemed I was speechless again. Thankfully Annabelle had recovered by now. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The man gave her a small smile and pulled his wallet out. “My name’s Toby, here is my card; my number’s on there. If you and your partner would like to come by sometime and see what I’ve got, just call and we’ll set up a time.”

I glanced at Annabelle as she took the card. I had never been renowned for playing Cupid, but right now, in this moment, I felt as though Toby was a gift from God that I could not ignore.

“Annabelle doesn’t have a partner, she’s single,” I spluttered out.

Annabelle looked absolutely horrified, but the slow grin on Toby’s face turned that mortified expression to a deep blush.

“I’m sorry to hear that; being a single parent is difficult,” Toby said, sincerity clearly evident in his deep voice.

“She’s not exactly a single parent. The father is still around, actually the father is my boyfriend. We’re like the Brady Bunch of the twenty-first century.” Apparently I had developed verbal diarrhea, and Annabelle’s audible groan confirmed that I might have said a little too much. Toby took it all in stride though.

“For a moment I thought maybe you were lesbians,” he confessed.

“If I was gay, I would have better sense than to date someone like Violet who clearly has the inability to shut her mouth,” Annabelle growled.

Toby chuckled as he leaned forward and handed Annabelle his card. Toby Winters, Graphics Designer. Huh, handsome, single father, knowledgeable in all things baby, employed. Toby was ticking all the boxes.

“Willow baby!” squealed a shop assistant, racing away from the now quiet desk. The little girl began kicking in an attempt to break free of her confining stroller. The woman was pretty with a head of strawberry blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was younger than Toby, probably a few years younger than me, twenty-three, twenty-four. I sighed with disappointment.

A handsome, single father like Toby appeared to be quite the catch; he also appeared already caught. Toby helped unbuckle Willow from her stroller, and she slid to her feet and stumbled towards the woman. “Oh my god, you grew overnight!” the woman exclaimed, then she tilted her head in thought. “Did your daddy give you ice cream last night?” The little girl laughed and attempted to say what sounded like ‘yes, ice cream’.

“Traitor,” Toby said fondly, watching his little girl with the woman. I let out a little sigh, taking in Toby and the woman who looked perfect together.

“My sister,” Toby eventually explained, with a nod in the woman’s direction. Ewww, not so perfect after all.

“Well, we had better get going,” Annabelle said, stuffing Toby’s card into her bag. “It was nice meeting you.” She took my arm and began dragging me toward the doorway.

“Likewise, and don’t forget to call me if you’re interested in looking at what baby stuff I have, or even if you want to chat. I work from home, so my schedule is flexible.”

I gave Toby a bright smile. “Oh, she’ll be calling soon, I promise.”

Once we were clear of the door, Annabelle let go of my arm. “What was all that about?” she hissed.

“That was about me helping to pave your path to Toby.”

“What does that even mean?” Annabelle sighed with a little irritation.

“It means, that handsome single father was totally into you, and I’ve laid the path. Now if you want to walk down it, all you have to do is call him.”

Annabelle shook her head. “There is no way he was interested in me. I’m pregnant.”

I raised a brow as I glanced at her obvious protruding stomach. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t miss that fact. You think pregnancy makes you repellant to male interest? Annabelle, just because you are cooking a baby in there doesn’t make you unattractive, and furthermore, Toby is a single daddy. You’re kind of a single mommy. You’re perfect for each other.”

When we reached the lingerie store Annabelle had previously mentioned, she pushed open the door and made a beeline for the maternity bras.

“I’m not sure now is the right time to be dating anyway,” she continued to argue.

“If anyone should realize life doesn’t always come perfectly packaged with a pretty bow, it should be you, Annabelle. Sometimes opportunities fall at our feet, and for one reason or another, you might just want to step around them and move on, but life is too short for stepping around chances. If you liked Toby, call him, if only for friendship and someone who has traveled the single parent road. He no doubt has plenty of valuable advice. He gave you the perfect in; you can go check out his baby stuff, grab some furniture to fill that empty nursery in your empty apartment you’re moving into next week, and take it from there.”

Annabelle nibbled nervously on her lower lip. “I’m going to get bigger though, like humongous bigger, and I’ve already got a couple of stretch marks.”

“Don’t even go there, sister!” I said with a raised hand. “Firstly, Toby had a wife who went through a pregnancy. I’m sure he’s already well aware of what happens to a woman’s body during this process, and secondly, don’t you dare think of yourself as anything but beautiful. You are growing a freaking life inside you, Annabelle. Do you realize how amazing that is? Nothing is more sacred and natural than that.”

“Well, haven’t you become all baby embracing and confident this morning,” Annabelle said a little too smugly.

“Bite me,” I murmured with a grin. The truth was, helping people see the possibilities before them was much easier than seeing my own. I guess it’s a little easier to see things from the outside looking in.

“Do you think your jealousy stems from the fact Cain had an intimate relationship with Annabelle, or the fact that she is carrying his baby?” The woman who had asked the question sat before me, her hands holding a cup of coffee, absorbing the warmth from the mug no doubt. It was snowing today, the New York winter still holding tight well into the New Year. Dr. Witney Scott came highly recommended by Dr. Brightman, my rehab psychiatrist. With the realization I was going to be entangled in the life of a delicate baby, I became all the more dedicated to staying healthy, and finding a local doctor to ‘chat’ with from time to time was important. No matter how well I was doing, some days I still struggled, and it would likely be an ongoing struggle for the rest of my life. My feelings of inadequacy were so deeply rooted I thought they were most likely part of my bone marrow now. Although most days, I ignored the ugly taunting voices in my head that drove me to get good and high in an attempt to silence them, some days it all just seemed too hard. Yesterday any thoughts of Annabelle and the baby were met with a smile; however, today my mood had swung like a pendulum and jealousy had taken up residence in my heart. I hated the wildly swinging emotions and I hated not being able to control them. Talking to Dr. Brightman had helped me sort through my confusing emotions; it helped clear my head, and I realized I actually missed those sessions. Cain had been hurt that I wanted to talk to someone other than him and had gone as far as to offer to come with me to this appointment, but he didn’t understand there were things on my mind that were often ugly, a side of myself I didn’t want him to see. Like the side of me that clutched to the jealousy of Annabelle.

I pondered Dr. Scott’s question. Seeing Annabelle and Cain together that first time had cut me like a knife, their engagement had dug the knife in a little deeper, but that wound had begun to heal over and their friendship and connection no longer cut me like a raw, painful gash. But the thought of the baby growing inside Annabelle was a new wound, and it hurt deeply.

“The baby,” I confessed. There was no judgment or discrimination on Dr. Scott’s face at my acknowledgement.

“And is your jealousy directed at the baby or Annabelle?” The thought of any harm coming to the baby, any misdirected hate or fury, made me feel ill. No, my jealousy was solely for Annabelle.

“Annabelle,” I quietly confessed.

Dr. Scott leaned a little closer. “You are jealous of the pregnancy that has forged a bond between Cain and Annabelle.” It was a statement, not a question. I nodded in agreement.

“I’m such a bitch. He left her, his pregnant fiancé, for me, and I’m still jealous.” I shook my head, deeply disappointed in my irrepressible feelings.

“You’re not a bitch, Violet. Any woman would feel the same in your predicament. Feelings and emotions have a funny way of voicing themselves whether your head tells you they are ridiculous or not. It is okay to have these feelings, and you are a very intelligent woman for recognizing and facing them.” Dr. Scott leaned back in her chair. “It’s the guilt that gets you most though, isn’t it?” My eyes widened a fraction in surprise. “You feel responsible for breaking them up, ruining their chance at a happy life together, dividing a family.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “If I hadn’t come back into Cain’s life, he would have had his happily ever after with Annabelle. They would have been a family, a real family, and Annabelle’s virtuous church going family wouldn’t be shunning her, and this baby would be born into a family who loved him and cherished him.”

Dr. Scott’s eyes softened. “Violet, the baby is going to be born into a family who love him and cherish him. He has a mother, a father, and a stepmother, all of whom are going to spoil him rotten, no doubt, as is every parent’s right. Do you have any idea how many clients I have that come from failed or failing marriages?” I shook my head. “Let’s just say my vacation house in Miami is built on a foundation of lies, deceit, and adultery. I don’t want you to think that marriage is a failure waiting to happen, but too many people get married for the wrong reasons, too many people stay with the wrong person for what they construe as the right reasons; it creates a world of misery, not only for the partners. It has a ripple effect. People surrounding them get caught in the currents and are often hurt as a result.” Dr. Scott sighed. “You need to let go of the guilt, Violet; otherwise, it is going to sit on your shoulders and destroy not only you but Cain as well. Ripple effect, remember?” My sullen gaze sprang to the doctor’s, understanding finally taking root somewhere inside me. If I allowed this guilt and jealousy to control me, it would affect the people around me. If I wanted to try and make the relationship Cain and I were building work, if I wanted to help him with his son and be a much needed friend to Annabelle, I needed to brush aside the guilt and accept the hand I had been dealt. I felt my shoulders drop as I relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Dr. Scott gave me a knowing smile. “I’m assuming you are handling sobriety well?” she asked.

“As well as anyone, I guess. I had a slip a month or so back and had a few too many drinks. I acquired some cocaine.” I chanced a look in the doctor’s direction, but as expected, her expression gave nothing away. “I didn’t take the drugs; I had someone get rid of them.”

Her smile broadened. “Sounds to me like it was barely a slip, and it is normal to have them. Like I said though, you are an intelligent woman, Violet, strong too. You are going to be just fine.”

It’s funny how one person’s opinion can bolster your confidence. I knew Cain had every bit of faith in me, and Harry and my dad, but this stranger who I had just met, this person who was educated in seeing truths that not even the bearer could see, believed in me, and that encouraged me to fight a little harder not only for myself, but for my family and friends.

While I softly sang and danced my way around the small kitchen, Mya was plugged into her headphones, her head, as usual, buried in a book. Cain sat on the recliner, his guitar in his lap and a notebook by his side. He was definitely writing a song, but every time I tried to take a peek, he either distracted me with kisses and wandering hands, or slipped away with the book where it would disappear to goodness knows where. It had been frustrating the daylights out of me; I hated surprises. But after my session with Dr. Scott today, I felt deliciously light and stress free. Not even Cain’s secretive song writing could sully my mood. When my phone rang, I swiped the screen without even looking.

