Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) Page 13

  “On, no reason.” Josh took the last heaping bite of his Tiramisu and smiled in delight.

  After Laura left, Josh settled in her vacated seat on the sofa and pulled Darcy’s feet into his lap again. “Let me know when you’re ready for another pain pill.”

  “Maybe in a little while. Before I go to bed.”

  Josh picked up the remote and began flipping channels. He paused in his channel-surfing when he came across the movie A League of Their Own, one of their favorites.

  “Greatest line of all time,” he said with a lopsided grin, referring to the line about crying and baseball.

  Darcy gave Josh a little shove. “I know, right?” She winced at the painful after-effects of her outburst.

  “Darcy. I have something to tell you.” He took her hand, as the nagging doubts returned.

  “Shoot,” she said, shifting positions on the sofa, so that she lay on her back looking directly at him.

  He took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge. “I—”

  The phone rang.

  “Holy hell,” he muttered.

  Darcy sat up, her face lighting up. “That’s probably Blake. Would you mind?” She lifted her feet out of his lap.

  “No, of course not.” He pulled his hands through his hair, grasping a fistful on his way to the kitchen. “Hello.”

  “Josh?” Blake’s perfect baritone crackled though a bad connection. “Is everything okay? Why are you answering the phone?”

  “Hi, Blake. Everything’s fine. I’ll let Darcy fill you in.”

  He handed the phone over to Darcy. Her face fairly glowed as she took it.

  “Blake? Where are you?”

  Josh picked up the tray of dirty dishes and carried it into the kitchen. He wanted nothing more than to toss the dishes into the sink and hear each one shatter. Just like Blake had shattered his opportunity to come clean with Darcy.

  Instead, Josh fought his frustration as he rinsed the plates and placed them carefully in the dishwasher, as Darcy’s giggle set his teeth on edge.

  The next morning Darcy straightened up the living room, picking up her discarded book, fluffing the pillows, and folding the throw. A memory flashed in her head of Josh leaning over her, and her snuggling under the throw before telling him she loved him. She winced, then shrugged her shoulders and laid the throw on the window seat. Well, she did love him. She loved both Josh and Laura. Nothing wrong with that.

  She gingerly cupped her face. Yesterday’s jackhammer had been replaced by a pick-ax, but with some Tylenol she could just about bear it. Sitting on the sofa, gathering her robe around her, she thought about Josh’s tenderness. The way he took care of her. Then she remembered he was going to tell her something when the phone rang. He’d looked so serious. Well, if it had been important, he’d have told her after she’d hung up with Blake. Or this morning.

  Instead, after preparing a bowl of microwave oatmeal for her breakfast, brewing a cup of tea, and making sure she was self-sufficient, Josh lit out of the house like it was on fire. She didn’t know how she would ever repay him for his kindness. It seemed she would spend her life trying to catch up for all the good things Josh did for her. Especially what he did for her after her break-up with Doug.

  If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never be able to repay him for his friendship and understanding. Where Laura had been pissed off enough to commit bodily harm on Doug, Josh had turned his attention to soothing Darcy’s lacerated heart, with flowers, silly hand-drawn cards, and pints of Ben and Jerry’s.

  He’d spent so much time with her she worried he’d flunk out of law school. He’d let her cry herself out whenever the pain overwhelmed her, holding a box of Kleenex at the ready, but he never let her feel sorry for herself for long.

  He’d listened as she poured her heart out, telling him things she’d never told Laura. With Josh, she was able to stitch up the pieces of her heart, using the threads of his unwavering friendship and support, so that he would always be part of her.

  Chapter 25

  Eight years ago, the wedding plans had been in full swing. The date chosen, the venue selected, even the dress was on order. As Darcy left her appointment with the florist to meet Doug for dinner she received a text from him that something had come up and he had to work late.

  “Poor guy.” He’d been working so hard lately, and she’d been so focused on the wedding plans and her latest book that she’d neglected him.

  She texted, No problem. Call me later. XOXOXO.

  Crossing the street to the subway station, she had a brilliant idea. She’d pick up his favorite Chinese food, General Tso’s chicken and vegetable rice, and a bottle of wine, and take it by his office for a quick dinner, so he can get back to work. Goodness knows if he’d even get to eat otherwise. At least he’d know she was thinking about him.

  About a half hour later, she knocked on the glass door of the high-rise building that housed the TV station where Doug worked as a sportscaster, getting the security guard’s attention, and showing him the food in her hands.

  Frank unlocked the door, “Hey, Darcy! Written that book about the handsome security guard who wins the gorgeous CEO’s hand yet?”

  “No, Frank, but it’s next in the queue,” she said with a wink. “I’m surprising Doug with dinner. Poor guy, he’s working late again.”

  “Yeah. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the distraction a beautiful lady can bring. He’s one lucky guy.”

  “Aw, thanks, Frank. I brought you a little something too. I hope you like Moo Shu pork.”

  “Who doesn’t like Moo Shu pork?

  “I know, right?” Darcy handed Frank the container.

  “Thanks, Darcy.” His eyes sparkled with appreciation. “Go on up. You kids have fun.”

