Page 156 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
With a slight nod, which was all I could manage, I hurried down the driveway, beach-bound, with my stomach doing somersaults and my limbs made of liquid.
Oh my God. It was happening all over again.
I stopped abruptly on the dirt path to the beach as the realization slammed into me.
I was falling in love with my ex.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Gabriel
I followedOtis to the deck. My dog had supersonic hearing and alerted me to Cleo’s return. A welcome reprieve from the drama in the rehearsal studio.
Eddie had some beef with Devin who had accused him of showboating. “You’re drowning out the vocals, man. I can’t even hear the bass over all that noise you’re making. Soft, soft, hard. Not hard, harder, hardest.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie said. “I know what I’m doing. You’ve been rushing the beat. You’re not even listening to me for the tempo.”
It escalated quickly until I finally told them both to shut the hell up. The music sounded like a trainwreck. We had a gig in two nights and a shitload of new music to learn. We didn’t have time for this bullshit.
I stopped outside the door when I heard Cleo’s laughter drifting from the kitchen and shamelessly eavesdropped on her conversation.
“By boat, you mean yacht, don’t you?” I heard the refrigerator door opening and then, “Jack, stop,” she laughed. “If you want this art piece to be ready in time, then stop trying toentice me with champagne and debauchery on your party yacht.” Pause. “That would be a terrible idea. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
Jack, stop, I mimicked under my breath.
Who the fuck was Jack? And why was Cleo hanging out with guys who owned yachts? So much for living the life of a Bohemian artist.
I stepped inside. “Who’s Jack?”
Cleo startled and spun around from the open refrigerator. “Oh my god, you scared me. Why are you skulking around?” she asked, jamming containers of potato salad and pasta salad into the fridge.
“I’m notskulking around.” I unpacked the bags that were on the counter and shoved the cereal boxes and two more bags of Doritos into the cupboard then slammed it shut. It wouldn’t even close all the way, that's how jam-packed the cupboard was. We had enough Doritos to feed a small country. “Do I have to announce myself every time I walk into the damn kitchen?”
“Wow.Someoneis in a bad mood.” She hopped onto the counter with a carton of ice cream and a spoon. “Maybe this will cheer you up. Cherry Garcia. Your favorite.”
Anold favorite, I guess because I couldn’t remember ever eating it.
She ate a spoonful and flashed me a bright smile that lured me right in.
I stood between her legs and coasted my palms over her thighs but stopped short of dipping my fingers under the hem of her little white cotton dress that barely covered anything.
She sucked in a sharp breath, the spoon suspended halfway to her mouth.
I stared at her bare shoulders, the puffy white sleeves hugging her biceps, and tried to figure out if she was wearing a bra under this dress.
I lifted my gaze.
Our eyes met. Hers looked greener today, offset by a bit of a tan and illuminated by the evening sun.
I flattened my palms on the counter on either side of her and leaned in. My lips parted and Cleo fed me a spoonful of ice cream. Cherries and dark chocolate. My new favorite flavor.
My tongue glided over my lips and I noted the way her eyes followed. I leaned in closer. Accepted another spoonful of ice cream. Her ankles locked around the backs of my thighs. “Who’s Jack?”
She dug her spoon into the ice cream, concentrating on the task as if getting the perfect ratio of cherry to chocolate was her sole mission in life. She jammed the spoon into my mouth. “A friend.”
“Afriend.” It sounded like a dirty word coming from my mouth. Right up there withdivorce. I pulled back and crossed my arms over my chest. “You were meeting him, weren’t you? On the red lipstick night.”
She laughed and unhooked her ankles. “Is that what we’re calling it? The red lipstick night?”