“Violet, have you spoken to Cain today?” came Annabelle’s voice.

“Hello, Annabelle, I am fine. How are you and baby blob doing?” Cain glanced my way with a smile, knowing my new nickname for the baby wasn’t a favorite of Annabelle’s.

“Glad you are fine, baby is fine, and he is not a blob. Have you spoken to Cain?”

“I have indeed. In fact, I called him a secretive, cagey douche not more than ten minutes ago. He’s writing a song, and he won’t let me see. Maybe if you told him to share it with me, he would,” I thought out loud. Cain seemed willing to give Annabelle anything she wanted right now, explaining his need to keep her happy was simply tangled with his need to protect his unborn baby.

“Did he tell you the baby name I’ve picked out?”

“No!” I gasped. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” I flicked the phone on speaker, and Cain called out a hello.

“Don’t you hello me, you name hating ass,” Annabelle snapped.

Uh-oh, I had a terrible feeling I was being shoved into the middle of a mommy-daddy dispute.

“I don’t hate all names, just that one,” Cain calmly stated.

“Hit me with it,” I demanded.

“Angus,” huffed Annabelle indignantly.

I paused before responding. “Angus?”

“Oh my god, you hate it, too!” Annabelle screeched.

“Hate is too strong a word,” I said soothingly.

Cain put down his guitar and joined me in the kitchen, his arms wrapping around my waist. I had noticed whenever the baby came up in conversation, Cain would move to touch me, hug me, kiss me. Perhaps it was his way of reassuring me. Whatever his motive, I liked it. “Angus immediately makes me think of has-been rockers with greasy hair who insist on wearing a ridiculous school uniform for boys.” Annabelle was quiet for a moment.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she murmured.

“Angus, from AC/DC,” Cain answered.

I heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Okay, that destroyed Angus for me. You win.”

“It’s not about winners or losers, Belle,”—his nickname for Annabelle that had once prickled my delicate heart, strangely enough no longer bothered me—”it’s about finding a name for our boy that resembles the strong, courageous man that he’ll become.”

Annabelle snorted. “Perhaps we should name him Thor then.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I like Thor.”

“You would,” Annabelle sighed.

“Did you call Toby?” I asked in a sing song voice.

Annabelle went quiet.

“Who’s Toby?” Cain asked lazily from over my shoulder.

“No one,” Annabelle replied too quickly.

“Who’s Toby?” Cain repeated, but his time he was a little more interested.

“A really handsome, sweet single father—”

“You’re assuming he is single,” Annabelle cut me off.

“Who offered a whole stack of unused baby stuff to Annabelle.”

“You’re helping Annabelle hook up?” Cain asked, the incredulous tone of his voice had me glancing at him from over my shoulder.

“I’m not hooking up with anybody.” Annabelle’s voice in the background suddenly became nothing but muted noise.

“You have a problem with Annabelle dating?” I wondered.

“Well, yeah,” Cain said in a tone that suggested I should have known better to even ask.

I drew away and put my hands on my hips, staring right at his uncompromising gaze. “Why do you have a problem with it, exactly?” I said, my voice holding steady even though a surge of jealousy was brewing dangerously close to the edge. Why did Cain have a problem with Annabelle dating? Did he still have feelings for her?

“He doesn’t have a problem with me dating,” Annabelle argued, still on speaker phone in the background.

“Damn straight I have a problem with you dating,” Cain snapped.

My jaw dropped open.

“Oh good lord, give me a break,” Annabelle groaned. “What do you think about the house, Violet?”

I glanced back at the phone in confusion. “What house?”

“You didn’t tell her you brought a house?” Annabelle said with a raised voice.

“You bought a house?” I almost growled.

“We’re not talking about me right now; we’re talking about Belle, the mother of my child, that you are trying to set up on a date.”

“Nobody is setting me up on a date, and we’ve moved on, Cain. We are now talking about the house you bought here in Seattle that you are moving into before the baby is born. I can’t believe you haven’t talked to Violet about this yet.”

My jaw, which had fallen open with disbelief, snapped shut. Cain grabbed the phone and flicked it off speaker.

“We’ll talk later, Belle.” He disconnected the call.

“You bought a house, in Seattle?”

“Of course I did, you didn’t think I was going to be a long distance father who only saw his kid for holidays and birthdays?”

In all honesty, I hadn’t even given it a moment’s passing thought. Stupid of me, considering I knew very well Cain wanted to be a hands on father. It would make sense for him to live in Seattle, close to Annabelle and the baby, but the fact he hadn’t even bothered to discuss it with me stung.

“Were you planning on telling me, or were you just going to send me one of those cute little change of address cards once you were happily settled?”

Cain raised a brow. “Sarcasm isn’t a pretty color on you, Violet,” he said mockingly.

I couldn’t even find the words to express the anger and hurt I felt right now. “Why can’t Annabelle date?” I blurted out instead.

“Because I don’t want some stranger involved with the raising of my child.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “So it’s okay for you to date but not Annabelle?”

“I’d prefer to meet the guy, get to know him first. I need to know that whoever Belle chooses to have a sleepover with is responsible. I need to know he won’t hurt my kid.”

“Like making sure he’s not an addict or something?” I spat out. I was hurt and confused and being a little irrational. A small part of me recognized Cain’s need to protect his son, another part of me, a bigger more powerful part of me, was pissed off and needed to lash out.

“Don’t even think of going there,” Cain snapped. “That’s completely different, and you know it.”

“Or do you feel a sense of possession over Annabelle because she was once yours and is now the mother of your child? Do you prefer the idea that she is completely dependent on you?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“For someone who has always been so goddamned intelligent, you have suddenly become thick as mud, Cain.”

Cain stormed past me, grabbing his guitar from the couch and stuffing the small writing pad into his back pocket. “So mature of you, Violet, to resort to insults.”

“Fuck you, Cain. Get the fuck out of my apartment!” He was already headed for the door but spun back around and stalked towards me. I stood my ground, not prepared to cower in his anger. I knew he would never hurt me. I had complete trust in that even if I was pissed as hell at him right now. He grabbed the back of my neck and pressed a hard demanding kiss to my lips. I didn’t push him away, but I refused to let him in, my lips held tightly closed.

“For the record, I’m not running away, I’m not abandoning you, but I think we both need a little space right now before one of us says something we’ll regret. I’ll call you later.” He turned back for the door.

I was shaking with rage. “I hate you right now,” I growled through gritted teeth.

Cain’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t stop. He spared me a quick glance as he pulled the door open. “Like I said, one of us might say something we’ll regret.” With that, he left.

“Arrogant, piece of shit, fucktard, prick…” I incoherently spat out every curse word I could possibly think of. When I ran out of words to growl, at nobody but thin air, I turned towards the living room and drew up short when I noticed Mya sitting quietly with her earphones around her neck.

“Wow, that was way more exciting than then the human nervous system,” she murmured.

“Can you believe that conceited bastard?” I asked, dumbfounded.

Mya shook her head. “He’s an asshole, all men are. Maybe you should think about becoming a lesbian.” Her gaze was serious for about a minute and then she smiled. “If you’re curious…”

I laughed, her teasing breaking through my haze of anger. “You’re an idiot,” I chuckled softly.

“You’re the idiot dating the arrogant male,” she grunted as she pulled her headphones back on.

Quiet fury still bubbled under my skin, but it was a distant irritating anger rather than a volcano ready to erupt. With the anger subdued, I was able to think more rationally. I understood Cain wanting to protect Annabelle and his son from predators. I agreed with his need to meet any potential sleepovers for Annabelle. I needed to hear him say it though; otherwise, my constant undercurrent of jealousy would jump to other conclusions. Like I understood Cain’s desire to protect his family, he had to understand my hurt at not being involved in his decision to move back to Seattle. I loved New York, it was my home, but New York wouldn’t be the same without Cain in it. I would follow him to the ends of the earth. He only had to ask me, and he hadn’t.

It was only yesterday that Cain had stormed out of my apartment. Less than twelve hours of sitting, waiting, watching my damn phone, begging it to ring. Mya, the voice of reason, suggested I call, but my stubborn pride wouldn’t allow it. I was now lying on my bed, a bottle of whiskey propped against the pillow in front of me. I shouldn’t have left the apartment angry. I was supposed to have gone for a run to shake off my unsettled feelings, instead I had walked into the first liquor store I had jogged by and purchased the bottle. Now I just lay there staring at it, waiting for a taunting mouth to appear on the side of the bottle, begging me to enjoy the smooth burn of the liquor on the back of my throat.

“I’m gone not even a day and you’ve already got someone else in your bed,” a familiar voice murmured from the doorway behind me.

Although my heart leapt and raced at merely the sound, I didn’t move. I just kept staring at the bottle, taking in the flat, cool glass that housed the liquid gold. There were no answers inside this bottle, just the promise of detachment. The bed dipped beside me, but I didn’t look away from the whiskey.

“I don’t quite understand. Your problem was never alcohol; it was cocaine. Why don’t you allow yourself to drink?” Cain asked.

I nibbled on my lip, recalling my sessions at the rehabilitation facility. “Alcohol lowers inhibitions and affects the decision making portion of our brain. What someone might do under the influence of alcohol they ordinarily would never do sober. I was more than happy to do a line sober, but cocaine was always one hell of a party when dressed up with liquor. Removing the liquor helps remove some of the temptation.”

Cain didn’t reply for a long time. Finally, his familiar hand grabbed the bottle and placed it on the bedside table. Removing it seemed to break the trance I had been caught in. “So, if you were to have just one glass you would automatically want to do a line?” I risked a glance at him. He looked tired, the dark bruises under his eyes a tale of a restless night. Beside the bottle of whiskey, now sitting on my bedside table, Cain had placed a single purple iris.

“I’ve only risked a drink that one time in Seattle, and at first I was okay. I just wanted to drink enough that I would forget things.” I laid my head on my arm and watched as Cain stretched out and lay down beside me. “I went too far though, saw an opportunity to get some blow, and didn’t hesitate to run with it.”

