“You need to stop thinking about him, Cam. Yes, he gave you the best head of your life, but his dick could be a huge disappointment and he’s also an asshole.”The sound of coughing makes me turn my head. A young man working on his laptop is red-faced, and I know he heard me talking to myself.
Shit.
I don’t blame him when he gathers his things and hustles to one of the tables across the coffee shop.“Sorry,” I mumble in his direction, but he doesn’t hear. “Nice job, Camryn. And stop talking to yourself, you’re scaring away the customers.”
I glance down at my sketch book, but that’s a failure too. A half-finished drawing partially covers the blank page. It’s my face. My face as I imagine it when I was coming on his fingers. I sigh and close the book.
Crossing my legs, I discreetly touch the patch covering my tattoo under my jeans, not wanting to look like I’m feeling myself up in a public bakery. Don’t need to be arrested for indecency. The day after my tattoo, and still pissed at Stone,I marched into the tattoo shop and asked Onyx to check it. He looked at me, and I squirmed because we both knew why I wanted him to check it, not the man who had actually inked me. I was embarrassed when I had to lift my skirt. I made sure I was wearing granny panties this time, not that I thought he would try anything. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Onyx has a gentle, introverted energy. He acted professionally, not saying a word about the fact that he heard me getting off while his friend’s tongue was inside my pussy in the back of his tattoo shop.
I pick at my blueberry muffin, not really hungry, but I had to get out of the gallery. I tried to work on my art upstairs, but the silence next door was driving me nuts. Taking a break at my favorite bakery, Delicious Delights, was a must. I could have gone to Sophia’s diner. Her father makes the best coffee and oatmeal I’ve ever had, but I’m sticking to my avoidance era. I’m still not ready to dissect what happened with the ladies. I’ve been dodging girls’ night. Sophia and Jacqueline are both excellent interrogators. They’ll smell the cunnilingus on me as soon as I take my first sip of my margarita.
After my anger subsided, I could think rationally about what had happened. Stone gave me the best orgasm I have ever had, bar none. And, I’m afraid that he will always put other men, future men, into a lower category. Of course, as soon as I got out of the shower, my skin rubbed raw from trying to wash away the feeling of his tongue, Jace called me.
I lied through my teeth, telling him that I was out when he stopped by. Nosy bastard that he is, he quizzed me on the fact that my car was in the parking lot when he visited. I finally told him I went for a walk. I doubt he believed me, but I didn’t care at that point; I’m just glad that he dropped it. Mercifully, he must not have heard me screaming like a banshee with Stone. I guess I should thank him. Because if Jace hadn’t shown up, I probably would have let Stone put his dick inside me. I hadn’teven thought about protection, but I was willing to go all in with him on that tattoo chair. My anger would be so much worse had we actually had sex.
The deep rumble of a bike makes my heart rate speed up. I crane my neck and look out the front window of the local coffee shop near the gallery. I don’t see anything yet, but when I do, I almost choke on my caramel latte, shocked to the tips of my freshly painted toenails when I see the very man who is taking up way too much of my cognitive thoughts cruise by and pull into the parking lot of a well-manicured five-story brick building. I rack my brain to remember what it is. It’s beautiful and serene. From the looks of it, it’s some kind of apartment building. “Le souvenir,” I murmur, repeating the French name on the building. Boarding school French class comes back.The Remembrance.
I watch in shock as Stone dismounts a bike. It’s not the one he usually rides. I greedily take him, my heart palpitating a little. He’s dressed in another pair of sexy, ripped black jeans, a long-sleeved gray shirt, and a black, nondescript vest. He walks down the block, unaware that I’m a basic peeping Tom. He goes into the local grocery store, and when he comes out, I sit up straighter because there is a huge bouquet of yellow and white daisies, wrapped in butcher paper, clutched in his hands. He walks back to the apartment building and quickly ascends the steps right before he presses the buzzer near the glass door. He pulls his wallet from his pocket. It’s attached to a chain on his belt. He flashes what must be his ID at a small camera next to the door.