  “We will.” Darcy took a quick ride on the elevator to the twenty-ninth floor. Since the news was broadcast from the studio on the forty-fifth floor, the elevator doors opened on a dim, quiet office space.

  Darcy walked with a spring in her step, excited over Doug’s reaction to the unexpected feast. When she turned left at his hallway, she tiptoed along the industrial carpeting to avoid alerting him to her presence. As she approached his office, she heard deep moans coming from behind Doug’s door. Oh my God! Was he hurt?

  She dropped the food, throwing open the door to rush to his aid. Her brain momentarily fogged, unable to comprehend the image her eyes conveyed.

  Papers were scattered on the floor, Doug bent over the desk, his pants down around his ankles. Beneath Doug, bare buttocks visible below her upturned blue dress, Tawny, the buxom blond meteorologist Darcy recognized from her nightly weather reports, and the office Christmas party, lay facedown on the desk. Her hair disheveled, her arms splayed out wide on the desk.

  Apparently the two were still recovering from their, er, activity, because neither of them was aware of her intrusion. The gasp escaped before she could flee undetected.

  “Darcy!” Doug stood up, before realizing he should pull up his pants first.

  Darcy covered her eyes, but the momentary visual of Tawny’s bare bottom and Doug’s exposed junk would be burned on her retina forever. From some distant place, she knew she should be angry, more than angry. She should be murderous, but she couldn’t get passed the humiliation, the abject mortification of seeing her fiancé, the man whose ring she wore, whose children she had hoped to bear, in the throes of passion with another woman.

  Her face burned with the shame of knowing she’d been an idiot, a trusting, naïve idiot, as the tears flowed down her face.

  “Darcy, I can explain.” Doug stood before her, zipping up his pants as he tucked in his shirt.

  She couldn’t look him in the face. Tawny the Tart had the good graces to beat a hasty retreat, slinking past Darcy, pulling her c
lothes back into place.

  Unable to decide what to do, Darcy stood rooted to the floor. She didn’t want to follow Tawny out, and she didn’t want to stay here with Doug. The embarrassment mixed with the agony of betrayal and heartache churned in a bitter concoction.

  “Darcy, please.” Doug touched her arm.

  His touch sparked the impetus she needed. Whirling toward the door, she ran down the hall and into the blessedly open elevator, Doug’s curses ringing in her ears.

  Darcy walked aimlessly until she finally caught a cab to her Brooklyn Heights apartment, dazed by what she’d seen. Bloody blisters on her heels, and one on her toe, she slipped off her shoes and collapsed on the sofa. Pressing her hand to her breastbone, where it felt like her heart would literally shatter into millions of pieces, she sobbed.

  Questions collided in her brain like cars in a demolition derby.

  How long? How long had this been going on? Did it start when he began “working late”? Or had it been going on before that?

  How many? How many women had he been with? Was Tawny the Tart the only one, or had there been others?

  Had he been safe? Should she worry about sexually transmitted diseases?

  And the hardest question of all: Why wasn’t she enough for Doug? Why did he have to seek out Tawny and any other women he’d been with?

  When her cell phone rang, she ignored it. When the apartment phone rang she ignored that too.

  Hours later, she didn’t know how long, Doug banged on her front door, calling her name. She cringed away from the sound of his voice, burying her head under a throw pillow. Finally she heard her neighbor, Mr. Bettincourt, threaten to call the police if Doug didn’t leave.

  She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke, dim, watery light filtered through the shutters. Her eyes burned, her neck ached, and her heart thudded heavily in her chest.

  She dragged herself off the sofa when her cell phone started ringing again. She knew she had to face Doug at some point, but not now. Not yet. She needed a little time and distance to figure out what to do. She needed some time to work up the righteous anger she knew she should feel, but simply couldn’t at this point. Texting Doug, she asked him to please stop calling and to give her some time.

  Laura had enough righteous anger for both of them. When she asked her to come by later that day, she told her the whole sordid story. Darcy practically had to tie Laura down to keep her from going after Doug’s private parts with, in her words, “the dullest knife she could find.”

  While Darcy appreciated the solidarity of incensed sisterhood, she hated to see her best friend imprisoned for Doug’s maiming, no matter how much he deserved it.

  Darcy agreed to meet Doug a few days later on neutral ground in a quiet restaurant not far from her house. When she arrived, she still couldn’t look Doug in the eye. And she knew then she’d never be able to scrub the vulgar image of him and Tawny from her brain.

  After trying to kiss her, Darcy told him she’d come to listen to him talk. The touch that had once made her shiver with desire now made her skin crawl with disgust.

  “Darcy, what can I do? I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten, I can’t concentrate. Tell me what I can do to make this up to you?” He laid his hands on the table, palms up, in a placating gesture.

  From what she saw, he didn’t look worse for wear. He sat across from her impeccably dressed in the expensive suits he favored. Darcy felt sick. He really thought he could make it up to her? Like he’d accidentally spilled coffee on her favorite rug, or broken her favorite vase?

  “There’s nothing.” She couldn’t even say his name.