“But you didn’t use it,” Cain reminded me.

“I wanted to,” I whispered. “I wanted to feel numb.”

“Because of Annabelle and the baby,” he said regretfully.

I didn’t want him to pity my insecurities, but he needed to know the truth. He needed to understand why buying this house in Seattle hurt me so much, it almost made me physically ill. He had inevitably chosen Annabelle and his baby as his home, not me.

“Yes, because of Annabelle and the baby,” I admitted. “Seeing another woman carry your baby...it’s like a knife to my chest.” A tear slipped over the arch of my nose. “And it’s your first, your first born, your first son, it’s special, and you are doing it with someone else. It hurts so much sometimes I can’t see straight for the jealousy. I hate that I feel this way, but I can’t help it.” Cain stretched out the arm that his head rested on and hooked a finger around one of mine. Such a small connection that I felt through every fiber of my body.

“I don’t know how to make this right,” he whispered. “I don’t know how to take your pain away, Violet.” Cain didn’t even try to hide the agony in his voice. “I’ve spent over half my life trying to take care of you, protect you, and I don’t know how to fix this.”

I brushed away another tear. “Because this isn’t something you can fix; this is something I need to deal with, and that’s why I went to see a therapist.”

Cain nodded in understanding. “And I got in a huff because you wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

“I couldn’t—”

He placed a finger over my lips, effectively silencing me. “I know, baby, I understand. You needed to talk it through with someone outside the circle. Sometimes an outside perspective helps you see things more clearly.” He pulled his hand away and shook his head angrily. “And I went and bought a fucking house without even talking to you about it. You think I chose Annabelle and the baby over you.”

“It’s the right decision. They’re your family, and they should be your priority.” Cain grabbed my leg and pulled me the small distance towards him, hooking my leg over his hip. We were so close now I could feel his breath on my cheek.

“Violet, you are so a part of me and my life; there is no Cain Everett without Violet Trivoli. You are more than my family, you are my home. The truth is, I didn’t say anything about the house because I was terrified you wouldn’t want to leave New York. I know how much you love it here; it’s your safe place. You never partied when you were here, you never did drugs, and you’re at peace here from the moment you arrive to the moment you leave.” The weight of his arm over my waist was like a blanket of warmth and security.

“It felt like home here. We’d come back and settle into a routine, and it always felt like a real family home without the alcohol and drugs that I grew up with. I always assumed it was the place that settled me, but I realized, when you left, it wasn’t the place at all…it was the person. Without you, it’s just another city, just another apartment, another roof, another wall. It’s having you in it with me that makes it home. It’s you that makes me feel at peace.”

Cain’s gaze flittered over my face. “And then I went and screwed it up by adding another woman and a baby to that peace.”

“I won’t say it doesn’t rock my peacefulness, because that would be a lie, but I’m learning to deal with it. Having you buy that house in Seattle without even asking me hurt like a bitch. Then having you get all high and mighty about Annabelle dating just added another layer of hurt to the already teetering wall of pain.”

Cain sighed, leaning his forehead against mine. “I really know how to make a spectacular ass of myself, don’t I?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “You do.”

Cain smiled. “Baby, I don’t want Annabelle the way you think I do. She’s a good woman and will make a great mother, but I don’t want her as my lover or wife. If I did, I’d be with her right now rather than lying here with my girlfriend who chose a bottle of whiskey as her new bed partner.” It was my turn to smile, although it was a weak one. “If Belle choses to date, that’s her business and I would never interfere, but I would like to meet anyone she chooses to get serious with. Any man who’s going to be sleeping under the same roof as my son needs to be okayed by you and me.” That left a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Then we should tell Annabelle about my problems with drugs. It’s only fair that she gets the same opportunity.” Cain ran his fingers through my hair.

“You don’t have a problem with drugs any longer, Violet. You’re sober; you’re doing just fine though I would suggest we keep quiet about the staring competitions with bottles of liquor.”

“I’m a recovering addict, Cain. I could slip at any time.”

“But you won’t. You have me to help you, and I won’t let you slip.” His gaze suddenly became intense, in that deep, penetrating way that only Cain’s ice blue eyes could. “I want you with me baby, I want you in Seattle, I want you in my home, I want you in my bed, always. I need you to trust me to take care of you, of us.”

My breathing hitched as I took a long, deep breath. “You’re my home Cain, I’m not happy unless I’m home, and I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anybody.”

His hand gripped my hair a little too tight, and he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “I was so scared you wouldn’t leave New York.” The enormity of the fear he had been carrying hit me. I closed the small gap between us and kissed him tenderly, trying to convey in one kiss how unfounded his fear was. “We never had trouble talking in the past. How come we feel the need to tiptoe around each other now?” he whispered between kisses.

“Because we’re scared of losing each other again,” I calmly stated. Cain rolled me until he was pressing my back into the bed, his larger body looming over mine.

“I need you,” he said, his hands becoming desperate as he pulled my shirt over my head. “I need to feel you and know you’re here and everything is okay.”

I wanted nothing more than to soothe that need. Matching his desperation, I peeled his shirt off and allowed Cain to divest me of my shorts while he swiftly shoved his jeans down his legs. Then he was back over me, covering my skin with heated touches and frantic kisses. When he entered me, it wasn’t slow and sweet; it was hard and fast, a claiming of each other’s bodies. As much as Cain needed to feel the intimate connection with me, I needed to feel it, too. I met his thrusts as I lifted my hips, our kiss never breaking. Cain was always a vocal lover, whispering wicked words that flipped a switch inside me, turning a rising heat into a scorching fire. This time was no different.

“Damn you’re hot,” he groaned. “So fucking wet and so fucking hot.” My own whimpers and moans joined the chorus of Cain’s loving. “I can’t get enough of you.” He thrust hard against me to emphasize exactly what he couldn’t get enough of, and I groaned loudly. “You like that baby?” he purred, pounding into me a little harder. Words eluded me but I obviously didn’t need them as Cain’s movements became more frenzied. We made love, and it was as wild and impatient as it was profound and passionate. When my entire body leapt and shuddered with the power of my orgasm, Cain followed right behind me with a long, low growl. His body didn’t stop moving as I tumbled down from the heights of passion, instead his gradual slowing assault continued to wring out spasms from deep within the walls that surrounded his hardness. Finally, Cain became still.

“I love you so much. I don’t think I could survive losing you,” I whispered. I felt the smile on Cain’s cheek pressed up against mine.

“Lucky for you, because you’re stuck with me, and I have no intention of letting you out of my sight ever again. I don’t care if that sounds stalkerish; you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

I still felt a small buzz of anxiety somewhere deep inside, fear that it might all come crashing down, but I was too tired to acknowledge it. Cain rolled us to one side, which forced his body to slip from mine, but he kept me held against his chest. For the first time since Cain had left the day before, it didn’t hurt to breathe. Cain fell asleep before me. I lay awake beside him for a long time, savoring his calm presence. That’s what Cain had always been for me, a warm, solid rock, always steady and composed. Whenever I fell into the arms of cocaine to escape my own insecurities and fears, Cain would be there to take my hand and pick me back up again. It was time for me to stand tall, strong, and steady beside him. I had never allowed myself to believe I was worthy of Cain, but he had wormed his way into my heart long ago. He had not only forced me to open my eyes and see the truth, he had forced me to believe it. I had no doubt where I belonged now. On the days when the world was too heavy, too dark, and too cold, I knew I had something other than drugs to turn to. I had Cain.

“What the hell is that?” I gasped, my eyes horrified by the dangerous looking contraption before me.

“Breast pump,” Annabelle said, tossing the device onto the bed.

“For what?” I exclaimed. “You’re not a cow. You don’t get hooked up to a milking device!”

Annabelle giggled and rubbed her enormous tummy. “I might have trouble feeding the blob naturally. If that’s the case, I can express the milk and feed him with a bottle. If he stays with you and Cain, which he will for my own sanity, you can’t produce milk, so I’ll have to prepare some for you.”

I smiled at Annabelle’s grudging acceptance of the nickname, blob, which she now used freely. The bed before me was full of an assortment of baby items. It was Annabelle’s baby shower, and we were having a party in the warm sun of Cain’s parents’ backyard. Annabelle’s own apartment was too small, and even though her parents were here today, they certainly didn’t offer to host the party. Mine and Cain’s house still looked like a tornado had hit it, with boxes everywhere. The only furniture we had taken the time to set up was the bed. Mind you, between us we didn’t have enough furniture to fill the three bedroom sprawling home that was less than fifteen minutes from Annabelle’s. Three months had passed since Cain and I had argued over Annabelle dating and him buying a house without talking to me. Those three months had passed in a blur of activity. Cain and I had been playing gigs while trying to move our limited furnishings to Seattle.

We still argued often, but those disagreements were always followed up with makeup sex. Just like the makeup sex we had in our kitchen this morning when Cain accused me of leaving one of his Converse sneakers back in New York. I smiled as I recollected the fast and furious passionate moment that ended with us laughing like carefree teenagers over the thought of preparing food on that kitchen counter.

Annabelle had six weeks left before her due date, and I couldn’t imagine she could get any bigger. She was enormous, beautiful, but enormous. Her stomach was so tight I thought it might pop if something sharp prodded it.

“I guess we are going to have to set up a nursery at some stage,” I wondered out loud.

Annabelle waved the idea away. “You’ve got plenty of time. Toby assures me the blob will be attached to my boobs for the first couple of months.”

I gave Annabelle a wicked smile. “So, Toby, huh? Did he take the edge off all that horny baby energy you had going on?”

Annabelle blushed. “You are such a perv,” she laughed. “And no, we haven’t…you know…done it.” Annabelle began putting the gifts into a hamper Cain’s mom had loaned her.

“Well, as long as he took the edge off.”

Annabelle threw a big, soft teddy bear at me as the door cracked open.

“Hey, apparently there’s cake,” Cain said with a grin.

“Oh damn, cake!” Annabelle dropped the pile of toys in her arms and pushed Cain aside to get past him.

