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I sighed, holding him, feeling some of last night’s angst bleed away. This was one person in my life who wasn’t afraid of emotion. “You can stay as long as you like,” I said, suppressing a sniffle, probably from Mr. Snail Shell’s dander. “But right now, I have to sleep. I really have to sleep this minute. I’ve had a long night.”
“Me too,” he said. “Let’s get some rest.”
I walked down the hall and collapsed on my bed, and a moment later, I felt Goodluck’s weight beside me. He pulled the covers over both of us, and I thought,all right. Whatever.I was just happy to be Starcomet again. A moment later, Mr. Snail Shell jumped between us, curling into a ball by Goodluck’s face. I sighed and went to my bathroom to take an allergy pill.
“Where did you find that cat?” I asked on the way back.
“I didn’t find him,” he said, scratching his ears. “He found me. He walked into my apartment a couple months ago and that was that. He climbed five flights of stairs to get to me.” His expression sobered. “You know, it was his meowing that woke me during the fire. So I only lost half my hair, and he didn’t lose any at all.”
“What a good cat. I guess both of you are lucky.” I turned onto my side, plumping the pillow against my cheek. I could feel the lock shift under my sleep shirt, nestling between my breasts. My nipples still felt sore. They’d been hurt just hours ago, although it seemed worlds ago now.
“You know what?” I said. “You were right, friend. You were right about Fort St. Clair and me and relationships. I’m not going to see him anymore.”
“What did he do to you?” His eyes softened as he studied me. “You’ve been crying.”
“I needed to cry.”
Goodluck made a distressed sound. “What did he do to you? Are there more…bruises?”
“Just emotional ones. He left me, but I’m thinking now that it was for the best, and I want to apologize for the things I said to you, and the fight we had.”
“Fights are part of life’s growth process.” He reached out to touch my hair. “You know what they say. A whale’s cry can make the brightest rainbow tremble.”
I bit back a laugh. “Is that what they say? I don’t think anyone says that but you.”
“Well, people should say it. People should speak the truth, always. If they did, our world would be a much better place.”
“Agreed.” I trailed my fingertips across the top of Mr. Snail Shell’s long fur. He wasn’t triggering my allergies too badly, and hehadsaved Goodluck’s life. “You’re welcome to stay here while your apartment gets fixed,” I said. “I think I’m actually going to go somewhere. You know, travel to some exotic location and work remotely for a while.”
“Travel where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere that’s not here, just for a few weeks. If you needed me, you could reach me by phone or email, or ask your agent for help.”
“Or my decorator, now that my apartment’s wrecked. I asked him to come over this evening. I’m thinking about rebuilding with a new color scheme, reds and oranges, my apartment rising from the ashes. Literal ashes.”
“But no candles.” I reached to take his hand. “The world needs you.”
He smiled at me, so much caring and openness in his gaze. I let go of his hand and closed my eyes, pretending to go to sleep. It was that, or keep looking at him and start to cry.
God, why had I ever imagined things would work out with Fort and me? We were nothing alike. He was cool and slick as the steel face of a watch gear, and I was a flailing, roiling mess of emotion. If I had a match in this world, it would be someone equally crazy, like Goodluck Boundless. I’d fallen for Fort, yes. He’d thrilled and excited me, and showed me how hot passion could burn, but loving him was a mistake.
Exhaustion overtook me, and tears came, too. I turned on my other side so Goodluck wouldn’t see them, wetting my pillow as I drifted into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Fort
Imanaged toignore the feelings of loss for an entire week. I threw myself into work, into organizing some new ad campaigns, except that memories of Goodluck’s ad campaign dogged me by the hour. I took a trip to the Bahamas, thinking to lose myself in luxury, but every voluptuous, seductive woman I saw there reminded me that Juliet was my fetish, my fantasy, with her bright eyes and expressive mouth, and her responsive body.
I returned to New York, miserable with craving and lust.
I swore I wouldn’t stalk Juliet, wouldn’t linger in the area of the Black Wall or stake out her front door, but I did those things before the second week was out, and that’s how I knew she wasn’t coming home in the evenings. Goodluck was coming in and out of her apartment, but she wasn’t. Maybe she’d taken a vacation, the way I had, or maybe she’d left New York altogether in some effort to forget the debacle of our relationship.
On the three-week anniversary of leaving her at The Gallery, I asked Devin to meet me for drinks. We hunkered down at an Irish-themed pub near the airport, watching Euro league soccer over our beers.
“You look like hell,” Devin said, once the waitress left. “Have you been sleeping?”
“No.”
He raised his glass in a taunting gesture. “That’s what happens when you can’t get into The Gallery anymore. Everything breaks down.”