  “It’s an illness. I’m addicted to sex. I can’t help it.” He tried to reach for her hand.

  She pulled it away. Pressed it to her stomach. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse. The sex addict defense made it clear that Tawny wasn’t the first, but she didn’t want to hear the details. She didn’t care.

  “If I had a drug or alcohol addiction, would you leave me? Just walk away?”

  “I’ll never be able to look at you the same way again. I’ll never be able to trust you. Every time you tell me you have to work late, I’ll wonder if you’re really working—”

  “Darcy—”

  She held up her finger. “Don’t. I get to speak.” There it was. A glimmer of the anger she craved. “Every time you leave town to cover a sports story I’ll wonder if you’re actually sneaking off with another woman.” She suppressed a sob that threatened to bubble to the surface. “I can’t live like that. I won’t live like that.” She took the engagement ring off of her finger, slid it across the table to him, and rose. Turning her back on him she walked out of the restaurant.

  “Darcy! Darcy! Dammit! You’re such a princess. You think you’re so perfect. Well, guess what, you’re not. And no one will ever live up to your dreams of perfection.”

  She wasn’t looking for perfection, but she knew one thing, Prince Charming was no sex addict.

  Chapter 26

  Josh downed his third cup of coffee and it wasn’t yet ten a.m. Sleep had refused to put him out of his misery last night. First, he couldn’t fall asleep knowing Darcy was only two doors down from him. He’d replayed the scene where he carried her into the house, the one where she buried her face in his neck and told him he smelled good.

  Then he’d moved on to the scene where she told him she loved him, certain she’d meant it in a platonic way, but his heart sure didn’t take it that way.

  When he’d finally fallen asleep she’d haunted his dreams. In one dream, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering her love for him, as she kissed her way along his throat. The next, she was walking toward Blake, his arms outstretched for her, but she couldn’t see the deep crevasse separating Blake from her.

  Josh tried to run after her, to stop her before she fell, but his feet felt as if they were encased in concrete. He woke in a cold sweat, just moments after she plunged over the edge.

  He didn’t need dream analysis to understand what it meant. If he didn’t man-up, and soon, she’d be lost to him forever.

  That afternoon, Josh stood at Kelly’s front door, papers in hand. He’d finally gathered all the documents the bank needed to refinance Kelly’s house. After she signed them, he’d hand-carry them to the mortgage loan officer that very day. With any luck, Kelly and Daniel’s long nightmare would be resolved by Labor Day. Delivering the good news would be a welcome distraction from the Darcy dilemma.

  The door swung open and Kelly greeted Josh warmly. “Come in.” Madonna blared from speakers in the living room. “Sorry, housecleaning day,” she said, a look of chagrin on her face. “It doesn’t suck as much when you’re dusting to “Vogue”.” Kelly walked over and picked up a remote to turn the volume down.

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Really?” Kelly laughed, surprised.

  “No.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Just trying to make you feel better.”

  “Gee, thanks. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure.” He followed Kelly into the kitchen. “As promised, I have the papers, and just need your signature in about a million places and your initials in about a million more.”

  He settled at the kitchen table where they’d conducted all of their previous business, while Kelly poured lemonade over ice. “If it means saving my home and providing Daniel some stability, I’d sign those papers in blood.”

  “How is Daniel?”

  “The same.” She sighed. “But now he’s having some problems in school.” Kelly sat in the chair next to Josh and handed him a glass of lemonade.

  “Behavior?”

  “No, his geometry class. I may be an accountant, but geometry doesn’t fall into my re
alm of expertise.” She smiled sadly. “That was always Dan’s job.”

  “It just so happens I was geometry champ at my middle school.”

  Kelly drew back. “Really?”

  “No, that would have earned me a well-deserved butt-kicking, but I could help Daniel with his homework. I did ace my geometry class.”

  Kelly contemplated her lemonade a minute before looking up into Josh’s eyes. “Josh, I don’t want you to feel that you have to take care of Daniel or become some sort of father figure to him. You’re already doing so much for us . . .” She trailed off.

  “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to help,” Josh said quietly, his gaze locked with hers.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” She nodded and then picked up her pen. “So, where do I sign?”

  An hour later, Josh had everything in order. Glancing at his watch, he realized he had plenty of time to get the papers to the bank before it closed.

  “I’ll call you to set up a time to work with Daniel.” As he walked past the living room, he noticed a book lying on the sofa. He’d recognize that cover anywhere—The Boss’ Daughter—Darcy’s fifth novel.

  “You like Darcy Butler?”

  Kelly looked a little embarrassed. “Yes. Don’t tell me you read romance novels?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do, and I’m man enough to admit it.” He laughed at the dubious expression on her face. “The author happens to be my best friend.” At least for now.

  “Get out!” Kelly shouted. “Seriously? You know Darcy Butler?”

  “Yeah. Her new book comes out in a few months. I’ll get you an autographed copy.” He tried not to think of the living, breathing hero of that novel.

  “That would be fantastic—if you think she wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not. Hey, what are you and Daniel doing for the Fourth of July?”