“Never stand between a pregnant woman and her cake,” I laughed. He pulled me out of the room, kissing my forehead. “Did you know they have these machines you can hook yourself up to so you can express the milk straight from your boobs?”

Cain looked a little miffed as his gaze dropped to my breasts. “You mean I’m the machine, right?” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh god, you’re gross.” I groaned.

On the back veranda, Cain’s cool, calm, collective parents stood with Annabelle’s much less cool, calm, collective parents. Harry was helping slice a piece of cake for Annabelle who, much to Toby’s amusement, was bouncing around in front of the cake like a pregnant bobble doll. The rest of the guests were soaking up the warmth of the sun beaming down on the chairs and tables spread around the backyard. Once Annabelle was stilled and silenced with cake, Harry stepped forward towards Cain and me.

“I still can’t believe you are going to be a fucking father,” he said quietly, trying hard not to let Annabelle’s virtuous parents overhear his wicked tongue. “At least you can warn junior about the dangers of swimming in hotel fountains, right?” Cain tried to give Harry an intimidating frown, but it didn’t really work. Cain was too happy to be irritated.

“And he’s got a wardrobe full of onesies to choose from for daddy-son onesie day.”

Cain gave me an arched brow. “Onesie day?”

“Every Sunday. It was mine and Annabelle’s idea. You and blob can dress in matching onesies and do your daddy-son bonding thing. All those onesies I bought you will come in handy for something after all.”

Cain grinned. “I can do that!”

“I’m damn fucking proud of you,” Harry said so quietly I almost missed it. His teasing smile was gone, and in its place was the sincere friend Cain and I had come to know well.

“Don’t go getting all soft on us now, Harry,” Cain chuckled.

“I mean it, Cain. You’ve both come a long way, and you’ve done well. I’m proud of you both.” Harry ran a hand through his short cropped hair. “You’ve both made mistakes, you learned from them, you got your shit together, and you are going to make a great family, both of you and Annabelle.” The small group of family and friends standing around us had heard Harry’s heart felt words and turned to watch, smiling at his kindness.

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Harry. You’re a good friend, the best,” I said a little awkwardly. I wasn’t used to warm and fuzzies with Harry. He, Cain, and I had more of a teasing relationship.

Harry smiled at me. “And no dying this year, honey. I don’t think my heart could take that again.”

At his words, a heavy silence fell around us.

“What are you talking about?” Cain murmured, his gaze moving from Harry’s face, which looked suitably chagrinned, and mine which no doubt had become a touch pale.

“Nothing, just stating a fact. If anything were to happen to either of you, I’d be out of a fucking job,” Harry said quickly, trying to cover his slip of tongue.

Cain had no idea of the horrifying reality of my overdose last year. It had never come up, and I wanted to keep it that way. I knew it would only add to Cain’s guilt over leaving me that night, and I had made Harry promise not to say anything.

“What did you mean die again?” Cain’s arm slipped away as he turned to face Harry. “What the hell is he talking about, Violet?”

I shook my head, glancing nervously at the small crowd who was now definitely watching us with curiosity. “Not now,” I whispered.

Cain used a finger under my chin to lift my gaze. “You fucking died?” He looked completely and utterly shocked. I felt my dad’s presence at my side, and I tried to soak in his staunch, steady presence.

“Not now, Cain,” he gently reinforced my plea. “It’s a talk best left for when you have more privacy.” Cain looked to my father, then Harry.

“Does everyone know except for me?” Annabelle had struggled to her feet at some stage and now stood at Cain’s side, an equally shaken look on her face.

“You d…died?” she stammered.

I pulled Cain’s hand away from my face and took a step away, suddenly feeling suffocated by their combined distress. “We’ll talk about it later,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cain asked, hurt clearly evident in his voice.

“How did you die? Were you in an accident?” Annabelle asked with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” Harry muttered.

“What, you’re sorry you let me in on your little secret?” Cain laughed incredulously.

“No, I’m not sorry you found out. I thought you should have known. In fact, I tried to get a hold of you the night it happened, but you vanished. I told your parents Violet was in hospital.”

I glanced at Cain’s mom and dad who held a world of pity in their eyes. It made me visibly wince.

“You were in the hospital?” Annabelle shrieked. “Will someone tell me what the hell happened?”

“I overdosed!” I said, my voice calmer than I felt. The heavy silence around us made me shuffle nervously on my feet. My dad blew out a long, drawn out sigh, and remained right by my side. I glanced at Annabelle whose mouth hung open in shock. “I was a drug addict, cocaine was my dish of choice. I took it into my body like you would drink water. That particular night, I had a cocktail of whiskey, pills, and cocaine, I let two men take advantage of me, and as I began to sober up and realize what had happened, what I’d done, I snorted more cocaine. I inhaled until my nose bled and I lost consciousness. I was dumped in an emergency room, and I died on the table.”

Annabelle’s eyes went from distress, to outright anger as we stood in uncomfortable silence. “You should have told me,” she growled, her fury settled on Cain. “You were so worried about Toby and what sort of bad influence he might have had on our baby, and you’re shacked up with a drug addict.”

Cain’s head whipped to one side, his own anger directed Annabelle’s way. “She’s not a damn drug addict. She’s sober; she went to rehab. I trust Violet with my life. I’d trust her with my son’s life.”

Annabelle took a step away from us, shaking her head. “All good and well for you, Cain, but I don’t trust her. What if she has a bad day and gets high while my son is with her.”

“Our son,” Cain growled.

“I’d never do that,” I said with staunch determination.

“Addicts often fall back into old habits.” Annabelle’s righteous Catholic parents finally stepped up to their daughter’s side. They chose now to participate in her life, in her pregnancy, and of course it was to put me down. “It’s a risk that can’t be taken with a child around.”

The look Cain gave Annabelle’s mother was scathing.

“Cain, it’s not fair. If it was Toby who had the drug addiction, what would you say?”

“I’d take the time to get to know him, I would make sure I knew what kind of a person he was before I assured myself he wouldn’t be a threat to our son, just like you truly know Violet isn’t a threat to him.”

Annabelle actually considered his words.

“She grew up in a home of sin; it’s all she knows,” Annabelle’s father joined in.

“I suggest you be careful whose home you throw rocks at, George,” growled my dad. I wondered for a moment who he was talking to. Then it clicked, George was Annabelle’s father. “I know for a fact that your childhood wasn’t all rainbows and pussycats. Yet you seem to be just fine now.”

George didn’t seem as though he was ready to back down, but he didn’t say anymore either.

“I’m sorry, Cain, I don’t feel comfortable with Violet being around our baby, not right now. Maybe after a while…”

“Are you giving me an ultimatum, Annabelle? My child or Violet?”

“There should be no choice,” Annabelle whispered.

“She’s right, family first,” I agreed. Annabelle looked a little shocked that I had agreed with her. “What? You thought I’d demand he choose me over his own child?” I shook my head in dismay. “You really don’t know me at all.” I took another step away from the group who all watched me with a mixture of shame, disgust, and empathy. My dad stepped back with me, his hand still firmly wrapped around mine.

“What are you saying?” Cain asked in a low voice, stepping towards me as I stepped away.

The world around us narrowed until there was only Cain and me. I shook my head, tears pooling, falling, the hurt I had put behind me when Cain and I had left New York to start out life together in Seattle was back, with a vengeance.

“You shouldn’t have to choose, and I’d never make you,” I said with a gravelly voice.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you go,” Cain said with conviction.

“And I couldn’t live with the guilt of you making the wrong choice. You’re Cain Everett. You do the right thing, Cain, always. You love your son like nothing I’ve ever seen, and he’s not even here yet. I won’t ruin that for you. Can’t you see I’m doing this for you?”

Cain shook his head with frustration, then his disbelieving eyes flew to mine as something inside snapped and understanding bled into his features. “For me? No, no, no, baby, this is all wrong. Fuck!” He angrily ran his fingers through his hair and took a desperate step towards me. “It was me, Violet. I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you, do you see that now? I made mistakes, I screwed this up, and that’s on me, Violet. I know you’re scared, I know you want to give me this to me, I know you think it’s the right thing to do, but it’s not. I need you, baby. I can’t do this without you.” Cain had stopped moving, his eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered, pleading, and it tugged at my heart, begging me to move forward, back into his arms where I belonged.

“I have to.” Cain’s first tear slipped unchecked down his flushed cheek as I turned. By the time I reached the car my own silent tears had become a torrent of painful emotion. My father caught up with me at some point, ushering me into the passenger seat. I continued to cry so hard it physically hurt. Once home, I curled up beside my dad on the old tattered couch, where he had attempted to soothe my hurt and tears so many times as a little girl. His hand was a constant presence on my back, as if quietly trying to absorb my suffering. I leaned into his warmth and wept. The tears of a woman who had lived through pain, who had fought back from not only death but the despairing pits of hell, and yet a woman who had never been so completely and utterly broken.

I sat at the kitchen table and pushed my eggs around on my plate in an attempt to make it look like I had eaten. It had been a week since I had walked away from Cain, leaving him with fresh tears on his face and agony in his eyes, as he watched me walk away. I had never once seen Cain cry, and every time I recalled that moment, the knife in my heart twisted a little more. My heart had been through a myriad of emotions this past week; sorrow, betrayal, anger, and finally sorrow again. After all these years I had come to the realization that Cain wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t the hero I had always envisioned, and somehow that made me mad, mostly at myself for not realizing sooner. I was frustrated that I had been placed in the heart wrenching predicament to walk away from Cain. I was tired, I was miserable, but mostly, I missed Cain. Harry had been by almost every day to apologize. He wouldn’t be coming by anymore though; he was leaving for New York today. He had looked almost as bad as I did. I didn’t blame him though; I had asked him to keep an impossible secret. Relationships laced with secrets would never work, the secret would simply fester until someone uncovered it. My mind teetered with the notion that this was all my fault, but then clarity would resettle on my scorched emotions, and I honestly knew I wasn’t to blame. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t point the finger at anyone; this was just how it was. A series of moments and events that had led us to here and now.