Minutes later, he pulls the handle and walks inside. My curiosity is piqued. Who the fuck is he going to see? The truth is, it could be anyone. It occurs to me that he could be seeing a woman. A knot forms in my stomach. I rack my brain. Hashe ever mentioned a girlfriend? Jace hasn’t told me much about him. For all I know, he has a string of women he fucks. Christ.
Closing my sketchbook, I stand, an idea striking me. I go back to the bakery counter and order a dozen of the bakery’s pastries. I pace as I wait for them to be boxed up, anxious over what I’m about to do. Box in hand, I walk across the street. Nerves rattle my body. I hope I can pull this off. I look the part, with my dark baseball cap and my art apron. I rehearse what I want to say as I cross the street. I press the buzzer. Immediately, a static voice comes through.
“How can I help you?”
I swallow my anxiety. I’m about to tell a massive lie. “I have a delivery. From Delicious Delights.” I hold up the flat white box with the coffee shop’s logo on the front. Miraculously, the buzzer sounds, and I enter the cool, refreshing entryway. I discreetly look around, shocked that it’s not a security guard like I’m used to. Two women, dressed in nurses’ uniforms, sit behind a long, white counter with glass shields in front of them. They look up at me, and luckily, they both smile. I walk forward and hope I don’t vomit. I don’t do things like this, but apparently, Stone brings out the dark side in me. I now have a tattoo, I’ve lied to my brother and friends, and I’m currently pretending to be an employee of a local bakery while technically trespassing into a place I have no business being. “This is from Delicious Delights.”
One of the women squeals, clapping her hands. “Thank God. I was definitely in need of some sugar. Gimmeee.” She motions with grabby hands as I walk toward her.
“Who sent them?” The second nurse asks, frowning at the box. My apprehension grows. She’s suspicious. Fuck.Think, Camryn.“A tall guy came in. Tatted, wearing lots of black. He came on a motorcycle.” The falsehoods are getting easier.
The first nurse opens the box and smiles, moaning. “Oh that Stefan is so sweet. I love that man.”
Stefan?
Lifting a donut from the box, she takes a hefty bite, doing a little food dance in her seat. The second nurse seems to feel more at ease because she takes a chocolate croissant.
“I’ll probably get fired for saying this, but Dr. Hayes can give me a check up any day. All those tats.” She shudders.
Dr.?What the hell?
Another nurse, a male this time, walks toward us and makes a beeline for the box of treats, laughing as he pulls out a scone. “He’s not that kind of doctor, Judy, but yes, he is yummy. I love how he is with his mom more. He reads to her for hours. Poor thing is having a rough day today.”
I listen raptly and then realize it would look weird to stay longer, while they whisper among themselves. “Have a good afternoon,” I state, trying to pretend like I didn’t hear things that just turned my world upside down.
I slowly make my way back into the coffee shop. I sit back down in a stupor.
“Stefan,” I whisper, staring down at my sketch book. I open it up to the sketch of him staring back at me. I touch his facial features. Stefan is Stone’s real name. He is a doctor, and he has a mother who lives in a medical assisted living facility. I pull out my phone and look up at the facility. Jesus. It’s a home for people suffering from dementia and other brain ailments that require 24/7 care. My heart aches thinking about what his mother must be dealing with. My mother died of a brain-related injury.
He went to visit his mother. The daisies are for her. The ice around my heart starts to melt.
Chapter 38
“Moreover, my father, see the skirt of thy robe in my hand: for in that I cut off the skirt of thy robe, and killed thee not, know thou and see thatthere isneither evil nor transgression in mine hand, and I have not sinned against thee; yet thou huntest my soul to take it.The LORD judge between me and thee, and the LORD avenge me of thee: but mine hand shall not be upon thee.As saith the proverb of the ancients, Wickedness proceedeth from the wicked: but mine hand shall not be upon thee.”
I finish the Bible verse and close the old book as my mother hums quietly in her rocking chair. The repetitive motion lulls me into a state of calmness.
“I like when you read that story, Stefan, David is my favorite. ”
