Page 116 of Fractured
“So it didn’t work out.” She shakes her head and tries to hide the sheen in her eyes.
“I’m to blame for this. I’m truly sorry, Anna.” I squeeze her hand.
“No, it’s just us. When we get together, it’s like a hurricane, and then we leave wreckage in our wake. It’s so fuck’en awesome when it’s good, but when it’s bad...” I nod and hold her hand. I know the feeling, sort of.
“How has Alexander been treating you? He was super freaked out. I’ve never seen him tear up before. He was out of his mind. We all were.” She jumps up on her knees. “Fuck, I didn’t even ask? Are you okay?” She puts her hand to my head. “You feelnormal.”
I swipe her hand off. “Yeah, I’m good, weak a bit, and my feet hurt. But other than that, I’m great.”
Anna sits back on her butt. “Danny told me some of the story. He said Carlos told him you let them all have it. You called Alexander a prick.” She hugs me so tight. “Ohhh, my baby’s growing up.” She rubs my hair and I smile at her.
“Nice shade of blond. You look like your momma.” She points at her chest, “And I mean me. Two blond foul mouthed bitches to drive our assholes crazy!”
Hugging her tight once more. “Come on, help me to the living room. We can get some food and catch up. I have a million things to tell you, and I want to hear about everything since I’ve been gone.”
I have to confess that it was, without a doubt, one of the most exciting and fun weekends I’ve ever had. We cried a lot, laughed a lot, and caught up on six months of our lives we missed. We watched movies and ate like pigs, went through the baby book of names, and made plans to dye my hair back to its natural color. Alexander left us alone. No texting or showing up at the door like I thought he would. He actually followed through on his word. It’s up to me. And right now, he can piss off. It turned out to be awesome and was over far too fast.
It’s Monday already, and Anna has left for work. We agreed to get together this week, and I can’t wait to see the fresco at the museum. Also, the black strip of hair down the center of my head is driving me nuts and making me feel like a backward skunk, so we plan on a hair day at the spa.
My phone dings.
Alexander:Good morning, Mrs. Russo.
Ugh…. really?Fuck.
I’m not responding. Nope, I need time and space, and I don’t want to go through Friday’s argument again. Our interaction will be on my terms and in my way. I sit down on the sofa and glancing around the gorgeous house he created for me, feeling like a total bitch. Alexander provided me with a haven, something I could call my own, he said.
I look at my car keys in the dish by the door. He said I could leave whenever I wanted. I have no cash, no bank card. So where the fuck can I go? And I’m not in the mood to ask him for anything, basically I’m just moody.
I rub my forehead. I don’t know how I really feel or if it’s the hormones. One moment I want to cry and the next minute I’m my normal happy-go-lucky Isabella without a care in the world. I’m starving all the time. Plus, I can’t get the thought of Alexander’s hands and forearms out of my head.
He has powerful hands, long fingers with perfect blunt nails. His forearms are thick, roped with muscle when he moves his hands. And the dark hair dusting up to hide under his dress shirt gives me the shivers all over. He has the hands artists crave to sketch.
Sitting up straight, the idea hits me. That’s what I need to do. Draw. Put this crazy energy somewhere, not sit and whine.
I don’t have any art supplies here either. And I amNOTgoing up to my old room to look and see if my stuff is still there. Getting up, I look for anything I can use to sketch with. Hell, a pen, pencil, a marker will do. I need to do something. Anna kept me occupied, but now I’m on my own without distraction. So I rummage in the kitchen, finally finding a pen. I look around.
No paper anywhere.
The paper towel roll on the counter catches my eye. I’ll justsketch out my feelings of attraction. Pulling out a chair, tucking myself in, I sit at the table and start. I outline the basic shape of his hand and work my way into showing more detail slowly. My mind settles and my hand does all the work. It’s soothing.
A knock at the door startles me, and I jump. I look over at the front door. Of course, he would show up today after Anna left. I toss my pen on the table, crossing the room. I rip open the door to let him have it. An enormous box with pretty pink wrapping with a big white bow is the first thing I see.
“Delivery for an Isabella Russo?” That’s not his voice.
I smile. “That’s me.”
The delivery guy hands me the box and I look it over. No tag or card. I close the door and take the box to the coffee table and carefully take the bow off and open the box. Reaching in, I pull out a pair of HP slippers, a HP phone case and at the bottom is a large jar of Werther’s Original candies with a big pink bow on the top. I hold the jar up and shake my head. The sneaky bastard.
I rip the tag off the slippers and put them on my feet, wiggle them back and forth. I loved my old slippers. Grabbing my phone, I change the case. I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. He knows how to get me that for sure. I pop the lid of the jar and inhale.Asshole!It smells so good, just like him. An image of his thick neck and that little mole comes flooding into my brain.
I take the jar to the kitchen and close the lid. Filling a glass with orange juice, immersing myself for most of the morning drawing and the rest of the day putting my clothes away. My energy has been dwindling lately, and I smile at the bed as I hang up the last sweater.
I’m exhausted, so I snuggle under the covers, feeling spoiledthat I can sleep during the day, but what else can I do? When I wake up, I check the clock. It’s about five o’clock. Rose will be there shortly with dinner. I feel bad she has to travel all the way across the yard with food I can cook myself, but she claims they instructed her to bring me my meals.
I use the washroom and make my way out to the living room. Rose knocks and I open the door, taking the tray from her, setting it on the table. We chatted for a few minutes. She asks if I need anything or have any cravings to just let her know and she will make it. Thanking her for all her efforts and being so kind, she gives me a quick hug goodnight. The meal smells wonderful. I lift the lid off the tray and the first thing I see is butterscotch pudding for dessert.Asshole!
After washing my dishes, and hopping into my jammies, picking up the remote, I turn on the TV and start my usual movie. I pick up my paper towel drawing and spend the evening relaxing. It’s around ten and I’m tired. I ate five of those damn candies plus the pudding, and all I can smell is butterscotch.