My phone had rung hot for the first two days. Cain, Cain’s mom, Cain’s dad, Annabelle…I ignored them all until ignoring them hurt me more than I was already hurting. Then I turned the phone off. My dad lowered the ringer on his home phone and shielded me as much as possible from the calls that began coming from there, too. When the calls went unanswered, Cain had simply turned up on our doorstep. Dad had carefully explained that I just needed a little space right now, I needed time. I couldn’t imagine any amount of time ever healing the gaping hole in my heart. Nothing could take away my pain, not my dad’s steadfast presence, not my music, not even sleep where I was plagued with nightmares. I was already losing weight, and my eyes were ringed with a darkness I hadn’t seen in a long time. It was a little frightening to see my body react to the sadness this way, but inevitably, I didn’t care. I didn’t even consider reaching out for the drugs that might take me away from this hurt. It was the drugs that got me here in the first place. I hated them. I hated the weakness that led me to them. In this moment, I was certain I would never again entertain the illusion that drugs had the answers to all my woes, when they were, in fact, the start, middle, and end to all my problems.

“Will you do something with me today?” I hadn’t even realized dad was sitting beside me, so absorbed in my own misery and loathing. “You don’t have to get dressed up or anything. We’ll be going someplace quiet.” I glanced over at him and noticed the unusual lidded ceramic vase that sat on the table before him. “I couldn’t bring myself to lay her ashes to rest. I thought if I kept them, I was keeping her with me, but I understand now that she will always be with me.” He raised his hand to his chest. “She’ll always be here. I only have to think of her, and I see her in this kitchen as if she had never left. I want to set her ashes free; I’m ready to let go of them now.”

I grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers, trying to give back the love and support my dad had always freely offered me. “I’ll go get changed,” I murmured.

“Do you remember this place?” Dad asked.

I looked around the beach that stretched out before us. To one side, the sand led into the rocky crevices of a small inlet, to the other, the sand stretched uninterrupted for miles.

“We used to come here when I was little,” I confessed through a gravelly voice. I had done more crying than talking this past week.

Dad nodded as we strolled down to the water’s edge. “Do you remember your mom here?”

It was hard to remember my mom any other way than the hardened, bitter drug addict she had become. She wore misery as if it were a coat and filled our home with a darkness that made a little girl fear the place that should have been a haven. The only happy memories I had of Mom in the home were when she was high. She would crank the stereo and dance around the house like some sort of fairy, singing loudly and spinning me around like a little doll. She would laugh and I would squeal with joy. Memories of this beach were hazy and my memories of my mom here even more so. So vague, I wondered if what I recalled of her was really my mom, or just some image from a book or movie my mind had adopted.

“Her hair was darker, and she carried a little more weight,” I thought out loud.

“We used to come here all the time after you were born,” Dad confessed as we came to a stop before the water. “Your mom always liked to party in excess, but when she found out she was pregnant, she stopped. She took care of her body. She was shocked and nervous about becoming a mom, but she couldn’t wait to meet you. She stopped doing drugs, I cut back on the drinking, and when you were born, for a moment, everything was right with the world.” Dad paused as he took in his surroundings, a smile at his lips as if he was seeing this place as it was, back when I was little. “Babies are like that; they make the world seem cleaner, more innocent, more…everything.” He pulled me to his side with one big grizzly arm and kissed my forehead. “Your mom wanted you. She was proud of you. The look in her eyes when you were little was always one of awe. We used to bring you here all the time, for years. The last real birthday party you ever had was here. You were five. That’s when things started to change. Your mom got restless; she missed the parties, missed the carefree life she had lived before you were born, before she had to grow up and be responsible. After that year, we didn’t come back here again.” Dad unscrewed the lid off the urn. “Seems appropriate that I bring her back to where we were happiest.” He tipped the urn and the wind caught the ashes, whisking them out across the water. “You made the right choice,” Dad whispered after the longest time. Just those few words reminded me of my pain. “It was humble and self-sacrificing and I’m proud of you for it. I’m proud of the woman you are, Violet, always have been. But sometimes, even when we do the right thing, it can feel very wrong.” He turned and walked away from the beach, his own grief sitting heavy on his shoulders.

It was easy to forget my dad had lost his soul mate only eight months ago. Sometimes, time can feel like a slow moving tide, splashing and ebbing over minutes, days, and weeks, tediously slow and unremitting. In other instances, time can be like a tsunami, crashing down on you, thundering by in fragmented moments. The last week had felt like the former, a never ending cycle of pain. I wondered if this was what Dad had been feeling every waking moment since mom’s death. He hid his pain well, gave the illusion that his strong exterior housed an equally strong interior. If his love for Mom was even half as much as what I felt for Cain, I knew his own sorrow must have been tremendous.

Another week, more weight lost, more tears shed. I wondered if I’d ever feel normal or if this heartache would stay with me forever. Dad was back at work. I had forced him to leave the house, promising I would be fine and the place would be easier to clean if I didn’t have to turn around and trip over him all day long. I stood and stared at the picture on the bookshelf. It was one of Mom, Dad, and me in happier times, on the beach where we had released Mom’s ashes. Growing up, this had been the only picture in the house. Now, the entire bookshelf was filled with pictures. Flashes of happiness that gave the illusion that this home had been a different one from the misery I remembered so well. A banging on the door made me jump. I paused, wondering who was out there. I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to see right now, and Dad wouldn’t have knocked.

“Open this damn door, Violet, before I go into labor right here on your porch!”

Annabelle’s familiar voice got me moving. I was assaulted with worry, wondering if something was wrong. I couldn’t think of any other reason for her to be here. I swung open the door and took her in. If it was possible, she had gotten even bigger since I had last seen her. Her hair was a complete mess, her usual immaculate clothes replaced with a creased t-shirt and stained sweats. She pushed her way through the door uninvited, and I followed her to the kitchen, wondering what the hell was going on. She helped herself to a glass of water and finally turned to face me. “You look worse than Cain,” she huffed.

I winced at the mention of his name. Dad had been very careful not to say it, not even whisper it. “Okay, you need to take a shower, brush your hair, and pack your shit. And you need to hurry, I’m meeting Toby at two.” I didn’t move, just…stared. “Did you hear the part where I said hurry?” Annabelle said, more than a little exasperated.

“What’s going on?” I asked, more than a little confused. “Are you okay?”

Her expression softened marginally. “I’m fine, having a few aches, false labor somethings the doctor called them. We need to get you packed, and then I’ll drop you off at Cain’s place.”

“Is Cain alright?” I asked, a little worried.

“No, he’s not okay,” Annabelle grumbled. “He’s miserable, and he won’t talk to anyone. He sends me text messages to see if I need anything, but otherwise he’s ignoring me.” She gave me a wicked smile. “But I’ve been staying at his parents’ house, and I heard his dad talking about the key to his place. I found it in the top drawer of the desk in his study.”

“You went through his dad’s study?” I asked, a little astonished.

“Did you not hear the part where I said Cain isn’t okay? Maybe we need to get your hearing checked.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that had taken residence up there. “But Cain’s not hurt, he’s not sick?”

“I have no idea!” Annabelle shouted. “He won’t let anyone into the house and apart from vague phone calls and even more vague text messages to check if I’m okay, he won’t speak to anyone. Harry said he checked on him before he left last week, and he was alive but looked like shit. I have no idea if he’s okay now.”

I could hear the panic in her voice. She was worried, which worried me. What if Cain had done something stupid and was lying hurt or even sick in his house with no one to help him?

“I’ll go check on him, but I don’t need to pack to do that,” I finally conceded, my worry for him outweighing my fear of seeing him again.

“No, you need to move your butt back there, pronto. He isn’t right without you, and you clearly aren’t right without him.”

I had turned to walk out of the kitchen but stopped abruptly at Annabelle’s words. “I won’t allow him to lose his son over me; that’s not acceptable.” Annabelle scrunched up her nose and rubbed the lower part of her tummy. “Are you okay?” I asked again.

She waved off my question. “False labor pains, I’m fine, I’m not due for another three weeks. And Cain doesn’t have to choose between you and his baby. Violet, he loves you so much; he said he’d even sell the house and move back to New York if he thought it would fix things. He loves blob, there is no denying that, but he loves you so much too. He needs both of you. I shouldn’t have put him in a position to choose, and the whole situation at the baby shower should have been handled more discreetly. Cain hates that he embarrassed you by having that conversation in front of all those people. I guess that’s partly my fault too, but in my defense, the whole secret drug thing kind of freaked me out. I panicked and my damn parents fueled that panic, but I’m a grown woman. I’m going to be a mother, and I get to make my own choices. I’m not a damned idiot. I know you, Violet. I’ve had plenty of time to get to know you, and I know you would never hurt my baby. In fact, I think he’ll be good for you, focusing on him will help keep you on your toes. So, the blob and I choose you for Cain. You are perfect together; the world glows or something when you two are together. I need that kind of light for our baby, so, go pack. And hurry,” she added, wincing this time as she tried to move around, rubbing the pain in her stomach.

“Are you sure you’re not in labor?” I asked, only vaguely aware of her rambling for the past minute. Suddenly the tight look on her face morphed to one of absolute fear. “What, what’s wrong?” I asked, moving towards her. She glanced down, and I followed her gaze. The legs of her sweats were soaking wet. “Oh, shit. No you didn’t, tell me your water didn’t just break,” I whispered.

“Either that or I peed myself,” Annabelle breathed, slight alarm lacing her words.

“Okay, okay, no problem. I’ll drive you to the hospital.” I raced to the bowl on the kitchen counter that housed my dad’s keys, forgetting that my dad was at work, with his car. “Oh shit, I don’t have a car,” I cried, freaking out more than a little bit.

Annabelle rattled a set of keys in her hand. “Do you seriously think I would have walked over?” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were a little dazed. I grabbed the keys from her and began helping her walk to the front door. She stopped and I stopped, expecting some sort of horrific labor pain. “Violet, I can’t go out in these pants. They’re wet,” she pointed out.

I ran to my room, grabbed another pair of draw string sweats, and helped Annabelle step out of the wet ones, wiping her legs clean with a towel before helping her step into the dry, clean ones.

“No underwear?” Annabelle asked.

“Now is not the time for modesty,” I muttered.

