Page 94 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

He nods. “Yeah, okay. I need to talk to the guys anyway. Things are—well, they might get more complicated before they get better.”

“Okay.”

He grasps my face and plants a kiss on my lips that warms me deep into my bones.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, opening the door.

I smile and nod. “See you soon.”

He disappears down the stairs, and I close the door behind me, sinking back against it. An ear-splitting grin pulls at my cheeks. There are butterflies in my stomach, and I amgiddy. Should I call him now? Leave him a message for when he gets home? Will he think I’m crazy?

Stella meows from the floor and winds herself between my legs. “Hey, pretty girl. Hope you didn’t mind that we had a visitor.” I pick her up and snuggle her in my arms. “He’s amazing, right? Tell me you like him too.” She meows, and I kiss the top of her head before dropping her on the floor and grabbing her a can of food for dinner.

“This might be it,” I whisper. “Tell me I’m not crazy for giving this a shot.”

She stares pointedly at my hand until I tip her food onto a plate.

“You’re no help,” I mutter.

I turn on the radio so I can listen to music while I shower. The voice of Eartha Kitt fills my apartment as I strip down then step into the hot water. There’s instantaneous relief as the water cascades over me. The music is dull in the background, but it’s gentle and calming. Even though I said—or rather insisted—that I could take care of myself, I imagine what my life might be like a month from now. A year. Ten years.

I haven’t had the luxury of that in so long. Not since I was seventeen and thought I had my whole future planned out. An old wound in my heart smarts, and I clutch at my chest as I stand still under the water. Perhaps it’ll finally wash away the hurt—it’s been duller lately. Maybe that’s because of Joel. Because he’s given me a reason to believe in second chances.

A strange sound comes from the stereo, and over the noise of the water it’s hard to make out. I strain my ears for a minute, the melody oddly familiar. It’s metal music again. Did Stella change the radio station? I’m going to have to get that cat a spiked leather collar if she keeps this up. Even though it isn’t my first choice, I listen to the rock melody as I finish washing my hair, the song ending when I turn off the water.

“—from Carnal Sins,” the radio host says, and I nearly trip over the towel as I race to open the door. Running out into the living room, I halt in front of the speakers. “The band’s found themselves in a little hot water lately with an impending copyright infringement lawsuit. Hopefully everything gets sorted out for them soon.”

Another song begins to play and I stab at the off button with my finger.

“Do they really have to say that on the radio for everyone to hear?” I ask Stella, who is guiltily sitting on top of the stereo. But the song from earlier is stuck in my head. Like déjà vu . . . or a lullaby a parent would sing to their sleeping child. Only, my parents never did that, so what’s this odd feeling?

A boy with hazel eyes and brown hair smiles back at me out of the dark pool of memories in my mind. My eyes blur, and it takes a few moments to realize I’m crying. Salty tears drip down my cheeks, landing on my lips and dripping off my chin. As if surfacing from underwater, I inhale a gigantic breath, the exhale shuddering out of me.

Glancing over at the mirror, I take in my swollen face and red eyes. I poke at the inflamed skin, then my eyes land on my left hand. On the empty space of my ring finger. It’s always felt strange. Like phantom pains after an amputation. I touch the spot with my other hand, and a shiver races up my spine. To think that at one point in my life a ring sat here. A ring that meant everything. The promise of a happier future where I would have a home and a family of my own to love—where they would love me back.

But promises are broken all the time.

I shake out my hands. It’s time to move on. Joel has shown me such care, affection, and patience that I’m sure, given the time it needs, will grow into love. If I’m honest with myself, I’m already halfway there. Maybe he will give me a ring one day with a better promise. So I need to give him everything I can of myself, which means letting go of my past.

“Time to let you go,” I whisper, imagining those hazel eyes receding into the darkness. This time when I look up into the mirror, I feel lighter—free. “Enough,” I say to the empty room. “Enough.”

* * *

I walkinto the nondescript building for work tonight, determined. I need to let Baby know that he can’t call me again. That there are a dozen other women I work with who would happily take his calls. In fact, they may even give him a better service than me, since they’re more experienced. But after nine phone calls and several cups of coffee, Baby still hasn’t called.

To be fair, I don’t know his schedule—it’s possible he’s busy, or working, or, hell, at two in the morning, he’s probably sleeping. Yet something in my bones makes me sure he’ll call. Call it intuition or instinct, but when line seven lights up red, I know it’s him even before I pick up the phone.

“Hi, this is Cherry, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with tonight?”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

My entire body breaks out in goose bumps. “Hi, Baby,” I say, and relax into my chair.

“I’ve missed the sound of your voice,” he says.

“You have?”

“I dream about it,” he admits.

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