Once in the car, I took a moment to take a deep breath, trying to stop the panic resting on my shoulders. Annabelle seemed to be fine, there was no baby about to drop from between her thighs, and the hospital was a little over twenty minutes away, not too far. Everything was okay.

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Annabelle began huffing.

I grabbed her outstretched hand, and we both stared at each other fearfully as she breathed through the pain.

“Oh shit alright,” I whispered.

Once she began to relax, I started the car and backed down the driveway a little too fast.

“If you kill me and my baby, I am going to haunt your ass for eternity,” Annabelle muttered. I forced myself to slow down, sticking to the speed limit but definitely no less.

“Call Cain,” I suddenly thought. “You have to call Cain.”

Annabelle clutched her phone with shaking hands and dialed Cain’s number. After a few quiet moments she glanced nervously my way.

“It’s gone to his answering machine.”

“Then leave a message, the machine might be turned up loud enough that he’ll hear it.”

Annabelle paused, waiting for the little beep to leave her message.

“Cain, are you there? Pick up the damn phone if you are, this isn’t a test, this is a code red.” My eyebrows rose and a smile tugged at my lips as Annabelle continued. “Pick up the phone!” she shouted. When she paused and obviously didn’t get a response, she began to talk a little more calmly. “Right, I’m just calling to let you know my water broke. Well, I assume it broke; otherwise, I peed myself, and that’s kind of disturbing. Oh…” Her voice wavered. “Oh shit…crap…ouch.”

I grabbed her outstretched hand. “Do that breathing thing again!” I demanded. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Annabelle giving me a really good stink eye.

“Look at the road, not me,” she said through gritted teeth. My gaze quickly shifted back to the road, but I kept a hold of her hand. Once the pain retreated, she took a few deep breaths. “So, it appears I’m in labor,” she said, sweet as pie into her cell phone. “If you have any interest in seeing your son enter this world, put some damn pants on and get your ass to the hospital. Now!” She hung up.

“What about Toby?” I asked. “Your parents, Cain’s parents? Damn, there are so many people to call.”

“Settle down, you big baby,” Annabelle said softly. “I’ll send Toby a text. We’re not exactly at the stage where I want him there for the birth, but I promised to let him know when I went into labor. You can call both families when we get to the hospital.” I nodded, trying to allow Annabelle’s thoughtful calm to wash over me.

“Do you still have my dad’s cell phone number in there?” I indicated to her phone.

“Of course.”

“Would you mind sending him a message too? He’ll worry where I am.”

Annabelle sent the messages then rested her head back in the seat. We drove the rest of the way like that, me holding her hand, Annabelle swearing and breathing through her contractions. Whether any of us were ready or not, the baby blob was coming.

We had barely made it through the hospital doors when Annabelle’s contractions kicked up a notch. She leaned heavily against a wall while I grabbed the closest nurse. We were quickly led to a private room and another nurse snapped on a pair of gloves. When she helped rid Annabelle of her sweats and propped her knees up high, wide and open, I turned to leave the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Annabelle panted. “I’m not doing this on my own.”

I obediently went back to her side and kept my gaze on the water color painting on the far wall.

“Is this your first baby?” the nurse asked.

“Yes,” Annabelle and I answered at the same time.

“You’ll be fine. What’s your name?”

“I’m Annabelle and this is my best friend, Violet.” I gave her a surprised look, and she just shrugged.

“Well, my name’s Jenny and I’m a midwife. I was about to head home but looks like I’ll be staying a little while longer now.”

“I’m sorry,” Annabelle and I both said at the same time again.

Jenny smiled. “I live for this, I’m more than happy to put in a little overtime, and, honey, I’m not going to have to hang around for too long. This baby is in a hurry to meet you. You are almost fully dilated.” While she began preparing the room for the birth, I stayed by Annabelle’s side.

“Cain is supposed to be here,” she whispered after another contraction.

I rubbed her back as she leaned forward in an attempt to get more comfortable. “I’m sorry. That’s my fault,” I murmured.

“No, my fault for making him choose. Do you think he’ll get the message?” She sounded so young and frightened.

“It’s Cain we are talking about, he’s been dying for that phone call and he’ll be pissed he missed it. He was probably in the shower.” That seemed to mollify Annabelle. I grabbed her phone from my back pocket where I had stashed it when the nurse had helped her undress. “I’ll just check, maybe he’s been trying to call.” I didn’t have time to look at the screen before Annabelle let out a low, long groan.

“There’s another one coming,” she said a little anxiously.

“It’s okay, honey, I know it hurts, but this is quite normal.”

“I want to push,” Annabelle struggled to say.

“It’s only been twenty minutes but let me check you again; you might be fully dilated.” With a calmness I couldn’t begin to understand, Jenny got down and busy between Annabelle’s knees.

“It really hurts,” Annabelle confessed, a tear slipping free. I put an arm around her back and tried to help her into a more comfortable position, my free hand grasped tightly in hers.

“That’s why us women have babies, not men. We can handle this.”

Annabelle tried to laugh, but it was crippled with pain.

“Okay, Annabelle, if you feel the need to push again, you go ahead and push. You’re fully dilated.” As the next contraction built up, Annabelle’s entire body grew tense, and she let out a long, low moan. Jenny stayed between her legs, her gloved hands resting calmly on the bed. “Good girl, that was perfect. I can see your baby’s head. Another couple of pushes and it will be over.” I knew the moment the next contraction gathered, her body once again growing taut before she held her breath and gave one great big push. “Perfect, you’re doing so well, honey, the head was almost out with that one. Nice deep breaths and relax a moment. With the next contraction, you’re going to push good, long, and hard, and we’ll get that baby out.”

One more push and it happened so fast I barely realized what had happened. In the blink of an eye, the baby slipped into Jenny’s ready and waiting hands.

“Good girl, you did great. Look what you did.” She held a wriggling, bloodied little blob up in her arms.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

“I did it,” Annabelle breathed with a hiccup in her voice. Jenny lifted Annabelle’s shirt up, exposing the skin on her tummy and laid the baby right on top of her.

“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” Nurse Jenny asked, and my shocked expression caused her to chuckle. “Come down here, I’ll talk you through it.” While Annabelle watched her baby with a mixture of relief and awe, I carefully took the scissors and cut through the slightly spongy cord that had kept the baby connected to his mother. Moving back up to Annabelle’s side, we both stared in stunned silence at her baby. He was perfect, tiny little fingers, a tiny little nose, and a tiny head full of dark hair.

“Does he have a name?” Jenny asked.

“Oliver,” Annabelle whispered, and I stilled.

“You don’t have to use the name I picked; you and Cain must have one you both agreed on.”

Annabelle shook her head, a finger resting under the hand of her baby. “No, we couldn’t agree and Oliver was the only one we didn’t argue over. Oliver Cain Everett.”

Jenny took Oliver from Annabelle, cleaned him off a little, and then wrapped him up in a blanket. The baby boy was gently placed in my arms so Jenny could help Annabelle deliver the placenta. I couldn’t take my eyes away from him. Everything about him was simply a marvel, from his little bow lips to his tiny little toes. While staring in wonder, the door to the room burst open.

“Annabelle!” It was a voice I would know from a thousand miles away, a voice so familiar it wrapped around my heart, and I felt myself relax for the first time in two weeks.

“You missed it!” Annabelle said with the attitude I had come to know so well. “Lucky for you, Violet was here; otherwise, I’d be kicking your ass from here to Texas.” Cain stepped up beside me and I chanced a glance at him. He looked awful, no doubt as awful as me. His eyes softened at the sight of us though, then his gaze dipped to the wriggling blob in my arms.

“Meet your son, Oliver.” As careful as one who had never held a baby before could muster, I transferred Oliver into Cain’s arms. The baby looked even smaller in Cain’s larger, stronger embrace.

“Oliver, he’s perfect,” he said with a tight voice. After the longest time, his eyes reached mine again; he looked hesitant and awkward in my presence.

“I’ll give you all some space,” I whispered, leaving the room before Annabelle had a chance to object. I wandered down the hall in a daze until I almost walked into the massive form of my dad. He looked a little frantic and worried.

“Is everything okay, pumpkin?”

I nodded, unable to speak, and wrapped my arms around him. “Oliver Cain Everett, he’s perfect in every way, and Annabelle is fine.” Exhaustion settled in quickly once the adrenaline wore off. “Dad, will you take me home?”

For the second time in as many weeks, Dad piled me into the car and drove me home. I wasn’t a blubbering mess this time, and the pain in my heart was different. Numb. It seemed I had finally reached the point where my body had slipped into shock and detachment in an effort to save my sanity. Seeing the look on Cain’s face as he held his son made me realize he was going to be just fine. He had the perfect replacement for the loss of our love. Me however? I wasn’t so sure if I’d be alright, but I was certainly no stranger to fighting battles over and above my weight class. Once home, I crawled into my bed and drowned myself beneath the safety of its covers. Sleep came easily and swiftly.

The distant sound of music floated on the fringes of a dream. It was a soft melody, fluid and gentle, drawing me towards it. As the music became louder, my recognition of my surroundings slowly settled on me. I was in my room, and it was dark, the only light filtering from the moonlight that shone through my open curtains. It was then I realized that the music was coming from within my room. I slowly sat up and stared at Cain who sat in a chair at the end of my bed, his guitar in his lap.

“I was beginning to think you would never wake up,” he murmured. “You haven’t so much as moved for nine hours. I was beginning to get worried, but your dad said you haven’t been sleeping well, so I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What are you doing here? Is everyone okay? Annabelle? Blob?”

Cain smiled. “Annabelle and Oliver are fine. I left them at the hospital last night. Toby was there, and I wanted to give them some space.” Cain put the guitar aside and leaned forward, capturing me in that striking blue gaze that could hold me captive so easily. “I wanted to thank you. Thank you for taking care of Annabelle and helping her when I wasn’t there.” I shrugged awkwardly. Did he think I wouldn’t? “Regardless of what you might think of yourself, Violet, you are one of the most selfless people I know. You care about others more than you do yourself. I both love you and hate you for that. I never understood why you couldn’t see how deserving you are of your own love.” He ran a hand through his hair which hung freely. “But that doesn’t matter because I’ve got enough love for you to make up for it.” He stood, taking his guitar with him. “I know why you walked away, I know you did it for me and I respect your reasons for leaving. It ripped my heart from my chest watching you leave.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve always followed you, baby. I promised you I always would, but I need you to follow me this time. Just once, I need you to come to me. I need to know you need me as much as I need you. So, I’ll be at home, waiting. If you don’t come, I’ll let you go, and I won’t ever bother you again; you have my word. It will hurt and I know it will never heal, but I’ll do that for you if that’s what you want.” With one last glance, he left.

I sat in stunned silence, my eyes seeing the closed door to my bedroom, but at the same time not really seeing it. I would have thought I had dreamed the entire thing if it wasn’t for the purple iris that sat on my bedside table. I wasn’t dreaming. Cain wanted me to come home, had pretty much begged for my forgiveness. Annabelle had given us the green light, there was nothing stopping me, yet I hesitated. Why was I so frightened of loving Cain? We had so much history, had shared so many good times and so many bad times. How could so much love and passion be connected to so much heartache? And that’s what truly scared me. The heartache. I didn’t think I could cope with any more heartache. Losing Cain broke my heart and there were only so many times something could be broken before it was unsalvageable. I was terrified of having to endure his loss again. This was my chance, my chance to walk free, find something and someone safe, someone whose loss wouldn’t destroy me. I could play at love, pretend I had all I needed, but at the end of the day, nothing compared to having it all. Not even the fear of losing it. My world didn’t seem complete as just Violet. I needed Cain to make it whole; I needed Cain to make it peaceful, but at the same time, that thought scared me enough to falter. A soft knock at my door broke my thoughts. My dad slowly pushed the door open and wandered into the room, taking a seat in the chair Cain had just vacated.

“You let him in?” There was no admonishment in my voice.

Dad smiled. “Caught him climbing through the bathroom window and nearly clobbered him with a baseball bat.” That made me smile. Dad rubbed his hands over his tired face. “You know, I always wondered how loving someone could feel so right and wrong at the same time. I loved your mom, I never once questioned the love I felt for her, yet I saw how destructive she was, and I knew life might have been easier without her, safer. At the end of the day, I was happy to settle for a life of love even if it came with pain, and I’ve never regretted it, even the pain.” He leaned forward just as Cain had done. “Sometimes, you just gotta be a little bit daring and a whole lot brave, pumpkin. That’s what love is about. You gotta feel it all to make it real, the good times, the bad times, and everything in between.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered.

“Any time, pumpkin.”

The shrill whistle from a bird nesting high in the large oak tree filled me with a sense of normalcy I’ve been missing for too long now. Living in cities and out of hotels means moments like this are few and far between, the quiet peacefulness of suburbia drowned under concrete chaos. The air was warm, the sun’s rays spearing through clusters of foliage from above, dancing off my pale skin as I wandered across the yard. The house before me is large, a two story beast with a wide front porch and a large block of land with thick, tall trees running down either side, so the closest neighbor felt as if they were an eternity away. Unlike the tiny two bedroom shack I grew up in, this home is a masterpiece.

When I reach the porch steps, I’m so nervous my hands are shaking. Three short steps up, another five to the front door. My heart is beating so hard, its loud echo begins to drown out the birds and whispered breeze that rustles the leaves at my back. I don’t hesitate as I raise my hand to the door and knock softly but surely. After a short time, I hear heavy footsteps approach from the other side. Now I feel so nervous and fragile, I wonder if the wind that wraps itself around me will blow me away. Finally, the door is pulled open and I lean on every ounce of strength I possess to level my gaze and peer into those intense blue eyes that have been more of a home to me than the roof and walls I grew up in. We just stand before each other, staring. Just the two of us, Violet and Cain, just as it should be. Regardless of how much we’ve fought and ached during our journey together, everything just seems right when I am by his side. It was almost as if every breath I took when I was apart from Cain caused me physical pain, but as soon as we were in the same room again, that pain dissolved and I was left with the knowledge that this was my true place in this world. Cain didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched me with a wariness I found unfamiliar and heartbreaking. It was unlike Cain to be anything but confident, and his guarded presence made me hesitate. Eventually, my gaze lowered to the ground between us as I cleared my throat and drew on some more of that courage that had led me to this point.

“So…” I glanced up to look directly in his eyes, not only wanting Cain to hear my words, but wanting him to see the truth in them. “I used to think you deserved more than me, that you deserved a perfection I couldn’t possibly give you.” When he went to speak, I put up my hand to stop him. “Hear me out; otherwise, I’ll make you brush your teeth, too.” His lips tipped into a crooked smile. “I realized that to be happy, things don’t necessarily have to be perfect, and that if you can look beyond my imperfections and find happiness, then maybe I can, too. Our family isn’t going to be perfect, in fact, it’s going to be downright unconventional, but that’s okay, because we do imperfect really well. I think that’s what makes us work.” I could see the hope beginning to burn in the depths of his eyes and it tugged at my heart. “You once told me that I’m your home. Well, Cain, you’re my home too, and I never wanted to leave you, but I had to. The thing is I don’t want to live half a life somewhere else when I could live a full life here.” I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but my emotions began to betray me, and a single tear pushed itself free. “I’ll always follow you.” A sob caught in my throat as I struggled for composure. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry for hurting you, but you should know how much it hurt me too. Leaving you like that…” Tears fell at the memory of Cain’s stricken features. “It was the single most painful and heart breaking moment in my life, and I never want either of us to feel that way again.”

He sprung on me like a lion might spring on its prey. One moment I’m standing in the doorway, trying to find the words that express how much he means to me, the next minute he’s before me, gripping the sides of my head, his lips on mine, a kiss consumed with furious desperation and need. When he finally stopped, he didn’t pull away. Instead our lips were separated by only a breath of air, his forehead resting hard against mine. His hands still clutched the sides of my head in a gentle, yet firm grip. Cain was shaking, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“No more tears, it breaks my heart. Just promise me you will never leave again, swear it again, right here, right now.”

I wrapped my fingers around his wrists and held him just as tight. “I promise I’ll never leave you again. I spent the better part of my life fighting for my sanity, and I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting for you, for us.” His eyes fluttered shut, and he didn’t move away, he stood before me, holding me, absorbing my words.

“You don’t have to fight for me, baby. I’m yours, always have been and always will be.”

I didn’t move as my heart settled into the familiar rhythm it beat from simply being in Cain’s presence, my soul reconnecting with his, peace sinking back into my world once more.

Eventually Cain dragged me into the house; pressing me against the door he made love to me. It was fast, manic, and passionate, like he was reclaiming my body. I managed to pull myself away long enough to grab a glass of water before he took me again in the kitchen, a little slower this time, yet with no less passion. By the time we made it to the bedroom, only room in the house that had furniture, my legs were as weak as wet noodles, my body aching in a delicious kind of way, and my heart, mind, and body were beginning to take comfort in having Cain back in my life. Under the deep layers of hurt, confusion, pain, and loss that made up Violet Trivoli, there was a strong heart full of determination, love, and happiness, and I was going to fight every day to allow that light to shine through the shadowed layers. Cain was worth it, my dad was worth it, but most importantly, I had finally recognized that I was also worth it.

Some people measure their lives with moments. My life has been measured with birth and death, two births and eventually, there will be two deaths. My first birth was September 15th, 1986. Violet Trivoli born to Garret and Linda Trivoli, two people who lived and loved to extremes. It was my own life of extremes that ended my first life on New Year’s Day in 2013. My first death concluded a life lived in fear, fear of myself, fear of the truth, fear of love. My second birth was six days later, when I awoke to a new life, one with no less fear, but with much more courage. I guess sometimes it takes the brutal finality of death to become stronger and wiser. I was proud of my new life and had every intention of living it courageously until my final death, which would hopefully be many, many years from now.

My feet were tucked beneath me on the sofa, and I smiled as I watched Cain. He was lying on his stomach, across the rug in our furnished living room. His son—our son—lying on his back before him. He was stroking a long finger down Oliver’s face, coaxing his little eyes closed as they grew heavier and heavier. Oliver had just drifted off to sleep, having tuckered himself out with an energetic game of hit daddy on the head with his rattle as many times as he could. Oliver was the most perfect little blob, but as his other-mother, I was quite possibly a little bias. At six months old, he was growing just as he was supposed to, eating, smiling, laughing, and filling his diapers with the most disgraceful, foul smelling poop I had ever encountered. He also dropped off to sleep anywhere, and I mean, anywhere! Like on the floor in our living room only moments after beating his daddy senseless with his rattle. I loved watching Cain with his son. The love was an ever present glow that followed him around even on the days we weren’t with Oliver. The way he looked at the little bundle of life was like nothing I had ever seen, so intense and pure it filled my heart with joy just to witness. I had been sober going on eighteen months, and while I wished I could say the challenging moments were now behind me, it was still a battle that crept into my life, hitting me when I least expected it. The need and want for alcohol and drugs seemed to slumber quietly in hibernation, waiting for the day I wasn’t strong enough to fight the cravings. Hatred and inadequacy were difficult emotions to completely silence, and some days I struggled to ignore those voices. With Cain’s steadfast determination, and the help of my father and even Annabelle, I worked through the bad days. Annabelle had been right when she said the baby would be good for me. He really was a blessing that I never truly believed would help me through those difficult moments. The need to care and protect the innocent baby rose above all destructive urges, silently compelling me to do better, to be better. I was still worried I might one day hit the same wall my mother had. That one day I would wake up and miss the tumultuous days of my inebriated highs. I was terrified of following in her footsteps, but Dr. Brightman’s words remained steady in my mind:

“You are not your mother, Violet. You are your own person with your own mind. You are strong and determined and free to make your own choices, and you can choose to be sober.”

Today, I chose to be sober, and I would fight to stay sober for all the days that followed.

I glanced down at the book I was reading; the male character was Italian. I smiled as thoughts of Peiro danced through my head. They weren’t sexual thoughts of longing or desire, it was simply an acknowledgement of friendship, a man who had touched my heart and helped it heal. I hadn’t heard from Peiro since the day I phoned him to admit I could never give myself to him the way he wanted. I often thought of him and wondered where he was and if he was happy. I guess if Cain’s interpretation of fate was correct, Peiro was on his own path that would eventually lead him to where he needed to be, and hopefully that was into the arms of someone who loves him for the caring, wonderful man he is. As my thoughts drifted over the past, present, and future, Cain carefully lifted a now sleeping Oliver and disappeared down the hall to his nursery. We’d been having him for sleepovers one night a week for a month now, and eventually that would increase to at least two nights a week. A shared agreement between me, Cain, Annabelle, and Toby, who Annabelle had moved in with last weekend. Toby was the perfect other-father and his daughter, Willow, was the most adorable other-sister. Yes, our family was unconventional, a hybrid Brady Bunch, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. It seemed we all eventually fell on our feet and into our own unique idea of perfection.

“Harry called. The studio has been booked for next week,” Cain said as he climbed onto the couch and pushed the discarded book in my lap aside.

We were recording our tenth album and spending far too much time in the studio, something we had sworn we would never do. Live performances were in our blood. We still did an overnight gig out of town once a month, and Harry had plans for a three week tour at the end of the year, but neither Cain nor I wanted to be far from Oliver for too long. So, that meant if we wanted to keep our music careers intact, we had to give some hardcore attention to recording and studio time.

Laying his head in my lap, Cain gave me a playful grin. “Wanna make out?”

I gave him a stern look. “This is a sex free zone until Annabelle picks up Oliver tomorrow afternoon, so, pop a cork in it, mister.”

Cain struggled not to laugh. “Popping a cork in it sounds painful, and I asked if you wanted to make out, not screw me senseless.”

I slapped his arm playfully. “Making out with you always leads to senseless screwing.”

Cain lifted himself out of my lap. “Baby, there ain’t nothing senseless about screwing you.” Well, that was sweet, sort of. “I want to give you something,” he whispered, his voice suddenly less playful. “I wanted to wait until the piano arrived, but it’s taking too long and I can’t wait.” Urgency laced his words. Cain had ordered a $37,000, Baldwin Concert Grand Piano that was apparently so impressive there was a four month wait before it would be delivered. I couldn’t imagine what could be so important it couldn’t wait a few more months, and more so, I couldn’t imagine why on earth he would need to wait for the piano to arrive to give it to me. God, I hoped he hadn’t ordered a matching piano for me to learn how to play in some crazy musical experiment like the guitars.

“Okay, well, give it to me,” I suggested, giving him a gentle shove.

Cain disappeared down the hall and reappeared a moment later with his guitar. Somewhat relieved it wasn’t a replica baby piano he was going to force me to learn, I watched him warily as he sat on the floor before me.

“This was supposed to be played on a piano, but I guess since I wrote it and virtually composed it on the guitar, it doesn’t really matter.” I simply stared in shocked silence, and when he began to strum, his eyes lifted and locked on mine.

I still remember

You took my breath away

In your eyes I saw beauty

In your smile I saw pain

To be what you needed

My love was not enough

Inside you needed healing

In a place I couldn’t touch

So run to me darlin’

Together we’ll fight this

Run to me darlin’

I want to live, in a beautiful shade of Violet.

Now I've seen your heart

I've touched all your scars

Still I'm right here holding on

I'll keep waiting out this time

Let's take this chance

Hold my hand

I'll be right beside you baby

This is our time

I’m gonna make you mine

Not sure how much more I can take

So run to me darling

Together we'll find it

So run to me darling

I wanna live

In a beautiful shade of violet

We can take

Different paths

Different fates

Striking out

More mistakes

But all along there's one thing that I knew

When the moments fade, all that’s left is the truth

My hearts gon' bring me right back home to you

My hearts gon' bring me right back home to you

So won’t you run to me darling

Together we'll find it

Oh won’t you run to me darling

I wanna live

So run to me darlin’

Together we’ll find it

So won’t you run to me darlin’

My beautiful, beautiful

My beautiful shade of violet

I was incapable of speech, so I simply lifted Cain’s guitar out of his arms, slid off the sofa, and straight into his lap. My mind flew back to that beautiful night where I laid under his warm body as Cain drew on my skin and penned poetry on my stomach. It had been a song, a song for me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered in his ear, my arms wrapped so tightly around his neck I thought I might be choking him. Cain didn’t complain, so I didn’t give an inch.

“Then just say yes,” he breathed. Cain forced a small sliver of space between us, unwrapping my arm from around his neck and turning my hand over, palm up. Dropping his lips to my palm, he pressed a kiss right to the middle, and as he pulled away, in the warm place his lips had just been, Cain placed a ring. It was exquisite in white gold with a halo of clear cut diamonds gracefully curving around a round-cut amethyst diamond in the center. The clear diamonds then extended down the thin band on either side of the center stone. It was exquisite, and its meaning slammed into me with the power of a Mack truck. Just say yes. I somehow pulled my gaze away from the stunning ring and looked Cain in the eye.

“Yes.” The word off my tongue had never felt so right. While my free hand had reached without conscious thought to the last piece of jewelry Cain had given me, my necklace, Cain slipped the ring on my finger. Then cupping my cheek, he leaned in slowly to kiss me with an unhurried patience Cain was not renowned for. It was a gentle persuasion of his lips on mine, a silent promise, and a marking of our next adventure. My future had never felt so sure and safe. I had never felt so happy and loved. It had taken a rocky and turbulent lifetime to reach this moment, but being here with Cain now was worth every tear shed, every sliver of pain, and every aching beat of my heart. Through it all though, one thing had remained sure and constant. Our love had been like music, some moments were high notes, some moments were low notes, but always, our love had been completely and irrevocably beautiful.

To hear Cain’s song to Violet, follow this link to the Violet Addiction book trailer on YouTube

A Shade Of Violet

Available soon at iTunes

Every now and again a moment creeps up on me where I doubt myself, I doubt my writing, and my confidence slips. However, I’m surrounded by a circle of family and friends who are always prepared to give me a shoulder to lean on and push me back into the right frame of mind. Those people know who they are, names don’t need to be thrown about. Thank you, always!

To the numerous people I interviewed in preparation for writing V.A., again, no names will be given. I respect your right to anonymity, but you know who you are. Thank you for gifting me with a precious glimpse inside your life and battles. I hope I did your memories and stories justice.

Beau, who gave me a crash course in song writing and helped write and produce a beautiful song to accompany V.A., thank you so very much!

Rhylee, my stunning cover model, thank you X

One Night Stand Dress Hire on the Gold Coast, for the gorgeous designer dress you so generously loaned me for the cover, thank you.

Fabian from Boyce Avenue, thank you for allowing me to pick your brain and steal segments of your career for my fictional needs! It was so awesome to meet you guys, and thank you for bringing Jess over. I adore the crap out of that lady! And let’s not forget poor Rach who got left at home *sad face*. You’ll get your own hug one day soon, babe!

The bloggers, so, so many bloggers. A Love Affair with Books, Bookslapped, Totally Booked, The Reading Vixens, Forever Me Romance, Eye Candy Bookstore, Books and Friendz, Submit and Devour, A is for Alpha B is for Books, Fab Fun and Tantalizing Reads, Rockin’ and Reviewing, Through the Booking Glass, Rockin’ the Bookshelf, The Lovely Books, Sassy Mum Book Blog, The Danish Bookaholic, This Redhead Loves Books, Magic Within the Pages, Reading Renee, We Art Books, Just One Indie’s Opinion, Sweet and Spicy Book Reviews, Glass Paper Ink (Kristine, thank you times a thousand, lady, and you know why!), Love Between the Sheets, Book Addict Mumma, bloody hell, the list goes on! All of you are totally freaking awesome, and I have nothing but respect and love for each and every one of you.

My fellow authors who I admire the heck out of and can now call friends, thank you for filling my social media with your love of words and craziness that keeps me oh so entertained. Carmen Jenner (I adore the crap out of you honey, thank you for your support and help!), Super Mich, Kirsty Moseley, Michelle Horst, Jennifer Ryder, River Savage, Kylie Scott, Nina Levine, Skyla Madi, Simone Nicole, Angel Steel, David Hamilton, and all the rest, thank you for your friendship.

Susan, Angela, and Lauren, thank you again for keeping my fan page running nice and smoothly; you girls are all sorts of awesome-sauce.

And finally, my fans, you all rock my world. It is your love of my books and encouragement that keeps me focused and helps fuel my passion, thank you.

Many people come into our lives for different reasons, some for long periods of time, some for brief encounters, but so many are taken for granted. It might be a friendship you've had since childhood; a boss who took interest in you and set out extra time in her day to help you with something you wanted to be better at; your soul mate; the cashier at the grocery store who gives a word of encouragement when she sees you're having a really bad day; or maybe a stranger who comes up to you while pumping gas to tell you your tire’s flat, saving you from a horrible blowout on the freeway.

But how many times have we given these people a true and heartfelt thank you for the ways they've touched our lives, no matter how small? How many times do we brush people off with a simple thank you because we know it's expected of us? Or just say the words as an automatic response, not really thinking of the blessings we've been gifted?

Violet Addiction is the seventh novel of Ms. Dallas’ I've had the honor to edit. With each novel, Kirsty and I have grown closer and closer. I have an absolute blast every time we communicate. She's silly like me, and we’re almost always on the same page—from my wanting to own a kangaroo and wanting to start my own kangaroo clothing line to shopping for the perfect houses and cars online for her characters. Even though every single bit of our friendship has been through email, I've grown fond of her and have the utmost respect for her. Working for her is more than a job; it's fun, and I'm so lucky to be a part of her real and fictional worlds.

So, Ms. Kirsty, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking a chance on me. Thank you for being patient with my comments, questions on Aussie lingo, and mini rants. Thank you for being silly with me. Thank you for teaching me about man buns. Thank you for sharing SR with me, and thank you for letting me rant on and on about my kids and/or Deputy Hubby. Thanks for simply asking about my day and encouraging me when it's a bad one, then emailing me a few days later, just to see how I am. Thank you for forgiving me if I miss something in one of your books. Thank you for being such an inspirational writer. Your books have touched my life in many ways. And finally, thank you for sharing Violet’s story.

xoxo,

Ami